Long Coercive Poems
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No more
Cowering behind the door, my son and I
Praying the brutal fury would subside.
In his little face, desperate not to cry,
I saw the truth and could no longer hide
The man I married had turned out to be
A man possessed by temper, uncontrolled
His coercive ways, though aimed at me
Had exposed my boy to terrors untold
When his feelings rose in a jealous rage
His violence came blistering to the fore
He’d smash and shatter in violent rampage
I knew I must stand up and say…
no more
So I packed up all our things that day
We had to leave,I was no longer blind
Now we feel safe, we’re many miles away
And all of the fear is left far behind
An Irish paint brush
He's cured
In the mind of eternal angel
The clay wore warm in the knight
Espionage acting defiance before autumns
Panting gasping letter
A man in a fold
Absent Vote in hand
Shane, we are delivering Tara Gendron to
Summers Defiance in New York City
From L.A. Jazz
Santa Barbara Tara Gendron photography
Because Kendall has a news alarm clock
And I'm looking at new York canvas
Man in the mirror
Big lou Adler
?
Copy print
He teaches desire as illusion in anger
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
An autumn leaf
Oh autumn trails
Bring pleasant winds
That never trail south
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
Oils of mourning upended 1
Cabs crackling surrender
Before settings land
Dawns edge working from eve
Her lasting clay
I'm hear
In class
To paint
And understand
My musing
Tara Gendron
Of Santa Barbara
I was boring first
Then Tara's recital
Now juliard and exhibition New York
A blind reveal
Gaeity Opens
It's Aerosmith crazy meeting
guns n roses don't you cry tonight
The halo program
Saint child in passing
Deliberate New York Paint stations
Dead bourbons walk
Captured and Captures
Calls answering before touching tones
As innocence creates defiled creature
In abandon
Rare entrance of mature isolation exits
Eschers Criteria falls
As fall in season
Abandon aspect of perception is fault
Coercive insertion is natural here
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
It was that particular point of time in my lone life,
When, mind like tabula rasa, empty and without strife;
Mornings started and evenings ended without any aim,
Driven by impulses I lived, like wildlife, with no shame...
Alcoholism, like chains of a lunatic, had bound me,
Though willing, like bird in a cage, I could not become free;
Not today, to me I would say, yet mind will slowly pull,
Gulping peg after pegs, I'd walk like a random mad bull...
Health or wealth, like for animals, did not matter at all,
Body or soul - no faith or ethics - in my ear did fall;
Parents, siblings, friends, relatives - to no one did I care,
Life flew about floating, like aimless feather in the air...
It's then, like punishments or coercive ways of nature,
Ailments began eating myself, like a deadly-creature;
Lungs, liver, stomach, bladder and kidneys seemed protesting,
Eyes, ears, skin and bones seemed to stop their act of protecting...
Does benevolent earth, her exploiters, endlessly bear?
Doesn't Ecosystem in the form of flood and drought scare?
Could even best physicians, one's dead life ever bring back?
How I, like a fool, my life to death willingly offer?
Thus I, like one at the brink of the grave, stood lost! Helpless!
My doctor though fixed tentative date, expressed hopefulness;
Craving to drink seduced me, like lady with endless love,
I knew my soul soiled; should be changed; yet, I did not know how...
I felt none and nothing I could rely on, except God,
I did cling to Him, like a dog to his master and lord;
God, like good mother seeing her child in pain, intervened,
Caring for my needs, touching my inner wounds, my ills healed...
My heart, like a bouquet, to my Lord, now I have offered,
By prayer, hymn and divine worship, my life is powered;
My strength and weakness, like an open-book, before Him lies,
Though urge for evils press me, He'll grant me courage to rise...!
31 December 2021
DIVINE INTERVENTION Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Fractals.
Spawn of iterating quadratic functions.
Choreographers of cosmic conjunctions.
Impervious to human dysfunctions.
Makers of multiverses. Encoders of creations.
Limited only by imaginations.
Recursive. Coercive. Immensely immersive.
Purveyors of poetic creative cursive.
With formative fractals you’ll melt your mind’s shackles
and be anywhere that you may want to be.
You can form fractals to your own reality,
and make anything in the sky or the sea.
You can even repurpose them to poetry …
Yes, if
fractals were dactyls they’d flow off the page,
whirling and twirling, sublime.
Freeing us, being us, thoughts disengage,
teasing and pleasing with rhyme,
reaping the rhythms of time.
From mundane equations that yet yield complex
repetitive patterns that please and perplex,
come fractals so beautiful in all respects.
