Poet's Corner

[midcan5]

'Here'

"Nothing has changed. They have a welcome sign,
a hill with cows and a white house on top,
a mall and grocery store where people shop,
a diner where some people go to dine.
It is the same no matter where you go,
and downtown you will find no big surprises.
Each fall the dew point falls until it rises.
White snow, green buds, green lawn, red leaves, white snow.

This is all right. This is their hope. And yet,
though what you see is never what you get,
it does feel somehow changed from what it was.
Is it the people? Houses? Fields? The weather?
Is it the streets? Is it these things together?
Nothing here ever changes, till it does."

Joshua Mehigan

PS and don't forget to support poetry this giving season. (my 517th poetry post)

 

[Mindful]

Some rhyming couplets from Pope.

Look next on Greatness; say where Greatness lies?
‘Where but among the Heroes and the wise?’
Heroes are much the same, the point’s agreed,
From Macedonia’s madman to the Swede;
The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find
Or make, an enemy of all mankind!
No one looks backward, onward still he goes,
Yet ne’er looks forward further than his nose.

Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless grown,
Yet hate repose and dread to be alone…

Darkling I listen: and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain…

The muse but serv’d to ease some friend, not Wife,
To help me thro’ this long disease, my Life…

 

[midcan5]

Christmas favorite

"Nearing Xmas Eve! I don't know why--since I'm not a believer in the conventional sense--but every year around this time I end up standing here, pausing before this gray, hulking building with so many of its tall, stained glass windows darkened and lit only by floodlights from outside of it, but with twin spires still pointing towards heaven. Tonight I can see only a single light still shining--in a half-open casement window located on the second floor. "Hello, hello," I call out, "Anybody around up there?--anybody home tonight?" Silhouetted at the casement window, a head appears. "Sure, we're open all night tonight all right--but this isn't a church anymore," the head shouts back in a decidedly irritated voice. "Didn't you know?--our entire operation was finally taken over last year--we were shut down for a while and then re-opened again converted to a peanut-brittle factory," "But don't I recognize you, Sir," I call back--"aren't you the former Sexton?" "Yes," the head says, after we were converted the takeover people thought it would be wise for the sake of efficiency to retain some of the same personnel for a while, so together with some of my staff, I agreed to stay on for a bit." "Does that include God, too?" I hear myself calling back to the former Sexton. "Sure it does," the Sexton shouts back, "have a Merry Christmas!"--and his head disappears from the window. Then I see no silhouetted head much less face, and hear a far deeper and far more resonant voice: "My Son, my Son--we've been putting you on, my Son. But you know you should really come up here anyway--you know in your heart that for all He's ever meant to you, Christ might as well have been a part-time worker in a peanut-brittle factory!" Then suddenly the casement window slams shut. "Oh My God!" I hear myself cry out--"Could that have been God Himself up there? And if so, was He genuinely angry with me, personally?" On the way up the stairs to find out--trembling slightly I must confess--I meet an angel. He's coming down the stairs after apparently just knocking off from working on the night-shift somewhere upstairs. He's beaming radiantly; his wings are folded neatly behind him and he's licking his lips; his cheeks are covered up with peanut-butter and candy and look like two big chocolate chip cookies; and there's a big blob of marshmallow on the tip of his nose...."

Michael Benedikt

 

[Barbasiewiczfan]

Funeral Poem.

I know a crow.
But now....I knew.
I've seen him fly.
But now....he flew.
His body's still.
The one I knew.
But where's he go ?
The crow I know.

 

[Capstone]

Tibetan Grammar Lesson

The unenlightened says, "There is a chair.",
convinced by everything I fail to see,
or so the Dalai Lama says to me,
"The 'object' you're perceiving isn't there.".

I argue that its attributes are clear,
"It has four legs, a cushioned back and seat
designed to pad where your own flesh could meet
to verify things are as they appear!".

"Well, in a sense", the Lama says, "that's true,
but with that truth you must remember this:
the vast infinity the senses miss
is not negated by your finite view.

The chair is not 'the object' that it seems
but is itself an attribute of One
composed of everything beneath the Sun,
no more or less objective than your dreams.".

