Best Lesions Poems
*Based on Plato's Allegory of the Cave
Numb fists with bloody wrists
chained to crumbling walls.
Glazed eyes that never spy
a single truth or fault.
Dim light impairing sight
in spaces dark and shallow.
Stone walls where lies are scrawled
by murky phantom shadows.
One breaks free on frail knees
stiffened by disuse,
to leave behind the dumb and blind
who welcome this abuse.
He climbs in pain against the grain
toward a distant light.
With bloodied hands, he finally stands,
exhausting all his might.
Dazed at first, he's cursed by thirst
beneath the blazing sky.
The sun is bright and plunders sight
from eyes too dry to cry.
Lesions crust as eyes adjust
to find a foreign land
with greenest grass and sea like glass
caressing strips of sand.
He stands amazed before this maze
of truths he's never seen
and vows to save those in the cave
whose ignorance demeans.
When he returns, his words are spurned
by those chained to the wall.
They have no will to brave that hill
or risk the chance to fall.
He cannot go back to this show
of living shadowed lies.
Now that he knows the truth below,
he needs the open skies.
And so he climbs to search, to find
the knowledge that he craves.
No more a slave to the dark cave.
He's left that mindless grave.
I gather in the scarred
and broken forms,
the lipped imperfections
that score the wind
to give voice to an evening.
I see through the lesions
that open to a stillness
into which the universe
whispers its unfolding.
I feel the awe,
the sheer enormity
that confronts the senses
as all that is
opens into endlessness,
the mind wilting
at its door,
leaving only these hands
to shape offerings which,
like shells held to an ear,
echo only the faint murmurs
of what cannot
be contained.
In these times
the prophetic leaks out
of lesions in language -
sacred scripts fester
promises of slaughter
by revengeful gods
born out of the fury
of our own inner dark.
The same has hovered
over bloody battlefields
for millennia, the dead
wrapped in the flags
of countless faiths.
Meanwhile,
the Universe looks on
finding nothing of itself
in such weaponized deity.
It has a list of more
important things to do.
When love becomes a masochistic moth
That yearns to feel the heat of passion's flame,
It chews a hole through sheets of ardour's cloth.
Its wings ignite, too close to blazing shame;
They glow at first with fervour as they feign
A beauty that becomes a painful game.
The tears can't quell the heat or halt the pain.
They fall to feed the weeds of sprouting dread
And drench the heart with beads of acid rain.
But rest assured that time will smooth and spread
The memories into the shrouded past
And stitch the lesions with a healing thread.
The day will come when joy will blink awake
To leach the sorrow from that phantom ache.
For Craig's "Terza Rima Sonnet" contest
…the greatest poet who ever lived
…our Lord Jesus Christ
Wishes that wash upon the shallow shore,
Lacrimal lesions of the holographic whore…
Tectonic temptations, the lava shall pour,
Unleashing emotions, entombed we gore.
Mangled monuments of ruins regurgitate,
Surfacing megalomania of demons dominate…
Demonic destruction encroaches to infiltrate,
Demigods of desire will position to penetrate.
Distant horizons dissipating within plain sight,
Frigid frustrations amidst fore playing frostbite…
Detestation distortions of Hell’s agape appetite,
Antagonizing warring Angels take feverous flight.
Falling into oblivion within the blink of an eye,
Idempotent illusions making macabre to justify…
But there stands one soul, whose words do magnify,
Their love spreading thru asphyxiating air to clarify.
...background music by 'The Metal Heroes'
A tool tribute band... copy of 'Sinkfist'
Using a male virtual voiceover
June.24.2019
More To Me Poetry
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 1'st...
Premiere Contest...
Thank You
Are we not blind-registered children,
tripping over our future tails?
Sight unseen enabled
for the will of night prevails.
Within the cone of silence
curve the angles formed obtuse,
at odds and plainly hidden
in the shade of the recluse.
Feeling numb along the crumbled brick,
cement and mortar Braille;
callused lesions blunt the tips
and rip out the fingernail.
If opened to accommodate
the scope of love's domain,
the arc-light blinds so fiercely
slamming eyes wide shut again.
And all the time in brilliance shine
their halos fired intense,
yet we, enslaved to self denial
reject the evidence.
