Holiday Cheer

It would be selfish and immature to complain;

So I grin, bear it, and simply abstain. 

A.D.

Mark me (always love any opportunity to use that phrase d: ) I shall be back; I've got to finish getting my life together in a financial/romantic sense. Once I accomplish that (or I suppose those things) I shall resume posting. Hope any and all who stop by to visit enjoy, and thanks to those who are always there for me. Happy holidays... Merry Occasion lol noodles

Möbius

Sharpening the brain

Oh what a pain

Repeating with stress, reiteration of strain

Spherical madness makes minds insane

Persisting with stress, preservation of strain

Oh what a pain

Sharpening the brain 

Composed by A.D.

.

My Complaints and Worries

Release

Release 

I write everything twice

I write everything twice 

If it's worth retention 

If it's worth retention 

If I only write it once

If I only write it once

It's worth no mention

It's worth no mention

Peace

Peace

Composed by: A.D.

Composed by: A.D.

I eavesdrop on the early conversation

Between the dust and the breath,

Between the concrete and aerial.

The cement is lamenting soles departed,

While the wind predicts fog in the future.

Their discourse is, initially, indistinct;

Yet I sense it... - transmits a gradation -

A tint, a hint... Memory of life passed...

(Suddenly a shadow decides to interject

His communication articulation lacks respect

His speech is direct and in direct

Contrast to the previous two.

He has no intrest in bygone or by-and-by

Selfishly soils the soil neglects the sky

All he discusses at length is the i

Praising ignorance arrogance brutality too)

... With the trespass of the fierce shade

Remembrance, reverence, abode, and aether fade.

Substance, significance - what mattered ceases to.

The sensible and natural - is anything true?

Composed by: A.D.

 

As always I took some poetic license with the punctuation, hope you enjoy. If anything is unclear, comment and I'll clarify.

Slasrever lanruid

Sunshine, moonlight

Encircled the bright

Sunshine, moonlight

Encompassed the night

Sunshine, moonlight

The resonant device

Sunshine, moonlight

Placed in cognitive vise

Moonlight, sunshine

Ventral and dorsal splice

Moonlight, sunshine

Perspective - the price

Moonlight, sunshine

Round the temporal cline

Moonlight, sunshine

Force and form intertwine

Composed By: A.D.

"Live For Today"

Cursive motions

Words on a paper

Floating oceans

Of dawn's vapor

Mist spilled obscuring the details

No dew - tepid ground prevails

What do the eyes behold

The world opaque and still

Precision is a story untold

Mystery countines to fill

Questions unanswered congest the air

Stress, and pause - relief, is where?

Delicately the haze continues to twirl

Beneath times rosy fingers which unfurl

When an observation becomes precedent 

"In" and "fore" - only "sight" is now relevant 

Suspended for a spell in this scene 

The beauty of the moment all that's seen.

Composed by: A.D.

Going minimalist in regards to punctuation on this one, hope you enjoy(ed)! Title is from a song I like by the Grass Roots (which I think also embodies the feeling of the poem).

Ashlar

Sitting on a bench, among these modern grids,

It feels as if love and nature are caryatids.

The passing crowd lost in their apps,

My mind congregates within its own apse.

Withdrawn, trapped in an oubliette,

A heart imprisoned by lonely regret.

Eyes notice rays reflecting on lintel, truss, and vault;

And the time in reflection seems  to slow to a halt.

The light cast upon each modern frieze

Causes all sorrow, and remiss, to freeze.

Existence - the contraposition is so odd;

Odd how life, and death, fill each facade.

The architecture of the city is a sacred library, 

And each structure is a book.

The bricks and their course - the vocabulary;

To understand one need only read and look.

Artists, authors, and architects gone and unknown;

But their lives - alive on canvas, page and stone.

Each projecting ideas from their own dais;

Each various choice and each artistic bias.

No longer alone, my senses and thoughts peregrinate;

But on one conception I continue to ruminate:

Although we may no longer have the creator's rivers and streams,

We are surrounded by contemporary creators visions and dreams.

Composed by: A.D.

A Stalk Of Fennel

Strength and violence,

Their words deride;

But this vicious expense

My heart must abide.

