Long Incinerates Poems
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I expected my life of days would be fairly calm.
Only the enlightened ancestors would follow me.
I’d mimic them and love and sing their favorite psalm.
Instead this mystic mind does not escape blood’s history.
Where can we go where it won’t be in our sight?
Why do we swallow enticing liquid until blind and then insane?
Terror incinerates every cell and sweats thick human fright--
As ninety proof storms of liquor reign.
Repeat, repeat, repeat the ritual of hell, while lips pray but know,
That the incremental burning flavored sips will win.
Stop! Wait! And shake and wake and gasp and sob, “Death let me go!”
Release, please, relief please, release, take out the liquid knife.
Save this non believer even if it means, feeling.
We’ve stayed in a wide variety of places on this long cross country jaunt.
One night we’re in Le Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City
the next two nights we’re in a tree house in Vermont.
We’ve gone from a luxury hotel…on the 10th floor of its enormous central tower
to a treehouse with no running water…and…an outdoor shower.
From a bedroom overlooking the St. Lawrence River with a king sized bed so soft….
to a treehouse where we climb a ladder to sleep up in the loft.
From maids who turned down our sheets each day
and left us popcorn and candy…that we ate!
to no maid service and a bathroom with a toilet…the incinerates
From having a valet who took care of our car
then brought it to us when it was time for us to depart
to driving up a road so steep and rocky…
the only way to make it up was with a running start.
Truth be told on our first attempt…half way up…
our car stopped…although the wheels kept on spinning
(Somewhere up in heaven…the travel gods were grinning)
Determined, however, that this portion of our trip would not be a flop…
we backed down…closed our eyes…hit the gas..and made it to the top!
This is exactly what we wanted when we planned our trip.
When we decided from Washington to Maine we would traverse…
We wanted every stop to be an adventure…and those adventures to be diverse.
Besides…if we weren’t staying in the treehouse…the 21st different stop along our map
we wouldn’t have had ice cream at Ben & Jerry’s…or ate lunch at the Von Trapps.
We would have never taken a shower outside with the birds serenading us from their trees
We would have never heard the Sound of Music wafting on the breeze.
Which means even though some of those amenities and luxuries it lacks
we are just as happy in this treehouse in Vermont
as we were in Le Chateau Frontenac
Blistering drought assembles vacant sun stroke’s radiance
An empty solar ray’s destruction leaves waxing shadows of a doubt
Jennifer’s mental wheel chair is leaking slimy midnight oil
A candle burnt at both ends struggles like thundering whiplash
Metastases have bound her ice-cold soul and vacant mind
Malignant growth revels in cachectic apathy like frosty fire
Passion torched and skinned alive dwells raw in molten agony
Her soul eclipsed fragmented memories have replaced
Once vibrant sparkles suffocated and deprived of joy
Neoplastic gloom’s surrender has high-jacked myriads of love
Lonely lacerations have captured her Self and World and Future
Metastases conform on auto pilot inhabited by grief sadness sorrow
She feels lobotomized but the surgeon’s knife cannot dissect
The hollow solid growth of malignant cantankerous co-optation
For when the topic of her cancer strikes the cure evades salvation
At times the scorching heat unleashes flashing floods of tenterhooks
Incinerates the one remaining hope that terminal means lasting Peace
Environments are feeble though and as she grasps Pandora’s box
Boards falling rapids lets go and meanders to a novel solar system
Evening settles evermore again as Jennifer settles for a rising moon
29th May 2019
It is sonorous blue velvet,
a mitten with a thousand invisible fingers.
A concerto for dyslexic mystics.
The composer peeks nervously at the listeners
then rips open his uttering heart
until blood forms love poetry in the air.
We are all haunted by the music.
It cuts through our tangled underbrush
as a machete made of moonlight.
It speaks words
you always thought were yours alone.
Nothing comes closer,
it incinerates and restores
while rocking you into an oceanic euphoria;
a personal ocean
one larger then you ever imagined
could be contained within you.
Of cause only a Russian
can dish our the pain of love
and make you long for it.
Only Rachmaninoff
spellbinds while leaving you
stunned, wanting to dip a toe
into the deep tides of his God-space.
Blank blackness alone,
severence no service to atone..Deeds all done, the wounds do not lie.' The cratered earth
The oppressed's keening cries, the drugs
That shattered, the claims
so false.' The
Ill gained wealth, the
positions sought.
All consigned to eternity.' While away
From its tides, blackness is
your pillow
As all rest is denied, you call
out for help!
For reason, and to the judge
who put you
In, the blackness, that incinerates
yet your
Awareness dies not, there is no budge!
The blackness becomes indelable,
its part
Of your ( un-whole) no deafness is
possible. You imbibe each shriek in this
Enormous hole, there is no top; sides or
Bottom..Yet still you feel that sink.' In a clamour with no heartbeat you with no eyes attempt to blink, you cannot escape from this intense place of pain, you scream with no voice for relief, a fair judge.' Or will the jailor, please
allow some
Lessening.? Of the intolerable
dark mass, and pain'
That repeats your rejection, of the Holy Name, for indeed you were your own judge, when you mocked the
God of all fame'
You chose to inherit hells realm, and the
Un-relenting
Blackness, through which you must ever
fall!
Just like dominoes, Afghanistan falls;
It was only a matter of time.
American soldiers cash in their chips
And head home on a jet plane
After two decades in the trenches.
An unwinnable war is done,
So is any semblance of order.
Absolute chaos reigns,
Afghanistan incinerates
And President Ghani couldn't take
The heat; flees kitchen, and country.
Afghanis now fend for themselves
In Disneyland for the Taliban.
A war-torn country in complete
Disarray; a devil's playground.
Desperate citizens pack the airport
Like sardines attempting to flee.
Blood flood bullet-riddled bodies
Dropping every which way
As Talibans target practice and strap
Suicide bombers. More bodies drop
From airplanes taking off;
an unspeakable horror. It was televised.
Amid mass exodus from Kabul airport,
Washington politicians play
The blame game, pointing fingers
At Biden and Trump.
Afghani women stage protests
Demanding equal rights.
Many questions remain unanswered.
When will American citizens
Who never got the chance
To leave Afghanistan be rescued?
What becomes of our Afghan allies?
How long will the carnage
And disorder last? Is a return
To normalcy a pie in the sky?
Afghanistan Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Date written: 09/05/2021
I revere you here, in the midst of the flames
Which scald incinerates and purifies the faith,
And hurled ash and smoke into the frames
Where flowers blossomed before our birth.
Which scald incinerates and purifies the faith
Where you swear me words as we escape,
Where flowers blossomed before our birth
Sorrow lurks in oak limbs, safe from gape.
Where you swear me words as we escape
Where the wind twirls ice veils across hills,
Sorrow lurks in oak limbs, safe from gape
On flows set in motion at creation's chills.
Where the wind twirls ice veils across hills
Where somber seas race moon-mad tide,
On flows set in motion at creation's chills
Ancient sea-tossed stones once men reside.
I revere you here, away from fire and grime
And hurled ash and smoke into the frames,
You and I are linked in a spiritual sublime
I revere you here, in the midst of the flames.
Written: May 05, 2022
A RHYMING PANTOUM OF FIVE STANZAS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Checked by: Rhyme Zone.com
and: HMS.COM
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless *****
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy orgasmic passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
I’ve recited this a trillion times
now I utter one single word,
but in code,
Not through amnesia or illness of any kind
Moreover because I have become
part demigod and part devil,
Nothing can be more dangerous than a two sided,
duplicitous variance, sharing one soul,
Each equal in every way,
yet simultaneously opposite,
Sugar salt and everything in between,
Poisonous to the whole all humanity,
yet compulsory to our very existence,
Pen mightier than the sword, impales upon nothingness
for utterances are omnipotent, as a force of nature
My one encoded word, now incinerates our entire planet
Dear god forgive me, I’ve launched all the nukes.
Stand down peace is restored!
came one second before impact,
Tried and found not guilty,
I’m exonerated of genocide,
a point of law is said inadmissible,
My responsibility was too enormous,
hence deemed a bad call, preemptive,
The prosecution appeals, I plead guilty,
Sleep deprivation has altered my opinion,
For good behavior, I’m to be shot in the morning,
I’ve talked my way into modernity’s annihilation,
Now arrives reason alongside insanity,
It is better to die,
From the tips of a bifurcated tongue,
What is heaven
What is hell
I am both.
By David Kavanagh.
What am I ....and Who!?
that this eternal flame will not go out...and stay OUT!?
the unadulterated everlasting blaze
flows from these
my poetic finger tips
in spirons of orange and red and blue ...flames of you
this river of our conflagration
scars the OUR
runs down my tresses
charts pathways ...forms canyons
incinerates and shapes
torches and carves...the psychic ALL walls
Canyons....of mercury and steely mir
a heroine, a hero ...and hell
why ??
Yesterday...was so innocent and so was I
if not for resting a palm upon a chair
...a club stool in a little dark historic bar filled with small white lights and sweetest memories
...psychedelic indeed... a blood scent!
I rested my hand only for a moment...but hearing your angry words
of loss...as you turned on me
the river broke free of the damn
and the door mat in the hall where you first stood
started laughing
I should have known there were toxic remembrances lurking on surfaces there
the sticky atoms of recall ...I should have stayed away!
purest tears sprung instantly unbidden
and deepest sadness dressed me in blue
swept away by atomites
and dripping with this immortal rainbow
I am falling fall ing
staining
the page of the universe
but for just another day