Best Gritted Poems
Life is not as sweet as a bowl of golden glace cherries,
nor is there a golden illuminated future for a fruitless mind.
Trembling hands and gritted teeth disguise my disorderly brain,
feeling lost in the mist,
surrounded by drowned out voices.
Deceptive chanting charms plant everyday confusion,
with stalking emotions running through my mind's corridors,
carrying a voice that gives birth to eerie echoing funnels,
pumping frustrating thoughts deep into the depths of phobias.
My demeanour hides behind a canvass of mysteries.
a pure transfiguration, where compulsive obsession
takes possession of stalking my vulnerable affections.
There's too much repetition in the fluidity of periods and seasons,
as I lose this battle to control my will's strength of life.
I constantly wonder if the only place of victory,
to find peace,
is to slay silent intoxicating depths,
which desire to explore me.
But in reality despise me with conflicting contradictions unable
to stop my puzzled conscious suffocating from over analysing,
enslaving excessive dwellings from every aspect of my existence.
Life is not a jigsaw,
I do not have the energy to find every piece.
My soul's fine heaven is rimming with untold tales of nature,
but misjudged precious intentions result in distracted actions.
An angst which has no remedy as all scars remains unseen.
But my Fears are made into gems,
when alone with my nemesis,
an unwanted life long partner
feeding upon deranged dilemmas,
which keep my mind,
spiralling in circles of uncertainties.
Hush
Hush now my lover
Come rest your head upon my shoulder
Let my arms league bring you closer
Quiet now my love
Or your tears will shred to my ruination
All the courage that I have
Let this soft caress to yours encompass
And do not hold upon the burning cup
It is so, how my lips are scorched
Come my love, disentangle your heart from this apart
Rest your weary self here
Lest this choke in my throat blister so
When I speak your name
It is for I; all the lovers under this sun
I see them of smiles and arm in arm
Rip my foot soles to desolation
I have no path to follow
Do not take on so, my lover
For if it must be, I will covet the lost
Of funeral marches
As for you, so I, for me, am not
In these seconds resplendent
In these minutes redundant
I to, hold upon the burning cup
To reek some revenge on your loneliness
I call God a fool !
And stand in defiant
Belligerent; should such love be squandered and sent to hell
I would stand, still
And call your name to the closing heavens
Tortured with some mercies over spill
And stab my accusation to the hearts of angels
Hush my lover, I beg
Your sobbing racks into every ounce of strength I have
And with gritted teeth inside my eyes
I can but cling to hope
And slowly die
With this forlorn and empty life
Please my love, should I fall amidst the briars
And my heart dig upon the shovels of graveyards
Spit rumored on tomb stones
And call all those other lovers liars
Come now, my bride, rest here
Follow me to these palatial dreams
Let us forget lifetime living
Let us forge inside an anvils breathing all that we desire
Hold fast to me my lover
Submit, rest, resplendent for our bravery
To look beyond hope and see beyond dreams
To the place where we were meant to be
Hush now my lover
Come rest your head upon my shoulder
Let my arms league bring you closer
Muscles locked in agony
Every ligament burning
Pain flooding nerve endings
Labor
Heavy panting of breath
Heart pumping trying to keep up
Behind the canopy of human perception
Life and Death dance
On her knees pushing
Two women holding her
A third with hands out
Down, down . . . blood, sweat
Water – tears
A tearing and a swoosh
A boy, cover in blood
Cries into the wind
Life laughs with delight
Rachel in a panting whisper
Ben-Oni – his n a m
e
Dies
Death – laughs defiantly
Echoes across this luscious valley
Livestock pause from eating
Shepherds watch
Jacob climbs Migal Eder
Grief cries fill the valley
*** 1000 years later ******
A small wiry man from Moresheth
Deeply troubled
Spoke about justice
The coming of doom
But also of hope
Micah climbs – Migal Eder
Watchtower of the flock
Cries -- “Daughter of Zion”
Listen . . .
“Daughter of Jerusalem”
Hear my words
“Bethlehem Ephrathah
Small among the mighty clans of Judah
From within you
A ruler over Israel – a shepherd
From the beginning of days
Of ancient time
The restorer of Peace”
***** 700 years later ******
Too many people
No rooms
Tired, frustrated, worried
The pain . . .
Life and death begin to dance
She yells
J-O-S--E---P---H !!!!!
In the distance
A tower
Fire
“Hang on Mary”
Almost there
Panting prayer- Y a h w e h!!!
Father of this great hurt!
