Percolating Poems

JERICHO AWAKENING

JERICHO AWAKENING

Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From aged-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-

Let not the reality 
Of new Jericho borders
Blind and deceive us:-
Legislative freedom and unity
For so-called refugees, 
Remain at hand, and
Our struggle to be masters
Of ourselves continues;
We being caged and considered
Refugees in this, our homeland!

       Wake up, my people!
              Wake up!
           It’s here again!

Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From age-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-

In today’s political drought,
Drying out justice and equity,
We are in as much profound need
Of raining clouds of liberty, as would be
Nature in times of drying pandemic drought: 

                     Hey!

         Wake up, my people!
                 Wake up!
             It’s here again!

I Breathe You In: 300

As the ethereal guitar mesmerises
My soul responds
As if I dipped into a melodic bath
Of perfectly curated
Lovingly tempered 
Heart massaging
Candle flickering 
Water 

A fragrant tune invades 
My nostrils 
Flaring as the warm
Moistened air tumbles by
The world merges into
Perfection
Harmony
Stirring

The resonance
Of childhood memory
Percolating through the mist
As sliding strings 
Caress my ears
My mind drifting
Towards that past
Safer place

Yet this mesmerising medication
This tuneful tumult quelling
Perfect prescription
Is deeply welcome
Somewhere in my gut
My true being
Soothed as we surrender
To this soulful sabbath

May you never grow old
At the joyful table
Where your soul dines
Hear the whispers
Of the small pleasures
Taste the fermented flavours
Of the ordinary delights
Using all your available senses

When the music plays
To transport you
Run to catch the moment
Soak in the vapour
Embibe the elixir
Breathe it all in deeply
Holding in gratitude
Each heavenly moment

Rumors

Rumors can be fascinating,
hearing about others speculating,
wondering what is percolating
seemingly out of the blue.

I always find it fascinating
and, to be honest, kinda hair-raising,
to hear things about myself
that I know are just not true.

Wouldn't life be grand

I wish I were a fancy artsy
living off my creative exploits.

I'd wish to mingle with its class,
commune with the type of people 
who live and breathe for art.

I'd wake up every morning
percolating with bursts of ideas.
I'd master hues and nuances
splattering colours on wide canvases.
My brushstrokes would be magical
and my art inspiring to all.

There'd be a reason to my creations.
Like a calling to offer true compassion,
my art would be joyful and bring cheer
speak to both the heart and soul, mostly 
reach the sad and lonely to offer hope.


AP: 2nd place 2025

Sunrise and Sunset Routines

Breaking up the day into coffee and cabernet,
energy and relaxation, sunrise and sunset routines.
—by poet

Sunrise coffee, percolating,
poured into four seasons.
As soon as the mug’s drained,
brush pearly teeth, slide frothy floss,
Touch the sky where the sun should be;
the reach of xanthous rays.
Leftover steam from coffee-up -
blow on the sky; blue hue.

Cabernet in late afternoon;
cerise-cheers at sunset.
Dress down in seasonal pjs.
Brush pearls ‘til they sparkle.
Touch the sky where the moon should be -
the soothe of milky-white.
Remains a drop, dark berry -
the twilight sky infused.

JERICHO AWAKENING

Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From aged-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-

Let not the reality 
Of new Jericho borders
Blind and deceive us;
Legislative freedom and unity
For so-called refugees 
Remain at hand and
Our struggle to be masters
Of ourselves continues,
Lease we be caged and considered
Refugees in this, our homeland!

     Wake up, my people!
     Wake up!
     It’s here again!

Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From age-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-

In today’s political drought,
Drying out justice and equity,
We are in as much profound need
Of raining clouds of liberty, as would be
Nature in times of drying pandemic drought: 

                 Hey!

         Wake up, my people!
         Wake up!
         It’s here again!

Zen mode

flickers in space reveal
God’s light percolating through its pores
we should be wonderstruck but are not
signalling that orientation 
is now empty of all concepts
as also nonchalant to revelations
reflected in the hall of mirrors

Spatter Riot

Spatter Riot

Percolating slowly through the thin orange sheep skin,
The poison of chaos oozes through widening pores,
Bringing to boil the spattering seed of evil.

