He knew the ache could not be recompensed
they knew it too the moment echoes fell silent
There was already not enough love
in a world grown dark as darkest past

It wasn't the color of his skin nor dialect
or the  journey of a  thousand  miles
Not the place that he'd come from
       back when ―  left behind

             nor a heart of gold,  
      that never became a home

The colour of  unwritten silence
had  eclipsed  the waning  light
On the run from who he'd become;
     ashamed for all he was,  
couldn't erase a lifetime that felt a waste ―
               trying to untie a Gordian knot

He saw his body as an entombing barbwire cage
    imprisoning  a  wellspring  of  love writhing deep therein

Immured at arms length from the outside world
    where  the soul of a teardrop  abides  within
                         its insignificance

Shielding the  inherent  maelstrom
                          from the innocent passersby
Buried thoughtfully for the greater good of all ―
for the unsatiated dream boundless love betides

Written  artifacts  exhumed  like  ***** secrets
a lifetime of stigma's stain swept under the rug;
just whispered words written from an unfinished life
few ever really looked deeply between the twisted lines
arising from the soul of just another passing stranger

The long road begets a suffocating silence
choking out,           extinguished love inhumed
Ashes  of what once had been life aglow of light
               forevermore shrouded
          like the dark side of the moon



rivers

~for the wild child, daughter, wife, mother~



I am drifting into the tender part of the night, when deceit is pointless, and I argue with conviction within myself that in our lives that it will never be too late, but I know I contradict my prior musing...somewhere between the fact that time is a wasting commodity, precocious and precious, lives this idea within, that there is nothing that cannot be navigated, recompensed,  even forgiven...

the argument goes on, the tide of battle switching back and forth, and for now I must be satisfied with the meagerness of I can’t give up, be at ease by acknowledging defeat, not just yet, and the fast arrival of a clean slate is a chance, a draw, a ticket to ride, and,

reaching

is a wonderful idea, full of compromise, out and in, extra effort, and tomorrow I may yet teach one of us, even myself, by reaching inside of what churns within, and then have the perfect words you require, for a desperate need, and a comforting that comes forth easily

How stand thee tall, judgemental,now? How dost thou choose thy bread?
When all around thee, finger pointers, leer and shake their head.
Have you found a sphere of comfort here, whilst perched upon thy throne?
Has it ever really bothered you, that esconced, you're quite alone?
You live with dire restrictions, imposed so harshly by the Court
And as socially, classed an isolate, it affects you more than ought.
Though recompensed so generously you feel the pressure bound
Because each and every day your judgement rendered, must be sound.
Each utterance decreed by you must hold good Law intoned
Or the Brotherhood Knights Templar shall see you thoroughly dethroned.

A Pillar of Society, though one who stands forlorn
Is the Judge who'se daily client's words are negatively sworn.
The Judge who waits expectantly for that ray of light to shine
But is constantly bombarded by the tarnished shade of crime.

The loneliness is tangible and corrosive wear extreme
For the man who sits in judgement and who'se wisdom must be seen.

Marshalg
Pukehana
13 January 2014

oh **** i missed a spot
on the wall,
i painted my face instead:
any creases or wrinkles apparent?
ex hominem... that’s related to a universal person,
the whole notion: wouldn’t you?
that’s the paradox contra ad hominem -
for it to be true you'd need to
be a universal person in a universal scenario...
but since you're a particular person
in a particular scenario... we're meddling
in untracked territory of freedom...
the freedom that's not coupled to doubt
but the freedom that's coupled to denial...
and here come the priests saying
the former is evil... and the latter good...
bigots and sheep ******* the whole lot of them
who mumble prayer but
can't tell you directions to the library
for the anti-****** of monday's sanctimony,
of tuesday's operatic tabernacle,
to wednesday's: the cure's friday night i'm in love,
to fatty thursday not using pancakes...
to one good friday where the crucifixion
is not repeated using actors and
the audience of shadows...
to saturday the day of binge drinking...
to sunday when lucifer said the words:
i illuminate turning helium into hydrogen
and not turning the new testament into the old testament...
to the remnant first monday after:
eye for an eye... i won't take your money
to spare you... keep that filth with you -
buy yourself a parrot... or a labrador...
i won't take this "adequate compensation"
not one bit... better me bitterer on the street
or as a satanic sacrifice... take it with you...
i'll have my eye for an eye in the realm to come;
good sir... it would be counter-intuitive otherwise...
it would go against newtonian physics
to be recompensed with money
rather than an undamaged brain.

