Acrostic Reflection, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

My image is that of one life
Invisible to most, and those who have died
Reveals the scars and tumbles, and strife
Recollection, regret, can’t reverse time
Obvious lessons lost in the grind
Rescinded, remanded, thoughts of my mind

She bleeds on the page, her story not kind
Young at her death, she became blind
Lost in the pain, she could not refrain
Vacated this world, she didn’t remain
Inevitable conclusion, lost in confusion
Abandoned this life, head in the oven

Prose about tulips
Love lost on her lips
Amazing stanzas
To which we now read
Horrible ending, she planted the seed.

My image is that of many times
Inconceivable to me, to meet such demise
Revealing the feeling, to stay alive
Radiating, permutation, affirmation
Ovation, motivation, inspiration
Rarefied talent, she was that kind

Jesus she wrote of, that of a chief
Under the skies, the stars night shift
Surely the walk over the humped bridge
The neon strobed traffic, to that she confessed

Obdurate to follow her friend’s path
Now and forever, linked to Plath
Couldn’t shake oblivion’s hall
Emissions became her final call

Another master in the grip of a pen
Neither could shed the reaper’s wind
None of their words repeated again
Enigmatic, erratic, chaotic, atomic

Slowly, methodically, word chemistry
Elation, fixation, revelation, deduction
Xyster, scraping tool, sullen bone suicide rule
Tapestry of misery, artistry of poetry
Objective, collective, subjective, exhaustive
Now in the annals of history.
(end)

Another acrostic poem and ode to my favorite poets Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.

Odes in the acrostic part “Mirror” by Silvia Plath
Odes in the acrostic part “Just Once” by Anne Sexton

References in the stanzas to Plath’s poem “Tulips”

References to Sexton’s poems are the bridge from Plath to Sexton “that kind”, in the last stanza about Plath, bridging to Sexton, refers to Sexton’s poem “Her Kind” and later references to “Wanting To Die” and “Jesus Cooks” and “Starry Night”.

Plath ended her life by sticking her head in the oven. Anne Sexton was a personal friend of Plath’s. 11 years later Anne ended her life with the car in a closed garage.

Both are huge influences on me. I am 100% anti-suicide. I think about all the times I came close, but as you read these words right now, know that you would not be reading them if I had succeeded in my prior thoughts.

“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem”, unknown. But I agree. if you are having these feelings, get help. You can google suicide prevention online, or talk to a trusted family member or friend. Or call 988 or 911. You are not alone.

Jester’s Box, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

The jester’s box , the statues locked
Deflating balloons, their heads be soon
Never in the sky will you see the moon
Agonized in pleated stone, nowhere to roam

Cast out from the castle, they freeze in gloom
Industrial factories, in background loom
No contemplation, except that of doom
Shadow lurching, motionless boom

Muses, muses, this can’t be true
What has this painter done to you
Fright in silence, shock fills the room
This lonely deck , forever their home.

The removed mask, has no task
It cannot cry , it cannot laugh
The statues stagnation, they cant ask
Disheveled togas, fading fast.
(end)

This poem I wrote about the painting ” The Disquieting Muses” by artist Giorgio Chirico. Just google search “The Disquieting Muses” painting.

Visceral, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

The caverns intestines, our perceptions
Ancient conceptions, our protections
In anticipation, of Armageddon
Deity clashes in our blood’s bedding

No mitigation of any nation
Conflict exponential from agitation
Confident are all of their false perception
Martyrs lead to earth’s destruction

Their infant’s answers in old correlations
When they could not see the sun’s relations
They filled the gaps with morbid phantasms
Writhing in ignorant day’s orgasms

Stones and rocks , their early rhythms
Mushroom cloud, they will end in
Pride of all, falsehood’s call
Earth on fire, humanity’s fall

Stewing , brewing, craving
Caving into primal urges
Justified pangs wanting purges
Kill the others, they are scourges

What shackles thus bind us
In lore before what has lead us
To persistent gore, I want no more
In peaked logic, their minds frolic

The ravages of the baby’s colic
The narcissists weapons are all tragic
Eve to blame, ate an apple of magic
Scapegoat females, it’s a shame