The grown Dove searches for mud

The grown Dove searches for mud
to disparage its mother
who granted them this pure white.
Lord endow me with divine purpose,
help dry this dirt on the earth
a brown ocean, swelling, percolating.

A window pane snaps from the pressure
I remember the day I was born.
I weep, I weep, I weep.
A bird scurries ‘round my neck
it is a little pigeon
it will serve no purpose;

it suffers a century of burden,
the weight of its child.
It weeps, it weeps, it weeps.
it has bore too many
Beautiful, fecund, yet meaningless;
its children will be born in mud.

Zen mode

dead of the night we awake
Divine Mother has the right
awareness placid like a lake 
beholds truth in direct sight

that that is seen is a knowing
osmotically in us percolating 
doing nothing, we keep flowing
caress divine heart elating

Tracing the Moments

I surface with the morning rain,
a night blindness
opens its windows one by one.

No work to go to
so I write
casting shadows upon a caged sky.

Words appear beneath
a curled tongue.
I draw a sketch of black bones
and white spaces
arrange a runic code
into a stuttering speech.

A percolating coffee pot
sounds its reality alarm,
but it is far away
and I can hardly hear it.

Star Seeds

As night time sets in, my arms wrapped around you, waiting
Feelings of warmth I share with you, mine inside totally are elating
A field of darkness springs from the horizon emanating
Star seeds infinity planted throughout it, germinating
I hold you as still water surrounds us, your beauty without debating
You exceed all expectations exceptionally in a word, obliterating
My unhappiness that was brewing and percolating
As you enjoy a dozen red scents, twelve times more happiness, I wish for you than I'm relating
Your enchanting, extraordinary, respecting you even after those growing stars no longer radiating

Hours To Fill

The day has many hours to fill
And most are unconsidered,
So often, we’re surprised by
All the time that we have frittered.

Yet sometimes, there’s a giant gap,
With minutes that are waiting
To see what we’ll resort to,
What ideas are percolating.

Most often, it’s the most mundane –
The phone, TV or reading
That makes the time slip quickly by,
The empty hours receding.

Before we know it, day is done;
We prep for life tomorrow 
When, likely, we’ll look back and wish
For minutes we could borrow.

Tea Crime Spree

Tea came percolating from the pot
Burglarizing the neighborhood clans            
Moms held their babies in their arms
Above their heads for fear of caffeine

The fiend held everyone hostage
At gun point it seems without a doubt
Leaving the young to their own devices
To run or drink coffee as they will

No one questioned the authority of tea
Though it has no arms or feet
Or mind to speak of so to speak
  
A crime scene most fowl came about
Screamed out in the form of steam
Boiling over in the pot most odious 
Whistling obscenities loud at the police

Tea’s particular proclivity towards crowds
In particular those who identify as single
Struck fear in the community at large
As tea has no time for any people
As you can see, tea don’t think

Free Nightengale

I saw your light deep in the valley of my mind
Against the backdrop of fecund canopy stillness
With Dragon trees and other pines of Dagon
Shivering wet from the Spring
Yielding to June
Band warming Day,
as if the rush of Sunlight beaming
waywards
Couldn't hold the Summer aways

And New Cones sauntering
on the Shadowed Path
of my youthful heart
charged suddenly with Ambient light
glowing all around
fauna and shrub
fern and lilly
canticle of dahlia
and Mercury Rose

All Scents Sweetly culling
rivers of light
and the natural synthesis of Pine
Percolating from dust to dust
Like transistors of chlorophyll
or programmed scents from
the Maker

Rivers of light
running upwards
towards the Awaiting
Sun, an orb of light

And Nature's Full Symphony
A collection of Saintly notes
Melodious Larks and Sparrows
giving Birth to the First Ocean of light
the Sun Itself
The Final Sea
Suspended in Waves of Time shimmering
waves of Light
and Flowing towards Aethiru and from Aethiru

Until Time itself should gather its Eons of Unfolding
Memory and
Becomeas Bound as the Ocean
To Unwind Yet Again
The Mystery

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