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Distinctions

Distinct drama makes animated fiction a reality,
Exotic men and warriors are dancing abjectly.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Deny human rights, and however little you may wish to do so, you will find yourself abjectly kneeling at the feet of that old-world god, Force.

quote by Auberon Herbert
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Antediluvian

Like crystals from the sky
we shall fall, break, and shatter

We will slap on windshields
and siphon into the gutters
and in the guts of this beast
my slivers will collect themselves
to find your vestiges and your faith
malingering in this palled weather
to regain the waned colors
and drabbed intentions

But would you permit me
to meet you in the directionless sea
where our astray meanders sank
abjectly drowning in its caliginosity?

poem by Norman Santos
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Peccavi Mea Maxima Culpa For friend JT Ellison

The song I came to sing today.Will not
be sung today or any day
by me. The words I have forgot.
Temptations led my mind to stray
too far from my appointed task.
I cannot sing for you today
nor can answer what you ask
I am ashamed and look away
because I know I’m in the wrong.
I have failed, failed utterly
and you may never hear the song
I beg forgiveness abjectly.
Some other singer may one day
sing what I should have sung today.

1-Jul-08
This was written for a challenge on another site
“The song I came to sing today” is taken from a poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
and had to be included in the poem you wrote

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Exterminating Dante

His body mauled by white leopards.
then scant black Wolves scatter his bones
His new journey; an eyeless search
into some humpty dumpty-like absurdity.
Dante hitching down the road to hades, waiting for the next guy, with his warnings and fearful enlightenment.
History needs a fresh page, one that can grow organically here and now with the science of earth of consciousness.
Those who are with crucified limbs stretching from Heaven to Hell, shackled by this pernisious bondage, pledging obedience to an odious faith becomming hearded abjectly to an abstract master.
indeed 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here'
I see a wheel of a knife thrower.

When mastery is hard to find
with the lie being like nightmares to justify snoring.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Reverence

I saw the Greatest Man on Earth,
Aye, saw him with my proper eyes.
A loin-cloth spanned his proper girth,
But he was naked otherwise,
Excepting for his grey sombrero;
And when his domelike head he bared,
With reverence I stared and stared,
As mummified as any Pharaoh.

He leaned upon a little cane,
A big cigar was in his mouth;
Through spectacles of yellow stain
He gazed and gazed toward the South;
And then he dived into the sea,
As if to Corsica to swim;
His side stroke was so strong and free
I could not help but envy him.

A fitter man than I, I said,
Although his age is more than mine;

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poem by Robert William Service
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The Seventeenth Book Of Homer's Odysseys

...
Such speech they chang'd; when in the yard there lay
A dog, call'd Argus, which, before his way
Assum'd for Ilion, Ulysses bred,
Yet stood his pleasure then in little stead,
As being too young; but, growing to his grace,
Young men made choice of him for every chace,
Or of their wild goats, of their hares, or harts.
But his king gone, and he, now past his parts,
Lay all abjectly on the stable's store,
Before the oxstall, and mules' stable door,
To keep the clothes cast from the peasants' hands,
While they laid compass on Ulysses' lands;
The dog, with ticks (unlook'd-to) over-grown.
But by this dog no sooner seen but known
Was wise Ulysses, who new enter'd there,
Up went his dog's laid ears, and, coming near,
Up he himself rose, fawn'd, and wagg'd his stern,
Couch'd close his ears, and lay so; nor discern
Could evermore his dear-lov'd lord again.

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poem by George Chapman
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Without the Immortal Love of a Woman…

Every man’s eye is devastatingly empty; unbearably rotting towards the dungeons of diabolical hell; without the celestially commiserating reflections of a bountiful woman,

Every man’s palm is sinfully empty; barbarously rotting towards the coffins of penalizing hell; without the compassionately befriending grip of an honest woman,

Every man’s vein is dreadfully empty; devilishly rotting towards the vacuum of torturous hell; without the invincibly righteous rudiments of a sacrosanct woman,

Every man’s brain is deliriously empty; sadistically rotting towards the thorns of cold-blooded hell; without the unsurpassably ebullient fantasies of an eclectic woman,

Every man’s lip is ghastily empty; tawdrily rotting towards the mortuaries of parasitic hell; without the wondrously igniting kisses of an ardent woman,

Every man’s shadow is venomously empty; carnivorously rotting towards the skeletons of hideous hell; without the mellifluously symbiotic sweetness of a benign woman,

Every man’s signature is disastrously empty; egregiously rotting towards the nothingness of hedonistic hell; without the astoundingly ameliorating reflection of a caring woman,

Every man’s mission is treacherously empty; horrendously rotting towards the dirt of excoriating hell; without the pricelessly unconquerable encouragement of a blessed woman,

Every man’s lung is cripplingly empty; nonsensically rotting towards the meaninglessness of asphyxiating hell; without the unassailably reinvigorating breath of a timeless woman,

Every man’s cheek is lecherously empty; salaciously rotting towards the perversions of crucifying hell; without the mischievously spell binding peck of an untamed woman,

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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Dreams Out of the Blue

Blue acedia creates a deep longing
a longing to see, a longing to be,
In a completely different light
as distinct as day from night,
as blue from black,
a way to perceive life's dreams
that has no need to ever gaze back.
The purest view
only found in 'all things made new'.

DREAM.
I stand alone in the vast wide open
Underneath the most beautific blue sky.......
At a crossroad of dirt lane and iron track
Keenly I watch as a slow moving train creeps by,
I on the warm earth trail
It on a cold steel rail,
I with vision to view all that is alive
It with a single blind iron eye,
I at liberty to move anywhere about,

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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Jones M.P.

It was thus in the beginning: With a sporting chance of winning,
Jones contested an election years ago.
He was young, enthusiastic, and maintained that measures drastic
Were imperative to save the land from Woe.
For the laudable admiration of this budding politician,
Who with zeal to serve his bleeding country burned,
Was to make a reputation as a saviour of the nation,
And a clean and honest statesman - if returned.

The electors took a fancy to the youngster, and the chance he
Had of winning was improved where'er he went.
His high motives were respected, and, in short, he was elected;
And an Honest Man went into Parliament.
Went in to strive for glory where there held a system hoary,
Founded on the good old English party plan.
Wherefore Jones, half understanding things, submitted to the branding,
And became, perforce, a solid party man.

But when he heard a mention of the Whip
Party Whip,

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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