Long Bewildered Poems
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We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
He was an atheist.
He was proud of it.
Those who believed in the existence of a
Supreme being, and in the survival of the soul after death,
Were, for him, dim-witted people worthy only to be
The laughing stock of his "superior intelligence."
He never concealed his denial of God,
He did not need to believe in such a divine being
Because
He knew that himself was the superior being, and
As far as the idea of a soul was concerned, there was none.
One dies and that's it! Game over!
The time passed and as he was mortal he died one day,
However
As soon he was declared dead,
Surprised the atheist was to ''see himself " hovering
All over his inanimate body.
He had no arms, no legs, no head, or any other organs
Just pure consciousness he was, pure thought, and
Pure light.
A sphere of a whitish color " He " was
With some sparkling particles distributed around its periphery.
In other words, he was a soul.
Confused and bewildered with the situation that the atheist,
Himself has now found,
Did not know what to do and what to him was coming.
In a little while though,
A luminous being approached him,
Wearing the broadest of possible smiles.
The being was emanating love, compassion, warmth, and
Understanding.
As the entity came closer to the "atheist" with his mind these
Words to him transmitted:
" Do not be surprised, my dear friend, for I am here to
welcome you and lead you to your creator whose existence
you have throughout life, so vehemently, denied!"*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 June 2021
* This story is inspired by a debate that I once had with the head of the Computer Department of a renowned university, who was an atheist and who called me silly to believe in God and in the afterlife. When I asked him: " Why I am silly?" He replied that I was silly because I believed in these theories and went on to tell me that I will be surprised when I die because I will find nothing of what I expect to find. At that moment I retorted: " My dear friend, Nigel, it will not be me that would be surprised but you, because if your theory is correct, I will not be there to be surprised but if my theory is correct then you will be the one to be surprised." He looked at me for a few seconds and then he said: If you put it like that, Demetrios, you are right. I will be the one to be surprised."
Where shall I flee? I’m swimming in the waters of misery…
And I’m crying a river…I’m saturated in woe
How do I think cheerfully? I’m lost in the abyss…and the shadows won’t let me be…
And I’m bewildered… I’m fighting to break free…
(I can’t break free…
Where do I flee?
Why can’t I break free?)
The spiders are spinning their webs above me…
Bless me and untangle me from this madness…please… give me peace…I’m wasting away –
They’re preying upon me…they’re whipping me … warping their way inside of me
My saliva drips on the ground…I’m growing numb and I pray
The monsters don’t attack my heart’s desires…if I let them break free,
I’ll never be the same…I’ll never see the light of day
Where do I belong? I’m roaming in the fields of blasphemy
And I’m crying a river…I feel like an awful disgrace…
How do I find a pathway? I’m lost in fields of weeds…they’re producing catastrophe
And I’m bewildered… I’m trying to finish the race…
(I can’t keep pace…
The sweat is trickling down my face…
Why can’t I keep pace?)
The wasps are chasing after me…where do I flee?
Caress me and save me from the distress…stinging me in pleasure…I’m drifting away –
They’re hovering all around me… they’re harassing me…could you wipe away my tears?
Find me a place of rest…to make the sufferings end and I pray
The darkness will stop spreading lies in my head…if I throw away my fears,
I’ll never learn to face my fears…I’ll never know His way…
Where shall I go? I’m roaming in the fields of blasphemy
And I’m crying a river…I’m saturated in woe
How do I find the key? I’m lost in fields of weeds…they’re reproducing catastrophe
And I’m bewildered…
I’m yearning to let go…
I’m learning to cope with my fears…
I’m deserting my woe…
I’m wiping away the tears...