Drive the wedge into this breast!

For love of mankind

God placed in a bind,

With scourge and isolation blest.

Adamant binds hands and legs,

Bonds were forged by Vulcan's fire.

In the cask of hope naught but dregs;

Outcast, downcast, an inverse spire.

Adrift, aloof, in this barren sea.

Alone - no love, no sympathy.

Only debris, each new degree

Of acceptance. Hope is empty.

The ocean's and river's daughters,

Serenade me while in these quarters.

In this torrid tempest, this undertow,

Sorrowful waves never cede, only grow.

This lonesome spell continues to swell,

A sea of solace betwixt paradise and hell.

I'm able to see, due to my gift of sight,

That: just like the artisan of the stolen light

This deep love of love, within this mold,

Will leave more than the mark of a cuckold;

Unseen scars of pain, though anticipated,

Hardly bearable when generated.

Fuck it! I took the spark knowing full well,

What awaited... This torment, this cell.

For had I not know my brother's case,

To bear the foundations of our mother and space?

Though now the wounds are borne 

With a heavy heart,

And at present the weight of the scorn 

Constricts joy's art;

In the future the Thunder's storms will clear,

So here I languish till that day draws near;

Bearing the incessant stress on the mind and the spine,

Till it's replaced by ambrosia and blood of the vine.

Composed By: A.D.

Por Que

The choices in diction

The voices - restriction

Each decision a battle

To clarify or to baffle

And what's the motivation

Point of poetic equivocation 

When creating a verbal enigma

Gives birth to a social stigma 

Accessibility - dammed by intellectual

Abstruse leaves the mass obtuse 

Love - then purported homosexual 

Hate profuse - exposed to equal abuse

In a play without any audience 

The acting makes little difference 

Symbols left in the dark, are hard to find;

And even with a spark, are missed by the blind.

Composed by: A.D.

Discriminative Lines

I hate you because you're black, and you because you're white; 

Skin as white as snow, and skin as dark as night.

I hate cliché, fuck using any sort of label,

I hate those who are disabled and those who are able.

I hate those lazy useless poor,

But the entitled rich I also abhor.

I hate the old and despise the young;

One past their prime, one full of come.

I hate the savage Americans, on my Native ground, just to be clear;

I hate you for being born far away, and you for being born near.

I hate the Asian, the Hispanic, and the Jew;

I hate all you motherfuckers, I hate you it's true.

I hate you because of your religion, your culture, and your race; 

And YOU... Well I just hate you because of your face.

I hate metaphor... What the fuck is it for?

I hate poetry and verse even more.

I hate searching for meaning, reading between the variety of various lines;

Finding some continuity, and overall relation among the different rhymes.

Only one thing, one people appeal to me

Those who belong to the label: "humanity".

Composed by: A.D.

Sceptre of Iris

Something for the multitude who may never achieve

All the goals and dreams, their hearts might conceive;

All that really matters is: that you continue to believe.

Plant your seeds in earth and beware;

As seasons pass fertile fields may grow bare.

Storms may form, envelop, and impair.

In isolation, the typhoons we learn to bear.

Recognition is the freezing winter air;

A moment it encompasses, it`s everywhere,

Next – the gusts are no longer there.

Temporary is definite, and perennial – rare.

Joy easily transmutes into despair.

Clear skies, suddenly rainstorms ensnare;

Fortune, society, and life is unfair.

Find the simple between the serpentine pair.

Few will acknowledge, less – care,

Whether: you blaze towards the sky and glare…

Or spiral in descent, a dying flare.

As long as you push forward and continue to believe,

Little accomplishments you`ll find your will, will conceive;

And fuck those who don`t acknowledge what you achieve.

Composed By: A.D.

(Iris as in Greek Myth, not Isis... albeit, she (Isis) is awesome as well. Hope you enjoy).

S.O.S.

There is no art in these verse I present;

Just loneliness, bitterness, and malcontent.

A heavy toll, a languishing lonely soul;

With no end, nor finish, or final goal…

…But how dare this mere mortal complain

Each breath knows naught of true pain.

Of the isolation, the endless emptiness, and desperation

Of a being we call the abomination of desolation.

