Better dead than living,
Better terminated than throbbing,
Better left than held,
Better abandoned than acquired.
Better understand than love,
Better pouncing than dancing,
Better challenged than agitated,
Better hungry than satiated.
Better feline than canine,
Better violence than romance,
Better cunning than running,
Better punched than bunched.
Better sorry than safe,
Better thrown than bowed,
Better disturbed than serene,
Better abused than adored.
Better soiled than vowed,
Better cuffed than chatted,
Better rough than soft,
Better fire than freeze.
Better statued than tattooed,
Better chaos than calm,
Better broken than forgotten,
Better strange than ordinary.
Better… always better.
Oh Tux, you were a tiny tyrant
tiptoeing through my childhood’s quiet corners,
a black-and-white blur of whiskered wonder
who ruled the room with a regal, ridiculous grace.
You were a soft-stepping shadow,
slipping between sunbeams and secrets,
a silky sentinel perched on windowsills
watching the world with wide, wise eyes.
You carried mischief like a medal,
chasing invisible crumbs of chaos across the floor,
pouncing on possibilities only you could see~
a knight in a neat little tuxedo.
And yet, beneath the antics,
you were comfort made fur,
a warm, wordless lullaby
curled against a child’s uncertain heart.
Oh Tux~
you were the small, steady magic
that made my ordinary days soften, shimmer,
and feel just a little more enchanting.
the merry-go-round horses are a bit off today
dancing and prancing their hooves in a clever way
even the children realize something is amiss
as they turn and blow each other a child-like kiss
I hang on to my steed, loving this carousel so
will he jump off and over the hill next go?
I am bouncing and pouncing, laughing too
I have already lost my hat, a sock and a shoe.
Glancing with a stare,
pouncing with a thought,
the jungle fever is never far off.
The sirens blare to the senses,
the sight, the scent, the glow is so soft.
The pull is there,
tugging that has no care,
these instincts howl through your soul.
Responsibility knocks,
but the door is already ajar,
marching into this passage
out of control.
There is no turning back,
with this unquenchable seduction
just within your reach.
A longing gaze
sparks the fire,
a touch, an embrace,
finally forbidden desire.
This union comes
in continuous waves,
cresting and crashing
in a turbulent sea.
Then the finale occurs,
bodies gone limp.
The waters calm,
the sun now rising,
the peaceful eye of this storm
will not last very long.
It darkens again,
this time with vengeance,
guilt, shame and betrayal
come for this wrong.
i brought you home on a summer night
so small and warm, a fuzzy light
you ran through rooms without a care
your tiny paws were everywhere
you got chubbier, full of play
pouncing on toys throughout the day
you’d bite my hand, then curl in tight
and sleep beside me every night
you stopped eating but stayed by me
still followed softly faithfully
you looked at me like i was home
and laid beside me not alone
i didn’t see you slip away
my mom just told me yesterday
i searched the spots you used to hide
and sat there once or twice and cried
it’s quiet now where you would be
no tiny steps to come find me
your little life went by so fast
but you’re the kind that always lasts
his spirit dances all around
in every soft and gentle sound
a light that shines beyond the gloom
even in silence, his presence filled the room
Weary Is My Mind
I promise, I swear, I will never, I will always
That blaring sentiment of a pattering ghost that I detest
Among the empty hollowing of her mouth and eyelids
There lies darkness deep and unending that I fell into once,
never again.
Baffled and naked, afraid and convinced I was nearing my hearse
She runs screaming, yelping in madness as her body falls dead
Once I thought I knew, but as fate would incline
The truth would be only a weapon and shield–vulnerable. . .
never again.
The prating sound squawks as death marks before her squalid breathy voice
Her pupils' contract like a viper’s hint at prey, pouncing, and then devouring
The blood is left spattering and spurting among my grey, hollow walls
Only her wedded can clean out the muck as I have given up,
never again.
Coiling around me with her slippery scales, the precipice of my demise
The sword and the shield once though best, were only cardboard copies
My soul is shattered, and my will is blank, giving into her sweet, nectary venom
The forefront of my being is gone. . . crushed under a blanket of rue
For Weary Is My Mind
Pouncing on all that moves
Playfully mimicking all we do
Purposely frolicking and care-free
Pretending to mind, but only for food
Panting for all your attention
Protesting by squeals and barks
Purporting to have our hearts
Human hands and hawks have worked well together
Five thousand year record for falconry
An eternal bond of flesh and feather
Shows us how epic hawk hunting can be
As raptors light upon a gloved fist
Freed from handler's hoods hawks wing on high
See this dim lit tale through thicket and mist
Think how hawks think in the chase as they fly
These predators soar into human hearts
Seek nature's balance between bird and prey
Fiercely their talons grasp the killing arts
Pouncing and crushing victims every way
Returns to the glove are acts to behold
By the hands of man see nature unfold
105 words Sonnet 14 lines
Colored Pencil illustration by G. Gaul
Pouncing across the white pinwheel flowers,
dancing to the delightful tunes of breeze,
Blue beauty performed an air show for hours;
For a few moments, my sorrows she seized
Displaying a kaleidoscope of hues,
like a vibrant tableau, she unfurled views;
With bright blue colour, she blew off the blues
And my worldly worries I just eschewed
From bright royal blue to emerald green,
swapped colours, swiftly like a magician;
Her wings a canvas of shimmering sheen;
To find her name was my only mission.
