Cyn-filteration..propagating a world stage cynicisam
Also, sin-trifi-cation, pervading the chatterers on hills
And world summits, grandiosley
administered.' Down to the so named gentry, and
Aspiring winners.? So what is this councel
Whence springs its root? More to the point
Though, where is its fruit? Is it M A I D in
Canada, or the choice to die, in Sweden or
Britain.? Where some try' to introduce.? But that surely Gods choice.? Is it you will
Own nothing? Or farmers can't grow.' At least independantly.' Do you not Know.? So
If all your initiates match these lines ? Hit
Delete, just clear your mind,
sing out to Jesus, for you are indeed on His Mind
She wears her soul on her nuclear skin
Brightest chartreuse yellow
morphs into roseate pink,
promising peace
she illumes from within her
There is only one of her,
yet is never alone
her golden rays cascade
warmth in cobalt skies
embracing as she dwells alongside
touching universes both eternal,
balanced with an external expression
in both realms reflection
overlooking the gallant mountain tops
gentle undulating waves,
fullness in emptiness
amongst Spring’s delicacies
a force of nurturing generosity
fostering spirit giving endlessly
championing her cause
She watches from behind
the highest hilltops,
below the erosion formed summits
Setting onto the lowlands
and forbidding foothills
as her changing light
transforms the ether
she gazes at the unfolding
of the stars, faint specs,
she is still, in their presence
as the blue evokes
his calm, she catches glimpses
shades of salmon trail faded ones,
they bring hopeful sonnets
May she let subdued
light shine upon her
blushing rays?
Perhaps one day,
whilst the night’s indigo sky
looks after her
salted sure solidarity
soldier servicing s o l i t u d e
stable E Y E in storms
staring at ships
s a i l i n g
sagacious
seas
sombre in siren
signalling ~~~ \/\/\/
with …..
seals and salmon
we sighted
sanguine light
singular spirits of singing sapience
some to summits
you show in
STATURE
~~~~~~~~~~
Minds with different impressions
Eyes are of divergent quality visions
Mouths are of same but antithetic confessions
One thinks of Corona; another of secrets
Even with open eyes, we transmit different wits
To the world; world of colourful summits
My mask; behind it, I laugh and gasp
Like Moses in eyes of Pharaoh's asp
Growing rhetorical in my own silent rasp
Who did Corona and scientist take God for?
May be it would be difficult for Him to restore
And deliver the world He owns to the very core
Behind every mask lies fear
Even doctors' concerns shrinks to bear
And every lost soul let loose our cheap tear
I wonder if my mask is enough a credible care
In memory of covid 19
Written: November 02, 2025, for contest by: Robert James Liguor
**********
The frozen core of human activeness
where the temperament recklessly smiles,
sludge cascades from the blade's edge
A joyous opsimath emerges,
reminiscent of rebellion and aged books,
sturdy and infused with a grin.
His unique calling sign is the "lard of law."
He wears robes adorned with nimbus designs
and stands before a wall of questions.
He gathers information from insightful individuals
Every conundrum is a breach in the law,
And every victim wants to be obvious,
He repeats sharp retorts to the sentient
To the obstreperous, the zymotic throbbing of history.
He says that justice is not banausic.
She is a lissome Nereid,
dancing with eurythmic elegance through garbage.
Though weariness grasps the morning,
and moribund minds look for troughs, not summits.
He persists on—
a sherpa of the spirit,
bestow the noisome into view
where enlightenment flowers akin to vernal fire.
Justice is not a flaw,
It's beginning
It is Nemesis
the tiny thread that links,
the strained heart to the flimsy earth.
She stands like Everest—jaw-dropping, distant, sublime—
No timid plea will ever bridge that height.
Yet the one who climbs with tender steps and earnest heart
May trace her warmth through courage’s light.
You stumble on your words—your voice betrays your desire,
Each awkward phrase fuels your hope to try anew.
Like a climber training on icy slopes, you rise again from slip and fall,
For each earnest reach builds strength inside you.
She may seem unattainable, aloof behind her lofty snow,
Still, effort carves a pathway where affection slowly grows.
One gentle gesture after another—steady, brave, sincere—
Becomes the rope that binds your hearts in close repose.
As the mountaineer knows: summits yield to those who persist,
Each step endured, each setback met with grit.
Likewise, a heart is won not by luck—but by steadfast, caring climb,
For in love and heights alike, those who try never quit.
She rose from the sand like a favoured child
Cradled by waves and draped with oil.
A city birthed from
A legacy carved to outlive time.
She wore power like a velvet robe
Gracefully hosting the continent’s hopes
Summits held with unifying dreams
From Egypt’s dunes to Sierra Leone’s seas.
But now she lies in shattered grace
Her golden roads frayed like worn-out thread.
Glass-built homes still raise their flags
Though windows are gone, and doors hang dead.
