There is a deep hum in the abyss at which you found paradise
Death is nigh – fetid, still, and dreads just slowly enough
Before we find ourselves, despairingly alone
Haunted by action, and dreading apathy –
Perhaps life was sweet, drearily idyllic
Yet as stench sank slowly into my soul,
Your face haunts me still in possibly. . .
The most beautiful way possible.
All she wanted was love, but he
forgot the dreamy days of yore.
Gone were those sweet caresses,
Gone were the walks hand in hand,
Gone was any passionate lovemaking.
All sentiment evaporated into bank accounts,
and soon he found others interested
in spending his hard-earned money.
She stayed at home, sad, lonely and crying.
She dared not find solace anywhere.
Until one day he returned...drunk.
He took his pleasure in using force
and killed her fragile body and soul.
She walked towards the beckoning sea,
and walked and walked blindly,
though she could not swim.
Behind her, she left a short note:
No one cries beneath the brine,
which cannot wash away your filthy attempt.
The seed of love was now
definitely despairingly dead.
NB This is part truth, part fiction. And has got nothing to do with my life. I was a mere spectator of life. I was in a way sad that the man ruined such a love because of money. Such a brutal man never learns it seems.
There’s Nothing To It
I found a piece of nothing in my back yard yesterday.
I’d planned to mow the lawn so tried to move the piece away.
I thought to get behind it, backing off and sneaking round.
But it sensed my every movement and steadfastly held its ground.
Nothing made me angry. Nothing made me swear.
Nothing made me quite so mad as seeing nothing there.
Finally I called my wife. “I need your help.” I said.
There’s nothing on the lawn and Darl, it’s doing in my head.”
She said “I’m seeing nothing. You’ll have to show me where.”
Despairingly I turned and shouted “Look there’s ‘Nothing’ there.”
“Exactly!” spoke my wife “And so it seems we both agree.
and now if you don’t hurry you’ll get nothing for your tea.”
I put away the mower and locked the toolshed door.
“Aah well!” I thought, “At my age nothing matters any more.”
I went inside, switched on the box, still feeling all at sea.
My wife called out “Good luck darl, you’ll find nothing on TV.
Warren Cox
See Me
I want, desperately, to Impress
Why
I don't know why
Hmm
I just, despairingly, want to Impress
I, sincerely, wish you knew why
Why, pray tell
So, interestingly, I may want to Impress too
Oh, my dear friend...
Yes, buddy
It, unfeigned, has to come from within
That, undoubtedly, makes sense
Sure, unequivocally, it does
If not, unwavering, from within
It, unmistakably, doesn't matter
Yes, but...
But what
But, dear confidant, if I don't...
Yes, you're on to something
Feel it from within...
Yes
And I, forlorn, strive to Impress anyway...
Yes, almost there...
Then, sadly, I'm not happy...
Yes, say it goddamn it
With who I am
Yes, I'm Impressed
*
In old London
the Thames used to be muddy,
not muddy like the Mississippi,
but the mud of the drowned,
murdered, and of long lost dreams.
On gray dawns
scrawny kids would sift through
the detritus that washed up
on its stony riverbank,
small objects that belonged
to the once living.
Sometimes a good ring or wristwatch
would be fished out of the effluvium,
more often rags,
chicken or rat bones.
Those who once stood beside
these dark waters
may have looked deeply into them
as if despairingly predicting
cold malnourished hands
scooping up their dreams
to be sold for pennies.
Hate
Why must you carry the blackness of hate
Why do you find it so easy to belittle and berate
Anger is such a negative way to communicate
And all it does is create an avenue to separate
To spew a painful, despairingly hurtful word
To another human being can be so absurd
To demean another, his character slurred
While the dehumanizing acts are incurred
Why do you feel you have the right to judge
To let others live their lives, you begrudge
Your rage released with the slightest nudge
And all of your intolerance will never budge
We must learn to accept people whoever they are
From whenever and wherever both near and far
Racism and hatred can leave such a permanent scar
These traits, a learned process, an ugly repertoire
As I stared despairingly at the transom,
my daughter declared, as she gave a smile winsome:
“I wouldn’t stand for such a name, if I were Janell!
It’d be okay of course, if Janell refers to the vessel…”
Captain disdain abounds in fields chock-full of chauvinism
A female pursuing a career within must be into masochism!
Put on a brave face girl, and grit your teeth shut
The ponytail pretties better go or you ‘are’ the promoted ****
As seriousness cannot be equated with feminineness,
it is best you strut like you’re swinging two pe!!ses…
Now it’s nice to see more of the younger generation,
accept it’s work and education, not gender identification!
(9/16/20 – Searay 400 sedan bridge; DMS)
Shuffling through life in a slow and painful way
Expecting the worst almost every single day
The lonely, angry man who had never felt love
Had no idea he had spiritual guardians above
They tried to reach his heart in a variety of ways
But he hardened it careful, and never did praise.
He had been hurt by his father and mother.
He had given up on people including his brother.
Until their deaths, the twins lived in the same town.
Neither reaching out, both feeling quite despairingly down.
It’s too bad they did not have each other their guides often said.
Hoping they would be reunited and happier before they were dead.
It was a life that was wasted, which they figured out on their review.
We sent you together, so at least you would have each other, you two.
Sure your parents were not the best, but these lessons were for you.
Now you have to re-live this life so you can learn what to much better do.
Broken hearts
begged light to brighten broken hearts,
the frozen and forlorn
beckoned despairingly for warmth, solace,
and begging was answered, at last.
Unforgiving and radiant
he always came back
from behind mournful cover
at some place and time, unexpected,
to caress the land, or devour it.
Scorched and fevered
seekers lined the sands,
the sands baked, not yet complacent,
his sacred face
would not be directly seen.
20th July 2018
Tortured souls echo midst shadowed loneliness
Traveling the arteries of depressions hell
Ever increasing self-torment ripples
Whilst suicidal thought forms emotional swell
Where all but lost screaming companions
Personalise this vortex, this dull pain
Darkness becomes a black sunshine
Tears form, the only rain
Loneliness suspends fragile of state of mind
Whilst choking pleas becoming a little too much
Fingers arthritic claw for gloved hand of hope
Despairingly naked, searching velvet touch
This place knows no horizon
No beginning nor is there an end
Sat within such self-piteous addiction
Tortured reflection becomes tortured friend
The darkness that envelopes this vacuum
Has hope stumble forever groping lost
No penetrating warmth of summer's eve
Nor extremes of winter's frost
Shadows that stalk this mental wasteland
The vulnerable they will always find
Steeping a lost soul within such depression
Forever haunting man’s fragile mind
Gazing into a clear lake pool . . .
I saw a reflection of my life before me.
The gaze and what I saw depicted . . .
A progression of past life experiences.
I savored the funny and kind moments . . .
Looked despairingly on the difficult moments.
This gaze into the mirror of my soul . . .
Astounds and confounds me still today.
And the knowledge that we are all . . .
Much more than the sum of our parts,
Means so much more to me today.
What I’ve learned are six things . . .
Ignorance begets Stupidity,
Knowledge begets Wisdom,
Inspiration begets Creativity,
Light begets Illumination,
Passion begets Vivacity,
Love begets Happiness (but not all the time).
To know yourself . . .
You must see and sense yourself
In the mirror of your own soul.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 28, 2014) (Free Verse poetic format)
Nervously
Walked into the room
Reminds me
How I lost my feeling
The last time I fainted
Delightedly
Receiving my birthday gift
Reminds me
How I’d wished for my presents
Anticipatingly
Sat by the phone, waited for ages
How I’d been frozen in shock
When I learned the news
Despairingly
I now sit on the interview chair
Reminds me
How to talk
I blubber but falter
So these bruises you left still linger here, confused and bitter, hovering fear, trusting sincerity whispered in my ear.
But it’s me that believed truths that were lies, the painted picture of an imaginary life, insinuations of darkness changed to light.
When will I ever know what to believe, when promised integrity is blatantly deceived, and nobility is slowly but surely grieved?
It’s a mystical abstraction in an ordinary world, reality broken but still moving forward, leaving casualties and pain fiercely ignored.
So I look to myself and play the same blame game, iniquitous words like bullets wound my brain, singeing my spirit with an everlasting flame.
While you just move on to the next helpless flower, a blameless soul to disintegrate and devour, with your egotistical counterfeit power.
With wounds still smoldering in this make believe war, protection the only answer to aching scars, living the solution behind life’s perpetual bars.
So my soul will just stay here where it’s safe and sound; ignoring the voices of the serpents that surround, forever in eternity my heart despairingly to be found.
I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
Both soft eyes, though brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and flowed across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?
Far off bathed in hazy blue light,
Reaching and hugging clouds real tight.
A soft and peaceful landscape scene
How romantic it all would seem.
Sunlight casting patches on your back,
The eye follows a meandering track.
Snowy dust glitter down one side,
As cloud shadows drift and glide.
But when I draw so very near
I see the rock face, repelling sheer.
Jagged teeth grinning down
Ridges form an angry frown.
Avalanche path an ugly scar
A drunken path from afar.
Fluffy clouds now roiling black
The deafening sound of lightnings crack.
Trees bow, groan and creak.
Golden grasses, now very bleak.
I feel the anguish sear my heart.
Natures forces tear dreams apart.
The wind howling for evermore
Be careful what you pray for.
As the mountain and I become as one,
I despairingly cry:"Thy will be done"!
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