The ascender
struggled to the dais
stopping to rub
his sore calves
still filled with lactic acid…

“I forsook the post
workout massage
to deliver this eulogy.

Thats how
important it is
to me…”

His voice began
to trial off but
he regained his
composure and
began to speak
with command...

“He gave his life for me.
Is there no greater love
than to offer a life
in service
to me?

My Sherpa
was moved
and motivated
by economic
compulsion.

I offered him
the only wage
paying job
he ever had.

He ran with it,
taking up my
cause as if
it belonged
to him;
performing
his job
as if engaged
in a heroic
mission.

At times it
he seemed
consumed by
the largess of
my pursuit;
and his death
will bring
economic
calamity
to his family.

This further
confirms
the nobility
of my
mission.

The price
of intrepidness
is dear and
made clear,
its value
fully fleshed
out in the
sacrifice of
my Sherpa.

You may ask,
“why do I do it?”

It is no longer
disputed, if it
can be done.

Sir Edmund
and his Sherpa
answered that
question over half
a century ago.

The only
question
remaining,
"can the mountain
be conquered by me?"

I'll risk sacred fortune,
limb, life, family and
Sherpa to discover
the answer to this...

I must guard
against the
inflation of
my desire to
summit at
any cost.

I'm aware
of the
dangers
presented
by the
expanding
circumference
of my pride,
just a
meager
centimeter or
two can spell
disaster for
me.

Yet testing
its tensility,
tempting
the tipping point
of temerity,
managing the
permeability,
of risk factors
and psychical
rewards to
sift through
the membrane
that calculates
the odds to
successfully
arbitrage the
resolution of
gaming
winners and
losers,
achieving
a perfect balance
manifested in
the mettle
of me.

My
determination
shines
in pursuit
of a
golden fleece.

In my
solitary
quest
I don a
holy halo
crowning me
and fellow
climbers
stricken
with a like
obsession,
sets us apart,
anointing us
the royalty
of high stakes
X Games,
bellying
up 70 grand
to claim our
place in an
extreme
leisure class,
gifted
with time
and treasure
to turn this
unforgiving peak
into a graveyard,
a dump heap,
an open latrine…

The glaciers bleed
my **** into the tributaries
of the Holy Ganges...

My virtues
made plain
in the indelible
mark I leave
upon the mountain...

My life dedicated
to the unselfish pursuit
of a magnanimous me
quick to forgive
and forget the
failures of the
lesser who
lack the ability
and conviction
of self
to conquer
the highest peaks
meeting challenge
and opportunity
with relish and
fortitude

I'm like a
strip miner
singlemindedly
tearing the roof
of the world open
so I can fill it
with the purpose
of me.

That is the
deeper significance
of the death of my
Sherpa.

When Edmund Hillary
and his Sherpa scaled
Everest 60 years ago,
it took decades
to remember that
Tenzing Norgay
guided the beknighted
Hillery, while schlepping
his baggage and
holding the ladder
lifting the
great man
in a great
endeavor;
whose strength
and valiance
turns history’s
creaky wheel.

Sir Hillary did it
because it was
never done before;
with stoutheartedness
and national vigor
Sir Hillary conquered
the last pinnacle
in Britannia's majestic
range of storied
achievements.

As climate change
turns glaciers
into slush,
my time
grows short
to scratch my
initials alongside
the greats who
ascended this mount
before me.

So it is
with well
considered
trepidation that
I send my Sherpa
out onto the
hanging peaks,
to set the ladders
and clear the
path for
the assent
of me.

Every morning
I look into
the mirror
glimpsing
a fleeting
notion of
greatness
that is only
affirmed by
triumph of
the will.

At such a cost
my legend is born
my burden
grows greater,
weighted by
the death of
my Sherpa.

Yet my resolve
grows, eclipsing
the size of
Warren Buffett’s
fortune.

As the world warms
urgency grows,
the alarm sounds!

Onward Sherpas!

Lay the ladder
portage my baggage
the labors of Sisyphus
will find reward
of a goodly outcome!

I press the coin
of the realm into
your hand

The prayer flags
fill with determination
that I succeed,
giving your life meaning
as divine compensation
for the cost of your life.

