Immensely big judges help a little girl named Micks
commit tax fraud in the realm of invisible tricks
tiny turtle with an umbrella on the end of his high hat strobe
set foot in the abandoned purgatory of this slice of the globe
roses rallied in the real respite of a ravaging rain
Little Micks would forever not quite be the same
Determined to become a lawyer now.
Disappointing parents who believe attorneys to be low-brow.
Soaring on a cloud
gently numbed
in esoteric heights
beyond the strident boom
and strobe glare
of leviathan
rearing to lasso multitudes
into cavernous jaws
that never rest
forever famished
in a perpetual stasis
of angry craving.
7--8--9--10
16--17--18
1--2--3
3--2--1
about 600 million years ago, with major complexes like the Lynn Volcanic Complex, Mattapan Volcanic Complex, and Middlesex Fells Volcanic Complex forming bedrock, visible as resistant rock formations in areas like the Blue Hills
----------------------------------->______________________________<-----------------------------------------
The Strobe of Null
"A Leaps of Fourths and Fifths"
the scene in the newly exopy-resinned floor
was of the galaxy she destroyed.
Commissioned by darkseid and lex Luthor
Wriiten By Darksied
Arraged by L. Luthor
Courtsey of Strang Album Co.
They rise and sparkle and crackle,
Shaming the nakedness of the skies
And the city, with one frightful flame of
Youth,
Burning with the zest of
Seasonal lore.
At Christmas, they salute the days
Creamed by snow and sleet,
Thrusting in us the wisdom of
Global ceremonies.
They are the lightning of Yuletide —
Lightning unaccompanied by rain.
Shaped in balls and spears, and lean
Fragments of flagrant colours,
They are armed with their own thunder —
Thunder that speaks volumes and calms the rage in
Frenetic dogs.
They are coloured paints splashed lavishly across the broadest
Canvas ever —black and seamless
We see through their lens, the running dusts
Of sparks,
The dancing circus of sky-circuits
And the happy wars waged on the frontiers
Of seasons.
They strobe around the cold earth.
New Year’s Eve is riddled with conundrums,
Waking sleepy souls to sneeze up details of
A frazzled year.
The heavens are lit up lavishly,
Electrified to stupor,
Reminding us of choirs that chorus to the tunes
Of life everlasting.
Carousels ride through our minds, young now,
Old tomorrow,
With sparks that shine this moment
And dim the next.
Such is life.
Disco Music
Strobe light looks like moon-sun.
Halo lights of red, blue, yellow, green.
He wears classic Saturday Night Fever white.
She has a white flower in her hair,
head and hips swivel;
one-strapped red dress.
He points with hands over head.
Ballroom floor bittersweet-blue.
Celebration of disco music.
I was dressed in strapless purple.
Burned my bra.
This stamp doesn’t nearly catch
the falderal - not the nasal and falsetto
of the Bee Gees, nor the confident swagger
of Tony Manero. I will survive, my motto.
The couple on this stamp look too happy,
too peppy, maybe preppy, almost ‘50’s.
I remember the crowds, the loudness,
the vulnerability, the period; that Mom
had me ask Dad for money to go.
They let me. Strobe light shadows
of chiaroscuro amidst flashy night.
The stamp is too clean cut.
There is no strength in fear and flame,
naught but the bitterness of blame,
which leads us all to guilt and shame,
finger pointing and naming names.
Better still our hearts to open,
forgive and live with hope and
honest emotion,
a chain of grace unbroken,
positive words to be spoken,
and put our heart into motion.
Easier though to give anger it’s head,
to wish all of our enemies dead,
leave no damning word unsaid,
and encourage our hate to spread.
And spread it will unless we stand,
take our enemy by the hand,
strive to understand,
declare our oneness before the land,
grace and tolerance to expand,
love for brotherhood our command.
Eschew the path of the xenophobe,
abandon the notion of a divided globe,
tap well into your temporal lobe,
encourage agape to brightly strobe.
What a world it would be,
if they and us became we,
if you and I began to see,
instead of difference, similarity,
oh, to be so free,
and know my brother is a version of me.