P – L – E – A – S – E
Release your son – NOW!!
Down
Upon her knees
A depression of earth
A pair of hands
Pushing with all her might
Gritted teeth, white lips pressed wide
A tearing of maidenhood
A breaching of flesh – blood burst forth
Within the blood – an infant
Relief
Cool air – Life dances upon the breeze
Death shaken, slinks away
Breast, milk, a swaddling
A mother’s love
Under Migal Eder
Watchtower of the Flock
Resting in a manger
Across the valley
A bright light
Music – “Glory to God in the highest . . .”
A new shepherd
A paschal lamb
J E S U S
Live and Love Generously
David Meade
12/19/2016
Another year has gone, it just slipped away,
Without notice or warning or eulogies to say.
On purpose, I barely register its passing…only crack
A bitter smile;
A half-raised, quizzical eyebrow, maybe, laced with a brief
Sense of a long forgotten once close friend
Giving up the ghost.
From starved tree branches the leaves tumble down,
Sheets of rain guillotine on this dirty old town.
I watch the autumn gale axing…havoc from
The frozen North.
I'm digging graves for memories, perhaps, meticulously fast,
For they really need interment
As they are the living dead.
Funny, it's the first time ever, I realise I'm getting old,
The heart misses beats and the room feels always cold.
I see the lines etch on my face…gritted warp
Of aching bones.
And try as I might to shove longing and regret back into
Their woodworm coffins,
It does not keep the pain at bay
When the past craves resurrection.
It came without warning four hours before morning,
respecter of no man nor beast,
though the house was secure it had got in before
and headed straight up the stairs for a feast.
In bed I'd just turned when I felt my leg burn
as the fearsome thing tore at the skin,
I twisted and jerked, none of these tactics worked
as its teeth burrowed further within.
Now prostrate on the floor, I scrambled for the door,
gritted teeth in the silence, I begged,
but no mercy was shown, and I think it's well known
that there's nothing like cramp in your leg.
Scarecrow Addict
Gritted and dusty
Powered by flack jacket eyes
Bootsteps through grey puddles
Flotilla of cigarette butts
Trash kicked aside
In a desert of litter
Seeking the soulless of death
Chattering on split lips
The grimy irk of air
Festoons the rink and rack
The floating black
Sucks unbidden
Horses into battle ridden
Scream through his lungs
Broken weapons
Filled with empty bullets
Enemies in their colours run
Demon angel
Of the iridescent metal
In the bars of sculptured hell
For the hot choke of alcohol
Has squandered his nights
And burnt his will
The vengeance of mirrors
He cannot defy
He has become
The man with the gun
And rabid dog bark
Is the music
The fang gangster rap
Chews on his pride
Coughs back and spits
Too many drugs
To fill his hate
As he seethes through the alleys
The ricochet sound of poverty
Slaps hard at the cold
Whistle through the doorstep
The vicious snide crack
Scavenges his chest
Scarecrow buckshot
Trammels his lungs
And coughs up plastic
Iron girders against shattered walls
Where the whole world threw up
His sick
Chokes on the disgusting chuck up
Of need
So full of promises
But still lets in the freezing winds
To whined up urine stained
In the pallor
The colour
Of his sky
Bandit warrior and loser
This brave young man
Watched this driven and ploughed memory
Eat away
By iron vice drag
Devastate his pale haired wench
Leaving blood trailing on her breast
Pimped
She was
And hate in grey battered uniforms
Drove the callous on
And lifted him from the reeking cans
Of his desolation
Bled him through nights of sweat
And cold turkey chewed regret
The plaster wet billboard and pealing advert
Have no idea
What they have unleashed
Brittle as long dead bones
And screaming head
No longer hates
But still sneers revenge
In tattered loose rags
He staggers from the vomiting pit
Emaciated wolf
The grinning scarecrow eyes of merciless
And the jagged teeth of candle lit
The reek of vendetta
Hangs ever about his lips
And woe betide the gun smith
Woe betide indeed the needles
Wet prick
Nothing left to fight for
Other than
A long dead
Lover
Masterful paint strokes of his artistic hand.
Should use zinnias or roses that are banned?
Decides upon an honored verdant ginger jar
Muse stirs up imagination from afar
Maestro’s every keystroke magnificently planned.
Masterful paint strokes of his artistic hand
Waiting now for proud pink zinnias to come to life
The lovesick artist paints them for his lovely wife
Painting will be revered for hundreds of years
This knowledge might well reduce Verster to tears
Masterful paint strokes of his artistic hand,
Ginger jar intelligently feathered and fanned.
