Possibilities, like children, navigate the classable realms,
settling upon the measurable.
Amorous piglets, their peachy snouts delve,
rooting through the trash heap of desire.
"In a time beyond now," wheatenly speaks the tale-spinner,
plucking a clover, pale and crowned with stardust,
among the untamed grains sown in the depth of breath.
She informs a story of the jewel hung in ghastly night,
makes dark fright beauteous and her old face new.
I crave an eye bathed in Bengal's blaze,
eternity riding a celestial pyre,
Cetus dancing on an ocean canvas,
whose seas flow no fresher than the confessions' wicked drippings.
These realms are places of wonder,
where pigments of reality and fantasy blend,
and I am compelled to dwell within my cresset,
explorer of the shining glimmers.
Sipping the subtle freshness,
a learner from the lessons of Experience,
I gaze through colored glass,
where each tint reveals and re-veils truth like a story.
I wait to touch of hem of a thunderbird,
whose wings span the horizon,
whose voice shakes the earth and sky,
whose feathers spark the fire of inspiration.
And I believe I will, someday, when I soar beyond the dawn.
Categories:
trash heap, myth, writing,
Form: Free verse
Children of possibilities navigate the classable realms,
settling upon the measurable.
Amorous piglets, their peachy snouts delve,
rooting through the trash heap of desire.
"In a time beyond now," wheatenly speaks the tale-spinner,
plucking a clover, pale and crowned with stardust,
among the untamed grains sown in the depth of breath.
I crave an eye bathed in Bengal's blaze,
eternity riding a celestial pyre,
Cetus dancing on an ocean canvas,
whose seas flow no fresher than the confessions' wicked drippings.
These realms are places of suspicion,
where pigments of reality and fantasy fasten,
and I am compelled to dwell within my cresset,
guardian of the trimming glimmers.
Snipping the subtle freshness,
a novice to the gallows of Experience,
I gaze through colored glass,
where each tint tells a story of refracted truths.
Categories:
trash heap, allusion, art, conflict, courage,
Form: Free verse
young whippersnapper brain
pours out her last idea
flicking adjectives into dirty dumpster
nouns prance off, disgusted
without elaboration or fancy descriptions
verbs take the lead,
kicking their adverbs to the curb
your nuances no longer welcome,
a mob mentality
seeking satisfaction in a brick alley
prepositions begin to arrive at the front
under the discarded boxes
searching through the rubble of the day
one climbs up the filthy trash heap
jumping into a pile of overused words
word play being what it is,
startling, laughing, loving gerunds arrive
carrying participles on their backs.
They cannot stop hitting, hurting and killing each other
Stop! Title yells. I want some kind of legacy.
I have no words to add, being mute and respectful of my elders
I am a mere homophone,
too consternated to know these two warring factions
well enough to take sides.
Categories:
trash heap, word play,
Form: Free verse
It lay atop a garbage can,
A pillow, brightly red,
Which showed a beat who held a heart
And this is what it said:
“I love you,” stitched in bold white print.
It stopped me in my tracks;
For in someone’s relationship,
There must have been some cracks.
Who tosses out a gift of love
Unless affection’s gone?
A fling upon a trash heap means
It’s time now to move on.
That pillow, looking so forlorn,
Once graced a couch or bed
But now it calls attention
To the what-once-was instead.
Categories:
trash heap, sad,
Form: Rhyme
The finer you draw your measurements,
the further away you fall
Each number squared and time compared,
deafens out the call
Your techno-dialectic,
data piled upon itself
A trash heap at the deadest end
—where folly stacks unfelt
(Haverford Pennsylvania: July, 2019)
Categories:
trash heap, technology,
Form: Rhyme
GREENY MIX OF VITAMINS AND PROTEIN
clenching my fork —
in my garden of leafy
goodness,
a ladybug
salad sweats,
running
into the trash heap.
forgotten tines and teeth
release voluminous vitamins and protein
to sow what they reap,
bottom of bowl weeps…
but I’m okay with that!
4/20/2018
*greeny (defined by Merriam-Webster):
of the color green; marked by a pale, sickly, nauseated color
Categories:
trash heap, food, insect,
Form: Light Verse
Lost in the alleys of despair my heart an open parasol
Protection of gray clouds and rain over the darkest hole
I curse every weeping tear from my forsaken eyes
Empty promises discarded into a trash-heap
Doors locked from the inside to an invisible keyhole
Limbs spread to sweet pain
moans echo to warm door
Averting leaping into what was left over lost sleep
Darkness,
Silence,
Loneliness,
Anxious whispers of failures is all I can hear
Broken and vulnerable living deep in gray soul
Stop the rain from falling shining the way
To awake to a close parasol and sunshine
1/24/2017
Categories:
trash heap, absence, betrayal,
Form: Free verse
The robin's egg rolled far away from haven tree.
A wee devil's hole in its side.
I took a one eyed peak...nothing left inside.
What to do with such a perfect shade of broken blue.
Feed it to the trash heap hag.
To spend its final days with rotting fruit and metal rags...
