The saintly row the black swan in tow, meretriciously inclined against saint's row, where dreams are dashed against a black mirror abashed, like a troglodyte who shouldn't en-masse, so whimsy see this here instead of your black mirror, eyes lent to skeletons in the closet of fears.
A rising sun casting apricot upon the eastern sky
Then clear illumination sunbeams were shining bright
Above in the shadows, prune-plum purple bone dry
So cold below, feeling nature has gone awry
Shivering, close the door to avoid frostbite despite
A rising sun casting apricot upon the eastern sky
Informing us of science knowledge, that nature can defy
The color purple and cold co-exist is the insight
Above in the shadows, prune-plum purple bone dry
Wondering what colors tonight will the moonlight supply?
Could there be colors to match aurora borealis after this skylight
A rising sun casting apricot upon the eastern sky
Each sunrise different, colors change, sometimes almost zip by
Mostly in the cold months purple, cobalt impresses a troglodyte
Above in the shadows, prune-plum purple bone dry
What will happen at sunset when we bid the sun goodbye?
Then in the morning what will we see at first light?
A rising sun casting apricot upon the eastern sky
Above in the shadows prune-plum purple bone dry
Written: 11/21/2022
Sponsor: Milton
From the era of troglodyte
to the evolved world of civilization.
The closer the life void of neophyte,
the farther apart should we be to condemnation.
Why is it that reverse is the case
as we race our intelligence quotient in haste
to daze the ignorance at the base
by God’s grace to evolve the world we now harnessed?
Every solved problem generates another.
Chaos – Coast to coast and border to border.
Problem upon problem is all we ponder.
Phagocyte of harum-sacrum acts pervade world’s three-quarter.
Carbon monoxide from cars contaminates ozone.
Human becomes prey for guns at war zone.
Preserved intakes cause carcinogenic issues.
Tears stirred by civilization could not be held in paper-tissues.
Serendipity in recycled severity
that characterizes the civility in gruesome tenacity
is a fruitless creativity in its best ability
to form vicinity with advanced social amenities.
Valueless is the invention that kills the purpose for which it was created.
I do not say we should stop being creative but be upgraded
in direction where bereaved is ceased to be the result we derived
from invention meant to ensure a better life.
Slumbering woods bloom
under beetle plowed pulp.
Up above,
the canopy is bare,
and sheds only white zero’s.
Beetles hum beneath the rot,
detonate inaudible chitinous chimes,
troglodyte tones
under a dormant mulch.
Everywhere,
ambiguity buds open and close
in a subterranean flurry.
When the ice breaks its quash and quell,
they surface
round and gleaming
to chase new laid morsels down;
their feeding
turning earth for the seeding sun.
the troglodyte span
scribbling doldrum brain power
the halcyon days
I troglodyte
In doldrums, scribbling-
the halcyon days
Promptly, my soul-
recalls, lo beloved's
pumpkin countenance
One million years ago
Before everything we know
Was "this" even here
On the galactic frontier?
For some there's no debate
There was some extant state
For some there's no dispute
God's mouth still lay mute
Such a frothy matter
With such uncivil chatter
And a million years from today
Will we have seen doomsday?
What of this present moment
And all its' many components?
Is this the nexus of it all?
End of the aesthete and Neanderthal?
The Troglodyte one percent to the majority. We are so Happy, You are in the cave and you don’t have look outside. There is nothing there.
Pancake Gorilla Onion
It is obvious, the connection
Pancake, gorilla, onion
Walking down the street of all conclusions
Closed in on all sides by saffron meadows
On all fours if you like
Reached before the end
Hidden below the surface
All words emerge sooner or later
What's next on the agenda
Do you expect us to believe
Troglodyte, ash tray, light bulb
Don't say I didn't warn you
Is ash tray even a word
Bless me with the metal aspergillum
Holly water thirsty first
How ridiculous that sounds
Pancake gorilla onion
Will have the final word
*Authors note: aspergillum is a real word. You have to dig a little bit to find it. It is a religious metal device or object used to sprinkle holy water at religious ceremonies.
Romance that merry happy
courting dance
for so many
but not for me
it seems
it was never meant to be.
A born cursed romantic
Can't think of hardly anything else
it's ingrained in my brain
it's posion in my blood
no matter what I do
it's never good enough.
I thought I new what to do
but I'm sick and tired of having
my heart broken into
And boy does it hurt
I've been hung up to dry
had my nose rubbed in the dirt.
Everywhere I look
it's sex sex sex
Women showing their bits
couples hand in hand
I don't feel human no more
and feel less than a man.
Girlfriends always told me they loved me
I'd make a great husband
But where are they now?
Somewhere with a troglodyte
who treats them like dirt
and that really hurts.
O.k. Women want to sleep with me
but forget it.
I'm not a piece of meat
I'm a man with a brain and good heart
and by the way
my name is Pete.
Peter Dome, copyright.2014. Jan.
There’s little market for the words I write,
but I will compose a poem tonight,
and then I’ll circulate it just for spite,
off’ring for sale the first serial right.
Assuming my text’s not too erudite,
and the language won’t offend or affright
either a six-year-old or troglodyte
and my delivery’s polished and tight,
for a penny a line, you know I might
find an editor with enough foresight
to foster an unpublished neophyte
and grant me success almost overnight.
Although this rate of payment may seem slight,
its acceptance will fill me with delight.
From beyond the vast heights of Helios
The inescapable black leviathan appears;
Crushing existential spheres of consciousness
Juices absorbed by cerebral hemispheres.
Troglodyte souls peer out
From cranial caves and shiver;
Without empirical illumination
Their hearts beat wild and quiver.
Unhinged swinging doors beckon to all
Offering true enlightenment for free.
Heaven or Hell served up cold or hot
Doth compel the blind to see.
You would not have dared look into my face
When it wore flesh and scowled
Upon the world your people forced on me,
You sons of Mammon,
You children of Ivied Privilege.
I was Terror to the Mexican,
The name their tongue gave me
Became a word for courage in your own -
Yet you pampered ones,
Who would never see
The troglodyte face of battle,
Sending others in your place for that -
Would dare to steal my very bones
To serve your ceremonies to wealth and ease.
My skull and bones may be
In your weak, profane hands,
But they have never served your ends.
Even in death I yawn
At what you consider power,
At the piles of shifting sands
You move about to raise your little thrones.
I lived and laughed where you would have died;
The Earth my throne
The Sky my crown.
My remains are not for the likes of you,
Not pieces for your foolish games.
Gothalay bids you send his bones home where they belong
Shame yourselves no more!
Little boys,
Playing with fire,
Begging to be burned!
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