For the sake of nothing ventured
breeds the compost of conjecture,
means we look but cannot see
the angels in our architecture.
strike a match.
sulfur grazes my nose.
the flames tickle
the surrounding sky.
internal screams,
questioning motives,
FIRE is born.
smoke infiltrates
my lung and throat.
coughing greets the
unwelcome visitor.
FIRE reaches out
touches my hair,
eliminating every strand.
lesions blister on my scalp,
neck, and arms.
FIRE leaving its ugly scar.
burning flesh and hair
is the aroma of the night.
FIRE engulfs me.
We are One.
but through the ashes,
I rise again.
Self-Destruction --
and I remember
FIRE is an old friend.
"Suicide doesn't kill the pain-
it just passes it on to someone else"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
weeping from loss I emptied the ocean,
remembering each emotion
abandoned by devotion-
sights unseen by nude eyes shine,
forgetting your dear heart is divine-
please spread angel dust as a sign...
that you will be fine
ice falls down your cheek-
frozen like the air i breath
winter never knew her value,
for she is a season of loss
and o, those honey-hazel eyes
you wear-
once full of honeysuckle
brilliance,
now enveloped by thoughts
of your willow weeping,
your ebon pupils dilate-
(forever blinded by my affliction)
i gently tucked your laugh away
for safekeeping
lost in a landslide of non-forgotten
lachrymose moments
“reveries of safety try to flow,
but they've been sandbagged by pain and woe”
youthful lesions crawl with ease-
one pin prick to the heart is
enough to be lost inside what might
have been
searching for touches needing
to be touched,
longing to kiss the unkissable
craving to voice what’s unspeakable
shielding your innocence to fear not
what lied ahead-
(soul stolen by youthful demons)
the december rain is falling, and-
so are you
~three months later~
seems like a long time
but it’s been no time-
feels like a lifetime…
since you've gone
for i cannot live
with your need to swallow death-
sin of an angel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forms used:
Rhyme (AAABBBB), Verse, Couplet, Verse, Senryu
August 8, 2019
What of...A Pearl? 5-30-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pearl
Born from irritation
Errant seed, like a pebble in a sandal,
Rubbing raw the soft heart in bruises
Lustrous armor built around crumbs of discontent -
A resume of overcoming ravished wounds
From a jagged invasion to round perfection.
A sly annoyance, nurtured,
Grows into heroic neon hues
Of black or white, cream, gold or pink
Inside darkness, in stillness’ mystery,
Deep within oceanic birthing swells
A metamorphosis in the hands of grace.
Through the stony crucibles’ selfless sacrifice
Layers of harmony built from an unreachable itch
Step out into tranquility, an opalescent retort,
From lesions to beauty cultured from injury
Flawless orbs revel in firstborn revelation
To decorate innocence reborn.
See how frozen rice brings gaiety
from the weight of a half-starved life ,
palms etching the barbs of terrorism;
Already the villainous hours smell of puss,
ripe lesions , and unbearable heat :
dried bones snapping from gun-barrels
of greedy, power- laden pillagers --
the hissing growl of wars
rake bloody sky from its quiet days .
So chidren , listen well...build
A new earth blessed with peaceful hearth
and fresh broth,
clutch all neighborly moments endeared,
whispering prayers for safe glide
soothing night's guardianship ... and as
You lay on pure lights from angels' wings,
live each hour with grace of integrity
to hold not a chaos brimming with envy;
as Spirit renews a world lulled by love,
I stand neck-high tall
within the quicksand
of my infirmities.
Green and gaunt,
I hesitantly genuflect.
Ravaged tendons and corpuscles
are barely breathing
within the vacant corridors
of a soiled carcass.
My ardor for vindication
has been abandoned.
I presently refrain from accepting
the consultation of
umbrous soothsayers.
Readers of tealeaves and tarot cards
hurl my infractions towards
the apex of your divinity
and the nadir of my scrutiny.
I espy no Judas rope
(dangling from lofty boughs)
as scores
of unanswered novenas
sleep beneath my fingernails.
Scars flourish upon my skin -
agnate to larvae
and dried leaves.
The density of my marrow
turns moss covered and dank.
Choirs of starving nestlings
bear witness to my afflictions.
Swallowing the last notes
of a disenchanted requiem;
they slowly bind my wrists
with twigs of knotted reflections -
as Harper Lee's macaws
peck my cheeks and
the calculated feast ensues.
A murky blanket
of eventide quilts me
in fibers of remorse.
