Long Incandescently Poems
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My handful of dust -
and your fleeting glimpse -
stir billion starflakes at night -
swirling insanely
intrepidly
in dissonance and delight -
shadows of perpetuity
gnawing, growling, gnarling malign
glimmering incandescently
in whispers of moonlight and brine
Awake
screams the sun, gold untenable,
Awake
bursts intention, alone,
Here, here
breathes essence, indelible,
and Renders across the bone -
Give me the spite and the daring -
break me away to the wild -
my life and my time, try Dissevering
with tendrils of passion beguiled -
hold heed the time pass irrevelance
my soul in a bottle of clay
that none of your burning ambivalence
can suffer to.. melt away
reaching for glorious nothing -
swirling across the void -
in shingles of consummation
revivified and -
destroyed -
culprit -
redemption -
oblivion -
imprint is torn apart -
and hope shall have no dominion
in an impregnable heart -
My handful of dust - and your fleeting glimpse -
A soul now dismembered complete -
And universe - fervid with entropy -
Charred palpable - and - indistinct...
When you await that day for so long just to see their face,
Not too much longer will you have to go, you're almost to Home Base.
All the pain you've been through, will be worth it in the end.
One look at that precious face, and you'll be the envy of some friends.
You look over to the side and see a tiny bed which is clear,
So you can see each precious feature of a child that is very near.
When you're almost done and you feel that final tear.
The pain and anticipation is almost more than you can bear.
Here comes a tiny bundle of dark hair and gorgeous eyes,
Ten little fingers and ten tiny toes, it scared me at first since I heard no cries.
Finally, my son is born and I thank God he is alive, and FINALLY here.
A perfect child in my eyes, and I'm incandescently happy, but also full of fear.
Will I be a good Mother, will I know what to do?
This is all so scary, and oh so very new.........
I hold him closely to my heart,
I'm Finally a Mommy, no time to fall apart.
I KNOW I can do this, I don't really have a choice.
The moment I found out I was pregnant, I began to rejoice.
Now I have two children, and I only had to give birth to one!
Illyanna and I now await for our children to grow and have fun.
What light
Thank God from window breaks
Such joyous song
Pure light
Ecstatic in its purity
Perfection in it's cresting
Pismic in it's colors
It breaks so fine and new upon my worried
and trouble do soul
The tragedies of my life become nothing but a memory
Good.
There have been and may come so many more sorrows that can yet could come to me
and yet this breaking of dawn
This absolute perfection of white light comes every morning.
Beckoning me
praying for me.
Enlightening me
enticing me and congoling me into believing
Yet again
It is so fresh.
It is so new!
It is so perfect
! It is so incandescently and absolutely promising
This morning
This breaking of dawn that comes with an energy that I feel in my bones and my soul that swears to me.
This is a brand new day and no matter what happened yesterday, today is absolutely new
It swears to me that if I feel it's energy and I embrace it that there is nothing from the past the can touch me or stop me from experiencing this new start
It crests on me with a rainbow of color off my prism in my window
It rises from the floor to the ceiling.
This new light.
This brand new crest of day and swears to me that it is more powerful than anything I have experienced before
It promises me everything and asks me to forget everything and just dive in to a brand new day and I am helpless before it
I am helplessly in love with the hope it brings
Relentlessly and exquisite
This light brings me hope and I am helpless before it
I am born again every morning
SHORT VERSION
Deep, in the voids of scattered bones,
in the dare
of the miasmic zone- lies a
mischief- bright,
in the depths of darkness,
where shadows bloom
their blight and stone.
There,
a little messenger
dares to rise,
defying the gloom and enchanting the realm.
~With fragile petals,
kissed by rays of inner light,
she brings a glimmer-dance of hope like a
Saintly paradite.
Her peridot heart jots a tiny plot to hit the spot on,
where sorrows dwell.
Sways incandescently humbles essenely.
mumbling a fluouric prayer.
The little flower stands fertile,
casting an audacity spell
of good nature
and unity.
It is there! Just look at it well,
well it is sitting there like a living gold!
Crystal on burning aspire,
molting fluora feather wing
has become in her maturity like
a desert rose.
With paragonic scent of petracore,
like whispers of forgotten dreams,
of innocence,
imbue of love's alien soil.
Seeds innuendo, in a dojo of love.
A transplant of the great
transparent sea, of hope-
beneath a starlit sky above,
where dreams seed in,
where the universe whispers,
she reminds us to "Believe."
In wishes beyond the stars.
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!
keep the music sorrowfully low,
so big daddy doesn’t hear.
the shadowy figures, surrender
and whisper in your ear.
the psychedelic colors flow
like the sea foam beat.
Angie, your chromatic hair
smells incandescently sweet.
locked and loaded, alone
with your beastie dreams.
your pillow’s soft and it leans -
your coming apart “at the seams”
one boy plays peek-a-boo, sniffing
your honeysuckles suspended.
tickled by your goldilock curls,
not realizing all it portended.
like walking into the deep dark wood,
he creeps hand and foot, eyes first
like a prowling tiger, tail wagging,
with a rattling tongue a-thirst.
Angie, swooshes her fingers
through his hair, hushes him.
...he stares at the ceiling stars
...loud music descends on his limbs.
Angie digs her embryonic duffel bag,
smiles and adds his decomposing bones
to the ashes of her huge imagination
and recalls that in this world, she’s all alone.
5/8/2019
Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Song choice: Angie, Baby by Helen Reddy
A twilight, hard as it tries to disparage,
shall always remain dazzling in my mind.
The Sun, down, down, into the dark of night
carried off by the gloaming, gently it goes;
glaring, blazing, and impressive to the eye.
Never forget the astral stellar winks skyward,
from the ever-present celestial constellations.
The dark is cloudy; the dark is opaque, much
like the closing curtain during the end of a play.
The zany mists of morning, but a lazy sonnet,
as rising smoke from a snuffed-out candle.
A sunrise light is gnomish; smaller, shorter, but
full of the light of day. Incandescently yours.
Tarry along now, the night a glorious memory,
a magical one-act play that awakens your day.
The teapot whistles, a toaster pops, time for
a muffin with blackberry jam and green tea.
This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped,
which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.
I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.
I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.
I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!
I light a candle for I love its soft light
But it flickers despite no breeze in night
I like the flicker, but I want it to be happy
To be steady, contented, a friend true and sure.
Is it puffs of wind that disturb it so?
I feel no draft of breeze on go
Perhaps its warmth creates its own updraught
Perhaps it knows more than I about air care.
Is there a spirit congealed within the wax?
That I bring to life with enlighted match
If so then I welcome this spirit stuff strut
But Please! Stop waving at me incandescently.
Is there some imperfection in the candle?
Have I urged in buying too cheaply, got junk
Next time I'll buy better, I promise.
So Please! Stop the flicker, forgive me!
When I stare at the candle intensely
Does it flicker more or less
Is it better this way or that?
Forget the flicker, move it away a tad.
There now, the flicker is beyond peripheral
It is still there ticking away its flicks
But flicker and I have compromised
A concensus to be unconsciously enlightened.