Best Sensate Poems
“Waiting in the Soul Electric”
We all drown
in the red madness
sometime
Crying oceans
of saltwater
we tear
Like torn pages
we rise rebellious
on all the blazing currents
floating on a thin simile of Life
kissing the Bluebird’s Wings
as innocent as an angel sings
confessional as a demon swings
pirouetting in our flaming
feathers of freedom
we joust like eagles
that dare with such hunger
for the most important things -
for the most important things,
are not things...
we are harm and hatred
all the wasted years thinning
all the mirrors useless
facsimiles shattered
hearts that were frozen
become quills royal veined
writing bonfire vanities
keeping scores
burning, we are hard steel
we do not melt
in the hot air up there
we do not open
we are closing doors
windows blinds drawn
Invisible dissolves
the ink tattooed
on all our tongues
What is read
is not seen by eye
nor heard
Inside us
there waits the truest
crown sensate
there ignites the real meaning
there Love finally opens
the pearled gates
waiting
in the soul electric
ultra violet, cool it burns
bathed in light, soothing
open arms patiently waiting
like a parent
alone
waiting
for you
to melt
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"The Living Soul Retrieved"
The spine is bound
Inside the pages
with each turn a new leaf
the living soul is retrieved
Inside the pages
there is heartache and grace
the living soul is retrieved
imprisoned, innocent footprints are traced
There is heartache and grace
to judge inverted another’s crimes and place
imprisoned, innocent footprints are traced
she turns behind to see in his eyes her face
To judge inverted another’s crimes and place
She sees a child full of hurt and fear’s disgrace
She turns forward to see in another’s eyes her face
Blue Sky’s white doves beat at windows, Pain's for escape
She sees a child full of hurt and fear’s disgrace
The prodigy between two people, the truth is seen for what it truly is
Blue Sky’s white doves beat at windows, Pain’s for escape
Pages of conflict nobody has won in the bad dream
The prodigy between two people, the truth is seen for what it truly is
The Book slowly opens invisible the hand to receive
Pages of conflict nobody has won in the bad dream
The child looks to Heaven, the Christmas of her life begins to be sung from new seeds
The Book slowly opens invisible the hand to receive
Sensate the Soul begins its dream, walls of a book papered from torn bark a Blue Ghost tree bleeds
The child looks to Heaven, the Christmas of her life begins to be sung from new seeds
Red courses through each leaf, her beating heart, delivered through veins of faith and belief
The spine is strong
with Love it is bound
never broken, it is read beginning to end,
seen and heard, it is sound
the living soul
in its truth,
there is found
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
for my daughter, Georgia,
Christmas 2019
with love, your mother.
“The Book of My Life” / Sting
https://youtu.be/pBu_EKugl_Q
"Feather in the Wind" / Mindy Gledhill
https://youtu.be/b2_ILTd91OU
South Of The (United States) Border...
(Reigns A Welter Of Disorder)
Caravans comprising multitudinous
peoples plodded a steady course
analogous to iron filings drawn by
strong magnetic force
gravitational pull generated
by North America
an irresistible source,
which tug felt
nearly all the way round
webbed wide world beckoning
for waves of humanity
figuratively donned as spawning fish,
toward which currently dimming
beacon of democracy flickr
Trump might extinguish
though tis quite heart
breaking to experience
vicariously as one collective soul,
these desperate folks
ambitious to seek asylum,
(and eventual citizenship),
while this "FAKE" president
invents many a...holy SMOKES
outrageous, nefarious, and malicious
dagger o type cruel barbed wire
accusing, condemning, and emasculating,
(I could continue),
but ye dear reader would tire
unless individuals
affected by xenophobia
countenance same stance
as Commander in Chief,
or contrariwise some
like minded
thinkers, rack coon sitter
the migrant situation dire,
would effectively serve me
as preaching to
the Unitarian choir,
yet any sensate
person must admit
tis quite upsetting, lamenting,
and agonizing to witness
hordes of persons treated like
some pestilential
eyesore dagnabbit,
yes this chap can
endlessly spout flibbertigibbet,
though thee crux of my opinion,
inspires a poem express
sing supportive emotions
particularly acknowledging,
how these masses (thousands)
of vulnerable individuals
show true grit,
nonetheless yours truly,
would be hard pressed
for an immediate
humane solution to corral
this extensive kit
and caboodle, though this generic guy
with a poetic knack
shakes his noggin
watching armed flack
delivered from border patrol agents/
United States military, lack
restraint, and who outright attack
trespassers at point
blank range that pack,
a deadly (Judge Judy ish
huss) punch smack
king young ones
upside the head forcing
everyone to backtrack
to their homeland of
persecution by crack
headed gang members, which thugs
violently land a deadly whack!
