Long Elysian fields Poems
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Tuesday Lobsang Rampa made
tea so his Third Eye could open
to see dreams fortifying in aspiring hearts
as they reach for the next beat in their comings and goings
Socrates played the lyre by
banging on the strings while
humming and hawing about the trouble of
always stressing and straining against the chains
though he loved Phaedrus in the Symposium
it was Xanthippe that made him a muse
Hermann Hesse spoke in tongues
while translating the synapses of a goatherd
who arranged new ideas like glass beads
which almost always came undone
except when Siddartha played the lute
in exchange for his crooked staff
Nietzsche saw the cunning linguist
would never solve the puzzle of the dead body
which Zarathustra carried to his bed like a wolf
where he lay dying of syphilis wrapped
in the wool of many sleeping sheep
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
Scads of decades ago...
Metaphorical mama's yoyo
came undone, unleashing woe
doggone wizard of oz sought in toto
afore final picture show
would play staging pro
sic cuter determining
irrevocable fate oh no!
Approximately this time of year
(circa mid December) as
Christmas holiday doth near,
yours truly donning his unrecognizable
incognito custom tailored corporeal wear
well worn, timeworn, and careworn
birthday suit - most
frightening Halloween scare
transient boyhood lad
spooked with fear
courtesy grizzled old man,
who toothless doth glare
at much younger self
sporting scraggly gray hair
searches happy go lucky,
innocently naive, fancy free
and footloose spare
slip sliding away shy kid 'ere
timid, solitary, reservedly...
imperfect triangulated square
peg in round hole
quizzically, soundlessly... mere
roaring, reflecting, and ruminating
riddled with despair
methinks him foreigner, stranger, harbinger...
unavoidable, hellacious, catastrophic...
pitfalls he ain't aware
impossible mission to bolster near
deadly encounters with
maniacal mailer daemons
stealing his harmony, jollity, spontaneity...
knocking him out stone cold no prayer,
nor wing can revive, he will appear,
whence straddling prepubescence
agonizingly scared shuffling, skulking
sputtering... collapsing upon
his scrawny derriere
bony posterior subjected
necessary iron injections
courtesy Harriet Harris (mother)
licensed practical nurse buttressing
emaciated frame hiding her tear
filled eyes, while sole son
wishes grim reaper cursed harridan
freely clutching him onto elysian fields,
where abound spirits
of grateful dead everywhere.
LIES
Dragging even the arm of the wind
Into the deepest depths of hell
We rise again as Spring breezes
Into the skies of knowledge
Into the highest holiness of heaven
Where innocence once violated
Is regained
PEACE
In a return home before the rape
Beyond a God forsaken past
Beyond the will that never was
That never formed an “IS”
A forgotten verb
In ungrammatical poison
Rising up from
DARKNESS
Unstuck from the glue of possession
Flowing out of monstrous fraud
Too big to fill any screen of eternity
Too vast to understand
Even within the context of depravity
Kidnapped and raped
And dragged across the face of Earth’s
ABYSS
Raw flesh hanging over
The flames of the eternal fire
Of the lake between the continents
Rising out of devastating wickedness
A mutilating mind of gross error
Of rage and vengeance
Filling a hard disc with
VIRUSES AND LOST FILES
Now healing
In convalescence
On the other shore
Of purification and repentance
Of sins of retribution mine and theirs
All payment is fully made
With Christ’s ransom every penny paid
A RELEASE
Into the prepared garden
Stretching out from the doorstep
Of the borrowed landscape
Over the dew laden delay of dawn
Into a final rest
In the “athletic sunlight”
Of the Elysian fields
GARDENS
Beyond the prison house
Beyond Hell’s creatures
Cancelled by truth
Making a bridge over the precipice
Above the infinite pit
Held aloft by pillars of love
Covered in vines of orphan’s soulful songs
Rather than crank up the heat...
and ratchet up global warming
like bubbling vegetable stew
with tsk... tsk... heard
courtesy Greta Thunberg,
who would utter "how dare you..."
I bundle with layers to stave off cold
energy efficiency drilled courtesy
me late mother conserving
nonrenewable resources she extolled
now ewe best heed following suggestion
wool worth 3d printing than wearing
a sheep doubled over
along dotted line to fold
cuz expending (fossil fuel)
leaving carbon footprint
would immediately being lectured
by ecology conscious eldest daughter,
(a University of Pennsylvania
biomedical engineering alumna)
who would mildly scold.