The prayer flag’s flap
with the mountain squalls
popping, snapping
our hosannas
of victory

Onward Sherpas!

Ever Onward
may the good
Buddha
embrace
you as you
climb toward
your next
destination...

Onward Sherpas!

Music Selection
Sherpa Dance Music

Poem dedicated to the 13 Sherpa climbers
who lost their lives this week on Mount Everest.
May they find peace in heaven
may their families find peace and
sustenance here on earth.

Oakland
4/23/14
jbm

It's made in me
The way of me
So loving & savory,
What do I speak of?
My dear instinctive bravery
Insatiably
A heart of gold engraved
in thee,
Solemnly a gift from God
given gracefully.



Questioned by many about
my dashing courage
Noble-minded behavior,
Intrepidity
Superman-like favor,
Saving a life with intent
& untapped wit
Comforting to the mind
So very major.


Put my life on the line
for someone in need
Even for animals, treated,
As loved ones indeed
Deference
Urbanity
It sits well as my creed,
So many think of me
as crazy, somewhat insane
For having such a desire
of valiance within my brain,
Why salt my game?


Because I'm so in tact
with life?
The beauty it holds?
Mettle with heartfelt
kindness to my delight?
I can't help it
I must protect & serve,
MINUS THE BADGE
Pains me to see a
damsel in distress
No tender heart deserves.


I know that every situation
is not my problem
Shouldn't concern me some
would say,
Like a man beating his wife
while the kids cry & stray
In daylight even
Never could I look away,
I'm sorry
I feel I must jump in to
save my quarry,
Who knows I may be
in over my head,
But I can care less at times
Must save the prey from the
predator, can't consume of spoiled
bread.


Whether its a car speeding
about to run over a baby
Or a relentless fire in a
building coursing to burn a lady,
With my mind attentive, laced
with uncontested audacity,
Boldness
Courtesy
Reverence
All out strong Tenacity,

I'm here, Im here...


Good guys are yet to be
seen
Daredevils that are truly
serene,
But no matter what
I'm here,
With my mind & Valor
Have no fear
A young soldier
is near,
At your service I'll be
around to help
Take a stand with me
Let me lend a hand for thee
With my beautiful, yet
Ravishing Gallantry....


©Michael P. Smith

Music

by Stephen Vincent Benet

My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open.
Whitely without rest,
His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
. . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
An army stormed the bastions of the air!
Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
Marching together as the lightnings march,
And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast-
Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
From the loose net of words to deeds again
And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
. . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
"How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.

Cyan*
has such a brackish mark
upon your passive visage-
it transfigures boldly, tempestuously
any average glance flung facetiously in my direction.

Dearest Rogue Element,
You invigorate all other
salient features.
Like the slip of a blunt knife,
you surge open your soul, compelling
any audacious personality to bleed through the wound of your
gaping irises.
You betroth yourself to
the Fascinating, the Creative,
and like the cascade of clearest french horn lamentation-
you stir my
emotions with a mournful compassionate caress.

And that’s the difference.
The mellow mahogany of my eyes
provides the most loving background for Light to
reflect her dancing valiance with reverent adoration.

But-
your Blue
will
forever
stride as the
arrogant foreground.
Commanding and eternally vexing, (captivating) me
with your gaudy juxtaposition
of angry intensity
and poignant serenity.

For the Dragon hissed as the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the night subsides,
Python’s bliss as naiad’s cried,
And the wailing woe’s on a weathering tide,

Water-wall from Kētos scream, tsunami crash, swallow everything,

Rolling clouds and the pouring rain and the serpent dying writhing in pain,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo kissed away the night time sky,
And the Python’s bliss as his naiad’s cry,

The Sun awoke at the wheel-house berth, armor gold, chest-plate of Earth,

And valiance choked, squeezed by Ladon’s girth,

As the serpent swelled with the stormy seas,

To collapse great hero upon his knees,

Apollo, Cadmus and Hercules.

