Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Introspection Metaphor Poems | Introspection Poems About Metaphor

These Introspection Metaphor poems are examples of Introspection poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Introspection Metaphor poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Quintain (English) | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night I

Mannequin

Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine, on Winter's night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (gray sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© G.V. 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved

(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: 
ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)
(Allegory, Humor)


Details | Couplet | |

Moon Light Moon Night

We hold hands walking under the bright beam of God’s Moon Light,
And stop and kiss so intently in the soft cradle of the dark Moon Night.

The passion and rapture together we feel so on this cold black night,
Is reflected and majestically warmed by the touch of the Moon Light.

I look lovingly into your eyes on this quite special dark Moon Night,
Marveling at the love so reflected in your eyes by the Moon Light.  

This is an enchanted sight to behold by All who love the Moon Light, 
Reflecting the beauty and meaning while savoring all the Moon Night.

A deep Cosmic Blackness pervades the canvas of this great Moon Night,
While God’s grace and love pleasure us with a most bright Moon Light.

Almighty God in Heaven gently modulates the tone of this Moon Light,
Bringing constant wonder and glory to All on this most dark Moon Night. 

My love and I now understand the mystical meaning of this Moon Light,
As we ponder and hold so special God’s emotion felt on this Moon Night.  


Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 19, 2014) (Rhyme Couplet poetic format)


Details | Verse | |

One Autumn Day

As the wind ripped the leaves from the trees
I thought of you
As I stood there like those trees
Stripped of all their glory
Their only crime
Giving birth to beauty

I watched them fall
All those brilliant leaves
And knew you could never stop
Poetry in motion.

THIS POEM IS NOT FOR ANY CONTEST

Written:  September 14, 2014
Author: Elaine George


Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Verse | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night


Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine and cloudy night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (the sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Allegory-Humor)
Hellenic Quintain!
(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear


Details | Free verse | |

Cold Beers and Voyeuristic Cannibalism

I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty 

from the soap of mental suppression,

that the callouses are from hard work,

and not from picking my bones back up

off the floor on a daily basis;

ragged, dry, and weary. 

Every fairy tale has a root,

stapled into the hard soil of truth.

They all have a moral,

some sort of clerical error 

born from life’s shadow. 

We watch, hoping to learn 

from the missteps of someone

else’s intrepid imagination,

some 4D revelation singing

lullabies to the young heart

of humanity.  

And they bend to the fickle 

will of greedy creativity, 

making the yoke less bitter

so that we can tongue the purge

of denial without pouting. 

I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,

that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,

watch you drink from the frosted glass

of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,

that you won’t notice the blood bubbling 

up, and over my shiver before you finally

finish this story. 

I just want you to understand.

This isn’t poison.

This is merely me bleeding out,

and hoping you’ll learn to love the 

taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,

served up with juiced will and the vegan

flesh of my inhibition.  

So that you can see through my eyes,

know where I have been,

and how it felt to be consumed.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Water Being Cleaned

The ram died high
On the snow covered
Mountain, when the thaw
Of spring came, it's
Decaying body

Contaminates
The melting snow
The waters flow
Brings death in grip

The farther
It traveled
The less germs

And death
Were there

Clean


(This is also a metaphor for sin.  The farther we stay away from it the cleaner we stay.  Of 
course, we can repent but the results lingers.)


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Dark Ice

Shadows and murky darkness deep
Describe the depths of lonely hearts
That lie in wait and icy chill
For fiery love to burst in flames;
That empty chests may be refilled
And taste sweet love again!


Details | Ballad | |

Broken Dreams

  Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
   Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
    The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
    Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's you can do,
    Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
    How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
    There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
    I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
    Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
    Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
    Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
tac


Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Lyric | |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.




Details | Blank verse | |

The Eye

The eye,a sign the 
unwise can't comprehend
  Forged from the world's 
origin,an 
illumination in darkened 
minds,for the 
enlightened ones like 
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac 
Newton,John Milton....etc.
   The eye is a tree 
with many branches like 
Priory of Scion,Knight 
templars,I.O.G.T,United 
Nations,Masonic 
Lodge,Music industry, 
Politics,global economy, 
etc 
stretching beyond 
human imaginations-felt 
in all corners of earth.
  The world is clothed 
through wisdom from 
above.
   The eye,all seeing 
sign,an invincible 
emblem of power and 
riches to the lion hearted 
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and 
fame.
  Creating the social order 
through men of power....
  Some see it as a 
curse,others a blessing.
  I feel it,the great eye is 
everywhere watching 
you!


Details | Sestina | |

The Dragon Flight

Atop a jagged pinnacle, he sits, just waiting; ragged wings stretch into flight. Dragon eyes his prey; downward sweep and clasp brings supper for a dragon. We all must face our dragons; climb looming pinnacles. Face-to-face, clasping ourselves; we watch and wait; we are our own prey and can’t escape our truths, in flight. Poetry in flight, is the night dragon. He easily finds prey, from his pinnacle; a patient specter…waiting, with cold talons ready to clasp. Downward swoop and clasp; spreading wings in flight. Tired of perpetually waiting, fearless dragon, with wings obscuring pinnacle; takes unsuspecting prey. There is no hope, for dying prey; wiggling in talon-clasp. Dragon’s spy pinnacle, welcomes him from hunt-flight. Famished dining dragon, welcomes no more waiting. Much too long, in waiting, with no dinner-prey, can leave a thinning dragon in deaths abominable clasp. Angels in celestial flight, will carry him, to Heaven’s pinnacle. When for death, you wait; face your dragon. He’ll give up his prey, for miraculous, spiritual flight. In a death clasp; souls reach the eternal pinnacle.


Details | Lyric | |

The Landscape of a Soul

The landscape of a soul is
A valley of uncertainty 
Beneath a mountain of woes,
A river of doubt
Carving a path between
A desert of despair
And a forest laden with shortcomings.
This is the trek of a lifetime.
A journey laced with 
A sense of impending doom, 
With nothing but the path ahead
To supply a glimmer of hope.
But we,
The dreamers,
Delve into these trenches of mystery
And despair,
Knowing that we
May discover riches beyond compare,
But just as well meet our end
Along the way.
For we know how remarkable it is,
That one can miss so much
With our feet set forward
Our eyes to the ground
And our mind lost in the clouds.
When all along,
The answer we sought
Was nestled among the insecurities
And imperfections
Of the landscape of our soul.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Don't Care

I Don't Care...


I don't care,
if you're battered black and blue,

I don't care,
just as long as I can drink and screw.



I don't care,
if you've lost your damn job,

I don't care,
you're just a kernel off the cob.



I don't care,
when I see you begging in the street,

I don't care,
I get to suckle on capitalism's raw teat.



I don't care,
about the elderly, the poor, or the weak,

I don't care,
if the earth will be inherited by the meek.



I don't care,
if the climate is warming, I'm so much cooler,

I don't care,
in my penthouse I'm the boss, the only ruler.



I don't care,
for those rolling for scraps in the muck,

I don't care,

I really don't care, cos' I don't give a f**k



inspired by Bob Geldof's "The Great Song of Indifference"


Details | Acrostic | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
 
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.


Details | Sonnet | |

Last Breath

You were a shining Star.
Few of many in the sky.
Looking up so very high,
Not knowing why you are.

Close and set you are far.
Spinning flames  knot a tie,
I note a pattern just like pi.
Colliding with me you spar.

So burn it up and burn away,
Sow your heart upon a plane.
Chart your distance in the clay.
Burn it all up then call it sane.

The explosion in the sky is His death.
All burned up He has no last breath.

(R) Registered:  2013  Ann Rich


Details | Imagism | |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex


Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home


Details | Lyric | |

Lacerated Wings

They are bound to the Earth like trees
Suffocating under the weight of an icy grave 
Reaching to be free, but only their limbs are seen
Hoping that one day someone will see:
They can't escape with lacerated wings

The ocean surrounds me, covering everything
Nothing will be clearly seen; confusion overwhelming
No-one can save you, you're on your own, left to die
Manipulating every bleeding heart you can find
I can't escape with lacerated wings.

Swarms of nets, waves of screams 
Entangle: your captive illusions and dreams
The mask has be seared - The truth now they see
The Liar - Vampiric Fiend; lowly thief
And now they know you can't escape with Lacerated Wings

There's reasons for your rejections:
Your Heavy heart's transferred oppression
The scars are too deep to pass the trials
But you can find peace in your cage of empty spirals
You Cannot Escape With Lacerated Wings


Details | Acrostic | |

Who Am I

Who am I?
Question indeed!

  W-eaned from tender 
age,in noble family of ten.
  H-urt by the demise of 
the tube that brought 
me into this theater of 
struggles and pains.
  O-rdered about by the 
whimps of this 
world,facing the hurdles 
of life daily from 
cradle,never giving up 
hope.
  
  A-fine young man of 28 
I am,who has the 
experience and wisdom 
of the aged.
  M-astering the arts of 
life-learning from lessons 
of life's victims and 
didactic poems 'cos man 
of fame I intend to be for 
I bear the name Bob.

  I-lost my poetic gift at a 
stage but recovered it in 
poetrysoup for invisible 
entities say a 
lesser being I shall be,but 
another encourages me 
to move on,for great is 
one who comes out of 
the shackles of life 
undeterred for this is who 
I am.



Name: Ifeanyi Bob 
Ekechukwu.
Date:24-10-2013.


Details | Personification | |

Conium


With airy moves the thinker tried to gulp
one more full glass of the potent liquor,
'das zould bee iit', he said, in English calque,
'afta zis bottle I'll be a quitter'.

His mind analyzed why Socrates drunk,
instead of this pure nectar, conium,
He started writing knowing he would flunk,
and his pen's gems would be zirconium.

He drunk and gargled the eighty proof gold,
in his blurred vision Philipp Lenard laughed,
and Karl Max Plank's postulate did unfold
quantized integration calculus' craft.

He wondered if the philosopher's norm
that electromagnetic energy,
could solely emit in quantized form,
was the discovery of last century.

(You know in zis vorld ze gut schnapps is rare,
like slivovitz und aquavit und kirsch),
he read somewhere from drinks to be aware,
- 'Chain nuclear reactions' book of Frisch,

Outraged he saw the drink's surface descend,
with airy moves he called the liquor store,
Maxwell's equations started to blend,
through electrodynamics slept with snore.

© 02-09-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
(rhyme)
(a poem against excessive alcohol consumption)

Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Contest: Personifying Science
Placement: 3rd


Details | Light Poetry | |

Butterfly

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...


Written By: Christina A McCullouch 
04/09/2013


Details | Free verse | |

A Dream

At a moment in my life long, long ago —
I had a dream of an ethereal existence,
Transcending the very mortal bounds of existence.

What a sublime notion worthy of thought;
To be an “Entity” beyond our mortal existence.

My thoughts are there, each and every day;
Moving outside of “Everydayness.” 

What a moment to behold while looking
In the vortex of life:  past, present, future.

Who will be my Sage? my Guide?
Questions pervade my Soul, my Being.

When I awaken will I remember or
Continue living as a one-dimensional person?

My dream world should be my reality.
My real world should be not—or is this so?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 28, 2014) (Free Verse poetic format)


Details | Sonnet | |

Red Blossoms

Down where the Camelia blossoms blood red
In the heart of winter, when others rest
Poverty is stamped out and all are fed
And red-breasted Robin has flown the nest

Few left to struggle with a cold winter
And family farms have disappeared from view
None left to tend the fires' dying embers
No inheritance left for children to accrue

Will the Robins reappear bringing spring
A rebirth of values and  self-esteem
Planted fields whose great harvest brings
A wealth of values, wisdom that beams

Poverty still planted where blossoms red
Values disappeared, disrespect bred

Sonnet: With 10 syllable count and rhyme
scheme: abab, cdcd, efef, gg
Called an English sonnet....


Details | Free verse | |

Daybreak

I wake on the sand
Right near the beach
You have yet to awake
Far out of reach
And Daybreak has arrived
A beauty unlike any other
Comparable only to us, girl
And how we love each other

So I gaze up alone
Marveling up at the sky
The warmth of the sun
Drying my eyes
I'm reflecting on us
Oh how each other we trust
I'm just so happy we're together
And I think to myself,
Just as this sun, we'll last forever

Then returning to be with you
I lay again now
Place my hand gently
On your warm tender shoulder
While I think of our lives today, love
And how they'll be when we're older...
I know there'd be no other way
So "I Love You" I make sure I say
To you, each and everyday


Details | Free verse | |

Zin

Withering auras of Zin surround
The tears of a crying heart
Trickling down through ancient vines
Spilled into pools of sacred red wine

Where pain freely flows
Until the brooding heart glows
Embraced in time, sharp edges refined
Drifting to sheer delight
 
Zin pours from sepulchers divine 
Sanctioned in muted candle’s light 
Promises the spirit to ignite 
Reflected in his sparkling eyes


Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013


Details | Free verse | |

A Winter's Tear


A Winters Tear

Latent waves of shimmering vibrations disturb the world,
tossing leaves and forcing grass and trees to weep a lament.
My winters breath is snatched away decimated and lost.
The hidden sun glides the horizon silhouetting the mountains,
grey bubbling clouds smother the raised land with their weight.
Man and beast march head bowed in slow laboured steps,
As if to pass unnoticed like pall-bearers, to the seasons gone.
Passing familiar places they ignore my shuffling gait.
I walk this path of memories each and every day,
sometimes sitting beneath the lonely bridge of dreams.
A winter’s tear blurs my vision, as memories stir my soul,
Visions like scattered diamonds spread out to relive. 
Only to trudge on to journeys end and there to rest for awhile,
Where the warmth of my family will shelter and heat my bones.



