floating on sunshine after rain vol.1

2013

dwp

Royal Order House of David

3/12/2013

Poetry Collection Volume One

2

INDEX

TITLE PAGE

Pining for Love………………………………………………………………

Mortal Flurries………………………………………………………………

Shared Shivering……………………………………………………………

Loneliness Extinguisher…………………………………………………

Mistaken Identity………………………………………………………….

Illegal Bagman……………………………………………………………….

Frosty-Warm Hideout……………………………………………………

Pain of Forgiving……………………………………………………………

Butterfly Ballerinas……………………………………………………….

The Choice to Choose……………………………………………………

Unreachable Light………………………………………………………..

One on One………………………………………………………………….

Weekend Refuge………………………………………………………….

Wonder, Wonder, Wonder……………………………………………

Waes Hail……………………………………………………………………..

Pumpkin Hoedown……………………………………………………….

Wombat Scat……………………………………………………………….

Triangulated Love…………………………………………………………

Immutable Flashback……………………………………………………

Road to Infinity…………………………………………………………….

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12

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15

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19

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24

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27

31

32

3

#1 Pining for love

‘My eyes roam the horizon

seeking her flowing hair; clouds

like frolicking lambs

distract our reality:

thus am I undone.’

Oraculus © All rights reserved

4

#2 Mortal Flurries

And so the snow

layers deep

bedecked the land, the sleeping sheep;

affright they woke,

they wondered what

happened had at this very spot

where God to all spoke:

what?


5

#3 Shared Shivering

Warmth cools quickly

in the freezing sleet,

yet two one soul become

from heart to heart heat.


6

#4 Loneliness Extinguisher

Alone again, of course:

glowing embers of love forlorn

threaten to combust

into devouring flames

that promise near destruction.

Like chasing shadows

or plucking twinkling stars

off Heaven's canopy

or teaching ants to walk backwards;

almost blind in Cimmerian obscurity,

searching comfort in stumbling spasms

I torture my disconsolate mind

with Stoic stupidity stamped

as an emblem of 'poor me'

on my wrinkled forehead:

"Hey, good looking! Wassup?"

7

Wrong remedy! No lasting solution

to be found chasing flesh

in sepulchral confines

of blaring cacophonous noise

where alcohol-fogs chill-out

vain efforts to capture yesteryear.

Love, not lust: which merely

is communal loneliness compounded

in frenzied market exchange

of body fluids and copper coins

mistaken as honey-squeeze.

Loneliness thus had become an allergy

obstructing my quest for joy and affection.

"What, master, must I do, to avoid loneliness?"

I asked in deep frustration.

"One cannot avoid loneliness,

but cure it can with love."

The answer, resolute, assailed my senses:

my master gently said,

"Wisdom demands humility

of her children:

to find love you must give love."


8

#5 Mistaken Identity

Somehow I was sure.

Convinced that my sense of discernment

could never be wrong:

cloning a ‘swansong’

due to my hasty and poor judgment,

I sullied the pure.

Not much to look at

his polio limp begged for pity:

a magnet invite

his 'poor me' respite

shower-sang an off key false ditty

that vomit begat.

Right, t'was plain to see!

His daily privacy intrusion

one day changed it all,

it wasn't my call:

he saved my life with blood-transfusion;

we both had AB.

Instinctive revulsion had truth denied:

inner beauty by my blindness hogtied.


9

#6 Illegal Bagman

A possum in the bag,

a cop on my tail.

Oh! What a drag,

don't wanna go to jail;

but that soft cuddly fur

of my bagged marsupial

had to split in a blur:

arboreal nocturnal.

So now I sell Vacuum Cleaners

to little old ladies: door to door,

by pouring buckets of horse manure

on their wooden floor.

One time an old hag slammed it shut

screaming she thought me to be a nut!

Quick as a flash, I wedged my foot in

the gate and pushed it wide open:

"This vacuum cleaner removes all trace

of the horse manure I dumped in your place,

or I will eat the remainder."

I courageously said.

She laughed out loud as my courage grew fainter,

"I hope you've got a good appetite,

and your teeth are fit for a checkbite,

because the electricity was cut off this morning."


10

#7 Frosty-Warm Hideout

Verdant greensward carpets

paradoxes of frosty snowblankets

wrapping my mind’s eternal shivers

with comfy tufts of soothing, ‘quilty’ down

hibernating in the recesses of forlorn love

nobody considers valuable,

and yet,

the balmy breezes of nocturnal sunshine

warms the icicles hanging as stalactites

dripping drearily their venom of bitterness

to form stalagmites of forgiveness.

But look! Hear! Oh, the tiny brisling brook’s

blathering on and on about soft surrender

in view of the overwhelming evidence

Mother Nature adores her children

as life recycles regurgitated cold death

in spurts of rising sap and budding surprises,

which conquers all fear.

