Many fall in love without
presence of mind.
They repeat the mod cliché
that love is blind...
But sensible matchmaking
chooses more feasible soulmates.
Kids need adult supervision
in the matter of dates.
Love is a very special emotion
that causes much commotion
in the heart and soul,
where it has a big role.
Love's possible anytime, anywhere,
and many are caught by it unawares.
But don't let love be just a stupor
from which you wake up in horror.
Don't let love be a one night stand drink
from which you get a hangover.
Committed Love shouldn't be a fad or spell
from which you just get over...
When young minds play their own cupid
To many that has brought heartache and sorrow.
Underage kids dating is even more stupid
They usually regret on the morrow.
Reason doesn't work in a fit of passion.
So its best to love with
your mind and consultation.
Having love affairs without deliberation
is harmful fashion.
Head over heels
without discussion,
with well-wishers
may cause concussion
headache
of so-called lovers...
Use your head before your heart
Not every spark
should start a fire....
They flooded the server with chat,
With their memes of a skeptical cat.
“Get a room, or it’s doom!”
Typed the mod with a boom,
“Or I’ll nuke the whole channel now scat!”
Always thought God's an odd bod
Untruths like hoofs stuck in a clod
Over us aloof just run roughshod
So don't give love above the nod
No proof where Angels ever trod
More encores from the laws of sod
Each church on a perch made a wad
Will besmirch then constantly prod
Tribal bible merch from God squad
Us all in the lurch bait on their rod
We're all just peas in the same pod
No merry on sherry on vicar's quad
Fickle like feather tickle of Ken Dodd
As through the strife of life we plod
Always been more rocker than mod
But still we are all carriers of the hod
As yes ultimately we're all on our tod
Because yes confess there is no God
Principles of mod
Cantor is interlopers
and Cantrix is a
romantic saboteur.
Mixolydian is there
religion Lydian the
emotional character
in description of
"the Sleaze or
there way of Being"
sai this way of performing
is the sense of shoddiness
defined by there acts
which is due to the fact
of Cantrix and Cantor's
disloyalty to there
defined roles.
Charters in the Scripts
of love they deviate from
the purpose of there
togetherness and are seen
as misleading in the presence
of there audience.
.Core motivations needed
definedment because they are
obligated to others
Assocate members found
them in Chaos as there passions
for one another showed on stage.
Limiting there perform
and replacing them
were mentioned.
Guitar and Saxophone were seen as sexy
but this performance
scale back that assessment.
Give me words of ancient wisdom,
mod-words to ask Whys,
weird words amping cerebrum,
words that touch the skies.
Mere mehboob, tumse hi toh sab hai,
Tumse hai khushboo, tumse gulshan ka rang hai.
Tere bina ye duniya veeraan si lagti,
Tum ho toh har mod pe jeene ka ang hai.
Tumse hai meri khushi, tumse hai mera gham,
Tum se hai ye sukoon, tumse hi hai karam.
Meri duniya mein jo bhi roshni hai,
Woh bas tumse hi to hai, tumhara hi asar hai.
Tum ho toh chaand bhi roshan, taare bhi roshan,
Tum bin to yeh aalam bhi soona, har sapna bekaran.
Mere mehboob, tumse hi hai mera jahaan,
Tum ho mere jazbaat, tum ho meri pehchaan.
The other woman I was not the other worldly one I was
with sexy strut she came she did this is what I ghastly did
with a ghoulish voice I spooked and thwarted no applause
no I never did forget the hurt she caused, he caused...
A solitary candle glowed on my gravestone mod it glowed
a putrid smell of stinking corpse arrived when I arrived
like a hunk of foul skunk hidden in an old commode
I sent her goosebumps and a lump of hate archived
Smoke filled the air a tomcat appeared at her heels
with claws, fangs and two angry eyes ready to fight
yanking at her flaxen hair I prepared for a tart meal
as she screamed and screamed, wildly into the night.
The other man he was not the love of my life he was
wearing faded jeans and a Nike T, he goaded me
Slimy slithery things crawled up towards him with a cause,
he never knew what hit him as he burned to the 3rd degree!
Heres a man trying to bridge, a route to sanity along a ridge'
He's being hit.' with the same old twaddle'
As his so called betters loudly squabble'
I recall a board and stick' used 2020; they must think think us thick?
That with much mod tech, and breifing easy to do)
Thise ww2 methods, we would not see through?
It shows indeed utter contempt; of humans from the 50s'
The sacrifice, that they were first targeting shiftily'
It was gain the grandparents.' pull the younger in.'
One life lost was one to many, 'yet when the nhs needs some tin?
Lives are ten a penny ' they'll take the strikes and try to trash
As today the truth runs rampant throughought the land
Its aversaries have really now lost, the countrys trust.
Then some with spine stand; on the settling dust.'
Mr Bridgnd is Just one of many ' such people would incline to heal '
But all the liars; just aren't ready to' apologise, of genocides steal'
In the (long dead narrative) they, still strive to hide.'
I doubt that many, 'will' last out this ride.?
Yet each tuning fork
Will only reverberate
To like toned individuals
Round faces
Rejoice
In their own presence
Alone
Succumb to the duality
Embrace nothingness
As waves break
Oceans
Become grains of sand
John G. Lawless
12/29/2022
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire
smokestacks, waffles, pansies, people,
and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
PURPLE PANSIES
A pensive-pansy bouquet,
vibrant diffusion of lot,
Borscht belt, Catskill-sunshine core,
platonic petals of thought.
Purple pansies are childhood,
of God’s wide-eyed creation,
innocence in royal cloak,
a roused imagination.
Deft purpleness recollects,
not grandma’s frilly feast days -
a sixty’s mod Easter dress,
painted nails of royal praise.
Fresh fairyland apogee
o’er green-sea, circular bowl.
Petal’s shades of light and dark -
a poet’s purple, vibrant soul.
6/1/2022
Purple Flowers Poetry Contest
used Rhymezone and HMS
I get it! Love one another,
trying our best to get along...
but, when it comes to pertinent
issues, how does one compromise
with wrong? Well, no one
knows the truth, each having
his or her own – hmm...so, burn
your bibles, ignore your
parents, no seeming facts
should be incorruptibly sewn to
the fabrics of developing, hungry
minds – instead, imprint them with
social media of all brainless, circum-me
kinds –
and a cell phone
to replace prayer and God,
who most likely, thought he had
seen it all, having survived the
thoroughly self exploratory era of Mod.
On the exquisite wings of fated infinity.
We move with subtle elegance and fluidity.
To sail into odd space on a vessel of silence.
It is clearly the domain of the swanky credence.
I desired you to be hither on a grisly day.
Hardship had exhausted my psychic spray.
I hailed you while gazing at your charm.
On the verge of a crux in winsome smarm.
Here you'll find the hustle and bustle.
We will rest and unwind as the term shuffle.
After you've aged through the up and down.
Our stature in a senders mod panel is known.
I'd been deprived of any expectation, developed.
The pre-winter light was precisely what I scorned.
What's beyond, yelled out, "Let the haziness in!"
The portly flare ought to be turned until the spleen.
We are enjoying areas that are beyond our side.
When we beget to maturity, all effort has died.
You can willingly view we've arrived at the wallow.
Waivers serve as the lessons we should follow.
Written: November 09, 2021
This or That, Vol 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
A weird old woman loved cats
And outlandish broad-rimmed hats
Why should we think it odd
The old dame is quite mod,
Why she even dines with her bats.
written, Winter 1972
edited June 29, 2021
[first published in The Hoosier Challenger, 1972;
republished in By-Line, Summer, 1989]
My Sunshine shines on my mohair suit, flickering explosions of perfect light
Heels a clicking causing small sparks on the cobbled streets.
Shirt and blazer so sharp and neat, a clean white cover on my scooter seat
A cufflink clinks on a cold wine glass, and I look at the refection in the glass.
A record cover lays around, with a target and a guitar sound
Heels and boots lay all around, white powders, pills its ultra sound!!
Parkas fitted over suits, weather shielded overtones
The road to Brighton glides downhill, Love reign on me!!!
I Am
Me-Created by God
Woman–I give freely, I am not a tightwad.
Wife–But not to Todd.
Mother–I do not believe in sparing the rod.
Poet–I love to write even if it is about a fly rod.
Comedian–Give me a nod.
Reader-My reading is not about sod.
Dreamer–About the beach and catching a cod.
Leader–We are off like a flying squad.
Artist-Creative and odd.
Crafter–Making things that are mod.
Lover–Do not call the vice squad.
Traveler-Alone home or abroad.
Speaker-I love when they applaud.
A Rhyming Bio
Date Written: 5/2/2020
2 Place I AM: A LIST BIO CHALLENGE Contest Judged:5/25/2020
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Sub Categories
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