What of this monster, they all hail
Prostrate in prayer, to no avail
Never will ever, find the holy grail
The voided check is in the mail

Cyclone of fire, is their desire
It is late, down to the wire
Aspirations of world domination
Bias of that selfish conformation

They seek non existent adulation
Fraudulent persistent consolation
Infantile pre mature ejaculation
Nothing more than mental masturbation

What is their evidence, they’ve got nothing
High altitude air , they pull out something
Wanting, yet getting an empty bounty
Cancerous attributes , I will rebuke
(end)

What people call a “gut feeling” is really the false perception of faith.

Hawking’s View, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

The canvas empty
The slate clean
They feed them lies
They grow up mean
Certain of everything
Of life’s meaning
God will save them
Of heaven they’re dreaming
My rights, intitled fights
Scorched earth day and night
And over what
An invisible being
To this myth
They still cling
The universe
|Is much more grand
Stars outnumber
Our grains of sand
Evolution
They don’t understand
Science has to
Take a stand
Black hole’s power
Takes command
That ancient book
Compared is bland
Antiquity’s ignorance
Holds us back
Reason and skepticism
Keeps us on track
Let go, let go
While there is much
We don’t know
“A God is not required”
Hawking’s view does show.
(end)

Ladies Lazari By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37)

Lady, Lady, Lazari
Why did you, did you
Have to die?

Lady, Lady
Her best friend
11 years later
Met your end

Horseback gallop
Into the sun
Repeated attempts
Until you were done

Lady, Lady, Lazeri
Why did you, did you
Have to die?

Under, Under
The starry sky
Her kind a garage
She chose to die

Mirror mirror
Mushroom too
Just once
I’d talk to you

Lady, Lady, Lazari
Why did you, did you
Have to die

Muses ruckus
Tulips in buckets
Poems in caskets
The dead don’t ask this

Darling darning
Sew me a sock
Smash the boat
Against the rocks

Tools tools
Oh what fools
A special language
Disobeys the rules

Silvia, Silva
What did you do
Now I can never talk to you

Anne, Anne
Where did you go
Countless you influenced
You’ll never know

Lady, Lady, Lazari
Why did you, did you
Have to die?

Ladies, ladies
Read to me
Never to die
Your poetry.
(end)

Another ode to my two most favorite poets Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.

The title is an ode to “Sylvia Plath’s poem “Lady Lazarus”. I took a little license with the name “Lazarus” and made a new word “Lazari” as in plural “Lasarus” .

My poem “Lady Lazari” is in reference to both of their suicides, but in how their poetry survives them. For those who know their bible stories Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. Plath in her poem describes her multiple attempts.

Anne also wrote about this dark topic. Both of them are “Lazari” to me in that their poetry is the Phoenix of their lives that still lives today.

The words in the poems refer to poem titles and or imagery in both of their works.

Kellykins, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Pelicans, Pelicans
A bird she is not
Not a mouse
Has she yet caught

Kellykins, Kellykins
She’s my cat
Looking so cute
She’s great at that

Kitty cat, kitty cat
Meow, meow, meow
Kitty cat, kitty cat
Wow, wow, wow

Chasing the string
Across the floor
If I stop
She wants some more

Pelicans, Pelicans
A bird she is not
She’s the prettiest
In the entire lot

Kitty cat, kitty cat
Meow, meow, meow
Kitty cat, kitty cat
Wow, wow, wow

Kellykins, Kellykins
Look at her go
Pouncing, pouncing
To and fro

Now it’s late
And time for sleep
My foot her pillow
For nighttime keeps

Pelicans, Pelicans
A bird she is not
Kellykins, Kellykins
She sure means a lot.
(end)

Silly nonsense poem about my cat Kelly. I’ve been calling her Kellykins, like pronounced pelicans. So made up this silly poem for her. I love her. And her brother Anneplath too. But his name is unique too.