Reborn by fire, Father-Lion’s roar, returned each night to even-up the score,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss ward off night time skies,
Oh the wailing woe of ominous tides,

The scythe or club, boulder at night, rocks from heaven and the perilous fight,

Black-oil venom, heart of a beast, starry night’s runner split from the east,

Noxious breathe, flame-seared teeth, smell of death from a ****** feast,

Speared at the neck, pinning head to earth, then celebrated as a day of birth,

The serpent on his shoulder, or dangling from the tree,

Arising from the waters, from the depths beneath,

Cast out under a mountain, yes underneath, then wear his skin and sow his teeth!

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the fight subsides,

And Python’s bliss as his muses wailed, between the horns where Argo sailed,

Call it a man or Charybdis, Scylla, rock, a multi-headed beast,

Or just two horns with a middle disk and Apollo’s fire, Sun’s dawning kiss,

And the Dragon hissed as the Dragon dies,
And Apollo’s kiss create the day time skies,
And the Python’s bliss at his naiad’s cries,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died!

I see strangers on the Internet
talk about healing their inner child.
It made me go inward.
Think
and think
and think.

About little me.
Three, five, seven years old.
What she wore
what she ate
what she watched on TV.

How she danced,
twirled on and on
without a care in the world.

And as I saw her in my mind's eye
and felt her in my soul,
my heart was filled with a Great and Terrible Sadness.

Oh, how I've failed her!
I've abandoned her laugh
her warmth
her light.

I traded her valiance for fear,
her voice for silence.
Her smile and bright green eyes
for a dull film over too-pale features.

Oh, my poor, sweet child.
I am endlessly sorry.
I have failed you.
Failed you.
Failed you.

Those strangers on the Internet
want to heal their inner child.

But now
I wonder...
Can my inner child heal me?

Not for the faint-hearted
The highest peak is
Unconquerable is its tip
Cold and misty,
A stairway to heaven!

Bold climbers ignore
Step is the *****,
Help is the rope,
And the peak is their hope.

Surmounting the rocks
Resisting the freezing air
Holding back against the pull of gravity
Should the climbers do
With the vertical
That seemed infinite.

Escapade began.
In their heart, they held
The step and hope.
Crouching on the frosting rocks
They moved higher and higher.
'Till they could glance
At the abyss of horizons.
Passing the halfway,
Wild fortune they met.
Wind with wrath roared.
There came a snowstorm!
Hope began to melt
Their shriveling souls, too.
Buried.
Vertically jeopardized.
Lives ended with the limit.

Another team conquered
The mighty mountain.
Aroused a sense of adventure
Spirits unleashed,
Saying altogether, "We can!"
As tightly holding the guide
And pathway's light -
Their nation's proud "stars ans stripes."
Valiance flashed on their faces.

Higher and higher they went
Calmness danced with the rustling cool wind
Glaring were the ice flakes
Of noontime sun
The journey was near to its end.
Yet, a huge running bunch of snows met them.
Keen climbers bombarded
Explosive things.
Boom!
A hole was formed.
They went down
Into the hide site-like hole
Awaited the "limit" to pass by
then, it came.
The hole was filled
Shivering with cold
Heroes bombarded again...
Light rays entered as
Dazzling as their smiles.

Escapade continued.
'Till they stood and yelled
The voice of victory,
Overcoming the vertical's limit,
On their success,
On the most awe-inspiring place
of their dreams -
The earth's highest pinnacle!

Eloquence is irrelevant in times of relevance
For it is not the beauty of the words that sets precedence
Rather the idea behind them that shows brilliance
Any man can speak articulately without substance
There is no power behind such simulated statements
Those with complete control of their clarity claim valiance
So, go forth and form your feelings with eloquence absent

Not for the faint-hearted
The highest peak is
Unconquerable is its tip
Cold and misty,
A stairway to heaven!

Bold climbers ignore
Step is the *****,
Help is the rope,
And the peak is their hope.

Surmounting the rocks
Resisting the freezing air
Holding back against the pull of gravity
Should the climbers do
With the vertical
That seemed infinite.