He grins and winks and says, as he sits down,
"This is the key to sense perception's flaws.
The Universe is chair-like here, because
all adjectives describe a single noun."
​

 

[Impenitent]

'My Big Fat Global Warming Allegory'

Another wintry blast! They're calling the cold, "Polar Vortex," and the snow, "Lake Effect," but all I know is that my house will be crushed like the local Wal-Mart if I don't get this crap shoveled off my roof in a hurry!

We got seven feet of 'Global Warming' (yet again!) in three day's time, and by God, if I so much as hear Al Gore's name mentioned on the news tonight, i'm gonna throw my beer bottle right through the TV screen!

I believed! Oh, I believed! But this can't be! Stop testing my faith, Al; I've already failed ...

What's all the big commotion?
It snowed just yesterday.
And the rising of the ocean
Is only dramatic overplay.
He's defrauding me with Science.
Defrauding me with Science!
And ignoring simple history.

When he's flying in his Learjet,
(Defrauding me with Science - Science!)
They say he leaves a footprint.
(Science, Science!)

But it's all a big promotion,
When it snowed just yesterday.
And I see no rising of the ocean.
On the young and naive he preys.
But he defrauded me with Science.
He defrauded me with Science!
And disregarded meteorology.

When Gore is flying ever nearer.
(Defrauding me with Science-Science, Science!)
I can see Al Jazeera.
(Defrauding me with Science - Science, Science!)

I thought he had such devotion,
But now he's mocking me.
He sold out the Arctic Ocean,
To pump and dump Current TV.
He defrauded me with Science.
He defrauded me with Science!
And got off on a technicality.

Good God Al Gore -
He's terrible.
I can't believe it!
There he goes again!
He's hidden his dossier,
And I must get an FOIA,
To see his inner secrets,
And little pet tricks.

It's simple harmonic motion,
When it snowed just yesterday.
And the rising of the ocean,
A cycle repeated every day.
But he defrauded me with Science.
He defrauded me with Science!
While promoting an immorality.

Without a "Wonderful Life" emotion,
A White Christmas he never sees.
He talks only in slow motion,
About polar vortex mysteries,
He defrauded me with Science.
He defrauded me with Science!
And failed in philanthropy.

I shoveled and struggled, and huffed and puffed my way through several mini-avalanches, until my roof was clear, about 8 P.M. Finally resting and relaxing in front of my TV, beer in hand, who do I see but none other than Al Gore, presenting his first of 24 episodes of “It’s Urgent to Rendezvous with Reality to Save the Future of Civilization."

I should have flipped him off when he began his soliloquy! Too tired to react, or just too lazy, I heard him say this:

"Darkness falls across Greenland"

The ice gone, now only barren sand.
Animals crawl in search of food
In packs or alone in two-legged broods.
And whosoever shall be found
That can't withstand the killing ground
Must face a million degrees of hell
And speak from inside a skeptic's shell.

The foulest chemicals are in the air,
The carbon dioxide of two hundred years.
A mere 24 hours from your tomb,
Six feet below to seal your doom.
The earth may fight to stay alive
But from pole to pole to pillar.
No force of nature can survive
The evil anthropogenic killer

Now he"a talking to a skeptic, and discussing the "Pause." The skeptic thinks this is an indication of "Gobal Cooling," rather than warming! It looks like Al has painted himself into a corner! I'm gonna enjoy this!

Al: Oh, Heaven, Dear Heaven!
If the trend is as you decry,
The Ice Age has already begun,
And we will all freeze and die.

You foresee a frozen earth,
And of humanity there is a dearth:
With frozen hearts bleeding red
Fallen, both cold and dead.

Even tho' your theories might belie
A forcing agent, a greenhouse gassing,
Would it not be worth a try
To forestall our frosty passing?

To form a blanket, with warmth abound
To defeat the impending crisis,
Before we all are found
Frozen stiff and lifeless!

Now can you not see how some
Want to save the planet we cherish;
Otherwise our home will become
A barren desert where all perish.

Al explains, We don't need catastrophic global warming to experience catastrophe. We need only to get close.'

'There will not be enough resources to sustain us all. There will be oil wars, food wars, water wars. People will kill those who they perceive to stand in the way of their own survival. Both the killers and the killed will be the wealthy and the poor, the educated and the illiterate, the young and the old. Alliances will be made and broken. Chaos will ensue.

Will we survive? Models don't tell us."

 

[Jarlaxle]

Ex Keraptis Cum Amore by Andy Miller, from his Dungeons & Dragons module of the same name...


3 were taken, 3 I'll keep
From the fiend who rules the north;
Stolen far and hidden deep
In lands where fire issues forth.

Seek ye out the melted fane
Standing west of fiery stack;
'Neath the god of blood and pain
Bravely step and don't look back.

The gem is held with stony eyes
By the beast in the burning pit;
The wand beyond hot geysers lies
Left where the undead sit.

The magic stone you've yet to find
In tripled-double pyramid;
All the fixed, and you are mine
To serve or perish, as I bid.

I care not, mortal king or fool
What men you deign to send;
As slaves they'll heed my darkest rule
Or meet their fiery end.

 

[Capstone]

Shopping for Double Entendres

Pinching loaves and squeezing cheeses,
thumping melons, munching samples
(sniffing boxes as she pleases),
marveling at huge bananas,

torn between the morning juices─
Sunny D's or Tropicana's?
Minute Maid's the one she chooses
(least expensive with a coupon

from a book she never loses);
unrelenting on she carries,
even as her basket oozes...
(one too many broken cherries).​

 

[Capstone]

To Live Within That Which Lives Within Us

To know that the atoms of life here on Earth
are owed to the crucibles in former stars
that cooked up the seeds to humanity's birth
they sowed through the galaxy we claim as ours,

their elements scattered (both heavy and light)
to make up the nebulous gases that would
coalesce into matter designed to ignite
to warm the new planets in its neighborhood,

where life as we know it (though not very well)
took hold and evolved into creatures like us,
who ponder the nature of 'heaven' and 'hell',
experiencing both on this segmented crust,

is knowing the Cosmos in which we reside
resides within all those along for the ride.​

 

[Capstone]

The Obligatory Get-togethers

Where teasers please and pleasers often tease,
with takers gifting, givers on the take,
and friends and family howl like enemies,
our Christmas get-togethers take the cake;

until, to start the New Year with a BANG,
we swiftly turn from presents to the booze,
with cries of joy and songs of 'auld' and 'lang',
as snow accumulates beneath our shoes;

then shortly past that winter-stormy blast,
we get together for St. Paddy's Day's
festivities (into the night they last,
as we all drift into a drunken haze);

then Summer's Garden Party's music rings,
like hairy buffalo it packs a punch,
amid percussion, woodwinds, horns, and strings,
and meals prepared (no need to pack a lunch);

then in the fall our laughter can be heard
in lessons taught among the tricks and treats
(beneath the stars our costumes look absurd,
as Nosferatu's family bites their sweets);

then Turkey Day's the final gig before
we're back to where we started for some more...​

 

[Barbasiewiczfan]

Soda pop, is so delicious, so to speak so des ney ?

 

[Asclepias]

Voice of Survival


Voice in my head,,,I remember it said to live by these new tenets

“No matter where you turn for sho you gonna be knee deep in it.”

“Dont get played, the IQ test is invented by those that subscribed to eugenics”

“Gotta navigate with a clear eye dog cause you know they gonna spin it”


“Keep your morals unquestionable and your character impeccable”

“Up all your peoples cause in truth they are highly susceptible”.

“Make sho the stay skeptical. sometimes the game is barely perceptible”

“In time they will find that the real truth can be profound and still equitable”


The residue of the gold in my soul more valuable than Ft. Worth

i know in my blood flows the true rhythm and beats of mother earth

I now know that my peoples were the basis of Maats chosen first

Pineal gland pumpin the juice that incited the explosion of intellects birth


Time is startin over again after being stopped, i was stunned.

We was here when it started, gonna be here when its done

Invented by gods of the sun, studied the equinoxes for fun

We gots to keep pushin the pace, make sho the battle is won.
​

 

[Capstone]

Our blood has sworn an oath our wills can't break;
our veins are tributaries to the snake,
whose seed preceded Adam's within Eve
to spawn the Twins of Samael's mistake.

Or so the legends lead us to believe
(the propaganda Seth's descendents weave
into their false religious tapestry
which offers to our bloodline no reprieve).

Yet hidden from their fervent bigotry,
the long-held Secret 'true identity'
that's symbolized by two balls and a cane
enables us to trace our family tree...

back far enough to fully ascertain
our Patriarch was NOT the son of Cain.​

 

[midcan5]

When I was a boy someone gave us a model 'artillery transport,' it was my first model and I thought I'll never be able to do this as you needed glue etc. We were dirt poor, but it was a real positive for today I can fix anything. Odd how sometimes a poem can bring back a forgotten memory.

