Long Erratically Poems
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Thanks to you all
Thanks to those who come to
poetrysoup.com, practise poems,
write, read and share poems
and comment on others
Thanks to those who read my
writings, do comments, follow
me, avoid my poems, block
and ban me from their list
Thanks to you all
I’ve no eternity here, all of me
from least to chest, best to edge,
sharpen blade of new paddy leaves
jeopardize my torn nib of ink
in the field of writings graph
Maybe I couldn’t write any word
for beauty and stunning young girl
in comprehension, in passion and
in my fashionable heart
Maybe I couldn’t write charming note
of flower’s petals, striking fragrance,
in my perpetuity lake of quills
Maybe I couldn’t draw the sexy body of
rose, lotus, tulip, sunflower, orchid,
lily, daffodil… etc in my vulnerable
reef of poetic expression
Maybe I couldn’t draw the colors magic
of rainbow in my infatuated fallen
soaked feathers with November rain
Maybe I couldn’t inscribe the nature
the cosmos, the solar system, the ocean,
the black hole, the space, the sky, the stars,
the planets, the galaxies, the meteors, the
gravitational power…etc in my slumbering
wings of writings
Maybe I couldn’t plant the meditational
tree into the pure heart of words, I couldn’t
select the seeds of immortality in my
ascetic madness and magma script
Maybe I couldn’t greet the autonomy flying
of Cockatiels, Parakeets, Canaries, Finches,
African Grey Parrots, Budgerigars, Cockatoos,
Conures, Macaws, Poicephalus…etc in my
unintelligible incarcerated language
Maybe I couldn’t hail the abode for Labrador,
Bulldog, German, Poodle, Beagle… etc and
Maine Coon, Egyptian Mau, American Bobtail,
Ragdoll…etc in my materialistic
harvesting terminology
Maybe I couldn’t sleep with power of poems,
dream to be a finest classic or modern poet
in my kingdom of pen, paper, ink, writing
table-chair and lamp
Notwithstanding all these, I thanks to those
who come here at least one time daily,
erratically and read, write, share own
thoughts and comment frankly
Thanks to you all a lot. Thanks and love you
all. From me always ready the rose without
thorns and love for you all, although you bleed
my heart by thorns stinging
-November 14, 2018 Chattogram
////
DEDICATED TO POETRYSOUP.COM and ALL POETS-POETESSES OF THIS ESTEEMED LITERARY SITE
The Boogeyman
"Lay your head down child I won't let the Boogeyman come"
another infamous Tool ballad blares out of the speakers.
"Go back to sleep, go back to sleep..."
James (now 14) hits the power button and says to himself
Ha! There ain't no boogeyman in my closet anymore!
Kids stuff! Then turns out the light for the night...
An hour or so passes, the wind blows erratically outside...
The bedroom window is open just a crack...
just enough so the wind ruffles the curtains...
and brings the chill of the night in with it...
James wakes up about then wondering why he shivers
because right about then the wind completely died
He looks to the window, shrugs, gets up and closes it
As he turns around it hit him again, the chill with no wind...
He shakes his head to rid himself of this eerie feeling
Cracks his neck a couple of times and laughs, weakly
Come on stud you're a big boy what are you scared of
"Lay your head down child I won't let the Boogeyman come"
Now laying back in bed that Tool song repeating in his head
over, and over, and over, again, it won't stop
He's starting to get uneasy, along comes another chill
That awful feeling when something bad is crawling up your spine...
Then suddenly his closet door creeks open just a crack
What the !*%?, instinctively he pulls his sheets up to his chin
Now he's freaking, shaking, perspiring, and watching
but nothing comes out, why won't it just come out...
"Lay your head down child I won't let the Boogeyman come"
Now he hears a faint something, a soft scratching
What the hell is happening, he whispers I didn't do anything
Then in his head he heard, "Not believe in me", it's coming...
All of a sudden the door fly's open and James screams
uncontrollably screams while wriggling in his sheets
Yelling Please don't hurt me, please I believe, I believe
Then his cat Jester jumps up onto the middle of his chest...
Poor James just about had a heart attack and peed his pants
right in his bed as Jester starts purring and licking his face
No it can't be? It was, James accidently shut Jester in the closet
"Lay your head down child I won't let the Boogeyman come"
He never listened to that song ever again...