(that has been bottled up for many years… )
The spiders have ensnared me in their webs…
I’m in danger…I’m wrapped up in distress…
and there is no where to hide…
The wasps are tracking me down...I haven’t paid my debts…
I’m struck in alarm…I’m in a mess…
Please stay by my side – catch me as I collide
( We’re all together on this ride… )
I can’t break free (please relieve me from my despair)
Why can’t I break free? Where do I flee? (this pain is too much to bear)
I can’t keep pace (give me the energy to shine like the sun)
Why can’t I keep pace? Why can’t I finish this race? (give me some strength to run)
You're walking out the front entrance
Leaving work behind you
Forgetting the hustle of the day
Looking forward to a quite drink
Chilling out
In your
Soft
Comfy
Favourite
Chair
Staring into an open fire
Being carried away with the beat of the music
When all of a sudden
You're startled
By the thundering crackling
Sound from the exhaust
Of a oversized shinny motor bike
A leather cladded rider dismounts
Blocking your path
As you stand stunned & glued to the spot
The rider comes up to your face
Through a tinted visor on a black helmet
You hear a soft gentle familiar voice saying
Put this on and let's go
All your fears flash in front of you
But your censors say your safe
You allow this gentle giant
To carefully place the open face helmet over your head
Slowly secure it under your chin
Hands you some wrap around sun glasses
Without a word
The rider shows you how to
Comfortably mount a bike
Indicates you to wait until he is on
Gives you the nod
As you mount the bike
Cuddle into the rider
looking over his right shoulder
Smelling & feeling the leather on your bare skin
As you clasp your hands together
Around the stomach of the rider
The bike starts
Startled by the noise you jump
And thrusted back as we take off
Slowly through the main street
Slow down even more for the school zone
Swerving
Swaying
Dodging
In and out
Of the afternoon traffic
Leaving the bottle neck behind
With the confusion and worry
Hitting the open road
Winding the throttle wide open
The purring of the pipes
Echoing off on coming cars
The thumping of the motor
Rising up through the seat
The wind caressing your face
As we brake hard and throw
The bike down into a left hand lean
Around the corner in one motion
Pick the bike up and throw down
Into a right hand corner
Dancing
Up
Down
And around
Up the hill onto the flat
Surrounded trees
The afternoon sun strobing through the trees
Behind the trees
In the paddocks
Prancing
Dancing
Meres and foals
Back into town
Where I stop at your place
I dismount
Extend my hand to help you off
Lovingly remove your helmet
Tie it on the sissy bar
Jump on the bike
With a crack from the pipes
The engine roars
Burning the tar with my back tyre
Leaving you standing in the cutter
Dumbfounded
Bewildered
Tingling
Laughing and smiling
She came upon me in a dream deep down from within my destination
Which coursed the mind and soul of years for my memories' inspiration
The path was crowded with bouncing hooves and wagons decorated
With fantasies ornaments adoration painted with merriment unabated
Echoes' subconscious sound of wild horses drawing cart wheels' canter
A symphony's reminder of nectar's flow from a coloured glass decanter
Bewildered I reminisced on sentiments nostalgia and what lies ahead
Fanfares of homeliness adventure passion to pounding of a drumhead
Heated stallions ran wild with mares and took my innate flight of fancy
Less trodden though in modern times a covert path offered me fragrant tansy
Potions of wild garlic lavender and bouquets of aromatic blue sage scent
I grabbed the message by the horns and galloped to my heart's content
One face stood out and reached my fired feelings as I took off one blinker
A nomad girl dressed in rags whistles bells whom you might call a tinker
Olive skin and amber eyes beyond all reason teasing all sensual needs
Her hair like forests full of tangles I must touch her locks lest she proceeds
Around her neck dangled an amulet crafted from ivory and ancient oak
Grant me a whiff of freedom give me one chance to embrace and stroke
The skin's wilderness and passion which may save me from my strife
A single breath or little smooch from cherry lips to give me the kiss of life
She shone as bright as ruby petals and took her path along the lane
Of elderberry flower and hawthorn hedges which made me go insane
Her chest adorned with orange curves she wore a crown of quince
She's been imprinted on my summer screen for more and ever since
And still the magic rings hooked on her ears of nectarine shaped silver
Stir the image when I hear a voice singing the praise and beauty of her
A scintillating Roma bride sculpted from nature of the purest sense
Prophesy omen oracle and metaphor in one quite magically intense
When sunshine arises red and purple with violins and tambourine
I pinch the moon in thanks for right next to me slumbers my Fairy Queen
Once upon a time I handed her a golden peach an oath and sacred bond
She calls herself a gypsy and kindly waves to me with her magic wand
11th April 2020
The hurt builds inside, with no way to get free from within.
It’s havoc safely locked away, unable to wreak the divine chaos it so desires To spread like poison amongst cravings of unbridled fury.
To inflict on the soul that ignited this bitterness still left unspoken,
Screaming on the inside, paint on my smile, and look happy for the camera.
Why is it my heart cannot abide the counsel of my mind?
I would not have this anger and thirst for destruction dwelling on my mind.
The shattered glass has fallen in shards by my feet,
The leftover pieces of an emotion that doesn't fascinate me like it did before.
Always dancing out of my grasp, tempting me to seize what I cannot.
The illusions of my mind, the ones where I was loved, and I was happy,
Begin to disintegrate around me, flour and water mix, then become a paste.
One small, with its fiction and fantasies, it weaves a giant web of deceit.
I tried so hard to make them see that love has a cruel cycle it follows,
Demanding devotion, with it's array of charms and sober unrealities.
