LCDXII
Grosse Pointe Advantage
By Mary Margaret Park, et al.
tricked out swindler
panning for gold
grosse pointe advantage
to challenge the soul
a river of diamonds
a shield and a guide
truths left unspoken
and matters denied
pony traditions
to race is to gain
constructs and notions
to bolster and blame
the stage is the set
and the set is the stage
the glibbest of answers
flow and persuade
a tithe for the con
no need to explain
oil derrick's the capture
while he laughs with disdain
in situ abstraction
no rules for the fey
artistic renditions
was the potter the clay?
a cheap suit that panders
to further his claims
deny or object
and he’ll further your pain
the bait of attraction
a glittering ghost nuanced distraction
to allude and depose
a bird in a bush
to love and adore
the hands of ‘advantage’
always score more
the ice has grown thin
on the crossroads of time
the profits of plunder
grow pale, unrefined.
in the absence of honour
lust rules the man
the purest of power
bloodies his hands
to elude and betray
is a frivolous mask
a coward’s redaction blackmails his past
to betray and ensnare
a torturous dream
a coward’s assassin
a predator's means
security alludes
the tamest of men
the greater the lie
the smaller the pen.
by Mary Margaret Park
we are yin and yang
timeless
forever bound
our paths have crossed in a zenith of yesterdays
our triumph no greater than the joy and pain
that carried us wayward
and to this destination
we seek peace from our tattered thoughts
warriors sent to vanquish the eyes of sorrow
shaped in the image of one another
we are dazzling reflections in a dark sea
and so another year has passed
and we have endured
the bizarre notion of our union
has faded into profess 'your'
and we’ve cast the ‘what if’s’ aside
bound forever
we are timeless
COILED
STEEL
by Mary Park et al.
Coiled steel
Caged
A see-saw
of blind devotion/rage
a legacy
expressed in
Braille
each letter outlined
in pain
arranged
re-arranged
words
altered in meaning
polished to beguile
black holes
of misdirection
Grey
Tempest
in the wind he blows
in the white grey rage
of a desolate land
a man of depth
and gentle spirit
and so she listens
within the tempest of her heart
to bare this soul of knowing