Succubus

Succubus

Your tongue is a knot,
Thus, I don't initiate
   conversation,
You are a bird's eye,
Providing warrant
   for the implication,
And you're a bottle,
Whose neck never invites
   participation,
You are the lone leaf,
That scurries towards the dam.

But it's surprising,
When you allay your need
   to be the teacher,
And it's alarming,
When you decide to hide
   from me the preacher,
And I turn t'wards you,
Alas, unfold my wings
    to bear my feature,
As you dare to plunge,
The dirk behind the scam.
   
Invino Veritas
12/19/13
EOF

Once Around The Abbaye

Once Around The Abbaye

Apast I sing, me liver,
I hath made, twice, thee quiver,
My apologies,
For the rounds of threes,
For 'twere'nt no mere sliver.
An' a tip to me cabbaye,
Who'd made it home quite crabbaye,
When out his bed,
I grabb'd instead,
For a trip 'round th' abbaye.
Yet 'twere far sadder,
For th' backseat and me bladder,
A yellow line,
'Twer'nt too fine,
Yet 'e could've been far madder.
Bless thee, sir, and ye chillen',
For me guts tha' I be spillin',
If'n there be saints,
For cushions I'd hav' taint,
My apologies for what be illin'.

Invino Veritas
12/6/13
EOF

Gold

Gold

Beauty is a curse,
It's hell to be admired,
When the caller,
Gives a holler,
It's hard to be inspired.
It's old to be gold,
When everyone is ferrous,
When the rusted,
Can't be trusted,
To pay attention might be careless.
But it's lonely to be stoney,
And cold as the thief,
When your taking's,
For the making,
It's your only time of relief.


Invino Veritas
12/4/13
EOF

The Tale of Bors The Steady

The Tale of Bors The Steady

Gather round, ye rough and ready,
Hear the tale of Bors the Steady,
A mountainous man with a heart of steel,
A thunderous step and a thorny feel.
The tale begins upon the trail,
For a pride of lions with twitching tails,
Yea, Bors had hunted these killers of men,
And Galavan women again and again.
But Bors had tracked a beast of mane,
An alpha cat, the Galavan Bane,
When perchance he spied its crooked gait,
Hidden in moonlight and sprinkled with fate,
And he cleared the rise of a rounded tell,
Where fell his eyes on the beast from Hell,
Dripping and soaked with entrails and flesh,
Not quite sated as its dinner was fresh,
But Bors the Steady stood his ground,
As the beast's yellow eyes swiveled around,
And the two champions locked their gaze,
Upon one another, each unphazed.
Bors the Steady notched his arrow,
Looked down the shaft intended to harrow,
But as if graced by an unholy speed,
The lion, as lightning, paid no heed,
And leapt through the air dodging his missile,
With a ferocious roar and claws that whistled,
The lion landed on Bors with a pounce,
Were Bors not so steady the lion would trounce,
But nerves of iron and wits made of ember,
Glowing with fire and years to remember,
He bore his blade as he slipped out from under,
Before the lion could tear him asunder,
And faced his foe as warriors should stand,
With rage in heart and blade in hand,
When at last Bors struck a terrible blow,
Causing the lion's ruby river to flow,
And the beast lunged over the victorious man,
And straight to the forest, to hide, it ran,
Bors gave chase and entered the trees,
But the beast was swift and skirted with ease,
And then the beast stopped and there fell down,
As the rest of its life littered the ground,
Unable to run and welcoming death,
The lion, as Bors approached, sighed its last breath.
Bors bent down to retrieve a small token,
A trophy of sorts to sate those unspoken,
When the ground trembled and shook underneath,
And Bors looked up to four rows of giant teeth,
Standing before him an avatar of scale,
A saurian champion as big as a whale,
And roaring like thunder and striking like fire,
Snatched the lion's body with insatiable desire,
And swallowed the flesh and bone all in one,
Then looked at Bors as if it weren't done,
At that moment Bors then shuddered,
Knew his bread had finally been buttered,
Staring his reaper in its great eye,
Bors the Steady cowered and then cried,
As the beast's breath signaled the end,
Bors the Steady was never see again.


Invino Veritas
Posted 11/27/13
Written 11/14/12
First Appearance: Saurian Frontier, www.SlothMUD.org
Happy Thanksgiving!
EOF

Two From The Road

Wish

I wish,
We shared smiles,
The way I oft' muse,
And I wish,
We had times,
That only we knew,
Alas, it's far too apparent,
That I'm far too transparent.

