Long On writing and wordswords Poems
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A night, again, in waking sleep,
Unuttered words that write the wall
From depths of darkness figures creep
Beneath the million fathom fall
Unspeakable the dreams that fright
The squinted eyes belie the wake
Beneath the sheets to flee the fight
And unformed lies the voices make
A promise, bargain, deal to death
Felled on ears that will deny
Ushered to betray in breath
The truth that sleep is but a lie
In the day's too honest light
The facts that once obscured are bare
The fears evaded in the night
Remain and quest the soul to tear
A wish, once made, can only die
The worst of all desires untold
Anything that grows to try
Will wither in the winter's cold
The waking brings the banishment
The sleeping can't afford
But the whisper's vanishment
Is undone by will's accord
Though too sweet the words once spun
And the price too great to say
Life's a game not easily won
Until the dice are thrown away
A night, again, in waking sleep,
Forgotten words exposed to swear
The oath he oaths to wholly keep
In the Game, there's none unfair
Be it love, or hope, or lust
That drives the mind to needs of want
So badly that one would entrust
Such evil with the heart's one haunt
Impossible, the logic cries
The truest evil's the mind of man
Projecting those traits we so despise
Is but the brain's self-loathing plan
Impossible, the hearts dictates
And truly wrong, but be it so
Then what's the price? The soul berrates
For the secrets that heart does stow?
Unsleeping, so the one returns
Whose promises resound through thought
And name and words to the flesh he burns
So that his offer not be forgot
If but a touch of lunacy already exists
What is the matter of spreading the rot
When a ticking clock is what resists
The selling is hardly worth the thought
In another night of waking daze
To make one last oath he may,
"Just sacrifice your mind to craze,
And I will take your pain away"
The deal once struck cannot revoke
The sacrifice is in the smile
The delivery of pays bespoke
Cements the access to freely while
With every day, the sleeping's less
And words will flow from wall to hand
Building to the mind's egress
The hourglass killing shards of sand
When the time has run and no hours will flow
He will come to me to find
Into the madness I'll gladly go
For, unto him, I sold my mind.
From the epic poem, EOS; verse, 7308-7350
by Sir Titus Llewellyn, unpublished
Book ii - Bouquet with Love
Enter Asha - Junior Psychiatric Nurse
& William - Sufferer of schizophrenia
William speaks to Asha as she reads the book
he has written for her........, as you are doing.
William
How dusk has drawn suspicion from your eyes
these visits have become the long lost friend
who writes without reply - that's no surprise
the way I am adoring you, so don't pretend.
hesitates.......
I find that from a patients point of view
ideas are being listened with fondness for
returning, makes believe this has an end
I cannot help but trust you anymore.
gives her the book...
Pursue the words I've left with you in my will
a token of my love in words I cherish,
following the realms that often still
believe in you and care as much until..........
Asha
I have no time to listen - indeed read
the ridicules of someone you'll replace
who disappears tomorrow without trace.
silent pause...
Another cryptic message I'll not need.
William
Just read the words and feel it with your heart.
Decipher what you can without the pledge,
my writing has preferred and having had
a hope in hells chance pulling it apart,
gliding worse, the fate along a knife-edge.
Asha
I'll treasure what appears to be much work,
the task that your imprisonments have purged
preventing ways and means the seethings urged
a while back knowing often, how berserk
your actions were and how this book immerged.
Cannot a tear sufficient to your need
be borrowed like the journey of lost cause,
another real life story, feelings plead
when giving back the care my feeling was?
Tries to kiss her!
I have to go - how dare you do such things
my care, and least devotions are disgraced
the length of duty caring for you placed!
GET REAL!-
needing my mother is a fear I can do without,
Not you! I miss her so much!
Asha exits
William, (bringer of bad news?)
I know - I have bad news and this you'll find,
in time, when superstitions fill with hate
a sentinel of words - what sounder mind,
could echo truth when all that I create
is gifted not a curse but mere sedate.
Slumber from which all our dreams debate.... (pause)
It lingers while this love sustains as time
And sleeps while we awake no time at all.
Do I trespass if I knock at your door
Would you be frightened to see I also have a full cup
And call the cop because I am black and you are white
You were none of this I would believe
We had no dividing line except that within our gender
And yet for all, our words could climb from bed to bed
And I could against their promise lay my head.
