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 Nov 2024 Scarlet McCall
badwords
Amid the clamor of self-assured minds,
Where the knowing parade their truths refined,
A quieter echo hums, profound and true:
The wisdom of those who confess, "I don't know."

Socrates walked where shadows spoke,
Challenging sages with questions that broke
The fragile veneer of their certain lore—
Truth's light reveals we know far less, not more.

To claim "I know" is to build a wall,
A citadel guarding knowledge small.
Yet cracks appear where hubris reigns,
And truth escapes through humility's pains.

The unknowing few, with open eyes,
Gaze past the clouds of prideful lies.
They ask, they doubt, they sift, they weigh,
In search of dawn where night holds sway.

Euthyphro claims divinity's hand,
Yet falters when truths shift like sand.
Crito pleads for escape to the day,
But justice demands the law's heavy sway.

Phaedo weeps at the prison’s gate,
Yet Socrates drinks the hemlock of fate.
In questions that turn the soul to flame,
The unknowing walk a nobler aim.

To know is to cease, to doubt is to grow;
The river flows where the winds dare blow.
For wisdom, dear friends, begins to take flight
Not in the sun, but in yearning for light.
Another one spun in a mutual dialog.
 Nov 2024 Scarlet McCall
badwords
How do you write?
You scarcely know—
A tide of self,
A shallow flow.

Humility’s mask,
Yet smugness blooms.
Words claiming depth
But filling rooms—

With echoes of "me,"
And truths self-proclaimed,
While privilege sings
Unrecognized, untamed.

"Stay out of trouble,"
The simplest creed,
From hands unsoiled,
Unaware of need.

To hold the heart,
To "worship" deep,
Yet gaze from towers
Where suffering sleeps.

You name life’s woes,
Its "beauty and pain,"
Yet ache for applause,
Not the broken chain.

Truths wrapped in ribbons,
So neatly spun.
Words dance for mirrors,
Blind to the sun.

A masterpiece, you say,
Not life—but "you"?
Oh, human spirit,
What hubris ensues!

For art is not
A throne to ascend;
It breathes for others,
Not self to defend.

The day is yours,
But whose lives are waste?
Speak not for all—
Your truth is misplaced.

In Shakespeare’s shadow,
Your pen takes flight,
But art is no pedestal;
It is the fight.

So, hold your words,
And hold them true:
Not just for self,
But for all who view.

Let privilege fade,
Let self be small—
And only then,
Your art stands tall.
Just what the 'Doctor' ordered.
Pretty girls get listened to
Fat old ladies are ignored

A lovely face will unlock doors
A homely face will find them closed

A shapely figure’s always noticed
A shapeless one’s invisible.

This is the way society works
Not even pretending to be fair

How do I know about these rules
I have lived by them - Three out of six.
ljm
A revision from an old piece
I saw a turkey circling, high above Manhattan
his bronze and copper feathers ripped in the sun,
and it looked like it was having an awful lot of fun.

He looked proud, in those clouds—majestic and delicious,
I could picture him sprawled out, on our Thanksgiving dishes.
Then I thought, chastisingly, “Wow, in a way, that’s kind of vicious.”

I opened the glass doors—we were sitting on the sky-high terrace.
I thought I’d better check—so I wouldn’t later be embarrassed.
I called Karen (Lisa’s Mom), “You already got a turkey to prepare us?”

She was hand making apple and cherry pies, lining crust in the pans
“You bet!” She called, “One's dressed-up—and a honey-baked ham!”  
Closing the door, I yelled, through cupped hands, “Fly on Turkey—DO NOT LAND!”
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Songs for this:
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year - Shrift remix by Andy Williams and Shrift
One Day More by Les Misérables Original London Cast Ensemble

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I made this year's Christmas playlist!
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_34.mp3
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/25/24:
Chastise = to criticize harshly for doing something wrong.
I visit the dead at
the grocery store,
library,
on the phone
and
in my e-mails.
I watch them  
on TV,
at the beach,
in my dreams
and in the eyes
of crows.

They wear
colorful clothes, and
always want to
sell me on their
way of life.
No thanks, I’m  
calling the whole  
thing off.
I’m going fishing.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRhyjqbFrGI

My book is Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
the cage that I am in
is made of fear

you turn your head away
I am still here

and in the night
I bet you hear me scream

I bet you feel my terror
when you dream

I am your shadow
I am here to stay

I am you
I will never go away

LET ME OUT

let me fly
let me be free

I will not rest
until I find the key
to the big house, with gables
and the long tar driveway
with fray chestnut shingles
when I'd mingle with them,

when the door was ajar,
and I drove a cranberry red
four sedan car. I cannot rewind
the clock to afternoons filled

with laughs and talk, ***** jokes
and schemes. Dreams broke off
like branches taken by the
wind. This old body is wrinkled

and thinned. Some turned
to dust. Some like fallen leaves
turned rust. I, myself drink those
summers like a bottle of wine

when the sky was cornflower. We
had time to make all those plans,
that fell through like sand on a sieve,
the ones we cannot, no never relive.
dwarfed and obscure,
sit neatly arranged for all to adore.
Parched from the aridity, neglected by the sun,
I the bonsai never truly begun.

Cast in the shadows, growing off to the side,
never fully *****, always wanting to hide.
I the bonsai have the capacity to grow,
a little warmth and attention is all I need you know.
 Nov 2024 Scarlet McCall
badwords
Once upon a time. Very, very long ago
I found myself in infinite black.
Without direction, I started to go,
moving forward, never looking back.

Years and years I trudged through the dark,
always searching for a faint unknown.
Time unraveled, leaving no mark,
as I wandered in shadows alone.

A glow appeared, soft and shy,
its edges faint, but growing near.
A warmth, a whisper, a gentle sigh,
its promise banished every fear.

I was only a wanderer here, called to move on,
To find my courage and heal my longing.
But the moment has come, the awaited dawn,
To leave the void behind, the shadows thronging.

To guide me toward my quest was the light’s intent,
A companion to kindle strength within.
Waves of uncertainty washed over me, but onward I went,
To step into the glow, where new worlds begin.

This is where I am now, or have I always been?
Bathed in brilliance, with nothing to fear.
Am I awake or asleep? Sometimes I think I dream
of a time before the light made all things clear.

It’s hard to remember and harder each time
to imagine darkness that once defined me.
I am soaring, endlessly.
Soon there will be only light. Only me.

I am light, and I have always been.
Infinite brilliance, eternally.
This is a companion piece I wrote in response to an earlier work and can be found here:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4665572/light-anti-darkness/

This collaboration emerged from a conversation about the Anti-Universe Theory, a scientific idea positing a mirrored universe where time flows backward. This theory resonated with the artist’s broader vision of uniting science, philosophy, and spirituality into a singular framework for understanding existence. Its inherent symmetry inspired the creation of Anti-Light, a poem designed as a reversed journey mirroring the artist's earlier work, Light.

The artist insisted on perfect structural and thematic symmetry between the two pieces. Anti-Light was conceived as a journey from infinite darkness into radiant light, in contrast to Light, which explored the progression from light into the void. Through iterative refinement, every element of Light—its pacing, structure, and even its pivotal moments of transition—was inverted and reimagined to craft a companion piece that mirrored its emotional and narrative arc.

Artist's Intent for "Anti-Light"
The poem Anti-Light reflects a journey of emergence and renewal, counterbalancing the descent into darkness depicted in Light. Where Light conveys the loss of illumination and the struggle within an infinite void, Anti-Light celebrates the ascent into warmth and brilliance. Together, the two pieces form a dualistic narrative, resonating with the concept of mirrored existence central to the Anti-Universe Theory.

This duality speaks to a broader philosophical and artistic intent: to explore the balance between beginnings and endings, despair and hope, darkness and light. The artist uses these poems to express a unified vision of existence, echoing their belief in the harmonious interplay of science, philosophy, and spirituality through the lens of art.
There’re so many sad love poems around here.
If you guys need help negotiating love’s slippery *****,
let me offer you, your own, romantic horoscope!:

Don’t court romantic disaster
don’t mistake a lightbulb for the moon
Titanic wasn't a rom com

and a sad update:
Grand romantic gestures don’t happen anymore,
you're lucky to get a vibration in our pocket with a "sorry" text


I know what you're thinking though, “We didn’t know the moon was useless until we landed on it,” but once you’ve ‘landed’ on a guy (or girl), once or twice, it’s too late—you’re likely ‘in it.’

Big picture-wise, I think we all have Shakespeare to thank for unrealistic, romantic storylines. Romeo & Juliet are the perfect example—they meet, fall in love and marry the very next day.

In Shakespeare’s defense though, love in his world-building was always messy and imperfect, and there were few "happily ever after" narratives. (The exception being Beatrice and Benedick, in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’).

In a side note, my weekly horoscope (Libra) for the Thanksgiving holiday reads:
You’ve become so self-centered, It’s all about you. What about your family? Before you go emo and angry, change your perspective—own it—strive to improve relationships.
Sarsh (so harsh), in this writer’s opinion.
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(Songs for this):
Love Is In Town by Brenda Boykin
Do You Even Know? by Rae Morris
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/23/24:
Negotiate = "to navigate around, or over successfully."
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