Inadvertant Eavesdropper

It's always the same,
Friends louder as the night goes on,
The sober women laughing to be polite,
Estranged and thinking,
"Why have you brought him to me?"
And yet when the momentary intrusion is gone,
The right song comes on,
The one that brings attention,
To the triviality of the situation observed,
And makes it comical.
I don't blame them,
Until they becomes contrived;
I don't think they know I am listening,
But I'm not privy,
To my own thoughts,
Until it's too late.
So what do I know?


Invino Veritas
11/26/13
EOF

Old Woman

Old Woman


She lacks vitality anymore,
And the lines sing the songs,
Of the life in the vinyl of her face.
Her smiles feign surprise,
And are riddled with disappointment,
Her lids are teardrops, hovels,
Wherein lives the earth and the sun,
Growing that which she has lost,
Once upon a time,
In a memory,
In a dream,
One of each she forgot,
Only to be reminded,
Each time the wind blows,
And it is her hair that clings,
As it is tossed about,
To the thoughts,
She does not recognize anymore.


Invino Veritas
11/16/13
EOF

A Farewell to Cruelty

A Farewell to Cruelty

All you ever wanted was to be happy.
While the world, behind you, shed its tears,
You danced in the rain and giggled,
The child buried beneath the reality,
Of the pain liberated there and reveled.
She faced it finally and pointed, laughed --
Her downward extending finger,
Touching its foreheads as it rested, expectantly,
On its knees looking at the happy child.
And when drizzle overtook countenance,
The child, once again, became you,
And you turned. The rain was loud,
As you turned and disappeared,
Leaving the world behind as before,
And forever after.

Invino Veritas
11/7/13
EOF

The Blessed Confusion

The Blessed Confusion

So you've confused the priv'lege and the right,
And you've confused the darkness and the light,
And now you've confused the passion and the fanatic,
Hypocrisy's likely automatic.
Therefore priv'lege is your finest blessing,
And their tenets always keep you guessing,
You've confused the morals and the ethics,
With the syntactical and synthetic,
But disregarding the blood and the sweat,
Of the talent and skill that you forget,
Shall never grant you the peace that you seek,
No matter if you think them strong or weak.
   Alas, by Theian light your day is done,
   Rest assured, one for all - not all for one.




Invino Veritas
11/05/13
EOF

Tempus Cessat

Tempus Cessat

Time is syrup,                   
Neither sweet nor inviting,      
Rather nudgingly grazing,
Soft and prickly,
Rough and tickly,
Never once been amazing.

Time is oil,
Neither slick nor once gripping,
As Rough as liquid gravel,
Charge thee gladly,
Treatment badly,
Swinging a bloody gavel.

Time is fire,
Neither so warm nor healing,
Its lapping tongues do flicker,
Its grins shimmer,
Glass eyes glimmer,
With shivers growing thicker.

Invino Veritas
9/25/13
EOF

Spare Twigs and Leaves

Invino Veritas
9/19/13
EOF

Green

Green

My dear, try as you may,                             
And dear, strive though you might,               
You'll never know it all,                               
Before the dying light,                                 
Never having answers,                                
To queries yet unknown,                             
Universal questions,                                    
To counter every plight.                            

Know that something greater,                   
Is always out of reach,                              
Beyond each horizon,                               
Just beyond every beach,                         
In the vast expanses,                                 
On planets far away,                                
Whispering of battles,                   
For castles we can't breach.



Invino Veritas
9/17/13
EOF

Cloudburst

Before the cloudburst,
Those aromas of earth in the air,
Are my memories,
Of my mother and father,
Of my brothers and sisters,
And my own mortality.
Those odors of dirt are the flowers,
That spring from the seeds,
Buried within the amniotic glaze,
Of my cloudy, misshapen mind.

Before the cloudburst,
The fragrance of you lingers in the air,
Your spirit persists on the breeze,
And your voice seeps,
Through from the rumbles in the sky,
Like the blood of soldiers,
Having discovered their own sins.
It is this resistence to change,
This essence of my beings,
That keep me grounded,
Never to fly where the winds,
Bring in new smells,
And forever losing the old ones.

After the cloudburst,
The stench of newness and sparkles,
Do not mask the tragedy of forget,
Nor does it obscure pain of rememberance,
But the piney whiffs of insolence,
Snap the mind like twigs on a trail,
And cradle me in their arms,
For it is their earthy arms,
That are my crib,
My womb, warm and soft,
Sweet and prickly.

