THE GLASS EGO
The jaded heart doth stop and start,
posed on a weak pretense.
Assured in self beyond the pale,
a peacock on the fense.
It proffers not romantic end,
and does so on the sly.
Corrupted deep and long ago,
a snake with stalking eyes.
Alone in love or solitude,
it strikes without a thought,
like cornered beast compelled to fight,
it's destiny was wrought.
To run and play another day,
a front with which to hide.
This fated heart's not set apart,
the pain's pushed deep inside.
A wall too high for eagles' eyes
ensures a sightless plight.
A heart so blind the light offends,
oft crashes in the night.
The toughest fight oft fought within
twixt truth and darkest past.
Forged in the fires of fear and hate,
an ego made of glass.
Last Chance
In between the shadows
of forgotten yesterdays
Light’s glimmer calling out to me
on bended knee I pray
— Two angels appear before me —
their arms are open wide
A glimpse of all eternity
— alive within their eyes —
Last chance to heed the Caller
last memory to ordain
Last chance to heed the Caller
— my destiny proclaimed
***
Your Servant
If I was granted one star
from the heavens
To illumine the very blackest
of days
In debt to the universe
but free of the dark
A servant I’d kneel
— celestial to pray
***
Lettered In Sound
Creating new music
inside of each word
Harmonic inscription
— to read and be heard
***
What Imagery Proffers
The deception of reality
lost in plain sight
What the eye often swears to
a mirage will requite
Sentience teases
with each sound and each smell
What imagery proffers
— and vision compels
(The New Room: May, 2026)
Twenty trillion, so he claims,
has hit the White House coffers:
he says we’re rolling in the loot –
where is it?
We’re all playing Hunger Games.
Qataris make him offers.
The Congress has been put on mute –
where is it?
He wants to shaft Letitia James:
no evidence he proffers.
He holds, he says, a winning suit –
where is it?
Kicking butt and naming names -
or Noems – they’re Jimmy Hoffas!
Their policy ‘will soon bear fruit’ –
where is it?
Cuba Gooding, Seal, Ving Rhames,
we’re Jimmy Kimmels, scoffers.
“No Epstein stuff”, yells the galoot:
where is it?
The People’s House goes up in flames,
applauded by his champagne-quaffers.
“International repute” -
where is it?
bright side of nature
draws out creative
moves, like stellar views
and vivid colors
conveys warmth, calmness
gives refreshing scents
fresh air and proffers
freedom, joy, peace, light
dark side of nature
brings on natural
events with extreme
strength, so disastrous
causes havoc, death,
sudden losses, grief
nature, like life can
be nice, bright, hard, dark
Hillel the Sage proffers this commonplace
for the entirety of the human race
Never judge your friend
until you’ve ‘been in his place’
So, open the door and see what’s inside
Does tranquility prevail
or is something cockeyed
In you, dear reader, I shall confide
Folks oft remind me of Jekyll and Hyde
Unassailable purity, a cognition divine of venerated mind,
Proffers promise inviolable, beneficence sacred aligned,
With force invincible emanating from goodwill of heart
Forming precepts impeccable, teachings benevolent impart.
Purity of thought and action~ a worthy and righteous goal,
Resounds indomitable from kindred voice of resolute soul;
A heavenly call of compassion, extolling sanctity of love,
Lifting tenor of gloomy dawns~ soothing refrains of dove.
Unassailable purity in life, a road map of directions to hope,
Sacrosanct are its valiant acts, vowing ceaselessly to cope,
Performing with mighty resolve, deeds inducing pride;
Serving humbly as invisible hand of irreproachable guide.
Assisting destitute is the sermon, tolling bells of prayer,
Beckoning the weary, indigent, to shelter and welfare;
Comforting grief of despair with words enlightened, aware,
Consoling cry of nothingness, bequeathing love and care.
It exemplifies within her selfless smile, purity of her eyes,
Reassuring her children, bliss of mother’s love never dies;
Its rectitude unassailable, eternal as the reign of time,
A gift precious, paramount to life~ ethereal and sublime.
empathy proffers assistance
ego offers resistance
compassion waits
till pain abates
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Turning daydreams into amorous fairytale
Of endeavors esoteric smitten passions unveil,
Sketching emotions, fantasies ecstatic ignite,
Threading themes, musings-intimate write,
Embroidering bliss upon tapestries of mind,
Bedecking realm heavenly, destiny designed,
Rejoicing springs roaming on fragrant breeze,
Sailing blue seas, summer’s aspirations seize,
Exultant in notions of love, autumn weaves,
Choreographing dance of falling gold-leaves,
Luring besotted eyes fixating on moonlit skies,
Vying impulses-romantic, fervid moods surmise,
Rhapsodic in elation, aglow in stellar delight,
Hypnotizing minds caressing proffers of night,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
Culminating in sweet rendezvous desires plea
Threading intimate fantasies for you and me.
