Truncated Strings of Ascension

Low, pressure bellows through

Step, quickly pairing into dance

The Marionette leads us

Into a stage without strings

A vale is reintroduced

By survivor’s guilt, painting

Preoccupation with a hidden pale

Salvaging what is and what was never meant to be,

A casserole of cancelled checks and balances rendered

Null—birthrights, antidotes and ill-advised corruption

As the air grows thin

Visions form…

And then…the sky is born

Getting Outside The Blocks Within

I’ve been searching for the perfect breath,

Yet too far many times, all I’ve discovered

Has been the intensity which congestion brings

Within.

I’m looking for the greatest role, to utilize my talents, to bring me close to a centered space, to stand still amongst the moving rush, yet, so far, even the extra slots are filled…

Without.

I’m passionate about many things, yet what good does passion bring, when the odds are stacked 

Out of favor.

The dreams are squelched, the rhythm's bent, disturbed like a selfish child, concerned only with his own self

Inside.

It’s enough to make you wish your dreams away, to some fields that reward success to those holding ethics and effort much higher than what is often considered by most

Self-Centered Partitions.

And to those that still believe in hope.  There is hope.  

Inside and then Out.

And to those still believing in knowledge. There is knowledge. and to those who not only have the capability to learn, yet also possess the ability to eagerly share these gifts to others. There is Community.

Outside and Within.

Distancing. Afar/near/close/Away. Skylines. Spectacles. Bravado in name alone. Restricting space between, communion is relevant once more.

Internal Mergers.

To gather the necessary crops, the reaper needs his sickle.

To till the mind, nurture requires many moments

Beyond what many seem to offer…(sometimes)

Love is a deadly word.  Vulnerability is feared less; yet, it would make sense, if one should claim the opposite.

External Vision.

(UN)format(ABLE)

In some circles, hope is a four-letter word,

Whereas in others, doubt is a shade beyond forgiveness

Rough edges hewn and shorn, evened out and paved in

Line, tarred tomorrow’s unconcerned with yesterday’s dream

Love, can be that square peg that actually can, fit into the

Roundest of holes

Foliage, wrinkled and worn

Time-tested yet ignored

For it is this type of person

Who fully understands and appreciates

The meaning of a kiss—slow and

Moist,

echoic is the sound of the most silencing of voices

Cats Vs. Dogs

In the morning, after first stretch

The not-yet-awaken snarl in contempt

Playfully in the afternoon they jump about,

Hopping from chair to chair, from room to room,

At suppertime, they calmly wait

For leftovers and scraps to fill their plates,

Vying for dominance, they stand their ground,

Assertiveness of appetite, here, friends square against

Brother and kin, all for that natural, necessary inhibition

Yet when time for sleep comes for all,

To Switzerland they do flee, and revel in

The comfort of a bedding of neutrality

A quick one I've been working on.  Not sure it's completely finished yet, but thought it read well enough to share, any comments will be welcome.  Would you think this needs a bit more trimming, or perhaps an additional stanza or so to really hammer the overriding metaphor down?  

It's Tuesday, and we all know what that means. Yep, it's time for another Open Link Night over at D'verse.  At 3pm the pub doors will open up, and the ultra-talented community of poets will begin to flow through the doors.  Stop on by for some incredible pints of poetry and while you're there, why not share a poem of your own.

The Connection Between A Rhythm and a Stare

 A floe of Gypsy temptation,

     Thinly skims the apex of the surface,

A slue of dull possession,

     Swiftly spinning from it’s stance

There is a collection of delineation,

     An elementary beguilement in askance

There is a sidling of salvation,

     An impropriety of sauntering proportions

Agog, too eager

     To enliven the mirage that blindly

Inhibits the colluding prescriptions that

Control the signatories of sight

                 

Within the wherewithal of sanity,

Exists a microcosmic spasm,

Infatuated by impossibility and the relics of its kind,

Where, if not attended to, imagination may run amok—

And become rampant, writhing to the contagions of such designs

And in premature conclusion, I must declare, that there’s a curious delusion—a connection between a rhythm and a stare

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I was very honored and privileged to have been interviewed by the very talented Laurie Kolp for this week's Pretzels & Bullfights Spotlight at D'Verse.  I'd really appreciate it if you could swing by and read the interview and learn a little bit more about little old me.  And yeah, she even made me sound really interesting:)  All kidding aside though, she really did a tremendous job with the questions and putting the post together. 

On that note, I'd just like to take the time to send, A big thank you to Laurie and to D'verse for hosting such a great series and of course, for thinking highly enough of me and my work to shine the spotlight on me this week.