A beggar grabbed my hand and cried for some spare change.
At first, I offered him a sweet memory of food or a tasteless sip of divine water, but he asked for money.
I had a heavy coin and gave it to him.
I wondered why he took only the money, and when he saw it, he immediately placed it in a different spot.
I asked why.
I offered you food and water—you rejected both, and now you hide the coin.
He said it was the most different one, and if he didn’t hide it, other people would start accusing him that the coin was wrong, that it shouldn’t be used—because its print was different, because its color didn’t match theirs.
You may rain on my parade,
But I will never end my crusade
As long as you let me try to persuade,
Just know my romance is no charade.
You may doubt you can reciprocrate
But I will still show you what I can create:
Unconditional love means I can never hate
While you may continue to leave me in wait.
You showed maybe there's something inside
You made me put aside my guard and pride
You made me feel so alive with such stride
Your lovemaking brought forth a new tide
You may be unsure and questioning,
But I am ready to be the one listening
To all of what you are willing
To freely express even if it is unfeeling.
Letting all the liquid courage
Fuel my will through searching of forage.
In the pure bright wake, I went fishing’ for calm and all I caught was tumblin’ time.
The hours were soppin’wet with pond scum and the seconds kept getting’ away as soon as I thought I had them hooked.
The minutes peered up at me from the crepuscular waters and told a lie. “Be patient, those seconds can’t escape forever! You can get them, we just know it!”
They spoke with bubbles in their mouths, then those minutes were gone.
I struggled with my fishin’ pole, the line hopelessly tangled with some phantasmic bugbear, my nightmares come alive! Probably a log, though.
The hours in my bucket (catch of the day!) pulled me from my musing with weepin’ and howlin’, it was all so unlovely. What were they cryin’ about?
“Our beloved minutes! Precious seconds! We are in ruin without them, can’t exist without them,” the poor things whimpered.
I kicked the bucket over and the dark water inside spilled the trapped hours onto the dock and over the edge. Sploosh! Plop!
The hours proclaimed a love that is by far the only great love there is. Flawless. Desperate. Irrevocable. This paramour is unheard of! I heard the whispers on the bubbles.
Where there is war,
There can be no peace;
No matter who or where you are,
We must, as one, tame this vicious beast:-
Where there is war,
There can be no peace;
No matter who are where you are
Chanting "War For Peace", must cease:-
It's like a shark with an octopus' head in its jaw,
Changing to t it prey, "Thanks for this killing tasty piece;
And thanks to the gods of water, be floodedor this blood of ocean war":-
Oh, let the rumors of war be tabooed and forbidden:
Let peace on Earth and good will to all be as has been written:-
May the thunder of hope and elighten spirit sky our ways,
And may God's precious clouds of joy blacken with coveted love;
That in the coming remaining time in our lives' coming days,
Our blessed Earth will be flooded with raining peace from above;
And may that oxymonic warring chant be forever shoved:-
I yearn for a quiet life,
Its really hard though
When all your life has been noise.
I constantly pondered on
what it must be like,
But my brain finds it hard to fathom such a concept
I yearn for a quiet life.
The noise becomes so loud that
It being quiet is outlandish
Something beyond comprehension
When all your life has been noise.
Even when the quiet,
Makes the occasional visit, its shocking every time
When all your life has been noise.
My words intertwined with the deepest emotions
Dreams, goals and sometimes sorrow deeper than an ocean,
My words are like waves that wash over each reader in different ways
Sometimes crashing down and others just simply sways
And like the tide it moves each reader in a different way
Casting them far off or bringing them closer to the shore or safely in a bay,
I am a poem and my words are like waves Washing over readers to cast them away
she could not handle the truth
easier to live a lie
just the truth the whole truth nothing but the truth
does it still exist
when none believe reality its still truth
if all believe lies they are still falsehoods
authenticity captures facts that exist
cold hard facts metaphorically speaking
how do I substantiate its actual
is there a magic formular to follow
do I trust my instinct can it be misled
if its verisimilitude can I trust
being lifelike cannot be the whole answer
fakes can seem more actual than authentic
verifying requires a masters degree
some anomalies are true world or true life
says true fruit would they put fake fruit in the can
corporeality surely must exist
a physical body a truthful being
must be believed actual
The Donkey of Destiny
The party was set, the guests were invited,
The adults were happy, the kids all excited.
All going to plan; the hosts were delighted,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
The Board of Directors set forth their campaign,
To conquer their industry, supremely reign,
To guarantee ultimate financial gain,
Til the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
Military leaders made their decision,
Troops were deployed with painstaking precision.
Soon they would realise their tactical vision,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
To amuse the young children, a day out was planned,
Buckets and spades and sunshine and sand.
Ice-cream and fish-and-chips; seaside brass band,
But the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
There’s nothing as fickle as Destiny’s Donkey,
Capricious as weather, and sly as a monkey,
Be certain that everyone’s hopes will turn funky,
When the Donkey of Destiny brays – he-haw!
When the Donkey of Destiny brays.
My metaphorical life
I serve it on a platter, and
grace...
youth is a
visible comet that further
that quickly passes....
And life only exists
for those who live it
and feel... with grace!
Digging poetry is necessary.
panning verses is fundamental,
and how do we do it...!
simply sifting light!
hearts, are similar to
doors...
unlock,
close...
some enter,
others leave...!
I build myself
poet, in the lightning
of sun that leaves
from the sky,
in the dance of
belly of the moon
between clouds
unstable...
I deconstruct myself
poet, in the smell
of death of
deep dagger
tearing
life...
in satiety
vampire in
tip of the syringe...
in the riotous river
who runs me
inside when
I am without
canoe...!
From the realms of my heart
And my soul
Hard to separate
What I want
And all I know
The circular motion
Figments of my imagination
Knowing there’s nothing worse
Than a cryptic charade
That seems like
The perfect escapade
It may be colourful and wild;
Over fantasized
But still remaining;
Undefined
i know not the passion of
metaphors until i seek the appreciation of inspiration
the rhythm of my soul's tune
fears it may not resound when
life spreads sonorous sorrow-
seeking solitude is not becoming,
and renouncing trust is
ineffable;
unable to be comprehended
i knew not the passion of
poetry until i felt the warmth
of my
metaphorical muse-
unable to express life’s lessons
literally,
creating beauty from scars,
wounds heal only with sutures
mending with myriad of meditation-
my metaphorical muse bestows a sensation of divination
shall i express my sorrow
in a way others can understand?
or should i embrace the essence
of my allegory…
maybe my words know not what they write
but
my soul shines when my muse is my light
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12.26.19
-luloo
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