Best Unsweetened Poems
A Collaboration w/Silent One
Flowers you placed on the window
now wilt, crumbling in my palm
Their scent seems to have transcended,
accompanying you to the heavens
Your fragrance still lingers,
sometimes I hear you whispering my name
Shadows in the garden appear ... and disappear,
maybe hiding in an overgrown, decaying garden
Dusty photos filled with memories,
show happy faces full of love
Now this face is engraved with fatigue;
lost in realms of profound sadness,
as constant misery poisons these veins,
disabling the mind into a sombre retreat
Unsweetened taste grace my lips
in the land of the living,
bitter regrets darkly shadow my mind
Feeling your loss deeply,
as the pain gains more barren ground
In this accursed place of perpetual sadness,
I dwell alone in a house of desolate walls
Though they talk sometimes ...
I hear you whispering my name at night:
You say come to bed soon,
put your sorrow away
and lay beside me, my love
SWIMMING UPSTREAM
It seems I always
swim upstream
against the current.
re-creating struggles
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance
played out over a lifetime.
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
why must I cause stirred sediments
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence?
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?
I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.
SYNOPSIS
I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed? Perhaps both.
CAK 10-13-12013
scrubbing with her hands
red stains from the priest's collar
- strawberry picking
choosing wallpaper -
the red-breasted cardinals
in my shopping bag
Last night of harvest -
reflection of red blood moon
in his empty glass
red cherry blossoms
before next winter follows
-his last picnic morn
soft vermillion wings
flutter on her bare shoulder
- the first glimpse of Spring
Its vermillion wings
perching between rose petals
sips of ambrosia
scarlet wings flutter
upon a dry corolla
unsweetened nectar
Inspired by Silent One 's haiku /senryu 5//7/5 syllables
using the colour red - not for the contest
No money to spend.
No gifts to give
I felt I failed my little kid
Then she looked up and smiled,
With nothing under the tree
But a loaf of bread for breakfast
And a cup of unsweetened tea.
She said, I know times are hard.
But I don’t care, I only want Christmas
If you are there.
That was the sweetest part,
Then I realized Christmas come from with in the heart.
Tables rock theirs souls
with families, friends and children
I sit alone at mine
and I watch their laughter and smiles
It started with me opening the restaurant door
pacing my steps
and then saying to the hostess
‘Table for one’
I now order my unsweetened iced tea
and watch the waitress
remove the other place settings;
An empty chair is my friend tonight
Comfort food; meatballs and spaghetti
is what I order
I fiddle with my phone
as conversation has abandoned me
How many times have I cried
sitting alone
to believe that once in my lifetime
… I was loved
Insipid blend of lemon tea
Murky depths unsweetened
In a grubby cup with a dull grey glaze
Cracked rim invisible in the haze
Of an all night cafe on the road.
I went ghetto gold .......
I was told that when I flip this,
I'm come sicker than syphilis,
My verses come in 3's like triplets,
I drop ebonic type scriptures,
That keep your eardrumbs numb,
when my psalms roll off my tongue,
my adversaries hide & run,
as the oxygen escapes from my lungs,
I lace my poetic sermons with codeine
the mo' feinds means the mo' green I separate,
I'm a cheese head like in Green Bay
so I stay in a chedda' state[money state],
of mind frame & 1 of my prophecies,
I will rise at a high velocity,
and my thoughts'll be,
sprinkled[spoken ] far from sloppily,
when my voice is transmitted,
the pathetic get netted & shredded,
by my unsweetened poetic antidotes
see i'm sugarfree like diabetics,
Strong Faith,Family&Love's a good trinity,
and my deliveries,
during my performances or soliloquies,
will let all know this should be,
broadcasted throughout history,
I'm the vocabulary minister,
If your poetry soul's empty I'll replenish ya',
and when I'm finished
I'll stamp your inner thoughts
with the Rhyme Pedllaz signature,
And my mouthpiece unleashes verbal hand grenades,
from the block to the stage,
and the weak gets quarantined
when I deliver 1 of my spoken word plagues,
You can wipe your ears off now.
(There's a thirteenth 'zodiacal' constellation, Ophiucus, The Serpent Wrestler/Holder, or the "Twelth Symbol," as here used. In some ancient cultures, serpents were revered as feminine symbols of rebirth/healing, and bees as symbols of wisdom, while Roman catholicism considered coffee to be the "wine of infidels" until the 15th. century. Historically, Ophiucus may never have been used in astrology, though it is the house between Scorpio and Sagittarius in a astrological system purportedly developed in the mid-1900's, making Sagittarius the thirteenth sign in such a system - thus in this poem, "the Twelth Symbol" was "usurped by what used to be the thirteenth". Of course, "Good Ol' Triple Six" and other numerical variations thereof in this work refer to 666, the mythological number of the Anti-christ.)
___
I want a jeezus, unsweetened, decaffeinated, no additives -
- certainly no booze or needle tracks -
because I want a trim, uptight jeezus, totally pure and constipated
to pimp for the face-down with the Great-to-the-nth Numeral-Triplet,
because the descendant number of my measureless time
is a Trinity of the fourth primes-of-eighteen (no xeroxing
needed!)...
... my godpappy, William Blake, gone loony out of his goddam mind
over visions of seraphim and angels,
slapping the jaggedly unholy rhythm of a bawdy tune on my new-born
butt
while in drag he baptizes y'hweh in drag...
... and I want you to know
that my razor isn't my father's
road-hog...
... smoothin' along, instead of Jacko Kerowacko in my briefs, just
the road of excess still somewhere on the map,
while the bottom line is
that it's all as cheap as a Walmart `ho, though why not plumb the
sacred profanity
of All Animalism in the ditch just along that road
instead of blasphemating in a line way too long at The Mart?
"Can't wait, dude, gotta' get my *jive, here and now, `cause the
marquee says", `Drive-by Lyrics Smack-Down Between Marilyn Manson
And Good Ol' Triple-Six' '', farting rhythms and rhymes
from all orifices of His five-and-a-half shooter off His uncouth
butt -
(continued in Part 2)
The Beatles are frozen underground
Like some sort of Prehistoric Cave Drawing,
Art Incognito.
The Ground is Hard
And my Fingernails break.
The Clay inbeded in my DNA,
Some part of me is Buried
Should I attend my own Funeral?
Nobody Else seems to be going
The Eulogy is short and unsweetened,
There are no Tears.
It hasn't rained in days,
I long for the tropics,
Where things make more sense.
I long for that girl
from long ago
who was never anything
but beauty personfied.
The butterfly on her lower hip
flutters and is perhaps my heart.
Desire is an impossible suspect,
My fingers slide under her yellow underwear
Past the Tattoo which dances,
Subtly stopping to admire the colors of her wings
The Moment is perfect.
The Cold outside in perfect contrast
To the warmth I feel for her,
beneath the Reptilean Skin
I crawl looking for this moment
Because that is all I can do
To pass the time
Memories of my childhood
are Polaroids of nostalgic cards
instant colored snapshots of my every action
from the day of my birth to the day I took my first steps
from the day I first started school to the day I learnt to ride a bike
I believed my childhood days would always be unfathomable
the most colossal deception about life living
that’s the problem I have with Polaroids
Birthday number eighteen
was the most unfavorable day of my puerile life
the once flashy, picturesque Polaroids of my childhood
slowly vanished into the dark and foggy stockade of heartbreak
before my very black eyes, while drizzling
unsweetened tears of a cheerless adulthood
that’s the problem I have with Polaroids
Her sour smile, like unsweetened lemonade,
Made its way to me through the crowd.
I grimaced and groaned, ungrateful of her sickly sweet and fake kindness.
Miles of memories of our time together...
The sunrises and sunsets, like a field of flowers in the fading sky...
She left me alone, like Helen for Paris.
My heart went pitter-patter as we passed in the halls.
I'm afraid of being hurt again.
She is nothing but
a black widow for me.
I always like it creamy, and a bit zestful
On the pallet with robusta flavor---
Yet, totally unsweetened for now
When daylight gulps in an ache; my coffee
Becomes bitter, nipping my tongue
Like heated grain of yesterday’s spiels---
Angry mouths percolating in the kitchen
While she, in haste, rushes away.
Contest of nette onclaud
A Poem That Did Not Place and More
New---Coffee/ 6 Sept 2015
Manny Paras
Own yourself!
Nagging on someone
isn't going to cut you a shining star.
Reminiscing on your past will only
give you the worst of unsweetened-soured
memories of your life time.
Let it go
Take a step to finding you again.
What was done was gone altogether.
Acquaint yourself with positive thoughts
you'll be surprised how easy it is
to board up that broken door and open
a new one.
Walk thru with no fear.
You're free,
you're in charge of your life.
A whole new you will emerge
glowing with not, but happiness.
Own it and fly!
Yes baby- you own the wheel
So steer it to your own happiness
Because when you smile
you're the most beautiful person to be seen.
Own yourself baby... Smile!
Written by; Akkina R Downing
1-21-15
Sour ground ...
burial lots, where the worms defile
Tear moistened dirt
hardened by fretting hearts,
fearful of the pulse pendulum clock
Time moves mournfully on a crooked drop,
six-feet motion of tainted tick-tock
The skeleton key
can’t open casket thoughts
bound by
an unrepentant lock
Half-life decay of terminal haste
has an unsweetened
paper taste —
Rectangular sawdust placed in toxic space,
as gravedigger eyes spark
an undertaker gaze
A mushroom cloudy view into
the catacomb maze
Everyone must darkly go
on this nether journey;
tho’ some will choose to make
an urn-stipulated,
vain crematorium flee
Letting their ashes of demise
boast a false victory
4-24-21
2 yucca roots peeled and diced
3 quarts of boiling salted water
add roots, when softened
remove from water
and smash them while they are hot
allow to cool
measure two cups
add, 3 egg yolks
2 teaspoons of white pepper
2tablespoons of crushed garlic
3 chopped green onions
1/4 cup of heavy cream
mix together until smooth
add 1 teaspoon of salt
we are going to use this
mixture to make a dumpling
on aluminum foil, but you
have to make the
stuffing to stuff the dumpling
with. in a medium size bowl
add 12 jumbo shrimp
deveined and tail removed
the juice of one lemon
2 tablespoons of soy sauce
1 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon of garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon of onion powder
3 tablespoons of brown sugar
5 tablespoons of cornstarch
1 tablespoon of spice rum
3 tablespoons of coconut oil
2 tablespoons of unsweetened coconut flakes
mix well.
using aluminum foil,
make dumplings about three tablespoons each,
(using 1 & 1 1/2 tablespoons, on top, and bottom)
fill with two shrimp each and top with dumpling
fold foil into the dumpling size you desire
make about 6 o r eight dumplings, or even 12 dumplings
depending on the amount of dumpling mixture you have.
steam these dumplings in a steamer
or bake them.
serve with a lite sweet tangy lemony sauce.