I am not certain sea
is always deep,
no-matter its depth --
As professed love is sometimes
only speech rehearsed, well prepped.
And the sun, though illustriously
shines, can be blind, victim of
self undulating light --
as all
stars, in time, blink out~ sliced from
the heavens by, the eternally appointed,
darkly shrouded, Ever-cleaving Scythe
of Night....
Terrorism Explained
Nazis
KKK
Epsteinists
Zionists
common denominator
white men
who professed superiority
Nelson Mandela de bunked them all
a little man in front of Fox news
laughs at the truth
spews illusions
who could possibly be
attracted
to such monsters of hate
Archie Bunkers still exist!
Today I’m grateful for knowing
what native nation people have long professed
That each of us is put here in this time and place
to decide the future of humankind.
Did you think you were put here for something less?
True Lovers and the Star
Under the clear night sky
sat a boy and a girl
who professed true love for each other
‘One day I will capture you a star’
said the boy confidently
The girl was amused
and cuddled up with him
deep inside his arms
They would grow into young adults
and would continue to go star gazing
‘My promise to you is real’
said the young man
The girl felt his love
and held his hand
with interlocking fingers
They would turn mid-age together
yet would still find their way under the night sky
‘I have not forgotten about your star’
said the now slightly graying man
Their love was true
and their kisses were as rich as ever
Old age reached them
and they looked out the window of the hospital room
up to the skies and they saw a shooting star
‘That star is for you my love’
he whispered as his final breath released him
For the first time she was alone
yet she had her star
Scalpel, pencil, wisdom’s light
Call to action, call to fight
Shake them folks from comatose
Thoughts collected, verse composed
Tribute pay to something good
And accuse someone no-good
Speak to kids you don’t yet got
Stake a claim to novel thought
Love professed for all to see
Build the bonds of “he and she”
Pass the smiles all around
Winter, summer, year-round
Pour the soul that hurts and bleeds
Yours confess regrets and deeds
Talk to God in mighty voice
Written word becomes life’s choice
Culture needs poetic soil
Call for peace or stir turmoil
Verse is much like butterfly
Ups your spirit to blue sky
Simple, silly or complex
Rhymed words command respects
Write a verse and have a ball
Poetry is higher call
Jan 30, 2025
They were sweethearts from childhood
Someday wed was understood
Clashing goals drove them apart
Now, there’s no path to their hearts
Lovely in her wedding dress
At the altar, vows professed
Bound ever to another
What might have been was over
Halfway the path to a heart
Another must share that mark
Where true love’s most skillful art
Molds “Until death do us part”
At halfway mark two begin
Both lovingly bound by trust
Life’s reliable linchpin
Forever holds safely thus
would be best
if our actions and tongues
spoke the same language
would be best
if our actions our words
truly expressed
would be best
if our words honestly
professed
would be blessed
our personal lives
our politics
if all the lies
were aired
and addressed
Lightened by truth
before one's soul is weighed
and processed
A turncoat sheds his skin, like autumn leaves,
To don a new coat with many bright hues.
With a mask, and an overcoat for thieves,
For whom or what, when, his deceit may choose.
Once clad in virtue, now as a fraud dressed,
Hiding the old spots of truth frayed, faded,
That once for friends and loyalties professed,
Now remain as scars, torn and abraded.
He knows no truth, nor love, nor noble dream,
For chameleon's spots are insecure,
Flitting and feigning camouflaged esteem,
Beneath the coat of colored spots, impure.
Can a change of skin or spots on a coat,
Ever excuse a lying turncoat's gloat?
Right from the start
It's just a hiccup, I deceived my heart
Believing every excuse was true
Convinced she loved me like I do.
She claimed the moon fell in a well
Couldn't name her favorite color to tell
Professed love from the depths of her heart
Said she'd loved me right from the start.
This is a story I hope to tell
Of how she led me straight to hell
Toyed with my emotions every day
Like a puppet, my heart was her prey.
She let me fall into a deep abyss
Her control over me, relentless
I gave her my everything, all my trust
Only to realize she was just passing, how unjust.
For the contrived inducement of fixated being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette
of metamorphosed color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon slyly cocooned,
paints the shifting façade of deception.
In the ostensible enactment of life’s incredible drama,
the performance perfected in one-act play
with the obsession of passion professed,
gilding the consequence crafted by alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another,
is an axiomatic drive of the dormant design.
Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade
on the tangible visage of virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the real rendering of identity,
rinsed with the primal hues of persona
of the distinctive disposition embodied once.
The spasm of schematic perception splits the mirror,
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence
scatter as discarded debris willfully abandoned.
Transformation creates the deluding entity,
an alien in its own renovated realm,
completes the illusive paradigm of contrast.
my mother professed to not like dogs
But dogs liked her.
My twin does not like a dog
She does not see value in a dog
She does not want a dog
She is fearful of dogs
And yet here I am
the queen of the dog-lovers
I have had up to nineteen dogs at one time
I used to get sad at my job
so I would stop at the humane society
and pick up a puppy.
A puppy always alleviated my sadness.
A puppy always makes me incredibly happy.
I love dogs, I adore them, they are joyous beings.
I love their enthusiasm and their happy puppy-ness
Dogs have made my world better than I ever knew it could be.
I feel sorry for people who do not love dogs.
One of my friends recently suggested
I write one called “Cracker Jack”
Who better than the cracker himself
Who's wheels have left the track
I've never professed to be poet
In the ilk of Browning and Keats
A rebel, a renegade, an enigma of sorts
Marching to a different beat
A bit of a “cracker” I've always been
Take pride in being off beat
Don't have a choice, it's who I am
Travelling down a different street
Always write in the purest of forms
Simple verse most of the time
Since a very young age, always thought
Of poetry as a needing to rhyme
Forever been one to revel in creativity
Searching new vistas each day
It sure turns my crank and floats my boat
Wouldn't be happy any other way
Thank you my friends for the inspiration
To express what makes me tick
We're all cut from the very same cloth
Till we find a pathway that clicks
We were learning to play bridge, and it was okay I guess.
I always outbid everyone at the table including sister Tess.
Mom and Dad took one each of us, “you get that twin.”
We always took them down, rarely would we win.
One day when the rest of them were away from the table
Sassy joker jumped into my lap and said “I shall call you Mable”.
The glint in his eye said “Let’s be a couple, you little minx!”
I was so shocked, I threw him under the couch cushion, pink.
Where is the joker? Asked Mom as she put the cards away.
I professed not to know, but picked him up the very next day.
Let me sleep under your pillow tonight, the saucy joker said.
I was horrified, but thrilled too, as I took him to my bed.
As the empathic moon pales of lustre of life,
and the downcast stars fall in the hour
of lamentation,
unforgiveness has its own realm of misery.
Our anger and resentment strickens our lives,
smothers our love, our joy.
Still absent from one another,
we grow grayer into white.
The evefall speaks of barren and
abandoned dreams,
of reunions that could of been,
of words unsaid that could of professed
a healing pardon.
The unforgiveness borne on a catafalque,
yet, not unburdened, and still unburied. ~
We danced the dance of love, my dear, my heart
and consumed time we shared with raptured hands
the earthly sphere we traveled without fear
and welcomed ecstasy fervor demands
invited pleasure from our eyes of fire
they penetrated our souls, to the core
where we found an inferno of desire
professed a surge of passion we adore
whether day or night secluded spaces
the kiss of love was a hunger we fed
that burned our flesh, leaving scented traces
and melted passionate hearts, until they bled
Perhaps it's timeless, it was sublime
This love has gone, a traveler of time
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