Sonnettics: Recent Episodes
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Our many states and people still are oneThe one that brings together many hopesTwo hundred fifty years and still not doneAnd yet still bound by strength exceeding ropesThe “rope” of this great nation can be foundIn every heart that beats with freedom’s bloodThe blood of hope that stains this holy groundStill nurtures every blossom, seed, […]
Remember when the sidewalk felt like HellWhen everything would melt as fast as iceIf cold is whispered, heat must be a yellOf words when eating jalapeño spiceThe heat of words that linger past their soundLike sweat that lingers long on reddened skinOr wilted plants collapsed on sun-baked groundOf earth that’s baked too hard to let […]
I’ve always been connected to my GodMy God, who always listens when I singThus, as I understand, I find I’m awedBy awesomeness that dwells in everythingIn everything there’s God, and God is greatGod speaks in every sound, in every wordEternity is now; I need not waitMy God is here, and never is deferedYes, Thou Art […]
I heard the hungry people pray for warI heard them pray their leaders all would dieThe prayers of hungry people, more and moreBecame the cries of violence, by and byDear God, they called, we know it isn’t rightBut neither is starvation—God agreedThe hungry people then began to fightTheir God Approved and Prayed they would SucceedThe […]
A god that needs a church is not a godAt least, that's not the god I've come to knowAnd though I know my knowledge may be flawedAt least it goes where no one else can goYou see, the god I know is only mineI don't presume to know your god at allOr his, or hers, […]
This is my attempt at a Blakean pastiche of Ah! Sunflower. Bel Amara, Princess of LightWho seeks to be forever knownSeeking after Eternity’s sightWhere the darkness of night time has flownWhere she shines in brilliance like starlightAnd her stories the shaman now tellsArise like the sun after long nightBel Amara impossibly dwells
A yellow brick, a metaphor of timeA time for metaphors that mark the wayOh Dorothy! Is there nothing else sublimeSublimity is more than bricks you sayThat’s deep, you bitch. Just give it to me straightAs straight as simple lies or simple stormsYour wonderland is strange and yes, you’re lateAnd yet you deviate from all the […]
I guess she didn’t know she broke my heartI wonder if she thinks I broke hers tooBoth time and space had pulled us far apartThe way that time and space are bound to doI guess her love was just a metaphorI wonder if our poetry was wrongThe verses we composed became a choreAnd we could […]
We tend to long for time that's disappeared Although we know we'll never get it backIt's gone. It's gone, exactly as we fearedA train that travels down a rusty trackThe rusty track of time is still traversedBy everyone, regardless of their ageA play of destination, unrehearsedPerformed upon a creaky wooden stageIf time was just a […]
I walk on faith, a splinted, golden crutch,Where once I flew in knowing’s native air;The wound is old—no memory of the touch,Just phantom wings and ache I cannot bear.The veil was stitched before my birth, they say,By archons blind, who rule the things that rot;They named it “truth,” and taught my lips to pray—A borrowed […]
To find the truth of poetry withinOne knows the word of god must be revealedTo hide the word is thus poetic sinAnd wounded poets know they must be healedAnd so we seek the words by which we feelTrue knowledge is the poem we becomeBeyond the tombs that others seek to sealWe rise and wait for […]
- And it came to pass that Jesus was walking by the fig trees near Bethany, and a great crowd followed him, for they had heard of his healings and teachings.2. A woman cried out from among them, “Rabbi, you speak with such brightness! Tell us: from where comes your wisdom?”3. And Jesus turned to […]
The Rattling Mist o Cramond ShoreWhen haar creeps in across the Almond’s mouth,An auld grey breath frae Forth tae sodden land,The shells begin tae whisper, north tae south,Their rickle-ruckle voice nae soul can stand.Lang syne in Cramond, where the tides confide,A mason named James Walker dared tae kenWhat walked wi Widow Macniven at tideA thing […]
The Millstone Wights The millstone wights look just like rocks That tumble down the brook. They always work; they never play, Don’t even stop to look.Their backs are bowed, their fingers numb, Their faces smeared with silt. They grind the streambed day and night And never dream or wilt.No song disturbs their labored hush, No […]
I like to play with words; the Word is GodThey say, “You play with God? That’s fucking cool!” I guess you’d say by words at times I’m awedAt times I’m awed and odd. At times, a foolThe fool is wise when words ae more than trueWhat’s more than true, you ask? I’ll tell you thisThe […]
