"weal" poems
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
So far, so near in woe and weal;
O loved the most, when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;
Known and unknown; human, divine;
Sweet human hand and lips and eye;
Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, for ever, ever mine;
Strange friend, past, present, and to be;
Loved deeplier, darklier understood;
Behold, I dream a dream of good,
And mingle all the world with thee.
3.1k
Fickle
Done in mentioned light...
Through and due the common, the still
Notice of compliment, a comment of right
None
The more we save, from the proof of simplicity
Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun
Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy
Amend
Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel?
The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance
Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal...
Things
And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity
Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten
Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity
Arduous
Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book
Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause
When we are the understanding home, to a willing look...
Force
Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope?
Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source?
Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love...
Caring
True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light
Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring
The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right...
Liberty
Loan the call, to me for a universe's song
Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's
Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?
Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
Montgomery! true, the common lot
Of mortals lies in Lethe’s wave;
Yet some shall never be forgot,
Some shall exist beyond the grave.
“Unknown the region of his birth,”
The hero rolls the tide of war;
Yet not unknown his martial worth,
Which glares a meteor from afar.
His joy or grief, his weal or woe,
Perchance may ’scape the page of fame;
Yet nations, now unborn, will know
The record of his deathless name.
The Patriot’s and the Poet’s frame
Must share the common tomb of all:
Their glory will not sleep the same;
‘That’ will arise, though Empires fall.
The lustre of a Beauty’s eye
Assumes the ghastly stare of death;
The fair, the brave, the good must die,
And sink the yawning grave beneath.
Once more, the speaking eye revives,
Still beaming through the lover’s strain;
For Petrarch’s Laura still survives:
She died, but ne’er will die again.
The rolling seasons pass away,
And Time, untiring, waves his wing;
Whilst honour’s laurels ne’er decay,
But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.
All, all must sleep in grim repose,
Collected in the silent tomb;
The old, the young, with friends and foes,
Fest’ring alike in shrouds, consume.
The mouldering marble lasts its day,
Yet falls at length an useless fane;
To Ruin’s ruthless fangs a prey,
The wrecks of pillar’d Pride remain.
What, though the sculpture be destroy’d,
From dark Oblivion meant to guard;
A bright renown shall be enjoy’d,
By those, whose virtues claim reward.
Then do not say the common lot
Of all lies deep in Lethe’s wave;
Some few who ne’er will be forgot
Shall burst the ******* of the grave.
2.9k
how long to live through the next thought
to have a brief encounter with time
an impossible time of intolerable anguish
where embarking upon a sentence
is a violent wrench from perceived notions
of reality, one that causes nerves
to flay upon my body with weal's of words
where vatic poetry is wrought in trembling rages
spilling, dripping upon the traumatised
parchment that is my pages
in de-congealing interrelated drops of image
that crack the pavements
in a visual vibrancy of taut creative tension
where these words keep their own company
and speak in interrogative tongues
causing a fragmentation of earthquake fissures
to radiate across my mind in a cataclysm
of universal poison that quiets and dissolves stability
and asks, no demands of me, what can you see?
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Rose of a champion
Thought, in a beautified accord
Set to waiting hours, a needs complexion
Where we are, the tale of unity to its peaceful order...
Skip, argue or define
The truth, we removed by bounty of pouts...?
Sated avarice, and the curtness of kin caught in a notorious lie...
Welcome a shadow to breath, when a harrowed eye allowed...?
Is a requited girth, of when, any of a decency's curse?
Has found me, in a live and by chastity's purpose
Handsomer skills that agree, in no known terms...
I had the taste of pride, like a reality of sin, to accuse
Why...?
No man with a tradition of sincerity, is this island commit
Without the sigh of me, the irony to dwell and seek tight
The course of another ship of fortune, that has seldom to wit:
Look, an eye of poise, if not intellects poison...
Made manifest by the only few, of bared conscience
That has us for curiosity's fool, but you, for another hero to loan
A flower of understated chaste; a victim of letters of prescience?
Tall tales of nothing more than a drunk hysteria?
Here is your mind, in my way for one more timidity...
Think and details of weal, we will know until votes ***** drama
To a reaching hour, no one above another, like acts of humanity...
Sep 4, 2022
Sep 4, 2022 at 3:17 PM UTC
--Proverbs xxiv. 11, 12.
1.
I have done I know not what,--what have I done?
My brother's blood, my brother's soul, doth cry:
And I find no defence, find no reply,
No courage more to run this race I run
Not knowing what I have done, have left undone;
Ah me, these awful unknown hours that fly
Fruitless it may be, fleeting fruitless by
Rank with death-savor underneath the sun.
For what avails it that I did not know
The deed I did? what profits me the plea
That had I known I had not wronged him so?
Lord Jesus Christ, my God, him pity Thou;
Lord, if it may be, pity also me:
In judgment pity, and in death, and now.
2.
Thou Who hast borne all burdens, bear our load,
Bear Thou our load whatever load it be;
Our guilt, our shame, our helpless misery,
Bear Thou Who only canst, O God my God.
Seek us and find us, for we cannot Thee
Or seek or find or hold or cleave unto:
We cannot do or undo; Lord, undo
Our self-undoing, for Thine is the key
Of all we are not though we might have been.
Dear Lord, if ever mercy moved Thy mind,
If so be love of us can move Thee yet,
If still the nail-prints in Thy Hands are seen,
Remember us,--yea, how shouldst Thou forget?
Remember us for good, and seek, and find.
3.
Each soul I might have succored, may have slain,
All souls shall face me at the last Appeal,
That great last moment poised for woe or weal,
That final moment for man's bliss or bane.
Vanity of vanities, yea all is vain
Which then will not avail or help or heal:
Disfeatured faces, worn-out knees that kneel,
Will more avail than strength or beauty then.
Lord, by Thy Passion,--when Thy Face was marred
In sight of earth and hell tumultuous,
And Thy heart failed in Thee like melting wax,
And Thy Blood dropped more precious than the nard,--
Lord, for Thy sake, not ours, supply our lacks,
For Thine own sake, not ours, Christ, pity us.
1.5k
You raised them
You should keep them
And pay all their bills;
What you raised spills
Over into the common weal
And fears become real
As they are ignorant
Greedy and mean
Worst we’ve ever seen
And no hope of salvation
From your creation.
Are you afraid of your kid?
Is that what you did;
Let him or her do whatever
And you never told them
What is wisdom or whim?
Let them do what they please
As long as they don’t sneeze
In church or belch loudly
Then you can go on proudly
Bragging about your good child
Until they run totally wild
And get themselves arrested.
Then your lies are bested
And your laziness outed.
No wonder you pouted.
When things go wrong
You want someone to come along
And take care of things
And pay the fines that brings
Because they are sweet, down deep.
Then you go back to sleep
Because life should be easy for you
And the things your kids do
Are not your fault, so back out to buy
More magazines about movie stars
And slobber over newer cars
And ***** about the schools
Not teaching them the rules
And how to pursue them
Then you go out and sue them
For teaching what you do
And not what kids should do.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC
Well! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.
Thy husband’s blest—and ’twill impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:
But let them pass—Oh! how my heart
Would hate him if he loved thee not!
When late I saw thy favourite child,
I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when the unconscious infant smil’d,
I kiss’d it for its mother’s sake.
I kiss’d it,—and repress’d my sighs
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother’s eyes,
And they were all to love and me.
Mary, adieu! I must away:
While thou art blest I’ll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;
My heart would soon again be thine.
I deem’d that Time, I deem’d that Pride,
Had quench’d at length my boyish flame;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
My heart in all,—save hope,—the same.
Yet was I calm: I knew the time
My breast would thrill before thy look;
But now to tremble were a crime—
We met,—and not a nerve was shook.
I saw thee gaze upon my face,
Yet meet with no confusion there:
One only feeling couldst thou trace;
The sullen calmness of despair.
Away! away! my early dream
Remembrance never must awake:
Oh! where is Lethe’s fabled stream?
My foolish heart be still, or break.
1.4k
Then, when a pin-fall echoes ringing
in the enveloping darkness,
and muddied silence eclipses all light,
spreading all around
the mistletoe
guards the path forward,
we must know, it will all end.
For a greater power than all we know,
than even the greatest of Gods,
a secret is enshrined within
the very fabric of existence:
a mystic voice echoes,
from the mists, a boon-giving hand
reassures us lost here:
Whenever in trouble, wherever you be
call and the help shall swell forth
from within the wells
dug empty in the crusts of our being;
Like the last light of the evening
the image of clay disappears
into the waters, that in mystic union
connect earth and the heavens,
appearing again year after year
in yet more lovely forms:
A river of love that swells forth
at our suffering, the cradle
of our weal and woe, the Mother
of everything that ever is.
Nine there might be, the darkest
of nights, but the tenth is
the day of victory for sure!
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
The thrill of the chase...
A chaste example, to acquire a hill
Meant in dole and measure, the evening pace
Of a risen question, which has nerves to chill
Heat is a wavering sense of redoubt
Sent by accept and due a looking herald
Find a shadow of differ, with a comparison's pout
Share and weal to endow, a question of waiting held?
Maybe, a light has a wealth we can have?
Said to bared and curious, superiority
Will a stranger deed in the presence of need, pass?
Asking for the so, a mutual live to do, is am affinity?
Character is a reigning hope, to understate a gift?
Soul to deified how, in a calling to wryed eyes
When we are the eyes of rightness, risen of airs to lift
A season of justness, with a moment assuring silence...
Is the goal of sincerity...
Is the given of simplicity...
Is the god of serendipity...
Is the gesture of sakes city...
Who?
And the hill, of reason taken to reality
Of visions fortitude, a ply of when sense is too soon
Will we become like ourselves, at the sight of future integrity?
Mar 19, 2023
Mar 19, 2023 at 3:03 PM UTC
Urges, we never said...
Were the time, the thoughts of open bother
Of a sleeping prophet, with silence to lead:
A care into the limelight, with heaven to hover
A brassier share, in the need of promises
Sent from guarded selves, a world which delves
Integrity is mine for a shall and a swallow of vices
That remembers you, when patience looked for life's health
Speaking of hell...
Strange invaders, strangers in the mystery of this yarn
Weal no more, than a crash of existence, we know so well
Letting mercy see my upset, a habit has me by the toe I shall learn...
Is it me, or did I just wake up?
City's of strength, and the embarrassment of delicate poise
Have opened their doors, to a solitude that has become a covenant
With the voice we add, is silent warnings of another's choice?
Tell me the story, comes my conscience
A hap of retribution in the same, the shadows of a scream
I have made, a promising God, a sign of the times to presence
That has looked, and seen our terror, the bitterness of a demon...
Save me from a stone of kinship, with a kiss...?
Proper shape to a wish alive, in sordid chance, a wind
Of guidance and justifying malevolence, that has stolen my wish
From the heart of me, a stare of pining finish to a lie to mind...
Pillows make fast friends, if shade is forever cool, intrepid...
Interest in a careful window, is many to fathom a liberty in shyness
Acts and paces of facts, run faster than all of the powers that are, hid
When children dance, the seed of specialness is a call to wisdom's bless...?
Care for another, victim of insincerity?
Long truth's and the tomorrow of interim
Has a rather chosen, possession of sardonic not, the charity
Of privilege run so far, for a wicked dream to lend...
Cough, cough; palpable
Anecdote to share a legend, no man has let live
Longer than a kiss in the heat of a kindness to ****
Seeing is believing, even when our hope in a purpose above, a world in love with what we give...?
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 9:21 PM UTC
Pontificate
Set to sojourns music...?
And thrown the light of reason, to sate
Weal is a known seeker, of life intrinsic...
Westerly, the face of men
Has a column of seclusion, adding the facts
Of pride before litany's passage, a wisdom's question
Come to pass, with a realer first of lest, we act:
In favor of solemn derision?
The found privilege, has a callous fate
Where we are, the paces and passion of intuition
Hadding the silence we evoke, is a moment come too late?
Hatred, or by excessive gesture, the world?
Place a future of benevolence in front of a child
And the willingness of wishes to give a gift, or take one for
The lips of destined forces, the actual and the meager keep while...
