Joyous angels an entire night spent,
singing with flutes they ceased to relent.
Shepherds lowly pitch their dusty tent.
A story indeed reminiscent
of ageless advents when we all went
to sing in churches in wintry Kent.
In fright we gazed at Santa's beard length,
in a speed sleigh drawn by the Elks' strength.
We sought more fun for an extra cent.
But after pleasure we did repent,
speaking solemn words of a good gent:
'Oh, what a pleasant time in advent,
to usher in the infant God sent.'

Tacked onto cosmos,
Soft light,
Eradicating an opposite,
Dreaming life into fruition,
Kibble,
Bring lips
Down, among trenches & arcane
Never rest
Context, infinitesimal in journey,
Nexus at best

A hammer through your letterbox,
Covered in spit,
Listened to through callous hands
Knocking on the complex,
Chamber of advents
And unleashing the deepest, unknown secret
Flattened, stretched Ambrosia,
Content enabled metropolis,
Slowing the progress of atrocity
Into dawning backward birth

Orders in place,
Genus
Chronicled in ordnance,
By gated communities,
Escalating the calamity by force

Embargo transcend,
Glitter on abound, endless
Pardon the boredom
Lapped, lipped, tapped, trusted

Trying to find balance
In amongst leaves,
Leaving Earth
In a ship fueled by discontent

The air matches the forest deep.
Its Auburn glow weaves congestion into thick dimensions.
The grass, and leaves, and trees coexist in this moment of surreality.
A sepia trim around a coordinated portrait -
The eye cannot adjust to a moment irreplaceable.
A melting slathered teardrop falls slowly.
The tree's push this far into the sky -
Not pushing, but holding, rather.
As a weeping mother catches her child and slowly descends them.
She cannot hold forever,
and the red of scars, disaster, and reflection advents.

She let’s the child wander;
Developing.
Enveloping.
And black does become the night.
Delicate, and sluggish, this darkness falls.
Her arms can bear no more,
as the sunset-soul consumes an arcane definite.
Droning below the lake,
of which no hills sit near.
Charcoal weighing down the once prepossessing light -
of nature’s *****.

A soft whisper,
And death.

Dreams…
And guilt.

"Free us of his torment!”
Cried the leaves: post-wilted.

"He’ll devour us by his own light!”
Shrieked the trees: un-guilted.

"Why entwine such sedulous melancholia?”
Squealed the breeze: pre-juilted.

Oh! Do despair in blessedness!

Oh! Does the flora mourn for her exaltation!

But…

Oh,

Does his darkness revile the ***** soul -

In impassioned ecstasy.

One more swell now motionless,
Realness from afar,
Drifting pointlessly,
Into a world of dubiety and falling stars.

The apprehension of letting go,
A fount of cognizance and angst,
With advents of dawn,
Seeing through the night, to no more be recast,

A future, said to reflect the age,
Alight, yet dimming anew,
Abaft the scud of clouds,
Burning itself out – the sun that never quite withdrew.

We say black lives matter
But we **** our own people so
Do black lives matter?

We say we support our own people
But we put them down as if we don’t
So do black lives matter?

Black lives matter only to a certain extent
We all need to come together like we do at certain advents

Come together as people all lives matter not black lives not white lives nor mixed lives all lives matter.

Wind, don't speak my name,
no squash blossom thunder,
no snap bottom rain.

I ask but a breath on dry tinder,
if just for a moment,
tender as velveteen fumes
between whispers, before a kiss
and her slow setting eyes,
while I, remiss in attending to time
and teeth, look back to the fall of things,
to the flint and the steel of things,
into the dull spark of advents
birthed into this chair,
this cigarette, this coffee,
this rolling silence,
to know that I,
if only for a moment,
have lived up
to all that I've burned.

These freedoms I hold uhn uhn, respectively yet with
Introspectometers nobody could argue law won't end
they and you stand
Chattled and bound huhn, systemary merit

For a day's clouds breezing through Los Angeles
un an old good American towne

As the checks and smiles, mood cast- a shadow
on a beach at the north end of LAX

Seventy writhing blights of unknown caterpillars
unfurl and could  set to follow the way the
others' metamorphosis uhn uhn begins

These rights unto all is more for grunts though
a labor of love then un whimsical moments

Shielding a freeway of thoughts while under the
love of the leatheur glove since complex advents

Emergency water stationary for each
small droplet is unleded by pipes, oh these
last round of drinks were found by and by
Barbed tendrils make confusion of cocooned well doers

Border runners in beige with bikini clad women
on bikes...
unknowingly, that's why,  it was

Cast aside undulations of wealth are too
grande for blessing under that guise

In so much there's one more uhn uhn the fervent image
of aberrant ken sitting now soon to pretend... again?!

Civil recalcitrant obedience "we still eat apple pies!", isn't it?

It's of a place to be this Labor Day, unknowingly,
the burning images of its peace & lore... is
anon ashore and amaze of waves...   found    indefinitely

Poems that ought
Poetry that thought thus spoke
Figures of imagination, a stoicism wrought
For the times are a sweet tune, that looked and provoked

Anarchy in the mind, to form the words
Still overtures of truth in a rhyme
To dazzle the contempt, the about of vanity heard
Gestures so certain, the tale of wishes line for line

Human decency
To garner one more flower of advents kind
Right and riddle, the measure we sit
And reflect, the upon of subtler times

To wonder, is a wish ever more than a gift to another, when meant?
Aspire for down and about benign, the cares of a liberal need
To set to paper, the count and the majesty of patience's relent
Welcoming a new eye, a new ear, to a table of justice's heed

The sidewalk curbs on looming path:
Twas made of gritty childhood.
And the road begins in its stead,
Looping through the stained cherry woods.

Winding downward this forest lane
Heeds bell pealing it’s chimed death toll.
My relapse proves that I rest sane,
But for approach, stemmed heads bow low.

Grass sprouts forth from sable concave,
Shrouded by crowned canopies berth.
Trees pave way for an advents wave!
Youth regained by those still callow.

May quiet serendipity
Allay the restless gathering.
Staring at end lay wayward lave:
While wild daisies plume my grave.