Constructors of coastlines and snowflake concerns,
foundries for forests, and feathers, and ferns,
the deeper you dive they have more twists and turns.
Generators of patterns, like veins in a leaf,
and the branches of trees, shapes of every motif.
Look around, everywhere, there are fractals, good grief!
From the large to the small and still smaller they flow,
simple patterns repeating, yet different, you'll know
that there’s just no escaping the great fractal show.
So, let’s face them, embrace them, we’ll host history.
Let us master them, plaster them, I guarantee:
merge your mind into fractals, you’ll set your soul free.
Reconstructed 3/22/2021, for the FRAGMENTS OF VERSE Poetry Contest, sponsored by John Lawless
Broken promises churn my heart,
like what the desert whirlwind does
to the desolate dunes.
I can’t calm down my twirling turbulence,
pent-up rage shatters the shield of forbearance,
turns me into discarded debris of indignity
within the intolerant ignominious abyss.
The sanguine awareness then finds patience,
the candle of inner strength,
ignited as the guiding light
in the web of exigent intolerance,
entangling the essence of my muddled mindset.
Amidst the commotion of turbulent life,
the alchemic anchor of calmness
prevents me from being swept away
by the coercive currents of compulsion,
enabling me to approach life challenges
with composed and collected altered attitude.
I discover the innate fortitude,
that braces me in the tempest of life,
builds the bridge that fosters discernment,
appreciative of the deviant thought perception,
constructing entwined resilient connections.
The mystique mist shrouds my penultimate path
to the time future, fading in the obscurity.
In twilight zone the sunset swansong echoes
the tune of forlorn spent life, silhouetted still
against the tranquil skyline.
The shards of shattered hope on dejected drift,
fly like birds with colors to the restful nest
across the calm canvas of the setting sun,
where the remnant rays of revival survives,
designing the last latent lattice of dream,
that swathes the sanguinity sphere of my listless life.
The rain-washed sparkling sky
spreads the seamless spectrum
of my opulent dreams yet to be dreamt,
embroidered in the tapestry of fantasy
with the charisma of chromatic imagery,
where the surreal strings design the splendor
of the resplendent rainbow motif,
arching over the halcyon horizon
that beckons me to the concert of being.
Fascinated, I feel the vibrato of vivacious life.
In the stalled turbid times,
defused in the miasma of despair,
I turn the dented emotive impulse
into the lyrical crescendo of concerto.
On its sonorous serenading wings,
I fly in the rhapsodic sky of sonata
to the harmonic home of serene afflatus,
and realize the nascent notion
that life is a symphony.
Some lie to the undecided
Disguise what they believe
Utopia is ahead, so it's easy to deceive
Some lie to themselves
To avoid facing glaring flaws
And the contradictions of their cause
Some lie to the faithful,
To make them hate more,
They stir up the fire, then walk out the door
Some lie to the lost ones,
With a hand on their back,
The more cannon fodder for the attack.
Some lie because they think
the truth could make you ignite
Do you want condescension or to know what is right?
It's a jungle out there
Between what's false and what's true
If it feels wrong, pursue every clue.
If it feels right, still truth pursue.
On my own terms my singular life I walk brave,
setting the course on the parted pathway I pave.
Nameless probing people uncalled, I descry
break the fence of protected privacy and pry,
ask incisive questions to slice my persona they try.
I don’t reply.
Their footprints I follow, they want with pride,
abandoning me for what I am on the wayside,
to exist as a mute formless entity dormant.
Caustic comments they make of me being adamant,
my character traits make on them negative impact.
I don’t react.
In my heart sunk in the quicksand of time weary,
emotions struggle to rise from the unfeeling debris.
The good done to me I can’t acknowledge loud,
but buds of their love bloom in me, I keep under shroud.
Porous sensitivity absorbs all the feelings inarticulate,
I don’t demonstrate.
I will do what I do at free will until I finally sleep,
even if you all call me a deviant black sheep,
for life for me isn’t to fit in your measurement.
I would be me intransigent.
Amidst the trying tumult of turbulent life,
the alchemic anchor of serenity in strife
prevents me from being swept away far
by the coercive currents of compulsive air,
enabling me to approach life challenges crude
with composed and collected altered attitude.
I discover the reserve of innate strength strong,
sheltering me when storms in odd life prolong.
I build the castle that harbors discernment option,
appreciating the aberrant thought perception,
constructing an atypical identity framework, I sense
define the deviant me with design of divine essence.