Seosamh de Burca 21/11/13


Details | Alliteration | |

a little ration

Heat my heart I hear a hero
this soul soothed, stilled, and silenced
golden, growth, gave me a guru
within, wild, waiting to whisper
I inclined, initiate impossible
imagine infinite isn't so infamous
IMHO SMH serves no justice
TKO LOL no need omega
delighted to deliver dharmic direction
self-appointed steward of selfless
practiced not perfect, positive portions
critical for compassionate connections
we, world, will win, with unity
culture continues to counter crosses
mediated meeting my middles merciful
If you think you know then answers pass by
not one mind built this vision
landmine lands filled with landfills
minus minding multiple menaces
covet care cause its a rare case
corporate ladder, or conscious staircase
choices chastised, for coursing courageous
caring contagious, counting on cowards
evils aired aren't left faceless
sights for sure are sore from wayside
be the change to see a day is seized
stay cold-hearted and this place will freeze


Details | Free verse | |

Giving In To The Gray

Overwhelmed with fear I whispered into the rain
Disarming defenses, Giving in to the gray 
Tearing down all of my shelter within my hollowed decay
While this echoing silence gave every tear drop a name
They begin filling the voids with mundane hopes for a change
Heaven will save me from this hell and blue skies will reign
Lazily lay in green grass watching clouds drift away
It's all but a deflated dream now that the colors have changed
My thoughts have become restless noise of uncertainties rearranged
Damning all of my emotions, lies decorated with grace
Now I stand with a hardened heart in the sobering autumn rain 
I'm disarmed and defenseless, Giving in to the gray


Details | Rhyme | |

EN ROUTE TO A BLESSING

TO MOVE FORWARD
TO MOTIVATE OTHERS
FOR EMPOWERMENT VIA NON-PROFIT
TO ACHIEVE WHAT HAS BEEN SAID TO BE IMPOSSIBLE!

Is there a greater focus to determine a greater faith?
Why ask, if you are living the best way?

TO STEP-TO-THE CAUSE
TO BE A POLITICAL POWERHOUSE
TO PROVIDE MOTIVATION
TO INSPIRE A NATION

What is your focus to be?
I ask because a destiny is perceived.

TO BE TO DO
TO LOVE TO LIVE
TO QUEST TO ACHIEVE
TO SEEK TO DEFINE
TO FIND TO SEEK OUT
TO ESTABLISH TO ASCERTAIN

What questions have you not ask?
Bringing forth this knowledge is to introspect.
________________________________________|
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 15, 2014!


Details | Rhyme | |

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Every rose has its thorn,
Every person that's born
Is both thorny and sweet as perfume.
So are some when they grow,
As you likely may know,
Naught but thorns, or forever in bloom.

For the bush clad in thorns
The kind gardener mourns,
Yet he cares for them just like the rest;
But the roses that grow
He replants in a row
So the people that walk by are blessed.

If each deed that you do
In a rose garden grew,
Would your branches be roses or thorns?
Would you be on display
Or be hidden away
In the shade of the blackberry thorns?

Would you be but a shrub
That the passersby snub,
Or a rosebush admired by all?
Growing thorn after thorn
Will but heighten the scorn,
But a rosebud is lovely, tho' small.


Details | Quatrain | |

WHAT IF I WERE ROBIN HOOD

What if I were Robin Hood
and Dave Wood was just a street name?
What if I were sick of an industry/kingdom
that's brought so much wealth and fame?
What if?

What if I got tired of fighting Prince John
just to have a bigger piece of the pie?
What if I long for more than Locksley
and in fact I'm more than meets the eye?
What if?

What if while you pen your next poem
you unknowingly hum a lyric I wrote?
What if I really needed a sabbatical
some time to clear this mind and throat?
What if?

What if the truth started leaking out
like warm tears from a broken heart?
What if here in the midst of Poetry Soup
I started feeling like I was a part?
What if?

What if I were dying inside to tell you
like a confession I really felt like I could? 
What if it wasn't about Sherwood Forest
all along it had been to save Robin Hood?
What if?

What if a simple poem contest for glory
brought more riches than all the bling?
What if I've fallen hard for sweet Marian
to reveal myself could ruin everything?
What if?

What if all my new friends I read everyday 
now feel closer than even Little John?
What if I decided to tell Will and Friar Tuck
no, not tonight but tomorrow at dawn?
What if?
What if?

Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name: Robin Hood
Date: 4-20-14
Form: Quatrain


Details | I do not know? | |

Darkness

when you're fast asleep
and thoughts creep into your head
and flood your brain until it weeps
and your mind descends dark and deep
into a land of dead end worlds
where the only way out
is the way you came in
but the road is way too steep
and your feet are made of lead
and every smile is just pretend
and nothing is to be believed
and you're going off the deep end
bleeding rivers of hatred
into a pool of shallow deceit
where every thought is colored red
and every shade of black completes
every nightmare ever conceived
born of blood-stained dreams within dreams
where that person you used to be
is falling into skies of silent screams
and contemplating death
all the while wishing
to be alive again


Details | Free verse | |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



Details | Couplet | |

Rabbits

Always pulling rabbits 
From the bottom of my hat,
Always looking forwards,
Never looking back.
Like to keep you laughing,
Laughing through the night,
Keeps our broken hearts at bay,
Hidden from the light.

more of my poems at: http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | I do not know? | |

'Give me drink, rest, and solitude'

Give me drink, rest, and solitude--
these are all the things I long for.
Give me as well your finest food
and I'll ask of you, lass, no more!

My bonnie lass, what's the matter--
why are you all sorry and alone?
Don't be sad because you're fatter
than most, lass, for love loves its own.

Sweet lass, I'll tell you a secret.
If I were a young lad again,
I'd pursue you without regret!
But as I am three-score and ten

years old, indeed, I can never
be the youthful lad you most need.
But your pain won't be for ever:
for your heart will refuse to bleed.




Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Lyric | |

Nature's Sigh

The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face

So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go

Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh


Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | Lyric | |

A person I've met before

You are a person i've met before.
The man who stands knocking at my door.
I remember you from my dreams,
Your eyes sparkle and your smile gleams.

You held the door open as I ran in for shelter from the cold weather & rain.
You are the man I stood next to in line.
You are the man I passed by
I danced as you sang the songs chorus.
I pushed my way through...
the sea of people and stopped next to you.
Amidst the crowd we stood, searching for a way out
I looked around, I glanced in your direction, I looked past you 
I found my way out, I hurried my way through.
I walked away having not met you.

A second glance, I did not take,
unaware that our meeting was fate.

You are a person i've met before,
Sometime ago on a night like tonight,
The air was warm, the stars shining bright
The night that we met,
I danced that night, I danced and danced until the morning light
I sat to lay my feet to rest, you came to me no different from the rest
You asked me for a cigarette.
An open chance to conversate 
knowing this interaction would not lead to a date
We shared thoughts and ideas of similar interests.
such as music and poetry, art and astrology.
At the time I thought nothing of it, a casual meeting of the mind.
Little did I know, I would continue to meet you throughout my lifetime.

You are a person i've met before,
I've read your book of poetry at the local book store.
you write of life, love and family.
You are a person i've met before,
I've seen your paintings, they are hard to ignore
You are the artist I dream of meeting
You are a person i've met before.

You are the man in my dreams, 
Your eyes sparkle and your smile gleams.
I've met you 100 times before,
You are the man who stands knocking at my door.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.





Details | Free verse | |

The Man With No Face

Hark!  It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.

No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.

The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!

His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.

It is but he!
No! Tireless;
designed to be.
It is but he!

Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
a perfection, 
designed to be. 
Shrug the abyss.

Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.

Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.

Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.

It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.


Details | Free verse | |

Gratefulness

To be absolutely certain To be firmly convicted in principle and belief Is the scariest feeling of all But, like all feelings, it never lasts The conviction stays, but the mind wanders Deep into the zones of ostensible comfort Where it rests merely to frenzy Into the streets of opposition Straight into the absolute wrong But the feeling never lasts It returns to the minute certainty The mind becomes determined in the conviction it has embraced And the best feeling rises above the initial fear: Gratefulness
6-29-13


Details | Free verse | |

A Departing Memory

I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.

And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
Nothing
Lasts forever.
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."




Details | Rhyme | |

The halo effect

If there is one thing I remember
It is what life told
Just open your eyes
All that glisters may not be gold
So who is to blame and whose fault I hold
The halo effect, the one in disguise
Manifesting deception in front of thy eyes
Treat one different because of their look
Why read? Judge the cover of the book?
But you do read others because they don’t have the look
If you understand, how long has it took?
The halo effect, we magnify a trait
Condone the flaws, we magnify a trait
Attractiveness, is this what you mean?
All this talk, my perception a feign?
What I see, aint what it seem?
Huh, thanks for this, as well as that.
The halo effect, my mind was hacked. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Buttons

A button, one knows is held tightly by thread
Secured to its post unwavering, it’s said
That nothing, no nothing would wrest it apart
Or keep it from its dependable start.
Its lifetime, like ours is varied at best;
Too many buttons have been put to the test
Whether by stress, by anger or simply decay
Each thread of life was torn away.
Like surgeons we mend with patience pretend
To restore the bond to which we depend.
Our memories are woven, one thread at a time 
Through various sizes some less than a dime.
We cherish and garner each stray away
Into glass jars we place them for another day.
So, cherish the thought that your buttons are taut  
That nothing, no nothing remains so sought. 

Jonathan M. Bellmann
Contest Name: Put Your Best Rhyme Forward


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blood on the Mirror

You prod at the sores of your heart
with a hemorrhaging pen, wishing it was 
a scalpel; so you could carve 
out the disease that keeps 
your rage alive. 
Basic instinct, I suppose.
To slay the demons,
that made you who you are. 
You thank them for your posture,
but scold the obsidian eyes in the 
mirror. What you have become:
Callous, and engulfed in the 
rotting theater you thought 
you controlled. The reigns 
have broken loose, your 
skull whips in the wind of 
chaos. It’s not really your 
sort of dance, you know…
                                      You don’t know the steps
              …you don’t even know the song. 
It drums against your flesh
as if you were already stripped 
and tanned, spread across 
the hallowed instruments 
                             of reckoning.
But you can’t hear the chant,
only the distant hum of the
butcher who said you could
call him “friend”.
That you were safe,
if only you would show him
what you promised you would
never show anyone.
It drips,
            thick,
                      coagulated,
                                           dirty.
Just like every part of you,
you wish you could burn;
As you dig the covenant,
into the flesh of your enemy;
                                          Your only true, enemy. 
The mirror cracks…
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Free verse | |

The Real McCoy

He walked outside the mirror of 
solitude, 
And greeted with the purest of 
stares. 
Confused by this clairvoyant twin, my 
fearful color was intact; 
I awaited his response, and he spoke in familiar 
tongue these following passions. 

He spoke of that Sagittarius moon he 
celebrates, 
when the 22nd day presents itself. 
In earlier episodes of himself,
he continuously advanced through blind
hallways, 
with no afterthought of the internal flame, 
potentially burning in his honor. 
He revealed sketches of himself, that await 
discovery. 

The silent preacher remains his 
title, 
yet with every curious ear, 
his history is awarded audible. 
He became an unwritten author a 
lifetime ago, 
a sigh of relief was expressed, 
as he became every metaphor, 
thereby regaining those thoughts 
of yesterday. 

He still dreams of that fatherly 
silhouette. 
A favorite thought of tomorrow, 
to borrow a voice, from this male 
influence, 
now absent from land. 

The thought of plural skies visits him 
constantly, 
he’s never forgotten the idea of unity, 
although on occasion, 
it’s faded portrait appears fictional. 
He awaits his inspiration in 
reality. 

Those white walls that surround him in 
military stance, 
are assumed to be his only company. 
However, he’s confident in his legacy, found in 
similar souls. 

After exposing this identity of truth, he felt 
completed, 
I too, became a turning stone. 
Before retreating, I asked for the word, that 
complimented his image, 
He simply thought Jiril. 


Details | Ode | |

Bathsheba

The juggler moves his fingers fast, 
he likes to smile and to deceive, 
when people laugh at his recast, 
his goal's higher things to achieve, 
for Bathsheba applauds and laughs.

Her hands she claps with sullen glee, 
changed him to a marionette, 
that sprawls for her obediently, 
       jinxed tragicomical duette, 
       he jumps defeating gravity.

The juggler walks on tightened rope, 
St. Bernard will protect his act, 
frail equilibrium's postponed, 
he'll pass across, crows' croaks detract, 
agleam granite pavement's below.

Unmoved he laid, (lost souls misgive) , 
the juggler sprawled did not bemoan, 
the sawbones's charlatan and thief, 
as Bathsheba failed to dethrone, 
the clown's tangential unknown grief.

© G. V. 12/23/2012, All Rights Reserved
( Iambic tetrameter form.)


Details | I do not know? | |

The Canvas of Night


The Canvas of Night


Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos,
my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight,


I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight,
absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight.




Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


and my being is infused with feelings of hope,


for even in darkness  I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light.




note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.





Details | I do not know? | |

Where Wild Violets Grow

Where Wild Violets Grow

Scribbling these verses,
caressing your bare back,
simple rhymes,
flowing from my fingertips.


Scribbling verses,
sprinkling odes to fragrant promises,
your smile lightens the burdens,
off my heavy heart.


Scribbling verses,
soaked in countless kisses,
the moonlight waltzing on your skin.


