Long Mirthless Poems
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I shiver tears.
My joie de vivre;
summer esprit’s lemon zest,
lilac flirts and coral whispers
have escaped me ~
grievous gray
now flows through my veins.
I shiver melancholia,
entombed with my winter blues
in the dark dreamless hollow
of my frowning igloo.
Draped in decor of dispirited drear
I wear a wistful woebegone fog,
an overcoat of overcast moods.
I weep wall to wall
in the listless light-less nights
alone with my lonely longings—
my psyche withers
like a frost-stunned leaf;
I shrivel
a little more each dull day.
I shiver sadness.
My colorless tears
cry out loud for color!
I yearn for watermelon sunsets
pink sands and tiki cocktails swirled
with swizzle stick glee.
I wish for rainbows to color
my lackluster laughter
and crave for fireworks to celebrate
in my mirthless eyes—
restless for Sol’s warm hands
to tenderly undress and caress me
and lay bare my soul
straitjacketed by winter blues.
Written: September 06, 2023
I dream poetry Sponsored by: Ink Empress
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I wander in the night of ebony embrace,
Lost in dreams, heaven, or nightmare chase
Searching in vain for a misty glimmer of hue,
A muted color, yearning to trace through.
My fingers nibble to nudge your comely face.
To glimpse a xerox of your soul in this barren space.
But phantasms and dreams are drowned in tears.
Dreariness and skepticism drench my fears.
Wishes, once vibrant—now unbearably barren,
Each flinch of solace mauls annihilated and torn.
The moon, with a crimson glaze, casts its light.
Uttering the details of this celestial night.
I'm glad I sensed this infamous hue loop.
Yet these are crumbs of an urge to stoop.
They scolded me sternly from the start.
A sane conviction into my flaunting heart.
I swallowed a smidgeon of your spirit.
Silken strings of split that we skillet
Mirthless melodies form a philharmonic of pain.
Sisyphean scarcity smolders at me again.
I waltz to the woeful waiata of weary dance.
Oddments of our devotion, a haunting stance
Alone, I bemoan in the manor of the moon.
Will the sun ever hover over my sorrow soon?
Could the growl as it rains blur a rainbow?
While we witness it from the apathetic row.
Or am I being scolded and rebuked for being alive?
Will the spasm that lends life veer and strive?
In the abyss of darkness, there is light.
A beacon of optimism that shines so bright.
And even if I wander, adrift and alone,
Iffy down, surely my soul will cinch home.
I'll retain probing solace in memories past.
They are the fragments that will ever last.
Yet throes may abide, and anguish may resist.
I'll cling to my optimism that love will persist.
Love is an odyssey full of swings and turns.
But, at last, it is an affection that returns.
So I'll betroth myself to the dreams of the past.
They sang to me over the glorious time I cast.
SALVATION ACCORDING TO FAITH
“Help, help!”, I shout out loud, in fear.
‘HELP, HELP!’, echoes of my voice I hear.
Over and over, impinge in my mind
Closer and closer, it gets so near.
Louder and louder my cries, my plea
Further and further they go from me…
……they’re gone.
Silence now reigns, it deafens me
Panic has broken and overtakes me
Faster and faster my pulse is raised
Harder and harder the pounding, the beat.
Tighter and tighter I clutch my head
Greater and greater, the feeling of dread.
……I’m lost.
“Why? Why?” I asked the mirthless grass
“Speak, speak!” I bark at mirrored glass
Angrier and angrier, my voice phonate
Wilder and wilder, my eyes gyrate
Darker and darker my thoughts evoke
Uglier and uglier my moods provoke
…..I weep.
'Non Compos Mentis' is my best state of mind
'Caveat Emptor'!! …as I cannot be kind
Nastier and nastier I’m down in the dumps?
Lower and lower I’m in the doldrums?
Crazier and crazier, I spit at my shadow
Weaker and weaker, …my life is so shallow!
….I pray!
“Come, come”, to only You I turn.
“Come, come”, my life is so forlorn.
