3/3: Whole (again)

5 years past, Today
-found myself hiding in seas
of Carribean toxicity

5 short years, 1 long day to
morrow my bones fold back in
stratagems to the shale, or osteo-psychosis

5 diagnoses, desperation diseases
rampantly trying to stuff wholes,
fill up cold blanks with liquid heat

5 cycles, I find
myself-Welcoming fresh air
respiring It

5 forms of matter, liquid, gas
solid, vapor, and...
some one to sense

5 nickles make cents, part of
one quarter of one whole dollar
broken down to small change(s).

Point zero five of
one life, 5 years I began
living this real life, embracing the cool
elements.



Pastel by István Nagy [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Their father and his Illegitimacy

A father has a chance to live eternally;

Deeds do not die.

The man with no story passes on

rumors; Lies fall down,

Children grow up,

the man was rumored to be a father.

His story was short-lived.

Jasons Legacy:

"It was ALL about Me"

with so many me's

none will remember which Jason story-

since he's left nothing

Generously.

Painting by Albrecht Dürer, The Painters Father (1497) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

inner child

My body disrupts this empty room.

Thoughts are just whispers

but move matters around.

Inside voices, 

no need to interrupt

by asking

Nobody was home.

Woman at the Piano (1889, oil on wood panel, 26.0 x 13.1 cm) by Tom Roberts (1856–1931).

The painting is in the collection of the Art Gallery of South Australia.

A line meant...

Look at that desk, he said, five-hundred-page shuffle,

Don’t tell me that is the sign of busy,

Don’t give me some stupid story.

Obviously, to the untrained eye, the olio of font shapes, ink colors,

mixed mediums, led, lead, led to rushed conclusions-false starts-

See the red? I pled. This shows a state of flux.

Minus. He said, Excuses. I use that color too.

What do you do all day? Rotate sheets-scribble letters-

And he was a numbers guy, a math man, a counter of beans,

so the only way to balance

our opposing views was to speak strict geometry,

and stepping outside on  that crisp clear night I said,

See the equilateral triangle up there-look up-

Venus on the bottom right, Mars atop and the

Crescent moon? He smiled at me like the moon.

And said, I see, but what does that have to do with you,

You haven’t shown me anything new.

The next night, the same time, the book keeper asked

the book collector, Red anything today? She denied doing any further editing.

He preferred being in black himself.

There is no less of a mess on that desk. Tell me, Sweetie,

Have you gotten somewhere today? We still needed to reconcile.

So I took him back outside and told him to look up at the scalene now,

Venus sinking, the moon smirking, Mars winking wide and weak,

and asked him what does it mean?

He could not figure out the answer I was looking for,

So I helped him a bit and filled the space in with the correct operators,

Operate-hers, Calculate-hers and Compute-hers

were all aptly named for gender roles.

Without needing further proof,

he understood the expansion and rotation,

All at once he said

Read me one of your poems, Please. 

Image credit By Smithsonian Institution from United States [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Daily Meditations (I)

Seek inside a stanza,
ducking down, let the sound bounce free.
Wish or pray for more time to meditate, like this
while shuffling with neural nets
and through flightless filtering experience,
in a sense
of meaning, meaning
conclusion, for now.
Answer, meditation, as in
time spent lingering inside a poem,
perhaps hum
when it feels right
or seems to resemble light.
Yes, Make time.


Painting by Cornelis Bisschop (17th century) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

For Mally McFustian (the self-professed poet)

It was her likeness to opaque 

she could not hear the stark differences between 

Voice and God, Cid and William, her own and others.

She thought she was poetic, she was hazy.

There is no great mystery lying in the Milky Way, find another way

to mean something you say. It is people like she 

that claim they think in poetry,

who are killing it-Literally-

making-non-sense and none said a thing,

they all oohed and awed at the silk flowers-

So I chimed in but did not say-

What do you want, a medal for lighting a fire?

Hell fire sparks easier for those who whip out wet matches,

need accelerants and whet whistles with Sulphur sounds,

What the-

What did she just say? Blowing smoke and sourced upwind.

Are you certain that is the right meta-

for your point is dull.

Perhaps hone in on the infinite edge of the rose petal…

Where? Love resides? Could you not find any other name?

It pokes me thorny to read such stretches of imagination that span

Short of any original creation, or enhancement to the existing therein.

Entanglement, she is inclined to throw loops and claim fancy stitch-work,

I am seeewww anapestic. Vast like space,

the space between her ears.

There is a fly in my primordial soup. Like Hamlet, I smell a rat that

binges on stolen cheese, farts and claims he has made new

poetry or silent but thoughtful prose.

She nibbles at my nerves and deserves to be told descriptive decadence

is not originality or insight.  When blurry, when it makes no sense

of any related things, it does not ring pretty and honestly,

is pretty irksome. Obviously, this is not poetic but pathetic and

her-a-tic, the fuse has been lit.

Someone call her on her bull

Painting By L. Prang & Co. (publisher) (Flickr: Woman with Lily) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A bluebird likely named Emily D.

This afternoon I saw a magpie that was having a bad day.

He landed in the driveway, 

his breast was heaving and his head cocked at me-

Who found herself smiling. 

With a twitch she switches sides, 

she strobes a cocked moment. 

A second later, he shook himself, 

his feathers fluffed and re-stacked,

he unpacked his folded wardrobe, 

whipping out wrinkles

and flew towards the mountains 

-East. 

Warm body, she faced the fading sun.


Painting by Rubens Peale,1865 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.