Gone

That which you don't value,
You are most certain to lose.
When it's gone, you'll see it's worth
And then start singing the blues.
You take what God has given you
And treat it with despise;
And set your heart on the mythical
Before you realize
That what you held so near
Is now lost and gone,
And what you set your heart upon
Will keep your heart forlorn.

Enormous

Extension of your ego is quite great indeed.
Never have I heard of such a large quantity.
Overflowing, boundless as a
River running free.
Monumental madness, such a monstrosity!
Over development? The cause, quite possibly.
Uncontrolled growth leads to grandiosity.
Sprawling, never ending, growing to infinity!

Brusied

Raindrops falling down
Muddy puddle forms in yard
Dirty clothes, bruised butt

Embers sparked

My heart beats faster
As you brush my nipple's tip.
Kindling embers sparked.

Interference

In case you don't understand, speak to the hand!
Need I say more?
This conversation does not involve you.
Every time I open my mouth, you are there -- and not welcome!
Remove yourself from my space. I don't want to hear your
Flippant remarks, so can it and put it on the shelf. Just as you
Entered in, step out!
Run, don't walk, to the nearest exit!
Encumbrance is
Not in your best interest. Upon this you
Can rest assured.
Enough said!

Noel

Every man has two natures:
The old man and the new.
The old one is deception;
While the new one, it is true.
And so, I saw within him
A person I could love.
He was as wise as a serpent
And yet as gentle as a dove.
It was not the roaring lion
That pranced around as king,
But was the gentle lamb
Whose noel I did sing.

Arousal

Amalgamate the following herbs to make a ripe decoction:
Rehmannia, ginseng, ginko, oat extract, and passionflower,
Urva ursi, and yohimbe (will get you lasting many hours),
Saw palmetto, stinging nettle, sarsaparilla, schisandra,
Ashwaganda, muira puama, and for more bliss add licorice.

Beauty Before Age

Once I stood center stage in the spotlight of Obeomi's heart,
Thinking that nothing and no one could ever break us apart.
It was then that I was lionized,
Praised and almost idolized.
He said that plans for his future were made with me in mind,
And so, before our God, two hearts were intertwined.
We would talk to each other each and every day, sometimes passing time in silence,
But something happened along the way and his mood turned to ambivalence
As he turned his sights from me to another in the audience.
Hmmm.
Beauty before age!
She and I, our roles reversed as she took center stage.
Center stage for Obeomi was a revolving door,
For Obeomi was the one who always held the floor.
She who gave him the most honor, praise and glory
Would be his leading lady.
He was always correct
And left no room for another's voice to interject.
It was he who was the truth and the way.
So she who would bow and obey
Would have his heart for today.
Just as he desires it, so let it be
For my dear, Obeomi.

Obeomi

Obeomi was a great philosopher and humanitarian,
Who was not known to be a latitudinarian.
He was a polymath and quite wise.
Religion, he did lionize;
And through his studies, insights and revelations had discovered sempiternal truth.
So he constructed a large and elevated booth
From which his dictums, he did boldly express
And questions from the audience, he would address.
So he garnered quite a following of philomaths
And he taught and directed them along life's path
As he expoused platonic and agape love
That would free body, mind and soul to reach heights far above
Anything since known to man,
Thereby, promoting the goals of this great egalitarian.

Hail, Mary, Full of Grace

A handsome dapper gentleman entered the hotel.
He went up to the front desk and rang the manager's bell.
In his arms he did cosset a small white chow.
Soon the manager entered the room and asked the gentleman, "How
May I help you? To which the gentleman said,
"I'd like to have a small quaint room with one king-size bed."
The manager handed him a key and off the gentleman went,
With a nosegay of flowers that filled the room with their scent.
Once in his room, there was heard a soft knock at the door.
So he did open it, and his eyes did pour
Over a mysterious and beautiful woman in a long trench coat.
As she entered into his room, he did gloat.
Then he asked her kindly, "May I take your coat"?
And she replied, "Most certainly, bloke."
So she took it off, thereby, exposing she was bare,
Except for about her neck, she did wear
A golden rosary.
So he said three Our Father’s, ten Hail Mary’s and fifty Glory Be’s.

Pray For Humility

The extroverted polymath
Gave a misbegotten dictum
And led astray a philomath,
His unintentional victum.
His words were as the verdure of a meadow
And spoken with such panache.
How could this dear poor fellow
Expect the resulting blackwash?
But pride comes before the fall,
This I have been told.
Reasoning became a brawl
And strife did unfold.
Perhaps it is not too late
And an act of futility.
To pray for peace and love and great
Humility.

