Best Schism Poems
In the Catholic Schools of the West
All students are put to a test
Their head must go South
With an open mouth
To measure who comes off the best
A priest is never too fickle
An Adam's Apple to tickle
No need to repent
Its all Heaven-sent
The meek love sucking a pickle
Virile men should become a priest
So many are needed back East
Beneath every frock
Likes a ticking clock
Hungry mouths in need of a feast
The Bible predicts that a beast
Will plunder the Great and the Least
So you can do more
To even the score
When you serve this world as a priest!
"Where is the sun, where is the moon?"
the mirror asks.
He sees the silence in the other's gaze—
crouched against the wall
an empty face where once
two small diamonds burned
and cut in two
who once was whole
"Where is the blanket for the cold?"
the mirror asks.
He swipes a star
from far to balance on his outstretched hand
it tears a trail of blood
through fabric frail
and skin so thin below his ear
he stitches squares of dark
with sparks of warmth
to cloak against the night
"When will you make me whole?"
the mirror asks.
He strikes a match to light the star
and from his hand small grains bright sand
glimmer in the fickle white
he spills them on the floor
before his empty him
"I can't be us"
he says with faint apology
and buckled knees—
while in the other's eyes
life fades
without a fight
***
August 12, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
1st place in contest: The Poet's Shadow
Sponsor: Greg Barden
You took innocence
sow seeds in maturing brain
create illusions
in the name of the father...
a lattice for prejudice.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Now in conversation with myself,
and in love with the adventures of the mind,
I'm free to argue about them.
Feelings are more precise now; they do not mislead.
Totally gratuitous of course, they take the lead
and we must stand in awe.
Oh? You defend them?
Of course. What kind of Alter Ego are you?
Only yours. Forever. You have no choice.
That is the hardest part--recognizing the truth.
That, and coming together with you.
Well I think I'll keep you, pal.
You're quite handy. Now look.
The mind is churning again.
And now there are two of you?
Don't just do something. Stand there.
Yes, there. Before wisdom, still.
Be silent.
There is only one.
~
The teacher's feet flew up on the desk,
Striking the class as rather grotesque:
It caused quite a schism,
As she'd just escaped prison!
Was this a school-room or house of burlesque?
As these long-stifled clouds part
Across the indigo sky,
Tears purge the nimbus 'way dry,
From my dearest desire's heart.
Ascending to noble serenity
Through the stygian unknown;
Breaking through Everest’s stone
Forever-- or at least eternity.
Although all of the windows may
Open, and briskly circulate,
Like blood clots they articulate:
The seal shall never break away.
Alas, the only truth a man
May know is the honest candor
That there may not exist answers
To any of the questions spokén.
To the yarns of fate resign
Despite free-will’s coy rhyme.
She snores under Night's somnolent veil,
Far from quiet throes of his teetering sail;
Her pulses come and go in silent throbs,
Attuned to trigger no lover’s salted sobs.
Her breath kicks in and out in frail wafts,
And makes sullen breather and her lover
Immune to stingy Love's meanest dose,
Both unhurt by Time's estranging cover.
Both lie on the false-soothing couch of hope,
That dupes naive souls to wait for riper days;
More fecund seasons marked by richer crop
To nurse Cupid’s stars and prop their praise.
If heavens their rationed graces further hold,
Her hushed snores and his dreams shall die;
And the two loving aspirations end in naught;
A sad tragedy like of Juliet and Romeo of old.
She's laden to death with yet unrequited love,
And he dies for a brief feel of her turgid verve.
One god has as many religions
As Trafalgar Square has got pigeons
A lad on the booze
with nothing to lose
Got baptised with two Dead Sea Widgeons
Maybe it's with all signs Astro that their true ology elements precede us in our poor socio-crafted endless envies, that benignly beholds and molds us, encrusting our deep attention to non-nominal directed people preferentials--- for me, a March fish out of water, that traverses a lonley land of mindmeld ill consequated potentials, is more than doubt/dutiful in a weary design of guilded Awareness anarchies of emotide reversals of social fortune enslaved for an all quiet intent.
