Long Inundation Poems
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What strange cascades course down my spine -
invisible, unnameable, and as of yet, undiagnosed.
I only can liken them to rain or wind.
Sometimes they are as a shower -
pitter-pattering lightly down my back.
Other times they make a squall.
Rushing and gushing -
whether the currents be of rain or of wind,
the torrent pours down -
engulfing the system of my nerves
with its constant inundation of discomfort.
From the sky of modern medicine,
which once I stood beneath -
umbrella-less in my gullibility -
I received the bitter taste of something
ever surging in my mouth’s saliva -
the first sign of more tides to come.
Later there occurred a cloudburst of my brain,
causing to flow through me
unnatural cataclysmic side effects.
Now the hellish deluge surges sometimes too
over all my body’s rivers.
“Damned” up with some weird neurology -
awash am I
with whatever in my brain allows this rain
to pound me with persistence
and prevents it too from winding its way
to the ocean of sweet relief for which I long.
I pray for it all to be released.
Again and again, the deluge flows
as I continue to plead
please, oh, please, God -
open the floodgates.
April 28, 2022
for Edward Ibeh's Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Title Chosen: #2: Open the Floodgates
Unrelenting blitzkrieg deadly
assault upon psyche
pounded defenseless
vulnerable mindscape accustomed
to shelter within aproned crease
mama proffered manna, especially
when untethered meek docile lad
subjected to blistering hellfire
infamous hoodlums wantonly unleashed
verbal bombardments lobbing poison
spear tipped invisible blackened barbs
manifold times more agonizing
piercing, targeting, xraying...
guaranteed fatal skull and crossbones
unseen insignia wrought utmost damage
one hundred percent accuracy
ferociously besieging, jackknifing, pummeling...
successfully character assassinating,
a diminutive boy cursed with ideal traits
strongly tempted, delectably savored,
violently bullied (short of physical
stature violated, though seditious)
emotional violation wrought lifelong
oppressive worthlessness complimented
amply by absolute zero self confidence
distilled thru conception in utero
until parturition on a bitterly cold
January thirteenth (apparently small,
medium forces at large, sans right
buffalo wing conspiracy) instigating
ear splitting wailing testing threshold
of tolerance, no crying game, but
palpable anatomical and physiological
dislocations afflicting yours truly
with breathing difficulty courtesy
submucous cleft palate pronouncing
strong nasality, when acquiring speaking
ability more cause to ridicule upon
commencing attendance within Lower
Providence School District, where kids
said nastiest, meanest, foulest, cruelest...
unsolicited comments pointedly jabbing air
mocking severe twang plus pigeon toed gait
the latter rectified with custom made
contrivance crafted by papa that forced
little feet turned outward during sleep,
which less significant aberration became
corrected as I got older, but self shaming
and blaming assimilated thru incessant
intimidation, inundation, invitation...
passive personality tacitly allowed,
provided, and enabled entire classroom
to assail helpless looking human creature
'pon entering home burst into tears!
Democracy devolves into tyranny, Plato cautioned.
Flooded by the frigid torrent of factionalism,
will we certify his prediction?
Blinded by the prevarication of public discourse.
Numbed by the inundation of disinformation.
Crippled by the conspiracy of doubt.
The real deep state festers in our cortex,
a place where the charlatans of fallacy
invade,
a dwelling where terrorists of mind
take control.
But the terrain before us is vast.
The dense forest and effulgent meadows ahead are unmapped,
musky, fructuous forest floor perfumes the breeze,
The scarlet skyline of the dewy untrodden beckons us.
Abundant life is our rehearsal.
Can we honestly say we know for what?
Yet, such rapture is eloquent in our dreams.
Such reverie will arrest the parsing of our quintessence.
Our distortions are lifted when we are united
in communitarian struggle.
Published Online 4/2021: The Opiate Magazine
Also scheduled for print publication: summer, 2021
Song on the wind; an ethereal composition can
penetrate the soul; a spark and combustion
reveals the fire of enlightenment.