A babyish face has the time, to remember the day as a friend has
Has a shown turn of courage, beginning and ending with cause
Sought the better of you, like a thread of persuasion is to ask
Can the arduousness you describe as a friend, be at odds?
The worth of hosting, a day dream...
Still to fore, the sanity of regency in the name of future loyalty
The winds of omnipresence, have the sense to live well, to deem
The stir of vanity in the lead, the welcome and or the doubted, to be...
A king about the reach and notoriety of views, here is loves vote:
Meant with maying guests, and the hope of virtue to come
With the worth of anger and bother, the vice we hold to fears cope
With the lip of liberty to prove, is our gift to teach its love?
Jan 26, 2024
Jan 26, 2024 at 12:08 PM UTC
Pain quells but not yet healed
Oh, memories flash like sunrays beam
You bogus a smile so perfectly
Yet it take more years for you to weal
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
You know that itch you get.
When a bug bits you?
And suddenly there's a rash,
Not just in the place you were bitten,
But you can actually feel it all over you?
They say we shouldn't scratch them
or it could leave a scar.
So we try to control the itch.
And we focus to not focus in it.
In fact, it's almost impossible.
But then there's you.
You are not a bug.
And you sure did not bite me.
Worst
You kissed me.
And left something worst
than just an itch
or even a rash.
For the thing is.
a bug may leave a weal
somewhere in my skin
and that would be it.
But you are worst
than the most savage itch
and the poisonous bite.
You are in my skin.
inside my flesh,
deep in my bones,
locked in my heart,
haunting my mind.
I could take any kind of itch now
any kind but you.
And the truth is,
I've scratched too much.
and all that is left of you
is nothing but an infamous
itch.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
merciless genocide
slaughter of native peoples
wrought with (super) wanton zeal
feeble ability to thwart
"discoverers" rapine wicked onslaught
merely ratcheted wrecked webbing
wrenched tribal unity,
violently rent asunder
vibrant indigenous linkedin weave
rendered sacred weltanschauung
decimated "noble savage"
woke wretched nightmare,
sans pock marked worsted weal
the Native American holocaust
shrouded in whitewashed veil
tragedy trampled truces
triggering tearful trail
scoped scattered remnant
snuffed out via surveil
futile sympathetic remonstrances,
viz rant and rail
hermetically sealed
***** deeds done dirt
blunted, cheapened,
and deadened
lance armstrong to quail
most definitely coloring faces
of captive
American Indians deathly pale
into figurative coffin
got hammered
rusty nine inch nail
subpar critical population mass
for survival, plus storied "red man"
bereft of ample potent male
off limits to original proprietors
forced to hightail
happy hunting grounds o'er hill and dale
becoming desiccated bleached bones
devoid of awful, pitiful,
and sorrowful fait accompli
and roaming spirits
like banshees bewail
grievous shadow a blot doth cause me to ail!
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
If I were truly of the composition of man
Would I still have this constitution of a god?
I lay here in an internal slumber as these savages attack and feast like dogs.
Though my prison is of good intention
I now know of the divine divinity of my divine intervention.
For no one is of greater power
In enough to remove one's soul.
And no one is of greater entertainment
Than to buy that of which is being sold.
And no one is of greater influence
Than the conqueror who does as he's told.
I am God.
For I am in presence
In times of weal and woe.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
I have weathered wolves and deities,
fought horrors dreamt and real,
kept my word and my identity,
though the system bade me fail.
I have championed my brother,
taken succor with the weal,
sourced my secret tides for good and ill,
bore my pain beyond the pale.
I have rendered unto god and man
the body of my pride
till nought remained to mark that space
where faith and fact collide.
And Honesty is my guide.
I was written on this rock to bleed,
consigned to sweat and soil,
a thing unique in cloth and creed,
made common by the seams.
Like all my peers resigned to chance,
to tedium and toil,
I cut my teeth on circumstance,
and lost my way in dreams.
Yet while I breathe I pledge to rise,
to march and never yield—
Equality, my driving cause,
Resolve, the spear I wield.
