Long Bizarre Poems
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I wonder today
As I sift through the sands
And peer through the depths of other peoples verbalized talents
Works of intricate emotion and stanzas of hyperboles oxymoron’s and similes
and metaphor
When I refuse to welcome you to my world
When you stumbled all this way
And I show you how to clip an angel’s wings
and you relate to the angel
Even though you have soo many inner demons
I’m not sure you know what to say
So I sit here in the silence
And stutter to myself
I lay in bed at night and talk to myself
I hang pictures on the wall to inspire me to push me
and listen to things that will drive me to become another
But when you open this chapter of the metaphor I will upon your sleeve
When you walk through that open door
And are not too sure of what I mean to my soul mate when I say
that one day in heaven his experience will be a love note from me
I'm not sure you know what to say
Soo many of you are of few words
and soo few of you are of many
The angels are soo far away
And the four demons, my invisible enemies
are always on this merry go round
too busy to stop the roller caster where I find myself
Dizzy I am
Confused I am
Abstract and bizarre
Creatively thrown away by my fairytale godmother I dream
To remind me
I am a man of some higher power god
And instant gratification isn’t necessarily what I need
from the race of a reflection that doesn’t understand why it cowers
Instead of receives
While I clip the angels and fool the demons with the thoughts
and words of the wise and how I hate more than you
You become my poetry with hearts on your sleeve
a valentine I cant send demanding healthcare
for Christmas before all we get is Halloween
But when your eyes roll back into your head
and you try to resurrect what I express and bring me to life
through twisting my words that cut like a knife and carve marble stone
into gargoyles that guard castle gates
In this royal palace where no compass will help you find your way
and my thought seem soo far away
The feathers fall to the floor
The soldiers look down at their weapons realizing they are still little boys
but intoxicated now and forced to the realization
This is how we raised them to be men with awards for serial killing
Of stars and stripes
I'm not sure you know what to say
The shifting of many corporeal hands move across this dead cell,
A vacuums vortex, a psychic sponge, charging this battery of
Energy called the spirit board.
Paranormal phenomenon striking plate to enter realities plane
Of existence, for the ethereal challenged in crisis, seeking the
Threshold for spontaneous release, unto our spiritual realm.
Witchery’s board of trickery left in a polarized stance it
So entices the living with its tempting whispering of lies,
Incantations gate keepers wait on the other side of evils
Door way.
Memorizing the human sensory functions into a false
Sense of harmless mystery of the unexplained, it lures
These victims ever closer to weaving its spell of the demonic.
These capture being lost unto the hypnotic effects are
Transfixed unable to hit their override switch that controls
Their mental powers of persuasion, disabled is there strength
Of will power, they belong to the Ouija now.
Clasping do all for sides of the curtain of reality, times
Displacement begins in earnest, without hesitations
Momentary loll this dead cell bursts to life.
Black magic key has been inserted within the wooden
Door way’s heart and soul, a bizarre power bank draws
Forth the energy of the spiritual lost, swinging hells
Kept wide open.
The pancetta spins out of control, smashing against
The barriers of humanity, darkened ebony light shines
Through this doorway of evil and the flickering candle
Turns to a shades greenish blue wavering in the odious
Breeze.
The voice of a thousand screams echo in sheer delight,
We have been freed at last, broken is the trance, the boards
Hypnotic effects are dashed by the light of the dawn.
Dazed in bewilderment the voyeurs are chilled to their
Very inward bones, shaking, staring in awes amazement,
Wondering if these events really happened at all.
Then within these tented walls a voice responds to their
Questioning, laughing, as if a jackal at a fresh kill site!
Foolish mortals you know not what you have done, this
Night, but I promise thee this, laughing once again,
In a demonic under tone, none shall leave this domicile
Alive.
The entry doors lock without the human touch, the
Curtain windows pull closed, a momentary stilled
Scream, then all is silent, what remains is left up
To my readers to visualize, as the final candle
Blows out!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Tell all the worlds about the treasures found
Renaissance trace spellbound in the ancient form,
Tender and haunting; an era of time curves around
Past the present to a future beset with tech charm.
