Short Knaves Poems

Sword of  
the noble
With fury
unsheathed
Trumping
dishonor
And knaves
unreprieved   

Knighted in 
armor
Endowed
from on high
Legend
heraldic
 With duty
— reprised

(The New Room: September, 2024)
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I’m Nobody! Yet I write.
Do You - Write - I’ll bite!
Nobody reads poetry these days.
Save - You and I - Silly knaves!

How brilliant - To write!
To bring words to life.
Make them dance across a page.
Let’s write - Anyway!...

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Methinks thou mayst receive mine words as false;
Her eldest daughter at a stew-house tups.
Come hither, pray - and see with thine own eyes 
We lusty knaves surround that saucy wench
To make the two backed beast.

For Lisa’s Old English Scandal contest...

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A Boring Sight is Black and White


A bias comment damages existing faith, garnering hostile ignorance. Jeering knaves labeling masses; normality overly praised; quickly racism subjects terror unto victims. Wry, xenophobic yelling zealots....

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Malice laced with blinded hate

Motives based on tempted fate

Marching knaves will hear the call

Making slaves of one and all

Tyrant's goals are up to date

Tattered souls are now too late

Tactics wise begin to stall

Tensions rise and nations fall...

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feeling hurt, we forgive
healing heart, that we live

noble act of doership
tact of one-upmanship

if all one, who remains
save bliss squall, free of chains

each behaves, as ordained
thus knaves too, are unstained 

18-August-2021...

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A length of knots makes crooked necks
That's bound by ropes to gallows
Tied by lore and judges hands
And braided by deeds of fellows
And though the graves of many knaves have gone unmarked with cruel intent
Their kin be sworn, with devils scorn
That they will not soon forget...

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Koi in the pond
     Shrimp on ice
     Sauce for fish
     Sliced or diced.
     Frog in the mouth;
     Dry, brittle tongue.
     Disallowed pleasures
     Knaves, little fun.
     
     Trips near the edge.
     Waves in my hand;
     disallowed pleasures,
     Nearly known; not allowed....

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Red swelling

Red swelling, curving waves, barbed for protection, the picking knaves. Sweet detection, granted wealth, scent luring, casting tempered spell. Grasping the knowing, needed want, you the restoring, making the wanting, long will I dwell. Oh, Season last long, thanks for the giving, Rose, I know you well....

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I hear the Ocean call from cascading waves,
to sailors and knaves.

I feel Her misty breath on a foggy night
when the air turns white.

I smell Her salty spray saturating me;
the fragrance of free.

I taste the bitter-sweet essence of Her kiss;
the promise of bliss.

Calling Kings and slaves
to watery graves;
I hear the Ocean call from cascading waves....

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May I know?
Why after peace
Blood will follow?

Under the moon and sun
Our sorrow,gives way
To the dawn of tomorrow

Our tears drop,
But not even the rain,
Can match the blood that follows

Kings and lords bet,
But only Death wins the wager,
And the outcome is set.

Both knights and knaves,
They fought so hard
And now they lie in unmarked graves.

Sad is it not?
That after peace
Blood will follow....

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When the light comes on, roaches will scatter
Scampering for the nearest crack, crevice or hole
When gossip comes to a deaf ear, there's an abrupt stop to all chatter
Expeditiously in comes the judge, allowing truth to be told

When thieves get out and wander in darkness 
In search of the next quick lick
When knaves come to spew lies on the chosen who walk in meekness
In come the authorities with their baretta and nightstick....

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Hold them tightly but be sure not to clench
When knaves and thieves come for seizure, don't you dare flinch

Walk in the light; that's where your protection lies.
Through the darkness, by all means, continue with lithe strides.

Holding and carrying the promise from a long ago,
Remembering whence you've come and where you must go.

Holding and not bending,
Holding while tending,

Holding fast to your beautiful dreams,
Following that starry spirit within that gleams....

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Indeed, we have given up.
Freemen, once...now happy slaves?
No longer able to drink from a Church cup.
We are the most willing knaves.
Tragically, to those who unlawfully 
locked us up.

Stockholm Syndrome has us by the throat.
We are grateful to our masters for our lifelong 
sentence?
Never realizing we must be the butt of jokes.
Contended as our end draws near.
Taken prisoner by a phenomenal,
life-demeaning hoax.



    September 12, 2020
          7pm PST

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