begotten are dreams
plummeting into the harbor of life’s duress
soiled by the ineptitude of infertile angels
posed upon splintered
masts of forgotten sailboats anchored together in jest
bobbing alone in the darkness of blueness,
yearning to levitate
over the reflective nature of waves
transforming leftover dogma into impervious mystery
begotten are aspirations
leaping beyond virgin births and undaunted teardrops
where fortitude and faith
push through a veil of routine seizures and inactive motives,
giving birth to miraculous delusions of credibility
begotten are cries of seagulls
as they pass overhead and shit
on broken windshields
viewing the maze of unbridled desires and inspired dreams
born from the truisms of shattered matter
Begotten, not made; inspired and empirically arrived at, not logically deduced. Makes me think of the shattered truths configured and assembled in a stained-glass window - which always appears even more penetrating and beautiful when shat on or vandalised, such that the cold North wind blows through it. Deconstruction always gives birth to the truth. Highly visual and philosophically intrepid. xx
a bird shitted right through my moon roof, zeroed in, left it's shattered matter on my arm rest, my wife says this is good luck. I don't see being shitted on as good luck so I guess results depends on individual minds, the same as writing this verse, some don't agree with what another poet writes and expresses, they're not suppose too, we all live within our own minds and experiences, very interesting verse Robert
Wow, if I'm not mistake I hear anger here in this poem from the dreams plummeting into life's duress to the seagulls shitting on cars. Isn't it amazing how dogma begets fear begets people that will line up to pay for salvation but those same people don't know what they are paying for.
A descriptive, uniqueness,
of a human soul
Sailing againgst, that what nature holds,
with her vast expenditures. . .
That which overspills the see,
Walls, drowning out the beeches
once rooted in sandy soil,
knowing now, fertility is also overwatered,
at times...
So, either way...there's never a guarantee,
until you've landed,
and the sea tells you what really mattered.
So enlightening...
So many thoughts. . .
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Robert Jude ForÉse is a visionary poet who articulates and observes the human condition. Shattered matter executes the environment engineered with aforethought, highlighting the implacable nature of broken substance. Dreams, somewhere along the chain of aspirations, have to birth from cleansed channeling so as not to drown in fecal matter dispersed by seagull or shaman shapeshifter, a message to clean up our religion and environment...this poetry is acutely manifest...
Nothing good comes from an angry storm with a churning sea until it is taken over by the calm. So it is with half-truths and diluted beliefs that serve us only when they do not apply to something we want to do or when we can use them against another. Until we let go of our preset beliefs and prejudices, we will never understand the harmony of the universe. Just when I think that perhaps there is a chance for mankind, we slip backwards and repeat those very things that have destroyed us in the past. Strong, albeit troubled poetry, Jude.
Take care,
Sherry
This chaos poetry at its best. Your metaphors are intrinsic and complicated yet discernable. Religion and philosophy have their place but cannot take the place of the divine. Excellent write and poem.
I wish I could have written this one
Cheers
Alain
Under Amber Skies, written by author and poet Jill Eisnaugle, is a wonderful collection of rhyming poetry guaranteed to please every reader. In this, her second book, she writes of new friendships kindled, as well as old friendships solidified. She g
First Edition Translation of Teselas by Carmen Crespo X111 César Simón Poetry Prixe 2016 Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospíde
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Ron
Peace & Love, Janet xoxoxo
Regis
Carole~
of a human soul
Sailing againgst, that what nature holds,
with her vast expenditures. . .
That which overspills the see,
Walls, drowning out the beeches
once rooted in sandy soil,
knowing now, fertility is also overwatered,
at times...
So, either way...there's never a guarantee,
until you've landed,
and the sea tells you what really mattered.
So enlightening...
So many thoughts. . .
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Fee
Love,
Sage
Take care,
Sherry
I wish I could have written this one
Cheers
Alain