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solc liveson Oct 24
is

the trying is the finding out of the unique
all about,
losing battles to find yourself a
war-won victor and a long term loser,
making the process new, requiring expensive
for the event custom made expertise trainers,
re-acquired to shoot your foot straight
and laugh about it when you do it
again and again

for the relearning love is the crown jew-el,
that jesters rob from their kingly masters,
nothing more precious
pride in love is the fall season preceding
Canadian winters,
always thinking you know better
this time

you cannot learn from love,
cause it’s twice, two times,
never the same,
the all over modifying
past lessons, so, ain’t no prologue,
the body is the wafers
sometimes vanilla,
sometimes chocolate

and the epilogue is 100%
poem~songs that I love writing
and hate remembering
or is it the other way round?
the soul never dies
solc liveson Sep 21
the inevitable can no longer be delayed or ignored

it is 8:58am,

the wafer needs consuming
so the bodies of the
sons of god can rise

it is 8:59am

the credit card payment due,
needing doing,
this, my juggling act
commences ends
@ the righteous hour

now,
for the numbers flip forward
the 9:00am mark officializing
a living
commencement

and the first poem of the day
prayer
is spoken, prayed, stated
commenced and ended
solc liveson Jun 30
ran into a whispering angel at the cemetery today,
customary to have a small ceremony
when the monument finished,
the grave now well and truly marked,
an unveiling held, the kaddish said,
a small stone
placed upon the monument,
a five thousand year old tradition,

started by Jacob

we line up to place our rock of ages goodbye token,
an opportunity to angel whisper one last goodbye,
but good bye is not on my mind,
no, my own approaching deceasing dead,
for the pains come regular now
in the places that means trouble ahead,
and no one knows but me

so to my friend Al,
who once asked me
where do the poems, the words, come from,
I whisper in your six feet underground ears,
though I swear I hear ya laughing both
right behind me both
at your jokes, and at me,

“see ya soon, buddy, see ya soon”
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/376358/with-each-passing-poem/

https://www.shiva.com/learning-center/death-and-mourning/unveiling/
solc liveson Jun 21
on the Earth, some need a heaven and hell above,
which suits the powered up reigning status quo rulers,
promising that by being just and docile,
one will earn frequent flyer life miles
to a destination ticketed & named,
but not by actual visitation,
a return confirmation, never

some take your self-love as their own idea,
reselling it over and over again back to you
but know that when you sing your own song,
the discoverable truth is we all
get to go to sort of a sanctuary,
especially if you record-keep your flaws,
in order to constantly reinvent yourself
in order to

reach some kind of agreement with yourself

human gravity is hard enough to escape so travel light,
shed those skins over and over again,
each a modest  improvement sequentially,
leave your exited charred speech behind,
knockoff the blackened flaking edges, a discarded cutaway,
this way to transcend phony notion redemption requirements,
redemption
is a toxic emblem, a symbol unrequited and a sucker’s play

I am the spirit of another’s name, who, here to teach,
this being today’s lesson;
how to reach your unique
truth sanctuary,
where the stronghold of who you yet-to-be, can-be awaits,
the reinventing ones, successful, some call poets,
they do not confuse redemption requests
with sanctuary
only provisioned
by yourself,
for yourself
solc liveson Jun 17
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference

through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings

my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems

funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission

I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice

my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living

— The End —