Wife adored this one, thought it was his best.
Her enthusiasm was not a real test.
Artist gritted up paint with particles of sand
Masterful paint strokes of his artistic hand.
I'm self-centured,
I'm seeking attention,
and I'm still writing on,
darlings i'm a bright sinner,
but Why wouldn't I after everything,
after all my sacrifices and sitting around,
allowing myself to be put down and mocked,
I want what I deserve rightfully as a supporting watcher,
I clapped and cheered,
I pushed and encouraged,
smiling with gritted teeth in silence,
but when I asked for just a little support,
all I was given a glance and faced with a back,
the backs of EVERYONE I pushed on and clapped for,
but when I asked for the same All I had were a few numbers,
you wanna know why I'm greedy,
you wanna know why I'm self centered,
You wanna know why I want to shine brighter,
BECAUSE ITS MY RIGHTFUL PLACE.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
To me, you are purely ephemeral;
We are irrelevantly real.
And I am left with no one but myself,
With this hollowness I feel.
And still, I am hardly here,
Just a mass of scattered free radicals.
A steady-state cascade;
A time-killing fanatical.
I laugh because it is absurd,
And carry on without a word.
She was blanched,
Scuffed like an epiphyses.
Gritted between molars,
Eyed blind,
Her body curved in magnificent sacrilege;
Flagrant,
Inexplicitly mine.
My secondhand thing,
That some dub love.
I just gawped
Whenever she took it off;
And seeped
Into the ground at her feet.
I woke up and remembered that there was nothing else;
I woke up and wondered why I hadn't killed myself.
I was dead set
On something but nothing and everything yet;
All meaning unmet.
All the null that added up to self;
All the lives that lie to blindly dwell.
I laugh because it is absurd;
The others dare not speak the word.
--
"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide."
-Albert Camus, absurdist
CRASHING waves... SMASHING seas...
Bringing sailors to their knees.
As they struggle to save their lives
Hoping and praying, help arrives.
The stormy seas as dark as coal,
Preventing the sailors from reaching their goal.
Battered and bruised, but still they fight...
Staring ahead, into the dead of night.
Rocking and rolling as they try to stand...
Hoping against hope, that they soon reach land.
Bleary eyed from lack of sleep.
Down in their cabins, huddled like sheep.
As they're rocking and rolling down beneath
Weary sailors above, resist with gritted teeth.
hours later, as the storm starts to dissipate,
It leaves a calm tranquil sea in it wake.
The veteran sailors know the battle is over, and they have won...
As they contemplate, other storms yet to come...
AND SO THE SNOW
And so the snow
Continues to blow
The wind
It's driving force
The hills, once brown with sand
Took on a new face today
White until the barest rocks
Almost did not exhist
Then the sun did come out
The temp twenty at it's height
Nothing happened all was still
The mountain cold and white
Ten days went by, the Holidays passed
All was beautyful to behold
Ten inches of snow but it took help
Before I got to go
My readings done
My groceries bought
I breathed a sigh
And went back home
That night on the TV
The weather man did grin
Ducked his head, cleared his throat
And then he did begin
"An arctic front is coming in
Lots of snow and dangerous wind"
And so I ordered more propane, gritted my teeth
"Here we go again"
The build up of snow like last time
This time never came
The snow did come but before it built
The wind had then stepped in
The number of inches was hard to guess
But the drifts began to grow,
I watched the ghosts swirl and sway
And dance among the rocks all day
Day one, day two, the beginning of three
The sun does have a scheen
And as like the day before
It's the wind predicts the scene
As the sun begins to think of rest
It high lights the bare ridges
And the shadows of the drifts
Has not the ghosts hidden
I went to Church today
And had ease of mind
I no longer feared the ice and snow
I just sprinkled salt where I wanted to go
Cile Beer
Steel mountains tower over ancient minds
The mismatched soul anachronism
Instincts progressively lagging behind
Primitive brain sees a deep red cataclysm
Ghostly mastodons stalk the fluorescent plain
A daunting checklist of tasks today
Frigid rivers to be crossed in your brain
Endless list of invisible foes you must slay
A war without coffins, blood, or casualties
Teeth gritted, girded in polyester for battle
It’s knives in the back and social realities
No true combat; it’s never settled.
