lovecanbereal Poetry (146)

Within a forest in a glade,
Is Nature's finest green brocade,
It's nestled by a secret stream,
Inside the mirror of a dream.

If I should pause, to change direction,
Go to that place of soft reflection,
To sit beneath a sylvan bower,
Some dappled, sun splashed, shady hour,


A sacred glen, where Nature's free,
And shadows weave a tracery,
That laces through this hidden dell,
Where is that place? - I shall not tell.

In this green forest filled with trees,
Birds singing in their canopies,
Life is filled with extant power,
From trembling leaf to tip of flower,

Sun shining on a cloudless day,
Give me peace from the world's dismay,
To think a while in solitude,
An unspoiled place of rectitude,

I wish now for some sweet release,
And hope this song may never cease,
Within that wild and ancient glade,
Where lyrebirds sing in serenade,

In every leaf of every branch,
A gentle breeze will make them dance,
It's nestled by a secret stream,
My blissful sweet poetic dream.




© lovecanbereal

All rights reserved

Now touching on this isolation writing
I touch it now I am the daylight fighting.

This winter's day of clouds grey overcast
To wait a week or two just to outlast.

I've found something that I could not say
Favor romance on a dismal day.

Something in my heart becomes uncertain
I wish that I could be a better person.

I think of my soul and its incarnations
I think of drugs debasing kids and nations.

I think about my lost Arcadian dream -
My consciousness just currents down a stream.

I wish that I could find my better half
In this waiting game that is my life.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

The grape spurts forth in gross and sweet profusion,
The sticky juice under the crushers' feet,
When brewed a while, it leads to sweet delusion,
Thus helps shy lovers - when they first do meet,
Others find it brings them much confusion,
The morning after, when it has them beat;-
And Bacchus, from on high - I hear his laughter,
Don't let this god of wine now be your master.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

You may see him standing,
In the white glare of the Sunlight,
On wind-blasted panes of ice;-

A Winters' Sea compressed,
To float across the salty emptyness.

Now the Bear stands as a symbol;-
As solar light returns to white;-

Above a lattice artifice,
A crazed and crumbling edifice;-
The ice floes crashing to the sea,
From all the melting glaciers.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Within the blood-red nature of this rose,
Runs sap of life - without impediment,
A scarlet ruffle, in the sunshine grows,
Amidst the thorns of our bewilderment,
That blooms in Spring, before the Winter snows,
Banish Autumn, and the flowers' raiment,
To Time;- as long forgotten love affairs;-
Her billets-doux, the wind takes unawares.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

The purple petals darken in the gloaming;-
In their flowered elegance, belles' dresses,
Fall in a slowly darkling Summer night;-
To the fecund loamy softness of the earth;
Where the purpleness dissolves into the air;-
And creatures stir.

Soft velvet carpet, clear Summer skies;-
Stars circle above, in the black eternal vault,
Mysterious. A full moon shimmy-shines,
It's radiant silver, to shower the trees.

Sparkle stars, hours pass, soft dawn encroaches;-
Diffuse flower fragrance kisses the sunrise;
Crystal dew drops refracting tiny rainbows;
And soft mist, from the ladies' purple dresses.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

The depth of her emotions - like a sea; -
Are something that few men can understand;-
Like Einstein with his relativity;
Where in this world we're but a grain of sand;-
Sometimes a spark in lady's eye I see;
(Then I feel humble, for I am just a man);-
The female, and the sacred, and the goddess;-
Where compassion soaks like tears down a dress.

It's women who gave birth to all our life;-
The reflection of her soul is in her eyes;
A gentle spirit in this world of strife;-
She rocks her baby softly lullabies;
And then maybe, she'll make a goodly wife;-
She wants understanding, when those tears she cries;
You must love her most - even when shes old;-
That's her comfort in a world so cold.

I say to all the ladies: we are but men;-
We have our weakness and our imperfections;
Forgive us when we stray, (just now and then);-
To seek solace in another girl's affections;
I'll try to be a better man - and when;-
I find love - it will be my resurrection.;
I'm not saying that, in beauty, you are blameless;-
Though with your gentle hearts, you do ashame us.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

I stand at North Head*, and the sea,
Spreads its arms, in most joyous blue,
Horizon's edge; - infinity,

Now drops away before my view,
As I extend my gaze beyond,
To imagine a clear purview;-

Of dreams in magic fractal frond,
Distant white caps, sapphire blue sea;-
Far from this land that is my bond;

As I find an epiphany,
In Nature's rills of seamless waves,
That seem to dance there just for me,

And this is what my spirit craves,
Cyan water, powder-blue sky;-
Where some have gone to watery graves,

And, we will never know just why;-
They sing now in the restless deep,
A siren's song, a plaintive cry,

The endless waves sing them to sleep,
In Old Poseidon's seething chains,
Don't think of them - for them, don't weep,

For they leave no Earthly remains,
Their spark of life, back to Nature,
And echoed in the waves' refrains,

The Sun wheels in a sky of azure,
Beneath my feet are craggy cliffs,
Waves burst in each rocky fissure,

