"cornerstone" poems
Surveillance is the cornerstone to my dictatorship
Over your life
I hold you firmly with my invader's grip
To create strife
To spread fear among the vigilant citizens
And make you feel like you're not fitting in
It's all part of my devious plan
To trap you in my surveillance van
I've got owls perched in trees
And satellites floating in space
Pictures make the world freeze
So I can see your pretty face
I start to drone on and on
Your indifferent mouth yawns
You spy on the clock
Waiting for me to stop
You stare through me
The way I stare into your house
Hell is 200 degrees
When you find your lovely spouse
She doesn't have my pictures
She hasn't read your scripture
I must've gotten my information wrong
I thought my surveillance was strong
My mistakes rule me with an iron fist
And they throw me in prison
I thought I could live in surveillance bliss
But this isn't the life I envisioned
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
Sometimes
when I do something
a little less
than good,
the mind
bugs me
with a guilt trip
to ****** land,
and I know
that morality
is a cornerstone
of Buddhism
which I subscribe to,
but the moral, virtuous, pure way
bothers me
as does the chemistry
of the mechanism of the mind
which gives me
this crap.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 3:44 PM UTC
How Sweetingly Rare to see this Advise,
The Westfold Bard who shares this Ancient Art
But Performed it Better to his Concise
And took Definition for his Good Part
I just knew you now. So what of belate
As Mentored Dolphins with Water's Tie befriend
I found this Artist; This Cornerstone Great
And Hope your Elder's Tongue will never end
You, Sir, confirmed my Efforts; This I Bow
And hand you the Medal I sought to seek
I am no Patron; Neither plan so now
Only the Purest Abe in Honest meek.
Now please Sing on, and Live to Peak Content
I write my Sighs; But these Praises I meant.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
The stars have all turned to dust
Trampled by their affiliations
A gaping hole swallows the light
Another crucifixion.
Each day, a constellation falls
Again into her dolor
And no one tries to help her out
Another mindless toiler.
Fate destroyed her life's foundation
She is a ship adrift at sea
Her cornerstone was cast away
Another lost divinity.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
We’ve been herded by hook and crook,
To obey convention, and read textbook.
The uniformity is maddening,
And the subjects are baffling.
The whole wide world is grand and open;
Why cordon the mind off in a tiny token?
Rules were meant to be broken,
To usher change and issue motion.
Creativity, art, they build up cultures,
Not to be picked at by robotic vultures.
They always nitpick and they scavenge,
Intent on making things a challenge.
Passion is the cornerstone of all,
It survives when things are squall.
It’s the sun that rises within you,
Makes you things you never knew.
Question everything, for your good;
You’ll find more than you ever could.
Explore everything, be curious;
For the world out there is glorious.
Challenge everything, be skeptical;
Your brain is knowledge’s receptacle.
Think outside, and break the rules;
Don’t blindly follow, like the fools.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
The Chicago Tribune called it,
“The Affair of the Decade!”
Everyone’s mothers called it,
“Another tragic heartbreak”.
When the coroner wiped his hands,
He predicted a sensation,
And so did every uniformed man
Sitting in the po-lice station.
In a cold Illinois motel,
A man in a suit smiles.
He was twenty years in,
A detective for the city.
Oh, that smile he’ll smile,
But gone is his laughter,
Along with his pity,
For tonight, tonight,
He would shoot up the city.
Regina combed her blonde hair,
And took the lift down to the lobby.
The pale-skinned princess,
That woman’s body…
How many fell for her
Remains quite a mystery.
We watch,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watch,
As her dress moves in the breeze.
Like a dandelion in the dark,
She rides the carriage
Into the park.
The detective stood alone,
A cut-out cornerstone.
He was no longer nervous,
He looked like a statue,
And the virgin-white snow
Fell quietly to his shoes.
In the moonlight, she came.
He spoke her name.
In the moonlight, she walked.
But when he spoke, she stopped.
“Regina, Regina,
Please reconsider.
Without you,
The nighttime is darker,
The cold air much thinner.
Without you,
The wind becomes sour,
The daylight so bitter.
Regina, Regina,
It’s just a few days…
Say yes,
And in the morning,
We’ll be far from this place!”
