Who shall tame for me
Times swift-footed dash
Into nostalgia-filled realms;
Future-past regretful clash?
Waging war upon my span
Leaves me with a tearful shell
Of the once-nectarous stretch
Of days unmarred by baleful spell.
And time’s fleet-footed sprint
Into oblivions sad and rueful
Still paints such a dull picture
Of prospects dim and doleful.
Well, hey there!
I remember you, Christmas.
You’re the sights, sounds and tastes
of my dearest yesterdays.
Your hugs and laughter
have not ghostly passed
they are part of us - we’re imprinted.
Let’s dance and laugh at obsidian oblivions
celebrating as one
until time itself comes undone.
.
.
A song for this:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_19.mp3
It speaks of loss and vermilion
It speaks of everything and eternity
Shadows reek of dead things n burnt dreams
Shadows hide the faces of the world
The truth from the light, the madness
In houses of civility, things of industry
In the deepest night, shadows linger, creep
Shadows cover our misbegotten deeds
It speaks of loss n suffering
All hidden things in plain sight
Of oblivions needs, righteous creed
Shadows speak; truth where lies flower
Shadows speak, righteous riddles
Shadows reek of decay, lost power
It speaks of the past in vermilion hues
It speaks of everything, eternity n deities
Shadows reek of dead things n burnt leaves
Shadows hide the faces of the world, sublime!
I sit and watch the twilight
In vaulted heaven burns brittle stars
I feel the rush of wind
It cares the ash of pine
I feel the movement of the earth
In rivers of darkness flow
I feel the cosmic birth
How fragile we are
I know the tilt of the universe
In seas of oblivions void
I touch the ground it trembles
I see what is in between the fragments
In moments beyond thought
I see echoes of images from afar
How fragile we are
I taste the abstract firmament
I watch the collapse of a neutron star
In coldest nights of darkest wind
I feel the ties that bind slip away
It carries the filaments of decay
I know the passage of soul
How fragile we all are
In movements of the metronome
In oceans of reality
I feel the slipping away
I wish I could stay
In the aftermath of life
I see how fragile we all are
In shadow's tomb—
A dim, aimless flicker...
Void's grip, timeless
claims all.
Fantomsound: life's song is just a cognition in the null.
Rain, pain—
Stardust, dust, flesh
patternless on oblivions loom.
Decay's dance a molderwaltz,
Fingers grasp at phantoms
no hope
Peace in the abyss's open arms. Not…
Unveiled—darkness, despair's shroud
enigma's veil.
Hearts, no soul, toll; unpaid.
Dreams surrendered.
Woe's tale on wastesphere's icy breath.
Void's sigh,
Sun bleeds on the endless fight.
Souls adrift, yearning
churning, burning
Accept, the void's silent
starlit song mute.
From nothing, is nothing, in nothing /
to nothing, for nothing
Fade to black...
In the tone of shadows
a sorrow felt
thoughts take flight
tomorrow is in past sight
destructions dark flower
bloom into flame marks
the hour out of hand
for a fraction and a season, of darkest hours
blurred in the inner eye
oblivions dreams are torn
shadows in silent screams
something takes flight
futures a parasite
In distractions admire deep
is the deepest night, sorrow
the creation of life's deepest memories
blurred in the eyes of oblivion
oblique imagery dream
the dream the tone of shadow
the shade of sorrow
silent screams infinity!
Angel wait in detonated forms
black ragged thorns wrapped
around stained cruciforms…
Singular saints dark faint
forms hide in corners not
washed in candlelight
as crows sit in irregular rows.
Take flight from skeletal spines
high in some ancient cathedral spire
encrusted in black oblique forms…
The distance along the seams
of reality stretching high
into some deserted
distant American midnight!
Lost in thoughts of empire
that see the continental fires blaze
forever as the clock strikes the hour…
Of midnight, as the angels wait
in abstraction of oblivions forms,
on thrones wrapped in thorns.
Deep in eternal night
watch the funeral pyre climb
higher around the cruciforms.
Distance dire angels wait
in that oblique obsolete and desolate form,
black ragged thorns wrapped
around blackened cruciforms…
A faded billboard
boldly claims the coming reign along
the highways of some
Mad American Empire…
await war with desire…!
I always wake up early hours at dawn
To continue some works undone
These hours help me concentrate
In whatever I do or make.
It’s hard to do assigned tasks or think
Especially after dinner in the evening
I feel the need to close my weary eyes
My bed seems dragging me early at night.
But when it comes to writing
It’s unexplainable force of thing
It awakens my agility of mind
To focus, think deeply is sublime.
Once I’ve turned on my notebook
To write a title, I'm caught...hooked
As my brain releases ideas in words
Eyes on screen, race on my fingers.
While deeply engrossed in my composition
Surroundings and time - my oblivions
As all senses are awake, energy booms
Passion I think is my consciousness falcrum.
