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Prose Poetry
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Zionist
for Israel, but
I don't invest,
in WAR...
I'm a pacifist...
For Arab
as for any other people
being legalistic
without exclusivist predilection...
for peaceful solution
no arms race
calm conversation
harmonious division
brotherhood in view
without fatal pride, absolutist
sans rejection, unhealthy, fatalistic
sans cruelty, dominist...
Allah understanding God
After all, they are one...!
Divide territory
and live in peace
and respect Both...!
Abolish parabellum !
PP peace, please...!
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Couplet
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*Image of People of the Dawn by Pixabay.
Instruments of Mercy
Amidst the wailing whiplashed 'neath a moonlit plight,
Against the cowered beast of demons gnashing white,
Angst men in their temporary shanties walled bubbles,
Atheist fated them to wile their skill with steel shovels,
Apologist to the bitter end proves it's never supported,
Absolutist self-denial raw display ne'er to be thwarted,
Awarest who'd weathered the conviction of strong will,
Awkwardest fretted near sunk rocks, lost eyes wet still,
Aptest met their latest neighbor, old-timers now closer,
Antichrist organized bits of their faith sitting as a poser.
2022 January 22
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Free verse
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I cannot be her friend because she has pink yarn in her hair.
Who says?
My mother.
Can you at least be her friend at school?
No.
Let me guess.
You have an Absolute Book at your house….
Yes, and we sing the absolute song at our house nightly.
How does that go again?
“Absolutely no yarn in hair,
Absolutely no tattoos or rings.
Absolutely no make-up.
Absolutely no outsiders can learn these sings.”
But you are sharing the song with me?
Yes.
But I am an outsider.
Oh. I did not know that.
Forget you heard it, okay?
I do not want to lose my standing in my family.
They have already disowned three of my sisters and two brothers.
Your secret is safe with me.
Absolutists. Nothing like them.
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Prose Poetry
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I would be creeped out, Lucilla said.
Making me wish I had not mentioned their visits.
Glad I had stopped myself when I did.
They are not frightening, I told her.
Spirits comfort me, they are proof that life goes on.
How can it? She asked me. Dead is dead.
Not recognizing that flesh death is no death at all.
Sometimes her absolutist mind frightens me.
There is no opening for possibilities or new ideas.
She is stuck in the tradition of a family who forgot to think in their youth.
My grandmother giggles in my ear, reading my mind.
The smell of lilac verifies her presence.
I don’t know what I would do if a ghost talked to me, Lucilla said.
Can I please bite her on the leg? Grandma asked.
I could not stop laughing.
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Rhyme
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Brother. O Brother.
O when; when we were callow!
In days young; Shakers, of the movement, before
gray & silver turned our locks; we held in idol.
Spree, even damned, were we.
Lessen a very score, ’til callous became un-sore;
away, had you, myth, into the far-off; seeking a northern star.
Thus, did dim of you, re-turn, filled
privileged besiege, ferrying scripted jots of the novel are;
deluged in assure.
Brother. O Brother.
Dont, forthwith; tell to me, nor else, what I do not;
forth I have continued a militant pace.
Dont, mid uncommon lot, tell to me, nor else,
demur girding resistance rebellious plot.
If, you, must speak a hair; tell
of owned stead mid factional fight. In the absence;
tell of owned gallant march for quality rights.
If adapt, if no longer a sworn knight;
tell of owned rationalism of moralism, the plagiarism of
Quisling plight; ill-gots. Are you not, at will, zealot?
Brother. O Brother.
Here, in the brawling depth, the course bowl clear;
onward the struggle un-stop.
You, we, in pledge; had warrant, to our brethren, aged;
to carry the pillars in lift.
O out furthest yon; you, hither, re-turn, elope dystopia sum; utmost grift.
—whitewashed literacy! alien pensive! — these snares, gate
earnest mental width; so readily turncoat gift
in errand of handmade suits and seasoned goose;
be, too, un-loathed; the dandy one who tend the noose.
Steady! are, the angered us, of sternly force;
undue toil, seizing liberty under conquer.
Brother. O Brother.
If for reasons, untold, at sun’s godly will; alms’ shine
shalt fetch flicker of brotherly chime.
O the left-behind, aggrandizing autocrat-kneeler sprawl;
as liken wayward owl,
cant find luminous in eyes of kinship kind. — formed
across absolutist allured far-off; whereat darken desert loom.
