Asinine Asymmetry
abysmal
vapid
pedagogue
impulsive
advocacy
with FLUSTERED TORRENTS
blindly
indicting
scapegoats
subpar
dogmatist
in DEMONIC DIATRIBE
eschewing
impartial
testament
veracity
disparaged
Asinine Asymmetry
raucous
sweeping
presage
emanating
palpably
from VEHEMENT ESPOUSER
flagrant
vacuous
utterance
neurotic
trivialist
with FATUOUS FLAMBOYANCE
underpinning
risible
posture
detachment
anathema
I Walk With The Stars far from the lesser Creeds
Indeed, the Starseed breeds Greater Faculties
I Am Light Born, Light Forged by the Celestials
I Am Archetype Quintessential,
I Am Omnipotent by The Great Fire that Dwells Within
Upright like Djed Pillars unto Greater Firmaments,
Never So Low to Behold what was Long Foretold
that the Golden Temple within sits in Unmeasurable Gold,
to the High Heavens that Glisten, a Great Flame Has Risen
I Am Blissful, I Am Luminous by the Greater Intuition
Into the Ether where the Currents Of Life Rip
where All Is Wise, where All Is Electric
I Am Eccentric, where the soils toil in Egypt
I Am Israel, I Am a Citadel, Up High like Asclepius
I Am Born in High Hopes on High Roads, I Blaze like a Shooting Star
I Am Ever-Present, Ever-Excellent, Ever like Eagle to Asgard
I Am Ever-Glowing, Ever-Flowing far from the Subpar
I Am VICTORIOUS, I Am ILLUMINED, for I Walk With The Stars
Too often when you ask someone
who they are?
they give you titles and labels
which are actually subpar
you are more than just someone's
father, uncle, aunt or mother
there is much more to you than just being
a sister, a niece a nephew or a brother
I am a seeker of truth, an observer of choices
and I dwell in God's light
I am defined by my values, my morals
and I walk by faith and not by sight
my moral code, my set of values,
my standards, and my convictions.
these are the crucial elements
that determine my individual predilections
who are you?
how would you describe yourself?
do you mention your education
or do you tell of your wealth?
who are you?
what is your self-characterization?
do you illustrate your talents
or elucidate on your associations?
I am defined by my values, my actions
and my willingness to grow
to be curious and wanting to learn
all that I need to know
I am defined by how I treat
and interact with others in my life
I offer acceptability, kindness, compassion
and move in the ways of Christ.
So who am I?
I am a disciple of Christ,
a gentle loving human being
more than just some man's wife
He seems to be the pompous sort;
looks down his nose at us and snorts~
"your poems are subpar
and only fit as char" ~
in the judgement of his self-made court!
Postscript: If the shoe don't fit don't try to put it on.
I know a funeral when I walk into one
I can tell between a funeral and a burial
They are two entirely different artworks
One is done on grand canvas, with drunken strokes
Of sashaying brush and bleeding paints;
The other is done on mere sand, with foot and hand,
Forming sandcastles built by toddlers.
I know too well because I have my senses
Intact after the last funeral I attended on a gambolling coast.
I should know because I participated in the burial of a
Village lout, a wretched lord, so grand with contumely.
Funeral lasts for days and contains the sounds of cannons
And other elements of ceremonies, so loud, so eloquent,
So ceremonious —full of man and illiterate beasts.
A burial, on the other penurious hand,
Reeks of haste, attended by a teething crowd —
And at times comes with thunder that speaks in jest
And a lightning whose light flickers on all things subpar.
Shared standings and beguiling beginners
Brobdingnagian breeding and brutal babies
False fellows and flumadiddle flair
Well-attended wedding with subpar sageness
Cash corrosive customs control
Plagued positions and phony persona
whimsical world pious properly pegged
Written: April 30, 2023
Alliterisen Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Line 1 - x = 10
Line 2 - 10+2 = 12
Line 3 - 10-1 = 9
Line 4 - (10+2 )-1 = 11
Line 5 - 10-2 = 8
Line 6 - (10+2)-2 = 10
Line 7 = 10
The day was tainted with bitterness.
fueled by concealed emotions of wrath
apprehensive over social rejection.
afraid of enduring the same fate.
The bedrock is utterly stained with blood.
No one likes to face this conundrum.
the most noxious fallacy to mankind
ethics-based feelings of guilt or shame.
Tonight, there's a tense vibe.
a foreboding of impending violence
Children have been bred to be harsh.
given that nobody seems to care.
Tonight, I'm going to rest my head.
However, tension is present and active.
pounding away at mental stability
as it seems, I'm bold with getting nailed.
I shall rise soon with renewed vigor.
and thriving considering people's faith
since I've been using subpar tools
to keep my hopes alive for my dreams.
Written: November 21, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Belly up to the table, our soup is well liked.
