"magnifier" poems
I periodically Perpetuate
hurricanes all around me
manifesting my illusions
filled with anomalies
commonly I’m far from Common
as these evil forces
completely surround me
crashing down to rock-bottom
longing to no longer be lonesome
but my loneliness is caused
by my compulsions
such impulsive behavior
needs to get out of me, expulsion
creatively i creep
to seem casual and sane
To a world that’s corrupt
and crippled needing a cane
****** and staring
into the eyes of the truth
but with all this proof
we can’t find who is to blame
to some mentally
my mind it is unglued
broken into bits
from so much abuse
daily I’m terrified of torture
I feel like I’ve got nothing to lose
I’m black and blue
Just one giant bruise
Beaten and brought down to my knees
Reluctant to beg. I scream out please
No more
In my tears I’m drowning
A moment of silence as
You Playfully tease
But the kid with the magnifier
Doesn’t hear the ants screams
Only burns and burns
Until their is nothing left
But the shell of a man
Who’s life is a mess
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 2:08 PM UTC
Notre ami, le Mouflon
Parfois ses cornes tire-bouchon e font ressembler le mâle à un faune farceur,
Peu haut sur pattes mais véloce, le Mouflon se révèle un remarquable Athlète bondissant de rochers en rochers,
Escaladant les rocs avec effronterie, il se rend parfois en été ou lorsque la nourriture se fait rare, au cœur des clairières et dans le creux des vals
Pour goûter avec gourmandise ces mets de choix que sont pour lui les baies, glands, faînes, châtaignes et surtout les mannes du frêne à fleurs,
Le Mouflon est, avant tout animal des cimes et des à-pics ; il est aimant de tous les lieux inaccessibles sans le secours de jumelles ou de téléobjectifs.
Pour Mouflons et Mouflonnes, la saison de l’amour est l’automne ce qui révèle un goût de seigneur,
Car la vêture des clairières est alors rougeoyante de beauté, à l’instar de tapis persans,
Le Mouflon ne serait-il pas animal sauvage certes mais romantique car il se plait à admirer l’encolure des Mouflonnes, qui s’harmonise si bien avec les couleurs automnales ;
Mais pour les Mouflons, le plaisir d’amour doit rester subtil et ne pas verser dans ces luttes meurtrières : l’ami Mouflon est un épicurien qui donne leçon de sagesse à tous les jaloux.
Le Mouflon fut longtemps, le maître des Montagnes et du maquis Corse qu'il ne partageait qu'avec l’aigle royal, les sangliers les plus hardis et quelques bandits ou patriotes traqués,
Mais trop chassé par certains Hommes, dépourvus de sagesse et à la gâchette trop faciles, il faillit disparaître de son île emblématique.
Aujourd'hui il revient de l'île sœur, la Sardaigne, mais reste encore plus caché dans quelques massifs impénétrables comme le «Monte Cinto» et les «aiguilles de Bavella».
C’est ainsi que la Corse retrouve l'un de ses plus beaux animaux dont le nom de ses enfants, "I Muvrini", a fait le tour des scènes du Monde pour magnifier son emblème et sa terre nourricière, la Corse.
Paul Arrighi
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Fifteen years ago I melted
mini Lego faces with sunlight and a magnifier, only
to test peering into their minds.
Ten years ago I traced the textures on my walls
with black pen, and found images of ***
I slept beneath women taking
the deepest breaths through mouths like ghosts.
Five years ago I asserted that the eye
is a portal through which we
believe madness.
Yesterday I realized the human mind is
a sparsely written program that generates
feelings and functions less efficiently
than a melody hummed into a paper cup.
So I re-wrote it.
Yet, I still find faces
where there are no faces.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
BRUSH
Brush free the carpet
of mud and fluff.
Let’s brush off the hurtful comment too,
that snide remark, those graceless words.
We’re cleaning yet collecting,
straightening up, taking out the dirt.
Repositioning dust. Always temporary,
never the same, brush, brush,
to and fro, again – again - again.
