Sparring with Empty Pages Poetry

Free-verse soul posts, gratis - from a nerdy bird who eschews status; a Midwest based page magemeister exploring lit's vista from around here up to the stratosphere. This blog's title is inspired by track #3 of "John Barleycorn Must Die", a studio album by the rock group Traffic. Avatar: Inverted linking book via Myst. The writing is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. ----------------- Blog Image Artist: Godwin Akpan

[lebuc]

reapers

* reapers of woe who don't weep, step off - away from the major byways

spread your sour stuffing along the side roads of soggy toasts & tippled toads hopping onto sad lily pads in sad seas sitting stagnant & still.

we say goodbye to bad winds blowing bit by bit, byte by byte

daily and all through the nights of summer, winter - wherever - we've heard & seen enough of your bad tangerine dreams to know better.

whether or not we survive this shift-stormy weather

again tamping the tail-end of an amber-tanned day;

we'll take a quantified leap decide to protect our spirit and mind so you can no longer reap, so your tales of woe can wound us no mo;

& merrily we'll stroll to the end of our show, using our own sense ability, however uncommonly employed

to guide us as we journey this modern life, ...this brave new void. * 12/15 - 5/26 - lebuc - reapers

[lebuc]

freedom (really?)

* our constraints happen to have us land here in the western world

where the bubble, bubble toil & troubled soil gets, bit-by-bit gathered into a select few hands, our fates slowly dwindling like hourglass sand.

but just how 'free' do we aim to be?

free of the jostling, the attendant strife the co-opting of the natural life?

in all, there's only one surefire key to make it all cease, individually - with its promise of peace, tho residually.

but do we really want to go there, now?

individuation exists to populate nations, grist for the cosmic chessboard at play

we make moves & are moved upon it, according to the molders of our existential clay.

& consolidation, least in the spiritual realm is much more stark than we realize; it's your wee helm in the one-size-fits-all prize.

idling, in a permanent dark stasis - euphemistically - leaves us no basis to evaluate, much less meditate on our state

how can one interpolate a blank slate?

friends, death will surely do it - free you from daily strife;

on the flip side, how do you easily flee a life & all the love let loose within it through eons of time when our span here's only 'bout a minute, woeful or sublime.

maybe you yet strive to be 'free'

fortunately that's just not apt for me, at this time, this place, capisce? …nonetheless, hope to see you thrive in a much better space, should you please. * 5/26 - lebuc - freedom (really?)

[lebuc]

second law

* people say entropy’s the second law which i plan to fight with a tooth & a claw; where’s to be found an adversary  any worthier than time?

for a front-row seat to the main event i’ll gladly pay my only dime

& my time served ought to land me thick where i’ll swerve in the middle of the scrum brick by brick - and then some; 

'gainst those throwing shade onto life’s sunny side ain’t a damn thing funny about lettin' tallys ride

come seven, come eleven, when the clock strikes twelve, let the last one standing cast the thrashed into - well…

i think you know how the rest of this tomer goes, should you go down ramblin’ against unbeatable foes

when all’s said & done by the end of the day, “ you fought the good fight & it was alright! " 

…let the people say. * 12/19 - 5/26 - lebuc - second law 

[lebuc]

days

* good days, bad days, bleh days…

but they "are" days.

served, at least under a solar realm, not twilighted nights

devoid of the illumined soul lasso sunshine casts our way.

stacked like flapjacks they make a hell of a structure you can't knock over like legos, or jenga

just the juxtaposition of a mind, some rhymes, something to mark the paces nature makes among her many graces

extended usward for play & games or furrowed brows in frustration or borrowed valor or shame

should one wishes to live a secondhand life, intentionally or not.

within each of them is an equally vital impact, believe it:

you have a favorite date you're looking forward to? try to reach it without the day preceding…

a favorite memory? try to savor it without the next succeeding leading to the one we now share, here…

me - i'll bow to the Deity who, in fealty to its own fecundity

placed a paced path that in our elemental grasp of cosmic math we deem 'day by day'.

