The Smell of Honey,  Coffee and Apples and Messes of Words, but
No Love Poetry

<^>

my poetry suffers from a literately literacy,
the adjectivally of imagery wears away with
time and age eroding the imagination, when one’s
days are numbered, being serious is an natural
unpleasant hazardous haze, never in doubt

The morning meal of cooked oatmeal, steel cut,
laced with wildflower honey, slices of honey crisp
apples and Hawaiian coffee brewed,  
singes the
Tropical Storm Ophelia thrumming humidity
that overhangs the ugly grays of NYC sky-paths,

one tickles me awake with contradictory impulses:
sweet and sour,
a robust stimulative, competing with the smothering of
grayling clouded weather weariness of
48 hours of rainy continuity,
a spirit suffocate

you see!

give you myself, my environment, in précis,
unimaginative exactly as it occurs to me, sensually, yes,
but cannot shake my disappointment that no,
can’t combine visionary notions that spin your swivel
chair around, powered by your exclamations of
ooh, ahh, and little stabs of weeee punctuating
our shared atmosphere
and bring forth
only love poetry

but no mas,
the love poetry doesn’t comes to the fore,
the forehead stuffed with words best listed as
basic, observable, factual,
Miley Cyrus, accuses me of being jaded,
but not with accuracy, more straight jacketed,
way past that half-way point of no return,
turning back is not a listed menu option

love poetry
demands, requires and requests
envisioning, precursor to dreaming,
but I am choking on matters-of-fact,
questions of survivability,
that do not
shed love poetry words,
I
love exclaiming
to any and all within hailing distance,
my loving firmament, but the damp atmosphere
swallows my hopes and sounds, even though
still can smell the lingering nearness odor of honey and apple,
yet, other hints of memory beg to differ,
and I sadly and easy confess,
this is not a lovely poem…
- * -

The beauty is not yet realized... Is what it truly means to not know how beautiful someone truly is, until they have really seen it for themselves (first and foremost)! Except if you haven't (as of yet, while also not realizing)… Then "the beauty that is not yet realized"... Remains like a "closed book"! A closed book who's survivability desperately depends on that very "beauty"! Demands "recompense" for the actions (to hold dearly) without the consequence in not including oneself (more or less) in on the details, before more facts came too light! Potentially missing out on everything desirable in oneselves very nature as a respectful and loving and caring individual! Such as the individual who this poem is especially "nurturing" for!
Conclusion... The beauty is not yet realized... Because they haft to admit it too themselves (first and foremost)! Before realizations crawl back into itself and forevermore abandoning the right to call yourself..."beautiful"!

Every day gets heavier
N it's hard to lift

All this weight is
Crushing me

N my strength has left

I wanted to lean on you
But no one was there

I just fell
       N fell

N I'm still here

Every day gets heavier
My legs can't carry it

I hit rock bottom
N now I'm under it

All this weight is crushing me
These pounds of energy
Sweating through the pores
Of my flesh fervently

I'm exahausted
N it's hard to want this

If this is all that there is

Every day gets heavier
How much longer could I carry her
Before she crushes my exterior
Into my interior

N here comes one more day
To add one more brick of weight

Into a collapse of my survivability

Good thing's come to those who patiently wait;
regrets only happen if we're recklessly too late;
Words and action played at the right perfect time;
Sometimes at times hastily, or slowly a summit climb.

Making the first step what will it be is it now or never;
we gather to talk  all together will it be better sooner or later;
we can soar reach that dream mountain high slowly but surely;
or willingly save all lives in the way quickly in this common journey.

What will it be? What will it be? For all of us you and me;
Will we do it moderately intensely in what some degree;
Time is still moving continually even we're sound asleep;
When we're not careful we can slip and slide this journey's leap.

Stay calm we can also listen to the voice of the voiceless ones;
who knows they may have answers and good things will come;
Things are better done not having a clouded judgment;
A clouded head just brings carries storms it pours it sent.

If we sincerely meant what we all say and do;
there will be no worries for us we, me and you;
One common home, one journey for the common good;
Will we hunger for power while a brother/sister hunger for food?

One planet, one home a family sister/brotherhood of man;
One Creator for everything and everyone leaves no one;
impossible great things can be done if all together we can;
Believe trust each other we are one in our Creator's master plan.

Each one of us can do the best of what we have;
Are things done better in a state of hate or love?
At times we hate what we do but we needed to do it;
At times we love what we do but we needed to quit it.

We are all created uniquely differently us you and me;
different talents, great bright ideas, and countless ability;
we can use it for our vainglory or the good of humanity;
we humbly clearly see the glory of our Creator's ingenuity.

Seeing ourselves in this wide vast universe what are we;
At times we forgot we all were once a fragile infant baby;
Without someone's care an infant baby chance of survivability
is close to impossibility we all were once a baby us you and me.

In this great and wide universe we're all just an infant;
all of our living lives could just vanish in an instant;
Even our Creator is silent and seems in a distant;
Cares provide us with shelter water air and plants.

Like a Mother/Father takes care of his/her family and child;
Learn from our Creator how to take care of everyone far and wide;
Family does not leave a single one in traveling a journey ride;
even things seem so wild we can see the trust of a child.

That he/she can make it because there is someone who still cares;
We can also do it for everyone here, there, anywhere everywhere;
If we are aware we are once an infant child who needed care;
Now it's time for us to pay it forward a tender loving dare.

Within a fortnight, as tempestuous slam
dunk March madness closes curtain call
“in like a lion, out like a lamb,”
twill hove tested survivability,
asper flora, thru harsh winter, and

those most see ring robust will pass exam
unbridled love bursting asunder
cavorting, frolicing, instigating
wham bam thank you ma'am
lollygagging, orchestrating, romancing

while birds and bees pollinate jam
ming, humming, fostering sensational slam
dance, where flora lifts, wafts, and yawps
invoke warble, gurgle,
burble from baby in pram.

Meanwhile latent Mother Earth
quite pregnant with
multifarious potent new life
vermilion, violet ready to burst

asunder from Gaia's girth
dramatically altering landscape
with expectant birth
of animal and plant species distilled

within crucible, sans terra firma hearth
quite a contrast, when
polar vortex wrought dearth
whence Spring begets plenti
kindling, snapchatting, and twittering mirth.

Also uniquely designed hue man
denizens of every stripe nurse
tender affection expressing
amorous poetry and verse
rejoicing, the dead of winter,

and attendant frostbite curse
frozen folks felled, thence carried
away in horse drawn hearse,
where heavy grief ameliorated
as natural holistic

narcotic brings pacific
balm, calm, and psalm snapping,
crackling, and popping
wide web with electric
ambient ancient, yet contemporary music

punctuating the air with lulling lyric
since time immemorial
recognized as greatest soporific
equally savored, whether
devout or atheistic
nonpareil eclectic dreamy

harmonic melange cathartic
aural, diurnal, integral
quintessentially converging harmonic,
democratic, and anthemic
congregation replete with fantastic
incorporation, viz diversity galactic!