Prevaricator
From high upon a pedestal i write-
Weak and in total disbelief i cry-
My eyes- like slits shutting out the blinding light of day-
While whispers of the real truth-uncover your lie;
The windows to your soul-they fooled me...
Hidden well within the covers of our time...
Unlike the clay molded into a most perfect form...
'Twas covered by the snow of the Winter rhyme;
Exhaustion set in overwhelming me...
The evenings menacing darkness just creeps-
As a ship upon stormy waters with torn sails-
The whispers of the true you takes away my sleep;
Lost in a collage of your lies...
Thrown in a mighty sea of stormy waves...
Totally taken in by your every word...
An unaccepted life not worthy to even save;
Too complacent and naive i had become-
Altered by lives- haves and have nots...
Confused and abused by the sinister of liars...
It is for the real truth i have fought;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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All Is One? ? ? (A Cold Case Solved)
Collective guilt tallies it's members...
Peruses over their years of past energies
Hops a memory flight back to Seattle
And concludes that their gooses might be cooked! ;
Fear makes them scurry...
Dumping all of the DNA and other evidence in their local landfill;
Covering over the beaten path they all walked...
Disinfecting the newspapers archives
In the needful hope of remaining incognito;
The headmaster still makes all of the calls.
She has her degree in Justice...
Oh so sure all of these years that her
Black robe would keep her lily white;
Unfortunately for her-her name surfaced a long while ago! ! !
Tied in with my April Showers & past Big Birds-
Merry-go-rounds with brass rings & Emily Dickinson;
Recalling: 'Pops beauty queen, perhaps no prude
But words were cutting' and
The proverbial Vic and Marion of yesterday...
When a puppet was a thing on a string-me! ! !
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poem by Theodora Onken
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One Thing Leads To Another
The wind blows pure- unpolluted...
My blinking eyes see signs of Grace...
The fluff from the clouds temporarily disappears...
And give the mysterious woods-a face;
The purple dawn awakens all of my senses...
As the brillant lemon-orange rises in the East-
A gentle sigh from a past shadow whispers a single breath-
While a raging thunder builds as a mighty beast;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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Chaos And The Cabals
Dizzying attitudes oft' disagree...
Swirling in an unbalanced round...
Turning circles over and over again-
And more than not- landing on the ground;
Debates and questioned attitudes-
Paint relevant and oft' unsound choices...
Rational and irrational actions...
Oft' adhere to imaginary voices;
Dreadful and egregious endings...
Are not written in: 'The Proverbial Stars'-
But those bent on absolute destruction...
Cause us to bear the heaviest scars;
While criminals of 'no remorse' continue on...
Oft' hidden behind a most clever veil...
Carrying on with their most heinous wrong...
In todays world-'tis a most grievous tale;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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Criminal Minds...
Feeling so alert in the crisp sandalwood air! ! !
My mind draws pictures for me...
Its of two people caught up-'in secret'
What some might call their apt destiny! ! ! ;
He has long white hair-pony-tailed
She has Delilah hair-medium red...
He has done 'everything'' literally-X rated...
She has the Midas touch instead;
He dwells on sexual thoughts daily............
While she is a Nympho, at best!
He has many a fetish, thats true
Her heart is of chrome and its a mess;
They both share something in common...
Unresolved sexual tension and greed-thats right
She always wants it wherever she can get it
And he is a fan of the Harlots of night! ! ! ;
The Sandalwood incence continues to burn
The picture of these two become even more clear...! ! !
Both are so caught up in the use: of stimulants
That when: The Truth Arrives-they do not hear;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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~Growing Old? ~
A Look Back To Now...
Basking in the New
Spring Sun
Knitting needles
Construct the weave
Drinking Cristal
Toast's de-jour
As this day prepares
It's leave
I lay my weary head
Down
And breathe in the
Elixir's of Spring
Enchantment decree's
In effervescent degree's
What a nature filled
Ambience it brings
For i have lived a life-
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poem by Theodora Onken
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It Could Get Much Hotter~
It could get hotter with discovery...
With the finding of all of your wires
And your sockets extra goodies
Your timers and electronic ears;
Yes, Buster, it could get hotter
Perhaps with the exposing of your innate greed...
A hedonist drowning in his own arrogance;
If all of your blueprints are found
And gone over with a fine tooth comb...
Where your motive was simply the coveting
Of other people's gold at the end of their rainbow;
It could get much, much hotter, Buster!
If your San Diego connection is blown
Or that little spark in Surprise, AZ
Jus' B Coz comes into view...;
When your group of circuits are exposed
To the natural light of day
And your ratty DNA is all over the batteries
And plugs of your once stealth activities...
When your journals and logs of our activity
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poem by Theodora Onken
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And Vegence Is Mine Saith The Lord
We know all that we need to know...
But it is not up to us in the end...
But it is up to our most loving God--
In regards to jugement that he doth rends;
For though we have been tormented victims...
At the hands of those who practice the lie...
Its not up to us to embrace vengence--
Its up to our heavenly Father upon high;
For He knows all in His omnipresence...
And with His omnipotent command--
All of us shall be addressed when we pass over...
Sentenced by His Most Divine Hand;
For He knows what has gone on over the years...
The victims, the drugging, the stealth, the lies...
He knows everything about each and every one of us...
With Him there can be no disguise;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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Call Me Ismael-Won't You?
Michael-he goes by many names--
He hovers undercover-'round--
Univited and a bit excited sometimes...
He's like a Steve Winwood song;
Call me Ismael won't you?
I'll deliver your truth to the 'Man'
Law Enforcement knows of you...
Been aware since hearing of your band;
So ya think that you can keep on deliverin'?
Passing your poison vapor 'round?
You are only fooling yourself ya know...Moby Dick
Tip-toeing trying not to make a single sound;
But you've been heard oh attic dweller...
And its not all greek you see...
Exposed from your head to your toes...
And soon under arrest for illegal entry;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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Anomaly
She was a medley of synonyms
A jumble of sheer contradiction
Confusing her legions of readers
So busy, trying to paint her world of fiction;
Her perfect puncuation life relied on it
A vocabulary brilliantly used
Though conspicuous lags over the years called out
She would never go anywhere without her shoes;
No expose's of her darker side...
Of her days spent in a 9 by 5 cell
No hint of her dirty laundry
Hung out to dry, in her self made Hell;
No hint of her past actions or consequences
Self-hidden, her malicious greed-filled side
Bought and sold to the Devil long ago
Today, it makes for, a most bumpy ride;
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poem by Theodora Onken
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