Disheveled Ignorance

Lines blur as energies emancipate,

Time becomes just an artifact clinging to the nail,

While we are all made of flesh and red is the

Color of blood, the hand of the present hour darkens the premise that commingles with the air…

Mankind is blue on the inside…

Stereotypes distort the freedom our forefathers so selflessly fought for…

Castes depress the potential from perhaps the most brilliant of minds… but never mind…do not be concerned, with that does not defect you….keep on blinking…as innocence is belied…forced to till the fields at dawn…until sweat merges with the blood of the never spawned…

Platelets…meshing in skewered coercion

Marrow…corroding reality, separating the sinew from the bones broken during a midday matinee…in dream…we flail

Yet we are capable of so much more…more than shaking ourselves clean and clear…we are leagues better than those that witness the warped branches of the abhorred…perhaps even smiling as we avert our eyes

And then from those trees, where no leaf shall ever grow again, we may sigh…wondering where the breath begins…

Broken Template Rendered Quarantine

As the quartz hourglass defines its prey, quarantine’s in masquerade—Dominoes of translucence follow, then fade,

Portraying the crux of the wherewithal, primordially available prior to the blisters ceded control upon the coarse estrangement built sequentially by the brazened blade—

Within, lives the corridor, a gentrified expression of what still stands, the erector set compounding ammunition detail amidst the sword-swallowers delineating the scales of would-have-been and shall-not-be. Diminutions seethe in fallacy.

Anguished portals to suspect realms hover in influential admonishment, paralyzing virtue through its severed layers of involvement—a condition piquing the curiosity of the cloaked abandoner—twisting in wrathful formations, writhing, incessantly ravaging the promise in which the sworn premise vowed to apprehend. A broken template of scarred vexations

Teardrops stain the mahogany—biting nail files, awakening the disenfranchisement of the communal strands—standards plummet when balance is plundered by the most unnecessary contamination—a scourge flourishing from beneath this existential tenderness.

   

52.5 Seconds Ago

Extra, Extra, read all about it…

     … And the…. exclusively….

Extra, Extra, read all about it…

: that’s so this morning,

downloaded the full scoop after

my first cup of joe, just before the

spoon sunk the last of the cheerios swimming

in the bowl

Fire: Electricity

Fan blades: Freon

Like: Love

Communication: Status Update

Words: Emoticons and Textspeak

Husbands tweeting wives two rooms away

to tell them they love them

Brother texting sister to turn the volume down on that game of angry birds, never looking over, never prying neck from it's downward angularity…despite being an arm's span apart

Nodding to the tunes you just prepared

Setting playlist for the afternoon commute

A sound interrupts, indicating something has just broken

Only to find it’s some coupon, for some place you never knew existed, despite being down the road for the past six months

Extra, Extra, read all about it

…breaking news…hot off the presses…

Read it first…exclusively…

Extra, Extra, read all about it

:(Shaking head in apathetic disgust)

That’s so fifty-two.five seconds ago…

For Brian Miller's Media discussion for this week's Poetics over at D'Verse.  Check out his excellent article and then tune in to all the amazing responses linked up to the best community of poets around.  

Of Porcelain and Snow

of bark,

a daggered dress

remains

teacup stains of pearl,

of shard,

a charcoal tint

blessing

marbled stones in gaze

of flame,

a wick—blustered

root—wrenched

tress—stamped to palm 

of clay  

a ruffled wing

plucking

sky-dress tattered pink

of puddle—

rubbered soles

skitter

citrine rippling wake

 Over at D'Verse they're hosting their FormForAll and this week the prompt deals with the connection between classical Chinese and Japanese poetry.  Blue Flute guest posted a tremendous write-up and asked us to compose a piece using tangible imagery.  I did my best here, and not entirely sure how this piece came to be, as  I started writing about fluffy yellow rabbits, easter-eggs and green straw and then somehow this disturbing piece of the uncaring/unseeing eyes of society, ignorant to those desperately in need of help.  Quite frankly, not sure if I should be concerned or not.   

Also, side-note here, I think I fixed the word-verification thing that I guess somehow appeared at my site.  So, if someone could just drop a yes or no in with their comment, if, in-fact, it has been pulled.  Thanks   

A Question of Artistry (part II)

Artists

Among

Artistry

Delving deeper

Into the space

Where art

And ART

Meet

Does a spot exist, amidst the boils of creation, for respect?

Or will the Artist, flee from tradition—

To expression’s end,

And find value

In the incorporation

Of the old with his new artistry

Will a jade pin collapse

The pore-like jitters    *Conscience)

And will the tingles properly

Illustrate what mind believes

May be inappropriate if not damnable

Or will

The Artist

Create

As he’s always done

And has

Always been encouraged to do

Or will he abandoned

All he ever knew to know

All he ever knew how to be