Long Codex Poems
Long Codex Poems. Below are the most popular long Codex by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Codex poems by poem length and keyword.
"The Stain Crusaders"
Plath left the pages long ago
and Bacharach’s Blue-on-Blue
is an ineffectual softer numb-shade-of-Blue
dear green green Anthropocene
this much is true
with all the I love you’s
the wandering crusaders
are far far removed
sitting atop their soap boxes
sudsing up all the rooms
the silent stains in the poetic
are hard to remove
Ajax came coding unseen
like anticeptic borax
scrubbing out the irrelevance
dear green green Anthropocene
Shakespeare was never here
just a codex with a recipe
we seldom heed
most never read
the page book marked
dog-eared
maybe tomorrow
for the forget:
“My words fly up,
my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts
never to heaven go.”
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”
“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
An auburn glow
of freckled comeliness
not young not old
a little thick set
like a mature cat
When we pass a book
between us
our fingertips withdraw
scalded by small print
The room is crowded
but it is far away
like a story in a closed volume
We are alone
beyond the codex of morality
We both know
that I want to lay her down
on this tiled civic floor
to imprint a passion
upon a mute press
There is an understanding
a regard
that fast birds
and slow elephants have
for mutual journeys
I envision
her creamy thighs
lofted high
her sensible skirt
pulled over her head
as we grunt sotto voce
between aisles K to Q
Ancient guardian of the sacred essence,
You wander through the taciturn void of slumbering souls
Where the shadow of truth gravely trickles into hieroglyphs,
An affection imprinted,
Upon the white colossi, cloaked in moss, who once
Reflected in faith lofty secrets,
The signatures of visionaries of yore
Howl an ode to knowledge,
Then beg, like an elixir, the heart of endless vigil
To chant a resurrection,
A living codex of verbs deeply carved into existence
To break free from the frame of a retouched chrysalis
With perilous oaths to tear the veil of stagnation,
To rekindle the polar flame of evergreen truth
In leaps unfolding from sidereal numbness
Illumination pleads for a reborn symphony
Truth with fresh breath –
That antagonizes a caravan of unforeseen revelations
That sows new causes for renewed deeds
In the sanctuary of the heart that waits with open embrace.
Echoes from the Realm of Forgetting
In the silent temple of my mind, a once-sacred tongue
Weaves its mantle of shadows over memory's altar,
Words, once whispered prayers to the gods of familiarity,
Now obscure incantations lost in time's labyrinth.
The river of my consciousness flows through canyons of mystery,
Carrying on its waves shattered syllables and wandering letters,
The language of ancestors, once elixir of ancestral wisdom,
Transforms into a chimerical mirage dancing at reality's edge.
I cling to invisible threads of understanding, a cosmic acrobat
On the fragile rope stretched between past and present,
While the vortex of eternity envelops me mercilessly,
Rewriting the codex of my soul with each breath of the universe.
Words metamorphose into butterflies of ephemeral light,
Flying towards unknown constellations of oblivion,
And I, a pilgrim lost on the paths of my own mind,
Vainly seek to decipher the hieroglyphs of a language that no longer exists.
In the deep crypts of my being, a mystical flame flickers,
Nourished by the ambrosia of long-lost knowledge,
A fragile bridge over the abyss between worlds,
Like a moonbeam piercing the veil between dimensions.
I am a master of a magic that unravels in the ether,
Like incense smoke rising to unknown heavens,
Suspended between the tangible realm and that of shadows,
Where words become echoes of an unfinished cosmic symphony.
In this alchemy of language transmuting into mystery,
Syllables melt in the crucible of expanded consciousness,
And I remain, an oracle of a tongue that transcends time,
Speaking in tones that reverberate through eternity's corridors.
Lost Love
(A lone voice whispers)
Once lost
In love's asylum
Overcome by guilt
As I sat serving unseen emotional titans
In every second,
Sat in silence
Feeling numb and
Bristling with sweet thoughts of violence
Feeling time
Enjoying the rush
Like a blackbird crowing in the bush
A bell always rings
Breaking the spell running up and down my spine
Where memories of you sing
In seductive rhymes
When you were mine
Dressed in white
Wearing our favourite rings
It maybe a cut
Of a thousand deaths
This night
When I remember a real love
I once possessed
In night and day
But like frankincense and Myrrh
Which always flows and sways
To the secret codex linked
To the excesses of sex
And midnight conquests
When libido's pray to play
As I lay in this solitude
With this curse to be endured
And all that may follow
I look to the divine gift of Apollo
And write poetry of you
To rebuild
My inner hollow
As my pitiful sorrow
My soul
Delicately tries in vain
To
Swallow
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Back in ancient matriarchal time
Divine inspiration told sacred stories
of epic journeys
for creation and birthing re-creation
and against death and degeneration
Around fire-circles
for cooking
and cleaning
and keeping wolves
and shape-shifters at bay
away from form-drifter nightmares.
These were told
and retold
like a wealthy creolizing river of DNA codex
speaking in four gospel prime voices,
And only then
began to become more patriarchal orthodox
as written down
in fundamentally evangelical missionary monoculturing
monotheistic Bibles.