I am not threatened by a woman revolting against history
And fear the dumb traditions than more than I fear
The truth liberating our different poles to embrace the center of our love
There is no dividing line between the poet and the word.
What then shall we make for a facade of difference
The absence or presence of the sun
For day and night only describe the inadequacy of the eyes
Stars are liquid boilers and builders of atoms into dust
Nothing solid in the bright space of it my mass would trust
Atoms, cells, male, female, lovers and distinctions
Deceivers all, we made them to be the delusion of us
Endlessly we yield
To the giving we are receiving back again
This coming and receding
Pounding in our hearts, wrapping us in swaddling tides
Nursed by lactating time ... this is all we have and kiss
Time the imitator of eternity by persistency
Have fooled our hearts with vanity
Now we are not so rich again without your words
Rolling, rocking, to and fro
The pendulum of our illusion is a dry breast of milky way
We are ahead by the words wings beating in our brain
The cage flustering the feathers in their flight
From trees, herds and people, rocks edifying the rigor of the stream
Life moves backward while standing still
From the seat where imagination changes gear
I hear an engine groaning up an hill
Across inflexible landscapes, and the many distinctions of our selves
The illusion of difference is a solid wall.
Let us like children blow our bubbles still
And seed the air with its own vapor
I love them coming into being, and suddenly popping out again
And for some pretty ones felt the weight of love's despair so
What is the meaning of morning here if night is always there
Waiting at the curving of the sun?
Who left the door open for the milk man coming up the stair
He picks up the empty bottles, leaving apples in their place
You must bring down to him milk again
To nourish my famished tears among the ladderless world of stars.
Redundant Again
By Elton Camp
There’s an expression hard to beat
It’s a reference to “hamburger meat”
Here’s another that’s too often seen
Come and use our “ATM machine”
In a storm, folks always “hunker down”
But to “hunker up” is not ever found
An “advance reservation” is quite wise
You can’t do it afterward with many tries
There’s no sense to “aid and abet,”
Since the same meaning they get
Then consider the name “balsa wood”
Surely “wood” has to be understood
A “brief moment” certainly can’t be long
Otherwise, the very expression is wrong
Why use the two words “cancel out”
When cancel alone shows what’s about
Contemplate the words “cash money”
Doesn’t it actually sound rather funny
In “closed fist” I really have to insist
That “closed” is essential if it’s a fist
Ingredients you have to “combine together”
You can’t combine apart even if you rather
“Completely filled” uses two words when it’s true
When “filled” alone would be all we need do
We “confer together” because there’s no art
That will somehow allow us to confer apart
We “could possibly” carry out the plan
Gives nothing new that we can understand
The “current incumbent” is the one in now
An “incumbent” has to be current anyhow
How could it be that we say “exact same”
When identical is what the two words name
We ordinarily will speak of a “face mask”
Where else could a “mask” go I have to ask
So if I trip then I have to “fall down”
If I fall up, then gravity isn’t around
A plane, we say, will “fly through the air”
Could it fly through the water over there?
Enter a “PIN number” when using a debit card
That “PIN” already says number can’t be too hard
A fly is crawling on the “nape of her neck”
Where else is a “nape” located by heck?
Then there’s the expression “overused cliché”
Could a “cliché” possibly be any other way?
A “pair of twins” surely does imply there are two
Any other number with “twins” just wouldn’t do
And now think about the words, “sole of the foot”
Where else is it that a “sole” could possibly be put?
Another example of redundancy is “tuna fish”
“Tuna” can’t be anything else even if we wish
In our writing, unneeded words we should eliminate
Lest our postings others should actually come to hate
The world is
abuzz with a stag-
gering conglomeration
of words. These words
are the bumblebees that
have come to pollinate
the flowers, yet they
are also the
locusts
that reek havoc
upon human lives. Words are
caterpillars inching over rough
tree bark, evoking ideas
of spring, blossoming, and
hope. Words cascade upon our
heads during lectures like
water- falls over rock ledges.
The drops of words caress
our minds and impercep- tibly
settle upon our skin like
butterflies, awaiting
the perfect moment
to take flight. These
often invisible, artificially
created con- cepts dictate
our lives. Never for a
second is it possible
to escape their greedy
grasp, and it is rare
that we should want
to. Words are our lives.
They are the fabric
of our very bones that
allow us to stand and
walk for- ward. Words
shape who we are.