Lesions burst
underneath my skin;
they herald my inhumanity
as I impishly smile.
Connect-the-dot cold sores,
(not found in children’s books)
entwine a raw endoscope probe -
mocking
my charted results.
Inky woodlands
are devoid of carnival mirrors
and inner deliberations.
Such forms
of bun coed celebration minuet
within another's emptied psyche.
The conduits
to my umbra are blocked.
All exits are closed.
So, into the woods I go,
medicine chest-closed
and matchstick available.
Searching for answers
the starving nestlings
formerly consumed.
In the corner of my room,
you’ll find many a decentralizing delirium dust
Where my mind does consume,
peripheral visions of a malevolent distrust
Deprivations that entomb,
metabolic disturbances of cunning combust
Temporal lesions loom,
of psychotic disorders in a state of thriving thrust.
I see you but cannot touch,
thru nociceptive nightmares nurturing night
Hallucinogens that will crutch,
frantic neurons paleocortical penal plight
I feel you but cannot clutch,
a dimensional dementia in a demons fright
Denunciative delusions a monstrous much,
external images in fetal flight.
I sense you but cannot taste,
chemoreceptic catacombs of a pernicious smell
Stimuli distortions of waste,
proprioceptors penetrating the gates of hell
The love I give is displaced,
impalpable illusions within a condemned cell
The love received defaced,
from a schizophrenic defamatory defunctive dwell.
July.16.2020
Delirium Poetry
Sponsored by~
Kai Michael Neumann
N/A for contest
No one ever talks about it
it hurts
it throbs
uncomfortable
\No one knew what to say
especially when it was no longer all about them
but it was
Who have i been with?
who have you been with!!!?
the tears
pain
throbbing
thief of under
under where?
under there
All my friends were busy
Called mom yesterday we fought
My brother bout fell off the wagon
cause i want to move away if he moves near
and they're all blaming my ex
i know better
psychological torment
Im the ****
Im the whore
I blame myself as i should
serves me right
right?
so who wants a piece of this pie?
drug induced schitsoeffective
mood disorder
mentally ill
diseased
Lover Boy
all for you
Just give me more pills
Two friends left
I don't want to talk to the Angel whose ex stole my password to this site
My ex girlfriend whose room i lit on fire owes me 240 dollars for her drug debt
things are getting better
happy birthday rip off
merry Christmas debt
high and dry
Now Herpe New year
and i wept
again
stronger this time to not go over the reasons to live versus those i should die
and i laid in bed
with no one to hold
so young
people are cruel
I'm the joke dressed in suicide
just make sure you wash your hands
when you clean up after my mess
you might get infected
and then as the songs go sang by the artists
that sing about how my names are songs
I'll be the one responsible for killing all of my friends and myself after all
For the love of latex and lesions
practice safe sex
know your partners well
and remember life aint no merry go round
it can happen to you
it happened to me
and I've only been out of the funny farm
for three years
before that i was clean
before that was high school
and the nightmare i will always remember and equate with the word
DREAM
In the dreary whisper of midnight’s groan,
when streets escape the punctured cry
of thinning breaths, a line of stars blinks
trading some warmth with human arms...
beyond numbing sighs this dark possesses,
there are more wrists handcuffed on tainted
metal of cups and breadcrumbs for waifs,
as youngsters huddle in damp corners, till
a single violin strain bites the screeches
of grief and pain, of a crowd rendered
by lesions worn: a gauze of dingy shapes
coiling in fetal postures like bruised grass,
................
For Rob Carmack's Contest: Screwed lll
Theme: Pain of night
3/01/2015
Thy voice sounds like violin from distance
Melody of the holy angels
Thy beauty bouncing along the conductor
The airwaves beautified by the rhythm
A glut of neurons awakened by a giggle
How thy voice closes distance by wire?
My receiver agitates from life
Thy words transmit power through the wire.
The command you possess over my body;
Pauses not there!
Pass it on to non-biotic
Come dismiss my lesions.
When the air is saturated
It penetrates my dual engine of life,
With trebled effort much as of gamma
Even the clouds display thy image
Oh! What a natural wonder!
Do all the eyes witness the beauty at once?
I wonder what gives you reign.
Who crowned you this way?
My mind meant to rest-you take me far
The frame is at rest-your presence feeds my spirit
Together we traverse the world
All places far from imagination
Within a blink of the mental eye!