'Raising the Titanic'

"I spent the winter my father died down in the basement,
under the calm surface of the floorboards, hundreds

of little plastic parts spread out like debris
on the table. And for months while the snow fell

and my father sat in the big chair by the Philco, dying,
I worked my way up deck by deck, story by story,

from steerage to first class, until at last it was done,
stacks, deck chairs, all the delicate rigging.

And there it loomed, a blazing city of the dead.
Then painted the gaping hole at the waterline

and placed my father at the railings, my mother
in a lifeboat pulling away from the wreckage."

Robert Hedin

 

[protectionist]

Voice of Survival


Voice in my head,,,I remember it said to live by these new tenets

“No matter where you turn for sho you gonna be knee deep in it.”

“Dont get played, the IQ test is invented by those that subscribed to eugenics”

“Gotta navigate with a clear eye dog cause you know they gonna spin it”


“Keep your morals unquestionable and your character impeccable”

“Up all your peoples cause in truth they are highly susceptible”.

“Make sho the stay skeptical. sometimes the game is barely perceptible”

“In time they will find that the real truth can be profound and still equitable”


The residue of the gold in my soul more valuable than Ft. Worth

i know in my blood flows the true rhythm and beats of mother earth

I now know that my peoples were the basis of Maats chosen first

Pineal gland pumpin the juice that incited the explosion of intellects birth


Time is startin over again after being stopped, i was stunned.

We was here when it started, gonna be here when its done

Invented by gods of the sun, studied the equinoxes for fun

We gots to keep pushin the pace, make sho the battle is won.
​

The gold in YOUR soul is "fool's gold" (AKA racism)

 

[Capstone]

Build-a-Burger

No buns would satisfy the Wonder Bred;
pink dough would be the only way to go.
No ketchup would approach the shade of red
so easily extracted from "the po'".

No lettuce leaf would muster up the green
that's printed out of thin and poisoned air;
no mayo'd spread the in-ter-est they glean
from human suffering and mass despair.

No beef would get those snakes to open wide
their non-existent arms to set us free.
No burger could be built by bona fide
transmitters of their alien disease.​

 

[Capstone]

Channel Surfing

Tighty-whitey FTL's,
unrighteous, holey crotch;
a bowl of Chester Cheetah's balls,
and not a thing to watch.

A thousand-thirteen channels and
a massive plasma screen
won't take me to the promised land
of things I haven't seen.

No 'mysteries' for me to solve
or give the college try;
no 'dramadies' I can involve
to help me laugh or cry.

The magic wand is yet to bring
such comfort to my soul,
and yet my cheesy fingers cling
to that remote control.​

 

[chao$]

Capstone
Good stuff, I like your style. Somewhere in Gaza is freaking rad.

 

[chao$]

This is for the strong and independent women I was lucky enough to spend some time with.

matriarch
she isn't a possession
not submissive to any man
a middle aged mother
with an onslaught of menopause
her mood swings range from
rational to crazy, receptive to rage
never know what to expect
with the chromosome xx
she has a dozen male disciples
who jump at her every whim
they protect her from reality
never letting her guard down
when the gods are on the prowl
after all, she has her image to maintain
she thinks romance is for schoolgirls
that only leads to sorrow and pain
though she kept her eye on the alpha
with whom she wants to sustain
his blue eyes spoke to her
as they met for just a glance
she let him in her living room
for 20 questions and truth or dare
they drank until the birds chirped
then she took him by the hand
and led him to her bedroom
where no mortal has gone before
she smells like the ocean
and tastes like krispy kreme
her love is a regenerative cycle
with a beginning and an end
they hugged as they parted
she will always be a friend

~Chaos

 

[chao$]

mirage
the desert is a lonely place
seldom she will be kind
an illusion can surely pacify
and ease my tortured mind
i hear a voice it tells me run
this is where my trouble starts
the effects of too much sun
i try my best to concentrate
passing through this dusty haze
nothing here to fascinate
except a noxious malaise
my blood is hot my skin is scorched
i'm feeling succubus on my chest
it has to be the substance abuse
that would be my guess
the desert is an eerie sight
a spectacle as a montage
i hear your voice and see your face
but it's only a mirage

~Chaos