Short Fermenting Poems

Listen to poem:

Brilliant start will depart
with storm, tempest fermenting.
Red at dusk fomenting,
brewing, red sky delight!
Cheers folks! Let's party!...

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I am
fermenting in tedium
emotionally over-reactive
frequently inappropriate
irresponsible but trustworthy
discontentedly powerless
and frequently overwhelmed....

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sweet 
            saccharine, sugary 
     dulcifying, tasting, adoring 
confection, savory, tangy, acidity 
fermenting, distasting,  frowning 
           vinegary, astringent 
                         sour



Date written: 05/13/2023...

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Dill pickle hated him so
Because he stank badly
Dill pickle screamed just go
Blue cheese wept thus sadly
When I leave the fridg, bro
I'll stink ever much mo
Dill pickle grew older
Fermenting like a bozo
Then opening his holder
A stink scent deathblow...

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soft hands forbidden 
rage lives here
fermenting in greed and hate 

too clever by half 
he knows naught 
conceitedly he postures 

tightly in control 
power mad
untouched by pitiful cries 

a childhood denied
forever 
haunted by what could have been...

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These are people?
These are people.
On the television.
I need redundance
To remind myself
I surmise my sight
Perceives wraith’s 
I peer through them
Clean glass onions
Fermenting the soup
Soaking up malleable
Lonely hearts breaking
Like glass that melts
In the quiescent horizon...

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It was after the times of mules
Irish slave contracts
Inside of the states of minds
Of those who fled from effort
Abandoning life in infancy
Creating devastation
And fermenting grew, cresting above skies
Literatures from slaves
Unwilling to begin Roman tongues
A time before the Republic...

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O loving, tender spring,

   full of growing things,

Why is there winter in your eyes?

Your quick visit has hurried 

   your slow, fermenting graces ----

Everywhere, far and wide

   blinding snow!

   blowing endless white!

No more your balmy breeze

   to lead me outside!...

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effete
    yet
      resplendent
effervescent
        svelte
         like
never -the- less
              perverse
serene
in
her 
    secret  
       depths
fermenting
the
fantastic-
          her
           essence
enters
the
   ether
     ethereal
yet
exists
     in
       imagination...

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Those drunken nights and barroom fights
  now seed my fallowed ground

Where women spurned and lovers churned
  rule memory’s lost and found

Those wasted days and sleepless years
  like wine have aged within

Fermenting each unwritten page
  —reharvesting my sins

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)...

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“Tis pain not concern, life in earth hath become off as vague scorn. 
      The poison of asp drips ahead of her tongue…her honeycomb hath dried… 

       Life sourest as wine gone wild of natural fermenting, 
       wrong of love she chose extreme delusion ere her love of truth. 
       Loose the yoke, chaotic, psychosis, strife let life's people renew.”...

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The Rubaiyat still murmurs misty-sad
Of youth’s romantic dreams we all have had
And lost, along the years of laughter, love, and tears, 
Like once-sweet wine fermenting bitter, bad.

Is mere self-pity poetry or art?
Fitzgerald thought so, and he squeezed the heart
Until he bled the pain that fell like wine-red rain,
Proud passion punctured by a poet’s dart....

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gaunt ghost jolting
lusty lurch fermenting
felon higgledy-piggledy fostering
busted hurly-burly blistering
hoisted emotions hankering
strife strove, surging

damped death drooling
after ghost galloping
scared fate sobbing

at mystic margin:
pulpy pace shrinking
death met banshee

callous war's conceived
death feigning defeat.
          19:12:12:08:56...

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I hear those eyes
calling me 
quaking lips touch to kiss
trembling flesh is again refreshed

you kindle fire
arouse the pyre
abandon lines
two entwine

indiscreet
expectation
horizons crossed 
delivered relief emancipation 

my dear
the vista’s clear
two as twins entangle

but fruit rots
sweetness dies
falling from
fermenting vine...

