Best Anarchic Poems
Written: January 08, 2024 For Tania Kitchin Contest
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A storm swirls, hurling hail and snow,
In the bosom of winter, icy storms grow.
A scene that is both anarchic and grand,
A snowstorm, a shunned marvel of the land.
A whirling maelstrom is a whimsical sight,
Whispered mysteries haunt the cold night.
By merging their loads, icy crystals collide,
Winter chorus is earth-crowning pride.
Whispers of wind nurture a peculiar tune,
Melodic strains cross-changing boon.
Glazing crystals and crumbles sway,
An enthralling outlay winter waltz display.
The night like clouded charcoal scorched,
A sea of trees with starlight torched.
A night where laws are sound asleep,
Anarchic prayers running deep.
Alone I hear the wretched screams
Of screeching trees... or so it seems.
The cries protract into the air,
Without a sound they disappear.
The shrieks have bartered now anew
With sounds of meat and boney chew
Discharging from the faithless trees
And snarling with my memories.
But creatures' gruesome growlings drown.
I smell the gunpowder and frown.
The waging sounds of war advance
In battle stance with gun and lance.
The sounds of bleeding men enhanced,
The sounds of fate and time and chance,
No sooner do they cross the trees
Than fade as all their voices freeze.
But worse than bombshell sounds occur;
The storms, the winds, the thunder stirs.
The roars that shake the forest's roots,
The flowers, soil, and passion fruits
A rainy resonance restocks
The grass the air the woods the rocks
And washes with its dancing tingle
All the sounds that intermingle:
A dreaming forest in the night,
And trapped within its fanfare fright,
It chokes me in its thunder thrill
And hangs me in the silence still,
And hangs me in the silence still.
Financiers feel superior to farmers
and pundits have it over poets.
All to the good because if you think America's
doing just fine, don't skip to the poetry reviews.
Our enemies are barbarous, our allies duplicitous
but our smart bombs are smart - that's how they found you.
Dad said all wars are resource wars. Follow
the money. The world needs more order, nothing
less than Nazis, never may the anarchic man's thoughts
be my thoughts, each shove sends a ping,
shields urge on shields, helmets helmets, we can be
the reigning kings between the last empire and the next
or implement a vision of collective deliberation
and binding agreements. Can China's navy
be harnessed to ensure free passage through
the South China Sea? We'll see how
things work out in the next generation.
In the meantime should I read Henry Kissinger's meditations?
He who thinks poetry's effete
probably considers Darwin a geek and Einstein
a postal clerk. Containment means leaving space
for the passionate and zealous to face themselves
and giving them missiles that don't work.
Slowing everyone down until one thing's done well -
governance or sustenance or brotherhood.
When violence comes to the neighborhood
the hierarchy will hold or fold, it is then the peace work proves relevant.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching outer space
for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
By that what is meant. Sitting still and thinking deeply
on the relation of anger to coercion,
systems for correcting the decisions of earlier presidents.
We're required to report incidents of depression
to a doctor because you're a valued member of of our community
or so insignificant no one notices or cares.
How necessary the interface of war and poetry!
I love living in the Arctic
The cold I find so cathartic
But you must beware
I'm bi-polar bear
If crossed I can be anarchic
I'm really a huge white bi-polar bear
You can take my photograph, laugh and stare
But if you come too near
You'll have reason to fear
If I'm in Hyde's mood you'd better take care!
I'm usually very docile and quite nice
Relaxing on the shelves of polar ice
For food I am howling
My tummy is growling
I need to catch some tasty fish to slice
I possess great big furry white paws
But at times I can show my sharp claws
So don’t mess with me
Cos I can be nasty
My emotions have no get out clause
I don't really like eating seal blubber
It's tasteless as a tire made of rubber
And I don't like to swim
Unless I have the whim
I should have been born as a land lubber
My smile can turn into a frown
One minute I’m up, next I’m down
I can lash out at you
So whatever you do
Don’t call me a stupid bear clown
When I'm feeling like good Doctor Jekyll
I don't care if you tease me or heckle
I'll toss you my poop
Big scoop after scoop
Til I've covered all your little freckles
On a good day I’ll smile so nice
Enjoying white fish which I’ll dice
See me bask in the sun
Then I’ll go for a run
And play with my friends on the ice
I feel a weird change, a rumbling inside
An avalanche of emotions, a landslide
My claws are extended
Your visit has ended
Red mist all around ~ turning into Hyde!
The truth, it cannot be denied
I’m a bit like Jekyll and Hyde
You'd better leave town
When red mist comes down
Or run to take cover and hide!
