I wrote about you before.
You and your maybes.
Everything about you making me so dam unsure of myself.
Yet also so sure?
I was delusional.
Idealistic.
Overtly hopeful.
I thought those inboxes meant something more.
I thought that for some stupid reason I was special?
But then I turn around.
And you’ve ran to someone else.
What a coward.
I’m sorry, it’s the truth.
You are nothing but a coward.
But… who cares?
I certainly don’t.
You can go about doing whatever.
I think everything I thought of came through.
And man, I can’t wait for that 10 year reunion.
Not because I want to see YOU.
But because I want to SEE you.
Because you may go around and round all of us.
But one thing remains clear.
Nothing will come of it.
Because of what you are.
And because of everything that can be.
Good luck!
As for me, I am enlightened.
As Jesus once wrote in the dirt
With wisdom a silent covert
He challenged the crowd
Not speaking aloud
As Mercy soaked a land that thirsts
Did He write of the Law or a plea
Or note what the stoners would see?
With grace He forgave
And lives that He’d save
Revealed what true justice should be
The ignorant sin and the bold
By Jesus were greatly retold
To turn from the wrong
Repent and belong
To a Love that is greater than gold
Did Jesus write the Law of Moses
As the Book of Numbers discloses
Echoes of the stoning
For Stephen no postponing
On the grave lain stone roses
In this free-floating pericope
The question has to be
Where is the john
The adulteress had known?
A name overtly written to see?
Maybe one by one
That's why they flee from The Son
Slumping off guiltily
Their demeanor is easy to see
Their sin the smoking gun
No books He did write
With water He didn't baptize
We are His hands and feet
We are His voice when we preach
To the masses that ostracize
The Falling Out
I find the ceiling fan
quite interesting – a whirling
meditation; -- blades
whiz! – air cooling unseen
yet felt
apparently
all affecting not overtly visible
how one’s heart reacts to currents
oblivious to detached others --
when we had our falling out
a great storm rocked worlds
no mention by the local meteorologist
nor cosmologist
seismologist
or an especial priest --
What’s one more or less, our universe~
to the greater emotional theme?
Bound so tight with your silken love
tends to excite that wild beast within.
The dark of a crow and light of a dove.
This collaboration I’m eager to begin,
you leave me breathless and sweating.
I fall hard for that overtly masculine grin.
Your wet growl leaves me anticipating,
it echoes the tempo that haunts me.
Don’t say this is a game we’re playing.
Our version of forte hanky-panky,
you can’t cover this song acoustically.
What are ploits and why do they have so many exs
Shouting claim overtly loud
Shall I ex……………………..pand
It’s plain
That Squelchy ex
Tend to give hugs
This one ex is cruciating
Clever when I am pert
Trod when I meant to Trude
Breathing with my exs sighs
Begone fish and old friend
Perfect act ex
……………….it
They interviewed the artist
inside her large blueprint mansion.
At one point, she criticized America
for being overtly materialistic.
Her painting studio was large enough to
house half a dozen desperados...
Instead, it harbored dozens of giant unsold paintings.
I was amazed by how bright a person could be completely blind to their own
devastating hypocrisy.
Doesn’t seem if I understand anymore
Things I considerably understood
I don’t visit the places I used to know
Don’t think what’s evil and what is good
Sad and done, still I play my part
According to the predetermined text
Too much of events around, I depart
Don’t want to know what will come next
Not that I’m full of something important
Or I am overtly empty inside
Not that I want to do what I’m potent
To do, and I don’t, cause something I hide
But a massive tiredness of all this
Consumes me like Jonah was by the whale
I give up, despite that something I miss
Anyway it would lead to a stale.
EUROVISION SONG CONTEST
Every year, it is getting ever more weird
Unlikely now that actual songs are judged
Risky costumes and acts are getting stranger
Overtly gender-neutral in displays of pride
Voting is always political, and predictable
It all started off being just about the music
Songs themselves now seem not to matter
I admit these days I do avoid that TV show
Ostentatious spectacle has become the norm
Now, it is not even just European countries
Cunning Sam craved to catch caged canary,
feigned sly not to be overtly scary.
He sneaked with dinner in mind,
caught in cage, Sam starved confined.
The bird performed Houdini sorcery.
