Minister Of Self-Defense

A Minister of Self-Defense

Cruel purveyor of corrupted souls, Why is downfall so lurid?

Interpreting Brahman through such vicious prose—these are the decrepit plans of an oft frayed rage.  Depiction blurs.

THE HOURGLASS IS BROKEN. THE SENTRY’S BEEN SHOT!

A dance such as the insidious corralling of unwilling minions from the comforting confines of distends—subhuman refugees and salesmen, each the politician, taking care of tears denied.

FRACTURED SPLINTER. GLASS—A SHATTERED PANE!

Unfortunate fates seeping wayward, an origin, sleepwalking past the gates of guardians, withering from their endless dreams—unfulfilled—clenching, to a lifetime of faded frames.

THE MENTOR’S LEFT FOREVER. ALONE, TIDES EBB FAR!

Clustered beyond forgiveness, into a tightly knit yet poorly ventilated space of claim. Our imprisonment is based on passion; our companions addle words dimly etched to crypt.

BOOKS ARE MISPLACED. VINEGAR’S ONLY CHILD!

Macabre spirits spy shanties not meant for mortal eyes—

Words lose translation, as beats grow too frequent to count—

Despair is but a punctuation of the marks hate’s strewn about

FEAR HONORS NOTHING. CANDLES FORKED, WAX BENT!

If not for our own mirrors, the ones we peer into to understand, we would go unnoticed, blending in, to this, a sarcophagus otherwise revered of as the Promised Land.

A CRINGE BLEEDS MONTHLY. A VOW—an ONLY FRIEND!

Knifepoint. Finely tuned, hilt to blade. Ribbed to gleam. Jagged, sleek. Reflecting upon each tomorrow never seen.  The eyes of dawn approach while frozen knuckles creak.

OPPOSITION. INCHING TOWARD this Underbelly’s Seam…

A Minister of Self-Offense, on the defensive once again…

Well, wasn't sure I'd find the time to write a normal length piece, but this one sort of came to me, so here it is.  And I can think of no better place in the world in which to share it with, then with my friends over at D'Verse for their outstanding Open Link Night.  Stop on by and get full on some amazing poetry.

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 Bones of A Water-Logged Persistence (Swimmer's Lilt)

A hospitable transmutation—

         Converting nature to nature and form to form

A morpheme unexpected

Provides an individuality all it’s own

Where in duodenum, a plurality’s construed

While in jejunum, emptiness is found after death,

The ileum is the tertiary of the small

It connects to the Cecum, a pouch, uniting the small to large

Phenotypic variation is essential

when evolving from shallow to deep

Genetic pools that drown us under—

A quick flushing finds a tide reigning upon sensation

If not for the (sick) gills mutation’s provided

I’d have floated jetsam like the rest—unable to

Find stowage in some (ill-tempered) future’s ark

         Yet I can swim, and I’m free to swim

Even in these predatory seas,

         I still have a chance, I still have chance, water-wings and all

An extremely late entry to this week Open Link Night over at D'Verse.

My niece brought home a nasty cold from day care a few weeks ago, and I had thought I escaped it's wrath, but last Wednesday I awoke feeling quite miserable, which of course I poo-pooed aside, as a case of getting out of bed on the wrong side.  Well, as the day progressed, so did the bug.  Needless to say I got some medicine and for the most part hadn't really left the house too much since then.  Outside of a couple visits to the store for necessities and a foolish jaunt to the movies on Sunday when I was feeling better, (relapse anyone?), pretty much been a sleep fest with a side of chicken soup.  Well, feeling much better now, but not going to make the same mistake twice, going to keep laying low for the next couple of days until I'm confident this bug is gone for good, which I'm able to do.  Funny thing, it's the first case of unemployment actually allotting me anything of benefit:)  

So, anyhow, haven't been writing really much of late.  But I happened to find the framework of the piece I'm posting right now, which I tweaked a little bit right now, as I didn't want to miss out on OLN and the great company of the D'Verse poets.  So, hopefully I'll be up to speed come tomorrow for tomorrow's event.  I am hopeful that'll be the case, as, (knock on wood), -actually knocking-I am actually feeling much better.  Anyhow.  Quit reading this and head on over to D'verse for the last few hours of Open Link Night. Cheers.

A Black Cloud Meets a Silver Lining

waving candor
grieving fully-
postulating gestures
impressions etched
into glass
cold and frozen
destined to break
destined to break

smiling lasciviously
cultured-refined
predatory masks
are invisible, until
the moment strikes
shark-tiger-crocodile skin
leopard-piranha-lion's roar

and when it does, victims fall
defenses drop, ease is made
trust is gain, safety is but a word
tomorrows a casket that
bears someones name
names are but recreations of characters
names carry history but only if memories suffice

You never know who your villain shall be, perhaps it's a devil,
perhaps it's an alternate you, perhaps it's a friend or a lover, a doubter or an acquaintance you just made

don't take liberties on today
for you don't know
what date there'll be
on the page of your
obituary

Oh, how depressing

what words are spewed with shades of coal

how can one live in such a fashion

betting on an inevitability solely not to be wrong

what kind of lyrics?

what kind of song?

Breathe deep

mouth to diaphragm

Breathe deep

hold for ten seconds

and spew your negativity away

dream

dream

dream

then wake up and dream some more

and find that happy door, that leads you to a place of glad

You're too oblivious to see the serious nature
that bows before us now
have you not been paying attention
the world is falling apart
The planet is dying
the wells are drying up
the flu is everywhere, infecting
perpetuating a sickness that is but the beginning
to an end that will be before us before you think
natural disasters are cropping up so quick
the supply is in demand
but machines supply the labor
unemployment rates skyrocket
arguments are all that is salable
to a mindless generation of
hands-out sheep, willing to beg
for whatever pile they spew upon your
dirty plate

But what is gained from speaking so

find a joy in life, any joy and 

if that evil does come true

then, well, then you will have loved

something, and that something

will carry you on through

and if finality is the dish

served warm

then hold on tight

to all the positive memories you 

have worn while letting

those destructive songs cease to play

for once we're gone, so are they

just believe and pray and pray

it'll be all right 

no matter what end comes our way

hopeless optimist

I pity your shock

when the bricks crumble

and you fall down and down

as I doubt the life you've lived

will take you anywhere 

and then you'll frown and remember

the warnings you were given yet

chose not to heed…pathetic, that's what

I see

And here we have it

those who cannot negate the

optimistic cry, eventually

turn to slander and negative barbs

I'm so sorry you live the way you do

but chastise you I will not

for you make your choices and 

I'll make mine, I pray

for you the best and hopefully

you'll find something to live for,

something to deeply love while you can.

Shared with D'Verse for Open Link Night.

For this week I had the idea of a poetic dialogue between an eternal pessimist and an eternal optimist.  Not sure how I feel about what I wound up with, but in any case, satisfied that idea to some degree.

10,000 Hours

It takes 10,000 hours to master a skill

But only one second, to have your needs fulfilled

Practice makes perfect or at least that’s what they say

You’ll still be standing here tomorrow

You’ll be closer, but so will sorrow

And then, you’ll have only yourself to blame

Night upon night, Day after day,

The longer the fight, the quicker we fade

There’s never been a ceiling, but there’s always been a floor

You can’t be found, if you don’t know what you’re looking for

There might be a heaven, but I know there’s a hell

I dream of the angels, but see the demons all too well

It takes 10,000 hours to master a skill

But only a second, to watch the warmth turn chilled

It takes 10,000 hours to master a skill

But it won’t matter, if in a second, all your dreams are killed

Stop on over to D'Verse, where Open Link Night is going strong.  With so much incredible poetry under one roof, it's the place to share and read.