Invino Veritas
9/11/13
EOF

Not Quite Moonlight

Not Quite Moonlight


My right leg's got the stutter,
And my left leg's got the swing,
The concrete has got the glimmer,
The imaginary sheen,
And the jazz is perfect,
For a moment,
Just in time.
And suddenly I am at the gate,
Red light,
Yellow light,
Green light,
And over the hill I coast,
With an exhilarated anticipation,
And then back down again.
Around the corner like a snake,
Slithering in the grass,
And the ones in front of me,
Like dust as I approach,
Soon forgot as I round the corner,
And into the space,
With a jolt and a jar,
I rock back and step out,
It's not the right key,
But who cares?
There'll be another.
My shiny silver modicum,
Inserted into the hole,
As the darkness surrounds me,
And I am enveloped,
With familiar scent and sight,
But it's fine as I sit.
To bring it all home,
And enjoy the moment,
And reflect.
She was awkward,
It was perfect for a moment,
And I wonder,
Imagine.


Invino Veritas
7/31/13
EOF

Distractable You

Distractable You

All of the glory but none of the pain,
The same old story again and again,
Hammering nails into coffins thus laid,
Provide no burden for services paid,
Bearing no roses for cousins unknown,
Grants no such honor from seeds that were sown,
Nor entitles certain proclivity,
To abandon cause for civility,
To disregard the rule of decency,
In response to dockets of regency,
Nor gives impetus for separation,
Of flanks in the war for federation.
   For it is with our brothers united,
   That injustices shall be requited.


Invino Veritas
7/19/13
EOF
   
  

Untitled

Untitled

She is a vase,
Made of crystal and cream --
Smooth and soft,
Fluffy like chick down,
And dominating the lines,
Leading to the base of her flower,
That is her smile and gaze.

She is plastic,
And I am her current dream --
Crude and set aloft,
From whence am blown,
When no such sun shines,
To reveal places in the shower,
Where the sun plays.

Yet she and I are steam,
Behind her I stream --
Strewn about her toft,
And she in glittering glass shown,
When the memories are mine,
And I muse of remembered power,
On rain-filled days.


Invino Veritas
7/11/13
EOF

The Serpent

The Serpent

It is one tilted eye but no brow to follow,                         
The devil's chocolate stream is indeed persistent,         
I am the great corruptor whose vow is hollow,        
But nevertheless, at the time, am insistent.         
I own your smile and create your desires,              
And alas your footsteps that mimic my slither,            
My glittering pomme is the one you admire,                
As I, upon the branch, dangle promise thither.              
But beyond the pearls and tender, warm caressing,      
My heart strays distracted by the light of her moon,      
And the lash flutters from my dreams of undressing,   
To her bustle and the glance that follows her boon.      
     And now the cougar, your fantasy, has stolen,         
     Your serpentinous master who now sits swollen.     

----------------------
Invino Veritas
6/25/13
EOF


    

Black Sabbath's 13 Turns Out Lucky After All

The day was Tuesday, the foremost lackluster day of the week. Tuesday was always the day that football refused to play. Tuesday was the day that even Monday wouldn't call a friend. Tuesday was the day where the local nightclubs would try out their new bands and guage the reactions of the sparse evening crowds. Accordantly, it was no surpise that the amount of enthusiam I had as my eyes opened that morning was matched by every other grimace that was born from the an uncomfortably ringing alarm clock. The sun streaming through the window at an angle mocked me, and seemed to smile the way my mother used to when I was a kid right before she realized that I was not making any effort to get out of bed. Some things never change, I guess. But despite the world trying to cheer me up about this lull in the cycle of time, I maintained my course. I was ready for some sort of symbiotic darkness in my morning. I NEEDED that dark tone so I could grab my bearings and transition into work mode. No, I wasn't going to grow fangs and howl at the moon. I was not pledging my undying soul to Baphomet. I needed some appropriate theme music to match my mood. Something familiar and comfortable, so as my mind flipped through its rolodex it became increasingly more apparent that this was a a day for the kings: Black Sabbath.

I was originally elated to hear that Ozzy was back singing with Black Sabbath. In fact, I was ecstatic. By this time, I had combed every inch of the new album, 13, like a school nurse looking for lice. Every nook and cranny was illuminated. Every fold and crease was examined with the utmost care, over and over again as if it was to be installed into my chest to replace my own heart. I thought to myself, "Man, I hope Ozzy doesn't mumble through the songs." Moreover, the legacy of Black Sabbath had been reinforced over the past few years as I rediscovered stoner rock and doom metal acts that nearly all cite Black Sabbath as influences. From legendary bands like  St. Vitus and Kyuss to main stays of the genres such as Goatsnake and Fu Manchu , you can always seem to find a little Sabbath in there somewhere.

13 starts off with the throwback track End of the Beginning, an eight-minute prologue beginning with the Tommy Iommi's infamously gorgeous fat sound stomping on your skull like the gigantic feet of Frankenstein's monster. As I hold my eyes tightly closed waiting for the Ozzy's incoherent mumbling, all is forgotten with the first note characteristic of the Ozzy that I grew up with and love. End of the Beginning ceratainly sets the tone (pun intendeed) for the entire album, and iconjures visions of earlier recordings - most partcularly the song Black Sabbath from their first and self-titled album in 1970. With a quick flick of the wrist and change of the tempo, it becomes completely apparent that this is not your father's Black Sabbath but rather this incarnation is actually more like Frankenstein's monster that originally once thought.  At 2:40 End of the Beginning switches from Black Sabbath  to a cadence similar to Children of the Grave. Then after 5:04 of blissful anachronisms, we are transported to Ozzy's No More Tears style of songwriting.

Following up the train ride that is End of the Beginning, Ozzy and Tommy lay us down with familiar crunchy tone from Iommi's signature custom Gibson SG  with nearly nine minutes of God is Dead? . But it isn't until 5:48 that we see that familiar Black Sabbath feel again, choosing to emerge from Ozzy's solo career in the 1990's like a zombie from a fresh grave. As the first single from 13 , nine minutes seems unfortunately long and tedious until the tempo change. But there is relief with the close of God is Dead? and the introduction of the album's third song, Loner. Loner starts with a good, honest rhythm resembling famous hooks like Sweet Leaf  from Black Sabbath's Master of Reality in 1971. After a brief show-off of Brad Wilk's skill as a drummer, Iommi comes in with an equally brief solo to bring us back to the catchy main rhythm. But it isn't long before Iommi asserts himself with his own exercise of talent to end the song.

The fourth song on 13, Zeitgeist, comes as a bit of a surprise as its mellow acoustic tones accompany an effects laden voice from Ozzy reminsicent of his solo career once again.  Suddenly, my mind drifts back to Zakk Wylde and Mama, I'm Coming Home. The addtion of bongos behind Iommi's low acoustic tone, however, is a nice change from the usual Sabbath demeanor, and shows a certain versatility that's hard to find in modern manufactured acts. But as much of a familiarity as Zeitgeist seems to be, the dreamy solo work on Zeitgeist is certainly one of the shining moments of the album, exuding a tasteful deviation from the classic Sabbath sound. Likewise, Age of Reason makes its appearance in the fifth position on the album, and is also what I would consider to be one of the shining moments of 13 as well. Sporting a dash of War Pigs, Age of Reason seemingly hands the keys to the kingdom to Tommy Iommi and sets him free in the wild. Age of Reason's driving rhythm is but a mere ruse under which hides a two-minute journey of awesomesauce disguised as an outro solo and outpouring by Iommi. The entire end of Age Reason is almot a ballad unto itself, pouring note after note of some darkly fantastic and heroic hymn onto the ears of devoted followers of the faith.

With the realization of the sixth song, Living Forever, the hard cold reality of all that is a Tuesday hits me square in the face. While Living Forever is not a bad song, per se, it's a very lackluster song with barely three rhythms. This is what we would typically call a filler song, and something that would otherwise not have a home if it weren't for this album. Living Forever carries no particular hook or catch, and is otherwise barely rememberable. We are, however, saved immediately after 4:47 of bathroom time by a gem by the name of Damaged Soul hich sits firmly on this album in seventh place. That familiar Black Sabbath attitude returns with a slow saunter, and belts out an occasional harp similar to what one might find in The Wizard from their debt album, Black Sabbath. Overtaking Ozzy's harmonica work is a taste of what's to come from Iommi as we witness what can only be described as an attempt to "pull off" a land speed record with his plectrum and three fingers. But Iommi is patient, and he continues to give glimpses and forewarnings throughout the song in the form of small eccentric riffs here and there, but then hits the ground running at about 6:39.

