Long Pitiless Poems
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“The inner journey of piety opens the floodgate of
divine bliss” – By Poet
I chase the GOSSAMER mirage of the drifting desires
in the desolate desert of my GRIEF-STRICKEN existence.
I carry my languishing life listlessly across the bleakness
along the pitiless pathway of disparaging delusion.
Caught in the whirlpool of GHOSTLY mire of mortal being
I wander lost with deceptive awareness of bereft belonging
in GODFORSAKEN wilderness, GROANING for help to take me
to the surreal ambiance of beguiling heavenly abode.
I strive to be free from the GRAVE grip of despair
destiny designs, resulting in the loss of esoteric essence,
impelling me to break away and chart a new path,
with discernment of divine conscience guiding me.
I transcend the looming limits of space and time,
implore God to show me the way of the inward journey,
for I devoutly yearn to be suffused serenely with
the patina of perpetual peace shining within the soul.
I perceive the shower of His graceful endowment,
drape me with the aura of freedom and happiness.
I sense delighted the faithful flow of blissful divinity
flood my inner sanctum as I open the gate of consciousness.
..
A ghastly cadaver drops, for whose noble sake?
To ravish the grandeur of wildlife
In the thud of night; to mangle
Mother Earth's gift and its life's intent
Where each tender beast moves in a flow
Linking a primal, fond tie with nature’s deities…
But the affinity with innocent children, its tribe
Snuffed with one ruthless bang in the forest
When pitiless minds become delirious… heinous
A giraffe, a leopard perishes without knowing
The lithe body quickly turns into a gaunt shadow,
How sudden. Just like that: unable to play with birds
And race with own calf or cubs along an inlet...
O hollow night, O lamp of silence drained
By the vicious game from predators
Lusting after power...just like that
And no one can tell, for whose noble sake?
A sleeping dragon
Beneath the ground there lives a beast.
For aeon’s it has lain asleep,
Upon the bones of those it defeats.
The hopeless slain in graves so deep beneath.
The firelight in only darkness.
The ghost of old, it’s only witness.
A beast so foul, so pitiless,
Has killed a thousand men in a thousand feet deep pit.
It waits in slumber, further under,
The kingdom beneath which it constantly plunders.
A fire in the sky at midnight,
Alerts the keepers of the last kings keep.
The beast has been awoken after a hundred years’ sleep
And although it cannot be seen, it screams through the air,
Breathing fear, which destroys the hope of every man,
Who still has a care.
Now none will fight or lend a hand
And all but one are stood in silence.
The king listens to the chosen, his guards his only violence,
Against a demon which strikes such fear;
It has done so for many years.
But now at last there stands the hero.
Never more will he hold a purse of zero,
For riches have been promised by the King,
To any man who may slay the thing which sleeps beneath.
The curse upon the peaceful land,
For many a moon, but now this man,
Shall lead his band of many men to slay the beast,
Or until they are deceased.
So until the beasts’ heart beats no more,
The day has come…
To victory!
Or…
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense
sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...
Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace
nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...
and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice
reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even
Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)
ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate
as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,
she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate
with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate
tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely
iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with
corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -
validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate
popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,
nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore
liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander
refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.
“Life is like a ship tossed on the wide sea
to journey amidst sunshine and wild waves”.- by author.
Braving the Wild Waves
When wild winter winds bend down mighty trees
And drive many souls to knell on their knees
When flash floods sweep away all on their way
And make many men their pitiless prey,
When stormy gales hurl one`s ship on the reefs
And the crew is immersed in seas of grief
When ahead lies the mouth of a steep cliff
That sounds like the resting place of a grave
Do we yield to scare or brave the wild waves?
Don't ask anything that's so improbable...
if your faith is lacking a strong foundation,
if it has doubt in folks who had a conviction:
didn't they fight to accomplish the impossible?
My question is, " Do miracles exist? "
Whenever I turn to, I sense disbelief in all;
who is ill and abandoned by a pitiless society
asks the same question of shameless betrayal;
beggars rely on generosity called handout,
they bow their heads expecting some empathy:
be moved by such suffering and denigrated sight,
harsh is their reality, heart-wrenching is their agony!
In the midst of allusion and deception ask yourself,
" Do miracles still exist? How strong is this belief? "
Stand firm, don't ever lose faith in all Humanity;
in your daily rush: slow down and redefine dignity!
