Who knows why the waters never end, flowing deeply into running rivers and streams,
A constant current, unlike fleeting tastes, that fades with overindulgence and loss of their dreams,
Who knows what night conceals beneath its starry cloak?
When does the day surrender to the inky dark?
But words, like echoes, climb within and evoke,
Unforgettable memories, leaving their mark.
Who knows why time, with its relentless hand,
Fixes and sets all things in their rightful place?
Yet love remains a constant in this shifting land,
Seated within the heart, a steadfast embrace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The table moans~
a sanctuary of overindulgence,
each plate a silent sermon
on the sin of gluttony.
I chisel my hunger into little gods:
the third serving, the midnight raid,
the gradual communion
of eating what cannot
be expressed.
And when my stomach preaches
its inflated gospel,
I kneel before the porcelain altar,
telling no one
but my own empty reflection
how even the feast
leaves me hungry.
Saint Patrick died on March 17th.
So we celebrate the day with green and drink.
Patrick, was kidnapped to Ireland as a slave,
a condition he never fully forgot or forgave.
Patty (as he was known by his friends)
was a sober, relentless, devout Christian.
As a missionary, he gallivanted methodically, converting heathens
and if he failed to convert you, you weren’t left breathin’.
He could burn you at the steak for ignoring ‘reason’.
To show Christ’s power, he ‘banished’ the snakes,
It’s amazing, the difference a miracle can make.
The year 461 pre-dated laptops and even the Internet,
so, I think it’s time we finally forgive and even forget
the sad, sordid history of Catholic conversion “therapy”
because today we need a reason to drink until we’re green.
.
.
Webster: Gallivant: “travel for pleasure.”
My roommates and I went to Doublin, Ireland last summer.
In casual conversation we asked how they celebrated Saint Patrick's day and their celebrations are like ours, more or less - a secular overindulgence. But on a deeper level, this holiday, they say, is dedicated to the patron saint of heathen genocide.
Gluttony takes no prisoners,
And leaves nothing behind to grow,
Except the need for more.
Gluttony unchecked will end our planets usefulness,
But not our usefulness,
In helping Gluttony get to more and more planets.
More, more, more, and ever more,
Is Gluttony's call to all but the wiry,
And the spendthrift,
The non-alcoholic,
And the tree Hugger,
The Hermit,
And the one actually on a diet.
But is six enough,
To reverse the damage,
From decades of overindulgence?
Scriptures speak to us in riddles
Relying upon esoteric symbols
They may be well intentioned
But it’s time this truth is mentioned
That addressing mind, invoking fear
Guilt of imagined sin begins to sear
Plunging our mind in deep confusion
Spontaneity lost, fearing retribution
Something’s rotten in the religious setup
For unless soma nectar flows into our cup
We feel incomplete and shortchanged
Separated from source, from love estranged
Ceasing thinking, abandoning all knowing
In stillness feeling, gentle breeze flowing
We embrace and release each life impulse
Consciousness expands, everywhere at once
Divine entwined, one with the universe
Having vaporised, there’s nothing to rehearse
Bliss throbs within, ignites our central vein
In fullness of rapture, we are free from stain
Undoubtedly senses five and mind have their use
Yet is not overindulgence in illusion akin to abuse
The inner polarities of our sentience are dormant
Yet it’s from within that sparks, the bliss current
It matters not ancient words etched on stones
If it’s real, we must feel it deep within our bones
31-March-2022
Tentativeness has become pure permanence.
Overindulgence turn true to life temperance...
Boulders resemble icebergs of sturdy snow rocks,
Bonfire looks like lively long burning lava blocks...
Something seen; something hidden; everything subtle,
Living and dead, betwixt heaven and hell shuttle...
24 December 2021
To aid the celebration’s overindulgence
of snow and damp, sugar and fat,
serve a cornucopia of felicitous fiber
and its vitamin rush—
whirligig of walnuts and crisp cranberries,
Honeycrisp apples and wild red strawberries,
spring mix sprinkled with balsamic and fig.
Give a fig* about your friendships and figure.
Strap on boots, tread through snow and ice.
Make nice with muscles and joints,
your neighbors.
Share the bounty of your colorful heritage.
Stay in shipshape form as you celebrate.
