This might be the thing A river bed that once flowed Deserted soil
5-7-5 haiku I don't write them much I wrote academic formal poetry for a few years. I would spend more time adhering to other time periods and their particular rules instead of creating and finding my own voice I don't much enjoy formality in poetry as a way to write I can write that way but simplicity works and rules are a distraction and tend to lead to an elitist mindset I rhyme as a way to get to the next line in a seamless way that makes it easier for the reader and keep them engaged
To the great rust heap we throw these rolling tracks of obsolete, let us recycle these tractor beasts, find some new machines, floor the pedal, shift the gears, re-new the grain tracks, and talks of peace, the threat is a need for new energies Let our species keep breathing!
If there is time to ask is there not time to ponder the answer, or wonder if the answer is a need to validate yourself? We see titles and letters and chase money or attention. Am I not worth it we ask? Who needs to find one’s self in the eyes of another?
Why do I need approval or a moniker? A writer writes a painter paints so that’s the way of things whether we pretend to be better or know more or work harder. Art is art. I write. You might take photos. We are what we are and there’s nothing to prove. Still we must face the reality. People are compelled at large, in a time of attention seeking and that be more messaging.
To be more means we may need to be better and lift one another. I may not “like” as a matter of preference or taste but I consider it an honor to say Hey. Your art is yours and I support you. That’s what matters. If it’s macabre, I may grimace and turn away but that is okay. I “love” everyone on wordpress contributing to each other and the community. While many places online and off thrive on bitterness and anger over anything and everything, wordpress artists say it by saying “I support you.” There are lives we don’t know about that an art form can reach. To those lives and to the community on wordpress, I say, your art matters. Support not the preferences towards artistic taste, support the fact that art is shared even when it’s not, and love that unknowable factor, that art in all its forms is what makes us human. Let us “like” for the sake of art and hit pause on what we want or need to support artists on wordpress. I would encourage you, the reader of this messege, to look for a blog or blogger on wordpress and show them some love by taking a moment to genuinely read or reflect on that Art rather than scrolling and hitting the “like” button. Make art and support art. “Like” artists for the sake of what we do. It’s who we are. That is self-validation and that’s the heart of it. Art may become a product to consume but the artist subsists on their inner-selves and the knowledge that their art is of themselves. And that’s a beautiful thing, whatever a person’s individual tastes may be. An artist is their art that we boldly share with others because it takes courage to do that. Thank you to the wordpress community.
Trudging through; no time for sleep, My tired eyes on the winding path, it snakes like a river, Leading me to a looming forest, trees teaming with stern sentinels, Tripping over curving roots, covered by crackling ashen leaves; Stumbling into brush as thick as Redwood tree trunks.
The dark woods choke out light, it looks like it’s always night; Desperate to rest; want to relax; my bones creak; aching and tired. The star’s, faraway and faint; peer down from high above, Piercing the gloom to guide my steps. Wary from long wandering.
I can’t give up, owls screech, grabbing rodent meat, Distractions in the night, confound and confuse me, I need to keep proceeding, a set stride keeps me moving, Progress doesn't lapse, it seems like a maze, Weary; zombie like, keep proceeding through life.
Like a house of construction Built on a bet of steep and heaped contracts His steepled fingers cracking Bone against bone He flexes his shoulders Tired arms embrace a stainless steel sink It's filled with water sloshing Tossing feed to the birds that are bathing
Hi. My name is Genie Haskell
I will be your hostess today at this wonderful establishment of Coffee and Liberty serving up good ole fashion capital all day, everyday. Would you two like to hear about the specials?”
“Um. Excuse me, Ma’am? But isn’t this a covert black site for enhanced interrogation techniques? You see we are Rangers and just passing through.”
“Well how do? and Welcome.
and yes. Yes it is. Oh chef?! Bring out the cheese board and some water for these gentlemen.
Listen fellas. You sure you don’t want to hear about the specials?”
On the far side of the room two friends spit out there coffee when they overheard the remarks.
Urged by his friend, one of them made a beeline to the door. Standing there with arms crossed and a sullen scowl on his face,
a chef garbed in a blood spattered apron grabbed the would be dine and dasher by the collar of his jacket and yanked him close.