March 12,2022 3:20pm
(Not for conciousness falcrum contest. Came late)
Which one can muster?
now?
lines
red, blue, black ... in colours
oblivions?
always same
metamorphosis
like a shepherd of one sheep
who has colours
to brush it to consternation
if out of one thousand
brushes
a light to be absorbed
may be only forty six and seven
or indigo
poets are scarce today
because nothing succour
is honey here
safe perhaps, locomotions
twisted how?.
It is a tale of love
concerning an event
of a story once
upon a time beholden
nature as it is
couldn't resist such a mystery
the forests, rivers moon and mountains
were resonating to consternations
of which site once upon found
if it were a golden search
the world would have been reporting
a narration may be concerning her own
ah! life were seeming to the side
of the air, like a new fangle adventure
was it all a beating of a true love?
nobody would tell
since the earth as it is
couldn't be rounded to such ersatz
nor all trees and their leaves
could in any way be lost to oblivions
no, nor horizon heavy with our
dreams could relinquish so far
to demand of tis a feeling
no bird, no catapillar, no termite
ever has a merit or ectacy and easness
to fancy so
now it is asked "what is the fate of such
a contemporary?" the answer is to faint
sooner or later with a tower
of a next rainbow coloured still love kind.
Oranges and oil
old smells like burning wires
Black cryptic desires
An iron hand upon the velvet
oranges and oil
static noise white hot glows
Softly in the night
Ominous
opulence
oblivions volume
even higher
oranges and oil
Blue oxygen runs
onyx tubes
brighter memories expire
An old man
a dying prize fighter
Conspires
An Eminence of oranges and oil
As objects
ornate
Obsolete
regulate
tangled in Barbwire
oranges and oil
a burnt smell
like twisted wires
deep infinite fire
visions of white noise glows lighter
Of oblique imagery resonates
An old man with an iron hand
Wrapped in velvet fire
Memories desire
as objects oily
with afterthoughts
designates
detonates
resonates
With essences old
Of oranges and oil
Shadows darkest upon oblivions within hibernal hiding,
Decadent dining pleasures of pandemonium’s presiding...
Waiting is Hades Lord of delivering diabolic deception,
Enslaved souls are surrounding sacrificial seductions...
Falling Angels of abandonment amidst condemnation,
Suffering in silent sorrows are anguished and afflicted.
omniscient presence
light emanating his love
jesus saving me
_____________________________________
...this verse can be read backward...
Evil Escaping
Hiding hibernal within oblivions upon darkest shadows,
Presiding pandemonium’s of pleasures dinning decadent...
Diabolic deception delivering of Lord Hades is waiting,
Seductions sacrificial surrounding are souls enslaved...
Condemnation amidst abandonment of Angels falling,
Afflicted and anguished are sorrows silent in suffering.
presence omniscient
love his emanating light
me saving jesus
___________________________________
July.06.2020
My Faith Poetry
Sponsored by~ Regina Riddle
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Before my breath touches the morning air,
My thoughts in taciturnity upon suppression of solitudes…
Inhibition initiates interdiction within the hibernal hollow,
Where time a frozen fortress amidst the saturninity still.
The covertness of oblivions obedient in their absolution,
Daunting dorms of doldrums debilitate in their debacle…
Where the vaporous voids echo in their virginal vacuums,
The muted madness mandates the asphyxiated air.
Segregated silent sorrows suffice within my chaotic cage.
Where ignorance incubates immoral idols imposing…
The hellion hordes encroach the silent sentinels standing,
The laconism within my heart erupts with forbidden fury.
The silence sings with thunder as a tear touch’s the ground,
My empty eternal eyes dormant amongst horizons hid…
My mind in a decadent declination before walls of illusions,
And thus before a wounded wake, I am trapped in tangled time.
June.23.2020
Reflection in Silence
Sponsored by~ Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
I once had your love which sailed on the shores of sorrows,
Broken hearts did shove the tears thru echoes of morrows…
For it is only time, that I have to find you on Cupids arrows,
It would be a crime if our love escaped the nefarious narrows;
Guardians of time, give me entrance so I may find my love again,
For I shall climb the portals of passion to stop the ravaged rain…
My love is lost amidst chambers of time and obtuse Oblivions,
In a frigid frost I circle and navigate thru loves morbid meridians;
Where calamitous clocks hold back the hemispheres of devotion,
And providence blocks the wheels of love and eternal emotion…
Father time of infinity bring me back to the day that we first met,
Restore our affinity of ambient amour before the Time Lords forget.
June.09.2020
Time Poetry
Sponsored by
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Within the delegate thunder that opens portals to the mind,
Opiates navigate the cerebral conundrum of confusion...
Virtual landscapes exist amidst temporary voiceless vortexes,
Temples of time and thought in a quixotic quarantine…
Oblivious oblivions open upon their abstract apprehensions,
One second or a thousand years of anxiety and exotic endeavors...
Hallucinogens hibernating within the unobservant unconscious,
Creative cognitions contaminate the vaulted vaporous voids…
The dreamer's dream of their voyeuristic voyages and false realities,
Fragile forever is fainting with facades fermented upon illusions...
Meditation amongst speculative storms of the penal gland rising,
The Glass Menagerie still stands until it shatters like a lost dream.
May.18.2020
In the fragility of dreams
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
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