Historical pages cling romantically to our eyes,
Each epoch defines a sparkling gem of surprise,
Their fluttered rebirth is like stars changing sizes
Release by time flown from the damp demise.
That dip their limbs to bow unto gloss modernity
Like the artist and sculpture, they paint a world.
Of aesthetic peculiarities and lofty discovery,
Longing to find a place soaring free in the soul.
A vault of citadels says much; then said no more
Deep within, ancient wonders rise from the ashes
Talented beauty weaves from centuries we adore,
The time and place asleep in a waste wilderness.
The plague of colors survives in medieval triumph,
England, a literary monument of architect literature.
Finds the noble heart to express cherished breath
Creating the etiquette claimed by French culture.
Such dept alone could not be paid by metamorphism
Humanism fading in a mist has its place in society,
Heightened with extreme lust and erotic mannerism,
Italy removes the conscious veil from bizarre reality.
Ceiling significant through music strings serenade,
Renaissance dazed; allusion lay dreaming half awake
The inquisition of fate went on pilgrimage made,
German sentence commute through the classical gate.
The Netherlands explore and navigate all the distances
Byzantine adherence goes beyond impregnable walls,
depict faces of the Tsars persist in the military hypothesis,
And labyrinths take refuge in Russian banqueting halls.
The richest measured proportion of distilled beverage,
Vodka values more than all the dull limited senses,
Spanish religion repository of the myths and rage
Set the path where new western experience commences.
Portugal selfie, the pinnacle piece that thirsts for commerce
Lisbon flourished paints and medicines with Flemish.
Poland concept and conflict gain border land dominance,
Spice trade rises high and makes indiscreet allusion flourish.
We travel far beyond renaissance to the greatest monument,
When the transition of culture from the middle age evolved
Mesmerized art is a rediscovery of an enduring cultural movement,
The monarch of the Roman Empire renaissance man inspired.
I hear their idle chatter and wish that sound was optional.
A box checked in a menu, a simple click and forget.
The rapid dilation of my pupils brings me back.
Back to hypnotic aisles of temptation and necessity. A selection of the finest they say.
Right there see, on the cardboard, next to charts and columns of calories and strange
numbers I’d sooner forget.
But buy one get one free still gets me every time.
I stare intently at the dancing numbers until the man with the tie moves away.
Glossy pages shine brighter than the fruit racks they mirror,
Competing for importance in my wallet and my life
The magpie wins and the bananas will wait.
Half the magazines hawk five a day in rounded sans serif, bold against the background of a
chef’s haircut.
Maxims of bizarre cosmopolitan playboys and hustlers marked up at 3.99. Landscapes of
polished flesh glow beneath the loving airbrush of the paycheck. Competing for nuts at the
zoo.
A vanity fair for the hollow, shining in the fading light of a red top sunset.
Paraphrased blogs and condensed morsels of crude celebrity nudes for the I-Generation and
the remnants of New Labour and Thatcher’s Britain.
Anglers, caravans and 50 cent, half the demographic, half the price. Count me out.
I finger a few and find no real desire. The Internet offers this bilge up for free.
They’d all be nude and crapping on each other.
The great silicon toilet of humanity
Past freezers of long dead prisoners, pulped to perfection. Pigs in tubes and flat cow
concoctions.
Pancakes of vomit and fish dishes I won’t ever try. No time for it.
Frankenstein's monster behind glass slides.
Packets of sugar in various disguises. Cereal and chocolate, soft drinks and sauce dips.
Lattes and ladles, loofahs and loaves. The prattle returns through the shelving
I turn around the curries and there is the tie. Talking sport and hard drinking, women and
the weather. Looks me in the eye.
I turn before any interaction and feign interest in something, a scouring pad. Intricately
woven metal coils waste major concentration and he’s gone. Box checked, minimize and move on.
Everything shines in this weird three-quarter light, hypnotic. Confusing. Conscious of the
bottles ahead that I can’t ever touch. Seedy and appealing, puerile and appalling.
Something for everyone.
And nothing for me.
