24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Twilight can’t fail her day
The clouds shall gather a mood to pay
Give me one noon to trail your way
I will not go blank with no dime to pay
Your heart is a way of a treasure island
A man
becomes milky in thousand steps to stay
I have sat you before this jungle cave
Feel no same— smile no shame—
Good luck I do aim: for you and it’s no game
Just remind my heart for one dime
It is a symbol of the stain after we dined
Noise rises to crescendo
Signals far off distant stars
formless taking form
beyond our reach or words.
With each collective exhale
machines read the data
in our breaths
to reveal
our external selves
our inner dreams
our haughty wants
our desperate needs
and how we pass the time
between birth, and sex, and death
The dawn of a new day
The skies open armed
Ready to receive a new wave
Upon the shores of life’s oceans.
The possibilities a vast array
Of rainbow colored sunsets
And opportunities
to be embraced.
Our presence here
All the reason to have faith
That God has bigger plans
Than any we have ever made.
A walk by faith is simply
A confession from our mouths
That the love we have been given
To this day without a doubt
Is a love not many give
But expect and don’t reciprocate
Let love be the addiction that you crave
Let your heart be filled By His mercy, love and grace.
~Rebelí
All it took was one prick
To get back
And the first place I go
Is to see a musical
The end of an era
Hey there fellow poets! I’m honored to be writing with you again this year.
It’s my third time here and I have been impressed by those of you who put your works into books. Way to go!
Okay, it’s time to start poeting. May we all be inspired and create some lovely works!
Red Demon in the Dark
VCS
You come to me at night
but thought you haunt them
You are not the man of my dream
You are the the demon I feared
Long ago
When I was a child
And I served in the a world of light
That you turned dark
Now you come to me again
You always have an excuse
For a man who claims immortality
You’ve claimed to be dying more
Than the average mortal
You fear to die alone
You tremble in the shadows
Claiming the mantle of a feeble
Old
Shambling
Drooling
Thing
Rather than face the truth
Where is your fierce gaze now?
Your claims in Might Makes Right?
Where are your whips and chains?
Hidden, only hidden until the spotlight
Of scrutiny I have cast on you passes away
Nothing about you is real
The pain you caused was hard won
Running to assure each servant was too busy
Chasing after their fear of you
To talk to one another
If we would have faced down our demon
You, who still appears in my night terrors
All lies would be exposed
Your glamours would have faded
Still, I hear the whisper of my dead mother
Crackling on a long disconnected phone line,
“his powers are fading”
She whispers from the darkness
The trembling terror in her voice lets me know her lie
She wishes me to come back, she needs me,
Not to rejoice in his defeat but to die underneath
His crushing force with her.
Putting the phone down
With a sigh
Like the rasping of the autumn wind
In dead willow leaves
In his old man’s mantle
He still lays body’s round about him
All who betrayed him are at risk
I have survived betraying him more than once
We do battle he and I
Dealing blows, he meant for death
Me, meant for defense, but it feels to him like
something worse and better than death: betrayal
“Ah, at last, a worthy adversary’, he breaths in relief
Knowing he has found his true heir
I feel sick at his pride in me
Standing against him
Surviving his blows
He feels this makes me
As evil as he
I pray he is wrong
I feel it makes me a survivor
When I see the heap of bodies on which he stands
I can’t help but wonder:
And why do we have the same blue eyes?
The same bottom lip?
Most of all;
What am I, that I still live?
Marqueda in Ebony, dances in the river of Louisiana
Its CEO who founded it in 1918 host of patriarch’s, of Marqueda that inherited the estates mine oils graves for decades
A MTA grounded in places
Continue of its history
Geography arts pictures, of its memoirs of the family own tree of Marqueda
Arose of a Masquerade that resumed in 2018
The patriarch’s of Marqueda will never be-forgotten Marqueda’a historical gathered up the gifts of given, conscious letters went viral, and on the social media. Yoga exercises, meditation,and Law of Attractions runs for days
The marvelous Marqueda, that lies opaque and drips in a dark place of its final rest
Marqueda’s clear veneer that lays and covers the sea.
At various points in our REM sleep,
I am the toasty one.
Or so says Ron, who’s turned into me and is so warm himself,
I allow myself to be cocooned for another luxurious hour.
Sleep is the night cream against the grizzled, soldierly grimace
I know will be on his face when he opens his eyes and
remembers: “Fuck, I locked my keys in my car last night.”
I watch him like a cat, sometimes.
His habits are familiar, and his gimlet eyed morning expression
is, to me, more catlike in its disregard for caprice and
unpredictability than any cat meme.
His morning cigarette, the first one of the day,
is spent on the sidewalk in front of our building.
It’s a good day, regardless of a passerby stopping to “buy”
a cigarette off him, and usually not even having the requisite light
to ignite it once given.
If my first response to bad news is less than sanguine, also not good,
I defend myself,
is his timing.
My better self is on hiatus until a solution arrives.
We’ll kiss each other good morning,
but we both remember words said the night before.