ALMA, check your battery! We are back, folks! Emerging relatively cogent from another trek into the vaguely perilous jungle of my mind. I have gathered for you these diamonds three of, undeniably lacklustre shine, though perhaps they could still be refined into something of minor value. Interestingly, my own brain jungle works in a not dissimilar manner to the less well-organized monkey led diamond processing mines of which I can only assume, (hope), are of purely fictional accounts.
Riiiight. So I really do have 3 little pigs of poems for you and you needn’t even worry as I will myself provide the blow or at the very least some inelegant bluster for your convenience.
“Pledge”, February 21, 2020.
Never decline to fully clean
Gathered dust from out your life
Like neglected antique wood sheen
Pitted hazards soon prove rife
Increasing by a magnitude
As thaws fracture river’s banks
Uncover hidden fortitude
And bask in internal thanks
Treading water for any time
Can often appear ideal
But cheating yours truly’s a crime
Wherefrom thine own self you steal.
“Steal Magnolias”, December 3, 2019.
To be the bearer of bad news
The sharer of yet unknown truths
Shade provider, burden builder
Friend to friend in need, a gilder
Temper with spare optimism
Crafty alloy altruism
Share word but in proper context
Pragmatic and absent pretext.
“Nomega”, sometime in April I think? Definitely 2020.
First-principles portend last days
Neo-linear research and destruction
A churning vortex of empyreal matter
Uncorking further helix genesis
Seamlessly braiding contradictions
Like the minds of the profoundly damaged
Or masterfully sewn, but ineptly designed quilts.
Obviously, I pulled the “term” “neo-linear” directly from my small-intestine but imagine my surprise when I just discovered that it’s actually a phrase people are using. Haha, it means nothing but a profound nothing apparently. At least I’m being profound.
Please note above where the blow was offered it was of the BBW varietal and not narcotic. And of course, when I say BBW I am naturally referring not to my voluptuous friends among the Big Black Women demographic but rather the slightly more germane Big Bad Wolf. Though, admittedly, the fable was never specific in referencing any mutual exclusivity in regards to the twin acronyms. So a boy can dream, no?
And with that, I must bid adieu but please accept my humblest of gratitude on account of your continued readership and support. May you all remain incredibly safe, healthy and open to changing opinions when fresh information is presented to you!
I learned how to spell, “germane”, today. It’s not with a J.
A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.