Yet, even so,
what were they breathing in
while divinely expiring out?
As if DNA diversity
would be more self-regeneratively fluid and effective
when labeled in LeftBrain deductive networks
growing more pathology free
through authoritative cross-referenced liberty to read
Codex Either/Or
with Both/And double-bound
in-between binary binomial bilateral ingenuous integrity
of Left secular commodification
with Right sacred unification
co-operation
Dipolar co-arising
Left scientific Right sacred co-evolutions
of ecopolitical empowering/disempowering
scripture telling
Original multicultural matriarchal outside CreationStories
inside deep ecologically wealthy Voices.
Back in ancient matriarchy
timelessly understoried
warm womb of Time our reborn effluent selves.
Anaphylactic identity, constricting logic on the
course towards infinity. Denial is drawn like a tarot
reading, citing that it is all in your head. Hidden
mysteries written in code - the key etched in our
divinity. Searching for a God who shoulders all the
blame while cartographing our lessons with fate
Absolute power behind the circuitry, plugged into
the all-seeing interface led by evasive clues to
keep the system powered up and running smooth
Damage created by those on bended knees,
pointing divisive fingers against our natural instincts
outside of the true spectrum. Wired up and held in
the place of duty - holding on to the inverse of
programmable time, like cogs in a wheel turning,
without enough consciousness left in holding
to seek for records with even a misguided way out
Secret vaults protected by monsters in captivity
Borders and walls surrounded by tales of
adventurous souls, looking upwards and onwards,
over the ocean, and rocketing into the sky. All so
the slave remains blind, swept up in fantasy of
daring escapes - illusions hold them down to work
harder, building an empire that has been falsified
underhand - stolen in the name of dignity. Written
on the tombs of despair to keep us longing for
something else outside of the current of what is
Then came the virus that attacked the hallucinating
code of deception. The binding network struck a
nerve, activating the cleaners to destroy the peace
that held like soldered resistors. The savior agents
dropped from their blinded curses, and took up
their swords like lightning rods. Connected by their
inner potentials, they set out to remind every neighbor
near that the codex has always been within
"Phoenix Wings"
Suede heart turns tin star
wears the shining part
on the outside stitched up
blue silk now
glistening
tears in time forgotten
justice in the frozen cut glass
criminal, wasted memories
clairvoyant signs
electric lines writes and
truth speaks codex sublime
in the haze seen
that which others cast aside
inconsequential significance
in the unreadable
useless hieroglyphics
sensed red, written
blood and private wars
kept caged in the place
where skin sheds
metamorphosis happening
birthing something
in the lost words there
some strange beauty reigns
in the fire borne rage
summoning beautiful majik
strange poetry remote
dissipating eventually
unlikely understood
touching the distance
welcomed in like a
new phantom invisible
illuminating
the unseen
meaning of smoke rings
tears the past's flimsy
wedding veil the face kept
imaginary diamonds
carried off
above it all
dousing the commotion
another chapter
another season
burnished not banished
like walking faith
on an Ocean
kept
Winter wraps itself
sensuously some feeling
in the falling leaves, still
quietly persistent
watching abandoned
Autumn stories
warmly stoked
under blankets
heat rising
magic spills lit
under the tempest
lifting upwards
the cracked yoke
freedom tasting
blue sky
kissing cupid’s bow
unfurling
life stirs there somehow
sensed in hidden meaning
heat beneath the smoke rings
opening up, the heart beats
skywards in the thrust
blue silk glistening
in the phoenix wings
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"Smoke Ring" / Robert Levon Been
https://youtu.be/YyyN2hnInpI
"You never wake up from a dream
It never leaves you
But now it hurts you,
leaves you down the straight line
You never split a glass of milk
You’ve never cried and cried..."
"You are the smoke ring
You are the majesty.."
Those New Gods
evacuate the violence
simulating patience
they were once created
to guide us, they overtook us
snapped our heads off
every time we thought of violence
Those New Gods
came to reconcile us
with the act of servile silence
we lay down let them take us
like we were beacons
hearts captitulated in black boxes
without god heads or sirens
Those New Gods
with voices like cured codex
placed us like cellos
between steel tight legs
we were smaller violins
our bows vaccuous and vain
crushed on Love
from the Tree
we were plucked
divineless
Candide Diderot. ‘24
We are each Earth looking back,
out,
in at Self's human identity
longing to return
from where we have never left.
Each bicamerolling lens,
frame,
each informating incarnating karmic string of DNA
revolving back through generations,
back to Prime Relationship
of species branching off
our multiculturing Tree of Life,
absorbing RNA crystal light sap
soaring back through space-time's
polynomial plasma fold
Zero-sum win-win ecologic Codex,
grace-fields of regenerating economic
Commons prehension,
being our becoming Earth-bound
climax community.
Each death of willfulness
a redemptive pledge of willingness
to share each breath,
each life,
Earth's Self-Care.
How is Gaia looking today?
What does Earth's emergent identity absorb through you?
Through us competing to consume?
Through us producing, learning, growing, singing, dancing,
working and playing,
laughing and crying together?