Bite Size Contest no114
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
__________________________
"Blinding ignorance does mislead us. O! Wretched mortals, open your eyes!"
Quote by Leonardo da Vinci.
____________________________________
tired eyelids peacefully rest,
resisting sleep, put to the test.
suggested dreams blur thinking.
strobe vision, eyes are blinking.
the moon and stars now invite.
closed eyes blinded by the light.
one half’s an arc the other a strobe ~ light becomes your coagulant
signals and synapses firing off sparks ~ try open eyes but you can’t
all bound together forming a dream ~ welded to the somnambulant
Divine Mother Herself anoints our form,
borne by magnetism ushering cool heat,
wherein all our presence does is conform
to divine bliss pulsations that repeat,
each strobe unique, bending low at God’s feet.
Are we the witness or the performer,
we know not but love index gets warmer,
as this sublime rapture begins to rise
within this urn, a step-up transformer,
beheld by presence in childlike surprise.
Aunt, her twenty-something nephew, his grandpa:
It’s after dinner as her nephew tells her, “Mom’s
making dinner but I’ll have a taste,” A couple bowls
later, my nephew and Dad viewing news flashes
coming at them like strobe lights: Carter funeral,
Trudeau resigns, VP Harris certifies her opponent’s
win. Her nephew’s tall stature, shoulders shaking
with familiar giggles (he’s moving in a couple days
to begin real adulting) and he says, “What is this!
I’m going to have to watch the news more often!”
It’s begun already, his days of “The Office,” behind
Him…no, they’re just beginning.
animating silence with heart’s pure intent
in collusion with the enigmatic void
feeling each bliss strobe of soul luminescent
delusion spawned by ignorance is destroyed
revealing our eternal light unalloyed
Almost Afraid to close my eyes,
thumping heart, in tune with the pounding on the window pane.
Wonder if it’s hail.? Sounds like hail.
great dazzling flashes, strobe lighting, zigzagging.
Striated streaks of pure silver, illuminations gone mad
“One elephant”. “two elephants” three …..
Third elephant never made it
Crack and shatter, breaking, and rolling
close, too close,
I fear for the roof
Or the old jacaranda in the backyard
branches whipped into a frenzy by the ferocious blast .
How many miles an hour. ?
Howling, howling over every other noise,
Blaring car alarms, screeching, faintly heard.
There goes the jacaranda, and the back fence.
Hope the neighbours are okay.
Lord have mercy on anyone abroad tonight.
Hide under the covers
It will soon pass
Almost but not quite, we pause
within stillness, that the cause
of our soul’s stooped stance be known
betwixt bliss beats, now full blown.
Ego’s dead, we’re by love led
and head and heart have both wed
but there’s yet a missing link;
a light strobe missed, when we blink.
The forces that empower,
as love, wisdom and power,
need to entwine and align,
if we’d cross the finish line.
To this end, our will we bend,
breath by breath slowly ascend,
in sync with the universe,
without the need to rehearse.
Let’s grasp this moment offered
and God’s hand in heart proffered,
agreeing to vaporise,
that the truth we realise.
Beyond the hills, the storm,
oh, yellow queens they quake;
poor Autumn aspens feel
old weight of weakened leaves
the hostile winds will steal.
Beyond the hills the storm
it brews, like coffee black.
A bitter sky will fall
—dainty saintly sunlight
a martyr for the squall…
Beyond the hills the storm,
My dreams in strobe-light flash.
Engage in shadow dance
the clash of sane and bane;
a silk and burr romance.
Beyond the hills the storm—
yes banshee gonna wail!
The gray steel rain a strafe
a suitor six-shooter.
My tongue; a silent waif.
Eye of Horus
in the dead of the night
we stir from dreamless sleep
meditative and in deep quietude
as of an impulse from the universe
we polarise our consciousness
taking opposing positions
as both the lustful beast
and also hapless fearful victim
we are both yet none in the drama
roles rotate as dream forms orbit
the eye of Horus rooted in love
birthing a strobe of light
the darkness is illumined
the light beam enters our eye
or does it flow forth; we know not
quiescent toroidal heart hums on
withdrawing the emanation
in time dissolved peace
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