Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Molly Pendleton Nov 2013
I need you
I need you like oxygen
Or food or water or sleep
Though I’ve made it through stinted periods without you
I always come crawling back in withdrawal
I could call you an addiction, but you aren’t; you’re a blessing
Like I needed the razor I kept in my hoodie pocket
You cut through life’s ******* the same way that blade did
But without bubbling blood up through my skin
The crawl space I used to cry in could never comfort me like you
You pry open my eyes to harsh, enlightening reality
That space was a blanket of blissful ignorance over necessary truth
I could call you an addiction, but you aren’t; you’re a blessing
I always come crawling back in withdrawal
After stinted periods without you
I’ve made it without food or water or sleep
I’ve made it without oxygen
But I need you
The assembly now broke up and the people went their ways each to his
own ship. There they made ready their supper, and then bethought
them of the blessed boon of sleep; but Achilles still wept for
thinking of his dear comrade, and sleep, before whom all things bow,
could take no hold upon him. This way and that did he turn as he
yearned after the might and manfulness of Patroclus; he thought of all
they had done together, and all they had gone through both on the
field of battle and on the waves of the weary sea. As he dwelt on
these things he wept bitterly and lay now on his side, now on his
back, and now face downwards, till at last he rose and went out as one
distraught to wander upon the seashore. Then, when he saw dawn
breaking over beach and sea, he yoked his horses to his chariot, and
bound the body of Hector behind it that he might drag it about. Thrice
did he drag it round the tomb of the son of Menoetius, and then went
back into his tent, leaving the body on the ground full length and
with its face downwards. But Apollo would not suffer it to be
disfigured, for he pitied the man, dead though he now was; therefore
he shielded him with his golden aegis continually, that he might
take no hurt while Achilles was dragging him.
  Thus shamefully did Achilles in his fury dishonour Hector; but the
blessed gods looked down in pity from heaven, and urged Mercury,
slayer of Argus, to steal the body. All were of this mind save only
Juno, Neptune, and Jove’s grey-eyed daughter, who persisted in the
hate which they had ever borne towards Ilius with Priam and his
people; for they forgave not the wrong done them by Alexandrus in
disdaining the goddesses who came to him when he was in his
sheepyards, and preferring her who had offered him a wanton to his
ruin.
  When, therefore, the morning of the twelfth day had now come,
Phoebus Apollo spoke among the immortals saying, “You gods ought to be
ashamed of yourselves; you are cruel and hard-hearted. Did not
Hector burn you thigh-bones of heifers and of unblemished goats? And
now dare you not rescue even his dead body, for his wife to look upon,
with his mother and child, his father Priam, and his people, who would
forthwith commit him to the flames, and give him his due funeral
rites? So, then, you would all be on the side of mad Achilles, who
knows neither right nor ruth? He is like some savage lion that in
the pride of his great strength and daring springs upon men’s flocks
and gorges on them. Even so has Achilles flung aside all pity, and all
that conscience which at once so greatly banes yet greatly boons him
that will heed it. man may lose one far dearer than Achilles has lost-
a son, it may be, or a brother born from his own mother’s womb; yet
when he has mourned him and wept over him he will let him bide, for it
takes much sorrow to **** a man; whereas Achilles, now that he has
slain noble Hector, drags him behind his chariot round the tomb of his
comrade. It were better of him, and for him, that he should not do so,
for brave though he be we gods may take it ill that he should vent his
fury upon dead clay.”
  Juno spoke up in a rage. “This were well,” she cried, “O lord of the
silver bow, if you would give like honour to Hector and to Achilles;
but Hector was mortal and suckled at a woman’s breast, whereas
Achilles is the offspring of a goddess whom I myself reared and
brought up. I married her to Peleus, who is above measure dear to
the immortals; you gods came all of you to her wedding; you feasted
along with them yourself and brought your lyre—false, and fond of low
company, that you have ever been.”
  Then said Jove, “Juno, be not so bitter. Their honour shall not be
equal, but of all that dwell in Ilius, Hector was dearest to the gods,
as also to myself, for his offerings never failed me. Never was my
altar stinted of its dues, nor of the drink-offerings and savour of
sacrifice which we claim of right. I shall therefore permit the body
of mighty Hector to be stolen; and yet this may hardly be without
Achilles coming to know it, for his mother keeps night and day
beside him. Let some one of you, therefore, send Thetis to me, and I
will impart my counsel to her, namely that Achilles is to accept a
ransom from Priam, and give up the body.”
  On this Iris fleet as the wind went forth to carry his message. Down
she plunged into the dark sea midway between Samos and rocky Imbrus;
the waters hissed as they closed over her, and she sank into the
bottom as the lead at the end of an ox-horn, that is sped to carry
death to fishes. She found Thetis sitting in a great cave with the
other sea-goddesses gathered round her; there she sat in the midst
of them weeping for her noble son who was to fall far from his own
land, on the rich plains of Troy. Iris went up to her and said,
“Rise Thetis; Jove, whose counsels fail not, bids you come to him.”
And Thetis answered, “Why does the mighty god so bid me? I am in great
