Beauty and Truce

Oh beautiful reason that brings me here.
 That war was abandoned for an hour.
 abundant fields lay ready to flower
 they cease from their vengeance and rage no more
 America, friendly deliverer
 Call for no more of heroes or martyrs
 Bring forward the Olive Branches and Ores
 Let them Grow Older and More Intricate
 No limb lost again No more of horror!
 While many an Interlude holds its Arms,
 The Beloved and The Beloveds in Care
 Grace is only Mystery to Doubters!
 Such as I am One ravaged with Worries
 And Faithless without Spirit of Prayer.

ALLOPHANY

As no Poem to be Written will be Spared

everything comes naked to the wire

the horror is everywhere apparent

yet Peace will prevail for the hour

nears, it approaches at will and bows down

to be broached by the absence of manners

nothing that was written held any sense.

It holds me within a concave sonnet

as Music comes rolling along it rolls

neverending substance of  alto trombone

Play me a song of my diffident tone

Help me to hear myself I am muteness.

But Leave me don’t approach in the Nearness.

For no Lack of War I have done Thisness.

Durge of Alurista

The Durge of Alurista C/S

A friend, a poet calls me Aquaria.

Much of what he says has a truth to it

Speaking his words eat my ear with their tongue.

"You love Humanity but hate humans."

I examined myself for this penchant,

I tried to prove it wasn't true I tried

Yet I failed at altruism worse

What I attempted was pointless as well.

It made no difference at all either.

It is pointless to seek my redemption.

Alu--I agree with you completely

I only differ in the difference.

I hate humanity and humans both.

Neither one of them are worthy of Love.

I decided I would not perish for War.

If I want peace in the world start with me.

I soon saw the vengeance of the Crisis.

Its Big and Mucky Ocean of Violence.

I grew suddenly grateful I am Lonely.

I only need cross through my Dreams Alive.

Cover the Underworld rapid as Verse

Carry across wind in the Hickory

Sing with Sweet Joys the Passing Albatross,

The song of the Owl no longer Allures.

Peace would succumb no matter what it Lost.

That it was Betrayed, Humililated

Its Seeking of Justice is a Malice.

For Pain is a Treasure of Knowledge Gained.

HOT VERSE WITH RAIN

Commies Fear Cappies and Yappies Fear Commas.

They have practically nothing of Virile Youth!

THey grew Older than Time even Stood, Droughts,

I misunderstand I'm confused by Love.

It speaks with an Answer without Reply.

Anxiously it Huddles a Mad Secret

Duplicitous Humanitarians

Out for a Ride off the End of Slut Shames.

If I am a Whore then let it be Shouted.

Unknown hilarious to a Forest

The Clouds are grimacing with Pulchritude.

Their Beauty Immensely Foreholds the Rain.

While younger in the Gutters o Violence.

The Crooked Tame without Peaceful Friendships.

I commit Hit Jobs in Favor of Love.

unlike government provocateur Sin.

I commit crimes of Pride ' s Virtues

Of Peace and Love's Mayhem i am balanced.

I have seen that Vanity Seeks Failure

Prayed at the Touches of Milliseconds

Rise without incident grow in remorse

To seek Peace of Any Soul or Heart.

I carry Flowers of pleasing Ideals

Observe the Passage of Misted Mountains.

And Each Bloom u Selected perfumed

It brought from its Origin foresence.

follow the spirit of the Law of the Letters

No man has ever conquered what I have

If it hasn't conquered itself first

Sound is a participle Hour.

What it needs is Everything Condensed

The passing of Times bitterly Sweet.

And of Beauty Censored and Bound by Blame

greater times with Marti I have Reeped.

I have seen without Seeing an Ocean

A watershed hangs from a Sterling Cloud.

Imprisoned in an Hour Glass it floats.

Hardened with Softening Resolve.

Without Itself Civilization Steers

As Ultimate Destruction Veers and Thrives

When people in LA attack me as a writer.

When cities beat up on small townships.

I stand up as tall as a mountain lion .

I say "I will be innocent the same."

BTW I am not a Poet, Stop.

I am a Dictionary sputting sounds.

Nothing that I say is Original.

2.

I tried Tell you thiss You know that I Did.

The Thatness is not Real as you ARE.

Your Beauty is Legend your Name Glory.

For you are A Hometown sweeter than ANy.

While in the Means Streets it Howls a Grief,

For The Selling of Life for Cheap Money

The excuses, apologies, and demands.

Bishop of Tucson, Sonnet with Octave

April 2, 2014 at 4:21pm

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The robe of the Bishop not flowers

divides at the hem and disappears

beckons to history and to tears

but left without a sound or a care

the ringing of the bells doesn't hear

nor woe of a woman living in fear

onus after onus will appear

while the father looks on from his chair

hasn't been around now for centuries

though succor haphazardly  is earned

like I am and must be a poet

no matter what price I pay for it

though I never asked is inherent

the crown on each finger of anguish

and make subordinate by verses

the forces of spring of kindred spirit

bringing by their annoyance a rhythm

break it whether you know how to or not

and shadows let them fall as they do.

take heed my subject and sonnet listen

Falter when it comes to violent end

toward the original intent bend.

EDITH

I'm neither here nor there alive nor dead

i occupy two different dimensions

red skin and bone pink and spotted

my name causes loss of breath Edith

The gift of war ever peaceful at peace

there are no terrors don't visit on me

i bring the key to the door of truths

i believe would never need evidence

if some such as the meek ringing with verse

even metaphor rushes eaglelly,

a lights to a high point alerted beak

Wings drawn to the trunk and talons secure

first I would listen to the wind what says

why does it would it could it should try

I'm nothing to go magic on geez.

leave me with my self admiration

poor piteous me Shakespeare, nunnery

inhabited by martyrs of errors

I'm too dumb to be credible and so

Look at what passes for a language,.

You get me but pretend not to care

between two points a line to draw

SCHOLASTIC NOUBT Lack of a Zero (Philosophy Parvenus)

I'm not a Believer but a Doubter.
Which is Why I submit to Scholastics.
I cannot Get Over the Sacrifice.
I want to Disprove it, I want to Hack. 
For my Tribes are Immortal Too, a Fact.
I needed nothing from a School what it Lacks. 
But wading in the Pools of the Conscious
Observing the Disputations and Codes
Mastering eavh and every One of Em.

Forsook Reason, Truth, and Philosophy.
As Though Nothing is ENough 2be Disproved
Still Fallacy Adored and Vanity Groans
TO sate a Bear you must cut its Heart Out.
Not leave them partially Able to Doubt.

Beauty Had Gone & Reappeared

Where Beauty had Gone & Reappeared

Where did between two Pools of Vision

Absorb the Meaning of a Prophecy

And holding onto the Breath of a Dream

Perfumes with the Dews of a Memory

That a World Made of its Materials

Grew Open and with the Seasons of Love

Innocence, a Doe-Eyed Fugitive,

Resurfaces in Me as a Source of Verse

Honor Stold from The Thief what had been Lost

Casta-Away, Forsaken, Misunderstood,

Yet ultimately was Vindicated

While its Wealth was Felt Everywhere at Once

Its Never-Ending Cup Over Runneth