Friday, June 9, 2017

Hex-ameter in cent-imeters


The spoken curse at last 
resonance on red lips 
from dripping fingertips-
May you live in interesting 
Times (chorus again).
Thy will be done -Here-
at all costs
Thy-
Will be done.


Painting by Charles Bird King [CC0 or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Where purple fades to black


Draw, if you can, a picture
Please-with your eyes closed in bliss-
May I imagine seeing it too,
and what if-could I be with you
this night where we never miss the truth
if it should fall before us

Find, if you can, a wish
hitched along aligning stars
winking the words in a code
they read, like they need
to fill up all our empty cups with
drops between here and there

So why are we still so thirsty
amid our aqueous aura
see opulent streaks, purple pains majestic-
The salt is the bitterness, now all dried up-
maybe the ache will shoot me-
the shape of lines we need to meet
May be in ink, in visible
made purple and moon

Feel, if you could, a feather-
this is the same as my kiss
Want is the honeyed passion oil
glimmering for attention under heat-
watch the butter-flies battle this
This, this, is the same as wonder

Why are we left wanting
this is more than we can grasp in a life
this is more than we can make in a word
shown ourselves wrapped up in a code
enigmatic strike momentary flashes
passed missed messages
millions of miles apart, we started

Be cause, once I've heard-past-
where the purple fades to black
and the doves skip the lyrics
due to heavy rain
this is where we dance outside of time
feeling the echoes of each
others heart beat
living in the notes.
"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music." -Aldous Huxley

This poem is in tribute to and inspired by the artist Prince and his lyrics to the song "When Doves Cry"recently passing away at the age of 57 on April 21, 2016. 

Published in A Prince Tribute Poetry Anthology, published by Yellow Chair Review.

Image of painting by Charles Joshua Chaplin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

2nd Image of Purple rose By Portraitlady4306 (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Give & Take


The most random growth
strikes me as superfluous
Beauty.
Look around;
Light, colors, temperature, 
                        and patterns too ornate
to recreate by free hand. Living proof.
I take it in too deep, bury stars under dust
And as ugly as I try
a mote may hope
to grow out of it.


Illustration from Patrick Moore's Watcher of the Stars in 16th century[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A loud thought


We
are the only creatures
that are meta

Supposedly
as in Assumption
Anthropologically
or making
Anthropocenes
and calling it
as though It is

Fragmented-
they said
I was
Funny,
that is my poetry showing
if you have a sense of humor
or comical elbow
you know
jabs are blunt

This specific species
doesn’t understand
All 
parts as a whole

some were mystified
and thought the Art clever-
Others never
see the holes
by volume of alibis

Let’s confess,
if it bleeds it needs
Compression
another way to say
another need-
                      to say.


Painting by John Michael Wright [Public domain], Portrait of a Lady (17th century) via Wikimedia Commons.

Caught in a (w)rec(k)tangle


When the house becomes too small to move-
Say-the mind a sliver, the air stagnates,
Move, make ninety degrees and push
yourself in the corner as close as you can
                                                    and wait,
settle eventually
                                      into splitting sides.

The edges are solid suggestions.
Only like (a)new angle,                thirty-three
vertebrae stacked spines of letters in cantos
                        Will line up to form new rays,
circular thoughts that roll off to escape
                                                       -common
nodes or intersects by a(n)arrow marginality.

Letterally, let us build this thing out
with meaning and not caulk it up impermeable
Around the double pane windows
Only to trap commas in between
Breath and rain
Between escape and containment
We will just
stay in place and listen
Accepting the sentence
as the last line
Insight. May be make more
empty dwelling spaces
To call a place
None like Home. 


Painting by Michiel Sweerts [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

ReHab Babble Skyrise


Talking over each other, toward-ish not to
but around each other,
                            behind each 
others spinal columns and ghostly
inaction at tiny distances-do nothing near 
                           commons called locales-
Not True?
Anyway,
don’t listen-

when I say,
Enough! I speak for all of us that agree
-could care less about your new shit
or your big problems with your filtering of priorities, 
memory filters, memes, alternative egos and the surplus
Time it took to Kill. Reborn
jabberwocky pixelating phantasm self-orgasming
person robin the hood, savior self from
who you think we think you are. 

None of us want to see what you ate, 
whom you date
yourself by. Don't try to project Person-ality-
when you give backfeed and Forgot how to hear
yourself.
Keep your mouth shut,
didn’t your mother teach you,
manners as a method.

Of saying ‘crazy’ as different,
like the rest, support group relate share the misery-
Take offense? Sure. 
You take defense-the rope is taut.

Did it ever strike you as hurtful -to those with a soul-
dead dolphins, gunfire and blood pools, horrors inhumane
over and over to cause shock but do not strike targets.
Empty shells, mortality falls without impact, on humane
little bitties in cities, breathing on napes.

The awe-some is missing 
that is the bad (fake) news.
Nobody has good news.Celebration is tinged in green.
Locking ears, locking doors, passwords, scans, investments,
Borders, opportunities, admissions, medical plans, retirement,
Money matters and alchemical altruism,

Like science and solution, we are no closer to Here-ing
answers or pleas
we were not looking for while listening to 
the noise, rabble and hum all the while
making no Art of matters

no sense resonates the virtual landscapes,
people posting photos so image lingers, loiters...
muttered some such muse, so much more was 
found unsound and lost between flashes.



Painting by Richard Caton Woodville, Sr. [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
"During a brief career Woodville produced a number of paintings that serve as key documents of urban life in pre-Civil War America. After training in his native Baltimore, Woodville traveled to Düsseldorf to enroll in the town's renowned art academy. He remained in Germany for six years and then briefly visited Paris and London before his early death at the age of thirty. While an expatriate, Woodville painted small, anecdotal genre scenes recalling life in Baltimore. Portrayed here is a typical scene in mid 19th-century Baltimore as described by Charles Dickens: "[of] all eaters of fish, or flesh, or fowl, in these latitudes, the swallowers of oysters are not gregarious . . . and copying the coyness of the thing they eat, do sit apart in curtained boxes, and consort by twos, not by two hundreds." The humor Woodville usually imparted to his subjects is illustrated in this typical Baltimore scene showing local individuals, seated in the booth of an oyster house, engaged in conversation. This work was executed in Düsseldorf for the Baltimore lawyer John H. B. Latrobe (1803-1891)"

X-plane-ing


Never start with

-Because-
it was not good
-nothing-Was
until you found it, nevermind-
motives mean nothing.

I have seen you,
said the old Tribe
in lieu of hollow
Hellos or glum Good byes.

A meeting of the minds may be more than
mirroring-one thing.
(maybe we see the reflective colors
sum up the subject of the object.)

Distractions do divert 
-lightening the wait
of Attraction, less is no more 
than Was. 

Entropy, conceptually, 
reminds us of death.
Heaven forbid our mortal enemy leaves us 
mementos. 
Life lingers on plans, killing time, we forget
Desire by simplifying chaos.

Using zeros and ones
we reduce friction, concentrate on feedback,
Thus, by sharing our singularity as a hole and saying
We relate

origami, fractals, nets,
Symbols are all familiar 
And with so many ways to skin Schrödinger’s cat
how could we-
Not

Because
It is or was

Not a good place to start
with y and ex-plane-ing
flatly, footsteps in another di-
mention.


Photo credit By Agriculture And Stock Department, (1951) Publicity Branch [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Tres (trace)

Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...