Just don’t drink the cool aid, I think it’s been spiked.
Come and get it while it’s hot, it’s the best I’ve been told.
Beware of the poets who like their soup cold.
Our table is large, there are plenty of seats.
You can sit for a spell and enjoy some good eats.
If it’s been a rough day and you are feeling subpar.
We have ice cold beer, on tap at the bar.
Everyone is welcome, come and give it a go.
You might become famous you just never know.
Our poets are diverse, each flavor unique.
Welcome to our club, come in and take a peek.
The night sea makes the stars ‘my private universe’
And yet, one feels the multitudes gazing the same way
Kneading thoughts of multiverses staring in reverse
Enchantment on daunting dimensions making headway
Inside the rarer paths of hardened real, the surreal
takes on the wild waves that once tore at mettle to fray
electronic virtuality’s so subpar
surpassed always by experiences neuronal
Everlastingly firing away, the near, now far
Atomic energy spin-drives all ~ elemental
(9/12/2020: '93 Sea Ray 330 DA; Sac Marina)
Living layers of being tugged around scraps of lusterless metal shape the man who was
Or is it the other way around
He can not tell anymore
Improvements or subpar substitutions
He marches on despite his contemplation
The clang and tang of metal on metal echo from his right leg while the muffled thud of organic flesh whispers from his lesser left
He marches on
Imagine feeling where your blood stops flowing as if your veins have hit a metal door yet beyond its frame lay dancing ghost who mock your past
With every augmentation he advances yet diminishes his mortality and morality
Still he marches on
On assignment that must be completed
Computing
The command was entered, a reaction will occur, must occur
His ability for choice is doubtful yet feared
A semi-bionic time bomb ticking its way to a liberating explosion of conscience freedom
Until then he will march on
If your verse is subpar and your output is low
These could be the signs of a poetry troll-
Do you spend most of your time stalking blogs
launching caustic bits while your quills full of snot-
If you get sky high off another muse's low
You just might be a poetry troll-
Do you fire impotent arrows then cover the quiver
when somebody hits back, do you tend to shiver?
Do you add fresh fruit or rotten to the bowl
if it's the latter, you just might be a poetry troll-
Do you get jealous when somebody masters a form?
or hops on the podium donning their finest haiku bow
are you jealous when a poet deftly weaves ink into snow
if so.... you just might be a poetry troll-
When a muse spills their soul for the whole world to see
do you respond in kindness or get off watching them sink?
when your games are unveiled, and it's your time to go
are you already plotting another sneak attack incognito
if so...you just might be a poetry troll-
Do you really want your gravestone to bellow.
"Nothing down here but an old poetry troll".
I am a diamond
In the rough, I start
Like a chip left short,
My subpar anatomy
I will not be defined by
What sparkles in the light
The dark spots fall within
Fear of failure like a lake
Against the currents, my head kept up,
Watching my fate approach
I will not sit idly by
For Nothing cannot sit
Inside these prism walls I stand
And then I begin again...
It is pointless to write with dull pencils
When a pen keeps the sheep safe at night.
And water can flow from a hole in the ground
As long as the spring’s not too tight.
Cargo is sent from a shipyard
But a shipment can go out by car.
A wise man is often superior
But a wise guy is usually subpar
Tonight I will drive down the parkway,
Yet park in the driveway at home.
No wonder I can’t speak this language
It only makes sense in a poem!
© Dean Wood
Oct. 26, 2017
What gratitude is of greater reprise,
Appraisal sought within four wall confines.
Yet tests congure my personal demise,
Subpar intelligence is redefined.
Determined only by pure blood descent,
Whose family heritage dominates.
But haste, why linger, such foul discontent,
Saved from years of unethical debate.
Bitter sweet rejection bore new mercies,
Undrained from society's precedent.
To pursue a life without fallicies,
Devoid of tragic human sentiment.
For now, I delight, reap labour's success.
My life is all mine, to live and to rest.
I just cannot figure it out
What do I say without freaking them out
Am I a person or some kitchen counter grout
To be scrubbed out
I really wanna know right now
How
I dunno
The door always seems to be closed
I can't open it
Or
I suppose I won't
We're all scared of being exposed
Undisclosed
Who we really are
Subpar
The sky is blue
Then the sky turns grey
It ultras to a red that seems to say
What are you doing down there
With your useless human life
What are you doing down there
With your useless human life
I shrug
Still looking with my head tilted back
Just letting firmament hit me with metaphorical smacks
Why
I don't know
Where do I fit though
I can't be the only cargo
In this whole free-throw, freak show
Oh wait
I'm the no-go, no-show
The only one not in the photo
Always be a kid
Cause' there's nothing to outgrow
I can't figure it out
The pieces never fit
And there are too many of 'em anyway
What do I do
What do I do
I can't figure it out
What do I do
What do I do
I can't figure it out
And guess what?
Neither can you
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