Long Indubitable Poems
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Back in day (of ma
mum, and perhaps
since time immemorial)
utterances of physicians
nsync with Staff of Asclepius
pounded against floor,
(which wrought
life to entwined serpent,
whose beady
eyed hypnotic power)
understandably
ranked doctors among
near mythical powerful
Gods, who ought
best not be ignored, thus
(then a young Harriet Harris,
now long since deceased)
felt overbearing heft of
medical practitioners final words,
and subsequently would nought
refute, ignore, nor
dispute sacred commandment
hence would n'er be accused
of sacrilegious immodesty,
impiety, or impropriety
(towards medical institution),
and never doubt voice
most supreme in the universe,
thus she felt caught
against challenging authority
meekly surrendered
her only son, bought
with bargaining chip
indubitable faith
in omnipotent equip
ment with hocus
pocus magic to flip
precious life humming along,
or force death grip
upon a lovely boy (christened
Matthew Scott Harris),
at present lapsed beet hip
pea hooping to stave
off crossing the lip
of LX bracket, there
fore reckons a nip
and tuck (think
prefrontal lobotomy),
asper when just a pip
squeak ushered,
where mine existence
could be mortgaged
with accidental,
(or purposeful) slip
of the knife, while
under anesthetized trip
returning minus a mass of
enlarged lymphatic tissue
between the back of
the nose and the throat.
MAN’S LIFE
Man’s life:
The jumping out of a plane resembles
Right Into the arms of gravity’s demands
That anxiously pulls him onto the ground
As his prevailing destiny commands
No parachute on his back is to be found
For him to avoid the inevitable impact
So he must soon find a way to escape
Before all his hopes are really whacked
Between the plane and the ground though
A distance, short or long, to cover must have
That definitely indicates the length of his life
That no-one, certainly, has the right to halve
The drama of Man has though just started
As he has no command over his will
But the glory of his indubitable spirit
It makes him stand up and never kneel
He laughs at his own condemnation
And proudly declares: I am here to live
I do not care when my fall is over
Fear in my heart I'll never forgive
He begins enjoying his hastening falling
As he makes plans myriad dreams to fulfill
My works, with all his force, triumphantly shouts:
Even when I go, here they are going to be still
Thus Man victorious of life’s adventure emerges
Having beaten all odds and the fear of death
A monument is he now of wisdom and valor
Since never gives up till his very last breath!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
14 OCTOBER 2013
Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,
goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,
genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,
gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,
garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,
gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic
giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy
gewgaw gazing guy, geographically germane,
gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,
guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns
ginning gumpshun.
Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,
haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,
hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely
hackneyed, heady, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,
hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,
Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic
heterosexual *****sapiens historical heirloom,
homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.
Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,
idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,
irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,
ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,
insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble
itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating
immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted
inside igneous intrusions immensely
imperturbable improbable.
Time slips away like sand
As I try desperately to keep it in my hand
The days go by painfully slow
But months speedily flow
And I try to hold on to the vestiges of youth
But in doing so I deny the truth
So many chapters written on pages
And so many lost lessons from early ages
It seems like the more I blink
The deeper into the sand I sink
Wondering what I might have missed
As each day I feel like I merely persist
The passage of time is cruel
But also an indubitable rule
Youthful exuberance fades as I age
And I feel like a canary in a cage
With clipped wings I may no longer fly
As my beaten down body makes me cry
Grays in my hair, lines on my face
Gripped by despair, I'm out of place
But the days still go by painfully slow
As months greedily flow
The hourglass was once full of sand
But all I want is to flip it over in my hand
First and foremost on the agenda,
would be to locate an affordable,
casual and favorable eatery
tubby agreeable to our taste
indubitable choice without
(any formal dress code),
nor further haste.
Strait away to the great weigh
(or if vegetarian – whey)
station of delectable food
where the exquisite, expertise, and exotic
high steak king a claim on Michelin Guide,
Gayot Guide/Gault Millau, American
Automobile Association, Forbes
Travel Guide reputation good.
Testimony to legendary praise
explaining why patrons travel
for countless days
transforming him/her
into steady state,
where he/she shuffles along
in a dishabille quotidian famished daze
far and wide culinary craze
out of this world wide web, the wispy Lyft
wafts trace steamy filament up braise
our noses,
whereat heads nod affirmation i.e. ayes.
Even before making a glad entrance
(into Restaurant) complete
a host of fresh, enticing,
and delicious aromas serve as a treat.
Delicate, foreign, hefty indescribable
ole factory stimulants delight
infiltrating thru swinging kitchen doors
holding us smell bound,
though thin filaments invisibly light.
He has an appointment,
In the Big Smoke,The Great Wen
and if successful I will of course provide indubitable support, keep in touch, on occasion visit.
He reveals "It's with an artist."
"Wow, anyone I know". "What's the job?"
"Unlikely Dad, but he's massively respected in his field....tattooing. It's not an interview. I'll be back tomorrow after he's finished."