Escapade began.
In their heart, they held
The step and hope.
Crouching on the frosting rocks
They moved higher and higher.
'Till they could glance
At the abyss of horizons.
Passing the halfway,
Wild fortune they met.
Wind with wrath roared.
There came a snowstorm!
Hope began to melt
Their shriveling souls, too.
Buried.
Vertically jeopardized.
Lives ended with the limit.

Another team conquered
The mighty mountain.
Aroused a sense of adventure
Spirits unleashed,
Saying altogether, "We can!"
As tightly holding the guide
And pathway's light -
Their nation's proud "stars ans stripes."
Valiance flashed on their faces.

Higher and higher they went
Calmness danced with the rustling cool wind
Glaring were the ice flakes
Of noontime sun
The journey was near to its end.
Yet, a huge running bunch of snows met them.
Keen climbers bombarded
Explosive things.
Boom!
A hole was formed.
They went down
Into the hide site-like hole
Awaited the "limit" to pass by
then, it came.
The hole was filled
Shivering with cold
Heroes bombarded again...
Light rays entered as
Dazzling as their smiles.

Escapade continued.
'Till they stood and yelled
The voice of victory,
Overcoming the vertical's limit,
On their success,
On the most awe-inspiring place
of their dreams -
The earth's highest pinnacle!

The elegant madwoman with a golden valor.
Louder than the falling trees
stumbling everywhere around her feet!
The spiritual mother, everyone's empress,
a concrete rose blooming over every obstacle
as if she were a one-woman, 21st century dynasty
with no malfunctions in its empire.

But, there's something writhing its way out
from the cellar reserved for her scathing history.
Past the cobwebs and futile pretensions of valiance
lies this warrior queen's greatest desire:
shrouded in shame, the need for love still haunts.
But it won't some accessory amid the ninth cloud!

Hard work and minimum wage flow much more smoothly.
She's known this since she discovered the world,
since she entered a home full of broken furniture
and reeking of alcoholic breath and stagnant, bitter tensions
that were released when father's fist met daughter's face,
and her bruise-soaked body became the symbol of her innocence.

That must be why she spends so much time
in the darkest Brooklyn alleys, selling her self-respect
to any man feeling particularly kind that night,
and letting any detrimental cycle resurface
for just one rush of vulnerability.

This contemporary queen dons a crown bejeweled with more grit
than the streets of three New York boroughs,
yet all she requires of the world that she holds in her hand
like a ruler deciding the fate of her people
is someone to transform adoration from myth to reality.
Will she ever find light from the alley?

Raja Dahir, the Brahmin noble king of Sindh,
Defender of his realm and his subjects,
He stood steadfast against the Arab invaders,
Determined to keep them at bay.

With sword in hand, he fought with valor,
Leading his troops into battle with fierce pride.
But despite his valiance, he could not stand
Against the  pyrrhic of the Umayyad Caliphate.

During his reign, culture flourished,
Music and science flourished as well.
But these achievements were not meant to last,
As the Arab forces soon did dwell.

In the end, he fell to their sword,
His kingdom conquered, his people enslaved.
But his spirit lives on, a symbol of resistance
Against foreign ******* and oppression.

Raja Dahir, our hero, our guide,
We honor your memory and your sacrifice.
May your legacy live on forever,
As a beacon of hope for all who fight for freedom.

She was a gamine,
an urchin and a recluse.
Tattered and waifish,
scrounging for some small morsel underneath a city bus.
Tarnished,
a lot like brass that's been exposed to water;
she's splotched.
Even whilst disenfranchised,
she carries some valiance hidden beneath her turncoat.
There is beauty in the loose pages she's giving to the wind.
She is,
and will forever be,
floating in the updraft of a sidewalk vent.

