Long Albatross Poems
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Affliction with comprehension,
now plain as day
predisposition to experience
(particularly abstract) cognitive
acquisition assailed at bay
posits me to suspect mental
deficiency within gray
matter of yours truly, whose
academic track record lay
in abyssal ruins, and
as three score orbitz round
the sun, yours truly doth pay
a hefty emotional price oy vey,
the voluminous, onerous,
horrendous, and analogous
moribund Atlas I cannot pray
tell shrug off from me
mental jackknifed fountainhead,
especially asper today
mainly cuz this figurative
albatross doth weigh
heavily (increasing unbearable
suffocating burden) greater quay
king pronounced effort particularly
with every passing birthday
concomitant impossibility atoll
reef used breakaway
ramping up emotional agony
willpower to live doth decay
dichotomy crashes against livingsocial
Manichean struggle pronouncedly
evincing increased dark shadowed dismay
overarching edge of night evokes doomsday
seeping into every neurological estuary
paralyzing ability to function hamstrung
hidebound hundredfold salvation faraway
sinking me deeper within troubles
steeply suffocating restricting headway,
wherein convoluted corral like gray
matter signals distress call, sans mayday
with futility, whereby
this buoy anchored away
long since being marooned,
mired, and moored since screenplay
starring yours truly launch debut,
asper this lamentable genetic craft
bereft, forlorn, and luckless fey
e'er bulwark permanently
stationed at sickbay!
"The Syballine"
Behind closed eyelids
the curtains of the mind
open to silent applause
Sun screens are slick and applied
shining bright Ultra Violet
a violent Light
all over a body
of work, unseen
words written
tattooed black
on smooth satin alabaster
beneath piercing opalescent lasers
frosty green
burning the tithed pages
of a rosy crucifixion
cast aside, palms raised
and speaking in secret tongues
whispering necromantic Psalms
fed open-handed to wailing seabirds
carrying songs of majesty
slow winged, powerful and heavy
towards a pregnant
waxing beguiling witches'
Black Sabbath moon
this doesn’t stop the burn
bare legs stretch open
a story being born
and somewhere
magnetised
nude feet
walk towards
the naked
Syballine
standing still
within the shallow
fire opal ocean
arms lifting
conjuring new powers
not humble,
in fierce supplication
raised upwards
now to pearly clouds
there beneath the
Too Soon,
a dawning golden orb,
stands Blue Sky
holding the Sun
her back
is turned
see the spine
fine boned
joints like a ladder
your fingers
like lightening
trace their course
silky seduction
they play her
tight strung
held in your arms
caressed like a cello
bow steaming
her keys turned
ignition
forgotten kisses
carried on the
slender shoulders
of life -
now see
the Sun rising
lips ripe
heart bleeding
black wings unfolding
fallen, no longer disguising
she turns
Journeying from the Deep
Expelled from the shallows
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky"
"And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light"
"Overhead the albatross
Hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine..."
He put to sea west south-west
in a small cabin amidships -
stole away in an unknown quest,
salty ocean brine wet on his lips
In the fires of smoke and light
Neptune raised his trident,
and led safe passage in the night
as stormy seas grew more violent
Into locks and narrow canal tide
the gates of Panama ahead,
betwixt two oceans a great divide,
“no turning back now” a voice said
Starboard to port, stern to bow -
the turbines below deck on.
He’d be back someday, somehow
but alas not for a long time gone
He saw the waves pound so high
and scowl of tempest wind,
until shadows off her bow slip by
in the playground of the dolphin
As a warm ocean breeze rolled in
he’d hear that droning hull -
feel the pitch of the sea in motion
and watch the albatross and gull
Ahoy, a long way from land afar
into the Tasman a sea rover.
No longer shone the Northern Star
but soon his journey would be over
The blue lagoons at Tahiti’s door
lay far from his island home -
like Columbus and Magellan before
in foreign lands not unlike his own
South Sea islands we bid farewell
deep into southern latitudes -
lifeboat drills did sound the bell
lest we sail a sea of vicissitudes
“Last port of call” I mused aloud
as over the ship ropes toss.
