losing claim to fame
disappeared to hinterlands
nothing will be same
weary old folks fold their hands
others rearrange their plans
words too many say
imperfect in every way
stealing light from day
debts, too numerous to pay
selling dreams which won't convey
not what we came for
low dark clouds approaching fast
home with no front door
holding on to what has passed
restless dreams soon fill our glass
once alive and whole
now fully marginalized
laughter becomes droll
not what the experts advised
nothing comes as advertised
blown in with the storm
teaches those lessons wind knows
promises deform
not even gods can oppose
status quo soon turns and goes
secret dreams time stole
can produce a troubled soul
half but not a whole
but a name where fingers scroll
another for whom bells toll
A slow descent of lovers in white,
drifting along the quiet current.
A pair of travelers, strangers to the dark,
Jack Frost isn’t too kind to wanderers.
As dusk claims the sky, a storm makes haste.
Desperately holding on to each other,
their crystals begin to change.
They can’t remain as they are.
The violent storm, an orchestra of stars.
Black clouds in a sky of crystals,
hail bulldozing through dusk,
The rise of winter has just begun.
Mercilessly dragged away from each other,
the two get tossed by raging winds.
Alone, they travel across separate skies
slowly forgetting each other's faces.
When the snow melts, there he lay awake,
the last one of his kind, enduring Mother Nature.
As the crystal begins to decay and deform,
a ripple spreads through the puddle of memories.
He began to rise, higher and higher into the black sky.
Changing into his former glory, a snowflake once more.
Drifting alone in darkness,
for no two can be alike.
When democratic gratitude
performs with politically positive
caste-abolishing attitude
Then autocratic certitude
and kleptocratic magnitude
do not negatively deform
with unenlightened
and disempowering
caste-preserving platitudes.
She, who had seemed my sun some bygone time,
feels now much icier than even far
forsaken pluto’s sunless hemisphere.
Please! reckless Universe! enable rhyme
to unriddle unreason’s paradigm!
—The frozen side of the sun!—What bizarre
world bears such contradiction? Bringing near
fire and frost? both deform eachother’s frame!
And so: she never was my flame—nor now
my glacial winter—.No, she simply was
a human hurting, a someone hurting
me.—a cornered creature caught converting
an inward chatter(,adisconcertingbuzz,)
whichever way her body would allow.
Darkness surrounds me on the path I walk,
Isolated and distant from everything,
Secluded from everyone,
But I keep going.
Rain starts to pour,
The world is crying with me,
Thunder shakes the soggy ground,
And lightning strikes a fallen tree.
My heart knows it’s over,
Life doesn’t give a second chance,
But just as I start to give up hope,
Something catches my glance.
The shapes of the clouds start to deform,
I see a rainbow in a thunderstorm.
Before the onset of an urge,
arising from desire's upsurge,
looking at it as a dream form,
that impulse, in the void we merge.
Our soul's intent is pure and warm
but ego's role is to deform
the mist of bliss seeking to rise,
that touched by love we may transform.
Softening the look of our eyes,
embracing each offered surprise,
seeking nothing, we just look on.
as God's grace takes us to new highs.
Crack! I lay, beneath me creaking
Hath it taken from me? What to give?
Mayhaps yesternight another seeking
For not many there is to live
It approaches, shaking, floors creaking
To thee I will never forgive
The black, slender arms reach
It thrashes! THRASHES, thrash–
Follicles, it pulls, off me, I screech
With many a fang, I faintly see a gnash
Holding me, gripping such as a leech
Of my being, will you bash?
Desires faintly protruded, of a glare
I wanted to feel an embrace so warm
Instead, I long, gasping for air
Of my strangled state, you aware of enorm
Thirsted for love, endearment not there
Just us, our state one described deform
Despite conditions, not a sound shall hang
As I know we are bound to meet again
Bound, bound beneath thee embrace and fang
Thy body, slim and slime, gets off now then
You’ll return, but you go with a bang
As I am left to wonder when
Your voice
becomes a shadow
breathless
aft the fall
Whose words
deform in Satan’s grace
speechless
— yet they call
(Dreamsleep: 12-19-2024)
Endless machinations of celestial inclination
stretch, deform and incline.
The children’s imaginations ignore Domination.
Of only absence; it’s betrayal He finds.
Worship was briefly offered up high,
and it pleased their luminous Giant.
But then they turned to machines and to philosopher’s dreams;
deserving heavenly defiance.
Celestial guilt for plans set in motion;
eons ago before twins fully formed:
boils away with the first twin’s new ocean,
nothing but death on the surface left scorned
In the labyrinth of thought, where neurons weave,
A cosmic dance, where perceptions deceive.
Synaptic constellations in a quantum trance,
Reality's illusion, a cerebral dance.
Thoughts, elusive particles, in strings entwined,
A kaleidoscope of consciousness, enigma defined.
Perception's prism, refracting the known,
In the quantum realm, where ideas are sown.
Metaphors meld with quarks in a linguistic storm,
Words, like quanta, their own rules deform.
Similes spiral in a cerebral ballet,
In the quantum reverie, where concepts sway.
Dimensions fold, and dreams intertwine,
A surreal tapestry of the conscious mind.
Parallel verses in linguistic rifts,
In the quantum theater, where cognition lifts.
Time, a vagabond in the neural expanse,
A non-linear journey, a cognitive dance.
Memories echo in quantum refrain,
In the cerebral cosmos, where echoes wane.
So, let the mind wander in quantum allure,
In the synaptic galaxy, thoughts mature.
A superposition of ideas, a mental climb,
In the quantum reverie, where universes rhyme.
Death be thy raven's blackened plume
And hunched in cape of sordidness
A tower's age of wealth's illume
Becries a pallid nothingness
Where scream escapes an umbral torn
Of ravaged souls in weeping due
The chill of wakes those come to mourn
From air to light the passage through
And mists deform the sense's glare
Bring void and hollow crushing in
Seek flame and sinew cursing there
To serve a time and realms begin
and judgement done eternal sight
in worlds therein to start their flight
Roots that run deep,
And knees so stiff.
A presence so dim,
A being with no calling.
Wasting land with no plan,
And branches with no clan.
Leaves that are ripped,
And purity that's stripped.
So old and forlorn,
And hoping to deform.
With nothing to mourn,
And treated with scorn.
A curse has been cast,
With knowledge so vast.
In this world, an outcast,
Longing for the past.
But will eventually come to pass.
Anger breeds more anger.
A red gyrating storm.
Every outlook in its path, loud howls
Destroyed. Or will deform.
The same with minds of calm.
Skies, more gleeful, hopeful
Matching. Seen then, in its true light
This world. A beautiful!
“Collecting life’s treasure from the moments of bliss I walk the last mile” - Quote by Poet
In the vibrant life’s changing dynamic landscape,
the pathway across the undulating topography
meandered to the nebulous future beyond escape.
I configured desire in the template of transient time,
and the designed footprints of the dormant destiny
I followed ardently in beguiled mental state sublime.
Many surging streams in spate I swam in the storm
with the unfurling buds of nascent dreams held close
to the adoring heart, lest they wither and deform.
Through the rainbow arch in the chromatic sky
as I chased in the floral valley the passion butterfly,
my ardent yearning on its wings soared high.
As the spent sun sinks in the horizon’s fading color pile,
on the faint trail of time covered by twilight dust,
with the cornucopia of fulfilled life I walk the last mile.
Traversing content the unpaced pathway out of abyss,
lighted by the benevolent glow of God’s grace,
I look back to see the snapshots of the moments of bliss.
truth in true form
withstand storm
minds transform
has their corm
beauty-norm
less deform
look lukewarm
duties perform
stands every great celebrity
spell-bound in their beauty
their smell is like fruity
aren't they so cutie?
having them is booty
midst environs sooty
though they look bit snooty
my pen bleeds as though her duty
04 September 2022
Charlie New-Ku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
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