Scribbling verses,
feeling you,
your love never ceases to flow,


through the streams of my mind,
to a place of our own,
where wild violets grow



Details | ABC | |

the beast and me

There's fire in my lungs.
smoke flows through my veins.
I feed the beast my soul
to gain euphoric pain.
I serve he who lives in me.
The monster in my mind.
The creature so abusive,
at times can be so kind.
In my mental hell,
I sit beside his throne.
I tend to his desire,
so I don't have to be alone.
Here He is my god.
And I, in turn, am his.
A symbiotic worship,
sealed within a kiss.
Sulfuric fumes consume us,
as we dance into the ether.
The hands of god are ours.
Hes made me a believer.
My halo, so very worn.
His horns, so alluring.
Hand in hand we walk,
love and hate enduring.
His guidance lifts me higher
than any drug could try.
His chains hold me down.
bound wings can not fly.
Walking straight and tall,
crawling on my floor.
I am his moonlit goddess.
And his filthy whore.
I wont break his binds.
I wish not, to be free.
I can never escape him,
for this beast is me.


Details | Prose | |

The Globe

Sometimes I can literally feel the burn of silence. 
It’s somewhere within my bones, 
a blank slate made of heavy metal poisoning.
 Perhaps if I cut deep enough, I can retrieve it
 and find the inspiration needed to purpose
 the lonely canvas I’ve sheltered for so long.
 And with a marrow’d ink I’ll scribe the secrets
 I’ve forgotten over years of mirrored eye
 rolling and self propelled pity #$%*s.
 Finally, I’ll be free to pool the ashes,
 and build my castle of upside down day dreams, 
and brightly lit nightmares.
 I’ll call it “The Globe”, 
and dress like Shakespeare would if he grew up in the 90’s, 
and all my friends can help perform my drunkenly scrawled 
screenplays that lead, inevitably to the death of “The System”
 that we all helped create, 
just so we could have something to destroy.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Verse | |

I'm sorry

I'm sorry for you, for all I DID mean to.
I'm sorry for truth yelling under the letters.
I'm sorry for gloom I used to be into.
I'm sorry for words that were ment to be better.

I'm sure you'll learn how to be optimistic,
and all of your sorrow will burst in a firework.
I'm sure you'll taste both the carrot and broomstick,
and critic with sarcasm will become a fair quirk.

I'm sure you'll manage to blow off the ceilings,
to do something wierd, worth to be accused of.
I hope that you'll learn to sort out the feelings
and born the new tenet out of the used stuff.

I want you to find something to govern.
I wish you object every slightest assurance.
I warn you to leave any secret uncovered
so it won't appear as nightmare to you once.

Be careful with matches, refuel the gaslight, 
extinguish the candle, let the night to mourn.
I'd say, single point to fear the Last fight:
to set Life aside until you'll have to moor.

8.04.2013
NikA


Details | Quatern | |

ALBATROSS and PRECIOUS GOLD

ALBATROSS Like an albatross, past clings as dross. Round my bent neck, it hangs in check by my golden cross. The standards of long ago; a culture which is difficult to forego. I strive to survive in this daily jive of struggles to and fro. I pull out the rusty nail of old doctrines which impale the coffin of my life. Objections are rife, but my soul isn't for sale. © 2011 Suzette Crous [Concrete]
PRECIOUS GOLD While precious gold is refined, leaving behind the scummy dross; so the distant past hangs around my bent neck like an albatross. Customs and doctrines of yore, while precious gold is refined, taught by people I came to respect, its power inextricably bind. I bravely tug at rusty nails which the coffin of my life impale. While precious gold is refined, my soul will never be for sale. Not all lessons learned, I askance. The lesson to strive to be kind, bequeathed to next generations, while precious gold is refined. © 2013 Suzette Crous Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi Contest Name: Metamorph


Details | Free verse | |

Salt Water

A thing so paradoxical desire;
So all encompassing it’s grasp;
A curse of eternal thirst- 
Though we are drowning.
Hands desperately scratching for a life raft
That is secretly made of the same water we drown in.
So we continue our daily floundering
Chasing a trail of crumbs we call “Hope”


Details | Free verse | |

Mirror of the Soul

Gazing into a clear lake pool . . . 
I saw a reflection of my life before me.

The gaze and what I saw depicted . . . 
A progression of past life experiences.

I savored the funny and kind moments . . .
Looked despairingly on the difficult moments.

This gaze into the mirror of my soul . . .
Astounds and confounds me still today.

And the knowledge that we are all . . .
Much more than the sum of our parts,
Means so much more to me today.

What I’ve learned are six things . . .
Ignorance begets Stupidity,
Knowledge begets Wisdom,
Inspiration begets Creativity,
Light begets Illumination,
Passion begets Vivacity,
Love begets Happiness (but not all the time). 

To know yourself . . .
You must see and sense yourself
In the mirror of your own soul.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 28, 2014) (Free Verse poetic format)


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Thoughts

Thought are only feelings too,
Thoughts that I think so often of you.

Feelings are my sensations within,
The mud and the rubbish,
The diamond ring.

Sensations are the messages you send to me,
A sword, a cross, an olive tree.

So many images flash through my mind,
So many feelings to which I am blind.

So many thoughts that I never dare think,
Like old dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

Hidden away beneath the shit, 
The mud the blood and the rest of it.

Thoughts and feelings lost in the wind,
What really mattered is hidden within.

Within the noise, the laughing crowds,
Between the lines of a song sang loud.

A whispered caress, a gentle breeze,
A butterfly's wing, down on my knees.

Beneath the thoughts, behind the scene,
Under the feelings and what has never been.

Though the holes in time and space,
What is always forgotten, your long lost face.

Shining brightly for all to see,
It was never you, it was always me.

Always me down in this pit,
Thinking and fighting to make sense of it.

Always me blocking the way,
Blocking  the door to keep out the day.

Always me who had the last word,
Propping up, the blind and absurd.

Always me with something to say,
Thinking and feeling my life away.


Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."


Details | Free verse | |

Edge of the Forest

I gaze at the edge of the forest
and wonder of life therein.
My native knowledge tells me 
there is much to marvel at.

Whether it is morning, afternoon or evening
Mother Nature’s intervening schedule is
continuous, seamless, and wonderful.

The forest displays a sense of beauty 
and at any given moment—
a wild desire to be understood and appreciated.

I know that when my days are numbered and short,
I will conjure up in the depth of my consciousness
a past image as a child
standing at the edge of the forest—
eternal in my studied gaze and enchantment of all
wonderful and beyond description in
God’s World.   

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 28, 2014) (Free Verse poetic format)


Details | Free verse | |

We are the monsters

Innocence
Never twisted guilt
Soberness, simple minded 
Heartfelt
Young eyes blinked, bashfulness 
No such things as monsters

Sleep tight
Sleep tight
No such things as monsters

Years dawned on
Mascara dripped
Troubled eyes
Losing hope now
Childhood days, fade away
They take me into darkness

Turn on the lights
Turn on the lights
Haunting nightmares

I looked under my bed 
There was a monster
Staring right back at me
I jumped on my bed
Below my covers
I was scared as can be
Shaking at the image of what I have become
There's a monster in my bedroom
Yet I'm all alone

What is happening?
Life is changing
Life is changing
 
We are the monsters
We are the monsters
 
There was a mirror underneath my bed
Your eyes can't deny your reflection, it replays in your head
When we all grow up we become the monsters underneath our bed
 
Don't be scared
Don't be scared
 
We are the monsters
We are the monsters

We all grow up to be monsters in the end.


Details | Free verse | |

Three Souls

One was a child 
so sweet and mild
Voice of a bell 
to ward off hell

One was a bell
with a crystal chime
To comfort the cat
and make the earth shine
 
Two was a cat
With a mysterious past
A dark view of the world
And a horrible wrath

Two was a mind
as dark as night
To protect the doll
That could not see the light

Three was a doll
With a broken soul
A shattered heart
With eyes a black hole

Three was a rose
Of pure white
Covered in thorns
As black as night


Details | Rhyme | |

heart, mind, and soul

father time in my chest
keeper of its own pace
just skin and bone depth
influences time and space
what are we but drifters
 in an unknown

see truth in a literal
belief before my face
stars with no funeral
light will win the race
here i am, not for long
death starts at home

where is this leading?
which story could it be?
despite all my reading
writings the cup of tea
i dont need to know it all
as long as im not alone



Details | Quatrain | |

The Fool

He always listened, hardly spoke a word
He heard everything but was hardly heard
Advice he never gave, counsel he never sought
“Good or bad, it`ll all soon pass”, he thought

All in one – newborn babe, man, woman, and child 
With eyes wide open, in his innocence he was wild
A gentle warrior animated by glorious grace
Life was a gift he`d gratefully, blindly embrace

Animated by a breath of heavenly heat and fire
He`d never tire to aspire higher and higher 
He was of the sun – and a son of heaven 
Hardships, strife, adversity were to him leaven

Head in the clouds, feet hardly touching the ground
Looking up, oblivious to the world around
When he ran out of ground he’d walk on air
Follow him you fools, if you dare


Details | Rhyme | |

Live To Be Timeless

They say that life is short

With different lengths for everyone 

Some are gone before they start living

And some before they are done


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


With a path on each side

Motionless at a crossroads

Not knowing which step

Would lessen the load


Do it tomorrow

Leave it til later

Put it off for now

The stalling gets greater


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


How can I live

Without having regret

And be content

On the day I meet death


Tomorrows troubles 

Still far away

Takes away my happiness

And my smiles for today


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


Plans that are large

The height of one's dreams

Could distance you from the now

Then the now can't be seen


The night follows the day

As the day follows the night

Try and live in each

Of the moments in sight


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


I may be taken tomorrow 

My life could disappear

Not afraid of tomorrow

I'll handle it when it's here


But today I'm alive

And I've overcome my fears

And I'll reach for that star

Every day of all my years


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


Details | Free verse | |

Living on the edge

Sometimes
I feel like I'm stood on the edge of a cliff
swaying too and throw
in a icy cold biting wind
staring down
at the dark deep caesium below
never knowing
from one moment to another
which way I'll go.

Hoping someone
will come along
and reach out and grab my hand
and save me.

but until then
I stand here and sway.

Peter Dome.copyright.2012.


Details | Free verse | |

Ambiguity

Life is like an ambiguous script
It is nothing more than a over developed metaphor 
Not so neatly packed in a box
Nor does if project nicely from the lips

What metaphor teaches a moral lesson
It all seems absurd, contradictory, and inconsistent.

Life is like a sphere out of control 
Void…less
And... vacant in a fast... spinning world 

There is no compare and contrast 
Heaven and Earth are unrelated subjects
Yet... the narrators, they keep navigating
Using the masses as his primary subjects

To those, who have made the world their stage
I am tired of the nonsensical images you create.

Life is spirit 
and
Heaven holds no ambiguity


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | Lyric | |

The Price

Shivering in silence
Fading in disgrace
I can not name this feeling
But I can recall this place

A kingdom in my nightmares
A vision as I wake
A broken, crying infant
On the throne of my mistakes

I stand outside his city
On the verge of stepping through
The portcullis then closes
Because I’ve denied the truth

Quietly I listen
For the price that must be paid
If I ever wish to enter
I must find something to trade

My sanity seems willing
So I release it into night
Again the vision’s singing
Burning through the light

This time I am crying
Deep within the walls
And in this empty kingdom
A child mourns within his walls

Shivering in silence
Sat upon my throne
With sanity now traded
I am left to fade alone


Details | Free verse | |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
felicity 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
appear.
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
come?
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
 
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
turn?
 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
twice.
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
strength.
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
slumber. 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Drown

The water in my chest,
And my eyes, they burn,
Lungs burst for air,
They are losing all their turn.

My eyes see the light,
That swims in the water,
And as I sink,
My lungs burn hotter.

I try to breathe,
Yet only choke,
I scratch for the surface,
Pray that it be broke.

But I know that I,
Will soon touch sand,
But only beneath the waves,
I will never touch land.

So I close my eyes,
To be engulfed by the dark,
As as i slip away,
Shines bright,  the mark.

The deeper I go,
My dress cling to me,
As I drown,
Sink,
To the bottomless sea.


Details | Couplet | |

His Ass A Tale

His ass; a tale each women said.
Of one held high - he rendered it.
Like men of past to honour it.
A rogue like him - a dawn of wit.

They followed him a stern dead hem.
Each judged him; sire'd for him.
To each love they were fair and grim.
And some would say they're all a whim.

Some do bawk and claim him nay.
Most keep circles; waits and times.
Elite approach to spread their chimes.
While late provoke him for his crimes.

One man's wake that goes oblivious.
Her clueless cause for dancing.
Love together comes 'a prancing.
THE END; his soul will wait for lancing.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nightlight

I just want to dream a little more,

before the sun dries up this stream of thought;

before my tongue begins to search for words

faded by the choke of night.

The sky screams in the hands of a harsh turn,

neither of us wants our darkness unveiled.

Yet,

I wish the light would swallow me up as well.

Instead,

the broken slumber of day creeps into my bed,

and shakes my tomb.

I watch it stumble through the blinds,

sloshing, lazily polished, and promising.

Like it always does. 

