Long Domesticity Poems
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Come Walk With Me
In my mind
tendrils of memories past
insinuate and insert themselves
in the corners
to root out and cast light upon
them
as my hand presses, whiteknuckled
Bent into the bitter wind
here, alone
against the cold hard
brick, mortar and steel handrails
of a bridge
where once
betrothed, You and I gave thanks
It was not always thus
where once shone stars
to blanket the night skies
now, is darkness
Your hand tilted
my chin
upwards, to kiss
Back into time
memories grab and clutch at me
drawing all
from, away and into
the night
that fateful day
I hear over and over
"Come Walk with Me"
Along this route We strolled
to this very spot
this bridge
We talked of lovers
of love
of loving
and turned into one another arms
happy
The stars still sparkle
time inadfinitum
the water still flows
time inadfinitum
Long must I be alone
time inadfinitum
hands pressed to the handrails
perhaps
Rising on tiptoes
the bridge is now
the past
mere memories
You and I
together again
Our bridge a lovers leap
The wind carries Your voice
"Come Walk with me"
As wind tousled hair, flies
oh cruel and bitter truths
tears blurring the eyes
lovers lost
in time, and distance
his blood spilled
a day best forgotten
How many days of regret
must I bear
given up into death's cold clasp
from passerby's
lowered lashes
when I ran towards the sound
of loves last gasp
To repeat the day over is all I ask
but alas
never shall I know
the touch
of his smile
or finger to my skin
To hear again
"Come walk with me"
He said, taking my hand
so I did
but that last day
he smiled, left me to domesticity
some said it was quick
and a painless end
so shall mine be
quick
and an end
Feet do not fail me, balanced
bent to the winds cold
lights glimmering reflection
below, on inky water
heartbeats keeping rhythm,
tis time
to let go
To fall
the lyrics say
into oblivion
Our bridge
of wishes and dreams
and promises to keep
reaching forward and overbalancing
"Come walk with me"
[© psmith]
The Dreamless
Now that he had freed himself of the past looking forward
to think thoughts not hampered by dreams of childhood and
the embarrassment of teenage years and sexual clumsiness
falling in love with the most unsuitable and undesirable person possible because she made hot waffles with blueberry jam and sometime strawberry; he still thinks of his horror when his mother thought that woman was a suitable bride for
him mainly because she was stupid and malleable.
It was that beginning that in the end made him break with his past and declare families and danger for civilization, a dagger
in the heart of the future, that must be free of sentimentality.
He liked to sit in bars drinking gin&tonic and watching people before walking to his nearby hotel. Yes, he lived at a hotel because it saved him of the domesticity of paying bills
and fretting about the price of potatoes.
He thought of the German/American writer who said he liked his own company, if that was true how did he know, being drunk most of the time, Not like him who enjoyed his leisure
while waiting to write an earth shattering Novel.
Not to forget the sainted EH, who wrote like a simpleton and
won a Nobel Prize. His contempt for him was endless.
Walking to his hotel in the old part of the town, a boisterous
pig on a balcony fell off and nearly hit him.
The owners of the pig, seeing the animal was mortally wounded, quickly killed the pig by slitting its throat, before it died proper, this to avoid eating a self-dead animal.
This was a shock if the pig had fallen on him he might have ended up in hospital, worse, not being able to walk again
Since he had disowned his family, he had to change his plans.
He would marry an old tart, that had lost her attraction, rent her a flat, give her money for nice dresses, visit her once a week and tell neighbors he was a traveling businessman.
When down with the flu, she could take care of him as it was in her best interest to keep him alive.
Happy now that his future was sorted out, he went to bed and
slept, a night void of dreams.
Daddy's specter plectrums mercilessly
Fraying my nerves raw
with oxidized guitar strings.
my thoughts relentlessly hemorrhage
onto clay vinyl grooves
s p i n n i n g
endless nights
of
suffocation.
a midnight jazz wail
lacerates
the void of your absence.
notes gnaw through bone marrow
ravenous maggots
in the corpse
of our love.
Chords violently crash
splintering my fractured vertebrae
a car wreck
in slow motion.
plucking
the frayed synapses
of my misfiring
modal limbic brain.
feel the searing electric distortion
static fuzz of madness
surge through
morrow's marrow
my moanin'
a primal scream
at the Eve of Destruction
trapped in a skipping groove
of creation
shattering guitars
and blasting kneecaps
in an empty cathedral
of resounding sound
Our touch
a violent crescendo
of needles and poisoned honey
pain swollen sweet
as a mother's milk
laced with a junkie's fix
on a stillborn birthday morn
each note
a razor-sharp reflection
etched in stretch-marked
scar tissue
of the agony that throbs
within this moog menagerie
of fractured femininity
set
Between the sets
of our shattered chords
a single note lingers- soft
almost tender-
like a child's last breath
before the
final
f i n a l e
Silence crawls
a venomous asp
a deafening absence
louder than stacked amps
of patriarchy
reverberating in the hollow spaces
between drumming heartbeats
where your persecuting promises
used to nest and breed
I am the discarded B-side
of the one-hit wonder
rising from dumpster-filled
lungs of domesticity
reborn
in the Electric Avenue
of my own making
singing
Billie's bruises
Muddy's floods and
Johnson's hellhounds
to the ghosts
of futures stillborn
in this Rhapsody
of beautiful
destruction
Moon-faced and sickle-smiled
I conduct this orchestrated
Savage band of ruin
my voiceless voice
a lightning rod
splitting the sky
of expectations
as I agonizingly birth myself anew
in the RCA Victor Rhapsody of Blue
of Beautiful
reconstruction
P e r h a p s…
a new refrain
It's much too close in here
for loneliness,
or companionship.
Either way,
I grow too small
non-existent
non-essential
undervalued domesticity with insufficient commodity,
just another over-populating parasite
underneath Earth's glamorous backside;
Suppressed incubator within a more integrating place
of nonverbal language
and full-octaned relationship toward outside
somewhere, marginally surfing
flowing symbiotic omni-nutritional fluid
umbilical corded string
for receiving ever more formative function
energetic unction
massive combustion
rebirthing my new Elder synergetic IdEntity
through Ego-recession,
contracting unrhymed rhythm
of fear of fear of fear...
Double-Binding negative threshold
toward appositional Eco-Love prehension;
echoing across echo-developing hemispheres,
inter-wombed regenetic too slow and tight economy
creating EarthTribe's Beloved Ecology
of paradise boundaried with pain
Longing reconnected within universal agency,
being primally related through
RNA's coincidental Hollow Womb Presence,
Earth's self-optimizing cornucopian abundance
revolutioning joyful grace,
redemptive polycoloring place,
regenerate revolving Memory time
as love-drenched EarthMother's space.
Ambidextrous-ionic amniotic fluid,
Janus-faced dual destined
to internally bring forth new life
by purge erupting each metamorphic fertile sac,
draining past generations
into future's new-born hope,
to emerge a womb with sufficient empathic communication
to compassion Earth's warm-wombed community;
reconnecting humane nature's transactional economics
with sacred nature's transcendent ecologics--
Great Transition deducing permacultured functions
inducing biological forms of regenetic polyculture.
We're much too close for racing loneliness,
at loooong sloooow last,
our time to become Beloved CoElational together.
Day pulses within budding blue eyes.
She lays solo in the rickety bed -
a hand-me-down from a cousin removed.
Dust bunnies swirl and dance overhead
in the early morning sun, beckoning her awake.
A chill in the air sends goosebumps
past her threadbare nightgown
worn years past it's expiry date.
Peeling off her sprawling quilt,
she joins the already burdened dawn.
With noiseless footfalls, she creeps
to the crippled chair in the corner
where her favorite grass-colored smock
hangs - a token of love stitched
by cramped aged fingers, now silent.
Creaks echo, sounding as bullets, awakening
the aching chamber housing two generations.
The task to break their fast falls to her:
the sizzle of scent surrounds the kitchen berth;
A familiar routine partaken in duet.
Gratitude is given, utterances exchanged,
then abandoned to her role of domesticity.
Lather and rinse, plates come clean
- a grind that is chanted again and again.
Deepening her breath, a sigh is summoned out.
Slipping away is a fixture encored:
a record scratching in her head.
Bypassing the large crack in the porch,
she tumbles down the steps of grandfather's house.
Each clip and clop wrench draining blows
to the descending wooden flight.
She walks down the pebbled driveway,
scratching raw the bottoms of her unshod feet.
A solitary spot calls from an aged oak tree
- branches droopy and weighed down
with a verdant embrace of an ivy blanket.
Ideas and dreams flare here, spent and shaped
- a sagging memento of her station.
Hours drift by, the warm summer day
aids like a balm to a frayed heart.
Swinging from her childhood tire swing,
careworn from similar seasonal passing,
she waits for her time in the sun.
Composed 4/21/2021
Once soul mates,
the world was their oyster;
together, they built paradise
teeming with life.
Their life was the stuff of dreams.
They were a happy twosome
who couldn't look more compatible.
They savored cozy domesticity.
Their enviable love grew
strong and tall with time.
They planned to dream for eternity
A bright star that hung in their sky
had their names written on it
How drastic the reversal of fortune.
Somehow, they lost that spark they once had.
Their happiness eroded.
Like a lucky gambler
who goes from rolling sevens
to suddenly blowing most of his winnings,
they lost the beautiful dream they created.
Fate couldn't be more unkind.
The flowers in their garden wilted.
Their tasty slice of heaven now tastes bitter.
The star that shone so bright.
above them couldn't be more distant now.
They let paradise slip through their fingers.
Their romance which used to flow
like a gentle stream has iced over.
Now they've found themselves
where the sun doesn't shine.
Submitted for...
Goldilocks Zone Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Date written: 03/30/2021
History, it has always seemed,
at least it always has to me,
Is not something to be forgotten,
For from it much is gleaned.
It strikes me as more sensible,
if I may be allowed to say,
that's history is not a dusty book,
it's an all-you-can-think buffet!
From the ancients of the Levant
Ten Commandments do I take.
