Shooting bottle caps,
ring finger off thumb.
And a little cake -
the two breaks in half,
fixed with melting wax
and lighter.
Light years of 22
in impromptu breakfast party
then the boy is parting
for Tennessee,
to see to making a few bucks.
Toodeloos to Mom, Dad,
Aunts, Uncles, a random cousin
and a visitor. Who
can refuse to fuse together;
never knowing when
this grouping will reoccur?
Always a little drama, a smile,
too many hugs (we huddle).
Call me. I come. Gather
the troops as todays
don’t come around again,
only the memories; and
they fail to capture
the whole snapshot -
bottle caps bouncing
off familial walls.
Hooked onto the jugular notch
is a ray of light under God’s watch,
that soul’s ascent ego may not botch.
Noticing the happenstance reoccur,
with bliss magnetism we concur,
as nodes within, in joy purr.
Regret is like a hot coal in the right hand,
And shuffled quickly to the left, then back again
With fervored reproach giving harsh reprimand
In a heart broken world that no words can soften.
Thus stomach's cruel acids give rise to great pain,
While the brain's daily thoughts are construed in a blur.
Soon friendship is lost when regret makes its gain.
Kick far the hot coal. Let not regret reoccur.
If consciousness dies
is that all there is
or does some higher state
reimagine what was
When consciousness dies
will birth reoccur
no longer indentured
to time and its spurs
If consciousness dies
do rainbows of light
take over our essence
transcending our sight
When consciousness dies
is confusion bereft
as reference get buried
—and prescience resets
(The New Room: March, 2023)
The gloss of Great Things of allure
A young heart continues to lure
But poor efforts bar through failure,
Hardworking farmers no manure,
Not a lot of The Tried secure;
From them distanced fertilizer
Otherwise The Stabilizer…
The grandeur of Things of Allure
Makes one unpleasant risks incur,
Cries of “Oh! my God!” reoccur,
One is some leg bitten by a cur
One: a freezing body, no fur!
Yes: pearl, ruby, emerald, gold:
All that we gaze at Hands unfold.
Dreams, Past Or Future?
Miracle Man
March 10, 2022
On a four inch floppy is life’s read only file,
where past things are recorded hard and fast.
Some things found there grow frowns or smile,
but whatever the remembrance, they’ll forever last.
These events reoccur at random in our dreams,
Occasionally we might recall some childhood fear.
Sometimes pushing the boundary of extremes,
but when most eyes open these dreams disappear.
“We have all got our “good old days”
tucked away inside our hearts,
and we return to them in dreams
like cats to favorite armchairs”
Brian Carter
Riot and rebellion reoccur in my rest.
has been ramified and ranked, in My rate
Round and round, revealing remorse
Righteous reputation, reverse reverence
Rack on my ratchet and roar to the rope.
Resident reutilization is running out of the Romp.
Give up the race to rehabilitate Renal.
Reverential Razor Ridiculously Regal
.
.
.
Ksanet B../ peace of mind
The break of day
The break of day is when my mind is most clever.
I sit down on my couch writing,
and it gives me absolute pleasure.
The break of day is a moment that I look forward to.
I realize my responsibilities and what I must do.
The break of day is an active time.
As many thoughts reoccur inside my mind.
The break of day is also, an inspiring time for me.
This is when I focus on being the best that I can be.
I am stuck in a cliche
the narrative recurs
I need to leap out
As I am in loops...
The sentences just re-happen
the words repeat
Oh I have to portray these beautiful phenomenas I encounter continually,
in the deepness of self, so insightfully...
but where
where do I find the words.. so clear sightedly
where else than from my inner singing birds
Oh my recollection, my seeking descriptive want
When on demand... it suffers and retreats
I stop, and I insist
please I must find what I need!
No,
No, I am looping
the narrative can reoccur...
but its different... look, there actually is something to allure!
oh my word
here they are!
the words
they've come back!
I wish that words, I won't ever lack.
There you are again, posing in my mind.
I struggle to forget you, with every breath I find.
Angel of the morning, you greet me every day.
Every day I send you, to a place I've shaded grey.
Perhaps the fault is mine, love, I cannot quite erase,
The seduction of your lips or the scent of your embrace.
Curse those dreams I do, but they always reoccur,
Oh, I welcome them sincerely, of this much I am sure.
"No strings to bind my hands," you said upon depart.
Careless, I sure was, while caressing your sweet heart.
I wish there'd been written, on our love a warning:
Young man do not kiss, an Angel of the morning.
Sweet sorrow now I know, what it means: 'tis gone.
Let me live another night, I can't face another dawn
There’s something that I meant to do
And I just plumb forgot.
I wish this were a rarity
But sadly, it is not.
My brain can’t cling to any thought
Unless I stop to write it
And so I jot down notes because
It doesn’t pay to fight it.
But yesterday my memo failed
‘Cause I forgot to read it.
I’d stuck it in my bag despite
The fact that I would need it.
I came across it later on,
Too late for my intention.
It wasn’t that important but
Still worthy of a mention.
For likely, this will reoccur
More often, I would bet
Since getting older means
There’ll be much more I will forget.
The fading sun lits the sky at the dusk
Like a chik is getting abondened from its mother sparrow.
& like a grain is taken apart from its husk.
Soon the glow wil vanish to welcome night.
Then at dawn the blazing sun shall show its light.
Thus Day and Night will reoccur & will turn to month and years;
One's life will run its course facing hardships,happiness & sometimes tears.
So cherish all the splendid memories made,
To live every moment to its fullest;
to gather wonderful times to feel blissful when we are nostalgic.
Cheers, Let's have a blast!! &celebrate God's gift called LIFE..
-@dpt
Your name forever haunting.
In my thoughts and perhaps my heart.
Here and there blissful memories reoccur.
your presence in them lead me to be erratic.
Taken in by the reminiscence of intimacy.
Seized beyond ecstasy for my touch is key.
Your voice keen with affirming provocative praise for you comprehend my fixations.
Will you ever relinquish this intoxication in me?
Will you ever vanish from my head?
It hurts me don't you know.
for the one I chose evermore.
Why put layers of filth over a heart .. just let it beat
The heart.
Have it pure.
Discontinufy ego.
Made to give ,
Celebrum blood has to receive.
To direct you to live.
Have it clean.
First thing that begun to beat
Hit..
Significance.
A vice
For wit.
Divergent cases.
Dust of mistake.
-When our heart could stop it's rate.
Even if the lengh is low
Living doesn't reoccur.
Why put layers of filth over a heart .. just let it beat.
-Rosie
Medical Marvels
Medics in a clinic in Honda,
Columbia – way south of our border
Helped a young woman who’s HooHa
Seemed a bit – well – out of order
It seemed she had green vines protruding
Where green vines should never have been
Twas from a potato now sprouting
That her mother had had her place in
Her mother said it was protection
An organic grown IUD
The sight of a vine from that region
I know would sure do it for me
The doctors said it was unhealthy
Removed it and all of its sprouts
They said she was now back to normal
But me; well, I still have some doubts
Another young woman in Bishkek
Somewhere in Europe I guess
Complained of severe stomach cramping
And seemed to be under some stress
She had a bad habit of chewing
Discarded hair and her own
And all that hair she had been chewing
Had gathered in her stomach zone
The doctors performed hair removal
An 8.8 pound ball of fur
She’s since cut her hair in a pixie
In case the urge should reoccur
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