Long Capitulated Poems
Long Capitulated Poems. Below are the most popular long Capitulated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Capitulated poems by poem length and keyword.
—The Last Tear Before Stone—
I retraversed the vale
Where anamnesis itself
Had forsworn my appellation.
The natal habitation remained unsealed,
Its taciturn chambers
Consecrating a silence
More primordial than bereavement.
Beyond the effaced thoroughfares,
A river had relinquished
Its fluency beneath immemorial stone.
One solitary scintilla endured—
The ultimal lachryma
Ere transience capitulated
Unto perdurance.
I reached.
And the self
I had sedimented
From laurels,
Certitudes,
And adamantine appellations,
Underwent its noiseless kenosis.
No empyrean responded.
The mountains perdured.
The telluric deep remained inexhausted.
Only possession,
Long enthroned within my grasp,
Abdicated.
Then,
Within that immaculate relinquishment,
An unbegotten Presence—
Without visage,
Without locution,
Without nominable essence—
Surpassed
Both nativity
And sepulture.
I departed
Bearing neither hierophany
Nor testament.
The river
Had never supplicated.
The stone
Had never required grace.
Let citadels
Be ingested
By Chronos.
Let sceptres
Revert to particulate oblivion.
Let every utterance
Be reabsorbed
Into the anteverbal silence.
Let every pilgrimage
Recede
Unto its telluric origin.
For ere the first river
Apprehended
The solar incumbency of flow,
The lachryma
Was already lithic.
And ere creation
Remembered water,
Lithos
Already
Was.
the moon commences its' illusion
it rides the crest fully
survivor of Roche's Limit
survivor of human prediction
filling the night with shadow
my early morning walks
the light in the distance
calls thru canopied jungle path
the setting moon
stepping on the soft white beach
where a silver highway plays
in the rippling water, i am
the human past who long ago
beheld such a sight
without the shaman's cheap trick
nor the cold touch of science
have accepted the moon just is
beautiful to behold
we let each other be
we are one and the same
dancing thru the universe
and when this is no more
we will be lip to lip
i do not know what God is
and have no such need
yet whatever it is
it is magnificent
the heavens live to die
and in that death
life finds itself again
my wishes, mere mortal longing
that so might i
even Rimbaud capitulated
the reprobates' fear of reprobation
and i have but one question
before the empyreal throne
is there in heaven, a moon
Norma's roof Santa Cruz 95
Goliath was a big threat to Israel
A giant with intimidating records
Of military prowess which turned Israelite soldiers
To a bunch of faithless cowards
And to an army of lily livered derelicts
As they capitulated in fear
And let the sleeping dog lie
While Goliath had his fill
Threatening God’s own army
But it took a lively faith and just a stone
To bring the mountain of a giant
Crashing to a disgraceful end
As David used faith as heavenly currency
To purchase heavenly grace
And brought the boastful philistine
To a dismal end
Are you faced with any life’s challenges?
Look back with faith on God’s track record in your life
And be filled with amazing strength and power
To overcome all Goliaths threatening your very existence
the moon commences its' illusion
it rides the crest fully
survivor of Roche's Limit
survivor of human prediction
filling the night with shadow
my early morning walks
the light in the distance
calls thru canopied jungle path
the setting moon
stepping on the soft white beach
where a silver highway plays
in the rippling water, i am
the human past who long ago
beheld such a sight
without the shaman's cheap trick
nor the cold touch of science
have accepted the moon just is
beautiful to behold
we let each other be
we are one and the same
dancing thru the universe
and when this is no more
we will be lip to lip
i do not know what God is
and have no such need
yet whatever it is
it is magnificent
heaven lives to die
and in that death
life finds itself again
my wishes, mere mortal longing
that so might i
even Rimbaud capitulated
the reprobates fear of reprobation
and i have but one question
before the empyreal throne
is there in heaven, a moon
Norma's roof Santa Cruz 95
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
The orator grins at his drunken audience through make up and mask
Opens the cabaret’s veil in the theatre of forsaken minds on the run
Champagne flows from magic fountains while Berlin falters from grace
The wild thirties dance to an apocalyptic sound of paralized conscience
Outside the toothbrush moustache commandeers Svastika’s march
Torches set light to mislead passion and houses of semitic prayer
Crystal breaks as brown shirts parade their poisonous conquest
Heil to the savage Führer when ‘reality is something to rise above’
Pirouettes swirl on stilettos while boots squash compassion and lives
Caviar evades judeo-bolshevik scapegoats and trains to the camps
Blond blue-eyed conception born to inhabit Lebensraum on the map
Feeds into industrialist’s dream of war effort and armoured production
The white flag of surrender stuck into skull bones and belligerent stride
No meaningful rise of resistance only raised arms and ‘following orders’
When God capitulated and sang his swan song to the sound of hell fire
And prophets of doom cashed in on gas chambers and golden teeth
It’s easy in hindsight to lift the pen from an immaculate ink-pot of courage
But where would I have been when ashes in Auschwitz were ascending
When evil tore into the last bit of humanity in a vile coup of disgrace
As I look into the mirror of history I reflect on the cowardice in my soul
21st February 2020
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
Line from Cabaret the musical base on Christopher Isherwood’s 'Good-bye to
Berlin'
Theme for the poem ‘Reality is something to rise above' Liza Minelli
They said the dreams carried messages of you,
They said I should no longer wait,
that I should hurry to your bedside.
Though they wished to soften the truth,
everything stood bare before me —
Death had already wrapped itself around you.
I accepted the pain as your steps drifted from mine,
I accepted the fading of your scent
as it was carried away by a grieving wind.
I breathed it in and believed,
I prepared myself to release you,
even though releasing you was not easy.
But I had already accepted it —
Illness had long been wrestling you,
harvesting the remains of your strength.
To me, it was a storm of torment;
to you, it was the rest you longed for,
the loosening of pain that held you captive,
pain that narrated your suffering.
Seeing you at peace, I capitulated and
accepted too.
You have gone — do not worry.
I will keep our little ones safe,
I will raise them, protect them.
Do not worry — we accepted it together.
Your path is the path that awaits us all.
Rest now,
for I have accepted.
I stroll a silvered landscape
where trees are silhouetted spears,
stabbing memories of days first walked with you . . .
ice traceries, firey strands of longing lace,
wrap the crumbling dream,
like brittle, curling tinsel from childhood holidays.
A burning stream of cold tumbles seaward,
dislodging jagged stones, desire and disgust;
wounding barren feet.
Backward . . .
I trace pink-tinged footprints
along the line of demarcation
where love once gamboled in innocence
before the moon capitulated
and collapsed into the sea.
Lovely she was, but she is no more.
Copyright August 3, 2018
she had put a band on her wrist
in case she got lost on the journey
‘missing me but don’t return to sender’
no name or address just a simple message
a foresworn identity label of lost track
her abandoned reality checked out
dumped but not stranded she vacated
the shell of a wreck that left her misplaced
had surrendered to storms high and dry
she would have to relinquish misgivings
abjure past convictions and trespass
into the wilderness of broken repair
disavow compass needle and star chart
drift from transgressions into unknowable
recovery of courage in a wide open sea
with no emergency flares she capitulated to
forces beyond her control and shredded
the life buoy of sunken dreams and despair
flood gates were open as she shed one last tear
a carcass bobbing in wild water and white rapids
drift wood cutting deep inside her final remains
she was scared as everyone had left her side
‘too much chaos and dysfunction’ they said
‘she’ll destroy you while spiraling down’
a fool’s ship in quarantine flying a yellow flag
of black death and purulent contamination
a hobgoblin’s delight but perilous and vile
she felt disowned and homeless cast aside
rejected and discarded with no one to blame
other than her own miserable deception
after years of rip tides and dangerous currents
she crashed on breakwater emotions and pain
overcame the sea wall and held on to the shore
a disused fisherman’ cottage offered her shelter
the fireplace warmed her bones and contempt
thawed her mind and rekindled a weary soul
a glance in the mirror of hope showed her mercy
and revealed what an epic path she had taken
blissful abandon and a band on scarred joint
14th June 2020
No more creativity deemed on
the exercise of rotten faculty
Nor burning intelligence’s
penalty
Nor repression sold as
suppression
Nor dissemination of distortion
I shall be content at dawn
To take my leave
Subjugation’s tyranny’s ambition
It’s combat?
Humanity’s mission
Submission’s antithesis is
faction
Behold as protest is deemed
agitation
As justice refuses man’s
gratitude
Take my head be-header
For this truth you shall never
erase
For I am decapitated but not
capitulated
Speak not of blood ties when
you only bleed lies
Repression is a passport to
humanity’s extinction
I’m neither angel nor devil
Nor saintly nor evil
I am human
Striving for what’s right
Enemies call me cold
I belong in no shelf
I put no labels to myself
Save to say love is my way
When walls brought stuffy
indoctrination
And repression funded mental
assassination
Humanity created a blowing
wind
I climb beyond the human
heights
When I'm telling the truth
Explosive in the extreme
I’m called subversive
When i’m only creative
They call me kinky
When i’m only inky
I raise an objection
And get a rejection
When the best brains become
exterminated
And purity poison to
contaminate
For if the worst doesn’t come
to the best the sun shall
rise in the west..
Without Reason and Without Cause
Doodle around and then relax;
then doodle some more and pass.
And hope tomorrow won’t hide the sun,
though your course already has run.
Cease this whimsical nonsense
—liberate and act, not the fool,
but prove your genius,
and defy the character of rule.
I withheld truth and capitulated;
without reason and without cause.
And abetted false narrative,
and now life is questionable?
Like a tree frozen in winter,
yielding fruit rotten on the branch;
in punishment, my mind crawls
through slums where I tell everyone,
“Chump change. I was never important.
Let them pirouette in my face.
Hasta la vista! (Until we meet again!)”
Investigators cordon off the area
speaking in broken English,
“The facts speak for themselves.”
Sloths, like their animal predecessors,
welcome closure after the occurrence.
***
Notes:
Reasonable suspicion is more or less a hunch or guess without substantial evidence that a crime has the appearance of having been committed and justifies further investigation.
Probable cause is the logical conclusion after observation or investigation, supported by facts and circumstances, that a crime has been, is being, or will be committed.