The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
A pale silver knife, not forged for war, I wield.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
The sky lies torn in strokes of celeste shade,
each slash more raw, no truth left unrevealed—
the canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
No brush can bruise the dark the way I’ve flayed
these hues loose, their former grace repealed.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
My muse—half shadow, half cascade—
emerges from each mark I will not shield.
The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
No line stays; no form can be obeyed.
I seek what's felt, not what can be concealed.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
She stares back now, the shape that art mislaid—
a scar turned sycamore across the field.
The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
"She reassured me with an unfamiliar line."
Love is a mystery school, yearning for sages
well able to reckon sixes from nines.
True wits should elect sin's disbursements
rather than reflect on love's scenes of rushing bunglers.
Love is sick, blind, unkind. Aren't we cruel?
She chided: brush your flapper, dying blue
between that pair of cheese crackers.
Remove the Devil's Pitchfork from your hair.
Doubling as Dracula, your zeal repealed
by loving an unpersuaded other.
Stay not inconsolable, my weaning one!
She knelt beside me, interpolating my orations.
Entreat for veritable blindness to take better blame.
Apathetic to any flame, resisting even sipping sunshine
interred in the long night of voluminous drapes,
pray for cardiac arrest to efface 1700 hours of shadows.
Perhaps, pray you would love me, and I shall say something of it.
In the wake of the atmospheric river's retreat,
A world clothed in an unusual pale orange hue,
Unsettled I felt, discomfort laced within my heart's beat,
As the sky darkened, the air grew stagnant, still and askew.
Two owls echoed their hoots from either side,
Their haunting calls, the only melody in the night,
But silence soon enveloped the owl's proud stride,
As an eerie presence descended, suppressing their once eager plight.
A shiver ran through me, an unsettling chill,
For in that hushed moment, nature whispered a tale,
Of unseen forces, mysterious and surreal,
And my soul trembled as the night grew pale.
The owls, once guardians of the nocturnal hour,
Now muted, their wisdom withheld and concealed,
A primal unease, like a wilting flower,
A foreboding presence that could not be repealed.
In that boundless pause, amidst the darkness entwined,
I pondered the forces that danced beyond my sight,
For nature, in all its majesty, remains refined,
A vast body of mysteries, both day and night.
I explore the depths of this eerie unease.
All is quiet, all is still.
All is tranquil amid the chill.
It's late December, the moon is high,
Shining brightly against the sky.
The snow is sparkling in the street,
Like diamonds scattered beneath my feet,
Reflecting the light from the stars and the moon,
And out on the lake there's the call of the loon.
All nature seems to stand in awe,
On this the night God repealed the law,
Which separated us from Him,
And saved us from our shame and sin;
For unto us a Son was born,
Because of Him we are reborn;
So on this night we celebrate,
The Son of God, Love Incarnate.
We praise Him for His boundless love,
That brought Him from His throne above.
We praise Him for His bravery,
For buying us out of slavery.
We praise Him for His mighty power,
That saved us from a fate most dour.
Because of Him we need not grieve.
Because of Him it's Christmas Eve,
The pols say: ‘A soda tax is OK.’
Cynical voters nix them anyway ~
For they rightly suspect
Pols just want to collect ~
Behind it all, a revenue grab preys
____________________________________
Between 2012 and 2019 'sugary drink' taxes
of 1 -2 cents an ounce on Coca Cola and such
were nixed or repealed by the electorate in
NYC, Philadelphia, and Chicago.
For a few years
my long departed granny
had one oft repealed saying.
I would take her out to do some grocery shopping
on the way there she would say
in a trembling unsure tones:
"Are we doing the right thing?"
'Are we doing the right thing' became her mantra;
going to and leaving the theater,
before phoning up an old friend of hers,
visiting a floral garden - anywhere or any act
not in her immediate circle of comfort
she would plead: "Are We doing the right thing?"
Years later, I often ask myself a similar question
and I feel her doubt
I understand the importance of questioning.
Doing the right thing can be for a wrong reason.
Consequences flourish after intentions.
When making even a seemingly innocuous decision
I smile and recall her foolish words
recall also the wisdom threaded through them.
