Hands hold tight to the loose ends of hope
As we toil and crack, night and day,
Hoeing up bits of earth and its fragile retributions.
Our crops and little beads of sweat drip to waste
On the ground’s boiling soils.
Eyeh is another name for a deceased generation.
The ones that sprout stubbornly through restive
Delays get re-greened, losing vibes of communal
Watering, ceremonial baptisms.
Birds build their nests in haste,
When bent cusp-blades sprout secretly at twilights,
Behind ethereal curtains of dawn falling
To the consternation of treacly, bitter syrups of time . . .
Is this continuous planting . . . and delirious season?
Has it come to that —when drunken war mongers
Form weapons from slats of pallid bamboo stationed
At the guard posts of violated yams and their flaccid
Tendrils?
I fear.
Such suzerainty over yellowing crops
Transcends the coats of black dust hiding from the disease
Of identity.
It is still planting season, brethren.
The deafening sounds of cannons shake the stalks yonder.
There's a smug dance of weevils on the graves of tubers.
Right now reside; millions of files,
Where there should be no evil wiles
Yet it appears there? Is much rorting.!
Also rife cocaine snorting
With the protection; of most evil viles.!
All such in congress's much revered seat.?
There law-takers! Are enact-ing the delete..
Of all evils; squirming like real weevils'
(To forge false history?) Most incomplete
Just, more palatable, to folk on the street.?
fairy ring beckoned with fallen oaks the seat
she loosened blond hair for all elves to see
dancing in a circle around one rock deep
toadstools were there numerous with buzzing bees
owl hooted deep, arriving late afternoon
in distance farmhouse empty, sported balloons
spiders and grasshoppers smashed cymbals and drums
vineyard workers sleepily dreamily hummed
fat strawberries blood red on juicy offer
down she descended into a loamy hole
to examine nourishing cocoa coffers
then taste spiced cherry brandy alongside moles
her pink petalled dress became nastily soiled
she lost her wide crimson hat to earthworms coiled
tunnels were decorated with soft chestnuts
ladybugs slowly shopped for investment huts
below she found busy beetles, flora seeds
grey weevils digging into sour rotting leaves
roots of varying colours with buried beads
entangled were elf lovers like naughty thieves
teasingly were filled with the fruity brandy
many were heady drunk they became angry
she judiciously spotted coloured bangles
happily returned to own tree bespangled !
**
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
7/14/2025
Oh, how could this have ever happened here?
A free naton with baseball, movies and beer?
Those days when other nations cry against the USA…….DIE?
I think on tha, when we turned far left… America’s very soul died.
Those who so loathe and hate our free nation.
Created conspiracy theories,like…boll weevils.
They would do anything to destroy this nation and make America evil?
None of us realizing, how this would divide all of us.
A necrotic snake filled some, like decaying green pus.
And the proof is in the yowling streets of PA is heard .
Of misled shouts of hate, like some insane, hysterical, mysteriuos birds.
Many people died but many unaware, people could care less!
They much prefer riotinh and lies and walk in a state of mental undress.
Our streets full of both USA and Israeli shrill haters.
In masks and flags,green flafs~ such insane, victim baiters.
That “religious” mantra shouted aboard the 9/11 plaines,
Rings in my tender ears, like an exploding, crashing train.
A rage results:
the orange dolt’s
been at the tweets.
Or truths they’re called -
I am appalled;
please bring receipts.
Then Harris talks -
word salad pox
from pre-typed sheets.
Oh, RFK
You had the day,
why the retreats?
—————
A Rhupunt of the form aaB ccB ddB with 4-syllable lines
around my mailbox
a sunflower convention . . .
weevils unwelcome
.Evil
A wormy apple bruised
bread crawling with weevils
Mottled black and blue
Essences of evil
Skull and crossbones warn
deadly poisonous gas
Tortured cries and moans
Creepy sutured mask
Disguises of light and truth
Hiding grotesque thoughts
Someone follows you
Security, safety lost
Empathies a myth
I alone am real
Fill your terror with
All that I don't feel
Bodily pain excites
But even better I crave
Destruction of the mind
Making you depraved
A little harmless here
A bit of, only human, there
Deeper darkness steer
Till it's hard to care
I knock a jolly rhythm
To distract you and disarm
You unlock the first one
and Quiet the alarm
Peeking, who is there?
Show all my wicked teeth
Desensitized you stare
And open the door to me.
super boll
boll weevil twin brothers: one was great, one the lesser of two weevils
you killed my father, prepare to die
three-legged dog in a saloon: "looking for the man who shot my paw"
a news headline i'd like to see
buddhist avoids novocain wants to transcend dental medication
somewhere in the middle
she once told me i was average i said she was just being mean
that would be a real night-mare
he tries to not talk like a horse doesn't want to be a neigh sayer
what's a particle like you doing in a place like this?
neutron asks "how much for a beer?" the bartender says, "for you, no charge"
eleventh one's the charm?
i entered ten pun contests hoping one would win
no pun in ten did
Happy New Year to all... may your 2023 be filled with smiles
The trees know very well
And so do the limbs.
Nature tells the limbs
To release the leaves because
Their provisions of shadows
And shades have now ended.
The wind picks up and scatters
The leaves as they quietly fall.
Fields of grains and nuts abound;
Opened cotton buds astound;
Boll Weevils are not around.
Fall is the harvest season when
Painted leaves begin to descend.
High-tech landscaping all around,
But not for the raking of leaves.
For 16 years and more,
This exercise of hard labor prevailed.
Most chores are less adored,
But raking leaves were never adored.
Once upon a time, there were four trees;
Then there were two; And then there was one.
I gladly say, now there is none.
The trees and leaves, I miss; honest I do;
I miss their quiet descent from smog-filled skies;
I miss the protection from solar rays provided to me.
I miss their treasured colors, their artistry;
But I do not for one New York second, miss
Racking the leaves of mulberry trees.
101722PSCtest, Painting prompted Poetry Contest
Lisa YY. Chosen picture:#2. 2P
Not at all nice:
In one's hair lice
In one’s room mice
Weevils in one’s rice
In lieu of full cake, a slice
One’s highest post “vice”.
Permanent ear for advice.
A bad throw of Life’s Dice,
Quick to itself half disguise,
Already on one fixing a price:
To The Rest, Worth Thrice
A Stroke of humbling bad luck
An Eagle makes A Duck!
MEET A POET TODAY
I know birds that weave shrubs into nest on trees ??
I know rodents that do same in crevices
I know apes that do their gymics on branches
Even the weevils that pulverise grains into dusts
And for goldsmiths that twist the fate of precious stones
If you ever marvel at these things
Pay a visit to a poet
They are the gods that weave words into twines and brass chains
Make one a friend today
Tomorrow you will speak in Solomon's words
CONCEPTUAL FM
the covid-19 is perching
hither to thither
branch to branches
in the surviving breaths of human!
for the rescue
from the poor deaths
the human timid mind
worried to have vaccine
but yet to have it
hungry mind
passionately dies
poor death
no way
without waiting
into the venom of innovation
world will be alive long
this mind into the jaw of weevils
thru unknown assassin mills
18.10.2020 Chattogram
oiled cast iron black
preheating pan in oven —
weevils in cornmeal
10/13/2020
Sweet Sarah got ready to bake
A sticky rich dark ginger cake
Her flour was appaulin’ -
vile weevils were crawlin’
to use it would be a mistake!
Those weevils could make her cake sour
So Sarah gets rid of that flour
She emits a cus
Then hops on a bus…
She’s baking in less than an hour
For Barry with my love
08/20/20
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