But that Regina, Regina,
She let him down easy:
“Your job is to spy,
To live in the quiet.
You’re a prowler,
You were born to sneak,
And I will proceed,
But do not follow me.”
And we watch,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watch,
As she turns on a dime,
Leaving our detective behind.
A poor, tortured soul,
He smiles that smile,
And in an act of desperation,
Pulls out his frosted .45.
For Regina,
He aimed, and
For Regina,
He fired.
In the heart of Chicago,
Be it snowfall or in heat,
No one can be spared
When a man is in defeat.
T’will be the foggy air,
The hot metal, and
The echo of the gun
That will help us remember
The night that we watched,
Ladies and gentlemen,
We watched…
We watched...
The snow, and how
It lost its innocence that night.
And poor Regina, and how
Her yellow dress blended into the sight.
The detective, and how
He would step into the street,
Killing everyone he’d meet.
Twenty men dead,
Now the asphalt is sticky,
And the blood spilled is gritty-
For tonight, tonight,
The detective shot up the city.
The coroner wiped his hands,
And predicted a sensation,
And so did every uniformed man
Sitting in the po-lice station.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC
You gave me the resolve that I needed
And the strength
To believe I was worth it.
Now my foundation is crumbling in the spot –
The one you once occupied.
Slowly
My rock has turned to dust
And i’m falling down
To the ground,
Back to the place where you found me.
Before you built me up,
Made me taller
Than other skyscrapers
Surrounding me.
I don’t think anyone else
Has the right tools
To make me solid again,
To rebrand me
But my belief was firm
That one day,
The Great One shall restore me.
(22/19/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Where in this life can one find
A golden heart, a heart that's pure?
A conscience that, with Peace aligned,
Can make our faith in Love assured?
Can it be found in modern man?
His search for meaning in Degrees?
In knowledge he relies upon
To cure the sickness... soul's disease?
Is it found within the mind?
The place where one's sad past resides?
Whatever will the doctors find?
Suss out the place where conscience lies?
Is it found in shifting stars?
In charts where moons and planets turn?
Can one map out this heart of ours?
Is our fate there? Assured and firm?
Is religion e'r the answer here?
Or, once more, a source of pain?
A source of strength or source of fear?
Should we search on once again?
For 'tis not the things we think,
Our pondering philosophy
Nor is it in our darkest link
With a past of misery.
It is not in ancient scrolls
Writings of the stars aligned
Nor is it works in laws of old,
A path of "goodness" wending. Blind.
It is within the heart itself
Where the Spirit has its place.
Where the Word of God Himself
Has given us amazing grace.
His heart, more pure than gold unearthed,
He walked with man, yet was alone,
Who has an estimate of worth
Of our High Priest and Cornerstone?
Abiding in a heart of grace
That's where purity doth live!
You are looking in His face,
Behold, in persons who FORGIVE.
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Rapid Eye Movements
cruise down the Autobahn,
driving dreams of soldiers
slaying the Beast in the East:
seeds hidden in the cuff links
that return home for the victory parade.
The victory parade of the new millennium
is a mirage: desert sand creeps
through the streets of Basra;
spray painted slogans of “Aryan Nation”
are left behind on pock-marked walls.
High level terror alerts
scroll across the Fear o' Dome,
breeding paranoid glances
from commercial-class passengers
while they fly above fenced camps
where centralized secret service agents
watch the unloading of another train.
"Son, do you forget the sacrifices?
Have you lost all your respect?
Okay, it’s possible that the Feds
were influenced by the Purebreds—
a minor repercussion
of maintaining our national security.
It isn’t even about racial purity—
you are all mixed now, anyway.
Whether female, black, jew, or gay,
we must unite together as a nation;
raise its flag with pride,
and fight against a common enemy!
This enemy is trying to disintegrate
the cornerstone of our free society!
Son, can you not see! Not see-notsee-notsea-notsi-notzi-natzi-nazi-natzi-notzi-notsi-notsea-notsee-not see!"
_____
—cold sweat.
I awaken to remnants of nightmarish images
sifting through my mind:
flocks of carnivorous sheep
with invisible shepherds.
The dream had felt real—
solid, like flesh-out reality.
I rush out of bed,
just to make sure.
