Long Abrasive Poems
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I. The Request
She spoke, "bring me the sunset in a cup
that overflows with it's red warmth eternal.
Rail against supposed fate. Love speak up,
you are not the last one standing. Colonel
of starry skies are you instead? Step up
love. Ignite my lone heart with the nocturnal.
For sorrow croons as love begs. So do you try
to persuade me not to run but to fly?"
II. His smile faltered and he said,
"You speak of devotion, a test to prove.
And you feign a solid stance. You ask of me
to show a love I may not possess. Move
my faltering heart instead. Make this soul see!
So flighty little one. Why can't you soothe
another such as you? Can't you fly for me?
It takes two hearts to make a lovers spark
The sun in the sky and the stars in the dark!"
III. A glare and sigh she answered...
She whispered a chest of childhood dreams
with brevity. "I have found dreams are paltry.
False passions. False hopes. Trying proved it seems
fruitless in this volatile world. Retreat you see
was my only choice, lest my heart break. Seams
split wide. Thus I built towers of ivory.
Clinging to nectar thoughts, honeyed reminders
of happiness. You are the first finder."
IV. Rapt, he asked,
"And what have I found? You know my words
well, and though I expect no favor, can you
love me? Depart from sorrow little bird.
Don't weep within a culture of solitude.
Not every man is abrasive. Obserd
to think no noble men walk. Gentle heart, true
am I to each word. Feathered wishes for your
tempest kisses. Come and open love's door."
V. Solemnly she looks at him,
"I look now, kisses of emerald light
those eyes. I feel now the spoken verity!
I may betray my acrid thoughts this night
and choose to take the proffered hand. Clarity
is a rarity, so is a gallant knight!
Pacify my heart once more, though not deserved,
Indignation somehow left love preserved."
VI. He smiles, he answers,
"Love, have I not told you, I have been here
waiting. My patience is my eternal proof.
No cup of warmth or a brew of stars dear,
If my love be enough, then it's time for truth.
Love, take my hand and come away, no fear,
Or I turn away and remain aloof."
Change was imminent, so she gave him her hand.
His sign of her proof of love, no demands.
Form:
Blue Light Bulbs and a Bottle of Bleach and The Incandescent Must Win
(part 1)
By: J.R. Wren
A wilting flower and a blade of grass
No presumptions of the way things ought to be
Feeding plenty on light through a tinted glass
Patiently waiting and resting in what it means to be free
“Steal, Steal, Steal. Make it up and patch it.
Feel. Feel Feel. Facts don’t matter and from all myth gleans.
Reel. Reel. Reel. Fish it in and match it.
Lies from the lounge and drunken dither. -- Our ends will justify the means!”
Knowledge of privilege and equity to learn
Servers, red phones, and Benghazi aflame
Crossbones, Chicago, Philly and -- -- Her turn!
“She will win! She will win!” Crumpling papers did proclaim
Deep, deep, deep. In plain sight -- a hidden gate
“He doesn’t win. Right? -- -- Right? ---Isn’t that right?
Steep, steep. Drip from a leaking deep state
What's fusion? It's cash stowed in the store late into the night
A wilting flower and that blade of grass
May not have thoughts of what ought to be
But the Deep aim to crash through lids of glass
The steady, sure swap of twenty-one to rid of sovereign - ty
“Steal. Steal. Steal. Lick it up and stamp it.
Feel. Feel. Feel. Feed the Feds and nothing of the Deep careens
‘Real. Real. It’s real!’" TALL thinks FISA won’t catch it.
“Checked (not checked) but might be confirmed!” And the judges are part of the means
They say “check your privilege” and “equity’s sublime.”
But the phone kept ringing and a message was left
Equality and equity can’t be done at the same time
Not by the color of my skin, but a perfect dream left bereft
A blooming rose and a patch of grass
And a new child doesn’t carry what the elders see
Feeding plenty on light with no prejudice of gold or brass
Seeing no difference between daffodil or lily
Hare over turtle “and beware the snitching fox!"
“Feel, feel,feel for all our shadow’s past."
A broken doll in an empty box.
Lemon spiel and Meadow’s blast
An abrasive sponge and a bottle of bleach
Fluorescent morgue lighting - “ask for their consent!
