Painting the music on a bow
The lure fashioned a form
The engine and a circuit
A pinning of a crucial phenomenon
A policy by allowance
A permission into wheat
Each probable wind opportunity for sketch
Probability be the ghost of a denied greed
Fingers to the bees and failing fads
For picking and choosing and refusing the swarm
In the best indiscrete
Such the creatures a vase of future
The thick plague and reminiscent of the times
So great the heavy patience by the creators deny
Tissues and torment of entertainment
By gods throwing the marked shot
As grave and lingering to what they succumb
The excavators eating cherries in the snow
So veil the limited permission
So cruel the probability by its course
How shallow the visit and such fiscal acid
Some touch of a weak wild guess
Hot, humid, burning sun rays
it's the noon hour smack in the light of mid-day,
the random moments of a Monday deluge of renewal
back to work to the tied-down, set-in-place routines do all
pushing back the weekend play and scenes that flee;
the grit and grime of hard physical work release
managed, stressed, perspiration indiscrete,
the sedimentary desk chair resting weary feet
sequestered uncomfortable and lean
locked in closure at the old computer screens;
the phone tags to update this or that
the pay scales uneasily raised then taxed
paperwork printing to and from the fax;
just another day to start the beginning of the week
mundane, ordinary, fatiguing, ever on repeat
with the morning hours slipping past as we speak,
the noon hour
marking half the day,
complete.
Streets are long,
here where the town shifts into
linear ranks of commercial blocks
out-pacing the moving cars.
This is America most everywhere.
All that can be seen from a car screen
lays its naked desires out
in the pale meat of the indiscrete.
Strip Malls blot a Lego landscape,
corrosive ribbons stretching on
to a somewhere just the same.
Nail salons and 'gentleman's' clubs
signs of a bankrupted and built-in
redundancy.
An undertone of yellowing urinal reek.
This dream we made to be us,
always finding what we seek.
I'm so done
with 2021
it's a leftover of promises empty
from 2020;
words indiscrete
ever on repeat
same old same old
fortune does not favor the bold;
congress concerns itself
with lie and innuendo never shelved,
I'm ready, please take me away
to what reality back in the day,
is there no leader well versed, honest and true
that might represent the peoples' views?
The republic is no democracy
when truth is hidden by power and greed.
Slip into your comfies to warm your mind and tummy,
fleece-lined flannel warm nirvana,
sip your tea and honey
while old movies become a panorama
of memories and wayward dreams
when youth was foolish and indiscrete
then close your eyes and sleep
prepped and ready for tonight's dream repeats.
A Shattered Peace
(as a privileged white man searches his soul)
A shot rang out that gave a fright
and shattered peace in dark of night.
For just a while I gave a pause
then ventured out to seek the cause.
I saw a shadow in the dark
as I approached the city park;
the cop stood tall and at his feet
a young black man lay in the street.
"He tried to run," the sheriff said;
reported crimes from which he fled.
(‘twas later found upon research,
the man was heading home from church.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I noted it to be dark red,
the pool of blood beneath his head;
a shocking moment to define,
it’s color was the same as mine.
Are we that different, he and I,
this inbred guilt which you imply?
For which he died, his only sin
‘twas darkened pigment of his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How many times must this repeat
these black men dying in the street?
How many times must this repeat
these senseless shootings indiscrete?
How many times must this repeat
until our bias we defeat?
‘tis in our soul the answers lie,
and in the hearts of you and I.
June 21, 2020
A cacophony of images flow
past and future dreams on the go,
thinking two things at once
focused on lunch,
twirling lights and jingled tambourines
paint a picturesque magical dream.
All is quiet, immobile in the sway
that dances in the mind play
while in the background soft and indiscrete
falls the wandering thoughts of mind talk streets.
A melody
unlike any other message we bring
played on the depths of inner heartstrings
riding on the bow of a soulful violin;
notes beating along tight drum skins
rumbling in the trees upon the winds,
trembling lightly in the eyes teared,
a tease in life's orchestra played
easing time to a slow waltz charade;
arms and bodies tight entwined
bonding the movements less sublime;
dance with me,
a last synchronizing of two hearts
dance once more before we part,
one last flawless alluring spark;
tenderly rest your lips against my cheek
with secrets revealed now indiscrete
this is a final goodbye to love.
