Blighted ideals
Dark and sticky tar
They tell us how to think and act 🎬
They think themselves a Star!🌟

They ascend to the heights!
A chimneysweep of soot
They on Hollywood Boulevard
They are underfoot 👣

People like a Robot 🤖
Should give starships a Cruise
But when any star goes nova
It's a lookout world 🌎

YOU LOSE.👎👎

Let me tune my fiddle 🎻
Rosen up my bow
I'm gonna play some music 🎶
This is how it goes...

A puglistic apology
A puce, cerulean green
A typical singularity
A misanthropic preen
A conjoined polarity
A char woman queen
Simian anthropology
Avian submarine....

I owe you an apology
I really must come clean
I could play words for hours
But this is what I mean:

I'm truly playing music 🎶
As all true poets know
The paper is my violin 🎻
And my pen's my bow!


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022

Let's get down to
The meaning of words

NOT SUPERFICIALITIES!


SoulSurvivor
2022
[10W]

I hobble hunched
I used to walk
I shuffle, once I ran.
I mumble where
I used to speak
An eloquent woman.

Yesterday, my birthday.
Today it is a test.
The future is a mystery
Til I am laid to rest.

Each day is a struggle
But it could be worse
I'd be depraved
And be unsaved
Traveling in a

HEARSE.

There is a Queen of Dreamland.
She's strange, so be prepared!
It's an odd world she lives in,
black snow hangs in the air
We ain't ever getting older
Is what the folk say there...
They have photo albums
Perched upon the stairs
Sunglasses for the moonlit stars...
They can't stand the glare!
They love wine colored curtains
So just be aware!

Yes, they wear the sunglasses
because they hate the dark.
They'll run into a
tree's marble trunk
While walking in the park!

The Queen herself is rather plain.
Much like a sparrow bird.
Wearing brownish sackcloth,
I know that sounds absurd!
She has skin that's red from the chafing
But she never says a word.
Her portrait is a painting,
From it her song is heard!

There's shouting from deserted crowds
A snowflake in her eye
There's air within the oceans
And water in the sky.

So while you're in your consciousness
Be sure to meet the Queen
Be dazzled by her beauty
For it is her greatest dream!

A Patriarch in Faraway land
Had sons who were at odds.
Both wanted father's favor
So this king would laud
They both raced for fortune,
So he wanted them to PLOD.
He wanted them HUMBLE
So he asked of God...

The Prophet he petitioned
Spake, "Give each a horse.
Of great heart and lineage,
Which can stay the course.

Equines brave and stalwart,
When they first begin,
But they must not finish!
The slowest horse will win!

And so the father did this.
He gave each a steed.
Each a Highborn thoroughbred
Dam Triple Crown seed!
He told his sons the riddle,
They were perplexed indeed!

But for his land and all his gold
They set out on their "race"
But soon it was quite obvious
The end would not take place!

They both stood in water
A river coursed its way
They were going to stop there.
No Brave Horse held sway!
Neither lad knew what to do!
Neither black nor dappled Grey
Would cross that cursed Finish Line!
So they began to pray...

The Prophet came up right away
And told them what to do.
As they both heard the simple answer
They knew it to be true!
They rode off as chased by fire!
A HELLBENT race ensued!!

WHAT HAPPENED??

Frigid
Like an ice sculpture
In the bowels
of Pluto.
An iceberg in
a fjord.
Yet Having
no more substance
than an armature.
A windchime
of liquid nitrogen.

Gusty ghosts whistle
in harmony with the
shuddering of
Aurora Borialis.

Hunkered down
with no more
means than
a pocket
full of
metal
shavings.

A derelict who
has pushed
his shopping cart
all the way to
the point of
no return.

Now he sits
begging so
he'll have
enough to
hobble hunched.
To be a
high wire.


To
rattle
and
hum.