Of ancient sandstone monoliths;-
I love my life - for I choose life,
And not the cruel sea's endless drifts,

Although I've had my share of strife;-
For me - I never will cave in,
And though this world has troubles rife;-
Pessimism will never win.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Since the age of the dinosaur,
When all of Nature ruled supreme,
Then all was run by Gaia's Law,

And this new Earth was one blue dream,
Before the dawning of our age,
That heard the first tree-monkey scream,

Then whence from Evolution's page,
Stepped out the first bipedal ape,
To beat his chest in hairy rage,

And to yell with his mouth agape,
Then later on savanah plain,
Did he then make his great escape,

As there, now, does a trace remain,
Of his ancient hominid bones,
To lie there in the dust's refrain,

As the Creationist now groans,
To hear me tell of this stark truth,
His fantasy - he now bemoans,

Those fossil bones, in stone, are proof,
Of these long times, (now gone before),
When the cave's vaulted stony roof,

Girdled Man on its dusty floor,
The nascent Human newly mint,
From the long eons of his war,

For the first Eve, was hairy bint,
When so hairy was her glory,
And the first Adam did newly hint,

(Though, well, that's another story),
And so now, to, the Globe at large,
Came our Man all gruff and hoary,

Upon the World Stage, he did barge,
As the hair fell from his body,
The primal brain, it did enlarge,

He walked straight just like a rod - he,
Held up the Earth, like Atlas, now,
With a confidence not shoddy,

But this I say: - I do avow,
"What's become of Humanity?"
With each as greedy as a sow,

In this world's gross inanity,
Ship run aground on shallow shoals,
When all is but a vanity,

His burning of the oil and coals,
Does now heat this sickly planet,
As Earth, it, in the Cosmos rolls,

(Well, I doubt a god did plan it),
So this, his globe, he now must cool,
Or, to everything, say: "Damn it",

Well, yes, Mankind, has been a fool,
With his overpopulation,
And, this, I say, must be his rule:
STOP!, before there is damnation!


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

The cherubic boy, with arrow, will strike;
Let the grog flow, so the self-obsessed;
May each then reel - and perhaps find delight;
(Then forget the way in which they have transgressed);
With each drink, become as high as a kite;
It's all because a young lad, half-undressed;
Decided to join in the bright festivities;-
(Reflecting badly on cherub proclivities).

The cherubic imp's as invisible as air;
Flutt'ring on pinions, with bow, and with arrow;
When you've thought you've seen him, he isn't there;
Though you may hear his wings swish like a sparrow;
Close to your ear, or to ruffle your hair; -
(No need to read your fortune with tarot); -
Of Venus and Mars, he may have been born; -
But tonight, he's an imp - in modern form.

And his work is so tiring in this nightclub;
The heat, the noise, the crowd, and the music;
Cupid needs refreshment - and here's the rub;
He's not meant to drink, or he'll become sick;
Last time, at a dinner party, he fell into a bathtub;-
After drinking a cocktail, he fell like a brick;-
(Before this, he'd used the drink's swizzle stick;-
As an arrow, to shoot at the cat, the dumb prick!)*

Cupid's developed a taste for the booze;
(He thought it gave his flight extra verve);
Romantic liaisons were now his to choose;
(So long as he flies, and can keep his nerve);
And for this reason the grog he would use;
To keep his arrows true - for them not to swerve;
Though he doesn't fly too well when he's liquored;
And on this night, our Cupid
gets shickered!

For the first few drinks, the boy kept his eye;
Steadfastly on a man across the room;
Through angelic peepers, he did espy;
Subversive conduct going on all too soon;
The man with bad thoughts, well now he did try;
To spike a ladies drink - (the bloody goon);
Cupid shoots an arrow (before he is pissed);
A damn good shot! - It hits the man on the wrist!

This "gentleman", well, he lets out a howl;
The drug meant for her, is now on the floor;
And despite being as pissed as an owl;
He feels pain in his arm, like nothing before;
The girl now sees his hideous scowl;
She gathers her things, then bolts for the door;
Well that's quite nice - a crisis averted;
The boy saves a lady who would have been skirted.

Well, being a boy of very high virtue;
Cupid does not hang around for too long;
He's busy tonight, and there is much to do;
On gossamer wings, powered by angel's song;
He flits 'cross the room, (after stopping this snafu);
But stops on the way - to drink some more grog;
As well as cocktails, the imp likes champagne;
(And sadly for him, again, and again).

Though just as a sylph, and angel in flight;
(The baby-faced cherub is pretty far gone);
He's conscious enough, to now find delight;
In promoting the odd drunken liaison;
(If he knows in the morning, at the first light;
Lasting love will come from reckless passion);-
The cherubic rouge's old, despite his young years;
He sees all the girls, through veils of their tears.

The coquettish boy - (harbinger of doom);
Is out of his mind, and in no fit state;
To do much after this, now that the room;
Is spinning and giddy, and the hour late;
The debauchery, and moral vacuum;
Increases; (and all the more insensate;
Grows the cherubic mind, with each drink taken);-
Well, so I despair!;- poor Cupid's forsaken!

