Greg McVerry

   Whirlwind songs
constantly 
   begin on a 
face of
    tomorrow, yet
your reflection
 of meaning
   awakens a
reason
  seeking to believe
on an eve
 of forever yesterdays.

 A constant
   boundless
 truth
whose ruse
is our forever love
     broken loose
#smallpoems

 Feats
  of father
who dips his
  beats in sinks
of an
Irish Caller
hides
  A false Yeats
whose A-B-A-B
screams incomplete
 flaws possible
in descendants of South Armagh
 So slay me 
in hyperbole 
bending reality
stolen on broken
  bones of 
Dad's fractured
stories.
#smallpoems

I can start to hold an instrument again. Saturday will mark 21 days since the ribs broke. Still pain but I need to get a hobby back. Did get to do some carving without too much pain

14 days after cracked ribs and getting some sense of normality. Don’t need surgery and cleared for low impact exercise for next xix weeks (walking only)

Added a loop station to the home office and started to fool around. My first try ever

https://jgregorymcverry.com/mymusic/LooperNooberScooper.mp3

 When trouble, stilted,
   withered on
hilltops dolloped
  in pockets of
 mosses whose
 losses of
        accosted
               rock
       deposit
   winds against
stone. Only then
   can memories be alone

Paradox of technology: jgregorymcverry.com/poetry/pa…

You can’t search giphy for “none”

Aesthetics and Architects of Aura, all Bright lightning and thunder man, Kooey Komrades shining light where Darkness falls on a blinded eye Eager comrades! See, you and I.

Find data seeps grabbing underbellies of hidden sheep in boundaries jostling in foundries kicking Keynsian lightning bolts.

Must need NIST breadth and depth opening a #CMMC possibility Quality? Really, solid Truth? Understand variability is wide. And, Yes. Always up to Zues.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Happy Halloween from the McVerry’s

Playing with the pedals a bit more in the Knife of the Gourd

https://jgregorymcverry.com/mymusic/KnifeOfTheGourd.mp3

Waning fire
 of
 smoldering ashes
darkening skies
in
 dances
falling silent
 as I lose myself
    in your eyes of
destiny’s broken
desire
  forgotten stains
unseen in
   surrendering
embers

Spending a rainy Saturday morning messing with some reverb pedals to find a few settings that tickle my fancy (cw: off rhythm high screeched sounds from talentless hack)

A moan
  escapes
as I bend
  down,
arm propped
 on a cooling stove
to
  wipe up
one more
   spill
after one
  more day,
and as
  stubborn
streaks
  slip away
I wonder, “Is
this where
    my
poetry has gone?”
#smallpoems


  
  
	
  

The deeper we penetrate the mystery of sound, the more are able to trace the links that connect all sounds. This link is what the musician calls harmony, and it is in harmony that is hidden the secret of joy and peace. Hazrat Inayat Khan

img credit: “harmony” by mayeesherr. flickr.com/photos/ma… is licensed under CC BY

Cool writing prompt. Write a future where humans return to earth inhabited by these creatures: www.vox.com/down-to-e… or tell the story of one of these future animals

Starting the next lesson on harmonies ukuleleunderground.com/courses/u… as I try to learn more about scales and chord progressions #ukulele

Trying to make some spooky Halloween sounds:

 In the
duplicity
  that exists in
me
 lives an
epiphany kissing
   me
 to deny a
 duality who
    must do without
  on stolen lips
    words 
drip truth
  only a maker
can meet on mouths
  of borrowed 
     tongues
#smallpoems
  

text of nearly every day
rips hidden webs tucked away.
Dusks of 
  forgotten days
gossamermore of
 rotted fur
blurs 
curses in twisted verses
  as strands,
 trapped in hair and
   hands
 chase an architect
leaf on balanced strands.
  Relentless artist
  stuck this morning

We are but
     a piece 
 of glass
    born
 brittle in our 
   sun while
  we make our
    galaxy for stars
  not yet born 
  a sea of small energy
   back to the one
  sounds so lost
they must get heard.
#smallpoems

   Rivers who
open on the
mouith of me
send
 sounds
  drawn on lakes
   seaping in,
in a source….
     Waves
 pushed by
       smells of
 stolen memories
 floating on an
    antithesis to
    all
      I
         see
  

I found our fleeting poem bleeding relevance in tenses of seeping foam as truth rinses in keeping fences of stolen stances meeting our own

I  danced
    amongst
colors
     screaming on
photons once
    ensconsed.

I had a poem in my
  pocket
  but now I lost
   it
     and small
  meanings
    dangle
    in torn
pockets
  whose
    cotton fibers
 lick
     live
         sockets

A poet
makes a
mark down
town in 
spaces of 
 pre history who
 escape the plain
 text of reality
 #smallpoems