grief, and shrink from going in and out among the immortals. Still,
I will go, and the word that he may speak shall not be spoken in
vain.”
  The goddess took her dark veil, than which there can be no robe more
sombre, and went forth with fleet Iris leading the way before her. The
waves of the sea opened them a path, and when they reached the shore
they flew up into the heavens, where they found the all-seeing son
of Saturn with the blessed gods that live for ever assembled near him.
Minerva gave up her seat to her, and she sat down by the side of
father Jove. Juno then placed a fair golden cup in her hand, and spoke
to her in words of comfort, whereon Thetis drank and gave her back the
cup; and the sire of gods and men was the first to speak.
  “So, goddess,” said he, “for all your sorrow, and the grief that I
well know reigns ever in your heart, you have come hither to
Olympus, and I will tell you why I have sent for you. This nine days
past the immortals have been quarrelling about Achilles waster of
cities and the body of Hector. The gods would have Mercury slayer of
Argus steal the body, but in furtherance of our peace and amity
henceforward, I will concede such honour to your son as I will now
tell you. Go, then, to the host and lay these commands upon him; say
that the gods are angry with him, and that I am myself more angry than
them all, in that he keeps Hector at the ships and will not give him
up. He may thus fear me and let the body go. At the same time I will
send Iris to great Priam to bid him go to the ships of the Achaeans,
and ransom his son, taking with him such gifts for Achilles as may
give him satisfaction.
  Silver-footed Thetis did as the god had told her, and forthwith down
she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus. She went to her
son’s tents where she found him grieving bitterly, while his trusty
comrades round him were busy preparing their morning meal, for which
they had killed a great woolly sheep. His mother sat down beside him
and caressed him with her hand saying, “My son, how long will you keep
on thus grieving and making moan? You are gnawing at your own heart,
and think neither of food nor of woman’s embraces; and yet these too
were well, for you have no long time to live, and death with the
strong hand of fate are already close beside you. Now, therefore, heed
what I say, for I come as a messenger from Jove; he says that the gods
are angry with you, and himself more angry than them all, in that
you keep Hector at the ships and will not give him up. Therefore let
him go, and accept a ransom for his body.”
  And Achilles answered, “So be it. If Olympian Jove of his own motion
thus commands me, let him that brings the ransom bear the body away.”
  Thus did mother and son talk together at the ships in long discourse
with one another. Meanwhile the son of Saturn sent Iris to the
strong city of Ilius. “Go,” said he, “fleet Iris, from the mansions of
Olympus, and tell King Priam in Ilius, that he is to go to the ships
of the Achaeans and free the body of his dear son. He is to take
such gifts with him as shall give satisfaction to Achilles, and he
is to go alone, with no other Trojan, save only some honoured
servant who may drive his mules and waggon, and bring back the body of
him whom noble Achilles has slain. Let him have no thought nor fear of
death in his heart, for we will send the slayer of Argus to escort
him, and bring him within the tent of Achilles. Achilles will not ****
him nor let another do so, for he will take heed to his ways and sin
not, and he will entreat a suppliant with all honourable courtesy.”
  On this Iris, fleet as the wind, sped forth to deliver her
message. She went to Priam’s house, and found weeping and
lamentation therein. His sons were seated round their father in the
outer courtyard, and their raiment was wet with tears: the old man sat
in the midst of them with his mantle wrapped close about his body, and
his head and neck all covered with the filth which he had clutched
as he lay grovelling in the mire. His daughters and his sons’ wives
went wailing about the house, as they thought of the many and brave
men who lay dead, slain by the Argives. The messenger of Jove stood by
Priam and spoke softly to him, but fear fell upon him as she did so.
“Take heart,” she said, “Priam offspring of Dardanus, take heart and
fear not. I bring no evil tidings, but am minded well towards you. I
come as a messenger from Jove, who though he be not near, takes
thought for you and pities you. The lord of Olympus bids you go and
ransom noble Hector, and take with you such gifts as shall give
satisfaction to Achilles. You are to go alone, with no Trojan, save
only some honoured servant who may drive your mules and waggon, and
bring back to the city the body of him whom noble Achilles has
slain. You are to have no thought, nor fear of death, for Jove will
send the slayer of Argus to escort you. When he has brought you within
Achilles’ tent, Achilles will not **** you nor let another do so,
for he will take heed to his ways and sin not, and he will entreat a
suppliant with all honourable courtesy.”
  Iris went her way when she had thus spoken, and Priam told his
sons to get a mule-waggon ready, and to make the body of the waggon
fast upon the top of its bed. Then he went down into his fragrant
store-room, high-vaulted, and made of cedar-wood, where his many
treasures were kept, and he called Hecuba his wife. “Wife,” said he,
“a messenger has come to me from Olympus, and has told me to go to the
ships of the Achaeans to ransom my dear son, taking with me such gifts
as shall give satisfaction to Achilles. What think you of this matter?
for my own part I am greatly moved to pass through the of the Achaeans
and go to their ships.”
  His wife cried aloud as she heard him, and said, “Alas, what has
become of that judgement for which you have been ever famous both
among strangers and your own people? How can you venture alone to
the ships of the Achaeans, and look into the face of him who has slain
so many of your brave sons? You must have iron courage, for if the
cruel savage sees you and lays hold on you, he will know neither
respect nor pity. Let us then weep Hector from afar here in our own
house, for when I gave him birth the threads of overruling fate were
spun for him that dogs should eat his flesh far from his parents, in
the house of that terrible man on whose liver I would fain fasten
and devour it. Thus would I avenge my son, who showed no cowardice
when Achilles slew him, and thought neither of Right nor of avoiding
battle as he stood in defence of Trojan men and Trojan women.”
  Then Priam said, “I would go, do not therefore stay me nor be as a
bird of ill omen in my house, for you will not move me. Had it been
some mortal man who had sent me some prophet or priest who divines
from sacrifice—I should have deemed him false and have given him no
heed; but now I have heard the goddess and seen her face to face,
therefore I will go and her saying shall not be in vain. If it be my
fate to die at the ships of the Achaeans even so would I have it;
let Achilles slay me, if I may but first have taken my son in my
arms and mourned him to my heart’s comforting.”
  So saying he lifted the lids of his chests, and took out twelve
goodly vestments. He took also twelve cloaks of single fold, twelve
rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number of shirts. He weighed
out ten talents of gold, and brought moreover two burnished tripods,
four cauldrons, and a very beautiful cup which the Thracians had given
him when he had gone to them on an embassy; it was very precious,
but he grudged not even this, so eager was he to ransom the body of
his son. Then he chased all the Trojans from the court and rebuked
them with words of anger. “Out,” he cried, “shame and disgrace to me
that you are. Have you no grief in your own homes that you are come to
plague me here? Is it a small thing, think you, that the son of Saturn
has sent this sorrow upon me, to lose the bravest of my sons? Nay, you
shall prove it in person, for now he is gone the Achaeans will have
easier work in killing you. As for me, let me go down within the house
of Hades, ere mine eyes behold the sacking and wasting of the city.”
  He drove the men away with his staff, and they went forth as the old
man sped them. Then he called to his sons, upbraiding Helenus,
Paris, noble Agathon, Pammon, Antiphonus, Polites of the loud
battle-cry, Deiphobus, Hippothous, and Dius. These nine did the old
man call near him. “Come to me at once,” he cried, “worthless sons who
do me shame; would that you had all been killed at the ships rather
than Hector. Miserable man that I am, I have had the bravest sons in
all Troy—noble Nestor, Troilus the dauntless charioteer, and Hector
who was a god among men, so that one would have thought he was son
to an immortal—yet there is not one of them left. Mars has slain them
and those of whom I am ashamed are alone left me. Liars, and light
of foot, heroes of the dance, robbers of lambs and kids from your
own people, why do you not get a waggon ready for me at once, and
put all these things upon it that I may set out on my way?”
  Thus did he speak, and they feared the rebuke of their father.
They brought out a strong mule-waggon, newly made, and set the body of
the waggon fast on its bed. They took the mule-yoke from the peg on
which it hung, a yoke of boxwood with a **** on the top of it and
rings for the reins to go through. Then they brought a yoke-band
eleven cubits long, to bind the yoke to the pole; they bound it on
at the far end of the pole, and put the ring over the upright pin
making it fast with three turns of the band on either side the ****,
and bending the thong of the yoke beneath it. This done, they
brought from the store-chamber the rich ransom that was to purchase
the body of Hector, and they set it all orderly on the waggon; then
they yoked the strong harness-mules which the Mysians had on a time
given as a goodly present to Priam; but for Priam himself they yoked
horses which the old king had bred, and kept for own use.
  Thus heedfully did Priam and his servant see to the yolking of their
cars at the palace. Then Hecuba came to them all sorrowful, with a
golden goblet of wine in her right hand, that they might make a
drink-offering before they set out. She stood in front of the horses
and said, “Take this, make a drink-offering to father Jove, and
since you are minded to go to the ships in spite of me, pray that
you may come safely back from the hands of your enemies. Pray to the
son of Saturn lord of the whirlwind, who sits on Ida and looks down
over all Troy, pray him to send his swift messenger on your right
hand, the bird of omen which is strongest and most dear to him of
all birds, that you may see it with your own eyes and trust it as
you go forth to the ships of the Danaans. If all-seeing Jove will
not send you this messenger, however set upon it you may be, I would
not have you go to the ships of the Argives.”
  And Priam answered, “Wife, I will do as you desire me; it is well to
lift hands in prayer to Jove, if so be he may have mercy upon me.”
  With this the old man bade the serving-woman
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
And giv’st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;
Not with the mean and ****** works of Man;
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature; purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying by such discipline
Both pain and fear,—until we recognise
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.

      Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me
With stinted kindness. In November days,
When vapours rolling down the valleys made
A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods
At noon; and ’mid the calm of summer nights,
When, by the margin of the trembling lake,
Beneath the gloomy hills, homeward I went
In solitude, such ******* was mine:
Mine was it in the fields both day and night,
And by the waters, all the summer long.
And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and, visible for many a mile,
The cottage-windows through the twilight blazed,
I heeded not the summons: happy time
It was indeed for all of us; for me
It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud
The village-clock tolled six—I wheeled about,
Proud and exulting like an untired horse
That cares not for his home.—All shod with steel
We hissed along the polished ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the chase
And woodland pleasures,—the resounding horn,
The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle; with the din
Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;
The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron; while far-distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy, not unnoticed while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.

      Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,
To cut across the reflex of a star;
Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes,
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me—even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round!
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.
These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath;
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital,—and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
Sia Jane Feb 2014
Under my bed, hid
a tendered angel,
who had
broken wings,
and she was,
terrified to move
for all she knew
was to
fly.

She sat,
knees wrapped,
to her
chest, crystal tears,
dropping to
her pastel pink
woven
and embroidery
dress.

She looked,
glancing at me
saying she
swam,
in the pools
of her own
tears,
and that she
lost strength.

Her endeavours to
swim further,
were stinted,
she was forced
to be,
parsimonious
and so,
she closed her eyes
letting go.

When she woke,
she found herself,
in darkness, only
the moon lit,
her darkened
space,
phrenic activity
haunting her
mind.

As delicately as,
my body
allowed,
I lay flat down,
so not to scare, her
reaching out,
I collect broken glass,
shattered wings,
bleeding from her.

(The angel was called Rebelle Fleur, she allowed me to ever so carefully, take her from under the bed, and to hold her, with grace and elegance, she lifted her tiny frame, and stood, without her wings, and ever so softly whispered her name, asking me to help fix her wings, so she could once again fly and be free)

© Sia Jane
Daniel Gerson May 2010
Blind in the dark, running forward with conviction
Certain of prediction to become truth,
My sight is limited - stinted - narrowed - tunneled. Words spell out fear.
Alone in the dark, running out of time,
Divine hope comes crashing and crumpling to a halt.
My mind tells me it's just fell deeds of fallacy,
But repetition turns into tendency.
Tendency to history.
History to human nature.
Axion Prelude Aug 2018
I don't possess the luxury to feel alive

This broken soul is daunted by mired ties

The shell that holds these withered bones and stinted cries

Stains rotten with guilt underneath
this tainted flesh; will ultimately be my surmise
Rat Sep 2016
Here,
Let me cut my skin,
Let my words flow from the wound
In stinted stanzas,
Faux sentences.

I can pour it all into these,
Heart, soul,
Body, mind,
And yet my words will echo into emptiness
Meaningless shouting into an indifferent sea of voices.

These words, they've all been written
These letters, used infinitely before
So here, my friend
Let me cut my skin,
And bleed my worthless words
Into your beautiful, elaborate mind.
Yenson Feb 2019
Unique beyond parallel
A charisma that shines from an ageless face that glows
Smart, centred, intelligent, charming and deeply wise
accomplished in so many ways, as balanced as a scale
well equipped, he makes love like Casanova incarnate
a gifted brave, courageous specimen of a Man....

Atlas, it's something unique in our city
that those that excel and stand out in eminence and talent
are hated, resented, loath and tarred with boiling passion
the lessers become unbearably crazed with envy and jealousy
every sterling qualities galls in their mediocre minds and eyes
In wretched frenzies they plot and vie to cut, damage and destroy

A light shines too bright amongst darkened recessive hearts  
arrogant, pompous, supercilious, condescending they yell fevered
that's their malignant interpretation of goodness coated in malice
'thinks they are better than us, think they are superior and above'
the mindless becomes blinded by irrational hate, ignorance rules
releasing inherent self loathing, insecurities, inadequacies and pain

The crazed begin their Mad war to destroy talents and gifts
they spread malicious rumours, stinking untruths, vile vilifications
in sad cahoots, they lie, coercs, jajole, even bribe others to join in
launch a campaign of sick bullying, harassment and intimidation
Our psychotics fashion a barrage of mental assaults per their fears
A gifted talent in the crosshair of hell fire never started or courted

Thousands of gifted young souls have been driven to suicide
hundreds glowing talents diminished and curtailed by this evil
promising lives ruined and burnt because lesser minds oppose
these sadists propagate that democracy means we are all equal
so anyone that stands out per excellence becomes a hated target
a target of the dullards, the emotional stinted and the psychotics

Burke once said: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men should do nothing.”
What are we passing down to the young, what are we doing

Let not any one pacify his conscience by the delusion that he can do no harm if he takes no part, and forms no opinion. Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.

It could be YOU one day
Same could happen to your brother or sister or some loved one
How would you feel.
impossible mission to encapsulate notion
flitting hither and yon, to and fro
within cranium attached to mine body,
whereby irrefutable proof prevails
predicated when yours truly
scrutinizes other people visibly aware,
I a modest married male
blessed, gifted, whence  
after Scottish Tartan welcome mat unrolled
allowing, enabling, and providing

yours truly as former Beatle browed
foo fighting afterlife member with
grateful dead Mötley Crüe
subsequently quoted posthumously
far and wide as generic, yet proud mortal
with ability to garner massive
fount of knowledge
accrued throughout mein kampf,
yet wonders how such cumulative learning
jam packed tightly

within sixty plus shades of gray matter)
nonetheless garden variety **** sapien
got genetically cheated,
gypped, stinted, et cetera
concerning diminutive measurement
of his hirsute covered thinker
in other words, a disappointment prevails
regarding smaller than average head size
housing the ways and means
to transport yours truly
upon little feet for a grown man.

mine nippy nap noopy noggin (property
of doodling dandy Yankee) yanked
with unsubstantiated figurative yen
noah wide dee ya - Hawaii or when,
Yukon ask me to Maui,
where, why or how then
thine ark of insight fullness arose,
nevertheless yours truly doth pen
(the above and following words),
regarding... pondering aha moment
linkedin with expanding cranium capacity
reference made to poem title

(observation not applicable;
i.e. denied writer of these words, -
who considers himself clodpoll),
a lyft in main gate
of me consciousness did open
escorting uber snorting
noble... what the f* taurus driving Ford;
aries (actually arise zing)
cheese silly steering toward toreador
eventually ramming esse caped
bull rider capricorn to pisces,
similar to no contest

among mice and men
or torturous quirky physiologically
experimental signature laboratory
rat in a cage
tormented viz black barbed dollops
scientist tapping into her/his scrunched ken
grateful for fee fie foe fum
cussing anti-vivisectionists
which aforestated ruse - stirs analogous
accompaniment with mother clucking hen
chosen poetic themed wordsmith
housed in his mancave den.

this wheely tireless confusion
royally loopy gobbledygook
invisibly emanating gassy gut head
eureka moment (regarding
figurative crash test
dummy awakening) drove home
this aye opening
****** tin, peculiar, pated preserve.

four score minus seventeen years ago bonjour
earthlinked contemplative - bore
ring emotive fella, regarding yours truly
otherwise three score and three
year old mortal cannot pinpoint
if thee essential addle skull
measurement housing fifth, sixth,
seventh... heavenly strung out dimensions
of mine built-in bonafide helmet lesser more
smaller than average heard from a digital thread,
reputable ted talk, electronic
broadband transmitted podcast, et cetera,

these bland words readable material in store
categorized as reasonable rhyming article
of faith conveyed courtesy no coat hangers
devoid graphic erotica for any
journeying, wayfaring ******
peeking thru virtual keyhole
door ration online or elsewhere bred
such as storied pay
periodical, nor can I lay
vouchsafe these myopic gray
brown eyes bore awareness fey
via watching an exposé.

though lack of identifying you
dear anonymous reader, thee
might think bistro, milieu, venue,
et cetera, one comment true
lee can be averred with certainty.

sometime within a small crick
number of years ago, a kick
a
super ***** crowned cow lick
a phenomenal humongous slick
cranium tried to play cheap trick.

subsequently, this beastie boy
experienced a numb skull syndrome
while linkedin to this zone
seize **** sal lad frosted stone
er flakey state, this acute up pone
hirsute, oblate spheroid hone
betook chrome dome grown.

spongiform territory
noodle could now know
wing lee hone a vaster tract
even a poe Pudd'nhead Wilson
like myself understand ably
venerated woke full perception!

ma mind took laser like focus,
which brought notice, viz
enlargement of sacred brain power,
and hence spurred the above title
once me noggin came
to this hyper awareness frame
(some unknown small game
number of years gone by), name
ming deliberate scrutiny cherished tame
intelligent pod wither ya find me vain.

visual cognition alerted - holy cow
my curiosity how
circumference of ancillary cerebral domain now
impossible mission to scrutinize
anatomical accouterment, which suffered
sucker punch bam plow
wing squarely into twisted
snubbed button nose
(another undersized, albeit
anatomical feature of mine)
wore loosely, wobbly atop shoulders
without doubt mine mean toe
head became larger since taking vow
visual stock (of said) most vital wow
constituent body part. aye aint

got any hard data (hmm... maybe
Cambridge Analytica might know
a tidbit or two) pertaining to this
indisputable cognizance, where
expanding cerebral gray matter
iz concerned. only via circumspection
(more so refined since the recent
forced quantum leap into muddled,
molly coddled, middle age),
this distinct heady revelation
vied to be capitalized, gratified,
and limned into some semblance
of tangential cogency.
Michael John Aug 2023
certain times of the day,
say i am older,
time no longer plays,
a care free aire-

some times a dirge,say,
twenty past the hour,
stinted and grey,
sweet yet sour..

— The End —