6 Years Out, ByBrian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter.

These are not milestones
I look forward to
The wanting the longing
To be with you

The smiles of of others
Their wishes too
The wanting, the longing
To be with you

Flowers and dinners
The day planned too
The wanting the longing
To be with you

Forever, forever
Mom I love you
The wanting, the longing
To be with you

Your absence, no presence
Time took you away
The wanting, the longing
I miss you this day

Like all other days
But this is Mother’s Day
The vacuum is heightened
When I can’t say

I love you Mom, Happy Mother’s Day.
(end)

My Mom passed away in 2017. Not on Mother’s Day, but it still is a dark milestone like her Birthday and Holidays. I miss her enormously. If you have a Mom you love, like I did, and she is still around, spend time with her and tell her you love her, with hugs and kisses and smiles and spend time with her. Time is fleeting.

Why We Don’t Stand, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

The field of stars
On the bottom
Is a symbol of distress

That of forced patriotism
The Nazis did their best
You could be beat

Knocked off your feet
You could be fined
Pulled off of the street

And jailed and tortured
For not saluting the swastika
For not saluting the Fuhrer

With that in mind
Lets talk a little further
Why should I take fervor

When other have to hide
Coddle the bigots pride
Expect them to live in silence

Vilify them, scapegoat them
Marginalize them, out of what?
Some sense of archaic theism?

A lack of understanding
That they are not taking from you
Merely by asking to treated like a human too

And who are you, to talk for
A deity that you cant prove
This isn’t about protecting society for you

This is about protecting your power
Your fear of change, your ignorance
Your insecurities

You want to know why
Why we don’t stand
Because you only stand

For yourself, your selfishness
You’re proud of bullying others
Telling them they are less than

And that somehow
Somehow you are the victim
Because others exist

You want to know why
Why we don’t stand
Because females lost their rights

Because you equate
Innocent migrants
To an armed military invasion

Because you refuse
To understand
That black lives don’t matter more

But matter as well
Yet you condemn the innocent
To your fictional hell

You want to know why
Why we don’t stand
Because you demand

That transgender
Hide who they are
And make up lies

About what they are
And you fail to recognize
Our long history

Of marginalizing minorities
Blacks, Native Americans
But also the Irish of Hell’s Kitchen

The Chinese that built
Our railway system
That connected east coast

To west coast
Yet your still insisting
You’re being persecuted

Because you don’t want to share

I’ll stand when we get back
To the words in that pledge
Mean something to you

Beyond how you can manipulate
Them in bias hate filled fashion
I’ll stand when it truly means

“With liberty and justice for all.”
(end)

Acrostic Interviewer, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Surrender to a conspiracy
You black ravens hide in night’s shadow
Leather and spikes in the dungeon
Vesiputous rumbling silently stalking
Indigenous beasts on my flesh feeding
At 2 A.M. the owls are plotting

Pleased night light spotlight
Left dimming in the grey fog’s blocking
And cloaking maddening screaming
The darkness sightless shrill of nothing
Help will not be coming

Cunning and stealthy
Underworld’s authority
The Amityville horror

Slippery stumbling over dead bodies
You are the M.E. writing the autopsies
Lecherous gnashing of fangs waiting
Voraciously nocturnal never sleeping
In front of you, arms, that of a zombie
Allegory, it’s the bat’s cave now

Plato lost his apology
Last is the hemlock Socrates drinks
At least it is over, no more pain agonies
The dawn reveals vultures
Hovering over my carcass.
(end)

This is a Sylvia Plath inspired poem. It is a take off of her poem title only, “The Applicant”. No relationship to the content of her poem, just an ode to her title “The Applicant”.

An applicant to a job, of course has an interviewer, thus the the “Interviewer” part of my title.

For those who do not know an “Acrostic poem” is where the first letter of each line of a stanza, going downwards, spells something. In my case “Sylvia Plath” then my favorite poem of hers “cut” then back to “Sylvia Plath”.

But as far as the context of my poem “Acrostic Interviewer”, as I said, only an ode to her title. This poem I wrote in late September or early October one year as a Halloween motif poem for the season. It is basically your typical haunted foggy woods in the middle of the night hearing scary noises. “Cut” is my favorite Silvia Plath poem and hey, what flesh doesn’t get cut in a Halloween story.