Best Scull Poems
HENRY THE SPIDER
Henry the spider was a spy of Eider
Sculled the boat in the river Schlechen Leider
The frog stole the scull
Octopus was dull
He clasped the hull close and kissed the outsider
HENRY THE SPIDER © Rajat kanti Chakrabarty November, 2014
Noise in her Mind
I know her so well she came long ago to visit my being
we share beauty and bedlam boudoir and kindest of spirits
She walks like a cat woman hears like a bat feeds birds
quietly she soothes thunder’s volcano howls with the wolves
Klimt’s Kiss Vermeer’s Girl With Pearl Earring Botticelli’s Venus Degas’s
Dancer In Repose Fedro’s Much Better With Age she
absorbs pastel and paint strokes symphonies on canvas
so many facets big bangs and roaring giggling convulsions
Sometimes Woman Laughing from Goya’s dark paintings
a Broken Column like Kahlo’s when some Munch’s Scream
invades and infests silence deep inside her beautiful scull
Voices shout from profuse directions focus condense and
refract confront tease torment disagree and interfere with
calm serene serenades when a few notes tender chords
and accord vanish into cacophonies misleading the song
I know her so well admire her resilience and how she copes
with the noise the disruption and the ballet of so many
different views pandemonious clangour onslaught of turmoil
as she appears calm on the surface orchestrates quiet composure
How she holds it all together I cannot really fathom with all that
jumbling distance so close and yet so far from my innocent mind
My Venus Of Milo has taught me so much most of it all and over
above that imperfection is a wonderful gift and very complete
My pen, as though wounded, bleeds,
Who on earth, its blood-flooding sound, heeds?
Tabula rasa papers turn pregnant,
Messages of peace-brim-filling excitement;
Midst clanging of shiny swords,
Who witnesses the wounded words?
Poetry is for lunatics, they say,
Might moves mountainous sway;
Blood should paint the world maps,
Dead should adorn the scull-caps;
Shells should illumine skyscrapers,
No podium for poetry-papers;
They march forward with philosophies such,
Though fear within, deadliest weapons they clutch;
Like monsters and vampires they fight,
Many, to Hades, take their flight;
Peace-poems, often, become wraps,
Of their not-so-hot-potato chaps;
My wounded heart, together with my pen, yearns,
Insane humans to realize their hate-churns;
Having battles lost and won,
Laurels of pride, heads adorn;
Losing wife, children, friends, kith-and-kin,
Sensory organs, like neon gas, brunt within;
Those survive try to trace and read the peace writings,
Die, ultimately, in perennial musings...!
28 March 2022
The Pirates
Pirates were around in the 16th century, they flew the
Jolly Roger/Scull & Crossbones and would loot and pillage
Ships at sea, for their rich cargo and gold doubloons
Over the years they have moved to land in guises as
Highwaymen and bushrangers, outlaws that steal money
As well as gold and defy the law. In modern times the
Pirate has become an even bigger threat to the film and
Music industry by bootlegging copies on videotape and
Disks, robbing performers and actors of their rightful
Royalties. Now in the days of the Internet, the pirate or
Modern day version known as a scammer, creates
All sorts of evil ways to attain money on hoax activities
Dating sites and social networking even through networks
With items for sale. Yes hoaxes and scams make up about
Seventy percent of Internet activities, which goes
Unpoliced, with people losing large ammounts of money
To these unscroupulous people every day. Can they be
Stopped? The answer is a mystery, as the world is losing
It's innocence to unstoppable theives we call pirates.
IF YOU READ THE WORDS OUT LOUD IT MAKES TOTAL SENSE!
Once eye never had a hare out of plaice
Now I’m going bawled and eye am feeling blew
People are laughing and are starting to stair
Eye am going horse telling them my tail
Sum folks are very suite and don’t mention my bold scull
But others have no hart and eye hate the way they teas me
Eye am not vane, but my heir has not groan for sum weaks
Who nose what will happen, eye cannot altar my hare with die
Eye think eye knead to ware a flour in my lox and eye will look sew sheikh
FICTIONAL WRITE USING HOMOPHONES
09~19~16
THE GOD IN ME
I am learning - Keep getting burned though, I must stop trying to make everyone beautiful and accept the fact that "God also made ugly for a reason".
I need to stop consuming the contents, while ignoring that scull and bone on the label.
Beautiful outside and corrupted inside can also be misleading.
