Buffet

One day, it will all work out for the best.

One day, karma will come.

One day, destiny will find you.

One day, it will be easy, one day it will be hard,

One day it all happened-as it should.

One day we will be together, one day apart,

One day we see eye to eye, one day we disagree

One day, or today, you say, we will,

One day, it may take longer to get there,

One day, I looked, as of

Today, it took

One week (will) to say no more.

To blend in and get the right shade of Hope

moving past

One and blending together for more. 




Painting by Imre Ámos, 1939 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Corners @ 90°

None believed her but she still tried to tell

She did not do it for being right or to 

skew hindsight with foresight.

She was just learning

to look at it with new eyes too.

By liberally applying divine 

Rules of architecture to structures

We discover limits 

Hover in the rafters

Broken beams, pride paid the bills,

Support came in pillars, mortared with guilt

No doors were hinged on labors of love-

but all things settle down, inevitably.

It was working, building

And making 

New sense

Of our life in boxes and wreck-tangles.




Painting by Antonio Pérez de Aguilar – Painter, c. 1769 in the Museo Nacional de Arte [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sound Reason

Poetry cannot

Preach and Listen 

simultaneously make or destroy

sense nor sense-ability.

Rock music and video games 

are responsible for all evils

not to mention

Others who don't do things

like we do.

Literature no longer poses a threat.

People don't read. 

People can spell but are inept

grammaticians. 

A poem can 

fair enough

hear and here itself becomes an echo,

like music, to sing along, to say,

open to all, an invitation

to taste.

The poet breaks line 

and all paper currency

down

so the pocket sings

wildly.

Relax, nobody is listening.




Due to the limitations of early cameras, this is the only known image of American orator Robert G. Ingersoll before an audience. Taken May, 1894 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Pearl-esque

At some point, it all becomes too condensed
to hold in one point, place or person.

I believe this to be the equivalent to the
internal pressure of a proton, that
binding force, around 100 decillion Pascal or
the compression at the center
of a neutron star.

These pearls glistening
in my lower quadrant of vision,
the milky way so to say,
are warm, as heat is conducted over
centuries. The pearls being given
to my grandmother by my grandfather
because of her name

He would take
a grain of sand
and a jewel was made.

He would wink at me every time
she tried to open the clam.




Painting by Charles Joshua Chaplin [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

20/20 Solution

Coincidence is a convenient
excuse in lieu
of exactitude, like revenge,
directed.
Which explains the
all too common
aversion to poetry,
making many believe
in God,
or a guiding hand
like muse and magic,
where attributions are
misplaced in
disappearing ink and through alchemy.

Ultimately, it seems we see
what we want
based on capacity, like neck rotation,
like breath and lung,
blinking and humidity,
following instructions, under certain conditions
these operate smoothly
without our requisite participation-

Yet when an event occurs
unfathomable and unforeseen,
scaring one's vision deep into the optic
down to the spinal column,
making it more important
to look away,
than move
on
without directions
that is when we say
we knew it, we caused it, we planned it,
it was meant
for the best.


Painting by Aleksander Grodzicki [Public domain] 1893, via Wikimedia Commons. 

Conductivity and Rhythm

The bass was low all day,
the only thing that resonated
was my deaf ear toward the treble.

When my eyes bulge with tears,
it is time to surrender,
when the bones feel metallic and leaden,

light notes miss their harmony.

A dread tastes sour and acrid
in the back of the mouth.

An idea of where one is and
what must be done is conjured
in a line, the music keeps time

alive, lightening the load

a feeling carries a tune
echoing the heart and human
need to be moved by sound.




Painting by Johann Carl Loth (circle of) (1632 - 1698) – Painter (German)Born in Munich. Dead in Venice.Located at the Palace Museum in Wilanów [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Elders and Elms

Officially adopted at the age of 38
by the man married to my mother.

The man's mother and father
put me to work on their ranch
over the summer breaks 

from school.

My mother was a strong woman,

I knew this
even though she worked in an office.

Until I turned thirteen
the man had never been afraid

of losing control

of a woman.

I remember the fear in his eyes.

He slapped me across the face.

I laughed and the man's eyes changed,
forever.

When I mentioned this occasion
to the man's mother,

she slapped me too. It felt the same.

This must have been touching to them,
genetically.

When she died, 

her husband, the man's father

molested me before the funeral.

Still-I lie there-

Since we were not family,

the father died a happy man.

Instead of bears, I take secrets to bed. 

My mother was not as strong as I thought. 

Painting by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.