The clinical culture is calculated for all and for each”
Ballots appear. Nanny will fear. “And soon we’ll get you out of that tent.”
you are all a lost generation -- Gertrude Stein ?
I
Once hallowed encephalon
cavernous cerebral chasms
now less serene
ruptured n' spleen
Subjected to ravenous days?
Days n' illumination?
n' summers hibernation?
Awaiting eschatology and Madonna's divination
In summers somnolent slumbers I was told
In dreams of all truths and history's scrolled
and what a fair delication to unfold
truth rings from the shell aft each reeling beak's descent
Forsake of the shell's salty fleshes derivment
A fleshy flower buds on the briar
To pluck and dissect or leave to admire
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
Subjected to my piety in blinding ruth
did I in dreaming sin for sooth?
Had Queen Mab or Archimago
twist my thrice twisted dreams
with lies, abashing
and which in violence dance and beam
As waves with phosphorus' glow
they in guise clever crashing: gleam
false sooth, in golden pools of indigo
ever changing yet constant
As waves upon the shore
singing
Sometimes soft and melancholy
Sometimes malice, as to destroy
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
II
Oh my visage
how it pales in the light beside...
her
my madonna
my oracle my day
Darkness in its defined fray
and I Amidst a Yeats' Byzantine nightmare
to linger, to consist, to decay, an ill-stared heir
a doxology,
pregnant with heterodoxy.
Paling in comparison, in cavernous fright
days n' days and infinite blight
Static tremors. Intangible vibrations
Winter
Summer
Solstice
Hibernation
To seek what lay beneath
the countenance of the Madonna
the purity
The past I prospectively reap
n' seep
n' sow
The city's concrete catacombs glow
The future in night
day's abrasive
in its own right
reside in the day
confide in night
Rage, rage and endless blight
in dreaming escape day n' days of
a lifetimes endless death, in love
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
The loud fastest growing
non-thinking hand-it-over
flowers are abrasive
to some who feel they are truly weeds,
just messing up us real flowers
Their gnarly appearance is
off putting because they
are not the approved people, they are clover.
They look different, they dress
different, they advocate giving
away stuff to so-called poorer flowers.
They are way too giving with our flower seeds.
This is our seed; we made it.
You cannot take it away from us.
Our gardners purchased it online or in stores.
it is ours until we throw it in the garbage.
We do not like the
abrasive irritating selfish
non-thinking hand-it-over
flower weeds who
are screaming for our seed,
who want our well-earned pollen.
Sit in the sun yourself, you poison ivy leaves!
These give-it-all-to-us weeds sometimes become
abrasive in our gardens. They are overbearing,
disrespectful, trotting over us flowers in a mean
and arrogant way.
We are so irritated with them,
they are covering us up quickly and thickly, loud and proud.
We stick up our noses and try to push through their
hard-headed, do-it-our-way-and-give-us-everything ranks.
Then when we are mortally wounded, and we see
little hope, when we lose our fight, and become weeds
ourselves, our perspective changes. We become the
arrogant and rude take-over types, tromping over each
little marigold and lavender slice, silencing them.
We are now the desperate, take-over weeds,
screaming for our due. We become the bullies.
I have no idea how to rectify the approved
flowers with us weeds, but we weeds soon
get our own way, we become
incensed, and crafty, and our dendrites kick in.
Some of us dandelions have developed magical powers.
We figured out how to look and sound less weed-like.
Some of us are running for political office,
telling the loveliest most naïve flowers what they need
to hear to get onboard and give us their seeds.
Knowing they will soon be joining the world of
weeds, and loving the knowledge we have done
it with little bloodshed, only craftiness and stealth.
Oh, it is fun to be on the bad side.
Christmas does not come alone, It comes with the new year too,
A new year invites resolutions along,
The resolutions may be funny, old or new,
This year I can use bitter neem sticks,
or abrasive powders for brushing teeth,
Tooth powder may be eggshells and bricks, I want to become a hedonist in breathe,
Who pursues worldly life's pleasures, I am typically fond of eating sweets, I want to taste different dessert serves, Like the ancient Roman king's stories, who made vomitorium in the Palatine, And wanted to make empty in the stomach, I can use hands for eating meals on anytime, Meals like the fried goat's tongue and duck, . I want to play the old game dice,
Which is the game of luck and tradition, Try to drink the barbaric beer with ice,
And sleep in the nest of grasses in position, To attract and treat every person equal, I can wear brown mask for all the days, If there is any funny resolution of will, . I shall follow it for your satisfactory ways.
