Long Disgorge Poems
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Stars disgorge energy in waves by fissile pulsations
Equally in all directions, but do not call it darkness
Where those come not our way. Darkness is
A matter of perspective.
A rainbow of photons ignites our neural lanterns;
Globes in 3D to navigate the pitch, the default state.
You and I stand in the same primordial darkness
As “In the beginning….” The light is within, and only.
However, the physics of light does not illuminate
The Way, The Truth and The Eternal Light, for it is not
Of the making of stars, but of the One who made
The stars.
Souls, carrying light as once the living carried,
Follow an ancient Course shrouded in a mist of tears,
To be reborn into the Light as it was before the Fall,
Like one emerging from a cave through a waterfall.
Copyright 2022, Paul Thomson
Stars disgorge energy in waves by fissile pulsations
Equally in all directions, but do not call it darkness
Where those come not our way. Darkness is
A matter of perspective.
A rainbow of photons ignites our neural lanterns;
3D portals to navigate the pitch, the default state.
You and I stand in the same primordial darkness
As “In the beginning.” The light is within, only.
Spirit boats, carrying light as once the living carried,
Follow a course shrouded in a mist of tears
To be reborn into the light as it was before the Fall,
Like one emerging from a cave through a waterfall.
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows…
all the colors of the rainbow glow
in the mist of Pacific sea's
hectic days and disco nights
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
Lima's life flows
from Palacio de Gobierno ...
in measured meter from the fountain glow
amidst a Catholic sea
spirits rise of the children of the sun
cleansed of their faith by papal decree.
Lima wealth flows
its chic denizens prance baroque boulevards
barricaded behind razor wire's show
life for the wealthy addressee
distanced from the hovels of El Salvador
and the festive strum of the mariachi.
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows...
as buses disgorge invaders, colorful, slow
Shamanism lies in a Catholic sea
proud, head held high, clinging to He
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
12 BARS
Twelve brazen bars, one frozen lock!
Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc
endures inside a barren cage,
her catacomb in sundown sage.
Of former days there is no trace
except displays of fallen grace –
Twelve dreams, abiding in her place,
are free, inhabit yawning space:
12 DREAMS
... of wings unfurled, and seething eyes
that dredge the depths of dawning skies,
divining clouds that cling below,
once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow;
... of clutching winds that carry free
above an anguished leaden sea,
dispersing dust of distant stars
midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars;
... of swooping to a silent shore
to perch beside the ocean’s roar,
at last to feel the sobbing breeze
message the leaves of rooted trees;
... of stalking strays and twilight tramps
within the fog of lighthouse lamps
that blink forlorn through caldron nights
in search of shades of errant Kites;
... of darkling vast deserted lands,
with shadowed stones on windswept sands,
where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost
disgorge faint groans in mourning frost;
... of blotting out the bloated moon
while feathers beat a banshee tune
and glimmers dance and prance aglow
upon a pearly pale plateau;
... of tasting cool torrential rains,
beyond the realm of binding reins,
and sipping freedom they exude
in quiet drops of solitude;
... of vanquishing a galley crew
aboard a ship of midnight dew,
beneath the pierce of seagulls' screams
that mock the strands of scarlet streams;
... of sating once an aching craw
with tearing beak, with ripping claw,
and echoed by an eldritch screech
while feasting on abandoned beach;
... of restive thoughts and weary wings
that drift on haze in smoky rings,
obscured within the opal shroud
of her resemblance in the crowd;
... of croaking caws in broken rhyme
in winter woe, in summer clime,
while building nests of sundown sage
beyond outside a barren cage.
*Reserata Carcerem LXI*
Yore lived a sage b' bounty brook pining;
dainty daffodils, his keen kins.
Oft would tumbling tide whisper 'ts tune
'n' sewn sage bewitched, ajar would croon.
ñ longer was h' humane - beards' blitzkrieg.
Crushed cowl tantamount t' gaunt grime's spree.
Rustic ravens 'nly pricked his gay,
'n' t' nocturnal nature was he slave.
ñ a nosy noon perchanced a deed -
that which wanky winds' wings oft gleam;
A pious nymph tottered t' his eyry;
banished was sh' b' quaking queen 'neath th' rill.
Ergo, sage's life plied new nook;
h' b' love travelled with nymph - jilted brook.
'20:07:30:15:43
Note:
a) Of sewn sage.
b) Written apace Middle English lexis:
i) Yore - long ago
ii) oft - often
iii) ajar - out of harmony
iv) cowl - Monk's hood
v) Perchanced - happened
vi) Eyry - abode
vii) gleam (obsolete) - to disgorge filth.
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) b' - by
ii) 'n' - and
iii) ñ - no
iv) t' - to
v) 'nly - only
vi) 'neath - beneath
vii) th' - the
viii) h' - he
When folks are young, they may feel blessed
But I coped with bullies, life felt stressed,
I started eating a lot, food always there
In theory a good thing, in my case a snare,
I ate whole boxes of doughnuts, chocolate cake too
Into my mouth, tasty pastries flew
Ate myself sick, could not disgorge
Then tried to run it off, body in a forge
Got strange symptoms, my extremities cold
Felt fatigue in the morning, I was young, but felt old
When I had a craving, to voraciously eat
In the battle of will, it was always a defeat.
The Hypothalamus is a pea shaped organ in the brain
Supposed to regulate craving, but my mark of Cain
Suppose to regulate reproductive urges too
When that kicked in, shame added to the stew
Not good or bad, food is meant to subsist
but If I went by a bakery, I could not resist
I'd pay for the delicacies, eat them standing there
People looked at me, I pretended not to care
Tried to eat bulk, solve the craving crime
In dark alleys, ate whole watermelons at a time,
If I had to buy something, I'd mail home the change
A life of privilege, led to something so strange.
Food was my master, it controlled me.
But I fasted part time, that's how I broke free.
I quieted down the enemy, now a friend
Got a second wind, a damaged man on the mend.
Got Shock Treatments, and Thorazine,
Helped with the symptoms, stopped snacks, wiped clean.
It wasn't all normal, I needed tricks for control
Trying to conquer what swallowed my soul.
The past can't be changed, but can one break the spell?
Avoid the positive feedback into hell?
You have to be selective, not clear out life's shelf
Discipline is needed for sanity and health
Not much is known about the traps in the mind
I've been in some, hope I left them behind
Should I blame myself, or blame my brain
Can any recrimination wipe out the stain?
When you're down in this life, baddies swoop with glee
Like vultures circling a wounded prey, they came for me.
They latched on, like an octopus in a marsh
I tried to tell my story, but it sounded mad, too harsh.
But it did make me think, as the iron rules kicked in
A harsh lesson learned in a world where mercy runs thin.
I should turn my back on the past, though I should not forget
My new problems are worse, but I freed my mind from the net
I stand outside in the tempest,
clothes billowing, cloak whipping in the wind,
my body swaying and rocking in the gale
as the heavens burst asunder
and disgorge their incredible payload.
My heart swells with exhilaration at nature's glory,
the raw power she wields
in such a fantastic display
invigorating, tremendous to behold.
Lightning flashes all around,
a flurry of bolts lashing out at the sky;
thunder booms and rolls
through the air and earth,
shaking the ground with its potency.
I marvel at the purity of it all -
of the lightning as it travels the abyss above;
of the thunder as it quakes the bedrock below;
the sky as the dark, roiling clouds churn;
the rain as it drives down,
sheet after sheet, drop after drop,
glistening in a sheen on my face
as I stare upwards, watching all
with an expression of amazement
and cries of fierce exaltation.