Dearer and dearer my love for God
Stronger and stronger, my body, my soul
Forever and ever my faith shall hold
Redeemer, redeeming, The Lord God of old.
….I’m saved.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
Form:
At age three she was the baby who couldn't feel afraid
A life track was set out, just the way she was made
They tested her at eighteen, with images of blood and gore
No galvanic skin response, a smile and nothing more
She lied from early on, another way to control
If you had contact with her, it was bound to take a toll
There are doors we wouldn't open, taboos and virtue codes
But like a moth to a light, she went down those wicked roads
She gloated at misfortune, but had superficial charm
It lowered your defenses when you should feel strong alarm
She was rarely caught or punished, usually won the game
Gaslighted victims in courts of law, never took the blame.
She came toward me one day, emotionless as a rock
Saw me with my child, the change gave me a shock
A look of gleeful sadism, on what had been a normal face
Then she recomposed, the revelation left no trace.
There are people who seek aliens in the depths of outer space
But they should look here on earth, within the human race
No pity is found within our alien's mirthless laugh
Inside them bad emotions thrive, beware the psychopath.
You read about these types sometimes, when the truth comes through
You get angry, feel disgust, maybe despair too.
There's no redemption possible, but do they deserve your wrath?
A mis-wired brain is all you need to explain the psychopath.
Spirited meeting, don't faint
Real or surreal, it is momentary, as cannot stay long on the same plane
Want to protect from mirthless life's winding chimes
Only if it was easy as mending the book's spine
Rarely lurking demons underneath the bed
Don't waste yourself peeking beneath the bed
Blindfold daydreaming,lines you up to heaped relics of unsung martyrs in a sepulcher
Starkly outshine rabid prince makes shy away the vulture
Never be too soft or daft
Not completely at fault, for programmed specimen of the mightier craft
Amidst the bantering on lease
Just don't succumb to the whisper of inherited guilt please
In summation to any wrong answer
Even rustling waft of your ashes will be sneezed at
Don't plug out the sound of closing doors
Sign to focus on the right one just designed for you
Betide as it was destined
Brush frivolous talk aside as choice is destiny's invoice
Essential to periodical diuresis of precarious enslavement
Rejoice to all sensations, before obfuscated by life's retirement
Love falls like rain,
Onto my waxed face.
Blending into tears of pain,
From an unknown place.
I can’t think straight,
I can’t see clearly,
I can’t love anymore.
My sight blurred from burning,
Spits of acidic fear that hide in my facade.
My stomach churns; flipping and turning,
On the icy disregard.
Why I can’t I find help
In anywhere I seek?
The cry of a dozen friends stifled out
By the downpour of the weak.
I slip in weeping puddles,
That line the mirthless floor:
Singing double, double toil and trouble,
A chant I’ve heard before.
The scores of a thousands follies
Shriek the scores of isolation.
How can I live when
A simple rain does drown me out?
So I shall lift my hood,
And hide from the stormy water.
Wishing my life would
Soon become shorter.
Written: January 09, 2024
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Seen through a sepia scale
Drab grief, of hiemal cradle
mirthless, a desolate land
shrouded in frozen doldrums,
amid solemn ripples
on threnody and sizzle
akin to a gentle sway
with a oneiric, susurrous
tambourine wave of yore
rain whistles in tune
of doodles in gold and silver.
Swells of silk
of a hypnotic spell—origami
wispy petrichor wafts!
It was tender
ignominious mayhem
of withering earth
sadly surprised
amidst golden neon notes
and vermilion,
as stricken soil stirs.
And flushes in luscious tones
of singing and crystals
as daffodils and clover bloom
amidst webs of aurelian curls
a fairy's rhapsody,
let spring song rise!
each seed that is still alive
hope will sprout subtly,
to refuel the soul
from the cosmic womb.
Wars will hinder any way to harmony
and allegiance to nations
Earth is our vast home
we purport as world healers
send me a melody
smoother than embers
we're rooted in clay
as melody with thawing knack
once I visualized piano tunes,
each tone evoked anguish
yet, our sonata is harmless
paramount of my persona
beyond brink of kismet
we ought to sigh and cry
sultry concerto
In a garden labyrinth.
