Un-Thrifting Essence, what of Loneliness
Allows the Hill across to bend and weep?
Who is to blame? Are you the Sorceress
Drawn to cast an Un-Witting Spell so deep?
These are all but Questions; If I may add
Failed on Writ, yet convenient to Subject
Here is the Adjective I thought I had
But the Spell did lie thus made to reject
My Immortal Covenant: To Keep you,
Dearest Talent; A Servant's Dud I make
Within a shadow shines a Brighter Hue,
A Promise I no longer will Forsake:
Though in Essence always revealed un-been
I am that Shadow never revealed un-seen.

Thee gnome had called
hymm mein flatterer, then
an ape fight for quills, to be
or naught, hidden by a hive
patch of bramble.  Do ordinance
iris search of apart theorhetic sea,
Adeiu mostly, can wearwolves
as sultry be known to chew
rawhide bones teethlesslee.  
Gather by a dared deity
of A Roman's antiquity,
all of course to femine
posterity.  An Aye for Aye,
a sythe to seize do naught
ii and cling.  For better is yet
to OyYea' and I, causes instantly
be and bee.    

cliche toupee'

Planted in my own space
No time stamp  
Exiting pretending
Eliminating ribbing and quick witting
Sitting waiting no more
To banter back and forth
Alone you're just you
No guilt in liking you
Or the things you like
You can embrace
Self-acceptance
The tiny bit of innocence you still hold
Scoop, bottle, and carry it
Your opinion is valid your thoughts aligned
When I'm by myself I close my ears and open my mind
And choose to listen to my me and never adhere to the voices outside

A Zealot Beauty,
Young Cat,
Xerxes Dolts,
Witting Earnestly the Very Ulterior Feelings,
Truly God Signs Her Rights Into
Quacksalver
Just Pretending Killing Omnipotence Leads New Money

a witting clap
echoes

flocks of letters
take flight

words'
remainders
to gather

to lit a fire
within the night

smoke
above the canopies

I always feel scared when my family tell others that I enjoy to write because all my life, I've always heard writers go no where.

I've always felt scared to share my witting, because every word I've put in has an emotional connection to my thoughts.

I'm scared to share my thoughts with others, because it seems to be that everything I say is stupid and I turn out to be the duff.

It scares me to think about losing my mom, because my mom has been my everything to me since the day I was born.

The thought of having to face my dad scares me, because he was nothing but evil in my life and I don't want that back.

I'm scared of the dark, because lies and deception don't happen in the day light and it makes me think bad happens in the dark.

I'm scared of getting very depressed (again), because when life gets to the point of all you wanna do is cry, nothing is right.

life scares me, because you can't turn on the news without hearing that someone was killed and I don't wanna raise kids in this world.

life is scary and I can't do it on my own.

