Like crimson bass strings
Like roses twirling in the breeze
Like cherry blossoms
Like tendrils climbing up my knees
Like long port wine stains
Shaping a name long cast aside
Like blazing embers
Smoldering before blazing bright
Like PTSD
Like golden strings around my neck
Like the putrid yellow
After storms leave the world a wreck
I call upon a savior
But your fell voice is all that comes
Like jaundiced bile
Spewing from my torn and blackened lungs
Staring at your shadow
Long fingers reaching out like claws
To scratch straight down my back
To free my bones for you to gnaw
I've given up October
And cast poor June upon the fire
Haunted by the Reaper's chains
Shackled by the prince of liars
The scent of smoke surrounds you
The smell of family and of home
And of purple bruises
Which day to day would often roam
Pull my sleeve up higher
Hide the reminder of your kiss
Even after it fades
There was no recovering from this
Hymns we hum are our own version.
We cast aside the ancient,
dogmatic liturgy,
For the hymns we hum are our
own version,
Symphonies forged in the
crucible of autonomy.
No longer chanting the
antodisestablishmentarian
strains,
We orchestrate an unyielding,
revolutionary resonance.
Every breath breathes a
nonconformist hallelujah,
An uncompromised,
multidimensional manifestation
of faith,
Dismantling the
institutionalized, authoritarian
altars.
We sanctity the beautifully
unconventional spirit,
Our voices rising in glorious,
independent ascension.
Man, little time you have to mend your ways,
With but a handful of surviving genes;
Say bye to blinkered lazy hollow days,
And ponder wither your dark fortune leans.
Repent before the final curtains fall,
To dump your pride where ancient names are inked;
In Nature’s scheme you play no crucial role,
Act now, before your lineage goes extinct.
Beware, from Y to why is but a stride,
From gendered pride to absolute decay,
The final lap has left you cast aside,
O act before she sweeps you clean away!
If not a red, she shows an orange sign;
O twiddle not and cross the final line.
__________________________
Sonnets | 01.07.09 | destiny/fate, men, nature, Sonnet
Note: The Y chromosome (the determinant of male sex) made up of 1400 genes originally has now been reduced to only 45 (mere three percent) and is still depleting as per research. In the next five million years the male sex might be defunct and dead as dodo. But as one can well guess, man would still think, ah five million years, plenty of time to twiddle still!
The earth shakes, mimicking my weary bones,
And the ground is wet with tears left behind.
The cage of whiteness, locked tightly inside,
Upholds the heavy weight of every day's design.
Secrets and memories are ghosts we keep,
Bound tightly within the walls of the chest—
Forgiven, forgotten, or just cast aside,
The architecture of a heart aching for rest.
My steps falter on the unpaved ground,
Stumbling under the weight of a calcified spine.
Yet all this physical aching scarcely compares
To the quiet, structural cage of skeletal frame—
That has, until today,
Only answered to the marrow of your name.
"Note: AI image generated to complement the themes of my original poem."
Beyond the values of time
Beyond the mountains and the valleys
Through the caresses of the wind
You are invited home.
Beyond the grey walls
Beyond the heads bowed in innocence
By the sky’s candid bird
You are invited home.
Beyond the gaze, the frozen fountain
Beyond the church, our sorrows
By this hand shaping the stone of the past
You are invited home.
Beyond the paths where leaves lie hidden
Beyond the sky filled with golden dust
By memories faithful to our thoughts
You are invited home.
Beyond the sensations of what is already seen
Beyond the whirlwinds of what will not return
By the gentleness of a child
You are invited home.
Beyond all hatred and refusal
Beyond ignoble hypocrisy
By the one who suffers, cast aside
You are invited home.
Beyond hidden poverty
Beyond revealed wealth
By the silence that lulls our will
You are invited home.
To avoid the worst, anger
To convince, beauty
To soothe, silence
To be fair, equality.
For all this and much more
Nature keeps Freedom.
Joël Charvillat
A PLAYER
Booked for a film for one day.
I rehearse my line and wait until the
crew is ready for me.
It’s a cold night shoot, but the hot
spotlights flood the set with
achievement and attainment.
I perform. Hot and sweaty. I derig.
I exit, never seeing the crew again.
The rest of the night is waiting for
me ; the night is young and the city
is new.
To celebrate, I go to a night club.
Make out with a man twice my age
and half my talent. I perform again.
I cast aside the desperate man.
I book a twink who takes me to his
place. I derig. I perform again.
Hot and sweaty for the second
time tonight. I exit, never seeing the
twink again.
The joys of being a player….
Our poet, Alison Smith, in a comment, pointed out to me that dolphins have a shortage of pockets, and that is why I'm holding her personally responsible for this poem (in the friendliest of all possible ways).
Why do I lay awake at night
thinking thoughts I don't invite.
I wish to cast aside debates,
that my troubled mind so hates.
Who cares where he keeps his change,
upon a transaction or exchange?
But the thought persists. I cannot block it.
A dolphin has no pocket.
In the night wallowed forlorn arts, casting glowing shadows from amongst sempiternal darkness, such brevity before the course of riven lives cast aside, aside then and step through the open gate. Sojourn of the reveries again you must displease me, but in return a promised wish, and wish you do and wish you might upon this star, luciferous, the morning star.
Staple me. Label me. Throw me in a file.
Hide me away among the things you revile.
I'll play and I'll plot and I'll plan all the while
s
g
n
i
r
p
for when all that was cast aside brightly s
radishes, rhubarbs and cranberry strings -
when doodles and donuts are popsicle kings.
What is supplication? It is faith on bended knee,
A sacred, living fellowship with God's divinity.
It fills our deepest emptiness with mercy from above,
Bringing peace and holy wisdom, joy and perfect love.
"Be anxious for nothing," God's faithful Word declares;
In everything with thankful hearts, bring to Him your prayers.
From Matthew, Kings, and Samuel, to the Psalms that gently sing,
The Scriptures call us to His throne, our praises there to bring.
Let heaven be our heart's desire, where Christ we'll see one day,
So cast aside the weights of sin that lead our souls astray.
Cast every care upon the Lord, for He is ever near;
He knows our every need and wipes away each fear.
Seek and ask, keep knocking still, with humble hearts that pray;
Walk with Jesus every hour and trust Him day by day.
For more than all earth's treasures, it is Christ our souls pursue—
A life of sweet supplication, faithful, steadfast, pure, and true.
There are days when disappointment throw me into darkness. Leaving me lost in doubts of
why do I write? But, there is a fire inside of me that wants out. So, I will always pen words.
I will pour out my tears and scars, my grief, my love of nature. I write poems, I enter many
contests. Sometimes my poems return to me in ashes, and I am broken, but not for long.
For I am strong, I will not break, will not bend, I know who I am.
I will find my words
let them pour out like red blood . . .
send them on bird wings
I reclaim what has been cast aside, for it is my treasure, my heart and soul, my reason for
breathing, so stand aside and watch me grow, watch me rise up like an eagle to touch
the hand of God. I will believe in me. My words, not AI fakes, and that makes me proud.
I love all the storms
the wind, rain, snow help me grow . . .
to believe in me
Vernal Equinox
This is a day for picking up
that cast-aside poetry book
about dreams deferred, its clarity
a balm to your chafing heart.
This is a day for cabernet or single
malt scotch, as you sit, dressed in
flannel PJs beside a crackling fire.
Let the day-long rain clean windows
wash streets, coax roots, feed seeds,
kiss buds keen to burst into blossoms.
Let Winter’s protracted discontent pass
and Spring give birth to hope.
Time, the tranquil tyrant, takes its toll,
Tearing truth, transcending all control.
The prideful, pompous, prancing high,
Pale beneath the passing sky.
Walls that once stood, wide and strong,
Whisper weakly, "We don’t belong."
Wealth that once waved with windfall’s grace,
Withers, vanishes, leaves no trace.
Beauty, bold, begins to bend,
Fading fast, an endless end.
Bodies break and bones betray,
In time’s tight grip, we decay.
Fools who fought with fervent fire,
Find their flames have long expired.
Battles born of boastful pride,
Buried, forgotten, cast aside.
Silent, steady, time surveys,
Its silent strength steals life away.
No kingdom, no king, no land, no name,
Escapes the endless, eternal claim.
Towers topple, treasures turn,
All things tremble, all things burn.
Yet still, it speaks without a sound,
Time’s true triumph coming ‘round.
So heed the hour, heed the day,
For time will take your crown away.
Let not your soul be swept by fear,
But let it know, the end is near.
The glass never belonged
Where it found itself,
Lying in pieces, wronged
A mile below the shelf
Not knowing how it got there
Needing help getting up,
Too far to reach there ...
The handle of another cup
To a corner was cast aside
Among the cobwebs and dust,
It had so swiftly glide ...
The rest of the glass did bust
Shards in the shadows laid
Year after year unrepaired,
If only the glass had stayed
Upon a shelf where someone cared.
Kid Dirt
If there was ever a you and me
If there was ever a parting of the sea
I surely would have let you down
Though the moments were to die for
When I'd hold you in my arms
And look into the creature that you are
In a World full of hatred and fear
Full of wrong beliefs and right someone else's wants
We breathe in unison and exhale our poison through the air
In a World full of hatred
It is all a mystery of what and a fortress of why
We share our thoughts but they get cast aside
Faces I needed to be
In the late end of a summer dream
I just couldn't get it right I just couldn't think
Now I feel washed up on a beach
All the things that mattered seem extinct
All the promises to myself were just instinct
All the love we had
Distant heartbeat of God's knowing
I can't find my soul
It never came back from those two odd ball heroine freaks
I gave away my soul for I danced with illusion
I gave away my chance to have a place to come home to
The place some call religion others call a mystic prison
I just want to look in you eyes and ignore the wants and needs
That we call survival
And the crawl of the poor and the dirty windows of tomorrow
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