Apropos Creation?

sometimes in life
it’s all you can do
not to hang from the end
of a dangling noose
when ideals falter
from altered epiphanies
self-imposed litanies
taunt us as truth

reasons unclear
hearken feelings concise
as we slowly succumb
to scopolamine nights
on a hollow dimensional plane
of feigned platitudes
sorrowful vice
desperate pleas seeking quietude

labeled as sacrilege
should we repair
to undo the heedless act
of summoning us here
where an iron fist reigns
with such ironic scrutiny
e’er you should mention
proactive acuity

still, none dare question
’til quietus calls
of that which our parents
paid no mind at all
the stigma, long-standing
insists these facades
are gifts that cannot be revoked
but by god

how oddly beholden
to cognitive bias
that we forgo logic
and deign ourselves pious
to then misappropriate
most hypocritically
fate in itself
with such flagrant defiance

if only our efforts
were aimed toward reality
instead, we sacrifice all
for mere fantasy
lacking the merit
to make the distinction
between fact and metaphorical depiction

we must make the choice
to adhere to a mindset
consisting of ethics
not pandered by pretense
for should we persist
to exist with such dissonance
life itself will soon submit
to obsolescence

[image credit: Louis Wain]

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Transmuted

there are more thoughts
within this faint entropic masquerade
than will ever see the humility of expression
were that they could be fit for some metaphor
that might convey a sense of infinite eternity
alas, the landscape which bears the collective essence
of my earthly experience cycles in an orbit
as scant as the tip of this pen
I am but a mere fleck of fading ink
revolving around a feckless dash of happenstance
one that once saw fit to encompass
every fiber of my fleeting flesh
fortifying a form so feeble
with belief that life was far more
than just the sum of its paltry components
the feeling which fate is remissful to frivol
that which defines a purposeful flight
through this finite illusion
alluding to skies that touch freedom
where fear goes to rest
to say I had fallen would be folly
for such would imply that I was not
as flat to the ground when first I found footing
flooded with rains wrung from wrenched rumination
relinquishing all of my being
into hinterland arms of her wintry repose

Male Primer On How To Love Women

To truly
Command
The acceptance
Of truth

With willful
Embrace
Of its burden
Of proof

And freedom
To think
With a presence
Of mind

Where no
Precedent
Lies
To boldly opine

Unfettered
Not tethered
To fear’s
Phantom mime

In weather
Tempestuous
Calming and kind

To choose
Paths shone
Virtuous
Of our
Volition

When faced
With the gravest
Of selfless
decisions

To look
Beyond
Boundaries
With sound
Sight
To see

Without our own
Ego’s affliction
We are free

To learn
From mistakes
We must bear
Consequence

Acknowledge
All factors
Of its circumstance

Whilst disregarding
Frivolous
Dalliance

And focusing
Efforts
On things
Relevant

To offer
Oneself
Without pretense
Surrendered

To harbor
No thought
Of contempt
Erring tender

Toward life
Which exists
Outside that
Of our own

Attending
The home
One should ne’er
Shore alone

To listen
So that we
Might then
Understand

The magnitude
Of all fates
Since wrought
By man

To requite
The status
Usurped
By frail men

That brazenly
Preaches
Of false
Creation

Casting such
Shadows
Whose ire
Knows
No bounds

The burden
All women
Are forced
To live
Down

For bearing
The gift
Men would
Deem to revere

Presented
Through patriarchs
Pandering fear

And once
Verity
Avails our
Conscious grasp

Our love
May be worthy
Of woman
At last

Implicit

i clamor to comply

to her arduous hours
of ardent dripping

devouring

precious petaline
lips of veiled tempest

siren’s plumage

sinking
into madness

overtaken

with aching
chorus
and crushing ingress

crashing
into swallowing shores
of unabashed
thrashing

on jagged crests
of turbulent valence

drag me down

to where misery
serves its reckless conquest

abreastly heaving
a synchronous song

like heathens
in a heaven
untold

where breathless cries
of wincing
pent

breach liquescent
the chasm
of krios

beyond our
spent desires

through the mirror
of time