Long Maelstrom Poems
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—Where My Exile Ended in Your Light—
I entered first the prison of a levin,
an empyreal wound of auroral fire
engraved upon creation's obsidian palimpsest, where no
adamantine fetter circled my mortal being,
nor umbral silence sealed the astral threshold; yet I remained
as though eternity had distilled from its immeasurable depths
one sanctified chamber for its undying flame.
I wandered through labyrinthine dominions of becoming,
bearing vestigial constellations upon my soul,
pursuing seraphic dawns beyond the argent verge
where mortal yearning dissolved into celestial oblivion,
while beneath my veiled immensities awakened
the primordial canticle of my fragmented stars
returning to the archetypal firmament of their genesis.
Then you arrived beneath the quivering aureole
of the empyrean night—not as a conflagration
that devoured, nor a maelstrom enthroned upon the void,
but as the ineffable radiance preceding creation's first dawn,
through which my exiled rivers of consciousness flowed
from aeons of separation into the boundless ocean
of their forgotten origin.
Within your eyes I discovered nascent galaxies; within your embrace,
vanished distances dissolved; within your soul I heard the hymn
that breathed before light conceived its own division.
The levin vanished; heaven withdrew its hidden scripture,
yet I remained within that vanishing eternity:
the soul is not liberated by fleeing every boundary,
but by finding the horizon where infinity surrenders.
I was not imprisoned by the lightning that touched heaven;
I was the heaven that remembered its own eternity as light.
The seas swell
with saccharine sighs
and stir my seaman's obsession
with blonde pleasures,
but treachery’s buried
in treasures feminine-gold.
A flute, a lyre, their voices
nectar-dipped in danger.
Temptation burns with Hades-flames
on sunset waters;
sea-devils, those she-devils
are salt-in-wound and sugar sweet.
Ooh songstress sisters,
please just a taste;
a kiss on lips
that set fire to desires
with your song.
My sailor’s appetite
hungers for your honey,
whet by curves, wet
and flowing with fanned betta fins.
Ship's mainmast in full sail,
filled with your chanting gales
to get there, find you, possess you,
surrender to you.
Lessons of unholy-lore lost
in depths of forbidden allure;
tidal surge drives my male urge
upon damsel-damned rocks.
Scree, with greed
drowns the sinking screams.
Cursed corpses
litter seabed in breath-less murk.
Oh songstress trio,
so fluid,
so corrupt.
Your flute a primal plea,
your lyre a trembling snare.
Soprano hymns
shiver moon-shimmer on water
as wind-songs commit mortal sins.
Fallen angels’, your sea-mist-sighs
are my lyric doom to die.
Black waves
frothy like pints of ale
undulate with serpentine virgins;
weavers of wind
and wave
and spindrift spite.
This sailor’s fate
awaits escape in vain.
My bane, their sunlight-tresses
turned a seaweed tangle.
In temptress threads
I'm wrapped before I’m dead—
cold embrace of death in shallows,
a mariner’s gallows.
Gull, a laughing witness
fades in clouds. Knows my sailor’s
crossed bones will brine.
Opiate of the sea:
my soul’s shipwreck,
their ecstasy.
My blood,
throbbing with lust,
a poor warrior
against sirens’ maelstrom-song
spinning my demise.
External Storms
Listen close, the winds whisper low,
A symphony of sorrow's ebb and glow.
Thunder rumbles, a beast awakening,
Heaven's own heartbeat, in warning speaking.
Pressure builds, unseen forces stir,
An invisible tempest, nature's curse.
Silhouettes dance on lightning's flash,
Echoes of laughter turn to ash.
As shadows lengthen and tempests rage outside,
Within these walls, another battle wages.
A heart laid bare, its defenses torn apart,
Yearns for embrace yet trembles at a new start.
Through sheets of rain and tears untold,
A silhouette emerges, a ghost story retold.
Familiar features, both blessing and banded,
Approach with caution, yet still drawn again.
Hope rises like the tide, threatening to engulf,
Dragging secrets from the depths, forcing confessions cruel.
Lightning flashes, illuminating scars,
Reflections of shattered lives, jagged edges sharp.
I should walk away, flee this maelstrom of doubt,
Yet I remain rooted, paralyzed by your pout.
One touch ignites a firestorm within,
Reason abandoned, surrendering to sin.
Gaza is a burning house,no end in sight.
Diplomacy is a water moccasin .
Israel maims their victims- a horrid plight
Bitter is a rank lime ,this war a no-win.
The Nerthus folk shout Gaza is not right.
Benji's far right politics surely a stinking sin,
Stop the maelstrom Now !Give peace as an olive branch
Benji's war talk to Congress -he is such a liar.
Biden sends troops to Isreal to fight.
AntiDems and the 'cons both conspire.
Risk is a slick road- its American might.
Palestines anger is a raging fire.
No Gaza cease fire that is in sight .
Judgement is Lady Liberty-comes for all
The guilty combatants finally will fall
Stop the maelstrom Now !Give peace as an olive branch
I spread the news using X and Substack.
I am just one man. I do the best I can.
I spread the news using Tribal too .
All of Humanity could stop this fire.
Either all live as one State with equal rights.
or as two States equal else perish together.
Stop the maelstrom Now !Give peace as an olive branch
oh -
prithee, my
darling ...
let me hear you whisper -
mold a heart with
those perfect bows ...
crimp them, coy and parted,
ever-so-slightly -
tenderly puff that
absinthe-sweet breath
upon this delicious
eventide air ...
kiss the charmed
twilight mist into my ear,
decorated by those
little words I yearn for -
send, soft, to my
tympans and my blood,
the sublime message that your eyes
have long betrayed ...
melt my marrow with your
wishes, hushed,
my skin awash
with bumps and blushes ...
kindle my core
in fits of fiery fury ...
my mind, a mad maelstrom of
fantasies and prayers,
and your sigh, the
most exquisite gulp of air
on which to float
that bewitching invitation,
that glorious gasp
of heaven -
that wondrous, wild,
wistful whisper ...
'I want you'
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Whispers" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
~SHELTER FROM TH' STORM~
TWISTING INTO VORTEX,MY VISIONS VANISH TO NAUGHT
THUNDERHEADS ROLL VIOLENTLY,AS VORACIOUS DINS RING A TOLL
TH' DARKNESS...NOW FEEDS FEROCITY'S MAELSTROM
BURSTING AT MY SEAMS,TO CHALLENGE REALITY
STIGMATIC WOUNDS,PROFUSELY NOW POUR
LIFE BECOMES DEATH,AS I PLEAD FOR MY DELIVERANCE
REGRET OF MY BIRTH,FEEDS A YEARNING
FREEDOM ONCE AGAIN,FROM TORTURE...I PLEAD
DAMN MY MORTALITY,I DESIRE NO MORE
TO BE LOOSED FROM BOND OF FLESH,MY SPIRIT GROANS
A TRAUM'D PAST,WAXES NOSTALGIC
CONCEIVED ONCE MORE...THEN REBORN
DEMON'S SEED PLANTED AGAIN,SEARING RAIN BLEEDS
TH' STORM GALES TOSS ME,TO N' FRO' TO BREAK
THOUGH SEEK I A SHELTER,NOT ONE BEACON SHEWS
MINE EYES THAT KNEW BEAUTY,ARE NOW BLACK'ND BLIND
A WHIRLWIND NOW FORMS,DRAWING ME FORTH
DEBRIS PULVERIZES MY PSYCHE',AS IT SWALLOWS ME IN
ONE NOW WITH THIS CYCLONIC SATAN,I SEEK TO DESTROY
BUT AN EYE APPEARS FROM TH' CENTER...OF PUREST LIGHT
PIERCING MY HEART...RELIEF COMES AT LAST
TH' STORM NOW CEASED,I FALL AS I GASP
HANDS APPEAR 'NEATH ME,AS SAVED I'M AGAIN...
FROM CEASING LIFE'S BREATH...BY TH' TRUEST OF FRIENDS
©~AZAZA~'09
It Is Coming
It is coming - I can feel the changes,
subtle changes, in the pressure on
the surface, unseen but noticeable to
those who have ridden these seas
before. Rising swells that slap the
hull in gauntlet sting, deep creak of
old familiar spars bracing,
once again, to ride the coming
maelstrom far out at sea, alone
in howling wind blown troughs,
surrounded by the white tipped
fingers of a crushing hand,
no escape. Frail vessel knowing
only that the sea has not yet won,
responds to faint commands of
trembling hands that sail
these fickle seas – alone.
12/12/12
submitted to –Your Favourite Old Poem #3
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
I ride this wave of fantasy
that sends my desires astir.
What dreams may come
from the spiraling are yet
to vaporize in the stars.
The ebb and flow become
the tide of dysphoria
as I ride this crest of fantasy
to the Cancri netherworld
and I roil from its heat!
My soul aches from the pain
and I search for euphoria
through a new fantastical wave
and find the coolness I seek
in Uranus’ aquamarine comfort.
The white caps are the stars
that move me among the planets,
my energy spinning with the tides;
a maelstrom circling through
whirling and twirling consciousness.
Touring this universe of planets,
I spin through wave after
wave of fantastical,
precognitive dreams, muddled
and muddied as I return to shore.
The bodies have begun to pile
the stench of death grips the air,
no more can innocence find shelter
as the structure of humanities wall
Crumble into chaos
Nations strike the heart of the East
Boom ! Again and again and again,
still corpses pile up rotting in streets
as peace finds herself slipping away
Piece by bloody peace
Strangers weep for sisters and brothers
a bond not of blood, but unified grief,
we seek to find reason in a maelstrom
we search soul less eyes for compassion
finding only empty vessels
Hardened by a retoric of brainwashed lies
they've become monsters of suicide
the boogie man under the bed but now
hes sighting the streets in plain view,
She or He ? But WHO ?
Fear has found a home in innocent hearts
children of the night gather trembling,
Knowing not where the next bullet
or bomb or missile will finally strike home
Stealing infinities breathe
I dream of listless easy days
when nightmares came only to dream,
and a light of the purest innocence
rests unsullied on the heart humanity
Hate is breed into humanity
Its time to replace those genes
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness imbibed.
Stifling shadow
of ebony anguish cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile.
…beholder, the painter.