Soma nectar drips from crown to navel
Enlivening all nodes along the way
The jugular notch too cooperates
Whilst toroidal heart just watches the play
The scriptures suggest we do this or that
A proposition that’s untenable
So we simply rest and enjoy the show
So that Divine Mother may enable
A loner drifts and struggles
A loner shifts and giggles
... flip and hop
... slip and drop
A loner never detaches from good people
A loner appreciates those who stay firm
and never turn purple.
A loner smiles and keeps his/her head down
A loner defies wickedness and never bow down
A loner, I may be, in an open world --
a small one and untenable from scrofulus strands
albeit all of me may change the torn world...
and being full and winnable in God's mighty hands!
A loner...
Is cruelty hiding in the stars deceitful play?
What a waste of heart; for them to lie in silence as dying art
For their lights just untenable promises made,
Giants: long gone before we see them as something smart
I envy their brilliance cast in prior eons relayed
Death riding light waves, but arriving late for the start
So, in the face of the most enormous losses, is hope conveyed?
Or does something big have to leave, for brightness to depart?
If freshman year was aspirational
and sophomore year was unhinged
junior year was put up or shut up
and senior year is a dash to the finish line
This year’s on fast forward—and it’s for keeps
every to-do list has value-laden questions
things seem sharp edged, single use and intense
it’s all about trajectories and ‘landing spots”
Let’s wax poetic..
Produce now, or spend fury on thyself—all else is untenable
we’re past youth and ignorance—your honour’s at stake
Suitors call you by name, like well-acquainted friends
they took your measure—you’re beyond the mark of others
they seduce with money—the future brings liberty and noble deeds.
So don the the garland and prove thyself—take the field
join the battle—now’s the reward—aidless, perpetual toil
with every motion be right, it’s thy shunless destiny.
.
.
A song for this:
A Man of Great Promise by The Style Council
Headstart For Happiness by The Style Council
Steppin’ Off
My Platform
I
Will
Miss you,
It’s only so long
And not a swan song
I have projects awaiting
They need some attention
An untenable encumbrance
Far too many to mention
So I’ll be takin’ time out
Or bound to get worse
September First
Steppin’ off
All around me, the ugliness and rays.
Those scrimshaw eyes, I’m dizzy with the haze.
My pulsepoint jumped, too cozy with our friend.
My arms and legs, in seesaw wave, betrays.
My husband grins with thoughtfulness and flounce.
With piquant sense, he’s unafraid of pounce.
It alarms me, the claustraphobic crowd -
The stingers rest - in whelm of sea they bounce.
I cannot bear flow’s untenable feast.
A turnabout…disconcerting…at least.
My lipshade sours, I back away, take pause,
As loving spouse does pet and kiss the beast.
POEM TO RENEE, MASTER HEALER
Perfectly proportioned Greek goddess
except her philosophies were
somewhat eastern
or eternal
Gold locks alight
magical medicine woman
aflame with Sakara heat
feeds us walnuts
wrapped in dates
Blond lashes thick as a
witches broom
crown holding
vine veins entwined
Serpent spirited
she blows crimson notes
into our stretched out
poignant palms
Dissolve untenable
unfathomable fears !
dissipate sorrows of souls…
silver wing tips of nightingales
come, come, pierce skin
fly far with Masters and
angels into Olympus
of open oracles
Remember Power, balance
peace, ChristLight
Mother Mary, ease
Michael and Chamuel
clapped clanging away
sores sliced ignorance
opened organs
spun wheels
Too urgent, so urgent
forgetting Love is
patient
I did not know
her time was
very near
I am mourning
My Beloved Master
©ghairodanielspoetry&song2000
Once again I find myself at the whim of these storms.
From peak to valley, to peak again.
I’m spent.
They take my energy, my focus & desires. Turn them on their head, then shatter them to pieces as though they were never whole. The torment of this story is unyielding and I wonder with breath baited, if the climax will result in a happy ending or a journey in an endless maze, lost forever.
Fighting tears of hopelessness while mustering courage continues to be the most fragile of processes, one where the demands of life weigh untenable.
I’m spent.
However, because I can’t, won’t give up, I swallow these emotions forcing them to the bowels of my soul.
In hopes, the higher me can absolve the defeated nature of my cells, to inspire the vibration of me with life again.
To transfuse my mind and heart to move, to beat anyway.
In the face of my shadow, my demons, my pain, to heal my wounds, and align me with the light again.
I relent.
The Masked Singer is an entertainer on stage in masquerade
A baker by day; a singer by night with accolade
The Masked Singer dresses as a male and sometimes female
He is a ***** but with many personalities of a strong male
The masked one bakes bread in the morning
Before dawn donates bread in an orphanage
That's what he does in bright days of living
Sings and dance in the evening passage
The masked male renders songs of praise
To God and to all of humane haste
Once he was awarded in the Hall of Craze
Disguising as a singing pauper on streets of blaze
It's a short-lived life narrated about the masked singer
Who died shortly after a sponsored-play with a ringer
A runaway train in the dark that ran over
His untenable body wringed and flattened headless
Yards away from the rail... a rolling head of the masked singer
"I dedicate this simple poem to a friend representing all other hardworking LGBTQs of the World who offer more than enough of themselves in saving other people's lives."
(Prosebite)
ENCOUNTERS
Impressionistic
reflections
in the moving light
fields
that emerge
so composed
intuitive
&unshowy
& reimagined
in unsettled fluidity
illuminated
subtly
&different
a wonder
manifested
&most recognisable
with a
shimmering effect
audacity itself
in a
bittersweet
experience
to offer some
consolation
though
untenable
vys for attention
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Inhale
my heartbeat slows,
blood sluggish
through stenotic vessels
unwilling to expand,
to breathe
to let blood flow
untenable, this suffocation
this dampening
it speaks of tired eyes,
of stolid limbs,
of stultified need
torpid blood,
when will you give up
your self-imposed stricture,
your closely guarded fear,
your wariness
and inhale
Did you say you are sorry, my friend,
With a genuine feeling of humble contrition,
Or was your “Sorry about that!” a means to an end,
To change your ill-considered, untenable position
Without regard for my miserable condition?
written January 23, 2022
Divisive, abusive, hollow and torn,
Our politics broken through anger and scorn,
More pointing of fingers, of turning one's back,
Is this the new norm, our thorny new track?
What happened to thinking before all those tweets,
Like manicured gardens torn up by rough cleats,
The skill of debate, of viewing both sides,
Bridging that gap from all which divides?
Conviction and Passion bedfellows at times,
Are often the cause of unspeakable crimes,
Opinions do matter but where the heart rules
Indiscriminately steals the most precious of tools.
Reason and empathy, knowledge and tact,
Not impulse and odium and that's a firm fact;
One road may be windy, the other dead straight,
But both may yet lead to the very same gate.
A viewpoint reminds of an infant just born,
It develops and thrives if loved not forlorn,
Tended and taught by the many not few,
For that kernel of light to shine brightly through.
Balanced and just, open to thought,
Opinions conceived and not merely taught,
An untenable vision, an improbable dream?
It takes but the thinnest of wedges to open a seam.
Where does it lead, this path I follow?
I look back. So many twists and turns,
Such a long, way, some parts smooth as sand,
others strewn with pebbles and rocks,
even seemingly insurmountable boulders.
Yet, here I am, the hurdles in every case
somehow in the past, somehow overcome.
The path ahead of me is much shorter,
and where it is going I cannot know.
It bends away from me, beyond my sight,
each day a gift for which to be grateful,
as time is fleeting and who knows the length
of this phase of existence called life
or what is to become of us after that?
Surely there are no mansions in the sky
to accommodate all of the souls passed on.
Does the soul go on into some existence,
the nature of which we, as humans, are
completely incapable of comprehending?
Does the soul, at the instant of death,
pass into a baby just being conceived,
thus living an endless round of human lives?
Or, as some think, is death simply the end.
That answer is untenable for me.
Exactly what is beyond, I do not know,
but I feel strongly that the soul does live on,
and, for some reason, it does matter
what kind of life we have led here on earth.
For I myself,
I sit and watch and wait
as if time were transcendental
as though I can make life’s
moments move
FAST
or s l o w.
As if some preconceived and instructive checklist
were handed to me.
I watch now,
as the world goes round,
heeding THIS man’s deference
to
THAT man’s song.
The string,
which binds all to this planet,
ever present
and equidistant
between the generations
of all who have gone before.
Does our voyeurs perception
cast an untenable perspective?
Thrusting those
measured and metered days
into chaos.
Can one persevere,
and succeed
IF Schrodingers cat
is both
ALIVE and DEAD ?
Has that tree really fallen in the forest,
IF no one observed it’s final decay
as it falls
and thuds
with mediocrity
to the ground, to take note ?
Are WE star dust blown cautiously by the wind ?
Or
Are WE in an ever repeating cyclical cycle of
BIRTH
LIFE
DEATH
RINSE and REPEAT ?
A soul of blood, flesh, tears, happiness and pain,
on a journey from nothingness
and back again.
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