Long Sporadically Poems
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I am the writer that you think I am
Sad words written on a lonely page sporadically through a sleepless night
Alike to
Tasty words poored out like savored wine that was aged for the same occasion
I don't like to drink alone
Cheers
I write to do battle with my demons
Like an army collapsing upon itself fighting for power
The speeches given by the soldiers in my head are screamed the loudest
But those angry words fall to the ground
And they are trampled on
Back space or crumple
It's a civil war that needed to be fought
When I write I find myself
I look amongst the ruins, focusing only on the first fire I need to survive the night
Slim hope made fat by a narcissitic design
And I am warm
I write because I believe that even the human race in itself was a heart felt expression
All of us have a spark of life more valuable then the flesh and bones around us
The sun, the moon and the stars
The waters, the food we eat, and the air we breathe were all made to cradle this creation of me
Of you
And we are a creative species ourselves
Gravity is not a prison
But where else would we go?
Telescopes as far as the robotic eye can see!
And have we seen a better more beautiful world?
We go to the moon and even send machines to Mars
We bring back rocks as dead as the blackness that goes on forever
It makes me think we are favored here
On earth a vibrant sun is rising non-stop
A flower blooming with only hints to the growing masterpiece
The sun is setting somewhere else upon calm waters
A bird has sensed it is his last flight south
And time slows down
The season greets him with open doors that never close
He feels every feather he ever had and remembers everything he ever saw
He leaves with a song on his lips that still gets sung to the first dawn that finds him missing
I write because I can take the world and see what I want to see
All across the surface of this place there are many spheres of life
For every set of eyes that digest the same one
There is different music to every ear that interprets the same song
And a differrent ground to walk on for every foot that treads the same path
It is true a picture can say a thousand words,
But I still want to say them
And so I write
Squalidness—Squabbling squeamishly;
Scrutinizing stigmatized scandalization, substantially scarce
Sprightliness...skeptically surrendering
Shamefully—Scolded sardonically;
Snarling splenetically, severing sensibility, scowlingly simmering
Strenuously...sought survival
Sparring—Sinister sisters;
Seductively swiveling soreness, sarcastically snared, swirling
Storms...sporadically striking
Slowly—Sacrificing stories;
Scorching slanderous subversiveness, suffering suffocation
Senselessly...smoldering serendipity
Sinfully—Silent stranger;
Sneaking skillfully staring
Presumptuously—Pursuing pretentiousness;
Promises protruding pithiness,
Potential problems...penetrating
Frantically—Forsaken fantasizes foresee;
Different Man Flourishing...
Suspiciously—Supplication solicited;
Subjectively settling, storms subdue, spontaneously subsiding
Surprisingly...sanctuaries submerged
Sobriety—Soaked scathingly;
Staleness spun savagely, strangely straying, sprung
Scourging...southern spiral
Suddenly—Solitude strangling;
Shallow significants seedily surrounds scrupulousness, slumbering
Spitefulness...shunning sympathy
Systematically—Struggling swiftly;
Skulking shadows slithering, seized sanity, seething
Stragglers scrapping...smuggling
Supposedly—Soberness swarming;
Sunrises selectively swerving, sunsets scattering
Emotionally—Erraticism encouraged;
Enduring essential enemies,
Equivocal excursions...escalating
Hereupon—Heretics hushed hereafter;
Different Man Henceforth...
Relentlessly—Reaping ramifications;
Remorsefully relapsing regrettably, resentful realization recognizing
Reflection...refusing reality
Condescendingly—Condemning contradictions;
Cautiously concealing contortions, conducting contrived conniptions
Conscientiously...capricious consciousness
Arrogantly—Acquiring awareness;
Ignorantly ignoring ideologies, deceitful dramatic disagreements
Transpire...transitioning transgressions
Occasionally—Ostracizing occurs;
Overthinking orchestrates overreactions, obsessively obtaining optimization
Brazenly—Begged, blindingly became;
Different Man Behindhand...