Banded peacock is her beautiful name
Oh! Now, All I can do is just exclaim.
Oct-05-2024
From out of the lacustrine,dense tract, green
Lining the silent mossy forlorn lake keen ,
Came out leaping and hopping,a fat frog ;
He landed and stopped on a reedy clog ,
As he saw the Chameleon on a stem frail ,
Gripping fast the rush with its prehensile tail ,
Croaking and flicking his tongue around,
To relish one and all the insects found ;
He made his own way on the rich moss,
And back and forth on the spread-over grass ;
His acrobatics envied and enraged the rival
Watching silently with rolling eyes since arrival .
The crestfallen had missed his chance thrice
And retracted to sit still like frozen ice -
Having lost to the place his colour and stance ;
Thrill and anxiety did the crux spell enchnce ;
A surly serpent suddenly sprang,as if to mock
Hissing , out of the crevice beneath a rock ;
It was a measured move -a prize catch ;
The victim was more a meal than a match ,
And went in neatly with a suppressed wail ;
The avenged lizard quirked and muttered his hail :
Pride goes pouncing and swooping before a fall ,
Thus to end up with a whimper, defeat and all.
Dauntless spirit like fearless lion
Braving the way unto mount Zion
Finding ways to mend the storm
Within the bounds of what is norm
Wounded and bleeding but stands tall
Rising up bravely after each fall
Like a soldier bound to fight
Until the last light of his sight
Not fearing giants and the ants
Fighting tall for what he wants
For, what he wants is what is right
Pouncing bravely with the light
He may be alone but he is mighty
He holds the reasons of the almighty
Against the tempests he stands strong
For, he knows, he does no wrong
Delphic, delusion, disaster, dauntless poetry contest
2nd place
How dare you spit upon his garb!
This peaceful bredda who by nature only loves,
When you should have been his Rasta queen
Your ghastly behaviour drew a scene
And I- woman just like you
Hang my head in shame
As you defile our name.
Selassie-I know seh di Rasta man took a deep breath
To honour his philosophy,
But like a lamb to the slaughter,
he was reduced
In front of the whole community.
He sought calm in his Rasta chant
Swallowed his pride,
Turned the next cheek, and with human dignity.
Yet that pouncing Jezebel
Delilah,
Demon picknie,
Shameless femininity
Minimized her king,
Cared nothing that he is masculine.
She is no empress
and certainly not a Ital-dawtah!
She mocked and cursed him
Bullied him and sullied his character.
Vilified him as the on-lookers magnified
Scorned, mistreated and humiliated.
But when upon each other their backs were turned
The fury in the lion roared
And in that moment, he went against his Rasta chant
And knocked her out flat on her face.
I won’t apologize for feeling appeased
For you are a disgrace to the female race!
The waves beat at the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
White froth churning
My eyes watering
My throat tightening
I open my mouth
Nothing
Silence
Water blissfully moving by me
The silence so sweet
Yet saltier than the ocean waves
Neverending cerulean blue
Wading through this Atlantic oblivion
Wallowing in these dark depths
Deeper
Deeper
Laughing
Water filling my lungs
Crying
Needing you
Needing just a breath
A breath of your chlorine
Your toxic gases that are so inviting
That’ll save me
The waves beat against the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
The sea foam takes me, engulfs me swiftly
As if it’s last supper
You just watch
You don’t help me
I float among the waves, as they gently touch my shoulders
Their fingers so cool yet comforting
Something I craved
They whisper nothings in my ear
They encourage me to follow their maniacal, repetitive beating against the shore
I can finally let myself go
And let these waves take my hands and follow their peculiar dance
That is so freeing
In this freeing bliss
I can rest now
Not at peace but at blissful ignorance
And the thought that I tried
I asked my Mother
on a cool, gray blue morning
what Projections are,
the projections of passions
pouncing proudly
within the poetry of reality,
She said, with woed eyes,
Sometimes peoples' brains
become burdened like a mirror
with too many faces to appease,
disease from judgement, the jeer,
the lear, fear of another's unempathetic ear,
the stress to confess our duress,
our confusion of camellion countenance,
so we project pictures into the lenses
of other's law fire,
pictures that protect us from uninvited pain,
I watched the corner of her mouth
divet from the embarrassment
of disillusionment,
She continued with necessary nerve,
We also judge ourselves into volatile
escapes that steer us away
from vulnerability's virtue,
we create self fullfilling prophecies
of people's positions on our hearts,
We sometimes conjure demons
of self defeat that feast fast
on the devestation of our desires
cackling at the carcass
of our crashed confidence,
My Mother looked at me slow,
with a low heat in her voice, saying
You must trust Yourself
to be Yourself...
J.A.B. 2023
Playful as a puppy
pouncing, as a child I'd
pound upon black and white
planks, listening to the
pitch, noticing that my
Pa's voice sounded like the
placement of my left hand.
9-16-23
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