Long Intonation Poems
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Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Sonnet to puzzlement
And there I look, eager mind ready to offer a polite
Salutation; hopeful introduction to eventual
Happiness.
That first hello, shyly voiced, a certain questioning
In its intonation, the rising ending signalling hope.
I wonder why? Why is there this urge to approach,
And dance the eternal dance. Whence comes
This foolish optimism, that there is someone,
Somewhere, who like-minded fits the
Straitjacket of wit, physique and pheromones?
The Bard protests he will not to the marriage
Of true minds admit impediment; yet he does
Not offer the magic formula of finding one
Whom tempests do not sway.
Sonnet to incompleteness
Love is not love when fragmentation of the eternal
Triad is apparent on second, or third, inspection.
A pleasing face, trim bodied, with sharp mind,
Challenging thoughts and confronting conversation,
So exciting. But there is no spark, no panting
Desire to bed, or wed, to forget the mundane chores
Of life in order to be near, and touch, and inhale
The sweet fragrance of love.
Likewise, physical lust overwhelms; until chance
Remark reveals a capable mind, yet not resonant,
Not in tune with the vagaries of your thought.
Or, indeed, mind and pheromones work their magic,
Yet there is no urge to gaze on arabesque lips or
Admire that gentle curve, this almond eye.
Sonnet to Despair
And, let us suppose, that one comes who plays
On our three stringed lute of attraction;
Yet we do not pluck their strings and evoke
A pleasing duet of love. What then?
Are we doomed to live in some halfway
House of hope, a bystander to their life,
That they live out, oblivious to our nose
Against their window, wishful, a fading
Hope that their silence is to test our resolve,
Rather than proclaim a message of rejection.
The song that only we can hear has no echo,
No answering question, that once was voiced,
In subtle terms, without the courage to ask;
And thus we wait in hope.
"Alpha Mnemonic"
Word
Image
without the image
no word
Language
a disease
communicable
by mouth
Alpha from brain
Omega passed
on her tongue
to yours
Ancient codex
genetically kissed
dispersed with
music intonation
gutteral
romantic
cerebral
never rehearsed
language
a virus formed
Mnemonic
from where exactly,
Within?
ad lib
ad lucem
ad libitum
from somewhere
other birthed
codex ancient
Alpha alien
genetic
hive driven
we are observed
writhing in our smalls
amphibian brained
we are still
loud embryos
clashing and clinging
unjust
we are
just learning exotic
movements
within our
blue pitri plate
circular in motion
we are agitated
not calm, chasing long versed
pre-recorded, re-rehearsed tales
a breath blown over us
language divides us
in love and belief
a disease
we are
we think
we speak
we spread
our languages
communicable
by eyes that
envision dreams
of others within
we are not knowing
with clandestined
futures and
over-ripe mouths
to succour
we simulate
ad lib
ad lucem
ad libitum
sensual
cold
science
hot and feverish
we lie
in bed
with irreverent
romantic fate
Omega
ohm resistant
high voltage
across the conductor
Always equal
Metaphors of unity
become
the Sequel
Blissfully ignorant
Ripe Red currents
juiced up and
Blue buries itself
warm palmed
on a soft beating breast
Ideology and
Romance
arrive
late
Memory
lost in the
Alpha
Mnemonic
Stuck in
the warm
and sticky
we grow cold
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Language is a Virus" / Laurie Anderson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIOnODxUTZQ
Xmas tide,
a time for familial gatherings,
The golden chain of friendship
…and companions
Sweet on each other,
parading arm in arm
Together to share a feast and gift giving
...Nativity scenes, red, gold, green
bells ringing
Garlands, wreaths, and holly
Holiday romance rekindles and
swindles kisses under a mistletoe
Lovers making love!
…A lonely time for others
She arrives solo, one link’s absence sears
her heart yet another year
Smiles seem forced they’ll think
…Cry out the hosts,
Drink up, plenty of champaign !
Chums come and go quickly
Good to flatter one in a funk or ho-hum
The dinner is served, everyone rejoices
Mingles and reacquaint
Toasts and jingles can’t take her gaze away
True feelings are hidden
Like a disconsolate widow,
mournfully she yearns for him
Not a soul to tell, nor a cherished confidant
to share a secret or a private matter
Of the sensuality of karma sutra wooing her gently
Mesmerizing thoughts of a distant lover
have taken her far from the celebration
…His sultry eyes, savory lips
Sleekly sinewed neck, and bulging biceps
Quite an exquisite exhibition
Into his warm embrace and into subservience
Draped in satin, his fingertips tracing her curves
duplicating guitar intonation on his
gears, depressing down fretted notes
Making sultry harmonic tunes
Counting down at the twelfth fretboard
Lusty lullabies erogenous, with more alibies,
Keeps silent not to arouse suspicions of
an affair's existence that shouldn’t be
She counts down the twelve days of Xmas tide
her yearning entails
love is starved at Xmas tide~
he plays keep away
Ash - grey chemised
she shifts her shape
as silver flakes float coat
stripped naked places,
sheath curves and angled spaces
Angry glitter tingle stings
thick earth skin with prickly flames
and rumble rise regurgitates
shimmy - shake shudders
in magma's deep thrombosis.
Her feather boa plume
tightens hot cloud chokehold,
acrid smoke flung up in air
without a care, heat exhumes
her arrival, announced fiery flounce -
Hot air blast flicks ash everywhere
Grande dame, her vital force runs hot,
and bold, red and gold- full blooded flow,
feisty fight to escape fate,
inner pulses push a violent urge
to bleed and drape red lava's cape
across green fields, human habitations
Unplacated, rising up, proud impairment
anger virulent, out of hellbent
immolation via pyramidal vent.
She lifts her tiara, red ruby globs,
hurls evidence in defense - great blobs
of royal reign - no abdication!
Throaty roars rend intonation
into screeching supplications -
She knows full well, soon enough,
her phoenix fate infarction
Too late for earth's burst heart
High drama is a living, dying art
Impassioned pleas too late for some,
Earth's burnout buries victims in her wake
High on an island hill,
the boy lay crushed, and still
on temple altar, throat cut, bled out
Hurried offering, did not appease,
nor bring softening release
for angry, ancient mountain
Head caved in by falling blocks
of measured, square cut stone,
the priest grovelled on his knees
Gravel filled their mouths, no space for pleas
No one heard half- whispered final groans
And Earth, once she settled down,
murmured not another sound
Posted 17/08/2018.
Most people put their faith
in primal things
Spiritual cave dwellers,
living on the dark fringes of life
Afraid of stepping into a brighter tomorrow,
baffled by that distant light in the sky
Their understanding of the solar circle of time
is so ant finite,
they be dumb beasts feeding
on the wild grains of ignorance
When the talking apes
see futuristic passengers
walking in their midst
They ponder with puzzlement
the prophetic footprint message
left in the temporal sands of antiquity
A simple coda of omnipotent portent:
LIVE HOLY!
A celestial exhortation ...
this universal, replicating seed
imaging WORD and WORD
Father ROOT and Son BRANCH,
rising from the dirt,
was planted in the primordial garden of Paradise
In the dawn lush beginning
of a sunset fallow earth
Divine angelic harp intonation
of heavenly vocal vibrations
pluck the heartstrings of man
But the music of the cosmic spheres,
the devolving mammon mind of crouching monkeys
will never hear nor understand
The eternal star tribe of the Blessed,
amplified pulsar souls living holy
Elevated spirits they be,
perfectly quantum loving and giving
Caring supernova creatures dying godly
To the creeping mammals scurrying in darkness,
this is such a strangeness of being —
A heightened sensory existence alien to them ...
scared attenuated souls retreating
into their dark caverns of vanity
As the inevitable flank advancement
of the Perceptual Warriors increase
Bearing in their breastplates of righteousness,
this Urim and Thummim golden knowledge —
The weakness of love is the strength of infinity
wheel ding utmost pro lix:
scrum compulsions won
despite feeling dog tired, (like a ton
of bricks weighed me down)
while seduced by the sun
solar radiation from the sky didst lightly run
sans, i experienced
a weird wired wider sensation pun
knee sensation otherwise, this sun dry
older puppy nun
the wiser (feeling akin
to an overly sated book worm
to boot) on a Mon
Day, nonetheless, forced
by male incarnation from Lon
don, (via NON FAKE voices
inside my noggin) a potential Hun
these tired eyes, could NOT stop reading
even with figurative gun
at my head, until only
sluggish progress made,
which daunting task not fun
bore witness thru novel
(in this instance plotting thru - dun
know if fie could finish
One Hundred Years Of Solitude -
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
pea pulling his story with bun
dulls of Hiss panic
Alpha Numeric characters, -
per printed page punctuated
concluded with a period,
(premature mental dejected ejaculation exclaimed
how ah yee got trounced
by harsh obsessive compulsive task master.
