Ominously Poems

X marks the spot

Monstrously Machievellian

Demonic pedagogic

Ominously Orwellian

Demagogic logic 

Fools’ Musk-ovite mules

Zuckerberg zeitgeist heist

Dickensian dystopia rules

Google last post bugle 

Fossil fuels myopia drools

Bellicose Bezos blows

Bro-ligarchy mates’ malarkey

Unions demonstrate

Amazon defenestrate 

Hades Gates hierarchy

In the dock

Murdoch foxy skulduggery

Poxy TikTok runs amok

Crass puns..shock thuggery

This lot don't give a jot
.
Bitter sh**ter Twitter

Greedier needier seedier

The death of mass media

X marks the spot!

Reading the Future

The lass came to consult in the darkening gloaming,
Shyly, she knocked on the frosted window
Of the gypsy’s cabin.  She was sick with trepidation,
As she was ushered into the musty, decrepit room.

The crystal globe on the table seemed opaque.
Unpredictable how things came fearsomely to a head.
The globe cleared momentarily and became luminous. 
Intimidating hums and aha followed this,
As if all has been quickly but ominously revealed.

The gypsy fortune teller’s voice was full of pathos,
“I see a young, valiant man guiding you into a shop.
Armed men entered to steal what they could.
Someone fired a shot.  The young man protected her.
He died on the spot.” All this she saw in the globe.

The young lass vowed she’d never enter into any shop,
But the gypsy assured her that she would do so.
The future cannot in any way be changed.  It was immutable.
The lass left; sure, she would be melancholy for evermore.


Fiction & Fantasy

She asked, 'What does your painting mean'

She asked, "What does your painting mean?"
I said, "Nothing really. It's just a portrait of a peaceful evening scene."
She said, "But I sense something ominously stark,
there, lurking behind those two figures in the dark."
I said, "Oh, yeah. I see exactly what you mean.”

Owl

Of the cold night, am I,
Observing with each eye.
Overhead, I explore.
Ominously, I soar
Over the forest floor.
Oops, what nixed Mousie's life?
Only my talon's knife.

miserable forlorn abandoned shack

the abandoned shack looks miserable and forlorn
standing amid brambles and weeds in an unkempt field
her porch boards creak ominously as we walk across them
Some of the end boards have disintegrated
she looks sad and gloomy; her front door is gone
she has not been cared for in a number of years
the upstairs windows are broken probably by rocks
her kitchen has been stripped of appliances
wires hang where her oven used to be
the floor is brighter next to these wires
a tiny creature scuttles across the floor
She smells like animals
She has probably been a haven for squirrels and mice
Maybe raccoons take up residence during the winter
Do you want to go upstairs? My girlfriend asks
I shake my head “no” not wanting to see any more

Storms Will Pass

"over the waters blue the night winds sigh,
    The breakers roar... " Lord Byron  

"Over the waters blue the night winds sigh
The breakers roar..." Waves collapse before my eyes.
I catch my breath, looking up at the sky,
I express deep awe; The glory replies -
The breeze whispers softly in my ears.
Tenderly, it dries away my tears.
The glittering moon distracts from fears.
It guides the night til each new day nears.

Out on the ocean sailing alone
The ship, though sturdy, is not like home.
The silver-black sea, I venture, I roam.
A storm now approaches! I'm tossed and thrown.
Great monstrous clouds gather ominously!
Wavey tongues taste this ship hungrily!
The appetite swells in the restless sea.
Will shipwreck result? What catastrophe!

The storm dies down with a slow, long hiss.
A new day begins in golden bliss.
"Over the waters blue the night winds sigh
The breakers roar..." Chant the seagulls near by.

There Is A Darkness

It's not the pitch-black scene that surrounds me ominously.
Suspense-filled 'what's hidden within?' feelings heavily haunt
Visions of serpents creeping around precariously
Appear and disappear like nightmares and jeeringly taunt

Though, sometimes, death-like is this dark environment outside.
There's a purgatory-like gloom encircling me within.
From the angels of inner illumination, I hide
My wrath, rage, hate, and mercilessness throw me into sin.

A glimpse of awareness, yet, like a little ray, is seen.
A lamp of optimism, though flickering, is burning still.
Why should I be my foe? Nay. May my friendship with me clean.
Shouldn't I, like an enlightened self, do the divine will?

The nectar brim fills when petals unfold in detachment.
Hungry flies and bees around drink to their hearts' contentment.
Attachment, aversion, and delusion are malignant.
Defeating darkness, I find existential fulfilment.

Torpid souls in the heat of winter

Wind whispers through the ears of distant lovers as the sun hides behind ominously positioned clouds 
where their gray cast shadows on quiet hearts 
quiet minds, & quiet eyes alike 

Poor lovers, transfixed by natures embodiment of their undisclosed truths, 
words no more manageable than a peep escaping a ducklings throat 

Eyes shut wide, glued by dependance
Waiting for mama to come, waiting to be fed 

But there is no food here, just gray 
& mama will not come it is just you and i
& the feelings we dare not bare 
Starving ourselves 
waiting for spring to melt the ice away

Song of The Raven No 4: AABB

Seasons bring ... the nights, Machiavelli's
Corvus corax or ravens, hints, rallies
birds of good and evil, biblically,
and birds of a feather, ominously,
fed Elijah; 1 Kings 17: ... good,
left Noah; Genesis 8: ... bad, withstood
words by De La Mare, Pollard, and purely ...,
Poe. Riposte's preface specter writes, surely ...,
"Unblackeneds spot the murder from peaks cross.
Fowl scratched a stilted appendaged, exhausts
for ends, internal haunts recuse it from
rituals such ... be marred guilt and succumb
in absentia accused of their acts.
Black king seeks a pawn, the hour ... ink affects."

