The Story

My veins the guided pen,
pulsing blood the flowing ink.

Author of my currents,
carving epithelial hieroglyphics.

The biography of my biology written,
editor of each my uniquely told prints.

Pressed in bound intentions,
rewriting the story as I see.

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Stitched in Time

She stitches their love in time
The loyal wife stands and gives arms
Pinned together in her divine
She stitches their love in time
Her tears sewn in his demise
The sacrifice keeps sons from harm
She stitches their love in time
The loyal wife stands and gives arms

This piece written and contributed to dVerse Poets Pub

Poetics with Mark Kerstetter
Inspired by the Art of Giorgio de Chirico
The inspiration piece I chose is titled “Hector and Andromache”
I have always enjoyed their story from The Iliad

Empty Pockets

The weighted journey of wonder
Leaves the spirit in plunder
Pockets filled with treasure
Steps taken without measure

Stuffing life full before death
Buying up worth until the last breath
Stuck in the spin of false pleasure
Steps taken without measure

The fear of walking on empty
Gives no room for love’s entry
A life lived for only leisure
Steps taken without measure

The weighted journey of wonder
Steps taken without measure

Written and contributed to One Stop Poetry’s One Shot Wednesday

Fecundate Commodity

You again
Run your fingers through me
I placate your appetite for words

Dissect my offering into thirds
Results I never see
You again

You again
Adrift sycophancy
Lost in my nouns, adjectives and verbs

Where is my tribute soliloquy?
Thumbed pages are left disturbed
You again

This piece written for Poets United Thursday Think Tank #55
Written in my own Hyper-Thrice Form  

The Perpetual Moment

I have a story to share,
of a chaos that I created.
It’s not what you would picture,
spiraling effects of mania.
Nor the screaming pulse
of emotional upheaval.
No this is chaos that was
laced in the mundane.
Something that took years
to blend in concoction.
It came as quite the surprise,
when I found myself
standing dumbfounded.
In the perpetual moment.

Already lost? So was I,
drifter of the nine to five.
I never heard anything,
other than would you like fries?
Each day turned with little notice,
endless delusions of reality.
Until the wait of them all
landed me in bedlam.
As microcosmic bits I scattered,
shaken present into the moment.
It was then that I saw offer
of a chance to witness.
Going with seize over fear,
I saw the truth of it all,
the most essential secret.
It is just a recording.
Transcribed by my flesh,
in the perpetual moment.

The most complicated of simple,
this was to digest.
Honestly you must think
man, take a pill.
Though I give you assurance,
that what I have learned,
sits in the concept of discernment.
See the story from the life,
the turn from the curve,
it’s all a recorded tape.
Luring out the couch potato minds.
The reactive role of spectator
in a line judge uniform.
So I did something unique,
I said to it all “pause”,
simply told it to stop.
Taking a chance to look around,
I can tell you what
I was able to discover.
Nothing more than a room,
containing random files of
the perpetual moment.

My scenery became pencil
and I the eraser.
I could rewind to a time,
then fast forward to another.
And in this practice,
of sorting out my order.
Came to me a single perfect thought,
my magnum opus moment.
I could be the author of this tale,
weave it in any verse I wanted.
My choice presented,
to stay and watch these old tapes.
I will grow lethargic, as they wear thin.
Perhaps it was time to make my début,
into a new full length film.
One that cannot plague my mind,
warped in bad scenes.
For now I am the editor,
in control of the cutting room floor.
And as my dazzling finish,
I mark in pen, ‘Fin’ to
the perpetual moment.

Written for One Stop Poetry presents Shay on Free Verse

Mirrored Proprium

People are strange
Linger in chaos
Wander in life
Judgment of world
Reign the face
Anonymous name
~Mirrored Proprium~
Name anonymous
Face the reign
World of judgment
Life in wander
Chaos in linger
Strange am I

Written for One Stop Poetry’s Saturday Celebrations: The Doors and #poet Jim Morrison

Inspired by “People Are Strange” ~ The Doors

Written in Mirrored Form (a.k.a)  Palindrome Poetry

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