polysemy
protrudes, prodding power
letting chiasma
churn and curdle
ply poet-marriage:
an anankean lockless key—a dower
set upon a
dorseless tower
I eat my crow,
drowned in chowder
time sealed in
the wicking willow wood
—CODA—
I don’t want to
be solved
I want to be
inhabited
working in
dream-logic
surrealist
disjunctive fissures
places where
contradictions coexist
that is—
precisely
pointless
=======
treading inwards indicates an
embrace of valour
knowing one is held ——
a journey strewn with jagged edges
unknown detours
once on a straight narrow path
turnarounds disappear
jungles untamed appear
lame sometimes becomes our resolve
though forging beyond crags or rags
one cannot sag or lag _____
perseverance becomes no severance
seventh heaven with salvation usurps
starvation
luminosity at end of slog holds steady
in solitude we need make no haste
knowingness, as Heart’s compass
keep us safe
hazards or hurdles cannot curdle
an inward journey ~
Spirit of destined fate never late
turns burnished key into Home to be
w i t h i n is
M A J E S T Y
It curdled.
The landscape.
Goop.
The notion the I might get that degree?
Whoosh.
Revving up to a wasteland.
And live in downed wires.
I really might have graduated.
If my organs didn’t curdle.
People look at me like I have eyes that care.
Or gratitude.
So I wailed at notions and old sticky notes.
And my soul that didn’t study enough.
It was after midnight,
when he slipped out of bed,
careful not to disturb,
the trailing streamers
of dreamers in la la land.
The house held its breath warm—
willing all within its walls
to stay asleep; not be stirred.
The creaks of timber stairs
were never heard, never slurred,
to blurt out their secrets and
break the stark, thin, brittle hush of night.
As he snuck into the kitchen,
the night light came on,
saving a bare-foot snub.
As he stooped to open the fridge,
he saw the note she left on the door,
from the day before, saying:
“I forgot to tell you the milk's a little off.”
He smiled at the crooked charm of the message,
feeling a ghost in the whispered warning.
Fed the milk to the cat.
It purred with delight.
Sometimes he thought, such tiny phrases,
slip in before they're noticed,
curdle before you taste them.
Only to slink away with a sting in their tale.
With that, he nodded and returned.
The fridge door slammed itself shut.
He wandered back to bed, on tiptoe, making no sound.
He left the light night burning,
for the shadows that rose on the landing,
and for the cat.
Both slunk away, back to bed.
“The Path towards REMEMBERING is not for the weak. It is priceless. Move inwards, without faltering & know that you are held.” Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
journey within is strewn with jagged edges
and jewels
both can lead to detours
walking a straight and narrow path one
traverses own jungle untamed
lame sometimes becomes our resolve
not to forge ahead beyond crags or rags
is not an option once undertaking begins
screams may merge with songs or dreams
cream alongside starvation or salvation
a luminous beckoning lighthouse at end of tedium slogs hold us steady
often makes us heady
in solitude with faith we need make no haste
knowingness with Heart’s compass surely
keeps us safe
neither hazard or hurdle makes us curdle
Soul the master of destined fate never late
to turn cherished key into jewelled Home
within is majestic prize to win
The well is dry, but their tongues still plead,
Cracked lips shaping prayers the gods will not heed.
The land rots in surplus, a kingdom of waste,
Where hunger is measured and profit is praised.
They crawl to the mirage, ribs piercing their skin,
Eyes full of water that won’t let them in.
Gold liquefies, flesh withers to dust,
The towers loom silent—monuments to rust.
The promises of tomorrow curdle and fade,
A banquet of shadows, a debt never paid.
Yet still, they crawl, they bleed,
Swallowed by silence as the gods watch them feed.
Eyes of deep and tender brown
Looking in them I just drown
Arms so tight they do not wobble
Holding me up as I hobble
On weak knees about to bend
From the feelings you can send
With just one spoken word you
Can make all my insides curdle
Into one big mushy mess
My love I want to confess
Every time you pull in close
I'm defenseless--I suppose
There is no need to back down
You are everywhere--I've found
I can't escape these images
Of you and the damages
You are causing, I'm a wreck
I can't explain it- what the heck
How did I become entrapped
In a love that is wrapped
In a present that you give
Me everyday so I can live
With surprises every day
I promise not to give away
This precious gift that you have brought
All my life that I have sought
Last night in the dark,
while in the restless curdle of old dreams,
I thought I was a fish-bird
then a bird-fish.
Even now
millions of years away
from those slowly evolving days,
if we gulp the air too fast
our hearts flutter,
wanting to swim or fly.
why do we
still assume that whispered diamond dialects
delicate and sheer
aren't scripted with blades
that curdle blood-stained musings
as summer symphonies scorch ebony skin
tattooed with dark and deep sinister sonnets
sewn from superficial scarlet syllables
that emanate rusted mahogany hues
so listen to the mulberry metaphors
that rain with roseate rhymes
from the hazy melancholic midnight skies
where not every mist of dust
becomes a halcyon teal blue rivulet
of passionate poetry
nor do they mirror
the wind
carrying unspoken tale
that is veiled
beneath twinkling twilight tides
They came together, love entwined,
When stars in heaven were aligned.
But their love hit a hurdle,
When their vinaigrette failed to curdle,
Their blitz emulsification ill-fated,
leaving oil and vinegar separated.
They crossed their fingers together,
Looked up at the sky, to see whether
The stars had crossed to unsupportive.
Sure enough, the stars were abortive.
So they went their separate ways.
Pledging to try again on better days,
When double-crossing stars crossways
Had unclasped to an uncrossed phase,
And they could dump their mayonnaise.
Intense emotions surged when justice sought
if I defended wrongful witness brought.
Then I was saved through Daniel; nearly caught.
Accused of sins absurd, derogatory words
from people’s tongues not curbed, but gossip which they heard.
Cupidity the driving force behind
the false accusers’ spiteful state of mind.
So rarely friends could then be found in kind.
The tides will ebb and flow as inner doubts still grow;
for balm of ocean’s throw thus right so many lows.
If seen at daily tasks, I’m never fraught.
I won’t let memories my love to curdle.
Some kindness helped recover peaceful find,
depend’n whichever way the wind should blow.
In the Appalachian hill country
there are night birds;
they call to each other in the dark
yet hunt alone.
These birds are not
owls but nightjars, they are known also
as whip-poor-wills, goatsuckers,
or bug-eaters by the locals.
When they utter they shiver
the ear-hairs of all that harken.
When clinging to a tree trunk
their dim mottled plumage
makes then almost invisible.
When they fly
they fly with no whisper of wings
but in an eerie silence.
Some folks around here
reckon they are more 'ghosts
of the air' than birds,
and are bad news.
The wise women
believe that they can curdle milk
and spoil the overnight vittles
left on the stove,
the menfolk smile
knowing
it was them that left the food out.
The night-birds swoop and flutter
without a pitter or a patter
until the dawn light reveals them
to be nowhere found
and still as silent as the stony ground.
OLD AND NEW 5 : REBIRTHING
Machines spit out White Papers
in the name of change
birch cringe on law laden desks
chairs swivel, bins overflow
forests curdle to rebirth
Documents float before
eyeballs in our dreams
deserts emerge without oasis
guides await our asking
Greed with a capital G
still dominates
Into fast phones earthlings
want more fantasy colours
bronze cars, emeralds, struggle
promises or entitlement fulfilled
Ignorance descends with impunity
Down tumble pine forests
new bacteria party with villain
Corridors become empty
forlorn, barred, spooky
Machines dismantle
libraries dark and gloomy
Managers missing monkeys
portraits stare in cynic smile
then misty dolphins appear
East moves West
South moves north
Cymbals slap a Rebirthing
Another awaited 360%
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1999
Daydreams curdle in a summer heat.
He walks back from the park
dragging a wandering mind behind him
like an elderly dog.
The day gets warmer
he sends out for a margarita pizza,
wonders if lately
he has been dancing too closely
with sidewalk walking ghosts.
When the take-out arrives
it tastes as dry as kibble pie -
refried daydreams bark on.
“Fumidus”
(Smoking)
Smoking
Looking to just curdle my thought processes
For a while
Not demolish them completely
Can’t be coping with that green
Leaving you devoid of everything.
Life blood to some
And cancerous sentence to others
Some choose, some inherit
Copying fathers, older brothers
For some, the telling of a tale
Sat at a bar, pint, ashtray
Are perfectly right
Watching the smoke fly away
Standard smoke, stoned smoke
Pay your money and choose
It’s your money, your lungs
You know what you have to lose.
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