Long Unstructured Poems

I am also a prose poet, navigating the realms of expression unencumbered by the shackles of rhyme. In this vast expanse of literary freedom, I find my solace, my sanctuary. My words flow unencumbered, liberated...

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While meditating earlier today,
a flashback leapt
     clear for me to assay,
those ever receding

     early boyhood daze,
     now subsumed within fifty,
plus nine shades of...

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The super snuggle with the dog
Like a weighted blanket but with intent as he wants to be close to me
Even by my side he ensures contact so I know he is there and he knows...

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Remember them who lay in rows and
rows where poppies grow, and
enjoy this life because many died, 
to make it so.  Mother's weep for a
child no more, echoing canons can be
heard in the distance, and...

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A newly shaped poem is composed
Of themes both rare and common.
The poet’s thoughts, it is supposed
Will flow to paper without caution.

Of themes both rare and common-
Candid expressions, as pebbles upon the water hurled,
Will flow to...

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(Dedicated this writing to the merciful birthday of the greatest love of the earth Mevlânâ  Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi. 30th September is the auspicious birthday of this ever greatest spiritual icon.)

My Death is My...

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                A vivid imagination
                Build...

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The Man .....
Before they talk you outta loving me
before they tell you to say no
I want you to see the diamond
I have bought you
take my hand and we can go
I know a place , a...

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"Heat Wave" 

A new dawn fades
as the sun overtakes
the division in joy

the top layer 
shiny and new 
still and blue 

calm and observing

underneath 
the cover of morning
the firmament dissipates

like phoenix burning

sensual pleasures 
sharp grooved 
igniting...

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What is that central pole
does it hold up a voice like a brazen spine?
          And the many rooms
all of them built to be seen
  ...

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POETIC BIO

Alliteration,the starting place, alongside

cinquains,apace in time,crystalline

lanterne and rhyme came to be

Inspiration later drew forth

footle,broken monoku &emagi

&for a while

 short imagist was my style.

Sequenced longer poems metamorphose
 
within this chrysallis

changing into ekphrasis.

 Then Open,and organic...

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Don't laugh - it works:
Wash down 4-5-6
Triple-Strength ephedrine tabs
Follow with a Jolt cola
Chomp down a goodsized chocolate bar
Then chase away its cloying sweetness 
With a 4-day old 20 oz. 7-11 coffee,
BLACK.

Later, while speeding down an...

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I am in the world of judgement

Where you had lost thousand battles

I am the king of king

Where  your emotionic home rattles

 

I freed my army of soul,

From your unstructured condemned kingdom,

I have reached the...

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I’m run by rising rhyming rant, 
You wish you caught me but you can’t!

I wish to stop this run of rhyme, 
It gobbles up my time, no dime. 
I wish to turn to poignant prose...

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Gravity
                                  ...

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I have grown thus far in life knowing many forms of outlet for my depression
I have seen many outcomes arise and fall into what I refer to as  "feeling regression"
Writing is the only outlet...

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hours go by in determined acts,
days go by in unstructured situations,
months are logged as projects get over,
years measure stages of life,
time is an irreversible fact,
once gone its never added on,
do we have a quotient,
by which...

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I never learnt the right way to love, 
As if there were a formula ensuring success.
So now I’m playing it by ear, 
Picking things up as I go.
Without the Sun, should it forget to rise...

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*Image of The Pianist Adrien Brody by DW.

IHMO Wladyslaw Szpilman
(December 5, 1911, to July 6, 2000)

A big blast, shattered glass, they yell run, still all as one
the war nobody knew then, had gone far and...

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AUDIO: Danse Macabre by Busy Strings.

Lint's Aura

Dignity gliding,
Resplendent in red was I,
Generous eyes felt,
Occurrences display me,
Stellar launched my existence.

Wardrobe visit hung,
Collection of new threads fills,
Close-knit paradigm,
Fussy fingers orbit me,
Small room phases a small box.

Reduced unstructured,
Yond...

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A NOVEMBER POPPY
Names,familiar names that
now remain exposed,carved
in stone,a memorial to others'
shame.In their prime,cut off
a time,so brief,float down,my
sweet poppy leaf.
Once a face,smiling eyes,
lives with dreams vibrant as
day,faded now,untold in
someone's memory destined
to lie.Every name,there were
schooled,loved,laughed,and 
cried,like we,walking...

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I Folded My Mother Up

I folded my mother up
Into a creased peace of paper 
Folding memories into intentions.
Flattening the dementia of unstructured emotions
Into a neat, file-able document.

We  arc this abyss;  tightening ropes ...

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