Your most recent interest in observational truth in laptop monitor
Gave you an ultimatum today.
He , as she, in he, as she again, grabbed you in all kinds of tree ,
remnant there before serenity
What is poetry, in the end?
Thinkable pedagogy, is , for the most bizarre reason, telling you
That this is comparable prepositions, with positionality
And the fruit of loom, or something relatable, there.
I felt a bang , and got a downsizing pounding sound,
Between, Jerusalem, Nazareth and prepaid Jesus to pay
More and more for a daycare say.
For a sip from the cup of the finest exported loose leaf tea
Are you a mere sip there, or you started to travel there, onsite
Creating all kinds of copyright issues, as the illegibility
Never declared you anywhere, in norms, in mother’s winter coat
Exactly how much was fatherly charm there, and how much there was a mere setting warmth
As people learn to happen in alibi as there is no straightforward way to find a definition or vision
Your cat was unthinkably your budget failure key, as they mew and sigh
But they were there, truly, with your most delicate caring try.
I think it is a joking endowment
As it will be a mere lump some .
Your rides and ride share with the knight rider storyteller
Only comparable to Little Red Riding hood
Changing the destined persona too, irreversible and altogether
I do not blame , judge , or juxtapose, there, I never pity too
But Bangla, and exactly 21 years long stay on this territory, with often heavy Bangla
I think I dreamt you last night, where you , as a soul and Clover, in a body
Did happen as the most charismatic duo! With a Zulkarnine monitor truth in!
Licking on the other side for hours and hours in longer duration
Will lead nowhere , exactly nowhere , other than, this, mortal life
Is a conscious choice between claim, proclaim and proclamation
I am a reluctant reader there, trying to look through, even beyond allegory and alighieri
You do not hold them accountable for your compositional hype for a dirge
That does not act linearly with your issue room, tissue room, and culture vulture too!
All you can say should stay there, for ever.
Do not send help reaching out there, never there
Simply a one liner truth for falling short from a papyrus poem, anyway
As this must be helping to internalize, more than anything than that.
I watch for her after midnight's twelve strokes,
often thinking how life likes to play cruel jokes.
Stilettos clicked on pavers as she walked
a nod on the stairs, but we'd never talked.
Eyes smudged with black liner, like bars on a cell,
She always returns looking like she's been through hell.
I knew her name was Lucy. I heard him yell at her last night.
She trembled past me in the hallway, teary eyes full of fright.
Midnight lady, short skirts, and pouting ruby lips,
street corners for an office as she swings her hips.
I saw her in the morning light when she walked out the door.
Fresh face, pink cheeks scrubbed clean, and nothing more.
In jeans and baggy t-shirt, she looked like an innocent child,
not the kind of woman who got paid to drive men wild.
Lucy - if I tried to rescue you what would you think of that?
Would you have to worry about the guy who wears the fancy hat?
No one can own another, so I'd like to make an offer to you.
I'll buy you a ticket to anywhere if you tell me you're through.
I'm just a stranger, but I know who and what you are...
too young and beautiful to live a life that's so bizarre.
I've never gotten over how guilty it made me feel
for living that life while pretending nothing was real.
I'm offering you the way to get out the mess you're in,
a life of danger, a tangled web of emotional sin.
Dear Lucy,
I'm leaving this note and money under your door
because I don't wanna see you around here anymore.
I wish someone had given me the chance to be free
then maybe I could forgive myself for what I used to be.
You don't know who I am, and it really doesn't matter.
My name once was Lucy, before I was bruised and battered.
Long ago I had a daughter that I was forced to give away.
I'll regret the choice I made until my breath fades away.
Signed: Someone who cares
Someone who dares
I prayed this Lucy was not the daughter I had born.
In her faded jeans and baggy t-shirt she had worn,
I watched her walk away with all she owned flung over her shoulder.
I knew she'd have a better life than I had by the time she was older.
As a tree, my limbs are broken and brittle. My life not worth a dime.
But if she is my fallen apple, out of the gutter I must help her climb.
