Perversely Poems

Your anonymous blog

Your anonymous blog

To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,

but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.

You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.

You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.

With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.

poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.

literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.

To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.

— Zumwalt (2011)  (used by permission from zumpoems.com)

How long must he wait?

How perversely exciting it used to be, in
the months after you made your decision
to abandon this hopeless situation
meaning [rueful laughter] the UK, not so much
the shattered bones of you and me

I was still hanging on, a faithful puppy
getting up early and heading out to Heathrow
to provide the welcome committee
and then I went straight to work? and where
did you go on those days? 

I forget you had other friends, and
that strangely I wasn't the epicentre
of your multiverse

30 years have passed
the children you had with Wolfgang cycle shorts
may even have children now, but
Facebook won't furnish me with that information

On those airport journeys I always listened to
the Blood on the Tracks cassette
I found in the office 'library', a source of much wonder
which also included rare volumes, magazines
and actual vinyl. They didn't appreciate what they had
and neither, here comes the punch-
line, did I

Upsets and Underdogs

Kiwi Cricket's Shangri La...


"Can still hear the deafening din of the Indian crowd chagrin.

Stunned shell shocked silence at mandarins' sins.

Yet somehow still so loud

Like thunder down under in the proud

Land of the long white cloud.

Daring to dream of derring do plunder.

Upsets’ unctuous umami.

Shocks’ sumptuous serendipity.

Cast asunder as against the odds.

Hallowed Gods' anguished..felled & fallowed.

Kiwis vanquished the voodoo of Indian home hoodoo.

This purple patch, so perversely plush...got a hunch.

Would make even Prince blush, proud as ribena punch.

Sporting nirvanas cavorting with crepuscular career nadirs.

Can’t pillory this Test expedition, like the Everest conquest & Hillary.

Black cap sedition…Indian perdition.

Tradition debunked by spunky funk.

Not once, not twice but thrice.

Teeming..awash with gleaming beaming white.

Emancipation...damnation & salvation.

The Indian’s cardinal sin…not being able to play spin.

No way you can naysay.. just 

Another Bill Murray Groundhog day.

As we learned..the underdog winner.. we yearned had turned.

Fat cats burned & stats spurned..into a dog's dinner."

Anticipating Diversity

Diversity explores
both resonant and opposing positions
with nearly predative anticipation

And such perversely curious
reverse revisioning diversity deplores 
with monoculturing anxiety
quietly crossed
and boldly violated boundaries
of personal
and familial
and municipal
and EarthTribal
indigenous integrity

Sacred space expands 
mindfully perceived
this Business As Traumatically Usual place
too lose/lose dark
and too win/win blind
to keep faith with dimming starlight

Celestial Glitter Rivered Ways
majestic
yet ominously silent 
shunned Spirits
of ancient silvered sentient bright

Yet momentary mortal time
feels reflective light received
sufficiently reassuring
mythically alluring 
for transient transportive pleasure
tenderly insufficient
for full-ripened organic measure
depleting dissonant self-disenfranchising
failure to complete 
integrity's potential Paradise.

Of Sallow Pallor

Trust is an oak tree with shallow roots.
so very treacherous in windy weather.
I feel as though I'm glued to the floor;
pinned like a moth to an insect display.

I wish to leave this horrible evil place, 
run far away into the cold, dark night.
In the flickering shadows of mankind
sympathetic words are a honeycomb, 
sweet to the soul; healing to the heart.

Dreams rise and fall like lunar tides;
engrossing thoughts flood the brain; 
as blood through old varicose veins.
Flotsam strewn about dying fields as
jetsam falls from darker, foggy skies.

Face rises to the sun, a sallow pallor.
Vultures perched, perversely hawing;
a flag is folded in presentation style;
roses tossed onto a shiny new casket.
The eve of one's quietus has arrived.

Again Is a Foolish Animal

Again is a foolish animal
Being led to the slaughter.
Again, Man. By this, war-times'
Ogrous corral-master.

This is its devouring site.
Quag's miasmic, pounds, heaves
Through which patriotic ritual
A blood sacrifice receives.

Tame herds, firstly driven mad.
Perversely made to appear
To sprout a horn; devilish tail;
Magnifies the other's fear.

Spion the Beauty Betwixt the Travesty Kop

Context,

Boer War , South Africa

The Battle for Spion Kop

Slag van Spioenkop

Ladysmith , Natal

23 January 1900

British forces under the command

Sir Redvers Buller

Dug in to take the higher ground
on Spion Kop 

In order to engage the Boer army 
encircling below

Lead by General Louis Botha

The rest is written down in history, folklore and infamy

And a famous football club's stand named after it

Dedicated to it's fallen
2nd Battalion Lancashire Fusseliers

243 Dead
1250 Casualties

I write this only because,
i myself visited this hilltop graveyard paid homage and knelt before it's unkept memorial upon it

And instead of feeling what i thought
i should be the travesty, horror and 
utter futility of war

And whilst leaving took 1 final glance over my shoulder at the vista and panorama only to be over come by the sheer unadulterated serenity and beauty 

And i left perversely thinking what a beautiful place to die 

Death has a hell of a lot to live up too

Walk Pervesely By Lame Excuse

Now a day's I find everywhere
good advice from everyone
-at an office, at a dramatic stage,
-at the political stage, at night talk show on TV
-at a speech of Friday Masque,
Or at every religious place
-at a crowded bus
-at rail junction or at bazaar conversation
Where I go find and hear good advice

Now a day's our generation is really
concerned for good something
-at the poetic pensive diction
-at the rational syntax of littérateur
-at the argue of a sophist
-at the eloquence of eloquent
Every I stay with good knowledge
and carry good advice something fresh

Now a day's
You, he and I are good counsel!
By this way we and everyone love to write and speak
the something good and goodness only,
like to advise others barefacedly!
But forget that advice for the time of self doing
when everyone is asked to implement
and walked perversely by the lane of a lame excuse!