And I try my damnedest to pull my eyes away

from the hope that is stitched to my shadow,

but no matter how hard I writhe in this place,

I cannot escape the artificiality of this world

 that I can’t seem to wake up from. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | Rhyme | |

Stand up with me

( this is my way to bring out what i see and what i object to ... the happenings in the state of Goa )
 
When strange lands begin to unfold And pathways commence to get green and fold All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! (to the real estate mafia.. not all builders) When the naked tunes of glum hilarity fill up the air, The cacophony of eight notes in the eardrums blare, All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! ( the many bhavans and academys) When the scribbling on the wall, Will be the last call All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! (a portion of the fourth estate) When the ageless form will break up the glass, Seven years of bad luck will come in en mass All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! ( to some of the so called environmentalists) When the sky will not itself clear Our sights will be blinded to long way from here All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! (To some of the politicians of goa) When the worms crawl out of the torn can Brain drains itself and ruptures itself like a self destruct plan All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! ( the traitors who under value Goa) When the cold from the ice, Will itself pay the price All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! (the bars, shacks, hotels who overcharge to make a fast buck ) When the ore form the Goan mines, Will persuade the lawmakers the rules to redefine All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! ( the suffering middle class & the people depending indirectly on mining ) All the thoughts we held up in hope Now gone up in smoke Please stand up with me!! ( People of Goa)


Details | Light Poetry | |

Dinner Date

Bring all your revenges to the table
Sit them down and serve them well
Crystal cut glass, French Champagne
And listen to the stories that they will tell

Place guilt across from regret
Whilst heartbreak and sin reacquaint
Thoughts starched up cotton napkins
Dine with both the sinner and the saint

Lies like locust swarms spelt in sentences on the menu
Anger boils over erupts spoiling the setting
Ego attempts a humble hasty intervention
But memories x-ray sharp prevent forgetting

Tensions trek arduously around this table
Whilst fear scavenges for dirty little secrets
Elusive emotion makes an elegant appearance
Upping the ante, everyone taking side bets

I thought I heard someone call my name
It was coward hiding behind the door post
How could I not go to his aid?
I really must leave and assist him, after all I am the host


Details | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell

while

ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bridged Breach

A demised man without
Jesus is dead.
So also living soul without
Jesus.
Jesus manifested
for purposes,
What purposes?
The hopeless.                 
to receive hope,
To set the captives free,
Destroying forces 
Of darkness.
With thirty pieces;he
Manifested.
Dark forces defeated.
Our sins forgiven,sure
Access to the father.
Breach in Adamic time,
Put in oblivion by lasting
Bridge-
access granted.
His love is lasting.
The death of Jesus!
Lo He has resurrected!
He lives!


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Free verse | |

Now I Am Free from My Step-parent

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence 
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when 
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--

now I am free.

I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without 
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich 
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--

which sets me free.

Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, 
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with 
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless 

waste of ashes.

From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and 
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile 
looks from 

across the dinner table.

But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for 
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: 

I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from 
a child whose only fault was that he was born 

defenseless and
white.

O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in 
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; 

free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams 

of Spring again!


Details | Rhyme | |

Goa My Goa Carpe Diam

Abhorrent those phizog few, At times they flood his mind. He did not even know why them his mind drew, He has got to get down, reasons to find. His mindly nib, she oozes memories, Of old and new… far but few,but many ,that he knows not. On papyrus his mind scribbles and carries, And then drains encapsulated emotions that afore are now brought. His heart bleeds of porous feelings, Bleached and dried by furious despotism. Of people he knew real close in life’s dealings, Of the ones he had no knowledge of their absolutism. Blood flows from his weary eyes, Tears flow from his broken heart. But he has not yet learnt life’s game of dice. All he has borne is the fury of the tyranny’s dart. My thoughts like his lie chained , My mindly nib brings afore, Glued stuck and stained. Memories of the past eon all sore. Get up my Goa….. Can one dare to hope… Instead of all in this darkness grope All he can hear is Empty voices….. cold… dark and sterile, Shapless dreams , but sought in the midst of peril Black mirrored roads and murky simmering waters, Is no place for perfect reflections, but for our dream slaughters Leaving behind a land adorned by hungry eyes… Its beauty diminishing like wisps of smoke amidst populous cries…… Get up stand up…. ElseWe will run blinded in the dark, And meet the hard embrace Of whispered truth and scolding truth without a scenario of a worser case You are watched and inspected, Governed , directed , censored and corrected. You are told what to do, You are told how far to go. Where is that haloed glow? No more a part of your grand show, Have they driven your thoughts to a tangent, Oh then even your smile could shortly become pungent. Your sanity unseen Your senses now dumb that were earlier keen. I still cannot reconcile as to why? Why why and why? You still walk in sheathed in tatters of pride…. Lips closed but open eyed….. How long…….. Do we have to be forlorn How long…….. Do we have to be forlorn


Details | Lyric | |

Exist in Dreams

A dream that dances in waves, and mirrors all you do
So you dance, and hope that some day the song will come from you
This dream is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
The song is picking up speed, so it’s follow or fail alone

A flame that flickers in sync with the shadows by your side
The rain puts out the light, and causes you to hide
This nightmare is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
But this song still hasn’t stopped, and so you dance alone

You cherish sand on the banks of a path winding through a storm
This desert trail is all that you see; too blinding to look beyond
This path is all that exists, and the only way to go
Holding close the sand as you sing, just so you’re not alone

The sand is part of the storm that makes you close your eyes
But now the wind starts to slow, and the scenery makes you cry
This life is all that exists, and the only way to go
The sand falls through your hands, and you carry on alone

A love that blooms into being beneath the darkest skies
Is a life that will venture out despite the lonely nights
So scared, but so unafraid to find what you need to be
Despite the fear that prevails, and tells you what to see

The flames steady and still, and a shadow kneeling down
The rain cleansing your heart as all your fears drown
The sand creating a path, and shielding you from pain
And now, with the wind at your back, you remember why you came

To dream a light shining out for all the world to see
To be more than you think, and beyond all that will be
To create a desire to be the creators of our dreams
To become the mirror of self, and reflect our unity


Details | Free verse | |

Dying with a Smile

Love is an unspoken form of maschism
And it's slowly killing me inside.
Each minute of silence 
A lost beat of my heart.
My ribs are all knives now
Stabbing my flesh and making it bleed.
My heart feels vast, hollow
Cold,
Like a hundred story skyscraper-
its residents packed up and left suddenly with out so much as a note on the door
And their rent unpaid.
And each day my skin screams and tries to escape my body and I saw at it with broken glass in an attempt to set it free but I can't.
I am trapped.

And our love is the five ton anchor pulling me beneath the waves.
Our love is the air bubbles frothing from my mouth and the cries of my lungs as they are
filled with the sea.

And our love is the smile on my face that doesn't dare fade despite the pain.

Our love is the hope that soon
I won't need to breathe.
That the chains will break and set me free
To wash ashore with the millions of others and watch them stand up and brush the sand from their hair and turn to bask in the sun's embrace.

Our love is what breaks my legs, keeps my back to the sun and my eyes locked on the dark waters in the hopes that you will emerge and grasp my hand and help me stand! 

Our love will starve me
And burn me
And deprive me of sleep.
I will die for our love before I leave this shore without you by my side.
And maybe,
Just maybe,k
I can smile for once without the pain.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | ABC | |

Zephyr Wind

Around me all my eyes can see
Beyond the ruins of tomorrow
confused and lonely people plea
Drowning in a sea of sorrow.

Every head is lifted high
Facing towards eclectic suns
Grasping at the shallow sigh
Hiding with the lonely ones.

Inside the martial law begins
Judges have no self respect
Killed her with the empty tins
Liberty swore to protect.

More laws are made for terrorists
No one even says a word
Overtly fearful catalysts
Promised danger is inferred.

Questioning is not allowed
Remember that you patriot
Stay the course follow the crowd
Thankful for the things you got.

Under all the false pretenses
Valued in some greedy hands
Washington still shocks my senses
Xenophobes, their heads in sands.
Yesterday the breeze blew free-
Zephyr wind, come back for me.


Details | Lyric | |

Children with Masks

Broken in your shadow
And lost within your light
The child who chooses ego
And the man who wants to fly

Embracing every sanctum
Which enshrines your dying cause
To be the one to save you
And forget those scars and sores

The love you now desire
The only good you've known
Will end with how it started
In the pain that you have grown

With loneliness now clinging
Your memory rotting out
You chase the same old reasons
That will make you scream and shout

Your heart now lacks forgiveness
For what you have become
The spiral-end of nothing
Mistaking blindness for the sun

A visage of perfection
This man is just a mask
It reflects your hate on others
As the child selfishly attacks


Details | Free verse | |

Another Night of Dread

It is dark and night outside my window,
and in the soundless, lit confines of my 
room I sit at my old, ivory desk 

cheerless

and anxious with dread for what the rest
of another night may bring.

My ostomy bag, an abhorrent creature that 
hugs precariously on one side of my abdomen,
covers my raw and fleshy stoma underneath. 

Against my desire, the stoma continually oozes  
feces and waste 

like a sewer into the ostomy bag, which, 
every seven days or so ruptures its seal 
and transforms into

a stinking and rancid cabbage

whose fetid odor refuses to stop emanating 
until the entire, offensive beast is immediately 
uprooted from my body.

So, I sit at my ancient, ivory desk, writing 
these cherry-picked words to express

the anxiety and the doldrums 
of another night;  

and the lonely, isolating, embarrassing, humiliating,
ego-wiping, self-esteem killing, mind-numbing, 
soul-shattering, universal, all-embracing, 
omni-present 

stench 

that weekly offends my nostrils and fills my lungs 
because of a thoroughly used-up ostomy bag that 
needs to be removed immediately

like an old, decaying vegetable 
that has outlived its 
freshness--

It is another cheerless night in the same, old
cheerless space: 

the nose-blistering smell, however, is only for 
another night...


Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | Free verse | |

The Horizon of Perception

If you stare at the sun long enough,

your eyes will become the desert 

they’ve always failed to see;

Just beyond the limits of their

perception. Empty, dry and tragic. 

If you stare into a pool of water

long enough, you’ll see the vivid 

reflection of years meant to wade 

through relevance, yet stopped short,

trapped in the irises you’ve held 

in a skull destined to become part

of an ocean’s reef; another story

lodged in the coral of ironic distraction.

If you read these words, and look into

yourself

                 …just long enough

You’ll see a life meant to be defined 

not by the elements around you,

but by the intention in which you

choose to see, and be seen. 

The ripples in the water,

made by your stroke could

drown you, or push you further

toward a destiny written in the 

eyes of elements curated by a

glow not of the sun, but of your own. 

You are at the helm,

twaddling notes, denoting 

the curious expectations of 

a young drifting sum of celestial 

coordination. Where you go is 

up to you. What you see, feel,

what you hear, taste,

What you change… 

is in the heart of each moment 

you continue to turn the cogs

of understanding, and breathe in

the truth of why the wind pushes 

you toward a horizon that continues 

to stray. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | Sonnet | |

Kingdom Builders

July 31, 2013



Kingdom Builders

Holy Holy Holy I must say to all.
Long day hard day I am with you.
Hot day cold day it is for me too.
Days months or years you I call.

You have displayed my visual doll.
Multitudes of truth seeds you grew.
Spoken for as spoken words abrew.
I grant you the light in that dark hall.

Never say never!
Never look back!
I am yours forever!
I am with no lack.

I am always the hands of  filters,
Observing my Kingdom Builders.

(C) Copyright 2013  Ann Rich


Details | Free verse | |

Indalomena Mnemosyna

'The silence of Marcel Duchamp is overrated'
All that chess-
Recall for a moment
That idle chit-chat,
That verbal bric-a-brac,
such flamboyant suppositional consciousness,
Let it noodle around the edges-
Blow this metaphor off.
Ratings challenge lies.
The deep magenta shadows,
The haze of grass smoke
'My face is my own, I thought'.
We need to remember,
Weaving around caftans
with a duodecimal swivel-
I think of Ben Johnson
And 'Shards of God',
Who is Hanibal?
Collapsing the elements,
My question is a part of the point of these lines,
A faked head,
Gaslight,
A form of women,
I can do nothing.
Other discourses speak on it's behalf,
There is a cost to the silent critique,
'The silence of Marcel Duchamp is overrated'.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...


Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,

shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,

I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,

torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,

I refuse to bow.



My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,

still,

I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,

again...


Details | Free verse | |

The Anatomy of What Disgusts

A stoma and a scar 
like the Grand Canyon
form a conspiracy 
against my body. 
The stoma--raw and 
fleshy--looks like a red 
and beefy barnacle on 
my side that constantly 
oozes and drains feces 
and waste like an 
overflowing, backyard 
cesspool. It sickens me.

Near the red and moist 
stoma lies a huge, 
crooked scar on my 
stomach and abdomen. 
It is like the Grand 
Canyon of Arizona--an 
immense displacement 
of the local landscape, 
only instead of earth 
and rock and soil it is 
my skin and muscle 
and tissue that has been 
gouged away. Like my
stoma, it sickens me as
well. Because of them
both, my body now
feels to me like the 
raw anatomy of 
what's disgusting.


Details | Etheree | |

Time

Time
tick tock
The present
now becomes then
future becomes now.
Passing like fast water
to the sea.  Be mindful of
the current and not swept away.
The clock seconds scream - warning not to 
run ahead or fall behind the swift hand.


Details | Quatrain | |

Eagle

Lone and proud, soaring up high
Looking at you I understand why
You stay away and never come down
Why you`re a king without a crown

Made not to hold or to be held gently 
Your look and touch are sharp, unfriendly
On earth you cause death, hurt and damage
But that`s how, to your maker, you pay homage

Your nature you can`t possibly deny
Every attempt made is hopeless, futile
You are avoided, feared, or even hated
Curious sentiments by ignorance created



Details | Prose Poetry | |

CONSTANT THOUGHTS


Constant thoughts:
The meditation, devising silent destruction
Delusions, anxiety highly distortion
Fundamental thoughts, 
Confusion of sorts out of proportion
The consequence of the after math 
This black messiah without emotion

Constant thoughts rumbling 
In my head like a wasp’s nest in chaos 
While external still internal mental mayhem in turmoil
Cracking thunders beyond human imagination 
Because the power of my concentration
Leaps threw boundaries of unheard discoveries
At a depth of no recovery 

This is a mental process 
As put hand on my chest and mind 
Teaching the mentally blind 
As they stay behind 
The constant thoughts


Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)


...Staggering, my vision cloudy,


I fall to the hard ground.


when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,


and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.



I see myself slipping,

down the abyss to where nothingness exists,


still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,

for my will to stay persists.



I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,


my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.



It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,


I summon the strength from deep within,


I rise, slowly, to face the day,


I refuse to sink,

to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


I refuse, to sink, to drown,


for they can try, to punish me some more,


but I shall not allow them to grind me down…


;-)


Details | Senryu | |

The face of indifference

nothing more painful
vague masks of indifference
kill never softly

nothing more wordless
faces of indifference
so suicidal 

nothing more empty
void views on indifference 
drill to go ahead

(c) Elly Wouterse


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | Prose | |

Doubting the Stars

Everyone sees something different when they look up into the stars. Somewhere there’s a young boy dreaming of becoming the first astronaut to meet new life, on a distant planet. Far away, or maybe just down the street there is an old woman hoping that once her bones meet Earth’s hallowed chamber; her soul will soar into the heavens and her life will become a part of the light that breaks the void between life and death. Her journey, finally becoming as eternal as she always hoped it could be. Some just look up and feel infinitesimal, a speck of dust in a vast and obscure reality. Others simply feel a sense of calm as their distant glow sends tides of vague understanding into their pondering souls, unable to fully grasp the endearing mystery of their presence. I’ve always felt the latter, when I gazed up into the night sky I always knew somewhere deep inside that I wasn’t alone. That something was looking down; not aliens, not a burning celestial knot of souls, but something beyond human understanding..something that tonight seems unfathomable and out of reach. When I was young, I had a form of recklessly unbreakable faith that at the time I thought could not be torn by anything. I had a soul, and a pure heart that would break for anyone, as long as someone was there to mend it, at day’s end. I was sure that there would always be someone. Sure that this world was built by grace and endured by love. But tonight, no hope radiates down, I feel nothing, no presence, no understanding, vague or otherwise. Tonight I am simply biology’s cause and effect. The swelling of impure neurons tossed around in the fatty tissue of a confused brain casts doubt of any sort of happy ending. I am sure that someday gravity will take its toll and do its work. Maybe we will get it right next time. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Time

The world consumes everything
What I love, what I hate
What I am, will be, and have been
This paper, and these thoughts
It will all eventually sink into the
ever present swallow of death
The loudest of all Earthly echo
is legacy; What a man leaves behind
How he is remembered
The color that was seen
in his embroidered vision
The forgiveness of his touch
and the sincerity of his pulse
This is the soul of a man
The only impervious song
that can be strummed by flesh
unhindered by the blows of time

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Lyric | |

Hey Bartender

Written 2010


Flashing lights and sounds roll by
Hear the sound of muffled sighs
Sullen words cannot express
Just confess, and lift it off your chest
Told the priest would hear your cries
If you don't feed him blatent lies

Oh he's your only friend 
But he don't want to hear your sins
He's off doing his own thing
But it's far from priestly things
Oh he wont look in your direction
Let alone show you affection
Even when he hears your plea,
"Hey bartender please!"
Gone are all your hopes and dreams
All you ever sought to be
Heard from all across the room
Are many empty pleas,
"Oh won't you pity me?"

You can close your eyes and count to 10
Again and again
But he wont come back to help his fellow men
He was your only friend, but he left you all alone
To wallow in your sin
He failed to listen to your prayer
Now your lost in dark dispair

You can hide behind your cries
But he'll see into your eyes
Until the time you leave his bar
And wobble to your car


Details | Quatrain | |

Dungeon of Dreams

Master and lord of his lands and his castle
He was graciously greeted wherever he`d travel
A man they thought they very well knew
But secrets he had more than just a few

His ordinary self blends in with others
A second look to take no one really bothers
But below the smiles secrets are hidden
His mind’s with a strange affliction smitten

Dark chambers, rooms lie beneath the surface
He built them with a specific, sinister purpose:
To hide prisoners from seeing the light of day,
To deny them life, and there`s more to say:

The prisoners were his blood, his own brood
For high society deemed to be too crude
Wild, untamed, and to their nature so true
From the public eye thus they withdrew

Their master, brother and father lives up above
Divided against himself, his life`s devoid of love
An empty shell, a painted vase, a facade he shows
Without his shadowy parts that`s all he is, he knows

So at night he visits the chambers by candlelight
And observes his dungeon of dreams with a clear sight
What power and sincerity, what elemental life-force
In a pretentious world how impossible to endorse


Details | Sonnet | |

friction match

fourteen lines make a love sonnet
for both ancient and youthful alike
passionate love lines gushing upon it
putting feeling to page, like tonight

by the time that the fifth comes up
the flush of hot lust reigns full
yet already arched at its apogee
by eighth line fire starts to cool

love's fireworks blaze so beautifully
duly perfect in its dual dueling flight
yet fourth from last line seeks immunity 
as ardent passions come crashin' to dislike

yet who among would not strike that match
to fire that work skyward for Eros' catch

© Goode Guy 2013-01-12

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friction_match


Details | Couplet | |

light house

-light house-

...lost in the deep dark dangerous fore forest of mental foresight
the pitch blindfold blocking my light of sight

and pattering feet feebly giving way for a stumble
my heavy body spatters mad, my face smudges, i crumble

i take a leap forward, a step that would be of faith
i realize i forgot to read between the slim pith...

there is much a few step in the worlds treaded miles
very few leaps of faith that that made light and smiles

still lost, very hard to find my way i try
midsts introspections and fear of re-occurrence of history,

going forwards paints backwards the presumed future
this time my own self is in destruction; my nature...

i build castles in that darkness of the night
i war, i make soldiers win battle, i too fight

in that darkness i lead a family that follows on
dreams that i cant tell when they were born

...and i follow my ambitious dream that might...
just maybe, might lead me to that search light






Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | Prose | |

all seeing blind eye

High raised community of elongated propriety

In the infirmity of structure moved in the liability

Man's weakness is his bright visions to a lost sight

Unclear to remove layman rules unfolded

By blind ambition in quivering mission

Of thuggery not gained in format by living

But believing in confused formulator of plan B

Of lateral shift in dimensions in the mind

If you mind hiding behind the revised lies

That lies in the epicenter of grey truths

And broken youths to immoral elders

In which illusions enter as history

Turned into fact then held in the highest regard

But there are no foundations in this yard

While the watched herd is heard rebuking the truth.


Details | I do not know? | |

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg…


…With sighs of torrential passion,
the heavens shower teardrops,

weeping with me,
as memories of you come cascading back,

skin on skin, ablaze,
moist kisses, fiery,
gentle whispers of undying love, murmured,

in another life, another time,

far removed from my present, a desolate state of despair,
wallowing in the grime.

…

The rain keeps falling,
each teardrop stinging my face,

tasting the salt on my lips,

I wonder, do you still remember the caresses of my fingertips,

between breathy confessions, and vows of eternal love,

before you left me, stranded on an island of solitude,

wounded as a wingless dove,

bereft of life,
stripped of all traces of fortitude


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bob Dylan

Ramblin' Bob Dylan Blues
(For Bob Dylan)



Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears

slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears

where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears

while prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears

We shatter and scrape on demented knees

Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees

Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze

That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze


I know now what I need never have known

Of hope that was trampled before it had flown

Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown

The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown


A hope so fragile that its wings were of brittle glass

Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class

Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass

Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass


For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away

To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray

'Tis then when sewn eyes shall behold that doleful day

When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still shall pray


For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit

That's wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit

While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner's defeat

Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat


From that drenched battle-ground where blood flows through a sieve

And love's lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve

From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave

Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand, leave.


Details | Prose | |

Mud

I’d say something cheesy, like: You light up my life. But, there is no light in these veins. There is only blood; an ever coursing river of things I haven’t read enough about to fully understand. You are that mystery, steady and distantly piercing grace. Everything I do not deserve, but receive abundantly, as if I were an ill equipped lottery winner, driving his fortune into the throat of his own well being. You see, I never got to learn how to not love “too hard”. I’ve fallen under its boot, with each missed step and given it to people who never thought to reciprocate. I was a doormat for cold shoulders and loose winks. Yet, your shine drew away the curtains I’ve sewn into my own eyes and let me see in a way, far too long forgotten. Now, I can see through the window. There are rivers of blood out there, flowing cherry blossom trees on bent knees, praying to suck the life out of what I thought love was. Walking ghosts thriving on the quiet of lonely, shivering rebuttals. They prey. They enslave the nature of reborn insecurities, guttural chants, spewed drunken confessionals and hungover will. Sharks in the water of dedication, luring loyalty, and battling compassion. You see, there’s no light in these veins, only blood. But, you taught me how to bleed and use the pain of my flowing river to sink into the Earth I thought too hard to accept anything I was prepared to offer.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved. 


Details | Free verse | |

Yellow Crayon

In the art gallery where sharp-edged women 
stop their strides abruptly before famous paintings 
... of colored squares- 
In discussions of a novel, where sex is not exactly 
sex, only a metaphor we squint eyes at eachother 
across wooden tables, desperate to see- 
In conversation, where the surety I felt for you 
has faded to an ache across my ribs, 
faint, but still not nothing- 

In a shape-shifting world 
where I am taught the shades of 
subtleties in the tipping-forward of a smile, 
skin striking skin, and 
red against blue, 
I only want to be white on white, 
a small child with a red hair-ribbon 
frantically scribbling smiles 
in bright yellow crayon.


Details | Lyric | |

Ouroboros

A pit filled with snakes
And a loaded gun
I jump in to escape
My burning tongue
These lips leaking fire
My eyes so cold
I dread to imagine
The hate I’d mould
But still you persist
And I refuse to speak
There’s pain running down
My tear-soaked cheeks

And I’m so alone
Around you

The bullets aren’t hitting
A single snake
Injecting their poison
In to my veins
But still I evade
A single glance
In to your eyes
I refuse your hands
As I spit and strike
With all my rage
Into myself
With these vicious snakes

Because I am alone
Without you


Details | Monorhyme | |

Bearded

I wear a beard of aging, upon a cliff-face chin
A year has passed and grown its hairs out from my mottled skin
Mistakes sit there unchallenged, to each fibre clings a sin
Yet despite my facial mask of age the clubs won’t let me in


Details | Free verse | |

Goosebumps

I stayed there, for too long
in the cruel arms of a sunset
that had forgotten I was there.
Its wink slowly cast an itchy
blanket over the hope I had found
in blue skies; My skin reached upward,
blistered by the groan of mortality’s tick.
There is little time to waste.
The turn, once again left me in the dark,
grappling with solitude among the masses. 
And so I waited for starlight’s touch to 
calm the sandstorm in my bones.
Waited for the battle between light
and dark, so I could paint my eyes
with the blood of a new vision
for tomorrow and be ready to perceive 
everything that I had once, let slip away.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Verse | |

The Metaphor I Dream




                    This metaphor breathes
                    when I awaken
                    to a dull, gray morning
                    and the chill of a draft.
                    The colors of my dreams stir
                    behind the visions I see
                    while I shower and dress
                    to face duties of the day.
                    My meditation is of breath,
                    inhalations and exhalations of life
                    from all parts of me
                    and all who I am.
                    I stir to past love
                    but still a part of me,
                    the gentle, soulful whispers
                    of memory.
                    I am all who I am,
                    timeless incarnations
                    given another day.


Details | Free verse | |

For Many a Millennia

For many a millennia
man has walked
       on this earth.
During this journey
he has learned much
but not enough
for his appetite.
To feed the hunger
he grows a special
             garden,
a garden filled with
             technology,
each year a bigger crop
is harvested to satisfy
the increasing need
        for knowledge.

For many a millennia
man has mauled
        and scarred
the face of the earth,
        has interrupted
        and disturbed
the workings of nature
with his pollution,
destruction, wars,
tearing down,
and building up --
events of mainly
technological origins.

For many a millennia
man's knowledge has enlarged,
now it's running amok.
If it continues
we will find ourselves
buried in long forgotten
tombs of earthen crust,
from space just holes
        and pot marks
in Terran soil,
on ground level
     vast wastelands
excavated by man
to feed technology,
to build concrete roads
        and buildings,
creating a Heaven for man,
a real hell for Earth,
a planet which millennia ago
was still uncluttered,
        much greener,
        pollution free.
A virgin among the stars
awaiting the then unknown
dawn of technological
                             rape.

1977


Details | Free verse | |

Slicing An Apple

1.
for the smoothness is gone
only now,  do i detect
 stone too cool
for the ends of the fingers.

2.
often my watch 
seemed broken unable to keep time
i smile now
for  i will never be on time.

 3
i use to watch time
with roman numerals
but know time watches me
so i see myself
walk by backwards.


4.
as words disperse from a old dictionary
the pages
all have the same chapters .
but  new characters grow on the branches
as the stars 
swim where the leaves
 of knowledge  cannot touch.

5.
now is the time
for touching the lips are plump
with temptation
but poems still taste of ink.

6.
fruit with seeds
in the inner chambers
the metaphor that hides inside
that will reproduce
other symbols
as i cut  it into segments of slices
for somewhere a teacher waits...


