Vassal Poems

Possum Trash

This sandy shore is mine, I am its vassal;
building my fort, I was much too facile.
Just as I finished, here came a passel,
a passel of beach possums, razzle-dazzle.
I'm not quittin', though it be a hassle;
possum trash'l be an awesome castle.

Allocation, Ally

Allocation, O ally?
Resources put where?
In the heads of those who fly?
Worry, hast thou care?

O ye spirits, I collect!
End Times, be my Muse!
Golden gods to genuflect?
Dare to disabuse!

Wrath of wind, thy cyclone?
It really must blow in.
Heaven and Hell, hie to hone!
Drenching downpour, din!

Ramparts of old castle?
They're slippery when wet.
Gods of death, call thy vassal!
How could we forget?

Tomb of ancient pharaoh?
A curse is on the door.
Folly thus to enter? Go?
Doom, thy pinafore!

Mercenary armies!
Become, O lords of hell!
Storm from thy cemeteries!
Legions, lead thee well!

Soar, O mighty eagles!
O parapets, take heed:
Fate and Fortune, full the fools!
Grind them in their greed!

Ache in heart of bygone race?
Lulled within thy chase.
Dithering is thy disgrace!
Seize the skin of face...

Tethys, Time

Ramparts of the castle?
Slicked well with rain or blood?
Ask the master's vassal.
His veins have caused a flood...

Well. Is that so? Don't you know?
Steady as we go.
Carrion, feed well each crow!
Falling down, O foe...

Wilting is a part of life?
Dance upon, O strife.
Circumstances, red raw rife.
Krokus, knead the knife.

Thought-spark, ignite in the dark!
Covenant and Ark!
Ocean deep, seen many a shark?
Gloss well thy fair bark...

Silent are the gods of death?
More talkative than some.
Cradle well, O sea of Tethys!
Seth, the storm may come...

Causality chaotic!
Grind them with thy wheel!
Current events make all sick!
Enemy teach to steal!

Feeling well, O Fates a-Three?
Close thy eyes and see.
Doom, bequeath! Most desperately!
Sun god, fortune, fee...

Consecration, the Sun Bleeds over Seville

The beast Alhambra 
roared a violent psalm
Vile conversos
horrid moriscos, 
the heretic herds
A spear thrust into
our sun’s martyred ribs
Held in hateful grips
the yellow warblers
dripped in crimson sheen
Flying like Michael
the vengeful vassal
of Aragon’s decree
“O Torquemada
Hark the righteous call
King of Suprema
Execute them all!”
Cold unfeeling wretch, 
the flesh guillotine
Teeth clicking sparks
lit endless pyres
Three made Seville
weep at the sight of Friars

The Domain of Fear

The Domain of Fear

The Devil and hell, all Christians would agree,
Are the fate awaiting non believers like me.

But if you search the Scriptures you’d see,
Both Satan and hell are nowhere to be
Found in the Writings of the Jews,
And to Christians, this is real news.

All dead people went to the place of the dead.
Sheol was the name and there was no dread,
Of modern heaven or hell.
Good or bad, that’s where you’d dwell.

But Christians came up with this permanent abode,
So as to keep the believers cowed.

And the Devil? Nowhere in the Jewish Scripture.
Of The Satan, we have a different picture.
A vassal of God, no power to harm.
He only does God’s bidding, (turn down your alarm).
Look at Job with God and the Adversary.
There is no dissent, God need not parry.

Both concepts are fiction, made up to cause fear
So that followers would obey, listen and adhere.

Collaberations

1-5-25______________1-25-25
  125_________________525
    21__________________105
      3___________________15
       1___________________5


0,0163%
of hydrogen
extracted from seawater
Deuterium when mixed
with tritium
under the influence
 of extreme heat
and  pressure
becomes a gaseous
hydrogen fuel 
becomes a fusion plasma
generated in the Tomak
a tomak is an experiment
machine used to harness the 
energy of fusion
charged participle of fusion
can be controlled
by magnetic coils
air and impurities are
evacuated from the vacuum
confinment and control  of the
plasma are charged up
and the gaseous fuel is
introduced
powerful electrical currents
are run through
the vassal were gas breaks down
electrically
and then it becomes ironized
 and electrons are stripped
from the nuclei
and forms a plasma
TO ACHEIVE FUSION THE
PLASMA IN THE TOMAK
MUST REACH
150,00,000  million
degrees!
Plasma particles become 
energized and collide into one another
natural electromagnetic repulsion
om collision to fuse
the proposal for a 
configuration of a magntic 
fusion device.
1200 Packard Twelve
or a Ka de shi'erhao 1200
20 minutes!

