Mud month: Salmonath. Kale month.
Named for Februa, the Roman purification
festival, when people were ritually washed.
Some years, February is the coldest month;
Most years, only the second coldest.
Always, it is the shortest month,
even during leap years like 2024.
Cabbage month. Mud month.
A month whose name I practiced
because I needed to get it right:
that pesky first "r". It is the month
my sister's birthday came, 94 times.
She insisted it was on the 13th; clearly
it was on the 12th. Mine is on 15 July.
A 15 July 15 long years after her first February.
Washington's birthday. Lincoln's birthday.
Combined to President's day. Groundhog day.
Valentine's day. ....Ahhhh....Valentine's day!
Too much packed into such a cold, hard month --
one almost long enough to learn to write 2024
instead of 2023. Time, finally, to let go of
all of last year's baggage.
Dismal February days creep by;
wintry February nights are long.
They linger even longer than the
solitary days of my natal mid-July.
Categories:
ritually, allegory, allusion, anxiety, bereavement,
Form: Free verse
The slots spin,
the casino’s siren song
bellows its flashy music-box tune.
Click, click, click….
O so close!
“It’s not gambling,” she says,
“it’s just a half-assed prayer
we ritually repeat to a sleeping deity.
one that doesn’t like germy fingers
poking at her all night.
Don’t forget to wash your hands,
they provide restrooms,
for when we are tired
of crapping out
on the craps tables.”
Categories:
ritually, poetry,
Form: Free verse
He’s a man of few words when he wants to be
And his silence can rival the Sphinx,
But be spins a good yarn during therapy
With his analyst pouring the drinks.
His obsession with fishing’s a mania,
Always dying to dangle the bait.
His aversion to marriage, a phobia,
His fiancée will just have to wait.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, mirrors and smoke
In some Freudian home on the range.
Though this good ol’ boy’s often laid out on the couch,
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
He’s obsessive compulsive habitually
In matters to which he is drawn,
And he’s down at the topless bar ritually,
Unless there’s a football game on.
He’s conflicted about schizophrenia,
Thinks anxiety’s nothing to dread.
He exhibits selective amnesia,
And he’s passive aggressive in bed.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, cognitive bull,
And those inkblots are all kind of strange.
He’ll always deny its denial, no doubt.
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
Regardless his problems,
He’d rather be thera-pissed off, than thera-pissed on.
Categories:
ritually, allegory, irony, psychological,
Form: Lyric
I see a seed of white colouration,
And pink pigmentation.
Manually easy to divide,
Not ritually difficult to provide.
I see the financially easy to handle,
A culturally accepted candle.
Announcer of a host’s good wishes,
Much more treasured than his dishes.
A proof of the giver’s honest intention
And summary of his cheerful disposition.
Alligator pepper is its errand boy,
Content to seem all through its toy:
Garden eggs readily surrendering its portfolio,
Their services adjusted relatively hollow.
Very correct to link it with West Africa
And just as flawless with The Tropical;
Consumer keep impressing its pleasant bitterness:
A continual patience with its induced giddiness…
The gods are served the best kolanut
To have the mouth of Evil amazingly shut!
Categories:
ritually, appreciation, culture, devotion, food,
Form: Rhyme
I feel the Pain,
When babies are born, without mothers.
For my heart bleeds to loneliness.
When hospitals and clinics
Are now the headlines of abortions.
Why kill when you are able to prevent?
I feel the Pain,
When doctors and nurses,
Are no longer performing their tasks.
When mothers are undergoing operations,
Just to save their babies.
I feel the Pain,
When doctors and nurses,
Are ritually performing, instead of zoos.
When hospitals and clinics,
Are now pathways to funeral homes.
I feel the Pain,
When patients are no longer tested,
To be prevented.
When the death rate is greater,
Than the development rate.
I feel the Pain,
When my eyes longer capture,
Those instruments and medications,
That is used to save lives.
I feel the Pain,
When others are in search of a child,
While some prevent themselves,
From bearing.
Why is this a reversible world?
©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.
Categories:
ritually, war, wind,
Form: ABC
Trotter's words are his deeds
girding the Earth
in great magnetic lines
of universal intent.
In Ward's ritually upraised palm
we see the symbol Coriolis
south draining left
north draining right
Into the realm of Neptune
via the cisterns of Rome
down the ancient river Po
to wicked storms at sea
Into vortices the poet's passport
falls as a man overboard
all its pages torn
one by one.
Categories:
ritually, allusion,
Form: Free verse
ESSAY ON DRUMS
The drum sounds slowly its cadence
the beat, beat, beat marks a march
and through the air reverberates.
The tramp of a company at quick time,
arms pumping with machine precision,
a rigid jerky movement of elbows.
The thump of rotating Huey blades
as they back stroke the air;
gingerly alighting on a hot LZ.
The staccato stutter of rifle fire
indiscriminately searching the earth
laughingly playing hard games of tag.
