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Silence is the most powerful scream! So now I would like to share my deepest thoughts with you and hope you get inspired, relate to …
Gaborone Botswana
I design stuff, words too
Poems
preston
May 2020
From the sodden, trundled forest floor the trees reached higher
than he ever imagined possible-- pine needles from the conif,
blending in perfectly with those, broadleaf.. a strange, almost
absurd-feeling; symmetry- in a world, nothing more than
cluttered and confused--
in the eyes of a small-one, now subject..
And now as a grown man,
I return to the disenchanted forest..
in order to bring enchantment.
At the edge of the rustic, one-room
cabin, I pause..
choosing to peer in, rather than enter--
my world-hardened hands, now pressed against
cracked window glass--
opaque, but still..
I can see..
Inside the small room is as if a cosmo to itself-- there is a large
ring of dark water, surrounding what
seems to me to be a small island,
yet still, I can feel her..
sense her glow..
And magnificent within
her solitude and silence..
she is strong,
and firm-- her war-torn heart, gathered and secure..
all boundaries, seemingly intact--
but there is a teeming..
a never-ending movement
of some form of life-
..in what I had once thought a ring of dark water,
but can now see as if some kind of a fear-hewn moat..
and the movement within, none other than that
of those trying to reach her.
She is the prize,
pulled away from the threat of harm
by her intricately created world.
And there is this black movement above her.. what is that?
Moving in rhythmic synchronization..
like a flock of starlings maybe..
The wings that give them flight, are bat-like and sharp..
and only varying sections at a time of the flock's movement
alight on to her..
as other ones take flight and rejoin the ever-moving,
ever-shifting flock's shape..
..and as each changing of the guard takes place,
the inhabitants of the moat change color--
the light, now reflecting through the small window
and bringing a matching glow to my arm..
And though I remain unaffected by the color of light,
I see the whole nature of the moat, conform to each color's change..
And it is then that I realize
that the birds are the pieces of her fragmented heart,
and the changing colors, her perceived reality..
based on whatever portions of her heart are inside of her
at any given time.
The moat provides the distance,
yet one without its inhabitants even knowing
they are in it--
changing color in order to fit in to
her ever-changing reality.
I will never enter into the moat..
and the color change is hers, not mine.
I am more distant to her now
than even those, of the moat..
and my refusal to change color
will always be a point of contention--
but for her, I am the only one who sees,
I am the only one who knows
about the island, the starlings.. the moat.
She loves me so much,
she hates me.
My prayer for her is that one day,
that whole flock of starlings will alight on to her..
and never, ever leave.
Maybe on that day also, her moat filled with
Mona Lisas and Madhatters, will finally, dry up..
and that her color perception
will become the colors that truly are,
rather than those, of her ever-changing, shift
A disenchanted forest-- enchanted, once again.
as she quietly whispers into my ear..
"Until you've seen this trash can dream come true
you stand at the edge while people run you through,
..and I thank the lord, there's people out there like you"
https://youtu.be/OthHVnG9EKg
xox
"Until you've seen this trash can dream come true
you stand at the edge while people run you through,
..and I thank the lord, there's people out there like you"
https://youtu.be/OthHVnG9EKg
xox
Andrew Rueter Aug 2021
Moat of Sand
Andrew Rueter
Aug 2021
There's a moat of sand
it's a bulwark for a prosperous kingdom
beyond the Rio Grande
treacherous trajectory
through an ocean of heat
on the way to their rectory.
There's a moat of sand
turning refuge into risk
dividing two brands
predators look to make one suffer
an ATV piranha's snack attack
tases pregnant mothers.
There's a moat of sand
on the journey from hell to heaven
where the blessed meet the ******
gnawed to the bone
by roaming coyotes
while searching for home.
There's a moat of sand
guarding providence
the bountiful land
just when you think it can't get any hotter
you see a shrine for the dead with a sign
saying they didn't bring enough water.
There's a moat of sand
that's unforgiving and cruel
so it's used by man.
it's a bulwark for a prosperous kingdom
beyond the Rio Grande
treacherous trajectory
through an ocean of heat
on the way to their rectory.
There's a moat of sand
turning refuge into risk
dividing two brands
predators look to make one suffer
an ATV piranha's snack attack
tases pregnant mothers.
There's a moat of sand
on the journey from hell to heaven
where the blessed meet the ******
gnawed to the bone
by roaming coyotes
while searching for home.
There's a moat of sand
guarding providence
the bountiful land
just when you think it can't get any hotter
you see a shrine for the dead with a sign
saying they didn't bring enough water.
There's a moat of sand
that's unforgiving and cruel
so it's used by man.
Yenson Jul 2020
Re-moat control......
Yenson
Jul 2020
Group think in unison disarray
morons looking for Camelot in mob's dive
we spoil for mind war but pray lend us our minds
in cloudy storms of magical red rains our brains were washed
to pristine white
Our masters tell us
its a remote affair so show us the moat
we will swim float and jump
masters says its a revolution
we are revved up but spare us the elocution
Some are saying this is mindless but we could not care less
though those wenches were careless
when they stole from the Moor
who was not from the moors in North York
A bright spark said its a vendetta of thieves
they cut of his tongue and said his brains had not
been washed proper
that he was calling a ***** a *****
yet the masters had taken our pitchforks and cudgels away
them dumb masters keeps on saying remote remote
and then control, control, then, power, power
now if you ask me fellow hicks in unison
this really is no time for **** roll
neither is it a time to go to the moat, what's it with this re moat
then they say its tower, tower
in Cromwells' name
are we being told to go via the moat for a **** roll in the tower
don't blame me they washed my brains a while ago.....
morons looking for Camelot in mob's dive
we spoil for mind war but pray lend us our minds
in cloudy storms of magical red rains our brains were washed
to pristine white
Our masters tell us
its a remote affair so show us the moat
we will swim float and jump
masters says its a revolution
we are revved up but spare us the elocution
Some are saying this is mindless but we could not care less
though those wenches were careless
when they stole from the Moor
who was not from the moors in North York
A bright spark said its a vendetta of thieves
they cut of his tongue and said his brains had not
been washed proper
that he was calling a ***** a *****
yet the masters had taken our pitchforks and cudgels away
them dumb masters keeps on saying remote remote
and then control, control, then, power, power
now if you ask me fellow hicks in unison
this really is no time for **** roll
neither is it a time to go to the moat, what's it with this re moat
then they say its tower, tower
in Cromwells' name
are we being told to go via the moat for a **** roll in the tower
don't blame me they washed my brains a while ago.....
SATIRE.....What's wrong with you, have you lost your sense of humour, When asinine s say they are doing heads in, does that not make you roll on the floor in helpless mirth. Lighten up man, this is serious stuff we're talking about. Though I find it all incredibly hilarious, people hang themselves when they are given this treatment, this is heavy stuff I have you know!