Long Combusts Poems
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The sun blowtorches its way into the water,
fragments, and the bottom is an aqua sky
webbed by white-hot lightning.
Here and there, legs hang like halved mannequins
disappearing into a squiggly-bright ceiling,
through which you can make out
the slurred shape of a poolside palm tree.
The deep, guttural grooon-grooon of
the water’s stomach growling is all you hear,
dredging up a similar sound from your subconscious,
last heard while you were immersed, long ago,
in another fluid world.
The water suddenly internal-combusts
in a tangle of arms and legs,
flailing in a fizz of a million tiny bubbles,
some kid having just somersaulted into the blue.
Soon, another’s face splashes down before you,
slightly albino in the shining water,
bug-eyed with silvered goggles
like a child alien from a waterless planet
discovering buoyancy.
Then you realize it’s your own kid,
wobbling from side to side,
toothy, hair waving like smoke
as he dog-paddles away.
You come up for air, breaching the surface like a
graceless dolphin,
and clarity hits your ears,
a momentarily soundless din.
You can already feel your skin heating up
in the blast furnace above water,
confusing because there are beads
running down your face and neck, cold.
You suck a lungful of air and push yourself under again,
but not before catching a glimpse of your wife
drowse-browsing a magazine on her sun lounger,
and the two umbrellas,
the big one shading the miniature one
stuck in the snowy slush of your pina colada.
She storms into the room
there is fire in her eyes
and thunder in her step
rage rumbling reckless
She's livid
a live wire of fire
charged
She's on the move
To punish
Is it a rumor or reality?
He has explaining to do...
She rushes at him
Pounding on his chest
words pent up all day
rush out in deluge
drenching him
he tries to pin her hands down
to make her understand
to undo this "misunderstand"
but she pushes him
her pride scorching him
her eyes sparking
passion raging
~~~R*A*G*I*N*G~~~
He pushes her against the wall
pins her hands above her head
"Listen to me!
You got it all wrong!!!"
she pushes against him
breasts heaving
legs kicking
and he's inflamed
her passion burns him
combusts in his mind
and he crushes her with his body
she bites his lips
as they close over hers
he loses his grip
her fingernails dig into his bare chest
trails of red
Growling in pain
He forces her....
kicking and screaming...
down to the floor
Pins her again
"Listen! WOMAN!"
She looks up into his face
breathless
and he goes for her mouth again
Taking her lips into his mouth
sucking fiercely
his tongue tames
fierce...his need to possess
to claim
She fights to free her hands
and they are on his neck
Pulling him in...in
Her lips respond in like
his hand finds her hair
leverage...a grasp
he pulls to expose her neck
And he attacks
kisses...bites...His revenge
His innocence turned to intensity's indignation
she sighs...she moans...
the sounds goading him on
As he loses himself in her cleavage
licking up her perfume
His favorite scent...
sensuous sexy sweet
the storm is fever pitch
in a flash of lightning speed
He lies her bare
and thunders in the thighs
she opens for him...wide
eyes closed
she bites her lower lip
to muffle her cries
as he rides....rides
His victory ride of righteous pride
and she's left
breathless...spent
in a storm of tears
released...repentant
of her insane jealousy
the storm passes over
and in the stillness
he speaks...
his voice shattered...weak
in her presence now calm
meek
"Your anger is beautiful
your rage my relish...
but now...come,"
His voice a whisper
as he pulls her in to him
"Come into my arms
and know the truth....
You're my one and only
My Passion STORM
Is YOU....YOU
Serenity...is overrated."
The elliptical hums its sibylline canticle,
counting aeons in the marrow of my thorax.
Trainer whispers conspiracies;
I vault Himalayan escarpments, breath argent wind,
limbs pendulums of forgotten constellations.
Neon acolytes scroll ephemeral auguries;
mirrors, obsidian tribunals, reflect only decrepitude.
