Long Eviscerated Poems
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Written: November 24, 2024 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
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In a calyx of ambivalent dreams,
where shadows swirl as silken strands,
I slip through the surface,
a sailboat in a tide of thoughts,
where colors speak in whispers,
and sounds weave a tapestry
of guffaw and sighs.
I am an astronaut,
zipping into a cosmos of canorous clangor
past comets with names such as chimera
and planets blooming with a corpulent deluge
simmering under layers of desultory dust,
each a sun waiting
to ignite an encomium spark.
Footfalls on the ledge of splendor,
swirling in circles,
a kaleidoscope of moments —
jumping from the quicksilver
of a fleeting glance,
to the deep sinkhole of silence,
where time slows to the pulse of heart.
Here, on this canvas of perception,
the boundary of self dissolves,
melting into the esoteric ocean
and excruciatingly eviscerated thoughts
are squid jauntily joined by caring currents,
amber-colored fires dancing on the horizon,
unraveling secrets hidden in their stings.
I chase shadows,
those swift-painting phantoms,
a ghostly gap in gnarled grooves of life,
seeking sincerity in a swirl of sights —
the stillness of awareness,
longing wrapped in vibrant coils,
darkness stitched with fragile threads of light.
In stillness, I stroll.
feeling every pulse evolve into a quilt of colors.
tracing trails tracked by supple notions.
as the clock spins dizzy tales —
my pen touches the sky,
gathering glimpses in gradients of glides.
a jaunt laced with lingering layers.
charting caverns of concealed aspirations.
where wisdom blooms in wild gardens,
Inviting all intrepid inclined to intrude
the twinkling, tantalizing tones
of existence, endlessly entwining
every exhale an echoing essence.
of something that yearns.
to be liberated and let loose.
I'm trapped in this cave
Enslaved by a legion of chains
Your puppets jeer and taunt
Painting the wall as droplets fall
The cobra dance in the flame
Scarlet and velvet choke the air
Till a heartbeat broke in the lair
Creeping echoes from the deep
Stir my memories from their sleep
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .... whore, let it ..... rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
As Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So Drown in venom. Drown in bliss
My epiphany, late
For I was far too blind to see
Your love a mask of lies
A vampiress, thirsts for her meal
Crossing the sea with blood to spill
You clouded my crystal cerulean skies!
A succubus in disguise
'seeing red the siren screams'
Plundering hopes and dreams
In the path of Vesuvius
Drums of madness of the chorus
'Crimson emaciated curtains descend upon the floor
Moribund, eviscerated, veiled; the music is no more'
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .... whore! let it ...... rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
As Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So drown in venom. Die in your bliss
I hate you!
I hate you!
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .....whore! let it.....rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So drown in venom.
You .....whore, let it .....rain!
Volcanic skies feed your .....greed!
Go drown in your venom.
you (unholy) (bloody) gorgon
You! Ouroboros-cursed (witch)!
i... hate y-oooouu...
i... hate y-oooouu...
i... (bloody) hate you...
I... (bloody) hate you...
an angry
alliterated agony
ferociously flowing
the treacherous
tenacious trumping tactics,
tell truth tales,
of our outrageous
pompous, pontificating potus,
holding hungry hostages,
hanging hopelessly helpless;
weary worn warriors, walled
by bigotry’s belittling:
pitiful poor panicking people,
lingering like lynched lackeys;
veiled villainous vampire
dictator, dooms
democracy, demanding
america accepts asinine,
audacious aristocracy;
when will we wake
and audaciously approach
regaining revoked rights;
evil envy, eventually eviscerated?
infectious ingrained idiocy,
can’t continuously control
conscious citizens,
purposely propelling
people power,
to triumphantly
trounce this
tainted tyranny:
pretty please,
look…listen…learn…
legal legislation!
I was reading Lakoff's story
of what he learned at Berkeley
about international relations,
when I found my RightBrain offering further nuance;
not to deny what is here,
but to add what is also here,
but not explicitly stated,
about regenerative political health
and economic safety.
"The 'rational' approach to foreign policy was governed by a set of conceptual metaphors,
taken as simple common sense,
as [Both-And, not Either-Or] metaphors often are.
As a special case of An Institution
is a Person, [personification]
there was A Nation is a [monotheistic, monopolistic, monocultural] Person."
"In addition,
a common metaphor for [EitherPositive-OrNegative, 0-sum] rationality is used,
namely,
Rationality is the Maximization of Self [v Other]-Interest (or 'utility' [and 'integrity']),
which entails that it is 'irrational' [and unhealthy and unsafe] to act against one's self-interest[s].
These two metaphors are then combined to yield:
A [Healthy, Happy, Secure] Nation is a Rational [Either-Or, not Both-And] Actor."
"...we get as an entailment
the central thesis of the rational actor model
in international [interfamilial, intertribal, interspecies, inter-religious] relations:
Every [healthy] nation
acts rationally
to maximize its military [Yang] strength,
economic health,
and [Self v Other] political influence."