"Nay unto you Matthew Scott"!
Uttered by exactly same grievous rot
while er...mailer daemon (as above, pot
tent shill slave driver subsequently not
quite ditto for identical bon mot
mind wielding damn mask kid ding lot
intonation, now setting me hot
to worry about my thinning hair, the little aye got
as expressed vis a vis A previous poem
of mine titled 'Argh! I suffer the plight of Bad
Hair Year In One Day!'
Angel of mercy
A small spark kindles in eager young hearts
With a smile, a song, and a destiny
Their souls a perfect match from the start
How sad she was blind to her eternity
She spent many years wasted in searching
Looking for true love with other men
Always believing their love was abiding
Only to have her heart broken again
Angel of Mercy, comfort her tonight
Show her what's wrong and what's right
He adores her heart, he loves her soul
Angel of Mercy, wrap her in your love
Teach her how to let go
All these years the spark still survives
A small ember in ashes of the past
One look into his eyes and her truth arrives
Her true love she recognizes at last
Spark to flame, flame to inferno
All in one look, in one breath
How she missed it before, she will never know
But now she knows she is his to her death
Angel of Mercy, comfort her tonight
Show her what's wrong and what's right
He adores her heart, he loves her soul
Angel of Mercy, wrap her in your love
Teach her how to let go
She longs to tell him 'I love you'
And turns with her arms open wide
Where once he stood, so solid and true
Now only emptiness and darkness reside
She cries out his name in pure desperation
Her soul weeps 'Where has he gone?'
The universe answers with a sad intonation
'I'm so sorry. You simply waited too long.'
Angel of Mercy, comfort her tonight
Show her what's wrong and what's right
He broke her heart, she lost her soul
Angel of Mercy, wrap her in your love
Please teach her to let him go.
I was born with this name
A name that cannot be moved.
Through my struggles and through my pain
These shackles I shall remove.
Dignified in all my ways
Eminent proven that can't be replaced.
I am a true man of virtue
That cannot be measured by time or space.
I'm a Star of my own
Reflecting the rays of my thrown.
Magnificent and Majestic
In the land of milk and honey, I am the backbone.
Often misunderstood,
Confound and misconstrued.
Even in contempt of their judgement
My adulation infatuation will remain intact for my brood!
My love is undenying
Everlasting and undying.
Unreplaceable, indestructible
My fable inspires that transcends to be noble.
The King of my castle
A fraction define from a point of a decimal
Denoting in the tenth power
That represents the commandments of my counsel.
In translation...
I'm a man unrecognized by his emotions
Yet his word's expression
Forms a principle which defines in connotation.
My concentration
Concerns to adjourn any iniquitous Interpretation.
Adjudicated as if uneducated
Yet their mind's unable to define the intonation of my elucidation.
So therefore there's no question!
That I am...A son reflected by his own creation.
In his own reflection
My third eye indicates the gift of this phenomenal articulation.
So as my motivation
My delivery will continue to build in its meticulous manifestation.
A man that will man up
To whom, I will claim to recognize his own dejected aberration.
S ituation
N ormal
A ll
F ouled
U p
Everyone in the chain of command
is passing the buck
From the president on down,
they’re covering their butt
Pentagon pencil-heads are working the phones,
trying to get a handle on the toilet situation ...
barking orders in their normal gruff intonation
All hands on decks for political damage control;
but somebody fouled off the pitch,
and let the media catch wind of the stumble
News travel fast ... so sultan swatting spherical,
public got those antennae ear gloves up
on their private carrier satellite dish cable
Up the brass chain of command,
they say everything is copacetic cool
Fouled communication compromised
has been breach settled old school
All the fallen dominos state secrets
are safely in code encrypted contain
Normal operations got the green light go,
covert missions stay exactly the same
Situation Room decisions got a bit stressed,
piles of confusion was such a steamy hot mess
B ut now, black-ops
c an again be the top-secret cops
In the present,
you
just have to trust that
later
screw-ups,
maybe
won’t be whiskey fatal ... no nuclear overturned short cups