Following Damaged Soul is what could be characterized as the darkest song on the album, Dear Father. The song is about child abuse and doesn't really leave a whole lot to imagination. The song is given texture with strong drumwork by Brad Wilk of Rage Against the Machine fame. Iommi seems to take a break from the grand feats of the past few songs. Dear Father is a dark song honestly sort of makes me shudder ad wonder where Ozzy got the inspiration to write those lyrics. Spirits are, however, lifted with an acoustic intro to a driving song by the name by Methademic. Bringing whispers of Ozzy's Ultimate Sin and perhaps even a brush stroke of Diary of a Madman, Methademic again utilizes Brad Wilk's talented stick work. While at first Methademic seems pretty plain-jane, one quickly finds themself immersed within a multilayered sea of rock salad that could only be dreamt of by Black Sabbath. The band itself even seem to enjoy the song to the poit that the outro almost seems like a momentary jam that got cut off early in the studio. Methademic is the example as to what people should expect from bands like Black Sabbath: a collection of hugely talented and able individuals with a grand sense of taste and understanding of their crafts.

Coming in as the shortest song on the album of 3:51, Peace of Mind fills tenth position like a fifth bedpost - it's not necessary in the slightest, but it's probably not really hurting anything by being there. On the other hand, I was strangely reminded of mid-90's Megadeth moreso than Black Sabbath. Wild, rolling drum parts and promounced build-ups between parts that wouldn't really fit together without the drum leads make Peace of Mind appear as if someone decided to put two or three unfinsihed songs together to make one song. As the song ends, I get the strange feeling tht everybody simply got tire dof playing it and just ended the song. Like Live Forever, this song is nothing more than filler. It's still Black Sabbath, but there are far better Sabbath songs out there to enjoy.

Depending on which variation of 13 you purchase or check out online, Pariah is easily one of the best four songs on the album at track eleven. The standard edition has only eight tracks on it ending at Dear Father. Best Buy and Japanese Editions include the track Naiveté In Black, while the Spotify Bonus Tracks include a live performance of Dirty Women. As Pariah is the last studio song, we'll stop with that one. Should you have purchased either the Standard Edition or Japanese Edition, you made a poor decision and you don't have this song. Pariah begins with a simple, straightforward guitar intro but then quickly inject some attitude into things. The main backing rhythm is a bit on the side of average, but the bridge at about 3:23 is a nice change reminiscent of some of the Ozzy solo stuff from the 90's. The milk and honey of Pariah is, however, at the tone shift when Iommi comes in floating on a stream of notes and subtle signature vibrato. Anyone with any sort of ear for music can see why Black Sabbath's mastermnd has always been Tommy Iommi rather than the more visible Ozzy Osbourne, and it comes through in songs like Pariah.

 Overall, 13 is a refreshing album from such a storied and respected act and group of people like Black Sabbath. Countless individuals have been influenced by their classic sound, and they are likely to drip from the lips of kids to come. With their 'reunion' in 13, this can only help that come true. It's a good album with a lot tooffer not only young kids but old folks who grew up alongside Black Sabbath. I think on a ten point scale I'd probably give it a seven. It's hard to deny that there's a couple average songs in there, but mostly the album is good stuff. If I were using a 5-star rating, then 13 would be crowned with a 4-star rating. Take your pick. I still got some rock in these old bones, and I can't think of exericising them bones too many other ways than with some Black Sabbath.

Invino Veritas
6/18/13
EOF

The Resistance of Persistence

The Resistance of Persistance

Are we so late we cannot wait,
For we canter straight--
Get nowhere.
We're flying past to get there fast,
When we're there at last,
We go boom.
And boom...
And boom...
And...

Boom.

But energy stays, floats away,
Lost consciousness strays--
Dimly blinks.
To recombine where force aligns,
With a mad design,
To twinkle.
Twinkle...
Twinkle...

Zot.



Invino Veritas
5/22/13
EOF

A Couple of Islands In The Stream

Painting Above The Urinal

There's a painting in the bathroom,
Just inches above the urinal,
And all the solitude is intact,
Across the satin background,
The salty, sandy wasteland,
Two lonely trees stand in green exact.

 

Assumption

I must assume,
At some point soon,
There will not be,
Anymore room,
And the spider webs,
Inside my head,
Have nothing but cocoons.


