I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.

I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.

I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.

I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.

©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017

Hello my friends
What do you love?
Crave? Adore?
Put above
Every motive
Every act...
You are hooked
And that's a fact!

Albert Adler wrote of this
What's YOUR bag?
What's your bliss?

POWER
ACCEPTANCE
COMFORT
CONTROL

You have a master... play a role.

If power is your greatest joy
You love your money.
Love your toys,
Then be ye girl
Or be ye boy,
You'll find that what
you most enjoy
Has the power
to DESTROY!

If acceptance is
What drives your ink,
You're all about
What people think,
You give ALL
(including kitchen sink)
If a bad comment
Makes you drink...

You may need to
Change your link!

Here's a thought
May hit the bone
Take you out o' your
"comfort zone"
You are out here all alone
'Til you believe
That Christ atoned!

Want to hold on to your fate?
Have a fear that won't abate?
It's not yet over... not too late!
You can achieve a blissful state!

This IS the TRUTH
Which I have found.
And, folks, I searched
ALL AROUND!
Until my feet hit Holy Ground
Now the GOSPEL
Is what I pound...

AND DON'T IT MAKE
A LOVELY SOUND!

You are all engaged
In a powerful thing.
It is WORSHIP!
How do YOU sing?

What you do is your own style.
But if it's your master,
Can you smile?

I'm profoundly glad

That mine's WORTHWHILE!

I move slow, sometimes plod,
Most people find me very odd
But the One I most applaud

Is a kind and loving

GOD.



SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/4/2017

Did someone steal your youth away
And leave you as a tiny old-timer?
Did someone say painful things to you
And, like a coward, did they run away?
Was there any kind of warning
So you could at least adjust?
Or did they just leave you there
With no hope, no faith, no trust?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Was there one day pleasant skies
And dreams of a cheerful future
Then the next day you were all alone
With no one there for nurture?
The world becomes a darker place
When do people on which you rely
Make a choice between you and themselves
And leave you to live or die.

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Looking for the face of love
And finding disapproval there,
Where else can a person go,
To learn of love and care?
Will they not find other things
With much less pleasant names;
With the risk the sufferer
Will find themselves to blame?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Love, the world
Suddenly turns, turns color. The streetlight
Splits through the rat's tail
Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning.
It is the Arctic,

This little black
Circle, with its tawn silk grasses - babies hair.
There is a green in the air,
Soft, delectable.
It cushions me lovingly.

I am flushed and warm.
I think I may be enormous,
I am so stupidly happy,
My Wellingtons
Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.

This is my property.
Two times a day
I pace it, sniffing
The barbarous holly with its viridian
Scallops, pure iron,

And the wall of the odd corpses.
I love them.
I love them like history.
The apples are golden,
Imagine it ----

My seventy trees
Holding their gold-ruddy *****
In a thick gray death-soup,
Their million
Gold leaves metal and breathless.

O love, O celibate.
Nobody but me
Walks the waist high wet.
The irreplaceable
Golds bleed and deepen, the mouths of Thermopylae.

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

There was a fly who only had one eye.
He lived a simple life on the River wry.

One day the fly with only one eye began to cry.
I'm very lonely he said to himself, I feel as though I've been left on the shelf.

From out of nowhere an Elf appeared, an Elf who had only one ear.

Your not alone the Elf did shout, come on over let's hang out.

The Fly with one eye flapped his wings and said loudly so the Elf with one ear could hear,  I'm going to try to fly to the other side of the river wry.

The Elf with one ear said do not fear I'll be your eyes and you'll be my ears.

But half way across the Fly with one eye gave a big sigh and said  to the Elf with only one ear, I do fear that I will not finish the ride to the other side of the river wry.

Do not fear said the Elf with only one ear.  With my perfect eyes I can see that half way across in the middle of a bog on a log are a frog and bee, surely they will help me.

The Elf with only one ear shouted loudly to the frog and bee, can you please help me?

The frog and the bee shouted back "gladly".  But the Elf who only had one ear could not hear the reply from the middle of the river wry.

The Fly with one eye heard the reply and shouted as loudly as he could muster "the frog and bee have agreed gladly to help you and me"

The Elf with one ear was relieved to hear this and set about outlining his plan.

The Fly with one eye would flap his wings and start his trip across the river.

The frog would jump up and down on his lily pad and make a noise which sounded like ribbit, ribbit, the Fly with one eye and the Elf with one ear would use the frog for direction, tuning into it.

Once the Fly with one eye had passed the frog by the bee would set about buzzing loudly, the fly with one eye and the Elf with one ear would follow the buzzing to the edge of the river.

The plan worked the Fly with one eye gave a shout hip hip hip hooray.

The Elf with one ear gave three cheers and the frog and the bee clapped merrily.

Hooray said the Fly with only one Eye and the Elf with only one Ear, let's get all our friends together and bake a cake to celebrate.

The Fly with one eye looked at his friends and knew that life would never be quite the same now he could count on his new found friends, the Elf with one ear and the frog and the bee were like one big family.

Sometimes
         I feel a well
                   dug deep
         into my heart
  I try to stop it
but it quickly
becomes ocean
  and overflows  
     into great tsunami
          rises over all the levees
             rushes past dams                  
               breaks down tall
                   city structures,
              edifices crumbling
           in its path
     all the squid and octopi
    skitting forth
in wild pulses,
tentacles entangled
     in doorways and rooves
        slipping through narrow
                window-openings
                   as they pour ink
                       in clouds,
                         shifting shapes
                          in cephalopod excitement
                            while blue whales
                            and humpbacks
                               breach over bridges,
                             phosphorescent jellies
                          light up
                       the dark streets of
                      my arteries
                     electric eels illuminate
                    the alleyways of
                   desolation's thick syrup
                     and I cannot stop it even
                            if I wanted to,
                   these darkened,
                     swirling waves
I am both floating and flying
like a jumping manta ray
curling around the ferries
bobbing in seahorse iridescence
weaving between buses
as if they were corals

And when the storm subsides,
colorful rockpools form,
rich in diversity
It is there,
in between the
multicolored ***** and
succulent shellfish,
in a mermaid's
       voluptuous smile
and turquoise eye
that I see you,
so crystal clear
                I could reach out              
                      and bring you to me,          
                         holding you tight
                         until the
                gentle break
     of
          morning

You hold echoes of a shift
so plaintively
against the swell
of midnight summer rain—
within the roar of the planes
on cold faded glass
the stuffy air at the airport

There was no way around it
that I could see—
the world still kept its spinning

You lock your stare here
and how I wish
I was packed up too,

snug heartbeats in your leather briefcase.

© BT