05/24/16
This is my search for the proper mentality
Ive realized I need to change myself drastically,
And Radically
I need to Change my whole inner Anatomy
On The search for a cure to my insanity
I just dont want to be another fatality
As I look around casually, trying to think rationally
But the only answer i can find is to change my whole personality
If i dont the pain will continue to grow rapidly
In this calamity I lost you, but only to a mental catastrophe
But you looked into my eyes and said "it wasnt me"
So ill continue to be in this state of amity
Thankfully I lack apathy
While i wait Ecstatically
For you come back to me,
In my time of need I tried to turn to christanity
Because They said the bible would hold the answers in reality
But my life needs to be lived emphatically
So id like to drop a bomb on your faith, **** the baptistry
And im sorry for all this blasphomy
My words of truth have turned into a rhapsody
And ive learned that The one of the real gifts you left me is was this constructive agony
My brain needs to be drained because its nearly at full capacity
My thoughts are endless and keep growing erratically
Every thought of mine is full of confession, confusion and wishes for the future,
Id call it a fantasy
Because I dream one day we will be living together, fantastically
And stop being held down by gravity
And ill float away with you in my arms
Now understand I say that with first meaning of audacity
And I feel like you are mine as if you were given to me through my born rights constitutionalily
And In my mind Our love was a given right that was ammended and ended with feelings of impartialily
But with time the amendment will be repealed happily, with no memory
And youll return to me randomly
And ill tell you "i wasnt worried" sarcastically
Because when you walked away it left a very deep cavity
i tried to fill it up with pathetic fallacy
but only you in my arms will fill it to the top dramatically
And nothing will ever be the same in my eyes and in my reality
Dont worry I dont say that unhappily
Because missing you has caused me to fight and fix my life and my immorality
So now ill take a bow and say "thank you"
like im trying to end this theatrically
With your hand in mine and the proper punctuality.
Sausages are meal items that should be avoided at all costs by very small rabbits. Tiny white fish with silver fins carry red flags that denote danger in a tide. So hop jump up a tree then. That should be interesting and safe as solace springs from branches and all wood can be shaped. Mistake not a red dialled mustard cake for a pizza for the wires hidden can explode. Uncharacteristically benevolent to invoke trust then erratically boom to give a red dust to the air. Explosive are the surrounds in many a dusty floor. If a beautiful lady is fishing for pike she must first wear a bonnet shaped like a turtle's shell. For to avoid the many pellets thrown by passing fleas,flues,ants and beetles. Humming a silvery tune to entice the marvellous beast for the summer feast and festivals of the sun are counted on long sticks. Spinning tops can often be made from small plastic piglets whose round shapes assist them to spin many many times. So entertaining for classes. When the mind is silent the caterpillar ghost files open to rearrange and sort the many piles of assorted mind excursions into organised pan and shape. With a slight touch of wisdom from elders and books. Knowledge can be prevalent in a kiss of fresh air or the breezes of a mountain stream. Steaming is not unusual at this time. Temperature raised then cooked to even a once fragmented core. Apples are amazing creatures if placed by a garden gate in a large barrow. It takes a long time for a small five centimetre pig to gather together the fodder. All the differences are displayed in a global pie. Pieces are even, exact and work together harmoniously in a giant whirl. Mélange bien remue bien tra la tra la tra la on. And obviously a seven acre sea horse cannot work a diameter six barrel no a trapezium. When x to y an x to z take a bucket and wear it on one's arm. Trading a tailor for a trademark. Teaching turtles to talk tantrically. Fishing in undergrowth for left unsustainable weapons of old. Goblets of greed gone. Homing a house full of horses. Hemming heifers. Saintly suns and mystical moons. Many hands many ingredients. Many times a foretold faith. Xx lovingly living life lifestyles. Xx denominations. *** calling cards caressing *** evaporation xxxx acrylonitrile *** and now I will have a coffee. ***
Form:
Diane was like any other Long Island mother,
but on July twenty six she made an horrible mistake by smoking pot,
resulting in the death of five beautiful kids, as young as five,
and three passengers in a SUV driving northbound;
she drove intoxicated,erratically going the wrong way, plowed into this Chevy Trailblaser,
but her son Brian miraculously survived the crash...
frantically shaking her bleeding mom and desperately crying by her side!
Did she hear him? She was dying, and couldn't caress his adorable face!
Why did Diane get behind the wheel so high and under the influence?
Did she need a quick-fix to get away from her problems or illness?
I will not judge her, but the facts point the finger at her!
Mothers, drive sober on dangerous highways, be alert and avoid a crash!
You will regret it, if this results in the death of someone you love;
don't let the guilt forever linger on your conscience: do you see yourself
deeply moarning by a grave that shouldn't have been there;
and what will flowers do...console those who cannot hear, feel or love?
Out there, more mothers like Diane...hallucinated by visions,
drive recklessly because of ingested, harmful alcohol;
others mix liquor with marijuana or other illegal drugs,
and think that they have conquered the world with their high,
and they may not see another day when they lay there and die!
Listen you all, put down your rolled-up papers, and drinks,
save yourselves and your own children who deserve to live full lives;
don't cut them short...would you rather stare at their pictures on the wall?
Diane might have been nice and loving before taking the wrong path,
don't we all when our expectations don't exceed our wishes?
Whatever they may be, it would be wise to be satisfied with what you have accumulated;
don't ask for miracles with your undeserving prayers...they will not be admonished!
Start with humbleness and dedicate yourself to the noblest cause:
helping others, inspiring anyone who admires you...tackling their desire to live!
And what will be your reward? Only eldless joy...without the terrible spectacle of death!
The Taconic Parkway tragedy could have been avoided, if she had had more love to give!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
We celebrate Guy Fawkes although he did not quite make the grade
I know and understand rebellion threatens thus he met his fate
Could have been worse he could have blown of his incendiary hand
Less body parts to torture in the name of country and King of the land
Guido as they called him fighting for the Spanish before his foiled plot
Was fully aware that he could be exterminated for an unsavoury complot
Can violence in the name of debatable justice be ever condoned
The masters of power today might agree when Syria is droned
Crusades in the name of some cause or other belie religion and creed
When money meets oil geopolitical persuasion derived from greed
Black powder in Guy’s case blew up in his fierce revolutionary face
Unlike Nelson an eye for a blind spot got him nothing but disgrace
Dark power gloved fists velvet resolutions and orange insurrections
Should of course release white peace doves from resolute minds’ disaffection
Nena’s 99 red balloons and Banksy’s street art reveal a powerful message
No doubt they beat anthrax in envelops and letter bombs sent by expressage
Yet Mandela in his armed struggle days was deemed a vile terrorist
Fought for the cause in despair but was labelled a mean criminal errorist
Suppose that leaves us with religion and Jesus crossed bleeding nailed
Whereas Guy stored explosives in Westminster’s undercroft with little avail
A white robed Ghandi marched for salt freedom justice peaceful opposition
Before him the Buddha sat quietly under a Bodhi tree for untroubled transition
Fawkes received victor’s punishment but is said to have fallen from the scaffold
Before being hanged broke his neck probably mocked the crowd that was baffled
Avoided the agony of the punitive rope before drawn and divided into four parts
Outsmarted the executioner retribution erratically broken in fits and starts
Few of us know the real story only shoot fireworks remember November the 5th
Blow money miss the pith dispense judgement in blessed ignorance forthwith
A lesson to be learnt from the historical legend some possible moral from treason
Is that words are superior to gun powder and it’s better to die for a right reason
the silence of these
screaming profanities!
only the light rise
of my bosom,
fluttering erratically,
soon to die.
ever stinging ache within
ablaze, engulfing my torso.
my inner-thoughts, my betrayal,
weakness emanating from my
sweat!
my cold cruel heart,
shut off from that once
intoxicating
passion that consumed my soul.
bitterness now my old friend,
keeping me alive by torture!
was i ever a woman consumed
by passions, that lived depite
my murderous intent?
ever drowning in my lovers
arms,
this wall is built of bitter bricks.
My fortress, your all consuming
love.
i seek you not...
must endure a thousand paths
of torment and a thousand
paths, which have no end or
start.
my contentment lies in
masters of old, for thier
insanity is kindred to my own,
troubles of the mind.
never to recieve any sign, only
to grasp, on turn of a phrase, to
sustain thought of my
bloodsport of art.
on the brink of lunacy...
never ending craving to read
the word or phrase that
connects my strewn about dots.
barely sane to be sober...
cutting deep into my warped
inner being,
no one one can understand or
put meaning to my vague
scribblings.
