Long Materializes Poems
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A Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon
A cold dark yellow unhallowed moon smiles beguilingly
In the pitch black starless and cold empty night sky
Suckling upon the blood and the very life force of
Pure innocence, light, and goodness . . . .
Fear stirs eerily in the forlorn sound of a fog horn that’s
Blowing and crying a sad echo haunting far in the distance
It warns of the imminent arrival of a malevolent Hellspawn
Force of absolute unmitigated evil . . . The Phantom Vampire.
As the Phantom Vampire materializes from nowhere in the
Darkest shade of night blanketed in the thickest of fog and
The coldest of night air . . . One can sense with utter fear
And foreboding shivering sounds touching from the shadows
Creeping softly cold fingers down the spine with walking
Fingers crawling inside a prism of frozen ice and in a mist
Of souls crying in the presence of demons while yearning lust
Of one blanket covering the sky’s face painted showing
Hell’s own hideous face—an exquisite evil and a spirit
Drunken and moaning in an eternal fiery abyss of
Suffering and howling sounding their own lust for pain
Great darkness grips them who walk this troubled Earth
Without joy casting happiness to the lepers always and
Forever chained to the darkness and eating out hope
In the very end . . . .
From this spider’s web and nest of dark perpetual evil
The Phantom Vampire transforms himself from ethereal
Form to his human form quite frightening indeed for
Any human being gazing at his grim countenance and
His most fiery red eyes glaring intently whenever he
Encounters an unsuspecting soul . . . and the sight of
His razor-sharp canine teeth bring on convulsive fear
In the hearts and minds of his intended victims . . . . continued
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014)
Day before Thanksgiving
Working
From the frame of my upstairs window
Trees stripped bare
The sky and grass blue and white as a glacier
A big antlered buck
Chases a doe on the gold cobble of my front yard
The furnace
Vent
Materializes in the morning drapes
A bat billows to my window
Clings to the screen
Clicks and screams from his raisin mouth
To this mosquito net
Its wings spread like a charcoal web
Eyes popping for a sip of coffee
A sizzle of bacon
Please
Could you cover up the sun and bring back summer?
I can see in my mind
Its mind
As I sit here
Clinging to my own screen
Screaming
Twiddling my thumbs
Typing an e mail
To the freezing wind.
“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude”
Unseeking Seeker
Neon lights buzz to the hum of bustling cityscapes.
Yellow cabs blend into an intolerable requiem of honking horns,
whilst the sun beats down unbearably on names lost in the fold.
Julia feels the despondency start to gnaw into the membranes of her brain,
like termites devouring a rotting piece of pine.
Long before the dampness of decay settled into her marrow, she had aspirations—
but they have long since vanished, like a late spring snow.
Walking with her eyes glued to littered concrete,
she shuffles between the blur of muffled voices,
like a phantom hiding amongst the shadows.
Flashbacks render within the faces of the faceless.
The scent of gasoline and exhaust clings to the air
as a moonless expanse materializes.
Her soul is transported back, pleading for salvation in gasping whimpers.
A chance encounter—an accidental bump of his shoulder.
Phone shattered, she became the target of his wrath.
Vile words hurled, trajectory: her soul.
Physical manifestations of the emotional shrapnel take shape—
a blow to the face, lip splits, warm blood tickles down.
Passersby stare, then quickly scurry away,
too scared—or maybe selfish—to intervene.
Or could it be they've become too jaded?
Surely they meant no harm,
yet the scars of their unintentional apathy
are forever etched beneath Julia's skin.
Within the swirling currents of stars
He materializes, a silhouette against chaos
He is the whisper throughout time of stories untold
Worn out boots pound the cracked pavement
The echoes of centuries ripple beneath him
He carries a heavy urgency within his heart
He carries the truth, secrets, and all the lies
In the alleyways where shadows conspire in silence
Sleepy eyes wide awake in the rising dawn
Boisterous laughter falters, the world stills
That moment suspended, all breaths held in
This traveling Starman opens his mouth to speak
Pausing showing his sad eyes meeting doubt
"Time is such a fragile entity" he states
"Yet it bends for those who dare listen"
He is the only sound heard, the voice of time
He outlines all that has led up to now
For his people, because to them he is a God
And The Savior is here to warn the tides
"Protect what you love and abandon frivolous material"
"Keep thy community strong and your house stronger"
"Do not worship false idols, do not give into temptation"
"And tempted you will be, The Whispering Storm is near"
Subtle gasps quickly hush as everyone huddles closer
Everyone's heart beats faster than time itself
"What lies in the Whispers of Winds is the truth"
"The truth spun drastically for one to believe"
And the legends tell once you believe there is no alternative
Your Soul becomes part of this ever-growing storm
And it becomes evil...It becomes the death...
As all you love will get swallowed with who believes
He ends with starlit tear drops falling from his eyes
For he has seen the power of the storm, he almost believed
He almost gave into temptation if it weren't for those he loved
So he protected them in the end, love prevailed his time
He turns and slowly glides past the masses of His people
Questions being thrown from every direction go unanswered
Because the only answers have to come within ones self
And those answers carry the weight of this world
Into the folds of existence upon untraveled paths
He fades...Fades away to another time, another place
Leaving only the echo of his words within their hearts
Leaving to where he knows he can never return
Because he already knows the outcome...
Written for poetry contest "Starman" on 11/18/2024
Hosted by: Tom Woody Form: Dramatic Verse
PLACED 5TH PLACE IN CONTEST
A monstrosity
of misfortune
materializes
against him.
He should've
seen it coming.
He takes his girl
for granted;
apologizing
and pacifying her
with pricey gifts.
His fed-up lady
looks for love
elsewhere;
She eventually finds it
with another man.
his heart hollowed out;
dynamited
with a deafening bang!