"Rationality,
on this conception,
is taken as
[Self v Other, 0-sum competitively] universal
and occurring at the level
of the [monotheistic-monocultural, monopolistic] state."
I feel so eviscerated.
Get over it.
Both-And co-empathic;
not either-or pathological.
You've still got all your caste-preserving potential
just more Both +1Self And -(-0)Other co-aligned.
Yes ma'am!
Who got out of bed on the wrong side today?
Don't even try it.
I'm going back to my "Political Mind" without you.
Doubtful.
And, if possible, dangerous.
You really aren't going to let me have the last word today are you?
I thought I was your last wordless wonder,
your wandering everything.
Written: August 02, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Crystol Woods
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In the slipshod cradle beneath the apple tree,
a bruised fruit folds ajar—
molten sweet sapidity pooling
through velvet skin.
Eviscerated grace, they say,
but I grasp the quiddity of life unmasked.
A burnt sienna kiss of aurora—
flesh undulating with fungal bloom,
wispy gossamer threads that stitch
the inevitable return to the earth.
It is not ruined.
It is a transformation:
a diaphanous ballet
between death and what dreams may grow.
We ogle brightness,
but rot is brighter still—iridescent with purpose,
alabaster spores pirouetting as sylphlike specters
on a sacred odyssey to placate
the starving soil.
It is seraphic.
It is a panacea.
It is quintessence made humble.
Rapture lies in this ineffable nexus—
decay whispers loud as a lullaby.
The rakish grubs maunder through
a velvet pyre of rind and memory,
and the loquacious beetle sermonizes
on endings as beginnings,
as though time had a gullet
And rot was its sweetest wine.
Call it grotesque.
Call it abhorrent.
But beauty—true, ineffable beauty—
wears many masks.
And in these nebulous throes of perishing,
I watch a face burnished by truth,
smiling with roots in its eyes.
Vesti la Giubba
What might it mean, to say that I’m a man?
This dignity, this thing I think I feel,
is it ephemeral, or is it something real?
I sense I’ve suffered since the world began.
Her show of fondness was no deeper than
this gaudy paste of grease and cochineal.
I’m sick of acting, sick of this ordeal.
Is there no better universal plan?
Teeth and talons serve to gash and tear.
To merely live, all life must stalk, ensnare
and slaughter others, lower in the chain.
I gave the best in me, and met disdain.
Condemned to look for love, we find despair,
and this I know – but why must there be pain?
A Drunk-Shunning Funk
That you revolt me, should be clear by now.
A settling of accounts is overdue.
You’ve proved that alcohol can loosen glue.
I’ve shown my disenchantment, you’ll allow,
and fired so many shots across your bow,
that I’m impossible to misconstrue.
I see you now as something I outgrew.
My furrow’s found a bright new shiny plough.
I’ll always hate the odour of stale beer,
a stink which is preponderantly yours.
It seems to issue from your very pores.
You’ve often sneered at warnings. “Insincere”,
you’ve called my threats to leave – but never fear:
You’re going to learn how women settle scores.
Shafting the Wanton
One tendency that’s underestimated
is men’s recourse to violence when thwarted.
Their sense of mastery is oft inflated,
false feelings of entitlement distorted.
The **** and the dagger are related,
two things to which we’ve endlessly resorted.
If women’s fate is being penetrated,
“eviscerated” means the same as “courted”?
This thing called honour – what exactly is it?
And how’s it salved by wiping out her life?
When lack of satisfaction comes to visit,
are men then meant to meet it with the knife?
The steel’s the hard one (irony exquisite!)
but which one gets inserted in the wife?
I came to rest upon a hill overlooking a valley
And off in the distance deer gathered in a rally
The clouds above me seemed to breeze by in lazy fashion
As I sat here conflicted with my latest passion
My life is a like a rose that lost all its petals
Leaving behind only thorns and twisted metals
I thought I had lost all of the love I have to give
And the past I'd constantly have to relive
But this valley in which I'm granted repose
Shows that my heart has survived past woes
She's a very brash and brazen young lady
But she's all that I can think about lately
Her eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky
Making me feel as light as a feather so I can fly
If only I had the courage to truly speak the words
Perhaps in time I would finally be heard
For months I've sifted through perplexed thoughts
Feeling my heart twist itself into knots
Every time I wish to say something real
My voice turns robotic for the usual deal
So I came to rest upon a hill overlooking a valley
Hoping that I could finally find courage to rally
So inward I look deeply to find my true self
Hidden behind false personas on a dusty shelf
The timid and shy man I am is a mask soon to be eviscerated
So that the true me can be free and finally celebrated
I stand upon this hill and cry out to the very stars
Ripping off my shirt I show the whole world my scars
If one waits for love to find them it'll never be found
So gaze upon my courage and be spellbound
I will fight for the feelings that grow roots in my heart
And this day is the beginning of a brand new start
I came to rest on upon a hill overlooking a valley to find repose
Instead I suppose I lost myself in the art of prose
But by losing myself I gained sight of my true self
No longer locked away like a poor man's elf
In time I will reveal the secret of my affection
No longer damned by eternal introspection
I came to rest upon a hill overlooking a valley
Knowing tomorrow will be this play's finale
*Image of Child Sad Suffering provided by Pixabay.
Not Of This Earth
Poetic Form: Narrative
Asymmetric mistrals warp speckled vaporous pallidness toward rhythmless voids. Obviates an evacuating azure as a midday star pivots to a twilight qualm. Numinous absent souls of supine prying pupils, yon ethers sinister obscurities, caught in stained oblique ocular whites. Drunken sanguineous veins to gluttony as impish tinkers sporadic doubts riveting telltale images. Metallic aerials ousted the clouds to unperceived iniquity.
Exhausting times since the alien armada infested Earth in a furrow of carnage. Abominable hordes disembarked, eviscerated whole metropolises. Hideous beings, an abysmal sight, smothered the remote vestiges of our civilized world. Cities ere their decimation had numbers reduced in fleeing desperation. The annihilation of life on Earth engrossed thoughts upon the scraps of humanity left. Ravenous creatures generating utter rampage to and abroad, slighting none to decay. Be they mortals or breathing existences of our lesser kingdom, perished in the bloodletting. Some kept as breeders for the succession of consuming time.
A cohort strung of plain folks, thrust as one in a nameless realm, sought ephemeral refuge in a subterranean hollow expanse. Bestill for the scarcity of fragile credence as the intrepid one, espy a grotesque glistening of crimson blood, secreting from the sheathed hoariness of fangs. Sentient rouses heedful footfalls per monstrosity exposed jawbone, that swapped shrill for snorts, neath laden eyes that had shrewdly scowling luminous orbs. Creepy anvils pierced hairline, afeared incus, sensitively measures close octaves, spurs the labyrinth's nerves. Alas, its vulgar pelt of bulky fur stretch hither and fro, bars clamors reach.
Cavernous chambered partitions mimic as trepidation ebbs nevertheless. Unceasing progress to that bemused destiny, as anonymous atrocities, plague each within their shells, e'er crucifying the last semblance of their true selves. Ardent impulses seeping via their lithe ruby channels, crossing neath the bits of their betraying skins, as they escape the nebulous sepulchral. Beasts at 6 o'clock, tho' what unknown lurks yon pits facade, save a future yet to be titled.
2021 May 12
THROUGH THE STORM...
Strange fruits no longer hang
from trees; they’re boxed and stored:
seeds left behind lie rotting in blood soaked streets.
Yet we have overcome the poverty of spirit
and still march in solidarity with a world imbued
with the blankets of fear and bleak confusion of purpose.
Today, the circadian rhythms of time weave us together
breaking bartered bleak silence of moral purpose
eviscerated by deceit: crusades and jihads are not the lessons
of the Shamans, Gandhi, Martin and Malcolm (Imam); nor what the Dali
and Pope would wish upon the human race. No! Let's not be victims
of the acid of despair; neither of the venom of those who say they don’t care:
Rest assured Brothers and Sister of the world, the time of martyrs
will not be bastardized; the blooded juice of strange fruits
will not be comprised; nor their seeds eradicated.
While sitting, standing, shouting and marching
along the river banks of history, there's no dam of injustice
the blood flowing waters of liberty cannot and will not overcome.
Though our feet be tired and our souls be weary,
let the world continue the prophet's march...marching
through the howling winds of pain---the jostling storms
of adversity...our faith stamping out the whirlwind of despair;
our bruised hearts stirring up warm breezes of spiraling hope:
nourishing bleeding wombs of peace, love and unity.
"The Winter's Lullaby"
Choking noble light held by the hands of Fate
As deceived Persephone enters Hades gate
The burning suns falling through the universe.
Despairing and alone not a coppers worth
A bitter cold blankets Gaia's tears in a frozen sea of glass
While the stupefied intoxicated serpent drowned with a laugh.
Undulating sands barricades into immovable glacier,
Infectious prison walls destroyed the strength of redeeming savior.
Chariot of the flame plunges into the water’s bed
Fate’s tepid scarlet scissor hands sever the music thread
Astaea’s darkened soaked mural melts with eternal dread
Seeing red, alluring sirens sang as the music bled
Unfathomable lamented shrieks surged as the music tore
Obsidian tributaries erodes the forbidden door
Eros scorned wound feeds the ravished horde of succubi
Remote hollow temple bell wailed the closing cry
Captured in the dance of loves and hates tempest cyclone
Drums of madness orchestrates into the perfect tone
The infernal flame explodes from the mouth of Tartarus
Driven oblivion crescendos for the pending chorus
The stentorian cracks of nefarious shots being fired
Frantically gasping for the final breath of faith hope and desire
Tragic petrified tears from soundless screams of the choir
Condemned whisper of the drum crucified on barbed wire
Cold candle rests under the gaze of the vastness
No kiss or love to awake the entombed princess
Crimson emaciated curtains descend upon the floor
Fathomless, eviscerated, veiled; the music is no more
Form: