Do you paint with words?
Well, maybe you are a poet!
Of course, all words, by themselves
are morgues for art~ stores for outwardly
portraying
one’s private thoughts and feelings in
colorful, expressive ways. The baby
paints her own basic language – cries her
picture gestures,
hopefully appropriately responded to
by loving parents, often challenged
to transcribe
a vaguely familiar, long forgotten
non verbal~frantic vocabulary –
So, words are clearly voice: while liquid,
like blood and oils – they are colorful, the
pigments of flowers and death --
and when a relationship fails, the essence
of words are what
we frame and tearfully regret.
OCCASIONAL HIGHLIGHTS-:-
spatial
values
establish
uncomprehending
indifference
so VAGUELY ENVISAGED
pin-pointing
precious
insights
threaded
effusively
in ELOQUENT METAPHORS
located
engagingly
special
presentable
prototype
Every dreamer born may
an escapist become.
When emotional survival
is bad weather stifled
fantasy arrival is
vital as heart and head
weapons that reckon
with false hitting bits of
regrets spittled resin.
Escapists have naive
need beliefs that seek
relief lacking clues.
Not intuitively glued,
they flare prime illusions
then meet blues intrusion.
Rue immersions disburse
layered bruises into
their fantasy threads.
Escapists do not pencil
lists to assist their trips.
Without practice or
attending lessons, an
escapist will maximize an
ideal conception from
foggy appeals and provide
their own transportation
to vaguely arrive in a bog.
Soon dizzy from the tizzy
of too little information,
they’ll deny hearing
reality’s jeering cry.
Easier and freer to eat
it all down for soon
the bog ball will end
and only they need to know
the why in the what that they did.
F.COHERENT CLOSE-UPS-:-
disrupt
unified
tones
vaguely
precise
to CREATE TRANSITIONED
deciphered
dissolved
miraged
sourced
illusions
once LOST IN MIST
glimmering
tactile
motifs
silhouetted
celestials
FOREGATHERINGS
reinforced
engravings
occasion
participation
of
vaguely
contemporary
cultivations
with
an
immediacy
uncommonly
evolved
in
emancipated
multilateral
dignified
manifestations
We are two graves now, love
Two pretty little things
Surrounded by officials
Their lawyers, their police
Must be a party nearby
Drunk dancers over here
Stamp clumsily upon us
Each laughs at their own jokes
We couldn’t care less
We had it all, and more
And many, many more
What they will never know
And never scrutinize
To check us out they should
Guess even vaguely about
The subject they expect to see
But they are unaware
They wouldn’t know the matter
For us they don’t exist
As we for them, so I suggest
To take it as it is
The sun will shine again
Our trees will grow up tall.
Social critic, Gershon Wolf
has been known to joke and spoof
But at a meeting of TV execs today, he was dead serious
And here’s what he told them – if you’re curious
Where is wholesome TV programming today
or something vaguely familiar anyway
We need family shows like ‘Andy of Mayberry’
where everyone teases and tortures ‘Poor Deputy Barney’
Or ‘Leave it to Beaver’ where Eddie Haskell steals every show
Kissing up to Ward and June, a sickeningly polite fellow
And how about ‘the Three Stooges,’ where real culture
is assaulted by three execrable humanoid vultures
Now, I hear one of you is bringing back ‘You Bet Your Life’
a show about a mean man’s negative outlook on life
Anyone game for Nazified fare like ‘Hogan’s Heroes’
or totally inept and stupid, ‘like Archie Bunker’s Zeroes’
Can't wait for the new 'Re-run Season'
Featuring Pee Wee Herman and Lassie! ~ 'tis bound to be pleasin'
Never did I wound the earth
As I wandered through green meadows,
On the edge of a mourning land.
Never did I steal a single grain
From the quiet grammar
Of nature’s rhyming fields.
Never did I protest the tender murmur
Of the morning air,
Brushing the skin of dawn.
Never did I fashion
even the smallest cage—
Not one a flea
Might call its own.
Never did I know where I misplaced
My better half,
Left unawares at life’s crossing paths.
Never did I summon a fellow soul
To walk beside me
Across long, lonesome roads.
And yet I passed,
Vaguely, before the facade
Of this promised land.
And now my eyes seek rest,
A closing hush,
A final staccato,
An eternal sleep.
You think I will fully adhere at all to and fully believe
What mere mortals have so vaguely written or previously said?
None of you will realize what I see, until we're dead.
Boundless and limitless in depth,
the deep blue sea is at rest
A continuum of ebbs and flows,
easing without cause,
never ceases to gain only pause.
Then currents arise from movements below,
tranquility disturbed for a new show.
Crashing waves sending water into the sky,
every crescendo, begs to know why.
Droplets appear in desperation,
was this only due to life’s separation..
Bright beams of light break into view,
seems vaguely familiar,
somehow not new.
Now the journey seems all too reminiscent,
as the cresting comes to its ultimate end.
Droplets reunite with its founder,
completing its journey from down under.
Boundless and limitless in depth,
the deep blue sea is at rest.
A continuum of ebbs and flows,
easing without cause,
never ceases to gain only pause.
In the Holland garden I
Sat and vaguely thought about
If there is a timeless time
Spreading in the air around
Then it rained, so back I went
To my tiny hotel room
Laid across the bed and slept
Till the evening shiny gloom
Went downstairs to the bar
Got a drink and sat outside
Buses, cyclists and the cars
Rushed the wet road gliding by
Then I thought about you
And the garden jobs you did
Then the sky turned darker blue
Came the time to shut the lid.
The past is fiercely orange,
fluent in the language of the sunset.
The promises are vaguely gray
dumped in the expectations of tomorrow.
Not knowing to hope
or just to reflect
the unknown
sprouting in my soul...
How do I confront the enemy I can't see?
Only its shadows on the ground surround me.
A dark cloud that comes and goes and then returns,
its essence is difficult to discern.
Like a stain that never fully disappears,
it brings pain, disappointment, anger, fear.
Throughout my life, I've been vaguely aware
of this strange malevolence in the air.
It never shows its face. Like an ugly scar,
it shines ill-fated light like some evil star.
Tired of discord, disharmony and strife,
I've gone another direction all my life.
But, beholding all that's been said and done,
I see it's not something I can outrun.
The time has come for me to stand and face
the vile presence I could not erase.
If only I could fathom it and grasp
the nature of its poison like an asp,
and unravel its insidious mystery.
Could it be something in my history?
What are you, some kind of wicked curse,
or is it something in my DNA, or worse?
Will, one day, your cruel battle be won,
as my rotting corpse shines 'neath the sun?
Heaven is a place where only through the eyes of hope,
can it truly co-exist !
Heaven is a special place where innocent children,
become Angels !
Heaven is a journey for those who believe in
the after life !
Heaven is at the center point of every loving being who
longs to find their loved ones once again !
Heaven is the venue of those who believe and trust
that we will,...one day return !
Heaven is Michelangelo's Last Judgement at the Alter wall
of the Sistine Chapel !
Heaven is a whereabout, a location vaguely represented
and understood only with the heart
Heaven is a place of Salutation for the rich and the poor
everyone is welcome in heaven !
The bitter taste of unascertained guilt
A snapshot stopped the motion of a wave
It stiffened in a moment at full tilt
And vaguely I remember to press save
Splash of the wave remains in time and space
A year after it comes back at the same day
With the same sun that shines upon your face
You smiled at me, and I smile back today.
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