O’ Land of the Long White Cloud
sailed I on the SS Southern Cross
Written: July 1994
Broken,
Dostoevsky's Idiot,
Scene with Pinocchio,
Hands and nose on dial of clock,
Mechanical toy,
Time is up,
Heart knock,
The blocks,
A toxic fog,
Like polonium and novichok,
Specters of scorpions and frogs,
London, Moscow, Lyon, Porto,
The show,
He is, for some, the antidote,
On arena in white cloth,
Born,
Human now,
By vineyard's blood,
The tree of the cross,
Freedom for puppets gobbled,
"CHVRCHES" group indie synth-pop,
Tuning fork,
For worthy communion,
Seven virtues like notes,
Cyrano de Bergerac nosy,
Only for the fire fox
With network,
Gladiator, red dragon,
Fall on the town,
Ask gobble the good Word,
Island foggy, dangerous,
Eve, teen, on auction of phantoms,
No ones, they make a puppet, toy, function,
Not, not, stop,
Else the wall of sand and stones don't stop the ocean,
Storm of albatross,
Waves in the form of dinosaurs,
Ark from wood of Sherwood forest,
Humans who cover only may float,
In green, blue, and yellow,
Natural bow with arrows,
Pinocchio transformed,
In outlaw,
And outlaw - in the voice of the Dove,
Against albatross and his owls,
Among comers,
Dance of John Precursor in mother's womb,
On Virgin's voice from bosom,
The choice of God Love,
On cordial strings for pure joy,
Threads of human tissues, fabric purified by the blood of the Lamb,
Eye of the needle gives the vision of glory,
The newcomer on the noble road,
Gears became asters and halos,
Blind cat and fox cannot see even by touch, like Herod and Iscariot,
Two cheeks only, the single crucifixion,
In hell almost - the Hope of Thomas the apostle,
Winter, fall, autumn, October,
Yellow became golden,
From paradise taken alive onyx,
Outside Herodias's daughter,
Fig tree with only leaves cloned,
In exterior court,
Without a heart, desolation of abomination in this woman,
Totalitarian fashion of this world,
Desert and wilderness with topless evil passions,
In war.
Spring; the ice is melting,
trickling from mountain glaciers, racing towards
the vast ocean.
The moon gleams from high above the river,
cradling the tides in its silver quiver,
watching frothing waves chase the fleeing water
like a mother watching her two playful daughters.
Swift currents skirt a field of flowers abloom,
invisible but for their blossoming perfume,
their petals white in a ghostly costume.
They feel not the icy flakes, nor the winds that keep them awake;
all that's left is the moon.
Who sees her for the first time tonight?
Who did she first see when she first shone?
Generations have flown by, each different to the last,
yet the moon appears unchanged, steadfast.
Who does she wait for?
Clouds, darkened by the skies, drift past,
their silhouettes radiating uncertainty so vast.
Whose husband sails tonight?
And where lie his beacons of love; his light?
Though they cannot see or hear each other's prayer,
they call to the moon that shines with care
on the sailors cap and bedside mirror
uniting them beneath argentine slivers.
An albatross soars across the bay,
forever casting its shadow on the rippling waves.
Last night we dreamt of thawing lands;
suddenly spring is slipping through our hands.
The river rushes, like time wasting away
as the moon slips beneath the ocean spray,
sinking our yearnings of home
that sail on its reflection
and scattering willow leaves
across the water in all directions.