I AM THE WEDGE

O blackguard or fellow. Arise!
Nay.
Bridge that light that bridges all.
Nay! Peace…
What peace!
In sleep’s blue rictus, borne naked, supine—I am…roused.
Opine!
I exhort ye:  know thy fine.
Be bold or benign, be ****** or divine.
But know thy fine.
Exhort? Harbinger:  we are One!
Ye are cloven! And these be your bridges:
Worms.
Sss!
Maggots.
Sss!
Bigots, charlatans, sycophants, thieves…
Ignominious leeches all!
Ssssss! Ssssss! Ssssss!
Yes, yes, yes—ye art ethos without sinew,
Eloquence without spine, witting captives of World’s design.
Ye are carnal, mundane:  ye are sane, sane, sane—
Sane beyond redemption, sane beyond profane!
Prithee peep, prostrate. Now behold:  ye are Mine.
O piercer of nights!
I am he.
O dasher of dreams!
I am he.
Truther! Augur!
I am, I am.
I am all ye allege.
Be still!
Nay. I am the wedge.
And ye shall labor and love with accountability!
Ye who menace the frail shall burn.
Sss!
Ye who lie with same shall burn.
Sssss!
Ye thick, arrogant, groping,
Proliferating plumes of flesh…
All conformists shall burn! And burn and burn
And burn afresh. Within thine own World, where Virtue rots—
Miscarried, misnamed, unrealized, unborn—Nay!
Do not cosset possessions, nor flatter the beast!
They are myth, they are illusion. They are soulless.
It is not death…it is soullessness I scorn.
O be caring. O be kind.
That one egg might bind, all sons must bleed.
Womb and grave lie equidistant.
******, madness, sorrow, sickness, are seed.
And I am fecund.
O Life!
Hypocrites.
Ah Love!
Hypocrites!
Peace! Peace!
Hypocrites all! Blind as cadavers are ye,
Running in lockstep, sniffing thy self-serving,
Snuffling peers’ rears; disdaining the night,
Succumbing to light. And I? I?
I am Neutral. I am Gray.
Then name thy vein.
I am he who severs One; soldier’s specter, specter’s son.
Of faith and compassion mine fibers art wrung.
Ye living die a thousand deaths, yet remain in arrears.
Let thy live corpses lie a low while longer.
Sweet coma, black drug—
Beware thy Pale Master’s tongue!
Blasphemer! Vigilante!
Vengeance is poetry. Vigilance is mine.
I am he who doth sunder, to center from edge.
Thou art…Comeuppance!
I am the wedge.
And this blade ye ride be thine own design!
O Sunlight save us!
Save? To cling to the light, heaping woe upon woe,
Forever hurtling downward, smashed outright, yet still crawling?
Broken beggars bleeding, drowning heartless, gutless…
To, on dying’s cue, lift thy shattered fingers in brine
And be born anew?
Assassin, then!
Thy logic is *******. Have the greatness to be mute,
Suffering seaward, to that brave expanse where all salts art borne.
But we—
Unwitting? Never be!
The same tide shall return for ye:
Aweigh, forlorn, into the ravening
Tempest torn; a million billion testaments—
Defrauder!
Am I? Consider the beast:  electric pastors preaching,
Merchants plump, in line, beseeching.
Still ye puppets slumber, too rife to number,
Too fay to vie; strutting for thy hollow “Maker’s” eye.
Whirling, jumping, twirling, pumping;
******* random shapes and shadows,
Prancing in tandem, dancing solely to die.
Nay. I am the wedge, both hawk and dove;
Neither This nor That, neither Either nor Each.
Descending, I rise, thy facade to breach,
Mine soul well-bled of light’s lovely lies.
To the vortex, then! From one whose essence
Waives assimilation.
No grace! No peace shall ye posers reap!
Lash thine ears, thine eyes—Run, lemmings! Leap!
Preen thy prettified husks, let Inspiration go!
Or rip out thy roots and…Grow!
Sacrilege! Make public thy shame!
Shame? Shame? Ah…Ash, conceive us!
Brief spirit cede, sweet Flame relieve us,
Sunlight leave us lie.
May ye ****** and ye wicked
Fall to thy knees and cry.
Through gates of naught I lead ye,
Bleak day, bright night, precede ye.
Butcher!
There is black! And there is white!
Between extremes lies only gray.
Nay!
Said stain bleeds left and right:  less black, less white,
On that stage too deep to fathom,
One dapple distant, one ripple wide.
Outrageous!
’Twixt solace and horror,’tween torment and balm,
There ye will find me, in rages of calm.
The wise man hath his discipline, the lunatic his ledge.
And I? I am he who doth sever, I am he who doth cleave.
I am the wedge.




(Sorry about the missing italics and indents. I don't run this site.)

Copyright 2019
contact Ron Sanders at:

ronsandersartofprose(at)yahoo(dot)com

I met my love in a pub
Drinking a pint of brew
He swept me off my feet
We fell in love before we knew
Romance so sweet  

However I had a major problem an issue
He had a tattoo of his exwife's name
On his upper arm
TRISH
I was not happy about this

Out witting an unwilling participant
is not a piece of cake
We both are head strong people
a miracle it would take

The humiliation was my cause of alarm
We needed to find an immediate solution
To cease further harm
We were at odd on opposite sides of a revolution

My darling man of reason Wanted to clear the air
He wanted to be fair
He Wondered how he would feel if his wife had
Another mans name for every season

With a wink and a smile I sweetly suggested
he put a line under the letter T
He said HELL NO I'm not Irish
Quickly the conversation regressed

I held my temper But stood my ground
I smiled spoke in my sweetest voice
The patience I found

Leaving him little to no choice
Well dear I'm not TRISH
Resolution my only wish

The day is done
A clever girl has won
Sublime heart and mind
Contentment For all of time I would find

Was it such a large price to pay?
What would you do or you say?
To resolve this situation in an amicable way

35 years of marital bliss
Came down to this
A simple line I drew
in the preverbal sand  
An't love grand

My darling Lad drinks a pint of brew
to celebrate St Patrick's Day
To pass the time away of the change of his Tattoo
This story not many knew

Happy wife happy life
A Tattoo is forever think twice
Your decision is for life

Now my Irish pappy
Not Irish happy  
Wears his arm on his sleeve
A learned lesson to believe

Precious caring lovely being
Don't let angst take hid within you
Precious soul of perfect mind
Witting so as a geek

Precious lil soul
Of a precious mind
Don't let em massacre your precious mind
For you are a star

Precious soul
Lunatic lil soul
Of great pleasure & Majesty
For long lives your soul
For it is far more precious
For a precious being like you.