Spirit awakens to face the universal mind,
on its god-flight.
Platinum wings unfold and against a background of
golden light; spirit soaring,
we morph into atomic particles.
The spiritual “Transporter” engaged opens
multiverses travel; intelligent life is all life…
one in the land of soul.
Here live beings of infinite knowledge and wisdom.
Locked out of the moral inn, they wait;
mind and soul are the keys by which,
we open eternity’s door and pass through.
Inundation, a gathering of energy;
that harmonic moment, realized when the
Dharma pours into our mortal vessel.
Drink heartily, without egoism’s censorship;
we have more than we know.
Power channels atomically through the open door;
spirits in a mortal box always have spare keys.
The woman decides
on which cat to take home
from the local pound.
She had been torn
between two.
She had viewed
a youngish grey-white
cat, nervous, bold.
And uncomfortable-
looking. Yet his fur
colors remind
the woman
of storm-clouds,
heavy August afternoons
rowing an uncle's
little row-boat
on the pond
with the wooden raft
that pulls and BUOYS
her. Yet...like sun-light
fulfilling the morning
with its shine,
an older cat
with deepest yellows
and an edge of sea
in her eyes,
convinces the woman
to choose HER
orange"fluff",
that sprouts
from her skin,
like dandelion seeds
when they are ready
to fling
through the breezes
to plow new roots.
HER orange
is a brush
of the hand
on something soft,
to soothe, tantalize.
While the woman
considers, she
has an evocation:
like...
an orange
star-burst-
sparklers
in her hand-
tangy sweet tart
flavors in her mouth.
She knows
a Summer sky.
She anticipates
the sharp eruption
that will alight
her tongue,
her gums,
her throat.
The
inundation,
of taste...
or...
maybe...
her mouth
can't quite...
take it, but
-loves it-
She contemplates
the gold sienna
(of
her new
cat)
her breakfast juice,
maybe even
“Tang".
A clementine,
one amongst
a bowl-ful;
an
orange Grove;
the LIFE-SAVER?
Dark orange flames
to warm her,
like the only friend...
in childhood.
Song on the wind; an ethereal composition can
penetrate the soul; a spark and combustion
reveals the fire of enlightenment.
Spirit awakens to face the universal mind,
on its god-flight.
Platinum wings unfold and against a background of
golden light; spirit soaring,
we morph into atomic particles.
The spiritual “Transporter” engaged opens
multiverses travel; intelligent life is all life…
one in the land of soul.
Here live beings of infinite knowledge and wisdom.
Locked out of the moral inn, they wait;
mind and soul are the keys by which,
we open eternity’s door and pass through.
Inundation, a gathering of energy;
that harmonic moment, realized when the
Dharma pours into our mortal vessel.
Drink heartily, without egoism’s censorship;
we have more than we know.
Power channels atomically through the open door;
spirits in a mortal box always have spare keys.
6-10-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 11) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
The seed of ego and pride continued to generate hatred
Somebody grinded, somebody kept choking here and won
Every human being described himself as the greatest caste
Mankind was everyone's caste, why did every human forget it.
In the face of hollow claims, know how the country is growing
Now the curse of casteism is also suppressing humanity
Do not blame anyone who has set this fire
This spark of poison has come out of your house.
Why did every young man standing on the border save the life of religion
When here, by making caste the only limit, every person died of hatred.
Why is casteism becoming everyone's self-respect
Hey, in the race for this important, nobody achieved anything
Now to eradicate this malice cup root, one has to step up
Casteism is an inundation of fire, one has to burn feet.
I will not talk about caste, nor will I talk about religion
I will not be proud, I will not be ashamed
Just pay that great duty of human being
Bring me happiness in the world, I will talk about that karma.