If you put the question to, say, one Ben Haramed,
He would, as befits a wily old desert jackal,
Find such notions of faith and fidelity quite amusing--

(Following stars in search of something ephermal,
With no fixed exchange rate?
Will these specks of light find you shelter
Among throngs of shepherds and sundry fools?
Will your mewling, puking infant provide you succor in that cold city
Where no one makes time for you, save the pickpockets or strumpets,
Each of whom would pawn your drum
For a dram or string of brightly-colored beads?)

And, indeed, if you happened upon a certain wise and well-off trio
Ensconced comfortably in their lodgings several streets distant
From the temporary residence of the object of their pilgrimage
(It is only fit that we pay obeisance,
But to actually stay in such a place, well...)
They would certainly forswear any notion
Of the primacy of the gold piece and the blade
But if you caught them in a more comfortable, unguarded moment
You may able to infer quite correctly that,
While they would express themselves more elegantly
Than some rude wilderness bandit,
You could no more expect them
To exchange their coin of the realm for philosophy
Than you would expect the fold and kine
To keep perfect four-four time.

And yet we believe, in spite of the first-hand knowledge
That the descendants of Balthasar and Melchior can elbow their way
Past whomever they choose, and be greeted, all smiles,
By the bank manager, the lawmaker, the chairman of the board
That our works and our constancy
Shall be recompensed at a sound rate of return
(How could it be otherwise, for didn’t Our Story Teller herself,
Through stiffness of upper lip and fealty
To all things bright and beautiful,
Weather the Blitz as beautiful, as inspirational,
As a cross-Channel Joan of Arc?)
If only we are as steadfast as the chant of the Dies Irae,
As unwavering as the straightforward beat of a single drum
Which follows the procession down the main thoroughfare
As we make our final homecoming.

Your
pathological
Lies

Will never lead
you to
the Truth
my friend

I say this because
I know

For many reasons
Impossible

Though my path
at the time..
was never that
Logical

For all I have
Is just a wandering Egø
but not many
PrOphETS to
find

So at best
I'm just a Prodigal Son
Who's on the
Run

Or just
An empty module
that's been
cast to the
Side

Therefore
now in which
was condemned and
condensed

Recompensed to
Repent

Fixed

In little pockets
of
Pride

So I guess that's why
I wear this fur coat
to favor me

Right?

Or so
it seems

Although it seems?

I don't believe in
Animal
Rights

Nah..

But that can't
be
Right

Maybe selfish
thinking?

Or maybe thinking
that it will keep me
nice and warm
Like

When the nights
are Cold

Or maybe if I pray
The light will lead
me to
his grace
I'm told

To many places
Untold

So I guess
I must check
or at least let
the man behind
the veil
Unfold

That which
I do not know

Or at least let
him place my soul
Placed
Back in the
mold

With no actions
or expressions like
a Mannequin

Then pray once again
on my knees and
believe

That he will one day
truly make me
into

A
Man
again

The mind creates a world in which it controls what is right and what is wrong.
It executes the punishments and doles them out freely.
It refuses to acknowledge the unraveling of itself.
Like yarn, threading throughout itself in a tangled mess.
Knotted up until no longer light can be seen.
It sits behind a nest of cotton.

Bear in mind there is nothing that can usurp it from its throne.
The mind heeds no rules or regulations and without hesitation it will turn the most heinous of realities into a commonplace find.
There is nothing like that which can make light out of fog and spread plagued whispers throughout its own successes.
Tirelessly it works to reach a state at which it must work no longer.
A state at which it can finally and utterly be recompensed with what it has decided it needs.

There is no such state.

What soothes the tattered remains and gives it peace?

White Oaks display tenuous longevity
Tethered to red dirt , moss populated
living testaments , etched in black decay
like tombstones marking an ending location
What man did fire in anger from this hillside
Fire for daily bread , wracked in hunger , steeped
in the unknown , slighted by his brethren , ill
recompensed , foolhardy leg deep sagebrush
foraging lonely wilderness outposts , a foreign beast
racked with chilblain , feverish at deaths gate
Hickorys cry golden kin in frosted wind , red inquiries
mingled in dark earth decay , vermin infested rot ,
pungent pile reeking recompense , scavenger trolled
dead carpet , crying in fog drenched stupor , collecting
in leaf well , motif sunbeam , signaling the birth of midday
shine neath Maple umbrellas
Beside talking waters , ravenous , diamond temptress , committing Summers deceased corruption to the sea
Mosaic sands , evergreen curiosities , glass creek- boulder
kaleidoscopes , lapping shorelines , mud foaming froth
hiding unknown depth
Laughing , forever cascading artery without mercy
Teeming with pan , bream , perch and sturgeon
Alligator shell scavenger , water moccasin , consumption
Pine labyrinths , sunless Fern gardens , Snake , Dew , Red berry
briarpatch mazes , rolling countryside without fence , encaged in Crescent Moon , lantern fly obscurity with voracious Aedes vampires , humid , blistering night without end* ...

Joe, our grade school bully,
Never bullied me.
Flying under the radar,
I got off scot-free.

Though I felt relieved,
I should have been incensed,
For seldom were his victims
Ever recompensed.

I wish I'd had the chutzpah
To walk up to him and intone,
"Hey, brainless buttface,
Leave that kid alone!"

What I would have done next,
I haven't the slightest clue.
I was a geeky kid
Who'd jump if you said "Boo!"

I should at least have tried
An approach more diplomatic
And NOT have selected
An expression so…emphatic.

Nonetheless, I never
Castigated Joe.
I was a helpless kid;
What the heck did I know?

We adults see bullying,
And we don't make a fuss.
Are we just delighted
That no one's bullying us?

We all know what happens
When people are afraid
To speak out against injustice:
Humanity is betrayed.

- by Bob B

It is fascinatingly probable
God balanced, protected, recompensed
how I feel misplaced in the confinements
to the vessel, in a biological
femininity even more being said,
by shaping that body as a speech
in my structure and palette embedded
of nature’s casts, messages‘
endearing faced:

I am put in a sunflower’s shift
when bearing a heat with caramel toning,
in the skin,
swift golden towel ‘round the
form naked,
shoulders
and all other petite
through that standing strong
like a sword’s leather hilt,
and eyes with hair of tenderly
made browns with lights and darks,
as freckles shining scattered,
with their origin from Gold arriving,
or at last the very nutrient
dark centre by seeds posed.

When sodden, it is a mangrove then,
the caramel whole now slick
yet strongly dense as its roots,
like when I get myself firmly stuck
on feet like double arrow
spread limbs
and like mahogany shade
stand reading images.

Or there’s at last and at wind
the cherry blossom:
my thoughts and sensing presence
are so beloving that they
emanate pink in passing,
just as it’s flowers with no fruit,
my top, a crown,
swaying branches,
irregular protruding.
I bloom so dearly with my shading,
I could almost kiss like leaves,
like they do with me.

Wish you could see me, this,
such loving dear sight to be.
Like slick, promising, calm own river.
Alas, an eerie beige coat that flutters
with child dreams

I bite my tongue?
You carry on !
Your welcome .....
( as long as you pay me )
outloud I say .....
Wow you're so ......
Idk...
Capricious today
You  laugh .....
Thank you .....
Don't mention it....
I laugh too
Oblivious .....
Obvious .....
Vicarious?!?
I guess maybe.....
Bellicose ?
Verbose?
Yes.......
Way off base?....
Absolutely.....  

Your agenda
........
What will you do when I'm gone ?
You will have no one to look down upon.
Then you want an apology?
Ok ...I'm so so sorry
I just can't apologize.....
For what you say
I do .......
Especially when I argue.....
You're response
Demand .......
So I do....
You have an epiphany.......
I am recompensed
Rebuked,
On public display
Forced to stand in
Reprimand. .....
I guess "we"
Have our role to play.......
.....

..

.

Ok ......give it to me.......
And then may I have my paycheck please?


Remember I get payed weekly ......
Very weakly......

Moonlight pantomime , tempestuous appointments beg fruition , carnal figurines performing agin searing , thin ambient air in misted flesh
Parched lovers recompensed , wailing secret vows , clarity a slave to confusion , accentuation , shameless surrender* ....

Society calls me broken since i do not conform into the conditioning of fitting into their boxes of normality
Im pressured to change my human nature failing at every attempt causing me to see the dark side of my reality
Im left with feelings of inadequacy and a low self esteem from every word of condemnation  
I cannot help who i am but am made to feel as though my efforts are never good enough resulting in further frustration

My passion is confused for obsession and my perspective on life is seen as flawed
At this age i crave relationships and *** but only being in church has me bored
My interests in God at the moment isnt strong because everything now concerning him gets monotonous
I have evolved into a curious 20 year old and its misunderstood for being carnal when having a thrill is my only wish

When i do not take concerta im hyperactive and  humourous and its the one way i have fun despite my monotonous routine
If i speak my true mind and act out on every impulse in my body itll be seen as a profanity
To me my mind and soul runs deeper than all the oceans ever known
Another way i keep my peace is to stay engrossed in my world on my phone

Wearing masks all the time to please this judgemental society is quite exhausting
They remain happy while i slowly die screaming on the inside from all this pretending
The truth is that im open to love from man or woman and i want to help the helpless people in society
I love adventure and to me anything unique trait in someone i admire attracts me

I am an inquisitive person and i wonder why people blame the devil for evil when God made the devil
God is the creater of evil and good so shouldnt he be responsible for all thats awful
He had knowledge prior to the devils creation that the devil would have betrayed him and then he regretted his own creation
If i knew that would have happened i would have never invented a work of art to bring devastation

God has never recompensed the African race for years of torture from slavery
He has inflicted curses on innocent children and has called missionaries to have their lives cruelly snatched for their acts of bravery
Yet the devil is blamed but i hold the creator of the devil
responsible
The other injustices in life angers me because i cant do anything about it which is incredibly painful

I honestly walk around with the weight of the injustices of this world upon my shoulder
Every time i see more corruption and innocent people paying for the guilty my heart breaks further
I see so many unanswered questions to life just being shoved under the carpet
I prefer to remain oblivious to it so i can keep the little peace and sanity i have left so i wont live full of regret

I want to live my life to the fullest by travelling the world and having new experiences
I desire independence so i can remove the mask of normality and pretense
I want to die with a smile on my face because ive fulfilled my  life's purpose
I want to leave a legacy of greatness and accomplishment for future generations before humanity can get a chance to get worse

birds born in midair
never leave the sky
what has no beginning
has no real ending...never quite lands
..you can drag the bottom
forever
finding or finding not
searching for that body
by which satisfies as an explanation
and buys you only time
which will never satisfy
and by time you are not softened
not like the stone smoothed, hiding in your hand
...its never been a simple matter
to just die
or to be the thing you are born to
...however
this one morning
the birds flew lower and closer
than they had ever flown before

...and we are recompensed as a question
of whether we are dead or truly alive
and as i still breath
i promise to never hesitate
to tell you
while
we so very much are

the remains of the day, of lost chances, opportunities gone astray
and now irretrievably demised, a quiet day, of writing, thinking,
letting emotional waters fall over me, draining away the oils of mischance and in the few minutes before the morrow commences, the eyes tear, and the heart too, for there is so much pain and confusion that cannot be done away...and there are needs unmet...one feels lost by a wayside, at a remote railway station, awaiting a once-a-day train, that is always late...

Accused of being generous, and my guilt at this false accusation, makes me tremble, for what I wish for all of you, is the small and the greatest, both be satisfied, but not by taking, but by giving...my poor clarity pains me, but I compose not knowing the secret chords required to please...but my thoughts are of you, alone, solely, my concerns have fallen to a siding. We are all so far from each other in physical distancing, yet so oft, when you write in poem, in message, in shotgun short comments, you evoke my depths, provoke my raw, unprotected, unmasked emotions to rise up from gorge and abyss...hear your cries, the spoken and the ones between the lines, well hid in the spaces between the words, where the kernels and the residuals of the important things exist.

it is almost 11:59pm, July 8th. it is already tomorrow for many of  you who race ahead of time’s relentless measuring, and for some the evening young, you puzzled at this nearly midnight missive, will wonder what has.overcome me.

pure unadulterated emotional fluids, many flavored, washing away the veneers, the coverings, and wanting to fix things that my intelligence says you cannot, yet the urgency of my desire is so great, that I can barely swallow.

perilous close to revelatory disclosures, I will cease here, seize here, what cannot be spoken of, and to think upon the notion of a successful life, it’s constitution, composition and break off pieces of me, that I can give away to you freely to patch the holes, mend the readings, via the ether of skin comforting even if imaginary.

I am drifting into the tender part of the night, when deceit is pointless, and I argue with conviction with myself that in our lives that it will never be too late, but I know I contradict my prior musing...somewhere between the fact that time is a wasting commodity, precocious and precious, lives this idea within, that there is nothing that cannot be navigated, recompensed, even forgiven...the argument goes on, the tide of battle switching back and forth, and for now I must be satisfied with the meagerness of I can’t give up, be at ease by acknowledging defeat, not just yet, and the fast arrival of a clean slate is a chance, a draw, a ticket to ride, and, reaching is a wonderful idea, full of compromise, extra effort, and tomorrow I may yet reach one of us, by reaching inside of what churns within, and have the perfect words you require, desperate need, come forth easily...

My soul bruised ....
I used to be
Unstable ,
Some called me Cain..........
That's not my name........
I'm still me ....
Psychosomatic
Dichotomy......
It's not me....
Your labels
Trigger lost time...
Once I saw how
Little you thought of me .......
Past generations
From the grave groaned hauntingly
Mourning me......
I felt the splitting
I lost color in one eye.......
The other looked away.......depth and time feels strange.....
I tried remain the same......
I knew the cruelties
You went through  and how the effects would likely be recompensed upon me........
I could not be swayed ......
To the depths and widths of my soul
Eternal wells flowed love .......
For eternity.    
For you.........
I spoke kindness ...
Gently asked please
Never assumed anything........
Never told you
You had to do anything ........
All in vain........
You and your games ......
Degrading me in front of family and friends .........
In private I cried ...
You mocked me......
I love you ....
You used me........
I tried to love you back to life .....you killed  the better half of me......
My purpose was to love you and only you..........
I held on too long
You broke your promise,your vow,my heart......
Forced me to be what you made me...
I am trying  not to change.........
I'm not Able...
Some call me Cain.....
I say that's not me ....yet........
I feel his blood course through
My veins...........
In my mind I see
In my dialouge I say.....
I never had a brother.......
I'm still Me ......
Same same.  
. That's not my name......
Who are you
?
Me?
?

Should I fathom so many degrees
In which I can falsely assume responsibility
And be riddled with diverse insecurities?

Of off an wrong angulatities
Pay penance,
Be recompensed
Spend my sentence
In silence ....  
On my knees
Begging you ......
Please don't leave me .....?
Is that what you would have me do.....
For the best part of my life?
Oh please forgive me ..... .
For that can only be done once.....
And then you left me
.............
It takes so long to unbelive
Untruths .
From someone you love so desperately.............
When you can't say anything .......
Then to find
Behind your back .  
They have convinced everyone
It was you commiting all these
Deeds.  
The madness that ensues
Is self destructive insanity......    
You look like a monster ....
You lash out
Sinks the charges deeper....
They finally get caught in the wrong ....and ohhh
Por thing ...
It's cause all the bad things he did to her.      
I don't blame her .  ...
YOU GO GIRL.. .....

Future, memory.......
Purchase made........
With priceless
Currency paid......
Most recent event
With or without  
Intention,
Time spent
Is how you bought what is
Now you're newest memory
So riddle this altruism.
If you willst
"It's an elementary fact that a thief is by default
A liar .......   "
so then
Whomsoever
Should say they lie not maketh themselves liars.......
Does this mean we are all unconsciously thieves?
The consequence's
We're recompensed  come from untruths we've sold to the purchaser.
Who unaware wasted their time in thought non existent paradigm .
Rendering  the recipients victims and you should be convicted
To make  active conscious decisions in creating future memories which you will be comfortable in.cause those who don't.

F
I
N

To Picture me,,
Not in love
Would be blaspheme,
And yet I sit
In reflection,
Recompensed by transgressions.....
Committed and convicted of after being forewarned......

Un fathomed .
..forgotten
Forlorned
Chalice full of scorn
Crestfallen
Mourned by the dead.....
Reduced to
Sit in sacloth
Pouring ashes on my head...
Like a pig on a spit
Basted with unsavory things I've done
Seducing  Karma was easy.......
A ruddy little nerd,
Told her she was pretty
The starving little dog ate every word.......
Filtered her eyes with poetry.....
I played the field....
Unconcerned....

Convinced her I was the one... ....
On the day we were to be wed
Fleeced her of everything
Left her at the alter without my vows being said......
now she's Obsessed
No good deed goes unpunished
I'm hex, vexed and hazed...
every glib quip spake
Or every woman that says goodbye to  me.
It's her face I see!
Knuckles
Bleed
Racked with splinters...
Railing loves door...
Afraid to let me in...

born for this chase.......let the race begin...
my heart to carry me
But my souls worn
Thin

..grasping for straws gasping for air.  
Used to return from the forge strengthened shiny ,glistening......
Clean.....
Now I'm the dross.

Fin...
..
.

.

Forlorn . ....
And so many wartorn years ago
Seemingly A millennium spent....
Regarding gravity and intent
Learning loves early forewarning
Now love for me is scorned,
Around the Cape of the horn
I stand up on a mountain
Through lightning and driven rain
I rent my mantle .........,and lament ...
I'm still in love with me,
Yet I'm lachrymose
I feel ....everything
more than most
My love ....
deeper
therefore
Bemused in remembrance
Not confused on the verdict
Incarcerated over-recompensed
How long can this sentence be ?
I would have rather swung from the gallows
Than to be lovelorn
With my fertile field of love fallowed
Hollow........
Followed by the future ghost of me,,,,,,,
Constantly haunting.......
Like a mocking bird squawking......
I told you so......

Privily.......
A treacherous cyst of regret
Slowly forming around my
............lonely heart
I'm a bittersweet sea
There is only me in love with mourning me