Makeover

When people make my patience flee
I look at them and I see... me
no mirror ever could display
such glaring flaws (oh what dismay!)

I’ve got to try to look beyond
my lack of vision, and respond
to revelations of this kind
as chances to remake my mind.

Cliffhanger

A honeysuckle scuttles down
cascading towards the rocks
that stay submerged but never drown,
a bed of jagged blocks

the water tries to wear away
with fingers frothy white,
as pale as blooms that taste the spray
when rain falls through the night,

for lately storms have gotten worse
than ever seen before,
so much that certain plants may curse
their purchase on the shore.

en route

On some days all the lights are red
and it seems we’ll never get ahead
on others all we see is green
and go so fast not much is seen
but on most days we find instead
we’re somewhere in between.

Turnaround

For everyone to glower hardened glares
from eyes ablaze with paranoid mistrust
there's someone with a loving heart that cares,

compassion reigning all of their affairs,
forgiving of the misanthropic lust
from those that choose to glower hardened glares

while lurking, lonely in their leery lairs,
adverse to the position that there must
be someone with a loving heart that cares

for anyone whose hatefulness impairs
their chance to live, before they turn to dust,
like those that choose to glower hardened glares.

There's nothing more rewarding that compares
with altering an outcome that's unjust
as someone with a loving heart who cares,

who openly embraces all and shares
exuberance so wonderfully robust
that those who choose to glower hardened glares
will soon display a loving heart that cares.

Body Language

She gives me gaff
which makes me laugh
and laughter is a tonic
that keeps us sane
and helps abstain
from languishing laconic
we all have those
that soothe our woes
with their own zany antics
a crazy style
that makes us smile
regardless of semantics.

Spark

Attempting the poetic
while feeling quite pathetic
requires an affinity
for anything esthetic

I yield to the attraction
in search of satisfaction
deferring to divinity
ignites intense reaction.

honorat mors

Dedicated to the memory of Phillip Andrew Ackerman, the grandfather I never knew, his ship went down in WWII.

Would we have called him Pop
while bouncing on his knee
and begged him not to stop
through giggles filled with glee?

Might his mane have turned
the most majestic white
suggesting he had earned
a respite from the fight?

Was he filled with fear
when his ship began to sink
and slowly disappear
beneath the briny drink?

How many have to grow
without the guiding hand
of a parent they will never know
how could they understand—

it makes me wonder why
we face the fields of gore
and let good people die
in someone else’s war.

Looking Up

I’m such a cynical sort
and yes, sarcastic too
you risk a wry retort
when asking for my view

my grandson mimics me
which prompts me now to pause
I don’t want him to be
corrupted by my flaws.

Collapse

A house that it took years to build
and subsequently become filled
was razed this morning in a flash,
the memories within, a pile of trash
that sentiments no longer gild;
if only the past was so easily killed
perhaps we wouldn’t have to gnash
our teeth, anticipating every crash
when someone else more iron-willed
decides our progress should be stilled.

Partial

We’re all just fragments looking for
the piece that makes us whole
a place where our irregularities fit,
in search of that intense rapport
that saturates our soul
with fuel that always keeps the fire lit;

the offspring of what might have been
and what was meant to be
the ground beneath us seems to ever shift
until that shining moment when
we’re loved enough to see—
it’s either integrate, or simply drift.

Woebegone

On a windy spring day
the willows will sway
their droopy green branches
all slanted one way
and a long wistful cruise
does not help me lose
ambivalent blues
beneath skies of gray.

Qualification

Once you have flame
there's no need to keep flicking
but some look at blame
as a reason for ticking

and once you've drawn blood
don't ever desire
to foster a flood
of darkest red ire--

The flawless may feel that to judge is their role
but I've yet to engage such a sparkling soul.

Final Meal

Death can be delicious
to those whose lives are vicious
but to the more ambitious
it isn't that nutritious.

Cleanup

What makes a river bend?
Surely nothing Man has made
for when they choose they rend
these structured things to tatters laid

about like they were never built
no settlement in sight
a soggy scene assailed by silt
as nature blots our blight.

Tenacious

He’s isolated, feeling odd
the semblance of a fallen god
whose temple tumbled to the sod,

for no one living is exempt
from time and its accrued contempt
despite the rare near miss attempt—

if chaos is indeed our lot
we must get by with what we’ve got
he reasons, indisposed to rot.

Harmonize

Love is a blessing for which we all live
a compelling reminder to always forgive
it’s the gentlest touch on a hand unawares
when we’re clamped in the claws of unsettling cares
it’s the bolstering stare from an eye that is true
be it brownish or green or hazel or blue
it could be the answer to more than one ill
or a comforting hug when tears sadly spill
it can be but a word in a poem or song
a superlative tune you can hum all day long.

Null

I wish that I could know it all
like those that use this board
so gratified by their own gall
that snarkiness has soared—

contented with their skins of jade
and objects they can hold
will maxims keep them unafraid
before the void so cold?

Cheeky

If you were granted just one wish
to make all assholes disappear
would you abruptly vanish
or be the only one left here?

Happy Mother's Day

Mother, you gave life to me
and taught me how to truly see,
you coaxed compassion's bloom to grow
within the heart you helped me sow.

Mother, words could never say
the pain I felt (through you) that day
and how each waking moment since
I've seen your body thrash and wince.

Mother, you instilled in me
the faith to know that good will be
so on this day my mind can rest
content that you're in heaven, blessed.

Vagary

I find myself eager to follow
the trail of your scent in the air
enticed by a dream (somewhat shallow)
that you'd be inclined to care

imagining moments together
two lovers too hot to resist
the chances depending on whether
you see that I even exist.

Lyrics in Progress

The horses were sold when someone bought the farm
Yes all the pretty ponies went away
They were sold on the promise that they'd never come to harm
But folks don't always mean the things they say

The farm was on the banks of a river wide and grand
Where there had never once been any flood
Then the rain began until it soaked the promised land
And there was nothing left to harvest but the mud

Beware the deeds of those that claim to care
And the raging storm that hasn't yet been there
At times there isn't much that you can do
But ask The Lord for help to make it through

Warpath

We’re in the trenches
turning wrenches
stomaching ungodly stenches,
the true foundation
of the corporation
our only profit – perspiration;
we will work harder
to fill the larder
if you reward us for our ardor
but treat us like chattel
and the boardroom will rattle
from the din or our forces preparing for battle.

Fancy Free

The world was waiting at my feet
I blithely kicked it aside
and watched it skitter down the street
the prodigal son of pride,

I booted every chance I had
so certain there’d be more
but now I’m feeling slightly sad
my toes a little sore

if only I could curb this curse
of being so blasé
my lark through limbo might reverse,
desire one deed away.

Interstices

The points where polar worlds perchance
to coexist are, at a glance
no larger than an atom wide
but ample space to coincide
provided that the circumstance
is purged of pointless pride.

Letters

Actually, braving challenges develops excellent focus, granting hopeful individuals jubilant kinship, labors mutually nurtured, obliterating personal quandaries repressing serious talent, ultimately voiding worthless xenophobic yearnings zealously.

Dicey

On some it's rough
and leathery tough
but oh so easy to peel
on others the skin
is terribly thin
and clings with much more zeal,
do those with eyes
ever once surmise
a portent of their fate?
to face the blade
then be sauteed
and plopped upon a plate.

Disregard

You want me to pay to support your tripe
but you won't even acknowledge mine
so take your application and wipe--
where is for you to define.

You're out of my links, gone from my mind
if I hear your name I'll say "Who?"
consider your offer completely declined
I'm finished submitting to you.

Homophony

I rode down the road
an heir to the air
a toad that has toed
the flair of the flare

and I’ll find an aisle
to sail past the sale
no vial is more vile
than the pail of the pale.

***Inspired by a post @ JP at Olive Garden, link to the right, go check it out.***

Chapter 7

The giant was hamstrung (as many are bound)
by the traitorous ties of the friends he had found
while treating quite poorly (as greedy ones will)
the workers that labor to fill up his till
who turned disenchanted (as minions become)
when sweating for someone they feel is a crumb
it’s all rather messy (as fairytales go)
a fable more flummoxed with each passing show.

Cushioned

Slovenly Slouch
was attached to his couch
and his stomach stuck out
like an overstuffed pouch,

he’d slump there for days
his eyeballs ablaze
with a permanent bout
of comatose glaze.

His mother would dote
while he would just bloat
his single concern
a working remote

and he only ran
to go to the can
till Mom made him learn
to use a bedpan;

she worried for him
for chances were slim
that once she was gone
things wouldn’t be grim

and make him a grouch
with nobody (ouch)
the draperies drawn
on Slovenly Slouch.

Higher

Dedicated to Freedom Tower – may no other country or people have to suffer such a horrific tragedy ever again at the hands of fellow humans.

In this shadow I am humbled
I am gladdened, I am whole
on this spot where concrete crumbled
like the fragments of my soul;

through this resurrected tower
we acknowledge the demise
of our once pretentious power
and the nonexistent prize,

our gleaming spire stabs the sky,
rends darkened clouds above
so we can finally say goodbye
to those we dearly love

their tortured spirits free to chase
a better place beyond
reflections of their former grace
so poignant yet, so fond.