I seize dumbbells—orb of primordial sovereignty;
sweat ignites into microcosmic heliospheres,
celebrating the heresy of vitality
in a sanctum devoted to fragility.
The clipboard combusts in incense of imagined awe;
I pedal, I lift, I breathe—
each motion an imperial edict: mountain, river, comet.
I am venerable, absurd, immortal, human;
my laughter detonates Olympus beneath fluorescent firmaments.
I Am a TITAN, Solar Helmet Steady
I Am a Golden Phenom of Self Mastery,
Burning Bright, I Am a Diamond Soul of Opulence
Rising in Hyperborean Confidence,
I Am Heaven Blessed and Royally August
I Am Valiant, I Am Gallant, I Am Robust
I Am a Lion Blooded, Eagle Minded Conqueror
In Total Freedom My Wings Flutter,
Solo Ponderer, I Soul Cypher the Great Mystery
Tramping these Legendary Victories,
Kindling the Spark Of Hope, Ignites the Phoenix Epitome
Golden Born, I Rise Like Joshua Over Jericho
Fortified like Iron Pillars, I Stand Tall
Where the Stars are Blazing, Suddenly Blazon, Suddenly Enthralled
The Shine is of Jubilance
I Am Shimmering in Luminance,
Ecstatic and Exuberant
I Am a Phosphorescence Of Exuberance,
I Am Enlivened by the Resuscitation of the Searing Blaze
I Am Alive, I Am Sublime, I Am Stoic in Archaic Faith,
Star Gleaming, I Am a Metric Ton of Glorious Gold
Blazing the Noble Path of the Eight Fold,
Belief, it's an Absolute Must
Full Speed Ahead, the Inner Fire Combusts
This Luminous Torch Within I Trust
Got me Soul Drifting Wanderlust
soak up the side streets of Montmartre,
Paris, Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy
class less art combusts then drips
- street beggars & tourists cant
writer Rubbish pastes lace traceries
ala mode decoupaging decay
his cut-paper layers grace anoint
no longer anonymous walls
stencilist C215’s “simply a cat”
defies sourpusses not to smile—see
heaven art yes art with style
the banality of poverty held at bay
pureed souffléd life wolfed-down
colors synced
spray-cannoned Lothario’s like David Walker
entrance Picasso’s on the brink,
Romani-hearted paint peddlers
of the Republique
- street beggars & tourists cant
Thom Thom’s décollage rip-cuts
the billboard scene titillates the unseen
—culture-lovers—can-canned Lautrec’s
bedded with Che Guevara politics
come tilt with the masse
come play your part
in Montmartre
near Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy
where wicked pissers defy
cliché
First Published in Clockwise Cat January 2015
This worrying view
Today on earth
Is it the end of life
For all it's worth
An angry sky
Overhead
Cold blues
Atmosphere dead
Clouds of gas
From interstellar space
Stratosphere breached
Alien face
But out of the hue
A face in the clouds
Nebula seeker
Her shroud crowds
This nebulae
Of particle dust
Energy of gas
The seeker combusts
Angry exchange
In our skies above
Two galactic entities
Hemispherical shove
As the sky quietens
A bright star dares
To reveal it's place
As we look up and stare
Calmness oozes
As the seeker sleeps
Gentle rains fall
The sky in tribute weeps
.
Heed then the touch of certainty
That mellows in uncertainty
There is a strange reason why change
Fabricates an odd feeling strange
Embrace the conflict that confronts
As soul and mind and heart bear brunt
Seek to run away from harsh pain
That raptures swellings in your brain
Yet adjust to ample clashing
As grey matter combusts blazing
Anger is a crude attempt here
To survive the pains that endear
Bear with uncertainty right now
Yet live with what sweepings endow
Clear madness moves such crazy times
Where complex feelings kill plain rhymes
Success comes after tensile purge
Briefly jerking the fleeting urge
Leon Enriquez
28 August 2017
Singapore