Short Communicable Poems

Prejudice is the oldest communicable disease of the mind 

May 11, 2023...

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Disease Communicable Horn Haiku

Irreversible,
Disease Communicable;
And despicable.

You can call this Poem 
a five word Horn Haiku.

James Horn

Wonder what the fewest known
words haiku is. Will work on it....

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Why does one write poetry?
To get lost in the solace of words,
to encourage one to look at birds;
or is it something much less communicable:
a state of being, like a look in the eye,
that is unreadable?
We could talk night and day,
about the how and why,
but the only thing that is foreseeable
is the poet coming back again
for the ink and pen....

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bards 
   of possibility
scribes
    of realisation
with
poetry
    of high order
accessible
communicable
meditaively..
    slowly
        unclothed:
instinctively
      penned..
        as structured
             prose,
a ceasura
        here-                  
and- 
       there-
           unbare
lines
begone...
             no more
jettisoned
     upon
         a forgotten
poetic
     shore...

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Infertility
Is it a communicable disease?
Is it a blemish to the family?
Is it a detestable status?
Is it an inferior sort?
Is it a shameful disability?
Is it an imperfect position?
Is it a non-human prototype?
Is it a punishable crime?
Is it a reason to be isolated?
Is it a divine curse?
Is it an unholy living?
Is it an immoral sin?
Is it an incomplete existence?
Isn't it a blessing to become an adoptive parent?...

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The air is ripe with passion,
Love for something gone so stale,
Does he stand alone?
Does he pray to a god long gone?
“Did I miss the next fad out of town?
Did curiosity kill my dreams?
No, they’re long dead,
Foolish scenes played out in my head.”
A victim of opportunity:
Of misguided, ardent love.
Russian roulette of ideas,
Pull the trigger and find your purpose.
This passion is not mine;
This love , far from divine....

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 There is always a struggle
Everyone fighting their demons
This is the kind of war which you don’t take sides
The fence is always there to sit on


A shoulder to lean on is not a big deal
The condition of the shoulder matters a lot
For a blind can’t lead a deaf
The vice versa is true

Pain is just a portion
It should be handled with caution
Not that it is communicable
It spreads slowly killing the victim; it is poison...

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i am the ash tray diary catching your cancer
sit still in your powdered liquefied sadness, and i will be your enabling dancer
anything to make you happy is everything that makes me a mannequin
i stand by as you take one for the reaper
i so wish i could evaporate your tears and become that man again
maybe then you will return to being the most beautiful and stunning thrill seeker
i am the communicable ink pen sacrificing my flawless immunities for you.......

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there is no-thing...
it is vacuum
and foundation
of reality...
we
are the perpetual
want
that holds it together
in some recognizable fashion
that is communicable...
with reserves depleted
and endlessly challenged
we stumble on blindly
perceiving and questioning
a braille reality...
but with symbols and words
we make use of our turds
and through recycling
build this...
something is missing
from winning
for losing
as to how to brake
this...
recycle of poetry
......

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