Posts Tagged ‘art



06
Feb
15

thoughts de jour


 

TREE

Let all-seeing blind providence lead me down the path where there is no road.

Beyond fates unknowing misgivings, let chance guide the way, unforgiving.

Hope borne from faith of belief renders consequence without consequence.

Challenge be the metaphor for insight not yet fathomed, though fully understood.

Credence established is vanity’s beguiling when wisdom’s influence diminishes.

After posting `thought’s de jour’ I realized these phrases, call them what you will, came to me rather spontaneously, with little true, conscious thought. This made me wonder if it might be an anagram of sorts, leading to a greater message. (Stop laughing here)

So taking the first word of each phrase, form a sentence and see if there is any meaning to be taken:

Let Beyond Hope, Challenge Credence

Beyond Hope, Let Credence Challenge

Let Credence Challenge Beyond Hope

Replacing Credence with its meaning:

Let credibility/belief Challenge Beyond Hope

 

Who knows, just a thought – dejour<?>

copyright naykdpoet.com 2015

 

02
Feb
15

Cause Célèbre


With trenchant words, raising of symbolic clenched fist;
Calling for others of conscience, to readily enlist;
To stir and fight against mounting, shackling flaws;
Of imposed servitude beneath burden of legislated laws.

Laws conspired by those whom have assumed control;
Enacted by electoral minions whose soul they’ve stole;
Their devious, social, global plan long ago contrived;
For dominance of power through wealth, kept, eternally alive.

This fallacy of dominance held, can no longer be sustained;
Increasing numbers of humanity are unwilling to be gamed;
Ancient tools for control employed over centuries past,
Are no longer effective, their time to end has come at last.

Exposure to hidden knowledge has unlocked the shackles;
No longer is humanity willing to be treated as wealth’s chattel;
Society’s undoing will be this 21st century `cause célèbre’;
A period those whom now reign, will come to dread.

02
Feb
15

Blind Suffering


wings

Wings to flight struggle against the weight of self-imposed gravity that binds me to this earthly plain that constricts freedom imagined beyond the borders of consciousness, in futile attempt to mitigate the emotional bleeding hemorrhaging beneath my skin, invisible to the eyes that seek understanding of perceived condition externalized without words spoken.

08
Jan
15

Memories Pleasure


Michael Illing2

With mixed emotions I view a photo from the past
That tells the story of a love deep, yet did not last;
Only with time passing to weigh the full cost
Does one fully realize, the value lost;
So rare are opportunity to find love true,
With one whom shares equally with you;
Precious are these memories left to treasure
Yet, they garner a mixed sense of pleasure.

27
Dec
14

Compositions’ Reality


composition

08
Nov
14

Passing Locomotion


hiking

Hiking down a railway line,
Ass naked, exposed, feeling fine;
Noonday sun’s scorching summer heat,
Cock growing harder, to hand’s rhythm beat;
Ball sack swelling, begging to be drained,
Climax mounting, vibration-driven by rumble of a passing train.

Catching the voyeuring eye of the train’s engineer,
Lustfully responding with a wanton, sex-filled sneer;
Mouth gapping, drooling saliva wet, lubricating spit,
Pre-cum ooze streams from throbbing, cock-head slit;
Masturbating, cock wildly jerked toward needed, orgasmic explosion,
Knees buckle, hot man-juice shoots, thanks to a passing locomotion.

05
Nov
14

Fisherman’s Calling


 

Fisherman:

Inquisitively philosophical
Or
Exquisitely numb
Choose the former or the latter
To choose the latter,
Is the ideal one?

For to be numb to all matter
Is to avoid any mental pain
To be One without the Chatter
Is to be One who is born again

Mark 1:17: “Come after Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”
 

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05
Nov
14

Poetry


 

 

The art of poetry is to conjure thoughts profound
At times achieved by merely the use of just one word
But in the end it’s to its readers to astound
Or to render it all – utterly absurd

Poetry may be reflective or devil-may-care
But for certain it comes from a mind aware
The tool of its conveyance need not be exact
For it is the essence of message that be sought – to extract

Hence, should one encounter a poem or two
Be certain, this to do:

             Enter with an open mind
               Read with nay a pre-intent
                     Look within its words to find
                           Its essence – its chance to invent

05
Nov
14

A Fish Named `Dawn’


 

 

DAWN

Falling into a swamp I forgot was there
My eyes could see, but neither mouth nor nose could breathe for air
As my skin turned blue, my mind grew increasingly faint
Next I knew, I was in a place standing next to a glowing saint

He extended a hand as in a gesture to greet
Strange thing was I was now, standing on my own two feet
Bewildered and perplexed by, in what place I was
His comforting smiling face wordlessly said, `Don’t give it a fuss’

Calmly, still hand in hand, we walked
Though nothing was said, he began to talk
He spoke of this place, this land made by the gods
It was purposely intended for unabashed sods

It was the simple mention of this class of soul
I knew my life had succumb to its ultimate toll
Surprisingly enough I felt much at ease
Especially at the mention, I could have anything I please

As we wondered through hill and dale
My saintly friend continued his telepathic tale
My mind grew full, with what he had to say
And funny thing was, I seem to know it all anyway

We finally arrived at a sweet town that appeared quaint
Flowers seemed to sing and the buildings of rainbow paint
Many people cheerfully frolicked about the street
Gracefully bowing when we had chance to meet

Then in a flash I realized my guardian saint was gone
And there in his place was a man introduced as `Dawn
I asked Dawn, `what is this place?’
To which he replied, `It was my mental space’.

This perplexing response to what I had asked
Put my brain in a boil with this deciphering task
It was then I began to realize what he meant
This was all my imagination – a mind’s invent

So, if it were that this was all in my mind’s creation
I likely could not have left my original situation
Having the sense that I had resolved this unusual puzzle
A strange floating fish appeared and with my nose, began to snuggle

Not wanting for this slimy creature to be sitting on my face
With hands flailing in the air I gave it chase
Then with a flash I suddenly realized
The enchanted place was gone and the water swamp lay open to my eyes

My mind regaining hold of what was in fact now real
My hands though chilled, something at them, I could feel
And there it was I saw, a trout of proportionate size
Starring back up at me with seemingly, knowing eyes

Abruptly sitting up feeling all wet and damped to the bone
My floating friend did not faultier nor want to leave me alone
My mind still foggy by what had just transpired
When the sun reflected on my speckled friend, I couldn’t help but admire

For through the translucent waters I was uncertain if to believe
Whether my eyes were still affecting what I could see
Especially after all that appeared to have gone on
There before me was a fish upon whose flesh appeared to be written: `Dawn

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05
Nov
14

Curiosity’s Bubble


Each day becomes a challenge to live
For it gives rise to search for truth to its purpose
The intellect of mind source to invent many an idea
Yet the proof to its confirming truth ever elusive

Like a worm bait at the end of a fishing line
Taunted to the awareness of its existence
Yet beyond the grasp of its tangible touch
Eluding the concreteness to its reality

Constant is the question of when comes the relief
Derived by the spewing forth of all there is to know
Allowing for the ultimate deflation of curiosity’s bubble
Creating opportunity for energies spent to new direction

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