The Confusion of My Verse

I saw the wicked, and their shifting eyes
And what they see when they read my verse.
Their eyes shift, they know not what I say!
For they cannot read my writing and know...
Their eyes are dull, just like their ears to my speech.
I know now, and shall have compassion on them
That they cannot physically read the plain words I speak.
For God blinds them, and shifts their eyes
And causes them to be in distortion.

Fibonacci and Pythagoras

Fibonacci, your secrets are serene---
We can spend a lifetime studying you
As the Cat on the Mathologer's shirt
Bends to your hurricane of Phi.

Even Pythagoras, yes...
Bends to your will.
For, take four of your numbers in a square
Lined up in their sequence from the lowest on top
And the highest on the bottom,
Left to right,
And when cross multiplied completely,
Make legs and the hypotenuse of a right triangle;
Yes, one value even must be doubled, but how serene!
Know its inner circle, like a soul
Tangential to the Right Triangle's form.
And what's this?
Do you know the squares made
From the exterior of each line of the triangle?
That's how Pythagorean Theorem works?
So, the radii of exterior circles
Also, by cross multiplication,
Fit by three Euclidean Squares of Pi.

So also, counting by Fibonacci,
While working through Fibonacci
Creates Pythagorean Theorem's roots also;
Even when a number counted
Is not a Fibonacci number.

Dad

I stand on the shores of manor blue
Which wash upon the white crests of foam.
The skin of the beach, in its grained
Glory rests, with the discus being thrown
By friends who've never parted.

What better friend than paternal bond
Standing by their son through good and ill?
To summon the courage to provide
For house and hold, and to shield
A man from winters and rains,
From scorching star and the dark
Abyss of night? A good friend
Who loves his sons, especially me.

What I did to deserve it, is naught.
I had taken every ounce of trust
And I have thrown it like the thistle's fir
And scattered it to the wind, 
I have planted seeds
Of tare---yet, you patiently waited
For a garden to spring forth its summer fruit.
And I have. No longer the tare
But my fruit a choice orchard of Nectarine---
And a friend I've had, I shall be thankful.
Hoping one day, to also be a friend like thou art
To me.

Happy Father's Day
Happy Birthday

A Dream

There were laity surrounding a prophet,
But a laywoman wanted to interpret,---she insisted.
The prophet huffed to this laywoman, "But if I am unable,
"I am good for nothing, for I am a prophet."
Then, the laity all mocked, and drew knives to kill the prophet.
But the prophet's Father saw just how wicked the laity were!
So, the prophet leapt from the terrace, to escape his listeners' wrath
And was met there, at the nadir, by a lengthy, blind snake.
The blind snake was proud, and buzzed his knape,
And was exceedingly wicked. The Prophet cried out to God
And he was heard, and was delivered from the snake
Through his foresight of the Snake's awful, wicked plans.
Sure, the prophet had a little pride, but murder was never his intent;
Thus will God judge the Laity who do this to a prophet,
By driving him away from his apportioned lot.
For if you make the prophet sorry for his job in this life, what shall he there gain?

Silly Dove

Oh. you silly dove.
Your heart is a mind for love
And you amble everywhere
Searching for a heart to share
In your beautiful heart...
Simple things, in that mind dart
To and fro, who shall coo like you
And where to alight and find fruit?
For you are unlike other birds
You silly dove... for first
Upon your mind is true love
As is the innocence of a dove
That first and foremost on her mind
Is love, to be shared with in time.

For it is so with all the righteous
That they primarily search for lucious
Truth, and deep seeded friendship 
And their Turtledove, with courtship
They dance their mating ritual
And finally, they come to mutual
Acquaintanceship
And finally the most intimate touch of relationship.