Long Nothingness Poems
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We were bloody.
Bearing the weight
of a gaping moon like
young Titans-
full of arrogant imagination.
We ran, hellbent.
House after house
playing tricks-
casting spells with
veracious foolishness.
That first pumpkin was
my stepfather. I watched
as his carved out grimace
became the nothingness
I was determined to fill with
chaos.
I screamed the lyrics to our
favorite Hatebreed song down
every street. Letting the Universe
know that no matter how insignificant
the World thought we were.
We would be heard.
All of us, brothers.
Bound by dark matter-
the silent replies to our
prayers that we'd never
admit to sending out;
Together we didn't need
Him, The Devil, or anyone else.
We were fearless, because we had
each other. And the might of bond,
not in blood shared, but spilled as one.
Parents tried to chase us.
Reign us in.
We laughed and taunted-
swinging our pillowcases
full of savory sin with a sense
of joy that only a lost boy could
even begin to understand.
Hands covered in slime, and seed
thundered together and sent out our
cacophony of delight as I tipped over
the HOA's Porta Potty.
Red and blue lights flash.
Someone has had enough.
We escape into the woods.
Sit on the edge of Willow Creek,
and light up a bowl of dirt weed.
The creek was shallow that year.
But, our hearts could fill it up;
All that life pulsing, racing through
our ephemeral- jack'-o-lantern husks.
Smoke signals went up that night.
As we exhaled our silent melancholy.
I think we all had some sort of hope
there, in that place. That our rage
would be sated. That we would be
enough to keep each other safe from
what we could already sense
was encircling us.
We never wore masks.
Not until we got older, grew apart.
And began to see we had to hide
that primal nature inside ourselves to
keep the moon from breaking our
backs. Because, we don't have
each other for that anymore.
But, I'm pulling mine off tonight.
Have a good look-
The scars. The worry lines.
The bloodshot eyes.
That same grimace I tried to destroy-
lighting up the room as if it were
carved to scare you away.
But I am no totem.
No walking masquerade to incite
any sort of terror, or joy for that matter.
I’m just another pumpkin head; candle
dwindling.
Waiting to be smashed.
-James Kelley 2018
There is a man and there are worms,
We are the worms my brethren,
Beautiful and perverse, wicked and evil, depraved and unjust,
Good and righteous and wonderful, we are the worms.
There is a man my brethren, Paul Maudib, Gandalf the Wizard, Beowulf, who was a Power.
He was a power and he wanted power and glory and honor.
And he saw our suffering.
For man has always been a weak creature.
He is the son of Dune, the son of Earth, for he fused with the earth through man.
He fused with the worms my brethren to live forever.
His flesh is a radiant glory, flame on, he is as firestorm and Wolverine.
He is as professor Xavier, He is the shining one.
And he was not all good.
Like us, he had evil in him.
And he sinned.
But in the midst of his torment and his madness, he saw the sky.
And knew of God’s love.
Rise my brethren, for God is man and we have the power.
Rise my brethren, for God loved man so much that he became man.
God became the worms and saved the earth.
Turn to the earth and heal it.
And allow it to heal you.
Heal the rabbits, heal the deer, heal the trees.
And share in its pleasure.
For the earth loves you and the earth is our mother.
And our Father knows of our torment.
But there is a God, a Power who knows the secret.
He has fused with the worms and now we all shall ride.
Know this my brethren.
Whether you confess his name or not, he has saved you.
For he is you.
He is the murderer down the street.
He is the rapist in jail.
He is the tyrant ruling governments.
He is the whore on the street.
He is the man dying of leprosy.
He is the insane man, rambling into nothingness.
He is the mother who loves her children.
He is the man who suffers deep so that he can feed his family,
He is the man that curses man and God.
He is the priest who sees visions of a new tomorrow.
He is us and we are him my brother and that is the great mystery of his victory.
For whatever dark force keeps us separate.
He has vanquished it and now in him whether we believe or not we shall be one!
Rise brethren.
