Long Deadening Poems

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Premium Member Nectar

When head and heart be hand in glove ~
We imbibe bliss borne by God’s love
            ~ quote by poet


Encased in this vessel, we search for joy;
boundless bliss renewing caress sublime
but are thwarted by thought forms that decoy,
deadening sentience to soul’s inner chime.

Within us flows a stream of bliss nectar,
propelled by power of love’s magnetism 
piercing gently every in-form vector,
illuminating our mind-body prism.

To savour the taste, our heart must be pure,
living simply, treading gently on earth,
distanced from fickle desires that allure,
oozing compassion and bubbling with mirth.

Why would we fear, when God has got our back ~
Sipping soma nectar, we feel no lack
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Fragmented Responsibilities

What would it take
to understand
a right to life
includes a right to choose well-being
or failure
for one's internal identities,
organs,
organisms?
AND
A right to choose
self-embodied empowerment,
health,
is a right to life redemptive choice
over deadening felt loss
of continuous healthy lifetime,
now present
and on through long-term future identities,

Vocations of sacred being wealth
of identity's integrity,
rooted in EarthTribe experiences,
memories collapsed from all past life-streams.

Perhaps if we reduced abortion charges
rhetoric
from self-righteous indignation against "Murderers"
to a form of relentlessly catastrophic manslaughter
no child of capitalism has not known
at least in lack of active co-investing intention,
passion to open a dialogue door
toward win/win complexly inter-connected solidarity 
rediscovered within healing discernment
about who is responsible for choosing this win/lose slaughter
and who is not responsible
for lack of win/win options.

Should we actually find
at least some One innocent enough
to cast the last win/lose might makes right
evolutionary stone
aimed against the rest of us
for massive lack of win/win hope-inspiring integrity

That iconic One
radically free from transparently disvaluing vulnerable lives
and toxic choices
to slaughter part of our sacredly connected selves

Free for listening to our own shared experience
of this interdependent Earth life web,
Longing for more resilient
sure
buoyant healthy,
co-relational, without cancerous mutiny,
co-creation
liberating Earth life for slow-growing ever deeper
interdependent win/win choice,

Wherever
and whenever EarthTribe will listen to loss and gain
freedom and pain
internal yet multicultural GoldenRule voices
against throwing stones
against cooperative-intended health care
as if we and they both mattered;

Mother and child,
EarthMother and naked 
vulnerable
divinely humanizing children 
reborn into Earth's continuing potential
for unfragmented Paradise.

Premium Member Viridescent Vines

a crisp chill fills the early morning air  
      dew drops periodically appear on the 
            yellowing blades of grass  
   as a light frost coats 
                                shimmering panes of glass  
    viridescent leaves 
            have long become burnt umber under the 
                       emerging light  
  bronze branches 
    are losing their grip on decaying foliage  
                                               scattered 
  beneath is a graveyard of the last remaining 
            memories of summer  
                                crunching 
      under the feet of cawing crows  
              looking for a feast among the 
                                              mulching wreckage  
  as a swift wind sweeps in from the east petioles separate 
             from slender twigs  
  dispersing the final layers of a once cherished umbrella in 
                        the midday heat  
    what thrived in the prime of life now lays among fading 
                                 tomorrows 
      and bygone warmth  
            night begins to coat the faraway skies  
  and with it brings the first signs of a bitter winter  
      the last remaining signs of vibrancy fly away with the 
                                          canadian geese  
  now all i'm left with is the hollow emptiness of a forlorn 
                        season  
  lighting the wick of an ivory candle just to have a flicker of solace in this deadening 
                                            dark
© Sara Jama  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Risky Weeds: Opportunity Seeds

Weeds,
stupid and dull and ravenous,
do not wonder
why you have gathered them,
They are hardly aware of you
at all times.

Plants,
like animals,
do not lie down with awed privilege
for you to harvest them.

Plants,
unlike animals,
are transparently unaware 
of your risky approach
in all deadening times,
avoiding health wealth opportunities
remaining detached from enriching Earth's
deep learning recycles.

People,
unlike nations
and planets
and plants,
are polypathically aware of outside-eco
yin-spiritual risks
in all polyphonically natural
inside-egotherapeutic opportune days
and nightmare egocentric
risky anthrocentric
dark-yin spirited 
dissonant nights
haunting

Seeds do not wonder
why you have included them
in ductive shadow valleys.
We are hardly aware
of our historic environmental Selves
in and through
all reseeding MountainEarth
valleys of bilateral SacredTime.

Weeds,
even those found toilet twittering
to avoid thinking too much
about how much our own insides mortally stink,
do not wonder
why we have gathered here.
Weeds are hardly aware of
polypathic seeds 
for cooperative opportunity
in all polyphonic Sacred Times
with Places
PolyCultural Faces.

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and right doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there."
Rumi

Premium Member Ocean

I stay close to the ocean.
Its wild waters surround me,
And the thundering waves
Rant and rave around me.
I see the leviathan,
Screaming at me,
Charging feral,
Like an enraged beast.

It snarls at me.
It howls and yells.
In its deadening roar
In its pouncing gait
In its sweeping rush
In its pounding thud
I hear the wail of a banshee,
Announcing death.

I become so small.
I become so powerless.
A helpless doe,
Before a mighty foe.

At another time
The sea lies quiet like a babe.
Its violent tantrums lulled to sleep.
Its bosom heaving in peaceful slumber.
Its rhythmic beat, its magic, and the charm,
Its depth and beauty all combined.

I see the gulls in the air.
I hear them squeal.
I feel the waves over the sand,
Lapping around my feet.
I listen to their murmur and shout.
I glance at dolphins over the surf.
I watch them dance.
I behold ships over the waters.
I see them glide.
I hear the night air sing.
I feel the spray of water,
And sense its coolness,

I notice seashells, 
Half buried under the sand,
I pick one from the strand,
To tie it around my neck,
As an amulet,
With the ceaseless whisper of waves
And the sea’s undying commotion
Shut and encased within!


