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Index of poems:
- Afterthought
- Driven through Kentucky
- Graveyard At Sunset
- Grey Matters
- Love Letter to the Supreme
- Quantum hope
- Victuals For The Mind
- Villainized
Should a Summer 'Frisco fog roll in obscuring the clarion skies in murk or a Denver frost settle, heavy from the west and I should pen my oppression, know it is not for your eye my skies weep Would that I could articulate the passage of time in a cold November frost It would not be for your heart alone Supposing the spring waxes gaiety, flittering and fluxing in Vermont's day spring, were to drive my pen through here to unseen reaches it would not speak of our history, or causes lost Where once I carried mountains for you, and shrugged like Hercules awaiting Hesperides fruit, I yet knew the burden you asked was too great for even my strength was sapped by the vicious tooth of some venomous thing amidst leaves of grass so now every testament is to the Omnipotent 'I am'
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Driven through Kentucky
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman
I recall distinctly the dashboard reflections, that halcyon puce mimicking the streak, the rap tap of lighting bugs expiring Love bugs were like Jupiter, fornicating by whimsy to make heroes who would flail themselves in futility against this beast of a windscreen Then came the rain, washing it dirty with smoke and refuse of tired bald eagles leaving DDT offspring on the roadside You sought to speak to the almighty but he was gone a smear, road kill smashed by some political machine
Graveyard At Sunset
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman
Walking along, another dusty town General store, Hardware outlet, an old Church but no one is around, it's sunset In the distance, a bulbuous gleam upon the horizon, below encroaching twilight the stars reflect off a steeple, one likening to Buffalo's Bank, golden Romanesque The soft luminescence of evening wraps me, warm and welcoming, I find an old stone wall, moss enshrined; inviting respite from the journey graveyard twice blessed Can't read the graves in the darken night, too worn by the rigors of time, so I sit and smoke a cigarette in a gazebo composed of plant life, the living rise from stone in testament Poe, my Poe, blinking bright; a breathing burst of jade to light my way between dearly deceased, you afford grand meaning to this sight in being little things now earth ascendant
Grey Matters
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman, Nov. 22, 2003
It's not the black, fading to pale that moved me so emphatically to better ends and finer friends upon the horizon nor the white, dulling with brilliance, like lightning weakening the tongue too often tasted, that recoiled to the melancholic lethargy All the grey matters that shuffled along with mortal coil and wrap became indistinguishable, shades left wailing and wanting upon the horizon It's burdensome to carry these mountainous skies, threaded by the sinews of humidity, and though, like Atlas shrugging, I too may cry clarion oaths it is inconceivable that there should be any hope Back to topLove Letter to the Supreme
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman
Was it the flavor of lightning, ozone's metallic trim upon the tongue that moved you so, to throes flinging tiers from your eyes and into the heavens? What did you want when this world began turning for your sanctity of breast, beating the stars plasma into every living source of new beginnings? Did you expect love to be perfect, or nobler yet through the adversity of temptation and ardor, hunger, pursuit and the ends gained from futile cravings of the unattained I love you for making me with every taint and stain, with crooked teeth, broken skin, and a bevy of tragic circumstance to feast upon in all saint's musingsBack to top
Quantum hope
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman, Oct. 21, 2003
Be it that I have a thousand and one lives, each shall be spent in the pursuit of you, my daring to dream, my darling of constructive humanity I've walked a thousand and one miles in simple shoes, and the clay feet of times travail now dare to tread where angels scorn and fear This life may be spent on a sojourn soul, bygone when lost upon desire's precipices and made perpetually less whole with every moment, each experience which distances my immortal spirit from the exquisite nobility of your condition in purity I may be unworthy this go around to savor your cleverness and cloy, but it cannot be said for each incarnation Beloved, hope springs eternal of the infinite possibility inherent in our existential cycle I'll find you again in the next world rest assuredBack to top
Victuals For The Mind
© Tyler Wiseman, Nov. 09, 2003
Savory, slavering in juices, sauteed thoroughly, it sizzles I anticipate that its flavor will chain me to my table, with all it's din and silences A glass of red, mildly acrid, is graced with the slightest hint of vinegar and spices, distilled to the point of the exquisite; lolling about, a swirl upon the tips Greenest white along the side, an iceberg juts above the surface, frosted in the sweeter sour cream, with paprika, italian seasoning, a ranch hands delicious vegetable dip Finally, sated on the juices, quenched on the dry bouquet, and filled with the crispness I move on to the cakeBack to top
Villainized
© Tyler Joseph Wiseman, Nov. 06, 2003
Watching the television, I can see long haired people as villainized for ratings and conformists free to oppress those that look, like me, so much like a Jesus reprised, yet why this is I just can't see Why must the longest of strands be mongrelized or uncivilized when in fact we are seeking free exchange of ideas, harmony and all the devices devised in assisting the world to see Is it a crime to have such glee in the life led, uncompromised in ideas intent to be free Lennon used to sing McCartney "Let It Be" for those to realize the vibe flow in a life to see we all really want to be free [Previously published in Makata]Back to top
