Your fingers around my soul.
So, I was convicted innocently
Worn out, pallid and tired, brooding
in a mire of self-pity, blighted by uninspiring events
of the shallow life of an innocent convict.
Disenchanted, but I knew the culprit.
“I own your signature.” I whispered.
I languished in a narrow prison cell,
contemplating the day, I would leave
that hollow incumbency of a dreary life.
Time out. The grounds were empty. I was kept alone,
walking around in my languid manner, indifferent,
a psychotic self-imposed dementia.
Time in, the grounds deserted,
back to the cell, they call my home,
staring vacantly into the desolate void,
waiting like a cat that hunts its prey,
crouching still as death to deliver death.
One day they'll open the outer shell
of my cocoon and send me out,
into a changed world. Then, perhaps
I'll come alive and begin my quest.
I’ll deliver his famous gift to him.
“I’m a vampire rose.” Deadly.
I’ll deliver the gift to the one
who betrayed me and have my revenge.
Placed 2
This heart of stone—
crystallized rage, fractured, shimmering to the surface.
Love languished,
longing to embrace the dead.
Hands digging into the flesh of the earth,
reaching in desperation for the corpses beneath.
The seasons turn—
grinding the fragments of life to dust,
until he sets fire to the things he loves
just to dance with the ashes,
to animate what’s been lost
with one last burning.
A hopeless romantic,
clinging to his lover as she seeps like smoke through his fingers.
He inhales in desperation,
wishing for her to fill the void once more—
and with the wind, she fades,
drawn to a place beyond the reach
of hands that still remember how to hold.
He sat with his shoulder nudging hers.
She languished in the warmth of the touch
and the familiarity of their intimacy.
She slurped the last of her coffee
and marveled at the somber sound.
Was this the goodbye she’d feared
fueled by her own insecurity?
He was master at inuendo and charm,
which made her all the more wary.
Fearful expectations…dismay.
the page seemed innocent on the screen play of life
not yet computed and sterile but what better adaptation
of blocked writing by an innocent censor of apathy
for an empty cartridge on the blank canvas called reality
and yet what a relief that neurons had exhausted themselves
firing at invisible problems and surreal contenders for
thought of the moment and contempt fixed in time
synaptic displacement idiosyncratic only in absence
refuge or incarceration straitjacket of nothingness’ boredom
or maybe serene uneventfulness unfolding in languished arrest
framed as reference point of perplexing perspective
and finally an outburst of words with whatever elusive meaning there is …
a lingering finger up then down the flow of a languished autumn
The violin vanquished
The cello said hello
The piano languished
The tears would only flow
The audience entranced
The notes rang out so clear
They giggled and they danced
Their hearts were full of cheer
The oboe took the stage
Still mourning love that died
His anguish mixed with rage
Blurred every eye that cried
The violin rang out
Tho cut them like a knife
And every eye dried out
Sweet notes that sang of life
out
of the blue
an
emotional
blow
languished
on
the margins
a standalone
in
renewed
focus
nostalgia
characterised
in
quaint
isolation
an
astonishing
stark
curiosity
remains
difficult
decorative
swirls
in
an
abandoned
unsettling
complex
I don’t know if it happened quite yet.
The tinkering that caused the roar.
The gruff feeling in my mind.
I think it happened around that time, maybe.
The diagnosis came at a funky, furious time.
I languished and laughed.
So the year became memorable.
Not from swimming on the beach or anything.
No, not a beach.
Or anything gentle and nice.
The first year.
The year everything felt scratched up…
I do have that diagnosis now.
A nodding feeling.
I didn’t do much that summer.
In 2018.
2018.
I got torn up laughingly good.
And so that year imparted a piece of itself.
So I’m thankful.
The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them
the sands of crushed dreams in the desert of desiccated life,
settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure
of the disorganized dunes of desolate existence.
The sequestered moments of distressed awareness,
drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being.
The truth of trustful conviction sinks under suffering
made with mirage on the ruffled ripples of disorder.
In homeless languished life’s impoverished landscape,
sorrow-paved avenue contours convoluted uncertainty,
winds to nowhere at the fading fringe of the time future,
beyond the befuddled perception of toiling time present.
With the faceless faces smeared by the shadows of scorn
they walk on slimy Kensington Avenue of cardinal crime.
Life trampled by insolent wavering footsteps in journey
under the stupor of opoids that never ends their pain.
They seek the benevolence of the society to help them
in their search for the lighted path away from squalid environs
for their suffering souls to discern the abode of empathy,
as they strive to find the way out of the dead end avenue.
Purim Theorem!
Rambam holds Hashem is math,
Hashem does not take a path,
Like “Squaring the Circle”,
Such is illogical,
Yet the Zohar differs on Hashem’s craft!
Witness the Aron anomaly,
Giving rise to a homily,
Finite length & width yet zero volume,
Boggling the mind, yielding it solemn,
Evoking Emunah more than normally!
Size yet no volume?
Anomaly! as in Shalom,
Moshe saw that the “Burning Bush”,
Was unconsumed, he didn’t silence: Hush!,
Risking ridicule, courage to be alone!
Moshe saw water & fire combine,
Hashem’s Shalom nonintuitively align,
Illogic surprise from mire,
Despair be gone! Lost? A Divine sign!
Purim, 339 Before Common Era,
Hashem again was a true “Chevra”,
Upending Haman’s goose,
In a long necked noose,
Saving the Yidden from an evil schema!
Arrogance vanquished,
Anomaly? Yes by logic languished,
Expect the unsuspected,
Human reason dissected,
Headstand of man anguished!
“Shemayim’s” Burning Bush is a hymn,
Let the “Olam” Hear Him,
Again no novelty,
“Chiddush” renewal, an end to “Evilty!”
All Adds Up to Purim Theorem!
The warmth of a subdued wind
It was soft, sublime, and kind.
Enthralled the ambiance of mind
to fulfill the atmosphere of time.
Nature is a serene symphony
The vibe plays an enchanted melody.
Celestial tune from a foreign realm
languished in our idyllic dream.
This sublime climate composes
the quietude we hold in repose
For our desire can ignite this fire,
to bring us much closer together.
In the thrill of a twilight world
Ambiance dwells within our soul.
we signed up for earth life
with memory erased
immersed in trance
to grow in love and wisdom
learning breath by breath by touch
but ego hijacked stuporous awareness
whence we deludedly believed we are form
and so nurtured lust and greed mirrored by fear
even though deep down we did recognise
that organic form is doomed to die
and is therefore definitely unreal
still we languished in denial
fearful to relinquish imagined control
continuing to oscillate between opposites
trauma bonding with ego and nurturing suffering
we found peace in thought rested silence
and in moments when love became manifest
for in these God gifted immersions ego receded
and therefore the path to freedom was self-evident
but to extinguish identity whilst heart was beating
it was too much of an ask for us to consider
even though scriptures validated truth
we remained captive to thought
alive as a dead man walking
In the futile triviality
of the desolate wasteland,
a sunburnt solitary tree
languished a long while,
cast nonetheless
on the parched ground
a sensuous shadow,
my secret sanctum.
A crystal path I had paved
to the realm of retreated yearning,
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire,
where intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage
to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of morphed image
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned
into the garden of glory,
the fringe of flying cloud
captured colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
captivating concerto of twilight.
In mystique night you came enticed,
floated on the flair of stardust,
radiant in the amorous aurora
of silver sequined moonshine,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed,
I was the full moon in your sky.
Ever present, sometimes languished,
Almost gone, then reestablished.
This is why, defences high!
To your offer, no reply...
Penultimate misty mile
resonates pined
sunset swan song
of forlorn footprints
transformed to
flattened anonymity.
In the shadow of
cleaved cloud
in swarming storm
turmoil threads
weave ordained
webbed horizon
languished obscurity,
Convolute canvas of
chameleon conversion
deception illumines
the last corner
patina plays
beguiled buoyant
with the remnant rays
of sanguinity.
In the final flash
of the sinking sun
latent lattice
fabricates in delusion
unframed dreams
of petrified life
in kaleidoscopic snapshot.
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