Invino Veritas
5/14/13
EOF

Frenemies

Frenemies

It's her but, me, and my,
That always made me sigh,
And roll my eyes.
When she interjected,
Scoffed as she rejected,
The time was ripe,
As she directed,
For chance to reply.

It's the yous, don'ts, and dos,
That keeps the common glues,
From setting up.
And yet she'll carry on,
With hand-picked hangers-on,
All in a line.
Yet when bleats are gone,
She becomes my muse.

Armadillo In The Sun

Armadillo In The Sun

It's the lost art,
Of the comment,
It's the unfathomed mention,
The notion that should be done.
It's the context,
That only serves itself,
It's the barking dog,
That becomes,
The armadillo in the sun.

The Resonant Failure

The Resonant Failure

When you fail,
Your expectations are shattered,
You find yourself alone,
And your mirror is splattered.
When you fail,
The forgotten becomes tactile,
The face you cannot feel,
The beard is prickly,
At least for a while,.
Yet that is but consequence,
Of the resonance,
Of the failure which you find,
It's all relative,
But never tentative,
And another seems close behind.

Out of Context

Out of Context

One dimension, two dimension,
Three dimensions more,
Inserting out of context,
Produces such a bore,
It's not greater,
This inflator,
That you've constructed there,
It's nfantile,
This fallacious bile,
Is rotten to the core.

To engage semantics is pedantic,
Ostentatious at the most,
Within the scope,
There's always hope,
That you may be the toast,
And should you gather,
To research rather,
Not deny for chance to boast,
To construct the lie,
For reply,
Is nothing more than agarose¹.

________________________________
 1. A substance made from agar used to break things down into their base constituents
     by filtering specific elements from another or others.


Invino Veritas
4/1/13
EOF

Gibberish

Gibberish

Disregard my hole,
My vaccum,
Pay no mind,
To my ignorance,
Bestow upon me,
A gift that's tranquil,
Bearing no burden,
Or consequence.

Don't you dare give me,
My mem'ries,
No daydreams,
Nor any thoughts,
No compulsions,
Nor elitist tenets,
No baggage,
That I may be fraught.

Don't give me pressure,
Nor covenant,
Don't turn the corner,
And open my eyes,
Don't you dare give me,
Pause nor direction, sis,
Just give me regard,
And keep the surprise.

Zero

Zero

It is my irony I should go,
To the bar,
To find reason not to go,
To the bar.
And perhaps it's paradox,
That I should think,
To drink to think,
About those things,
That make me drink.
And perhaps the sum,
Is zero,
Because that is,
What I've become.


Invino Veritas
3/16/13
EOF

One Two Potato Blue

One Two Potato Blue

One, two, potato, blue!
"Five, six!", say the pricks,
"Deflect and dissuade,
Repeat old tricks;
That's the fix.", say the pricks,
"For God forbade,
In his plan outlaid,
All things new."
Well, to Hell with you:
One, two, potato, blue.


Invino Veritas
3/13/13
EOF

Crooked Smile

Crooked Smile

When I woke up this morning,
I realized my sun had a croooked smile,
Light entered at an angle,
Through my window for a while,
And time moved terribly quick,
When I believed that it should have been slow,
And then it trudged forward,
Like it had nowhere to go.
Everything that had color,
Was entirely vibrant and immense,
The air became as oil;
It was velveted and dense.
As I chomped into the air,
I noticed the strange things outside my door,
What appeared to be mushrooms,
Were much larger than before.
And they rose into the sky,
Casting brilliant opal and dazzling reds,
Shadows tinged with apricot,
Blazing yellow fungal beds.
Pidgeons sung nursery rhymes,
As they dropped from the sky,
My skin became as water,
I had ashes for my eyes,
As my body, there, crumbled,
At the foot of the Universe's gates,
It was not a crooked smile,
But a crooked smirk escaped,
From the sun for a moment,
As it beamed its brilliance on top of me,
And then the sun turned its gaze,
There all was a memory.
And the great yellow circle,
Flickering arms akimbo, opened wide,
Swallowed the aqua planet,
And it's passengers inside.
Perhaps, once upon a time,
In a fantasy or maybe a dream,
In a child's nursery rhyme,
Or the babble of a stream,
In the twinkle of a gem,
Upon the finger of the most happy maid,
In the belly of that girl,
Be my spirit, again, made.
But it's only a phantom,
A mere poltergeist or ghost I should think,
Alas, I peer at the sun,
Raise an eyebrow as it winks.



