The desire and longings for water was
enormous
Yet the supplies continue to dwindle year
after year
The older trees parched by a permanence of thirst
began to give up
As the waters too began to move southwards
Desolations taken over, only the howling of
wind storms
and the brave of Camels roams the lands
The landscape has been redesigned on account
of dryness
The land is parched on account of moisture.
(Written on the 15th October, 2026)
Dual Rainbows ?? across my skies
A demon screams an angels cries.
Satans soldiers have surrounded the kingdom in the sky.
A spirit is eternal. A spirit can never die
I frequently tune into the universal frequency.
My Eyes closed my mind open I can see things no one else can comprehend or see i am Astro traveling into alternate realms and dimensions to escape my distorted reality.
I now know the worth of my own existence
I now know why I am here.
I won’t stop believing until i stop
Breathing.
I will never give up.
I will never quit.
I will never give in.
Reincarnated, Reimagined,re written, re wired,reinvented, redesigned.
I have worked hard to understand the inner workings of my own mind.
You will never see inside of me you will never hear the voices inside my head.
You keep on walking with the living
I’ll keep on walking with the dead
Written by Adrian Bogdal 18/4/2025
Since they obtained the matrix fleece
Our fates were redesigned
Although we didn’t ask for this
No purpose was defined
From human smell to robot dust
Is that a great escape?
What’s good for them, is bad for us
Back to the age of ape
And further on, through maze of time
And maybe backwards too
What has become of us and why
I really have no clue
Why must Sisyphus roll uphill
His boulder to the top
Forever, so he does it still
But we can’t see the flop
What stays untouched like it was meant
When overnight we die?
Was that a message left unsent?
Neither you know, nor I.
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
older than the Englishmen who raised a bridge
over its Constitution, a nude Indian sped away
from a warring Englishman behind
absconding by canoe to an adjacent isle
but smallpox caught the indie afore ammunition
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
that witnessed the grapes of wrath in '37
and suffered its wine, the black potential rebelled
against the clear minority who had signed
emancipation letters without intent
ergo, cars with bodies went flying upon the riparian spine
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
leaning on treasonous city hearts, wrinkling under the trebled
degrees of island sun, chuffing at progressiveness
and how the colour schemes lightly redesigned
black power free, it seems, walks unfettered to its banks
carrying tackle, tiki-torches, tourists, a picnic, and gun
I'm not in love with her; it's more than that—I'm haunted.
Every time she looks at me, I feel the Earth tilt,
gravity trying to pull me closer to her.
She's not just in my thoughts; she is their architecture.
I no longer dream; I merely relive conversations we never had.
I replay her words as if they were sacred relics, even when they're mundane.
She could say "pass the water," and I'd write a dissertation about it.
It's ridiculous, I know it's ridiculous, but that doesn't stop the magic.
Her name has become the password that unlocks my impulses.
I see earrings and wonder if she'd like them; I imagine her everywhere.
She doesn't ask to reside in my mind; she's conquered it without remorse,
and I let her, smiling like a fool as she changes my logic.
I've lost count of the attempts to shake off her spell,
but all it takes is a glance, a word, a smile, and I'm caught again.
She's not a habit; she's a phenomenon, and honestly, I don't want a cure.
She hasn't destroyed me; she's redesigned me, and I've loved every second,
every moment of my inner demolition and reconstruction.
Back in the days
of yesterday and today, or,
traditions and contemporaries
... she came.
Yesterday and tradition say ...
leave your things home, she'll leave your things alone.
Today and contemporaries say ...
in so many words ... heart heeds all abilities.
Yesterday and tradition say ...
you leave, she leaves, or you take, she takes.
Today and contemporaries say ...
that theirs were words of comfort.
She came and they left ... she never came back, nor did they, except one, me, [oldest parents and siblings passed]--I'm the lone inheritor, with a piece of paper of a new sizeable land and redesigned coastline, turned into a new land deed, along with my new will, --sits in a bank, I, in a beach townhouse in Hilo town. All three (3) are well-deposited earning interests, one happily due in ~June~.
Fishing Holiday
A kingfisher sitting on the old harbour wall
Listening to the geese from the mud flats call
I'm here for some sea fishing until after the thaw
Braced against the north wind so cold and raw
No Kamikaze diving into a frozen pond
The quickest route through to a life beyond
I need to cut a hole to fish with rod and line
To catch minnows like an Eskimo for my tea time
A sound of crunching from the lake what can it be
I fly over the marsh to take a look and see
Two swans are on the salt lagoon a winter wonderland
I watch from the sluice gate where the water is damned
The leaders pushing through the thick sea ice
Slowly inching forward, heroic self-sacrifice
Jet propulsion is required, web feet redesigned
Whilst tail end Charlie swims serenely behind
The Buntings skating through the reeds ask me to stay
But I've frost bitten feathers and don't want to play
The brochure promised beaches and sunshine every day
I am flying further south for my next Seaside holiday
Keyhaven Marshes, 17th January 2023
Beguiled risks sensitive alterations
that redesigned unknots and cutup trice
as the fresh teases through the looking glass
exposing timepiece resemblance glossed spilled.
Bemused forgives absence, mindful at hand,
tenuously gripping the rolled spent yarn
that edges fingertips loosely as threads
answer questionable finds, stitch-by-stitch.
Period accentuates the sensed thence
for the bestilled entangled narrative
plots exclamation points of those foregone
chapters ... period midst frames of escape.