Unrelenting angst through every fiber
Forever hanging over the precipice of defeat
It follows you: a rapacious saber-toothed tiger
Implacable stare, neither attacks nor retreats
Gone is the clan, the intuitive belonging
Disconnected tribe inside your building
Every woman and man the empty longing
The neighbors you don’t know won’t come ringing
The dingy cement, windblown trash scene
Dreary and numbing external reality
You heart calls out for a deeper green
Light humming, phone ringing, no tranquility
No reason to fight for any tribe you see
Except, of course, your family on TV
Nothing to die for, unless the royal “we”
Beat the drum of prosperity or ideology
A Sabercat here, a Ghostly Mastodon there,
Back is bowed, veins on your nose
Run wrinkled hands through graying hair
A million drops in the bucket, it overflows
Just remember when you find
You don't understand the rage
That you are a savanna mind
Trapped in a modern cage
3/29/16
Tropes On My Island
To go to Tonga like this had not been my plan
Recommended though it was on the lonely planet
Om mantras were now my only companion
Planting seeds in my inner world and mind
In the interest of survival fire rubbed from sticks
Condensation separating salt from water
A salt water crocodile kept me on gritted toes
Lotus food for thought in search of coconuts
Indigenous fruit for fitness strength and
Sustenance with squashy avocado paste and
Lizard skin to heal and protect from sunburn
All basic needs fulfilled when I the cave man
Note and scribe my spiritual enduring message
Dry in the sand for posterity and loving kindness
03rd January 2017
This is me raping the red of an apple,
the breathy sweetness of the flesh underneath,
a slab of clean, radiant cold filling my mouth.
I can feel it under my teeth,
your skin,
like the calm of an apple.
This is the tip-toe edge of a knife
slipping through the base of my skull,
and the blooming sickness of blood
curling up in my throat, as cold
and as calm as metal,
a tide against my tongue,
the breaking of waves against gritted teeth.
An untamed, hot wind like wanting.
I am red like the sun
snapping the softness of the shadows, the
patience of the moon and her lazy circles,
dripping white perfume and
jazz –silver and cold onto the hungry earth.
I am mournful, desperation,
fingers pressed on parted lips
and hollow strings –the soft, clear scent of wood,
the cool reality of it unfolded beneath my palm,
lithe as skin.
This is me waiting for you
because empty has overtaken
my marrow, scooped out fistfuls of organs
and flung them across the stars.
I have nothing, so I set it on fire,
and it burns
and it burns to nothing.
And this is me reducing myself to ashes,
wrapping my arms around my chest to
count the beats,
wishing they wouldn’t skip
so
fast.
notes spilling into
the white spaces where the shape of you
waits empty.
This is me conducting music in the rain,
your name beating at the windshield,
sliding silky down my thighs.
This is me flooding across the floor,
the heaviness of the inhale before syllables –
an ocean staining my reason –
You: beautiful, intangible, surreal
as I reach for the
bright spots of the moon,
the unbroken crimson of an apple,
the wet indigo of the sky.
A cold, pregnant emptiness curving,
the breathlessness of the sea
misted white over my fingertips.
I smile at you when you aren’t looking.
The set of your mouth, as it furrows irresistibly
Commandeering your face into the desired degree
Of aloof concentration. Chin in hands, you rove about
A world I catch only in glimpses,
As it scintillates through the reflection in your incessant clarity.
I can see the glaze slipping as you fight your way
Through the glossy clouds that feather in overlapping layers
On your perception –I can see the radiance begin to focus
From the lucid orbs that center your face -unclenching as it emerges
Reluctantly from where it had seeped its inspiration –penetrated
To the profundity of your being.
I strain to catch that first flicker of warmth –the spellbound rebirth
Of the halcyon element I scorch myself with
Beyond the beyond the beyond –
But never scar.
It’s rending the fetters that closed behind it,
I can feel the crisp distance congeal
As it prepares to receive a dawn –
My face blazes with a sudden knowledge:
For one frozen moment, sluggish rays already frothing
Just beneath the surface, my breath petrifies as I
Inhale a fear that I will desecrate this magic –
That your perfection –exquisite to the point of pain –
Will dissipate –marred by an irreverent worth.
An emblem of stillness, I rasp over edges of milliseconds
-the tingling plunge that precedes all fall or flight-
Your eyelids lift, echoes of recognition bouncing
As I leadenly raise answering gaze to hem in selfish supplication.
Locked, your icy awe exults without breaking –
You answer my smile, as I gasp through gritted teeth.
We laugh about anything and nothing, I catch hold of my shreds again.
-inconsequential exhilaration-