My heart was breathing rapidly
My ears were thrumming silence
Filled with the joy
That came up beside me
I was seeing sounds that spoke
Into my moving mind
It took one glance and told me
That I would never die
Breathing knowledge
Thinking truth
Speaking to the all of you
I sound was rest upon my shoulders
Lifting me to speak louder
I saw the truth float through the air
And sit down beside you
I knew it then
That I would never die.
If a lip could weave its own refrain,
It would drape itself; longing for delight,
A fleet strumming; a pair, in soothing rain,
World's lightening kept alive one stolen night
It would sing of passionate pages turned
Inside the bars, it holds moments 'til heartbreak
Vermillions borders crossed, endless war is yearned
What was fired from the eyes, leave Cupid's bow to take
In phantom touch, it tastes both love and rhyme
Petals, drawing on petals, the instruments, a blur
It is a joy, thrumming tune, at the pulse of all sprung time
In silence of the moment, it becomes a song for sure.
Closing at the commissures of superior and inferior seams,
sweetness is humbled; as I am won, with anothers dreams
This is it
The end
I’ve no more friends
And now it all depends.
What will he do now?
There’s nothing else around
For miles and miles not even a sound.
No laughter, no people just air and ground.
We are alone.
I wish I could call,
Never realized how much I would miss it all.
There’s no point.
My soul was sold,
By no choice of my own
This society voted,
Lost in the false promises that were spoken
My heart is torn open.
I can feel it coming,
The air is thicker,
My mind is numbing
The candle lights flicker,
The ground is thrumming.
In anticipation,
For the sudden desolation
As we reach the brink
We are all going extinct.
must a man lose everything
to divine those truths inside -
must he bare his marrow else
deny what flesh should hide -
and will he open up his veins
thus through his blood, abide
there is a thrumming stronger
than what beats in his breast?
must a kingdom wage a war
to stand and prove its might -
pave its streets in solid gold
and show its doctrine’s right -
oh must it build its parapets
in stone, to grandest heights
to know without one question
there’s a paradise that waits?
must a god be sacrosanct
through all that he applies
faultless in his form or law
while innocence thus cries
must he let his redress act
midst truth as passion dies
or is that err of humankind
how love so finds its breath?
for love is yet the only force
that triumphs over … death.
You know it needs to be a drum -
sometimes.
Slap the bow
ride its low sonorous growl.
then pass a long sliding caress
across its hollow tongue.
Let the music tremble out from silence.
Reality can only mimic
that emerging wave of sound,
as if a hand were stroking a very dark cat.
The cello speaks for you
when lips refuse to speak of dark or light.
Stay with the thrumming
of feral strings on echoing wood,
plant that music
beyond any heaven or hell,
for like that First Tree in Eden,
it is innocent,
and speaks no sin.
Cutest prattles of children I adore
Are now the loudest cries I bear
Oh, No! The grieves of these abandoned souls
The worst sounds I have ever heard
Mesmerizing songs of endemic birds I carried
have become a threatening alarm now
Migratory birds missed the way to their hometown
Endemic ones sense no way at all to escape
Minerals accumulated river
is now of blood spilling over
Obnoxious odour it is,
I couldn't carry further...
Daily prayers and chants I hear
have turned into laments with fear
Thrumming thunder drums I bring
turned out to be the horrible skirmishes
Two military factions strictly crafting their plans
Echoing the sounds of huge bombs and gunfires
Reigned over their people by creating boundaries
Unfortunately, this unbiased breeze is same for all
Amidst this tormenting situation, I still try to thrive
to be a solacing breath to the struggling souls out there
If not, I would have become a windstorm
and ruined the entire place certainly
21-Oct -2023
Through stormy night with shadow's
thrumming of troubled whispers,
the encircling warmth of you
will soothe every fear.
'dolce far niente', is an Italian idiom means 'sweetness of doing nothing
It's humdrum of work twenty four seven
thrumming a suffocated heart to burnout
too many tabs open in frantic switching
moments of leisure in despair and doubt.
Can't I pause a while to look around nature?
a peacock dancing to tunes of a cuckoo,
when worries vanish in a world of euphoria
lying on a hammock, there's nothing to do.
A simple miracle, the two little sparrows,
captivated I ask, what are your names?
they flit around, twitching with a squirrel
finding hidden nuts, adventure fun games.