Rise brethren.
For man has the favor of God and man has been declared good.
We are good, from the worst of us to the best of us, we are good.
And we shall rise.
Look at the tree leaves rustling in the wind and know that God loves you.
Feel the storm, for it is coming.
Feel the storm, and scream freedom!!
You've been sitting in the dark
Wondering for so long.
It's been forever
Since you started feeling so alone
Drowned by the voices
And haunted by the demons
A happy facade
Is all it took
To have others believe you were fine
You couldn't look so sad
If your job was to be so happy
To have the fans worry
Was the last thing you wanted
You were caughdtt in the nothingness
And your lyrics said it all
Your voice screamed out
Through the meanings behind the words
And through the music videos
But the thing is
You've been fighting on for so long
All the pressure they've brought upon you
All the words of reassurance
That never did anything
But add to it all
You've battled through depression
And your words; the lyrics
Were things you wanted said to you
All you wanted
Was to be told you worked hard
To be told you did well
You wanted others to notice
And you never really hid it.
You never saw the point
You always showed it because you believed
There was no point
In being fake happy three hundred and sixty-five days a year
You believed that people should know you
For who you were
You shouldn't be showing off a fake you
Because it got tiring
You were a role model and inspiration to many
You were a brother, a colleague, a friend and one of the best people to walk this earth.
Many will miss you
Many will remember you
But nobody will forget you
And the impact you've left
Not only on your group
But on the world
You were kind
And funny
And gentle
And weird
You were all or nothing
And that's what we loved
You were a bright soul
That changed many
Your voice was a voice others went to
When seeking reassurance, hope, happiness, cheering up and when they just needed to escape when they just felt numb
You were our go to
When things got tough
Your voice was something special
But you were something more
You've held on for so long
You've been strong for too long
And now, today, 18th of December 2017
You've left the world
But you've changed us too
You've opened our minds
And our hearts
And hopefully the world's too.
Thank you for existing, Kim Jonghyun and may you rest in peace.
[ A poem dedicated to Kim Jonghyun, a Korean singer from the group SHINee. May he rest in peace and may his fellow members and family cope well. They are in many's prayers.]
Although I am doing my best to wrap my brains around all of this, there's just no way to dismiss some meaningful things I dearly miss. Quarantining for the purpose of containment of a deadly virus is something we have to live with for the survival of all of us.
This morning about a half-past six, I became fixated on a venue that had to be curtailed because of the CoronavirusCOVID 19. The venue was very meaningful to the group, and as I thought upon the beauty of the Tuesday mornings we shared, I began to write. It's easy to think about what was, when it's hard to do something new. For nearly two years I have met with a few other men for breakfast. By the way, to all concerned, methinks this is a good time to make it clear that it isn't true that we only talk about cars, sports, and weather forecasts.
Anyway, initially, I thought that I could never appreciate and be an integral part of something that did not have prayer or Bible as the centerpiece of its focus. But as I meditated on the matter, I dared myself to do something different and began to like the entire idea. It was basically a 'Get-together about nothing'. I recalled that one of my best TV shows was 'a show about nothing'.
The beauty of nothingness can be seen in an atmosphere where there is no agenda. The platform is open, the plan is tossed, and the props are removed and demolished. The purpose is certain and always Christian based, but the process is a mystery. It's an 'outside the box' experience where things could go over the top, but there is no yearning to get to the bottom of things. It's a time of 'just let it happen, or not'. It's a potluck of fellowship and familiarity where nothing of certainty is brought to the table, but where a heart full of substance is always taken from the table. It's a gathering where life is fluid and flows like a peaceful river. It's a river that's very aware that its greatest asset is its tributaries. The beauty of nothingness is not a preplanned analysis of skin-deep or beneath the surface modeling; but rather, it is an ocean of discovery. On this early Tuesday morning, I'm quarantined and ok, but I'm missing something.
