Plaid

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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Your Own Works

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Another oldy, this one was actually the first true-to-form sonnet I ever wrote...

For What It's Worth...

From those who know the meaning of "hard knocks" --
a blanket, a discarded piece of foam,
the little things that make a house a home,
an alley and a filthy cardboard box;

to those who live instead a life of ease --
the art collections and exotic cars,
the vintage wines and finest of cigars,
the mansions on their sprawling properties;

to those between the riches and the street --
the worries and the stacks of unpaid bills,
the cheaper transportation (hold the frills),
the paychecks with the ends that rarely meet:

despite what life has taught us all from birth,
no currency defines a human's worth.


-Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Your Own Works

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

A Cross Tick

Just beyond the empty tomb, an
Everlasting specter looms, from
Sordid tales of 'fixion grew this
Undead faith in long dead Jews, whose
Stories stoke(d) the flames of war, a

Cataclysmic kind of lore, what
Holy authors penned in blood their
Readers use(d) to fuel the flood...
Inquisitively, with a sword, they've
Spread the love of christ the lord
To every corner of the world.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Wricker Dreadtemper's poetry

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Nocturnal Horology

I watch the movement's smooth hypnotic sweep
across the dial's outlined indices;
another minute passes without sleep.

Too frightened to continue counting sheep
misled by costumed lycan enemies,
I watch the movement's smooth hypnotic sweep

and dream awake of "jewels" designed to keep
the second hand concurrent with the ease
another minute passes without sleep.

The automatic diver plunges deep
into my psyche's tossed and tired seas;
I watch the movement's smooth hypnotic sweep.

Its luminescent markers almost leap
right off the timepiece as it yet decrees
another minute passes without sleep.

As daybreak through the curtain starts to creep,
to mock me in the time of my disease,
I watch the movement's smooth hypnotic sweep;
another minute passes without sleep.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Plaid

God damn this strange affinity for plaid,
for which I'm at a loss to explicate,
except to say it speaks to the innate
ancestral links forever ironclad.

Examining the ways the lines are crossed
with colors often clashing on each swatch;
and those that don't are neither Welsh nor Scotch
but Irish in the character they've lost.

Checkered relationships made to confine
and keep the colors compartmentalized
(or segregated?) to be analyzed
in order to declare the most divine?

Of all the clothing that I've ever had,
none weaved a racial story quite like plaid.​


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

The Cosmic Dream

Aesopian the fable
and interpretive the dance,
we spin the yarn together
on the wheel of circumstance,

denying what we can't accept,
no matter that the truth
defines those dearly held delusions
taught us in our youth.

We only grasp the 'morals'
of those fictions we were told
as bedtime stories by our Mothers
pushing "streets of gold"

long after life and education
shatter all our dreams
and leave us in a pool of tears
to drown-out all the screams.

The tortoise never beats the hare,
despite the famous tale,
because they're both a part of One,
thus neither can prevail.

The same holds true of "you" and "I"
within the grander scheme;
"we" never really live nor die;
we're figments of The Dream.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Truth in Paisley

Some find a universe in paisley silk,
without a clue as to the noble ilk
of men and Kings of Kashmar-Khorasan
(the Land of Honey and of Flowing Milk)

for whom 'The Buteh' was more sacred than
the psychedelic paisleys that began
to flood the hippie markets of the west
in homage to the fabrics from Iran.

Not widely known, the image of 'The Blessed'
(a stylized impression of the best
and biggest ever planted Cypress Tree)
is in the pears and droplets, more or less...

designed to show the truth you've come to see:
those paisley teardrop-shapes fell from a tree.​


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Becks
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Re: Plaid

Post by Becks »

I'm really glad you wrote this, as I read your plaid poem this morning-the last line made me ask myself, "well then what does he think about paisley?" I personally feel that paisley is quite "out there". ;)
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Becks wrote:I'm really glad you wrote this, as I read your plaid poem this morning-the last line made me ask myself, "well then what does he think about paisley?" I personally feel that paisley is quite "out there". ;)
There's some interesting history surrounding the origin of paisley. Its Persian roots precede certain Scottish claims to provenance by many hundreds of years. Shoulda' been dubbed Persialey, really. ;)

Thanks for reading and commenting. :D
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

The Morning Commute

Over and under and spinning around,
spilling the coffee we're guzzling down,
driven to reach for the capital goals,
looking for exits that aren't to be found;

taking the high road and paying the tolls
(leaving the low to less fortunate souls),
out to avoid all the bottleneck lines,
angrily out of it at the controls;

riding the asses and missing the signs,
downing the hammer and risking the fines,
speeding and honking and flipping the bird,
driving each one of us out of our minds.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Prophets of the Fall

Shades of sadness and anticipation in our children's eyes
prophesy to us of the impending Fall;
darkened clouds upon the canvases of ever-greyer skies;
howling winds that coldly mimic mournful cries;

both descendants and ascendants from the polar regions' heights,
where the Borealis and Australis crawl,
swirling naked in the Southern or the famous Northern Lights
during ever shorter days and longer nights;

stolen hours fenced at sundown in the alleys of the dark,
daylight auctioned at the equinox's call;
faded leaves prepared to leave behind their limbs in barren bark:
not all human-like but prophets, one and all.​


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Dedicated to Firesong of Wicca.com:

The Scarecrow's Soliloquy

A wooden cross in overalls
that should have frightened crows away
became the stage on which their caws
invited others down to prey

on crops of corn so carefully
aligned and planted by the hands
that grabbed the Browning Citori
to crash their dinner party plans

with rounds of #8 bird-shot,
to waste as many of the thieves
as possible before the lot
could reach a safer height's reprieves;

to learn the hard way from the scare,
if not the scarecrow in the maize,
to fear the one who placed it there
and stay beyond the farmer's gaze.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Image

Boggled

The given time is quickly running out,
and finding words is starting to get tough.

Can't flip the plastic hourglass about
to buy more time to find words worth enough;

but if I could, I think I'd hesitate
to cheat myself and other players by

prolonging life in this frustrating state
of watching as the sands of time go by.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Invisible Man

Can you see your own reflection
in the vanished disaffection
that you're silently abhorring
with this deafening rejection?

Did you feel the strange adoring
was a genuine outpouring,
or'd you see through those advances
to the jester you're ignoring?

Under any circumstances,
without taking any chances,
you may find the answer lying
in the shade of lost romances...

in between what you're denying
and a distant love undying.​


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Image

Pillars of Light

What is this strange phenomenon of Light
reflected through the cold hexag'nal plates
of icy crystals caught in captive states
above the sunrise, vanquishing the night?

These pillars frozen in the atmosphere,
to illustrate the power of their climb,
destroy the bound'ries of the paradigm
from which they've risen proudly without fear.

I've seen those shining towers once before;
they rose into the skies of days long past
and consummated feelings meant to last,
defying space and time, forevermore.

Too beautiful to selfishly desire
to have and hold again 'til rebirth part,
I'll whisk away that longing from my heart
with glowing dreams of distant ice and fire.​


--Wricker Dreadtemper

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_pillar
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Wricker Dreadtemper
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Re: Plaid

Post by Wricker Dreadtemper »

Waxing political...

The Rent Curtain

The voice of one among 'the angry' calls
to those who listen with discerning ears:
This anger in our hearts, these bitter tears
in flight where righteous indignation falls,

has found its proper place above the fray
of strings connected to those empty suits
adept at manufacturing disputes
(inept in almost every other way).

That place is not within the courts of Kings,
nor in the Houses of the 'ruling class';
it lies where candles flicker off the brass
behind the Wizard's curtain rods and rings.

We've gotta find the nerve, the heart, the brain,
to END that false Magician's hidden reign.


--Wricker Dreadtemper
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