psi

It seems that I can only feign
concern for just so long
before a hence unnoticed vein
erupts in rhythmic song;

your ignorance is so rehearsed
it truly is quite scary,
now please desist before I burst
a needed capillary.

Manifest

Whilst sunlight sneaks between the bars
to creep across the floor
and pool in limpid puddles by the door,
redemption seems as distant as the stars
whose beckon seems much weaker than before.

I languish in this messy pen,
the ichors fairly boil
to spew upon the paper and embroil
anyone encumbered by a likewise yen
to stop, and gauge the failure of my toil.

Fertile Minds

A seed is sown expectantly
the ground so well prepared
with hopes the fruit grows plentifully
in order to be shared—
anyone scared?


Hello all, just a quick note to let you know that my friend Shirley Allard has launched a new e-zine focusing on poetry and the arts. Fruits of The Creative Garden can be found at the link provided and I shall get a permanent link to the right asap. Why she’s even asked yours truly to lend a little uneducated blather to the cause and seeing as she’s always been so nice to me I thought I’d give it a try. So head on over and check it out, and if you’re a poet or artist or writer and you want your stuff showcased, drop us a line, we’re on the lookout. Take care,

Bob

Wallflower

Precariously perched upon a wall
high above a turbulent stream
the honeysuckle risks it all
to catch an extra golden beam;
embracing the abyss
enticed by Gaia’s misty kiss
relinquishing white tears to the sea,
and soon it will be bare
of every fragrant air
to blend discreetly with the scenery.

Cloud Control

As monuments of intellect approach the stratosphere
mirrored walls reflect a drop unreasonably sheer
and nebulous beliefs can make commitment disappear
eliminating any chance of getting there from here.

Sparkling

Why do some concoctions die
while others freely fizz
sometimes there is no how or why
the truth just simply is.

Remember: things that effervesce
will very soon be flat
so take what chances coalesce
to bubble, not to blat.

Amuck

A title’s nothing more than just a name
albeit somewhat fanciful, it’s true
what matters though should be what people do
and not their pompous labels gained by fame.
Whose contribution makes the day less gray—
a sweaty plumber draining what they can,
a wispy willow with a spray-on tan,
or those that seek precocious words to say?
In everyone resides a shred of worth
but only when we give will we aver
that no one has the power to confer
nobility to anyone on earth.
Despite our knack for sometimes making sense
we’re still just creatures of inconsequence.

Down Boy!

Spare us your obsequious drivel
I hate to see a pissant snivel
there’s never a need to stroke the knob
if all you do is a very good job.

Struck

She captures light
with deft control
infusing white
with vibrant soul
so bright and raw,
I bristle with awe.

Utensils

The bowl I sought to utilize was made from clearest glass
I scoured that whole kitchen, and on the second pass
discovered it just as I was set to mutter screw it—
to find what you are looking for, make sure to not look through it.

Cowed

Legions start with just a few
glomming onto something new
desperate to be called okay
making something fresh passé
lining up with little thought
to what is truly being bought
grasping for that magic brand
eagerly tattooed as bland
penned by interest faith incurred
broken in just like the herd.

Volition

My bleakest views
should not confuse
those that vehemently choose
to buy the lie
the leeches ply
while latching on to drain them dry,
for everyone
beneath the sun
deserves the right to say which one
will make them whole
define their soul
and help forget who’s in control.

Into The Blue

The way that vapor trail was spun
it seemed an arrow pierced the sun,
a wispy shaft that soon unraveled
ere my distance could be run
to dissipate across the sky,
like tears a lonely god would cry.

In The Loop

You’ve kept the circle small
to counteract what’s bled
but you cannot forestall
it slipping past your head
to choke away your gall
until you’re good and dead.

Xanadu Calling

I had a Coleridge moment
though I don’t think I was high
and dreamt of such a lovely verse
it made me want to cry,
but when I woke I couldn’t find
a proper working pen
so now each night I hope I have
that vision once again.

Issue

You can’t imbue metallic guts with nerve,
transistors with a self-reliant verve,
no flawlessly constructed shining part
could ever match the weakest human heart;
but still in endless trials we contrive
to manufacture something that’s alive
convinced the more our algorithms prod
that soon we will usurp the role of God.
Statistics state the future faces flux
with questions on creation at the crux
will data fall from heavenly demesnes
or be supplied by sentient machines?
We strive to make anomalies compute
while sniffing for the most elusive fruit.

Spring Reign

As fallen blossoms paint the ground
beneath a windswept tree
the whiteness is at once profound
in shades of amnesty
and dancing limbs emit a sound
that whispers wistfully
lamenting how it once was crowned
but now must leave it be.

Rust

Sixty ticks
is all it takes
enough to fix
malign mistakes
sixty ticks
makes or breaks
us all.

Within that lapse a universe explodes
disturbed by gravity from orbs
whose atmospheric angst corrodes
whatever it absorbs
beyond the broken nexus
of your woebegone reflexes.

What Changes?

As carefree children frolic in the gusty lilt of spring
they murmur joyously with every unembarrassed fling
rambunctiously extending tiny hands into the air
divulging friendly secrets only artless hearts can share.