MY SHIP SAILS
my ship sails at midnight,
my love and I out for a joy ride,
as waves rock our world,
by the glow of a sappy moon.
our sea salt lips tingle,
the warm caribbean breezes
engage our sensate shadows.
pure bliss, in cups of cheer.
burdens of work, far, below deck.
my hair tangoes in such freedom,
and i weakly smile at my love.
his hair a dashing gray,
his eyes - those familiar browns.
i was crashed to the shore,
thrown overboard, with such eyes
as his. when they soften i fall
in love all over again.
again and again.
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
She smiles
and considers the crowd,
all backward somersaulting
detached vagabonds, all,
serious soft smalls revealed -
marshmallows imbued
with the glee of writing
irregular poetry;
works of art thou art,
thou art, thou art, all indeed -
and what did Dickinson say,
“the Maples never knew
that you were coming -
I declare, how red
their faces grew” -
well, we all march on,
and by the side of our roads,
the righteous town criers
of prognostication, stand
their grounds for commentary,
like sensate servile monks
full of the base sound facts,
ringing their shellac bells,
like an exercise in pulling weights;
the waits inside their cries foretell,
of the things we do not know,
will never know,
like the bride we all are,
gullible, innocent of what is to come,
but we dance our dance
flirting with luscious life
beckoning come hither,
we still write our own vows,
and throw our skirts asunder,
spinning bottles, all undressed
half addressed half said,
punctilious lost in
wayward pentameter,
such bad whirling dervish
behaviour,
truth and dare
and Father Time
will kiss and tell
we poetically march on
we all march on
we think we know
which side we're on
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“All those Hills you left for me to Hue,
There was no Purple suitable -
You took it all with you.
Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door -
I will not be pursued”
Emily Dickinson. March.
OKTOBERFEST
Wielding the power of the hefty beer stein,
Energized with viking-like biceps,
We lift the suds in veneration
In front of our patriotic hearts.
Lively band plays Ein Prosit,
Lips coordinate, resounding louder and louder.
Parade of dirndls and lederhosen -
Amorous couples enjoying Bavarian dance,
Resplendent in reddened faces -
Tapping, turning, with joyful
Yearning, as the oak and maple
Leaves change their costumes, and
Interrupt the Summer’s warmth.
Kamikaze arms tire, dropping their steins, while
Everyone laughs and cheers.
Tables set for a feast of Black Forest
Hams, Potato pancakes, creamy sauerkraut.
Empty stomachs applaud, then quake at the sight of
Rouladin, a savory favorite of flattened beef
Elegantly rolled up with bacon, vegetables, and
Sumptuous pickles. Tantalized tongues ooh and ahh.
None will be left, yet the festival lasts, supplying us with
October’s sensate salted pretzels, a mouth-watering
Treat. Need to down another beer
Or two or three…I’ve lost count!
Memories made on this chilly day,
Ornaments of cuckoo clocks and steins bought for
Remembrance will be hung from December firs.
Robotic we stare, eyes and ears filled with sights and sounds:
Oktoberfest is in the air and,
We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow!
10/13/2016
Besotted winged pollinators
roistering barrage drowned
amidst general insectivorous cacophony
indistinct auditory signals communicated
intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance
midwifed edenic floral pullulation
sensate admixture viz colored spectrum
amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous
orchestral suite bedded lambs
amorous ewe man like bleating songs
nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating
profuse living color rainbow pastiche
teeming soundgarden smorgasbord
cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath
visual vistas stilling spellbinding
spilling riotous carpeted web
uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism
despite unanswered queries
asper diverse modalities each specie evolved
to survive despite countervailing destructive forces
generating plethora pandemonium ironically
promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence
Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life
parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents
now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome
analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling
glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos
leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes
biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks
becoming monocultural setting virtual stage
catastrophe plus food shortage would become
global debacle predicated, sans virulent
viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder
tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl
already widely compromised more so
since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring
*****sapiens population explosion
pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis
dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans
in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth
dirty deeds done dirt cheap - tricking
mother nature, who will unwittingly
spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage
forcing capitulation or total extinction
meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence
a composite having sessile flowers
apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee
can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.
