The currency of pretty

How could you be so Beautiful
and not show anyone?

Why do you squander this Gift
doing nothing powerful
with it-

You don’t have enough to spend
frivolously, you said.
Our investments differ dramatically.
Meanwhile, I have been saving up
All my paper money
for disgraced tears
the old fashioned way.

Only trying to help you get
A head of yourself.

Your advice is not the flotation
device
I need to keep a heads up.
I think I am too heavy, too deep
to let it Be. Do not worry about me.
I would happily dissolve back into the sea
as in, dis-
appear
coming back again and again in tide,
leaving crumby trails of gold.

This was you being ugly,
or just one of many duplicates.
Monotony blinds anyone who sees just
silhouettes and small talk, grains as significant-

Personal preferences aside, you should see
Yourself in this light.

Instead we blow off the complimentary
and make glass castles or ballerinas,
all so fragile where thinnest.
If only we could trade
places
matter and Purpose
melt in twisted hands,

beauty was nothing new.

Photo credit by Graham Crumb/Imagicity.com [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

A more & A greater than

Z sing iz, the buzz on thee,

Love is too little, jolie, jolie, jolie,

Je t’adore. Je t’ aime. Jest a phaze

Pshaw, lust must pass away.

Love’s haze, amazes me, truly,

enamored in deceitful enamel,

this shine, all mine, in Love.

Trivial, no? Failure in this,

is mans kind demise,

dismissal of duality

a potential of casualty-

could be more…

In love,

first, then find.

F is force, for P, probability

E is of course our energy, and

why, z axis, a spot on a plane

two dimensions entwined,

I find lines hold space,

needing each other just as much

for meaning and definition,

listen...

it sounds like hummmmm

with i 

and feels like u.


Painting by Joshua Reynolds, 'Mrs. Abington as Miss Prue in Love for Love' (1771) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Chit for chat

You can keep your cloudless days
              I prefer the truth.
Don't tell me about the clear blues
              when I've been hazy grey.
Why waste our time-
why show me natural beauty-
when I am more of a metaphor...

You can take your warm sunshine
                I was already too hot.
Leave me alone in the cold
                where my heart feels homey.
Why talk to me about exotic places-
why try to fantasize about far away-
when I will always dwell in self-fulfilled...

You can give it up
                holding others happy.
Don't tell me it was yours
                when you've never had it.
Why keep saving everything for later-
why not save yourself-
when there's nothing left-now.

You can say you would
                  I will not say.
Don't think I might change my mind
                  when it's on too tight.
Why not convince
why not debate your own issues
while I'm sitting pretty writing poetry
not seeking what may be-
                                         outside of me.




Image of painting by Laurits Andersen Ring (1908) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Writing a Rebus

Poetry is where
we put words near each other
Pretty-true or not.











Image by Périclès Pantazis, 1884 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.