11

What then am I to do?

Rush from a scathing sauna

into heaps of frozen watercrystals?

Roll unashamedly in the snow

till my body glows?

or…

Slumber serenely, sedated by whispers of Lovelight

promising blessed forever after futures

faceted by the kaleidoscope of ground-reality

beckoning me to simply let gravity

pull me into a grave?


12

#8 Pain of Forgiving

Yes,

it really hurt me:

almost unbearable pain;

but, then again

to see you so distraught

just because you thought

having fun makes everything all righ?

It was a cruel joke

and I am taking the sting;

now I want you to come and sit

here by my side,

swallow the pride

and let us start again:

because not to forgive

is the greater pain.


13

#9 Butterfly Ballerinas

Nimble notes, nimble toes,

swiveling grace, unbridled pose

balancing like on icy floes:

animated music fluttery.

How lovely are your turns:

concerns,

banal occupations vanish in sedation;

sublime my spirit’s elation

defies consternation, scorns intimidation

as the ballerinas flutter by:

splendid consecrated butterfly.





14

It is because it is and yet not.

Love is onerous to be kept in alabaster box

like Magdalene’s ointment:

a subtle paradox

of the divine appointment,

illumination of the anointing

that requires daily dreary suffering

in God’s glory and dispels Pestilence,

that ancient curse on our sojourn

through physical illusion and levity

of the death knell tolled in crystalline clarity

by the angel of charity:

that whimsical ballerinas butterfly

who sporadically will flutter by.






15

#10 The Choice to Choose

Willy-Nilly, Namby-Pamby

what a load of bunk,

since when do we hold court?

Godzilla deep in love with Bambi,

Mozart plunks his funk,

three little pigs will snort!

Get it on now, make up your mind:

decide where to go,

stop looking at the map!

Make the choice or remain purblind:

your guff you can stow,

am sick of all the flap.

You say you don't know how to choose,

cannot take the step;

that's why you're copping out:

yer watch dancing natives in muumuus

so I gotta schlep

in spite of whopping gout?


16

#12 Unreachable Light

“Fear not death’s poisonous arrows,

regard not pestilence’s dark-flight,

let not horrors divert your path

or move you to ignore what’s right.

When then to choice you must narrow

indulgence of an aftermath,

remember how your ancestors

to love and life were chancellors."

These words have I hid in my heart:

my armor to stand in the breach

defying circumstances swart,

hopeful in light beyond my reach.

Ah! Such gentle silent whisper

nudging my soul with a lisper:

'in the night black as Jaguars

is when clearly we see the stars...'


17

#13 One on One

The saddest sound I ever heard

was that of the old lament,

'I wish I had...' oh, so sad, so sad

this way-sign to 'good intent'.

Perhaps, I thought, the truth is far

away from what we expect;

could it a secret be on par

with something that is perfect?

Sweet perfume comes from flowers crushed,

faith blossoms in midst of storm:

each stroke of paint the masters brushed

would not to drear conform.

The price for lasting love to pay,

the heartbroken have opined,

is sharing each other’s' day to day

with pain and pleasure entwined.


18

#14 Weekend Refuge

Yawn! Stretch!

Saturday rise...

Surprise! Surprise! No work,

no office lip-service pretense

today!

True Blue

reflecting sight:

Kaleidoscopic view

displays tinted wisdom in sets

as comfort in knowing childhood flash-backs

are refuge-reams, where to hide

when evil mounts assault

on private space:

True Blue.


19

#15 Wonder, wonder, wonder!

#1

Aye, for him that waits upon a promise right

reward will come when all seems lost:

obscurity to clear sight turns

and sorrow into joy;

at last is reached that distant goal

so costly labored for:

the sunrise of long lost love

bedecks expectant souls

standing on the timeless shore

of hope, trust and passion...

20

#2

So, where will it all end

I wonder,

could I have been wrong?

Wishful thought

did it blind me

or was it judgment awry?

Perhaps cost of lesson learned

justifies excruciating pain;

yet somehow, without you

I'm just half a man.

#3

I reach out to touch you

but you are not there,

yet I see you as in a mist

of obscure desires

floating freely in my seared memory;

willing you nearer and nearer

only to wake shivering

at the bottom of shattered confusion:

when did you leave?

are you coming back?

.


21

#16 Waes Hail

‘Invisible to the naked eye,’

the phrase worn threadbare

stimulates my inner vision;

in fact, it force-drops perspiration pearls

to slither about my eyeballs

only to mix with tears of incredulity:

foggy Coke-bottle bottom glass-sight.

“Ed’ i’ear ar’ elenea ‘Quel undome! Yallume! Malia ten’ fion? “

[By the sea and stars! Good evening! At last; care for some wine?]

The Elf sent to help me startled my otherwise logical mind,

and I plumped directly down onto my behind.

“Who are you? What are you?” I exclaimed

in dumb fascination, with not a little trepidation.

Selfishly imagining the vision to be aspiration

generated by personal power to see,

I found myself rendered absolutely blind.

Encounters with

creatures of inter-dimensional declension,

albeit counterpoise to human evil

we clone from nearby Aliens’ depravity,

who could imagine?

22

Elven saints have sworn to protect our indefensible

fallen stand that crawls as incomprehensible

toward the bottomless pit

possessed by human obsession in a meaningless fit.

“Mankoi naa lle sinome? Amin naa Cala’quessir Ohtar;

ilfirin Megiltura!”

[Why are you here? I am High Elf Warrior, the Immortal Sword-

master]

My query was countered

and I saw myself relentlessly battle

loathsome legions of nefarious

finite apparitions scurrying to inflict death

before their bail expires and they too must totally die.

“Saesa omentien lle Uuma; oio naa elealla alasse’. Lle quena i’lambe

tel’ Eldalie?”

[Pleasure meeting you; ever is your sight a joy. Do you speak Elvish?]

Understanding every word spoken

knowing not how

my senses had fully awoken.

“Amin nowa ikotane… I, I think so; but I do not know…

Amin n’sinta. Amin sinta lle?

Do I know you?”

Confusion assailed my reality:

Where was I? Who am I?

What happened to my beloved banality?

“En! Heru en amin,

rmaeee lle ettuul Lema ed’ ando en’ rmae rma haeannon; Carad’Loki

KAAOS daedeloth khiluva lle

a’ gurtha ar’ thar;

nan’ ma’ ten’ rashwe, ta tuluva a’ lle.

[Look! My lord,

23

I saw you come out from the Gate Travel dimension door;

the Red Dragon dark demigods from the land of the dead follow you

to death and beyond;

but don’t look for trouble, it will come to you.]

The Elf spoke with authority,

confidence, and trust;

his message of priority

gave faith to the just.

“My armor of divinity,” said I “is able to stand

against the wiles of evil.

Nakedness I hide with Lovelight’s Ephod of Truth;

my Sword of the Spirit, my Helmet of Deliverance,

a Breastplate of Righteousness,

Belt and Buckler of Power,

shod in Shoes of Willingness and Preparation

and with my Shield of Faith.

The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun!

I’narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I’anor!”

“Lle naa haran e’ nausalle.

Lye naa lle nai ar’ lye nuquernuva sen

Amin sinta thaliolle e dagor, Heru Edan.”

[You are king in your imagination.

We are yours to command and we will defeat them.

I know your strength in battle, Lord Human]

Suddenly without warning

the shrill sound of Mom’s old voice

cut through the upcoming battle,

“Get yer kister outta bed, boy!

Time to milk the cows!”


24

#17 Pumpkin Hoedown

Fresh and crisp without a flaw:

welcome to the Realm of Straw!

To flames and sparks come not too near

or you simply disappear.

Dear child of the dancing bumpkin

at this hoedown of the pumpkin

we advise no restraints,

entertain no complaints;

mind you, what must burn away

in the blaze of yesterday:

scorching embers of disgust

coiling up in smoke of lust,

all your fears and aberration,

mundane tax of contemplation,

ghosts and ghouls, Devil's spawn

that fade away in the dawn

when creeping silent golden light

overpowers dark of night

and leaves you with a memory

of things that were or used to be.

25

In silent awe cold with envy,

stands the Wizard of Desire

musing how he lost his grip,

how he could've let it slip:

the keys to time and empire;

how love became his enemy.


26

#18 Wombat Scat

Amazingly cute in fact quite astute,

our fellow little Wombat the size of a wildcat

is a cuddly and sweet mammal. In the animal book of who is who

it resembles a miniature kangaroo, but not in actual looks or habit:

here more like a huge rabbit; character flaws aren't chasmal,

but simply marsupial: 'Hissss...screech!" here am I, "grunt-squeal" as in pig-sty.

An unseen herbivore this fella, as told in folklore,

is the seeing version of a mole with offspring pillion;

a rather practical mom keeping kidz for two years to come: "Huh" dear mom, “what'd ya' say?”

"Hhhmmpph" silly son, no roots today; marking territory with scat:

improved model of a rat: a Tasmanian Wombat.


