Long Blare Poems
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Full of marketable commodities like xebec.
Waves of pure affection are slashed mercilessly.
Feelings: a sea upon which to wander carefree.
Devil swears to be a dove to trick people cursorily.
The doll dances on a string of yellow-golden hair.
It dyes its lips crimson with the blood of its lost prey.
It attracts people with its flirtatious smile and low blare.
Because of her, falls even the most religious people.
The ashes of destroyed rags cover the black eyes.
A sparkling smile covers Beelzebub's smile.
Her mistress is responsible for her spiritual slave.
A dark soul lurked deep within his radiant skin style.
Silicon's enticingly boosted slopes were xyloid-brittle.
Sword-like claws dig into the soul in sensual delight.
Obsession can be generated by female objects.
She does terrible things to helpless people fight.
The floral fantasies all turn xerophilous and prickly.
Salacious downpours became unending floods of sobs.
A terrible memory of a lost love left him feeling empty.
The reverberation of her laughing still throbs.
Written: September 15, 2022
Tragi comedy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Word bank:
*xebec-also spelled zebec, was a Mediterranean sailing ship that was used
mostly for trading.
*Beelzebub- Satan, the Devil.
*xyloid- resembling qualities of wood
*xerophilous- A xerophile is an extremophilic organism that can grow and
reproduce in conditions with low availability of water.
castle bound
castle masked
masked by clouds
masked by snow
snow holding horrors
snow dancing in candlelight
candlelight deepening the hollows
hollows of deep sunk eyes
hollows of alcoves
alcoves with writhing lovers
alcoves with frosted pink floors
floors ripe for waltzes
floors hiding trap doors
doors open to dizzy guests
doors to back stairs
stairs to the turret
stairs to the dungeon
dungeon awash in the deep river's flow
dungeon where boats bring up guests below
below there are moans
below pain meets pleasure
pleasure gowned in satin
pleasure in black tie
tie the knots loosely
tie wrists behind thighs
thighs in silken hose
thighs open wide
wide eyed maidens shiver
wide worldly men gather
gather to watch the Mistress rise
gather them up
up, up the stairs
up to the minions who wait
wait as the snow blows through
wait as tangos blare
blare with the wolves howls
blare, bellow, and roar
roar as the dead dance
roar as the timbers flame
flame in the fireplace
flame in the living heart
hearts at the devil's ball
hearts soon to beats their last
last dance
last kiss
kiss at midnight
midnight feeding
feeding
midnight
They are lined up along the long hallways
wheelchairs protruding, blocking the corridors.
The aroma of antiseptic spray attempts to mask
the pungent smell of body odors.
The loud blare of the big screen TV
reverberates from the empty day room,
while medical staff busily sort paperwork
behind the sterile counter tops.
Each ancient face, each frail body
huddled beneath their blankets
reflect a unique history, a life story
that is waning with the passage of time.
Men and women, now trapped within their
weakened bodies, once vibrant and strong
now confined and consigned to wait
away from the public eye, burning daylight.
Written on 4/28/2015
2:45 am
I set my case in the corner, empty the picks from my pocket
and kick off my shoes, it was a great night
She tosses her purse on the couch, blows me a kiss
and heads to the kitchen, I love watching her
I can hear her humming that song, our song
A few candles lit, she returns with a couple of beers, some lemon and salt
Plops down on the couch next to me with a giggle
Puts her feet up on the coffee table
A swallow of beer, knowing I’d rather swallow her
Leaning over I kiss her, soft and warm
She climbs over my lap, straddling me
Kissing more passionate, more intense
She pulls off my Kurt Cobain T and caresses my chest
Her moist lips find my neck, it becomes hot in here
I remove her shirt over her up stretched arms,
set it aside and hold her close
Her skin feels so good on mine
as our lips once more collide in passion’s desires
My mouth traces the outline of her beautiful body,
she grips my head and guides me
Flickering candle light dances, creating twin rhythmic shadows
I grab a lemon slice, dripping its tart juice on her flesh
It tastes so good, her skin becomes my lemonade
as her love adds just the right amount of sugar
“That’s for the beer dummy,” she laughs
but she doesn’t stop me, why would she
Her hands on my shoulders, she leans back
and her soft moans are now my music, her body my stage
Biting my ear she whispers, “Rock me, rock star,”
She knows I like that, even though I’m not, she makes me feel that way
I stand, lifting her with me, her legs wrap my waist, kissing,
arms tightly about my neck, and carry her to the bed
Sirens blare outside the window, normal for this hour in the city,
as we fall atop the gold comforter, collapsing as one
I gaze into her gorgeous eyes, still sparkling even in the darkness
“I love you Baby” I say, she smiles that enchanting smile and sighs…
”Prove it rock star, play me”
Please check out parts 1, 2 and 3 if you get a chance
The 6th Street I am talking about is in Austin Texas. It is the center of the musical world in that city. You can find any kind of music you like being played live in any of a number of different clubs on this street
There are 4 parts to this series if you care to see them. Actually there are 5, but # 5 would probably be a bit much for this site.
