Long Stenches Poems

THE STENCH OF INSOMNIA

   narcoleptic deities in charge of the world
   are tangled and detangled in the threads of time 
   
   they are sardonic and bitter...

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The silence of morn makes this place forlorn
in the fields, the hillsides, and trenches.
Over two hundred years since the bloodshed and fear,
yet you can hear the yells, smell the stenches.
The crush of the blue, charging...

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Here I am,


In the first fling of youth-

In what sterile field did I find this anti-fecund missive?

This stretching of a hand, drenched in rubbery black; accompanied by a smell; a sewing, cloying end-platform.

If I lean...

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Wonder Wonder
I wonder what we left off 
As I sit thinking about the wonders of the world I see that there was one left out
One that shine through the darkness of these Northern Nights
It sails...

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Calcutta. 

Hot and unberable in the searing summer heat 
and unberarable for more reasons than the heat. 
In a popular tourist cafe an American widow 
obsesses on her dead husband: she has a bundle 
of...

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(In December 1936, English poet John Cornford
was killed in combat near Lopera, during the 
Spanish Civil War.  It was the day after his
twenty-first birthday.  Could this be the poem
he was formulating in his...

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Since they cannot fend for themselves, how they can yawn rest of the night and go into the morning experience no food move in the afternoon any food and in night again no food. However...

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On Vacation With Middle Passage Memories

Out over the alluring expanse 
of the Big Water---
where the sky rest upon
the water’s edge---
where undulating ships wait
to fall off the earth---
we saw the lightening
dancing in space
and heard the applause
of...

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Merit was always the gold medalist
Then came the shrewd unconcerned capitalist
Who endeared and sold to many the cheap thrill
At jaw-dropping prices reserved only for mastery and skill
And I agree with Solomon that princes could walk...

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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Seven

The balding weeping willow by the Prefecture Gate’s railings
There where on drowsy summer’s day gather swan and goslings
To unfurl and let fan the crisp ensconced feathery quills
Litter and...

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It is a Sunday morning in spring the bright sun shines in Bethnal-green,
Wander along a path between the church, the railway towards Whitechapel,
For one day there are beautiful flowering gardens thrown open to anybody
And at...

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Control
Slaves of Sin, we are the minions
That is, if we choose to be
Though Sin houses in our system
We need not follow her decree
With her allure and her enticements
She may tempt you to do wrong
Even fool...

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Foul as Funk!...
   Stenches your honey-sweet words;
   Politically polite,
   as you perpetrate,
   ya freakin posers!

How can you be so disillusioned
   as though you are morally...

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Madness…
Characters, actors…
In my mind doth play
Presence, until the curtain call
Unknown, then afraid!

Seek to quell the voices
Run amok and askew
In depths, directors scream “action”
Then, they take their cue!

Next, Frantic desperation, panic!
The fray to change their will
Only...

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Beauty tells the story 
Of days we were younger
Come join the famine
Lose someone
Beneath the sands
At the Tip of your toes
A touch of the gods
Join the war
And lose someone 

Bridges
They mend
The things that god 
Cannot touch
Rivers
They...

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1914-1918 World war 1

Bullets flying over trenches 
Can’t see too much for smoke that stenches

Lieutenant makes orders to stand here fast
Don’t be scared chaps we’re having a blast

Feet so cold my boots feel like ice
My...

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Good to see you ?

Taste the touch of the night it’s real
Escape reality but find the truth in the deal
Today tomorrow the dust the dawn the steel
Desire deface distract determine then kneel
Hounds of horror barking...

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Smells and Stinches in the Trenches

Have never before wrote poem like this;
Hope my thought and point never miss;
What life meant;
To heaven sent;
About a lonely life of either hers or his.

Seems to be so many smells...

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Why dies the blue sky red
Hue of a deeper dissolution
Falling from the face
The puzzle of Africa

Stains dry and brittle circle the dust
Where withers a standing grain
taunted eye of barren sticks
To black and lifeless rage
Oil oil...

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congregate and anticipate please,
eliminate traces of old dirty fleas.
please don't confuse any old thoughts with these.
christmas trees smell better without presents.

pungent, pulpy stenches float up my nose,
duct-taped paper-clips make a nice rose,
miniature villages, cotton-ball snows,
oranges...

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I saw him resting his laurels among dust
With dry gin conquering his stenches
A company of skulls screaming
Eerie sounds move through the trees
A hooded noise screaming behind
But I tell the stone to be still
Watching the wind...

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