Superstition! that horrid incubus which dwelt in darkness, shunning the light, with all its racks, and poison chalices, and foul sleeping draughts, is passing away without return. Religion cannot pass away. By Thomas Carlyle
Incubus weaves a titillating tale.
Swathed in a velvet flame that stirs the soul.
Trembling and relieved, I sought trial,
In the little death of the cyanide hole.
I dip my toes deeper into the sand
The ocean feels akin to a million diamonds.
Clad in azure plaid, I lie a breeze in my hand
I have the sense to fall in love with this island.
Epoch is similar to a roller coaster.
Yet I'm not tied down properly.
Perhaps I shouldn't proceed any faster.
My hands are busy with the air around me.
Sporadically I worry over the future
I wonder how much fear I have allowed.
Struggled to maintain, came up to bode suture
That seems to be the marvel among the crowd.
But now, I've attempted to understand
I must be the one controlling the wheel.
Whatever the future holds, steadfast stand.
Without trepidation, all triumphs might feel.
I'll be here no matter what happens tomorrow
I shall thus desist from being a layer of the hive.
It proves to be the root of my shared sorrow.
Will I favor water over wine yet still be safe to drive?
Were we given to a succubus or an incubus?
Stars veiled by a few straws will soon appear.
The final site has incubus tombs or mage insipidus.
It cast a dark shade across the earth and is near.
I'll be there no matter what happens tomorrow
In the midst of anguish, that would compel.
I'll be there no matter what happens tomorrow.
With eyes and arms, a soul never hurts to love well.
Let us adore ourselves before it becomes a crime.
The white moon is caressingly rising in a blue sight.
How acute a day, relies on how well you are sublime.
This story makes my future appear so bright.
1st place contest winner
Written: March 07, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 35 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Watching the Perseids
Each year August eleven to thirteen
We fly through a cloud of comet dust
In those few days
Watching skyward patient in the dark
Shooting stars can be sporadically seen
Without warning and at random
Smaller or larger streaks of light
Blaze fast across the sky and then are gone
I love watching the Persieds
Lying alone in a dark grassy field
If clouds permit to gaze up at the stars
Recognising old friends
The Bear, Polaris, Cassiopeia
Trying to stay vigilant
For those unearthly wonderful flashes
As earth hoovers comet dust at fantastic speed
Some of the brightest ones burn red and gold
Even swerving in their smoking paths
Others straight pure and silver
No two ever the same
They say the same of snowflakes and it is actually true
For a fraction of a second
The sky rips brightly then falls dark again
Only memory gives time to think
On that brief light and form that lived and died
Was it even real or just imagined
I must wait to see another…
I guess our lives are like those shooting stars
From the cold eye of deep time
Our birth and death seem instantaneous
Only a high speed camera would resolve
Changes in hue and path and luminance
That from perspective of a grain of dust
Feel like a lifetime
I saw one shooting star that did not move
Just quickly grew in brightness then was gone
Predicted by geometry sometimes
Meteorites come straight towards you
Not moving left or right across the sky
It might have even hit me
If not combusting in our shield of air
How many human hearts have I burned up
Which flew as arrows straight toward my own?
Pristine unpierced and cold I lie alone
Staring in darkness at the sky
Insects from the nighttime grass
Make forays on my skin
Before they too are brushed away
But I can’t leave - till I see just one more
Bright signature of fire across the sphere
In this unbroken darkness,
Even the familiar stars
And planets looking back at me
Leave me always alone and incomplete
14 Aug 2022
Written: September 09, 2023
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In the abyss of night, I'm held captive tight.
Addiction to idioms fuels my Phoebus fight.
I abide, vouching sporadically to escape,
From the clutches of zeal, I can't reshape.
But my quill rebels; it won't be subdued.
It dances on my fingertips, its blaze renewed.
Beleaguered by a kindle of syllables, they persist,
Won't charter me to chime, profess, and insist.
Oh, the maudlin whispers of writing passion,
Entice me; draw me into a bathetic attraction.
I whirl to abscond, to relish some release,
But the chains of my quill hold me in peace.
