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Anthony Pierre Jan 2021
Don't lay debased
on the shore of nakedness
with discontentment

Battered by salty spindrift
and drunk moonlight kisses

to go to the summit...
You must ride each wave
to go to the depth...

You'll find an awesome pearl
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
Splashing on the rocks
One more wave of contentment
This is my last drink
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
The solitary beat
of a beating heart

The solitary heart
of a heartless man

The solitary man
of a crowded world

The solitary world
of a ludicrous dream

The solitary dream
of hideous music

The solitary music
of incoherent beats

The solitary beat
of a beating heart
A Beating Heart resonates throughout the vast fields of the universe impacting and being impacted. Consider the impact of one solitary beat.
Anthony Pierre May 2020
Your diamond eyes still amaze me
From a thousand moons courtship
Drenched from the sun's embrace
Like a French kissed maiden
Limp from the pleasures of life

Yet still, your diamond eyes reflect
The dreams you once dreamed
Beneath a twilight of silver stars
With the innocence of a crying child
Comforted by the warmth of a bossom

Your diamond eyes still amaze me
More than indiscretions of my youth
When dew dripped petals were tossed
At the soles of our stumbling feet
Holding my hand, you walked with me

Your diamond eyes still amaze me
For all the riches which they sent
Your love scattered across my life
Your diamond eyes amaze me
And I am a child of fortune
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Fireflies dance pretty
well, byte-sized fairies' tale
long & twistle: a tongue's whistle
In the dark, dark arts made
bright lights sing like a clock:

"Tik Tok, Tik Tok"

This chime, time circles
red like Asian kings: vultures
tightening the noose like Zeus
on Douyin's long neck. Hands dance, bytedance on a fairytale clock

"Tik Tok, Tik Tok"
A fairytale clock goes: "Tik Tok, Tik Tok"
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
On Cassatt's easel
afternoon stretches out
its pink pastel faces
cool as the palms breeze
warm as the oolong tea
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On the busy floor
of life and death
stood a man
Against the odds
this man stood
A slender man
A well groomed man
Who wore a coat
A coat of wool
A sheep's coat.
Against the odds
This man stood
among the wolves
He held an umbrella
in his hand.
This umbrella...
it stopped not rain
it stopped not sun
of the volatile weather
but in his hand
the man held
this umbrella
against the odds
in volatile weather
he stood
well groomed
wearing his coat
his sheep's coat
among the wolves
on the busy floor
of life and death
against the odds
as he traded to the final bell
The Stockbroker of Life and Death
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Time has plot with night
to do away with day

An evil plot they thought of
so Night was here to stay

You may not grasp this story
until your day is through

When time and night are your friends
and day now dead is you
A Night Time Plot
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
What comes of love
after we taste
its earthly abundance

and we feel
how it shines
how it blooms
how it rains

Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
LXI abrogari passuros aiebant articulum (Repeal article 61)
                 John was here, 1215
Oh Magna Carta, oh Magna Carta, what hast thou taketh unto thyself, unjustly?
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On a seaside *****,
there is an old weathered house
resting in its place

Many sun shines alone
burnt, but steadfast to its role
Cool breezes maintained

While angry storms wrecked
a quiet escape it kept
Lightning struck and soaked

The garden lay waste
leaves high, shrubs dried: untended
All unintended

In adversity
this old weathered house stood firm
till its job was done

Now, the sun shines through
a hole for every year passed
and heat pierce its flaws

Tattered windows shut.
Splendid views cannot be seen
like eyes closed to sleep

Garden's lush and groomed
Flowers adorn every niche
Wreaths of perfection

On a seaside *****
there is an old weathered house
resting in her grave
An Old Weathered House
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
In the weirdest turn of events that day
As a cop toting guns and pepper spray
I gathered an urge to pen my first ode
In my lunch hour, before hitting the road

To sirens and light of my precinct's space
not a stanza wrote, yet my mind's apace
the pen's the problem; confidence recede
Pondered a visit to a friend, indeed

Thoughtful I'm moving, this old clue I'd act
on Brooklyn's pen thief; kleptomaniac
acquired from him, an ink dipping quill
of Huia birds, still boxed with its bill

Case solved; on the back of the bill it hints
"Dear Mayor, pen's for poems; lead's for thugs."
A Peculiar Pen's Poem...still beating the street
N.B. Huia (pronounced HOO EE UH) birds feathers cost $10,000 a single pluck
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
It's a treasure trove
Words tossed up like confetti
Falling in our hearts
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
Where else will you go
for love?