In all I am to not drown drawn in its cool wet incapassivtiy and away from its destitute, destructive denial and watery dismiss my essence
of all those things living aimless, seemingly without a concrete pattern, denying who they are in the Dairy Queen of things embolden.
Question?
It's lengthy, flawess, fluid intent to a cold calm countenance
and protective H2o prowess keeps it an
easy, forboding ill intact invasive; then shapes itself to all aimable vernaculars,
copious anomalies, traits, tolerences and tailored toils.
The schism is forgotten on this day.
Our insanity is hurried by the sun's sway.
We stroll on the rocks without a coast.
Clouds hurriedly come into view impost.
When it rains, it soaks up onto the sidewalk.
Passion is what gives us the capacity to talk.
Our emotions are hampered by your ooze.
We'll be way up that hill while you snooze.
Written: January 31, 2023
After being robbed
you want to hide your
poverty, like sex.
Someone is going to flaunt
the kisses of moon.
The sinking of twin islands
in lake begins. Claspers
were poised to hold on the tree-
house. The privacy was
threatened. Nobody will conceive tonight.
The erotica wins, temple fails.
A lone wolf smells the wind,
invades the obscene closet of
a god to find locusts
riding on each other devouring
one’s own.
Satish Verma
With the death of freedom
the world celebrates its liberty
and as the itinerant children of futures dream
wept in their unborn purgatory
the applause rang loud for ever more
even more security
Yes for this day and this day only
for this dust, for this thirst
this indigent clawing at life's throat
may appease these misanthrope moments
and give us all
the delusions of hope
Pass around the syringe of instant relief
and break to dysfunction everyones heart
let us feast on starvations freedom
and on the pyre of authority throw our children
for the world is not of tomorrow
but for this day and this day only
I believe that each of us lives a predestined life, one that has been arranged and organized for continuity. We are oblivious to such effects as we live out our lives accordingly, as ordered by the power that be. Anything beyond the preordained structural perimeter is deemed by its nature as, chaos and mayhem. Why would such an intrusion be thought to bear negative qualities?
Why? The fact of the matter is that it was never part of the planned destiny. Yet, those intrusions -- are a part of the grand scheme of life.
I saw a penny on the ground
Picked it up from whence it was found
It's odd how things happen your way
Be it some sign needs to convey
Like some omen, trolls to condemn
Or a lucky coin that's a gem
Be it my destined mystery
Or truth, my fate, reality
Could there be what-ifs or what-not's
or maybe vague thoughts midst hot spots
Would be my future or my past
or maybe the worst or the best
A tragedy, a comedy
I wonder which would play for me
An unexpected source affects
it plagues the mind my view reflects
A random process, here or there
a sudden surprise from thin air
This is something out of the blue
be it a lie or be it true
Would that penny cause mea culpa
that circumstances we conjure
To fill the gap, that certain void
speaking riddles, answers like Freud
An accidental incident
some sordid act made impotent
The knowledge I possess today
bound my foothold the righteous way
And all of that wealth I had learned
life is won by which we discern
"Look, man in need, a coin be found!"
I lost mine, 'twas a choice ... profound
By chance, the coin's past owner
was a spontaneous donor.
Did Moses say that you enter into life
or did he say you can enjoy life
If you follow the Law in Romans 10:5?
"O how love I thy law! it is my meditation all the day.
Thou through thy commandments hast made me wiser than mine enemies: they are ever with me.
I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation.
I understand more than the ancients, because I keep thy precepts.
I have refrained my feet from every evil way, that I might keep thy word.
I have not departed from thy judgments: for thou hast taught me.
How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!
Through thy precepts I get understanding: therefore I hate every false way." [a]
Is Jesus the Savior of all men?
As we read in 1 Timothy 4:10?
Yes and no. He is the Savior of those who believe
He is the provider of necessary things
for all and those who have not been again conceived
"He saves some men in all ways, and all men in some ways" [b]
Common grace and saving grace
For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth [c]
I wonder if I faved a poem I wrote
Followed by a long and wordy quote
A plea to soothe the PS algorithm
Would it be praised or viewed as rising schism