Details | Lyric | |

Alchemical Summoner

An alchemist in history’s tome
My past a tale of creating my own
My energy spent on the pain
I conjured forth from living in shame

A creature came, riddled with hate
The sun would burn his delicate face
I summoned him from darkest depths
A symbol of the loss that I kept

He stared at me, all smiles and rage
Creeping through the shadows at day
At night we spoke in whispered tones
The death I sought had invaded my home

The world I feared no longer held weight
When compared to this monster’s hate
He speaks his mind and I come undone
His twisted plans could bury the sun

He knew so well, the pain that I’d seen
He multiplied each loss ‘til I screamed
But still I learned, and I was in charge
Despite his tricks and these alchemical scars

Now here I am, standing in love
For all his hate, he still holds me up
In quiet pause I learned his name
In knowing truth, our demons are tamed


Details | Free verse | |

My Secret Prison

Trapped again!

Maze hidden cheddar eluding 
every twisting turn a doorway 
to the path I’ve already forgotten
a spirit broken within each hidden cul-de-sac.

I cry.

Depression building my will 
crumbling into fatal despair
that rages with a whisper
as quiet as a hurricane.

I sleep.

I scream at one wall 
HA! HA! HA!
hundreds more continue laughing.
Right! Left! NO! RIGHT! Left! Right! LEFT! YES! Right!

I succumb.

Cheddar thoughts and running 
water sustain my desire to escape
through walls of scent
filled dreams of freedom.

I laugh.

Test complete. Failure.
Should have smelled for Camembert.


Details | Monoku | |

Precipice

trepidation waits -  for those whose ambition is conquered

5 December 2013


Details | I do not know? | |

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate


Between the folds of faith and belief, 

tucked neatly in cushioned corners, 

lie the seeds of acceptable hate.



Through quaint pleasant rituals, 

and joyously hummed words, 

dumbed down thoughts

and dazed faces exude, 

righteous sweetness.



Belief wrapped in glistening foil, 

faith painted in gaudy colours, 

concealing the murmurs of hate, 

of embraced intolerance, 

and welcomed bigotry.



The seeds of acceptable hate flourish in damp fungal minds, 

as indifference flowers into the silence of frozen apathy, 

with blooming petals of finely measured howls of rage.



All the while the ever smiling faces beam with deep pride, 

drenched in all the pious tears they've cried.



And so it is that the viral seeds of acceptable hate 

thrive among the genteel folk that quietly gaze, 

in silence at the slow creeping of the horror.



As more seeds of hate are sown with manic zeal, 

and in the shrieking of this cowardly silence, 

the seeds of acceptable hate, 

continue to thrive, 

and to germinate.


Details | Blank verse | |

Breathless

Sometimes when words escape
They leak back into the echosphere
Like a lost soul with a task unfinished.

Their absence haunts us, those words we thought
And let slip through our fingers before articulation.
They want to be spoken: need to be spoken into existence,
But never were given the chance to mature
Beyond the simple state of being an idea.

When they eventually return from their metaphysical journeys
It'll be too late to make a difference or prove their point.
The timing will be wrong, the context unnatural.
It makes me wonder if the world might have been better off
If those pesky words would have stayed lost,
And not come back to remind me 
That it's rude to stand with one's jaw dropped
When a beautiful women is speaking to you.


Details | Free verse | |

The Sun is Gone



cold 
spent moments
slipped away unnoticed
and spotlighted suffering

solid 
life cubes stacked
each success and mistake
trapped, time lost
hopes, regrets and days
until all I have are nights


Details | Classicism | |

The Lesson

Try not to make such a fool of yourself in the presence of so many,
You'll get through this crazy life we live with few regrets if any.
   To say your sorry and you apologize and it will never happen again,
Will only be a waste of your time with your family and friends.
   Have no compassion and do not worry because nobody really cares,
Your  feelings inside and what makes you cry you can  not share.
   It's all wrong but it's alright will drive you out of your mind,
Don't let them confuse you if they misunderstand you at any time.
   Keep to yourself these emotions that are bottled up deep inside you,
If you dont and you let it slip there's no telling what they will do.
   Never do you lead but never do you follow just go your own way,
Do these things I tell you because you'll thank me someday.
   There is one last thing I must tell you before I head down the road,
Love , caring and understanding does'nt matter anymore now you know .
   This lesson I got one day when I cared and thought I should be concerned,
How wrong I was to have feelings like that and what I have learned.
TAC


Details | Haiku | |

the wake

sometimes words blur in
motionless wonder and I 
am left in the wake.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

FRAGILE FLAMES

She was his muse 
so beautiful, a true
angel on earth
'til she revealed 
to him her many scars 
Disquiet at first filled
with concern
then slowly proceeded  
to unstitch every one
of her wounds
as if they were buttons
of an old  blouse...


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

ENTICED

...It is calm...
“Come!”  They said...it is calm
“Come!” they enticed...do not be afraid or alarmed
“Please come” they insisted...you will not be harmed
“Why there and not here?”...I wondered
In response I faintly muttered...
“It is secure and safe here”
“Hey, come you will not be harmed”...they reassured
“Okay!” ...in innocence I conceded
For they said,  “it is calm”
“Here I am”...I announced...”I have come!”
My ears heard them say soothing words
“You are welcome!”
“Alas! Alas”!...gasped I in is suprise
For sooner than later a tempest arose
“Did they not say it is calm?”...I whispered
I realized...“Conceding without considering was my fault”
For it was better there than here
AFRICAN POET-AUSTIN TENTHANI PHIRI


Details | Free verse | |

Mental Seasoning


Watermelon seed spitting, popsicle licking and locust humming songs;
Summer scenes etched in dark crevices.

Leave pile diving, pumpkin’s smiling, crackling fires with s’mores;
Falling breathlessly, covering mistakes and guilt.

Tongues catching snowflakes, sledding down slopes, hot chocolate parties;
Frozen heart kiss to melt fears and fallacies.

Tulips, May Day baskets, Barefoot puddle dances;
Spring cleaning cobwebs, dusting off today.


Details | Free verse | |

The Forge

Heat surrounds me as I walk between the Anvil and the Hammer. 
I am smelted, molten iron waiting to be formed and reformed,
quenched under cold water, hardened again and again until 
firm and strong…
…just a little flexible, ensuring me to become unbreakable.

I turn around, looking, watching, searching
	for the Armorer, the Forge-master, the Liberator
The Commander of these flames
(building to higher intensity—higher Stability)
I am shaped again, between the Anvil and the Hammer…
stronger, as this new molten alloy is injected in my veins.

I am liquid glowing steel shaped anew
	hammered, beaten, brought to the barrel until the edge is clean and razor sharp…
…Made flexible again…made unbreakable once more
Stronger in this 2nd life, this 2nd cycle…twice-born to learn, to evolve, to lead
			and become more than I was and more than I could be
The fire burns higher and hotter, flames tonguing my female flesh
	lapping at my neck and cheeks and lips
entering through my breath and mingling with my Earthly form.
	…And I become the Armorer, the Forge, the Commander of these fever flames
	  I am Steel, charged with cold fury, shaped to a seamless edge, power to slice
And here I take my leave and employ my Vengeance.

Blade in Body I stand to fight
Body in Blade I enter battle, 
	demanding the blood of my enemy, demanding victory
The enemy is on all sides and I am poised, ready
I am
I am my enemy
And the disease in my mind is ready to die.


Details | I do not know? | |

Motor Head Boi

Intact I am math, 
But in a blast I run fast

...Somewhere above the tree line-
I am seen as fine, 
But inside I am tried...

Weather doesn't help locate a song

So I hop on a motorcycle to get gone...

I soon crash it into a nearby tree, 
and lay on the ground for weeks…

The sooner I come home
The lesser I learn how to lead

And its never anything but my last breathe of shine that I felt my teeth grind-
****ing the enemy
...the way of the blind

Organic and prime, 

My weaknesses don't show
So I am fine...

And while feeling fine, 
In an interesting wine, 
I smell the pine, 
It aches within me, 
-Rakes at my earliest pillory

So I walk on pleased, 
Get paid, 
And then go spend all my pees

...With this withering game of time, 
I feel hexed to grow some of mine

But I soon stop, 
Eager to drop, 
1,2,3, and then four…

Four strips, One token, 
And two years unspoken

Where I turn and spin in the door

A splended welcome to adore! 

What shores have washed away from these pores! 

What course I have taken to learn how to adore!

But there is a land I lived in alive
but it just wasn't my find, 
I was there, 
but it wasn't my mind...

I wish I could scream! 
Feel mean! 
Go away unnoticed! 
Then re-arrive climbing in trees! 

Birds eat the bees
Lizards the breeze

But character never breeds 
Its gotta be seen-
understood, spoken and then dreamed
before you wake to it
-just like she made ya do it
-and you jerked yourself through it

Started ta loosin' it
And got loaded
and became a rude influence


Details | Free verse | |

Garden of Irony

He breathes between winks in migraine pulse,
throbbing against the challenge of an overly lustrous day.
Watching halos fall through broken sun-glass hue,
he wonders how much more the wind will break.
Limbs rest in the arms of an aging garden,
rotting and yet, still beautiful.
Ivy swims beneath the man’s shadow,
curling its way up, and opening its breast
toward the promise of nirvana. 
He bends, takes a branch 
in his hands and ponders
the irony of life, and its 
retirement.
It feels fake in his hands,
so he flicks the bark 
off its back,
letting its naked remains
fly in 
another direction,
toward a rusting chariot,
where it will be 
delivered unto a bed of flame.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

zenith

born into hands lifting upwards
all praise the outside elements 
water behind the ears
water under my bridge
this river runs shallow
I build strength
I take flight
Now is the perfect time to learn
I have these urges, I fly directions
I make mistakes, I find corrections
I am almost on my own
I am still building
Who can lift me now? 
Pull ups and chin ups
How long will I ride the zenith
new projects to start
new lives to love
I am a creator
I am my own savior
This river rages on
When I cross many roads
these footprints seem old
Worn as a traveler 
who never went home
I fall down, and it's a hard return
Hands lift  me towards heaven
treading water thank goodness
this river is almost dry
upstream and back to sea
If I wasn't next, I will be
This I know certain




Details | Free verse | |

Begging to Burn

She always comes to me
when she's afraid she 
is losing the ability 
              to feel. 
 
She steps on my toes,
curls her fingers around
my manhood, and screams
into the ears she finds most 
trustworthy for such situations.
 
Hoping that I'll sink my teeth
into her mistrust, and she'll 
find the fading burn she so 
desperately clings to. 
 
But, I'm tired of being 
a martyr for the fluididity 
of complacent existence.
I am not a hero, nor am 
I a villain. I am only a man,
endeavoring through the 
very same storm, she is 
so bent on braving alone. 
 
So instead of breaking
the flesh of her, I cut
into my own,
and show her the mirrored 
veins of my disposition
 
and await the sting
I always expect from 
showing anyone the
depths of my affliction.
 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved. 


Details | Free verse | |

Day dream's metamorphosis

Watching the day sulk into the arms of night,

I turn lonely palms over, letting them sit

on bent knee.

Crushing calm surrenders to 

music's indifference;

soaking in quiet roar. 

Another day is burnt,

black sky wonders

with me.

We pry together;

wash the murk 

of suggestion,

cleanse the

bitter taste of 

what could have

been;

Alive in the sound

of day dream's 

metamorphosis.

Gentle beams of

our ancestor's gaze

light the way. 

I can feel the world 

turn it's back. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

The dam

I spent too long in the sand,
The day has ran
I am a dam
The waters run cold,
And that is bad

Turn around and grab

Because the air of the wind isn’t fun

Teeter totter with the band
Let um go laugh…

Take a polygraph,
Ask Yourself 
How sad are the sad?

Then wake up to a face
She is your great big taste

Because,
the world renowned isn’t insane
It’s just over due
And unclaimed

It's a jaded complaint

An outdated fade

In the neighborhood like a plague


Out dated like the fade



Details | Free verse | |

Illusions of Dreams

They say that life
is a metaphor of the spirit
and that time is a construct
that we all believe in,
as the world we perceive in.
Chance, circumstance
is the dance we play
on the first stage of destiny
where history
reforms itself to our liking
spiking the elixir of youth
with truth.
Matter meets form
in the dark spaces between
where fate is seen
as a well marked trail of tears
denoting the hopes and fears
of the ancestors making.
The past
is forever taking
from the now.
What we allow
becomes achievable
believable
a transformation
of creation
for all our relation
shapeshifting
sand sifting
uplifting
future gifting
an open door....
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

We can live the illusion
or we live the dream.


Details | Free verse | |

High-Reaching Hope Leading Destructive Despair

Being Near
It is impossible to say what Feeling is Stronger
Attraction
Nervousness
Paranoia
Or just wanting to wrap thou in an embrace for all the comfort that wants to be shown unto thee

This meager attraction that has sprouted dwindles by what you see in another
This case seems to be always present throughout these experiences
A sheer passing of Anxiety courses through when near this conduit of feeling
Of course, even at the Genesis of these feelings it was known what they were
Now, it just grows and threatens to burst at the seams

Ever expanding with every passing memory,
Every possible moment that could take place between the two
Every Glance in this dangerous direction

The Memories
How they haunt and stretch the Hopeful side
Leading to a fantasy that cannot take root in reality
Even if the seed has been planted
The Watering will never occur by both
In the same degree,

The Paranoia is perhaps a more pressing matter
Leaving this dreamer to wonder if their feelings are right in their place
Or just a calamity that is sure to follow these rushing tides of sensations
When your eyes are averted in a more hopeful and dreamy direction
When a more realistic approach is so near

Alas, I find myself in a pattern
Something that has become most vexing
This newfound desire seems much more realistic than the last few
Although, saying that fuels a Hope that should not have, perhaps, ever been allowed to be conceived
However,
With the progression of things these past few moons
That possibility of Hope growing is Becoming More
And More
Inevitable
With it, comes an even greater chance of Despair
That has ever been known 
By this poor stricken soul...