I am words. Words are me.
Form:
Give me liberty, or please give me death.
Give me words that give me wealth,
Giving me a way to express myself.
When the way of the word is all that is left,
Give me a way to vent,
So that I can remain in good health.
Give me a peaceful way, with others, to compete.
Give me a way to come greet
Others who want to bring some heat,
Using their words to accomplish something neat,
Using their syllabols to create some beats.
Give us a table, where we can take some seats,
To come and eat, like brothers and sisters who complete
That family tree of writing rhymes,
Writing words so sublime.
But not for a dime,
Just free with their time,
Sharing words that are prime,
Like a group of partners in crime.
A crime against those who impose their will.
A crime against those whose prose
Try to oppose our skill.
All of our spirits they are trying to kill.
They want us to swallow their pill,
Cuz' they hate the words that we use to thrill.
Words that they are too full of themselves to feel.
Because, to them,
It is a crime
To be free to create.
They are the closed minded,
Who only see hate.
They are free to see bait,
As they try to decide all of our fates.
But, they are far too late,
Because we are already free to be great.
So, when I become King,
Do not throw words at my throne.
Just leave me alone!
My talent is already known!
Has already been shown!
Please don't make me change my tone,
Because when it is all said and done,
I will not throw you a bone.
I'll just throw you a slam in sonnet form.
Make you squeamish
With an Italian or an English storm.
Because for me,
This is just the norm,
And when I am done,
You will never leave your dorm.
Just try to take my words from me, and give me you chains!
Prove to me that your brain has truly gone insane!
Prove that, from my pain, you have something to gain!
I will endure the doom and gloomy clouds of the vain!
And at the end of the rain, I will still remain!
Before I go,
Let me till you one thing.
I consider myself
Already the KING.
So, when it comes to "THESE" words,
The KING will sing,
"I LET FREEDOM RING!"
"I LET FREEDOM RING!"
And when it comes to "THESE" words,
The KING will sing,
"I LET FREEDOM RING!"
"I LET FREEDOM RING!"
It's two a.m and I'm still sitting here trying to write.
I have the comfort of this candle burning low.
I have the warmth of a fire right beside me.
Yet what you want me to write makes my thoughts and words hard to flow.
I just smiled when you said you were gonna sit up.
Oh how you wanted to see the process of how I write.
I watched you fend off sleep but in the end you had to give up.
Watching you asleep on the couch in peace gives me a calm delight.
I'm to write about myself and how my poems as you say "just happen".
I tell you those words don't come with ease.
I'll do my best but it's sometimes hard to write about oneself.
Especially when asked, but I will try to please.
I'm the one whose words written or spoken will be the truth.
There's the times when I'm excited and I will mix up what I want to say.
The loved one's in my life including yourself will always come first.
I would do anything come night or day.
I am the one people sometimes stare at, yet don't really see.
Even though my heart burns deeply with dreams, and a fire held deep inside.
I may have thick skin but when I'm cut it still pains me.
I am the one who is stubborn when I battle with my pride.
It's four a.m and your not stirring.
I watch you sleep with no disturbance to bring you around.
My pen has started with you asleep and my mind is turning,
Just watching you, thoughts easily come to me now.
Please don't be mad in the morning when you wake.
Especially for falling asleep when I began to write.
That's how it happens I can't be watched, how I'll make you wait.
In the end grinding against sleep I will see you lose the fight.
I am the one who writes alone feeling out my thoughts.
It's no insult to you it has just always been that way.
Many emotions that I filter for each of life's battles I have fought.
I am the one who can get scared and find no words to say.
I try to explain how there is no hidden pen up my sleeve.
I'm the one who loves you and would do all I can.
I am the one looking at you now and smiling while you sleep.
Soon you will wake and I will give you this to read for it's going on seven a.m
Form:
English prides itself on being a well-spring of today’s language
like a magpie that freely picks up foreign words elsewhere
with an attempt to incorporate them into its richness of vocabulary;
a great endeavor that makes sense to be a global lexicon these days.
It’s a continuing effort that knows no barrier with other nations,
to the world of cultures with an attitude of openness and expansion;
widens one’s horizon and enables one to get a habit of insertion,
recognized as an inspiration that becomes a treasure trove of information.
Interesting it may be to find one’s word from a particular culture
that insertion in the dictionary which is a constant guide to everyone;
a close study, a reference to certain thoughts, backgrounds, and origins,
these words provide their meanings and usages in sentence constructions.