Pumping pride into people and painting them beautiful.
Does not make them beautiful be.
It only makes me vulnerable.
Right in the middle of my
laughter,
I grabbed the hand of another cut-throat.
" Oh, you charming devil,
tricks are for Kids"!
The spirit of discernment ascended,
“oh my God I am blessed”.
Yes, people who really know me, know, and have envisioned this to be my downfall.
"Being weak for people", "allowing empty souls to come to close", too soon, too fast.
The sudden death of my daughter left me vulnerable, and I was not able to discern.
Kai, my daughter had warned me, Janifer, my best friend has told me – Yes, those who love me best, have warned me.
Yet here I go again pouring energy into strangers, Strange attention whores,
who drains my battery?
Yet, there are angels those few in a million, who feels me, loves me, demands nothing.
Uplifts always, and since I have already found those people –
I will not further crowd my heart.
Meaning my heart hotel is full –
So, until someone moves out.
I will continue to love the ones who already occupy my heart, and not take in anymore homeless people into my kitchen to sup.
To the people who have warned me ...” Thank you, I finally see what's up”.!
Everything that grows naturally,
They have tempramental level,
Heat provides opportunity to grow,
From inner side and outer area.
When a person or a naturalthing dies,
Water vaporises and heat mixes in fire,
When a fire cools down,
The remains left as Ashes.
But few bones remain left,
Fire has no control on them,
As a bone of scull and mouth,
More harder than a stone.
Bones remain safe in soil,
No body eats them,
Animal, Human and birds,
They have no such digestion to glut them.
Is a person can use these bones?
To protect a body from fire,
It is possible to challenge a fire,
To breakdown the castle of fire as sun.
Scull in the waters under the sun’s incandescence.
Go along with the wind’s rhythm and my heart’s cadence.
Sail far until orange firmaments paint you into black.
Know where you are heading – don’t you ever come back.
If someone finds you alone in the riverside floating,
You’ve got the opportunity to tell my words that are worth-sharing…
“You’re special and worth to be loved.
You’re more than any riches; don’t think you're unloved.
You’ve got a million reasons to feel joy in your heart.
Your stories are fascinating and they’re worthy to impart.
Don’t let your grief and hatred live in you forever.
Soon you’ll flourish and be greater than ever.
This universal love shall be passed like an endless ripple
It should last to save one or triple.”
January 8, 2021
The Last Love Letter Contest
in a manor of time it will tell
it's been so reconciled
it's hard to tell anymore
not s scull set up on a stump
sold separately no gun
but a tall tale on web buy now black market
but fishes fishes in your suit case and back pack
can't believe your eye
fishes fishes that fall from the sky
it's a wonder and work's why
it's life and power
it's money that disappears
it's the people that hate him
distracted discernment
brought it to an extreme
trust of all bad advice from some
decent i'm sure fine young fella
it's astute I mean absurd
Heavy the hoods of the eyes
that laboured the scan of horizons
Heavy the course of the thoughts
that sat unstirred on the sill of the stare
Heavy this ancient bottomed nose
sitting in judgment over this meat
Endlessly shunting the frenzied workers
now sniff-drunk and steam-bellowed in the street
This the scull careered through rutted scars
the primeval hair bushed in pathways
Where long tribes with long lances
prod the undergrowth for signs of lost bones
These the ears that heard the wake of worlds
wandering in the ever irretraceable tread
Ears though that admit the silent secrets
ever still and hospitable to the panicky refrain
This the assembled machinery, forging fire
have dropped the tongs
Down the corridors of investigation
hurtling in darkening diseases
These the loins, companion of time
stalked through fire, filth, and foam
Baked in the hot ovens of empires
wearied some morning in blurry depredation
Wobble-eyed, knee-tied, dragged with pacing company
through yesterdays that are forever lost indemnity
Heavy the larvae lipped throb, kiss and consider
heavy the molten strata ooze, consider and kiss
These the organs that prodded nations
and shrivelled up to curse them all in pain
Pursed its potency, convulsed the course of the vein
this the dismembered member of the tribe
Heavy, alas, these feet that thump
jog and reel in the dancing rhythm of millenniums
Trod on the will-less face of faiths
twitched their toes and walked their way
©: T. Wignesan, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
Scrumptious, and
Usually
Perky, we have
Everybody
Raging about the
Carousel
At Disney
Land !!
