#pronounced
~The words of Leonard COHEN~
“Poetry comes from a place that no one commands
and no one conquers.”
<>
there are so so many reasons for
gratitude;
~
for gratitude in these cluttered lives
and times when living is
most confusing,
and sorting right from wrong
somehow changes daily,
and even the most moral of absolutes,
seem so easy twisted and upended
by scoundrels and miscreants
~
enumeration is pointless
for there is no limit to the
words required to redeem
all of gratitude’s aspected beauty
~
but I am grateful
for the sparkling sparking
that ignites my chest
when my eyes imbibe
a truth expressed
in loveliness and its qualities of
empowering,
so undressed yet, so emperor elegant in
its succinct, espirited~essentiality,
it is
sancrosant
~
instant recognition
of the pressing, pressuring need
to grab hold of its entirety,
embrace it with caresses,
to embellish it with tributaries
of tribute,
to grasp its intuitive lyrical
absoluteness
to bring it to your lips
for sounding out loud,
to ensure the surety
of the atmosphere
knowing, telling it is:
beloved
You, Poet,
understood exactly what Cohen’s words meant,
intuitive, no explication, analysis necessitated,
asking you
to just love words that you command temporarily,
however brief,
for you own them but for instant,
and once unencrypted,
they belong
to the unconquerable wild world of
everyone
~!~
this poem came and went in a a few minute moments of unblemished
deep breathing
3:00pm
Thursday April 30
2026
New York City
~~~
<>
*Sacrosanct,
an adjective describing a rule, tradition, person, considered too important, sacred, valuable to be changed, questioned, violated…implies an ultimate inviolability, stemming from a deep, personal respect
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC
∞
___Name the word, for the word has a name.___
_Listen to it breathe. Let it lie lightly in the mind and liquid
on the tongue. Bear its essence forth, its personality and its intention
- conceived briefly, discarded readily, pronounced forcefully.
∞
How does it sit with you? The spread of its silhouette suspended
within a silent interval. How does it move you? An attitude framed by
the gesture of a hand. Is its pitch sharp or flat, its texture course or fine?
∞
Allow meaning and resonance, intonation and feeling to merge unencumbered;
the syntax of the imprisoned soul, emancipated by a river of sound, to mould
the shape of your aboutness, around and within, beyond and in spite of..._
___And hear consciousness dance.___
∞
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC
word stopped
as you gazed
it feared
to be told
and was pronounced
was wrong
so it stopped
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 1:13 AM UTC
Poison only tastes like poison
After you swallow it
Too unfortunate
To admit
You've been murdered
Before you're dead
You know it's only a matter of time
Before you're coughing up red
This is your nightshade
Your parasite
Your venom
Your kryptonite
You know the harder you fight
The harder back - the poison will bite
Don’t slow down
Do take a breath
It’s the last time you'll breathe
Before your death
Or refer to it as “eternal rest”
To try and ease
The tightening in your chest
So panicked
So manic
Feeling entirely frantic
Uncertainty
With urgency
But you were poisoned purposely
And you know without a doubt
Who set out
To knock you out
You'll look across the room
You'll feel it in your veins
Your eyes will lock with hers
You'll overflow with pain
It burns you from the inside
Nowhere to hide
She's filled with pride
Cuz she knows
She's the one who murdered you
And she also knows
That you know it too
The reason was clear
Why she put the poison in your throat
And when she kissed you
She knew there was no antidote
She leaned in close
So you'd hear the words that she said
And from what she whispered
She was pronouncing you dead
Suddenly it occurs to you
That with the venom on her lips
She will die too
Cuz love only feels like love
When you're falling into it
And poison only tastes like poison
After you've swallowed it.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC