Long Decomposes Poems
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This Body
Those on the bottom can see but can’t act,
Those on the top can act, but can’t see,
O Lord, please free me from this body of Death, America.
Dear Lord, How am I to stay composed, as the very fabric of justice decomposes from
beneath me?
My footsteps are weighted down by the sounds of my ancestors screaming for my freedom, as
they realized that their deliverance was only in the life to come?
Am I to wait until the life to come?
Like some passive animal, always turning by backside to be flogged by the excruciating
hypocrisy of white supremacy,
You ask me to hold to your precepts, you ask me to hold to your law of love,
And yet for me it is like Atlas, bearing the weight of my oppressor’s ignorance, all the
while attempting to free them from their codependency on my subjugation,
Even for those who see, their loss is still their gain, Privilege,
But for me, loss is the sound of riotous rage burning the streets of Chicago,
And yet my Lord,
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things unseen,
I must believe, even as my circumstances bludgeon me from the inside out,
I must believe that you have a plan.
We need not loans, but a redefinition of what it means to prosper?
Can you grant us at least this my lord?
A vision of repentance in which top and bottom begin to fade away beneath the sound of
righteous equality?
If we can just touch the hem of your garment?
If we can just touch the hem of your garment, then we shall be healed.
And this body will know the sublime language of harmony.
Lord God, do not free me from this body of death, America.
For in my freedom, my brethren will still suffer.
Rather, free this body from its insanity.
So that we all may sleep and dream soundly.
Form:
A waning aura no longer flamed enough to flicker a surrender. Decomposes, decompresses like mummification wrap.
An anti-resolvent-fume-
of-infest-chokes-out-integral-yield.
Thick as molasses, blackstrap.
Blight is apathy, and apathy is blight.
A Void, a claim farming the abyss.
Marketing it's lie, on sale.
Though it has a monopoly.
PolyEntropy.
In the garden of life; an empty field of dreams,
lays unintended on its side,
untended save for the shadows
that yield a mock harvest.
Decay on display of manifest.
The sky, descended as a Judas Ascendant,
it's belly gorged with malfeasance.
Exotic particles curse the ground
like wormwood in ritual burn, cache of ashen incense.
Libra sells you back your rye, mildewed and palmer wormed, to bore in at the destitute
at double price, double dealing
with the wages of Sin and Death.
Doubled down.
Doubled over.
So the pendulum swings
with the rusty blade of misuse.
The rose of passion unbloomed.
Ploughshares turned into warmachined torture device. Moreover.
"...and the feeling is dead, and that's the Ultimate Sin."
~Ozzy Osbourne
[They attack the Family... and the Poets are silent.]
"...and that's the Ultimate Sin"
In the realm where night caresses the dawn,
Under the stellar vault, where time rests in memories,
A song rises, an echo of lost souls,
On lands where love, an eternal enigma, weaves its myths.
Do not confuse sex with love, we implore,
For sex, yes, exists... tangible, fleeting,
But love is a flame that burns in eternity,
An ocean in which all seasons of the heart submerge without fear.
Love, that grand and subtle force,
Hides in unexpected corners of existence,
In silent glances, in touches barely whispered,
In words unspoken, yet felt in their deepest essence.
It takes no account of form, of rules, of time,
It traverses dimensions, defies logic, decomposes reason.
Sex is but a breeze, a wave in the sea of love,
A page in the vast book of human connection, free of judgement or the prison of convention.
Oh, how easy it is to fall into the carnal trap,
To confuse the flame of passion with the stellar light of love!
But true love is like an expanding galaxy,
Where each star, each planet, each comet,
Is an unwritten word in the poem of the universe.
In this world of illusions, where everything is bought and sold,
Love remains priceless, a treasure hidden in the depths of the heart,
Which cannot be conquered through mere carnal gestures,
But only through an inner journey, through the labyrinth of one's own being.
So, do not confuse sex with love,
For sex indeed exists... but love is what transcends us,
Transforms us, makes us dream of the infinite,
Of that world where everything is possible,
Where souls meet and unite in a cosmic symphony,
Preserving the magical echo of an everlasting love.
Under the weight of a dying world,
Where stars once whispered secrets into the night's shadow,
Now, from the cracks between the realms of yesterday and tomorrow,
Monsters breathe, their shadows dancing in the dusk's mist.
The moon, a silent sentinel above the whispers of ancient stones,
Watches as cities crumble, swallowed by the earth,
Their memories like phantom breaths remaining
In the cold, indifferent vaults of history's memory.
The heartbeats of the night are a melody of lost days,
Where forgotten hands rummage, seeking echoes
Of dreams once kept in letters never sent,
Whispers tangled in the uncharted corners of the soul.
In the cradle of the forest, where trees stand as old sentinels,
The roots, like ancient fingers, grasp the dark veins of sorrow,
A temple of shadows where the earth sings
To the buried remnants of broken dreams.
We live in a world that decomposes, a chorus of fractured notes,
Awaiting the birth of dawn from the cold womb of stardust,
While monsters waltz under the gaze of a blind sun,
And we are mere echoes in their haunting dance.
But, among the ashes where hope dares to bloom,
A mysterious flower rises, nourished by the remnants of forgotten legends,
Each petal a testament to stories scorched by time,
Awaiting a new beginning on the white pages of dawn.
From the silent cry of the emerging new day,
The spirit of the earth begins anew,
Weaving stories once more on the fabric of existence,
In the quiet song of mornings yet to rise.
I seem to be a poet
Though I didn’t even know it
As for years I’ve written oodles of odes
When an idea doth inspire me
I need to write it swiftly
If left inside my head it just explodes
I witness each and every morn
The rising of the Sun
Filled with expectations
Of adventures yet to come
I walk along the promenade
Towards the Golden Pier
As I feel so very lucky that I am living here
I pause and breathe in deeply
I inhale the fresh sea air
Watching waves creep gently up the beach
And often as I witness
This gentle ebb and flow
It draws away my worries
I am able to let go
For as the tide recedes
I'm surrounded by tranquillity
Ready for another day
I’m full of positivity
There is really nothing better
As I witness Nature's marvels
In spring the golden daffodils
Autumn colours in the fall
They do not cost a penny
And are free for one and all
Yet sadly there are many
Who will miss these wondrous scenes
For they never lift their eyes up
Forever focused on their screens
And then one day they get the call
So sad that they have missed it all
So I shout aloud from roof tops
“Will you open up your eyes”
If you look up
You will behold
A magical surprise
So put down all your phones
It’s time to “Smell the Roses”
Before that fatal day arrives
When your body decomposes
Written after seeing so many people of all ages staring at their screens – 26.09.17
Contest ALL YOURS (MARCH)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
I know I said I’d be better by now
But I wander through like a ghost in town
And I can’t live with the person that did that to you
It’s not unlike a wounded heart
It bleeds and aches like dripping art
And yet it beats in rebellion to keep the pain in
I have hurt you
I have lost you
I have let you down
And now you’re forced
To keep me around,
Safe and sound
We both know I’ve been here before,
I’m a coward commanding a broken horse
Expecting him to move on like a machine
Ignorance is a travelled arch
But recklessness is the patriarch
It takes the lead and decomposes all your progress
I have hurt you
I have lost you
I have let you down
And now you’re forced
To keep me around,
Safe and sound
I have no pride in what I did.
It makes me question my will to live
But then again, that was questioned before
I know that’s not what you want to hear
But then you ask me to draw you near
And I cannot shield the darkness as it’s around me
Hold me softly
Don’t forgive me
Here I will sit down
I’m sorry you’re forced to keep me around
Safe and sound
Twilight's color is ashes of roses
as darkness falls on the horizon's line
the cerulean sky decomposes
the night sky and my soul will realign
stars of soft ivory slowly drip light
my eyes see a star beginning to fall
to leave an etching that's flaming bright
burned in my eyes to leave me in awe
peaceful and serene becomes the night sky
a vast spacious splendor of sable dark
with wondrous wonders where my soul can fly
through the night sky with its eternal arc
with glorious glows of starlight growing
my sensitive soul's serenity is glowing
2/23/22
contest The Night Sky
sponsor Anna Marie Kaianah
She was no ordinary witch, and black was not her color oh no
she wore purple robes and red silk hats with bat thorns
as big and fat, as devil horns
Her name was Creepella but they called her the old hag
though barely 62 she was the skinniest bean on a tiniest rag
Once, she had so many kids and didn't know what to do
but then one day she ate them up served with rat tail stew
Whenever someone passed her way and yelled "bless you "
she'd put a spell on them, that no one could undo ...
She was no common witch and wore her shoes too bright
and when the ghost of Halloween came out to glean
she'd rob their candy send them crying, oh she was so mean
and when the kids were bold she'd called upon her big fat Moses
an evil cat from hell that when he meows, everything decomposes
No she was not an ordinary witch by far, she could drive faster then a car,
and turn a baby into tar, with nothing more then the suck of her breath.
Truth, a blazing sun, burns bright and clear,
Its scorching rays both banish and ensnare.
It can ignite a fire, chase shadows out,
But fear may flicker in the light's sharp shout.
Silence, a shrouded well, with deep secrets,
It holds fragile trust, a promise others keep.
Within its depths, forgotten wisdom sleeps,
But buried truths can fester, and secrets weep.
The weight of words, a double-edged blade,
It can heal a wound, or leave a soul betrayed.
A whispered truth can mend a broken heart,
A shouted truth can tear the world apart.
So when the urge to speak the truth ignites,
Consider well the cost, of the burning lights.
Is silence wisdom, holding knowledge close?
Or is it cowardice, where truth decomposes?
There's beauty in the dance, the constant fight,
Between the burning sun and shrouded night.
To speak with grace, a measured, gentle art,
To find the truth that heals, not tears the heart.
For in the tapestry of life, we weave,
Both light and dark their wisdom can bequeath.
May truth guide us, a beacon in the storm,
But tempered with the hush of a silent form.
My comfort plundered in a hurricane
with umbrella spun off fortified walls.
a reckless lifeboat in crossroads switched lane,
tattered sail harbored as wailing shore calls.
An empty wooden boat with holes can't drift
rusty cleats grounded by chains can't paddle
an anchored dreamboat can't stream as tides shift.
sinking in quicksand, ... can't fight a battle.
An inert heart in night of solitude
glam of stars in blue sky decomposes
to restart life, and sail in hopes renewed
waits all seasons for rainbows and roses.
breaking off knots, my boat yearns to return
to waterways,........ before death fills its urn.
Dated 22nd May 2019
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
Contest Name: Choices
Picture No 2