Following realisation all I can muster is "Cool" a poor attempt at acceptance.
We go through the expected. Surety. Who? What? Where?
It was always going to happen.
A music production degree without body art is, I believe an auto fail.
And deep down I wished it was me, confident, carefree, au courant,
Once I possibly was, so I'll tell him it looks sensational, cool.
Wanting to get Away...
Needing to get Home.
Are they all dead?
Fantasticals, Fantasy, Phantasms?
Fantastic Rascals.
Masters. Hmmpphhh.
Tin-roofed.
Straw-sided.
Dirt-floored.
Mundane.
Arcane.
Insane?
(Them. Or, I?)
I’m on a meadow
lark.
I’m on a mountain
pass.
I’m at a crossroads;
one lone road stretched out ahead -
stretched out behind -
, if I care to look,
into and through each and every
Eternity.
The tea is thin.
The ember, black.
The robe unment.
The cane unsupporting.
The larder full...
of rot;
vouchsafed against the coming
nothing-more-coming.
The inkquill dry, the pages full.
The air silent and gifted me some
somberity.
The birds nest now in
as well as out.
The rains quiet and pool now in
as well as out.
The empty deepens now in
as well as in
me.
The Master, oh so great, is
Gone.
Now.
The Master, her formative ages forming formless, is
Gone.
Now.
The Master, let his name sweeten my lips, is
Gone.
Again.
Empty, Silent.
Voidhome.
The peak, a valley.
Songbirds sing.
Leaves rustle.
Breezes whisper.
Geese squonk.
Empty; perhaps though
never emptied.
Silent; perhaps though
never silenced.
The Master, the Indubitable Inscrutable, is
Gone.
and or maybe if perhaps could likely or somehow somewhat say
was was never was.
Is, still, somehow or of course,
Gone.
Echoes dwell.
Lessons linger.
Songbirds sing.
The tea is weak;
mine (nay, ours) to
sip.
Tulips and lilies never smelled
so fragrantly inebriating
by the lake of the half-moon,
I sense the ineffable mystery
of an alluring and serene evening;
remote breezes so unforeseen
and unquestionably redolent
slightly touch the motionless surface
of the silvery and bluish lake so comely
and limpid while drowsy oaks and spruces
sway their long and thick branches...
as if silence were an act of reverence!
In the deserted town strangely
someone sits on the bend of the lake
of the half-moon as he stares
at the luminescent Northern Star
striking the strings of his guitar
with his skilled, young fingers...
suddenly everything harmonizes
with his beautifully played melody,
but he's so amazed by the splendor of the lake
of the half-moon that he doesn't hesitate
to join the invisible nightingales to praise
the indubitable presence of the Creator!
Our life:
The jumping out of a plane resembles
Right Into the arms of gravity’s demands
That anxiously pulls him onto the ground
As his prevailing destiny commands.
No parachute on his back is to be found
For him to avoid the inevitable impact
So he must soon find a way to escape
Before all his hopes are really whacked.
Between the plane and the ground though
A distance, short or long, to cover must have
That definitely indicates the length of his life
That no one, certainly, has the right to halve.
The drama of Man has though just started
As he has no command over his will
But the glory of his indubitable spirit
It makes him stand up and never kneel.
He laughs at his own condemnation
And proudly declares: " I am here to live."
I do not care when my fall is over
Fear in my heart " I'll never forgive."
He begins enjoying his hastening falling
As he makes plans myriad dreams to fulfill
"My works," With all his force, triumphantly shouts:
"Even when I go, here they are going to be still."
Thus Man victorious of life’s adventure emerges
Having beaten all odds and the fear of death
A monument is now of wisdom and valor
For he never gives up, till his very last breath!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
16 October 2022
Cirque Calder Family
Lonely this
My restless paint blobs
Absorbing precious air
Risking dehydration
Moisture deprived patience
Waiting atop my platform
Resting precariously upon cut wire
And tapered metal sheets
Awaiting tomorrow's work load
Master catnaps
Sprawled beside more wire and metal sheets
While real cat
Possesses Master's bedding
Her throne
Her mattress
All around
Bright colors crave daybreak
As studio fans drift their meager air
Turning delicate shapes meekly
Their kinetic fulcrums never idle
Other imaginings stand stoical in ring two
While ring one and three
Await trapeze figures
String ropes adrift
Large nocturnal mobiles
Idle patiently
Reflecting unfinished Big Top pieces
Table and floor installations
Galleries waiting
Catching moonlight
Wall doodles and sketches
Tarry further inspiration
Like my inspiration
The indubitable smell
Texture
Emotion
Only my paint dapples
Smeared on his faithful
Monsieur Palette can provide
Of course
Beside me
Always beside me
Tireless Pinch Nose
Holds I'm fay
Tough guy
Pliered twisting and crunching
Bent on convincing me
We're just tools
Says he
Not so
Says the Master
You're part of family
And so it goes
Brief respites
While imagination
Envisions its next
To be
Illusory reality
Remaining child-like
Understanding little of rest
A catnap?
Maybe