From my bedroom window,
I see the neighbour’s Iron Eagle weathervane
goose-stepping towards the west.
A lawnmower growls in the background.
Everything appears normal here
on the corner of 4th Reichstag Blvd.
2016 Neu Berlin Remix, July 13th, 2016
(original version was written on March 29th, 2010)
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 6:14 PM UTC
To define yourself, is to delivery identity...
To trust your fellow passengers is to create identity...
To keep to your word is to prove identity...
Being insipid about your identity...
Creates your identity...
Exhilarating your expectations ruins your identity...
Insipid and Interesting are the two sides of my coin
Decide and Defer are part of humanity
Expert in creating Expectations which is,
Nevertheless worthy of Niche
Trust and Tolerance go hand in hand
Irresistible yet Intangible
Transcend beyond Transition calls for the great you
Young and Youthful at the beginning but insipid towards the end of the road.
**Trust is the cornerstone of my Identity !!!**
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
It’s the way the sun bounces off the gravel and the smell of wet moss mixed
With the edge of old cigarettes and tree sap,
It’s the gap between memories and fuzzy impressions
Of past existences mixed with recaptured instances
And empirical proof that my childhood existed.
In the way light moves heaver through the air there
Until branches from the walnut lift and you can hear scrub jays,
And the echo of cans that rattled
In perfect belonging with the march of smacking sandal shoes
Chasing along black pavement toward dirt roads
And children’s kindred spirits running after water.
The heavy sent of fresh fallen rain on old pain and yellow
Paint and trumpet flowers that play silent music
To the ears of a young person discovering existence
Exploring persistence and resilience and
Coming forth out of darkened nights with the
Resurrected brilliance of the maimed sick and twisted
Soldiers of life from these former generations.
Never has a place existed as hell and heaven
Like this museum of familial dysfunction.
I stand here at junction between, panic struck sadness,
And the will for the gumption to say goodbye
To a past with dwindling survivors
And sour memories. Praying a thank you to dark space
For the fond thought of their wrinkled faces
And a grandeur lesson of all that I want not,
And for the first thing my life to stay in one place
For the duration of its chaos.
Sweet wicked, loving woman ,
The remnants of my childhood will die with you.
I assume I will hide my tears in your memory.
My past my memories myself, I hate the parts I love
And fear a kind of numbness at the loss of you
At the loss of this chunk of myself
And of all the things that will slip my grasp
When so much of my life is confined
To the constantly desecrating atmosphere of my mind.
And when I turn to find
The first cornerstone of my existence,
My support and experience I will
See only shadows and the pasts of real things,
And I will miss you.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
I know myself better than you.
In my heart there is a banshee waiting to drown themselves on the shores of a beach covered in discarded glass.
Her body ragged, bruised, and gaunt in every view.
She’s sharp and harsh with every cut that may pass.
Her hair obscures her eyes with a taupe wash of strands.
She pierces into the tiny drums with a venom only meant to break my spirit and erode past the bones.
Into my soul she will cut with those talons on her hands.
I can’t progress without her because she is my cornerstone.
My foundation would collapse without her haunting inside.
She’s seen my cracks and my missing parts.
Instead of leaving me numb she waters my plants.
Together we craft love and we create art.
She raised the goblin in my head to laugh and dance.
He leads us through her pain.
It’s something that helps me smile no matter how heavy the rain.
He swallows the flames we light each day or eliminates the obstacles in our way.
His skin so full and flushed;
It contrasts so greatly with her hair unbrushed.
His eyes so clear, bright, and colorful.
I can feel the joy radiate so extensively.
What he gives so soft like the silky breeze she echoes back with a call so guttural.
I always valued him more so selfishly.
There would be no him without her.
There would be no parts in me without the parts I don’t prefer.
So before you tell me that I’m intense or too much;
I hope you see how important they both are inside.
They are more than the things you can see or touch.
They are every laugh that I’ve had or every tear that I’ve cried.
I don’t need you to believe that I am the right amount between too much and just enough for you.
I believe in my own beauty and wholeness; we all do.
Aug 9, 2022
Aug 9, 2022 at 8:29 PM UTC
i.
Malkhati, ourn arrangement hath been prearranged, set aside all of past anger's, Sting's from compeer's; knoweth ourn lion from the tribe of Judah, the Messiah draweth near.
ii.
Hush mine love, quiet mine dear, notice the weather's change and the birthing pain's of fear; though we shant faint, we shalt run through Meadow's clear. Wherein nothing shalt compare, to the thing's that we shalt see.
iii.
O' just imagine mine Jane, fountain of life that spring's, from God's throne seraph's gleam, as we'll Stare at Christ's bronze feet. Many table's for a holy feast, None beast's to make their way, for the beast's wilt be left behind us, making their trail's in Satan's day.
iv.
For we mine love, O' we; art messenger's, disciples, for Jesus the lowly Nazarene, now he's on high, his time is nigh, where all shalt shalt see his white robe, in blood dipped, paradise gripped, unearthly flow.
v.
We must be ready mine Asian hunny, for the sky's won't be sunny; that much longer now. The time is here, his call for us, we must speak and YELL OF JESUS, the one whom shalt awake the dead from the dust. Prophecy must be fulfilled mine girl, don't be in angst, of this soon passing world. He is the pearl, that once was rejected, the cornerstone to every broken home, the one in the beginning the builder's once disrespected. But every eye shalt see, every tribe shalt mourn, O' his sweet return, His sweet return. We must prophesy, before this earth doth burn, we bring TRUTH NOT FEAR, mayest love come by storm. Anyone who hath an ear, please heed ourn word's. For the Warning's art on the clouds, driven by storm's. YESHUA HAMASHIACH, He's coming soon, wilt thou listen O' man? Or let Lucifer deceive thou to? Mine Jane, Mine Jane, I seeith him coming;
Holy, holy is his name.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry , prophetic poetry.
©Earl jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou)
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Bells that chime with malcontent
shall toll the sounds of dread.
Whistles cry with detriment;
the hour of death's ahead.
Fields are razed, and valleys hazed;
miasma shall ensue.
Mountains crumble; end of days
rides 'pon the heels of doom.
Death has come for everyone;
no cornerstone unturned.
Putrefy to purify;
with blood, your lakes shall churn.
Sanctity's naught but a dream;
rescind your factions few.
It's all for one to come undone,
and all shall burn with you.
Clouds aflame, for in His name
the sky comes thund'ring down.
And when this land rests in His hand,
He'll take our throne and crown.
Tyrant-force with no remorse;
from out the sea, He'll rise.
He leads His thrall to conquer all,
with fire in His eyes.
Apocalypse shall head the Styx;
the river shall run high.
And to the banks, you stand in ranks
and heed Lord Charon's cry,
"File in, all ye of sin."
His cackles crack the trees.
*"Thy Earth undone, my kingdom come.
Now sunder unto me."*
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
when day breaks and brazen stands the sun
as if to say, it is day, the storm has passed
once more
you lay in a pool of soft sand, a whisper of what once was
fists clenching and unclenching
silence so deafening you ache
it feels so unpleasant, this ease
comfort was not meant for you, where do you even place yourself in a scene meant for someone else?
you make suffering your home
the cold tiles a cornerstone
but the suffering has ended in spite of you
of all your pleas to stay in a race for survival
trotting on battered rubble-bound roads
and despite it all
you are safe and free
the sun lapses in providing warmth
but never stills
and neither have you
before now
and yet
happiness does not creep in, nor does it knock
nor barges or in wanders
you are left empty in a filled space
almost to the point of combustion
and this is how you shall stay
shivering, the rays hurling themselves at any surface besides you
fruitless, the suffering meant so very little besides all that you knew
empty, just as the space next to you
Nov 15, 2023
Nov 15, 2023 at 1:27 PM UTC
In shadows cast by a weary heart,
Where solitude weaves its subtle art,
I find myself lost in a lonely abyss,
As feelings of neglect persist.
Once cherished, now a distant ghost,
Love's ember fades, it's what I fear most.
In the depths of my soul, a tempest brews,
Aching echoes of a love I can't lose.
Alone, I stand in a crowded room,
Yearning for connection, a shared bloom.
But like a shadow, I'm unseen, unknown,
By the one I hold dear, my heart's cornerstone.
Unwanted whispers linger in the air,
As my pleas for attention become despair.
Silent tears paint a canvas of sorrow,
As I search for solace in the morrow.
Do I not matter, am I just a ghost?
My heart longs for warmth, the love I miss most.
Yet silence engulfs, a bitter refrain,
Leaving me trapped in this ocean of pain.
But amidst the darkness, a flicker remains,
A glimmer of hope that somehow sustains.
I'll reclaim my worth, my spirit will rise,
And spread my wings beneath desolate skies.
For even in solitude, strength is found,
In the depths of my being, a resounding sound.
I'll learn to embrace my own company,
And find solace in the depths of me.
I'll treasure my heart, its worth untold,
And cherish the love I long to unfold.
For though I may feel alone and ignored,
My spirit won't falter, I won't be ignored.
In time, the wounds will surely heal,
And new beginnings will gently reveal.
That love is not confined to one's embrace,
But flows in abundance through life's vast space.
So, I'll rise from the shadows, embrace the light,
Unburdened by darkness, ready to take flight.
For even in solitude, I'll find my own way,
And love's sweet symphony will guide me each day.
May 28, 2023
May 28, 2023 at 8:51 PM UTC
Softly and tenderly we are drawn in together
When the sun rises in all its glory
There is gold awakening in both our smiles
I just want to lie here and look at you
Let Heaven write our story
The balance of time glows in bright shadows
Breaking light is a wondrous delight
When falling on the sweetest face I know
In a golden gift of remembrance
Suspended from our night
I believe the whole world should just once feel
The breathless hush we have known
When their sun rises in all its golden glory
And falls in such delight on the face
Of their cornerstone
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 3:35 PM UTC
And now I'm caught in a Dread Lock,
Cause if Marleys to be believed then
"None but ourselves can free our minds"
But am I myself?
Am I being deceived by mine?
Mixed signals being received by mine.
tells me I'm fine,
But what if I'm not?
I'm scared to stop.
In possession of past lessons
I'm scared to stop.
But I'm lost
Paths hidden
But I tread on
Scared to stop.
Shadows thought ridden
Stalk me.
Turn round?
I dare not,
scared to stop.
Can I control it this time?
Doubt chimes.
Cornerstone of my downfall
Is doubts chime.
I'm Running out of time
Running I fall in slow motion
Tidal wave of emotion
about to hit
But am I fit to deal with it?
Last time I drowned in it.
Swallowed me up for years
I Disappeared
Overshadowed by fears
In despair I'd sit.
Can I beat it this time?
Defeat it this time?
Or will my life be on repeat
For all time?
Will I find I'm
Confined to a mind
I cannot control?
Emotions take hold.
Frozen to the spot
But I'm scared to stop!
I'm scared to stop
Cause if I do IT might catch me up...
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
i.
Yeshua Ha'Mashiach, enlighten me and Jane's way,
For the juncture through the gunchern
Is wailing, therein the opening of the seal's
Art displaying their stage.
ii.
O' cornerstone, which the builder's hath refused, I beseech thee, and thy protection, sendeth me and jane thy perfect correction;
Fixing ourn sight's on thee.
iii.
O' heavenly dayspring, we seeith the harbinger's of the time's, in the great high blue, underneath the crumbling glue, of planet earth's loam confine.
iv.
O' door to everlasting life, showeth thine light betwixt me and Jane's life. Helpeth us to showeth other's what's right; in the midst of this global panic. Helpeth us to show thou art the one and only way, the path narrow, not broad, the road to Paradise wherein prophecies art coming reality, from the word's of thine father God.
v.
O' king of king's, and Lord of lord's, mayest thou maketh a way for me and mine lass, showeth Jane we hath a bigger purpose. Not just to love eachother, but to showeth Thine amour to one another, to Christian sister's and brother's, and those with no vision, and with none hope. Worketh through us, to be thine cloud's that float- to sprinkle promise; to those without.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry \prophetic poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
True love is not getting her
A gift for everyone to see
Rather it's behind closed doors
Where your devotion is proven
When she can't sleep
And you talk her through the night
When you fall ill to some disease
And she stays by your side,
Watching your favorite shows with you
True love is not bringing your "arm candy" with you to show off
If your love her, then you love the way
She looks all the time, even when she
First wakes up, her face rid if products
If you love him, you won't read his texts, for isn't trust the cornerstone in the structure of the life you are building together?