SCOOP
The ice cream tub has one
to make the portion fair
for that ever-observant,
pernickety child.
When walking the dog,
we scoop the ****
carrying the plastic bag
to the waiting wanting bin.
Yet the all-important wooden
scoop is made from a block
of a 2 by 3, with chisel, gouge
and a steady hand.
This farmer’s friend, this open spoon,
lives in darkness and under the lid
of the deep grain bin,
to feed white chickens.
POKE
Getting it out,
placing it right –
but much is trial & error.
If it won’t go in,
give it a poke . . .
and it might.
Nowadays it’s a software app
to help you cheat at on-line games
and , God forbid, an important tool
in the tattooist’s bag – the hand poke,
liner and shader with standard
8 – 32 thumb screws and
completely autoclave able.
CUT
Hogwimpering drunk
or ****** out of mind.
Seventies slang for
individual incapacitation.
A cut can hurt,
display the inner
through incision
in the outer.
Reveals, opens up,
allows a division from
one to another.
This cut of meat on the slab?
For you, madam?
I can cut it up
nice and small
for the baby to chew.
RAKE
Lying there in the long summer grass,
it needs standing up, its teeth cleaned.
When autumn comes it redeems itself,
clearing the path, letting the lawn breath.
In the hand of sculptor, ceramicist, modeller
it fashions variously, cuts, pulls away, gouges,
scrapes, a multi-purpose stick with two ends:
of wrapped wire, of ribboned steel.
LOOK
To make sure it’s right:
correct and straight,
balanced, in proportion.
The magnifier helps,
the camera too,
getting the angle,
the position , the light
gauged . . . with a little looking.
You have to look,
see?
HIT
Whatever needs placing firmly,
needs fixing permanently,
can do with a hit (or two).
A nail with a hammer,
a door with a foot,
it could be a winner,
and right on target,
strike out the opposition,
disable the enemy.
A killer noun.
I prefer the verb.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
Oh the Lord is the flinger of things
the bringer of stings
the terrifier
the hypnotizer
magnifier
a spurner
a burner
the great turner
I am burned
I have turned
and painfully learned!
I cling to the Lord of all ages
sender of sages
the payer of wages
I hold tight
Live and love right
I cling
I cling
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
~
may you ne’er reach
wealth without a struggle;
may you ne’re grasp
success without the pain;
for ’tis life’s struggle
that purifies one’s soul,
and ’tis his pain
that will make
the broken more whole.
but a silver spoon feeds
the want of one’s ease,
and a deep-cushioned couch
gathers only the
lazy and thieves.
for...
wealth is the great insular,
and money is a magnifier;
the core of one’s heart
that beats deep within;
success is the incisor,
that lays bare the soul.
place one the other afore,
regret will sorely follow;
for it magnifies a fool!
but the one who earns,
by grace discerns,
virtue’s voice to listen learns,
attains a stage from which to lead;
his a stature most uncommon,
by wisdom’s mere simplicity
were his mouth to ne’er open
his footsteps and his life
would surely, loudly speak!
this the cost, the
elusive expense,
this the price
of un-common sense.
~
*post script.
i am no philosopher;
these are but a lifetime
of observations made;
and mine are mere shadows
’midst an elusive sun’s shade.
the precise formula
i profess to know not
but of this i am quite certain
wisdom isn't given
to any without cost.
yet she is less elusive
than one might think...
for,
“wisdom calls aloud
in the open air
and raises her voice
in the public places.”
Proverbs 1:20*
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
A Child’s First Safety-Deposit Box
For Kirk Briggs
A dime-store pocket watch that doesn’t run
A tiny magnifier for aiming the sun
A bit of chalk, glass marbles, crayon stubs
A pencil or two worn down to the nubs
A pair of dice gained in a school-yard trade
A cheap pocket knife with a broken blade
A pocket calendar from just last year
A bottle-opener that says “JAX BEER”
A shotgun hull, and little toy cars -
A box is for treasures, not Dad’s cigars!