The beauty, and the beast, under a morning star;

Who knows what the depths of eternal anguish truly are.  

For as often as I feel this blink is unfair,

Riddled by the nonsense my small mind calls care

I`m left to wonder if: unjust is the sentence for my crime

How much more so is the sentence of Its` than mine?

If it is sacrilegious, all these things I ponder

Then why would One allow this mind to wonder?

Why allow a child to boldly assume,

If such assumptions are to be his doom?

A contradiction, a heart both arrogant and contrite.

How ironic, in the end (at the end) is not fire also light?

And tell me now love, what is the cost

If in life, already, all hope for love is lost?

When will both sexes finally achieve equality?

When will race be realized as merely humanity?

When will we no longer kill for peace-preaching prophets?

When will death and devastation no longer equal profits?

When will the crucifix be remembered as a torture device of antiquity,

Not as the message of one who preached love and neighborly affinity?

Supposing that mankind was created in your divine architects` imagery,

Then when you hate, harm, or kill another don`t you do so to the divinity?

To the martyr will endless violence, end the violence you do?

To those left behind does your faith bring the lost back to you?

Told these fantasies are delusion fascinations and will never be;

And if so, the rapid realization is that: mankind was never free.

What life is left, I`ll suffer, hoping to see the day:

When day is simply day, and night simply night,

When WRONG simply WRONG, right simply right,

When black and white is finally separate from grey.

Composed By: A.D.

SOS= Same Old Shit

A Rorschach of The Collective

The tension is building – Prospero,

But feelings are restrained – Fortunato.

Behind the masonry of these mortals walls

A tempest of emotions rises and soon falls.

Oh the agony! Oh the alchemy!

Chemistry of apathy and poetry;

Equal mixture of pristine mystery,

And measures of perplexing clarity.

Honest fabrications of fictitious history.

The One is the backside of the tarot

Only symmetrical glyphs does it show;

But with a flip, a perspective inverted,

And the nonsensical seen is converted.

When nothing more is concealed,

When the illusion is finally revealed...

The same rhythmic formation of the lexicon,

The same arrangement in the poetic echelon.

...Not as what is seen in each sole occurrence,

But as each own interpretation and souls’ inference.

All art, attractive artifice and elegant duplicity,

No individual perspective, just a collective – we.

Each a pigment in the pixel of humanity,

A mere point in the vast image of eternity.

Composed By: A.D.

(The third stanza (or technically fourth, if we count the single verse) is as intended (that is, it was meant to be grammatically incorrect "nonsensical"). Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy)!

Emerald Phoenix

Guided into the unknown by the Muses and the Source

The art proceeds, without any direction or evident course.

The opposite tones are placed diligently, in perfect matrimony;

Contrasting sounds create a sense of symmetry and harmony.

To comprehend the body must be separated,

Sectioned like the sacrament.

The paper is the flesh, and the ink the blood;

Meaning (Ka) the spirit, words (Ba) the mud.

The mind is the implement

Through which each revival is created. 

Every deity is chained and confined,

An ember (mortality) the spark that sets the gods free.

In death, life is attained and sublimed;

Remember the philosophy: “Do this in remembrance of me”.

Like a bull was sacrificed and its body consecrated,

Or the lion slain (concealed as a lamb);

The immortal-mortal Son of God is recreated,

The Nephilim, a man and also "I Am".

Ancient rites intertwined and disguised;

New ages, the same sacrifices supplied.

Will Ahura Mazda set the captives free;

Or is reality: in veracity, a lock without a key?

Living audience keeps circling, the deceased notes continue in a hoop;

Segments of mystic music, keep the pallbearers in an endless loop.

Melodic verses created the memory, and vipers intertwined impregnate the rhyme.

Symbolic melody, poisoned and obscured by grains of dust, in the winds of time.

Thirteenth hour of the pyramid, the axis is hidden beneath the sand.

(Crucify to resurrect,

Dissect to connect)

Divinity is found in the ashes; or perhaps Perimetr; a poetic Dead Hand.

Composed By: A.D.

This one might be a bit confusing, but I hope you like it. If you have any questions (or constructive criticism) please comment/ask; and I`ll do my best to clear things up (Although I`m not online as much as I used to be).