As I step upon the Checkerboard

I. Acacia

Invariably-with precision of motive- I venture,

Undoubtedly, athanasia exists-

My perpetuity of indulgence-

Peering, and with each trespass—

Vision forgets all semblance of time, proffering ethereality

In syllabic serenade, a soiree of combinatory collectiveness enhances:

Those aqueous aphorisms of belief,

A childlike joviality invoked anew,

Through a singularity of symbiotic parallax—

Albeit syncopated— Cosmic alliances skirt past the doubting fields—

Dancing, freely—

To metronomic missteps of expressiveness—

Assiduously seizing each- as if, through perceived telemetry alone—

The spices intrinsic to vitality, transfer apperceived

In as such, your world—

Intersects with mine.

II.  Ashlar

Every cast of smoke, perspicaciously detailed

All sparks from stone—flint or scythe-

Ignites a widening of eyes—

Stock Gnosticism skewed—

As the perplexities of an individualistic mindset—

Appear in twin—

Where Dogmatic phylum’s mirrored in.

III. Blazing Star

Like whirlpools of vapor, swirling

A maelstrom of pedagogue, ellipses cosmic void,

Shrapnel steals the heavens, along catenary lines—

Disintegrating the abscess of doubt—with conviction.

Didactics change.

IV. GAOTU

Conflagrations echo, rousing infundibulum’s dormancy

Vesuvian terror illumes—fusee, Congreve- striking match.  Inciter of—

Pompeian strategy.  Expatriated-the troubadours of consistency—

Ashen in their faithlessness, volcanically scrawl mementos for failure’s future-formed duplicitous indoctrinations—

All as- architectonical gyrations thrust dimensions forth—

In exaggerated artistry—a formula forgotten, renewed.

V. Trestle Board

Eternal chords, sung,

To the tune of gemstone—

Divined by elven mystics,

Mimetic verve trysting with preconception’s curse

In masonic fervor—

Construct, in diagram—

Equations for methodology—

Interlocked.  Patterned weave

Interpretational anonymity—

Birthed to live free.

VI. The Brides Chair

Eureka. 

Three. Four. Five.

Extrapolation Nine. Sixteen. Twenty-Five.

You use what you’ve been blessed

A mind. So beautiful, that a word,

Would suppress- the perfection of angularity

That your verse-in write (sic), inherently bridges heart to hypothalamus to cerebrum to cerebellum to synapse.

 Brian's hosting Open Link Night over at D'Verse.  Doors open up at 3pm.  Stop on in for some poetic perusal and while entrenched in the festivity, submit one of your own.  Cheers!!!