The Heat Is On


The Heat Is On

In valiant days of ore,

The most brilliant flare of ambiant excursion
A slight glimmer of radiance;
With time well spent in thought,
Yet still marked on a blotted page fully intact;

Although the twilight sin had tainted my inner vision,

We have drawn a paradox in the sand

It is my hope that someday we will live to understand

The heat is on within its timeless hue,
What are we in our society willing to do
A brilliant note of sorrow in our timeless facade display;
With chosen idols we have openly embraced along the way,

With sand sifted through an hourglass,

Faces in the window with pain in the night
The swift reflection of an image caught in time;
Among ellusive ventures caught up in rhetoric sway in ambiance,
A soft answered displayed in words in flight;

To forget the night deep within endless plight,

A word spoken in the fullest of night;
A reflection of an image caught up in time,
Among ellusive ventures caught up in rhetoric ambiance,
A sought after display of words in flight;

To forget the night deep within endless plight,

A word spoken in the fullness of time;
We mix words through our own agendas,
The heat is on so adjust your fenders.

~

When Words Are Not Enough

Let us seek to be fair in the grand scheme of things

Lazy diamonds too cheap to ever order a side of onion rings;
Let us never relent until the fat lady sings,
Many as of late have grown irrational & disturbed,
They ignore the mainstream as if one hasn't heard

When words are not enough,
When society makes you want to quit & give up;
Never relent in ever giving up on the fight,
Fly off with the captain leading a vast army in white;

In fancy decorated briars dressed in decorum filled hue,

What are we as a society willing to do;
As if some caged rat that was hidden in a tiny hole,
There has to be a bitter end in this toll
Some just put on some good music to let the times roll;

Others ponder a certain way of escape,

Heading off by the Dune's on the Cape;
Others simply take their time to bake a cake,
Many take out their pillows & sleep too late;
Still clearer heads have prevailed,

While some have found theirs lying in the sewer;

There is a vast army of heavenly host just waiting to deliver,
In life the less that you give your a taker...
When words are not enough speak with actions,
For out of the course of actions speak louder then words;

A nirvana of help would evoke some tender solace,

~

The March Of Rhymes

Although the mere thought of sun has tainted my vision

Was there something else you have been missing
The hero calls to yonder shore all alone;
As if a stray dog was in search of its bone,
The march of rhymes lives among a passing few;

A papal pew decorated in the vast ambiance in love,

With a certain crimesome tide to come undone;

Just after a police chase we will run to & fro,
Amidst the delicate fragrance of a passing ego;
Within smiles of vast chartered words,
A center of reflection in the pryamid of choice

Let us linger throughout the madness & rejoice!

A pleasant smile still we knew all the while;
A sore vexed temperment on the loose cannon,
With the march of rhymes will succeed so many times;
Out of mere laughter we can derive its inner pain,

A delightful fragrant scent of fallen early morning rain;

As swift bullets fly through the ambiant sky,
Some settle for a peanut butter & jelly
That instead a nice ham on rye;
The march of rhymes sings as time passes by

Sometimes its just not enough but for to give it one last try?
~

Let Your Words Be Few


Faces in the window storms in the night;

That very encounter with saving truth
Then marked on a blotted page intact,
To dream then to soar ever higher then before;
In light of visualization toward inner hindsight

The swift passerby should challenge the system

Yet through the challenge we can agree;
Perhaps this life is just a make believe?
Change your thinking & change your life,
Amidst the given strife one can think twice;

Sometimes it will just take a roll of the dice

Still let your words be few,
At night at church amidst a papal pew
What are we as a society to do?
The fatal onslaught of abortion in our papal borrowed pews,

A vast notion of thought by which to heavenly ponder,
Perhaps its the intent of love toward our call up a yonder ?
Let your words be few in the ****** of time;
Inner pain,

Where the whole entire world is totally insane!
W.O.R.L.D: Weird
Overly
Rude
Lying
Devils!

