Long Inevitability Poems
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Life’s unsung tunes fade away
into nothingness with the menagerie of mirage
disappearing in the realm of death.
Trudging on the desolate deserted pathway
the fragile footprints collapse in his kingdom
where the cosmic monarch of the end,
the ruler of the last breath,
carves his throne from the sands of time.
With the arcane image of terror concealed
like the sordid silhouettes of lethal menace
the king rules without mercy or malice,
lurks in the shadow of dark danger
into the quintessence of placid life,
and waits at the pause of every heartbeat,
encased within the freight frame,
configured from the vicious void
of timeless inevitability.
My fragility.
It’s a dispute of the unborn.
Sometimes I feel my loathe curling into the caves of my doting delicacy.
Sometimes I feel my pondering breath, stifled under the world’s strangling oxygen.
Sometimes I feel my security solace itself through the brittle tremble of my palms.
The mercy enchants me.
The relentless, ceaseless yearn of every man, inhaling my infirmity; a futile faith to fuel a defective ego.
The persistent, unyielding ruthlessness of every man, swallowing my hallucinated plea for the shelter of their calloused.
The obstinate, treasured haunt of every man, consuming my crumble; a famine to a fuelled, faux masculinity.
The egocentric proposal of a succoured sanctuary igniting my flesh in a hatred so potent; I cannot help but receive.
I cannot help but accept the ascending high of a haven so temporary, it gratifies the salves of my supplicatory wounds.
Is this what it has come to?
The reflection of the glass indulges at my bare bequest of my rupture.
The relics of my DNA question my competence for an ancestry demolition.
The throttled atoms of my making flourish onto the endless, violent anguish for the transgression of my dignity.
And the inevitability of my reality finally consumes the romanticisation of my presence.
I am fragile.
every once in a while,
read me
pass by my elusive and fickle words, let-hers, and numb.errs
like fleeting rain
I may drown you,
I may inconvenience you, I know
but
every once in a while,
remember me
unearth memories of me
since I've buried myself,
and somehow
I am liking it here
but yes,
every once in a while
do restore me
Please?
to what, I don't know
--still figuring myself out,
I somehow feel it,
the inevitability of it
of not leaving footprints,
only ghostly trails.....................
but
maybe,just maybe,
every
once
in
a
while
I'll
let
ink
flow through
my
veins
again.
Inevitability
by Michael R. Burch
There is change in the wind; there is change in the sea
preternaturally strange with her myriad eyes—
stars mirrored in waves. Compelled by the moon,
whipped to foam, she is drawn into restive tides
rising and cresting as kestrels flee
shrieking, “Passion is all!” You are nothing to me.
What will be, will be.
There are words to arrange; there are tongues to employ;
there are songs to engrave on each vellum leaf.
But the gold will not hold lacking passion or joy
and the gilt ink fades without rage or grief.
All your high Latin hymnals bind spineless belief,
and your mild incantations mean nothing to me.
What will be, will be.
Emotionless arrows impale no meat,
leave no prey blood-splattered, no white bone staring,
no pale breast shattered, no lamb’s soft bleat ...
but a table barren, an ear uncaring.
And your listless denouements mean nothing to me.
What will be, will be.
There are souls’ riven screams, there are blind eyes staring—
imploring the sun or the moon or the sea
for an inkling of meaning, a morsel, a shaving ...
and your pallid dispassion means nothing to me.
What will be, will be.
There is much that is lost, and yet much to be gained
in each dark starless night, each advance of the sun.
We have so little time to wrestle your meaning.
Stars trestle the heavens. Wind haunts. You are done.
And your temple bells’ tinklings mean nothing to me.
What will be, will be.
All my cruel Celtic henchmen, my bold Nordic bards,
will shatter the canes of your cripples to shards,
impaling pale corpses on blood-slickened staves,
tossing leprous white limbs to the wild-drooling waves.
For your steaming viscera are manna to me.
What will be, will be.
No Iscariot kiss, but a Jubilant Hiss
you will get from me. What will be, now is.
I swear to God
by Mansur Hallaj
translation by Michael R. Burch
I swear to God, the sun never rose nor set
without Your love being mingled with my breath;
nor have I ever confided in anyone
except when communing with You.
It’s Okay
by Odin
Roark
Many see labeled
folds and creases
Across forehead and
brow
As problems
unresolved
As thinking lines
Perhaps when one
sleeps
Furrowed wrinkles
stay left behind
The hoe of worry
Takes its earned
respite
While the world’s
hope of harvest
Gathers rest in
darkness
How tenuous
This short-lived
slumber
Where battlegrounds
Become buried
beneath peaceful
seeding
Where life’s
nourishing fields
Find shelter from
evil’s eruptive
invasions
Where headlines of
contracted
mind-waste
About to carry
primed destruction
Strapped to their
chests
Still breathe
Where children
making bullets
Find time to gather
casings
Gently pressing
blood stained soil
Into their playhouse
planters
Believing vines will
grow into
Escape routes to
sunshine and heaven
Where beyond
inevitability
Leaves still flutter
Upon limbs still
expanding
Engulfing trees
still becoming
Before smashed
atom-waves
Incinerate life to
ashes
Where when you awake
A bewildered world
asks
Why thinking lines
now smile
And your tearful
heart
Surviving not by
breathing alone
Whispers its
prescient wisdom
“It’s okay to listen
and hear silence
To be at peace
To be happy…
If only in your
dreams”
A future without
In a dark future when the world is in flames;
Who will decide who will die and who will be saved?
In a future of uncertainty, we all have the inevitability of the grave.
What chances do we have to take, to make a change?
If all we have done before has lead us to where we are now;
Why can we not see the problem with a nuclear cloud?
Take your risks and wipe us all out.
The sun will be gone; we will be left without hope
And a new ice age will happen…I have no doubt.
As the countries disappear and we all become human;
We will have no need to go to war because of a few bad men.
Our fight will be against death, survival of the fittest; evolution.
Will we survive until the Earth is reborn
And the animals and plants come back again?
Species are dying and nobody is crying.
Last mankind standing…our future is dying.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression
Barely behind me, I pick up pieces
and carry on
as best I can
It took ages to process, I’ll never forget
Just learn to respect the cycle of life
Embrace its inevitability
Appreciate the miracle of fleeting time
Is it change inescapable
That makes departed love most dear?
Divine treasure
Precarious
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on June 28, 2018 for contest FRAGMENTED VERSE sponsored by BROKEN WINGS- DEAR HEART - RANKED 2ND
So here we are
now together in this eternal circle
around death's latest victim
in our apartisan lives.
We pause,
each to invite a quieter humbling access
to silent comfort
from this ministering circle
Each, and together,
facing this our inevitable personal
frighteningly human,
naturally spiritual
and inspirationally natural trauma
Asking forgiveness from ourselves
and each Other in this soon parting Circle,
letting go of flawed relationships
in which we have done and said,
and too often not peacefully done
and said,
harm to ourselves
and to these encircled Others
Here doing our health and wellness best
we can
knowing some days and nights
like this death day,
with nighttime fears
and angers against cruel
and unusual mortality,
we will add to our shared ecology
and theology
of Trauma:
[invite Circle to add their own feelings]
Loss
Suffering
Pain
A degenerating climate
Hopelessness
Despair...
Yet, also in this Sacred Pause
before dispersing
shared Death's hard inevitability,
we may also invite remembering
this our circling resonance,
When,
in our most robust compassion moments,
health care giving
is also wealth receiving resilient
brilliant,
physically empowering
and spiritually enlightening
We embrace
and celebrate our recircling Trauma facing
sacred place
warmly regarding space
For all that we have said and done
and have not said and not done
from heart-felt compassion
with ________________;
[full name of deceased/ing]
This inside silent day
and dark night,
and those before
and yet to come
trusted truths
and healthiest beauty
Circles gathering Earth's compassion
celebrating this sacred pause
in our wealth of healthcare lives
encircling death's departure.
An endangered species, living on a ledge,
100 seconds to Midnight, then over the edge,
Nearest to Doomsday, humans have ever been,
Vaporised! inside mushrooms of boiling hot steam.
Casually go about our business, without a care,
While the Sword of Damocles, hangs in the air,
So be it, nevertheless, makes no difference to me,
Probably guessed, this poem’s done sardonically.
It’s true! I mean come on, never going to happen,
Like the day, every Dinosaur got flattened,
Poor creatures walking around, totally oblivious,
Could we stop the impact, much less obvious.
Melancholia movie, thought their doomsday, was a flyby,
Built a symbolic shelter of sticks, when aware gonna die,
In that scenario, was definitely better not to know,
A storyline with an inevitability, of no planet tomorrow.
Well back to reality, why should we be exempt,
After redesigning nature, showing utter contempt,
Earths an unexploded time bomb, ready and primed,
Detonated by paranoia, or maniacs out of their mind.
To be honest, rather get finished off, really quick,
Over and done with, not dying radioactively sick,
I’ve done a lot of talking, and when all this is said,
If the missile comes, hope it slams into my head.
I’m sceptical though, about that Doomsday clock,
It’s a postulation, put forward to make us take stock,
Nuclear weapons will continue, for better or worse,
Another asteroid comes, Rejoice if the Bastard’s work!
By
David Kavanagh.
*no outsiders allowed inside
a lone rule breaking in
a no rule zone
nowhere to go in an open sea,
lost with somewhere to go
a sleepless dream
or was it a dreamless sleep?
getting confused with the steadiness
of finally feeling a constant heartbeat
slowing down in the fast lane...
unpredictable in the land of inevitability
the silence of the heart
thunders
in the mind
niggling...refusing to accept
what it all means, what it implies
denial or is it blindness?
putting up a **deep facade
but really
just floating--
feet on the clouds
with head in the ground
solid stone crumbles to dust
as ice melts the fire
of resistance--now sputtering,
sparkling shyly
as diamonds would
upside down
right side up
downside up
up side left
head tucked in
with neck sticking out
heart in throat, swallowing it
getting thirsty in the rain
fools made out of geniuses
or is it
geniuses made out of fools?
love~
so many are lost in it,
puzzling the mystified
and the rational
yet many understand it
when things fall into place
but
once a missing piece does fit,
it only finds other mysteries
stumbling on answers
in organized chaos
no wonder
people go crazy over it
Jan. 25, 2010
ok writing this sort of confused me lol
* found this posted on door somewhere here
** snatched this from Chris Aechtner (sorry Chris you're
like a mushroom here, so used it without permission, hope that's ok ^_~)
haha wrote this before a parent's meeting so have to rush out of here--
heehee trying to squeeze in an entry in Kristen's Oxymoronica contest :)
will try to catch up on comments soon, promise :) thanks!!
ok Wilma sticking with this title, thanks Missy :)