If you love each other,
You will accept your flaws and those
Of your beloved, and cherish each other through for who you are,
Who you've been, and who
You will become
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
Beyond the darkness
Shades of painted corners
face these inward fears
Now drenched in lost endeavors
and flat as the cornerstone of suffering
Caught within boundaries along wasting moments,
crying blanket feelings,
pounding on the walls of despair
“leaving fist prints like so many discarded roses”
Calling out to the endless deafness
“Time it does not heal,
scars merely cut deeper”,
echoes among the tapered dreams
Fog engulfs the melody…slowly
chasing after poetic symphonies
playing in a westward direction
“horizontal compass points from this to that”
This weary hand trembles
violently as it reaches, pleads
Where the monochrome sun sets,
beyond the chosen horizon
in heart shaped vistas and opened arm landscapes
Trust in amber glowing beacons
wave banners of solitude
“free flowing fabric beckoning in rhythmic motions”
Forcing the stoic front door…open
Creaking hinges scream, your fears cup beneath your chest
Breathing in the stench of life
but lured by the fragrance of the future
Where sorrow drowns in cascade pools,
pain hides where it can not be found
and he waits to lift you…beyond the darkness
“and you find you have wings, shimmering in this golden friendship”
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
And now he stands here before you
Crucified by you, but once again alive
By the love of god alive
He is the stone that the builders refused
And he's become the head corner stone
The almighty laid a stone in Zion
A precious stone, for a sure foundation
And those who rely on it shall not know fear
Because the stone that the builders refused
Becomes the head cornerstone
The lord he has done this
And it is marvelous in our eyes
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
"That the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!"
. . .
"Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher. "All is vanity!"
. . .
I've been thinking too much. Help me.
. . .
What am I without words?
Others's words?
Copy and paste, copy and paste, copy and--
Pastel my mind with your philosophies,
For I am made of mirror neurones, feeling
What is not mine,
Empty with empathy.
I don't deserve your grief,
And I can't say I'm worth your pound of flesh.
Your stars are my pixels,
Your prison is my escape.
I wear your truth like veil--a lie.
Tear me in half,
Crack the cornerstone,
Break my mind palace; my temple.
Write on my heart, my mind, again.
Write these words
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
(I) Love Thy Neighbor As Thy
self
~
*how I would
honor this with
joy effervescent,
this simplest of methodologies
if only I,
could permission myself
to love myself
if only I,
knew
how to love*
~~
(II) redemption: the city of man reinventing himself
*busting bursting, this city,
ceaseless change,
old discardation,
how blind am I,
skyscrapers built in a day
how have I failed to notice
the estate changes
a master plan unknown,
the reasoned limits ever stretched.
in defiance of taste and sense,
obedient to Babel tower's net-result,
the miscegenation of language
but this is a ruse issue,
an example of me/man,
this new born spawn,
a wagging tail of
a man I know,
a failed inventor,
nary a patent
to his name
years on years
he patiently awaits
for one true inspiration
a redefinition, a redemption,
a reinvention, a new cornerstone
to lay upon it a new foundation
just a clue, a single block,
he can clean erase
start over, inaugurate
a recommencement celebration
to begin the same mistakes
here be the rub,
the irritation,
the seed comes implanted
and then
wind spread
can be only repaired, replaced
when cross pollinated
with the love of a foreign body
and his only crime, love poetry,
his crime alone, for unopened
it, and he, both-awaiting the time
when others come impatient
to bulldoze him aside*
~~~
(III) Three
three
*an oddity
an uneven symmetrical imagery*
"only love poetry"
*a three sum,
- three legged stool-
there is nothing new under the sun,
whispers the Psalmist
this I whisper
only, alone, one,
be no such!
only love poetry
until*
~~~~
postscript
***if only I,
knew
how to love***
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
Cornerstone of a drastic life
Are the lies that stop us
From killing each other
With these heavy metals
In deadly wars
Or just our fists
In the moment
To stop your deadly laughs
With storms of metal hornets
That nip at your flesh
Until you're dust
But with this
small unjust curve of words
Waiting will be worth it
Because you'll survive
Survive
But not live
That's all you need
All you need
is something
A lie
A cornerstone
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC