Putting on the style at Grande Yatte*
'stipletized' by Georges Seurat
in pointillist perfection
on the eye a 'delectation'
stepping through the automatic doors
of a brand new grocery store
is a peek into another world
there’s no sandwich counter here, a tragedy—
but the frozen aisle in the center of the store
you have to take the bad with the good.
I could see fear come alive in her eyes,
she knew I could bring about her demise;
We stared and then raised a mutual flag
just like an insidious game of tag;
Locked gaze and two pair of fangs extending,
but as of yet there was no blood flowing;
Fable and I were gonna have to work
together and not drive ourselves berserk;
I said to her ‘I want to learn from you.
Knowledge is power. I know this is true.’
Reached out to her with a very firm hand
felt like we were exchanging contraband;
It’s alright for now I’ll call her ally,
and take her once she has taught me to fly.
The pretty cast of sorrow—
Hollow, yet comforting,
When damasked on those lips,
Or teased upon that fake smile
I see such sorrow inside of her
And weep inwardly,
For I love her gazes
And hate her mazes
Paler now is the face
And love it more I must,
For the moment I express disgust,
She is gone like rain
Leaving guilt on trickling rooftops
Hollow company—
Is still company,
And that is why I still love her—
Somehow her smile is real
2.23.20
knowledge is not a cubicle;
ignorance's hideout, flapdoodle,
corrugated roof of worn wits
damp drips, drizzles illusion spits
neither is knowledge a haven;
hoisted hell, callous clips cloven
la-de-da lake retention dug,
choked to brim by cursed current- lust
nosy knowledge is not heaven;
forlorn Utopia - Joy's oven
fame's pulchritude, honour's specter,
voluptuous variance of blisters
knowledge is a luminary;
hops into wits, then fumes instinct.
'20:06:22:17:56
Note: of nosy knowledge.
When I look back, feel you deserve 'Thank you'.
not that you've helped me a lot; fact is you
made me realize how to think anew;
Once thought my world is spinning around you.
Convinced without you I've no existence
sure you'd not leave me, help me each instant
but I was wrong; suffered life was twisted;
life taught me to move with no assistance.
Facing world, don't need your shadow to grow;
Past is no longer holding me, I know.
Learned to accept self as I'm; no crying
no grudges, work hard to meet requirement ;
your guilt taught me to be self reliant;
And you deserve 'Thank you' ; I'm not lying.
~X~X~X~
L,
Boom, boom, boom
a dozen pressed upon a dozen
drawn, I am
to the sound
etched
and sculpted
not wanting to pass
the heart and her songs
carried towards me
like crosses of past
naming names
but the rest are all the same
boom boom boom
badda boom boom boom
clickety clickety clack
there's no turning back
minds open, legs splayed
fingers trailing
spines tingle as pages turn
torn with the wrappings
meaning melts, delving deep
words looped and alluded
an interlude of skin
drawn, I am
boom boom boom
outside of the desire
hearts begin to swoon
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXIII
IF you pull a long-pained face
After tumbling down the Stairway
Do not the blame put on loose shoe-lace
The fault, pained-poet, may lie in gut-loose kidney
Now if you still pull that pained-look victim face
Watching others trip down whistling care-free gay
Turn back the pages and ill-fraught lines replace
With clippety-cloppy trained strides in horse-shoe gait
Yet if you insist on parading your long-pulled face
Draw not attention to the Maker of the Stairway
Nor sit on High Horse of thorough-bred DNA race
Most if not ALL will slip down the slippery Stairway
If you go on pulling that long-dethroned face
Know that ev'ry race-winner aloft long does not stay
Be it White Brown Black Yellow or of mixed-race
No use then claiming favoured-place with Potter of clay
So if you must pull that long Pale Face
Do it where you don't step on toes in any way
Sunscreen melotinine paves not way to pride of place
If you believe in One Maker why d'you to One Son pray
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 23, 2019
IF ever I had a country : XXIII-XXIV
XXIII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Home Secretary
I wouldn't sit on my baked beans doing my level-best to avoid responsibility
While waiting to pat myself on the back on Bastille Day down the Champs Elysée
I'd keep both public and pubic forces from running rampage on every refugee
But set about tidying the House with bleach to rid oath-taking secret skullduggery
That is, if ever I were but the Home Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country
XXIV
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Interior Secretary
I'd neither arrogate nor take for granted Hobbes's Leviathan-authorised cruelty
I'd seek and demolish local townships' self-appointed chief mafiosi
Who undermine hotel-maids with virile World Bank authority
Who add to the You-Too Hall of Fame Hollywood-producer community
That is, if ever I were but the Interior Sec in Gay Paree
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 10, 2018
Be Strong and Courageous
Says the Grand-Master
The Harvest is Plenteous
The Fields are Wide
Your Possibilities Are Endless
Be Strong and Courageous
I know you’re so sure of yourself
I know your Dreams are so Real to you
Likewise, real is the Messenger of Misery
You don’t have to be Pessimist
But be ye optimist of him too
Late or sooner, it is the path of greatness
Be strong and Courageous
Only the Persistent Do Exploits.
@JULY 2017/©M.H.O.G Unveiled
The rich surely starch t-rump's collar
So now they're entitled to holler
"A third world domain
Is what you shall maintain
While we retain all of each dollar"
Pope John xxiii,
Was considered absurd.
To change that view,
He started Vatican ii.
Sharp and branded was the hunger
Thundering within my paunch
guised as the quintessence
spearheaded by life
‘twas the claw cast
from death’s marred teat
Heard within yonder valleys
Whence I sought freedom
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