of love of war
the staff of a prophet, seen
fairness not imagine, sings
shouting out, obscenity
in search of fame, seeking stance
the moment arises, seek
of voice of power, godsend
renown supremacy, yet
prophet not acknowledged, kept
desire of a great life, sought
skill of voice, articulate
hardly ever, cheek
no longer free, famous self
seldom bite snarls dogma, link
of country of faith, kinship
all that’s true, fair play
desired fame acknowledged, pent
the home front, covetousness
war or peace love or hate, just
yelp puppy love, nice
Penned on September 28, 2014!
Torturing me with touches
I feel the sting of hardened and lasting lust
Touches not of mortal fingers,
But Halloween-haloed strings composed by musicians of mystery
Pressing upon my back--yes! A searing, yet melodi-errotic strike
All upon me, yet far from me...
Leave me not in the judgement of my own scrambling feelings
Rest not away as I hold my hands out in the dark
Deathly dances are visions heaven-bound for the duo--
Yet for the solo- a blank, useless measure...
The pulsing silence of amateur-stitched love rattles me
Making rhythms giggle in my mind
Intervals of idiocy tormenting all reason
Truly an agonizing, but for others--minor--prison
Is the smile that helped design those strings
Those strings that pluck upon my spine
Controlling me in a dark place stuck between tunes and time
Why are your hands so cold when you play those piano keys?
Why are your lungs so eroded with the pride that taints the songs you sing?
Why have the rhythms gone awry, and why does your apathetic dissonance thrive?
And tell me… through it all…
As you compose the rise and fall…
Why is all this destruction you created so vibrantly alive?
The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.
It's not enough to read for long.
It's just a little short.
It's not paid much attention to
and not the longing sort.
With thanks there's those who'll get it.
Those of who deserve it.
It's just some stolen words,
though I would soon forget it.
It's filled with much disgrace.
Those wary as they read.
It may be meant for you
if you accept the need.
I hope you have enjoyed it.
I'll cut you off for now.
But if you want more later
just beg there's more somehow.
Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding
Left to survive on meager crumbs
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free
From the physical and emotional restrictions
Placed upon me by my keeper
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity
To feed its selfish need for control
Through its twisted concept
Of love and adoration
I am looked upon as a possession
Other than the living, breathing individual
That I long to be
So now I sit upon my proverbial perch
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations
Which I once thought gave my life purpose
Memories which were bright and alive
Full of promise and hope but have faded away
Into a past that is now grey and bleak
Devoid of anything worth remembering
My footfalls echo in the silence
Giving testament that these memories
Have been empty and forgotten long ago
My only hopes now are that my keeper
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence
And obvious disdain and release me
Whether through life or by death
At this point either would be welcome
How I long for the freedom
And comfort of the clear blue sky
The ability to soar like a bird
High above the reaches
Of those who only want to keep me
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon
Where I know my future waits
And new memories and dreams can be made.
Which way leads to the
land of green white
Which way are we
A country the wicked
bears the rulership, and
the people sighing
A terrible thing sprouts
beneath the sun: a
Imps come to lime-light
by snuffing air from the
goose that laid the
The blind guiding the un
The weak suppressing
the strong-a terrible
Like the overthrow of the
gods at Mt. Olympus by
A country where also
thieves appear as men of
Land of green white
A land where the
enlightened ones are
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that
eat the crumbs.
Which way to go you
Iliterates stand on
podium of power
bellowing orders as milk
of sorrow known as
dividends of democracy
is passed around.
The machine of progress
manned by the
"There is better
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white
where rule of law walk
The proles are sentenced
to adversity,and there
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People
dancing on thorns
whimpering as they
I see a new sun rising
from the horizon,hope is
rekindled as its rays
grace on hopeless bodies.
Look!! there soon be
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
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
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
I do not know?
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"
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
FRUIT OF WAR - PORTMANTEAUS
Brusted gree skirt the terrain --
its fortress now smog of pains.
Sprolled brave emoticons flurst
floppled by remorse.
Alive, lovely floriage.
no mercy, at once loafted!
Finentual world ethics
forgotten clang cries.
Blind men sinduced to power:
justice then a fadograph.
Bescraped kindness ,dusten traits,
birthing woes and death.
Precious breathing counts one, two.
In and out wheezing some help
Oozing damage marks hatred
Peace start when war ends.
(c) Olive ELoisa
August 20, 2014
from the list: smog, emoticon
brusted - Brown Broken and Rusted
gree - any number of green trees
sprolled - sped and rolled
flurst - flew and burst
floppled - fell, flopped and toppled
floriage - flowers and foliage
loafted - floated and drifted
finentual - final and eventual
sinduce - sin and seduce
fadograph - fade photograph
bescrape - escaped and broke
dusten -dusty and beaten
He wants to say "I love you,"
But keeps it to "Goodnight."
Because love would mean some falling,
and she's afraid of heights.
I always love more,
and it kills me in the end.
I always give more than I receive
even though I cherish each smile like it alone
was responsible for moving the world,
it was never enough
and I was never enough,
but we both knew the teams weren't quite even
and each was playing by a different set of rules.
So I gave you all I had and
took out a loan to give you more-
leaving my heart hungry so I could make sure
there was always enough to fill yours-
and you gave me what you had
and I cherished each glance like it kept the oceans churning.
I pawned my soul and shed my skin-
leaving my bones cold and aching-
so yours would never feel hollow.