When I think of sky
it is a study of shapes,
radiance with motion;
a lidless stadium for
wings and blissful soaring...
the mental athlete I am
some nature of me giving
all artful snapshots flight,
no ceilings to my heavens,
and trapdoors to all my
belows –
I like to think that nothing
is definite, all Time having
added space – all sentences
lavishly repealed by grace;
my affection for endlessly
happy endings – even wrecks
like me, God yet loving, putting
new heels and soles on my
wayward, panting soul,
out-pacing Him and now
needing blessed, merciful
mending....
After the diagnosis,
each moment a dream
of years and then months
and days in between
After the surgery,
the dream became real
time again captured
—the sentence repealed
(The New Room: December, 2021)
My nation is filled with weariness today
Ministers might, in joy, sway in each highway
Much debts on farmers have got repealed they say
My nation is filled with weariness today
Mullers, till now, are not happy, anyway
Might they make live the people dead yesterday?
My nation is filled with weariness today
Ministers might, in joy, sway in each highway
23 November 2021
Another puppet government,
strings attached gone
Proxy power given to the corrupt —
a foreign gameplan
played wrong
The latest Queen gambit
was an Old World maneuver, with
a neo-Roman tale spin
Place scepter power in a dummy hand;
textbook Machiavellian,
marionette Afghan
Next to sit on the pyrite throne
be the Taliban
Pass the fools gold goblet
unto the next Caligula tongue
Watch them get drunk on the power
of the grapes of wrath wrung
The deposed rulers were told
that Democracy
was an alchemy elixir
If poured ethnic nitro right
But free market motives
get blown to hell
When the assimilation potion is given
an unbalanced mixture sleight
Taste American prohibition,
drink deep that Liberty sour whiskey
Repealed smuggler mission,
promises made with a slurred speech
Who will be the next in line,
to sit on a shadow throne?
Cut from a Pinocchio design,
cast in the Game of Clones
When their lying power is spent,
and the subtil scepter is pawn passed on
A mirror image pod replacement
will speak in the same surreptitious tone
08-17-21
Leave me alone,
I’m deaf to your pleading
Leave me alone,
I can’t feel what you feel
Leave me alone,
my time not for owning
Leave me alone,
our history repealed
Leave me alone,
the bridges are burning
Leave me alone,
the entrance has closed
Leave me alone,
the pages are turning
Leave me alone
—another I’ve chose
(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)
Dusk merges with shadows
that surround and enclose
silhouettes in repose;
claimed by Twilight.
Luna slowly ascends:
as Her beauty transcends
Night, and darkness descends
bathed in moonlight.
Now, no longer concealed,
shining stars are revealed;
and darkness is repealed
by faint starlight.
Dawn heralds the sunrise,
and to no one's surprise:
furthering Night's demise
Sol brings daylight.
Prohibition began one hundred years ago in the USA.
People had their right to drink booze taken away.
This made people unhappy and they began to whine.
And this caused Al Capone to start peddling moonshine.
Capone was evil and because of him, people were killed.
On December 5 1933, the 18th Amendment was repealed.
People were very happy because prohibition came to an end.
They were as giddy as school girls to have the right to drink again.
When was that golden age for which you yearn?
A perfect Eden? where we’d yet to learn
To conquer and to dominate the land
And Mother Nature held the upper hand
Did Earth confer a blessing or disdain?
When life for most held hunger fear and pain
Would you prefer to work from dawn ‘til night
To barely feed your own if there’s no blight
Would we not take from Earth its carbon treasure
That might then be our choice - resulting measure
A living: hard and brutish till truncated
Though Earth crust exploitation be abated
In wave on wave wild nature vectors veer
Forever repetitious changes steer
A cyclic challenge we may seek to stay
In vain protest against eternal fray
Though we must face, confront all strife revealed
Why inculpate what cannot be repealed
What if that blessed life-affirming vapour
That all green life on Earth has need to savour
With increase, plants and trees the more to nourish
Unintended consequence: all life to flourish
How ironic: that which many seek to ban
Could bring a golden age to life of man
Chosen subject for contest: Energy dependancy
align the trisyllabic
Words hide within the letters
No i can do better
I love the light that licks the darkest cloud
not right
Keeping petals as a pet
all will be repealed
appeal to the mass ese
Flashes of stupidity
lost inside the ditty
Rhyming from line
align the trisyllabic
Putting the iambic down
wishing oceans were wider
homophones
Right to write about rites
Dammit
i'm mad
Pallid drones
point your lasers
Predestinate the president
let the public rule again
never mind don't really care
I am the one who rules in there
Kind of got away from me there
I try to show you who i want to be
within my lies
i am free
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