It’s Never Too Late

 

“Evening Sun” by Lucinda Parker

 

I can wait for the moon

a lifetime in coming

the end of this

long day of living

the lowering sun

remains generous

wealthy with moments

allowing me yet

its good leave to

acquire the character

I would admire

still time to become

that much better man

who would now and then

animate turns

of my conscience

that man of the mist

content in his dreams

sound and safe

through the imminent

infinite night

Nocturne

“Morpheus” by Skip Lee

 

shed of wearying
daylight defenses
counterfeit courage
brash pretensions
but Hypnos endangers
the unveiled mind
exposed to cruel
perilous irony
that starlight reveals
more than sunshine

prickled by regrets
when stark psyche
silhouettes against
a too-truthful moon
when souls are flayed
by rasping tongues
of talkative conscience
nocturnal predator
who ravishes
before it consumes

when we plead
for a gentle death
at deft purple hands
of young Morpheus
halting our torment
when we pray for
rectified rescue
of our sanguine soul
reborn again chaste
before morning

(originally posted June 2013)

Barbican

“Castle Gate” by Jonathan Dufresne

a well-masoned conscience

a guard-towered gate

set in ethical stones

first defense against

hostile invasion

of social perimeters

holding back sieges

aggressions of civic iniquity

emanate hotly from

crazed seething hordes

shapeless creatures with

dominant left or right claws

in the thrall of debased

sightless ideologues

philosophically armed

shooting meaningless speeches

ballistic dull words

fired fervid haphazard

from shadowlands hidden

beyond the good pale

every mind for itself

in the ultimate battle of wits

*  * *

“Ideologies have no heart of their own. They’re the whores and angels of our striving selves.” – John le Carré

Hearing Voices

“Prisoner of Conscience” by Brian Lee

I am vengeance

I come for you in your mind

no heroes here

just the notion of conscience

looming over the ruins

* * *

“…down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean…”
– Raymond Chandler

Pangs

 

“Hidden Guilt” by John Terwilliger

 

 

astringent elixirs

abrasive with punishing pulp

wash the mortified flesh

of the soul

peccant and thirsting for mercy

knowing its only source sleeps

in the tissues

of conscience

 

 

Mauve

“Essence of Mauve” from pinterest.com

evocative era

genteel decorum

Victorian hued

staid propriety

softened with roses

and palm fronds

a damask jacquard

state of mind

draped the eyes

keeping unmannered

glare of the noonday

from spoiling

rich dyed Persian rugs

splendid trophies

of commonwealth

meant for the

clean feet of conscience

But For

“Compassion” by Dale Wicks

I see
desperation
privation
all manner
of suffering
not self-inflicted
external imposed
by the vagaries
tending existence
of circumstance
leaving me feeling
conflicted
both lucky and guilty
a clash of
abstractions
impulsive of
bio-psychology
raging unbidden
inside of the soul
is that conflict
where motile
compassion is born
is it sired by guilt
irresistibly drawn
into action
is agápē love
at its ethical
empathic root
or does fear
father sympathy
fear that strikes
lustily sharply
excited by realizing
there but for grace
of inscrutable God
might go I

Iniquity

“Gradually Falling Asleep in Apathy of Unconsciousness” by Paulo Sergio Zerbato

stand in the rain

brave the storm

wash the guilt

of indifference

before it sets

permanent stain

take clean-handed

hold of opinion

adopt a position or

suffer the pangs of

dead conscience

in face of events

intellectual mayhem

gone out of control

because too many

moribund minds

prefer comfort of

sleep to the hard

pensive business

of outsmarting

vicious iniquity

Determinist Morality of Neurophilosophy

“Into the Light” by Theresa Paden

(This was my first attempt at a Villanelle about 5 years ago.)

Right and Wrong simply will not remain still
Judgment is stripped of its power to sway
When we deny we possess a Free Will

Conscience will stiffen in cold Logic chill
Scruples will suffer disuse and decay
Right and Wrong simply will not remain still

Virtue will slip from its perch on the hill
No more will Merit substantiate pay
When we deny we possess a Free Will

Urges want no Moral tempering skill
Choice bears no Consequence, no need to pray
Right and Wrong simply will not remain still

God and Soul artifacts of the mind’s mill
Ethics will no longer stand in our way
When we deny we possess a Free Will

Wages of Sin present no further bill
Crime a dead concept, no Law to obey
Right and Wrong simply will not remain still
When we deny we possess a Free Will

 

Parallax

“Soldier” by Marten Jansen

binocular vision
displaces the truth
mislocates twin images
right and left phantoms
in overlapped blurs
poor ocular orbs
fooled by off-center
rivalrous angles of light

binocular vision
intrinsically least
of reliable senses
untrustworthy organs
who lie to themselves
about everything seen
their perceptions all
called into question

binocular vision
a handicap turned
vital talent engages
the brain to make
tangible sense of illusion
to calculate honesty
fixing existence exquisite
with accurate clarity

hence may he draw down
a bead on a target
his mind not his eyes
will well carry the day
kill the enemy
right where he stands
no distortion of conscience
a parallax rectitude