27

#19 Triangulated Love

King Arthur certainly was idealized: a myth, a legend not historical fact the once and future king personified in folklore and magical mystery of honor, betrayal and iniquity; life for the people, agriculture in barter-based economy, homespun tunic and trousers, houses of wood and thatch in post-Roman Britain defending themselves against the Angles and Saxons. Arthur found guilty of treason his queen, sentenced her to death by burning at the stake. Adultery was the reason of Arthur's court’s lying breath: loyal love turned to fake! Lancelot the rescuer battled Arthur to utter ruin. Did Gwen run away to Caerleon? Who then was the crueler Love or Lust, the magic of Merlin? Meigle, Glastonbury or beyond?

28

A dragon great Kilgharrah was Aithusa as his ward: a tale of terror, love and pain, King Arthur and the sword, Excalibur, undead to slay, from dragon’s breath thus forged, magic’s fickle frailty Merlin discover would, when Uther swung the mighty blade instead of him that should handled have that weapon’s power, a doubt of trust became the sower. Into the Lake of Avalon by Merlin’s hand the sword found way only to return once again Camelot to save on the day when all was lost and Uther dead, Excalibur cast in a stone to protect Arthur and the throne placing Albion’s crown upon his head. Dragon Lord Balinor with mighty Kilgharrah bequeathed an honor legacy in spite of defeat by vile intent, betrayal in a way most saucy: twenty two years of imprisonment; Great Purge the dragon thus endured until by Merlin unfettered; prophecy bespoke his destiny. Arthur and Merlin antithesis, two sides of the same coin; Kilgharrah said, “I have lived over a thousand years, seen civilizations rise and fall. Yet this combination eclipses them all!"

29

Kilgharrah spoke through riddles but Merlin, though disturbed, told him he overly niggles; in fact he too betrayed: the sorceress Nimueh refused to take Merlin's life 'n thus delayed the final confrontation determining the fall of the noble nation.

A young druid boy, Mordred, Merlin as Emrys confuses in fact his trust abuses and after much love triangulation Guenivire, Arthur and Lancelot oblivious to their respective stations open the portal to mortal 'finity: the end has begun; to kill Arthur who would be the one? King Arthur, once more I ask, ‘who was he?’ A real person or a folk tale, a late Roman, a Celt; a king, a general, or a guerrilla warrior in the north of England: who was he? Guinevere who was she? Elaine of Astolat, the Lady of Shalot, who died of unrequited love for Lancelot? Or perhaps she was Vivien the Entomber? Mayhap Gwenhwyfar, daughter of Gogfran the Giant, Arthur's second wife or a sharp murderous knife, a noble lady with a Roman heritage who betrays the King by becoming Mordred's lover, is that who?

30

Was Lancelot bravest knight of all, most noble Camelot ever knew? Dorochaled introduced that fall where Lancelot met Merlin, where vengeance and evil would spew the venom of hatred and bitterness: a love triangle of distress, the empty place of 'end/begin'. And so it was dear reader, hark! This tale here told is but a spark: ignition's launch with visions dire whereby your own imagination's fire can freely burn and inspire tomorrow's youth from yester-years age through words of a long bygone sage.


31

#20 Immutable Flashbacks

As you were then,

yet never again,

I see you standing there

reading my mind:

resolute though kind

still loving me from a distance;

t' was never about the body,

mine now old and shoddy,

our hearts and minds one became:

biology followed after.

Alone I am incomplete,

actually obsolete:

decaying in stages without spouse

to nurture me and support;

loneliness makes joy abort,

leaves me reaching like Tantalus!


32

#21 Road to Infinity

Trudging along the beaten path

of the old muddy creek pondering:

had I forgotten how to be meek?

Weather dismal, rain torrential,

thoughts abysmal, laments of the hopeless permeated

every fiber of my soul; forgotten in greed

cries of the wounded abandoned in need haunted me.

Was there no end to this way?

Was there anything new to say? Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

was I led by illusions of yet another hopeful exit at yonder bend:

the end?

33

Labyrinths of invading aliens: Anunnaki Pygmalion Ossuary

lost in obscurity, shrouded in bandages to hide hereditary guilt

knitted into a DNA quilt that in the cold of the morn keeps humanity warm

with lies of Federal Banker knaves who, like mental wanker slaves,

employed are by society's Illuminati: mentors in the Land of the Free.

Have they no shame?

Of course not, they hold death as a game, pave their road with the halt and the lame:

they enjoy to destroy. Ach! Such thoughts toiled my mind

as I made my way forward in the guck and muck of fallen mankind

searching a lost soul to find.

I needed to rest by Jesus' breast;

to succor from his grace, to see his face

that his glorious light possibly just might through his word open yet a heart

granted life and favor to indulge the inclination

that brings salvation.

Ah, the life of a missionary is to make a bridge

for all who sold their heritage for a bowl of porridge.


floating on sunshine after rain vol.1

Documents

communal loneliness

glowing embers of love

emblem of poor

poor judgment

illegal bagman

wonder waes hail

shared shivering warmth

chasing flesh