Simple Truths: a ruba’i

The truth is, all that I have found
in these short years above the ground
is that we see what we desire,
what turns our heads around;

and all else doesn’t matter much.
A hint of rose, a lover’s touch;
the little things alone remain.
We lean upon them, like a crutch,

imagining the world is only these;
a selfish notion, if you please,
that over time destroys our minds
and brings us to our knees.

18 APR 2014

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Memory: a poem of the five senses

Burnt cinnamon and candle wax,
the surface of sandpaper and a tack,
a bitter hint of lemon peel
chased with a water back.

The tinkle of a shattered glass,
the supple strength of silk,
an echo of a footstep
and a hint of soured milk.

A new bouquet of flowers,
the barking of a hound,
cold shimmer of a moonbeam,
the scent of fresh-plowed ground.

17 APR 2014

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All Possible: a poem of lies

The sky above is never blue,
the earth is flat as pie,
youth is eternal in the world
and villains never cry.
True riches can be hoarded,
real pain fades by and by,
belief is always justified
and nothing good will die.
The truth in this is plain to see:
so long as I am never me.

16 APR 2014

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Nothing is more true: a terza rima

How much more could I love you than I do?
It surely may seem possible, and yet
in those dear days left to me (all too few)

to think that I could possibly forget
or cast aside the one light of my days,
discard the truest friend I’ve ever met,

or fail somehow to sing your constant praise;
it’s far more likely I will sprout some wings.
I’ve grown accustomed to your loving ways,

and come to cherish all the little things.
There is no better match for me than you;
and each day with you some new pleasure brings.

How can you have doubt? Nothing is more true.

15 APR 2014

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The answer: a 20 questions poem

What’s the point?
Is there some reason why you ask?
Do you really care?
Does anyone really want to know?
Why does it seem to matter so much?
Who do we think we are?
What difference does it make, anyway?
Will it change a thing, our birth or death?
And what about that life stuck in between?
Is there some great epiphany to come?
Has everything that ever counted been here and moved on?
Where did we expect to go?
And what did we expect to find?
If all of this is nothing, what are we doing?
If this is all there is, why do we waste an instant?
Who gains anything poised delicately in the middle?
Can anyone that seeks a balance survive?
Who makes these rules, anyway?
What is the proof of anything at all?
Why ask and why answer?
Yes.

14 APR 2014

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By Aid of Telescope: a kenning poem

Reach out with your eye-spear;
the evidence is plain.
Out on the great wide sea road
we will all meet again.

Each underneath the canopy
that makes up the star carpet,
despite the distances between us
we will once again be met.

Imagine out beyond the known,
in that great thought cloud of the mind.
Together, we may walk a path;
who knows what we may find?

17 APR 2014

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The tree of reason: a replacement poem

Reason is an undirected graph
in which any two vertices are connected
by exactly one simple path.

Reason is a perennial plant
with an elongated stem, or trunk,
supporting leaves or branches.

In some usages,
the definition of reason
may be narrower.

Reason can be empty
with no nodes
called the null or empty reason

or reason is a structure
consisting of one node called the root
and one or more subnodes.

12 APR 2014

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A Toast to Anacreon

Come, pour me a glass of that wonderful stuff
that once is begun is not ever enough;
and under whose influence we learn to bluff,
imagining ourselves immortal and tough.

Come, pour me a round of ambrosial brew
and join me in raising a glassful or two.
For soon comes the morning, when payment comes due,
with bitter bright sunlight that pierces the dew.

Come, pour me a quick one as I seek the door!
My limit’s approaching, I can stand no more.
Yes, the pounding of my blood is building to roar;
soon, my only comfort will be the cold floor.

Come, pour me a drink! One is never enough!
While the wine is flowing, it’s wonderful stuff
that gives to us courage, all bluster and rough,
to watch as our dreams turn to mere dust and fluff.

11 APR 2014

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Absolvo-Meal: an advertising jingle

Your hair is gray and thinning, Jack!
Your prime is gone and won’t come back.
The cure for everything you lack?
Absolvo-Meal, the perfect snack!

Young whippersnappers run the show,
and no one cares how much you know.
When your past actions plague you so,
Absolvo-Meal’s the way to go!

Who needs responsibility?
Who wants the blame? Not you or me!
Besides, no work can make you free;
Absolvo-Meal’s the trick, you see.

It matters not how cruel or wrong
you’ve been so far, to get along,
to rise above the mindless throng;
Absolvo-Meal! The winner’s song!

So, try it now! It’s not too late!
Remove the trouble from your plate!
Don’t weakly give in to your fate;
Absolvo-Meal, the dish that sates.

Your ethics, politics and such:
who needs them? You and I? Not much!
Compassion, empathy? A crutch!
Absolvo-Meal, great in a clutch!

Forget your faults! Don’t make amends,
just have a quick glass now and then.
A clean slate every time, no end:
Absolvo-Meal, your new best friend!

So, is your soul in trouble, Jack?
Do sin and sorrow hold you back?
Just take a slug and then, relax!
Absolvo-Meal, the perfect snack!

10 APR 2014

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Little Girl Lost: a random playlist poem

It took a while, but
I got fed up
with your pretentious act:
imagining each night to be
some midnight runaway,
a tender soul
destined to be
a vagabond of the western world.

Did you want me to
hold back the night
so all your vain, precocious dreams
had time to
bloom and feed you
their narcissistic nectar?

You were more than a
little trouble, girl;
and certainly not worth
the time I wasted
before waking up.

09 APR 2014

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