Muse this! Steely-dusk rise; leap desert’s sandy sweep,
to the heavens it seeps, to hand the moon its imposing greet;
if for reasons untold.
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Free verse
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feeling his vitamin injection a new adventure begins
a slapstick epic of unfathomable implication here unfolds
as the rat gnawed curtain rises at Ye Bone and Gristle
among the clattering of wooden pints of bitter ale
the floor show a fatigued and spent collegiate symposium
a haggard attempt at ecumenical largess aimed at
raising the unwashed to an occasional and transient grasp
of the larger dimensions that haunt our daily addictions
Prof. Zlotto emeritus deluxe brooded over his maps
summoned by the tedious self-appointed constabulary
to pry somewhat delicately into a mystifying case
of good judgment deferred with a view towards
an increase in immediate cash flow revenues
wagers placed on foul play or the whim of ill fortune
were the options undergoing fuddled prehension
we have before us opined Z expansively from center stage
an antebellumite absolutist abandoned by fortune
skirting the Queen's tariff crushed white and cold
by a bulging bale of contraband Carolina cotton
observe the eyes fully crossed the smirking grimace
while grasping a message in a mangled scrap of menu
none of the Bone and Gristle's brain trust could
tease rhyme nor reason from its random hatchings
Sumerian birdclaw temple cypher went our Professor
fragments from the time of the Great Watery Peril
the gathered lumpenproletariat gasped and murmured
Zlotto's flawless command of forgotten history
was the object of awe and an untidy fealty
my appraisal shall go no further than this room
insisted Zlotto drawing his finger across his windpipe
aye wheezed the unsteady avid archivists of civilization
the hearth's peat flames glinted off Z's gold tooth smile
a million dollar asset with the neighborhood gorgons
fluttering hearts batting about the succulent stamen
Z pondered aloud over the runes inscribed in red ichor
my certainty was never under hazard went Zlotto
what we have here beneath the lantern of exposition
is a blighted invocation of the Blind Mother of Witches
the tenured and tweedy astigmatics drew breath as one
a petition of supplication borne on ancient trade winds
Zlotto's hard gaze scanned the struck dumb congregation
It says only this
as one body the throng leans a full inch closer
only this
fill in your blanks
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Free verse
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The Cinematic Film Treatment as Poetic Element
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Mechanical Intervention in the Nick of Time
Biography of the greatest cryptoanalyst of them all, "Bumpy" Boedecker Hines, custodial staff at Blimply Park, where the best Scrabble players known to humanity work feverishly night and day to crack the great enigma of glosso-hominymetry, the ability of speech to convey more than one meaning simultaneously: a problem that has plagued civilization since the invention of the charred stick, with which was mapped, at the dawn of time the great Panoply of Mischance that got us here to everyday common sense reality where Bumpy, finding a Conundrum Model 4444 encryptor in pieces in a waste basket, hurled there in utter frustration by dept. head Sir Percival Burneydick III, whose temporary bouts of apoplectic wall bouncing left him unable to recall which end of the screwdriver is normally grasped; a problem that Bumpy had been able to evade as he arranged the Conundrum 4444's bits into bags according to weight and shook the bags vigorously while shouting "Ala Kazaam!" three times so that, little by little, the Conundrum 4444's parts lined up tab A to slot A much like molecules are managed in the cells of living organisms, whereupon, within a matter of several months of periodic agitation, the Conundrum 4444 sat shiny and proud (and ready to decrypt the actual thoughts of men) upon Bumpy's now uncluttered workbench where he began to dissect the process by which sadism, administered in measured quantities to the unwary, was believed to be a fruitful benefit to mankind by simply "making them smarter" via Pavlovian reflex pedagogy or, in the not so rare cases of death while building a "stairway to heaven", made them into angels; a nice win-win situation by any measure, particularly among esoteric wayfarers churning out victory in the Sea of Absolutist Perfection where perception was craftily equated to reality via a logic that resisted all contextual input in a global conspiracy of mental insulation which Bumpy, whose eyes slowly opened and grew wider and wider and wider until all that he was was a mosaic of probabilities without measurement or comparison of any sort whatsoever when he concluded without effort that sanity actually extended life and comfort in an existence dominated by inexorable tomorrows.
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
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