Sitting on the block of the day
Looking into amethyst abyss
No longer seen as hunter or prey
Disenfranchised like blue cold kiss
Watching the animals fight their wars
Knowing some win some lose
Feeling the wrath of attention whores
Singing their hill street blues
On the block of irrelevant images
Whatever the dress of the time
Homeless roaming toward suttle scrimmages
For resources of food courses limited line
Lemon love served in a soul bowl
From churches so big from no taxes
The church like homeless grow
Seem to me there’s no homeless factoring
We can pay for sports arenas sure
And ship athletes around the world
Leaving disenfranchised potential pure
Of the unhoused blue boys green girls
Sitting on my writer’s block
Not pretending to know wisdoms hacks
Really disenchanted with it all
Maybe my pen can bring me back to black
Sublime Solutions
Squalid screams, shingly shores
Slushy sullen spells
Skies spewed sour solitude
Supportive sidewalls sank
Scrimmages sans solutions
Sea splashed sorrowful songs
Searching sauveness sauntered soul
Sought soothing Supreme’s shower
Scarlet smog swiftly swept
Shimmery sequel sparged!
3rd November 2016
For Contest:CONTEST 233 any form,any topic max of 10 lines
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Vivian walked a tighter path
than she would have believed.
For one with anonymity
she would be deceived.
A public figure she was not.
Her life spent between images.
And when at home it wasn't hers
that landlords brought her scrimmages.
Her photos now celebrities.
though many now are dead.
That fame for the photographer;
in death she may have led.
She opened up a world of art.
The pictures thousand words.
To leave us with as many thoughts,
she scattered with the birds.
Her wealth was an illusion
of a life seen through a shutter.
To ending on a bench meant;
an ending poor in clutter.
A death that she took nothing of
and left as unfulfilled.
While dying brought her everything
evolving in her guild.
To live on Vivian Maier how
you're time's been shared in fate.
You're talent has enriched us all.
You're life's a second take.
As fishes wriggling
The entirety of their slippery bodies
In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters
Instincts meander
Their way through to the mind
In a pool of imagined Sensuality
With wanton desires
A longing for the temporal
Poignantly stands erect
In the throne-room of man's emotions
Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor
Unfulfilled cravings
Cradles persistence
In his goal oriented pursuits
Thoughts are repressed
Mental imageries suppressed
To pave way for domination
Of pleasantly positive feelings
Yet the uncouth lingers
Occasionally engages the enthroned
In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them
Man holds the prerogative
To serve either of them willingly
Equally, man possess all it takes to be
Heinously hedonistic
And heartily attractive in personality
To please society
None can reach complete perfection
At both extremities
© Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013
Perhaps my thoughts could be safe
In a book of poems, an opening preface
Perhaps I could give the reader a taste
Of a book of poems, or an opening preface
These poems are created to capture images of life
Take these critiques to the front of the scrimmages with your wife
These poems are written to challenge the reader
To become more than just a reader
Given the chance to actually relate to the situations
And become a leader
Feed them life through a birdfeeder
The needy becomes the seeder
It remains a book for the depressed
And even those who are living the goodlife
Yet still find themselves buried in stress
In conclusion
I provide nothing more than a dreary illusion
These poems are mainly an insight to a better life
Be understanding whether you're wrong or right
They are composed to attack negative events
And spark a change
Give we sinners a raft
Even if Noah's ark isn't in our range