Morality discerning right from wrong
That there be order, society, strong
Cultures diverse, opine divergently
Head over heart, debating speciously
Oh hermit, choose love unconditional
Outpouring from the heart; Gods miracle
Recognising singular consciousness
Each being then vibrant in blissfulness
03-January-2021
(syllabic rhyme)
Morality poetry contest
Sponsor: Mark Koplin
love was a lonely Syllable
Embedded hypothetically in the
syntax of the
Story of
You and
Me
We quoted ,
I love you
And you , sic [loved me]
But perhaps
this was
Your hyperbole
Parenthesis
you
kept
[Me] in,
Frenetically
in case
our verbs
became nouns
No verisimilitude
Imbedded logically
the allusion
Came alive
Described
So
speciously
All too clear
Once I chose
To study
The
history
No,
The Plot discovered,
This was
My own soliloquy
Dear Apostrophe ,
you and I
We are not
Like simile
Truth be told
I only resemble
Footnotes
In the ledger
Of your
Poetry
IT’S RAINING AND THAT ROOF SPEAKS
“That’s the way a cookie always crumbles”
And how sneakers in the clothes dryer tumbles
It’s also the way the ocean and its waves are tossed
And now I’ll describe the ways in which I keep getting lost
I would come upon and plod a pristine purple and pink path
But that path would lead to a road raging with rampant wrath
I’d come upon a quaint little cabin that would become a house built of pain
With a roof riddled by the unreasonable that couldn’t protect me from the rain
I’d find a sunny stained-glass window that would darken even in daylight
I’d find the safety in a lady’s embrace that would soon turn to fright
I’d happen upon a place wherein I could hide from a world in which I don’t fit in
Or I’d find a devoutly devoted woman whose sanctity suddenly turned into sin
So I may as well be a cookie, sneakers in a dryer or a well threatened sea
Because the temptation of a pristine path often leads to where I don’t want to be
The silence of a comfortable cabin suddenly begins to speciously speak
And every time I find a cabin like that the roof always seems to leak
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
AS THIS PLANT RANTS
I am but a rose that froze
Despite the hunger of August's heat
And each evening my hatred grows
Since your beauty claimed my defeat
I am but a wilted willow worn
My leaves like tears fallen to the ground
As I curse the day when you were born
And I am a fool your selfishness found
I am but an oak that broke
Each branch snapped by your decree
You were the winter who speciously spoke
And now I am but a dry and dying tree
No water can replenish what you stole
My trunk cannot be strengthened by the richest soil
I once stood straight as any pole
Until you found this fool to be your foil
© 2012 (c) PHREEPOETREE.....~free cee!~
REJECTION IS YOUR RELIGION
I hear tell about perfection
I choose to talk about rejection
as in I reject the notion of perfection
and rejection lately seems to be my selection
I select to reject the thought of your inconsideration
and constantly causing me nothing but aggravation
I see people holding hands as if they are one
while i'm in love with a loaded gun
I never know when that gun will fire
and the situation I find myself in is dire
i'm in love with someone who won't even give me a chance
and uses her words as a weapon such as a lance
she refuses to try to please me in any way
and doesn't care about a thing I say
all she cares about is her and her alone
while she remains stoic as a sedimentary stone
i've grown weary of her refusals and denials
and my deepest love she constantly defiles
her lack of compassion is beyond belief
while she's stolen my heart as speciously as any thief
well once stolen what's gone is gone and faded away
as she continues to contradict anything I say
she prefers rejection over perfection any day
and turns every blue sky in a saddening sky of gray
© 2012.....PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
THE SISTER HEALS A BLISTER MISTER
My lover is a credit to our entire race
Which happens to be Caucasian
I, however, am a total disgrace
But she’s like a sexy nurse who heals my every abrasion
My lover believes in people rather than to be a skeptic
What they tell her she’s takes for granted is true
Well I live in a world where people’s speech is septic
And I can’t trust a word of which they so speciously spew
My lover believes in always doing the right thing
For instance she tithes in Church on Sunday
S**t, I hear that old rusted bell e’er to ring
And while she’s walking into the church I’m running the other way
My lover gives our race gracefulness and glamour
But she has a big mouth and I don’t care if she can heal a callous or a blister
Well guess f*****g what, I’ve had it with her cacophony and
clamor
So I’m heading out to find me a fine African American soul sister
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Architects speciously building never ending bridges spanning distances that reach a
nowhere, other than in my barren and muted heart
The emptiness and the silence, intangible liabilities which never truly do exist but,
pursuant of life’s contradictions seem only to persist in deeper parts
Persistent, I am the drifting man journeying on long forgotten pebble strewn side roads,
merely lonesome until momentary lapses of the vessels which pass me by
Further down the highways past horizons, finds me upon the crossroads standing, astride,
then to gaze in either direction, I am most cynically defined and yet still, no reason, no
rhyme nothing ever do I find
Glancing back to the trailing miles of this prolonging existence, questions are only
places time has left behind but, without the answers I simply cannot surpass beyond my
presence of this wandering life