En mar sin olas,
sin peces,
sin mareas,
la vida no tiene riesgo,
pero no tiene aventura...
No és por lo tanto vida...
En caminos
sin ventura,
sin alegria,
sin sueños... puede que no tenga
dolor ni amargura,
pero continua no siendo vida...
Sin todo lo que hace vida,
sin nada que vibra, la vida
és una ola chica, pero
no és la jornada,
no és verdadera
vida... !
WAVES OF LIFE
In sea without waves,
without fish,
without tides,
life has no risk,
but he has no adventure ...
It is therefore not life ...
On roads
without luck,
mirthless,
dreamless ... may not have
pain or bitterness,
but it is still not life ...
Without everything that makes life
with nothing that vibrates, life
it's a small wave , but
it is not the journey,
it's not true
lifetime... !
I have condoned myself to suicide
To death
To feel acceptance, the burge of pain, enlightenment
All with immediacy
As if i was but a figment of a whorish imagination
I often find myself the stranger among the room of fallaced faces
The stranger among the few that thrive within the seeming warmth of human kindness
Albeit never from the settlement of warmth shadowed and blockaded with the grief of my own lacking position
I have no abstract line of movement
My blood shall lay upon the scythe of all apparent spectators
Belier a mirthless laugh at my own stupendous stupidity
As if a comedic moment
Be it believed all sins shall cower within swinish torrents of bloodily bodied liquids
My means of memory, a mere settlement of who i had once recounted
But a passing star within the leavening eye of all worthy to unworthiness, writhing within the clouded dust of saddened gloom
A star to befall the reputation strung by a mere trapezing wire
Mirthless, as mirthlessness shall soundly recede
Be it the bodice held within, the sacrificial lamb pungent with the blackest bile poignant within sorrowful sunlight
This one shall hold, dally a dogmatic dance upon the cherubim meadows
Be it, be it by this apparency of a death to be, shall concede
Be it, to be still the meadows' sleepless waters, a hind to be distinct
Led the dearest hatchet to sombre sleep, as all shall be it buried
Born a barred bastard to be slain and scandalous
Let it be the gore of ghoul to lay placid, unminding, the gall of all surrendered to swim within the waters of despair
Be it, as all shall stay, i do but bid the season's shallow greeting, by the morrow's meaningless adieu
A fallen farewell of my own, do pay the sun wilting fare, fictitious as the repetitive face may appear
My appetite for soundless life has departed
As my sultry dance burnt anew, shall depart by the wallowing song, of all apart of it.
Thus thou shall sleep no more...
27//1//2025
23:07
Tally-ho! Forever the foe.
A twinkle in her eyes tonight
evokes the thought that they invite,
though I recall, not long ago
my absence seemed more apropos.
The laughs that linger on her lips
bare more than many verbal slips -
the times they pierced me, sad and grim,
lie in the past, though far from dim.
She flayed me once... nay, more than twice,
she flayed me both with flames and ice,
and once again, predictably,
she primes me for catastrophe.
Our friends and foes naively watch
her try to carve a deeper notch,
for even they don't seem to know
the depths to which she'd really go.
Upon my face a pose appears
which hides my thoughts, obscures my sneers,
for now I too have learned the rules
from her - ah, yes, the best of schools.
Because I'm acting somewhat cool,
thus pouring on her fires, fuel,
she burns and yearns and wants me more
than when I was her cuspidor.
She (unbeknownst, I'm not the same)
pursues again her guileful game.
But when her tears descend and swell,
will she be proud she taught me well?
The others leave, I stay behind
(they all know what she has in mind) ,
embrace her in my arms once more,
beguile her through her bedroom door.
She whispers secrets in my ear,
as I once did (she didn't hear);
I listen, flash some mirthless smiles,
my thoughts adrift to desert isles.
The night is passed, her trusting grows;
I leave before the morning glows.
Aroused, she'll seek a waking thrill
but find instead a dollar bill.