When time ceases and your world falls apart,
When trepidation clouds your imminent future,
For when everything you ever held onto is lost,
and your thoughts shamble past your once glimmering eyes;
For when you stop moving your dexterous arms and just lay,
You feel pain surging through your veins,
Detriment taking over exuberance
fighting your self doubting mind off of deranged thoughts;

For once you feel the need to close your eyes
and fight off the impassiveness that blocks your sight,
For once you just wish this wound would heal,
For your toiled life to just ease into calmness,
To be ridden off the weight piled on your fragile shoulders;

Your mind seives through various ways
To feel the ubiquitous presence of ethereal light,
To curl up in it's peacefulness and inevitably give into it;
Tranquility takes the place of hurt
like an addictive shot of cannabis dissolving into your system;
You feel the penetrating urge to hold on to it
To reach out to your sliver of hope with your scrawny fingers
and grasp it tight,
Your hope of a world inoculated against the social stigma,
Rid of narcissus and his obnoxiousness;
Where for once in your troubled life you would not have to hide;

You feel your numb fingers closing over something sharp,
Possessed by an unquenchable thirst for freedom,
Wanting to insinuate yourself with the ethereal glimpse of hope;

Your breath lies between the blade of wishful virtuality and reality;
Reality, a now tormented word,
a word defining a world arisen out of
A never satisfying greed for power and erudition;

You fathom your cognisant mind to construe the moment,
To feel a sharp paroxysm of pain, a flush of wrong;
An ardor to redefine reality,
To concoct the mundane world scrupulous,
To write the wrong;

The heart now pumps blood of valiance,
Belligerence to cause insurrection,
A piquant taste to live builds up,
To fight for righteousness and to die of victory,
For it is in our nature to fight;

The blade falls into the pit of cowardice,
And reality has been chosen;
Chivalry triumphs over death
and the **** that time is begins to run rampant;
The crusade soaring in your mind now vanquished,
Your fragmented scorched life now meaningful;

For you have been reborn,
a master of time and chaste;
Reborn into a warrior,
one who has fought off the wards of death;
Whose prudence his armour,
Benevolence his weapon,
Candour his speech,
Dauntless his demeanour and
Intrepid his blood.

Take this seeing with thee--
paw it over...the beau-tifying Void.
Capable magick--drop...
of daub-n-be...beau-tifyingly so.
Note to All: what's outlasting
coasts... to still the aesthetical shock
o' yore.
Biding a time driven out of itself...
for the valiance of life-swap...so
pronounced with open arms...
Oneness, and all that jazz.
Bid you as I do...form's due...adieu...
beau-tifying The Void.


Konstantinos Mark

There's a monster
in my book bag,
stomach growling
and eyes alert.

It grows pleased
with each hour that
ticks by,
running away with
the delicious taste
of wasted time.

It feeds on my time,
consuming my entire
night, my life,
taking up all aspects of my being.

To take a pen
to its heart
would be more effective than
the sword,
but altogether
more challenging.

Its vanquish happens
in intermittent streams,
bursts of valiance and
productivity, then
the silent tapping of
impatient feet
in armor made of
vain and thoughtless dreams.

We create our monsters,
in essence,
our lives not quite
challenging enough
with a literal foe to defeat.

We shape our monsters,
give them life
and soul in structure
with new patterns to always confuse ourselves.

We are our own monsters
in the classes we cram,
the responsibilities we pile,
the layers of duties
pulverizing air to thin sheets.

It's hard to breath,
hard to think,
over the growling from
our tapping feet,
our chattery fingers,
our smacking lips,
those wandering eyes.

It's hard to plan
and hard to realize
the ultimate goal
with a wandering brain that,
fearing the eventual,
allows the book bag
to remain closed
for another hour.

Dearly Black Annis your Mercy please Spare
So shibble me Eyes by your Flesh glow Blue
A Bairn like me lack much Coat on your Wear
Barely enough to Warm your Shingles few
For as the Cave our peeping fancies fly
Risk your Favours through else spawn our regret
Plunder with your Nails; Then blow-out or Sigh
For reasons our Valiance misinterpret
If the Light room harness for Virtue's floor
To seep out your Forever Doomed Assign
A Task at hand cringe Concepts at the moor
T'was Songs for Shells allow me to Resign.
For Children still plead and Pledge to Behave
Else the Cornerdoor's **** rapes even the Brave.

