It feels muted.
Like a bubbling ache, miming the mince of my patronising murk.
The peevish petulance of my prejudice prompts an abandoned frugality so thinned to a destined demise.
Unlaced.
Untied.
Undone.
A portal so honed to the residual refine of my extinction.
The sterling silver glints off the ashen sheds of my abandoned flesh; she looks like a platter.
Each serving an amortisation to the segments of my pestilent seethe.
Every atom of her making nurtures a barbaric famine to the fester of her feud.
Each larceny a sacrificial suckle for the prosperity of her condemn.
I feel my ruins spewing in a sovereign decay of a cataclysm so heinous in its destruction.
So sinister in its devaluation.
So predatory in its death.
It feels muted; all my days blending one.
All my days blending into the countdown to my censure.
My day of reckoning.
A facsimile of the earth stands proudly
On the savannahs of the ancient and modern.
Edifice of rustic finesse, rugged and pointed
With the glory of a pinnacle of a paradise on earth.
In your crawling presence, Termite, stand I,
Barefoot, on elevated earth for the first time —
A platform erected by the hands of gifted time,
All red-brown and royal, and under the tutelage of
Sun and Rain —two keen-eyed foremen descended from heaven.
You have reached the skies before man.
I hail you!
I have removed my open-toe footwear,
Like Moses did his in the burning bush.
Babel forbids the union of this construction,
Aiming Nimrodly upwards and towards arrowed clouds
Dispersed in blubbering tongue-lashes.
But you do not seek God’s wrath upon these grasslands
With these anthills,
Wild castles —testaments to the will of fecund grounds.
Termite, break the jinx of your muteness.
Testify, crawling soul, testify harmoniously,
Borrowing the singing heritage of the Common Cuckoo.
Testify now.
Attest
To the ruggedness and puissance of this imposing structure,
And blame it on the staccato rhythm of peevish languages.
Works of fire and thunder
flower the surface of a dark river.
When the rockets
are dead-eyed and spent,
muffled calls remain -
a flap and gabble,
of the peevish and ruffled.
Night stumbles over the edge
of gunpowder clouds.
Ducks deliver themselves
to the dark-dinged sky.
Distant cannons sigh.
A percentage of me has to hell been consigned
by the ever raging zionists' war machine.
To each livid soldier, a mandate is assigned
to uproot terror where multitudes are confined.
Torrents of explosives have swept my landscapes clean.
Churches, mosques, schools have all to mighty vengeance bowed.
Stricken mothers wail uncontrollably aloud.
Itinerancy pervades my horror stricken crowd,
whilst my kids toy with explosives, carnage and ruin.
Survivors will take shelter from snipers shooting
death balls and lead from peevish and portable guns.
Horror unprecedented the people outruns.
I have metamorphosed to nothing but a morgue.
Lice and bugs have infested hoodies lined with borg.
Disease and maimed limbs have no remedies in sight.
Let not the world be unmoved by my sorry plight.
Why must I this price pay for a thousand or more killed?
My morgues are beyond their capacity filled.
The deaths of innocents are nothing but unjust.
My once-populated streets have been turned into dust.
Trump and Biden, a joint election win,
In the White House, they both walked in.
But the cat, feeling small,
Grew peevish in the hall,
Wondering who'd let the doggone cat in!
NYT News:
Trump and Biden, declared winners so fine,
Shared victory's crown, sipped the celebratory wine.
But the White House cat, oh, so peevish in clatter,
Fussed and fumed, with a grumpy, sour chatter!
W.C.Barry, White House Correspondent
He returned with peevish looks,
a condescending demeanor,
Vaunting as though his bones were made of rocks
and his sinews of brass,
bottled up acrimony burning from his bowels,
A prideful face, and a visage adorned with rage,
forty years of fury fueled from afar,
none could tame the lion,
cloaked with pretenses and false affiance
resentment buoyed, angst unrelenting.
the bitterest gall wells up like lava,
none could cure the brain malady,
The threath, the venom of a vermin.
Still Lurking,
though kept away by distance.
God will surely punish
Those committing wrongs
So please be not devilish
Then only peace prolongs
They may go scot-free
But, cannot ever elude
They must pay the fee
For being morally crude
One day they will repent
Feeling for their deeds
To Hell they will be sent
Which ignores their needs
Because of their immorality
They deserve only torture
Due to their peevish quality
They suffer after departure
Those practicing dishonesty
Will be offered only the worst
As their behavior is nasty
Hell quenches not their thirst.
