Undecipherable Poems

A Fruitful Fruit

The smell of cantaloupe is enticing
Yearning to feel it’s smoothly texture
It beckons me to it with an unworldly call
The slippery flesh is on my earthly skin
As I hold the fruit it embraces me,
How sweet! How kind it is!
I sympathize and crave it!
A plant that is living and purring
Communicates to us with undecipherable 
Decibels that can be heard from beyond our senses
But, I’m hungry; so hungry!
Tearing apart it’s flesh
It’s now a part of me; broken down to a
Molecular level.

Where the Grass Don't Grow

Where the Grass Don't Grow

The historical record bared to see
In worn-torn pages, undecipherable.
And I’m to believe that this sum total
Will explain everything you say to me.

Mixed with phlegm spewed from the esophagus,
Spitting in my face like a rhinoceros,
That means nothing more than that goat in the field,
Whose skull is thicker than the ape’s you entail.

Beat your gums and wave your arms frequent
And act the fool on steroids to impress the simple;
Regurgitating words and acting stupid,
Like an awoken irritant that won’t exit.

Where the grass doesn’t grow, but the “you know” will.
And the rooster struts, and the hens cluck,
And the dogs bark, and the pigs are smart,
And the sun shines on my behind, in kind.

he feels

like an empty jar
discarded by the wayside
thrown into space
waiting to be recycled 
by a kind soul

the label has weathered
apart from the bit stating
the best before date
which seems long in the past
while the future is undecipherable

and yet it contains
weary promise and hope
to be refilled and
put to good purpose and meaning
through meditation and prayer
in order to obtain mindfulness 

slowly he retrieves himself
from gloom and oblivion

as he wakes up it dawns on him
that he had been dreaming
but at least now he 
resides in the jar

21st November 2023

Outpouringsn Open Form

OUTPOURINGS
the ultimate
functions
of sheer will
 an absolute
criterion
pursuing
convention

emotion
 hovers
on the verge
&  wanders
into
the
 collective
 whisper

a teemimg
triumphant
finality
 disappering
with
enriched
significance

an  ominous
reality
undecipherable
a corollary
in a
 linear perspesctive
 a attempt
to achieve
consciousness

How I Yelled At God

/How I yelled at God/

I saw a bird twirls towards me
"looks like a bat" No ! "it's an hawk"
I only heard the resounding flaps 
of its wings.
It sang in such an undecipherable language,
Language no one understands but I.
What a bird !

"Boy ! Kneel & say a few prayers"
authoritatively it sang.
As Muslims revolve the holy 'kaã'bah'
& with silky looks and remorseful hearts
hold its shield firmly.
& Christians confess their dooms in presence
of 'Holy Mary'
I closed my eyes,knelt down & spoke.

Holy bird from the most high !
Tell father when you reach home,tell him
that this small boy has written tons of 
words of hatred to himself,
word he'd ne'er say to his enemies.
Tell him this small boy here will end it all
if HIS interference takes too long

How I Yelled At God

/How I yelled at God/

I saw a bird twirls towards me
"looks like a bat" No ! "it's an hawk"
I only heard the resounding flaps 
of its wings.
It sang in such an undecipherable language,
Language no one understands but I.
What a bird !

"Boy ! Kneel & say a few prayers"
authoritatively it sang.
As Muslims revolve the holy 'kaã'bah'
& with silky looks and remorseful hearts
hold its shield firmly.
& Christians confess their dooms in presence
of 'Holy Mary'
I closed my eyes,knelt down & spoke.

Holy bird from the most high !
Tell father when you reach home,tell him
that this small boy has written tons of 
words of hatred to himself,
word he'd ne'er say to his enemies.
Tell him this small boy here will end it all
if HIS interference takes too long

Ganesha

He spirits the lake leaving behind a trail of scented incense 
undecipherable but memorable with a twenty second rule of bliss 
and then he is gone,  leaving behind a set of footprints 
that contain no backward destination, no forwarding  address 
He quickly vanishes leaving me to pick up discarded marigolds; 
When the ceremony is over he stays behind to collect the angels 
that are strewn across the wind by force of sanctioned nature ! 
The he returns to where all gods belong, behind the sun.

Bazaar

Bazaar
 

The nights’ chest opens up -
strings of illusions
rattle in palms
the knowing buyers haggle
for a dream
while the fascinated women
try on 
toles of princesses or odalisques.
In the shell of hope
genuine perls are priceless.

Silk labyrinth
of amber and incense,
amulets of shamans hidden in death,
a mirage in golden cases,
the drug of success
paths and passions
unknown potions
scaffold question.

Merchants with epheb faces
skillfully spin shadows,
scarves, dependences, embroideries,
compasses, elders, rings, sapphires,
open 
conspicuous roads.