Hues of a darker shade, cascading across skies of illusion....
Evaporating waterfalls, of lustful desires and want
Brought forth amid fairytale words, from within fantastical thoughts
And I thought, shall I sell my soul, for their very own, desperate and lost?
I would rather smile at the stars, and, walk away from it all!
Then to ensnare myself within satans lies and delusions....
Of disappearing phantasms, that shall never see the light
Beyond these shadows of alluring and enticing, beguile
Cloaked in the dripping blood, red, of eternal fate
How precious and colorful, vibrant the flower seems to grow....
Before the desperate eyes, cast, into the darkness' chambers
As it whispers its soothing, and wistfully wanton assurances?
While sprinkling its fabricated moondust, upon these emptying souls....
Walking through this mystic wonderland of waste
Wherein shadows beckon and call, dangling their dreams of desirable
Treasures and promises, that their blackened hands, could never truly hold
Except, in these fantasies of tomorrows nothingness....
While singing these songs of hopeful yearnings, that they, shall never know!
Perishing, within the firey flames, that engulf, their abrasive sight
As pretending to be more, than satans very own, offspring
Stealing lives and shattering souls, with lovely portraits that sound
So ambitiously sweet, until, reality comes, to carry them forever away....
Not upon spectacular prisms of golden rainbows, or endless oceans, of emerald blue tides
Nor, glittering cosmic trails of stardust, which encircle, their gasping final breaths!
But within rushing rivers of sorrows crimson, cold....
Trading their eternal paradise, for a fairytales devisable fantasy, sold
To a ghost of sugar laced words, spoken, enticingly, from the tombs of a corpse
Pretty thoughts and pretty things, created, by the prince of hell, himself!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Stealing Souls....
Form:
Life means I can talk to my friends and others,
When the untravelled sea fills with brothers,
Pleasure rushes the uninhabited areas we just don't sail,
And when we semiotically emit our meaning, we will prevail;
Freedom rings with resonance resounding and pervasive,
No need for more traditional others to be abrasive,
No bears or wolves, no chides, jibes, and no probes obtrusive,
Your identity is your construct, your speech is conclusive.
And my books! Alas my books. They proffer so such contentment,
A breadth of knowledge with no suggestions delinquent,
Nor are there any accusers to accost,
My mind and spirit which upon some can be lost,
Possibilities endless, bringing depth of character,
They glint and glide, swimming in grammar;
Multiple amounts of information councel my hesitation,
Brimming particulars restrain inhibition.
But oh my computer: How elegant is she!
Believing in my easy registrations as well as my errors to be;
Such possibilities, moulded so neatly into my space,
Without the communal glare of uniformity’s trace;
Personalised desktop, memory and input method,
It accepts me unquestioned with no staff or flogging rod;
I program to set the user interface alight,
With the functionality and procedures of the user’s plight.
However, I can also give myself my own system,
Personal software from my own inclination;
Knowing some designers do not have in hand,
The shortcuts that only I seem to understand;
A software engineer’s god complex should not surface,
The digital space is a privilege to influence, place;
I love determining the screen and its sounds,
Where freedom of knowledge and data abound.
But the gift of poetry delights and ignites,
Hurtful regressions lull in its sight;
Its credibility only ever stoops to concede,
That only your introversion may expression impede;
Language caressed, dignity nursed,
You never need to be at all reimbursed;
Its haters are silent for fear of rebuke,
As truth, imagination and love are its hook.
Drink deep from an uncaring mother's breast
As the sole consolation prize for the sin of aging
Break yourself upon a wave of malice
Sweeping the unworthy along for a ride
And thus, some men are born as magnets
To attract a certain type to them
How many hammer blows can a sheet take
Before breaking and requiring reforging?
Thus does God cradle me in his lucky embrace
Handing me opportunities perhaps unearned
Allowing me to skate by unscathed in so many ways
In exchange for all the other ways that make it through
A pillar of Luck, both good and bad
To roll one number shy of the winning one
Is also a form of incredible luck
Take solace in knowing you're lucky
Hammer fall, hammer blow
Pound me into mochi and dye me with your matcha
Soft and malleable; a perfect flavor of your choosing
And tear me apart with those perfectly straight teeth
For the sin of overstepping
For the sin of being born lacking chemicals
For the sin of desiring you
For the sin of being one man
Slammed against the ocean floor
An endless rain of hammer blows pounds me into the sand
Worn down by the abrasive crystals
And born anew as sea glass by your wave
"Break yourself upon my wave," you laugh
As six months pass with startling realizations
Craving more, but not from your farm
A brutal tyrant burns down a forest
Your cinnamon poison courses through me
As I forsake medicine in exchange for it
Depressant upon depression
To kill my brain to save my liver
Endlessly gazing forward to stop myself from giving up
When does forward end?
When do I see I spent my life saving myself up
Merely to leave a prettier body behind?
Are you watching, O Sainted Phoenix?
Was forsaking you the event that set me on a cursed timeline?
Was that the moment I should have looked forward
Instead of self-medicating?
Endlessly lost in logic loops
Preventing me from choosing either happiness or despair
Living in a constant state of static stasis
Breaking myself upon your waves.
Winds of change blow in time’s course clear
waft from an unseen end to unknown another
the momentum they gather from the power
the history gives, it goes on increasing ever,
the direction they receive from the message
the current events provide can’t be altered,
the aim they read on social landscape page
people delicately design can’t be changed.
Civilizations blew away in the destined gale
the Indus valley turned into a great desert,
empires collapsed on time in the gusty squall
lie scattered in archaeological sites and in art,
all ordained to meet the change from the start.
The mankind sheds the unwanted old grime
like the dry leaves of autumn the winds sweep
and bury under thick dust of the ageing time.
Indomitable spirit rises from the dust deep
new generations of belief and value emanate
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change the winds generate,
the strike of destined wrath time arrows apply
transforming fast and invisibly the core insipid
of the traditional society of integrity and unity
into a new deceptive one that seems steeped
permanently in intolerance and in hostility,
infusing sense of change that gradually sips in,
traditional concepts of living slowly recede
families and relationships disintegrate within
to morph into the present-day fragile breed
desperately designed to meet rather blindly
the demands current times make irrationally.
The shape and the space of mind’s frame alters
with changing pictures it holds but doesn’t know
the time and the people that are constant movers
displayed in the kaleidoscopic everlasting show
the winds of change visibly perform as they blow.
If winds of change blow too strong and abrasive
everything on way crumbles beyond recognition,
so savagely they gust nothing survives to retrieve
the wreckage can’t be swept aside, it stays on
for everything drags everything into the ruins.
August 31, 2017.
~ "I believe true
humility is innocent,
~~ and free; ~~
~~~~~~~~~~
evolving through
life continually
aspiring before-
God-and-man to
move in gratitude;
~~~~~~~~~~~~
and being heavenly,
and gracious, tenderly
~~~~~ aware; ~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it is always surrendering
itself to the opportunity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
remaining-unconditionally-
faithful-to-this principal;
and overtly-willing-to
abide in peace and
unity with-the-
world-around-
it; thereby
being recreated; itself...
before the brevity of
it's days given-
~ whatever, ~
the-limitation;
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
or-matter". ~
Author notes
~ Was sorely depressed, uncertain, abrasive and ungrateful and the lot towards my life itself
before writing this. ~
~ Was writing another poem on what was taunting me within, aggravating me and causing me
such uncertainty and pain. Then I asked myself what am I truly wanting in my life to be
exemplified and in the writing. "What am I looking for and how can it be achieved"? ~
~ Took a break saw a certain contest, the vague cry of uncertainty arose again when I tried
to figure what it was about, I read the quotes within, was completely touched by all of them
and this above quote is what followed as a result. ~
~ "I know not when nor from whence it came, nor how through my confusion inwardly, it still
remained to form, but I am so overjoyed that I came out unscathed from the bewilderment of
my soul ... because a new freedom had come ... and found me well ... and on the other side".
~
~ It has seemed to changed me irrevocably, proving as well to be exactly what I needed to
carry with me, and everything that I find now, I have always wanted;-
and needed. ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7pD1EgxGcI