I sing of cunnilingus ‘twixt your thighsMy tongue knows where each silver note belongsAnd when I pause, look up into your eyesI watch you feel the joy of all my songsEach iamb of each lyric draws the soundOf depth that seems to linger deep withinLike gentle joy where life is often foundA sonnet so expressed […]
We need to stop pretending we’re in chargeLike children disregarding Mother EarthThere must be fields of good we can enlargeLike planting tiny seeds of noble worthThe worth of noble oceans, lands, and airEnrich our lives with calls for noble useIn all we do we need to show we careThe care we show should always be […]
Saint Monica, the mothers' patron saintA mother who is silent in her grace,whose prayers rise up through centuries’ complaint,whose hopes endure in troubled time and space.And now a place southwest of Hollywood,a place that knows the ocean’s primal kiss,where palms reach high in solemn brotherhood,and grief is baptized gently into bliss.She stops to watch the […]
Who hails the Queen of FemininityWho calls on Her to pray for us who sinThe Mother of our own DivinityA call that often comes from deep withinIs bitterness the essence of the callAs Maryam protects our ship of reedsThe essence of Her name protects us allA name that even Sancte Pater heedsThe Mother God is […]
I.Believe in what you want; that is your right, It doesn’t matter what your faith is in. For hope, like stars, can fill the darkest night, And strength is born from places deep within. The heart is vast, a sea of endless dreams, Where tides of doubt may crash upon the shore. But even in […]
Not “turn-the-other-cheek” or “eye-for-eye”The Christian God will kill you when you’re badWhen Ananias stole, then told a lieHe forfeited the joy of life he’d hadAnd then his wife Sapphira did the sameAnd so God killed her too, a point to makeThe gospel isn’t just a simple gameGood news is only good for God’s own sakeThere […]
Why does he think he needs a fancy new expensive anchor?It’s not that expensive.Well it’s not money coming out of his pocket. That damn boat cost more than . . . more than a . . . it didn’t come out of his pocket either.Maybe we need to get it in writing.Don’t go bringing up […]
There has to be a bridge that shows us whereReality and fantasy are linkedI crossed it once, and maybe I’m still thereWhere everything and nothing may be syncedWe cross it daily, knowing what we trodAnd yet, our thoughts are ignorant at bestThe bridge is not a metaphor for godNor is it somewhere one should stop […]
When time becomes immured by mortal fateWe search for reasons one might find obscureEternity exists for us to waitTo wait in faith for that which we abjureIn time the song we sing becomes a chantAs quietly we call for blessed hopeWe think we might complete, but find we can’tLike life that hangs above us by […]
A little one act play I wrote a few years ago. It was selected to be produced for a competition, but the production company wanted more of my time than I had to spare. Let me know if you'd like to produce it.Washed UpbyScott EnnisPhone (703) 994-9037Email: scottennis@gmail.comAn actor suffering from a bad review of […]
The thing about aesthetics is they liveThough no one knows exactly where they're bornThey’ll take whatever praise you have to giveTo take or give they haven’t been forswornLike god they live forever, never dieLike me they seem to be like words that rhymeOf course you know the words will never lieOf course the word in […]
A white man as a poet, what a jokeThey laughed and said I shouldn’t even tryThe patriarchal sin of which they spokeTo me seemed insurmountably too highToo high, too white, too male, too dumb to quitI wrote my book of poems anywayA few were good, a few were more like shitI wrote them down and […]
A leader I would follow anywhereMuch more than words, I’ve heard this leader’s voiceShe’s seen a lot and yet she seems to careShe shows her all and leaves to us a choiceThe choice of moving forward, filled with hopeA choice that knows the way we all should liveBeyond the troubled things with which we copeShe […]
"They have no wine," says Mary to her SonA catalyst of miracles to beAnd thus, the work of Jesus is begunThrough four small words expressed expectantly And now a statued symbol, clothed in whiteFew people know her words who know her name Who brought into the world one silent nightThe Word of God, Lord Jesus, […]
At times we seek for God and find AbyssAt times Abyss is God and we are naughtWe contemplate at times the Holy BlissWith which the Word of God is often fraughtThe Word of the Abyss is hard to hearWe listen for the Holy Bliss we seekAnd thus we find Abyss is always nearAnd guides us […]
America has dark satanic millsWe call them mega-churches, what-the-fuckThey feed their sheep with rottenness that killsThey’ll take your money, every single buckThe millers of each dark satanic millAre those who prey on all the simple sheepYour reason has an abattoir to fillA place to prey on every prayer you keepBut I have got a Bow […]
Duality: to be or not to beThe coin we toss has two sides it might showAnd we are bound, unless of course we’re freeWe stay right here, unless of course we goAnd if we go, do we go left or rightOr up or down to heaven or to hellOur eyes are open, or we shut […]
The mystic faith in poetry is foundAs words proceed in processes unknownThe metaphors we’ve planted in the groundAs seeds that by the mystic winds are sownThe ground itself is only faith in truthThe truth of time that waits for time to passAt times semantics seem, at best, uncouthLike similes that kick the poet’s assIf beauty […]
Beyond the stories everyone has heardBeneath the substance right below our feetA tragedy is told that seems absurdA sophistry that no one should repeatAnd yet, by repetition, we’re entrancedWe bow before the gods proclaiming “truth”The “truth” by which their lies are all enhancedProvides us with refreshment most uncouthDichotomy of sophistry is thisA worm that eats […]
In Coventry, Connecticut was bornA hero and a patriot, a manRegardless of the colors he had wornHe showed his worth as only heroes canWe know his name and how he gave his allA hero when America beganHe felt the Revolution’s righteous callA martyr for a cause, but first, a manA man who always gave his […]
It all depends on what you mean by “God”Some wise old man? I don’t believe in thatA concept by which we are always awedOK, but wait, that sounds just like my catDid God create the world? My cat says noThe world is just perceptions, nothing’s realReality, a place God doesn’t goReality is fantasy we feelDo […]
Delusion, unacknowledged, brings us lightAlthough it may be darker than we knowShould I believe in things beyond my sightDoes darkness help my quaint delusions growDelusions seem at times to be more realThan plain reality perceived by mostPerception is reality we feelLike what they used to call the Holy GhostPerceptions are delusions we defineAnd feelings are […]
The Lilith is the demoness of nightAn emanation of the other sideThe side where darkness covers all that’s lightBefore the Eve, she dwelt as Adam’s bride Her hair is long and dark, uncovered sinThe sin of sex, subservient to noneAnd thus she takes the sleeping man withinHer wild desired sex, the evil one The evil […]
Oh look: Misguided Asswads Gone AmissWith hats as red as some clown’s shiny noseTo think the modern world has come to thisLike fools they follow where their leader goesThe leader of the Asswads looks quite smug(As smug as one can look with orange skin)Come watch the Asswads simply march and shrugI wonder if they know […]
Reality is how we’ve all been fooledWe watch the machinations some call godThe god of my reality is deadThe machinations vanished in the lightYou think you bring the hope of blinded eyesReality persuades us all to lookTo look at god who hides beneath the stairsAnd corners us with poems we can feelYou think Reality is […]
Which day is the “birth” day of the United States of America? Analogously, birthing a nation is like birthing a baby. Neither a country, nor a baby is “born” until its body is completely out of the mother’s body.(And yes, there is blood and pain and crying and swearing in both instances.)The “birth” of our […]
They, unrestricted by a gender roleThey, unrestricted by a simple nounThey is My God, the Lover of my soulI seek to feel Their Mercy, wear Their CrownThey must have hands that help Them to create The metaphor of hands both weak and strongI feel God's hands in everything, innate Begin, believe, behave, become, belongThey is […]
When Dreamland catches fire, all is lostNew Yorkers are no longer entertainedWith nine alarms the park will feel the costAnd Coney Island’s dreams are thus constrainedStill biting heads off chickens on the pierThe Freaks and Geeks may try to carry onBut fire makes the brave New Yorkers fearWhen Dreamland burns to ash, the dream is […]
If pain becomes a pretense, we’re all screwedDelicious pain, like apples in a boxPretentious apples everybody viewedA key that opens doors that god unlocksI see you’re trying hard to understandThe words that bring such foolishness to lightI know you think this isn’t what we plannedBut foolish words are often what we writeThe pain of words […]
It’s like I’m only waiting for GodotAnd yet to esperar is also hopeI wonder, does he habla espanolOr is life just a thing with which we cope(The slant rhyme in that quatrain works quite well)“Godot” and “espanol” don’t really rhymeBut, wait for it, like heaven waits for hellOh yes, you know such knowledge is sublimeSublimity […]
Let's celebrate the day when ALL are freeRegardless of the color of our skinA day where US is made of You AND meA day that marks when endings can beginBeginning with the glory of the sunTomorrow marks the solstice, but todayThe sun has risen high for everyone It guides us on to find a better […]
I bought a book that nobody checked outIt looked so lonely, sitting on the shelfA million books encircled it aboutAnd yet it seemed like it was by itself I wonder if it cried or even caredI wondered if its title was too longWhen lights are out, do lonely books get scared?Perhaps my purchase-timing was just […]