O Sirte, once a privilege town
Now carry the weight of broken stones
once a breath of fresh air
Now buried in ruins, silent and alone.
We've painted unity on beach sand
hung hope on mangrove branches
one wave & it all washed away.
We've built summits from dust and debt
made promises we can’t even explain
while huge walls still rise between us.
Speeches thunder & then fade to silence.
Hope passes hands like counterfeit.
Even our chiefs wear suits now.
Freedom feels outsourced again.
We've tried everything they named.
So what haven’t we named yet?
Maybe it’s time we stop asking them.
Maybe it’s time we speak in our own name.
Hail needles the skin.
Wind cracks the spine.
The mountain holds,
breath seizes on the tongue.
Snow knives the summits.
Cracked hands fumble dry stone,
paper-thin air slices,
bald eagles tilt in the blast.
Alpine skiers parched,
no more Earth Day banners.
Cherry Creek scrapes its bed.
Feces in the bedpan,
chapped gloss smeared,
cocoa hair salted and smoked.
The Zephyr rattles east,
carrying the mountains backward—
Grand Central dissolves
Hail nails the skin.
Wind stabs the spine,
the mountain stretches,
breath freezes the tongue,
Snow visible on the summits
High-altitude crumbling
cracked hands claw at dry stone,
Paper thin air
sharp, jagged edges.
Bald Eagles circle overhead
Alpine sky, dry and broken—
no more Earth Day vegetation
Cherry Creek scrapes the sand
She lifts the bedpan
Chapped gloss superstar lips
Cocoa fur, stained by cigarette smoke
and the wind carries all,
The Zephyr rolls in
Grand Central Station
Peaks in background
Shepherds
of echo
sirens
that call
Masters
of legend
trapped
in the Fall
Moonlight
on ice fields
whispering
still
Voices
stay buried
destiny’s
will
Sunlight
awakens
mountains
that sigh
Hidden on
summits
new answers
there hide
But with
every Spring
a melting
ensues
Flowing
life’s message
recalled
— and renewed
(Memories Of Absaroka: May, 1997)
When the existential magic disappears
And life holds nothing more than
my terrestrial tears and frivolous fears
When feeding my mind is no longer empirical
Or essential, as human hunger suffices,
when I no longer thirst, and eminence gives no rise,
and sullen shibumi canopies worn and torn
shade not the arid and hot desert, once the lofty
snow summits forthwith cloaked in thawing toxins
Or the ruby rose that does not scent me, reminiscently
as its thorns prick crimson numbness
Tasteless is the blood from this warrior’s sword
And Lords with rattles of snakes poison less
Horns no longer adorn me, my ashes freed
I’ve heard of a hall of the slain,
where dead heroes reign
When our world gives way to the next
Where golden shields a palatial fortress
Take one more fallen warrioress,
to other realms, plush, pristine, called
Valhalla, an afterglow
Dear Music
You search for me
And stretch my soul
To explore mountain summits never imagined
You touch my wounds
And navigate the pain
To discover a sacred space of peace and healing
You kiss my fears
And nudge my secrets
To chase formidable currents down a noble river
You collect my bliss
And scatter my joy
To soar exposed without a need for concealment
Dear Music
You search for me
And you find me
You'll always find me
They called him a child of the sky,
a storm-born spark, a rising sun
His steps were light, his hands were quick,
he climbed before he learned to run
The world below had sung his name,
its voices laced with awe and might
You’ll reach the peak they whispered low,
where all the stars align in light
He climbed through fire, through fractured bone,
through sleepless nights that burned like day
And at the top, at last, he swore
there’d be no farther left to stray
But summits blur, and clouds deceive,
each height unfolds another gate
Above him, figures loomed like wraiths,
their flesh decayed, yet climbed for weight.
And so he clings, too proud to fall,
too lost to chase another flight.
He wonders if the climb was worth
a life spent fearing a lesser height.
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Wrapped in shawls of pure white snow,
Hearing your name again and again, it’s etched in our minds,
Speaking of you repeatedly, you've been preserved in our hearts.
On snowy beds at night, I've poured out secrets to you,
Only to you I've confessed, only to you I've boasted.
Since then, a sweet dream has unsettled me,
That sweet dream led me, restless, straight to you!
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Have my desires now been fulfilled?
Like a carpet spread wide, I fell at your feet,
Thinking I saw you, I cried in disbelief,
Sobbing deeply to myself, unable to come to you.
On your chest, true streams rumble in might,
And within my chest, poetic streams flow in delight,
Unable to bear the roaring streams, my ears fell quiet!
Dreamlike, dreamlike white mountains!
Stretching hands toward the sky,
Don’t think they’re just unyielding stones,
Carving valleys, even stones have shed tears,
From the tears of mountains, many springs have begun,
Even lofty clouds have trembled before towering peaks,
Flocking like sheep, unable to surpass your summits,
I dream to be like you—this is my greatest wish!
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