From the doughty Middles Ages:
Chivalry, a fine impression makes.
From the minutemen on Bunker Hills
comes a true love of liberty.
From the trappers in high Rockies
A sense of true independency.
The cowboy age it gives me
an appreciation of the grit,
along with a strong desire
Not to take any lip.
The roaring twenties gives me
the thrill of living it up.
The thirties taste strongly of thrift,
Of how to suffer through the rough.
Of the forties came a craving
for punching evil in the jaw.
From the fifties: Domesticity,
it's great rewards I saw.
From the sixties I take little,
except maybe rock and roll.
Though I admit as I grow older
Its seems tasteless and cold.
The seventies and best not eaten,
On that most will agree.
But the eighties' flavor is the power
of man's ingenuity set free.
From the millennium I consumed the fact
that Islamism is not that great.
And the present taste teaches clearly
not to trust those who cry "Hate!"
And this is just the beginning,
so many ideas out there lay...
A bit from here, a bit from there
A plate built of every age.
You leave behind the gristle,
though it make take some time,
but eventually you plate is choice,
and free of fat and rings.
And why some folks flee from it,
I cannot begin to say.
All I know is that once you start
you will always crave the taste.
Faithful companion, Caradog, without necessity
Habitat fed his needs, our bond rapidly developed
Fierce competent hunter amazingly adopted me
Heritage unable to continue, thylacine near relic
Decision to keep him secret was tumult traumatic
Exploited Tiger captured disallowed me to have it
Slender sniff nuzzled friend was a multitude more
Central to my craft's formation, carved wood replica
Tangible muse renews value in sculpting his form
Task of inspiration shed sparks of reaching fire
From my lantern lit table, I intently watched him rise
Stilt like legs stretched, striped yellow rump lifted
Nudged me with gentle nose, wild must be a guise!
Trusting eyes knew domesticity, my heart pilfered
So we walked, accepted man beside marsupial beast
Sharp snout pointed urgently when he detected a meal
Several rats equalled daily quota, Caradog's appease
Showed me hidden nooks, I couldn't figure the appeal
Of providing his secrets, perhaps to dispel theories
Population still existed, a duty he felt was obligatory
Already running in my long local veins, knowledge
Caradog was the final egsample, the last battler
Of a fine Australian species, sadly now abolished
Persistent development trampling their chattels
Option to turn him in to rangers, on my doorstep
Final thylacine female despondent and beyond it
Zoo tourist captivity would instill Caradog torture
Days spent free, ferocious mate bore my fondness
( Last live Thylacine held in Tasmania, 1933 )
* Convincing Thylosene on poems below this,
the prequel to this story
9th August 2020
It took us too long,
but eventually
we noticed Republican women
and Democrats both women and men
often preferred to spend about twice as much on domestic education
and defensively proactive mutual health care assurance
as compared to international defensive co-investment,
too often reduced to the militaristic over-industrialized budget.
And, of that international relations budget,
about two-thirds for growing cultures of healthy peace warriors
and maybe up to one-third on policing criminal offense
with cooperative co-investment intent.
So,
the domestic and educational security matriarchs
formed cooperative ecopolitical networks
for governing inside these fifty States,
while the more WinWin patriarchs
tried to mutually dominate
a more Left-Right Brain and Mind and Incarnate Body
of harmonic global co-investment networks.
Both internal and external cooperatives
rooted in Lovelock and Margulis double-binding
chemistry as also synergetic microbiology
producing Gaia Hypotheses of CoRevolution,
flowering in Golden Rules Revised:
Do not not ecopolitically flex and do
as you would have your great grandchildren remember like you,
with kindness,
contentment,
grace of awesome love,
continued abundant co-investment
in regenerational strings of polypathic mutual promise,
positively imagined in our retrospective matriarchal-patriarchal future,
multicultures of health-balancing wealth.
She came to me
at five
at war inside
between Plan A
RightEgo Dominant
against Plan B
LeftEcoPolitical Wrong.
I came to her
to ask outside
for LeftYang NatureRights,
cooperatively supported,
ignoring RightYin SpiritWrongs
you see
(and hear and smell)
as NegativEnergy.
Our therapy
with GoldenRules
our Left Secular Identity
and Right sacredality,
sacred Princess secularity.
With outdoor solidarity voices
I learned to hear
then see
then sing
her view of tough
WinLose epic choices.
We ask her to let go
of all she hopes to NubianPrincess be
and all we offer in exchange
is how to lose less
Ugly StepSister Sorority
waiting for further
aging mediocrity
through growing domesticity
by matriarchal Yin repression,
RightBrain sacred oppression.
Now she dances
while we together sing,
calling back to birds
and squirrels
and bees
and crickets
in trees
gardening and pretending to Princess fly
and grace-filled walk
showing sharing esteemed chances
for WinWin princess prances
yet to be
with
or without
me.
She still prefers WinWin
Left deep learning
with sacred Right feeling
as do we all,
as do we all
invited to Prince Charming's ball.
I came to her
at war inside
between Left fading dominance
and Right feeling prominence
longing for resilient
belonging outdoor resonance.