down into the depth they sank
with each click and clack and clank,
down into the mires deep
where the ghoulish spiders sleep

where the woodlice gnaw and prey
on the rotting and decay
where they fret on inner core
that once was but is no more

where the ooze is black and thick
the air, polluted venom,
smog that gasps, quick and sick,
like waist in too-tight denim

where their brain to automaton
less than child with a crayon
is crucified and ossified
their IQ in its backslide

less than beasts of underworld
that rule by law of jungle
each insult on other hurled
hiding their own bungle

then with eyes that barely open
project their views onto the world
all their morals sorely broken
on crippl'd world is unfurled

down into the depths we sink
with each clack and click 'n clink,
down into the mires deep
where the ghoulish spiders sleep

it's a mercy we're not gone yet
at the mercy of these guys
in dragnet of crazy mindset
underneath the dying skies

i hesitate to write
let heart alight
in prance and caper
on blood-soaked paper
squeeze blinded sight
as blobs of night
with ink like mud
scribe life-blood
in skit burlesque
of form grotesque
reveal the hidden
from cell of prison

for pure wine
spirit refined
distilled in heart
through pain and smart
the fruit of mind
from Hades mined,
as minerals rare
as crystalized air,
a c e t i f i e s
'fore human eyes

and poison taints the heavy line
that once in crucible of heart and mind
the hurt and harm from day and year
compressed to diamond crystal tear
in duress constant, heat 'n pressure,
as kernel mauled in wheat corn-thresher
reveals the inner pearl-like sphere
hidden from eye and hidden from ear
now spilt in crave for adulation
for recognition beyond one's station

spilt in scrawl of unnatural saga,
as empty song of Frank Sinatra,
in rigid lines that false betray,
as waves that lie to child at play,
hide the inscrutable, the teeming ocean,
the seething froth of quelched emotion
all to oblige the lust for notice,
as garrulous child, as vivid lotus,
in noisome thirst for recognition
besmirch the purest imagination

where is the true, ingenuous art
the beauty apparent in simplistic heart
without the jazz, the scintillating jive,
the quest to 'have', the unending drive
whose joy is fleeting
as seafarers' greeting
culminates in air
or empty scare,
a ghostly behemoth
of ghastly dedolence
thrives in undergrowth
of curious redolence,
flourishes in hollow
of vacant bellow,
lives in the dark
of empty bark

but yet this world of cause 'n effect,
of light and dark, of sun and reflect,
as sun-drenched wine in oaken cask,
must show its wares in apposite mask,
as gibbous moon to eye discerning
speaks of fire forever burning,
of highs and lows in harmony
of contrapuntal melody,
thus pure must sound as beat on drum
and air give voice to heart that's dumb

she plucked the rose from the garden
crushed it under foot
ground its petals to the earth
without an afterthought

and, as pearls scattered hence,
they lay there in the dirt,
till gradually, in nature's course,
succumbed they to the hurt

for she was broken from her childhood,
something rotted inside,
and when she saw the whitest rose,
its beauty could not abide,

a rose as crystal alabaster,
as soft as nature's cheek,
as a prairie golden aster
of divine mystique

from that time she longed to cut it,
longed to cast it far aside,
so it too would rotten be,
'til, eventually, it died.

violin strings
taut to the touch
tremble, tremour and break

deepest springs
of holy smudge
turn grey, of form opaque

give us wings
a line to crutch
salve from exhausting ache

a balm from stings
from hurt too much
a limit to chafe we take

soul longs to sing
escape from hutch
to soar the skies as lake

reflecting King's
celestial drudge
the sun in morning's wake

visions of G-d
like kaleidoscope changing
the shutter opens
through glass-staining
for second, a glimpse
understanding gained,
a feeling, a sense,
uncurtained,
new grasp,
a gasp,
senses aghast,
then all darkens,
leaving a memory,
till it, too, fades,
like grey emery,
innocence of maids,
in cellar-scullery,
a washerwoman's apron,
But it will awaken,
healing the forsaken
humanity united
man undivided
in leaving satan
embracing Eden
as all hearts heal
as all souls kneel
afore recognition
of Divine emission

it started like any other
a day in a month in a year
i waved good-bye to my brother
mother held back a tear
with pack on my back
i boarded the train
all set to track
a rougher terrain
to mountains alive
with celestial music
a buzzing hive
of quiet acoustic
in wood and in glade
every grass, every blade,
all light 'n shade,
matter calcic and humic,
buttons o' G-d's tunic
shining pure gold
the ancient, the old,
a bastion of peace
from avenging ire
from man's caprice
from world on fire
from lust for success
in G-d's largesse
heavenly blest
no greed or excess
no rush for progress
in milieu of emeralds
no nascent dictator
no destroyer of worlds
no human-life baiter
but midst the Eden
lay archetypal snake
interspersed with reason
bred on heartache
a venomous tooth
foxy and furtive
language uncouth
aggression assertive
coiled at bend
ready to unwend
the henchman at crossroad
waiting at gate
with poisonous goad
and age-old hate
overused trope
from mouth void o' hope
arguments specious
ostensibly sound
gaining impetus
as he held his ground
polluting, plundering
the sweet mountain air
innocence encumbering
with insidious fare
till he'd decimated
the Garden of Eden
it subjugated
to blood of the demon
and G-d had grown wings
had flown far away
the Ancient King
now waits for new day.

i reached out and touched him
watched as he crumbled
as the grey and rusty sandstone
once steep palisade, humbled
by the winds of dark moon blown
by the crashing waves of centuries,
beleaguered, soul lay by my feet,
swamped by painful memories
as if praying for defeat
whimpering and helpless
waves of cruel deceit
had his light dimmed.

to save him i knew
i'd have to reach within
kindle anew
the flame, 'neath calloused skin
scarred and hardened
by whips and word,
by wounds unpardoned,
by cries unheard,
extinguished by the flippant
the abuse intermittent
festering and rankling
his essence strangling
but i could only loosen
the snake round his neck
he had to see the human
beneath the wreck on deck.

From childhood i've known You
my heart conversed where none could see
gazing up to skies of blue
i thought of You Who caused all to be

everything from something came
but that something had a name
it had a start, a very beginning,
You caused that start to be,

then i was pushed into the mud,
ridiculed for all to see,
i lost You and forsook You,
in my bitterness lost at sea,

now in my noon, i look again,
and find You are the same,
You have not changed that golden chain
hidden from those that seek acclaim

You stay aloof from rationale
from claims of race or national[e]
beyond all colour and prejudice
remain forever was will is.

i'm seeing straight, i think,
though mind is somewhat reeling
and i feel i'm stepping on a brink,
it's either me or ceiling ...
the walls were perpendicular
but now they're inward leaning,
i'm usually not particular
but now i've funny feeling,
corridor used to be much wider,
and wall-to-wall, the ceiling,
yet now, just after cider,
[hic, was it whiskey i spied? eh?]
i'm walking slowly from side-to-side
bumping walls on either, slide,
woops, i've landed on my hide,
my head feels better on its side,
just leave me be and tell my bride..

for posting my suicide attempt
yesterday, on this floor,
someone showered vile contempt
calling me 'attention-*****'

doubtless they thought i'd fabricated
a tale to garner your notice
that i was a guy so frustrated
i'd lost my moral focus

now, though they're incorrect
in disbelieving the story
maybe there's some aspect
of self-seeking glory

in posting any of my rhymes
on this delightful platform
in searching afterwards ofttimes
for likes or comment warm

but here's the point to contemplate
if this site were not here
i'd hardly write or create
my aptitude may disappear

instead of being honed through practice
through seeking to learn new tactics
would i grow, as i should?
would i write, as i could?

on this site, I see art
different style 'n image,
as other poetry writers impart
their tales to envisage

so, though there is veracity
there's some attention-seeking,
it's just possible this site's capacity
to hone our public-speaking

to find like-minded persons,
to delight in others' verse,
may outweigh the divergence
from strictest moral traverse

so for the moment, i'll still be posting
lines of poetry and rhyme
albeit, I own, there's measure of boasting,
in displaying one's art on line.

chanced upon the vegetable bed
a frightened wren off flew
in swiftest glide, straight back and head,
his hind brown tail askew

from there, not far, he lit upon
a branch of kiwi tree
upon which he sung the sweetest trill
whilst eyeing me coyly

'i'm innocent', he seemed to say,
"though smallest British bird,
i went to glean some grass and hay
before your wrath incurred".

and while he sang and probity pled
robin materialised
there on border of raised veg bed,
and slugs 'n flies surprised

'wasn't me either your radishes pecked'
his presence seemed to say,
'it's the bigger birds that ought get checked'
and off he flew away

What is death?

Death is the hurt i do to others,
death is argument between two brothers,
death is the calumny knowingly scattered,
words spoken as if nothing mattered

death lies not with the battered and shattered,
though broken with blood on wall splattered,
life is forever with the downtrodden,
the persecuted 'n tortured, man's forgotten.

What is life?

it's the cry of a baby in the still of night
the sound of suckling at mother's breast,
the misty breath on a wintry night
the call of the dove from its warm nest

the wings of a dragonfly in swiftest flight,
the bark of a dog that kindles fright,
the fanciful journeys as brain takes flight,
the spray of salt sea with waves winged white

life is the favour one does for another,
the joy, the smile, of father and mother,
life is the name of all-hallowed one
who saw end of time ere world had begun

Love is the smile,
The warmth in my *****,
As I hug my child
To his presence succumb.

Love is the crying,
The longing for father,
On his death-bed dying,
Face softer and calmer.

Love is the tea
I make for my wife,
The nod, 'I agree',
To avoid her strife.

Love is the worm
Fed to chick 'n nestling,
Grubs as they squirm
Into hungry fledgling.

Love is the strokes
Of artist on canvas,
The mellow sweet notes
Of musical stanzas.

Love is the cry
Of soul in prayer,
The longing eye,
The hot, sweet tear.

Love is the beat of butterfly wing,
The buzz of the bee with honey and sting,
Love is the heat of summer and spring,
Love is the language of Elusive King.

moving mass morphed myopic
homogeneous heaving humanity
killed 'n culled in catastrophic
hatred, hostile enmity

six million souls pulled together,
stuffed into a devil's mouth
reached out from the nether
to quench unending drouth

red-brick nostrils belched black smoke
blood dripp'd from barbed fangs
in iron fist a throat did croak
emaciated body now lifeless hangs

still the cavern was not filled
still his hellfires burnt and grilled
till there was no man left breathing
save a mound o' skeletons wheezing

and 'neath the pile of thousand shoes,
'neath heaps of bodies, black and bruised,
'neath the filth, the stench'd refuse
earth wept wet for those lost Jews

Truth will last
Falseness will pass
Crumble, out cast,
As dead, dry grass

But what till then the buildings
the edifices built on lies,
how much blood and killings
will they cause on their capsize?

the air is stretching balloon's confines
till, of a sudden, pop!
but pity the persons it defines
all heading for the chop

Mind. Whisper your secrets,
Speak unto me,
Pierce this bleakness,
This mystery.

When all is still,
When heart opens
To drink its fill
Of heavenly notions

You are there,
You beckon.
You are prayer,
But as cretonne

that ***** over portal
Thou art impenetrable,
so long as I'm mortal
the distance inestimable

but I cry hail to Your Presence,
with salt tears do penance,
and in dissolving of my essence
make entrance

Step aside corporeal wonder,
silence yer noise, your awesome thunder,
for when body doth so slumber,
thickest veils are rent asunder

Streams of oneness, eye to Eye,
Give wing to soul, allow to fly,
Upon the thermals of spirit's sky,
To find its seat, to rest on high

Language here has other form,
no letters or numbers forced to conform,
the beat of a love, hot and warm,
drops like dew amid a swarm

of tongues that yearn for sweet elixir
of brightest light that hideth here,
that healeth all, that makes a seer
of blindest man, gives vision clear

that makes the weak hale and hearty
with joy of song, of spiritual party,
allows the meek become a part o' Ye,
Where close is far, and all One be.

does cycle start with autumn
the shedding of the trees
the dark 'n naked columns
bereft of nature's leaves?

does she start the year
depressing and of drear
robbing air of cheer
staining cheek with tear?

or does it start with winter
with biting freezing cold
like a naked sprinter
plunged in icy fold

is he the start of cycle
as men and boys go idol
the sleep of all things vital
in wait for life's revival?

or does it start in spring
with pink and purple blossom
the yellow daffodil
from mama earth's *****

does spring commence the year
with laughter and loud cheer
its promise ringing clear
of goodness very near?

or does the year with summer start
with boiling sun and ripening fruit
the filling of the apple-cart
the carrot and the radish-root?

tell me now, is it summer
that starts the sprint as a runner
that with loud shot from the gunner
blurs legs as wings of hummer?

indeed, does day with night begin
with all things dark and quiet,
to clear the air, to usher in
a new day's life and riot?

or does the night end the day
as matters draw to close
the sleep of night to melt away
all stress through sweet repose?

i ask in all sincerity
don't mean to be captious
i seek wisdom and clarity
where is the point of axis?

can you point to time
in day or in year a date
that marks the start or prime?
or is beginning to rejuvenate?

is in truth the year and day
a cycle everlasting
there be no start, or end decay?
this is what i'm asking

methinks the year with spring doth start
the genesis of all things
and like the spring, doth daylight mark
life's birth on ancient wings

when the wicked sprout,
like grass - with fist 'n clout,
when evil-doers flourish,
suffocating all that nourish,
when they fester and canker
like a malignant cancer,
when they bud burgeon and flower,
showing the world their power,
spread their darkness 'n void
their blackened tempestuous rule
it's that they may be destroyed
be swallowed in own cesspool.
for evil self-consumes,
creates its own hell-doom,
its burst of prosper 'n bloom
is to burn in flame and fume,
besmirchment of innocent pure,
will never ever endure.
Light will triumph and prevail
and the depraved will fall and fail.

I'm knocking on your door
Don't you hear?
Speak to Me. Implore.
Show a tear.

When your tears meet Mine,
Together we shall rejoice,
As moonlight is sun's shine
Yours will be My voice.

who am I?
i'm the maiden in the sky,
I'm the elder with glass-eye,
i'm the young lad's alibi,
i'm the sum of all that's nigh

all these things combine
defy human's define
these lovely things are mine
and, verily, art thine.

who is the mighty one?
he who conquers his impulse
his passion to overrun
with aversive repulse

the nimrods who hunt
with affront to confront
us lesser runts
with sneering grunts

have no real strength
or inner gold
only comes at length
of rejoinder withhold

perchance 'twas no feline
that killed my little robin
but plastic polystyrene
that was to be his coffin

i saw him there a-coughin',
his red breast there a-bobbin,
as if he was trying to swallow
but something wouldn't follow

so again, man's the killer,
earth-pollution, natural spiller,
poor robin was no tom-cat's dinner
but a victim of the human sinner

Speak soft words
Your soul to Soul
Whisper. You're heard.
Your part in Whole.

There's a little bit of G-d in you
That's feeling the pain, the cry in you
Listen to its cry, too,
Feel its pain, and cry too.

"** ** **", said the gruff he-goat,
nodding his beard and shaking his coat,
as he playfully kicked at his little kids,
his admiring doe batting her lids

"look at me", cried the peacock in glee,
as he fanned his feathers for all to see,
gave a little run to the hen opposite
with a shake of his tail, his train composite

"I am the greatest", boasted the ape,
pounding his chest 'neath woodland cape,
informing the missus who was the boss,
who's the alpha, who not to cross.

is it woman alone of all creation
who rules her roost with subjugation
that all men quiver at the turn of her nose
at her meandering moods, her highs, her lows?

more than man, she panders to fashion,
to drive her mate to love and to passion,
why are the rules here in reverse
different from the rest of the universe?

the brown female of blackbird genus
is more than happy with mate's dominus,
the moorhen brown of drab feather 'n plume
is quite content to sit in the gloom

why then does the human lady of the house
turn bumbershoot inside out
in all ways proclaim charge of her spouse
with guile or smile or rant or pout?

why do people hurt others
what pleasure do they get?
why can't we all be more like brothers
not seek to harm beset?

I'm knocking on Your door,
I don't know how to speak...

My breathing's a loud snore,
Deep 'n fast asleep.

I'm crying and You Hear,
I'm just too confused to know,

It's been another year
when wild daisies grow.

As rose begins to light the skies,
Dew'd petals wake from sleep,
As songs of thrush in air arise,
'Midst swallows' swoop and leap,

In that beauty, harsh and hard,
A canard's tail slithers,
A falsehood dressed in truth all marred,
A golden poppy withered,

And shadows grow from day to night,
Crushing love's embrace,
And darkness smothers beacons bright,
The light of Divine Face.

Winter crept in through the back
he left the door ajar
and through the door blows bitter wind
from Canada and afar

with frosted wand he touches leaves
the climbing plants and trees
and leaves them all a-drooping
bereft of nature's weaves

with cape of grey and mountain black
he tiptoes through the shadows
and in a year he'll 'gain be back
to lay waste to field and meadows

Coat whiter than face of moon
amber eyes of sinister tune
whistling hail and winds of ice
Lord Winter's Paradise

He shook his frosted grisly mane,
clawed the earth and roared,
eyed Queen Autumn with disdain,
barred teeth spat, 'I'm bored'.

'why must i procrastinate,
linger in this state?
days will soon be lengthening
veins of warmth strengthening.'

'there'll be life and trees of different shape,
unevenness abound,
a multi-coloured landscape
and colour on the ground.'

'cut me free and let me rule
i'll paint the vista white,
a multi-faceted diamond jewel
that'll blind you with its light.'

the Queen gave royal chortle
spun round without a qualm
'I am like you immortal
and have eternal charm'.

'i'll keep you tied till last leaf
has fluttered to the ground,
and then your reign will be but brief
for my sister must be crowned.'

'As you'll see, she'll brook no nonsense,
for Queen of Spring is she
so when you spy the purple crocus
and Lily-of-the-Valley

peeping through your nival blanket
you'll know her time has come,
she'll want to share her banquet
with warmth from golden sun.'

'she'll shoo you from her place
no sign of lenity
for though benign in name and grace
she'll show no leniency.'

'but i know i need not tell you,
you know her better than me,
for Lady Spring is your shrew,
your wife for eternity.'

soul sings,
soars cerulean skies
searching, seeking,
attaching ode of awe
to Everlasting One.

I'll cast a line into the sea
of words and letters and thought,
i'll wait impatiently to see
when first the line grows taut
what rhyme or underlying notion
my fishing-line has caught
from the blackest depths of ocean
my darker shadows have wrought

my line is slack, there's nothing biting,
no monster taking the bait,
there's no thought or anything igniting,
i suppose i've more to wait.

but what if another power
has beat me to the chase
tiredness at this late hour
has placed me in deepest straits
has mulcted me of thoughts and words
so that i canna think straight?

but, hey, at least this pathetic nerd
has managed to keep his place
in making rhyme, albeit blurred,
for BLT's challenging race.

I take a look at the Word of the Day
And I honestly don't know what to say,
Or to put it in another way,
I'm nonplussed about the word today.

But that doesn't mean I can't make a rhyme,
if somewhat crass 'n not too sublime,
and I've kept the beat in this wonderless chime,
So here's my offering, offered in time.

what is a language?
human brain feeling its way
constricted by mere words