Since the sun first rose and spilled its golden light like nectar across the darkened fields.
Since the night first whispered soft along the ground and painted it deep blues and purples.
Since the rain first fell from the stars, and, gentle, infused the world with some of their light.
Since the moon first hung, pale and luminous, above the night muted world, filling the cracks and crevices with an echo of dawn.
I have known you since wind first breathed life into the trees and swayed them in their eery dance.
Since winter first chilled the world and hid its life away beneath the unyielding snow, and since spring first battled it back with the valiance of warm rains and sunny days.
Since thunder and lightning first hurled the the sky at the frosted ground, and cleaved the heavens in two, stripping away the world’s soft lines of defense.
Since the first balmy days of summer sighed into the mind and burst upon the senses like the sun captured here on earth.
I have known you
Since the clocks first caged time from its wanderings,
Since before the world was small, when wonder still waited behind every corner.
Since the veil between reality and dreams was just a dream itself.
Since the oceans first caressed the shores and ripped away leaving battlefields of ravaged shells.
Since the rivers first glowed crimson in the last rays of sunset, and since the seraphim first sprinkled dew upon the spiderwebs at daybreak.
Since before such ****** concepts as Good or Evil were picketed upon each creature,
Since nature ran wild and stopped at nothing,
Since the darkness first crept into a man’s heart,
I have known you.

cause im laying here under the projected stars
i turned out the lights
and made a trip to aeroponics
to pick up those fungi you so humbly requested
so put down your earl grey (hot)
take off your shoes
let your hair down with me
and lets look at the stars
not the ones out of the window
but the ones glimmering on the screen
and pretend we're just at the planetarium
back on earth
home
ill massage your feet
and we will proceed to laugh
and roll around under the consoles
but NO TICKLING
you remember what happened last time
ill tweak the access to the room
and you
you will pretend like this is
your first time
i will to
ill shake and shiver
and you
well you just be however you were
before you met me
authoritative, stern and expecting
not of child
but of an ensign who knows
how to get the job done
with nary an irregularity
earning every pip
for valiance in the line of duty
wounds endured in battle
courage under fire

For too long I thought about your strong stature
that presence that quickened my breath
the closer we became, your scent intoxicated me
your inquiring mind attracted me, to discover
your mischievous eyes distracted me
your lips that parted so softly with each spoken word
I was lost in the world of you...and the possibility of us
Chance, risk, bravery took hold of me one night
Spurned on with thoughts of a finite life
I closed my eyes, and jumped
and landed with a thud on the plain of rejection

The feeling engulfed me, swirled through me like drafts through the rafters
but valiance shone through, relief overcame pity
the voice of fate whispered he's not for you
grasping at that, I soldiered on and recovered from the
sickness of love, or lust, or longing

And now someone else has you,
aesthetically pleasing to quote your phrase
to share in the laughter, and the joys of life
So here's to ye both, my love, and my best friend
may ye find out what ye are really like

Why must I lose everything I own?
Why must I lose all I have loved
All that I desire, all that I've known?
Time is Relentless, dauntless.
Like a fleeting moment, like a speck of dust
In a quick heartbeat, in a fleeting breath
Loss descends like darkness
Like the deep calm of death.
but love Declares a war on loss, on the inevitable,  
asserts its arrogance, love shines its sword.
Such valiance is what makes one stand
Without fear or dilemma, unguarded
Challenging death's aggressive blows.
Yet again and again, life’s designs must fail.
Yet there is a need so great, a longing so strong
Time's lesson unheeded, all defeats ignored
Love asserts its arrogance, love shines its sword.
"You're not real , death, you do not exist"
Life asserts proudly, as death smirks on
Pride stands firm, love marches ahead
Knowing unknowingly…. that all will be gone.
that the Tears evaporate.

Hidden agenda:
Thank you for following me .
My pseudonym is Li.
Feel free to message me anytime,
To refuse you would be a crime.
I am pretty much someone who is miserable.

Conor Blatchford:
What causes you
Your misery?
Is there anyway
You can be set free?

Hidden agenda:
Me just being me.
Only way i can be set free,
Is I am no longer who I was.

Conor Blatchford:
Talking to you like this
Amuses me so
I do believe
Our poetic answers will grow
Into a masterpiece
Of our talent
Speaking like so
A perfect balance

Hidden agenda:
A perfect balance?
Nothing is ever perfect.
A girl with many talents,
Constantly told she's a defect.

How can there ever be a balance?
When cowardism is valiance.
Heroes and honesty is incorrect.
When a socialite fails to connect.

Conor Blatchford:
You say nothing is ever perfect?
Our words in poems are
What they are about
Isn't perfect,
Not by far.

In chaos is balance
For balance rules all
Don't ever assume
That with imbalance you will fall

Hidden agenda:
Word in poems are relative.
The raven to an optimist,
Is more positive than negative.
The Telstra to an Optus.

The large and rich win,
The good are faces of sin.
The night lay await for stars,
While the stars spend on cars.

Speak of balance,
I'll show the negative outweighing,
Speak of union,
I'll show you utter absence.

Conor Blatchford:
We all sin for the good,
Or commit kindness out of devilish needs
So unobvious are we
When the Good do Devils Deeds

I do not find you a defect
For defection is an illusion
Of something far greater
Than a misplaced man's intrusion

You do not need to leave me
For i understand such pain
Humanity is give-and-take
One's loss, anothers gain

Hidden agenda:
Do what you must to succeed.
While you celebrate another bleed.
This is what Earth has become?
Soon enough trumpets and drum,
Will reign chaos and madness,
For how do we explain sadness?

Conor Blatchford:
Sadness is our deepest emotion
For this one, no cure, no potion
Yet it is natural, let it consume
And in your quiet darkness bloom
So when sadness finally does fade,
You'll be beautiful, many colours and shades

Hidden agenda:
Despair and sadness is our deepest emotion,
I agree with you but I despise the notion.
Let it eat you up, the monster will.
So consume past your fill,
Because behind sadness is a mask.
For some its an alcohol flask.

Conor Blatchford:
We are all monsters,
Are we not?
A bullet loaded
Into it's slot
The spin of the barrel,
The click of a trigger
Suicide or each other :
Which is quicker?
Sadness and Depression rule
The sickening truth; may cause one to fall
To the Demon that we have inside,
The inner killer we try to hide
It's a truth we can't deny
This sickness that we try to hide

And why?
Embrace who you are
For we are all all opposites
Of what we were supposed to be: a perfect angel, we failed it

So lay down the revolver
Give up on our affliction
Our sadness, jealousy,
Unneeded addiction

Hidden agenda:
At best all we can do is share the pain,
Celebrate our life and our death,
In a game of russian roulette.
Leave our minds to a permanent stain,
Which will result to our last breath.
Hands to fate and chance in set.

Are we all gentle giant,
Who stomp and destroy,
Over anyone defiant.
Or is there a different ploy?
After all we can't all be wearing disguise,
Some of us must go beyond and just rise.
To dream, to love, to see.
To feel and to cry with glee.

What I wanted to say: Alas, I agree with thee.

Even those Candles could no more Define
As what your Soldiers call your own Best Day
Where Valiance and Virtue steep on your Time
Then allow these Records to Sing on your Way
Which, despite, your Custom bid to Conserve
Though much of their Favours pray for his Skill
Must they sing - or dream - else wait for their Turn
If through the seine fish his own Heart to ****
Which is why, with you, must he Advertise
Your Solemn Attendance of Wild Youths meet
For Dames to know; And Fruits to Realise
His Exposed Temple un-sold on the Street.
Let your Feast rage on; Yet Folded Hands keep
When your Precious Gem his Reward will reap.

Staring at Paper, await Words do Plead
Be Lyrics or Verses lend your Pure Voice
How oft your Prince kneel for her Heart indeed
Whenst all such time Light and Love be her Choice
You can hear her Giggles pepper the Air
Then beg the very Atmosphere you breathe
If take this Counsel of Time's Honest Fair
Your Breath fill her Months with Songs do repeat
Then your Metres run; Her Road kisses yours
Borne by the Well of that very same Draught
Though I think of Riches spent on your Course
Still the Valiance exhibit one you have Fought.
Still staring at Paper, plead my Muse come
Sipped my Ink dry with my Raisins un-done.