Bloom in the womb
Uniting two different cells
Into invisible human personhood
A pearl in shell of flesh and blood
A symphony of countless notes
Marching towards maturity
Silently waiting for the door
With comfort and ease
Soft like breeze, tender like dew
With beauty of dawn and dusk
The little soul eats, moves and beats
But does not breath
With genes creating a distinct self
promising a gifted persona
A scientist, artist, explorer, reformist
The lustrous life is all personified
Living in the abode of love and joy
An eternal reflection of creativity
An expression of unbroken continuity
Much before the times of Adam
In the realm of human existence
The beginning of a new song
With notes of trust, hope and resolve
Enhancing every moment by epigenesis
Escaping the pitiless and the pill
Treating the budding life
As a by-product of carnal entertainment
Continuing the journey from the organic
To inorganic world of vagaries and whims
Yet to know how to flirt with the world
The unborn is confident and assured that
The Creator is the perpetual protector
" Burn and die! Punishment from HIGH! " Chanted the pitiless crowd
while the fire engulfed her lean and bruised body stung by a large bee;
" Eleanor is not a PRINCESS! " "She's an imposter! " Another voice rose loud:
" Witches aren't Christians! " A priest flashing a cross made from wreaths
incited them, then all engaged in vile chant to avenge a wickedness never done;
" I am a Christian and I'm BLESSED! " Never did I such evil deeds! "
But one with a torch in his hand challenged her tossing a long bone,
" This is what you will become of you...a witch who brewed herbs and seeds!"
" No ! " She defended herself, " It was the medicine to cure your sick baby! "
" My death will hunt you and put a curse on your children and teens! "
Eleanor emitted a forced scream being suffocated by smoke and fire,
" KING, come and save your young lover who tended to your manly needs;
why has pity dwindled in you? " Have lies diminished the LIGHT of truth, so blithe,
by not letting this GEM sparkle in your domineering sight? Have I lost all hope? "
Stop their cruel chanting! Never will I remain silent, unless I'm unable to breathe! "
And leaning her head forward without STRENGHT, as if death had already come ,
" Why is INTELLIGENCE taught in a SCHOOL of learning, what good is it without wisdom?"
" The bad witches hide in their RETREAT...while this good one is being burned alive!"
Entered in Mystic Rose's contest,
" Plucky By Nine "
Written by Andrew Crisci
on 3/1/2015/
Written: January 30, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dive into the cauldron, where magic potions brew,
Amidst winter’s mist and porcelain aureoles,
Pitiless wind whispers ancient tales in scrolls—
Stars shimmer in the sky, hope may renew.
Stirred midway marvels beneath moon regal hue,
Tangled in sheets of endless bewitching smiles,
Lorn aurora skies cradle dreams for miles—
Sustain our world with love, forever true.
Flushed cheeks under moonstone’s afterglow,
Goosebumps dance on slender necks wrapped tight,
Luminous runes speak of a hazel-spiked delight—
Drizzles of amber and galactic nests blow.
Bewitching lullabies from choral croons weave,
Dark edgeless abyss cradles mysteries unseen,
Spiders crawling, snakes mauling in darkened scene—
gossamer clouds whisper secrets to believe.
Frosty sheen of winter moon glows in night’s veil;
in rabid junkyards hums an opal fantasy sight;
tethered fate dances to a diaphanous stardust flight—
in a gypsy mirror—relent flowers’ clusters so frail.
Restless soul drenched in ethereal blush divine;
love’s contagion warns harsh waves—to draw minds;
amorphous longing sings to kismet kernels unkind;
Sensory blindfolded by ariose cadence entwined.
Aspiration
Antoine had crashed once again when tempting the desert
Freedom fighter laureate poet daredevil testing the call of
~ Poisonous Times ~
A mysterious man and rebellious philosopher with script on his
tongue ink on soft paper Rose in his heart and yearning for
~ Cleopatra’s Eyes ~
A snake of fertile creation and healing never far from his pen
Aesculapius in coil had mutated to SS wound around torches’
~ Venomous Bite ~
Aspides’s toxic fangs a spitting image of denial with thick scales
covering eyes of horned vipers hiding or shielding from attack
~ Dependent on Choice ~
The piloting scribe aspired towards kind compassionate words
As the elephant was swallowed by a boa constrictor clothed in a sad
~ Hatter’s Distortion ~
Antoine got killed on reconnaissance’s flight over France shot down or
by just letting go of throttle and misery but the Little Prince and his
~ Wisdom Remains ~
Avoiding slithering hisses in what remains of paradise an auspice
of sloughing what needs to be shed emerged from warrior’s asps in
~ Blossoming Hope ~
When threatened by serpent’s pitiless pits with no parachute attached
Peace can be found and acrimonious asperity relieved one small step in
~ Narration and Truth ~
29th April 2018