It rained for three days
Constant outpouring awakens
The dry river to life again
A little farther besides our home
I hear the rumbling sound
Of water slowly snaking though
Descending, bulldozing its might
Pushing those like foam and debris
Downward plaining going farther
I can't wait for my outburst feeling
Whether I be sad, fear or happy
Sad cause by the inundation
Of what if it will go to flooding
And cause damage to land and properties
Fear of natural disaster to happen
Happy for our root crops ration with water
The rain did not stop its fury
I was tamed for three days in seclusion
Looking outside observing the effect
Slowly the rain die down its anger
Slowly also the river begun to calm down
Almost a day also the river dries up
And it goes back to totally back to sleep
That's when my fear and sadness also cease
Back to normal, life goes on to live.
Torturous nightmares of hellish anguish
Make soul drowned in agony to languish
Torments’ onslaught disturbing blest silence
Dreadful lamentations God can vanquish.
Midst attacks of guilt heart strives to conceal
Frustration-wails reign midst hopelessness’ peal
Driving me to hide in the Lord’s chamber
Serenely safeguarded by His love-seal.
Fleeing from perilous temptation darts
Faith seeks refuge* in the Saviour’s ramparts
Hedged by grace, compassion, mercy and peace
Constantly braced upon truth of fresh starts.
When achievement is flooded by vain pride
Paralyzing sincere commitment stride
I’m driven toward failure’s grievous loss
Thus, in the Almighty I must abide.
As fervent service thrives to bear fruits well
Struggles’ inundation constantly swell---
My spirit keeps on worshipping with thanks
“To Christ be the glory” I humbly tell.
*Psalm 94:22 But the LORD is my defence; and my God is the rock of my refuge.
October 3, 2022
2nd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol 32" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 10/14/2022
A hint of helping this wholesome Harris son
can across thru the air
Hence this poetic expression
of gratitude Matthew Scott wants to blare
And communicate my genuine
appreciation crystal clear
Toward one whose existence
more valuable to me and dear
As thee doth become older
with natural diminishment with eyes and ear
But lo…tis unproductive to fear
The diminishing sands
of mortal time as cognitive gear
Doth get clogged as well as one
or the other organ allowing ye to hear
The sound of silence echoing
memories of the past – now a blur
Akin to a warm fuzzy feeling
soft as moss or lichen – precious as a coat of fur
Which tomorrows speed faster
becoming yesterday’s lore
Mixed with trials and tribulations less or more
Thickening as starch and ever more difficult to pour
From the egged on noggin blended
into one glob kept in secret store
Perhaps comprising partially healed wounds
at your heart tore
As if a drafted soldier once
in tiptop shape now to the bone years wore
Away whet dreams housed
within myths indistinguishable from truths of yore
Though I too sometimes fret
as tempus fugit slinks away
Where methinks how the years spin
at a quicker pace each day
Inculcating me to savor each moment,
whether weather sunny or gray
Taking stock of self of natural world
as one named John Jay
Audubon, who captured pristine lands
of America as a frieze zing May
Whereby bounteous creatures
large and small at play
Until…the inundation
of settlers did slash, burn and slay
Indiscriminately - setting precedent
for Earth in a precarious balance oye vay
Whence Mother Nature
will win this global Olympic match – yet
By which time, both thyself
and ye will be long turned to ash
Descendants will be dust off
faded photos of me self
before senescence did dash
Totally unaware that me papa Boyce Brandon
with clenched and teeth did gnash
When I fought tooth and nail
and without a word did lash
Back as protestations against behavior
of mine ye disliked and found rash
With frustration spilling forth
like acidic froth that did splash
Slash and burn within,
yet kept mum no matter
from within did thrash.
I LOVE YOU TOO DAD
NO MATTER BACK IN THE DAY YE GOT MAD
YET NOW, AS A FATHER TWAS FRUSTRATION
PERHAPS FUSED WITH BEING SAD
AT MY LIFE & HARD TIMES WHEREIN
TURMOIL ROILED MORE THAN A TAD!