033120PoSp
I'm so far gone that I'm telling the truth. It sounds like a foreign language. "Richard Peck"
Each living being has a birth-to-death cycle,
Existence is steered by pulses above our feeble,
Despite our tries, time neither ceases nor boosts,
This realism cannot be expanded to our disputes.
We dwell on our wildest foe, messing with posterity,
Is a thrilling, extraordinary occurrence a fatuity?
Sustain the flames that compel the plight of blankness,
Our egocentric disease of vanishing into nothingness.
Every day, people ponder why mankind is failing,
Those urged by audacity and vicious whys are winning,
Children lack pride and excitement for our success,
Murder is slaying us, and we will enrage and obsess.
We face conflicts to savor a wise sequel and be joyful,
However, we've lost sight and must now pay the toll,
We're unstable, yet hinder by our moral actions,
Sustain us cease abusing superfluous objects as weapons.
God, assist us to view our guilty scruples and insets?
Or would the blood pour in and suffocate us as insects?
Once we've gone this far, would we anticipate praise?
We are cursed to grip the awful facts of the next days.
In all honesty, we've gone fairly far in this game,
People react angrily, their emotions all the same,
I doubt we'll be spared from the hateful looks,
As I dread, has hate charred our skin and snooks?
I implore you, God, is this world genuinely gone?
Is it trite to assert that we are sure that far gone?
What insane quest? What is our escape strategy?
What kinds of spirits? What kind of mad analogy?
I'm absurdly far gone to envision, and it's spun,
I'm overly far gone to ever forget what've done,
I've split every one of my ties and none staying,
Too far to fall, too much trouble for straying.
Why don't you call or write your mother?
They're waiting; don't behave in an odd rougher,
Were you attempting to demonstrate something?
This year's vocalist is a dancer of promising.
I no longer fear infinity, meadows, and rivers,
Time is dying in the splendid light of the future,
The key wheel is pivoting in the opposite heading,
The waves spread, and the coming ocean is speeding.
Written: July 04, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
I forgive the stars sleeping in nothingness,
too afraid to embrace eclipsed spheres…..
In the midst of sweltering gloaming,
I ascend, obscured and tarnished,
like a tainted trinket lost
in the tangerine haze.
For I’ve long been burning
from the coals of stigma~
stamping labels upon troubled torrents,
using malignant metals,
mirroring the fear within lichen eyes,
consumed by ancient
arrows of anguish~
from the era of Hercules and Midas.
But if only they knew, there is
no remedy for the jaded jewels that
refuse to sparkle,
for my purity remains unseen in
growing darkness,
oblivious to the liquid gold
that flickers compassion,
as they see not
beyond their fractured vision.
O distorted colors of the sun,
I’m not your perplexed perspective;
I breathe in hues of humanity,
infused with luminous lavender.
I’m not a Medusa siren luring you
to serpentine rocks;
I swim in chromatic, evanescent streams,
brimming with blissful bioluminescence,
illuminating my way under the midnight sky.
I’m not the suffocating wintry winds
freezing oxygen in your lungs.
While it seems your tongue is silenced
and tied to the twisted strings
of broken instruments,
I ink words of hope and
empathy upon your cynical skin.
I am more than the blind rage
seeping in fury.
I’m not a heartless harpy
screeching into the emptiness~
drenched in despair,
pushing boundaries to
the ends of the earth.
I am Atlas holding the world on
his shoulders,
I am the glistening stars aching
to touch the silver ring around
the jasmine moon.
But life is like a helix fixated
on unconscious bias,
constantly critical of diverse dialects,
watching me struggle to stand
under the weight of pressure,
knees buckling as your assumptions
lacerate me, breaking me down,
burying me in your ruthless riddles.
I feel rumbling dirt beneath
my bleeding feet.
My sarcophagus is rising,
built from your putrid ideals of me.
Losing footing, I refuse to fall into
the seething seas of sorrow.
So remember, I was never
the soulless monster hiding
beneath your ignorant bed.
But I am now the skeletons
etched within the cataclysmic
aftermath of your
shallow misconceptions.