Cause To Have Alarm

The old man masqueraded as a young man
And sought a young woman’s heart.
She was elated and agog.
Her eyes blinded in the fog.
Her spirit, his words did vitalize;
Her senses, they did tantalize.
She was cozened by his charm
And saw no cause to have alarm.
So she sung to him her paean; and they began to dance
As she was swooped into an exciting whirlwind romance.
Such was her vulnerability
To fall for one with such anomy.
Enlarged was her fallibility
To partake in this ignominy.
So taken was she in his embrace.
First he kissed her lips and then he kissed her face,
Then his lips descended and settled at her neck.
As she swooned and sighed, he quickly took a peck.
His fangs sunk deep into her carotid artery,
Then she became one of his vampiri.

Be Careful

Lamb or roaring lion?
Deception or is it true?
Be careful before you give your heart
Lest you become a blinded fool!

Putrid Poetry

I speak English, not poetry.
I speak plainly, not with imagery.
I abhor how you communicate
And the nuances that you state.
Your words paint pictures; and I disagree
With how you portray my world and me.
So since the two of us cannot see
Eye to eye, it's best that we
Go our separate ways; although
Deep in my heart, I know
That what you write is true.
But I can't accept it coming from you.
Your pen has pierced my mind: exposing every thought.
Your words are written in my blood: drawn from my very heart.
There on every sheet, I see on every line
The world that I had hidden exposed for all to find.
I cannot grasp the words to state.
How deep and strong is my hate.
"I am not fond of you," is what I choose to say
To damn the tide of my emotions that I hold at bay.
So you see the iceberg's tip and cannot even fathom the mass of my abhorrance still hidden in the sea
Of my mind and heart; there, tormenting me.
There I percolate every hateful thought.
Oh, the destruction you have brought
To me
By your putrid poetry!

Won't Bury My Voice

He has visions of my infidelity every time I speak to another man,
Then I endure his prodding and jokes daily for months on end.
But when
I walk in the room and find him in another’s loving embrace,
Should I speak one word to express my disgust, I’m accosted and slapped in the face.
I’m told to keep silent and speak not a word, not a peep, not a sound, not a trace,
For that would be disrespectful and bring to him much disgrace.
But the husbandman should lead by example and show me the way that it’s done,
Not to ask of me to do what seems the impossible, a thing he has never begun.
The veil to the Holy of Holies is rent
And boldly to the Father I’m sent.
And there I express to God all that I’m feeling and He listens with a great content.
And yet to express to a man what I’m feeling, I have no authority!
I don’t understand this concept. Does this man feel he’s greater than He
Who has made me, greater than He who has made he? Greater than the Father above?
And yet with his mouth he has the boldness to tell me that he’s expressing the Father’s love!
Why am I taken through all these gyrations? Surely there’s another intent.
Does the gravity of my pain magnify his guilt to bring to his mind much torment?
Will silencing my mouth also silence his conscience?
And give him the freedom to indulge in the pleasures he’s seeking?
Well then, I must divulge that I’m leaving.
Don’t worry, he won’t have me around.
He won’t bury my voice in the ground!

Rendezvous

Yes, it is true.
He and I had a rendezvous.
I found him interesting and quixotic,
Enlightening and exotic.
Truth be told, he was erotic.
I found his words quite hypnotic.
With him, my spirit was ebullient
And I listened until I became somnolent.
From his vast knowledge, he would educate;
So I sat at his feet as he did inculcate,
For this was his proclivity.
Soon it became so with me.
And so I find this quite ironic,
That I learned from him of love, platonic.

Justice Will Come

It is morganatic, woman; and so you look forlorn
Now that your mate is dead and gone
Leaving you and your children without a claim
To his name.
Without a deed to his land,
How can you feed your poor children? Your heart can’t understand.
But it is quite lucid that you are a slave
And everything you had is now in the grave.
Not even a cup of tea is left to thee.
You have no place in society.
Your case is but a mystery.
Your mark is left in history.
You need not have clairaudience to hear what has been said.
You and he were never wed.
You bore him children, so in the eyes of God you were his bride;
But the thoughts of God and man are apart both far and wide.
What of your future? You now wonder,
Since Death has put your relationship asunder.
It is absconded, saying you and he
Never was and will never be.
You have no station in this life,
So you will never be considered his wife,
Only his property, to be disposed of in his will.
Yes, I know why you are ill.
But hold your head up and have no regret.
In time, dear, justice will come to you yet.