Rhythms: In the Shadows of a Global Nemesis

Source. Pexels. Andrea Placquadio, Photographer

by LJ Frank



thou and i are passersby

we give names to a person or deity

to enhance the nature of approachable

and then to bestow upon them attributes

we seek the unknown under the waiting mushroom clouds

scorching the sky


our nemesis in life, whomever they are, eventually perish

like us…though the shadows remain for generations

and some deaths are more ignominious than others

leaving a tragic toll in their path to power

and names are carved in the base of statues

between the legs with a view of the inguina

and still, sobriety arrived in the form of a black marble wall

with white letters of a half-forgotten presence


 manipulations compose an incision of red

a crevice in a cheek of a redemptive canticle

why do so many continue to cherish the sport of blood

filtered through the sieve called games of civility?

for within the strategic globe of the mind

a refinery for ideas is bewildered

the role of the cross retains no dignity

except for those who are obsessed with control


property and people are products

narcissism is a paper mâché tool in academia

tenure is a game of lust

and the private face of an imaginary Lucifer

is hidden in public while a mistress suggests

the message is the massage in the electronic global village

with shadings of Marshall McLuhan


and another sheet of ice separates while deserts increase in size

misplaced trust with names etched on architectural statements 

the futility of Freudian and Jungian analysis

a disturbed brain births the paradigm of structural ignorance

and a situational philosopher peeks through the existential curtain

to capturing a view of a biological signature on his mobile phone

courageous is Hermaphroditic wisdom

in the best of both world’s theater

for adaptability survives under the sun and moon

and The Era of the Cell is upon us

and the seasons will come again

intriguing in the splendid colors of hope’s flexibility

for the optimist is truly optimistic

when cash lines the pockets of Cloth

yet, income is only meaningful to the masses

when equitable, but who is listening


the crowd follows the gold brick road

that scripture was written while under the influence

in a divine ruler’s quest

the charismatic voice of squalid reasoning nods, what are options

justice lifts its leg of a stud or sire approaching a fire hydrant

the yellow stains of nature’s color anoint the phallic symbol of chance 


the beauty of the celebrity is embraced

trophies line the glassed-in shelves

 the eyes of the beholder are blurred

the stinging wetness is a healing

as the saltiness of ambiguity is revealed

all is natural in the field of human genetics

for one realizes the seeker’s heart is inevitably alone

in the final moment of its journey

with a fleeting vision of a passing life

a thought is but a receding glow

how could it have been any different?