"The Forgotten Poets"
Saints and Sinners
all calling out for
forgiveness
and wanton recognition
de Sade like minds
libertine and revolutionary
Saints living out their penance
kiss the sharp lips of Sinners
Juxtapositions of souls
Sinners become divine
Saints become unhinged
more human, mortalised
willingly they are led
They Become
Love makes us
All Hallowed Souls
intrepid and invisible
crazed with courage
walking unseen through
the sanctified temples
of the lost and isolated,
The Forgotten Poets
Manifesting, we are mesmerized
We are actuaries counting lives
through the hidden words
and forsaken numbers
along the jagged lines
absent of what
is most deeply sought
ruthless has been the confiscation
to spend our ink on clean sheets
imprinting heat we brand our marks
beating in time and out of time
a tattoo on a body of work
that will eventually be stroked
souls are traded
we are all bought
by the vanity to be read and seen eternally
understood by the Unseen who gifts us
A moment
to cross the static mind
to draw a line between
Trust and the Lies
We are Sensate
tracing softly the streets
in a lover’s open palm
to slide a finger sensuously,
provocatively
towards the crossroad
of an unclothed and vulnerable
upturned wrist
feel the pulse tickled
in the moist hollows of somewhere
a whispered breath
along a neck kissed
Communing with cunning alchemy
manifesting what is not said
through broken hearts
and the tears of half open doorways
closing on pasts best forgotten
wrapping our thoughts like
warm legs around the burning
Divine
leading us into temptation
with
futures and promises
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Certain souls may seem harsh to others,
but it is just a way, beknownst only to them,
of caring and feeling more deeply.”
Marquis de Sade
"My passions,
concentrated on a single point,
resemble the rays of a sun
assembled by a magnifying glass:
they immediately set fire
to whatever object they find in their way"
Marquis de Sade
bohemian rhapsody parades
amidst greensward moored
erupting profusely toward cerulean skies
ushered with invisible rip cord
this Earthling self assigned to an (elder)
box office catbird seat - hoard
ding a secluded nook
upon premises of Highland (highly adored)
Manor Apartments nestled
within bucolic (cost wise, a ford
double) Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
(40.2562° N, 75.4638° W) explored,
sans (founded in 1684)
pleasantly assaultive stimuli
conducted brake upon metaphysical ratiocination,
where sunshine poured
upon variegated mother nature
arrangement, viz spectacular
vernal suite scored
a top ten hit orchestrating
exquisite (August) May day presentation,
which mutely roared
bedazzling this sensate
being overwriting gourd
fully stocked, when brittle
winter snowy firmament forced accord,
asper overlaying habitat
palimpsest akin to (sic) ward
before an a may zing exuberant poly
chromatic onset splashed vibrant
brilliantly colored palette, toward
this captive observer,
where choral symphony courtesy of flora
and fauna sensational
encore performance
(day at the) opera captivated ensured
fixated this tethered primate royally
impressed and allured
by aural and visual
regalia fit for a lord
and tailor, while solar orbitz
directed by Helios,
whose journey across
deep purple celestial sea deplored
noiselessly casting lengthened shadows
signaling luminous hued dusk
chariots of fire earthly domed ceiling ablaze
pearl jam disappearance,
when daylight blinks adieu
til the morrow, when dawn
betakes the reins to reign cosmos chose
zing emergent rays announcing
morning haz broken
nudging, prodding, rousing from doze
well rested body electric,
where energy flows
as attested from me noggin glows
nsync, sans panoply
of soundgarden crescendo propose
zing ideal material sharing circadian rhythm
thru the time stream yours truly rows.
"Sensate"
In the blue hours
silky fingers trace lines
intuitively
along the curving roads
a mysterious map
uncharted territory
flames of blue
kiss and burn along
the road home
She is braille
He is Sensate
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Blue Monday” / Flunk
https://youtu.be/vyjNCFje8bc
1. Sensate
2. Intuitive
tens of thousands years ago
(a figurative out in left field ball park figure)
*****Sapiens (or the forebears of said species),
deliberately sought sensate satisfaction
with deliberate zeal
shucking clothes
(perhaps just an animal pelt hiding pubes)
answering (on a private line),
the call of the wild,
not yet verboten feral common weal
way before the identification of venereal
disease (though most likely
germinal forerunner), yet to rank
as demise forecasting deterministic,
fetishistic, hedonistic inviting
Gonorrhea, Herpes, Syphilis, et cetera to an unveil
ling, then (of course) average life span
of primate predecessors brief, nasty, and short,
thus demise from sexually transmitted disease
unlikely the cause of death,
nor spelled catastrophe that would seal
the fate of mankind unlike the here and now,
when the Apocalypse Israel
aside from conflagration
decimating Rohingya's, Uighur's, Yazidi's,
countless other minority populations
severe distress they feel
plus Middle Eastern countries got a raw deal
subjected to their own variety of slaughter,
which genocide ranks as Syria us injustice
calling for immediate appeals,
injunctions, sanctions humanitarian appeal
against inhumane abominations,
terrorization, violations
rather than passively witness
innocent lives being trumped.
Tossing and turning in Whitman’s grass,
Breathing every fervent loving sensate,
My deliberate doubts, you may bypass,
To obey the certainty of Christian dictates.
To some, my probes attack settled law,
My queries are grounds for execution.
I don’t mind those symbols wedged in your craw.
I just seek truths instead of words well spun.
Truth travels in a continuous passage,
Skipping along in temporary stays.
Its spice, I briefly taste like sausage,
I recall the tactile surges from hand plays.
Truth is the process of honesty,
It lacks fixation with fixed positions.
The honest house supplies the best prophecy,
The honest road brings wondrous conditions.
In my days remaining, I shall sing of myself,
No better or worse than anyone dwelling here,
Some believing in numbers have called me BELF.
But life never neatly resolves with answers so sure.
Resplendent quest, glorious uncertainty of rapture,
You are my radiant God, my unknowable religion.
Absent your pursuit, I live without color or texture.
With your passionate affection, I’m fully alive, in motion.
Sunshine undulates across verdant plain
casting dark shadows ushering twilight zone
ringing athwart tree trunks
invigorating, joyously kickstarting,
and plenti revitalizing
bountiful nature buzzfeeding
vim, vinegar and *****
caressing, massaging, and palpating with
soundlessness inducing bub bully giddy,
and sudsy spongy schmaltzy
harmonic livingsocial kerplunk
also intoxicating this perk o' late
ting teetotaler, no longer ginger
who doth oft times ale
with melancholic funk,
whereat imbibing nectar
of the Gods with fulfillment
temporarily quicken ends euphoric,
albeit 'pon firm meant soberly drunk.
Ah...nothing more uplifting
than (Anita Bryant raisin eyebrows)
plugging sunkist orange treat,
this sensate being privy,
sans front row seat
agog at orchestral, festival, viz
choral paean courtesy sweet
flora and fauna feat
bequeathed to Mother Earth,
a requiem pulsating with heartbeat
pitch perfect exultation
glorifying spring days soon obsolete
ethereal, ideal, and
sensational tonic to gin
prestidigitation, qua
natural psychological helpmeet
pleasant distraction with intent to read
temporarily placating, needling craving
for Pete sakes daily
fix this news junkie,
trembling when complete
awareness he doth accrete,
where quite glum, how
civilization didst mistreat
planet, hence feeling downbeat,
especially haunting ghosts of
Native Americans drumbeat
signal harbinger debacle
i.e. environmental doomsday
soon fated extinction
sealed and complete
inexorably inching closer to reality
necessitating superman to defeat
global warming rendering vast swaths
uninhabitable as Gaia global
temperature packs tremendous heat!
THE POET’S FIRE: HER PERFUME SETS THE MOOD
she applied liberally
onto her pulse points,
a flame singed her skin
the spray perfumed the air
and she danced in its rain
she brushed her hair, charming
the mirror, turning it red,
as it read her thoughts
her negligee, satin and sexy,
soon enough her handsome groom
would feel it slip and slide over his chest
she surprises him at the boudoir door
his eyes tango, her hands slowly
emphasize her figure, caressing
the gown against her legs. her best friend
blessed her with this accoutrement
her new husband trembles as he asks,
“when did you get this?”
she smiles, flirtatiously
telling him her secret
he thanks her friend silently,
and approaches his beating heart
he slides his tee over his chest,
pulls her sexiness, close and cool,
heating up his throbbing pulse points
her perfume nudges him into the curvature
of her neck
he applies kisses liberally, sensate
lips brushing her skin
a brush fire that grows in intensity
leads to a cataclimatic* forest fire
licking at the silky gown,
removed in the deepening flames
9/21/2017
THE POET’S FIRE
Sponsor: Greg Barden
*Cataclimatic - word made up using Cataclysm and Climax
"Silken Planes"
Simplicity in silken planes
Silence took a flight of fancy
Sensate entranced me
"Flatlands" / Lannegan & Wolfe
https://youtu.be/pq47_j82iEo
"Flatlands" / Lannegan & Wolfe, Lyrics
https://genius.com/Mark-lanegan-flatlands-lyrics
LUX VITAE
BELIEVE
https://youtu.be/xubCItLvNhE