Pocket-Gazes
Night depressed—
black spirits, spiders,
demanding, retorting,
an empty vessel, titanic with trauma.
A downturned smile, flagellate,
disillusioned, demoted, disinterested—
dystopian dysmorphia.
Dolls.
Masks.
Spills.
Blood.
Oxygen.
Water.
Decaying. Degrading. Devolving.
Despair, disaster, disappointment—
disappear.
The lexicon collapses inward,
a ladder whose rungs only fall.
Sand sighs. Water shifts.
Hands disembodied.
Faces detached,
checked out.
I flail,
a swimmer drowning in a teaspoon.
Watermelon empathy—
bloated, barren.
A clock face melting, Dalí’s sky.
I am Picasso’s fractured mouth.
I am Van Gogh’s shell-ear,
smashed on the rocks.
Amy Winehouse cries, hollow,
vodka-veined, restrained
inside a music box.
Maya’s muteness.
Florence’s failure.
Mary Seacole’s poverty.
Nightingale’s lamp guttering.
Angelou’s song stilled.
Seacole’s hands trembling empty.
Yet outward—
instead of inward,
instead of into my pocket-gazes—
there might be,
just might be,
a shimmer of stardust,
a touch of moonlight.
Hope, a dot of light
in a cavern of dark.
And yet,
it illuminates the sky.
My pain doesn’t decorate me like precious gems
It’s a raggedy noose around my neck
That I can’t stop tugging
My scars aren’t displayed as badges of honour
They’re fetid rotted wounds
That I won’t stop picking at
My experiences weren’t lessons for growth
They’re barbs of poisonous shame
That I flagellate myself with daily
Mistakenly I thought that I’d let go
Confused, yet I thought I’d grown and improved
Tender thoughts and hands to myself I must use
What The Friggin
Happened here mate.
I thought we had a date
Now you're late
Where's the bait?
I've burnt the steak.
You're a flippin'
flagellate.
Get off your tailgate
and get over here
and gestate.
You friggin'
degenerate
cheapskate.
Alma Mater in denial
Beckons proof of terrible sin
Congregation gather to witness
Defrocked disciple
Endeavours to catch her and hear
Flagellate in fear of the hounding.
Girl on a high, this nun in retreat
Hypocrite trying to steal an identity
Image of optical semblance
Juridical Janeass vindicated
Karma until now was next of kin
Lassitude before bringing her in.
Mother superior plays out her role
Noxious blend notwithstanding
Objurgates the slayer in rowdy prayer
Praises the Pope, insincerely
Quaint yet putting on an act
Rebuttal for her charge to be free of sin.
Sisters of mercy at the convent
Travel time from zero BC
Unavailable for opinions.
Vindicate their needs for solidarity
While the priest hands down the cane
Xenophobia takes hold.
Yearning for the truth
Zephyr sweeps it all away.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
every song, every line scrawled,
of poetry and of prose,
rasps at this open wound,
and calls back your absence,
like a disturbed spirit summoned,
to possess old familiar haunts,
these scrapes and slashes teach,
my senses what is refined,
and show that I’ve lost,
that which was never mine,
nine tenths of the law,
were to another already licensed
then need we flagellate so,
need we be so transfixed,
I won't accept just being,
an expense in your ledger,
a tariff paid to affection,
with no hope of dividend,
leaves and love have fallen,
blood red by the roadside,
what is life but death,
that has gone to seed
need we be so transfixed,
what is life but death,
that has gone to seed,
blood red by the roadside,
outside of the city gates
Self Depreciating
Flagellate
Popularity
Feigning craving approval
A path to Institutionlised acceptance
Rising to the next level
Free of the title working class
The fabric cloth cut from
A sell out a Charlatan
For the Man to prey upon
What is a boy without a soul
A rich man
Who when fails
Is hung out to dry
On blacksmith's nail's
Hoping his old friends
Will forgive and forget
Given the choice
He pretended he outgrew
© Ben Burton 7-23-2015
What worth poetic words
Of grandeur so sublime
Inimitable verse
True scholars recognize
What worth poetic words
So roundly demonized
Which flagellate teen nerves
Inure unmolded minds
What worth poetic words
If less than five percent
Have read and said, not heard
The meaning or intent
What worth poetic words
If told in simple rhyme
Elitists grow perturbed
But, OH, the rank and file
Make simple poets smile
I recollect we would,encircling a fire,congregate
Brew tea and pregnant stories of ancient time narrate
My grandpa would hours during nonstop preach
The inestimable merits of Dawn prayer and teach
Deserting wintry bedstead and its comfort
Cleansing,doing ablutions and to the masjid resort
Yet would hibernate and for a while snore
Something the hapless,antiquated elder imploded to account for
Instead on the blasphemous devil blast it
Spurn to avoid his assailable limit
Professing satan has peed in his ear
Portending any if to his alibi doesn't adhere
God is merciful and our flaws does tolerate
Gran dad's motto is only spank and flagellate.
Low spirits and utter despair,
She had lost all her flair,
Time stagnated !
How long could the wait last,
Dejected heart to the full to blast,
Incurable hopeless !
Sun could not shadow gloominess,
Her very being deprived of happiness,
Hope against hope !
The injury quite a deep and severe,
His vengeance extremely clear,
The wretchedness !
Don't suppress else will depress,
Just look beyond there's life,
End up melancholy, live to strife,
Shun sadness !
No recession can everlast,
Essential to counter depression is,
Dispassion,
Dissociate,
Flagellate,
Backfire,
Slam your passion !
Be sassy and warble !!
Written on 30/5/14
Contest- slamming battle round -2 ( my highs my lows)
Sponsor- Verlena S Walker
Awarded 3rd place
Now for contest- Any old poem will do #2
Sponsor- SKAT A
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