Now quiet, settled, easy, leisurely
through life’s affairs,—say, couched in everyday—
and sipping being’s sweetest, freshest ray;
Sunshine!, Sunshine! ‘midst winter’s coldest glee!
Now troubled, disjointed, uneasily
fumbling, scrambling through dumb frowning time.—Gray-
-haired night’s murk weighs down gay light’s mirth filled play...—
tumbling through summer’s scorching cruelty!
An inescapable alternation
of gloom and cheer,(to be—and—not to be),
wheeling circles and cycles—infernal,—
recur, relapse, return through all creation.;
Remember, though pain’s but temporary,
vacuous suffering is eternal.
Mona Lisa’s crooked smile
on a half-crushed Campbell’s Soup can
Joe Dimaggio reciting his pronouns uneasily
then lowering his batting hand
into a scalding hot cup
of ‘Mr. Coffee’
Where have you gone, Mrs. Robinson?
Where else? to the bathroom
~ Hemorrhoids again
Barney Fife whittling Andy’s image to
sawdust with a rusty pocket-knife
-- contracting tetanus in the process
Andy Warhol grinning madly as the
word ‘culture’ is finally eliminated
from America’s lexicon
~ All hail to pink, plastic flamingoes! ~
Shedding of leaves
Every flower fading
Petals drooping
Temperatures declining
Early morning mists
Moments of weak sunlight
Birds chirping uneasily
Each day with winter on its way
Red,yellow and brown leaves
Fruits in need of gathering
Acres shorn of their golden wheat
Limpid waters fretted with thin ice
Lots of leaves in heaps
Summer now but a memory.
It was October, the leaves fell,
I reveled in my youth.
But what happened in sixty-two
took the fun and
innocence out of autumn;
There were missiles in Cuba.
Missiles,with more on the way.
Warnings were given,
demands and threats made.
At thirteen I learned
the meaning of a naval blockade.
Grown-ups spoke in hushed tones
over hastily brewed coffee,
eyes and ears glued
to the television for the latest news.
We went to bed and slept uneasily,
not knowing what kind of world
we would wake up to,
if we woke up at all.
Two giants, swords drawn,
faced each other
in a battle of wills.
The great bear blinked
and we stepped back
from the abyss
that nearly swallowed
an anxious world.
It was October, the leaves fell,
somehow I felt much older.
The fog delays alighting;
Suddenly I appear in that street.
the moon tries to peep out of the well
The wind chases a song all over the street.
As if some stranger I am watched uneasily.
A bunch of dogs come swimming
and get buried in the gaps of fence.
Losing consciousness
chaos escape the memory.
Rain that went past me
reaching the street-corner where I stood
was returning.
Despite closing skilfully
dog’s tail wags outside imagination.
The eyes of some passing across
hang me, who they had carried away,
upon a tree.
Slipping off the hands of those dragging me
Night has fallen down.
Better to lose even those things carefully guarded
and go searching for them in his company.
With many a moment of imagination turning blurred
I am left in a dense jungle directionless.
Behind the staircase, cowardly feet were stealthily
Climbing.
I am forcibly evicted from
the Night of few minutes.
These do not take place in just one night.
Hot, humid, burning sun rays
it's the noon hour smack in the light of mid-day,
the random moments of a Monday deluge of renewal
back to work to the tied-down, set-in-place routines do all
pushing back the weekend play and scenes that flee;
the grit and grime of hard physical work release
managed, stressed, perspiration indiscrete,
the sedimentary desk chair resting weary feet
sequestered uncomfortable and lean
locked in closure at the old computer screens;
the phone tags to update this or that
the pay scales uneasily raised then taxed
paperwork printing to and from the fax;
just another day to start the beginning of the week
mundane, ordinary, fatiguing, ever on repeat
with the morning hours slipping past as we speak,
the noon hour
marking half the day,
complete.
Mad, they agreed
out of his mind
off of his rocker
flipped his wig
lost all his marbles ...
There was the governor
posing in the center of town
stark-raving nude
neither embarrassment
nor an ounce of shame
Perched uneasily atop
a royal walking-horse
a wizard's tricorn atop his head
-- or was it a dunce's cap
Insanity opened its mouth
the sun set abruptly ~
the moon and stars came out
Dating on the internet after the divorce, shopping in the EX-aisle.
There is more to having character than being one.
In Graffiti size does matter.
On awakening he walks the edges of consciousness seeking a cuppa coffee.
He sleeps uneasily, searching through “day old” dreams.
He crows loudly, an old rooster still ruffling feathers.
John G. Lawless
©4/27/2023
"The X Factor"
hunger does strange things
to souls running on empty
last stop, full to the brim
a journey unravelling
ravenous poetry sings
other broken hearts in
how much do words mean?
how much do they sting?