Komorebi Tourist in Paradise

Tradewinds strummed the cocoa nutter's palm fingers
the sun crept down to its packed trunk
overburdened routes tangled tunnels underground
the sun snuck below through the subtropic shaft 
a sunny chamber secrets rays gaping droplets 
friendly fronds fingering the sun's gaps as palms' breadth widen
cavernous collapses as sunlight escapes
shadows were the only victims that were claimed
the noontime sun dims over paradise
solar eclipse is a harbinger
light dims life ominously
the betrayed-winds cease
palms fronds dangling
eclipse ends the sun's suspend
eve befriends supine palms read
groves of palms with their trunks all packed
air express vents

Afternoon Tea

It was a day of jubilation when
The alligators came to tea
Though I didn’t quite like
The way they looked at me
A Jungle Jazz Combo played
Do Wap free and loose
As we all celebrated the day
Of the  inter species truce.

The chimps played the brass
A gorilla sang deep bass
While the giraffe conducted
Them to a cracking pace.
The lion sat there with the lamb
Ominously licking his lips
As he licked the brown sauce off
A large plate of chips.

Wolves, Hyenas and Hippos
All shared the same plate
As the truce continued in
A very uneasy state.
They fired a starting pistol
Ten minutes before the end
To give them chance to escape
From any new found friend.

Certain of the guests
Departed in a run
At the first crack 
Of the warning gun.
I really didn’t like the way
The alligators looked at me
As we declared at end 
The first inter species tea.

Although I was quite pleased
With the way it went
I don’t think we’ll be 
Making It an annual event.
It took me nearly a week
To clear the mess from the scene
So it was as spick and span as
Though the event had never been.

Tornado

Torrential rain, blinding wind howling, 
Dark heavy clouds ominously scowling,
Brilliant radiant light of electric flashes,
Following the lightning, defiant crashes,

Loudest blasts make brave men cower,
Thunder so deafening it exudes power,
I was born of a powerful thunderstorm.
Still attached to its base, I will spawn.

Nature’s most violent, I am called TORNADO,
300 miles per hour, my winds will blow.
A rotating column of air touching the ground,
Violently spinning with a horrendous sound.

I will cause fatalities at a devastating rate,
Buildings, and whole towns, I will annihilate,
People panic seeing my deadly approach,
Over fields and farms and cities I encroach.

Lifting up animals, houses and cars in my wake,
My tempest is unending, with fury, victims I take,
Finally cold down drafts signal my final gust.
I slowly cease rotating and turn to dust.

Night People

Neon fingers
banish the remnants of the day
Dustbins loiter ominously
blurry eyed
The Night people slide in between
Sailor doom bewitched by sorceresses
as heckled men face electric spears

Stet the occasion
A drawbridge opens
staining the gangster day
Outstretched palms
preclude the day

Jewelled ghost trains
ordinately take you
further away

Velvet dolls with a brainy side
watch stale commissioners slide
Star  clad ingénues infuriated evermore

Reading the Future

The lass came to consult in the darkening gloaming,
Shyly she knocked on the frosted window
Of the gypsy’s cabin.  She was sick with trepidation,
As she was ushered into the musty decrepit room.

The crystal globe on the table seemed opaque.
Unpredictable how things came fearsomely to a head.
The globe cleared momentarily and became luminous. 
This was followed by intimidating hums and aha,
As if all has been quickly but ominously revealed.

The gypsy fortune teller’s voice was full of pathos,
“I see a young valiant man guiding you into a shop.
Armed men entered to steal what they could.
Someone fired a shot.  The young man protected her.
He died on the spot.” All this she saw in the globe.

The young lass vowed she’d never enter any shop,
But the gypsy assured her that she would do so.
The future cannot in any way be changed.  It was immutable.
The lass left; sure, she would be melancholy forevermore.

The gypsy gathered her ill-gotten money and wondered
How the young ones, so ready with money, were so gullible.

Anticipating Diversity

Diversity explores
both resonant and opposing positions
with nearly predative anticipation

And such perversely curious
reverse revisioning diversity deplores 
with monoculturing anxiety
quietly crossed
and boldly violated boundaries
of personal
and familial
and municipal
and EarthTribal
indigenous integrity

Sacred space expands 
mindfully perceived
this Business As Traumatically Usual place
too lose/lose dark
and too win/win blind
to keep faith with dimming starlight

Celestial Glitter Rivered Ways
majestic
yet ominously silent 
shunned Spirits
of ancient silvered sentient bright

Yet momentary mortal time
feels reflective light received
sufficiently reassuring
mythically alluring 
for transient transportive pleasure
tenderly insufficient
for full-ripened organic measure
depleting dissonant self-disenfranchising
failure to complete 
integrity's potential Paradise.

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