Burning Bright

I’m stumped why the menagerie
insists it was a foul
despite how snug the cage can be
all Tigers love to prowl.

GET OVER IT SPAMMER!!!!

per-se

I often read the offerings of others
and marvel at the deftness they display
employing elocution that just smothers
intentions to decipher what they say
why be so passé?

Communication isn’t just proclaiming
something you are zealous to relay
uniquely shape whatever you’re exclaiming
to form a potent image that will stay
or be cliché.

Thaw

The solstice brought us closer to the warmth we used to know
a fitfulness as fleeting as the newly fallen snow
that scatters to infinity when winds begin to blow
or melts when a defiant sun decides to fiercely glow—
with luck the current climate will remain serenely so
until this season gracefully surrenders to the flow.

Salvation

Annoyingly the jingling resounds
as tawdry as the tinsel that abounds
but oh the warmth that loosens every knot
each time I drop some change into that pot
for maybe this old rogue still has a shot.

Facture

Is prophecy an act of faith,
does confidence foretell
if dreams will turn from wispy wraith
to cause for joyous swell?

A course more analytical
can often change the view
but passion is so critical
when forging something new.

What's Hot

A girl that's hot
and knows she's hot
is one that leaves me cold
but one that's hot
and thinks she's not
is one I'm hot to hold.

Somnolence

Raucous crows command the morning
crying their collective caw
as we approach the barren slumber.

Skies grow dim with little warning
darker than a demon’s maw
as raucous crows command the morning

coming back in greater number
than the old ones ever saw,
an omen of the barren slumber.

Blaring blue-black fruit adorning
trees will rub your senses raw,
when raucous crows command the morning

bending branches they encumber,
clamoring with beak and claw
to usher in the barren slumber.

Their harsh reports are ever scorning
order, for they loathe the law;
if raucous crows command the mourning,
so begins the barren slumber.

Roused

All my verse
while somewhat terse
is rated Everyone,
so no more links
to little dinks
goodbye ‘rising’ sun.


***In an attempt to stop my blog from being used as a portal to Japanese porn I have eliminated the poem 'Poised' from the archives.***

Damage Control

When things are going well
we seldom offer thanks
but when they go to hell
we scramble for those planks
and crawl about on bended knee
proffering a pathetic plea—

it isn’t God or life
that causes our chagrin
existence is a knife
on which we all begin
but if we choose to lie and hedge
we feel the temper of the edge.

At times it’s worth a nick
pursuing noble gain
but don’t become a prick
preoccupied with pain
for you can only go so far
before you leave a lasting scar.