The sleepy eyes,
the excited cries,
the whoops and hollers
and the early rise.
The stampede downstairs,
the jumping on chairs,
the ooh's and aah's
and the wide eyed stares.
The tearing of paper
on Christmas morn,
mothers tired smile
and fathers yawn.
The hasty breakfast,
the chocolate smiles,
Skypeing the relatives
across the miles.
The turkey, the pudding,
the crackers, the Queen,
the overindulgence,
the last strawberry cream.
The cold turkey sarnies,
charades, Pictionary,
laughing at grandma,
who's a little merry.
The wind down,
the nightgown,
turn out the light.
A last nip of port,
Merry Christmas,
Goodnight!
sweets
after the war in Norway, there were little in the way
of sweets and what we could buy was rationed.
But all was not lost, my mother melted sugar in a frying pan
when the sugar became liquefied, she put it on a paper
to cool off, she then turned the paper turned it around and
we had sweets, and I remember it tasted wondrous.
Time got better, the rationing stopped and, there were many
children with rotten teeth, the school dentists had a lot to do.
I was not especially fond of sugary things and because of this
I still, except three teeth have got my own.
This, however, didn´t stop me from getting diabetes which
my dear doctor insisted were caused by an overindulgence of
Rum& coca cola and beer.
Why, oh why can't I deny
That the ones I love
Are causing my soul's hope to die,
But will you ever see it from my point of view
Or will you always consider my treasures
Were stored up for your constant abuse,
I graced your existence with the glistening seas
Provided you with an upholstery of richly colored trees
What more could I give to satisfy your needs?
You greed became a mockery to my dreams,
My toil and my labour expressed a love pure and true
Why can't you understand I created all things for you?
And though I hurt to see your apathy towards me
It is my overindulgence of you over the years
That has made this monster, Climate Change, roam free.
Existing in chaos, mind’s fog
World of haze, devoid of color
Mindless drone, autopilot
Going through the motions as if
Sleepwalking
Through the dense gloom, the gray horizon seen
In a daze, the cold emptiness never ending
Sleepwalking by day
Existing only to find solace at twilight
Overindulgence, ceasing the chatter, ceasing the noise
Sleepwalking, hoping to one day awaken from this prison
Subconscious thought periodically drops you into my cotton candy dream world.
The FM dial drizzles my mind with syrupy sweet remnants of the past.
I bite through the chewy nougat of what-could-have-been.
Zinfandel-laced thought processes amplify the rich, chocolatey memories, and morph them into an overindulgence that make my teeth ache.
A need, a craving.
Forgotten are the bitter lies, the lies beneath the lies.
The shattered promises.
The salty tears.
The not-so-decadent degrading words that whisper up my spine.
The surreptitious, wicked little black book with names and numbers written in code.
The rancid smell of your latest addiction on your breath.
Your vitriolic tongue, continuously degrading and reminding me of my faults.
Forgotten... until they are remembered in a moment of natural, unadulterated clarity.
Spring mix sprinkled with balsamic and fig
A whirligig of walnuts and crisp cranberries
Décor’s sweet dawn of strawberries
A fork and buds to taste
At first so cold then so warm somehow
As fiber and vitamins rush
To aid the holiday’s overindulgence
Of snow and damp, fat and sweet
12/19/2016
Addicted to somethin’
My thoughts no longer own
A fish tank full of submarines
Swimming schools of piranhas
Waking up soaking wet
Sharks swimming in my sweat
Sleeping on the cold floor
Petrified to close the door
Or open when closed...nightmares
Circling ahead...flocks of aeroplanes
Like vultures to a carcass
Feeding on my burnt ashes
Overindulgence in fantasy
Thoughts amputated from reality
Monotones ringing in my cranium
Press the button to a new continuum
To end this paralyzing paranoia
That feeds my insatiable insomnia
New Years Eve celebration
Ever so grateful of redemption
With overindulgence of consumption
Year-end celebrating
Edibles I've been craving
Aha so much champagne drinking
Recoup from stomach bloating
Swaying, light-headed teetering
Eek nightcaps of antacid
Verily, not so lucid
Eau de mornings, feeling putrid
For Francine Roberts' contest, "New Years Eve,"
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