You have gone
to the edges of
your primordial self
within those consecrated caves
like a Neanderthal

For the love of love, you laboured
with a disposition of
an unwanted child
moving the moon,
the sun,

the expanse of time
permits not
to eternity

can the frailty of
the human existence
an infinite course
on celestial planes

in your twilight
limp and flaccid
you linger
where love's limit
you yearn
to go where
love's complete

an impossibility
shooting like an arrow
across the heart of heaven
and death
takes you
no closer
to this
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
How a humble son of Scotland
Fought to enviable height
First a paratrooper captain
Then as a British knight

This witty chap from Glasgow
Loaned himself, a decorated past
From Distinguished Service Order
To NATO's advisory cast

As the press took him in notice
His wiki posts drew no pity
As with his tale of valour
He was defamed: "Sir Walter Mitty"
Historical account: A Tale of Valour
Anthony Pierre Jul 2020
What colour are your eyes
Pale and blue as skies awake
in heaven
Gray as the clouds with their burden
of a thousand words
for every sight they've seen.
Each time your eyes were opened
a new splendour captured.
A treasure at the rainbow's end
Yours an aperture to another epoch
The maker of Princes ... a King
Saville and Vogue as the Gypsy's eyes?
Meek and Sombre as the Catacombs'?
In a perpetual motion
life flashed across your face
so unfamiliar... so familiar  
and ambitious secrets of the pupil
made an eternal portrait of you;
a Master of Photography
A Still so extraordinary, though,
transparent as the rain.
Neither a tint nor hue ... just you.
What colour are your eyes
Richard Avedon a Master of Photography
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
A word... an array
what can and can't they do?
Carefully, thoughtfully feathered
whispers of ink

For the Poet... poetry
art on display
expressions of the expressionless
in silence, pretermitted meaning convey

A word...a score
music to the soul
boldly, willfully etched
deep into your heart

For the poet.... poetry
a vestige that echoes over time
a word, a stanza
how beautiful is poetry to the poet?
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
My wondering child
never lost in the clutter
young encephalon
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
To play the Cello
You may pull strings half the time
then push your way through
Learn to play the Cello like Yo Yo Ma
You can bellow
You can mellow
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Beyond these lines...
on worrisome papyrus
where names fall in anguish
like hailstones on Nebraska
cold and violent
none lost in turbulence
in the hall of two truths
weighed on death's feather

Beyond these lines...
words sharp as bayonets
on loaded guns, pointing
... pointed as lead, drawn far afield
beyond sight
beyond purpose
beyond comprehension, yet
accurate as a ******'s breath

beyond these lines...
these crude and relevant lines
that calls forth to death
with rhymes ... with syntax
imagery, impeccable imagery
refrain, can we refrain?
beyond these lines... of death
beyond these lines... of death
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
On a street near Don Juan
In Boca Chica's bay
Nightly music and drums unwind
To a proclavity of dismay

Little seashells aplenty
For every pious gaze
Unripen beauty so varied
Habitual buyers unfaze

Rising tension of devout sinners
Smoke and coffee breach the air
A salted heart in a mink's coat
"Toma dos ahora" ; take a pair

In Boca Chica's bay, seashells aplenty
Little seashells: its sells, it sells
May your Interpretation guide you.
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
I knew you
needed this
sincere apology
to pull yourself

but you
had to be broken

so I could
keep myself
in one piece
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
No!  No!
Busy little Bee
How many pretty flowers
You wish to **** dry tonight
Anthony Pierre Aug 2021
Where do you stand?

For me,
it has never been
black and white

and I won't live
like a new moon
over an old world

your colourful face
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Through contemplation,
the mind leaps to its haven
above reason's gaol
A daily dose of contemplation frees you from the shackles of reason and logic. Deep reflection is great for your wellbeing.
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
... and the concordance of history is best illustrated in the words of the 21st century emperor himself ... "# flagged for violent content".
Cornelius Nepos the historian and biographer
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
Tap tap tap like dancing feet
Crazy tap dancers on a streak
Tapping fast tapping slow
Tap dancing is all they know

Some tap dancers are on fleek
Amazing colours nice and sleek
Glittering dust on their heels
Neat and shiny like new wheels

One tap dancers was so vain
She was tap dancing on a plane
Some said this dancer was a fool
Then she tap danced into a pool

Tap a word or tap a page
Tap with joy or tap with rage
Make me laugh or make me cry
Tap tap tap till my battery die
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Is this heaven?
High above, above High
Bizarre, @ poppy sky height
leaping clouds on cloud 9
eyes, hypnogogic eyes
roams recalcitrant red
Idle! Martian! Deserts!
live streams can't pry
**** dried, silica tears
dam: # freedom cry
Free as a sand storm spins
Head: "I'm lost in the winds"
Headhunter's Hunger
Insatiable Appetite bites
Gnawing butterflies
crawling by poppy sky flowers
High above, above High
Heavenly Heights
Salvador Dali was a surrealist
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Can you hear this rhythm
The sound of my rain
Feel the beats of dancing motion
Symbols of my pain

Look at my flower
Shear beauty clothed in obscure grace
Budding pleasure, childish dream
Dances with splendor, yet unseen.

Kept my comfort in orchestra
Thumping heart race with thoughts
Earthly music, sounds of nature
Why must I feel distraught

Dancing flower plays the wind
Blooming wisdom, notes of gold
Chanting melodies, hymns of magic
A son's brilliance thus unfold

Keep on dancing Queen of Clef
Move in motion through the streets
Dance in pleasure, dance in pain
Till my rain steeps the heaths

Keep this movement queen of grace
Let your petals sway in sound
Dance my flower, dance my mother
My symphony is abound
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
dream of birds in flight

dream of birds on trees

but rows on rows
of murderous crows singing

these dreams, have not please
The songs on death row are far from sweet
Anthony Pierre Jul 2020
A foolish dog understands nothing

A smart dog understands its master

A wise dog understands itself
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Am I a sick man?

as I lived on a hibiscus shrub
Many rooms, long and short
Many face vividly coloured
with a beauty of sadness
grafted on a nameless rootstock

Am I an unattractive man?

as I lived like a petal in the sun
perfect for bees and butterflies
and the visitors; oh day! oh night!
as for me, time danced on a maypole around my dreamy garland head

Am I a spiteful man?

as I've counted all 3863 days, 1 by 1
that I lived on that hibiscus shrub
without a flight to my fantasies
Since then, I'm thrown underground
here I live like a ridiculed mouse

Do you know me, Dostoevsky?
Fyodor Dostoevsky was indeed a master of Literary science. His works are beyond excellence and thoroughly evocative.
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
My home, your home
Come home, our home

Come home my sweet love
Come home tonight

Come home

Our home

Come home my sweet wife
Come home tonight


You know I needed you here
And its right
You know I want you close
Holding you tight
All night

Come home
Music is poetry. Erik Satie a poet. The piano is his pen. So listen carefully and interpret this poem in your own way.
Anthony Pierre Dec 2022
How odd of you?
To think of pastures...
a leisure of sort
So green and pristine
with the milk of laughter
T'was hard work
keeping you on the hill
in summer's sunshine
near the old barn
by the flowing spring
Now memories are
limp and cold as winter
Rotting the heart of the tree
and even grass passes time
in faint contemplation of you
A Pastoral Poem
How odd of you?
To think of pastures...
a leisure of sort
So green and pristine
with the milk of laughter
T'was hard work
keeping you on the hill
in summer's sunshine
near the old barn
from spring to spring
Now memories are
limp and cold as winter
Rotting the heart of the tree
and even grass passes time
in faint contemplation of you
A Pastoral Poem
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Life's a blooming rose
A special gift to possess
Death's a rose well pruned
The sweet bouquet of our existence
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
By birth most knew
This name of stern
As mentors too
Some take this turn

Few tamed in domicile
Less in passive right
Age takes this notice
Not wisdom nor sight

Whose care can nurture
Great strength in a foal?
To yield such future
Mere presence can scold

With great hope so few
Enjoy this manly art
That horses will march
Long after they depart

I await this fortune
Time takes my reign
My worships in court
Years cannot regain

How will my horses march
On life's steeple chase
Without their father's hold
From this their tender age?
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
when one looks  
to listen closely
it seems these books
of history
were never meant
to balance

Did you?

Consider the zulu sun
Remittances to Estcourt
Okun's Law
Offshore accounts
Karl Marx in KwaZulu-Natal
Systemic and Systematic Risks

and yet
the shrike bird sings
of monetary matters
Anthony Pierre Apr 2022
That grass
isn't that green?
Anthony Pierre May 2020
The world turns over and again
A wheel on the carriage of time
Like the days of creation:
with the manifestations of men

To what end the wheel turns?
How then will it all end?

Like the septenary of God and Sages:
A sabbatical for atheists
A sabbatical for believers
To rest... To the rest

Like hot feet and broken chains
on the chalky hills of Normandy
A prolonged accolade for failure
An insipid brevity for success

Like rope, flag and wind
Full mast; Half mast
Baptism, Bells and Choir
Black bands, Bells and Spire

Like marshmallows in heaven
burning in dew drenched bonfires
White sheets and tears
White sheets and tears

Over and again the world turns
Junipers and Gin
Sistine smoke and Pope
Fuel and Fire

To what end the wheel turns?
How then will it all end?
What is life and death all about?
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Getting nowhere!

One whole Earth
round and flat

Here's a balloon
Here's a plate

Reminds me
to celebrate with

An oblate pear
on steroids and
a flat Greek cake

A stupendous combination
The great Earth debate.
Is it round like a ball?
Is it flat like a plate?
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
She spoke gibberish
words I did not understand
We shared great laughter
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Where Emperors go
caterpillars can't contend
but by changing state
Have a progressive state of mind
Anthony Pierre Aug 2020
"You know how I art ... intimately"
On broken city walls with crotches
these times I stencil is a parody
"its free, its me... with all my blotches"

Why **** my trapped rat in Hague?
You brought back, black this plague
from the West Sea sand to Bristol
made clearer with a ball of crystal

Provocative lives alive in deaf canned colour
yet reality's dead among sidewalk's clutter
if your heart really wants a Banksy's piece
My B +'s homogenized on a Petri dish for release

Who's guessing where my art's headed?
with blotches not a single piece shredded
the real art's kept displayed in the mind
that's why Banksy's blotches are one of a kind
Anthony Pierre Dec 2019
Its eighteen months since her delivery
Now she is penning odes ostensibly
Crayons in both hands: she is standing tall
What Dada says? "No writing on the wall."

With great care baby writes her graffiti
Not much untouched by her audacity
He tries to compromise with a new book
but baby says, "Daa Daa"; with a stern look

He has to admit the walls are hers now
Filled with scribbles and a chromatic cow
Its her version of Van Gogh's Starry Night
without the stars; a novice oversight

She's more surreal than Salvador Dali
The writing's on my wall: Pure Graffiti
Graffiti: Writing on My Wall
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
I set my sight far on China
abacus counting; without confusion
But they're mostly short sighted
and that's no delusion

Heard about the Hong Kong march
but didn't recall till I'd seen what I saw
So I did what I did, now I understood
what I could, with Confucius

Never take a pen to a pig
nor your litter to the swine
for one, H one N one
Can I get myself the Canadian kind?

Import... extort, not for the canola  
nor the coals down under
If I'm selling what I stole from selling Inuit
like the forty thieves and Ali's plunder

How many men can stand as tall
without writing Graffiti on the Great Wall
that they built, that's psychopathic
for the people, by the people, the Great Republic
The Great Wall of China is such a magnificent feat of human capability. I could not resist writing some Graffiti on this wall. Next up: Berlin. Feel free the write your own Graffiti on a wall near you.
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
We all friends in Earth's society
No reason to start quaking
The Society of Friends are friends
The Quakers aren't shaking

No Quaking in Rome?
Nor the Sistine Chapel?
Black smoke, White Hope
White smoke, Black Pope

Does this seem dope? Just wait,
White State, Black Faith
Black State, White Fate
The impossible a possibility and a dope bomb

Start with a Quake, make a Quaker
If its a shake, make a shaker
Where's his taker of notes
penned at the Apostolic Nunciature

He heard a friend tell a friend's friend
Its getting late; confess your faith
If you ain't straight, you'll be left by the gate
near the wall with the writing

No thunder nor lightning
while I AM walking and all
In the city of the Monk
Graffiti: Writing on the Wall
Graffiti: Writing on the Wall
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Blackboards love math dorks
not whiteboards, glassboards, or corks
Chalk's gathering dust
Hagoromo chalk has been very popular with mathematicians
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Fear not the unknown
Rather, embrace its dark void
In it true self's found.
Haiku's Dark Void. A Journey Towards Self Actualization
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