And Dignity is my shield.
I have battled man’s disdain of man,
have argued every view;
a noble goal that took its toll:
my final days are few.
With broken cross and broken back
I’ve come to common ground,
to trade this light for entropy,
to lay my candle down.
I am he: I am Humanity,
in all his pride and shame.
Black, white, yellow, red or brown:
unlike, yet all the same.
And as I near that vile pit
to quit this passing flame,
with one last leap of faith I claim
the soil whence I came.
And Weariness is my name.
Thanks for reading And Weariness Is My Name.
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copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders.
Contact:
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Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 3:48 PM UTC
You’ve done so much
That is in no way right.
It makes us all wonder
How do you sleep at night?
The party of Abe Lincoln?
Not really so very much.
With his kind of leadership
You completely lost touch.
With malice toward none
And with liberty for all
Doesn’t match well with
Your current plans at all.
Right now you look at us
Your regular constituents
As unworthy of your notice
Or any serious commitment.
You’ve aimed your entire effort
At making the rich richer
And very little nectar for us
Pours from your national pitcher.
You prefer we starve and suffer
So Congressmen can get wealthy,
And rich corporations as well
Which is almost twice as stealthy.
So what happened to the vows
You took as the Oath of Office?
Where did you promise to make
A vast king’s ransom off us?
When did it say “Now I promise
To ***** the meek and poor,”?
To me, that is not what we
Elected your crooked *** for.
Why can’t you do your job
Seeing to the common weal
And stop trying to treat us
As if we were something unreal;
Things that get in your way
On your rise to immortality?
Please read the Bible you tout
And learn about immorality.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
Nine angels
Care and naked simplicity
Future weal, to remind in open quarrel
Speed is a having guest, to avarice when implicitly...
A heart of darkness
And the cares of calling a friend to the table
Rued gestures of candor, a candle of secrets
And the stir of something greater, than a justifiable...
Looking hard, for a salient generosity of ply and can
Will a shared eye, begin here, or in the meet
Of promises told to take their time, a stodgy plan?
Letting boding become a shame? taking a seat...
Ten angels
And the blindness of voices attuned to a pitch
Vice and curiosity to tender a vantage, well
Who is the other side of privilege in the dark, so rich?
I am, says one, the truth in terrified gifts...
Is a language we can afford; a hatred of hearts, and nix?
With a nobility of silence, we have adjusted might's to is...
A hearkening joke, the only way to survive the day, ad sic.?
All flee, but the one, and the need of cause serious
To remember the taste of couth, complimenting the hour with aim
Did, says the one to remain, the word of composure is ours furious
Adding, says the rest to a whole comfort, I knew by the very name...
Mar 16, 2023
Mar 16, 2023 at 2:03 PM UTC
We came from all over the land
To show our hand and our signs
And resign from the silent crowd
That allowed this filth to control
And dig a hole in our Constitution;
To point out the fools that choose
To use our schools to abuse us
With their taking of bribes and
Payoffs for scribes in the media.
It was an amazing time to climb
Off our sofas and it was thrilling
Even with the wind chilling us.
But these kids, friends and families
Had grown tired of homilies by crooks
Justifying what they took from us
And throwing us all under the bus
In the name of patriotism and then
Giving back in nepotism to their
Friend's foreign bank accounts,
As well as a hefty kickback account,
Which amounts to the same thing.
The nation admired the children
They had sired should move to fight
For what is right when leaders
Turned out to be followers of wrong.
They lifted voice in songs and chants
And shocked the pants off mediocrity
By standing in all solemnity to face
The worst of our race who ruled
That murdering children ranked less
Than the mess our country has begun
By protecting horrible guns more
And giving children in school
A much lower overall score.
Not often enough, we wake up
As a country, and stand up
To picket, protest and crowd
Around the symbols we have found
That mean we are being swindled
And the innocent are being starved
And carved up and killed daily
So our leaders can go gaily on
With business as usual; a kind of
Tone-deaf musical for the twisted.
But we stopped liking the lyrics
And cynics doing the singing
With bad voices too loudly,
So, we proudly declare a mistrial
That has gone on too long a while
And needs to quit. Those in power
Need to sit down at home
And leave the real people alone
And we at home need to step in
And begin this freedom and equality
Promise and fulfillment for real
And apply it to the common weal.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Gefen said
that girl you like
that one
who stinks somewhat
and looks as if
she slept in a barn
is in the girl's bog-house
crying
I looked at him
and flicked
my cigarette card
against the wall
of the playground
it wasn't near enough
to win I didn't think
why's she crying?
I asked
how the ****
would I know
he said
just saw her go in
and heard the sobbing
I watched
as another kid
flicked his card
near touch the wall
and fall
ok you win
I said
and walked up the steps
from the playground
and walked
to the bogs
and listened
with ear to the door
that you Enid?
I asked
no it's Coleman
what do you want?
I said nothing
and wandered off away
and there was Enid
by a window
what's up?
I said
she looked at me
through smeary glasses
not here
she said
not what here
I said
I can't say here
ok where then?
I said
so she beckoned me
to follow her
along a dank passageway
(there were many)
until we came
to where the cleaners
kept their brooms
and buckets
and such stuff
and she sneak inside
and pulled me in
beside her
well?
I said
sniffing the air
of disinfect
and soap
and yesterday's clothes
can't sit properly
she said
and she lifted
her dull grey dress
to reveal a red weal
along her thigh
and beyond
it hurts when I sit
and I can't say why
and it hurts to sit
she lowered her dress
and looked at me
red eyed
and dripping nose
your old man?
I asked
she nodded
and looked around
the small room
her eyes vacant
say you've got a boil
on your backside
and ask for a cushion
I did last term
when I had boils
on mine
she looked unsure
really?
yes really
I said
I'll ask
old ma Murphy
if you like
she's got loads
of cushions
Enid looked at me
her eyes dull
as dishwater
ok
she said
she kissed my cheek
and followed me out
and along
to Murphy's room
uncertain
and unhappy
as if facing
death and doom.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
Witches and wishes
Correction's table, questions trouble:
Avid is a quiet chance, of baring before fishes...
With a knowing stare, at worth final
Philosophy's of radiance
Real reaches of meticulous sorts
Sordid weal, fit enough for water's amends
Sanity is, a character being assured...
Two, catching a wishes fish...
Tomorrow, under an eye?
Presence over, the pace of a king?
Kisses that took you for, literally why...
Worth, saw an ideal
Of promises and integrity, fire
Is a sly ordeal, the lips of a devil?
With the pout of seldom, wisdom is many denials
Nobody wishes in a fire...
Sun appears to be, a likewise friend
With time's retrospection, irony is a love higher
That should know, how heaven came to be life's wind?
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 12:25 PM UTC
Hmm, perhaps titled,
aye poem already didst aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar con tent
invariably communicated
sans, trademark pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other questions,
this chap asks himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm'n weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely
a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear
this penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
word ** seeking me own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile materiel undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,
and webbed woven semi colon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma own home spun faux
cambridge analytica gimcrackery defaced book best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest!
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
You're hardly seen at home at all these days
and I wonder when you will change your ways.
But I do hope that everything's alright
and the future for you also looks bright.
Many people have gone on the wrong path
seeking their own gain but acquiring wrath.
When they do not consider the welfare
or happiness of someone else do care.
If you've fallen into that state somehow
please listen to the words of wisdom now
to discern their knowledge and to receive
some advice for your soul as you believe.
When you put other people's welfare first
and for their happiness you also thirst
doing those things for their satisfaction
you'll reap a good harvest of attraction.
This must be done in line with what is good
and if viewed from a point of wisdom would
not detract away from that high ideal
which is the basis of our human weal.
_______________________
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
Dark at day,
Light at night,
Chaos mocks us
With villainous smiles.
I have yet to meet
A godsend I could trust,
A fluke of luck,
Or twist of fate
To rely on.
Blessings in disguise
Are mirrors in my eyes;
Health or weal
Has timed repeal.
The dealer insists
It's in the cards,
Like karma now,
And kismet next.
Chaos mocks us
With indifferent results
But just give it time..
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC