the matter of scales
We, you and I, who don't believe in a rose
scented heaven, painted by a five years
old child who has a mother named Glady
Nor do we believe in that place where
stokers go, tired of an electrified world
I know of a man on X who is doing his
best believing in a friendly God, that
must be difficult for a man who wonders
if he is a deity of wealth.
If I go before you, I like to be a memory
dwell there until it is time to go
and become the non-returnable
As we sit on a bench that has a lone
tree and swirling fog, we can talk about
the Savanna, when I was a lion and you
were a gracious giraffe called baby
We can also reminiscence when we
were warthogs, lived in a hole
with no hope of having a bath unless
it rained so much that our cave flooded
We can also fry to nirvana, a place that
is less colorful and has an echo of
wishes not fulfilled.
Failing that, we can go to Iceland said
to be the most peaceful place on earth
by those who have not heard the rumble
of earthquakes
The aber is the island has no trees if
we should get bored and hang ourselves
Categories:
stokers, angst, august, baptism, beach,
Form: Ballade
They slip in unnoticed
just below the burning rays of the sun solstice
lighting on the last flowers of summer bare,
sweet nectar wafting in the heavy laden air,
colors brilliant, glowing, coy
orange black monarchs and viceroys,
great spangled fritillary yellows and whites,
tiger swallowtails in yellow black stripes,
California sisters, red admirals, blues, skippers,
silent and stealth like they come on windy clippers
floating and flittering in mid-August dance,
waltzing on the warm light breeze tree branch,
eye-catching, dainty lace winged soarers,
quick and slow in flight flutterers scorers,
enticed by flowered whispers between thorn and nettles
painted ladies hovering in place on petals
mourning cloakers, dark gray stokers with blended color palettes,
rudders navigating windy turns and landings on salads,
southern dogfaces heading south in transition
migratory lives gathering in submission
to climatic phenomena seen on the window pane
tempered by the sun, the surf, and rain
waving goodbye to the northern lights
hello to the southern fields and forests cool nights.
Categories:
stokers, butterfly, nature,
Form: Rhyme
I am going to admit right up front
I am not a believer in this “New World Order”
In my opinion, it is a conspiracy theory,
Devised by those who are eager to confront,
Of it, frankly, I am more than somewhat weary.
I have heard blather from right-wing extremists
As far back as 50 years ago of a super-government
Being planned by a powerful cabal of power brokers
Closely aligned with international communists
As hard to nail down as fantasies by Bram Stokers.
In truth, we already live in a global society
And nations of like politics have bonded in kind
But national sovereignty is still the prevailing view
In my way of thinking, freedom is still a priority
Though some leaders are of a different mind.
If the world ever succumbs to a “New World Order”
I shall not be around to be a part of it, I know
In any case, I can tell you it is very slow developing
As I said, 50 years ago it was bantered in the corridor
So, it is not something that has come galloping!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 8, 2022
for "New World Order" poetry contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Categories:
stokers, international, perspective, philosophy, world,
Form: Rhyme
My cloak as been removed, my invincibility laid bare.
My life clock is in overdrive is this my time to breath my last fresh air.
Let heaven wait an angel and hell a stokers mate.
My plan is to rest in peace and hope not to many weep.
My eyes will miss the sunsets, my heart its beating in my breast.
My cloak as been removed, my invincibility laid bare.
My mortal time is ending my heart will soon beat it last.
and I'm off to rest in peace or may haunt those that laughed.
let heaven wait an angel and hell a stokers mate.
You think you will live forever and then sneak an extra day.
but in reality any day could be the day that you're last breath go's away
My cloak as been removed,my invincibility laid bare.
You're born without a penny and tears within you're eyes.
and leave behind you're fortune and them tears in others eyes.
Let heaven wait an angel and hell a stokers mate.
Let life's trials have it's say, and then turn the other cheek.
Live your life with love and passion and treasure every day.
My cloak as been removed, my invincibility laid bare
Let heaven wait an angel and hell a stokers mate.
Categories:
stokers, angel, death, farewell, funeral,
Form: Villanelle
Afraid of what comes
Afraid of facts
Afraid of murderers to come sweep of my back
Afraid of killers, afraid of psychics
Afraid of stokers, to come stoke me behind my back
Afraid of rappers, afraid of all these actions
To take place, place in my torn into pieces life
I stand by the security guard
To help me ease my terror
I lift the sleeves of my blouse
Ready to fight them back
I increase my speed
Ready to kick their ass
I do all this
Just to prove
Afraid is something only felt to God…
Categories:
stokers, adventure, visionaryme,
Form: Free verse