I watched as she dropped down
that full six-foot wingspan graced the air around
that slipped in quiet, somehow silenced in the cold gray steel
and suddenly again, she was here, looking for another meal.
The great blue neck stretched up while below her leggy feet
slowly stepped as she walked toward the pond indiscrete.
Her visit came too often
and my heart could no longer be softened
for her hunger and her need
had well depleted most of my fish and their seed.
Still, she stepped methodic around the edge
eyeing close the waters for some movement along the ledge
slowly I rose as she stepped closer in to look some more
but with caution, she scanned my figure in the door.
Reluctant and defiant she stood beneath the net
as I yelled admonishment at her brazen gaze met
she was defiant and stood her ground
until thru the door raced my little doxie hound.
Then with an elongated step, she flew away
leave it to my dog to save the day.
It must be written on the wind,
those ancient prophecies
of time immemorial and its hymn,
repeating the rise and the fall
of spring rain and summer dew
floating in the fallen leaf hues;
here it comes again in fall of rain
hazy torrential downpour streams
pumpkin and chrysanthumum dreams
with color palettes indiscrete
crimson reds and festive oranges
faded greens and yellowed brown beats;
slipping into shadows of midday gloom
and the quiet stillness of the autmn fall
where neither sun nor flower bloom
ready now for winter sleep
as all life rests in momentary pause
in wait of thanksgiving and Christmas treats;
in the solitary seasons hush
memory recalls the times long gone
as nature paints the earth with its newest brush.
The past few days have been okay,
However, I anxiously await the day,
That the other shoe will inevitably drop.
That your love for me will eventually stop.
You tell me I am silly, yet I sometimes smother,
I wonder if that is the reason your heart found another.
You tell me it was a gigantic mistake,
Yet it was my heart that you were to break.
You say you love me and that you did not cheat,
Yet, your love and affection were indiscrete.
You may not have shared your body with her,
Yet, betrayal by you most certainly did occur.
I am trying daily to forgive,
Yet, the heartbreak I somehow relive.
I do not want you or I to be lonely,
Is it too much to ask to be your one & only?
I love you with all my heart,
Though not the case at our start.
You slowly chipped away at my walls,
Until I heard all your heartfelt calls.
Please just give me some time,
To try to get over your shocking crime.
I am trying to see all this through
As I am still genuinely in love with you!
If you look
at the written books
you'll see
the future clear as can be.
Dreamers, writers, visionaries of the past
could reveal the present before it was cast.
Between the pages and the lines
was the direction of all mankind.
Nature falls back in fearful retreat
as man foolishly experiments indiscrete.
Where have we been, where are we going
what lies ahead without our knowing?
It's in the books, all openly revealed
of God's power which we long to steal.
Written in and on the stars
where are we going, what are we doing, how far?
The question is ever the same
not can we but should we refrain?
We are not gods, never meant to be
only children still tempted by the knowledge tree.
Voices in my head
Fashion fears I dread
Too many regrets
Guilty pleasures fret
Uncertainty hurls
Crash of hostile swirls
Fear feeds silly hate
Ideals bleed too late
Here with swift frenzy
Curb thought forms crazy
Blurring drama flush
Sudden instincts gush
Spicy and hot taste
Savoury plots haste
Voices now dig deep
Faces that still weep
Question how love fares
Indiscrete such cares
Leon Enriquez
30 November 2014
Singapore
permeates
ah yes my sweet,
the bloody heat,
permeates and thrills,
transfixed beguiled,
entranced awhile,
a steamy tale it builds,
explosive in its ending style,
deflating the hard inner child,
so subtle sweet, yet indiscrete,
who at the ending smiled.
re: 'Public Enemy -The Haiku-'
for p.d. who aint blue,
blessings babe from me 2u...
Don Johnson
We find solace in silent solitude.
Times are hard, revenge is sweet.
We lay our sins about your feet,
for what is sin without platitude?
After all, our molt so indiscrete
of one’s outer self to interlude
of decadent self indulgent attitude
in plain view of casuals we meet.
Laughingly feed those on the street
caterwauling of the vicissitudes,
to admit the two of us too crude
in our desire, to suppress the seat
of abnormality in our tete a tete.
© Feb 2012 Charles Henderson
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