I sat and watched the fucking world explodeIronic that I almost nearly diedI sat and watched the universe erodePerception sat in front of me and criedThe sadness of mortality is thisDichotomy lives on in simple timeIt starts and ends with something like a kissWith something common, something most sublimeIs there a god in heaven when […]
Memento mori filled with finite grainsReminds us that the sands of time fall fast'Til not a single spec of time remainsAnd ev'ry future soon becomes the pastThe present symbols of our pending deathPresent our eyes with what our eyes will seeAnd by the life we feel within our breathWe also feel the coming autopsyMemento mori's […]
The Abraham in everyone contendsWith faith that brings us each the word of godThe word becomes a song which never endsA harmony, unknown, unsung, unflawedDichotomy discovered thus is hidIn everything we elevate by prayerIt’s never done the things we thought it didBut thoughts are often hidden everywhereWe sense that time has passed when god is […]
As soft as thoughts of cotton in a cloudShe blesses words that fill the weathered airWith colors where such rainbows are allowedAnd now I know just why she lingers thereAs warm as life itself when passions riseBeyond the metaphors of simple verseShe knows that trust may soon eclipse the skiesAnd stars might flare and fade […]
When neural pathways stream from point to pointTheir stream creates the power of a millAnd when they come to scars, such scars anointThe pathway as it tumbles down the hillThe hill is just a metaphoric mountDismounted, I survived to think more thoughtThe pathways I create will surely countAs if they stood for something cheap I […]
The piper has been paid; the rats are goneBut rats are smart and hungry; they’ll be backWe know the night is followed by the dawnBut every brilliant day will fade to blackThe cycles of the universe revealThat opposites do more than just attractThe universe is like a turning wheelThe folks of Hamelin learned this simple […]
At times I see my Sita in the skyAt times I see my Sita in my dreamsI know she’s far away, but I must tryTo bring her back, no matter how it seemsMy time without my Sita is like HellNaraka would be better than this lifeBut more than just a story made to tellThe world […]
A festival that celebrates our town We're Hebron, a community of friends The maples here achieve a great renown And every year we hope it never ends The sugar from our maples is so sweet It flows when trees are tapped in early spring It flows like friendship flows down every street It seems to […]
For Valentine's Day Every good love story needs a good sonnet. This one is for Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce: ----- They found each other somewhere in the light A metaphor that knows just where to look To see beyond the limits of plain sight A simple story in love’s storybook She sings her songs […]
As simple as a taco," people say When speaking of dichotomies of life The spices of this sentence tend to stay In simple flavors filled with ease and strife The taco, a philosophy you eat Just look at the simplicity at hand It's folded in the middle, filled with meat You'll find them fresh at […]
I watch the streams of smoke as I exhale They show me words I never knew I knew They seem to know the breath they would regale The breath, the smoke, a wispy grayish blue The streams of smoke are remnants of a gift A gift from Mother Earth who loves to give I watch […]
Faith: Because in a world which requires us to choose between fantasy and reality, sometimes it just feels good to lie to oneself.
To the tune of “The Farmer in the Dell I. Come walk around the green Come walk around the green Let's go to Lebanon To walk around the green II. The green is long and wide The green is long and wide Spread out in Lebanon The green is long and wide III. The Revolution […]
Toe wou ek in Suid Afrika gebly Toe was ek “ingevoerde boer” genoem Toe het geliefde vriende daan gesê “Nou moet jy net ‘n meise vind, ‘n bloem!” En nou ek wil ‘n bietje kerrie hê En rys. Ek hou van blatjang op my kos ‘N braai is altyd lekker. Glo my! (Ten minste stuur […]
The stories of the rainbow have been told In myth and magic since the dawn of time Some stories we have heard are very old But old or new, such stories are sublime Sublimity is rainbows in a word The words of rainbows form a story arc The colors of the rainbow can be heard […]
She sings a little song that no one hears It’s only blood, she sings. It’s only blood It marks a heart that beats for bloody years A flower starts from just a little bud The bud I have is ganja, bloodless green Sativa flowers as Sativa knows A song unsung like flowers still unseen Without […]
William Blake - 1757-1827 Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath, And the […]
Predictions! Ok, I’ll begin One’s out and the other one’s in The Don or the Joe? Wait, wait, this I know: Another old white guy will win!
I have no need to be like Bill, the Bard I have no need to make my world a stage I have no need to play the “writer’s card” I have no need to be an empty page I need to be ironic with my voice I need to be The Word and Not The […]
when god was just a kid he used to lie he told his mom he flushed when he did not he hit his little sister, watched her cry yes, god was quite the wicked little snot one time i heard god shot his sister’s cat he shot it in the butt to make it run […]
The world was young when man created God When man created God the world was new And filled with things by which all minds were awed Twas awe which filled all minds, and awe which grew It grew until eternity was filled A paradox of awe beyond the minds The minds of man from which […]
If Moxie was a poem it would be A sonnet like the one before you now It lends itself to such tenacity The drink became a word more wow than wow The excellence required to be known As one with moxie, like the wow-some drink Is overhead, where countless birds have flown Above the clouds […]
I. [Race medals on wall or just race medals]Two thousand nine was quite the year for meI finished Boston twenty-six point twoAnd Ironman, the race, I did all threeThe swim, the bike, the run, my ego grewCaught up in all my training I forgotThat life was more than just some storied race But Kona’s Ironman was what I soughtI didn’t think that I would fall from graceThe grace of one more medal on my wallFrom one more race as hard as it might beI didn’t think that I would ever fallBut fall I did and how I fell you’ll seeThey saved my life when I was nearly dead A TBI persists within my head.II. [Hospital image in bed]My helmet saved my life but brains will bleedAnd scars will form in place of what we knowNew neural pathways form to meet the needOf “normalcy” a “normal” brain might showMy normal was my racing, which was lostParalysis replaced my “normal” selfI had to learn to walk again, the costWas more than unused shoes upon my shelfI had to learn to eat without a tubeI had to learn to walk without a caneI had to learn I wasn’t just some rubeI had to learn to use a broken brainA broken brain that used to be so brightI learned my “normalcy” was this: to write.III. [Hand writing in notebook]What else but racing had I done before?Before my TBI changed everythingI’d written sonnets. Could I write one more?One little song a troubadour might singResiliency requires that I writeAgain like I had written once, when wholeNot whole? I know, I seem a “normal” sightBut I have lost and found a lofty goalMy goal’s now this, to write in storied verseThe tales of all that I have stood to liveI’ve learned that life is more than to rehearseAnd life has many stories left to giveThoreau said I should live before I writeI’ve lived through death so Henry, let’s not fight!IV. [Human heart with "iamb" emerging from it like a song]My name is more than just an anagramSonnettics is the way I choose to liveA sequence made of sonnets is the dramI drink, I write. It’s what I have to giveIambic lines sound like a beating heartA beating heart sounds like a subtle drumFamiliar pulses fill my veins with artI hear them find their words and watch them comeThey find their way around my TBIThey find a way to bleed out on the pageI hear them talk, at least I think they tryThe words are gods whose confidence is sageThe wisdom of familiar words to singIs how I’ve learned to deal with everything.V. [A plowed field with iambic words or a verse of pentameter… maybe the first line of this sonnet]Resilience is a sonnet that I writeTo help my brain find pathways it once knewResilience won’t be easy, but it mightBe how I learn to do the things I doLike walk or write a sonnet: here’s one nowI know we’re in the middle of a taleA tale of sonnets, dirt before the plowThe plow is me before you to regaleRegale you with the hope of what I plantI hope the seeds I scatter here will growAnd then I hope the harvest won’t be scantTrue hope is like a secret that I knowI know to share my life in metered verseAnd hope it doesn’t go from bad to worse!VI. [Some image of a poet..maybe you in a kilt… on a cloud]I know it doesn’t seem a lofty goalLike running Boston Marathon or suchA poet pays a dithyrambic tollTo write in sonnets (or to write too much)More sonnets than the Bard of Avon didMore time to write than Dante spent in hellIf hell were fourteen lines in which we hidThe price of all the metaphors we’d sellThe poet might descend in hopes to riseTo rise to heaven to entreat the WordThen metaphorically I might disguiseMy soul with verses God might find absurdBut God knows how to laugh, a hearty soundAnd laughs as all the angels fly around.VII. [Brain]I saw them fly to Earth and pick me upI saw them hold me back from life’s last leapAnd every card they dealt me was a cupEach dealt me an emotion I should keepFor TBI had stripped emotions cleanThe cards were my prostheses, mine to holdI held them to my chest, each one I’d seenI might have lost such precious veins of goldThe gold of my emotions, unrefinedWas mine to keep in neural pathways newEmotions had been lost but not my mindI found a purpose, what I had to doI had to find the stories I could tellAnd Dante-like I had to go through hell.VIII. [Brain surrounded by stars]The hell of finding pathways ‘round my scarsThe scars that blocked the pathways of my brainBut even in such hell I saw new starsThat marked the pathways where I stood to gainTo gain a poet’s life I’d been preparedTo gain a life at all, I didn’t dieAt times it’s true that I was very scaredIt’s not some phony story to denyDenial is any easy path to walkBut I had run as hard as I could goIf medals on my wall could somehow talkThey’d tell the world of challenges they knowThe challenge now is writing songs of artAnd finding stories deep within my heart.IX. [Scott writing poetry with medical team in the background]I think that most good poets start with doubtI found my doubt that year I almost diedI learned that words could not be lived withoutAs there I laid with no one by my sideOh, there were doctors, nurses, quite a fewI love them all, for by their art I healedThey fixed my poet’s brain, but never knewThe poetry my broken brain concealedWithin my mind, my poetry was lostI journeyed there through seas of doubt and painI paid the piper, such an angry costSo that I might be whole and write againThey couldn’t heal my doubts, that job was mineSuch doubts constrain, confuse, and yes, confine.X. [Scott writing. Fates in the background.]The poetry I sought was to unbindLike Kubla Khan to Xanadu I fledThe sacred river Alph I sought to findIn words that I composed while still in bedI spent my time with words; each word was godI rearranged these gods to make them singA little song that mortals might enjoyI found what my mortality might bringTo bring the knowledge needed of the nowThe now my chronoception can't concealResiliency is more than Fates allowAnd so I write in hopes I might reveal Reveal to all who read or hear and feelThat poems too are gods of words that heal.XI. [Scott writing in hell]Let’s focus on the sonnet now to seeIf songs of words with some familiar beatMight amplify my own resiliencyOr if they should have left me on the streetDo iambs come in groups of more than fiveAre neural scars poetic in my brainI guess I’m glad that I am still aliveRegardless of the death of unseen painThe volta of my life, a TBIIs part of the great sonnet of my lifeI write my little songs, at least I tryRegardless of the scheme of hidden strifeIt doesn’t make a lot of sense, oh wellLike Dante I still write while deep in hell.XII. [Scott writing under a rainbow]The hell I’ve come to know and overcomeIs finding life in sonnets that I writeSo why then write? Is writing sonnets “dumb”They may not heal my brain, and yet, they mightResiliency in hell that no one seesIs more than just the writing of such verseAnd normalcy is more than just to pleaseThe people who believe that they’ve seen worseSo, worse than any hell that I’ve been throughWould be to stop composing little songsI write, I write, I write; it’s what I doPentameter is where my soul belongsMy heaven of pentameter is this:A broken brain that’s found it’s normal bliss.XIII. [Sonnettics in the middle of a circle. The circle has hearts around it or is made up hearts brains]Chiasmus is returning to the startIt’s like a circle showing us the wayI think I found the way through this my artThe art of sonnets since that fateful dayIambic blood goes pulsing through my brainAnd through my heart, my soul, and through my penThe neural pathways I propose to trainAre sonnets I will write and write againFamiliar as my name, I’ve found they helpTo bring me back from places I have goneA bitch called out to this poetic whelpLike Xanadu called out to Kubla KhanThe similes and metaphors are realWhen I compose the sonnets that I feel.XIV. [?]I am my song, my pulse, my turn, my schemeIf that constricts your mind then you should leaveI’m more than just a vision or a dreamIn which some simple acolytes believeAnd yet, I’m not a temple on a hillI’ve seen too many temples come and goTo make pretenses which I can’t fulfillPretend I sound like somebody you knowI am iambic meter at my corePentameter I place where it belongsA sonneteer and yet I’m so much moreMuch more than I express in little songsI’m fourteen lines, and yes, a volta tooYou think you thought you knew me, now you do.
I can’t believe the shit that sets me offIt’s like my fucking head’s a powder kegThe sparks are all around me; you may scoffBut wait until one lands, ‘cause then you’ll begYou’ll beg me to be decent: I don’t careMy decency is mine and mine aloneYou’re just a fucking spark; you’re everywhereI should have listened, should have fucking knownI should have known my brain would never healI should have listened to the voice of doubtI should have followed fantasy that’s realI should have lit myself; who’ll put me outKa-boom! It doesn’t matter anymoreI guess we know what powder kegs are for.
We bear the same initials, T. S. E.And so I thought we must be kindred soulsI thought the words we’d bring the world to seeMight mark the heights of reaching lofty goalsBut words are as directionless as thoughtIf thoughts become our words, the world is lostCacophony is music that we boughtBefore we knew, poetically, the costThese half deserted streets are mine alone“What is it?” was the thought I thought to speakBut poetry is that to which I’m pronePoetic circus needs poetic freakThe mermaid cunts were singing, each to eachAnd I was hungry, so I ate a peach.
Importantly you turn to face the thingThe thing that mocks your pain with gilded rageIt knows the words to every song you singRegardless of the way you flaunt your ageAs young as any seed before it sproutsAs old as any wisdom in that seedIt knows the grief of all its ins and outsIt feels the callous charms of every needWait, wait. Go back. Go back to quatrain oneLets talk of gilded rage and songs once moreA volta doesn’t mean a sonnet’s doneIt only means that after comes beforeBefore the end of poetry we sellThe words that find their way to some new hell.
We wait for words like forests wait for treesAnd when we’ve waited long enough, we speakAs quietly as honey waits for beesA metaphoric jar will crack and leakOur sense of equilibrium is spilledIn sticky puddles on a shiny floorIn time the time we sense can yet be killedIf killing time is what your words are forBe quick if you must wait for words to passBe more than less, unless you’re anymoreBe anyone you want; be polished glassRegardless, you can shatter on my floorIf love becomes a word that you must hateYour words will grow as forested I wait.
The sonnet's Fearful Symmetry is foundWithin both forests of the night and dayWhere similes and metaphors aboundWhere fourteen rows of iambs kneel and prayThe prayers of Fearful Symmetry composePentameter that keeps the form in checkAnd thus the prayers are forested as thoseWho twist their hempen cords around their neckAlas, a volta turns to find a LambSonnettics Tygers turn to face the starsA cry is raised: "I am, my God! Iamb!"The spears are tears that find they're yours; they're oursThen back to Fearful Symmetry we're broughtTo learn the things the trashy rhymes have taught.
As if we choose the meaning of the song
We let the lyrics wash upon our shore
Declare ourselves the right to right the wrong
Harmoniously humming evermore
And though we know the words we choose to sing
We find we lose some meaning in the beat
The circle of the beat’s a rhythmic thing
And where we linger, lingering’s complete
The sound we hear compels us now to be
To be the sound complacent we can hear
And so we listen to complacency
And wonder why our silence sounds like fear
The fear of little songs that sing our tale
And in such fear we find what we’d regale.
The words of Blake are still alive and well
Imagination’s metaphors are here
To rescue such ideas from our Hell
We must Create before they disappear
Within the mind of men, the mind of God
We see the life of stories we would tell
Creation’s realm: a place we find unflawed
A simple place where simple truth will dwell
Simplicity, like growth through birth or death
Is never simple, like the words of Blake
Imagination’s words are living breath
We live and breathe with everything we make
The Mental Fight unfolds as we Create
A life within Imagination’s state.
There once was a guy, name of FredWho had a gold cloud 'round his headOne day missed his boatSo he said, and I quote I'll ride crocodiles instead.
The days are getting longer now, hooray!Says little Meekoo as he climbs a treeThe forest won’t seem quite as dark todayThe forest is where Meekoo likes to beWhen Yule begins, the winter starts to endAnd Meekoo knows that spring will be here soonA fact on which he knows he can dependAs surely as the stars, the sun, the moonThe moon is cold, the stars all twinkle pureThe sun gives light and makes the springtime warm Of this and more young Meekoo can be sureAs sure as cold and snow in winter’s stormYoung Meekoo knows the hope the Yule can bringThe hope of life revived in precious spring.
There once was a man made of rhymeWho faced such a difficult timeWith limericks and moreThat were left at his doorBy drivers from Amazon Prime!
I once held your hand in my ownTrue love wasn’t something I’d knownThe warmth would sufficeLike a virtuous viceLike love could be something we’d grown.
At Christmas a young man named MitchWas given some coal and a switchHe’d asked for some pornHe cried out, forlorn:“This sucks! Santa Claus is a Bitch!”
Some of you may have noticed the fact that I have devolved from writing sonnets lately, to indulging in limerick writing. It’s probably just a phase.
Enjoy.
· By the scout camp a river ran nearWhere girls skinny-dipped without fearTwo scouts on a hikeOne Fred and one MikeClimbed a rock: “You can see ‘em from here!”
Green bud can make smoke bluish-grayJust inhale and then blow it awayYour head will be clearAnd you won’t need to hearThe stuff stuffy people will say.
There once was a dumb dog that tried On the back of a farm goat to ride The goat jumped and bucked ‘Til the doggy got chucked So a rodeo might be implied.
There once was a cherub, undressed Who did what he always thought best He climbed up a tree And leaned in to see The music that came from the nest!
There once was a dragon named Jack With spikes in a ridge down his back He chomped down a horse That was ridden, of course By a knight that he saved for a snack
There was a young farmer named Bliss Pursued by a pretty young miss Though he pined for the field He at last had to yield She grabbed him and gave him a kiss.
