Evil exists to confront good
Yet good doesn’t exist to confront evil
It simply is good, the all-good
At the basis of Life.
Is this too hard to understand?
How about death exists only
As the termination of life
While life exists not in opposition to death
But simply a good in itself
At the basis of Life.
Light and dark exist in opposition.
But darkness is merely the absence of light
While light is not the absence of dark;
One is a something (photons)
The other a nothing (lack of photons).
So light and dark and good and evil exist
With the negative in opposition to the positive.
But in each case one is creative and primary
And the other reflective and reactionary.
In other words, one will remain
When the other has faded
But then again when there is one
There will be the other…
(10/8/26)
Waking pries open my eyes. Pliable
lids, blinking honors nature. My outdoor
neighbor takes umbrage underneath the umbrella
of a palm tree next to the apartment complex.
At first the squirrel's sky puffed-fluffy tail undulates
below the sun and then above lawn grass.
While the facial polar end of the squirrel sounds pissed,
vertical swiveling on the palm's trunk,
the counterclockwise furry spot, the rat-face strays
as if it were a canister's hissed aerosol.
Tinkering from a hotel piano
across the street, there's an inkling
that it's not nature off-tune
quavering through the morning air
like an emergency-kit gauze
had been placed on a woman, and I don't know where.
The lady stranger briefly seems absorbed.
A crop of dark hair frames the right side of her throat.
Black curls sweep across her shoulder and bare
a clavicle at the turning of her head. Goth
waves nestle her downed chin, her face tilted loose
from the constant guarding of her décolletage.
Acorns and crab apples drop in a minor key;
plink, plonk, and plunk, they scatter around me.
Cool air replaces stagnant breath in my breast,
affecting composure with pangs in my chest.
Cold legs walk quickly to avoid getting numb.
Tree leaves fall and forest litter become.
Larvae and beetles curb their activities,
straggle and snuggle into tree cavities.
Safe and secure, they begin a winter-tide sleep.
I saw, split, and stack cords of firewood to keep.
Primitive instincts to survive prevail,
as winter prepares to descend and assail.
Nature
Is a gift
Of God
Admire it
Keenly
Be thankful
Happy
Feel it
Contented
Everyone
Should be
Delighted
For blessings
Of God
As I do
Warning! Horrific content here
Look! Listen! If you have dare
Quit! Quick! If you don't care
Don't forget, the truth is bare.
Nature wants to remove an error
From everywhere, forever
In the reply of every terror
There will be nothing in the favour.
Nature heard the innocent cries
Saw the all cuttings and fries
Now, only maths, Now, no lies
And beware every stupid wise.
What said, 'Moon or Mars'
I say, 'Be behind the bars!'
What said, 'Controll solars'
I say, 'Crush the jets & cars!'
Victims, the most of minds
Like prostitution, total blinds
And the cheap ego binds
And the truth, no one finds.
Across the alfalfa field hid that creek, so simple yet so complex.
The Nebraskan wind hummed country melodies over its weeds and blossoms as my Labrador, Sandy, and I strode towards its mystical plainness.
She stopped and sniffed the ground before diving into Nameless' gray current, her golden body relishing the warm summer water.
Her head graced the surface like a canine swan as her strong legs paddled through the nameless depth. Birds tweeted their greetings to us as Nature's orchestra labored in harmony.
Sandy climbed back upon the creek's bank before she eyed me with a smile. I chuckled as I told her that no, I couldn't swim.
She is now buried under a majestic tree near the nameless creek. Illness stole my sweet dog from my world, but never from my heart. This creek had no name, yet memories burned themselves inside its muddy water.
On life’s dance floor, the wanderer carries what the rooted partner cannot, while the rooted gives the wanderer reason to wander. Between waggle and wallflower, the bearing and the bloom, the sweetness, want and need, must succumb to life's errand. Distance arouses desire to sustain, meet and replicate. Both know the dance and the need to greet, join in, and embrace with a twirl and a kiss.
the bee takes the floor—
a wiggle, waggle, pivot, feint,
with a crooked promenade charting bearing and distance to sweetness.
at the edge of the floor
the wallflowers wear their best finery—
rooted in place, petals flung open wide, pollen the prize.
one dances by moving, one prances staying still—
somewhere between
the waggle and the wallflower
life changes partners.
On a blue-sky gorgeous morning, and a coolness in the breeze
I stroll barefoot through the pasture and stop to take a look
At the tiny little fishes swimming in the brook
That are hiding beneath the leaves that have fallen from the trees
All the different colors of the leaves... red, orange, yellow and green
And there's that long-tailed red-haired fox running through the meadow
Barking out to find his love sounding like a high-pitched cello
And there she came with her three kits... such an awesome scene!
Scents of roses and rows of tulips on the valley's knoll
Monarchs flying all around and sparrows sing to autumns worth
And all the doe's whom all were pregnant have now all given birth
Nature's finest I got to see on my barefoot morning stroll
Earth steals
the Moon's shine
curving line
sun-cast torn form
a divine misery.
Throw Heaven's
human scheme
hemmed within
the earthly show
fairer than the skies.
(Blackout of At a Lunar Eclipse by Thomas Hardy)
Nature tickles my senses year round.
Her treasures are easily found.
From heavenly skies to uncommon ground,
Nature's stimulants abound.
I observe a sky where sun and rain compete.
The sudden rain cools the summer heat.
As vapor rises skyward off the street,
A rainbow provides a dazzling treat.
Thunder announces an approaching storm.
As I watch, dark storm clouds form.
The smell of ozone fills the air,
While lightning carelessly strikes here and there.
The northwestern wind moves the storm along.
The skies clear and the birds resume their song.
A busy bee is buzzing in a flower,
Only briefly interrupted by the shower.
Nasturtiums dance lightly in the breeze.
Their nectar delights my tongue with a squeeze.
The colorful flowers are Nature's bling.
Their heady scents to my senses cling.
My world consists of these simple things.
I'm thankful for the sense of joy life brings.
As time passes, the pickaxe loses its purpose.
The shovel breaks when plunged into you.
Water no longer softens, nor does it change you.
What happened?
Why so hardened?
Has the venom of the world seeped so deep into you
You no longer bring a smile to the fellow passersby
You no longer inspire the townspeople to shout happy cries
Don’t you miss the lush green grass and leaves?
The beautiful flowers and trees?
For the talk of the land you once were.
Now you're the laughingstock of your enemies.
climbing again
? always
assumed at
confine cost
or fallacious
boardwalk whacking
my unlipped
tongue can
misread and
stomp your
plastic shark
outlaw rebelliously
questioning generalist
cushioned rubbish
mutely muddled
disregarded draftsmanship
from beloved
husband potomania
dibble straying
innately downriver
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • October 5–11, 2026)
Silken, shimmering gossamer soft
Radial threads pulled taut
Anchor lines holding the structure in place
A frame laid out, outlining a shape
And a sticky spiral dew-soaked and tempting
As I get closer what is that, that I see
Thrashing, struggling, trying to get free
Yet chained in bondage with sticky manacles
Its dark body stark against soft white threads
Like rats in a maze running out of time
And this may sound like a bug in a web
But happenstance is rarely unorchestrated
Now if we zoom out maybe just a little
And look inward to our lives, what do we see?
Are we … trapped … in bondage by a web?
Cumulus clouds
clouds you learned to draw
the symbol of all clouds
like the snowflake symbolizes winter.
rounded, puffy, and a brilliant white bottoms are flat and dark.
develop on clear, sunny days
nickname
"fair weather" clouds.
appear in the late morning,
grow,
disappear toward evening.
Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it is a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixirs,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
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