& to that I'll say good day, bad day, bleh day -

at least it's something about which i can speak, post-peak …untill they run out, anyway. * 5/26 - lebuc - days

[lebuc]

codeine & contac ( stressed & congested, still... ) 

* The deflections and distractions  are swept into the corner pocket of the nine-ball, role call and response docket. *

tunes are playing for those pocketed with hemlocked recipes unfit for humans, filed under “YOU don’t get to tune in” here at the feet of the cosmic seat where flutes are piffling, trumpets bleating,  men-o’-war in work-study meeting & competing for that which should bear no deleting. *

whipping up their custards of humble pie served to us diners in greasy dens who didn’t pass the muster - why?  because our heads are still reined-in by saviors singing & phrases pinging from head spaces of mental cases - influential changelings;

their party sickles dangling across the board=  walking it through, to hoard all genuine articles at any cost (cutting) or head butting. *

we’ll have to resign to be assigned a reservation at the testing station, to wait and cogitate on our role as the cog-au-vin plate served up daily by the billions, twerking, slaving at the privilege of the millioned:

collecting, disrespecting, self-protecting, world-neglecting, claiming godhood while genuflecting,  to baal-istical statistics & paramilitary mystics hiding lipstick. *

when will we come to realize & gaze at the writing on the wide-eyed wally of the airwaves of weebling wobblng people  falling down blind alleyways like sheeple, going where you lead em, as long as they don't know you’ll feed em  into the slaughterhousing five-point-a-gon & on & on & on & on... beat don’t stop 'til they say it’s done; but the battles always seem to go on & on maybe cause they can’t be won - dimensional, two-dimensional, three-dimensional,  four - sick and tired of all mention of  another sick & tiring war. *

5/14 - 5/26 - lebuc - codeine & contac ( stressed & congested, still...) 

[lebuc]

memories we carry

* no dainty package, this…

the bundled visions, sounds & scents carted through the ages we traverse;

some, elemental as thunder & lightning lessons that may shock & shake but don't fell us.

we exchange & revel in the wash our vessels create in time-tossed sands

in the crush of impending tasks large & small, impersonal & intimate, with totes nearly topped

until the next wavequake smooths over the grains again so we can revisit - afresh, anew. * 5/26 - lebuc - memories we carry

[lebuc]

shadows & the light

* she deals in shadows & the light

one denoting what is left, the other portends what’s right.

moving with the grace of a swan

neither stopping for doubters or catcalls egging her on,

nor lifting her gaze from her ordained path…

back to living again - of life, for life; the elemental math.

born of a creative source of might & a creative force as well

bearing within a thousand stars’ light shaking free the shadows’ death knell. * 8/23 - 4/26 - lebuc - shadows & the light

* Back to Living Again - Curtis Mayfield w/ Aretha Franklin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBDQKdPWVGA

[lebuc]

wanting

* with both my arms I'll embrace the sky gathering up clouds for water to replace tears to be shed.

i’ll divide & parse them   so we don't run dry in our time of need when the whirlwind you just know is coming arrives.

we’ll do without rain a while, then - aridity will be preferred for comfort; armaments & rations do just fine, too.

mainly, we’ll need tears when hope no longer sustains 

& our capacity for grief is found wanting. * 12/13 - 4/26 - lebuc - wanting

[lebuc]

good truths

* yes, it may appear a message muddled, muffled mutilated in the crush of late-breaking banalities

it may appear trite, outdated, cliche, overused & diluted… unable to compete with the inflated currency of cybersheen, cinematic confections  or simply sympathetic sussurance by swipe, to say the least... but, we hold these truths to remain self-evident: to thine own self, be true. life is not what you make it, but is circumscribed by how you’re willing to take it & what you’ll make of how it breaks you are unique, you should know  & there is no set mold in which  you’re destined to fit;   life seems most kind in the comfy company of like hearts & minds; ever seek them & hope to find… also, poetry is gooder than we realize. * 10/18 - lebuc - good truths

[lebuc]

can't explain

* why i keep returning just to catch a glance

of the smoldering fleck in the shadows of your irises

of puff and promise, a premise to a prelude, perhaps

longing - as redundant as the last again in the phrase ‘again and again’ i can’t explain why.

blinded and deaf to the obvious apparent i revisit only to regret it

ten minutes into my morose meander, my minuano of remorse,

as inevitable as the last over in ‘over and over.

can’t explain why i’m so puzzled and perplexed in your presence.

so i pivot,

feeling about as misplaced as the only good in ‘goodbye’. * 7/14  - 3/28 - lebuc - can’t explain

[bignaz8]

[lebuc]

them: a mediation of air

* they always tell you in times of stress to breathe,

just breathe.

but what if it’s your inhalation that’s toxic?

...if the molecular composition of air can no longer sustain you, be assimilated?