…
From the moment we met
he'd treated me like a princess
I was young and naive
flattered by his attention,
misinterpreting it as a forever love
Mum took an instant dislike to him
She said he was like a chameleon
and I should be wary of his dark side
but I was too loved up to listen or too much in love
In fact, it only made me want him more
Within a month
I'd moved into his flat
Swapping girly nights out
for cosy nights by a blazing fire
He revamped my wardrobe
threw out my sexy dresses
preferring me to wear jeans
Mum used to ring me
but he told me to ignore her
said she wanted to split us up
I deleted her number from my phone
Friends stopped calling me
I always said I was too busy
One night I burned the pizza
and he went ballistic
A black rage engulfed him
His eyes flashed as dark as coals
and his fists pummeled me
like a volley of cannon balls
Vivid, violet bruising covered my body
He couldn’t see the scars in my heart
and I doubt if he'd have cared
He begged for forgiveness,
said it would never happen again
Like a fool I believed him
I even blamed myself for ruining dinner
Next morning, I put on a long-sleeved blouse
painted on a smile and went to work
It was then the cycle of abuse began
Verbally, he’d fly into a rage
sometimes over the slightest thing
Then, physically which ended up
with him using me like a punching bag
One night, he went too far
grabbed a hammer and beat me
neighbours heard my screams
and alerted the police …
Hours later, I woke up in intensive care
Mum was sitting by my side
a look of sadness in her eyes
instead of one that implied, "I told you so"
I only wish I had listened to her
I walked into Dad's study and looked around
A wooden bull with ivory tusks stood its ground
a German Bayonet lay before lines of books, and
On the wall was an olde map of the holy land
Behind a schooner with three proud masts,
Lay volumes of worlds, of futures and pasts—
Palestine before the Hebrews, a Rhodesia Guide
Three Deserts, by Jarvis, hard to lift, I tried.
The Golden Bough and The Struggle for Greece
The Revolt of the Masses, The Golden Fleece
The Lost Possessions of England, Leviathan
The Firmament of Time, and Darwin's Descent of Man
Stonehenge, The Heathens, The 30 years war
Each topic a window, each book a door
An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, then On Tyranny
The Wealth of Nations, Jewish Confederates, A Goodly Tree,
The Medieval Village, Capitalism and the Jews
Fred Bastiat, Thomas Sowell, Dad had free market views
Texts of Geography, that was his trade
Shelf by shelf, in a proud parade.
I can't put my finger on why, I feel a sad chord
For knowledge should be its own reward
On much of this knowledge the world turned the page—
His room remains—his shrine, his stage.
Coercive Persuasion, On Aggression — much more to the list,
And framed on the wall, the lives that persist:
There's how Mom used to be, full of interests, just like him
I step into those hard streets; the world starts to spin.
Murderous Sprees...
sinister Population Control, Sans Cosmic Creator?
Maybe,... I shudder to think
up the sleeve and ornate cufflink
of divine maker, a deliberate pitch
to foist *****sapien on brink
viz self destruction,
asper bedlam upon Earth that doth stink
a hellish conspiracy linkedin with tragedy
namely sinister predestined plan to shrink
terrestrial realm usurped by ink
king a pact of devilish destruction, demolition
denunciation, et cetera doth stoke
unslakable thirst of bloody drink
sucked out the flesh o' every body electric
as zombies and vampires quench
fifty plus shades of deep pink
drain liquid of life courtesy of chosen thugs
incognito golem aliens to kill and sink
civilization, until every person extinct
cold comfort (from this Yankee of mortal fate
lifelong resident of Keystone state),
one day extraterrestrials, (whom might
inhabit planet teeming with billions)
will excavate and then curate
a sorry lot of creatures, where bullets did eliminate
an arrogant, haughty, narcissistic...peoples
(a handful of exceptions to the contrary),
whose various tribes never adapted to integrate
sundry superficial differences among themselves
instead chose to allow, enable and provide
(Putin shill) collusion did willingly corroborate
with dopplegangers i.e. "FAKE" guardians
whose real not so impossible mission
to feign friendship, at heart..a pie rate
but sole outlook to eradicate
coercive, self immersive,
passive, et cetera species
and blithely earn blind trust, unwittingly mutate
into their likeness only to trump
pet gentlemen's agreement brittleness did break
as "FAKE" and devastate
democratic and constitutional compact
(utilizing bribery to swindle elite schools
so crazy rich parents could manipulate
levers of prestigious academia) to satiate
egos bragging about brilliant offspring
only to undermine the complex edifice
spoiling promising futures via golden gate
bridge of studious grads,
who exercised sweat o' their pate.