The Damned Beggars In The Cold

Hither, dither, tither, fro

To, from, stern, aft, glimmer—glow

Worm, wiggle, writhe, fizzle, frazzle, frown and flow

Gather, grip, gasp, ingratiate, growl, scowl, scuttle and sew

Huddle, hurdler, cuddle, curdle, crackle, cackle and crow

Tipsy, teetotaler, tricky, tacky, terabyte, in spite of the stow

Baggage, boggle, bigot, burden, blast of butter, battery blown

Excess verbiage, nominatives under intense scrutiny, collaborate in a circular procession, each participle eagerly awaiting the punctuations incorrect stressor given a home

Slanted in bias, burgeoned, beckoning, blossoming, stratosphere, diameter crossing points of axis unseen, over-plotted, pollutants of the year, curdling inwards like the ravaging bug, the insect, the slug, the tremors of the soul, catching kitschy curmudgeon fever, like the protestation of an alleviation in disarray, sorrow for the sparrow clipped of wing wrung clandestinely clean, clinging to, ovarian theories overtly consumed by endeavor’s angular shaped cocoon-like debris.

Abrasive. Codes are difficult to cipher when patterns seem to exist symbolically, being becomes the cogent key that is swiped away from beneath the bed or hidden in plain sight, as does the seizures seized from gaping stares of those human zombies forever hovering in the red—the clamor, of a clandestine affair amidst tryst—and this is too, often too conveniently placed, underneath the welcome mat, where instead of finding your grand idea, a key from which to swallow and flee, there lay superlatives for observation.  And that is what you do, observe, then observe some more, observe until you are found, once again, with both flat feet on the tile floor, frozen in space and in someone’s perverse covenant with time—here, where, if having been locked out, arrested straight, out of and into a state of alternate being, than perhaps, the concept of the access will purge it’s promise upon someone, some one who, in someway, defines the definition of regenerative decay, a speck, dot, pixelated subjugate, a daughter of celibacy, a candid ripple in the wavelength, a freak storm over nowhere, nowhere at all—giving vitality to the invisible, those personas who’re somewhat akin, to all the eager admonishing razed upon the soot stained cheeks of the underprivileged capable of only stock replies—the type given by those who’ve never had things turn their way, those that find themselves stuck, in a miring magnate of magnanimous muck, in the middle of a processing plant, a marsh, a wasteland of existence, a sinkhole belching a verbose bellowing buckled over and then upon the expanding waistline of a gluttonous nation of indebtedness and adiposity.

What follows is often an infringement of some sort.  Patents blatantly placed upon intellectual property— protean, vigor, voluminous vanishing points, hollow, like the thesis based, in part, on the bland redundancy of an ignorant smudge, too easily erased, too easily wiped away forever without a trace of it’s postulation—the very same reasons as to why it was ignored, overlooked in favor for, a brand-new pet rock for cousin Roy. 

Posture is granted. The seeds have been sown. Violent trestles toss about, in the ballasts of a broken fist, where balance becomes but another prop, to the tawdry supply, set up and staged by, a backstage broker who renders hell upon the peons he feels he feeds all too well. A blood feud begins with the pennies in the filthy fountain—fuel for the animalistic fellows furrowed in lines a-stream this cobbled cove—a furlough became a game, a torrid cruelty where only the miser is left unashamed.

“Ain’t misbehaving, if the conductor says ok”

 Is acceptable, so says the beggar’s son.

 “Ain’t misportraying if the backstory so old ‘tis’ like the story’s ain’t never been done’,”

and broken down, gladly dreaming of the wasteful sot, delivering the curb some hand-me-downs”. 

“Ain’t a crime to accepting what’s been thrown,” It’s just what it is, as is. And it Ain’t indecent to feast upon scraps, if our last meal is dated unknown—

Fatuous verse.  Infatuation can occur; in the same manner intoxication can render oneself unstable.  By the toxicity in the streams of essay, the words bleed terrific, like the dream fading as the currents blur away the pains we’ve since adjusted to their modes.

I am just another eye. Or so it appears and so it seems, in seam, I stitch together, the adages and false contrition’s never said.  I’m simply one who talks out loud, whether alone or simply one faceless grin amongst a healthy crowd. In another time, in a separate space, I like to think, that my verse alone would be understood and could make a difference in some other nation, in some other land.

 Upon the patchwork of this earthbound soul, smiles are that rarity unapologetic to the many left to launder in the cold—in the grand scheme of impression, the stitch that ties us through, is having the recognition we’re so owed, after all…after all…aren’t we due something better, than to simply be known alone, as the damned beggars in the cold?

Terraforming

Part I.

On days bearing the consistencies eminently so sound as they do this sector of time’s stage, the coat of the gray squirrel, bushy tail and all, blends unperceptively into the shaded horizon that is quite often found upon such fall forays.  In regards to resonation, a prism cannot encounter beams colorful enough to de-cloud these evocations from the being hidden deeply beneath my shell.  To me, during such instances, I find a keen relation, a kinship to, those men and women, who bear the countenances of the faceless victims, that comprise many of the characters within Foucault’s masterful tome.

 Part II.

In regards to the bellicose and vain, I fray the skirt that bears appellation to this couture’s claim.  Vagrancies of exposition, trifle through, traipsing cross the valance of charm in space, as encountered chancily, when spoken through those lost rhythms, in circumference, of a singular destiny spun, by the marsupial nightshade weeping saltine solvencies, over bended page, cross-haired and fileted, by the dampening fleece, crooked both in depth and scheme, whereas such tonalities bellow beneath the wherewithal spun fibrously, masking, completely the couplets coined, compellingly fleeing the soundscape rendered by a dissatisfactory spectacle hindered by slumbering parameters.  

Part III.

Within diameter’s foraging lines of spatiality, brays, both beckoned and intravenously embossed by superficial undertows, form in fragility, through the colloquial jaunts, too often spent in the prominence teemed through the professing vocalizations emitted, by those aligned through a spiritual subservience, uninhibitedly impelling canvasses their usual spread, flared out as deceptive turns were rife to stir.  It is not fairness that guides the devious, in search, always seeking, to barter their tomorrows, by exchanging hungers with the pauper’s guild. And therein lays the covenant created, where a hunger steeped in tangibility is traded for a hunger for the power.  The feast presented to these malnourished indigents, was rightfully deemed by he that sought ultimate power, for he that provides sustenance to the underfed, forever more, shall be deemed righteous in such people’s eyes.  This spectacular arraignment, in and of itself, promulgates the effectiveness of strategic posturing.

Part IV.

Herein, are but cacophonies, wastelands of effigies, asymmetric to the plotter’s quilts that coquettishly commingle adjacently, to the barren nook predicating the sprawl of vales. Over-extension, brings about the perceived timelessness of equation, a hallucinatory combination, an elixir bred to inspire, upon brindled spits, the stirring favor, that through it’s entrancing sensuality of scent are effectively useful ploys, time and time to come; easy are the hungered, blameless are such whose flesh falls in pronation’s guile, for to such martyrdom, is as has been, since the birthed touch of desperation. The conflagrations found carry greatness in their appeals, where, through timid reciprocity, our forbearers insinuated different meanings for journeys of identical design, and each within such foundries would behave, undoubtedly finding their beings swayed by one’s sense of justification deemed appropriately.  Distracted then become, the voracious sprawls of signatory resignation, the first formation of the grand design, that, now, herein, such minutiae, is revelatory in what truth is finally availed.  The separatists and their voiceless apparitions, ooze forth a morose temper.  Although they choose not to speak prominently before the court of decisive gains, they are evolutionarily superior to most creatures to grace this frosted earth.  Undercut by the arrogance of this burgeoned being, they make promises to nature herself, where their every forward movement, will be implemented for, aside from sustaining their own needs, the purpose counteracting all efforts motioning by these architects.   They are not a people who typically join in any side where revolution is the likelihood of outcomes, yet these so called creators, speak of promises and prosperities to come, are not speaking to their underlying plan.  The hungered and misrepresented only see routes to fulfillment and ask not the needed questions, they care not from where these beings originated, and as to why, out of all the lands, they chose our dwelling space for this promised cradle of theirs.  Underneath the political, is a devious deception here at play, and if not for these wood-folk, would be conducted without opposition.  What appears too fortunate, unfortunately is often quite it’s opposite.  What detriments seem relegated to subtlety alone, are often the monsters we choose not to face, yet imminently will be guided by.  They choose to ravage our mother, extract her nutrients for their own behalf.  Certainly they will blanket this world with their veils of prosperity, creating a time unlike any other experienced before, especially for these folk that become the spine of their infantry toward any who dare question the rationale provided to.  Any question of uprising, and stir of those that demand truthful understanding, are squelched before alterations could deter the plans they have set forth. 

Part V.

This is the monster, the beast unspoken, they that appear of no lands known, and bear tremendous gifts, with but a sparing repayment owed.  It is these that travel from system to system, terraforming habitats to their own necessities, sucking clean what makes this world our own.  The further along the balance blossoms toward, the gifts dwindle, and when their true appearances are finally shown, upending will then, be impossible to guard against. 

Shared with Open Link Night at D'Verse, where every Tuesday the pub opens up at 3pm and all poets are invited to link up any type of poem to share with the world.  And for those who might not be in the sharing mood, well, that is also perfectly acceptable, simply hop on in, pull up a chair and get your fill on some of the best poetry on the web.

A Game of Chance

Illusionism
Birthed by bartering-beliefs
For potential gain

Despite the council
Appendages turn
Sour with the decree

Sleight of hand, one, two
Holograms and gradients
Clouding an unknown

Tricks in games of chance
Gambling deceptions of man
Chloroform will dance

Macabre's stirring twist-
Back and forth, above-below
Calendars remind

Salted wounds grow numb
As roulette wheels cease tumbling
Pennies for your thoughts?

Who doesn't like chance?
A world without pit-bosses
Close your eyes, believe in dream

Haiku, Senryu, Renga etc.. are the stakes for the game this week over at D'verse, where Gay started a very nice lesson and discussion on Japanese style in this weeks Form For All.  Here I used a few variations to complete this piece.