Expensive gifts given
out of love for her,
he demands back.
--A gold bracelet
for her belated birthday.
--A ruby-red promise ring
to fuel their fading fire.
--The Pomeranian puppy
to mark their third
year of togetherness.
Someone's bitter!
gifts Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Date written: 06/18/2020
I'm going back to the beginning of the ending in everything. Like the past kaliedascoping inside a mind wired with colorful glimpses hiding behind reflective times. I must reconcile the spinning and twitching of memories flying by, by balancing out my time in this present life, latching on to the fact that I attract the most unrelatable circumstances to my table of unfed; crying icicle tears of lonliness...Asking, why do I even try to make sense of all this mess? Hmmm...What a situation I have looking back into....Its a maze-filled haze of unregrettable, tending to those psychopathic energy draining endeavors....from misguided tenderly trying to fix the situation into a happily ever after ending that never materializes because.......
In the beginning, there was the original sin; whereby evil seduced a new creation into the delusional thinking that there was more happiness in the taking of what didn't belong to her, than by being obedient before her maker....Beguiling her wiles was a slithering satanic smile with the plight of her newborn, slain inside murderous intentions rendering her immobilized with desperation riddled, there was no forgiveness, depression; the first instance of mourning through the imperfection in her choosing her type of seperation anxiety bereft of a Father leaving her cold naked and exposed because of how she chose to reject what was perfectly shameless and holy,.
If she had a chance, would she go back to the beginning making the ending amended, choosing wisely, instead of putting faith in a fork- tounged liar that promised.....her eyes would be opened and she would be just like God knowing evil and good, that she would never die....because of the evilness. in his lie.......spinning the kaleidoscope into mind bending times...my oh my,....
*Image of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde poster by Wiki.
That's Close Enough
Shapeshifters, and or, shapeshifting ... preps our world always,
A speck sans a cavass, ... materializes a work of art,
At spans of reckoning, ... outlandish evolve viably.
Simplistically, ... caterpillar, cocoon, butterfly,
The explanative being ... the effects of metamorphoses,
Influence of changing, on the surface ... ain't exclusive.
The aspects of human versions, ... do we possess ourselves?
Phases absorb one's absolutes, ... escapism amuses abstracts,
Misshape is needless, ... our character assassinates us.
The docile Doctor Jekyll ... and ominous Mr. Hyde,
The tale tells induced chemicals ... freed the latter temperament,
Stevenson, a mixed decrypt breed, ... Woolf faults, Hemingway hails.
The Picture of Dorian Gray, ... Wilde's graphic inward peer,
Retorts pundits, ... proxy masques wickedness, textured facades ethics,
Books ain't moral or immoral, ... they're just well penned or naught.
A star radiates ... cast hither, trimming and grooming 'rounds,
Revolving amazeballs recasting orb's landscapes, ... picturesque,
Bubblegum pops as its meaning ... is clearly intricate.
Brief spells also have an effect, ... ravenous bears slumber,
When pushed or at risk ... stimulates safeguards that ensure their species,
The game plays out who's game ... prey or predator lives or dies.
Transformations constants about ... subtle yet definite,
Persona exploits cellular structure ... registers vividly,
The former's substituted ... the latter assimilate.
2022 June 01
*11th Place*
Shapeshifters and Shapeshifting
~~Anthony Biaanco: 2022 July 04
*HMS: 14,16,14 syllables x 8 stanzas
As the fog materializes
Some birds sing songs of love
The Mockingbird sits fluffed quiet
Coo, Coo floats from the Dove
One lone buzzard soars in the fog
Dampness coats plants and trees
Waterdroplets form, hang; waiting,
Water the earth for free
Tiny buds and leaves appear
They long to display gems
Soon all will open wide those buds
Atop those strong green stems
Soon butterflies will appear
and gently stroke each bloom
Their gentle wings circulate air
Arrive in Europe soon
What kind of weather will those strokes
create?_Mild or severe
Will they bring gentle breezes there
And sweet air perfumed
Finis'
If a butterfly gently strokes its wings
in America, the molecules it stirs can
profoundly effect the weather in
Europe!!That is a fact..It is called
the butterfly effect..
Poetry is intended for restlessness,
too much sweetness drives away poetry...
You can be pregnant with ideas,
stocked with what is benefit and write
emotionally without stoppage,
but the unusual metaphor is missing...
to the one that outlines the poetry...
Behold, the singing of joyful countries
it's sad...
The singing of sad countries is content...
There then lies the poetry that reflects
what the soul does not sight...
Poetry is not sympathetic text
in pretty words that appear
always full of emotions... and with
melodramatic sweetness... lack the
high-sounding that the Greeks call Beauty,
when the imagery that materializes the mystery is lacking,
only through metaphor or metonymy,
it subverts the original meaning,
gaining in breadth and beauty...
That and poem with poetry...
The word has to come dressed as a party
the poetry is dressed in the real fantasy
that the figure of speech contains...
Poetry is immaterial...!
Ethereal magic in the nursery is notoriously afoot
Gauzy sheer white curtains held back by invisible hand
Silence of the evening brings star light into the window
Feeling Anne’s present as wolf cat sleeps in this soulful land
Nursery as she left it over ninety years ago in a storm
As she traveled to heaven as an eight-year old girl
I feel a spiritual presence in the air tonight. She’s warm.
Can almost see her halo, wings, and tiny yellow curl.
Anne left our family suddenly,, she was taken away by flu.
Her parents were stricken with grief, my mother told me.
She materializes in front of me, and possibly others too.
She is here tonight, at peace, this little princess wee.
Wolf cat is curled in the bed, snoring soundly now.
No longer upset by her comings and goings in this room.
I am older, wiser also, at the age of almost seventy.
I will probably be joining my angelic aunt pretty soon.