Long Ally Poems
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Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
In the heart of the night, with Chopin as the ally of silence,
Looking towards the sky, I wonder, who shall listen,
Knowing illusions fade, but you are eternity,
I'd summon you to me, through some conjuration, maybe.
I taste your kiss, a memory and reality,
I shiver and am clothed both by cold and passion, starkly,
I'd sleep, but the dream that you might disappear tries me,
The thought of you being taken by a lofty wave frightens me, dearly.
Tomorrow, where will you be, in this vast world?
I fear a capricious and cruel fate might be unfurled,
For perhaps you'll be caught in a web, with no escape,
In the boundless heights of the celestial vaults, an astral wraith.
My love is like a war, a mystery pure,
Nothing can take me away from your consuming flame, for sure,
I wouldn't give up this passion, mystical and pure,
For a quiet destiny, in an eternity devoid of allure.
My hand that knew your softness,
If it were to be taken and thrown into darkness,
I'd find you, rebel angel, at every crossroad, wide,
Or I would crash down, a victim of love unfulfilled, inside.
Eternal existence might be a blessing or a burden to bear,
But I'd offer this eternity to all, even to the worst, I swear,
Just to live beside you, a moment, a second, an hour fair,
And then to crash down, like a lost star in a heavenless sky, rare.
We look at each other, and in this gaze, we lose and find our realm,
Time seems to slow, yet slips away in a tireless overwhelm,
I rebuild myself with every dawn, in every chant, every hymn,
Knowing you, perhaps, believe that my love is a fatal blade's helm.
The streets are our prisons, each with its own fate to attest,
I head east, you to the west, in contrast, we are pressed,
A mystical discord, like a fierce wind, keeps us apart, unblessed,
Rewriting the same old story, an unending dance, an eternal quest.
The distance between us is greater than any galaxy's span,
In the theater of our life, the final act nears its plan,
Shadows of past love follow us, with melancholy as they began,
And the tragic play of destiny continues, every card on the table ran.
A single glance embraces an eternity of farewell,
So many emotions in a simple touch, they swell,
Embrace your memories, time will betray you, I know,
I love you in every detail, in nothing and in everything, a constant flow.
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
she was a mother,
even stronger than your father.
she was a sister, who went through all the pain;
and never let you go through, even a blister.
yet she is only recognized in the name of her mister.
where's her own identity?
has society ignored it and made it an unsolved mystery?
she was a teacher,
she was there for you when you also were in need of a preacher.
she was always your ally,
who supported you never less than daily.
she lit up herself for you, as a guiding lamp;
for you she went through all the pain, all the cramp.
while she was a dagger to your problems,
you needed to be a shield to her dignity.
she was also someone's wife,
and she also has a life.
she was a daughter,
who radiated nothing less than laughter;
yet, why was she the only one who was without any hesitation sent to be slaughtered?
but,
before all of the above,
she was a beautiful,divine and a gracious dove;
in this cruel world she was in dire need of a little pure love;
she'd definitely be there for you, to support you in your every move;
but only if she was let to breathe free and smooth.
she knew how to protect herself from the beasts and animals as she was fierce and brave;
but none taught her how to deal, when humans turned into animals and became lust's slave!! .
she wanted to fly high,
and as we know the heartless society smirked and sighed!
they held her back in name of security,
they held her back because of their sick mind's mentality.
they bound her to shackles to keep her pure,
so that she could not cause anyone around her to lure.
well,
even that'd be acceptable,
if they could really keep her safe;
even the cage would seem pretty if, on her lingered no dirty gaze.
but, even after draping her in clothes from head to tail,
she was stared at and given comments that ruined her nights, and left her to do nothing but wail.
shame on the society where we live and because of such hungry beasts it fails!
because we live in a society where before humans they find themselves to be males.
Even today,
She's found dead,
in a pool full of blood and dread.
all along the night,
her high pitched screams,
her blood was being flown in streams;
and yet even today giving a harsh and a real punishment to the criminals is only a dream.
Proem
After Sir Thomas recovered the Spear of Destiny and returned it to the Pope at the Vatican in Rome, he remained there for several months serving His Excellency, attending meetings, and recovering from several minor injuries sustained while recapturing the Spear that pierced the side of Jesus the Messiah. Sir Thomas could have stayed as a guest of the pope in one of their lush suites, but he chose the bare walls of a guest bedroom at the local Knights Templar castle. The pope then called upon him for his next assignment: Leave Rome immediately, by boat, again, back to Constantinople. “Head off a Scot by the name of Sir Robert Bruce, whom our intel indicates has a map and is currently on his way in search for the Holy Grail. Sir Robert is a stubborn ally. You will help Sir Robert, but convince him that the chalice of Jesus belongs here in Rome.”
Prior to shoving off the west coast of Italy, a few miles from Rome, Sir Thomas wrote the following message, and placed it in a bottle.
______________________________________________________________
A.D. 1301
My dear sweet wife and babe within her womb
The five long years since I had lost you both
I prayed for inner peace despite my joy
You're both in heaven; worship Thee Most High
Because your love exceeds all life itself
My lips will glorify you ever more
I praise you for the rest; my living days
Your name I lift on high with my bare hands
Was on my bed that I remember you
I think of you the watches of the night
The shadow of your wings I cling my soul
The depths of which my sword shall honor thee
I yearn affections taste where two come one
The seed by faith that yields abundant life
Endures celestial kingdom's perfect place
It brings this missive to its endless oath:
To bless, release my restless heart that bleeds
Commit my swords allegiance to the Lord
To you Dagung the earth is smaller still
For every inch be searched to see your face
You disappeared, not dead but still alive
I feel the transom temper my resolve
For in this ship another search begins
The Holy Grail; Dagung I'll find you both
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Postscript
I toss the bottle through the wind to stormy sea
Inside the missive of a knight in love with thee
__________________________________________
I sit beneath the tree and gaze at the sweet cherry blossoms that cover the floor,
Then I slant my hat over my eyes and take comfort in the solitude,
The pure bliss of silence and a soft spring breeze blowing through the air like a lost cloud,
Trying to find its way through oblivion.
As my head drops slowly to my shoulder I think of how my life would be had I stuck to my
old ways,
A disappointment to everyone, slouched out in a cardboard box down the back of some
stinking ally,
To drunk to give a damn, down to my last swallow and headed straight for Hell,
And I’m grateful that there was someone out in the world willing to give me a second chance,
And I think how happy my life is now because of her.
All my friends drift through my mind, the good ones, and bad one’s and the old one’s,
Then try as I might I just can’t figure out what they see in me, why would anyone want me
as a friend?
I’m nothing special, I have no “real” talents, I’m not “hard”, I don’t drink, smoke or take
drugs,
I even have a lame sense of humour, also a bit warped in the head but still,
Then I start to laugh at myself, I’m certainly not normal… ok define normal, but I mean in
the common sense, maybe they like me because of that? Whatever the reasons maybe, I’m
glad they chose me,
After all, you are your friends.
I ponder on questions that I feel need to be answered, like why is it if you go out on the
street and kill a lode of people you’re a mass murderer BUT if you join the army and kill a
lode of the “Enemy” you’re a war “hero“? Or would Jesus ever accept the antichrist as his
brother? Does the all Seeing Eye ever get any sleep? And am I the only one who thinks that
the Devil is just God’s angry side?
Maybe these are just the ramblings of a twisted mind, but it’s my mind and I like it this way.
My memories push at the back of my mind and force me to remember the past,
As they all come flooding my vision I start to cry tears of anger for the man I was,
Tears of sorrow and shame for all the people I’ve hurt, then I shed a single tear of joy for all
the people who’s life’s I’ve changed for the better.
Then as I start to rise from by place of rest I wonder the hardest question of all…..
Even when there is nobody there are we ever truly “Alone”?
You asked me the other day, my friend,
who I am and I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true,
Look, how much the same we are,
No matter what, the color
The creed
The race
The status
Look,
I am born and I die
I suffer and I enjoy
I love and I hate, just
Like you!
I am a father, a brother, a son,
A mother, a sister, a daughter, just
Like you,
Happiness I seek,
Family to raise is my wish,
Peace to find I look for,
Just like you
I yearn
I abhor
I fear
I hope
I bleed
I heal,
Just like you,
I believe
I doubt
I accept
I refuse
I laugh
I cry,
just like you
We are alike
We are the same
We are brothers...
Children of a unique father.
Tell me,
My brother,
My friend,
My ally,
Why do we have to oppose,
To fight
To hurt
To destroy and
To eliminate
One another?
Are our seas really that narrow,
Our oceans that small,
Our lands so limited
To contain all of us?
Or
Is it the case that
Our hearts are not big enough
And our minds not so wide-open to
Enfold all mankind?
Listen to me, my other self:
It is up to us to change this world
We have inherited, with its virtues and vices,
History and culture
Flaws and merits
And
Try to make it
Better
Nobler
Kinder and more caring
By obliterating harmful beliefs,
Demolishing injurious divisions,
Destroying detrimental distrust,
Annihilating racism and eradicating
The erroneous feeling of poisonous superiority
For
To bring the dawn of a new loving world,
A world of acceptance
Of respect
Of justice
Of equality
Of love and
Of universal brotherhood
So as
With peace in our hearts, liberated we would be
From the past’s deleterious tribulations
That for myriads of years,
Have kept us, fighting one another!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 MARCH 2015
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015
NOTE! Today because of the “ World Day Against Racism” my moral duty, couldn’t let me stay away!
This poem of mine is an old poem of 2013 that has been edited and improved today thus it is posted now as a new poem!
* I did this for all my friends who wish me to come back. I will come back when I am ready! Thank you for your love!
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Confederate Flag
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2015
O'Dirty South,.....U'Dirty South
your hatred, and storied history - is sadly
legendary-
Antebellum South, Your staunch
racist beliefs was in place, long before
the honourable General Robert E. Lee,
raised the Confederate Flag, in the battle
between the States -
Since the Civil War, your, "Stars and Bars,"
has flown over the worst of times
In America -
As recent a time, in Georgia,
North Carolina, and South Carolina,
where seven black churches burned down
to the ground -
Nine worshiper's were killed in
South Carolina, and the Confederate flag
was flown -
The White House, is looking into the
"on-going," black church burning epidemic.
Meanwhile, the deep, and deadly wounds
of my people, stains the Confederate flag-
My ancestors blood, is the RED
that covers the dirty "Symbol Of Southern
Pride."
Yet, to this day, it still fly's over most
State buildings, and in offices, in the Dirty South -
It have flown:
Over slaves on Southern
plantations -
It have flown:
Over
the lynching of blacks -
It have flown:
Over
the burning of black
body's;
cremated in public squares -
It have flown:
In restaurants, rest rooms,
and public water fountains-
It was flown
by an Ally of confederate's, who was willing to die in defence of Slavery's abolishment -
When the South seceded from the Union, all HELL broke loose, and the Confederate Flag, was born -
It
was the
Symbol
of
Treason -
and
A "Battle Flag"
for
Hate crimes
against
black people -
That flag, still fly's high today; through the
smoke, and ashes of black churches, burning down
all over the South - past and present.
Even now, The KKK, Ayran Faction, and
skinheads, all raise the confederate flag,
to honour White Power, and White Supremacy -
America, its been one hundred, and fifty five
years since the Civil War - it's way past time to put
an end to bigotry and racism.
Let your voice's be heard, the Confederate Flag,
should never be raised again, not now, not ever -