And so, our Cupid's really on a bender;
Now all he has left, is but ersatz love;
Then they all say: "the kid's a pretender";
(With flight no more graceful, like a dove);
He loses his gyros, and thus bends a fender;
When he falls like a stone, from his high perch above;
Now, it's an inverted aspect, for Cupid;-
He's stunned, and c*ck eye'd, and lying there stupid.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Be real is back in full poetic mode,
(And resolves to write a stanza per day)*,
Now off the drink, his verse is no more slow'd,
By hangovers, (which caused him much dismay);-
A poetic castle - his fair abode,
(And he wouldn't have it any other way);
So get ready, now, for another spiel;-
From the CS poet called lovecanbereal.

That's, to say, (of course), me, myself, and I;
It's why I voice my verse in the first person,
So you can have confessional poetry;
(Yes, indeed, that's what I voice my verse in);
As memories are drawn from my mind's eye;
And I'll not let the alcoholic curse win;
I now address the world and my fine nation;-
With verses that are fit for publication.

I've lived a life that I don't regret;
Does anyone read poetry today?
To write this down, before I just forget;
Another soul that dies and fades away;
For modern times you must have a vignette;
Readers wouldn't have it another way;
Attention span is short now - like our dreams;-
Getting shorter, all the time - or so it seems.

I would that I could write here with more space;
Although I must abbreviate my verse;
Maintaining rhyme, integrity, and grace;
Is brevity a modern poet's curse?
The outline of my story, I must trace;
To tell the truth for better, or for worse;
That's if I - (your poet and narrator);-
Can remember all that happened then, and later.

And just what is it, I will write of next?
Well, subjects - they are many - and incredible;
When I was young, I was quite highly sexed;
(Although I am now, these days, more cerebral);
And at peace with myself - no longer vexed;
By the things on this earth labeled 'terrible';
By being happy with what one does have;-
I'll never be, no more, just passion's slave.

Casting off the chains - alcohol and dr*gs;
And ev'ry morning, now, my mind does thank me;
Before, I'd down the glass to lees and dregs;
John Barleycorn would sneak up then and tank me;
Then crawling on the floor, passed out on rugs;
Before the morning's black coffee would crank me;
To a new day's destruction overwrought;-
If I had money, then alcohol I bought.

The anecdotes will still flow from my pen;-
My indiscretions make compelling muse;
Back and forwards in time 'tween now and then;
For I've gone and lit the poetic fuse;
Improvements in perception of my ken;
Makes for verse that no reader can refuse;
I'll tell of instances of impropriety;-
Now crystallized in mem'ry, by sobriety.

So Bereal's been sober, now, for a year;
Never will he waver, or relapse;
Not touching whisky, wine, or a beer;
That brought him close, to a state of collapse;
His mind works best without boozes' veneer;
In a heatwave, he may have an ale, perhaps;
But only for emergency hydration;-
Of fluids, lost by heat, in this hot nation!**



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

I once was worshipped as the Sun-God Ra,
In that age, I was more benevolent,
But today I am, an Indifferent Star,
Heat, (trapped by emissions) grows more violent;
Born long ago - a birth in time afar,
I'm all fusion, and my heat cannot relent;-
So pray to what you will - it does not matter;-
As radiation to the Void, I must scatter.

A basic fractal pattern bought me here,
Generated quantum physics from the Void,
The human plague, I see, my burning sphere,
Does what it must, as fusion is deployed;
My hot ire is now what you all should fear;
And I care not one jot if Earth's destroyed;
If all must perish, because of human greed;
And the far too frequent spreading of his seed.

For in these Universes infinite,
I'm but one, of many trillion here,
There's other life - far more intelligent,
Each spinning 'round their own burning sphere;
The momentum in the System is irrelevant;
And burn, I must, as the Earth must sear;
For all this was started long ago;-
I cannot stop what is now causing woe.

Is there a chance, I won't incinerate,
The human primates, dwelling there below?
Your added gasses, that now incarcerate,
My heat - that melts glaciers, and snow?
The Laws of Physics, are quite inviolate,
And there's nothing I can do, to even slow;
What must burn, with my Atomic Fusion;-
I'm no computer pattern or illusion.

If there's a chance, then Man must act alone,
Take responsibility, for his own actions,
The overpopulated planet now must groan,
Because of Man's more stupid infractions;
There's no point praying to the skies, to moan;-
To beseech a non-existent god's reactions;
Man must face the nightmare he's created;
And his greed - which is never satiated.

For - you see - I'm but an Indifferent Star;
(With just so much hydrogen to helium);
And burn I must - as Man must drive his car;-
My ultraviolet burns his epithelium;
There's a slim chance, my rays, they will not mar;
Those humans to escape my hot delirium;-
Though Man must help himself - that's the principle;
For burn, I must - I cannot help the crucible.

That animals must suffer - it's a shame;
The "Twilight of the Idols"* is at hand;
There's not much hope that Man can raise his game;
Whilst he talks to an Imaginary Friend;
I've been called the Sun-God Ra - it's all the same;
It's time Man faced the Facts - to not pretend;
That a non-existent man, in the skies;-
Would care now, if he lives, or if he dies.


© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved