"timeliness" poems
Because the thirst wouldn’t simmer; it ruptured cities into boils,
turned cultures into armies, an armageddon of cheeky stubborn Irish Catholics and thick veined Germans couldn’t imagine a world without their stout hearty headed pint.
Because white dry protestant angels thought crime existed in a vacuum, in a filthy saw-dusted saloon, the hub spawn of evil.
Because twice as many of those saloons were ******* by unlicensed blind pigs, not through free swinging doors on the streets, but in the domestic sphere; in the dark crept crevices of household sanctuaries.
Because bootlegging capitalist princes turned the industry into a stenchy liability with their home brewed distilled poisons. Alky cookers wrapped the commodity fetish and dubbed it moonshine.
Moonshine – spirits for the poor and blind.
Because this social reform was a moral reform lost in the oblivion of politics, lost in the timeliness of progressive spring-cleaning referenda’s.
Because the ragged, toothless class had to be scold, striped clean of their traditional barings,
because wisdom is everything and they’re spirits ran vilely wild.
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 6:57 AM UTC
The Highest Excellence
The highest excellence is like (that of) water.
The excellence of water appears in its benefiting all things,
And in its occupying,
Without striving (to the contrary),
The low place which all men dislike.
Hence (its way) is near to (that of) the Tao.
The excellence of a residence is in (the suitability of) the place;
That of the mind is in abysmal stillness;
that of associations is in
Their being with the virtuous;
That of government is in its securing
Good order;
That of (the conduct of) affairs is in its ability; and
That of (the initiation of) any movement is in its timeliness.
And when (one with the highest excellence) does not wrangle (about
His low position), no one finds fault with him.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
is not a kiss of measured bliss,
perfect in its timeliness;
it's the one that leaves your heart undone,
a far from perfect hit-and-run
that isn't great until redone.
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 6:16 PM UTC
The Trojan dead are whispering
Indecipherable secrets to sodden-eared earth.
The wind has eyes and sees beyond, Titans outremembered.
Ajax and his oft-turned back
Carries again the fallen from the fields:
The murder-slept clouds, unsuspecting;
Slumped Achilles of disbelieving-godless eyes,
Flinging the final spear of his own blood.
Soldiers all now of the green husk.
Titanic silence engulfs sound,
Except from those who mourn.
The storm is only a storm
As long as the leaves are lost.
Such is the untimely, timeliness of war.
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 1:50 PM UTC
what's wrong with my world?
peeps not coming through for me
saps my energy
missed deadlines, not showing up
they can't seem to do the math
talkin' 'bout good peeps
I don't know what's happening
it makes me tired
there's too much hustle-bustle
going on in today's world
guess I got away
from always expressing thanks
thankfulness echoes
reverberates, creating
circles of random kindness
so that must be it
got to get back to "thank you"
thank you everyone
for your kindness, timeliness
and just for being good peeps
thanks especially
to the Great God/Universe
copier machine
whatever I put out there
I get copies back, THANK YOU
Del Maximo
© August 7, 2009
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
Am I truly an artist
If I do not speak from lucidity?
Am I truly an artist
If my words do not keep me awake?
Am I truly an artist
If my art flows from a concoction of ability, timeliness, and boredom?
Am I truly an artist
If there is a struggle to find words left in these veins?
Am I truly an artist
If there is nothing more to say?
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
Many owls hoot around this house.
It goes on at full length the night.
Broken record hoots on a treadmill,
stirring sheets, I'm up at one window,
then another. Dog ugh's his dismay,
not with the owls, with me.
I ugh back.
Certainly, I'd prefer somnolence
as well. So roll over Rover, this
infectious restlessness has gone
epidemic. Now coyotes are cackling.
The ever out there is in here, again.
I begin my jotting in the one thumbed
way of our present day. Thank a
saturation of stars for our modern
cellular contraptions. We can all now
fiddle away the night and not disturb
our precious pet's rest.
Timeliness of nature and creative
spiritual awakenings align.
Sometimes.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
There is comfort in being right
There is structure in being wrong
There is mirth in being solicitous
There is deafness in being agent
There is fear in being passive
There is joy in being forgetful
There is peace in being truthful
There is freedom in being incomplete
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC