Sammi’s Weekender #196 (possess)

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Half of One

Her possession complete,
their synergistic power became
magic greater than ever.


Look both ways because life is short and comes with a price.
Mind the gaps for inspiration and answers.

(I have no idea if she is the possessor or the possessed. I was thinking the former, but the latter works too.)


 

Poetry: Mind Reading


Should you want to read my mind,
and I yours? Do our thoughts matter?

And what of dreams?
Are they in our minds, barely clear,
unseen reverie of thoughts, only real when we sleep?

If you could read my mind, could I then read yours?
Would we share thoughts, and each be of two minds?
I’m often with two minds while claiming one—
more conflicted than confused. Do you see through eyes
that are like windows to a witness,
seeing my thoughts,
or are they mixed with yours in me?

If I could read your mind, would a new universe
be revealed to me? One with background and rationale
to justify your thoughts. Would I understand you better?
Or is it true that you and I are what we do?

If you read my mind, do you see my thoughts
through the lens of yours? If not, are my words and actions
filtered through your mind and thoughts? Is that truth?
Are you able to separate you and understand me alone,
entirely without you, your life, your experience, your own thoughts?

“I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try”

“But that was just a dream
Try, cry, fly, try
That was just a dream
Just a dream
Just a dream, dream” *

Forget my mind. It’s crazy anyway.
Read my heart. Listen for my soul.
Judge me by what I do. Ultimately, that is who I am.
I am not a poet. I’m your poet. And you’re mine.


Look both ways. Believe the real, the truth. We are what we do.
Mind the gaps and the pullbacks, the maybes are filled with deceit.

(* Lyrics from Losing My Religion, R.E.M.)

Sammi’s Weekender #195 (gargantuan)


Small Heart; Big Deal

Sometimes, size matters. It seems sensible,
big things are to do big jobs. But not always.

Our most important parts are brains, hearts, lungs, livers, and stomachs.
In that order. Everything matters but size.

The most impressive of these is the heart.
Small, weighing less than a pound, it does gargantuan work.

Pounding up to 25 quarts of blood each minute every day at 70 beats a minute,
one-hundred thousand times per day. Three billion in a lifetime.

The size of my fist, our hearts, yours, and mine,
have been heralded through history, physically and emotionally.


Look both ways in chambers and valves.
Feel and hear as the beat goes on. Mind the gaps on the EKG.

Sammi’s Weekender #194 (beguile)

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Delusion of Truth

Were they so deeply deceived?
Is companionship enough?

She was beguiled by deception, he by
love and trust, they by knowing.

Truth was given freely, and the cost
was death, maybe. How simple.

The book deceived me, tempted
by eternal heavenly bliss,

Dishonored by knowing morality.
Then I read the book.


Look both ways.
Doubt lies, believe truth.
Mind gaps for deception.

Sammi’s Weekender #191 (crucible)

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Anarchy Unmasked

Let dogs of anarchy desecrate
this history of earned heritage,
as shameful palls shake
souls of long defended freedom.

Withstand this crucible of vile hate
set deep in mindless true believers,
followers waving flags of folly,
in vulgar disgust beneath daemons.

Let us all stand tall and proud,
defending democratic doors
and windows to fearless hearts, trust
this legacy; let it be, set it free.

“Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war.”

Let tyrants dare, in agony of despair,
to dislodge righteous love for freedom.

***

Quotation is from The Masque of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1819).


Look both ways. Say never to tyranny.
Let us mind the gaps but withstand our tested love of Liberty,
that masked delicate lady in scrubs who defends life.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #189 (troglodyte)

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Favored Bonds

With nothin’ left to lose, they closed their doors.
Perennials, long past thirty-seven point eight median years,
they lived what’s left of life.

She, an unwilling anchoress,
he a happy troglodyte of hopeful health.
With preeminence declining,
they stood their ground.

They shunned from their bubbled bastion those
who denied reality or died in denial
of reality’s science, as plagues of nonsense
took many from loved ones.

Together, they danced ‘till the end of love,
touched by mature minds.
Happy to be alive in a new world, until
the end of time comes for them.


Look both ways crossing life’s boundaries.
Mind the gaps and keep moving.

Sammi’s Weekender #187 (niggle)

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Expostulated Love

“I love that man,” was what she said to me,
and “I hate that other one,” her follow-on, bait-switch statement,
that morsel of red herring to mislead my unwanted retort
to her bleating caterwaul. I knew this kvetch ranked
behind turd infected punji sticks in heart and soul.

Niggle not. Poetry is sycophantic art when inoffensive kindness
and socially sensitive ethics are euphemisms for hidden truth.


Look both ways, if he can tell it like it is, I’m also justified.
Mind gaps for expiration of truth.

Sammi’s Weekender (Paradox)

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A Paradox of Love

How can it be?
They were once lovers intent on solving the riddle of forever.
Time was the mere scent of one, aroused the other
and they clung together like peach and stone.

How can it be as time passed, such love was lost?
How did what was become unthinkable?
When did the passion of love serve up malevolence?
What paradox now leaves two enigmatic lovers
with a secret neither knows?


Look both ways on the road of love.
The past is not the future. The present is not forever.
Mind the gaps for the riddle of discontent.