Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Twinkling eyes see the forest AND the trees
In detail deep resolution
Harmonic and concentric, of action
Delve toward dimensions of symmetry:
Patterns of coincidental triumph
There is no madness in the method sensed
I am peaceful so why do they portend
hatred of autism is not a whim
inopportune operations functions
that exclude where genius finds barricades
and knowledge of being that’s being made
by each instant a download of unction
becomes words by the wherehouse needs no cease
but that which becomes projects a diseaseThis Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
Wogscreed: To Give Malicious Amusement to His Cronies v.2n.2
A loud and cantankerous din had suspended
what then wogs regard as their industry refers
equivalently to two other terms therewithin coined
rigorous debate between winkers and twitchers
whether or not there had been intent to motion
if burlesque, perceived burlesque, or parodies
or of a total view of life were evidenced
as a storehouse of pooled learning or abstraction
such that when riotous discord focused between
apples being apples or oranges orange
when proclaiming on thus profundity procured
operationalism long since rejected
by others its atavistic display quantified
whereupon long discarded theories wogs thrived.
Unknowingly kept to its faithful premise null
encapsulation in wogland persevered such ills
what was relegated to false starts among the wise
when inchoate a field later confessed its harms,
deficits and debts upon the cultures, there thrived
amidst the rare de-selection of traits was shunned
what wogs amidst their lot savagery admired
As it was of little consequence or value
Wogs interpret “Le Penseur” as twitch as gesture
Neverdowells of thought or reflection’s grandeur
Aggrandized to substantial reflex integers
As to their Grand Idees which nothing still had wrought
Despite great energy toward ethnics rendition
driven to false confessions in false environs
yet proved it worthy of such raw ingredients
becoming of a homeland of reliquaries
to the creed’s own operational motto:
til forever until there is no love no more. 
 Culture, this acted document, thus is public, like a burlesqued wink or a mock sheep raid.
Monday, August 20, 2012
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Transcended on an ultimate journey
Which was it is for it had no hour
forever spiraled forward tomorrows
experience the symbol underneath
whatsoever you imagine has curves
and surrenders to actions power
then the turnstile of virtue and love
takes its precedence by these apertures
what are its dimensions what its girth?
as though it were Shakespeare, Petrach, Sydney,
infinity within a breath that breathes
eternally wielded eternity
a poem only lives once a sonnet
endures.This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Petals that Weep in their Eyes, Pomona
The pulchritude of Pomona youth
as a tribute to the goddess of fruit
carries forward as such beauty and truth
the knowledge that somehow against the force
that evil corruption knows how to mount
deceiving the naïve and innocent
such as the elders who say give up!
This is what history has condemned us to.
Yet in their conscience, a voice does not stop.
It wearies them it mocks them and it hurts,
And against the indifference of adults,
their sweet and whole emotions seek outlets:
The flower of youth blooms eternal, wise,
Such as the petals that weep from their eyes.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Listening to that Terrible Beauty
Flowery words with all promise of hope:
All created equal except the poor
The enslaved and the incarcerated
What else it requires of existence
But blood of the lambs and blood of the babes
Fructified by wide misery and rage
It yields as its Gavel and evidence
Lawless disorder announced from a bench
precedent to precedent made virtue
denial obscured as of decadence
was never true, nor just, nor merciful
Pleasing in words what the body endures
Tormented and tortured, yet good appears.
Drawn from the bottom as though a vacuum
The law and the order society
Made offenses of such deep and wide pains
A criminal is constructed for prey
Engorged, tri-colored, and spun into silk
Is it a national epidemic?
Hate that sates nothing with its own venoms?
Not Shakespeare not Petrarch then of what ilk?
That which it seeks is the merciful aide
Forgives forgives and yet again is spent
When justice was depraved and malice made
Long went away innocence gone to waste
Then punished, excoriated and tarred,
but for beauty all alone it was starred
Thick as the walls of the terradon’s skull
Where hardly a sound can be heard of stone
Hardening as a bone is its conscience
Which never wielded nothing but the hulls
An outer semblance in silkened clothing
Shined-up with spit are its talons and toes
Oh misery oh pity oh clemency
Find you nowhere to cast out your verses
Those that were delicately purchased poems
Of Petrach of Shakespeare whose will it be?
Love without opportunity or hope
It Awakens and begins to alert
Where there is no happiness a heart aches
It sounds like a person who is in chains.