In embrace of your love, blossoms my eager night,
Strumming themes romantic fervid passions recite
Invoked by scarlet-eventide glinting arc of twilight
As final breaths of dimming-day golden rays ignite
Signaling to emotive vibes twinkling on starry skies
Now’s the time for constellations to bedazzle eyes
In magenta, red nebulae buoying upon stellar seas
Navigating tides of joy as smiles of Venus appease
When enamored we stroll lauding exuberance of glee
Bequeathed by dreams, mystiques of desires spree,
In missives of forever-love verses of hearts decree
Responding to overtures, aspirations intimate plea,
Giving voice to latent hints echoing proffers of soul
Vying reveries esoteric sensuous heartbeats cajole
Prodding us to waltz, to rhythms of nocturnal tune,
Attuning beats of hearts beneath love-struck moon.
May 10, 2023
Placed 1st: Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are.
Otherwise you will miss most of your life.”
– Siddhartha Gautama
Be where you are in present time
no matter what your circumstance.
Let life herald a vernal chime
to announce its boundless expanse.
Focus on your surroundings to
be where you are in present time.
The beauty is most brilliant
when your presence is in its clime.
Eat, drink, and view, all in full-time.
Life proffers fortunes if you can
be where you are in present time.
Be 'now', forget where you began.
Treasures spill before you as gold
but not from ill-begotten crime.
Live the precise instant you hold.
Be where you are in present time.
weary
waiting
tired of
dating
marriage-
ready—
going
steady
leaves her
wanting
life is
daunting
time is
flying--
as she’s
sighing
doorbell’s
ringing
soon she’s
singing
ring, he
proffers
best of
offers
they don’t
tarry
they’re not
wary
soon they
marry
March 4, 2023
written for the Strand Premier 1194 Poetry Contest placed 4th
Discontent with the way things are
we flounder about seeking joy
and to this end we strive and spar
but cavings of ego decoy,
so rudderless we drift afar.
Transfixed by diverse forms we see,
we're in a state of hypnosis;
nurturing lust, our soul's at sea.
Prayer proffers the prognosis ~
head and heart should with love agree.
Renouncing thus every excuse,
thoughts rested, we choose cessation,
succumbing not to ego’s ruse,
we align with love’s vibration;
rapture of bliss becomes our muse.
17-October-2022
HMS, Rhymezone, PS, Grammar
THREE STANZA POEM IN QUINTAIN (SICILIAN) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Her depression drones
an endless dirge
and proffers toxins,
sliding between space
that lied between his rhythm and ruin
that rejoiced her melodic destruction.
Embraced by shadows
and loved by not a soul
as the phantom consumes
the entire light
as she lies stripped bare
in a grave filled with bones.
They whisper their tear soaked songs
the intoxicating sweet scent of sorrow,
surrounds .
Ending so artistry,
with the fulmination of stars
a supernova be adorn,
goodbye to the soul
turning to be the artifact of the passage of time
only evidence of her condition
was the grave with her name
itched in bold.
Freedom from doubt, fulfils desires
If our intent be pure
Healing power that heart aspires
Proffers permanent cure
We’re in jubilation
There’s no aberration
In our co-creation
Let not thoughts grout
Freedom from doubt
13-January-2022
Quietus
A boat crafted of rickety wood dragging a clumsy bottom
A briny sea inhales the morning sun
Hemingway is in my boat
Rubbing my weary eyes,
Is that you, I query
Call me Papa, he proffers
With my papers clinched in leathery hands
Did you read my book; I ask?
Not bad, he replies, too many words
Too many, I ponder
Icebergs, pointing crooked fingers to the empty north
Good books are like icebergs
Cold, I expect
No, you foolish fool, Papa spits
Dried and cracked lips sneering
My hope sinks
Shifting like the wind, he smiles
There are no wars in your book
Wars? My story is about a blind fisherman
You didn’t read it, Papa
Too many useless words, and no wars
A good story is of war
And women, whores with ruby lips that pucker like a fish
And thighs stronger than Hercules’ conquest
And rum, lots of rum
And fewer words
Wars, whores, and rum
Can you write that, foolish fool?
With fewer words?
And no goddamned fisherman
I was in a rickety boat made of wood tossed by briny seas
Hemingway is drinking rum and singing about wars
And whores with ruby lips
A big fish comes
The big fish swallows Papa
Fewer words
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