Long Existence Poems
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away with capitalistic free market enterprise
where the concomitant features of greed, power and wealth
fuse to form a pact of unrestrained mass-consumerism
while simultaneously obliterating any shred of a humanistic ethic.
the hollow emptiness of a hedonistic philosophy
representative of the western civilization
rings with the sound of falseness
from the belfry of commodification.
debunk the myth of the supremacy of man
where the less sophisticated species
remain in a role of subservience
while religion upholds this point of view.
the travesty of contemporary existence
epitomized by the crass characteristics
endemic in the advertisements
prior to the advent of a holiday or sale.
opinions about significant political issues
and the general emotions toward the processes of life
trivialized into a farcical sport
by the producers of commercial goods.
renounce the superficiality of the make-believe world
and also the stamp of mass production
that transforms a creative human being into an obsolete soul!
Form:
In a blue dream, I dive into the secrets of the vast ether,
Your tear, a pearl, floats in the ocean of time’s contrast,
The baptism of stars falls on wings of wind, like a divine song,
The venom of love, nectar of memories, turns into wine.
In labyrinths of thought, loves are sculpted in clouds,
Dice of fate, with faces of angels and demons, dreamers aloud,
Seasons pass, like shadows of an unextinguished dream,
In illusory paradise, hell stretches, an unfathomable theme.
The actors within us, with masks that laugh and cry, dance on stage,
With a silent desire to find their end as the curtain falls in light's cage,
Spectators of destiny applaud the moment slipping by,
The sacrifice of time, an eternal game, without memory, sly.
I breathe into the heavens, like a breeze caressing stars asleep afar,
At peace with the end, like a candle burning in silence, a solitary star,
In the ashes of time, the spark of life fades with a final stride,
Those who remain, hear the echo, the wisdom of the dead inside.
Existence, a grain of sand, in the hourglass of eternity, slips into the abyss,
A journey to the unknown, without beginning, without end, a dream's kiss,
For those who will still wish to listen, to grasp the cultured mysteries,
To the wise dead, we offer our hearts, in absolute silence, it carries.
After thirty years of missing her
I knew that I had never loved her,
yet there she is
crouching naked over my face
wanting more
and I as willing as ever.
Ghosts are more potent than the living,
a sexual fantasy more gently erotic
than the bruising struggle
between flesh and blood.
Once (a long time ago),
a huge python slid into my house.
I watched it cross the floor,
not mesmerized, but struck into a stillness
by its very existence,
the gravity of its conjunction with my eyes,
its alien presence.
You come to me now
not as an object of love, not as a memory,
but as a presence, a conjunction with
my libido, and something else…
Last night tiny black ants were moving slowly
around the kitchen floor,
of course I sprayed them with ant-killer.
This morning there are corpses to brush away,
Then I see one lone ant travelling
from one poisoned cadaver to another,
as if confirming a reality it had never
experienced before.
It seemed almost like a ritual,
a dance of farewell.
The dead are always with us, never changing,
always the same, and there is no brush
and no away.
I realize now what you still mean to me,
it is something we never meant to each other in life;
it’s now a ritual in a fantasy landscape
where ‘farewells’
are more real than any past love.
The rain falls faster, faster now,
Plummeting arid plains below,
Eroding bits of blackened soil,
Washing away decayed petals.
One by one, they slip out of existence,
Walking out rusted doors.
I stand under the cold, crisp water,
Letting it soak through layers of frayed fabric,
Seeping into skin that's leathered with age.
Scents of petrichor shift through brisk bursts of wind,
Trapped within the mess of my mind for far too long now.
The resounding smells flood my senses
With bygone memories,
Snapping between past misunderstandings
That turned into reverberations of us,
And fears of a future
That slipped through calloused fingers.
Looking down at what materialized in my wailing hands,
I dig the frigid steel deep into my chest,
Cutting beneath layers of flesh and sinew,
Past a cracking ribcage,
To expose a beating heart, screaming in agony.
I slice it from its hollow home,
Position it on a tarnished platter,
Place it as an offering at your sacred feet,
Interminably holding me in your gnarled heart forthwith.
Lord,
In the midst of this confusion, I
find myself tethered
not only to these damp walls
but also to the adoration
of my own predicament.
How utterly divine,
to speak my descent into madness
with the solemnity
of a Shakespearean tragedy.
The genesis of these scribbled confessions,
it eludes me, lost in the fog of my own folly.
Was there a grand epiphany?
A moment of clarity amidst the chaos,
that compelled me to pray to you?
Or did I simply succumb to
the gravitational pull of gratitude,
seeking solace in the world of errors
that has become my life?
It all began with a knock,
a mundane interruption in the poverty
of my existence. My uncle's friend, they said,
a shadowy figure whose presence looms over me,
making me want to reach out
and make love to him.
I thank you for his existence.
Locked within these walls, I have become
both captive and captor, birthing tales
of woe and whimsy
with each stroke of my lover.
The whip, once a symbol of pain and punishment,
now holds the honour of being
my darling's favourite instrument,
its sting a reminder of the affection
that he showers me with.
Days blur into nights, and still,
I find myself ensnared
in the tangled web of my own neediness.
Memories flicker
like poorly lit scenes in a slapstick comedy,
leaving me to wonder
if there was ever a time
before this madness gripped me.