The words flow through me as a river so fierce,
With every pen stroke, my soul finds its release.
I'm a jailbird of this art, an enthused devotee,
In a realm of words, I rapture my sanctuary.
My heart stumbles, as leaves in the fall breeze,
But the quill snatches them away with grace and ease.
It weaves them into verses, a kernel of emotion,
An effusive love, and life's endless commotion.
I am bound to this pen, this captive quill,
Forever entwined in its enchanting thrill.
Despite my huge wack, I cannot escape.
Inevitably, it leads me back to my true shape.
So I embrace this addiction, this passionate fire.
Within its depths, my spirit soars higher.
I surrender to the rhythm and melody of words.
As they dance upon pages as fluttering birds.
In the act of writing, I find my true self.
Ink flows freely, such as a river of wealth.
I may be a captive to this quill; it's true,
But in its captivity, I am set free too.
Addiction to writing is a powerful force.
It guides me, shapes me, and charts my course.
I may be a captive, but I am not alone.
With every word written, a connection is sown.
Sun-kissed sand seeping warm softness through loose fingers
Gritty bits of sea worn shells clinging to sweaty palms
Endless stretches of churning salty skirts, swirling soft sand offerings
Timeless routine unless confined to an hour glass; then time defined and depleting
I will stay here, one more day, in this moment with you
Billowing wind toying with chimes dangling from a hook outside the window
Weather-worn strings attempt constant purchase on their prized pipes
Hollow tubes and smooth wood dance as if marionettes
Called to action without self-will; blown and battered sporadically to purpose of
sweet note
I will stay here, one more day, in this moment with you
Fragrant formed wax with wick in need of trimming
Sagging brittle edges from last burning yearn for more pliable state
Called to illumination and guardian of the very flame that diminishes
Beauty invoked by warm flickers as shadows dance; knowing that soon it will only
smolder
I will stay here, one more day, in this moment with you
Precious kisses on soft skin and caresses on tiny fingers
Confused pleas of tears and unformed words when communication is elusive
Nurtured as if a fragile rare flower, coaxing to bloom and thrive
Rooted and reaching for the sky; so soon to spread limbs, absorbing and obscuring
the sun
I will stay here, one more day, in this moment with you
Heady thoughts of desperate need, wanting skin and souls to touch and mingle
Uncharted and unrehearsed voyages across deep waters and over daunting cliffs
Strengthened or broken by attempts to fly; stretching wings in unison to keep aloft
Long sought destination reached, realizing now that the journey’s purpose was to
find you
I will stay here, one more day, in this moment with you
Now anger had come to penetrate me, and evil has come to kiss me softly...tension exploded my v***** to squirt waterfalls of mayhem.
I try to close my legs but find that I have been impregnated with a vengeance and her twin disappointment.
I begin to birth vengeance and disappointment into existence and now hungry, they nurse on catastrophe and burp revenge!
Lately, anger seems to be having an affair with me sporadically. As I persist to break up, anger beats me with torture!
I awake from uncertainty and get hit with despair. Now I try to reconcile with such wickedness, too late anxiety forces my hands.
I gasp for air and anger now emerges to propel me into a whirlwind of confusion followed by malignant chaos.
As the end is far from over, my nightmare truly begins as anger passes me like a blunt to atrocious
This whole situation is agonizing, as atrocious has the audacity to use vengeance and disappointment against me.
My blood is boiling with animosity, my rancor behavior is at a point of no return.
I gorgonize from this whole ordeal and feel trapped. I feel like I’m bobbling just to get a deep breath
Suddenly, a familiar spirit arises with resentment and rejection. Both, I’ve known far too long. I try to stand up, weak, but I manage.
Maintaining to hold my head high, anger whispers in my ear, get ready they are coming.
Without hesitation in my present situation, I run! I run as fast as I can. I now am on the floor because anger has tripped me so burden and fear could catch up with me.
I crawl and I crawl to manage in the dark to make it around the corner and find a spot to hide. Devastated and distraught, I finally start to rise from the floor to see demise laughing at me.