Bidding your time for what kind of love
What a nice life what a nice night with a picture in a camera
Time unravels without you
Now serving, who without what
Be it something I could have ran with
The words roll out faster than the carpet
What is significance what is lost forever
In a moment of a dream
Fear slows time
Peppers dawn
Lotus swan
I can’t say what I believe
I died a thousand deaths
Without the 1000 hugs
That belief is villainess
Albatross bleeding
Such a fuss, hoodlum, villain
Peppers dawn
The authentic wreckage of confronting choices
Together thousands become millions
And its loneliness, no reasons no questions
Silent seed whispering soul
Queries the lost the unborn and free those born to truth
Lotus swan
Upon the horizon darkness loomed
mocking the shadows in my heart
Love was doomed, dismally abused
Emotions bleeding out
Have I succumbed to malaise and died
If there's a faint pulse
I have no notion
of a vortex if one is whirling
There's a windstorm's fury howling
somewhere in the distance,
an angry thunder is roaring back,
mimicking the zephyr's bullied shout
revealing the deviant taunt
lying deep within his black soul
A safe haven have I found
since I've been swept away
into a sanctuary he cannot enter
Emptiness is but a pittance to pay
for a portal into the eye of a storm
Lightning flashes outside my sheltered nook
striking as quickly as words pummeled me
Emotional scars from verbal blows
left me numb, drained, void of feeling
Twisters are not appeased or reconciled
by anyone for the devastation they cause
They refuse to say penance
Slowly, the tempest soothed. Quiet its bellow
Was I to be left naked to eyes that pry
And what of the coward, the spineless fellow
who ridiculed my love with a smirk
Turbulent gusts calmed, ceased blowing
I was fetal tucked on sodden ground
Loneliness reigned in solitude,
tears overflowing beneath closed lids
I was saved by the eye of the storm
but he was never found
I found that profound justice
Heavy had been the albatross of emptiness
that had long strewn itself around me
I suppose he lay somewhere among the debris
Wounds healed from the storm's cleansing
I no longer cower for I have been set free
Clear skies as I rise
My travelling shoes
got up early,
they had hydraulic jump-starts.
Countries spun my head around
while I discovered lands
only Albatross dream of
in a limitless sky.
Across many countries
I loop-di-looped,
crop-seeding my
ever seeking mind.
The trips and treks
trudged to a stop
in the late middle ages
of my historically mobile plod.
Now the world comes to me,
to reveal all I missed.
The nooks and crannies
of distant plateaus and valleys,
stones left un-turned,
faces posted from places
once so sea-sealed
or landlocked,
only the address-less
could find them now.
Everywhere comes to my door
entering announced
by wind-blown Tibetan cloud horns.
I open a carriage window
in a train of thoughts
and let that 3-D atlas
of all that was overlooked
chug on by,
watching from my roost
and long anticipated
nest of rest.
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words,
after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
With pen in hand, I readily compose heartfelt lines
filled with aggregations of thought and emotion.
Verses that break chains that bind, setting me free
as if I were a shackled slave in the Land of Goshen.
Freed by my pen, I've been redeemed from the sea,
and each poem a litany, recited on a rolling wave.
Poetry is the seafaring wind that fuels my sails,
navigating me to exotic, faraway places I crave.
I'm unanchored without the burden of an albatross
tied around my neck when I choose to compose.
While tethered to a pen, I'm safe and kept afloat
in tragic times of mourning and sorrowful woes.
Rhyming romantic Sonnets stirs my sensual blood,
for then I am imagining being someone's treasure.
With the heart of a passionate poet, I take part
by scribing torrid scenes of fervor beyond measure.
Writing breathes anima into the chasms of my soul.
I celebrate my poetry as art, a revered tour de force.
Poetry is my source of equilibrium, joy, and peace
when life's adversities attempt to steer me off course.
November 28, 2022
Poetry is a Life-Cherishing Force Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
5/28/17
Peregrine falcons at a high speed dive
Albatross starting to soar or glide
Hawks high in the sky
Doves still or continuing to fly
Woodpeckers on telephone poles, near power lines
Crows I see all the time
While working or when I drive
Quail out in the open then they hide
Vultures out to get a piece of the pie
Of whatever happened to die
Jays making noise as I pass them by
Pelicans often near the ocean side
Hummingbirds so cool, quick and sly
Gulls and many others after what catches their eye
Roosters making noise before and after the light shines
Owls on the prowl, usually at night time
Other birds, I'm unfamiliar with, which are hard for me to describe
Bless them all every single type and kind