Inside wants out in everything
in everything,
we believe,
we stir uneasily to let in
life hides inside stories
lost hidden gems live somewhere
buried in all the dirt deep deep beneath
above magnetises
cloud busting
some souls reign miraculously
outside of the assizes
more telling than tears
lets the light
shatter feeble faux in
gleaming
victorious
mesmerising
something unknown
it's completely foreign
something sincere
in time to be made clear
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Saara Aalto - Chandelier (Audition)
https://youtu.be/LH7qh4XWEgw
https://ourcriminalancestors.org/assizes/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scarlet_Letter
Twenty-twenty, why didn't you abide
by centuries-old rules required to exist?
Why was it prudent to run and then hide;
protocol, you felt, was there to resist
Painfully we hid and Earth hung her head,
as Covid invaded, flaunting with flair.
Breath came uneasily, many were dead;
no place to hide, fear was filling the air.
A terrible legacy your year leaves,
standing with famine, flu, polio's fears.
We shook ourselves from depression and grief,
buried our loved ones, dried most of our tears.
So, Twenty-One, what good news do you say?
Can we, at last, turn that chapter's sad page,
come out of hiding to sunshine and play?
Wait--Delta is shouting, "I want the stage!"
Move over, climate, our allies won't mind.
Refugees, craziness, anti-vax scam,
egotism, lies, hate everywhere we find
I'm beginning to see why Twenty ran.
Love Light The Way'''
Sunlight dreary in a sky unwavering
calm winds asking why
the rays of somber times unknown
how did we get here
a raven soaring through an amber mind
so impatient
I feel a breeze like romance
hugging my spine like fear
there in the distance I see an ocean
waving and caressing with a grimace
crying tears of potential
as
laughter fills the air
Those passing by vacantly stare at each other uneasily
the question lingers
love being the tone influential
The sky parts clouds of light
a silent tone echoing do you dare?
King Arthurian of legend
St George
St Patrick
Mary Magdalene
To the Da Vinci Code
My toilet
My drug use
I remember i could read
I was a trainspoter
A night prisoner
I wrote during the war of the roses
Of the kings last stand
On B roads
Dedicated to marching knights
For weapons and edges
Set up camp for the night
Uneasily at sleep
I lie
I tragic at dawn
Tragic
Deadly
A 100 of thousand men
Seek Excalibur
To formation a round table
Unto which barge
Into a Dickensian future
The King is dead
Loose ends
Bury me in the Abbey
Imagination
Just as a sliver of moon waits uneasily at the daybreak,
waning to let the sun command the sky.
Just as glistening dewdrops slide down fresh blades of green,
making it seem that the rains did just weep and sigh.
Just as tiny crabs burrow, creating sandy bubbles on the beach,
betrayed by the mighty frothing tide.
Just as countless silvery scales stuck to nylon fishing nets,
the morning catch, reflecting a fisherman's pride.
Just as the grittiness of sand stuck in the web of my toes,
fresh reminiscent of my walk at the teach
Just as this anaphora, my heart races back to you
your memories entwine me, just as you fade out of my reach.
It is a sanctuary of hushed stillness here
muted sounds of nature prevail
a rustle of leaves, a scurrying of rodents
flutterings of birds flying and chirping.
Peaceful it may seem, and yet...
I have dwelt here uneasily, year after year
hard pressed to escape my confinement
tormented by nightmares
tragedy without resolution.
A new day dawns, much like any other
I become aware of strange, new sounds
sounds I’ve not heard for a long while
a scraping of shovels, scraping, digging
digging and scraping up dirt full of hope.
I tremble in anticipation for this moment
this moment I have dreamt about
in my eternal sleep..could this truly be
the day of my release?
Oh Lord, I can see the sunlight now
for at long last, I‘ve been found
justice has finally prevailed
today...I’ve been set free!
Written on 3/6/2019
The tree of my ritual was old and tall,
though not a true giant;
the next one may be, but needn't.
It possessed consequence in its bough
and the places around it,
which may have been occupied
for one of any number of reasons.
It was a fine tree, and my ritual was,
I hoped, appropriately reverent.
Respectful, yet uneasily godless,
my incantations whispered
with the light and gravity of the shade.
Hopeful, yet sorrowfully faithless,
my supplications revolved patiently
and drifted irreversibly into the air,
seeped deep beyond the bark,
sank into the soil and the root.
Godless as I was, I would not pass up
a fancy of random thought;
if it was a fancy of still unknown truth,
it would need nurture,
dutifully I would nurture.
Only such a tree could be worthy
of such faithless supplication.
18th October 2018
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