moonlight tells it slant
subtle silver truths waxing
nothing shines straight on
tell it slant~
the world can’t bear the full blaze
of truth all at once.
So we angle it,
tilt it like a mirror catching dusk,
let it shimmer sideways
through the mind.
We speak in glints,
in half-lit metaphors,
in stories that circle the heart
instead of striking it head-on.
Not to hide~
but to reveal
what only soft light can show.
Because some truths
arrive like lightning,
too bright for the naked soul.
But slanted,
they become lanterns~
guiding, not blinding,
warming, not burning.
So we tell it slant,
the way moonlight tells the shape of things,
the way wind tells the shape of trees,
the way love tells the shape of a life~
not directly,
but unmistakably.
Urgent intentions will not be virtuous enough;
To mention, of the better, which path is it paved from?
Hell purges etchings of where your silhouette set drops.
Like Cloisonné flattened edgeways, beauty finds a brush.
You can do what's right as long as it can still be done,
But from where the comfort derives weighs more than the sun.
Strip your palms and find the bones, actions can't change the blood.
Rid the dawn of the fight you hope, where passions won;
Self-designation tropes mimic, even lack thereof.
We do all that we can do, but whose posture becomes
the fare, collateral damage we forget to fund?
Inwards piecing shape to form what cannot be undone,
whether from what you see or say, grievance follows us
Contort wilds towards tending the tame, normal but not;
We are not of what we are, but of what we become.
So however we see ourselves; Image falsely knots.
We can't know of tomorrow but that's where we are from.
I sould not stop for Death—Impatience—
Spurred my footsteps on—
His carriage lingered at the gate—
But I had long since gone—
--
The daisies whispered at my heels—
The wind implored me stay—
Yet Time unbuttoned from my grasp—
And swept the road away—
--
I met the dawn with breathless haste—
Too swift to turn—too late—
As I am feeling so slanted,
He continued what made him panted.
take not at face value
look slant and see new view
truth may be hard to find
and half-truths leave you blind
trust not what first you see
let your mind wander free
sixth sense may shine a light
on things that not seem right
some face values deceive
to lead you to believe
belief is not knowing
and often misleading
look slant and see new view
take not at face value.
Loosing My Slant
I’m Developing a View
About a How of a Thing
Letting Go of My Mistakes
To See What Freedom Can Bring
To Lose a Perspective of What
Misdirection Sometimes Gives
To Forget How to Win Just
To Find a Joy That Still Lives
Is It All a Lost Focus
A Happenstance Chance?
To Learn Just To Be Clear
And To see How to Dance
Away From Regrets Full of
Deep Sighs with Remorse
Turn Away From the Belief
Of A Thousand Years Tossed
To Forget Your True Level
Which’s Off Centered Oblique
To Tell Someone “I love you”
Without Looking Back
With a Turned Cheek
Tale of Supply and Demand
Some sloppy light has fallen down,
Where checkered mice drive kittens mad,
And all the cheese is owned by dogs
Who ride all night on giant slugs.
Into this pool of sloppy light
There slips a merman, small and slick,
Whose only flaw is eating toads
(He likes them raw and eats them whole).
The word is out, the toads lie low;
A crunching sound rewards the bold.
And when the merman’s had his fill,
He belches warts and slaps his tail.
Now toads make cheese that dogs must have
To keep the checkered mice enslaved
So they will drive the kittens mad
(This gives cats flavor slugs demand).
Unhappy slugs are not good mounts
And a walking dog’s a nasty grouch.
A plan was hatched among the mice;
They’d snag the merman late at night.
They greased a toad with tadpole jam
And placed him near the merman’s den.
The bait was swallowed hook and line;
The catch was scaled and poached in wine.
It’s fine for dogs to ride their slugs
And mice to drive the kittens nuts,
Just so we keep the truth at hand;
“The wise invest in tadpole jam”.
THE SLANT RAINS
They grew up in the same sprawling city
Didn’t meet until they became neighbors
He was struck by the radiance of her beauty
The first time he saw her in twilight hours.
With fantasy of love months passed him by
He couldn’t muster the courage to talk to her
Except for uttering smile-laced passionate ‘Hi’
Whenever they chanced to cross each other.
She didn’t know when his dreamy eyes
Lit the candle of love in her heart’s corner
Beyond measure it took her by surprise
When she craved for his arms to hold her.
Coming home on a cloudburst night they met
Under the dim street light in a desolate corner
In his arms he felt her warmth in the body wet
The slant rains fused the two hearts together.
October 29, 2018
I That Eyes Wind For Love
know hands that just with be
that could just whispers: me gone
certain feel dig stay she'd or
feelings so deep and loose I'll
can't buried into let her just
be in paved her strength slant
right this sunken stars and your
.... hole road grow sign design
When the poems sound ordinary,
change your pattern of life.
Live more than write awhile.
Go out and run a mile.
Get yourself a new wife.
Visit an observatory.
Sit and zone awhile.
Witness something vile.
Fall deep in love.
Be reaped by love.
Break a woman's heart.
Get your heart broken.
Just press down the lead to start,
the only saving token.
Write, live with vigor
and unatched hunger
of madman intensity.
Lyrical festivity
may well be conjured.
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