Long Unopposed Poems
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Top shelf cologne exhibits sensual tail of peacock
Entrances my senses at our eleven a.m embrace
Eyes shut, my erratic stamina borrows comfort
Curled into leather front seat, chest inhales safe
Our waterfall guffaws cascade in establishments of stature
Grilled salmon, staple lunch, gregarious wine supports us
Role's novelty and glitz incessantly scratches my rapture
Unorthodox allure makes mockery of standard formulas
Indirect looks from diners, behind raised glasses, warped
Solid gold arrogance declares benefits blatantly displayed
Society fears breaking the mould, glued to ordinary course
Our acquired theme sustains disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard grandeur sees counterpart meshed potential
Sleek topless travel exalts unfelt mist, road gloss moisture
Your life thickened fingers amorously grasp my thigh's tender
I agree to be owned, an ornament connects material pleasure
When the Polstar slows to crawl of steady tiger, stealthily slips
mid afternoon into carpark of your harbour side apartment
Disparagement wedges beneath my ribs, not having envisaged
aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug expression hugs your face, read in tight lipped pressure
I assert my plan to showcase new swimsuit may now be ruined
"Absolutely promise, gorgeous, there's no chance you'll regret."
My climbing premonition messages a gem of genuine
Ponytail splayed against mirrored wall of elevator
Ardent kissing's conclusion resurfaces your chivalrous
Door barely closed before I pouncing kitten paw you
Your flailing indicating a spare key cut for me, erroneous
"My doll, my dear desirable, the key is incompatible."
Mysterious grimace molests your face, causing me to frown
"Did the rum with lunch rupture your remaining brain cells?!"
Fatherly pats of my arms speak a decoy which confounds
Journey up two flights, could it be... heart in throat
Silenced keys caress sweat sodden peeled open palm
Your anticipating stare burns my back, unopposed
Oh, justify me - yes! - the door complies on demand
"Neighbour, do you like it?" superfluous inquiry smiling
Floating eight stories above glint of yacht metropolis
Invited by windows handing out reviving hold of horizon
Violent screams likely deafen you, interjected with frantic kisses
The armies they are massing:
They line and ring every shore, every strand bristling with
The deadliest of weapons;
The tocsin should be sounded,
And every cannon is round at its bore.
Fires rage unchecked and unopposed throughout the
Entire world, and mankind, in part, prepares hastily and needlessly
Yet more and crueler,
Harsher atrocities, cruelties
And machines and weapons of horrific war.
Bloody folly and empty vainglory to
Embark imprimis upon the roads to all-out war,
I greatly fear that these are man's fate,
And though I attempt to raise the alarm
With this writing of mine, yet I fear I may be too late!
"Too late! Too late! This, then, is mankind's fate!" It cruelly mocks,
Crows and caws as the ebon raven,
Croaking its dread prophecies in my ever-attentive ear.
It chills even my waiting
Tankard of frothy, frosty beer;
Yet no beer-drinker am I,
No quaffer and lover of ales and lagers.
And still I hold a lonely vigil,
And keep a silent, motionless, breathless watch on the swiftly storm-filling sky.
5. Making steel-enclosed aeronautical, aerodynamical vessels sealed
And brimming only with overmuch indiscriminating death:
Dual-edged, oiled with and soaking in an abundant poison bringing
Vicious death to the poisoner as well as the poisoned,
Man is a violent, self-destructive fool: Lame, impotent,
Obsessed and somehow impatient of vilest death.
Death for his opponent, his manufactured,
Fancied nemesis:
Nay; his NEMESES:
Yet not for himself, this horrid death he dreams of bringing to an imagined enemy only.
Additionally, he hath built and placed all his faith in titanic weaponry of
Awesome destructiveness,
Possessed of the devastating potency of an angry, rampaging god.
And these vile implements of utterest extirpation;
Encased within a very nation of steel tubular;
They are as wayward, incorrigible,
Marauding, plundering, malicious gargantuan
Monsters:
Great, cyclopean giants of a horribly puissant
Destroying fury
Bringing only disaster upon all heads;
Anarachic, ultra-liberal in there dark and evil slaughterousness:
Slaying even their maker, having no loyalty, cold and cruel:
Delighting only in death, wanton destruction, infamy and cruelty.
No man nor nation should possess these terrible weapons,
Yet too many do.
Form:
TEMPEST
Twin limestone tors thrust up through valley floor
Like isles or icebergs in a calm flat sea
Deep green save where shear rock can hold no spore
To spawn in fecund niche a vine or tree
Midday and all is calm untroubled, still
In tactile heat, all movement paused, restricted
No hint of ought that might disturb our will
A landscape placid, as in paint depicted
But look to sky the seeds of change are sown
There, signs portend a transformation near
Those gentle clouds mere cumuli have grown
To cumulonimbus, thrust t'ward stratosphere
And therein is enormous might enclosed
Stored energy, that soon must be released
Unleashing primal power unopposed
The laws of Nature never to be breached
Now lightning flickers o'er far mountain peaks
Faint thunder echoes round steep valley walls
The breeze accelerates and chills to speak
A warning of the fast approaching squall
The charge in air: has swallows energised
To move from circling low ‘tween tree and house
Their flight plans now are recklessly revised
To helix soaring t'ward the threatening clouds
A steady light drum roll on roofs - sound train
Starts gently then crescendo ends the prelude
Announcing clear the now impending rain
Prodigious splashes transformed to a deluge
The waves of rain traverse our panorama
Gauze curtains drawn by cosmic stage hand's might
Relentless, recasting features as of dark drama
Familiar scenes are shrouded, hid from sight
Now random electric arcs flare bleak view scanned
Cacophony of thunder rules all sound
Awesome darkness and confusion on the land
All visual anchors cast in shade spellbound
But in this world each cycle must be ended
Perhaps reverse events that had us unmoored
The drama, soon is played out and expended
Peace, light and order gradually restored
Known reference points can once again be seen
The twin rock peaks come clear through rain-washed air
Clouds make fine-spun white wraps for hills now green
We're reassured by prospects known and fair
Is this chronicle an allegoric tale
Of human life not granted free of strife
Would we choose bland existence without travail
Or fain confront the magnificent storms of life
The British had stumbled
in Boston the year last,
but came again for vengeance bold
to bleed freedom, damage untold,
with fire and with blast.
To New York their ships sailed
thirty thousand men strong,
and Washington, on islands spread,
awaited their coming with dread,
with his militia throngs.
Twenty thousand untrained souls,
armies came right for them,
divided, not knowing just where
the British would come, all were scared,
these untried minutemen.
But defenses they made,
on Long Island’s low hills,
Brooklyn Heights was their great redoubt,
of its defenses they could tout,
its battlements they filled.
But to Gravesend redcoats
would soon begin to land,
fifteen thousand went unopposed,
and on to Flatbush they did go,
trained soldiers to a man.
When Washington heard this
fifteen hundred he sent,
bolstered that front to six thousand
to try and defend the homeland,
from being torn and rent.
But the militia planned
to block hilly passes,
the British has to pass through these,
where patriots would make them bleed,
then fall back to assess.
But this plan came to naught
when local localists
spoke up of the Jamaica Road,
a small pass of which few would know,
a force marched for it, brisk.
British general Clinton
divided up his troops,
for Jamaica his main force went,
scattered the five defending men,
marching in a great loop.
Grant attacked to distract
at the pass of Gowanus,
while Hessians marched for Flatbush Pass,
where General Sullivan held fast,
to match them thrust for thrust.
But then Britian’s main force
from Jamaica arrived,
Attacked the rebels from the rear,
while in front the Hessians drew near,
the trap sprung, rebels died.
Sullivan fought two fronts,
and knew that he’d be beat,
now crumbling from the attack,
he ordered his men to fall back,
in orderly retreat.
Many didn’t make it,
some got the bayonet,
Sullivan himself was captured,
but despite this the fight endured,
on the right it raged yet.
General Grant’s distraction
became full-fledged assault,
but the rebels had held the line,
under Lord Stirling they did find,
and made the British halt...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
...I didn’t know what I expected then,
was I ungrateful to say such a thing
here in Heaven, the grand home of the King?
Instead a knowing look came to both men,
Philippe took a breath, and then said, “My friend,
I had just such thoughts, back when I had died,
like you I wondered, was it all a lie?
But I say there are real advantages
to those who learned from the Tree of Knowledge,
that Heaven-born will always be denied.
“They never will really comprehend good,
to them goodness is just the way things are,
they’ve never known evil, or felt its scars,
they can’t appreciate things as they should,
it never really will be understood.
They cannot value choosing to do right,
it’s not something they’ve ever faced in life,
in a real way, they are somewhat like kids,
not because of anything that they did,
but with no darkness, who can love the light?
“They know paradise, but do ask yourself
does God himself know that evil exists?
And like you does he not know that it persists?
That unopposed it can drag you to hell?
And did we not choose to fight it as well?
He declares we were made in his likeness,
but the Heaven-born are denied all this,
they cannot know God the way that we do,
because like Him, we are able to choose,
we are able to take up His great test.
“That would be His gift to people like us,
to understand evil’s force too fully,
to chose to defy it, unbound and free,
to see the sense in all His holy laws,
and like Him, to freely take up the cause.
They know no pain, they have been spared the rod,
which is why we remain closer to God,
the price paid for never facing the sword
is not comprehending God’s true rewards,
we’ve made journeys that they can never trod.”
At this Ras just shrugged, “He says it better,
But when He comes around, we never know.
For now I think it is time that we go
To your cottage out there on the heather.
Your wife’s already there, go and get her.”
In all of this time I had not conceived
that my late wife was here, waiting patiently,
and to find her their… like me, young again…
we may have created some Heaven-born then,
I guess that was just how things had to be.
Special Note: This poem is a satrical piece about working at a certain fast food
restaurant.
-------
The blackened moat surrounds the scene;
The castle gently rests;
The crown is in its rightful place,
Inside the emerald chest.
So all is well and all is fair,
Until a servant spots
A lonely mav'rick at the gate
That's followed by the flock.
The lobbyists are mounting as
Rebellious tensions rise;
But if they want to gain their own,
Then they must read the skies.
The skies hold every answer that
Can help them make the choice;
The able ears that guard the front
Will have to hear each voice.
They all cry out the same demand:
"The crown and nothing more!"
Their countenance was of revolt:
"Prepare, you pigs, for war!"
The servant runs to tell the knights
Who then inform the king;
"If it's a war they really want,
Then war they shall receive."
"Remove the weapons from the fire
And arm yourselves with them!
We'll fight until the sun is gone!
Or nay! We'll fight to there'nd beyond.
Until their blood's condemned!
The battle then ignites;
The army bravely fights
From flesh to steel.
"No vic'try till
The rush has left our sights!"
The knights are off the mound.
The front is losing ground.
"I have a plan,"
So says a man.
"Let's give them all a crown."
The project seems to please
The over-cherished pleas.
"Alright, set forth
Your mystic course
And bring them to our knees."
The smith begins to realize
The wishes of his lord,
He forges crown to phony crown
And gives away the horde.
The renegades are backing down
And holding up their blades;
"It's almost like they didn't plan
On making any trades."
"It seems as if they only want
To feel as though they won;
Will they not know the falsery
And think the battle's done?"
"Please, your highness, do not fret;
This happens everywhere
Supposed lions always bite
Before they 'come aware."
And so the war is now complete,
The castle, unopposed;
And after all is put away,
We hang this banner: "Closed".
In seventeen sixty nine a child was born
in Corsica, Genoa's former vassal state.
Prior to his birth, his land had been war-torn,
Paoli's resistance did his birth predate.
At school, his geometrical talent was inborn,
and he was tutored by none other than Laplace.
For his accent, his peers at school laughed him to scorn,
but fortune would elevate him from grass to grace.
With his much older heartthrob he tied the knot;
much to the chagrin of his own dear family.
For the heart of Josephine he relentlessly fought,
and at Chateau de Malmaison they lived happily.
Later he would choose a military career
that would take him beyond the Corsican frontier.
France's revolution saw to his glorious rise,
when at Toulon, he took royalists by surprise.
To Egypt he led a dual expedition
of a military and scientific mission.
To France he returned and sacked the directory,
taking charge of the affairs of state and treasury.
Europe did contend with him in seven coalitions;
at Austerlitz he subjugated two nations,
at Marengo, Austria on her bended knees fell,
at Jena-Auerstadt, Prussia to victory bade farewell.
At Borodino, Russia met her nemesis,
as her vanquished forces saw their paralysis.
At Ligny, Blucher like a beaten canine fled
with the terribly smitten forces he once led.
Portugal's sovereign lord to distant Brazil ran,
when like an invincible lord he came to his realm.
The emperor he feared, and made no military plan;
thus he paved the way for him to ascend his helm.
But despite his triumphs, his weakness was exposed.
At Rolica, his troops a major set back saw.
From Leipzig he did to Elba's island withdraw,
from whence in 1815 he returned unopposed.
Russia's wintry plains did his grand armee deplete,
making his troops vulnerable to a future defeat.
After the famous battles in which he gloried,
his great ambition at Waterloo was buried.
I cant seem to find the happy
antedote to cool my negative
consequences--- malignant non standards
freud pennance desires to capitulate-re
the never know mores so the forni fun reins can be
pulled taughtly somewhere
inside lives a man who cares----simple
kind to all--pleasures akin to
mellow moon moments--get the
fish jist--uncomplicated---neurogladiolas
with leafs outstretched to catch
the morns love rays---fully watered
premise to a concubine wife unopposed
like all fetters released free to
abound under alcohol laden pods
in a swaying sequence water ballet peaceful in its
aloneness yet always ever seeking the never
true part ne'r so patiently ignoring---
Cancer quest staring you in the face
but cant be seen---know knows no
knowns eyes closed bloodshot--wishing
hard to overwhelmed joy visions of what could be--I know theres a palace in me that gushes being is a river raft of giving
tides unabated for the abandon quits warm of function
but in pure feet sense cant save
to swim in the same antidirection plan for a
single sec hard to find 30 days notice
self eviction would help but then whered i be
in the tunnel of soothing nonfixtures
riding on nosense syllables that
now sag to be a faraway foreign language
my own fault alcohol only a seed cloud
the deeper I think the more dense I look
in the wrong semidirection too quiet and
yet unyielding to promote a sick sense of
perserverance uncompounded like a gemstone past
its prime on the open market a bill past due
repossessed
folded catalogued drawn drawered in a
tightshell outcast lowbrow miniscule
catapult nurtured nonethe selfless retro
inconvenience breech birth brain divided
gray tipped shark heart profiled in opposite filling manikin lifestyles
Don’t you see where you are
There was a time you wouldn’t tolerate
People thinking for themselves
You pass your judgments
And you made decisions to never last
You were the dominant voice
The ideology behind every mans choice
You believed in what you knew
And you knew no more than what you were told
We’ve come too far near for change
You were the leader
You were a generation of unopposed cheaters
You assassinated
You told stories of finer fabrication
You fought for patriotism, you fought for pride
Seldom did you put your integrity aside
You made no rights to be considered civil
You preyed on anyone who was thought to be liberal
You expressed your Marxist theories
You denied the working class it’s values
You sat me on the back of the bus
You told your children to fear me
We’ve come too far near for change
You formed conglomerates
And biased political party’s
In 63 you showed very little sympathy
Oh how you shook the wind from me
You told me I was only a third of a person
You scolded that my days would worsen
You defined anti-Semitism in less than four years
And before this, you path a trail of tears
Walk with me this way
You know things will not be okay
God bless a cease fire
For a present day Vietnam provokes war this day
We’ve come too far near for change
So mothers and children
Fathers and pilgrims
Settle the sky’s
For there are no frontiers left to pry
The rivers in which you wade
Have been drained too tire
From a followers coming of age
Script your life, live your days
Press your quill to this page
Is this what you ask for
A patent at your door
No more Marconi’s
No more hero’s or displeasures
Only a world lost and lonely
Are we too far near for change
Oh! Erato,
Divine Muse of the poetry of love,
I beseech you to inspire me today
For
I aspire for HIM to write
HIM: CUPID, the son of Venus
Goddess of beauty, and of Mercury, the cunning
Messenger of Gods.
Guide my pen, oh, tender Muse,
I implore you, since a worthy hymn for HIM I
Wish to write,
For this sweet winged-tyrant of mortals’ hearts,
This merciless despot of mankind.
The looks of his mother he has taken, and
The shrewdness of his father
Thus
Irresistible forever has remained and
Easily into our souls, uninvited infiltrates,
Paralyzing each of our resistance.
Then, unopposed, marches on:
Conquering every heart,
Subjugating every will,
Dominating every mind, and
Becoming the absolute master
Of our being.
No armies are able to resist his charms
No troops are willing against him to fight,
Instead, they are:
Readier to embrace the shadow of death than
To live under the Sun of the living.
Readier to be defeated by Cupid’s sweet arrows than
To emerge victorious.
Readier to exist in shameful infamy than
To claim fame eternal.
Easy for me is now to comprehend,
The poet of old times, who describes you, CUPID,
As being “Invincible in battle.”
Yes, indeed you are INVINCIBLE,
For no mortal- no matter how powerful he is-
Be he a king or just a simple soldier,
Is willing to take arms against you on the
Battlefield of love
But
He eagerly his soul trades for just
A probable morsel of happiness, a dim hope of
Love eternal,
And thus,
Without a single blow to give, he willingly,
SURRENDERS!
©Demetrios Trifiatis
06 June 2021