Constructive Criticism is welcomed for this, as well as suggestions that might want to be made.
Please and thank you!(:


Details | Free verse | |

Circle Pit Sanctuary

I inhale temptation;

shrugging shoulders of

mortality.

Suck teeth stained

with indifference;

While copyrighting

my daydreams. 

I’m an American Badass,

low class, white trash,

with expensive delusions.

I get impatient with repetition,

So I shovel spiritual vagrancy into the 

mouths of my peers

with metaphoric spilled beers

and ashy mouthed proclamations

of a wandering disposition. 

I sing songs tied to the same ragged beat,

the one that makes the speakers 

bleed just as much as the  crowd.

Heavy Metal rants,

just sharp enough to rip

the pants of your morality

                     … but, just for the night

In the morning the truth of why 

you’re here, and anything else

that seemed unclear…

will be hanging low,

just over your head

like ripened fruit;

Fighting gravity the 

way you’ve been fighting

responsibility…

It’s right in your face. 

Like heavy elbows in a mosh pit. 

Your stomach is curdled,

soul a little sick,

but your eyes have never

been more focused.

You understand what is important:

The friends willing to toss a full 

beer, 

brave the circle pit,

 pick you up, dust you off…

And throw you back in

with a smile. 

The Scars you’ve earned,

and the blood you’ve saved. 

The pain you’ve felt,

the joy shown through busted lips

and scabbed knees;

the chaotic calm of life lived

on the brink.

The Circle Pit Sanctuary.

Where the lost can rage,

and be at peace.

Where the broken

find the truth in the

lies of their lives.

Where the hopeless

can strike at the wind,

and fall against muddy Earth,

to be picked up by

a brother,

by a sister,

by the music of

the anger being

purged from a spirit

that might not have

otherwise made it

….to the show.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

The Quarry

Self mutilation comes in many forms,
when I write, I like to dissect myself,
carve out bits of infection and toss 
them into a quarry made for self-
delusion. Maybe there they’ll find
what they need to heal, and grow strong
even if it is under a crazed,
and utterly false pretense. 
Sometimes a little ignorance is 
just the right push, right? 
I’ve seen it so many times,
proud imbeciles making gold 
out of skewed direction. 
Blessed be thou who will break
the bounds of real world 
"common" sense, and rely on
something as blind as luck 
to call their glory home. 
And with a bragging heart,
they smile at the altar of 
hard work and pray that 
others follow in their half 
stepping fantasy…
These sightless animals
follow the sound of lazy 
back patting over the ledge
that was built for the strong
to learn to fly. 
But no one unable to willingly
brave the fall, deserves to soar. 
So, they tumble into the quarry where
I throw my brokenness, and wait
for another free ride. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

An 02h00 Scribble

a 2:00 AM scribble...

'twas but a lifetime ago
when she floated as if in a dream

when the whistling winds
called out her name

while the truth was revealed
of her love supreme

she walked into the barren landscape of my world

and carved-up an exclusive place

excising the pain as the standard of love fluttered in the breeze once it was unfurled

she walked into the solitary vacuum of a heart rendered mute

instilling in that heart a passion that became impossible to refute

a passion blazing with renewed belief

with solitude consigned to the shadows

and despair shunned into the night like an scurrying thief

her touch was gentle, her manner warm and light

her love an endless sea of possibility

washing up against the shores of my moonless night

and when that burst of colour came through

like a dozen rainbows in the monsoon twilight

her face like a revelation shone

as I silently, in awe, gazed at that miraculous sight

and though a lifetime ago it seems

she regularly dances between the cotton-wool clouds of my dreams

and she infuses my each and evey moment with a love so strong

that effortlessly soothes me knowing that I belong

in the haven of her warm embrace

as I gaze lovingly 
at her wondrous face

and into those eyes that pull me closer into the ocean of desire

while my spirit soars up into the heavens, ever so higher

it takes but a moment with her to know

that these feelings shall prevail

for they diminish not, as they continually grow

spawning a paradisical garden of emotion and love

and being entwined in her arms seems like a gift from above

for here is where I always hope to be

anchored safely by her side, and not adrift in the emptiness of the vast lonesome sea

so allow me to thank thee
for the lifeline you cast as I lay drowning in thought

and for being the treasure trove of love that I have always sought

so stay well, sweet one
and remember me once or twice in a moon of blue

and know forever that these scribbled words

are deeply felt and forever shall be, eternally true...




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mind Mapping

My heartbeat echoes a motionless metronome
With only an offshore wind to bring it back home
Inside my mind the weight of my thoughts drone
At once setting the mood the moment the tone

Tracing every wall branding every surface with marks
This is no longer the sheltered haven where my mind parks
I try recall what sent us out of orbit & led us astray
Dunno however this is no longer a place of innocent play

I search for tracks paths previous passages routes to take
The intricate webs stilts steps the uphill journey I make
All the while the library vault is empty overdue & archived
This all had happened long before by the time I had arrived

And all in the silence standing dizzy & still steadily spinning
I asked implored and prayed fervently to karma destiny & fate
To stop the cycle the story & take me right back to the beginning
At once right now hurry hasten & do this before it is to late


Details | Free verse | |

Dark Matter

Stars crash against God's bedpost,
while the dead dream of thunder.
 
Eyelids cringe under their strike-
The smell of burning wood,
The rot of tomorrow's precipice,
drifts out beyond the grasp
of failing sense.
 
We are the quarry.
The open gash in the skin of existence,
born to bare the weight of those who
failed to learn to row with the gravity
of cosmic tide.
 
We crumble ashen pyres into our hearts
and breathe out darkened nebula-
Hope for a birth of chance.
 
A new beginning.
 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Monster and Marlboros in the Rain

I awake beneath the sink of sky,
the patter of raindrops collapsing 
against the breezeway of acrid dreams.
The light of the refrigerator blinks
against torrid eyes, shining impetuously
on the last can of Taurine's gestation.
I grab hold of clarity's false promises,
and crack open a ripened sip of morning,
walk outside to light its poison. 
Cold and fluid; the taste of inclement 
happiness seeks the buds of my repose. 
Tempting my lips to kiss the heart of 
fearless and youthful posture, as I 
pop the cherry of relevance with
the ever throbbing hands of mortality. 
Bones shiver beneath tepid flesh,
as the Earth soaks its tears into
its own bosom,
waiting for my blood to finally 
follow suit and go home. 
Not today; Today I ponder
with nature. Today we spin 
the yarn of metaphysical 
riddles in valid unison
because I seek,
and it begs to be found. 
For now, we have an understanding.
I am the fragile burden of this world;
stardust molded into a wicked grin,
born not to become a supernova,
but to bleed slowly and suffer
so that....
Well, I haven't figured that 
part out yet...
For now, I'll just inhale this 
existence, one sun fall and rise at a time,
and hope I can remember 
what it means to live,
when I do finally,
go home. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | I do not know? | |

SSRI's and I

SSRI's and I ...


... the sounds of thoughts clattering, my neurones sparking,
like Dylan said, my morning recedes jingling and a-jangling,

worn down by this leaden knot, tearing my insides out,
the cacophony drowned in a whisper, lost in a silent shout,

dreams and screams scratching the back of my dry throat,
caged in, liberation hovering like a mirage beyond the moat.


I claw my way, slowly, through a thicket of solitude,
feeling my emotions peeling, stung by unseen nettles,

crawling to an open field, to rest, beneath a sky ablaze with stars,
as my mind glides, brushing the soft grass as it peacefully settles ...







Details | Lyric | |

Synchronistic Riddles

An undisclosed confession
Voiced by things unseen
Expressed within my purpose
And written in my dreams

So quietly I tell you
Quietly I sing
Of all the truth I witness
In the depths of everything

With synchronistic focus
Divination's gift
And in enigmatic silence
I pray the veil will lift

These dreams are so elusive
They play within the shade
And just as I might glimpse them
The visions start to change

They dance within this statement
They observe from in my mind
Their riddles go unnoticed 
As do all the clues I hide

Yet I see them in my mirror
I can catch them in these words
These dreams are from our future
And from a past that goes unheard


Details | I do not know? | |

Night

night falls
wounded by the days' plight

night consumes
all the hopeful fractured splinters of light

night recedes
into its desolate lair

night extinguishes
the roaring furnace of despair

night hides
from a bubbling desire reaching out to feel

night flees
leaving the jilted to bow down and kneel

night soars
breaking the chains of isolation

night rots
in the cellars of time's vacuum of desolation

night devours
the travails of the day that has past

night mends
the wounds that once were doomed to last

night returns 
faithfully as the day must retire

night settles
the doomed voices that mutter and conspire
night consoles
the weary mind and the restless heart so torn
night placates
knowing that night itself is darkest just before a new dawn

so

night freezes
all snapshots of the passing day

as

night embraces
the new while the old simply fades away


Details | Free verse | |

The White Wall

From afar it seems perfect--solid and strong;
Like nothing could force it to fall.
But up close, its surface is pockmarked and rutted
From years of abuse that have taken their toll.

Further inspection reveals cracks and fractures;
Webs of misfortune that cover its face.
How easily does a coat of whitewash
Hide a past of misfortune and shame!

Over time and neglect, it crumbles and cracks;
It falls into ruin and disrepair,
And calls into mind the essence of life,
Which also will fail without care.

The life of a person is like a white wall:
Without any care it will fall.


Details | Free verse | |

Symmetry

He sits in the shadow
of a light he's been 
begging for strength
to consume;
Choking on bipolar
truths of his soul's aperture,
wondering if there is a key
to unlock its requiem,
or if he'll be forever
cast. Forced between the
breaths of both worlds;
Omitted from the presence of 
any luster, or spiritless flame.
A man with eyes that seek,
and a tongue bent over 
nervous teeth, that beg
to be cleansed of sin's rot.
To be this, 
                  here:
In a world of decadent destruction.
He feels he cannot, does not deserve
the righteous clarity of purity's omniscience.
It shines, through
and stifles the purge.
His essence contracts,
pools together in a 
singularity,
and he feels the flash
as he becomes, 
for a moment,
symmetry.
Life/Death
Perfection/Destruction
Human/Corpse
Angel/Demon 
Power/Void
Darkness..
And he sleeps, for what he thought 
would be forever,
and yet wakes in the arms of life
with eyes that still seek,
and a tongue no longer
bent over hungry teeth;
but willing to speak.
 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved


Details | Free verse | |

Non-recyclables

I tried to hold my breath,
lacing plastic together with curdled finesse. 
Days of remnants rolled around in a heap
and awaited it’s pallbearer. One final destination.
A graveyard necessary for human greed. 
I guess everything has an expiration date.
We find these things, and love them
desperately until they die.
Enjoy it’s taste or fiddle with its edges. 
We soak ourselves in their worth,
and hope it settles in our stomachs.
We need to know it’s money well spent.
We have to make ourselves believe that
we won’t end up alongside everything we’ve bought.
Like we’re something greater.
And yet, we will still rot under the same dirt
that we place the husks of our misguided and fickle creations beneath.
Burn me when I die,
I want to fly on the wind 
and escape the sin that I’ve been living in.
I want to visit the trees and breath new air.
I want to be better than I’ve been.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved


Details | Narrative | |

The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.

The throbbing verses of cultures

Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.

Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.

Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.

Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."

Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.


Details | Free verse | |

Sweaty Palms at Sunrise

I feel the turn of fickle stars in my palms,
wrenching their way out,
challenging the ambition of a sinner's grasp.
 
It all falls loose;
sand at the feet of eternal eyes,
staring back into the shadows of memory.
 
Dreams struggle for breath,
suffer desperation, lack of color.
And in their whisper I squint like
an old man trying to find his way
back to the trail's head.
 
But in these woods I have no bearing;
no point of reference, only empty hands left wanting,
too arthritic to hold any sort of luster
or salt of tomorrow's promise.
And so, I am left to wait...
Suspect to the charm of a menacing horizon
that promises nothing but a burning reminder
of what I could not hold onto.
 
-James Kelley 2014, All Rights Reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Worth the Read

I have bookshelves of heartache
that I haven't written yet,
bloodstained pages of regret
that I haven't found words for,
a pen that always runs out of ink
in the most inopportune of moments.
Leaving me breathless in a storm of quiet,
thunderous discontent.
Everyone has a story;
I'm still stitching this one together,
one stanza at a time.
I only hope, after all of this..
It will be worth the read. 
 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Losing Heaven

When heaven's been discarded
and our dreams are lost forever,
then we will wail o'er our 
misspent fortune-- our small
time in history, soon to be 
forgotten by twittering birds
and grossly fat narcissists.


Details | Free verse | |

Too stubborn to ask for directions

It's funny..
how there can 
be so much chaos 
in the dark, 
how pouring yourself 
into the slanderous 
frequency of life's 
little distractions 
can seem therapeutic, 
but then you find yourself
there once again, 
boiling in the quiet
reflection of a
bitter melody.
The howling thrum 
of your own echo
can beat sense 
in, and right back
out of you. 
Confusion or Revelation? 
We all pick our own poison
at one time or another. 
Tonight, I drink the sour
mash of introspection;
soberly gulp the tear
of spirit from the ash
of yesterday, 
wait for the 
pang of tomorrow. 
I'll write it down,
like I always do;
one more foolish note 
of a lost soul, 
searching for
                   direction.
Writing without the purposed
map of self assurance,
or the light to read 
notes I left for myself,
just in case..
I end up,
rounding another corner,
that should look familiar...
 