-07.05.2018 Chattogram

Horrific

Cognitive disruptions becoming commonplace
In a world where decay is perversely normalized
A society so infatuated with chasing
the next dopamine fix
Fiending for a superficial recognition

The days of beneficial discourse
And genuine regard for the well-being of others
Have withered away into a most malicious wind
One that carries good intentions into graves
And perpetuates the degradation
Of those who, in waning hours
Might have been able to reverse
The course of an insidious massacre

Saline Comforting

Skating thru life on a frozen memory,
a mirror pond of icy regret
Blaming shadows for the clinging, cold misery — 
no reason given why he left
Just an empty place remains,
a hole in the heart
Smiling still face inside a silver locket,
picture that punctures
You loved those engaging conversations;
the prickly sweet teasing, low-cooing lip squeezing
Now it’s just an echo chamber
of fallen tears ... sullen sound 
of a hollow, tarnished ring
With naked desire,
you perversely bathe in saline comforting
Cool, wet sadness so soothing
Do a pillow dive drown each night,
suffocated thoughts in the dwindling light
Mourning cries heard every dawn,
misty grieving you arise
Only lonely sheets take pity on your plight
Unbidden tears mired in Rx reverie,
pharmaceutical relief only can give you sleep
Drowsy escape from the pain ... 
suspended animation from the emotional suffering
Unrequited love leaves a permanent stain
So soothing is this liquid sadness,
it lets you fall deeper from a hurtful reality
Saline comforting is how you dream,
always hoping
tropical tears will melt this frozen memory

Postmortem Observations On a Very Old Cat

You wore your neuroses
Like badges of Honor:
A Non-Apology creature,
- Like certain Candidates I know -
Never a trip to the Vet's;
I valued the flesh of my arms too much -
Never outside;
Except to eat grass
Throw up inside,
Despite it all,
A life stubbornly lived
Into profound old age; 
Most spent asleep.
- This is your legacy; of which I'm sure you were perversely proud.

Thus, one day
After 17 years of pure existence
You passed on while climbing the stairs.

Maybe one day I'll follow,
Slipping away between
My lower and upper worlds;
Halted midway between Past and Present.

Maybe we'll meet one day in the middle,
Old friend;
Never think no one grieves for Thee.

Oblivion

I look at the world differently now...
what could have been is no more,
time has crept upon my life
seizing precious gifts given to me
taking away life and leaving emptiness,
no more brightness, only dull colors remain.
Lifeless statues litter the terrain behind me,
emotionless cold stares are all that is left
of what could have been. No, 
what should have been, damn it!
There is more time to go...
months and years of dull grey
crushing my hope and my life.
Oh my god! Where the hell did it all go so wrong?
This hopeless feeling never goes away,
it squeezes the breath from my existence,
no light is seen at the end of this tunnel,
no grand prize, no congratulations,
only dull grey emptiness surrounds me,
it is all that I have left,
it has become me!
Time ticks loudly and perversely in my ears,
it crushes my spirit,
it sickens my soul.

12/09/2015

For "Oblivion" contest sponsored by Rob Carmack.

Alien Messiah

Alien Messiah
A recital of miserly contastrophists
led by a figure of churlish meanness
speaking rhetoric of the pacifist 
maniacal god complex of fierceness  

chorus
pledge allegiance to the alien messiah
like Caligula, a self proclaimed living god
power hungry deviant like Allah 

with grandiose gestures mollifies the crowd 
no iniquity into his spoken words
His hellish plans he now  boldly avowed
the mad man in the house has sole control

chorus

Total disregard for black letter law
driven double speak of the deceitful
Iron fist tyrant We should of foresaw
Orwellian society now pitiful 

Chorus

Perversely satisfied with global order
mask comes off in this toxic atmosphere
like black death from an exploding mortar
a menstrual rainbow society is here 

chorus(2)

A Quarrel of Friends

Things of value and much importance
Can tend to separate friends in accordance
The family, the life and are one's happiness
The thought of wrangles with unexpected origins
And throwing minds so blown away as by storm
Finding peace in what is to perform
False wisdom from envy and selfish ambition
Wishing to have what your friend has which is bringing collision
This thinking otherwise, taming totally your lies
About which is impossible, made this being possible in truth so washable
What a quarrel of friends, to tell the truth that offends
Friendship is turning dark and perversely so black
And you cannot see them in front only at your back
Turning this friendlier, thought of whose are interior
Should we be this quarrelsome in an audience full of applause?

A Quarrel of Friends

Things of value and much importance
Can tend to separate friends in accordance
The family, the life and are one's happiness
The thought of wrangles with unexpected origins
And throwing minds so blown away as by storm
Finding peace in what is to perform
False wisdom from envy and selfish ambition
Wishing to have what your friend has which is bringing collision
This thinking otherwise, taming totally your lies
About which is impossible, made this being possible in truth so washable
What a quarrel of friends, to tell the truth that offends
Friendship is turning dark and perversely so black
And you cannot see them in front only at your back
Turning this friendlier, thought of whose are interior
Should we be this quarrelsome in an audience full of applause?

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