Invino Veritas
3/1/13
EOF

Distortion and the Resident Asshole

Distortion and the Resident Asshole

I'm pretty sure distortion,
Could be found in you or me,
But I'm not ready to commit my thoughts,
Or to face reality.
On more than one occasion,
When impetus was all mine,
I was contented to play the asshole,
If it meant I won that time.
But don't confuse sarcasm,
For desire to use tact,
It's the perversion that's inside your head,
I woudn't want to contract,
For somehow this way suits you,
It's the apple to your sin,
It's the virus that's blows within your breath,
It's the olive in your gin,
So if I should go to Mars,
When you bore me thoroughly,
Remember that I am only thinking,
Thank god it's you and not me.


Invino Veritas
2/27/13
EOF

A Double Dose of the Short and Sweets

In Vino Veritas

In vino veritas,
But for you or for me?
A windy night together alone,
When all our seeds are sewn,
So que sera sera,
And whatever will be, will be.
In vino veritas,
Not for you,
But for me.

Malevolent Benevolence

My benevolence, I see,
Is sure to get the best of me,
And regardless of all that is right,
Even when it's in clear, plain sight,
It never is, but where it oughtn't to be.


Invino Veritas
2/22/13
EOF

Blunderbuss

Blunderbuss

A blunderbuss as ever he shall be,
Forever aligned with his memory;
Chances squandered in mediocrity,
Complacent as ever in misery.

Yet the population garnered respect,
For the man incapable to reflect,
To pick and choose and even to dissect,
The situations for him to inject.

And, yet, they'll say he was so practical,
Consigned himself to the most probable,
Devoted to the most inscrutable,
Certainly, quite incontrovertible.

Stepping forward with the foot that was right,
Sure kept him safe from the bumps in the night,
Tossing the salt at the spirits in spite,
Gave peace of mind, radiance to light.

But in all his calculated measures,
Security allowed him some leisure,
As our blunderbuss counted his treasures,
The universe shrug'd and chiseled his ledger¹.


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 1. A  stone slab or block laid over a grave or tomb.

Invino Veritas
2/8/13
EOF

Impala

Impala

Oh, but I was ugly,
But it had to be done,
It had gone on too, too long,
I had let it persist,
And it grew like a thorny vine,
Like a weed,
A dandelion in the garden,
I ignored it.
But then again,
It was just a taste,
A mere smidgeon,
A speckle on a robin's egg,
An egg in the basket,
Waiting to be cracked open,
And spread upon her head.

Upon her cross she crawled,
As she had done so many times before,
Glaring down upon me,
Her head cocked to the side,
Like the chicken that laid that egg.
No, she wasn't the martyr.
She was the self-appointed,
The messiah in her mind,
She was the hunter in the stars,
Brandishing her arrows,
And releasing them unto her prey.
But tonight,
I was the impala,
Changing direction with its heartbeat,
Drifting left,
Dodging right,
Jumping over reed,
Through valley and over stream,
Away from the snapping jaws,
Of the lioness and her pride.


 Invino Veritas
2/5/13

EOF

Dichotomous Hippopotamus

Dichotomous Hippopotamus

The dichotomy inside of me,
Is, indubitably, old to me,
Alas, I intend to fare it well,
To drain its well,
To buy and sell,
Strip it of its hardened shell,
In order to quell the ringing bells,
Of antiquity that anchor me,
So unsuitably, bereft of me.

'Tis the general rule to ridicule,
Ordain them fool when the logic pools,
Alas, I intend to draw the line,
As once refined,
In ancient times,
By the minds that redefined,
At once aligned the greatest of minds,
From the mental spool of mental fuel,
To the vestibule of golden rule.

Margaret, I'm Done

Margaret, I'm Done


Margaret, I'm done,
I'll have no more fit,
It's time to reprieve,
And time to relieve,
I've no more to submit.
I have no occupation,
No energy nor care,
So, Margaret, I'm done,
For I must, now, remit.

Oh, Margaret, I'm done,
I've no passion for play,
My spirit now broken,
My eyes unspoken,
Passes no judgement today.
I have no indignation,
And bear no second glance,
So, Margaret, I'm done,
I've tucked it away.

Yes, Margaret, I'm done,
It was fine as New Year's snow,
It was never ostentatious,
Though you're flirtatious,
But now it's time to go.
So, lift your head,
And wear your smile,
But for Margaret -- not for me.
And conclude instead,
That all the while,
It was I who set you free.