Impacts are worse on the naïve; truth becomes a chaos loosed in their souls.
The fright, shock leaves me standing alone not knowing where or who I am.
Bewildered, I wonder why I took this chance at potential annihilation,
The fabrication of my life filled with the wreckage of my self-destruction,
My downfall closing in quickly, I can taste defeat, like bile in my mouth
The flavor burns as it fills my mouth, I spit, foul though it may be,
I have unwillingly endured exposure to harsh realities, I can take no more.
Seclusion begins to soften my still raw emotions so I examine them up close.
Barriers stand on end, like a firewall, made of unyielding rocks and stones.
This time it will take more than charm and whit to break them down.
No big bad wolf to blow down my walls, strong in their assembly,
My refuge is sturdy, well built and formidable, and that is the way I need it.
Once again, I have restored my sanity, if only for the moment, and for now,
I will watch the daily lives of those around me, unable to participate, again.
One day I will rejoin the world, but for now I will stay behind my walls,
I will watch from afar and dream of the time I was on the outside,
Even if only for a moment in time, I was there and I tasted the air out there.
Born into this world as a humble, helpless Babe
Christ increased in wisdom and stature
Grew up in favour with both God and man
Baptised publicly by John the Baptist
Tempted by the devil, but overcame him
Preached the gospel of the kingdom of God
Befriended the publicans and the sinners
Turned the water into wine, did miracles
Cast out demons, healed all kinds of diseases
Backed up twelve fishermen as His disciples
Taught them, led them, and washed their feet
Spent three and a half years moulding them
Broken, He prayed in the garden of Gethsemane
His sweat as blood, such spiritual agony
Ready to do the will of God and drink the cup
Beaten and scourged on the way to Calvary
A crown of thorns placed upon His head
Spat upon, mocked, and smote by the soldiers
Bruised, He was crucified on the cruel Cross
He hung there with no form nor comeliness
Reviled by passers-by wagging their heads
Bereft and forsaken by His own Father
Carrying the sins of the entire world
He suffered and bled, but forgave and loved
Beseeching His Heavenly Father to receive His Spirit
Lord Jesus Christ gave up his ghost on the Cross
And the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom
Buried in a new rock sepulchre, the stone was rolled
The tomb was sealed and the watch was set
But on the third day, as prophesied, our Lord rose up
Behold, there was a great earthquake
The angel of the Lord descended from heaven
And rolled back the stone and sat upon it
Bewildered, the women heard him saying,
“Fear not, ye seek Jesus who was crucified,
He is not here, for He is risen, come see where they laid Him”
Brutal death could not chain our Lord,
He overcame it and appeared to His disciples
And was carried up into heaven
Believe on the Lord Jesus, He was crucified for our sins,
But He resurrected from the dead, never to die again
Now He sits on the right hand of God, interceding for our sins
Beloved, He will come back one day
Not as the Lamb, but as the Lion
To take His loved ones unto Himself
Before it is too late, accept Him into your heart
You will enjoy peace, love and joy, which this world can’t offer
Repent, believe and rejoice for the Lord Jesus Christ is alive.
9th April, 2022
For Regina McIntosh's "Easter" contest
Sometimes, reflections from my mirror,
recall when I slumbered at nature's nadir,
as naysayers whispered in whiskey breaths.
Bewildered, I wandered in the wilderness,
until the mercy of verse reversed the curse.
Poetry you've always been the legacy of my heritage,
a shimmering nimbus, where my words reside by petals,
but if this was my last poem,
it would be the death of an alchemist's magic.
There would be no potion to persecute my pain,
bleeding ink of wounds would have no quill mistress.
Yet, I yearn to leave evidence of my existence,
but my narration is not as lucid as
black pigment upon white pages,
because poetic colours have their own stories.
I'm tired from hiding behind idioms,
where metaphors drip in liquid lies,
veiled within tracing lines of heartbreak.
Whilst sleeping under cherry blossom trees,
I look back upon my life wondering
what purpose summons us,
as I've lost all faith in strange dreams coming true.
I've grown up surrounded by the scent of sorrow,
forsaken in seasonal spheres of fragility,
masticating upon mourning morsels,
adorning garlands of grief soaked in rainfall,
plundering like the tears of Earth,
but even when confusion composed its cruelty,
I fought back to rise, each time I fell.
There has always been pressure
from the heavyweight of darkness,
where I screamed songs of desperation,
as lamenting lyrics resembled emotions of a falling star.
When the breeze blew away the confetti of my stardust,
my heart remained like unblossomed florets -
so I became my own poetic gardener
and planted my own blooms.
Sins of humanity plague me into a withering leaf,
turning invisible, softly settling in sinister silence.
I search for a Godforsaken garden,
where my hands can heal fruitless soil.
Poetry, nobody feels like you,
yet, it's you I sacrifice, before my heart clasps,
as the soul sinks in ideologies of faith and fate.
I can't justify shadows with excuses from expression,
I'm letting go of bitter reflections from photographs.
as it's time to heal the scars from my bloody hands.
Wishing to remain quenched, but drenched in love,
so fate can prepare a grave for my sorrows.
I can't waste time wondering if I'll be remembered,
so, I wave goodbye, floating away like a feather,
executing the articulation of my senses.
Bring me a cup of Java, honey, and put some coffee in the water, will you?...
Whoa there! Bet you can feel the withering sarcasm in that simple phrase...
People, I welcome you to the world of crime novels by James Hadley Chase...
With cryptic titles like I'll Bury My Dead, it's a crime novel befitting even the dead...
The protagonists in every novel, Mr Chase humanized each of them in good stead...
As a crime writer, Mr Chase has no master, or even an equal of his calibre...
Dialogues, suave and cultured or in the low life lingo, is excellence beyond compare...
Most of all, the many believable twists and turns in every one of his crime story...
You'll empathise with the hero and the heroine, and root for them in each story...
What Is Better Than Money is yet another master yarn uniquely spun by Mr Chase...
About how a piano player bidding time tangled with a junky beauty with trilling vocals ....
It is amazing how you will identify with the struggling two bit piano player as he grapples...
With the opportunity of a lifetime to hitch his economic wagon on a less than perfect starlet..
In No Orchids For Miss Blandish, I remember rereading the same book twice over...
To be thrilled and to savour how the master story teller spun the story altogether...
Mind you, I was back then just a little boy, given access to the senior section of the library..
Faced with rows and decks of all kind of books, I was a bewildered boy lost in the library...
Then I spied a rather worn out hard cover book entitled No Orchids for Miss Blandish...
Small in print, yellowed in pages and looked slightly misbegotten, but the title intrigued..
Reaching home, I could not put down the book once I started reading that slim book...
I was thrilled, I was truly engrossed in a fascinating tale of crime found within a book...
Etched in my memory to this day, I recall vividly the awe and the joy in novels by Mr Chase...
Little wonder through the years I often read and reread crime novels spun by Mr Chase...
James Hadley Chase, crime story teller supreme, without any cheap graphic x rated scenes...
He is the ultimate maestro for story characters and crime tales that electrify your senses...
Readers, Mr James Hadley Chase, he's The Man for grippping realistic crime stories....!!!
Long ago in the short-time lively spring
In the grassy plains of a small island
Came from nonexistence a young sapling
Nurtured by the love of her mother’s hand
The world accepted her newfound nascence
Fueling her a love for joyfulness
Beaming out from the depths of her bright heart
A Happiness no being could contest.
With the blessings from the sapient world,
She quickly discovered a lifelong friend.
His solicitude for her unbounded,
They were surely a match made in heaven
They always walked together as one,
Carrying each other through life’s sojourn
Truly did the love between them abound
But all good times must arrive at an end
Her childhood soon sped by before her eyes
The novelty of memorable times
Fading into the dark depths of her mind
Pleasant memories like leaves in the wind
Her transition into adulthood near,
Deep concern for her friend’s future life flare
Taking no heed of her own life troubles,
She does what she can to help him succeed
At the zenith of springtime season’s bloom
She invited her dear friend to a club
A group of three girls all connected by
Their adoration of books and poems
It pleased her heart greatly to see her friend
Forming and bonding with new companions
Yet, unknown feelings of jealousy formed
As her indulgent desire for him grew
Like the swirling typhoons of the oceans,
The tsunamis that wash away cities,
Doubt flooded into her mentality
Confusing thoughts fogged rationality
She bottled up her true feelings tightly
Suppressed the complex emotions duly
Only ever showing her happy side
Wishing to see no concern from her friend
Each passing moment spent in the classroom
Watching his relationships with others
Deepening, evolving, and ascending
Left loneliness to consume her insides
For three days she tried hiding her sorrow
No longer could she veil her emotions
Despite her friend’s kind attempts to console
He only shatters her heart into shards
The following day, lying in her bed,
She looks up at her room’s ceiling and thinks
“Why get out of bed? Why am I still here?”
She recalls her friend, breaking into tears
That day, Sayori never came to school
Leaving her friend worried and bewildered.
In his concern, he traveled to her house
Only to find her hanging by the noose