I swear tout de suite,
that...
My noddle ain't petabyte
But just a condign floppy disk.
So I could swiftly flush out some memories,
And retain only what's necessary.
I swear I wanna draft some boundries.
As much as I need a reclying bin, and depositary
In my head.
If the sin of pride is my condign curse;
then I own it, and I can do no worse.
If the world disdains me, not saying why;
then I can stand it, though I want to die.
Outcast for good, alone for evermore,
as souls recoil, ne'er to enter my door.
Because of pride, I'm kept from the Lord's light;
lost, I curse Heaven with all of my might!
(Too bad if some don't recognize my genius;
but know, great souls believe in their greatness.
So spite this world if I'm damned any longer,
for the burden of brilliance makes me stronger!)
grim measures for similar states
successful, expressed for reliable mobs
of absolutism, a gallery for Maghreb’s
intellectuals with frail aims
infringing mourning words, words of familiarity saved
for mobile polities, throbs
life, mummified and buried bodies and robes
of rebels recalling shades
edging, forming better incestuous ties and ordeals
lying bare, conjoined with flashy movements
of isolation, optional signs
distorted senses, resolving identities
of sepulchers, not salvaged forever, endorsements
of decadence agitated condign
No favourites does lacklustre death play
With equal fervour the doors
Of paupers and kings he strikes
Whether high or low
He does not care
At his summons
All must follow
To where their worldly status
Matters not
Only Tantalus,Sisyphus,Ixion
And their likes
Fear what lies below
Along with parricides and traitors
Those who thought themselves
Above divine law
Will find sentences condign
Eternally repetitive
As for the rest
Mere wraiths most will become
Pining
For what they have left behind
For some few
Consolation comes
With the brightness
Of the Blessed Isles,
Sweet Elysium
How do you know what you deserve?
How do you condign yourself so free?
How do you know where your treason lies?
How do you know thy true worth and thee?
How do you judge yourself unrestricted?
How do you define your deeds so clearly?
How do you know what right and wrong is?
Or is it the notions society taught you so dearly?
How do the people pay when you are mentally dying?
How do they respond to your gut-wrenching cries?
They'll always stand to judge you and me,
Each and every time spewing bunches of lies.
A secret here, is not really one,
It's a bullet that can kill you,
That's why you trust so less with it,
Why not more? Why so few?
You're afraid, you are scared,
Of all the judgments they'll pass,
You don't want them to know your dark side,
Your trust in yourself is more fragile than glass.
You give priority to the ones,
Who've hurt you in your life.
Their taunts will never end,
While you bare your mind to their knife.
Ask yourself, what matters more,
Your felicity or their conclusion?
Ask yourself, how you want to live your life,
Live free or under a delusion?
Seeing, what others want us to see,
Invigorate ‘them’, by subduing our plea.
Tears inside, still continuing with a glee,
Temporal affiance, desisting us to be free.
If this is life then what are we?
Condign figurine, maneuver by thee.
Even if we wish to, cannot flee,
Hypocrisy insinuates a denouement spree.
This world! A forlorn tree,
Subtle roots, nix flowers to be.
Living in the jungle of heartless “HE”
Don’t snatch my heart, I prithee,
In the name of God, let me---------- be ME.
There swims in each of us, a catalyst for dreams,
an urgency that calls from shores that never were,
a twinge of terror, lining distant paradise,
uniquely all one's own.
No one knows where all this comes from.
Oh, perhaps it is innate desire
to temper every fortune
with a modicum of pain, a hint
that if we know that all is not quite well,
we simply shrug it off
and chase the angst away.
First sight became
a theatre of absolute deliciousness,
a goddess with the right excess
of pulchritude to send
my conscious spirit spinning off
on errands of delight, my body
journeying a fantasy of flight with her,
for no one else created in a smile
such sinister conspiracy of mirth.
It was not she who cowered
at the brutish mien
so tactfully unroared,
but I, the ingenue, who saw
the beast had not consumed her; no,
he lurked there in her carnal confidence,
his quivering claws impatient
for contumely, catastasis
and my condign consent.
~
The thrust of mind on every plane
relflects adversity...
and life idealized
is every life that cannot ever be.
Profound, the misanthrope that operates
behind the shadow of our consciousness.
Pervasive is the hate that flavors
that bright charity abounding
in a smile benign,
yet shallow in design. We would not trace it,
dare not face its counterpart
inside. It hurts too much.
There is one injury that cannot heal,
that echos down the corridor of all reality,
confining us within
the little world we own;
the hurt that never fades
is like that stubborn visitor
L'esprit de l'escalier,
a threshold of regret.
Perhaps such thorn as this
within a well-kept soul
is our condign salvation,
our protection from insanity
remembering too well
a frailty too easy to forget.
~
(one of my very few macaronic poems. If you read even a little French, you will understand why I chose this form)
Your tongue embraces paradox, Monsieur,
in its perpetual romance,
and most condign, the dancing words
that fall upon my psyche, as
the lorelei I seek would not do well
beneath the moonlight--
wet and tender, laughing.
Her illumining is from within, and her
faint call may not be heard at all--for like
the drifting ship with all hands lost at sea--
or yet the Voyager that dies among the stars,
her presence is a question, not a creed--
as when a wave would deliquesce
upon an island somewhere,
leaving only echoes
susurrus within the winds
along the shore.
Might there be more, Monsieur?
C'est impossible; c'est vrai.
C'est la musique, decouler de mon coeur.
Toujours...jamais...
toujours
~
white light melds red
streak bloody down the sky
gravitational will, drawn
constellations of tragedies
kiss the mark,
kind bullets
shooting star, reloaded
heavenly mess explained.