And I gave you everything I had
and loved you with all my strength
until my heart gave out-
and yet I still managed a few more beats
for good measure-
And you gave me what you could but
it wasn't enough
and still I cherished each ounce of your love
like it was the last breath ghosting across my lips
in one final offering to you-
"I love you."
my late night revelations
paint an image so clear-
as if fine-tuned with a microscope.
I see the truth.
I now realize that what I need-
I don't know how I am going to make you see,
make you feel...
I need to make you know.
A simple touch is all I need
to delve into your mind and infect you.
But how to reach you?
You are hidden far away
within your own mind,
in maze of your own design.
Between us locked doors and endless traps,
rivers, lakes, oceans,
miles and miles of
impassible terrain that keeps me apart,
keeps me from you!
We are two universes set to collide-
not to be destroyed,
but merge into one.
Set to collide, but keep missing our mark.
This is unbeknownst to you.
I keep the secrets within me.
How much longer can I wait-
how much longer until my silence
Until you break me?
I am deserted, alone,
left in desolation.
You are the answer to the questions,
the key to my freedom.
But you cannot reach me.
And you do not know what you are.
How much longer til my time runs out?
God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.
Through the lonely woods, I may head,
Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,
At the secluded horizon, I may stare,
And only you, I may see,
In those symphonies of silence,
In those melodies of calmness,
In those euphonies of quietness.
By the silent lake, I may lay,
Till the twilight fades, I may stay,
Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,
And only to you, I may talk,
Through those toungueless emotions,
Through those wordless attachments,
Through those voiceless sentiments.
In the lone meadow, I may wander,
Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,
In companionless seclusion, I may hide,
And only in you, I may find,
The depths of oneness,
The bonds of togetherness,
The cozy feel of coalescence.
In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,
At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,
Through a million wounds, I may bleed,
And only in you, I may seek,
The balm of love,
The warmth of affection,
The heal of inseparability.
The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins;
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs
I do not know?
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
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!”
I do not know?
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,
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.
I do not know?
Raindrops tapping on a window,
Everyone knows the storm is coming,
No one takes shelter,
A gust of wind blows,
The dark clouds bellow some thunder.
Lightening crackles, no one sees,
Leaves rattle, emotions spike,
Silence strikes all,
The chaos is brewing,
Hello's and goodbye's they sing.
The storm inside us all,
Tears are languages unspoken,
The sky is clear, the stars they fall,
Everything unsaid, everything in awe.
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
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:
I do not know?
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.
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.
When He breaks you
It is to re-make you.
If given the choice
To give destiny your voice
You would undoubtedly have picked this state
Such is the irony of fate
He breaks you now
So you later see the how -
How the pieces of your journey come to be
A slow but eventual solving of this mystery
He makes you work work work – then fail
So that you realize your means are of no avail
Without His will -
But feel His mercy fill -
Even through the aches still
He punctures your bubble of hope
To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope
To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’
Which you might say if it always did come so easy
He lets you fall
So that when you stand
It’s straight and tall
Your past sorrows
Not letting you drown
Without your ego
Weighing you down
Even while the road appears smooth
He lets you trip and trip again
So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures
From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain
He knows Best
The perfect Teacher
Who puts the perfect test
He breaks you
To re-make you…
Greased, thoughtful, sad but..
generating beauty from sadness
Saturating the body in the earths finest ales,
Sound waves as variable as the sea,
Breaking at chance intervals of..
Almost like cutting through foam,
where pockets of air appear from nowhere,
allowing sounds to reverberate around the gaps provided.
Two words of escape.
That's all I could muster.
...I saw her face later that day,
and couldn't fathom why I had ever turned away.
I couldn't escape the possibility that it had been a mistake.
She's so beautiful,
With her brown skin bound inside that tight white dress.
When she touches my lips,
She's on fire.
Breathing her pain into my masochism
with every kiss.
Her face shines like the sun,
enveloping all the dark in the room.
And I breathe while I still can....
Hoping for another moment of pleasure.
Begging to be sated.
She taunts me as she dances her way
back into my life;
Knowing that I can't say no to the taste.
That I'm addicted.
I take her in again,
and hold her tight.
She screams into me,
letting me know she still has control.
I fight for position,
but I'm weak in the arms
of my praxis.
-James Kelley 2012, All rights reserved.
She woke up everyday
to the beckoning of death's toll.
But decided to embrace life,
pulling herself from the darkened hole.
With a new brightness in her eyes,
she lived life as partially buried gold.
Never afraid of the darkness,
or what the future may hold.
Shimmering beneath the dirt,
her beauty shall now unfold.
True legacy lies hidden to reign,
for a prodigy has risen from bitter cold.
One example of grace goes far,
farther then any story ever told.
With strength that comes from deep within,
that's been held from days of old.
Among the majority she lived,
witnessing atrocities flare.
From her soul she would always give,
though no one seemed to care.
As the bells of sadness began to ring,
she would rise above the gloom.
Out of darkness and despair she would sing,
with a melody that filled the room.
The tears that had fallen proved as strength,
to her ever-impending light.
Onward traveling to any length,
for what she believed was right.
When darkened paths shimmer,
despite the pangs of apathy,
through life she will always glimmer,
no matter what the tragedy.
-Collab with Dan Kearley! You're the best, Dan!
her stolen tears fall in peace
veiled from a world that will not cease
her knitted brows now show their crease
as she weeps into her comforting fleece
nothing can slow their rapid increase
as they finally find their release…
~Inspired by the wonderful Monorhyme by Nette Onclaud "Black Tears"~
You are an amazing poet and you are missed here every day.
I hope that these words find you well and that you will be back
to inspire more of us here at the Soup!
Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me?
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face
And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of
You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm,
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment
I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare
That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he