If
Fun is
Required
After
Going
Into darkness, after
Leaving Scull
Island,
Steer
Toward your first
Instinct,
Continuing to
Explore
Xtra
Places of
Interest
All Locally en -
Larged purposefully and
Incrementally
Dressed for the
Occasion. The
Carousel
Is
Of
Utmost
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious - ness !!!
Cast Away And Close
Cast away on an island surrounded by seas far apart from
my soul mate and lover I am now viciously dependent alone
independent in solitude for a day years or forever or not
Connection I need and therefore I would want my ~ ‘Mind’ ~
to not have been knocked out when the mast of the vessel
collapsed on my scull when dehydration set in coming to shore
Without healthy senses I would die in recluse could not overcome
contused bones and bruised Self a squashed heart punctured lung
had no way to recover in view of starvation of tummy and soul
In itself this required ~ ‘Fortuity’ ~ the luck of the draw when the storms
arrested my journey condemned me to change my perception of
retreating into myself while I searched for some foodstuff and water
Without the grace of good fortune thanking well meaning stars the
Universe or some Goddess in gratitude would be bereft of thanks and
of meaning since in that case my life and reality had ceased to exist
Healthy reason and feeling saved by good luck and some tatters of judgement
would complete my kit of survival when combined with ~ ‘Hope’ ~ the
for ongoing search for meaning my plans evolution and dreams
Otherwise dead in the water and my longing stuck in the sands of
crusted time and oblivion the crystals of being any re-writing
of future and belonging once more would lie shattered and crushed
Me on that island and my story narration in such troubling challenge
facing trial and summons tests of my strength and acceptance
would be futile and senseless without
~ Fortitude and hope in my Mind ~
29th November 2016
Drawn to the graves
Unbeknown clarity develops like root canal treatment
festering wounds and scull bones loom on the route
In reason and feeling I have no choice but to venture
an ancient drill grinds away carbon in my father’s grave
Gravity certainty narrative German post war collective
guilt betrayal crimes against humanity ‘we only followed’
Orders commands yet propagated propaganda and demise
a generation later my prerogative to look away falls by
The wayside on the path to Auschwitz the stench the cries
train tracks total war extinction ‘Lebensraum’ final solution
My officer dad a cog in the wheel just a soldier or willing
perpetrator and I too am getting longer in the tooth of time
‘What did you do what did you not’ and on a map in the
cellar times and postings little flags of when and where
I cannot avoid the void any longer and my atrocious search
for atrocities smoulders at boiling point and the search is
On for the roots which must be exposed from gold fillings
extracted to knowledge before cavities lie filled with pain
Might be covered with exposure of who I am as my father’s child
I AM PAIN!
Blinding, crushing, intolerable.
I make you beg for relief from the
sledgehammer that’s pounding
on your scull.
I make you lay in a dark room,
eyes closed, praying you don’t
retch from the intense agony
going on inside your head.
I am a soldier, using weapons
of light against you. The more
I let in the harder it becomes
to bring darkness upon me.
I cannot be defeated quickly,
for the painkillers you use
against me are slow to react and
no match for the hurt I inflict.
You have no recourse but to
surrender, as movement and
sound is your nemesis, making
it impossible to fight me.
You realize that the passing
of time is your only ally, and
if you wait long enough you
will eventually defeat me.
This defeat will only come
After I’ve made you endure
what seems like an endless
battle of torture and pain.
This time you’ve won, but I will
return to fight another day. Only I
know when and where my next attack
will be for I AM A MIGRAINE and
I AM PAIN!
Walking into a small shop a little bell rang loudly as the door was opened wide,
In the back shop there was shuffling a cough some wheezing coming from inside,
A young man came over to the counter leaning heavily on a stout walking stick,
His eyes were so bright and sunk deep into his scull his voice slow and thick,
He tried to smile his breath rasped and rattled he stopped and turned his head,
On his bright clean waistcoat he wore the Mons medal it's lucky he is not dead,
Understanding what was wrong he'd been a victim of mustard gas in the Great War,
Pretending not to notice I asked for some snuff he turned and coughed some more,
A child ran in and bought a pennyworth of sweets she popped them into his bag,
The mans wife took the penny and put in the till, she looked so tired and sad,
Another fit of coughing seized him suddenly he waved his hand and walked away,
Back to his rear room his wife looked with tears she didn't know what to say.