Short Subverts Poems

Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –

subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.

And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.


SATISH VERMA...

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Not lying outright
is far from the truth
Hesitance vacuous
barren of fruit

What never gets said
deceitfulness hides
Stalking and preying
while buried inside

The pulpit a soapbox
 lectern a mask
Pontification
deceptions bombast

Wittingly fervent
the devil subverts
False implication
—the ultimate hurt

(Dreamsleep: February, 2023)...

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Confetti dreams floating away
An innocence again is crushed
Under the weight of the fall 
Countdowns to unconsciousness
Filled in flutes of sorrow
As the masses mimic cheer

Confessions secretly stored
Under wraps of indesgression
Carried out the door
Self inflicted suffrage
Abandons another war

Anxious the path's unearthed 
Repentant intemperance subverts...

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Pretty Love
Kind touches
Sugar Hello’s
Melodic kisses

Swift feet that run towards peace
Ears that hear that the innocent ones have been released
Eyes that see the goodness in increase
Arms that reach out to embrace and greet

Handsome hearts
Gorgeous souls
Two minds have met
That has made a whole

Lovely is their morning song
Kindness subverts all wrong
How long is long

Forever and a day...

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Just to be free
I will take a chance,
Without a backward glance
To close the door and lose the key
That has been too oft used
To unlock memories better lost in the sea
Of forgetfulness. 

Just to be unbruised
From a lifetime of hurt
And from all the recorded grooves
Played and replayed like a concert
That never improves and always subverts
Any chance of happiness,
Or at least a peaceful armistice....

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laughter rushes   summer cleanses
                            subverts subsistence 
children ramble  seaside scramble
                scribble sand
            
hamlet beckons   hangout persuades
                         hermits wade
worship freedom
                wooing
emissaries 
                dripping
leisure
                wedges in
                







Poem composed July 8, 2021...

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When death becomes a living thing
A clawing, unseen, weepy touch
A spreading stain of seeping fear
A pall draped o’er the light of day

When death becomes the present tense
When muted voices must redress
Old words, like flowers, curled and mute
To free themselves from sorrow’s lie

When living death subverts its role
Its cape and scythe gone strangely still
A coldness of the soul is held
When death becomes a living thing
...

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COPLA CINCUENTA Y TRES: This Bad Guy World

People see what they love to see
All that glitters makes them feel bright:
Tip sinking boat

Right now ball craze all films of glee
World of adverts subverts the sight:
Salesmen sail moat

A young woman stands at street door
Dazed by drugs an oozing sex pot:
Short years hence hag

Suckling aids milk son of whore
Whose mind will unhinge smoking pot:
Jet lag lost bag

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014...

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