The sapphire seas
show in seamless
turquoise spread
the perfect poise
of unique aquatic
equanimity of enormity
harmoniously sparkling
lilting luster
of cerulean sky
reflection echo
resonates with
cobalt whisper
of waltzing waves.
Platinum periphery
embroidering embellished
lustrous lattice
of drifting cloud
corrugated clumps
suffused with
silver sunrays
of cupid’s arrow
adoringly enticing
entrance overtly
the ancient mariner
to embark upon
a new voyage
of attrite atonement
for he has left
in supercilious stupor
the seventh sea
unsailed.
He drifts desolate
with disquiet trepidation
in quandary qualm
on the clarion call
of swaying uncertainty
lurking latent
in languor swells
of steamy sea
the archaic essence
of his forlorn life
anchored enamored
on senile shore
the quaint ship
sails sanguine
from antique quay
of safe sanctuary
on southern wind
blowing beguiled
with perfumed promise
the serene soul
serenades content
to the tranquil tune
of the shredded sail
silently promising
to take him
to his new home
harbored beyond
the seven seas.
If the world would be like me
there will be no wars
Peace will be the first decree
overtly endorsed
Love will be the law for good
Common understanding
Will prevail, just how it should
Larks will be ascending
to the summer skies of blue
then descend with grace
to the garden grown by you
There will be no race
No oppressive vanity
will make any sense
If the world would be like me
it would cut expense
But alas, the world we know
Looks a lot like them
Who are running this old show
with the newer lambs
Some offended gods can’t break
their favorite toy
And a wiser god can’t make
world of peace and joy.
Nay say I
the cart
will not
be put
before the horse
wisdom as old as time
I will therefore
not
tacitly
or
overtly
tip the nod
in “bro” fashion
in support
of your comments
about your wife’s cooking
not until
I have dined at her table
and tasted her cooking
which
I am sure
cannot be
as bad
as you say it is
I am absolutely positive
that a woman
with legs and a figure like hers
will cook like an angel.
Time has weathered its walls, and nature has claimed it as its own, with vines and foliage covering every surface as if foraging for room. The air is thick with a sense of dejic-mystery and significance depicted overtly by the castle's towering entrance. There are tales and tall tales that surround this place, that ignite one's curiosity even further. If you get the right traveler and enough ale. But never had any of them acquired the knowledge of it's location. Most of them even ending their accounts with, "but all of it but a myth", or it's equivalent.
Is this overgrown castle, that whispers of it's readiness to divulge its secrets and echoes that have been shaded within its walls and forgotten by Time, playing with the imagination or siring a confidant, a worker of its magics.
Graft appeared as a small child in contrast as he pushed open the Great doors. They let out a great shriek from age and unuse, sounding much like a Vulcarn ready to dive, giving battle cry as the last thing one would hear before the black...
It has been quite long that we’ve been intimate,
in rain and in shine we’ve fostered our entwined fate.
In the dune of my mind mirages disappear in the desert,
make your shifting shadow overtly overcast my heart.
The dream clouds of parched passion don’t come low,
my horizon waits weary for the southern wind to blow,
bring your wispy winsome charisma with the sunset glow,
in its spectral surge my chromatic craving yearns to flow.
Time comes when disparity develops from consuming closeness,
dancing to your music in the misleading maze makes no sense.
Our detangled roads diverge, I see at the end of the day,
out of conundrum I choose the one taking me from you far away.
Our differences are like the pieces of a puzzle called life,
I drift with no rancor out of the realm of the extant enigma rife.
I won’t detest you if in my dull days you don’t ever shine,
I would walk my life’s pathway the way I want, for it’s mine.
I walk my life on my own terms I set,
create the course on the lone pathway I pave.
I see probing faceless uncalled people pile,
break the barrier of protected privacy and pry,
asking incisive questions piercing my persona,
I don’t answer.
They want their footprints I follow compliant,
abandon what defines me on the wayside,
exist as a formless empty entity impersonated.
Caustic comments they make of me being inflexible,
on the atypical manner I behave, overtly odd to them,
I don’t react.
My heart quivers in the quicksand of harsh times,
emotions struggle to rise from the despondent debris.
Things good done for me I can’t acknowledge loud,
the bud of love for you blooms in me, I adore unexpressed.
Porous sensitivity absorbs all the feelings inarticulate,
I don’t demonstrate.
I will be doing till the end what I do, not being blunt,
even if you call me an obdurate being,
I don't care.
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