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
As the scales
fell off,
you will begin
to see clearly
and differently
without the help
of a magnifier
or a binocular.
So many things
about this life
that didn't matter
or even existed but
only in the mind
have optical illusions.
They will surprise you
because you put
them up to
be important.
When you start
getting over
someone you loved,
you realise how
ordinary they were.
It was your
love that made
them special.
When the scales
fell off you
can now see
the ugliness of
those things you
thought were
so beautiful.
As the veil
is uncovered to
expose the intricacies
of the heart,
everything you
believe in will
crash in front
of you because
all you think
you know is
not as it is
or what you
think it is.
Be weary in
believing too quickly
in things of
flashy nature,
all that glitters
is not gold.
This world is
full of illusions
and plastic stuff.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Nature is a prism
Refracting all of life
Each strand upon her rainbow
Is all of the same light
The Sea – The Moon - The Earth
The tender Nightingale
From one law divine
Next to which illusion pales
For Nature is a magnifier
Of beauteous intensity
Life is manifest
And amplified in her majesty
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
But who am I
A teardrop traveling from my eye
As I witness the pain
and the truth in the lie
I want to sit all day and wrap myself within beautiful lies
And watch the sunrise
The truth makes me feel bare and scared
I couldn't manage it; I bar my ears from hearing truth
When it touches my ears, I just feel so confused
I've searched up and down and all around for this thing people call The Truth
Magnifier in hand like a sleuth
But it still eludes me, like it does everyone else
The world is moving and living
But I don't think I want to be apart of it...
Because the more I hear about what truth means to others
The more confused I become
I just want to meet someone with answers
This search deprives my life of fun!
With all this uprooting tradition and reasoning and overturning superstition and dogma,
The meaning that has imbued my life has waned
I'm a lost traveler searching for truth and a clear cut purpose.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
I finally came ashore
I know it took so long
When you came along
Now I feel like I belong
You gave me a desire
You filled my life with inspiration
I had to use a magnifier
I really do admire you
When I came ashore
You gave me so much more
You opened the door
Changes surrounded my soul
I'm living in the moment
This world gave me a purpose
You gave me a desire
You fueled the fire
You fueled the fire
You fueled the fire
It took so long
I feel like I belong
I finally came ashore
Passion and fire
Inspiration and dedication
You fueled the fire
I finally came ashore
You opened the door
All the changes in me
Changes,,,
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
I dreamed the dream of life
it’s glowing lights reflected off of
flowing streams, a magnifier ray
That blinds my sight.
I’ve walked through worlds imagined
filled with honey suckle and cutting thorns,
a vision I’d always seen tilted sideways,
blurred and hazy.
The sky shifts as the clouds continue on,
I stand planted here and study
their drifting motion, a steady crawl from
this day on to the next.
I dreamed the dream of life
and saw shadowed fingers gripping
a glossy door, opening it slowly, a dark
head slowly revealing itself around the corner,
eyes pointed down in shy approach.
A nightmare, a dream of thrashing discontent
a figure sits by the bedside, his legs crossed
scribbling thoughts on his notepad,
An unsure diagnosis and prediction
Of the yet to come and destined to pass.
I dreamed the dream of life
and I was shown collisions, barriers destroyed
by speeding bullets blurring with velocity and
crashing violently, exploding in a flash,
a strike that sends me reeling backwards
falling to the my hands and knees
coughing blood, it’s ruby drip puddling
on the ground below.
I dreamed the dream of life
And it was all I could ever do,
It was all I ever could see
a shimmering veil over eyes crinkled,
the smile withered by all of time
and time left to be.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Death
Real Sorrow For Some
Hidden Treasures For Others
Will Passed Along
And Another
And Another Yet
Like a A Set of ****** Foot Prints
For This Dtory to Be Revealed
Plot Twist
A Story of An UnGodly Hunt
Tears Of Briken Friendship
Magnifier Upon the Cross
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC