polysemy
protrudes, prodding power
letting chiasma
churn and curdle
ply poet-marriage:
an anankean lockless key—a dower
set upon a
dorseless tower
I eat my crow,
drowned in chowder
time sealed in
the wicking willow wood
—CODA—
I don’t want to
be solved
I want to be
inhabited
working in
dream-logic
surrealist
disjunctive fissures
places where
contradictions coexist
that is—
precisely
pointless
=======
In a star-crushed night
something rammed the side of my flanks
woke to an impish leak
trying to suckle the life out of me.
Then there was a black water silence.
It's not like bad karma to suddenly drift away,
so beneath my leaking float
the rammer will probably stay.
Early morning was spent bailing and patching
luring the silver shoals of hope within range
bailing and patching
nibbling and napping
obsessing
prodding the sharkness away-
Quiet day
no breeze-not even one little wave
a hot brain day
missing my chatty gull friend today,
maybe I was supposed to be its sacrifice.
Launched the final flare at a fancy yacht mirage
filled with cheap bikinis and plush caviar-
I rolled over the dream breakers, into the yellow morning
Quite late for work.
My arm drags along the floor.
Seemed harmless as a curled up skeleton finger.
Shrugged so much that I felt loopy.
She has some sort of way to play with cobwebs.
Spiraling and laughing.
She likes the creases of bone.
Creases, whirling, and shoulders hurting, dragging.
I have a lot of enemies prodding me.
Seemed harmless as a bone in my foot.
This one decided to follow my footprints made of candy syrup.
Was so tempting that she climbed in between my shoulder blades like nothing.
The protruding feeling rambles on.
I have enemies, sometimes, I try to…
Other times, it’s just me and a skeleton, and me too.
And those bones?
They seemed more cracked yesterday.
As the Old Era ends,
I send a message to a friend,
Mending fences in your head,
Instead of rebelling and yelling,
Start selling yourself truth,
Your youth will create your future,
A suture to a wound,
Sonn to be opened,
I'm hoping you find this,
Witness all the goodness you see,
It came from me believing me,
Receiving the information I need,
Achieving my own form of mastery,
I'm a mystery to most,
A host to children of God,
Prodding deeper into the core,
Pulling out more,
Restoring your memory,
Embers of who you use to be,
Choosing to shine brightly,
Unsightly events may befall you,
View it through new eyes,
Don't react,
Interact,
Rise,
Into your true version,
A universal conversation,
The union of the nations,
Tuning to a high vibration,
Watch how the station changes,
As your world rearranges,
Exchanging the energy you give,
Living vicariously through you,
Giving the permission,
To continue the mission,
Love is in 1st position,
Above all opposition,
Transition into a new way of being,
Seeing the value everyone is bringing.
"Leaders" are sweeping us toward the drain.
Lined with the halos of fractured hope.
They seed the soil and skies with green dragon eyes.
Not bothering to hide their brackish hearts anymore.
They've filled our havens and cities with black-souled deities.
If anything, COVID-19 taught the elites,
that mankind is easily converted to swine and sheep.
Mankind will readily cloak their smiles, stay inside, deep inside.
Mask up and shut up indefinitely.
They'll shy away from funerals and weddings of loved ones.
Under moderate threat and prodding...call it barbed conditioning.
Our nose rings grow thicker-the future grows grayer and dimmer.
Nothing emerges from the drain say for a rouged echo or three.
A new world order, a most unholy trinity.
God is engulfed in his blue period.
Has grown into a blossom of indifference.
Quite scentless and so very distant.
The sky and sea intermingled as a mist evolved.
Soon a moon appeared surrounded by tiny stars.
From the beach, a whisper of awe arose, all wondered
Onlooking the misty phenomenon of a beauty rarely seen.
Night fell and some bathers rested on the sandy beach.
Could the sky kiss the sea, most wondered musing a lot.
It was a sensation of wonder and mystifying occurrence
Yet finally most lay down into a deep sleep and dreamt.
A summerlike breeze swirled around them prodding dreams.
Most wondered what could one find beyond the horizon.
Many felt that beyond was a void, others dreamt of sunken ships.
But many dreamt of fantastic beings that hovered around.
Soon the sun rose from faraway. Ships sailed placidly
And on the horizon, a cruise ship manoeuvred to far off lands.
I miss an open fire.
Warmth, these days,
is breathed out of the thin lips
of a plastic vent commanded
by a button.
There is nowhere now
where I can sit
and stare into the depths
of a dancing flame,
enter that sacred space
where thoughts and mystery
meet and reconnects something
in me to its earliest roots.
I miss how an open fire
centres life around its glow,
how it works to draw us in,
gathers us to share
in its living warmth.
I miss how it fills in the silence
with its sounds,
the crackle, the whispering hiss,
the sudden bump
of a falling log. I miss
poking and prodding
the charcoal remains, breaking
them apart and seeing embers
ignite into a bright spill of flame.
I miss the smell
of burning wood, the incense
that first sanctified our ancestors
humble homes and awakened
a wonder that set us off
on our human quest.
I get it that an open fire is now
not an environmentally friendly
choice but a polluting relic
of the past. I know
the romance of it
no longer thrives.
It's rather like old religion,
better gone, but it leaves
a hole in our lives.
Blank stares.
Nothing.
Growling.
Blank stares which seem endless.
Just comfortable enough.
Then prodding feelings.
It’s not good.