In the depths of the mind, endless questions dance like shadows on the vast and silent sky,
Who am I, what am I, a speck of dust merged with everything, a fragment of a lost dream?
I am nothing and everything at once, an echo of the universe singing its endless melody,
A current flowing into the great ocean of existence, where time and space dissipate.
In the search for perfection, I find myself caught in the subtle game of old pride, a piece without rest,
I try to climb the peaks of morality and art, but discover it's all just a contrast,
A shadow play, where my success is nothing but a step on the path of others' failures,
An illusion spinning endlessly, a spiral of desires and fears struggling in silence.
If you wish to overcome the feeling of ego, ask yourself sincerely why you seek to escape this fight,
For the desire to reach spiritual heights is just another mask of pride that keeps your path broken,
The ego, a falsehood pretending to be authentic, is not the free center of the soul, but a foreign mechanism,
Implanted by the world, inherited reflexes that make us dance on invisible strings, in a predetermined fate.
When the ego relearns to be a victim in its own play, it divides and mimics helplessness skillfully,
"I am just a bundle of reflexes," it says with unspoken guilt, like a shield against any judgment that comes.
But we too are puppets, with souls tied to the same strings that carry us in the dance of the world,
Why shouldn't this lie, this shadow play that pushes us toward abysses, infuriate us?
In the end, the ego is nothing but what it pretends not to be, a wall of defense around another wall,
A labyrinth of illusions and appearances, a closed circle in which we lose our steps and get lost,
And in the center, the mysterious nothingness reveals itself, a hidden truth in the heart of a shadowy universe,
Where at last, the truth emerges, like a star piercing the darkness, singing its eternal song.
In this game of life, we discover ourselves, layer by layer, until we reach the essence,
And understand that we are part of everything and everything is part of us, in a harmony without pretense.
We are nothing but echoes of an infinite song, where every note matters, every whisper,
And in this dance of existence, we lose and find ourselves, in an eternal and magical quest.
As the final child of the catacombs fell
your plastic knife driven into their heart
as they evaporated into the wind
you didn’t stop.
you kept searching desperately for a new toy.
someone to slice
someone whose fragments you could scatter in the dying breeze
but nobody came.
As the ruins-keeper fell
laughing maniacally as your eyes hardened and hers faded away
you thought you were finished
but it was only the beginning.
as you continued onward
you wondered if anyone had missed out on your justice
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
but nobody came.
As the guardian of the frozen wasteland reached out to you
mercy flowed from his soul
but it bounced off of yours
and into oblivion.
as your fist hit his neck
there was no going back.
walking through the empty streets of a desolate town
you wondered where everyone was hiding
cowering in fear
all because of you.
you wondered if you could break down their doors and take their lives with it
but nobody came.
As the heroine made her last stand
and melted away into nothingness
the world’s last hope was gone
and the survivors burrowed away.
unreachable.
hidden away in a place of monstrosity
you pondered how to draw them out
so you could slaughter them like the demons they are.
but nobody came.
As the final star burst
leaving behind nothing but burned out embers
you prepared for the end.
Curious as to what would happen
when none were left.
as you walked through the abandoned city
gazing upon your final destination
you contemplated a world
where nobody would remember you
like you never existed at all
but nobody came.
As the fallen prince told his tale
of how he had cried out
for mother
for father
and when nothing happened
he cried out
for anyone to save him.
but nobody came.
As bones crumbled to soot
your soul had become ice.
your violence
your hate
you were scarred
and when they appeared
the demon who comes when people call its name
you took their hand
and the world was gone.
a blank void
just you.
your soul.
and them.
and as you realized your mistake
you called for anyone to pull you away from your wrongdoings
to save you from your crimes.
but nobody came.
This poem was adapted into a youtube video! Check it out at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8JO8TwlmcE or https://bit.ly/3li8roI
Listen to the
ticking hands of twilight,
close your eyes,
while I take your thoughts
to an ivory reverie of
flickering fantasies…
there I’m cruising
above an
island of mystery
in a flying
glass catamaran~
glazed in
fairy sparkles.
