Long Nadir Poems
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This August 26th , 2018 rendition
regarding previous literary endeavor
Wick End Up Date, Snippet Sans...
...The Deadly Scourge
...One Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder
(Never abating infiltrating
writing material e'en superceding
the death of John McCain, where
Munster monster rears gnashing
undermining marriage with ambivalence.
Anorexia nervosa absent bulimia
nadir of onset schizoid behavior,
which agonizingly slow suicide
self starvation maelstrom within
psyche of self prepubescent lad
(particularly devastating
immediate family members)
emaciation pitted existential
ghastly revulsion unseen,
wuthering heights wrung death
knell annihilating fragile entity
christened Matthew Scott Harris
obvious preemtory imprimatur
yieldeing covalent bond to die starkly
horrified kith and kin helpless
Zorro slashed signature profound
perilous depressive psychological gouge.
Now at about two plus score years
attaining centenarian rank perfect 20/20
hindsight supreme advantage swift under
currents alluded drowning, when das
scribe juiced started to nibble puberty,
whence devastating emotional crisis
tripped, trilled, and tricked chronological
clock theorizing numerous educated
guesses within mindful middle progeny,
and sole son (of Boyce and late Harriet Harris),
why I willfully hurtled flesh at light speed
down abyss toward death. Literal and
physical lightness manifested within
nooks and crannies prior to full blown
symptoms to eliminate sustenance
drawing curtain on brief residence be
fore high noon of life. Metamorphosis
from boyhood into man found solace
attempting to keep at bay natural cycle,
which trans formation grieved me
pining nostalgic childhood’s end
(one fraught with romanticism)
vengefully interpreted attempt to halt
deadly tracks intervention of mother,
whose nursing experience helped fend
passive attempt promulgated silent...
EVERY DAY IS A NEW DAY
Though in a dark crucible
Cruel fate for you.
A hearth built
And for the crow
of the cock, with
frail hope
your dawn waits.
Disheartened though
for your dreams
By a dark veil
of vagueness wreathed,
And your easterly
light, dark fate eclipsed
But never with the eyes of yesterday
into tomorrow gaze
For everyday, a new day is
The morn, a new hope it heralds.
And it’s benign ray a courage for
Conquest over cruel fate it brings.
Cloaked in sulleness
Robed in nadir
On you, eerie fate
spitefully smiles,
for a dark thorny path
To your eyrie
it carved for you.
And even for a glint of light
you grope.
And oft time into the ditch of
futility you fall though.
In your impregnable dreams
find a strength to stand
But, never stand, for behind
To look, but to ask yourself why..
For everyday, a new day is
The morn, a new hope it heralds.
And it’s benign ray a courage for
Conquest over cruel fate it brings.
It had been foolhardy maybe as it did finish a tad tardy..
To watch the latest greatest nighttime cricketing mystery
Seriously sublime Darryl Mitchell in his delirious prime..
The bells chime the Kiwi men again with zen made history
Strolling even with New Zealand’s second string attack bowling..
Kohli & Co hellbent T20 slaves sent to their graves by the knaves..
By the underdog faves and endless waves of Black Caps rolling..
So you could say after this hooray foray that the Indian takeaway
The hosts death wish now the swish go to dish for a Black Cap fan…
Crow for the 2nd year in a row them dicey and us just too spicy!
Quips about bananas nadir and to South D an ironic cheer or sneer
After dafter no rigour or vigour self fulfilling prophecy of Baz Bull…
Hard not to sni*ger egos not heroes falter at bigger the lie high altar…
The reason the unjust willy nilly silly treason of Baz Bull lust in season
Elephant in the room must be the trigger for Ashes to Ashes..Dust to Dust…
Dank England tanks..stank were rank thanks to Kiwi yippee phalanx nirvanas
Fillips of Indian trips hall of fame names in a jumble stumble thrown in skips
We mumble Kiwis humble not one for boasts but everyone toasts the hosts
Getting spanked as the pressure cranked were outflanked by Mitchell & Phillips..
Live life zealously, it’s an absolute end,
There’s no afterlife and no heaven,
Beyond death, who cares where I’m send,
If it’s hell for me, let it be so my haven!
Ha, I envy them the most who dwell
where ignorance and indifference reign,
They desire no heaven, they fear no hell--
Abode of eternal bliss, pit of endless pain.
Strange yet are the prospects of life;
Does destiny foretells our fate
Or we shape it by our toil and strife?
Alas, no one can firmly state.
The bittersweet fruits of our labor
Here and now in time we must bear,
Of this I am more certain than ever--
A pumpkin seed yields not a pear.
There is no soul’s zenith or nadir,
Death is a fathomless pit, a dead-end--
No heavenly bliss, no hell’s fear,
No one has seen around its bend.
*(Thoth – was an important God/King of the ancient Egyptians who reigned for more than 3000 years. According to legend, he was buried in the great Pyramid of Giza, and when his body was uncovered he was found to be holding an emerald tablet that contained an inscription beginning – “As Above, So Below”)
~08/13/15 -
This poem expresses my beliefs, my faith, my values better than any other poem.
~...Eternity contest by Laura Leiser
Love: reminded me of so many pictures
of my old and tattered photo album.
Some grey, some full of vivid hues.
Some portraits, some landscapes,
some plain, some showing mountain tops,
peaks that are high, others are low,
the nadir and zenith of our love.
Yet as we both trudged throughout
our long, long years, we held our hands,
faced all the types of weather that came our way.
For even the weather had its greys and hues;
but if clouds overhead did encroach
we never forgot their silver lining.
And from above a ray of hope always shone.
He guided us truly as He always promised.
And arm in arm we went on our way.
The sky was streaking in the most
amazing blazing hearten colors.
I thought that I was impregnable
from the outside, quite challenging,
competitive world it commands.
Behind my desk I sit in my study.
The sun casts shadows through
the large windows, upon the large
exposed darkened room.
Piles of unopened bills spread out
I've ignored, rustled to open.
Stifled, I couldn't stop looking
at a letter, wishing it would
disappear, I just had read.
It's the banks final
repossession notice.
Feeling I was in prison.
Determined struggles of energy
to be rescued.
As many hours I put in working
to make everything go right
But, it was just not enough.
Opportunities of offers had open up,
but I knew it wasn't going to be enough.
Finding myself reaching the nadir of my
despair, I knew now my emotions
were hard to conceal.
Reflecting back in the beginning
I thought it would be easy, I was mistaken.
Whispering a small prayer,
"Lord, if it is your will; please help guide
me in this crushing storm I'm in
and bring the calm of the waves embrace."
Febrile Fog obfuscates palimpsest varnished promises..
Naysayers hoodwinked... deluded players peeling layers..denuded..
Deafening din of our chagrin...
Espoused by rabbles roused by mandarins’ sins..
Tarnished...pampered pilferers pickpocketing public purses...
Deploring the warring cacophony of citizens curses..
Ignoring the boring nagging nadir of nurses...
Corporate castles built without stilts on hourglass sands..
Placards versus lanyards..
Culprits preach parsimony from privileged pulpits..
Civic critics.. protests...pyrrhric..?
No tut tuts..relax…gluts of tax cuts for property sluts..
Licentious larcenists..lust for boom then bust..
Lavishly lacing our lives with lies..
Yet the more we holler...hanker..
Murky truths get darker...muckier.. starker..danker..
Avaricious arsonists torching our cries of why...
Leave us lolloping in a regret & forget.. leaking latrine...
Reeking of what could & should have been..
Coruscating gravitas
imbibed algebraic
cerebral tranches
to spark
alacrity defiant
material manducation
deployed tangibly
phlegmatic
whilst
begetting manifest
miraculous meteoric
innovative impulses
when
penetrating bailiwicks
of tongue-contortion
cerebrum
eidetic retention
straddling juncture’s
poised gateway
as
baton weaving
catalyst triumphant
for
pumped ensemble
virtuoso visionaries
who
taproot trajectories
cocoon emerging
brainchild unfettered
obsessing
magazine mandarins
artistic
archetypal Monet
lavish lavender
lily pond
with
balsamic brushstrokes
galvanising
similar maven
budding Einsteins
blazing trails
of
original contrivance
boosting beneficial
health domain
of
wellspring weal
integrating impactful
slants
gearshift gargantuan
narcissistic nadir
repetitive
regurgitations rampant
abjured by
polymath prodigious
whose
appalachian peak
of antecedents
an avalanche
tintinnabulation
enunciated showpiece
heralds harvesting
gilt-edged prodigy
in fields
belletrist
nimble-fingered
experiential
Sometimes, reflections from my mirror,
recall when I slumbered at nature's nadir,
as naysayers whispered in whiskey breaths.
Bewildered, I wandered in the wilderness,
until the mercy of verse reversed the curse.
Poetry you've always been the legacy of my heritage,
a shimmering nimbus, where my words reside by petals,
but if this was my last poem,
it would be the death of an alchemist's magic.
There would be no potion to persecute my pain,
bleeding ink of wounds would have no quill mistress.
Yet, I yearn to leave evidence of my existence,
but my narration is not as lucid as
black pigment upon white pages,
because poetic colours have their own stories.
I'm tired from hiding behind idioms,
where metaphors drip in liquid lies,
veiled within tracing lines of heartbreak.
Whilst sleeping under cherry blossom trees,
I look back upon my life wondering
what purpose summons us,
as I've lost all faith in strange dreams coming true.
I've grown up surrounded by the scent of sorrow,
forsaken in seasonal spheres of fragility,
masticating upon mourning morsels,
adorning garlands of grief soaked in rainfall,
plundering like the tears of Earth,
but even when confusion composed its cruelty,
I fought back to rise, each time I fell.
There has always been pressure
from the heavyweight of darkness,
where I screamed songs of desperation,
as lamenting lyrics resembled emotions of a falling star.
When the breeze blew away the confetti of my stardust,
my heart remained like unblossomed florets -
so I became my own poetic gardener
and planted my own blooms.
Sins of humanity plague me into a withering leaf,
turning invisible, softly settling in sinister silence.
I search for a Godforsaken garden,
where my hands can heal fruitless soil.
Poetry, nobody feels like you,
yet, it's you I sacrifice, before my heart clasps,
as the soul sinks in ideologies of faith and fate.
I can't justify shadows with excuses from expression,
I'm letting go of bitter reflections from photographs.
as it's time to heal the scars from my bloody hands.
Wishing to remain quenched, but drenched in love,
so fate can prepare a grave for my sorrows.
I can't waste time wondering if I'll be remembered,
so, I wave goodbye, floating away like a feather,
executing the articulation of my senses.
NADIR
I never thought it got as bad as this
But surprise surprise, it really has now
Who would guess being hit when down
Like the last moment before you drown
It has all gone awry, I don’t know how
If only I could give this moment a miss
It is truly the nadir of my life to date
Will nothing good now ever survive
All can now see that I’ve fallen apart
And may even die of a broken heart
As yet more bad luck may still arrive
All I can do is patiently sit and wait
There were times when I was at the top
The zenith some call it, being up there
I looked down but never really thought
That I would hit bad times of any sort
I’ll find a way to pay it all back, I swear
Please make this wretched sadness stop