This town.
Is just a blank note.
There are many types of depression.
The “I’m not real” type.
This town isn’t real.
Along with me.
Vanishing.
What type do I have…
…Whoosh….
Three days ago.
43 minutes began.
To count down.
I hear it.
Time continues.
And holds on.
43 minutes ago.
Was when I started my day.
Days, and days, and days.
Eyes endlessly blinking.
Then the prodding continues.
46 minutes ago.
I remember things.
Like hanging up my coat.
Again, and again.
My coat is probably disintegrated by now.
I hate how minutes.
Are trying to deceive me.
Five days ago.
I ate breakfast.
So clearly, I had pancakes.
I ate a hundred pancakes.
I’m convinced that a pancake is following me.
Five days and four hours ago.
I was driving in my car.
I didn’t die or something.
But something happened.
The eclipse or something.
It followed me home.
43 minutes.
I stood a few feet from here.
Looking at myself hanging my coat, I am glaring at my future self.
Getting nothing done.
My feet are holding me up uncomfortably.
Feet going numb.
She gave me a call.
Two minutes ago.
When the 43 minutes started.
I let it go to voicemail.
I think they are evil and about to come through the portal.
43, 46 minutes, 4 hours, and five, three days.
And I still haven’t hung up my coat.
you keep poking and prodding at me with thorns,
prick, prick, prick!
and its only left a stinging,
certain tingling in my body,
one that has been replaced with dread.
you had gutted me through and through
leaving nothing more than a pile of cold sharp rocks,
to replace the beautiful life i once had --
to remind me of the torture you bestowed upon me
why have you deemed me to a life of misery and hate?
i could have tried screaming,
but nothing wouldve came out,
a lump had formed in my throat
and i couldnt breathe any longer
i felt tears prick my eyes as i had to sob quietly,
the thorns seemed to prick all over my body,
you had left me gutted,
hollow,
lifeless.
Life is full of daily routine
just things we do each day
they can get pretty boring
but they are required come what may
We have a set of things to do
that needs discipline to carry out
but other situations cross our path
needing our attention to what's about
But even when the days is just ordinary
humdrum as we call it here
there's a purpose for everything
so keep prodding on and never fear
Sometimes in the routine of life
extraordinary reveals itself so clear
then you think where did it come from
keep alert to your listening ear
There's a picture here by routine
that opens your eyes to see
in life before death look ahead
it may be what will set you free
I scribble, scrabble, scratch and scrawl
Squiggly words on walls down the hall
I am a scribe, and I must write
Sentences flowing out of sight
Some people might not be able to comprehend
My ideas are pushing and prodding me to begin
I have a pencil or pen in my hand every day.
Almost every moment is grand, writing is play.
December 9 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Ephesians 4-6
Key Verse – Ephesians 4:13 Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR ENABLING US
TO COME IN THE UNITY OF THE FAITH
Praise be to God for enabling us to come
in the unity of the faith while we:
Press on toward His perfection
Pursue along His proven principles
Progress by His prodding prosperity
Perform through His powerful propelling
Pray to Him according to His purpose and plan
Ephesians 5:1 Praise be to the Lord
for letting us follow Him in:
Walking along His truth
Working for Him triumphantly
Worshipping Him with thanksgiving
Waiting for Him with our tenacious trust
Watching and witnessing for Him with worthy testimony
Ephesians 6:17 Praise be to the Saviour for
helping us with good will, doing service while:
Filled with His fulfillment
Flourished by His faithfulness
Festive along His fruitfulness-flow
Freed through faith in His fervency
Framed upon His fortified foundation. Amen!
December 9, 2024
October 20 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Mark 15-16
Key Verse – Mark 15:39 And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR SHOWING US
TRULY HIS OMNIPOTENCE
Praise be to God for showing us
truly His omnipotence as our:
Proven power-Performer
Pleasant pasture-Provider
Peaceful protector-Pacifier
Prodding progress-Pursuer
Productive prosperity-Propeller
Mark 16:20 Praise be to the Lord for
His resurrection that manifests His:
Victorious greatness against death
Virtuous goodness against destruction
Valuable graciousness for our deliverance
Vibrant grandeur along His glowing dominion
Visible governance over despair and discouragement
Mark 16:20 Praise be to the Saviour for
working with us:
Counselling us with His wisdom
Confirming His Word along our walk
Counting on our commitment in His will
Charging us to watch against worldliness
Commending our worship by His worthiness. Amen!
October 20, 2024
October 14 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Mark 1-3
Key Verse – Mark 1:41 And Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth his hand, and touched him, and saith unto him, I will; be thou clean.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR BEING MOVED
WITH COMPASSION FOR US
Praise be to God for being moved with compassion to:
Cleanse us in our salvation-conversion
Cheer for us amidst our supplication-cry
Care for us for our satisfaction-contentment
Charge us for our steadfast service-consecration
Comfort us along our security and safety-calmness
Mark 2:5 Praise be to the Lord for
forgiving our sins:
Fortifying our faith’s firmness
Freeing us from filthiness’ flings
Feeding us upon fullness’ festivity
Fixing us along faithfulness’ frames
Filling us with His fruitfulness’ flourishing
Mark 3:34-35 Praise be to the Saviour for
empowering us to do His will with:
Purposeful propelling
Practical performance
Persistent prayerfulness
Peaceful, presentable propping
Proper prodding along His principles. Amen!
October 14, 2024
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