The grieving hearts at graveside
waiting the echoing bugle call
while the flag is ritually folded.
Sound slowly this cadence
for the eons of history
the drums of war reverberate.
Categories:
ritually, angst, bereavement, dark, death,
Form: Free verse
In the days of mystic Merlin and captivating Celtic lore
The Ancient Druids danced and exuberantly did explore
The Celtic Circles of cityscapes and festive furthermore
They gathered ritually round their sacred scenic stones
Like super Stonehenge sites of zodiacal zenithal zones
Within the Galic gates of the great universal unknowns
Celebrating the Summer Solstice of Natures living law
Through cosmic energy the Druid Duir of ancient awe
Of Celtic clans with sapiential symbols of a Shangri-La
The Celtic Cross still remains within our scintillant sight
Tuatha De Danann tribes of the gods of ritualistic rite
Their stories and teachings amalgamate in a Wizards night.
May.02.2017
YGGDRASIL ME - Contest
Sponsored by: White Wolf
Illustration by same poet...
Markers on white board...
Categories:
ritually, destiny, mythology, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme
When illumination turns into damnation
And tentative time is the internal enemy
Because those of us who do not fuss
Will begin to slowly sadly sanely see
And the rest of you who will askew
In decadent darkness will boldly blindly be
The world is staged and ritually raged
As our lives unfold in seductive synchronicity
One atom small as one atom temples tall
We survive and sail the salted sea
For we must find within our mind
And yet we get lost in melodic mystery
Are we artificial and sacrificial?
As the wolves devour the sedated sheep
Redundant reruns replicated daughters and sons
In a brave new world within a soundless sleep
And Heavens tide will always hide
Those of us who woundly weep.
April.22.2017
Brave New World - Contest
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
ritually, abuse, birth, conflict, destiny,
Form: Rhyme
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 15
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
Power mad individuals pay to rent head
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
The Administration cannot think nor beget
Must obey or its heads will be under-fed
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
National forces keep borders tightly knit
Secret Police shut People well under lead
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
The threat of force often makes the People fret
The use of force comes from the political head
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
People in modern States have cause to regret
Ritually replacing the Monster’s head
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
Cut the head off the Monster replace State to let
In time to come with selfless Robot at the head
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Categories:
ritually, political, violence, world,
Form: Villanelle
For years, I walked through my garden of excuses,
beautifully laid out, symmetrical and abundant.
The tapestry of seduction and deceit, fertile ground
for my field of illusions, with new growth ripening,
under the constant warmth of the gliding sun.
Blissfully, I tended that site, accessible to no one,
ritually, I covered my tracks, and gave nothing back.
Until the weather changed. My labyrinth garden,
my identity came under siege, the wind and the rain
washed it all away, exposing the broken bedrock below.
My barren soul, rootless and drained, drifted into dark
shadows without a trace. Freedom claimed me,
Illuminated me, called me home. My watery eyes
and fragile, pounding heart became my throne.
Categories:
ritually, dark, life, metaphor,
Form: Sonnet
Rays beam,
the room brightens instantly.
You stand there as you do every morning,
ritually yawning,
stretching...
Everything seems fine but you feel different,
more aggressive,
confident,
fluorescent.
No work today,
you feel the urge to explore your first day,
amongst the cattle you prey.
YOUR whipped around mightily, shoved, in--dented into the concrete.
A man approaches in a dark suit with a blood red tie. He tells you that
you'd been bitten for numbers, a select group for supremacy.
You are a hybrid vampire, he tells you. You can survive the sun!
There is one rule,
to only feast in the shadow of the moon...
To be continued.........
7/09
Categories:
ritually, science fiction,
Form: I do not know?
Four in one, nine baptized,
I hear you say legalized fraudulence.
Promises air-conditioned highways and streets;
Salaries and wages without workings,
An easy life made sweet and comfortable.
Now, all can join the bandwagon of rigging,
Of Moonslide and Marsslide victories,
With babies and peoples ritually sacrificed.
Received with glee by their lord,
The god of Politricks.
Categories:
ritually, history, philosophy, political
Form: Ballad
It was
four in one
nine baptised i hear
You say
this is indeed
legalised fraudlence
In it
air-conditioned
highways,streets promised
as are
salaries and wages
without legitmate working
and easy
life made sweet
and very comfortable
all can
now join the
bandwagon of rigging
of shows,
adulating in Moonslide
and Marsslide victories.
Alas with
babies and peoples
ritually gleefully sacrificed
with joy
received by their
lord, god of poltricks.
Categories:
ritually, life, people, philosophy, political,
Form: Free verse
Four in one, nine baptised,
I hear you say legalised fraudlence,
Promises air-conditioned highways and streets,
Salaries and wages without working,
An easy life made sweet and comfortable.
Now, all can join the bandwagon of rigging,
Of Moonslide Marsslide victories,
With babies and peoples ritually sacrificed,
Received with glee by their lord,
The god of politricks.
Categories:
ritually, philosophy,
Form: Ballad
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