Internal Cues of Approaching Storms

Fluctuations of mentality quiver the flesh.  Subtle tremors illuminate the core to its fundamental foundation.

An inward shift beckons, and from within we summon forth a siren’s song, one that will both infatuate and mesmerize all those parties indecently exposed to the inner workings of an assembly line that has yet to produce all that which it had previously promised.

Before a fever strikes, the initial beads of sweat begin their perspiration.  Prior to a sweeping illness, we take for granted what we have and how we utilize the blessings we’ve been bestowed.  But the sickness keys us into just how fortunate we truly are.  It contrasts daily life with a portrait of contrast that at first fills us completely with an embalming sense of fear.  Here, something as primitive as breath itself becomes a luxury, something that we swear to, something that we promise, if we are able to land on both feet, that we will never take such graces for granted again.

An itch upon the chin gives away the inner platitude of the

Sickness creeping, one that we swore in vain, an oath betrayed, a tapestry marred, by bitter triggers, sirens, smoking rings and gesticulations.  Here then, the twitches and tingeing tautness is overwrought yet well defined.

Telltale Signs of Existence

We each have our own telltale signs. These are signals and indicators, which we find useful in deciphering the world around us and to let others have some semblance of chance to uncovering what goes on behind the blinders of our minds.

Some signs are softly spoken while some scream in hues of vividness.  We need both types in our lives, and others need to find each when examining our canvas upon first and second approaches.

All things considered however, we need not dwell upon such codified terminology in words alone. In fact, it is often through truly experiencing the self itself, that we are able to, as individuals, understand ourselves completely.  And once we are blessed to know ourselves, we then, can share of it to those who wish to take part in our existence.

The Crux of the Hex (A Lullaby of Pain)

A delicate estrangement—an insurrection of high stakes—

The costs beset the murmured voice—jostling for dismay— Panic stills the arches, belittling what’s been frayed

There’s fervor in the accolades and damage in the cup—Tarnishing the wind chimes, deconstructing all that’s loved—

Skewing the firmament in all things corrupt

As addled insteps disable, a forgotten seam is stitched—Contaminating the structures, envisioning the touch—The howl of the banshee—stretching the crux of this hex

Tainted rains stir deceptive—with emotion, syllogisms grow— Windswept and staining, the compositions first possess the truth—eagerly diluting trust, turning friends to foes

Duplicity covets eyestrain, through disjointed combinations—

Furtive glances whisper—each syllable eclipses stillness while dancing in the half-life—abusing the elements of sedation

And as moisture fondles, each symbol demystifies—the salve and the possession—the cymbal and the crutch—caressing the suffocation softly—as do the lullabies of pain

For Open Link Night at D'Verse.  Stop on by and consume some of the best poetry in the world.

Things Unexplainable Incite Fear

In the Discoverie of Witchcraft,
Reginald Scot illuminated the
shadows of the craft-exposing
the heretical inanity that mania
breeds

Brightly dimming glimmer raised
upon the dais

Fostering contempt to those that
supposedly lived under Christian skies, yet
still cast many upon the throes of
persecution in what was a case of premature reactions
to thing unexplainable.

It is also entirely likely, that some of these knees jerked quickly in what was seen as the necessary immediacy to quell the flames of embarrassment from spreading any further.

Powerful officials do not enjoy egg or pie

Magic
how wonderful an art
Rabbits in hats
birds fluttering across the proscenium arch
beautiful assistants cut in two

Magic
how it's elevation has been altered,
focusing on illusion more and more
as the days have pushed forward, until today,
where we have, some of the most outstanding
magician's ever displayed,

No disrespect of course,
to those that paved the way, for without, the shadow
of the craft, will never have burned so brightly as it does today

Yet still,
it is sad that many of these pioneers of craft,
found just as many accusations of conspiring with evil, as they did
the awes from those enamored by their act, one that was, as is today, not so easily explained.



Over at D'Verse, Karin(aka Manicdaily) is hosting Poetics and has written a pretty neat article regarding Groundhog's Day, no not the classic comedy, but the one about Phil, the lovable shadow seeing rodent of lore.  In the article she hones in on a theme for this week's poetics.  That being, the bright shadow.  Thinking upon this seeming incongruity, my thoughts somehow were pushed to thinking about how we as a society are quick to chastise and condemn those considered different.

My original intent was to cover sort of a sweeping timelines of such instances. I was going to being with some examples from Foucault's wonderful History of Madness and move forward through the ages, winding up with something of current relevance.  However, in the simmering process, I quickly recalled an old text referred to in one of the magic books I have and eventually found it.  This text of course being the Discoverie of Witchcraft, which is more a condemnation against the premature and inane persecutions of those considered witches by the Church of that day.  In addition, it offers what is perhaps one of the first clarifications about Magic, not the dark arts magic, but the hocus pocus, rabbit in a hat magic.  Without actually reading the book, I do hope the references I came across in my books and the quick search I did on the book are accurately portrayed in how I used it here, and in result, I am intrigued enough to try and find a copy.

So, after I settled on this one facet of the theme I chose, I thought it encompassing enough not to go further into other examples, which, as I said, was my original game plan, which of course would of been possible to do, yet also seemingly unnecessary.

I urge you all to promptly hop on over to D'Verse, read Karin's article, compose your own piece on this idea of Bright Shadows.  Once you do, share it on the site, and check out all the wonderful responses from the other poets of D'Verse.  Cheers.

Toxicology in Suburbia

Movement mired through the murk and muck

Muddy boot-prints tracking whereabouts across

Freshly mopped floors

Internal chemistry is out of balance.  Like the wavering gymnast, hoping the time runs out before his turn, you stare deep within your own eyes, and feel the anvils harness hold your cheeks and lids.

Suffocation hovers close to every breath.  Interruptions glaze their disapproving postures, in such a way, whereas, your tongue is dormant in it’s cavern, unprepared or willing to defend the order of the actions spelt.

Toxicology

In suburbia.

Photosynthetic, a Ghazal

I am born from this earth.  Seed, soil, roots and leaves

I sprawl in the sun’s light.  I cry each time it leaves.

I forgive the darkness. Knowing, morning will come.

I kneel before the sky. Basking, in all God leaves

I grow weak as time wears.  Quickly, I outgrow my bed.

I extend limbs outward.  Stretching as tension leaves.

I expand, inch by inch. To the sun, wide I yawn.

I expel precious breath. To the air, my best leaves.

I wake to refreshed air. Today brings tomorrow.

I harness moisture’s beads. Dewdrops caress my leaves.

I share all that I may. Aware, that love remains.

I weep tears of pure joy. They glisten on my leaves.

I dream within my bed. A cycle without end

I watch as the stars shine. Changing, as evening leaves

I have all I should need. I ask for nothing more.

I am blessed and prepared. In me, love sprouts new leaves.

Over at D'Verse, Sam Peralta is tending the bar for this week's Form-For-All.  This time we're writing Ghazals.  Stop on by and read Sam's excellent introduction, where he'll explain the ins and outs of this truly beautiful form.  I'm pretty sure you'll find some inspiration to try your hand at one and once you do, be sure to link it up with all the other excellent responses from the poets of D'Verse.