                                 like I always do. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Surgery

Poetry is not rhyming.
It's not about form or 
using gold laden words.
Poetry is cutting yourself 
into pieces,
tiny little scraps of field notes,
and crawling back inside
the womb to find clarity;
to find out just how and
why you were put together.
You have to do it slowly,
accept the pain of each
tender slice and breathe
in a gentle rush.
Do not worry about keeping
organized, forget where you
place everything. In fact,
cast them as far away as 
possible. You’ll want
to discover every nuance
of your history as if it were
someone else’s.
This will help with perspective.
You’ll be able to see things 
as if they were in real time,
    as if you were reading them
                                           in a book that you didn’t know you were writing.
Have an open mind,
you might not really know 
your star character.
You might not even like them
at first, but you will know 
why they are in the place
they are in and you’ll have 
something to say about it.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

nostradamus becoming a god

nostradums saw
and he cried
so when he died
in the astral pain 
he told god
he could surprise him
and he bet him eternal life as a agod but he wanted three lives

now god took the bait
and we all know how nostradamus 
predicted three antichrists
talk about a feat of unequal measure
has he been here yet talking about gods plan 
as a joke to the world
an insult to god 
to get him off his throne
and prove he has a free will after all where he cannot fail

the first antichrist 
the secondf antichrist
no one saw
secrets of the gods and nostradamus
but nostradamus learned all of gods dream through them
and how to manipulate them so he could try in this third life
where the world would think he was the bad guy to make them all come true

now everything seemed under control
and the false prophet
or metaphor for man with a fame he could not see just needed 
to find his god to surprise
an object to crave was mentioned and low and behold
a feat of unequal measure
af three decades unravels
soon to be under rug swept where i am the referee
and tingue tied

bribe fate to do you a favor
before you go to your datte with destiny 
while you lead death in circles
as god curses you so it seems yet doesnt  know who he or she is
and good luck 
being the bad guy drinking blood from a skull out to destroy everything
so come and save me

it was a trap
and the angels saw
and nostradamus was almost fooled
mankind was warned
and had a plan
oh my
what an amazing april fool


Details | I do not know? | |

Be the thing

We eat
And we commit

We saunter
And we feel it

The wisdom-
The wire’s

The welding of the mire to the person who is inspired-

An envelope licked by the man they call sire

The literal
Is pitiful
So spin the skull
And make it mold

Take a poll

Enter when you’re full
And list the goals...

Be motion while it’s on the phone-
Black people when they’re away from home

A festering lingerer un-laid by their bones

A drink –cheap but hits the hole’s

A young person preen 

A peacock mean

Fleeting streams

A world with everything...

Video night with the band

Focused light on your girlfriends ass

The right night to go out and rant





Details | Free verse | |

I'm not sure you know what to say

I wonder today
As I sift through the sands
And peer through the depths of other peoples verbalized talents
Works of intricate emotion and stanzas of hyperboles oxymoron’s and similes 
and metaphor

When I refuse to welcome you to my world
When you stumbled all this way
And I show you how to clip an angel’s wings
and you relate to the angel
Even though you have soo many inner demons
I’m not sure you know what to say

So I sit here in the silence
And stutter to myself
I lay in bed at night and talk to myself
I hang pictures on the wall to inspire me to push me
and listen to things that will drive me to become another
But when you open this chapter of the metaphor I will upon your sleeve
When you walk through that open door
And are not too sure of what I mean to my soul mate when I say
that one day in heaven his experience will be a love note from me

I'm not sure you know what to say

Soo many of you are of few words
and soo few of you are of many
The angels are soo far away
And the four demons, my invisible enemies
are always on this merry go round
too busy to stop the roller caster where I find myself
Dizzy I am
Confused I am
Abstract and bizarre
Creatively thrown away by my fairytale godmother I dream
To remind me
I am a man of some higher power god
And instant gratification isn’t necessarily what I need
from the race of a reflection that doesn’t understand why it cowers
Instead of receives

While I clip the angels and fool the demons with the thoughts
and words of the wise and how I hate more than you
You become my poetry with hearts on your sleeve 
a valentine I cant send demanding healthcare 
for Christmas before all we get is Halloween
But when your eyes roll back into your head
and you try to resurrect what I express and bring me to life
through twisting my words that cut like a knife and carve marble stone
into gargoyles that guard castle gates
In this royal palace where no compass will help you find your way
and my thought seem soo far away
The feathers fall to the floor
The soldiers look down at their weapons realizing they are still little boys 
but intoxicated now and forced to the realization 
This is how we raised them to be men with awards for serial killing 
Of stars and stripes

I'm not sure you know what to say




Details | I do not know? | |

Vacuum

Callously discarding,

talismans of heart and soul,

hastily scorching all bridges,

in a supernova burying me whole,

retreating into emptiness,

no salvation to be found,

sins too many to absolve,

drowning, in a freshly
dug hole in the cold ground.

Hollow, empty, barren desolation closes in,

asphyxiating me,

within the walls of my dismal room,

sinking into the abyss,

disappearing, fading, lost forever,

inside an emotionless,

vacuum


Details | Free verse | |

Self reflection

Self-reflection is an art
A two edged sword that no one teaches
No religion philosophized
my own personal goal 
to better myself 
and understand everything 
by seeing one another 
through the slide of me 
through another’s eyes 
and that person 
through yet another’s eyes

Four good qualities you truly possess is where I start
The good things about me
Actually that’s a lie
That’s what I recommend
I usually get a little bit sad sit here and realize 
That I think I’m deep and no one understands

I know through self-reflection of understanding history
and putting myself in other peoples shoes
Like a mental actor of how I would feel emotionally and mentally
and then writing it down
is like self reflection but not quite
close but no cigar I have learned we are truly all actors and life is indeed a stage
And when we learn how to manipulate the greatest acts of man for the history 
books
The next generations will be taught in school how to prevent wars and live in 
piece by us selling one perfect life or lie
And I wonder if I’m a 27-year-old psychological lie of a ghetto wizard
I’ve described

Through self reflection I know they're are things I need to change
Some things I never will
Some things I am a part of
And at least the parts and pieces of my life I live like poetry that if they were 
captured like dreams in a butterfly net
They would teach something to the future like Jesus or anybody would if they 
understood
Just how to self reflect emotionally mentally put yourself in another’s shoes and 
learn the lesson through writing a poem
or thinking it out

If each generation and the history books were all acts of men
and my generation has to top the last lie with a wisdom of the perfect metaphor 
to unlock the following generations thinking process
Is that the game of the planet?
Are those the reasons to the wars we fight today?
to teach tomorrow
When they write their essays that will become tomorrow’s politicians 
An insane asylum can teach politics and all we really want is to pay them to be 
rich and make global friends so we can have utopia
But in the history book of the essays they no longer write where life lessons were 
learned and taught through misfortune of man
there are gems to be uncovered of how to stop wars how to peace keep
How to mediate
How to live
How to heal
and every generation we discover it on our own as the teachers subtly shape our 
minds




Details | Couplet | |

Patient X

Plagued ebony tongue of evil spores;
Invitro beings with polluted cores.
Soul's lab of hope in dreamer's test tube;
A puzzle solver's Rubik cube.
Spirit smashed in life's dress rehearsal;
Faith inside psychology's Reversal.
Wounding truth upon lips spoken;
within a heart, opaquely, broken.
Felt and touched through words' real life;
The hidden angst of heart in strife.
Emotions conflict in mind's sweet shop;
Laned childhood memoirs' spinning top.
Down yester's avenue are audible taunts;
The not so abandoned ruin, haunts.
Chemical bodies infect and deceive;
Equation's encouragement to bravely believe.
Fears overboard in blood stream's boat;
Sailed backbone ventures' antidote.

© March 2013


Details | Free verse | |

where it all adds up bucko

don't be sucked in
by the metaphor of one person's war effort
in love's battlefield
desperate for change of social sciences
when stress adds up our minds the first to give
I set the stage for you to elaborate it
take the show of crucifying yourself away
to save me from myself
turn around so i can see that smile
and then we shake hands
to never betray one another with a kiss


Details | Free verse | |

Creature of havoc

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

I lie in bed making up stories 
trying to figure reality
like the center of everything 
listened to by the radio
i strategise with my garbage
somehow the riddles of song are there to save me
the artists know that by reaching out to me
having me figure out their puzzle
they can save one life and millions of like minded individuals
i represent
but if the bad guys catch on then it all goes out the window

I open my window
light some incense 
close the door
put the lit candle on the sill
lay myself on my bed my father gave me 
I wonder sometimes is cursed and perhaps
was conceived on
and thats why i cry on it soo often
my name is one metaphor i haven't figured out

laying underneath a blanket i snuggle all night I've named mike
Michael for short
crying into a pillow i named after a boy i fell for with bad teeth
and all the right looks named Brian
my other blanket Ben

so under a blanket of Michael
in my skimpy underwear
thinking how lonely i am 
how i wish i could brainwash myself to exercise
i ponder the dreams I've been having
Nine inch nails screaming lyrics don't you know what you are?
and i still don't....


a dirty blonde haired six foot something 215 pound fatso
who needs to lose weight and wear less revealing underwear
it all comes clear to me

I get out of bed
freaked!!!!
running to the stereo at first then the singer says something
i wont curse you with
so i go to hide in the bathroom until the delusion passes
until i can regain some sanity and escape myself
but stupid me put the label of urban legends on my bathroom door
so i fling the door open
think the word psycho
which I think of myself most days
and scream out loud
it's all coming clear now

heart pounding
the stereo
still guiding me with it's blue glowing haze from across the room
poetic justice i suppose
i hope i'm not a metaphor for a city
i hope i'm not a metaphor for a king
I hope i'm not a metaphor that affects too many people
but underneath this blanket of an angel of justice
is the real me
talking to myself in the dark

wondering
am i crazy
brainwashed 
possessed
or have i just been visited again
by an arch angel
and the gods of this world have made me insignificantly important
and thrown out my free will
which im nervous to discover

If only you knew the whole story!!!


Details | Narrative | |

Earthbound sobriety

While crossing Verrazano Narrows Bridge
recurring mem’ries of New York recapture 
history and civilization of the two boroughs
provide me with deep interest and emphasis.

Brooklyn in its old Dutch for “broken land,”
and Staten Island named “Staaten Eylandt”
named in the early 1600s by Henry Hudson,
trailed off on a tangent through centuries.

A myth or perhaps a legend, the island thus far,
was like a quagmire of townships and disputes;
its meaning to immigrants’ culture and religion,
favored silence, security, peace, and integration.

The burden of too many choices based on clans,
growing businesses and stories of interactions;
new immigrants in droves through generations
like an orchestra combined with a sense of drama.

Reflections of their struggles to make ends meet,
reminded me of articulation through interpretation;
in sobriety of heeding of the composer’s intent,
such a musical piece made me suffer and sweat.

Oh, the pedal, rhythmic vitality and expression!
all these elements comprise what piano playing is,
the technique, in a special way, a benchmark item
indeed, a struggle to interiorize those conventions.

But as a human person with some limitations,
with my own history and capability in playing,
I see where I can be fit and freely express myself;
through movements in diverse missionary works.

As it says in French, “bon débarras, il est partí.” 
my life continues with a backlog of other issues,
a different world focused on service to the Lord;
with my own repertory – its beauty to humanity.

It’s true that my prayer for the church at large,
is also a bridge across the gulf of separation;
coming to this borough of Staten Island
a hodge-podge of concerns, covenanted within.

Now that relationship with God and people
brings me to nourish that faith and commitment;
with that long stretch of Verrazano Narrows Bridge,
a metaphor to my own journey as a missionary.


Details | Rhyme | |

As Seen From My Chair

I look through a square window out into the yard as squirrels 
play tag around the base of a tree

I shift my eyes across the horizon, as a hawk soars in search of a 
meal, I wonder if he realizes he is free

The sun comes up at the start of the day, faithfully painting the 
sky with a message of hope for those who can see

I watch as the light ignites everything around, bringing it to life, 
realizing the metaphor is today meant for me

I take a deep breath and hold it awhile

I close my eyes with the image held tight

I let out my breath and turn with a smile

I know now following this path will be right


Details | I do not know? | |

Acception

Is it okay if I ask you one more time?
 
Is it just my senses,
 
Or are we falling?
 
Insanity is not just a state of mind,
 
It's a sense of being,
 
And my melted strings handle it well.
 
Love is a metaphor for acception;
 
Accept things for what they are,
 
And you may feel the mordant power 
 
Of the Maiden in Her virgin spring,
 
For She loves madly!
 
Saddle the beast of Hope.
 
Does he throw you to the hot, red dirt?
 
Does he kill you?
 
He has killed me more than once.
 
Acrid sensuality has no place in this doughty soul!
 
I am not a fool to love insomuch as the daisy loves her needed sun,
 
But again,
 
I only fool myself,
 
For it is I and I alone
 
Who has learned to accept even the most unacceptable.


Details | Blank verse | |

Life as Metaphor

I can explain in metaphor 
The stories of my life
As a person who exists
But live without control
Introducing the countless
Characters of my life

Each one a segment 
In muted reflection of me
Acting upon the stage
Of life's mediocre tragedy
All engaged in conversation
Forced to exchange pleasantries

Living in shame
Raging from the half-truths
That dresses their lives
Afraid of their lust
Found in meaning
The pain of life

Yet in the quiet hours
When the curtain falls at last
Disrobed from their prejudices
Entwined in a single course
When their masks of preferred guise
Are removed to show the same source.