Written by Lin Lane and Jan Allison
05~18~17
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
ADRIFT
-----------
Swallowed by waves
Intensely waged in war
A mariner swims seized
In anarchic zones
Colliding crests of clear
Currents clash/clutch
Shifting and drifting it
Further from shallow
Fluidic floors
Lingering lured beneath
Deep aqueous lands
He swims sedate a
Straight stroking lap
Embarked on his quests
To cults of creatures as featured
Foreshadowed and seen
In rippling revelation
The chilling cool
Of the seas quench
The tip of his tongue
Tantalizing his thirst
While the lighthouse bells
Roar renouncing the curse
Concocted clamantly by
Imps tightly towered ashore
In aimless search of
He who fiercely fled
Like a falcon freed
From the flooding floors
Mellow sweet melodies
Sound a sugar's energy burst
Beaming bright as the sun
Sparks the dawn's white flame
Shading the scenes a
Deific seraphim's drape
As the towering sky's
Blue clothed in white cape
How brilliantly a defunct figure
Darted deep in the distance
Shapes an empryean eel
Adrift its ocean's reticence
~Poetra Jah~
BI-POLAR BEAR COLLABORATION WITH JAN ALLISON
I love living in the Arctic
The cold I find so cathartic
But you must beware
I'm bi-polar bear
If crossed I can be anarchic
I'm really a huge white bi-polar bear
You can take my photograph, laugh and stare
But if you come too near
You'll have reason to fear
If I'm in Hyde's mood you'd better take care!
I'm usually very docile and quite nice
Relaxing on the shelves of polar ice
For food I am howling
My tummy is growling
I need to catch some tasty fish to slice
I possess great big furry white paws
But at times I can show my sharp claws
So don’t mess with me
Cos I can be nasty
My emotions have no get out clause
I don't really like eating seal blubber
It's tasteless as a tire made of rubber
And I don't like to swim
Unless I have the whim
I should have been born as a land lubber
My smile can turn into a frown
One minute I’m up, next I’m down
I can lash out at you
So whatever you do
Don’t call me a stupid bear clown
When I'm feeling like good Doctor Jekyll
I don't care if you tease me or heckle
I'll toss you my poop
Big scoop after scoop
Til I've covered all your little freckles
On a good day I’ll smile so nice
Enjoying white fish which I’ll dice
See me bask in the sun
Then I’ll go for a run
And play with my friends on the ice
I feel a weird change, a rumbling inside
An avalanche of emotions, a landslide
My claws are extended
Your visit has ended
Red mist all around ~ turning into Hyde!
The truth, it cannot be denied
I’m a bit like Jekyll and Hyde
You'd better leave town
When red mist comes down
Or run to take cover and hide!
I prefer crazed blue eyes
How they
Magnetize
The ache
I have
To make your insanity
My own
I prefer crazed blue eyes
Won’t
Apologize
How I take
Your flesh
And make your absurdity
My home
I prefer crazed blue eyes
Don’t you
Realize?
Nutcase
Lover
Wackity wack wackify
My soul
Let me look into your
Anarchic mind
Transfixed by those
Wild baby blues
Let’s share the final
Gasps of time
While we wear
Each other's shoes
Let me hold your body
In such strange ways
Even monkeys
Would be ashamed
Let’s meld our chaos
Lunatic babe
One body joined
Perverse, deranged
I prefer crazed blue eyes
Delirious blues
In the way they
Stare at me
All Sturm und Drang
Staring
Knowing
Exactly
Who I Am
I am a wolf lover
I am simply an observer from afar
I looked up at the moon
Imagining your howling to keep me attuned
Moon is your vision in howling message
Vikings always wore your skin at winter’s rage
Blood was taken to compensate for lost courage in the battle
They see you as a companion spirit to set on another travel
Watching your blue eyes at birth, turning yellow
By the time you turn older, we’ll hear a loud bellow
Your desire to reunite with your blood brothers
All gray wolves and the red wolves smother an affair
Gather all alpha male and female
To produce the strongest cubs and care
A career in hunting intensified by watching
Learning to form a polygon, each is participating
Many rulers were fascinated to mean their names with yours
Some noble personality hunts you down for your shaggy fur
Using wolfhound to outrun and hunt your brothers
As they respond to human howls are then put in danger
Clearing my mind of any last wolves ever killed
Keep on howling and make us beguiled
Unwanted occupants warned away from trying to intrude
Protecting each other and your brood
I am only a follower for whatever is your knowing
I regret any anarchic killing
For I believed slain wolves’ brothers would revenge
I am to this day will help to make a change
27 March 2015
Stacked with books, assiduity elsewhere
Exams knocking at hand
Yet the Friday get-go
And final cut buff.
Night at sea and morning sloth
The evening prowl and buddy talkies
Escaped tuition and soul mate bask
Brainsick few moments
Ended with a break up.
Hearsays then bared
Eyes filled up and a hebdomad hush.
So called a fresh beginning
They say it agone.
Acquaintances befalls
Yet the same story echoes.
Admittance time and outcome appraised
Enough with bailiwicks, now the time to revel.
Late night parties and dearly-won snooze
Weekdays lessons and awaited weekend multiplex.
A secret dope and babbling out,
Desktop eroticas and tormented psyche
Fags anarchic and creative smokes
Bohemian lifestyle
But forthcoming ruination.
A sudden consequence and fledged days
Thousand and one nights
Of a student’s time of life.
cancer is a crab we die from too
anarchy of criminal cells ineffective
policing of the immune force dwindle
we eat poison and drink fluoride
without our consent we are helpless
we dont prevent or even unaware
years of anarchic cells uncontrolled proliferation
a lump here a bump there
blood from the holes change in bowels
they send you to test in their labs and brand you
you are tagged more tests blood sucked blue arms
they give you poison in your destroyed veins
they burn your tissues to death radiating and
they cut you for fun and spread the seed of death
fake promises studies literature you are tired
the longest war of the richest land total disaster defeat
war on cancer they dont want to cure
An iridescent celestial being
Anarchic yet effervescent adolescent
Frolicking freely in the omnipresent forest,
Like a breeze through the leaves.
Barefoot & star gazing — native & trail blazing.
Like a clever, fearless fairy exploring the faraway night sky,
I am the fantastic bit of magic on an otherwise static planet.
Bewitched by wild wonderment;
Coloring my life with the chaos of pathos.
I am the captain of passion, & best little hippie
On the mountain — formed by a volcanic fountain
That caused a panic on our little oceanic planet.
Dancing in multidimensional secrecy,
Past an unattainable horizon
Is where you'll find me — on the Big Island in the sea.
It is a true treasures
With impeccable weather & such mystic characteristic,
It's almost unrealistic.
So forget your whimsey Hawaii five-O fantasy
Tear a hole right through the sky
Arise, & fly with me on a real odyssey
Across the mesmerizing island
Teeming with undreamed of creatures
& seemingly endless saffron sand beaches
few have ever been
up to the
Vermilion rainbow plateaus
& sacred volcano summits
Amidst cascading honey suckled waterfalls
& streams of splendiferous wildflower meadows.
We can indulge in thousands of hues of bloom
Or retreat, once more to the oasis at the shore,
To stand hand in hand before the prevailing trends
Of a turning world; scattering brightness in the dark
Fledge millennium into an unadulterated oblivion.
Enveloping what is suspend in time
with a colour compass configurations
The universe, nearly legible expresses herself
Writing constellational scribe
elucidating galaxy.
A granny in a brightly lit flower frock is neither a spinning wheel or a basket of multi coloured wools. Multi coloured wools are very very useful indeed for wool wafts wonderful warmth. And warmth is great when cold so never mind the harness in a three wheeled bin in the artic. Oh the whorl of semantic accolade is an issue for a tiny tissue and a tiramisu partying on a giant cliff face. Squarking squirrels sending signals swimmingly secretly sedately swift. A cloud worshipping a beacon is a beanie in a bun but not while the bun is sleeping. It needs peace and quiet you see and tantalisation can often christen the rite of passage in in even the mist tightest of skirts, shirts and dressed crabs. In a salad. Overtones of a butterscotch pantry never belittle a momentary pickle. Miserable money making mongrels make marvellous man made moons. And a jingle jangle.simmering on a stove is a one time initiation starting ship to a nonlethal Atlantic cruise basin where crudities are neither cuddles nor cute and anarchic apathy is swamped by an adjudical nun in a costume from the fourteenth century castle of the espionage for espionage is not a experience it is a an exact evenly economically excellent ecliptic eccentric eclipse. So all go hail the ring of the bell from the cooker. Ding dong ding then. Right isnt it? Playing football in a dough ball of glue is preferable to hand gliding in gloves of concrete. And a forthright pair of gloves are always leather in outlook and forward drive like a medium in a trance. Trembling trees throwing turnips thrice turning tormenting tortoises. Hahaha the time tick tock tick arguing with a baseball glove and a hat and a microphone stands with a bacon trolley. Hahaha missionary mishap makes many mingling monsters. Oh left heel clock clock right heel click. Great. Fantastic isn't it? Xxxxx evolutionally z z z z z
To Sleep
As relentless day slips into the night,
Uninvited shadows from darkness creep,
And in the quiet evening’s failing light
Elusive Hypnos’ drugged captives sleep,
In far fantastic hidden caverns deep.
There Morpheus awakes in the sleeper’s mind,
Where anarchic dreams play outrageous themes
And the sleeper will untold stories find,
In the flow of those dark subconcious streams,
Revealed in unwilling sleep’s restless dreams.
07/16/17
RECIPE: “Poulet Roti” French Style – Le Chant Royal (Instalment 3)
(Note: Rhyme scheme of “Le Chant Royal” where capital “E“stands for refrain, thus – Stanza: ababccddedE, Envoi: ddedE)
STANZA II
Cut the hot-water supply, make chicken freeze
Tear up the electric connections, the telephone
Ensure chicken swallows upstairs dust, e’en sneeze
Fix the plumbing, flood coop with merde from heaven
Funnel exhaust fumes into coop car cabin
After fixing the engine – closed doors – unseen
And when chicken leaves coop to forage for food
Invade the coop, sabotage shower for good
So as to keep chicken skin in constant stink
See that chicken pays for all damage in blood
Give the Alien Crowd free rope’s nodding wink!
ENVOI
Use the migrant lêches culs, the all-willing brood
Rejects from anarchic lands up to no good
Kitchen-help strut as Mason Chefs in a blink
Make their Masters’ ev’ry wish come true for good
Give the Alien Crowd free rope’s nodding wink!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2017