Styled room for maneuvering that spirals
at a loss now hangs overhead ticking ...
mockery behold guardians of greens
that grow within disoriented poise.
Blue compliments presence expressed squarely
drafting the voiceless lucid residue
that nurtured former brush and forever
sealed a dream sweeter than a Danish roll.
If you have ever redesigned before,
You have redone your floor.
It could be carpet, wood or tile,
Really whatever is your style.
Outback, you can refashion the deck,
It really looks like a wreck.
Call me at my store
And I will meet you at the door.
My samples I will bring,
We can have it installed by Spring.
Guarantee, they never looked so good.
I can do it at my house, I think I should.
That kind of love,
With a single glance, declaration like dove,
The love where no ego was above,
And no feelings were shoved.
Whereas this world is running on a treadmill,
And laughing only after a pill.
Where there was no situation-ship going around,
No lives were attached on confused ground,
Now the love is always on the section of lost and found,
Where no one is visiting and reporting it aloud,
Rather settling for another forgetting their own sound.
That kind of love,
It is nowhere to be found,
Lying in the books safe and sound.
That kind of love,
Is what we'll never find,
Unless we open our now found blinds,
Or is it now redesigned?
When I was English I found a few secrets,
Reasons why we held ourselves so high,
Maturity and experience was found in age,
So the look surpassed the phase,
The younger men took to the looks and once said,
You're either forced to be old one day,
Or hold back today on what you do just say,
It was a flawless design of course to contentment,
However they had learned in history as it drew concern to what's missing,
Commanding the masses required pieces no longer learned,
Men who held themselves to standards were vigorously proved to have earned,
There was men that said controlling every aspect of them even within,
Draws respect from people who do not make sense as a reproductive win,
So they did just that,
They redesigned everything inside to match where they are at,
They never let their inner selves make judgment that seemed immoral,
Eating bones of animals that they dreamed of the meat only in total,
It was a religion all on its own,
Control the demons inside or they will disown.
It was but a sandstorm, wind blowing hard and high
Nature’s way of redesigning the landscape
The mountains stood like guardians of the desert floor
Their jagged rocks did not sway as the earth shifted
Granules of colored sand soared in the wind
Their dust caused a fog-like view of the city
Cars, houses, cacti, and mountains were covered with beige dust
The sand crept into the houses through closed windows
I brushed my hand across my cheek feeling the gritty sand
The weather was squally, and the scent of dirt infiltrated my nostrils
By nightfall, the wind slowed, and the moon rose into the dark sky
Nature in all its wondrous glory had redesigned the desert landscape
The sand was smooth as if a brush had sailed across it
Green and purple cacti were covered in sand, glowing in the light of the stars
A blackbird perched on the rock wall and brushed the dust off its feathers
A coyote could be heard in the distance
The mountains stood like guardians towering above the desert floor
10/28/2021
Poetry/Verse/Couplet unrhymed, Imagism unrhymed/Free Verse
Farewell to Summer
Fond caresses as two seasons meet in summer’s bliss
Autumn bends to fondly leave a farewell harvest kiss;
Remembering your long days and cricket singing nights,
Evening’s breath beneath clear skies of shooting stars so bright;
Washed by waves that dance a jig upon smooth tan beach sands
Exquisite diamond tides foam upon the strands;
Lovely lady, all dressed up in gossamer sunshine,
Leaves the sweetest memories of easygoing days behind.
Tomorrow reaches out to gently take her fragrant hand –
Overtures of gratitude sprung from nature’s plan;
Summer’s gown of greenest greens now redesigned,
Umber hues of scarlet silk with thin gold leaf entwined;
Midnight moments still buzz and swell just for a little while –
Misty veils lifted up reveal her fading morning smile;
Enter Autumn, quietly, with colorful embrace
Rest now Summer, wrapped in dreams, your sister takes your place.
10-9-20
Contest: Farewell to Summer Title Chosen
Seasonal Acrostic
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Strolling through your
memory’s ambition
Entrusting it to an Essence
of smooth transition
Riding upon your every
word so well defined
As every sentence then is
left to be redesigned
Flowing upon your rhymes
to play within your ink
Searched for hidden messages as
they all make me think
Letting each stanza caress
planting in me your theme
Loving all the characters in
your abstract painted dream
Floating on the ebbs and
waves of your very flow
Each bar you was killing it
like in a murder show
You got this, you don’t need
me but I’m along for the ride
This is a challenge one I needed
and that I won’t hide
9/21/2020
a desperate restaurant owner
named Homer was
home eating his mac and cheese dinner
he watched the news with his volume on whisper
while he listened to the radio
Homer fell asleep watching a show
who had
questions for a panel on
why there are empty towers
amusement rides idle-bare
and diners that can’t go anywhere
Homer had a fantastic dream
that he opened a restaurant in the city
called Bubbles
a redesigned office tower
ground floor receiving
a floor for ordering
a floor for serving and
floors for eating
with a 369 degree view of the city
glass bubbles on tracks
twisted around the tower
some seat two
six or
more linked together like a carnival ride
at the end customers would leave on one side
bubbles then sanitized return to pick up
diners on another
who dine high over the city
what a view
what a new
way to dine
then he woke
when he woke
Homer chuckled if he built it
he would surely be the latest joke
too bad and
a good thing
he is broke
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