Watching the
shimmering sea
swallow flaming rays
of the sinking sunset,
I slowly dive
deep
into the
lungs of
lyrical lagoon
to surf along
saffron waves,
against
twinkling tides,
while the
seraphic soul
of an emerald
oyster crest
unravels a
sparkling carnival
of summery parade.
I am magnetically
captivated,
chasing a school of
dancing dolphins,
with every spin,
they reflect hypnotic
songs of the ocean~
a ballet of butterfly-rays,
swirl to symphonies
echoing from the
marine kingdom,
there sharks
and turtles together
croon secrets lost within
the aquatic
jungle of life.
When the
spirits that carry
sunken sagas of
coral reefs rise,
a mystical goddess
emerges beyond
the wide horizon,
where the moon is
meant to glow
and unfurl silvery
chronicles of
crystal clear memories.
She is dressed
in glistening algae,
her scales mirror
a musical melancholy;
tales untold and unseen
in the eyes
of flawed creatures.
Her beauty is beyond any
ballads woven from
salt soaked diamonds.
I question her in awe;
“What flows
beneath violet ripples,
ruffling with starry souvenirs?
Do you hear
midnight serenades
of coastal birds,
when neon gems
light up the sea of fire?”
In silence, she whispered
into the drifting wind,
“I am the sovereign of
seafarers and day dreamers,
I guide the lost to
a sanctuary of serenity”
Her words
kept circling in
ringing refrain,
and I let
my thoughts float,
in the
watery credence
of her cryptic tunes,
as she
vanished
into nothingness,
leaving a fragrant tint across
the celestial
canvas of the sky.
Now the mermaid moon
draws a halo
in fluorescent
colors of her
rainbow tail fin,
splattering a trail of letters,
moving in
zig
zag across
the azure,
knitted in lucky charms~
while initials of this tale
ignites the universe
like
waterfall chandeliers.
Freedom is an alter ego like a mask
Behind which censor has no eyes, and balm its blood applies.
Poetry is my freedom when wings cannot fly
The pain of the arrow in my solitary eye ...
You wrote me as a poem, I write you back so I
Can write a poem that invite your poem to tea.
I sometimes see me in the mirror of words
And cannot recognize who I am
How many points of light forms my face alone
Making a fable on the faulty foundation of sense
Are these suppose to be revelations
For I have longings carved like a Grecian Urn
The stillness of that eternity frightens me
Like is a simily ... a wave of action towards a full intent
So many symbols, and everyone alienating
Why can't we tell truth in Images
Like eggs. A cycle from essence to existence
And through all the purposes of each motion
Phases of a common solution?
Mirrors are not reservoirs, you know, they preserve nothing
Let culture preserve what it will
My art shall do the selecting of what the will must be
For I must preserve truly if only preserve me
And do not fear now, some conflict between you and I
That my preservation can be your destruction is such a lie
Broken mirrors make distinctions
A thousand shards point their image at a single eye
But feel, when you cannot see
Feel the universal solution ... for we are only solutes
In the solvents of our meaning
You and I the tangents of a simple circle converging
I love the breaking of isolation
The conversation dissolving us again
Into a common brotherhood, beyond the blundering pain
Our life is fragment of everything now
Politics, economics, physics, dreams and faith
Word is but a mirror before us, the senses little gates
The mirrored shadow has only one moral imperative here
To haunts us till we make it right
I exorcised the ghost that bind us up with fear
And long to break the mirror too
And feel my wings flying in the perfect nothingness.
Wait for me, brother. I am coming too
Swinging on a beam of star, sipping on love's dew.
Measured in unmeasured meter
Defying our partition into syllables of spoon
Rhyming to mate a synonym exactly to the moon
Everything in this solution is never abstraction
Never more a ritual of dump imperial traditions
I shall break the mirror then, the first act of our liberation
And the water shall turn to wine.