Yet their phonetic spellings are great indications to pronounce them well
according to history or origin that supply right definitions and implications,
their etymological meanings, derivations or other shades of meanings;
in their contextual variations or figurative implications thus far.
As they possess the power of meanings or as an identity of every word,
their roles make substance and clarity to what is necessary to understand;
they make a difference; they serve like guardian angels in every way,
whose central tenet and mission explore guidance and comprehension.
Webster’s, Oxford, McQuarie or Thesaurus as dictionaries used these days,
with idiomatic expressions provided in different contexts and origins;
however, profound or different as applied in many human situations,
they convey wisdom; so rich that many times they’re used in today’s parlance.
Words, words, words, as Hamlet famously moaned when Polonius asked him;
what he reads and wrestles with words and meanings generate an answer,
it’s the same thing with one’s attitude to consult or refer to a lexicon,
a dictionary, a thesaurus, or any similar print that provides meanings –
words that draw the link between history and experiences of humanity.
What do you say to a poet
Whose transition left us uncomfortable among the dead
Who you cross a bridge with from an island to a mainland
To find your prayer mute before a city's crumbling steeples
And could not beyond her skin share the unveiling of desire
What do you say to a poet
The world shall never see again, words giving sight
To the blind cul-de-sac of power? What, if you know what to say?
Would you say, would you write images of thought
Dissolving your particularity in the mass, like shared sacrement
Would go against tradition, and unsubstantiate the self
Into bread and blood to feed to feed the coming dread?
It is revulsive ... if I forget Africa and all her sacred meanings
But I cannot watch beauty fade before I pick a flower
It is the paradox that goes against the grain ... the shadow
Passed invisibly and left shivering at the stammering door.
I talk of shadows and substance in the recovery of essence
You carved away the shadow to make an icon of existence
And all the while our ladder of faith were words upon a page
And it was not only for acceptance, but to know the universal
Or to become again what we left so we could hate it more
We dancing in our pain, found hope yet in perennial praise
While we rose and fell into dust, for in the mortal crust
There is always this ambivalence and slipping of the truth
What do you tell a sister
When she crawls out of your mother's bed into another dawn
Who can say to us because we are dust
People from a small place are not suppose to have a universal taste
For we know brother better every mending of the broken bond
Sister, I am from a small island too
And all my life we have been fenced by only water
While were dismantling the fences that they built in skin
We have a porous boundary, many crossroads to sin
O but I would bridge me to your world again
And carry words like you to shake the bed of many worlds beyond
For it is in bringing forth our love that the mask of our virginity falls.
Putting words in "MY" mouth was your FIRST and LAST mistake!
"I" must destroy you now. I wonder how long will this take.
I really don't want to hear any excuse that you could make.
I officially changed your name to FakeJaketheSnake!
Don't bother denying it! You know exactly what you did.
So, get to running little rabbit! Silly tricks really are for KIDS!
What you did really stinks to high heaven; you little coward.
But, you will be cleaned up, when, upon you, my words get showered.
When I'm done with you, for mercy my words will make you beg.
Now, what do YOU call a man, with a hole between his legs.
If you had something to say, you should have put it in a post.
Don't play with me! A coward is what I despise the most!
The "Destroyer" and "THE'great'ONE" is where you should have kept your tricks.
But, since you tried to play ME, in your mouth you must get kicked.
If you had beef with her, then you should have kept it there.
I was not involved in that mess! I truly did not care!
YOU are the one, who got "THE'great'ONE" out of the way,
And as soon as she "WISES UP," P.D. will make you pay!
Please explain to me: "What did you get out of this in the end?"
Was this just about making her lose two of her friends?
You coward. You snake. You little speck of a man!
If no one else can call you out, then I certainly can.
Your sneaky snakey nature is about to be faced,
Since the "MAIL" that "YOU" sent "ME" never ever got erased!
Therefore, I have the evidence clearly within hand.
So, soon, I will make sure that EVERYONE understands.
You really should have found another way to do your bidding.
You involved the wrong guy, and I'm not even "KIDDING!"
You should have been honest...the way a REAL man is suppose to.
Now, it is within my power and my pleasure to expose you!
THIS situation for you can do nothing more than worsen,
Because like I said before, you just messed with the WRONG PERSON!