At the risk of coming off turgid
I offer this tale esoteric
Hoping it’s not found insipid
Nor causes one to be apoplectic
But rather received with alacrity
Without the need for paroxysm
My word there’ll be no chicanery
And avoidance of anachronism
Far from being sesquipedalian
Nor need for any razzmatazz
The tale of the slubberdegullion
Who thought himself full with pizzazz
Though being so supercilious
His affect stirred only dudgeon
Any good was so very fugacious
From this untoward tatterdemalion
Yet still he persisted a mumpsimus
If you will, and worse a panjandrum
So aggravating and rumbustious
Redeeming qualities not a modicum
An unquestioned snollygoster
Given to being quite vagary
An ill-reputed hugger-mugger
And a voice of such cacophony
But I see that you are insouciant
And consider my warning malarkey
Since you wish to be recalcitrant
My apologies for being persnickety
I end my tale of the rapscallion
Without further ado or rigmarole
Avoiding becoming ultracrepidarian
I have met my supererogatory parole
Inside my head,
voices fight for dominance,
obstreperous thoughts clashing,
each demanding attention,
a symphony of dissonance,
a cacophony of self-doubt and dreams
I cannot silence them—
they scream louder than my own will.
I try to block them out
but they break through like waves,
uninvited and wild,
pushing and pulling
until I am caught
between who I am
and who they say I should be.
Chaos in the depths,
Where night skies don’t seek.
The moving matter hums like a roaring fleet,
Where rocks meet, the waves unrestrained,
Tied down by a ceaseless push.
Chaos in the crimson sky,
Clouds swirling on a dime.
The moving matter hums like a roaring breeze,
Freezing everything in time,
Rewards and items scatter high, lost in the storm, they climb.
Chaos in the feet,
Steps moving in sync.
The moving matter hums like a roaring beat,
A heart on fire.
Melting the ice where they meet,
Plunging into the deep.
wheatfield shimmering
those discordant raucous crows
vanquished harmony
Melancholy melody of mania and madness.
Ceaseless Swan song a symphony of sadness.
Counter to composure comes cacophony of chorus.
Oscillating operatic overture of Opus.
I ponder why my soul is thus,
Why must I scream to be heard,
Why do I feel remorseful after speaking,
Why does home not feel like home despite their words?
My parents declare their love for me,
Yet I still believe I'm the issue,
Why do my siblings think only I'm causing them discomfort,
Why do I still feel embarrassed after expressing myself?
It's not because my expression is peculiar,
It's not because my words are rough,
It's because I feel like no one will comprehend me,
So I shout to make myself heard.
I wish I could sew my lips shut,
So that no words would escape,
I wish I could handle it better,
Without being overwhelmed by the situation.
I wish I could flee far away,
And live in peace without any disturbance.
past passions passed parting
present pains pleasured prolonging
love's longings lowered lingering
world's weight winded waiting
sadness's solo silenced singing
freedom forgotten feared freezing
brittle bones bruised breaking
taciturn tears tattered tumbling
mind's memory mangled melting
reason's remnants ruined remaining
kneels nobody nighted knowing
gutless ghosting gathered grimacing
careless cacophony caged constructing
mammon millions murdered meandering
demons divinity damaged dividing
hearts heads hooked hungering
chastised children chunked chasing
betrayed bought banned burying
jingo jeering jaded judging
kindness kisses kindled killing
quiescent quakes quieted quivering
vapid verses vanquished vaping
words' world wearied wounding
zealot xenophobe zeroed zooming
Thoughts can be blurry and empty.
paper on an easel, a whirlpool on a sheet
letting emotions explode into poetry,
explores the realm of cryptical and mystery
Crafting verbal art saps one's inventiveness.
I wrapped my body with a tattered velarium.
My shades can't even pass the litmus trial.
I stand without ignominy.
I am the one who folded my halcyon tripod.
My soul is the painting on this easel.
without a brush or ink, an oil drawing of intrinsic
all sins are conveyed aloud in this triptych.
It is a work of inner gloom, a magnum opus.
Drawing by the moon on a quiet beach
A painter stencil is bolstered on a pedestal.
Sea whispers reverberate in the sky.
The cosmic shyness sound
In this bewildering blend of noises and spirits.
A winter tree's naked singing may be heard.
With shades of gray, it is jubilation.
4th place contest winner
Written: February 16, 2023
Premier Choice No 1188 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I smell fresh light wafting
near this dissolving darkness
I hear its faint ringing
the second hand ticking
while the refrigerator hums
and the distant driver drones
I tensely anticipate
the first tweet to ripple the silence
a tentative answer
an assertive reply
a confident rejoinder,
the ensuing cacophony of chirps
and
the distant driver cross fading
into the morning commute.
So
right now
in the warmth
of this darkness
before
the tiniest
glimmer
glints
before
the bubble of dawn
creeps in
and blasts it away
before
it's burned
in the cold cruel reality of
all consuming light
I'm holding onto this
precious moment
nocturnal, astute
sky somber dark, moon eerie
cacophony shocks
October 15, 2021
For "Owl Haiku" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liquori
Syllables (5-7-5) checked by Howmanysyllables.com
CACOPHONY
noisy, disconnected
annoying, blaring, irritating
noise, discord; harmony, musicality
tuning, pleasing, relaxing
enjoyable, coherent
SYMPHONY
Stranded in the woods
Amidst the darkness
Looking for a luminous warmth
I was waiting there.
A thousand miles apart
They called me wild
To many I smiled.
The cacophony of the trees
The euphony of the breeze
Stardusted the sky,
There lied a soul
Sans a being.
Would you spring up
And hold me into your arms?
Would you be scared
For I'm a dead entity now?
I walked away from the unbridled,
Unspoken and unheard
With a wrecked soul
And a numb heart I left.
Revoking your crescent visage
To a world they won't judge
Far beyond the crowd,
I chose to remain silent!
A kaleidoscope of transcendent rhythms
Envelop my soul from the well-spring of a mystical
and majestic refrain.
Notes exalted in the heart of the awakened one
Only to be extinguished by the cruel masters of
memory and time, which give way to a dystopian
perspective incessant and ominous in its vexation.
The purposeful formation of songs leave an
indelible mark upon a hopeful spirit, wishing,
waiting for that promise in the hidden
recesses of the earth’s core.
Joyful melodies from the fifth dimension bring an unexpected
solace which soothes and captures an unshakable truth
behind her existence, beside the travesty of the scattered
notes from a wandering, wavering and diminished heart.
The final call from an ancient composition propels the exhausted
woman to continue on, to push, press, proceed, persist,
Advancing as a general, engaging in the warfare deep
inside her womb, expelling the myths and mythologies
which imprisoned her, cajoled her, deceived her.
And now, the final rhythm belongs to her for this joyful moment
The songs of a thousand summers burst forth and bring her
into a new dawn, a new reality, a new way of life!
If Man
could ever learn the language of harmony
that nature is speaking
he
would never feel the need for the tongue
of ruinous cacophony to use!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
25 APRIL 2020
.
Caught in a full on dog fight
already grabbed by the throat
cacophony of growling
orbiting through my mind
playing a dangerous game
here we go again
overthinking, shouting
nothing nice to say
yet I sit here, silence screaming.
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