it's so many things that need to stop need to quit need to cease so we can get some peace like stuff we need to block out pay no mind or attention to so we can go on doing the work we here to do
The Immortal Wize
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COMMENTS
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mlowe5 says: Yes, immortal Wize, we have a lot to X out so that we can get to doing what we need to do. ONE. PEACE AND LOVE. |
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love_supreme says: Very nice |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY The Immortal Wize
Manic Flow (revisited)called to recite one night I stood a trembled voice, nerves showing throat scratchy turning pages in the book was holding, all eyes on me, waiting a few sips from a bottle of spritzer, took a deep breath then I let out a roar, a wounded lion's roar word for word, verbatim every syllable vibrating gripping the sides of the podium, I felt the momentum the crowd went silent I no longer cared who was listening my faucet leaking while rusty pipes knocked behind the walls no longer ashamed of the roaches crawling from the cupboard, falling into the red Solo cup with its ring of beer residue beside an open bag of Doritos the cat was out of the bag the dog was out back, tied to a tree. the mouse was caught in a trap the whole house heard the snap too deep now no turning back the words coming from my mouth cut so deep you could reach in and pull out an organ heavily sedated in a trance, the curtains closed the audience left in stitches from the incision  |
Suspendedwalking on water is a miracle walking on sand upon the water is a riddle |
StuffI wished to prosper but life had other plans it handed me some stuff and told me to begin |
TIW 06-16-2026some poems wear a sonnet the way some people wear a bonnet
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Poetic DeathTrust sharpens the blade Loyalty holds you still Love cuts your throat |
The JesterI escaped the blade of the guillotine like a court jester disrespecting the queen the king thinks he knows where I'm coming from I hit em' with another one knock him off the throne it's only words carved in stone there's a twist in the tail the dog cry's in pain what's the meaning of life if you gonna die in vain words are like balloons easy to inflate if filled with helium easy to escape the grasp but can't break free from the string attached look at that it's a bird it's a plane it's a flying thing people point and laugh at the jester's clothes but what they don't know is the jester knows it's no crime in shame as children all we want to know is why as adults all we want to do is cry soon enough the child will know why we laugh and joke and poke a pin size hole in fun to deflate the propagandized design to release the hot air inside the lies between the ocean wide divide we do not co sign signatures on dotted lines I suppose it's gonna rain if the sun don't shine will we ever... |
The Making Of Youadd a little sugar a honeysuckle lamb we try to recite the pieces of who I am but the words are close yet they are not quite the full measure of the spark we make tonight Curtis pulled the rhythm from a quiet space Gladys gave it wings and timeless grace two different visions of the very same view that is the miracle and is also The Making of You |
The plow and Prophecythere’s no peace in bickering you can gossip I'm not listening I rather write the revolution while creating the resolution turn the earth over to cultivate the dirt then drop the seed to plant the future verse there's this immortal curse we pretend but know it hurt to see our young put in the dirt and in chains to do a masters work a call for leadership is a call for self what's a leader if no one helps the cry what cry when the cries go unheard a speech is only rehearsed words to rowl the crowd into roars the sound is drowning in its own noise we must climb the mountain before the banks break the peak belongs to the silence of the land the message to the valley is simple up or down find a way to land |
The Warden and The Flamehe gathered her from drift and dust a lonely ghost of cosmic rust he squeezed the dark until she bled a brilliant blinding dripping red “I’ll hold you close" gravity sighed to keep the wildness locked inside she grew so bright she burned so hot a fierce rebellion in the plot she pushed against his heavy hands straining to reach the outer sands for billions of years they danced in place in a locked embrace of creative space light travels and light must flee she slips his grip to wander free when her final hour awoke her tiny heart of thunder broke she let out supernova cry cast her jewels across the sky he stands alone where she was born with empty arms and fingers torn he cannot hold what he creates he only molds and shapes and waits |
The Cut Glassthe mirror is a boundary made of shadow glass, and pride it only shows the surface where the temporary hide when the work is finished the pressure claims its prize a sharper edge is waking in the reflection of the Wize truth is not a shadow it will not bend or pass the diamond of the spirit cuts through the looking glass scoring a lines through illusion where the superficial breathe and breaks the frame of mortal time to scatter immortal seeds the glass may crack and shatter, and the image fade away but what was forged in pressure isn't subject to decay the poet leaves the mirror cracked like a doorway left behind where anyone can look inside and see the cosmic mind |