Each long lost dream
of conquest in the
ashes of history
is buried.
With it lie the
cracking bones of
sacrificial pawns
forever to oblivion
consigned.
Celebrated as nothing
more than the unknown
soldier, who for the
ambitious and self-centered
imperialist, gave his own
dear life.
A soldier unknown who
gives his own blood,
to elevate his general
to history's indelible
annals, decomposes to
oblivion with neither
a name nor an identity.
He spills his own blood
for a glorious title on
his chiefs to be conferred.
His valiance, bravery and courage
are all to his commanding
general credited,
who in unmerited triumph,
robs him of his military
ingenuity.
Dishonoured in death,
his unidentified remains
are crammed with the bones
of others like him, in
catacombs of mass graves.
Whilst his imperialist
general, to whom he
gives a name in history,
gets interred in splendour,
in a stately and Palatial
mausoleum.

Ubiquitous, frozen river of time,
You know neither birth nor life,
You bear no past, await no future,
You even deny the present time.

All-might, frozen river of time,
You don't even have to fight to survive,
Without an end, you fear no death,
You shatter beliefs and all of faith.

Indifferent, frozen river of time,
Every sailor will meet their demise,
No matter status, genius or valiance,
Nothing extends beyond your boundaries.

One force that governs,
All the minds' madness,
Never to be seen,
Never to be captured.

Look!
now they sleep      bloodless warriors
pandemonium stilled      agony slain tranquil
death sanctified in rigid cartesian rows
honored for their sacrifice and selfless valiance
laid to rest beneath mourning grasses

Ask!
where was the higher honor due them      before war
are sacred vows      to be profaned      to be misemployed
                            
Why!
do once verdurous lives lay cold and pulseless
as spatters of red petals      tearfully fall
families breathing wistful flowers
distilling rue      with lulling scents

Adjudge!
all men      who enact lies
dishonoring crossed graves
greed calibrating scales of injustice
bodies tilted high by tonnages of gold
Aurelian kisses      vaulting wars riches

Do Not!
dishonor a warrior’s willingness to die
for bravados mouth is a soldier’s tomb
do not forsake truth and honor    our only faithful ally
ask ten-thousand whys      before one soldier dies
before the bugler's breath      sounds death's lamenting cries

Think!
Contemplate war’s fiery womb
hatred    born inextinguishable
good & evil     indistinguishable

Look, what stillborn bones lie locked in battle
this fleshless monster      we mis-named peace        


gv.2014


Matthew 6:13 . . . deliver us from “evil”
Evil as translated in 6:13 is "Poneros" A name also attributed to Satan
Which means:  "he is not content unless drawing others into the same destruction as himself"
(From Lexicon to the New Testament by Spiros Zodhiates, TH.D

"Soon
the world
won’t have a rib intact.
And its soul will be pulled out."

A line from Vladimir Mayakovsky's 1917 poem , Call To Account

“They made a wasteland and called it peace” Publius Cornelius Tacitus

To those who,
Love, Care for.
Those who do not see.

Those who do not see peace,
Among the valiance scorned.

To those with a beating heart,
Survive a little longer..

Never ending thoughts of you run through the depths of my mindless brain
It’s like taunting me, haunting me through sunshine and rain
Can’t stop thinking, it’s you I keep on dreaming
At dawn, night fall or dusk from noon, your name I’m screaming
Love may be the cause of this, it’s you I can’t stop dreaming
You light up my days even if the night falls and the world starts dimming
Not a word or lifetime would be enough to show you every bit of this feeling

Opened my eyes to a whole new kind of perspective
Righteous is your face, you are just so distinctive
Quite great wonders cannot be compared to you
Up in the heavens, even the Gods will kneel for you
In the break of light, in the fall of night
Zapped by your beauty, I’ll be just a man to win your fight
And the stars will be on collision, though in theory, there is no connection

My lady, the only silhouette emerging from shadows deep
A face of beauty, a kind of girl that is worth to keep
Let love rain upon the seasons of fall, autumn and spring
If you will let me be, I would like to be next to your throne, be your king
Make the best of the moment, like there will never be another
And tell you words that can bring life to a place called forever
Times of valiance of the courageous stories of the brave
A piece of life, a spark of my sanity, a surfing tide above the waves