“You pay for coffee or we make example of you in dungeon. I mean kitchen. Yes?”
It wasn’t a question. The patron pulled out a crumpled note and said “Please take it. Let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. Sobbing, he declared, I have adult children and they need me! They are millennials,” he said; sobbing, and sank to his knees.
He clutched at the chef. “It’s my birthday. Don’t do this.”
Suddenly the hostess and the Rangers burst out laughing. The casually dressed dine and dasher looked up into the wide toothy grin of the burly chef. Stunned, he glanced at his companion who indicated that it was him who set it up.
“That’s for Argentina buddy,”
he said with a wink.
Lord Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Liu Bei Happened to cross paths one day In truth, they met because fate intended it The Will of Heaven made it a mandate In a grove where the immortal fruit grows
A brotherhood was forged Meanwhile unrest fomented Machinations influenced events A multitude of court ministers put to the sword Dispatching families to King Yama's Court
Waiting for the greatest mind in the Empire Attempting to persuade Kongming thrice Xuande pleaded with the Sleeping Dragon Holding back his brothers Liu Bei waited patiently What portends our fate? Intervene with us Kongming
Honorable Xuande you have need of This scholar’s meager abilities? Take this tea as is customary Fate has ordained our meeting A forecast of events and a strategy is thus given
Inspired by: Luo Guanzhong, Moss Roberts. Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Beijing: Foreign Language Press. 1995 Print.
*The work above is divided into 4 stanzas but wordpress is terrible at formatting my work and the process to fix it on wordpress is laborious and mind numbing so I footnote it
Posted inpoetry|Comments Off on *The Han (see footnote)*
To speak truth Elevates consensus, And raises awareness.
To be cool, disperse the lies Welcome the news, Like a sunrise.
Truth is like a breeze breaking Across cooled, upturned faces.
May the sunlight sing a refrain To journalists promoting news Seen as selfless.
For when the truth flows Vintage of taste, par excellence.
Polk Award for Public Service: Helen Branswell of STAT for relentlessly covering all aspects of the pandemic through works dating back as early as Dec. 31, 2019 that became required reading for medical experts. @HelenBranswell
Marvin the paranoid android Depressed as all get "Brain the size of a planet" Stuck it in a mop bucket
Had the question been answered If only they had asked An ability to see the program's mind Left to take a Sun Dive Fleeing they had the personality commit suicide
Inspired by Douglas Adams A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Quotations indicate limited “Fair Use” in order to permit my expression as a writer. This is an ode to a fictional character in a beloved work of fiction. It’s “Mostly Harmless.” Hopefully it will encourage those that have not to read Douglas Adams.
Blocking the Spaniards like navy canon fire Hakimi took the horns and tempered his stance By a winning goal he rocked the stands Declaring Morocco as the fearless champs
A second chance for a legend His time on the bench always extended With only a sparse contingent of fans He evaded allegations more than striking with kicks The days of making magic on tufts of green lay in the memory of his ever stained cleats
Leaving the stadium with his head in his hands Moroccans cheered at improbable happenstance
A second home to many Morocco faces the home of Liberty
Squared off Nine nautical miles apart The Seas took them off to the East In a desert paradise A city of high rises and lights Opposed from the start A clash for the cup Sweat in their eyes A willful strength in their minds Bullish but headstrong he charged But our hero stood fast Spiked shoes on the grass Running a marathon Enclosed by a stadium Eyes hungry with yearning Beating on drums Chanting for strikers Like a shot from a gun Onwards to extra time Injuries abounded Three blocks in a row They danced from the horns of opposition A spilt down the middle to win at the finish
Scales like chain mail Protects an ant-eater like mammal They have long sticky tongues Munching heartily on insects Nutrition is a picnic lunch in the thickets
Up the stream A feline approaches unseen Its thick padded paws make it noiseless It sees the docile mammal and leaps quickly A swipe connects head on Like a ball of bark it rolls far off Bouncing to safety inferring when to unfurl again
Farmers skewer their shells It’s taken and weighed on scales Critically endangered It pleads for our help Harvesters send out invites to traffickers in the mail