Did I once long for freedom, or
have I always been a willing participant
in this circus of Eros?
The police may come soon,
their voices echoing like the laugh track
of the poorly scripted sitcom
my love unfortunately enjoys watching.
Part of me prays for them to turn away.
For in the depths of my captivity,
I have discovered a love that defies reason.
A love born
from the most unconventional of circumstances.
And so, I will continue to write,
these entries a testament to the dream
that has become my reality.
For even in the midst of mania,
there is romance to be found.
Even in the arms of my captor,
there is warmth.
Thank you,
for this blissful hell.
Katrina
What am I ?
I am a conqueror of all beings—
my existence bears no explanation,
an unequipped instruction manual.
I am a compass without a clear path of direction.
I’ve been accepted, rejected,
appearing unexpected,
and too often in this world, neglected.
Every emotion, every decision made,
every passionate act of motivated infatuation.
I am a bittersweet creation
that requires time and patience.
I bring grief, laughter, and hope.
I make you cry, wonder, and mope.
I am used with kisses and spoken in wishes,
sometimes paired with, sprinkled on,
and cooked in favourite dishes.
Carried with depression,
a worm in your confession.
I am taught, advised,
an example of a lesson.
I am searched for,
dreamed of,
ignored, and treated as a chore.
Lost, borrowed, broken, and repaired—
feared for my pain, yet used in bravery when scared.
I am one thing,
one element,
one word.
I contain only four letters,
yet carry entire lives, and the reason some survive—
making it worth your while to persevere , and care to be alive.
I am love
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." ~ Shakespeare, from Hamlet
Demons and monsters, from woodwork, teeming -
tenacious beasts, attack with insistence.
In desperation, it's sadly seeming
they will forever plague my existence.
If I could find a safe sanctuary,
a place to unwind in comfort and peace,
I'd click heels for a godmother fairy,
that my suffering would finally cease.
Yet, perhaps, in a place within my head,
devils are created and amplified,
and the remedy that I need instead -
a new perspective that I've not yet tried.
My mind, no horror chamber and no hell
will be a haven and a home to dwell.
Now I am certain of nothing
But your existence, in chaotic disbelief.
The scurry of feet patter down the path
Of the avenue & city blocks downtown.
As beautiful as you are dangerous,
Now open to the world around you.
A fiery ship intentionally dragging it’s
Anchor in obsession.
Not knowing how or when to stop.
The smog of smoke eases its way down.
We all were told to evacuate.
What is this place?
What is this promise made anew?
Some days are better than others,
The stars blend in with the search lights.
At times it’s hard to tell which is which.
I stand in both shock & awe.
It looks like the sky has split open,
The closest I’ll ever get to the sun
Not knowing how, or when to stop
You’ve always been familiar to me
Glimpses of myself in a different time..
Recurring thoughts occupying my mind..
Visions of lush greenery landscapes
I gaze upon the deep blue sky
I caught a glimpse of myself..
My alternate self..
Unique surroundings
Fascinating experiences..
Colors illuminating so perfectly vivid
Bright and bold
Intense and magnificent
For my eyes have never seen such vibrant colors..
Words cannot express the sweet vibrant colors..
Vibes and energies are intense..
Vibrating with the sights and sounds..
A beautiful high vibration of energy ..
My senses have intensified to the fullest
Through the marvelous glimpses of myself..
In existence..
Living a life
Fulfillment multiplied to the maximum..
A mirror..
An image of myself..
For I have been deceived by my own mirror..
Showing quite a distorted image of myself
Distortions certainly have a field day with myself..
Tricksters in disguise..
Brewing foolishness..
A foolish self ..
Living in a narrow gateway..
Cannot see the size of the gateway..
Can only see the narrow corridor of what lies ahead in the gateway..
Unexplainable awarensess shapes form..
A deep awakening..
Glimpses through many different windows and doors..
Altered states of windows and doors..
The doors and windows of my perception have completely opened..
Whisked away I am..
Reflections of myself in a different alternate reality..
Parallel entanglements
An interdimentional infusion of pure bliss..
Expansion of gateways..
The corridor is wide and abstract..
It lies everywhere simultaneously..
I am myself on earth..
As I am myself in an alternate universe..
Experiencing many facets of life..
My opened doors of perception entering through a window..
"In those days there was no king in Israel:
every man did that which was right in his own eyes."
Bible, Judges 21:25
The word 'Anomie' is new to my vocabulary, but
by definition, I am well acquainted with 'Anomie'.
It is "a state or condition of individuals or society
characterized by a breakdown or absence of social
norms and values, as in the case of uprooted people".
I consider myself fortunate to be a citizen
of a country whose form of government is a
Democratic Republic. I pray that it will never
change this government for and by the people.
As a nation and people, I know from whence we came,
but presently, I dread to think where we are headed.
Yes, ours is a 'King-free' nation;
Neither dictatorial nor 'mob-rule;
A nation of laws and policies with
Statutory restrictions that are designed
to hold every person accountable.
Notwithstanding, every generation, it seems,
initiates change and a cultural revolution.
I have experienced abusive laws. Moreover,
I have also witnessed mayhem in the streets.
Human co-existence demands a standardized social order.
From a very young age, I was taught in public school
that your rights end where my rights begin. No one
benefits from a society whose social interactions
have become a narcissistic jungle.