Myself and thee missus holed up
here within Highland Manor Apartments
(unit B44 in case you wanna drop me a line)
we're here moost every cold December day
sipping warm cup
of our favorite beverage
exotic coffee latte brew
suits this muttering pup
actually yours truly
a doggone ole
long haired pencil necked geezer.
He can be found moost any given warm Green Day
shuffling along boulevard of broken dreams
overhead skies colored rosy gunmetal gray
occasional huff fro zen cloud slashing solar ray
heating inside cozy nook,
though outside temperature brisk,
nevertheless for winter quite balmy
while I sit here heavily clad,
hence yours truly quite toasty within
perfect weather for wedding,
especially one hashtagged December/May.
After dusk i.e. established misnomer known as sunset
occurs 4:36 Post Meridiem heavens quickly turn jet
black today - Thursday, December 10, 2020 (EST)
whereby darkness lulls one into sleepiness, I bet
dollars to donuts impossible mission
to keep eyelids opened, particularly if sleep debt
necessary to pay the sandman,
who knows maybe you gotta get get
comfortably numb vis a vis temporarily unconscious
state, whereby dreaming of a white Christmas
analogous to eventual Elysian Fields,
where divine creator
conjuring Nirvana and/or
a place called Willoughby
if a believer, said Almighty eventually met.
I travel lonely to find my love
In the stygian caves i crawl
Searching for the chthonic gate
Across the moonlit elysian fields
And a sea of boiling blood
Through a forest of bone
In the shadows of eternal night
I wonder along listening to an owl’s song
On my way to meet lady death
Santa Muerte we called her
Our lady of holy death
I knew her only as “my love’
That is all I cared to be
The gods had scorned me
But she reveled with me
We played secret games in the moonlight
We played the game of death and life, courage and sacrifice
Even though scorned was I
But all to soon the call had came
And the Widows horse had spun her away
Into the inky shadow of night she faded on the darksome wind
Riding the ghostly horse away from her friend
How I miss her my love
So now i seek to find the Widows keep
To propose a union between death and life
Ever so meek gladly I would speak
Although I be of the clan of man, I will still gladly offer my hand
My heart is yours, my soul to stay
And walk beside you every night and day
Through weal and woe as chance may be
I myself shall be true to you and never be so low
I shall never cheat and never meet any other that is your equal
Or so I believe
So I walk through a mirrored hall of silvered glass
Lit by candle light amidst the waters of death
To meet with the queen of the keep
The dark of night Widows Sleep
Sleep our glorious ancestors, sleep!
Do not be disturbed.
We,
your descendants would never betray
The blood you have shed to liberate
Our land.
The Land of:
Homer and Hesiod
Aeschylus and Euripides
Socrates and Plato
Hypocrates and Alexander
For
We would never let another enemy,
No matter how powerful,
To invade our holy motherland-
The birthplace:
Of Philosophy
Of Democracy,
Of Tragedy, and
Of the Olympic Games.
Sleep you, immortal heroes of freedom, sleep!
Let your blessed souls roam onto the Elysian fields, and
Let yourselves enjoy the company of our
Forbears:
Of Hercules,
Of Achilles
Of Odysseus, and
Of Agamemnon
For
We stay vigilant guards instead of you
Ready to safeguard the values and ideals
For which you have fallen.
Ready to follow your footsteps, and
Ready to die for our land: Greece
Which
You have liberated after four hundred years of
Insufferable and tyrannical occupation.*
©Demetrios Trifiatis
25 March 2021
*The Ottomans captured Constantinople (Istanbul), which was
the capital of the Byzantine empire for eleven centuries, on the
29th of May 1453. Greece remained enslaved till the 25th of
March 1821, when we Greeks revolted against the oppressors' tyranny and after a long war, we managed to liberate ourselves!
Long live Freedom. Long Live Greece!
Our flirtatious glances were as rosebuds in Spring
Infatuation blossomed into confessions of love
LOVE: such a fragile emotion, a rather delicate thing
We bloomed profusely in Summer's fulgent heat
His touch as soft as the velvet of my crimson petals
We swayed in gentle breezes, content and replete
On warm, sun kissed days and long sultry nights
His parted lips tasted far sweeter than raw honey
We savored each moment of exquisite delight
In Elysian fields we lingered by Summer's end
Romance, the nectar of our paradisial passion
But in our arbored garden, I felt him bend
With Autumn approaching, the air grew chill
There was a sense of fading and withering within
A petal fell and my world seemed to stand still
Our bloom lost its luster, its fragrant floral scent
I languished in pathos as my lover turned away
Feeling the agony of loss, I drooped, head bent
No longer did I feel the warmth of the sun
Inside my weary veins no tenderness remained
The beginning of my demise had sorrowfully begun
Love became a memory in Winter's frigid mist
Tears spilled like drops of mourning dew
Snowflakes touched my lips, once tenderly kissed
I became a frozen blossom, standing on my own
Icebound in time ~ once loved, forsaken and alone
My season of life and love was tragically windblown
Pierced by the thorn that once protected my heart,
I have no interest to awaken in the thawing of Spring
for love died and wretched regret has torn me apart
"The Wanton Rapture Blazing"
I hear you in the ribbons that sing
tied to poles of gallantry where charged
with acts of misadventure love carried me
to your walls, I wrote on them then, as I do now
to trace each mark, each a scar on the other's groove penned,
a key for the turning buried deep in a forgotten heart
revenge does not exist there, it lies in state numbed
on the boundaries where ruined territories whisper, best buried
never to be found again, what judgement made you misadventure,
to seek me here, standing on the other side of inside out exposed,
with my runes tempting futures with an inner fortune split
and rendered aligned with waning moon, we call to each other like loons,
you seem to be full of the Icarus waxing lyrical, billowed you, approaching
the all seeing I, your valentine downfall, the wanton rapture blazing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Valentines Day
“Bayonne”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/6XSekP_8Gp8
Inspired by Petrarch’s
“To Make A Graceful Act of Revenge”
https://petrarch.petersadlon.com/canzoniere.html?poem=2
Petrarch
(Francesco Petrarca, 1304 -1374)
Philospher, Poet
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petrarch
LYRICS/ “Bayonne”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-bayonne-lyrics
As the undertow is pulling me down
With your cross examination
I'm receding in the teeth of your plow
But I won't dig my own grave
As you're twisting every word that I say
There's a snare in the forest
Under brush where you want me to play
But I won't dig my own grave
"Uncircumnavigated"
Just Around the Corner ...
How did you write
your way
into my story?
A Wolf
and
a Fox
Blitzkrieg.
The rompers
romp in…
This is unprecedented, unwanted,
Silence is Golden
I walk to the beach
and back breathless
cool
you;
me,
debating always debating
internal
within
the uncircumnavigated tracks,
feral white rabbit
marks his mark
Clocks His time
in
Time
the city skyline,
recalcitrant, shading, delicious
Light in Dark Night
winks back
ridiculously knowing
winks back
How did you write
your way
into my story?
When I had already written
keys and locks into
the Chinese Puzzle Box
locked
locked
locked
and then,
unheralded
inconsequential
YOU
bourgeois
gauche calculating intellect
breeze in…
Hornet bites
honey bee
Gold
dribbling
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2019)
"When" / Elysian Fields
"The Circe Effect" (Part 1)
Circe, Goddess of magic, nymph, witch, bold enchantress
daughter of Helios, Sun God, her father, can you imagine? ...
let me paint you further, the tree of this wacked-out family canvas -
daughter of Perse, her mother, wild Oceanid Nymph, spawned not on landmass,
but in the vast deep blue deep.
Aeetes, her brother hung tight to his Fleece
and Pasiphaë, her sister, given in marriage to King Minos of Crete,
had a fling with a monstrous White Bull,
a gift from Poseidon, ain't that so sweet?
she bore a bastard child, the Monataur with a ring in his nose,
horns and hoofed feet.
Now there was a family of total dysfunction
and Circe, poor dear, betrayed for remaining herself,
remaining non-function
was banished to Aeaea for murdering her husband
the Prince of Colchis.
There on Aeaea, as revenge, Circe drew out her magic wand - not a sword,
transmuted her enemies, all those who offended her into wild beasts,
where they were left to circle her mansion and roam to eat swill as their feast.
Docile not dangerous, drugged and delerious,
these beasts never gored -
they were fawned on by all newcomers, who were simply just curious,
never bored.
These entranced beasts lured newcomers to our girl Circe
with a woof and purr.
Enter Circe, quite disturbed, in a logical kind of way.
“More pets for me!”, she thought, “they will never stray”.
These lonely, adventurous vagabonds who ventured into her lair,
well, she showered them with all her incantations, but they never heard
her words of Love ever there –
Circe would finally reveal who she truly was,
for you see by now all that pain, all that hurt
had converted our dear old Circe into a siren
otherworldly, deadly lethal, mysterious, re-birthed;
all that ventured into her Kingdom now were
captivated by her spells and
then promptly, with a wave of her wand,
transfigured forevermore
as creatures,
of her Elysian Fields interred.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)