Long Insatiable Poems
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The Vessel pt. 3 - The Midnight Hour
~{Renatus}~
Toll of the bell at Midnight Hour,
High above, —the full moon still
Below, a sepulcher in darkness devoured,
Encased in fog and Winter's chill
An ebon fowl of blackest plume,
Solemn, —perched atop sculpted stone;
Keeps vigil over accurséd tomb,
Till stir within of flesh and bone
Awakened from the deepest slumber,
Horror made flesh —forged from pain
With words and fists unencumbered,
By those who wished to control and maim
Twinge of madness with every breath,
Burning vengeance twists the mind
Tormented soul in thrall to Death—
Goads the raven from its earthly bind
Crypt expels this chilling disdain,
Darkness in flesh—imbue then impart
Path of bird and beast, split in twain,
Of Earth and Of Ether, each depart
~{Revenant}~
"Covet the land, no company I keep..."
Over the mire, muck and tangle—
Unhindered by pernicious terrain—
This Beast, spoke of —only in fable,
Recompense for innocence slain
A village, quiet, —till breath of day,
Save for the sentinel up on high
Wide-eyed, sober, meets raven's gaze,
Raised alarum splits moonlit sky
"Covet the land, no company I keep,
Mortal hearts fill with dread..."
Shattered silence from panicked yell,
As ominous fog blankets the land
Thunderous peal breaks Sandman's spell,
The watchman bellows frantic commands:
—
"Shutter the windows! Bar the doors!
Pray to your God overhead!
Then dare not creak a single board!
Nor let slip! —an utterance from dread!"
—
No sooner these last words spoken,
Tearing of flesh, then gurgling sound
The Beast, swift! —His throat torn open
Enveloping fog, a burial shroud
"Covet the land, no company I keep,
Mortal hearts fill with dread
Inevitable slaughter of the sheep,
An insatiable hunger to be fed."
Night is my time
When light dissipates
Into matte darkness
Of endless dusk
My psyche awakens
And starts roaming
Barren landscape of
The dark side of the moon
Staring at the horizon of milky way
Spread over the sky
Searching for mysteries
That are hidden away
In woven ethereal patterns
Repeating itself like ripples
In the living water circles
Touched by invisible hand
Of lonely creator
I follow my insatiable drive
To catch the escaping edge
Of Ariadne's thread
That becomes visible
Only at night
In full moons’ shine
And disappears in days’ light
I escape the prison every night
Of my earthly existence
Locked in the limits of day
With light that makes things
Look flat and plain
When high noon hits the sky
Only at night I feel
That the illusion of clarity
Of bright sunny day
Locks my sight in delusion
That I am whole and safe
Only at night the depth
Of multi-dimensional world
Spinning feverishly around
Opens in front of my eyes
And I stare in dreamy daze
Overwhelmed by fear
Into the center of the universe
Attracted like a moth to light
To the darkness of night
US President Donald Trump delivers!
Disappearing people,
people aren’t illegal
The inefficiency of DOGE
Nothing makes sense, it’s all a mirage
Ignoring the Supreme Court,
immigrant prisoner’s fees come up short
Drastic aid cuts kill people overseas,
bringing back rare disease
I’m not bashing the Trump agenda
Sipping a five-dollar coffee and Splenda
It’s inflation, and his
insatiable appetite for tariffs in other nations
Got his gimmick and applause
Worldwide leaders upset because
outrageously tariffed
Worse than even liberals predicted!
Firing government workers,
ridding twitter twerkers
Best say 2020 election was rigged,
and that other candidate cheated
Silicon Valley beware,
AI undermining gives a scare
Pardon the bad guys,
lock up innocent lives
Tariff-related market collapse,
Gerrymandering make new maps
Farmers forced to overregulate
Under lableing’s blind fate
Suing the media,
can’t fact check on Wikipedia
Bye bye D.O.D
end of US Army?
Rename it, department of war,
forget defense, think of horror
I mean, I could just keep going
Let’s see what is missing?
Government workers fired
Lack of qualified candidates hired
Take his family and RFK JR radical,
gets checks from pharmaceutical
Braking the law shooting-up everyday,
what would the dead Kennedy's say?
What isn’t missing is Trump in the White House
and his trophy wife spouse
And so instead of unabashedly bawling my eyes out
I’ll do what it takes to mellow doubt
That’s only half of it,
Melania spoke out, I’m now in a bad state of regret
Give me a drag—I need cigarette!