I'm not profound, written for
an emotional stunt, the ever
poetic child.
climbing to scratch his mark on
forest tree.
long forgotten, the passion in
this dungeon of my coldest
construct.
now, know these tradegys
scribbled!
lines of self pity and contempt,
if such are true realities in my
backward and warped
misinterpretations.
fools who find the meaning,
never have scratched my
surface.
nice to think they they can be
sympathized when devoid of all
true compassions,
they lie to them and pretend to
get the deeper consciousness
born , immaculate, chosen by
celestial providence...
the passion, she's calling you,
has been a forced
joke, fit in.
but truth be ,told, you have
been destined for this auction
of your soul, piece by piece,
like a bleeding cutout heart,
this much be private
understood hopefully by you.
but your peers will give you
accolades and those can't bear
to like your work, simply cause
they havent reached you realm
yet.
words to wise; protect your
words, as your breath, it's all
you really have now; survival
In a world where dreams are rakish and quixotic,
Where quiddity seems extravagantly chaotic,
A chivalrous soul dares to be different.
With a heart that beats fervently, so magnificent.
Romantic notions dance in their minds.
A visionary quintessence they find,
Chimerical dreams they hold dear,
Preposterous, dreadful tracks they fear.
Age is just a number, they say.
Irrelevant in the pellucid pursuit of their way,
Happiness is the sense that one matters,
And their dreams are the ladder.
In a world where opia destruction prevails,
Where chaos and despair often trail,
Quixotic evidence emerges, bold and bright.
Roguish scope for rebuilding shines a light.
Dare to alter the world, they proclaim.
With sapidity gnawing such a flame,
It may seem quixotic, and some may sneer.
But their seraphic vision is so clear.
For in their hearts, they sojourn the key.
In a world where dreams roam free,
Where impossibilities become realities
And it's in this world, they find their vitality.
There is no scarcity of opportunity.
To earn a living doing what they love, with glee,
Chasing in kuebiko without compromise.
For in their dreams, their spirit lies.
It erratically seems as if curbing entropy,
Is our quixotic goal in the cosmos, you foresee,
But in the midst of chaos, they stand tall.
With a determination that never stalls.
In a world where dreams are quixotic,
They refuse to be virtuosically robotic.
They believe in the anecdoche dreams.
And nothing, awry reality, dims their gleams.
They agnize that each sonder is just a number.
And that happiness is a monachopsis to remember.
They embrace the chivalrous and the romantic.
With an onism spirit that's truly ecstatic.
Word Bank:
Rakish: Smart; jaunty; dashing
Quixotic: Idealistic
Quiddity: Core-Subconscience
Chivalrous: Sublime, virtuous
Pellucid: Translucently clear
Opia: Dope, Addiction
Sapidity: Zest, Sapor
Kuebiko: State of exhaustion
Entropy: A situation of panic or disorder
Anecdoche: Amusing Tale
Sonder: Empathy, Compassion
Monachopsis: Confused
Onism: Delineate the awareness of how little of the world we will experience
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
__________________________________________
Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
Leonore was disliked, cast aside and ignored,
her rage increased with bizarre behavior:
why couldn't she be the eternal and idolized Queen?
And envy grew towards the more successful thespians;
her restlessness to do harm was a demon that cringed,
" It's me or nobody! " her words caused a tremor
and while the stage was about to open the curtains,
she emerged with the usual smirk they had seen!
Leonore faked sweetness lacked emotion and compassion:
all she lived for was her changeless ego so persistent,
which emphasized revenge, anger, vanity and spite;
and declaring herself the Queen of alluded beauty,
in front of an audience of disagreeable contempt:
Lenore continued to act erratically dreaming of a trophy,
or even an Oscar of glimmering gold to placate her desire...
still living in an imaginary state of strong conviction!
Her love for jewelry was indomitable: brilliant diamonds so shiny
decorated her elegant dress of shimmering silver like her crown,
and with a presence so stately and impressive, she bowed down
under neon lights but her appearance was snorted in derision;
how delusive was to befriend and audience of little sympathy
hearing hoots of laughter instead of acceptance and recognition!
Leonor went on despite the commotion rising in the agitated audience,
" I've dedicated my time to my vocation and they need an applause,
Hollywood has never seen an actress of my caliber. " she hollered;
" I put to shame Grace Kelly and Vivien Scarlett: I am more talented!"
There was a brief pause, then contemptuous scoffing and mocking
" I said I'm greater than them! I won't accept any mumbling! "
By then the theater resounded with apathy as her tension swiftly grew;
Leanor grabbed the stiletto knife concealed inside her dress made by Frew,
" With this knife going deep inside, I prove how brave I can be;
death is glory, I die an heroine on this infamous stage! Watch me! "