I don’t know that a poem
needs to say much...stoking
flames of feelings would be
closer to poetic truth – Yes, poetry
needs Truth! Even a lie, to be
taken seriously must be truthfully
spoken. A good liar, in the moment
believes his or her own claims. Wears
a robe of authority -- projects with
the clarity of bible verses unassailable.
So, where does that leave
a guy like me?
One who questions the rise and
fall of most everything – dissatisfied with the
majority of appealing explanations? When it comes
to the troubles of the world, reasons that
no Good God, in control, would have allowed
opportunity for such a moral mess --
What do I write about? What
should my poetry address?
Maybe God is neither good
nor bad? Not a novel thought!
Were it true, just sad….
Everything is broken
In a way you don't understand
Safe within your bubble
Isolated from your fellow man
Granted safety from your birth
As loathe as you are to admit
Privilege is a dirty word
But it's one that unfortunately fits
White of skin and comfortable
With the gender of your birth
How oft do you gaze upon us
And consider us of worth?
See the ones in charge of us
Aim gunblades at this half
Pray, are you just as incensed
Or give a shaky laugh?
If the sword or gun pointed
Doesn't aim at your head
But at those of your fellow man
Do you still feel the dread?
Are you content to stop and stare
As nooses are fashioned?
Knowing you've escaped today
The rest of us are shunned
Do the pointless deaths incense your soul
Stoking violent flame
Or when the victims aren't of your ilk
Is it just a silly game?
Everything is broken
In a way you could understand
If only you would reach on out
To pull up your fellow man.
Hefty lefty lever trademark arc
Bazball achiever didn't embark
Whooping hooping looping shark
Hark that howling hallmark bark
Whizzing tizzing fizzing spark
Disembark batters off the park
Stoking smoking poking lark
Scary lairy fairy benchmark
Another sarky snark remark
In-jagger ragger dagger stark
Mighty Blighty's lights gone dark
Stagger..swagger malarkey of STARC!
a thought heats up… simmers
grows brighter or dimmer
one will boil over fire
another may slowly expire
‘tis shame a muse to ignite
no further stoking its light
Thou were right to leave my anxious side,
My soul within a storm of doubt did hide,
I crave thy proof of love with a jealous hand,
And in that quest,all vestiges of intimacy died.
I was intimidated by thoughts I could not tame,
Demanding shows of passion,stoking flames
But offering no warmth in my heart,
Stalked by fear,I only offered the shame.
Angry when my wants were not fulfilled,
My inner most by gnawing worry chilled;
Forgive the youth who knew not how to love,
Whose selfish needs thy gentle spirit killed.
“The Darkness Can Be Shattered”
by Positive Mark
My Father died, mid-argument.
An email never opened.
I hear him sometimes in the night, when I’m vomiting and groping.
Maybe the next rhyme will immediately restore hope, and
the darkness can be shattered by the ember I’ve been stoking.
This is a matrix, a puzzle with high stakes.
Where twenty of wood has you feeling so good that you cuddle with rattling snakes.
You’re numb with olfactory flakes.
Wake up with your face in her cakes.
A twenty year stretch, where you stick out your neck, as if life has but so many takes.
So tell me what’s real when you swallow that pill.
You came with a nine. Who you fixin’ to kill?
I hate to come off like my name’s Jimi Hendrix, but this is my hundred. I’m ‘bout to go spend it.
I’m taking this dame out to dinner and sports, while you sit in the dark, sucking down them Newports.
And you’re thinking of popping a round in your head?
I hate break this to you Homie.
You’re already dead,
like my Father.
Informed by image
Shocking, stoking, misleading
Algorithm headlines
AS THE FLAG UNFURLS*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the flag unfurls,
its colors bold against the waking sky—
each star, each stripe a testament
to pride, honor, and patriotism.
pride, not a shield, is a bridge,
linking the stories of brave soldiers,
those who once fought in battlefields,
their shadows etched in the soil,
their courage a whisper in the rustling leaves.
honor is a compass, etched in the hearts of the brave,
guiding us through the tempests of division,
reminding us that beneath our skin,
we share the same pulse, the same yearning
for respect, freedom and belonging,
patriotism is a flame, flickering not in blind allegiance,
but in the radiant glow of courage
stoking the embers of hope,
lifting up each other,
an unwavering belief that together we are stronger.
pride, honor, and patriotism intertwine,
not as chains that bind us,
but as roots that anchor us deep,
in the fertile earth of understanding,
where we rise together like the dawn.
*Note: Poem originally published at Writer Monk, August 1, 2025. This is my original poem.
You left the chair, but not the room,
The silence clings, a flower in bloom.
The kettle waits muted, cold and dry,
Empty spaces haunt me as I go by.
No space is bare, if love stayed there,
Your breath floats in scented air.
Your shadow clings to every chair.
No space is bare - if love stayed there.
Your love shapes what’s left behind.
It pulls the door, draws the blind.
The cup you left, is still steaming.
Pictures on walls are still dreaming.