Violent offenders released without bail
a senseless reform, it unfailingly fails
Victims walk alone in dark alleys at night
then rant on the news 'bout the lack of streetlights
Movies at theatres feature a killing a minute
Hollywood's culture of death implicated in it
Crude rap songs glorify every nasty habit imaginable
blare from sidewalks and streets uninhabitable
Guns so easy to score on the meanest of streets
adolescents own more than the cops on the beat
Single mothers on drugs, absent fathers in jail
young kids left untended, what do 'values' avail
Do murders seem senseless ~ They're so often not
They happen for good reason in the society we've got
Up and down, up and down, up and down
I don’t know if I have any more energy for
Up and down
If the line would flatten
I could finally rest
A masked woman wearing scrubs
Fights my inclination for slumber
But, sleep equals peace
My lungs and head droop
Alarms blare
I hear mumbled words
Something about rousing my oxygen levels
I breathe the shape of a box
A trick learned from a Seal
It works as prescribed
Briefly
But, also adds weights to my eyes
The black beckons
More voices
Persuading
For a return to deep inhalations
Inspiration illuminates and
Instead
I sing
Laughter and confusion
They believe they are witnessing another
Drug induced performance
However,
I
Am
Lucid
They don’t understand
I’ve dwelt in darkness
Many times before
I’ve tried to disappear
Into its obscurity but,
For reasons yet revealed
Someone
Keeps shining a spotlight
On me
On everybody
So, I croon
Only a few notes initially
My oxygen spikes
Astonishment
Giggling turns into song requests
A Frank Sinatra classic was my first
Fully awake
Stability
With challenges
Ups and downs, ups and downs, ups and downs
I’m so tired
Nevertheless,
I’m on stage
The spotlight shines and
The traditional theatrical battle cry insists
The show must go on
The facets of love.
I love you, and your face loves itself
for its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The way you walk, the pavements adore you
Rain shies away not to make your hair wet.
I love you, and your face loves itself.
When you cross the street horn bleats
by themselves, white cars turn pink
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The sun doesn’t burn your skin makes
it golden glows in the dark
till one day the mirror tells of a wrinkle
you know years are ganging on you
your enemy is time, wait in the wings
The furrows settle on your forehead
I love you but your face doesn’t love itself
Car horns do not blare anymore
Get off the road, you lazy old woman.
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure.
The rippled lake ebbs strangely silent
while memories cling to me---
there's not a tinge of you here anymore
and my fiery pulse now withers:
I roam upon the dunes of time
as current’s surge echoes like waves' blare,
your indifferent glance marks
a broken oath without even one phrase told...
How I feel heart's nudge
this mindful certainty allowing me
to grasp the quicksand of truth--
You are not coming back, ever,
that from instinct's light, I finally concede
when quelled language
numb as a crest unobtrusively waning
-----------------means a goodbye not uttered.
For Richard Lamoureux 's Contest
Honourable Mentions Worth Mentioning
Re-posted 01/05/2019
---------------
This is perhaps one of my poems which touched
me dearly when I wrote it. I felt the anguish
of not being able to speak what the heart needed
to express by using metaphors and symbolism.
With sincerity, I did not expect to get an HM. Thank you.
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?
since this brother in law rarely emails,
ye may scrunch countenance puzzled,
or on verge of emitting flatulence,
that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack),
would possibly find ja propelled,
thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly
sepulchral tintinnabulation
(where for greater effect
yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats
in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back
to the House of the rising sun),
BUT...gnome hatter,
no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme,
why aye dash communique
minus virtual trumpeting blare
(sorry, but in the interest
of belated birthday cheer,
without computer generated imagery)
rendered hoop fully readable,
sans black and white Scottish matted pixels
constituting beloved appellation
unsure how to address ye perfectly clear
while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ,
how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences
comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying
to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable
(of course) with flair
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS
TO SCREAM so ye kin hear
soap hull ease excuse this incurable
Harris scribe with thinning heir
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me
burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair
still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer
replaced instead by vinyl city
all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time)
open farmland did dis app pear
so...a gam bulling gambit
to avoid moseying down Level Road...
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness
with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead,
and mainly wish ye another birth year!
adieu...from math tha hue