His wife made a fire for heat But still they had nothing to eat So he traded his shoes For flour to use And then he walked home with bare feet
I watch for fast complexities to rise To rise above the heavens and the gods The gods of every faith, of every size To stop to think, you know, what are the odds If all creation sings their maker’s song And every song proceeds beyond the void Then where will god-made creatures thus belong And […]
It never was that great, and now there’s this You call it what you like, it’s this to me Some adaptations taste like drinking piss And no one wants to watch, unless it’s free So I am free, you bastards to regale Without the sense to follow Disney's lead Within the belly of the fucking […]
Marcescence is when leaves refuse to fall They’re dead and dry and yet they still hang on A simile for things that we recall Like memories we thought were done and gone Our memories are leaflet buds in Spring And Summer’s green that rustle in the wind It’s Autumn, yet some memories will cling Marcesant […]
Such regular expressions fill the airThe air in all its purity impliedIt tells us we should regulate our careBefore it knows for sure we’ve never tried As green as blessed bud, as blue as smokeThe dreams become the nightmares we had soughtLike rhymes that rise In couplets as we chokeLike bits of stolen candy no […]
Years from now I hope people will look back and say, “Poetry isn’t just about flowers and love, just read Ennis.”
Mullejuana by Scott Ennis I stand out on the porch to smoke my pipe I fill it up with weeds I’m sure you know With leaves and buds as potent as they’re ripe The way the natives smoked them long ago For lungs, I hear that mullein is the best So I pick leaves and […]
mul·le·jua·na noun A smokeable mixture of dried mullein leaves and marijuana. “He ground his marijuana buds with dried mullein leaves to make a smokeable batch of mullejuana.”
To contemplate myself, I must go backBeyond the words I thought were truth definedThe truth I found within a tiny crackBeyond the truth that others would have mined The deepest mine in Kimberley revealsThe depth of filthy greed possessed by menBut I am more than just some thief who stealsEnlightenment from Buddha: such is zen […]
The truth is more than what is not a lie A lie is more than what is not the truth The words of gods are trinkets you can buy I purchased some while I was in my youth But now I see both truth and lie defined I’ve found that trinkets fade and turn to […]
Her life was more than just a Silent Spring A life of music lived with music heard She listened to the songs the world would sing The songs of every season, every bird The daughter of a brilliant mother earth Her sisterhood reminds us all to live In harmony with Gaia of our birth To […]
America, a place where all are free To live a life of happiness by choice America is home to you and me To share the things we love with freedom’s voice The voice of freedom sounds just like a song The song of freedom calls to all who hear It calls us to the home […]
I feel good morning, even though it’s cold The warmth of coffee mingles with my words I call them “mine” and hope they don’t get old Or fly away like silly little birds To fly away is freedom’s final gift To birds or even quick poetic lines The warmth of freedom rises as I lift […]
Coronavirus reared its ugly headIn 2020, all around the worldTo fight it we’ve been told to stay in bedI wonder who’s in bed all snugly curled The Donald? No. He thinks that he’s immuneImmune from common sense and nothing moreI wonder if this bug will change his tuneOr if the Donald’s just a stupid bore […]
I don’t know what it means; I just don’t know. Did I do something wrong, some kind of sin? I’ll tell you what I can; I’ll take it slow. Although I’m just not sure where to begin. You know, He came and spoke to me each night in Perfect Glory, stood there with His Son […]
Poor Jesus didn't mean to start a cultPoor Christian folk believe the poor boy didBe glad he doesn't see the poor resultOf how his life with "Christian" crap's been hidPoor Mary was a simple girl, a teenWho found that she was pregnant and unwedCast out, the "law" proclaimed she was "unclean"Though true, it isn’t what […]
Weep, weep not, thou knight of faith by tormentor despair. The sacrifice desiredat Moriah–by thy god required–exhalts thee to a throne beyond lament.Transcend the Law, and by obedientaction, leap the chasm where Hell is fired;tread the highway, which by god inspired,guides thee to thy heavenly endowment.Now Hell hath opened wide its gaping door,and doubt hath […]
I think you better go out with the boys You stay inside too much, she tells her son She knows she can’t express maternal joys To George, although he is the only one The only one she thinks of, in despair Despair at what died deep inside her heart Maternal joy she wishes she could […]
It’s late, and yet she goes out for a walk It’s late, and yet she walks out in the cold The town’s asleep; there’s no one out to talk About the way she walks; her mood is bold She thinks about the students in her school And then about the boy, become a man She […]
A bitch, I say, will always be a bitch She dresses like a slut, and slips around I ask her why she’s playing out of school She tries to slap me, but I hold her back Then Dilsey tries to help that little slut She calls her “damn old nigger” in return I drive the […]