When poised precariously,
balanced on the edge of a precipice,
choice can’t wait for clarity.
For the mass of uncertainty,
tips the balance just enough
to topple you off the cliff
into the valley below.
The sheers gravity of choice,
is unrelenting and absolute,
in the face of uncertainty.
You're blindfolded by fear,
bent over, to leer, too long,
into the valley below.
Uncertainty and urgency
conspire to force us
to decide,
to leap before we hear
to leap before we know
or to wimp and stutter
and step back,
and make a hasty retreat,
into the valley below.
MELIORISM
This world stings like the scorpion,
And I will not filter in her tears,
This I said because I’m a champion,
Only throwing jabs, it really wears!
Like the faeces of a chameleon,
She stinks in her odourless sheers,
Truly this world bites in oblivion.
And never to be seen in klaipeda _
The elysian sky has deceived me,
Leaving behind their propaganda;
This dark ominous mangles me...
The tenet of retronym in obscurity,
Why we can walk without security.
The quell for fairness may wither,
As we skulk in together!
The gargoyle mole of pains...
Hardship is loose and unfettered;
As we wallow in this sane oneiric,
That never sought for the kindred,
Of conflate moth of harangue...
The axiomatic mild of the youths,
The automatic bunkum in heroism,
The cosplay to this hilarious pains,
The syringe to my bitter whinge.
To saudade for the shadows of life,
A vain wait for meliorism!
When will it get back bitterly better?
Black-ice sheers,
it cuts deep into paved-ways and lots.
Night snorts a frigid fog,
the caked and idling cars
only sludge a gripping freeze.
This glacial dark fangs wrists and hearts.
Grit nips at tender cheeks and tongues.
The lights of bistros cannot withstand
their desolate backyards.
A scree of black curb can be crossed,
only if the heavily shod
mash and smash through.
Are we in the end days or
in an age of small uncertain fears
that cannot now truly thaw?
We slip along
uncover small pockets of glee
in these long frozen hours
where exhausted minds sleep
and walk.
Death is upended,
lungs mask against a stabbing air,
small ice sculptures appear
in snowy humps and heaps
as if this time will always be congealed,
nailed like this to scraps of eternity.
Later, these days,
with all there residue of lost souls
will be swept way
from the crusted edge
of mall steps and clogged paths.
Then it will be a different time,
a forgotten time, one only recalled
as a mist behind wintry eyes
as we, all unmuffled now,
glance backwards into yet another
uncertain future.
Keep your marshmallow bulges
those wisps of forgotten sheers
distorted aerials of gossamer
but those grey pinks
laden with promises
of the foreboding
speak with a ethereal heaviness
i am here
I like this room. Gold draperies
we couldn't afford, gathered
to let the outside in;
sheers tickling the windowsill
then escaping the gape
to gesture wildly at passersby.
The wife's chagrin when the blind
snapped a salute, and I laughed
at Grandma's cane rocker shifting
nervously like she couldn't endure
another round of sighs.
The golden anniversary clock
which hasn't chimed since I
turned twenty-one.
I like this room on a rainy
June day when there's no where else
I can go to think about important things
that ought to be thought about.
Eyeball god in mouth
Ostara?...Dio?...Luna? ...
Is light as hunger for colors?
Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings
shameful man with erect cock -- sighing sex
in his heart -- a crack, deep and wide!
Black Hole!
Punk rock for a Black Hole!
Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood!
Like a ***** universe all of our pornographic desires
moments of starving stars and **** stars!
An eyeless god living in a glass tube with hearts
like hot flashes in heat-blasted rooms!
Pulsing pimples -- swirling while a midnight sky
brings forth a cacophony of cosmic screams!
More impassioned raw-animal! More barking!
more vibrations -- more imminence!
More sinewy limbs on show -- I'm looking at --
lifeless grey body but voracious pink face!
It licks and whimpers, suckles and sucks!
Shall I become a statue again? -- glazed face with eyes
sheers-white in precession of Venus?
Hey! Taint! Milk it!
:: 11.12. 2020 ::
delicate gauzy organza sheers
window dressing dancing in the bedroom
blown gently by forced air heat
piped in by silver register on floor
moving softly in a sensuous way
erotic dance of cosmic feelings
my wide awake eyes
overwhelmed by imagination
conjures up a dancing ghost
~
here, within the heart’s dreams,
passion gently tugs the strings
between heaven and earth
destined quivers collect
at the corners of reality
when flesh is kissed lightly
and moonbeams through parted sheers
illumine azure eyes pleading
day becomes night
as promises wished for
satisfy in the grasp of your hand
softly caressing senses,
wallowing in the seductive scent
where warmth on a cold autumn eve
neath woolen sheets
and down feather whispers
melts upon longing lips
as wandering fingertips trace
moistened folds, chenille glistened curves,
silhouettes of desire
amidst silken sighs echoing
and eternity is more than
measured time,
but ingrained in the moments
spent as one
in the arms of love
~
At uncertain times black ice sheers the wind,
The nights snorts a frigid fog
into the fumes of idling cars.
Ohio, once was a light in a hissing bowl.
Land was laid out like a plain bible,
it offered salted potatoes
to the frozen and freezing,
it played a wheezy bellows into rural glimmers.
This night knows how to fang a wrist.
Grit nips our tender tongues.
The lights of bistros cannot withstand
their desolate backyards.
A scree of black curb
can be crossed, but not by the lightly shod.
At such times, Autumn lends
a shivering hand at its own burial.
After the sermon, small ice sculptures
of raw priests, congeal into humps and heaps.
A sweeping wind pushes rotting leaves
into vacant lots.
Confined dread, prison
Jagged sheers maim, breaking chains
The humbled mountain
Trump Bringing In the Shears
Sure seems like and what it all appears,
Trump had been bringing in the sheers;
Kept cutting;
Head butting;
Our fears were everything disappears.
Jim Horn
While we will worry and everyone wreaths,
Caught Trump again stealing all the sheaves.
Wedding dreams make lifelong memories
Openhearted promises and fantasies
Romantic whispers and warm caresses
Lighthearted banter in gala dresses
Decadent ambience and chandeliers
Crown jewels with beguiling sheers
Regal ceremony with witnesses
Unfamiliar princes and baronesses
Immortalizing this blessed day of June
Shivering with joy under the sublime moon
Everyone needs a world cruise for their honeymoon
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 24, 2017 for contest WORLD CRUISE ACROSTIC sponsored by KEVIN SHAW
My greatest inspiration comes
in the darkest of rooms.
My bedroom holds no lamps,
my windows covered with shades-
Fear not…
for I am content when
the sun descends and the
twilight rises.
The beauty of my opacity resides inside
the meaning of my existence.
I was born at three a.m.-
in complete murky darkness.
There’s elegance in the dim-
There’s clarity in the loss
of light.
It’s cold,
yet warm when I enter the shadows.
It’s noisy,
yet quiet in my head as I wallow in
what some may call prison,
but not me, I call it my fortress.
I find myself in darkness,
for the light bears no witness to
my shame-
I hold the fear of a fallen angel,
and yet…
the darkness rises above
to relieve the pain of an ignited kindle.
Shroud me in sheers and shield me
from daybreak-
Lightheartedness shines
when darkness radiates-
Euphoria prevails
when shades of black beam.
Dusk instead of dawn,
black instead of white-
Blind instead of perception,
Darkness instead of light.
March 18, 2017
I, me and myself in the dark stillness
Surfeit with the liberty of absolution
My thoughts float along with the silence
Of the tranquil gliding fish in my aquarium
The moonbeams peeping through the sheers
Are warmed by the glow of the gold fish
I relax on the easy chair with my eyes shut
Soft music plays on welling up my emotions
Its calming effect is soul rending and it works me
To a catharsis with strong currents of rivulets
Bursting down my cheeks uncontrollably
The fish swim in warm waters as I in saline tears
I soak my pensive mood in verses in this hushed night
June 14, 2016
For Nayda Ivette Negron
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