The Same Kind

HARMLESS WASTE
-------------------------
Transuranium Elements
Sound is Produced when something
vibrates. Shockwaves in
the surrounding area.

toroidal and poloidal
magnetic fields.
Vacuum vassal, plasma
chamber
torus shaped
tokamak.
blanket system
coolant system
diagnosis
Plasma
Cryogenics
neutrons released from fission
two or more atoms
are forced together
to form a singular more heavy
nucleus
magnetic fields and lasers
after combing deuterium and 
tritium to create helium
100 million degrees
tungsten metal is used to create the reactor.
atoms are invisible and turns into plasma
which too is also invisible.

medieval mug

this mugs home is a castle

and hot cocoa a vassal

its marshmallows float

a chocolate moat

with seldom fuss or hassle.

You Stole Me From a Castle

You stole me from a castle 
My defiant vassal. 
We went butterflyback riding
Into wind that sounded like sighing. 
They put us down on a hill when
We felt like walking the glen. 
We sat by a river of gold
And talked as the river flowed. 
I wished for rain and it came
And in its midst, we played. 
Where a rainbow met the ground
The beam, we danced around. 
Before it could diminish
I gave you a chocolate kiss
And ours is a fairytale romance
That, to this day, still enchants.

Expectations

I received a comment on my post
I attempt exposure once again
Shall I perish by others' words?
Rein in heartbeats like a strict handler
Or ride the bronco bareback?

Awakened from depression on hope
I thought I was free from validation
When will mania be domesticated?
My drama on a fruitless escapade
At least my heart finds its gait

Grounded I have laundry to do
Really I have a house to vacuum
But, a comment on my poetry
Is it coffee or coffers of expectation?
Shall I wait for this present to pass
Wondering if it is critical or in remission?

Can one comment fill an empty day?
Look up to the sky where poetry is born
What’s next behind one encore?
Good poetry comes when vessels are empty
Nature comes to fill the void in a vessel
But one poem is not everlasting H2O
Filling this vassal with eyeballs

Yet when my love returns tomorrow
After 12 days of absence disquieting
My heart skips quietly to a cantor
Keeps my polarities from spinning
Grounds me from prying stares

No poem is constant like loved ones
No comment compares to thee
Contribution is a wild ride
Fingers on the keyboard
Sweating

In Praise of Washing Dishes

With hands immersed in suds and water warm,
I stand before the sink, humbled vassal,
To plates and dishes, grease and grime the norm,
My task to cleanse this polychromed passel.

Each cup I cradle with a gentle pinch,
Their curves and corners, every angle blessed,
Rinse them speckless, my soapy palm a winch,
A chore completed, my service at rest.

For though this labor at face is mundane,
It's in the simple things we find our grace,
And so I wash each dish with grateful strain,
And let their gleaming surfaces erase

The chaos and the clutter of the day,
A small but satisfying task, I say.

Mythical

I once wrote of lovely mermaid's song,
many years ago, yet still I long
to hear her haunting voice once again,
music of waves never reaching end.

Days I walk a lonely beach once more
searching for her on a distant shore.
Perhaps you're given only one chance
to capture a mermaid in your glance.

She was so lovely, I could but stare
as she braided sunbeams in her hair.
A gentle song she sang to the waves.
Perhaps they too had become her slaves.

Her vassal I could most proudly be
but, alas, she has no need of me.
I feel it useless, yet still I long
for a single note of mermaid's song.

Fables are spun of creatures like she
an enigma dwelling in the sea.
You may think my tale impossible,
truthfully, it's mythological!

March 18, 2023
for "Word Challenge--M Words
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=9

Old Soul

In that we are all a vassal to age
  no sceptre or mitre can set us free,
and no fealty can old time assuage
  or rail against its synchronicity.
For ever decreasing circles besot 
  the cognisance of what and who we are,
yet I am not fogged to what time begot
  but wise to your end and your exemplar -
of all our earthly labours and pleasure,
  and all that was ventured and lost or won 
for insofar love is the true measure
  I shall be its keeper when you are gone.
Alas, no mortal thing this world outlast
yet still the risen sun your shadow cast.


         Written: November 2010

Re-Cognition

From thought has risen
time-space warp prison;
so if we be still,
we regain soul’s will.

Poised in the void thus,
love and light fills us,
which was always there
but now we’re aware.

Vibrant nonchalance 
ends fear dalliance
and as the bliss flame,
we play out life’s game.

Mind-body vessel,
is our soul’s vassal.
When both are aligned,
clear truth is divined.

Love as our thimble,
we stop thoughts nimble,
revealing our soul,
now blissful and whole.

26-July-2022

A Blacksmith's Boy

One sunny springtime morning
I met her on a fair day.
I saw her from a distance
Out strolling on the fair way.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

I heard that she was singing
As I maundered ever near;
The sweetest charming plainsong
Sent softly to my ear.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She had the rarest countenance,
She had the fairest flowing hair;
She looked the grandest lady, 
Ethereal beyond compare.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She was a rose of this fair land,
The flower of Saint George,
But I my master's vassal,
A servant of the forge.

So, like the springtime morning
She filled my heart with joy...
She, a rose of England
Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.

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