Poems Pg 3

There it is again, the door.
Opening slightly enough
To let the dream light in.
Here I am again, queued
In the congested corridor.
Yearning for the opening
That shines bright enough
To guide my entangled soul out.

There it goes again, the door.
Revolving open, revolving closed,
Closed and open.
Open and closed.
Closed.
Open.

 

Younger Than That Now

I remember dignity and respect, I recall an honest face.
I recollect integrity and ethics, I reminisce for that virtuous place.
Yes, I’ve aged, and slowed my pace.
But, I’ve always quietly prayed for Love and Peace.
I haven’t really changed, but I perceive that something has.
Something from deep within the human psyche has come of age.
The foul seed, the germination of global greed, the toxic bloom impends.
Something wretched lurks at the beginning of the end.
I saw a mangy dog look up, with the blood of dog upon his chin.
I saw his young master, locked and loaded, ready for the school year to begin.
I saw lies, lust, wrath, gluttony and pride defining one’s success,
As another’s struggle and strife becomes the secret to their progress.
I saw Wall Street, Main Street, Your Street and My Street
All deluged in scatological denial of mortal of sin.
I saw the face of Mary in the tea leaves, tears of divination upon her cheek.
I saw the suits in the corporate world sucking up the Devil’s blood,
And it spilled down their chins as they grinned and banked our first born ones.
I saw wars and rumors of wars, and many proclaiming “I am He”.
I saw nation rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,
Brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, religion against religion, father against son.
I saw the cradle of civilization ablaze, spinning into the sun… spinning into the sun…
Spinning into the sun.
Then, I saw the leopard lie down with the goat, the lion with the lamb. An uncanny calm befell me, and I beheld a child, the Son of Man, and I heard him say.
“Suffer the children, forbid them not” He acknowledged, “let them show you the way.”

Surely You Jest

“Surely you jest”Clownmask
“Yes, I confess”
“Well, what do you know”
“What I don’t know”
“That’s something though”
“Maybe, maybe something in jest”
“How can I know”
“You’ll just have to guess”
“Surely you jest”
“Yes… I confess”

 

I’ve come to realize that whatever I endeavor to sayunsaid
attenuates into nothing as others turn their ears away.
They hear what they want to hear, and to my dismay
The syntax is rearranged and the dialog is redefined.
So, I’ve concluded that my more astute conversations
might best be mime to mime.
Now, that being said…
“…


…                                                                    …”
I trust you get the gist of what you just read.

 

Gobbledygook

I tried to think of something clever to say.
Perhaps some witty nitty-gritty…
An amusing anecdote or fetching bit of phrase.
However, everything blurted out all scrambled
In quite a muddled little ditty…
A spontaneous, befuddled jumble of gobbledygook displayed.
But, now that I’ve regained my composure
from my most unintentional exposure,
I have one redeeming bit of wisdom to portray…
Tomorrow is another day.

 

Latitude South

Red sky in the morning.
Take delight in this leeward grace.
Then batten down and make ready.
Secure the lines before the chafe.
All hands on deck, and heed the warning.
‘Tis the calm before the storm.
For, here she comes again,
All rigged and billowed haughty,
Tootin’ her own horn,
Aye, tootin’ her own horn.
Here comes the Yankee Clipper,
Tootin’ her own horn.

 

Mandalla

Faith is a wheel
that rolls eternally
through dark and through light,
over every terrain,
through birth and through death,
through Yin and through Yang,
and to life once again.
A circle of Love,
a cycle of life,
a Mandala that need not be explained.

 

When you invite trouble in,
trouble is what you get.
And if you do not control the trouble you got,
it distends, and escalates the threat.

Best to usher the problem out.
Show the irritant to the door,
before it decays the decency within,
before it infects your very core.

Lazy Day

Lazy day, you’ve overcome me.
You’ve dulled every point
I’d intended to make,
And undermined the erudite gems
of wisdom I’d hoped to convey.

Now, in your subtle way,
You grin at me.
You sharpen your wit and poke me awake
with reminders that I am not the only fool
with something cool to say.

Your tranquil whisper flows by in a breeze;
“we are only deep when our consciousness sleeps…
close your eyes, it’s a lazy day.”

(c) Mark Fought

 

 

 

 

I find myself in quite a predicament .
It has left me rather perplexed.
How I’ve allowed myself to get here,
Is a muddle that finds me vexed.
How am I expected to correct this,
If I know not what I should do next.
I haven’t a clue what I was doing then.
I thought I was doing my best.
But, best at what I must ask myself.
My ignorance was surely blessed.
For I am yet standing as I stumble,
Into the present from the past,
Deciphering a map drawn on a napkin,
I feel rather lost, I must confess.
One lesson, however, can be learned,
There is no treasure at the X.
I therefore ask the Universal Mind,
What’s the riddle, what’s the crux?
Dust to dust, birth to death,
I’m told that life is just a test.
So, what’s the answer, then and now?
Fulfill your soul today, while yet you can,
And tomorrow you may rest.
But, tomorrow never comes, I declared.
Ah! You’ve passed the test!