IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XX
IF you pull a long-haughty face
Some would not your game play
What irks you most is not their voice
But runs they chalk up during volley
If you then pull this long face
With those in the same métier
Beware some might your castle raze
Out of a need to debunk the phoney
Yet if you pull that self-same long face
Know it's your own face you sadistic flay
Whoever for whatever reason takes offence
Stretches his face beyond the Milky Way
Now if you keep pulling that long-ridiculed face
Despite what others do to keep us down I'd say
Go on keep pulling that by now long irate face
There's no better lesson you could give or take Olé
So if you must pull your long-inured face
For ages whipping on slave-ship galley
Go on live in bliss with Moon-mirror face
The Sun darkens skin with un-ending ray
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 19, 2019
1762 Catherine the Great:
"Moi, je serai autocrate: c'est mon métier.
Et le bon Dieu me pardonnera:
c'est son métier."
2017 Donald John Trump:
"Me, I will be an autocrat
That is my job
And God will forgive me
That is His job!"
Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
TWO WORLDS MANIPULATED
During this stage of development, I seek élan vital.
The creative principle that provides métier and impulse.
In that, the essence of the soul pursues her life choice.
Recourse is palpable.
*****
The breeze was so relaxing that I felt like falling asleep outside.
Lying in my gazebo with the branches of my deciduous trees stretched vast and wide.
Yet my mind did not want to disengaged with the thoughts that preoccupied.
(Maybe this is because I live life in a focus in that all aspects may manifest a takeover).
But oh, immanently I know that a bottle of emotions can explode.
So I took a deep breath and said all things that are possible can be known and achieved.
In meaning, I have to accept those things that must be depleted.
As I yawn, I experienced an aura and my eyes recede into stupor and a dream.
I am walking amidst the trees.
|_______________________________|__________________________________|
Written March 2, 2016!
Law, English, business, and so on—
alas, are tiresome!
All the professors here go on
with a prime axiom.
A moldy, college campus where
knowledge and books abound,
freshmen and co-eds are clueless
and confused all around.
Mid-terms and finals I so dread
as the semester wends;
the pressure's on me to study
as my freshmen year ends.
School's oppressive this semester,
I'll see my old provost
and leave 'ere I rot and fester
to try a better post.
William & Mary's M.B.A.'s
are just worthless BS
(degrees from the home of “The Tribe,”
dross that just obsolesce).
I'll trill as “The Lithium-Laced Lyrist”—
as rhymes are my forté,
not tomes or stuffy scholastics:
for poesy's my métier!
20 February 2010
An Attempt
By: Noel N. Villarosa
I thought I will never propel on -------------------------------------- THIS
But perseverance jocundly push me to join what they called------- IS
HGarvey and Dane Ann new poetry is some ------------------------ WHAT
Meticulous and métier that never ------------------------------------- I’VE
Done before, but my mind hardly ------------------------------------ TRIED
Squeezing concepts to form what is needed ------------------------- TO
Satisfy the judge and outflank competitors on ---------------------- THIS
But I am sure everything must --------------------------------------- END
Not with a period but in a single -------------------------------------- LINE
Of congratulations to all who joined this contest of End line ------- WORD