Super Blue Blood Moon

Image From Pravda-TV

 

fat with portent

three mysteries

join the dawn sky

blood of moonfire

sets alight fears

dread of prophecy

awful and dire

some minds have such

terrible powers

to conjure calamity

caught up in

moments occult

fraught with omen

impending events

turned by hands

of inimical gods

while the most of us

undisturbed lay ourselves

into our slumber and

comfortably wonder of

peace and contentment

as sedative privileges

gifts to be had from

embracing a rare

and miraculous sky

 

*  *  * * * * * * *

 

“In the early hours of January 31, 2018, the moon will do something it hasn’t since 1866. A supermoon, blue moon and lunar eclipse will coincide for a rare and spectacular astronomical feast. It’s known as a Super Blue Blood Moon. Our faithful satellite will shine big, bright—and red.” – NASA

Pathétique

“Tormented” by Helena Wierzbicki

 

in a secret black box
with tarnished lead locks

sit wings that I ripped
from faeries who slipped

through fencing I built
from splinters of guilt

no room in my mind
for tiny unkind

impish creatures
whose features

would mock and remind
of crimes I resigned

to bury down deep
inside wrinkles of sleep

I pierced them like thrips
with ragwort stem tips

then chewed them to mash
in a mouthful of ash

and set down my head
near the foot of the bed

on the secret black box
with tarnished lead locks

 

 

From my books Range of Motion and Legacies (vol. 1)

Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler

“Mardi Gras, Let’s Get the Party Started” by Anthony Falbo

 

the big easy
dips into its decadence
appetites lusty
laid on full public display
season of fast held at bay

221B

Sherlock Holmes’ Baker Street Address – From Pinterest

 

inelegant illness afflicts him

who bumps about corridors

rattling locks

with the bones in his tail

stalking for deer

with a rosin-swept bow

in the malformed aesthetics

of calabash pipe-smoke

tainted with henbane

that curls around houndstooth

staining the Inverness cape

knowing bliss has no keys

he kicks open doors

of two-cornered rooms

no doctor would bless

finding stairs Piranesi

could have designed

their paths up or down

all land the same place

where a grandfather clock

ticks the tempo of fear

and brocade paranoia

drapes barrister boxes

of leather-bound brains

and mementoes of sins

hiding fine-pestled clues

behind acid-etched glass

in plain sight

yet unseen

in differently hued

hallucinogens

that powder

alchemical bellies

of porcelain mortars

where hundreds of

gripping good crimes

would be solved

 

 

From my books City of Pawns and Legacies (vol. 1)

Glass Acuities

 

“Day of Glass” by Erich Heckel

 
sand and ash
plain ideas
made from
granular thought
come to bond
in the heat of
intelligent fire
transformed in
that singular
chalice of bone
conscious crucible
elements changed
intellectual alchemy
purges impurity
giving release from
the sins of obscurity
rendered transparent
no longer a solid
not yet quite a liquid
a slow-moving
pensive deliberate
shapelessness
seeking some nobly
provocative form
ineluctably cooled
into choices of
permanence
ethically clear
artful lenses or
vessels admitting
of light the full
spectrum of truth
able now to be
sharply discerned
and displayed
defined starkly and
wholly accessible
no more excuses or
errors of judgment
but truth must be
handled with care
revelation can startle
and clarity can blind
sand and ash
plain ideas
the mean friable
substance of
unrefined minds
though they undergo
wizardry burned
and then turned
into beautiful glass
brilliant specimens
smoothly well-reasoned
exquisite exhibits of
vitreous wisdom
are evermore fragile
yes those
even those
best and highest
expressions of
artisan minds
can be easily shattered
by the merest
oblivious flick from
a philistine boor

Trees as Weeds

“Color Study 5” by Carol Nelson

 

some eyes would see trees as weeds
bothersome rather than beautiful
lost to an indifferent lexicon
these the disconnected
disaffected souls drifting
through life feeling
little to nothing of why they are here
how their place in the scheme
corresponds to a purpose
deliberate not predetermined
no story of destiny
rather a tale of design
willful choice to engage with the vibrant
invigorant features of nature
to join the esthetic community
drawn into compact with all living things
shared of that quickening spark
what man loves or demeans in himself
he will love or demean
in his fellow creations
such is the power possessed in each heart
absolute in its truth
that will render this world
filled with trees or with weeds

 

 

From my books Ephemera and Legacies (vol. 2)

Contemplation

“Grape Arbor at Neukastel” by Max Slevogt

summer grapes
sweet and firm
with the wealth
ripe of season

days folded
in birdsong and
suncast notions
of dignity

living arbors lend
afternoon shade
self-reflection in
winetasting chairs

fine al fresco
experience dear
to esthetic
sensibilities

minding valleys
whose slopes
bear wan ghosts
of good men

moral vintages
grown from the
garden of seeds
before sin

From my book Pieces of Wine

A Shared Life

“Grow Old With Me” by Poonam Choudhary

 

sit with me here
in the dusking
no need of words
in this hour so late
let the sounds
of our day
gently fade
with the light
hold my hand
rest your head
on my breast
till tomorrow
remembers us

 

 

From my book Ephemera

Storm Damage

“Long Time” by Emil Nolde

 

rain scours intaglio sorrows

wind speaks nameless fears

lightning burns bereft hearts

thunder cracks open doom

 

 

From my book Pieces of Wine

Joie de Mort

French Tricolor Under Duress

 

(Regarding the Charlie Hebdo terrorist attack)

 

monsters dance in the shadows
the city of light dimmed by grief
joy of terror disease of an indigent
mind rots the heart from within
deformed chambers where blood
of malevolent creed boils putrid
infusing the cowardly scimitar
brain with its craven sub-human
brutality these are the revelers
hell-bent on murder and mayhem
barbarians too dense to recognize
nothing they do will or can defeat
men born to civilized virtue whose
precepts will ever endure their
preeminence stronger and truer
with every violent spasm of evil

Je Suis Charlie!
Vivre La France!

 

 

From my book Ephemera