Abject ignorance – an illness afflicting the masses –
sets in as innocence sleeps, with blinkers on eyes,
having succumbed to old swill in modern glasses,
regaled by fables rich in hatred, delusion, and lies.
Buzz-words belie the blood dripping from hands;
smooth out cracks in the logic to polish the floors,
venerate execrable deeds, which garnish the walls,
extol crooked frames, lining windows and doors.
Charlatan name-drops Jesus, suspends disbelief;
praising craven ambition, the gospel of our times,
he raises a cup, “Nostalgia and bromides for God!”
A fraudulent toast, to cruel spirits defiling a mind.
Photo Credit: Simone Held – Letting Go, on Deviant Art
Subtle are the cracks they excavate in
consciousness – to sabotage a mind;
the breach widens with every daunting
twist in life’s unyielding plot we find.
They unleash such vengeful captives,
disturb the peace as they take flight.
A heart feels for the wrongly accused,
foolishly indulges in their plight.
In pursuit, repression and denial
apply cruel logic to dry the eyes.
Fugitives ardently deny their guilt –
flimsy grounds sustain fresh alibis.
Wisdom wades into murky waters,
offers up an emotional defence,
“They meant no harm in picking up
the sordid pieces after these events!”
The inmates’ revolt, it seems, was just;
each suppression wrought more shame.
We embraced before I let them go;
as they dispersed my freedom came.
Photo Credit: herochan.com
Children swoon over tycoons.
A pagan court jester who suits up
to play hero with ecumenical flair,
conspires in a plot behind
the scenes, to cast mankind
in a foul, Manichean air.
He stirs the flock
into a lather, deftly
tickles their fears;
what villains a shrewd
mind invents, to keep
rubes in good cheer.
In the pantomime show,
a shameless huckster
who deigns to be star;
must bring dogs and ponies,
while holding his nose,
if he aims to go far.
The masses ignore simple facts:
tyrants in clown-drag are merely
a prelude to subsequent acts.
The truth is, for years to come,
players bring down the house,
take the money, and run.
Matisse – Le Bonheur de Vivre
“Faith and love; what
elegant, irrational schemes.
Fables made of hungry minds,
cooked-up in our dreams.”
Time eventually summons
celestial bodies in the rift.
Alchemy enters the fray,
sets the stage for a cosmic shift.
A new perspective widens the lens,
opens the world to a fresh set of eyes.
The caustic veil gradually lifts,
beauty throws off its modest disguise.
The universe rejoices when
kindred spirits come together.
Those who battle with love on their side,
easily resist the cruelest of weather.
Years of bitter appraisals,
sweetened with a beloved kiss.
A swell of amorous sentiment,
walls of reason gladly dismissed.
On a dark road, physics conspires with human frailty;
wheels set in motion toward an inconceivable end.
Strangers advancing in their separate ways
will tragically meet, just around the bend.
Her mind’s eye is trained on the chasm between she
and others; reproachful voices fill her head.
Regrets cascade swiftly from her broken body,
drawn away forever, lost in seas of red.
Sixteen hours since the freshman left for
home, he carries on despite such weary eyes.
Roused awake, he soars across the hood,
a family forever haunted by the surprise.
The journey between past and future winds through
countless moments, each joined together by the breath.
Until the last, when future never comes, past exists
in memory, and the road forever ends in death.
In honour of Earth Day
Here’s how it begins: arid aquamarine skies,
mouths open wide, fiendishly gather the sticky breeze.
A ravenous binge; bellies brimming in excess to earth below.
A hint of scandal darkens the mood of weddings,
picnics, and hopes bent on ideal weather. Vulgar
elements arrive unannounced to unleash their mischief,
disposing of all pleasantries, thwarting joyful plans.
Listen: lethargy yields to unrestrained
glee among wilted flowers and listless trees. Tawny
fields brighten, anticipating days of dancing, exquisitely
dressed, to venerate the ultimate arrival of rain,
graciously sharing its gifts with the meadow again.
A crescendo of children sing, turning puddles to
playgrounds; melodies of muddy hands and feet
colour the grim impression of overcast skies.
Consider this: nature escapes the grasp human
hands extend to cut it down and frame the weather.
The ill-intention spawns cruel deeds, fuels a ravaging
of earth to meet our needs. It goes on – despite the easy
way elements erode our walls, exposing the empty logic in
our cause. Minds brace for war, fearing a perpetual storm,
when laying down arms sharpens the senses, attunes them to
the frequency that stirs meadows to dance and children to sing.
PHOTO CREDIT – Jennifer Pendergast
My body trembled, earth shook beneath my feet.
I threw my reckless young flesh down, blindly trusting in fate,
and went to pieces by dint of emotional weight.
An existence rooted in aversion to pain,
left my spirit wilting, longing for lightness again.
When next it passed by, I pledged no longer to run,
but laid bare my heart, and just let it come.
My soul repelled the sting of old torments, intruders brandishing knives.
I leaped toward freedom, redeemed joys stolen to fill several lives.
A thundering siege extolled my surrender to love’s splendid defeat.
My body sings ecstatically, earth spins beneath my feet.
This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.
Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).
Have fun and happy writing!