Sun ascends, the relentless overlord of the day.
Steam rises from concrete like breath from the earth.
Stillness settles in the trees, even the cicadas pausing.
Sweat beads and trails, a slow-moving river on skin.
Shade becomes a sanctuary, fiercely guarded.
Sky shimmers in a veil of unrelenting heat.
Souls surrender to June's heavy hand.
Humidity didn’t just arrive today~
it descended,
a damp celestial overlord
turning Texas into its own personal terrarium.
My clothes clung to me
like needy toddlers
refusing to be put down.
The air grew so thick
I considered cutting a doorway through it
just to walk to the kitchen.
The frizzy-haired squirrel
became humidity’s chosen mascot,
Even the sky looked exhausted~
sweaty, sagging,
like it needed a cold drink
and a long nap.
And still humidity whispered,
with the confidence of a moist tyrant:
You’re not going anywhere dry today.
Two old souls, a long time wed
Sit indoors, just been fed
Cat deciding who to sit on
Curling round, tries to fit on
Closes eyes and stretches out
Now owns the chair, there is no doubt
The other occupant sits tight
Not giving up without a fight
Bends and twists to make more space
Whiskers twitch, an “innocent” face
Purring like a furry train
Knowing there is all to gain
A truce is called, just space for two
Just don’t try to make a brew
Until our overlord awakes
Time for food, quick, quick, two shakes
Domestic bliss, oh what a laugh
Dogs have owners but cats have staff
Are we that cold-blooded?
NOT to be crass but had to butt-in...
Because although some might pass, there is a question I have been wondering?
If a lizard loses its tail, becoming derailed instead of jailed...
Who are the ones in charge, one might see or say thus far?
An overlord of the rent money spent, pent up yet NOT eating crickets,
As they seem or tend to chirp when all lizards should be getting out of church...
Scales weigh in what the scaly reptilian skin would be akin to,
The fact that we knew all along as we grew new tails,
After the olds ones were ripped off, being scoffed at by older dinosaurs,
Of course! Our necks stick out!
I would stick mine out for you.
Not just a mating call but what we are supposed to do.
I thought you knew. It is true.
Are we that cold-blooded?
NOT to be crass but had to butt-in...
Because although some might pass, there is a question I have been wondering?
If a lizard loses its tail, becoming derailed instead of jailed...
Who are the ones in charge, one might see or say thus far?
An overlord of the rent money spent, pent up yet NOT eating crickets,
As they seem or tend to chirp when all lizards should be getting out of church...
Scales weigh in what the scaly reptilian skin would be akin to,
The fact that we knew all along as we grew new tails,
After the olds ones were ripped off, being scoffed at by older dinosaurs,
Of course! Our necks stick out!
I would stick mine out for you.
Not just a mating call but what we are supposed to do.
I thought you knew. It is true.
AI as soldiers
We see them walking naked through the town’s square, and organs not needed for the time being, the onlookers are not offended but worried about the strident gates of the new being walking like a soldier in a merciless army killing creatures big and small that have blood and have the sense of smelling the roses and is capable of falling in love and admire a full moon their overlord is a person dressed in a half-length black coat, who has the chip that can switch off the monstrous development into junk science an adolescent boy’s dream of tomorrow.
The air shimmered, a wavering mirage,
Heatwaves rippling through the afternoon,
A furnace blast, relentless and fierce.
Shadows retreating, thin as whispers,
Concrete burning underfoot,
Even the cicadas silenced, stunned by the blaze.
Mirrors of light, cruel and blinding,
Sky a bleached canvas, stark and hollow,
Leaves curling, thirsting, brittle to touch.
Breath searing, every inhalation a shock,
Sweat beads forming, reluctant to cool,
The sun an unyielding overlord, unsparing in its gaze.
Silent streets, deserted, still,
Nature hiding, subdued by the glare,
This unexpected inferno, a summer’s merciless grip.
There are those in whom evil is deep-set,
in whose hearts love lotus is yet to bloom,
for example, the demon Baphomet,
overlord of dark realms, where awaits doom.
It’s a place we would do well to forget,
lest the stench of evil becomes our tomb,
so we best hasten from there our escape,
sheltered in God’s domain of love agape.
12-February-2023
Writing Challenge - E Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Marriage is a two-edged sword
One end brandished by your overlord
~ At the other, your oxen gored
Night flyte ride
sensual overlord
to joy and pain
please mind the gap
second thoughts sunrise
lust in Angels
lost and found finale
Come enter the wild as nature's first child,
shed ancient Godly fears that could be quelled.
Leave your mind behind, your savage self mild -
feel life, land, waters where spirits are held.
In wilderness touch the odd, even grand,
searching still through this world and all its ills;
no overlord will wave his heavy hand.
It is too tough to bend bent human wills.
Arriving amidst nature's tangled twigs;
surely see each branch through this moral maze.
Peer deeply in between where no one digs,
be careful of judgments that this might raise.
Though the wild order may seem strictly raw -
its bewildering beauty brings us awe!
11/11/21 Sonnet 14 lines 106 words
When wisdom not often the same thing,
the first letter may not be capitalized.
Endless *****homini lupus,
more than human and dragon clash.
Smelling overlord blood feud,
taxation penalty redeployed.
Create more misery,
giant trading subjugating.
Free market eliminated,
minimal state dead.
It must have dazzled Free Will
To be jousting with Fate.
Clanks there no discordant
But armour intimate.
Dark, or roseate-crested, one of
Either the former's knights.
Sent out its castle wall, beyond
For the latter's world-fights.
It’s important
what you get called
has a name,
one you can take
to the ivory
border
It’s important
what you’re called
is remembered the same,
today recollected
tomorrow
reordered
A mark on the stone
no longer
unknown,
your history and
legacy
rendered
Sapphire crystal
overlord set,
the past
eponymous
the future
—kismet
(The New Room: February, 2021)
From dense sleep we emerge.
Realizing our coat,
we seek to cast off this Nessus.
We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid
and now it’s too late.
We never noticed the circling
vultures despotic descent on the capital.
We never contested the contagion,
the invective infections of the tyrant.
Everywhere we witness the carnage,
the flyblown bodies we covered,
the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse,
the spewing sewers of vituperation.
While all the sinkholes break open
our dual justice system a slapstick,
our public coffers are looted,
our privatized schools divested.
Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages.
Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders.
This is the moribund city of rot.
This is the counterfeit city of lies.
This is our cloaked city
cast by an infantile overlord.
This is our tomb city of palls.
Published in The Opiate Mag. 06/2019
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