Your laughter still rings in all my rooms
Strumming our much-loved songs and tunes.
Fire’s died back to glowing ember coals,
Stoking the flames of everlasting souls.
You're gone, but you're carved in stone.
In every space you've left here alone.
The room still whispers your name.
Scrawled on every timber plank and frame.
One book alone, sags into space meant for two,
Your fingerprints trace the vital clue,
That I long to be - back with you.
Your space is here, when you break-through.
No space is bare, if love stayed there,
Your breath floats in scented air.
Your shadow clings to every chair.
No space is bare - if love stayed there!
No space is bare - if love stayed there!
Awakening humanity.' Struggling within the breadth and depth of possibility's revelling in those possibility's and also an
Obstinancy.' Blood-soaked actions stoking their reality wanderers all' Lost leaders exploring so much iniquity bursts of good; with some intensity! Travelling in orbits so
Habitually. Builders of edifices in great vanity' until redemption through the veil of flesh; to humanity.' By God
Good Father and intervetionally, in records; and at places
Known historically.' We can follow direction to equanimity'
To Love of all by His path to unity.. No competing teachings.. Some of religiousity.? combine of all factors
Universally, other volumes speak of gaining peace by violence? and volitillity.' In divisivness and opressivity."
By opting children into marriage or co'habitation.. There
Is also taught' forced subjection and much rapicity.!
A blood-dipped letter lies before me,
Wrapped in moth-ridden silk,
Written by your ghastly fingers.
The cold of another bleak fortnight settles in,
While crimson-eyed ravens rest upon creaking window sills.
Stoking the fire, umbers rise and dissipate before me,
Painting prophetic warnings in the air,
As the distorted ticking of clocks chimes tensely,
Repeating the same hour—two a.m.
A crisp chill shoots up my spine,
I wrap myself tighter in your charcoal shawl,
Reaching for the last of the firewood you chopped.
Placing it in the hearth, I now know it's time.
Removing the silk, I cast it into the flames,
Peeling back three wax skull seals.
I open the fateful envelope,
The curse you unknowingly wrote into existence.
Placed upon me, it rests in my weeping hands—
One cataclysmic night was all it took,
For our destruction,
Your soul claimed by the nether,
And mine bound within a perpetual loop of despair forevermore.
I met a Megalodon who beckoned
“Welcome to the herd!”
I heard this lot was wily but
to me this sounds absurd
Undeterred I approached
the powers that be
to see if it were true
But the powers that be
were absent without leave
leaving me nothing
left to do
(except to …)
kick this can on
down the road
since no one’s left
to carry that load
(In the meantime …)
Some docile fool’s
touting fossil fuels
to a group of
solar-paneled minds
While his fearless peer
is stoking the fear
of the biomass hive mind
(touting ...)
“Fossil fuels are plentiful
can be found easily
Natural gas is very efficient
when generating electricity
and so on and so forth …”
(stoking …)
“Biomass energy is reliable
helps to reduce waste
But also expensive
requires lots of space
and more of the same
also and others…”
When both groups
could no longer
suffer the ranting
all in unison
began their chanting:
“Good riddance!
Good riddance!
Leave them both to jostle
with that colossal,
wily, beckoning
Megalodon …”
“Welcome to the herd!”
Baby, give me a waterfall
overflowing the cliffs of love,
create a river to my heart.
You, the momentum of my heart,
like a galvanic waterfall,
stoking the current's flow of love.
If doctors could cardiograph love,
and chart its flow within my heart,
the graph would show a waterfall~
a waterfall of love into the river of my heart.
I still recall, unfolding before me,
The scene awash with silvery moonlight,
The night that blessed our love of a first sight,
How fateful was the night that helped us be,
The moon when seemed super, superb its light,
And still can make no one’s life just as bright.
Like moon’s phase we changed, oft to disagree—
More often than the tides at the seashore,
Agreed, not a thing stands as firm as tree,
Change is life’s nature born from very core,
So, let us rekindle our early flame,
No fire burns bright without stoking the same.
Why, nothing burns at all without fuel
And fresh fuel comes from stoking gone dull.
__________________________________________
Sonnet (Musings) |05.08.2014| love, moon
It was if they were begging for destruction when
they tried to cage immortal souls
Silently stoking his internal fire only brought to the
surface his bitter cold
They were unaware of the binding of their own hands
to something that was never meant to break
They added links to the chain with every action that
ultimately lead to the sealing of their fate
Though his darkness was overwhelming they couldn't
stop themselves from seeking his light
His mesmerizing words just drew them deeper into an
abyss darker than night
They were drunk on the power of their illusions &
deluded by lies they surely cast
Intoxicated by the stories of who he was & the mirage
of things of the past
Full of regret they tried to retreat after observing
their miscalculations
It was too late to turn around for they had sparked
his ire & tried his patience
In the end it was their souls that had been lost as they
stood surrounded by bitter angels
The hidden dread of their private moments had them
wishing they had taken a different angle
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