...if your own lungs have turned against you refusing to ingest one atom more

of this vile, odious atmosphere that's tainted, once shared by…

them? * 7/15 = 3/26 - lebuc - them: a mediation of air

[lebuc]

halo behind the hammer

* find satisfaction in little things,

the intimation and nuance in days amidst insanity, inanity,

when you know that you know that you know what you know;

where all around you they don’t know - can’t know - one thing about you, really.

find solace in that feeling, the knowing... an assurance you are spirit of the highest order which knows no border,

whose time is ever right now.

know that  wherever kindreds rest, there you are.

find the peace known & shared by them,

a peace in these shadowed, dreary days, these numb nights endured. shared flesh rejoices, knowing our season is yet…

though this season is nyet.

there’s a halo behind the hammer find it. *

9/13 = 3/26 - lebuc -  halo behind the hammer

[lebuc]

spice theory

* salt comes to the realization & makes a declaration: pepper is no longer welcomed on the table of condiments, as it is thought  somehow inferior for preservation...

as well - powdered onion & garlic,   now relegated to the depths of dark, cool cabinets, permitted light-of-day entry, only under strict supervision, 

claimed to be unable to temper themselves properly.

allspice, nutmeg & cinnamon watch in dismay as the ban on their admission as full-bodied spicelings thought over-roasted by some, 

does not abate  even at this late date in time...

certain other communities frown upon marjoram & rosemary for their ‘sinful’ interminglings, same with oregano & thyme, to the delight of ‘taste purists’ there.

meanwhile, a continent away, sugar declares that all curry  be deemed non-savory,

no longer freely allowable in main courses or desserts  due to fears they tend to overwhelm whenever & wherever allowed.

how silly must this all sound to the uncoarse ear;

after all, spices aren’t sentient, & totally oblivious of the grandeur of their synergistic effects: making consumables that much more delectable by their very presence.

were they somehow self-aware, they'd surely recognize how each of them is unique & imparts their particular essence;

how each has a place in a discriminating, non-discriminate environment,  when & wherever they happen to be found.

what, if anything  could we learn by adopting such a spice theory to flavor this earthy orb, dropped into a milky stew, sustaining our galaxial lives & appetites for our own savory pleasure... what? * 9/19 - 3/26 - lebuc - spice theory

[lebuc]

cloud #8

* they say lionized air is precious, that heavenly realm outside time’s sway - as well - the vantage point assay;    anything you choose to plate is fine, up there dining’s literally divine on cloud 9; except for fermented grain or vine, & tobacco - green tea’d leafin’s still off-line in my state, at least - at posting time… here by grace, in human face, when we’re left confronting fate our best bet is to escalate our quest exclusively - to cloud #8.

cloud 8’s in fact reachable with nothing but our own devices, methods both ancient & pertinent still - homegrown or not - extruding crises; so each time we meditate, intake fresh air to dissipate the mind’s manic, static quotidian slate to anti-enervate, we impend on cloud #8. down here on our level ground,  terra 7 ‘round these parts, if i do say; 1 through 6 relegated to history’s vault, past participles once dangled our way left behind, mystery’s epochs we no longer haunt; serving tho’ a precautionary tale should we decide to re-embrace wholesale de-evolution, hubris, hysteria, fear, & just plain ol hatin’ out here. infinity on its side is a number eight, so shake it up & toss it straight, let it all ride on that number, diametric inverse of a slumber - wide-eyed & awake - for goodness’ sake but dream-like on the reuptake; the best prospect for us-lings to stake until laws are inclined & reapprised to let fly the eagle-leaf, legalized. which will be far-reaching, game changing, u.s.s. oblivion deck chairs rearranging,   all in due good time - custom courtesy of "mean ol’, lean ol’, nature's naughty ol' cloud number nii-ii-ii-ine…* * 8/18 - lebuc - cloud #8 *  *...you know you still remember Schoolhouse Rock ! ( & this ) The Temptations - Cloud Nine https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4UR_VXYZdms *

[lebuc]

creeps

* the minute hand moves imperceptively, hour hand, slower still while the second hand sweeps through time, in analog.

ponder on the days’, weeks’, months’ & years’ quiet passing,

how they creep along on cat's paws - a great writer once posited. now, consider an undetected span,  unchanged in state from observation point to observation point, that's you & i.

we haven't changed a bit since the day we met.

we're still the same soul, spirit & sentience we always were;

what has changed is that the whole wide world all around us...

creeps. * 8/18 - lebuc - creeps

[lebuc]

how things fall together (excerpt)

* ...as for me & any random we in the wings, reading poems & prose, hearing spoken word things - all of those i salute - but let's refute false premises & oppose nemeses of hope, of faith, pursuit of the truth; fruit of the fount of knowledge we've found, grain grown from the ground  

...to apply, apply & apply again sentiments we'd share with a friend to as many as we can, sparking embers to a fire we fan into a pyre of purpose for people - properly spread - to cremate diaries of dread, greedy hoarding of pieces on the boardwalk, above all the gaslighting cross-talk... * 10/18 -2/26 - lebuc - how things fall together (excerpt)