Written: October 16, 2023
Changed past Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Fire Bird
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The intricate tapestry of my subconscious
A birth, a time of such heavenly consequence.
It all evolved with my son's day of birth.
Everything was suddenly unique and worth.
His fuss was filled with full-flapped fanfare.
My feelings were relayed through a fan fair.
My heart was flooded with vicarious love.
My destiny drew its Elysian toll from above.
Disassociation has ceased to be my domain.
Stunningly sturdy for such a slight sustain.
His memory was rattling, sharp, and retentive.
A hitherto unknown mnemonic thrust is affective.
In records of our psyche, reminiscence resides,
A phenomenal ability to remember and abide.
He could memorize and recall with ease,
Every moment, every word, every tease.
But paramnesia would sporadically pass,
A momentary lapse, a memory out of grasp.
Yet his memorization skills would never cease,
a whispering fugue, an embroidery of peace.
Associations formed, connections made,
In the tapestry of memory, they never fade.
Obliteration might be a gamble to intervene,
But my nostalgia remains tenacious and keen.
In his empyreal life, bolstered and vibrant,
Gossamer memory is a slot never to be slanted.
No word or recollection is to obliterate,
This memory is prodigious, a peculiar trait.
Dreams are woven into an exquisite tapestry,
Where the past and present descry harmony.
Wherever recollections are strung together,
These precious memories will last forever.
She stop mattering much this day----I'm not in the mood at this time----am I betraying the truth of how much she mean to me is the thoughts resting dead on my mind----we are miles apart in physical distance and the sentiments of our hearts----I feel she has less interest in our relationship than what I feel and contribute to our joy----at times I've honestly felt like a part time lover----freeing my mind of thoughts of her today might help the health of our interaction in the future tomorrow----sometimes I get complacent in the comfort of her love----believing it comes automatically----when truth between her and me few things happen sporadically----summer warm days winter icey storms----both with the girl I desire most in her company I have enjoyed----the feelings that exist because of those facts are hard to ignore----hours of the day passed----I occupy my night with a meaningful activity that I've enjoyed all my life----I even had my favorite meal and sleep sound through the night----I woke eyes open to go about the next day----the memory of my mind and body emotionally told me something missing not the same----and then it occurred to me 24hrs went by without me hearing her voice and the tone in which only she say my name----my pulse sped up and my hands start to sweat----this can't be healthy entered my thought process---a inner voice said u know the cure and what's going to make u feel better----so I put aside my stubbornness get in touch with my love, my heart, is the first thing I do next....
Enjoy!!!!
I gave you my body,
I gave you my soul,
I gave you my heart,
Until we get old.
Your lies and the hiding,
Have all but nearly ruined me,
The lies and the cheating,
The trauma runs through me.
I caught you and caught you,
And you looked me in the eyes,
Saying the same old sad song,
I heard many times.
I’ve cried so much because of you,
I have no tears left to cry,
You’ve burnt and numbed me,
And now I feel dead inside.
My light used to shine bright,
Until I met your dark soul,
And now it sporadically glimmers,
These are the works of a narcist I’m told.
You say you will change,
But nothing gets done,
You continue your ways,
Not caring I’m numb.
You say that you love me,
But that’s not love,
The hurting and stabbing,
The lack of respect that comes.
I ask you to leave,
And to leave me alone.
But your refuse to do so,
Because you have it good at home.
You created insecurities,
That made me be someone I am not.
It took having my 1st born,
To get out of this rut.
I have fears of leaving,
And regretting my choice.
But maybe this lesson,
Will be good for my boys.
I crave peace and freedom,
From your evil, toxic ways,
I want my light to shine brightly,
Again, for days and days.
I ask you dear cheater,
Unlatch from my soul.
I ask you to leave me,
And my loved ones alone.
I am done trying to fix,
Your sick twisted ways.
I am ready to fix,
Myself and get out of this haze.
The future looks bright,
For this light of mine.
I ask you dear universe,
Bring me back to my divine.