I want to be someone's moon,
Glowing bright through night or noon,
No matter how incomplete I seem,
Still beautiful inside their dream.
So many shining stars above,
So many gazes lost in love,
I'm just a soul lost in phases,
Lost among their brighter faces.
So I'll keep shouting into void,
Even if the sound gets void,
For somewhere, someone still might see
The moon that no one thought could be.
Been blessed with a very sensitive nose
Drawn to ladies who smell like a rose
An intense attraction
As I leap into action
Shivering and shaking right down to my toes
He died
in a whisper
alone
in its presence
The call of death
weaker
than what he’d
been told
Wading into its
shallows
each step
took him deeper
Reluctance
and acceptance
both swimming
in turn
Each voice
every motion
he passed
toward the bottom
The pressure of
choosing
now
drifting away
In denial
and waiting
the past
floating above him
But the end
of its
shouting
— had finally begun
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
upon meditation when outside
suggested happenings it knew I
would not like, sun-filled spring
afternoons piled up like books
stacked upon books, teetering,
then after attempts, the room
went nowhere, but, I may not
have done – her voice shouted
it both drew me in to another
world yet threw me back to the
one I had just left . . it was the
briefest of journeys, it was the
furthest of journeys when that
afternoon introduced Nicorates
to me; she who cried out this
name cried out no more while
I was left alone with Nicorates
our fleeting glance . . lingering
My Man Cave my shed,
All it needs is a bed.
Its become my private domain,
Where nobody can complain.
Its full of tool and all of my fishing gear,
There are even some of my comfortable old clothes that I just like to wear.
There a comfortable chair,
And lots of things I don't like to share.
I can simply fiddle about,
I can sing, scream or shout.
But mainly its a place where I can peacefully sit and just stare into space.
Perceiving the value of silence
I understood that the shouting
is much ado for nothing
Can you hear it?
Not that anybody presses so,
But still,
There they are.
Their obnoxious shouting,
With twitching countenances,
A purely inconceivable demeanor
Consisting of nothing
But insanity,
Lust,
And overall
Ravenousness.
They used to walk,
Walk inside,
And back out again
Ever so orderly.
Gloriously gallant guards
Protecting the central base
Of their livelihood.
Now,
They scramble
Writhing,
Self-penalizing,
Wriggling with utter chaos
As the lot of anxious,
Swinish abominations
That we now realize they are.
That we are.
Anger a fierce emotion,
Quietly seething the blood boiling,
Anger shows when upset,
It comes out in many ways,
Yelling, hitting throwing things,
A missile flying duck there are more to come,
A slap never solves anything,
Yelling just walk away,
Talk things through that's the best way.
I wasn't their for your wedding
you won't be their for mine
right you are
right you are
aint nobody inviting you
bet' not come up in here
aint nobody getting
maried round here
aint no body getting married round here
that chic you wiff she's ah sucka
punk like you
wiff ah gal like that
man that's a pretty gown
did you try it on
aint noibody getting married round here
aint know body getting married round here
whats dat is
them lacey drawers you got on
aint nobody gettin
married round here
aint nobody getting married round here
said we gone practice
you showed me your thong
aint no body getting married round here
aint no body gettin married round here
i don't like you
geuss you know I never did
aint nobody getting married round here
aint nobody gettin married round here
shuff damn and shuffle man
bet you thanking diss
aint nobody gettin married round here
aint nobody gettin married round here
Tripping over my shadow,
guilt darkened the night
The devil bespoken,
fear burning bright
Stepping into the darkness,
one chance to look back
Light shouting farewell
—as panic attacked
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Beneath a sky of blue
On a plain of grass so green
Sitting underneath a tree
Thinking of what is
And of what might have been
A man reflects on fellow man
Of trying to help many times
Of all things that he was said
All the times that they have turned away
Standing now and looking to sky
And far across the empty land
In gathering wind he draws breath
Forming words and shouts into the wind
Wind that carries his words away
Words lost as all have been
Words not heard by ears of men
All are lost across the land
And he turns and walks away
Stones Shouting
there is a Sameness
in the many colorful
expressions of Grace..
within and as Grace come
the man on the donkey
the sounds of shouting
the voices of caution
and the quiet stones..
Grace as your Wholeness
expresses...
See Luke:19
R-ight decision is made,
E-rror is taken away;
I-t's all over but the shouting,
G-reat outcome makes your day.
E-very doubt has faded into the wide blue sky;
N-ew hope is smiling, as the beacon rises high.
R-esult is absolutely clear,
O-n August twenty-third morning;
S-olid faith has made it,
A-s it's all over but the
S-houting.
Shouting out with glee, infectious love has power shown
Russell Sivey
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