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skeptical swollen sore
garnishing gaunt gores
damped dungs dripping
flawed flavor fermenting
airy atmosphere puking
taunted translation trailing

burnished body brooding
felony fluid fiddling
dark desires dangling

scared emotions moistened
sumptuous sanity slackened
luminous lust darkened

amaranthine ambiguity flickering
vile vision smirking.
     19:12:01:12:13...

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Like wine in storage,
The cellar of my perception ages
Buried deep in its recesses
The past and future abandoned 
  —time no longer the vintner

Fermenting in the immediacy
Of the chosen instant
And distilling in the perfection 
Of the perpetual present
  —the moment reopens
 
       Bringing with it everything
          —and nothing at all

(Garrett Hill Pennsylvania: January, 2014)...

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your sword, my destiny
roaming 
the length of my lattice 
the punctuation of persistence
amid perseverance
alone you allow
the allure 
an acumen of accumulation 
resting upon my once dormant domain
thru such, 
a window 
I 
but a reflection 
of your moon
living/loving 
as one 
with the sun
a lover of fortitude and valor
fermenting in your fortress
not allowed to ever be outshone...

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An opened valve of tears
lusting a smoldering lament,
vocals vanish from the ears,
fermenting an anger of consent.
With powerless loss of reason,
the self inflicted curse of hope,
a vile taste of treason,
dreams shattered in myope.
Striding through a darkened tunnel
the light flickers less bright.
Squashed down through on life's funnel,
disappearing out of sight,
caught out by the blistering pace of romantic plight!...

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I think nothing of the insecure 
mistruths that inhabit your sight.
Fermenting like aged peaches and rye placed 
upon an invisible shelf.
To question oneself is to admit that nothing 
can be known, is truth
 in itself.
Long forgotten pasts hibernate in the mind 
obscuring the view of our eyes, 
pulsating, thriving to survive 
their primitive habitat.
Overloading your image of reality 
to contain their misconceptions, 
once known truths....

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Don’t bury me in an eco-pod
for I am biodegradable already.
Don’t bury me in the earth,
or animal feces I might birth
nor in lead
because while lead is harmless to the dead
it is after all lead.
Don’t bury me under stone,
beneath a stone all alone.
Bury me in fermenting compost,
you may leave my feet 
sticking out just for laughs.
Yes wormy me, good an
germy, awfully squirmy,
until all is dank and smelly,
the I will grow roses 
out of my belly....

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The Elect Lady
~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven in earth hath
become hell as woman scorn. The poison
of asps drips forth of her tongue…her honeycomb
hath dried… 
Life sourest as wine gone foul of sweet fermenting. 
Amiss of love,  a strong delusion of her was chosen, ere 
her love of truth. Loose the yoke, chaotic, 
psychosis,  Pharaoh let her people go.”~


For and in Honor of  Wandering Butterfly
And Contest: Romeo and Juliet; How tragic is Love...

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Midnight screams
Fill my dreams,
For peace my mind 
Violently fiens

Trapped in its focus
Of lies that are told
Fermenting with mold 
As I grow old

Drowning in sorrow 
And swimming in regret
Realities window  casting
Shadows I cant forget

The clock ticks by 
As I sit and cry
Whispering words 
In forms of goodbye

Hollow sounds
Lurk beneath me
This daily dance
I cant break free

Depression rules 
Everything I am
At the end
My final stand...

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Faces everywhere
in trailer hitches
and granite spar
Jelling dragons sit and stare.

Faces everywhere
in gnarled tree trunks
with gapping maw
Munch’s scream saw.

Faces everywhere
snarling faces
with frightening frowns
from hummocks in the ground.

Furrowed brows
All seeing eyes
untidy drool
fermenting anger Nature’s pool.

Who’s alone?
Not eye?
Who thinks they’re alone 
under the sky?

Can’t you see?
Don’t you know?
Each objects spirit is etched
Just so....

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