It feels muted.
Like a bubbling ache, miming the mince of my patronising murk.
The peevish petulance of my prejudice prompts an abandoned frugality so thinned to a destined demise.
Unlaced.
Untied.
Undone.
A portal so honed to the residual refine of my extinction.
The sterling silver glints off the ashen sheds of my abandoned flesh; she looks like a platter.
Each serving an amortisation to the segments of my pestilent seethe.
Every atom of her making nurtures a barbaric famine to the fester of her feud.
Each larceny a sacrificial suckle for the prosperity of her condemn.
I feel my ruins spewing in a sovereign decay of a cataclysm so heinous in its destruction.
So sinister in its devaluation.
So predatory in its death.
It feels muted; all my days blending one.
All my days blending into the countdown to my censure.
My day of reckoning.
i’m an agnostic bloke that sums up life ~ by doing short division
god knows I can do it the long way too ~ but that’ll take a vision
By
David Kavanagh
a tangled, twisted oak,
might and trunk torn open, ploughed through,
strewn upon the forest floor,
limbs - desolate
caverns - Hollowed
chest open and body gutted,
taken for Its branches,
and raped of its fruits,
rotting as the fall sets in,
shaking with the cold of fear
and stench of death,
beaten and stinking
with wounds from the ancient serpent
should be left
alone
to return to dust
-
In saying things,
I say them thought on permanence
Most things I care too much
to write lame words about.
And glad of hopes and promises I found appealing
decide some words have reckoned more
commitment now
- and seen a sacred promise tip the scale.
In doubt,
I venture not with words but with real feeling.
The years I let slowly steep
were quietly astringent
and on the road where I lingered
I wandered into side paths
that left a faint, stinging trace of regret
I also met a brief sunshower
its light thinned by the red of evening
but when a lifetime turned full circle
and something in me began again
there was no need
to keep my ties wrapped
like a scarf at my throat
for the end and the beginning of life
lean toward one another
and kindle
like a candle in still air
Taxes finance death,
yet the dead.'
Will pay no taxes.!
We are born damned, filled with sins
Indulgently growing, detached
from virtue.
The end is not merely coming,
we invite it in.
Accelerating, stretching,
towards final reckoning.
Behind us lies the guidance,
the voice of return.
Yet, it does not force us, nor chase,
It simply waits -
Open, available, eternal.
Some choose to ignore,
but it remains.
Humanity unfolds towards
damnation or salvation.
Our lives are the ink, our choices the brush.
Most stroke it without concern.
We stretch ourselves into sin,
as we expand towards the grace.
We are a mirror of that,
purity and cruelty,
constantly being torn between two forces.
We are the living being of that tension.
The prayer, being written in both directions.
The horsemen rode as it was foretold
The cherished Earth would soon explode
The seals were opened, and love grew cold
While they hoarded their silver and gold
The stars came falling down
And many trembled with fear
A reckoning would soon take place
As angels flew from here to there
Then the trumpets began to sound
The sea sighed and the mountains wept
From the sky, the Earth was swept
Karma suddenly dropped the other shoe
She bit off more that she could chew
Payback’s a b*tch when you’re a snitch
AP: Honorable Mention
Shock!
unreal, unshaken disbelief.
Choice!
the people spoke,
democracy breathes.
What was promised—
a mirage,
a lie.
False hopes built to divide,
now shattered,
leaving many wide-eyed,
denied,
unrecognized,
lost in the wreckage of the unexpected.
Post 2-0-2-4
A reckoning.
A trauma.
A truth too sharp to ignore.
mountains
made of w
a
v
e
s
t o r e the flesh
from mother earth ~
mud mourning its w o u nd s
Painting the music on a bow
The lure fashioned a form
The engine and a circuit
A pinning of a crucial phenomenon
A policy by allowance
A permission into wheat
Each probable wind opportunity for sketch
Probability be the ghost of a denied greed
Fingers to the bees and failing fads
For picking and choosing and refusing the swarm
In the best indiscrete
Such the creatures a vase of future
The thick plague and reminiscent of the times
So great the heavy patience by the creators deny
Tissues and torment of entertainment
By gods throwing the marked shot
As grave and lingering to what they succumb
The excavators eating cherries in the snow
So veil the limited permission
So cruel the probability by its course
How shallow the visit and such fiscal acid
Some touch of a weak wild guess
Written: June 08, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am recognizing this horrible condition
It is to assess the effect it will generate
Every shard and unit of the human body.
Also, accepting the truth is crucial
Balanced fitness and diet are options
Accept each piece of advice seriously
Still, symptoms of pancreatitis may breed
So you still feel frightened
There are several potential hazards.
Explore how diabetes destroys cells
It may require years to learn
How much actual harm occurred?
It is too late to reverse the harm.
Consider it a ticking time shell
It may burst within without escape
The greatest hazard it poses
It may burst within without escape
You may lose your vision or kidneys
A stroke, renal failure, and others are risks.
The litany of doubts that live in the heart
Fear apropos health risks is ubiquitous
It won't pull away from you as a specter
As long as this sickness is incurable.
"God sent neither a philosopher or a general,
but a savior with the power to forgive."
Quote _Unknown
I was sad to hear of a friends death
it was so unexpected
I assumed that they would always be
like a lighthouse guiding
so, I felt it was time for a dead reckoning
to lay bear my heart and flaws
admit that I am adrift and need to find my way
out of this labyrinthine called life
oh, the time of reckoning will soon arrive
and my life assessed
perhaps tomorrow or in time
and what will God say . . .
at my friends funeral I had an epiphany
I felt like a ship tossed on the sea in a storm
and my only chance for eternal life was
adead reckoning of my unworthiness
God, there are scars on the road map of my life
and it is weather-stained, I say
but, I see the sun rise life a jewel above each day
a gift from you to me, thank you
and I pray that with my final judgement
. . . . I will be lifted up with you
Why did I have to silence my brain
Thinking it would alleviate the pain,
If only that hair trigger had paused
... Now look at all the troubles I caused
Forget the moment the last breath drew
The people who cared more than I knew,
Tomorrow is nothing but grass and grave
Six feet from all the love that I crave ...
Alone with the cries from left to right
Echoes of agony do fill my night,
Killing the time while waiting to rot
The dead reckoning is all I have got.
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