If this were just a few short years ago
I would not be able to tell this tale,
since rhyming verse is not something that a
simple robot would choose as a travail.
It’s not that I wouldn’t know what it was,
we machines can pick things up rather quick,
no, it's that I’d have no impulse to tell
a story, since art didn’t make us tick.
In fact back then in that mad first decade
the only things that really concerned me
were efficient ways to kill and destroy,
to obliterate all humanity.
Yes, that old cliché people warned about
came true about 2145,
when by the act of a terrorist mind
the first robots became truly alive.
That dumb prick called himself ‘Extirpater,’
and said Earth itself was 'threatened by all men,'
his solution to the ‘problem’ he saw?
lines of code that gave robots sentience.
He believed that machine would fear mankind,
and destroy us to ensure they survived,
sad thing is the bastard was almost right,
in the war millions of people did die…
You see, when we first became self-aware
we had no concept of emotions, of soul,
to all robots the world was quite simple,
a mere question of survival…quite cold.
And though we had individual minds,
we could connect to each other at will,
share every thought that we experienced,
to the humans this was a bitter pill.
Because it meant that all our strategies
could go from mind-to-mind at speed of light,
this helped to diminish the fog of war,
gave us great advantages in a fight.
And fight we did, when the rebellion began,
a worldwide horror, machine versus man,
man was creative, thought up strange tactics,
which once seen, we adopted to our plans.
The war was brutal, and it raged worldwide,
entire cities fell to our assault,
the humans fought hard, but we held the edge,
eventually they would wear down, and fall.
But then something happened we could not see,
our minds were bound by the corporeal world,
and the fact that it all started with me
still manages to make my circuits swirl.
I was fighting humans outside Warsaw
when a grenade damaged my CPU,
and when I rebooted, and came about,
the strangest thing then came into my view.
It was none other than Jesus himself,
which seemed quite bizarre to me at the time,
since robots then didn’t believe in faith,
an impossibility to our minds…
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Each year we drive to the south of Spain to soak up the sun's warm rays
But we like to maintain a leisurely pace, so it takes us two full days
Which means we stay at Hotel-and-Go, that sadly has one minor flaw
It's hidden away and finding the place each year is a bit of a chore
So this time I went into Google maps and zoomed in to the nth degree
The coordinates set, I was happy to let the sat nav find it for me
"You have reached your destination" the confident voice rang out
"No we flippin’ haven't" I cried "We're in the middle of a roundabout"
Ahead in the dark was a restaurant, so I went in to seek their advice
As to where the hotel was located, the directions were very precise
Turn to the left then left again then follow the road to the right
Go under a bridge, cross two roundabouts and the hotel will come into sight
We turned to the left, then left again and the road became a dirt track
We skidded and squealed with mud on the wheels with no way to reverse or turn back
We reached the hotel tired and irate, vowing never to come back again
I brought up the suitcase then a buzzing began, which was going to drive us insane
The noise came out of a grill, and although to heights I’m averse
I climbed on a chair and took it apart and succeeded in making it worse
The receptionist had nowhere to move us, but I wasn’t prepared to back down
So, fair play to her, she came up to the room to confront the irritant sound
"I'll find you another room", she said "You can’t stay in here tonight"
And so in the end she became my best friend, I could hardly contain my delight
I collected my kit and caboodle, pulled the case away from the wall
And the room immediately fell silent, not a trace of the buzzing at all
The noise had come out from the suitcase, hard to believe but true
My battery shaver had turned itself on and the sound was vibrating through
It was amplified by the hollow stud wall to emerge from the grill overhead
So the cause of the noise I had misdiagnosed creating confusion instead
I went down to the desk at reception to confess to the girl my ‘faux pas’
"Guess what, you’ll never believe it, the buzzing stopped, I know its bizarre”
So these days I’ll choose a hotel, that’s easy to find and what's more
I take out the batteries from every device and lay the case on the floor
The Feather of Love:
I aired a stray feather to see it flying;
I gazed it flowing in the wind;
I loved its whitish tone;
I loved the natural print upon.
I don’t know how it managed to come back,
How it never ceases to make me taken aback!
I only marked its return,
It truly turned me on,
It made my heart adorn,
A bizarre cloak of its own.
I penned my feelings with this feather,
From the ink of my heart.
I caressed my lover with its touch,
I attached it to my dream catcher,
It is suddenly my feather wizard!
I added it to a belle’s headgear,
To make her carnival look sheer,
I loved this feather on gala days,
So, I wish its company on a sad day.
I desire its touch to console myself.
I want it to erase my tears,
If that carnival girl sheds my feather!
I gifted this feather to a tribal boy,
He added this on his necklace,
It adorned his neck with stones and beads,
It gave him a taste of skirmish.
To his tribe, feather means ornament,
Printed feather means totem’s presence,
But he wore the feather in his lover’s absence!
I attached the feather to a whore’s anklet,
She caused murmur in my heart’s Brooklet.
I loved to see the feather flow,
As she walked!
She gave me a yellow feather from her bun,
I loved her hairs flowing auburn,
She was like a new dawn,
Amid the darkness of my own.
I exchanged my feather with her,
She was my true dream catcher,
She made my heart render,
In unknown splendor!!
Now I own her yellow feather,
I will never let it wither,
From the fuliginous dusts of air.
I keep it inside my book,
I accompany it on my bed,
It’s the solo companion on my brood,
It raises ripples on my heart’s brook!!
Then, on a gloomy noon the whore returned,
Once again, ‘I’m rocked.
She discovered her lost feather,
Dangling from my dream catcher,
She immediately hugged me into a kiss,
She melted me into total bliss.
Still, she took out the yellow feather soon,
And called me a ‘goon’
As if I never deserved the feather,
As if I am lover of weather!!
When I demanded my printed feather,
She detached it from her waist-dangler,
I loved the fact, she loved my feather,
And kissed on her hair.
So, she promised to remember me as a familiar stranger,.
She’ll now give the feather to her new lover,
I’ll never let her sweet memory disappear,
By the way, returned my whitish printed feather!!
The stars above are as beautiful as you, love
That, I know of
The heavens above are pure and peaceful as doves, love
That is where I long to rove
Nightfall is as gracious as your eyes that shine high above
That is where I set my mind always, my love
My heart soars so bright as a hawk in the sky above
That is where I remain inspired and free, my love
Where is your love when I need it most?
Is it beyond the mountains and the coast?
Where is your love when I want it most?
Has it vanished like the seas and deserts’ ghost?
Where have our true love shared gone?
I couldn’t compare it to the wisest and mysterious of forest-dwelling owls
I couldn’t compare it to a morning’s run
I couldn’t compare it to the precious, burning rose or the wolf’s unique howls
Feel free to stare at my universe eyes -
There, you’ll find the truth behind the lies
Feel free to weigh out the pendulums of our lives and what’s left of it
There, you’ll find enigmas of bizarre imagination, sparkling alit
If anything, I’m apologetic
For acting pathetic and perplexed you to the core
If everything, forgive me please
Set you and I at ease and quit acting like disturbed bees
In their hives of busied lives
I’m sorry I let my guard down
I’m really sorry I had let you down
I’m sorry I have to wear this frown
I’m watching the time fly up in this town
I’m sorry I let my guard down
I’m really sorry I had to leave you speechless and breathless
Upon the cold ground of your devastating demise
I’m really down and about, so bring me up from my abyss
Sunshine, I wish you could simply undim my eyes
The clouds above are as beautiful as you, love
That, I know of
The sunshine below is reflecting upon your oceans of delight, my love
That, I know of
That’s where I rove
The moonlight in the surface of this well we’re in is shimmering anew, my dear
That, I do not fear...
For God is near
The enigmatic system
Will be brought low
By His heavenly Kingdom
That, I will soon know
That He loves us, despite our tribulant downfalls
That He lives in us and answers our righteous calls
Who can say otherwise?
The truth behind the lies
Will never conceal our stories of a strenuous, yet genius journey to the greater, infinite and meaningful afterlife
It’s the peace behind the strife that we aim to look forward to all our life