Beloved of the Lord
Long before the prophets Isiah, Micah, Daniel, and Zechariah.
Long before the world knew of the son of man, Jesus, Christ, the King of Kings the great Messiah.
God found favor in the rainbow baby and develop a covenant with him.
Then it came to pass by God's holy declaration; that the rainbow baby will be the new king of Jerusalem.
God gave him the brilliant light of wisdom and righteousness during his nonage of no more than a tender score.
God gave him wisdom and complete understanding and great largeness of the heart like the sand on the seashore.
The Israelites blew horns and gathered in a cheerful rally.
He grew and ruled by the faithful hand of God and he was loved by many who praised him and compared him to the lilies of the valley.
For many years his wisdom set fire to the souls of mortal men.
His rare sagacity to them was agreeable, proposing, insatiable, and truthful and was chiseled to their encephalon and kept deep within.
This wonderful king of ole.
Who's skin was black as coal.
His head is as the finest as gold.
His locks are as bush and black as a raven.
He was a king of peace and a promised new haven
copyright 4/24/22
For each singular occurrence fleeting before me,
All senses come alive to experience life’s motion
Filled with a thirst of discoveries—a hunchbacked
Rock gleaming, salty nectar pouring on the tongue,
An insatiable need to quill under moonshine..
Then to allow the unexpected to happen
Without examining its reason,
As though a vigor of the unknown creates
Some divine exploration, my belly on fire, down
To earth or above heaven’s ridges..and I would slither
Away from what is mundane…the hardness,
The softness of nature’s terrain assaulting
My being, that I find seemingly inconsequential
Moments consequential: Somehow, this willingness
To ride with uncertainty leaves me awestruck—
Encountering the uniqueness of new ventures , inimitable.
------------
11/6/2018
John Lawless’ Creative Conformity Contest
He could take what most found, in the time of that
Particular incumbent fashion, to be lacking in any
Pleasing or greatly passionate way,
And, after immersing it into low, blue flame,
Repeatedly beat upon this quivering mass as
If it were but a whitened molten lump when
Drawn from violent, torturing heat constrained
Deep within some smith's insatiable forge;
Seen there the blistered face, scorched forearms
Impervious to the fizz and burn of popping sparks;
Blackened hammer wielded by a gnarly hand,
The repeated raising; forceful, downward strikes --
High-pitched ringing chimes of metal on metal;
And him, the better craftsman, bent desperately
To his task, shaping something new and
Disturbingly strange...
While, amassed amid the silent roaring of those
Unremarkable fields,
An idealistic generation, readied, prepared to spill
Its hot, innocent young blood over a sea of
Flowering petals for the valueless ideal of an
Unworthy hour spawned by a vile whoring b***h
Before it slunk back into the lengthening
Shadows of a withering age.
I was born in a banana republic,
Between the carnivorous chains of Françafrique,
In an open-air dumpster,
Where tyranny, barbarity, and savagery speak with arrogance.
I am perfumed with all the nauseating scents of misery.
I grew up under the honeyed speeches of necktied oppressors,
Their swollen pockets vomiting development aid.
They painted the walls of despair UN blue,
While our starving bellies served as ballot boxes.
My tongue is a battlefield
It was cut, stitched back, trained to sing the masters’ symphonies.
I speak French like a trauma articulated,
With the pain of my color since the first slave trades.
My struggle, a reminder of the invasion, an inheritance of batons from the Caribbean plantations.
I saw dictators blessed by chancelleries,
Oil traded for diplomatic silence,
Mines bled dry by hands gloved in elegance,
And mass graves hidden beneath bilateral agreements.
I am what they call human resource,
Exportable, exploitable, erasable at will.
I was born where dignity is sold by the kilo,
And where the future fits in a punctured boat at dawn on the Mediterranean.
I was born where the future fits in a punctured boat at dawn on the Mediterranean.
Where a passport is a burden, not a key.
Where one sells their skin to organ merchants
To buy a pixelated mirage of Europe.
I saw my mother weep silently over deportation slips,
My father break his back in open-pit mines of the cradle of humanity,
I learned to read in the pamphlets of the defiant,
To count on my fingers the promises unkept.
School, a factory of stillborn dreams.
Healthcare, a market where cancer is sold in tainted doses.
Justice, a rumor, an insult whispered
Between two power cuts and three police blunders.
I am the child of fake independences,
Of tailor-made constitutions stitched for insatiable gluttons.
I was born without inheritance, save for
This rage accumulating like sand under the skin.
They called me delinquent, migrant, underdeveloped,
But I am the living archive of their beautified crimes.
I am the raw product of their refined markets,
The shattered mirror they flee, for fear of seeing their own barbarity within.
"There is a serenity and brutalty within the ocean. It is at once life giving and life destroying. We human beings carry the same polarities within" ~By Poet
The undulating mass of teal blue stretches vast
Waves flap as they glide whispering a song in my ears
I feel the calm and the chaos all at once in this boundless deep
Standing by the side of this pulsing molecules of brine
Watching the breakers that pound on the shore
And looking at the melee of waves and tides
I wonder if we can ever tame its waters
Or silence its rising tumult
The waters, sometimes is at peace, but it’s only a truce
Like the ocean, within us rise never ending fracas
But beneath the whirls and tides, is a quiet strange.
Is not there a parallel between man and the ocean
Both a cosmos in themselves so impenetrable,
Giving us visions of things unseen
Beating with a thrilling pulse
And moving on with no desire to halt
With an insatiable longing to possess
As under the clamorous surface of the ocean, mysteries sleep
What all secrets in the hidden chambers of our heart we keep
As no one knows an ocean’s reach and sinuous strength
None on earth can fathom the depths of a human heart
1/16/21
Pure silence or the sound of wind chimes
Willing to do anything to save their own hides
People still committing horrific crimes
During low and high tide
It's been one hell of a roller coaster ride
A whirlwind inside my mind
All these rhymes
Days and nights spent getting sky high
It's seeming like a sign of the times
I say I'm fine, but I'm not alright
Always feels like
I get nowhere when I climb
No matter how hard I try
Can't even look me in my eyes
Quick to assume I'm telling lies
Wasn't the first and won't be the last goodbye
If you let it, quickly time will pass you by
I was reaching the skies
Then taking dives
Achieving nearly every prize
Or living among the mosquitoes and flies
I had many lows and even more highs
I've been a fool, but I'm still wise
You better recognize
And realize
I still get butterflies
While I'm living life, trying to survive
Seeing the moon's glow or watching the Sunrise
Sometimes
It hurts
Feels like I'm cursed
Still I delve and search
Across the Earth
Too many perverts
And jerks
Continue to lurk
Meanwhile snakes out to usurp
As well as nearly every other twerp
Which is why I stay alert
Similar to Captain Kirk
Ready to put in work
First things first
To me it doesn't matter if you did or didn't go to church
For what it's worth
Better or worse
Before I'm in a hearse
And the dirt
I've still got an insatiable hunger and thirst
I know there'll be no effect or a ripple that can domino
Time will tell if we truly are or are not alone
I got to go
And roam
Across the globe
I want to know
From here to way beyond the Galapagos
As well as Guantanamo
Humble and Heroic, doing the impossible
Paying homage and occasionally saying 'Geronimo!'
Feeling like Socrates
Don't need apologies
Traveling across the seas
And on lands fraught with trees
Constantly
Saw what others would not believe
And am going to continue the odyssey
Traveling vertically and horizontally
Staying still or moving with velocity
As folks hold on to animosity
Forever unable to display camaraderie
Not focused on such novelties
People with good and bad qualities
The same can be said for policies
I remain an anomaly
With my own methodology
And ferocity
Holding on solidly
While remaining an oddity
How to rid myself of addiction
Let it run to the cross soiled
Here on the 1st station of the cross
Feel the self-hate go to its fate
Carry my new wood proudly
Condemned to crucifixion
I nail the addict while contrite
With kindness and patience
Threw away my paraphernalia
Break the doubt however tight
Like a fruitless wash and repeat
Get up only to fall again
Think of cancer and cirrhosis
Recall the tethers of a life
Teach me true forgiveness
Know that I am enough
But, addiction is insatiable
When it’s time to strike, strike
When I let go the trial starts
An addict is an addict for a lifetime
Walk the stations day after day
Naked and humbled each morning
Endure emptiness’ open palms
Find amity in fear's closed fist
Each iteration is not a failure
Be proud above happy people
With their sanctioned addictions
We are the socially unacceptable
Making failure our familiar
Our struggle the incomparable
If by chance you receive this message
Riddled by your daily choices
Addiction has no beginning or end
Returning to the 12th station
Eli eli lama sabachthani
Expire like thieves beside the helpless
Resurrect me on the 15th
Stumbling is better than stasis
Lay me beside you entombed
I am thirsty, Lord
Tetelestai