I'd see you in the last rays of dawn
tightly clutching curtains that ain't your own
in the wildflowers of seeds carelessly thrown
and untended to yet successfully in bloom,tenderly grown
I'd feel you in the hearts of the brave
in the uncertainty of the beautiful future I crave
and I guess you are the red pigment on soils in my waiting grave
for I'd even catch your stench in perfumed armpits after a shave
I'd see you hide within crevices on broken pieces
in the sighs held betwixt lovers kisses
the beautiful scores and near misses
the painful boils, greeting teeth and the winces
I'd see you everywhere, in the whole and them shattered beyond repair
in dreams and nightmare,in the rattling despair
flying in the jovial wind and floating on melancholic air
glued to the nervy moments sensing a stalker's stare
I'd catch a glimpse of you in the falling leaves
detect you in the ear that eves and heart that grieves
interred in all from toe bones to the heaving ribs
above a vengeful heartbeat and one which forgives
I'd be with you when the sun loses her place in twilight
you were in the picturesque patterns of starlight
in the ambiant flooding moonlight at midnight
in the game of my life, you were the highlight
you were something on the brain, a lull for my pain
the cleansing for every stain, the beauty of a sand grain
the inspirational cry midst deafening thunderbolts in storming rain
a hesitation, a refrain that uncabled me off the bandwagoned train
I'd feel you flow in my blood and let you on without question
my ascertion remains you were a cherished obsession
for I felt you in each cardiovascular expansion and contraction
a concoction of high addiction, a necessity for every occasion

Malheureux ! Tous les dons, la gloire du baptême,

Ton enfance chrétienne, une mère qui t'aime,

La force et la santé comme le pain et l'eau,

Cet avenir enfin, décrit dans le tableau

De ce passé plus clair que le jeu des marées,

Tu pilles tout, tu perds en viles simagrées

Jusqu'aux derniers pouvoirs de ton esprit, hélas !

La malédiction de n'être jamais las

Suit tes pas sur le monde où l'horizon t'attire,

L'enfant prodigue avec des gestes de satyre !

Nul avertissement, douloureux ou moqueur,

Ne prévaut sur l'élan funeste de ton cœur.

Tu flânes à travers péril et ridicule,

Avec l'irresponsable audace d'un Hercule

Dont les travaux seraient fous, nécessairement.

L'amitié - dame ! - a tu son reproche clément,

Et chaste, et sans aucun espoir que le suprême,

Vient prier, comme au lit d'un mourant qui blasphème.

La patrie oubliée est dure au fils affreux,

Et le monde alentour dresse ses buissons creux

Où ton désir mauvais s'épuise en flèches mortes.

Maintenant il te faut passer devant les portes,

Hâtant le pas de peur qu'on ne lâche le chien,

Et si tu n'entends pas rire, c'est encor bien.

Malheureux, toi Français, toi Chrétien, quel dommage !

Mais tu vas, la pensée obscure de l'image

D'un bonheur qu'il te faut immédiat, étant

Athée (avec la foule !) et jaloux de l'instant,

Tout appétit parmi ces appétits féroces,

Épris de la fadaise actuelle, mots, noces

Et festins, la « Science », et « l'esprit de Paris »,

Tu vas magnifiant ce par quoi tu péris,

Imbécile ! et niant le soleil qui t'aveugle !

Tout ce que les temps ont de bête paît et beugle

Dans ta cervelle, ainsi qu'un troupeau dans un pré,

Et les vices de tout le monde ont émigré

Pour ton sang dont le fer lâchement s'étiole.

Tu n'es plus bon à rien de propre, ta parole

Est morte de l'argot et du ricanement,

Et d'avoir rabâché les bourdes du moment.

Ta mémoire, de tant d'obscénités bondée,

Ne saurait accueillir la plus petite idée,

Et patauge parmi l'égoïsme ambiant,

En quête d'on ne peut dire quel vil néant !

Seul, entre les débris honnis de ton désastre,

L'Orgueil, qui met la flamme au front du poétastre

Et fait au criminel un prestige odieux,

Seul, l'Orgueil est vivant, il danse dans tes yeux,

Il regarde la Faute et rit de s'y complaire.


- Dieu des humbles, sauvez cet enfant de colère !

Blank stare; don't care
Bleak silk hood
Satellite shine

Ambiant refraction, glowing
Prole projection; neat niche
People stock pile pantry

Fun house
Halls of elaborate mirrors
Impossible iris fixation
Gazillion glances; glaring

Muted mutation

Centering self
Hobbled wobble; mindless meandering
Outer rim, space cadet

Vapid vacuum vissor
clutched clasped canistar
Contemptuous callow contents
Cranial pasteurization
Condensed cerebellum chowder

Sticky sludge; silver sere
Salavation strands slinking
Steadfast starvation saturation
Single serving; superficial snack
Solitude's stretched sling..........

Superimposed...........

Blank stare
Bleak silk mutation
Callow cadet
Streched starvation
Bleak.......
DON'T CARE!