Exchange Rate

( depiction of our hoochie heroine being 
        nailed by a stranger on his car) 

Branches warp inward where image reflects
Winscreen mangles trees in curved convex
Numbed halt of midday awaits later's laze
Birds suspended survey layered heat haze

Where for art thou crow's demand forlorn
Whips and ripples paisley foliage, air torn
Shuffle ruffles motley eucalyptus crews 
Flora's koala arms will afford her rescue

Kookaburra vantage, vast birds eye view 
Suspending foolish spectacle evitable 
Hot face hover over bonnet maneuvers 
Spur skyward climb, memory's removal 

Barren unfathomed clay crunched pebbles 
Beneath rolled sole boots, convey evitable 
Without pattern, frustrated thrusts slip 
Steel scorch sizzles sweat, elusive grip

Duco commodity, cancelled flat crucifix 
Urges her escapism to ocean rush fizz
Bug umpires whistles amass harrassment
Topaz top mushrooms burst effervescent 

Thighs printed by grille, his grunts ridiculous 
Flora's tenure lessens, his groans ubiquitous 
Deadening will release her, venture wiped 
Dusty windows blurred initial lustful hype

Drought of thought which welded them
Meeting of minds surely smoulder when
Straggly bush barely smudges rooves of blue
Stupid choices compiled in direction evitable 





         10th September 2020
         
         
         Quick examination of the role of choice 
          in fate.  ( play with evitable )
Form: Narrative

Premium Member We Came Upon a Clearing

We came upon a clearing as we all started to choke
Our eyes hurting, painful, us soldier serving blokes

Pieces of black floated, sporadic burning embers passed
Hazed buildings we could see through the trees, chimneys a fast

A stench captured our senses, nothing like this war has before
As we progressed through this something, my heart skips to sore

Beyond the barbed wire fences, deadening cries filter all around
And then I see skeletal beings, it's they who make those sounds

Emaciated to thin, I've killed men before my eyes
Women, men, and children so young, it's like watching the walking die

Through the gates we go, human carcasses piled so high
The hardened in us tremble, and many of us start to cry

The strong that we meet, hold our hands and welcome us so
Leading us into some buildings, we entered, they wouldn't go

On entering we now understand, their unwillingness to follow we
It beggars belief, mans inhumanity to man, that allows this kin to grieve

Furnaces still roaring, burning bodies consumed by their heat
Do I image they were alive or dead to meet this ghastly greet

We enter another building, witnessing piles of shoes and suitcases
I've seen many a sight in this war, but never a sight such as this

The strength of me now exhausted, in wretch I'm sickened to disgust
It's plain and clear, so evident that I've witnessed murdering lust

To the air I wanting go, for their memory I'll never forget
And for the rumours that these places existed, for some will they regret
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Sacrificial Lamb

Streaks of pallid moonlight  
wash over blood-stained  
burnt umber leaf blight.  
Glistening stainless steel remains  
within wilting noir roses  
and blistered blades of grass.  
Sickening hands shake my repose,  
heart racing, sure to collapse,  
feeling faint.  
A revolting nausea elevates,  
trying to find restraint,  
as madness deregulates.  
A heart separated  
from a lifeless corpse—  
death awaits.  
Flashbacks play like static reports,  
too hard to get a clear picture.  
Splashes of splattered red fill  
spaces in between scriptures.  
Screaming echoes spill,  
dirty visions getting clearer,  
as the sacrificial lamb  
becomes the predator, evaporating fear.  
Fighting for the blade, fingers clammy,  
spinning out of control.  
How could you bring me to this?  
Steel cuts against palms, foretold—  
splatters of crimson spray, don't resist,  
covering fear-filled eyes.  
One last-ditch effort:  
grab the hilt and arise.  
On this deadening night, collect.  
You became Samhain’s sacrifice,  
a feast for the demonic nether, sanctified.
© Sara Jama  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Demonic Despair

The whooshing of threadbare curtains cuts through deadening silence,
while shadows on the wall toy with a hermit's sanity.
The graze of unseen, jagged fingernails scrapes against sweaty flesh,
injecting poison into subcutaneous tissue,
unwieldily setting the stage.

A heaviness of humid, stale air presses down on compressed lungs,
as maniacal laughter bounces off cracked ceilings.
Buzzing flies circle, swooping down
just to taunt—then vaporize into nothingness.

Muttering voices cling to the inside of a failing cranium,
overtaking a discarded soul, slowly stripping away morality.
Irises blacken, then return to sapphire, before blackening again.
Sitting, rocking back and forth with arms wrapped around legs,
speaking in tongues—
the transformation has begun.

A shattered will; possession seems inevitable.
Fighting feels increasingly hollow.
The smothering venom accelerates.
Chattering crescendos
until your body becomes complete chaos,
and what's left of your soul is trapped within a cage,
locked deep inside the pits of demonic despair.
© Sara Jama  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Resonant Silence

Secular silence,
still as death.
Sacred silence,
subtle sounds of Earth's synergy

And what vast sounds,
unheard voices,
unloved songs,
unjustified dances,
unpeaced anthems,
unbeautified pose of light
may lie in waiting silence
between invitation
and deadening declaration?

Invasions of deadly silent waiting,
Sublimations of lively unvoiced surrender
into softbound volumes,
listening
for this great divide to speak
between deeply absorbed secularity
immanently transcendent wise flying harmonies
of sequestered
sanctuary silence.

Silent,
like snow,
like sleet,
like sobriety,
not univocal;
not yet profoundly voiced.

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