In case you curb desires, then you win
As your mind is devoid of any bad greed
By suppressing peevish ideas, you clean
Your mind and grow there peace-flowers
Only by overcoming our mind, we succeed
In doing great acts of valor and real merit
We must boost our confidence with skill
And that is possible if we are sagacious
All the negative ideas must be fully banned
Wishes harmful in any way must be stopped
Every possible right thing must be carried out
None must suffer and we must also not suffer
Slavish tendency and superiority complex
Are all very bad things to be by us rejected
We must keep a balanced approach finely
To live on this beautiful Earth with people
We must accept every verdict and attempt
To march toward progress via wise ways
On our path may come hurdles to hinder
Our greatness lies in winning over them.
Let love and courage
Enter into heart-cage
At each and every stage
Quit those who discourage
Sun and Moon have agreed
To do only a generous deed
Who knows their real need?
For help, they don't plead
Nature is God-made
She will give all shade
Her part is well-played
She must be obeyed
Nature's giving is lavish
Nature is never peevish
Her power won't diminish
Loving her is my wish
If Nature gets upset
She won't be an asset
Let respect Nature get
To help, she won't forget
Nature is a real wonder
Our duty, let us render
And please the Sender
As He is the life-Lender!
Sudden kisses, in lusty stealth - warming as morning sun - unmasked favors to allure and added heat to deep affection.
Those eyes, fair heaven should be spangled with such stars - and those radiantly concupiscible lips perform witchcraft.
Slow hours of marriage-like joys soon followed - lover’s tongues tanged from the sweetest flowers not of the field.
In that dear company, I surrendered, like eve's apple, that treasure - peevish, proud and idle whose natural enemy is man.
What I find now haunting my sleep are the nights, the years of lost and unused benefits - knowing that fault was mine.
The globe doth spin, as we walk perpendicular.
I find, this fact, indeed this most peculiar.
Stammering, stuttering we yammer about fixing the earth!
Yet read the poetry, full of how, "it does not work".
Perhaps we should all look in the mirror and wonder why,
The universe outshines our peevish, constant complaints and cries.
How ungrateful many nations be, wanting to control our freedoms and chosen, individual destinies.
The genuine individual is insulted, scoffed at, or not recognized at all.
Just the sheep, who follow lead shepherds, get acknowledgement
at all.
12-28-2020
11:30am PST
Peevish spell maligned mental management
Mother Earth sustains a form regardless
“Mind over matter” they used to teach you
Control the “Religion of Climate” to bleach you
Trot a troll on mind control
Marionette children speak for demon masters
They just recite, “We told you so”
The sham of science shames you all
Experience your inheritance, holographic
All ends without your will to know it
Light a torch you wicked warrior
By darkened thought, you've lost your mind
I was in a peevish mood when I realized
I have been assigned to be the school counselor at two schools this year.
Always difficult for I have done it before.
Never easy. Lots of extra paperwork which I despise.
Almost impossible to do a good job in this circumstance.
Luckily, yesterday, I sat down next to a counselor whose story is much worse.
After hearing what happened to her, I calmed down a bit
And did not bite the leg off the supervisor who decided these things.
Buxom blonde, eyelashes long
Cabaret singer
Belting out a bawdy song
She’s a dead ringer
Pure sex too
For 50’s lounge singer
Sensual boobs, wig so thick
My most calm boy
Made up in drag, an easy trick
Full of easy joy,
So whoop-dee-doo
And ships ahoy!
Surprising he,
Someone says “you look rather whorish”,
Delighting me
I hate to be peevish or boorish,
But this is drag life in a flourish….
Written: 4-27-2019
Contest: Quirky Tercets
Type: Terza Rima
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
By Mark Miller © 08/13/2014
Random blackout seizure disorder
Of space time stairwell left to wear
Quickly flames ghastly formless suffer
Sprinkle spring showers drown
Fractal mist string melody
From Carnival's side show act of comedy
Sketch drawn skewer skits flash
Figurines in dance gown tears
Watching presence moon lit frights
Presentation scenes
Unkind behind wishful
Requisitions been denied
Head ways upon strange days
Mystery novel hero burns away
Clatter clash seas’ roaming waves
Frenzied feast flight saves
Peevish night lives delay
Badly needful daybreak
Frailty heals our surface broken scars
Trailing breadcrumb souls depart
Wandering thickets torn apart
Steam ship’s last land shadow’s
Ahead distant port horizon
Leaving lasting barren impression
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