No longer do i seek
divination through
antiquated sorcery,
Nor supplicate to nebulous
spirits in clandestine
reverie.
I renounce the esoteric, the
obfuscatory, the occulted
night,
For I have found an
effulgent, benedictory,
convenantal light.
My soul rejects
thaumaturgical illusions and
superstitious chains,
And clings to the
transcendent, the
veracious, where true
freedom reigns.
No hex, no sigil, no arcane
nomenclature can compare,
To the omnipotent grace
that answers every
whispered prayer.
Let the ephemeral
glamorous of witchcraft
dissipate,
I walk now in sanctification-
redeemed, restored, and
consecrate.
.
'tiz
veracious
precisely mine
whut
were think'en
inch by inch
center hern meter
presently particularly
promptly
indulge'd with
reach
touch
whut were
hern
think'en
*triple dip"
<]')
Some places
make you shudder
as your night train toils on by.
Sadness and nostalgia
bleed into each other,
both slip down the throat of time.
Now and then, you escape a prison
looking back, you see a gate locking
itself once more.
Time gulps as it breaths you in.
This is what the night train does,
it forces you to look at your journey
as if through an ever-fading light.
You wish you were back,
lightly hovering over sharks,
not bungy jumping
over veracious mermaids,
however, there is no stopping,
you are a night train
on a trackless way
and the rain is pounding
you through,
now only distant streetlights
reveal
the smudged print
of your passing
Please don’t create all the drama
and then sit and ask why it’s there.
Say it’s okay but clearly it’s not
start in on the texting girl just stop.
It’s clear that you won’t just say it,
veracious words are absent here.
Either shoot straight or stay silent.
All I really want is a peaceful vibe.
Girl, I’m not going to fall into it,
good god you feed off of conflict!
Reel it in and just simmer down
easy to see why your crutch is THC.
Suture your mouth if you need to
sour grapes is not a good look.
I don’t want to play all these games.
Victorious are those who will walk,
exit alone rather than sit and squawk.
Veracious vanity about victories over
veils shows vain values corrupted by
vicious volatile villains in hopes for
votive to vindicate,
Grossly gluttons gain grains over
gloomy groups of ghastly greiven gulls,
Foreign fighting by ferocious foes gets
fulfilled here by fat-headed fools
fulminating for their unknowing fatalities,
Deep dark derivatives of evil dance daily
drawing delusional dimwits to drown
devishly in damnation,
Multimedia manipulates millions
maliciously magnifying multitudes of
mass misguided many,
Local laws layover latitudes of laundered
logistics layering subliminal taxations
lowering lifestyles lived by the
Land of the Limited.
Mirror tend me to realize,
Invisible seems visible.
Mirror rise the factual,
It is not just a showpiece.
Time always rotate mirror never,
Full of secrets,
Create puzzles and puzzles.
Mirror is always right,
It lead you to see the real fact,
Fact is not universal,
It is beyond the actual.
Mirror tend me to realize ,
Invisible seems visible.
Mirror rise the factual ,
It is not just a showpiece.
Oh Veracious One! We knew about You
And we despised You. How we resolved
To disobey You and Your words
In all possible ways. How could we foresee
That to love You was the predicate
For storing goodness throughout our lives?
That in You was the life we would desire
If we did not hate You? How could we know
That transgression against He who made
All things good would be our chains
In the darker places? Our jaws ache and burn
From their clenching, our eyes blur ceaselessly,
For many waters pour forth, and yet in all of this
Our cries are not heard.
I dreamt of her last night,
It was so real I could taste the salt on her lips,
and the vengeance on her tongue
So sweet and so violent.
I believed she loved me
but only for a moment,
She was so tender
seemingly veracious.
Till I lifted her black veil
and saw the lies behind
her sparkling amber eyes.
That almost gets me every time.
It has been proven I think,
yes I believe it's almost a fact,
scientifically verified,
not by all experts but quite a few.
Yes, 'Love is like A Butterfly.'
Dolly Parton has said so
and what better proof do we need?
The best butterfly nets
are made of holes.
The very best cost more - naturally,
these nets have even larger holes
and are especially made for
people to get caught in
thus allowing
veracious love-sick butterfly's
time to nibble at us
all the live long night and day.
Hundred million K' away neighbour, Mars
Hovers bolognese smeared brother, ice brick
Fondness for possibles although bizarre
Intoxicate screw loose hair brained psychic
Frog skin glint silk soak, last page of atlas
Frigid rift in regolith terracotta
Ancient alien sustaining chalice
Embalms escargot creatures exotic
Savant submerged in claiming lake, limbs grey
Gnawed on by hordes of sword fish ravenous
Haunting waters, explorer credere
Stores files in his spongy tissue camera
Angora cotton ball goats, horns antennas
Munch dust, dull marbles watch earth untether
Still the twentieth of October
Extra terrestrial Thursday
Another day is about to die,
And another tear in my eye
Just blazes and sparkles.
We are simply standing in the darkness
Feeling the sadness that kills other emotions
And makes our bodies with no motion.
You are unable to tear the silence apart,
And you are trying to gently touch my heart,
But every next move of yours makes
Just another one of my eternal aches
Which are hidden somewhere deep inside,
Hidden in the back of the feeling called pride.
I’m smiling, but a cobweb of sadness gapes between us
You don’t feel that, even nobody else does.
Something cold and strange fills the air
Oh, God. Let it be just a night-mare.
But, let’s face it. It is not.
This is far away from what I’ve sought.
The love, your love for me is gone now
It happened…I don’t know, somehow.
I’m unable to say anything on my part,
A beaming wreath of thorns covers my heart.
But the thoughts are clear in my mind
Although a way out they shall not find:
I will never ever love the way I loved you,
And I’ll nobody let hurt me the way you do.
The most veracious fact I regret remains unsaid
Is…”I will truly love you till I am dead”.
Springtime touch unfolds veracious winsome,
colorful rainbow blossom to come.
Tranquil redolence fragrance,
a ballad narrated on carpet grass pleasance.
Crisp dawn enlightens fanciful golden
colors, of purples, pinks, greens, quaint and olden.
Blends float and dance amongst the valley
outstretch, toward enraptured abbey.
Glorious hanging ivy, juniper, kiss
me not plants, all in a garden's vast bliss.
As the fields blossoms quince to thirst
sweet and tender jewels among all to burst.
7/28/2021
assiduous
spiritual voices
whisper veracious words:
faith tested
is faith strengthen…
firmed like tested muscles…
flexing mind
expands and joyful spirits
dance as mental quills
ink blood of truths…
hemorrhaging
melodic metered sounds
flowing freely from
the sable cerebral womb:
delivering new hope
sucking leaking nipples
of undying faith…
Sacrifice
Hardships, however hard they try,
Will always be cruel.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the hardships,
Gently they go - the harsh, the barbarous, the inhumane.
How happy is the true atonement!
Are you upset by how veracious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the atonement so accurate?
I saw the big unpleasant person of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the pain.
Are you upset by how prodigious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the pain so galactic?
I saw the the yellow compunction of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the repentance.
Whip. whip, whip.
One afternoon I said to myself,
"Why isn't the fellowman more extraordinary?"
Down, down, down into the darkness of the fellowman,
Gently it goes - the characterless, the mundane, the commonplace.
I saw the eternal trait of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the humbleness.
Does the humbleness make you shiver?
does it?
Sondering mind which realises the agony of every heart,
this is how the journey of a poet starts.
Praise and prejudice he receives all,
one who rises is bound to fall.
For telling the truth and being a sleuth,
the poet is refrained.
His veracious poetries are simply disdained.
Using his pen like a sword he slashes through the society to know it all,
the ugly truth makes his body shiver,
his candour heart starts to quiver.
A poet is a mirror of the society ,
who portrays the real picture with propriety.
He writes what he feels,
he writes what he sees.
He has seen love blossoming in the middle of a war.
He has seen treachery in a family of four.
He has seen the fear in the eyes of a prey when the lion roars.
The duty of a poet is to write and write with all his might.
To write about war and forget love,
is like describing the colour white without mentioning dove.
Sorrows ,misery and happiness are the stanzas of the same poem,
look around my dear friend, you will find a poet in every home.
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