So, I placed it gently on a nightstand.
Aside a windup clock.
Now I'm playing mother bird.
To caged time and unborn songs.
Categories:
trash heap, bird,
Form: Didactic
My one burning wish -
I want not to fade away
like rotten lace, dumped
onto a trash heap and forgotten.
I want to leave myself behind,
for those who come after
to inhale during breakfast.
Not money, like my mother,
who judged it to be the only thing
of worth she had to leave behind,
as though her love meant nothing,
as though her virtue didn't count.
A nonpareil pattern of motherhood,
of personhood for that matter,
written in permanent script,
propagated in layers of goodness,
flung onto her progeny
with the glue of infinity.
As long as I live, so will she.
I want that,
when it's my turn to go.
Categories:
trash heap, character, hope, identity, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
Blurry thoughts, hurried thoughts, they need to settle down.
Too tired to move, to worn out to groove, I'm frustrated all around.
Crazy voice, I have no choice, I want to surrender to sweet sleep.
Twisted thinking, racing blinking, my mind is an overgrown trash heap.
Eyes wide, I cannot hide, the redness of my inflaming anger
Too little relief, too much grief, the warning signs flash Danger danger.
I'm on overload, so I am told, need to shut my lethargic eyes.
Trying to sleep, car horns beep. can't they hear my cries.
My body is done, before the day has begun and it's only half past nine.
I hear you call, down the hall, pillow why can't you be mine.
Tic tock, goes the clock, the day is dwindling, departing from me.
Sleep, blessed sleep, is what I need, why can't anyone see.
Eyes burn, to close I yearn, my fists are clenched tight
This I can't take, going to break, I know it isn't right.
Shut down, the world around, this is my last attempt at sanity.
If I'm still awake, I will break, and you better stay away from me.
Night falls, my bed calls, the feeling is beyond compare.
Tossing, turning, salty eyes stinging, at the ceiling I still stare.
Categories:
trash heap, how i feel, sleep,
Form: Couplet
Your blood it boils
with the curse of oil
The backs of black
Their curse to toil.
The legs you wear
Covered in blood forever
And covered in gold
that can never get old
as it stays forever in a trash heap
But as you sow so shall you reap
Look to the sky
See the black?
It is that which you are scared to lack
The snow pounding your face
You so obsessed with race
How is it? That wonderful taste.
The cold, hot, and extreme all due to you!
Your car is gone, buried in the snow.
The stock market, it has been laid low.
The beach town now under water town.
Lawns in phoenix disappeared with Thirst.
As the fake city goes back under Earth.
Look down, to the ground
See your desk? See the black?
It is that which you are scared to lack.
The Earth it eats your room
filled with toys of conquest.
How is it? To actually need?
Too bad, because this is all due to your greed!
Your world it boils
with the curse of oil
The backs of now
Their curse to pay
For what they took away.
Categories:
trash heap, africa, america, obituary, philosophy,
Form: I do not know?
So starkly silent now
So bare
The branches of the tree
In nakedness
It stands not shivering
Despite the winds
Of shame
It is immobile
Inert as death
And deathlier pale
With nothing to let to hide
And this oak
So formidable before
In the merest cycle of his love
Stands finite and frail
Amidst a brown trash heap of leaves.
Categories:
trash heap, allegory, nature
Form: I do not know?
I am the owner of many possessions
A great big abode
A mansion if you will
Set on top of Hillary’s hill.
My mansion has many rooms
Thirty-four to be exact
Twenty-four to the front and sides
Ten along the back.
I own a raceway in Minnesota
It’s quite huge if you would
Forty-three cars a day
On a million acre wood.
My Lamborghini is in the shop
Threw a rod; I was only doing three-eighty
I do still have this trash heap to drive
A brand new Mazerati.
I have a runway for my jet
It’s parked just right outside
It gets a bath most everyday
And once a week I fly.
My yacht is on the lake
Three helicopters flew it in
I go there everyday to fish
And some days just to swim.
My mansion holds two restaurants
McDonalds, open all night
And when I want Italian
Marcellino’s to my right.
What a breathtaking life I live
With all the many amazing perks
I think I hear singing; my alarm clock
My word I’m late for work.
Categories:
trash heap, adventure, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form: Free verse
Conflict and fear
still useless mechanic's
within' the framework
of our mind's gear's.....
The battlefield's rage on the greater stage
while humanity wage's the smaller within'
inner conflict becomes the outer we inflict
instead of nourishing love to cherish
we extinguish each in fear and perish
sad legacy of divinity for humanity
defilement of divine unity...a tragedy
Exchanging love for fear and hatred
false sense of security is hurried
by those who perpetrate hate,and
would have us believe in what they create
Whether it's a neighborhood brawl
an ugly scene in our learning hall's
all this violence only stall's
our purpose true,
to become better and improve
Until we,individually,can accept this truth
we will continue this trash heap
this polluted state of mind we'll keep
as love continue's to look upon and weep.......
Categories:
trash heap, health, sad, social, fear,
Form: Free verse