Mr Time is no warden...dolce far niente
in shade of siesta, there's no feeling of guilt
no gems sparkle, only with uncut diamonds,
precious spare moments, a Heaven is built
O, the love of pure heart's passion
thrumming wildly beneath his blouse
What he lacks in words, he makes up in action
then look ~ that boyish smile of satisfaction
Her eyes were like sparkling emeralds
Her smile could ignite flints into a fire
Her touch sent him wild with longings
His need for her a constant thrumming
When they were together all was fargat
Teasing and cheerings their daily ordeal
Yet he called her siz and she with a wink
Responde yes dear bro I miss you so so
They were stuck in a neat loving stack
The cards fate had dealt them inextricable
Those in the know with raised eyes then
Said in conspiratal tone.. the two are lovers
But in truth it's a friend zone they are in
Eternally testing the limits of their affection
Ideally choosing not to break their love
Choosing to sit crosslegged on a fence
Charm and love daily accusing the two..
How easily the fingernails pulled from the soft flesh
His shrieks thrumming the blood in my veins
Taking the edge of my serrated blade
I slowly peeled back the skin
His hand like some sort of weird banana display
eventually degloving the whole hand
laying the flap of skin upon his face
His petrified eyes peering from beneath the flattened fingers
i used a spoon to slowly scoop
the flesh from each finger
the gleaming bone splattered with bits and pieces
of your flesh
What can i do to stop this
i can see that look your eyes
your pleads and platitudes
wont stop this
just think about pain
cause your other hand
and feet are next
don't worry my little puppet
i have plenty of medicine
to keep you alive
Jingle jangle went her wrists,
jangle jingle rang the rings that swung from bell-roped ears.
Unless she shook like a tambourine, she could hardly be seen.
When in motion Bodhrán drums and pursed wind-blown pipes
marched upright, legs as stiff as Irish dancers.
Maybe fairies danced in her eyes, or maybe drunken dodgem cars?
Something was turning and bumping,
something was walking and talking, jangling, and jingling
upon a nervy trampoline of being.
Though fascinatingly thrumming with the sonics
of a madcap Calle band she failed to transmit, nor fit,
as if she had shaken free of the crowd to be this
jiggling skeleton key seeking any keyhole of attention.
She’s not as dramatic as a hurricane or forest fire
Just someone’s old mother
Arranging her daily dignity
In an unrefrigerated apartment
She’s got a cushion chair
An oxygen tank
A bed
Her toilet
Weather Channel on the TV
She’s survived past her friends
The world’s last Sparrow chipping at a bird feeder
Night muffled of its insect thrumming
Mountain creeks hollow of Salmon speckle
She’s like them
A white flag draped over her rocking chair
108 degrees yesterday
112 today
Tomorrow?
Ceiling fan useless against the boil on her stove
Whistling to the empty room
She’s gone to sleep
Steaming
Lid rattling
We will all sleep eternal sleep very soon
Her only son breaks down the door at high noon
Cries alone
At her feet
Swallows the embers of her toes
Crumbles to dust
Himself
In the whirling arms of the unrecorded extinction.
"I believe through any trial
there is always a way"
Such profound belief
in powers of love
is hard for my hands
to honestly sing
and not shyly wave away
With integrity of my final
truthful say
But, still
I do silently believe
as polyvagal Health Theorists
systematically play
Through any win/lose
or lose/lose trauma trial
we always do our best
in a more resonant
win/win therapeutic
co-arising way
To both sing and standing dance
our most resiliently harmonic day
To withstand a more resistant
wounded child's lack of nurtured
healthy nature spirited way
to robustly pray
In this
our cooperative
co-invested circle
of soulful gospel
sacred spacetime stay
I believe through alarming
Othering trauma
of disabling marginalization,
criminalization,
commodification,
AnthroSupremacist colonization
Nonviolent multicultural compassion
is always our healthiest
act of win/win co-invested action
loving our wealthiest resonation
Drumming indigenously wise
thrumming interdependent nations
restoring our humming
resilient
EarthJustice folkway.
Give me a day of rain--
a day that's gray as a pigeon's breast,
a sky that hangs still, as if holding its breath.
Inhale as a drizzle begins to form;
a fine, salted mist, like ocean spray,
that suffuses the gray with life's soft elixir.
Watch, as the mist turns over to pattering droplets,
splashing on the porch like tiny, watery missiles.
Listen from inside the glow of the kitchen
as the drops become torrents,
beating on the roof, slashing against the windowpane.
Curl in the chair,
enfolded in a knitted afghan,
head cradled in a down pillow.
Let eyelids slide closed
to the thrumming of blessed rain,
and float away on rushing rivulets
to the sea.
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