Rubys, gold,
sealed fates
days delirium
forgotten writings
bracelets and silver girdles,
old things, 
new objects
disturb the untold air.


The world’s cornice
crunches upon the stalls
heavy stars
cramped into bags
shriek 
with undecipherable voices.

Thousands of dead and living worlds
rise to the skies
from eyes
touched by temptation.

The Bewitching

bracelets on doorknobs
ectoplasmical goo on the floor
chanting tinkling music
lifeless creatures arranged in a circle
round a book of verse
curtains yanked from their moorings
broken glass
muddy footprint trail
undecipherable writings on the wall
books ripped apart, their pages floating on the air
drawers open their contents vomited out
closets spilling everything
all about chaos and mayhem reign in dizzying derision

What's happening?
Poltergeist or spell,
Which is it?

It's just my darling granddaughter here for a visit!

The Askance Chapter 3 Part 6d

And all this time, I am to think the ancient world a nevermore
Little had I realize that tranquility has found a place
The undecipherable meaning of the void left vividly to recall
Is yet once again, to haunt another beginning of phase

Perhaps from then, why the emblem doesn’t work for The Askance
Is because it has yet to be bond with a soulless spirituality
And only through this path of misfortune can it receive its essence
Can finally my role as the Knight be in ultimate tranquility

Another chapter to begin, am to encounter
I wonder how much more of this lifeline I can undertake
I fear of this to last through my lifetime forever
Of the given quest, of a destiny unfathomable to await

Is Alkaiya I’m to kill from a prophesize dream?
Is Ei-rian the befallen I’m to love once again?
Are the Gods to triumph in The Ancients within?
Is my mortal self ever more for reality to remain?

This night, I’m to remember the fear from before
The every reason for each of the every cause
And from The Askance, came words I suddenly recall
‘Fear is a fire to temper courage… and resolve’
………………………………………….

Between the Lines

In an otherwise
uneventuful
morning, between the
roles we locked 
eyes, bantering 
without 
mincing words, allowing 
futures, names, and
rebuttals to 
stem from our hearts 
unmuffled, and 
mingle.

A fearless 
gig between the 
staves ensued, bringing
us to melt in a 
timeless
embrace of playful
reminders of our 
unmistakeable, unshakeable, and
unutterable bond.

In a twine of echoes and 
mirrors, between the 
statements you 
probed, between the
silences I 
listened, between the
changes you
questioned, between the
questions I
changed. 

Between encounters we
found 
ourselves speaking our
undecipherable
Angelic language, between the
sentences we read 
our souls so
smoothly.

Between the 
grooves I think, between the
rules you feel, between the
lines we just
ARE.

A Good Clean Slam

A Good Clean Slam

Let us investigate the process!
HOW…..HOW…..shall we make
a MUD PIE……without getting dirty???

We shall polish up the words,
buff them to an acceptable finish,
weave them into an undecipherable web
of double entendre, tongue in cheek malapropisms,
drape it sensually in Freudian Slips,
conceal its intent in a Slamming Trojan Horse.

We shall protest – but not too much,
Shout – but not too loudly,
We shall rant – but briefly
stay within the confines of the PC Police lines.

How then shall I tame this rage,
this hard boiled anger?
Contain these tears of fear,
smooth the edges of my life
into a gentle, inoffensive, song?

Would you have me ride into battle
on a doe, carrying a feather?
Offer flowers to those who need cold steel?

Must I rein in my vitriolic vengeance,
curtail my caustic tongue,
creep – snake-like….hissing - balloon-like
spewing my venom in lost droplets,
burning an already scorched soul??


John G. Lawless
5/24/2014
For A Poet Destroyer
Slamming Season contest

Us Marine Sniper

Specter of a Hero's Tortured 
Soul
Forfeiting faith to successors to 
sacrifice self for others...he 
believes not in himself but his 
progeny...
Eternal life and inflexible 
determination prevent waning 
love...his ceaseless adoration 
powerful to the point of self 
harm...
Unwillingness to ever relinquish 
the shards of his heart...or the 
memory of possible fates...
Soul scarred with unfathomable 
secrets and wounds...alone and 
concealed he is known to not 
even himself...
Heart struggling to conquer 
inner demons and loss...mind 
overworked to find salvation 
from hell's burning wrath...
Indescribable like smoke blown 
through trees on a moonless 
night...
Intricately woven to be as 
substantial as the steam which 
fuels his passion...
Never surrendering...never 
retreating...never giving in to 
any opposition...
Steadfast and valiant he will 
never be 
conquered...unreadable and 
undecipherable...he will never 
be understood...

Mona Lisa

An amber portrait of Venus seated on a rocky landscape,
With enigmatic facial expression historically undecipherable
Symbolist's acclaimed goddess of feminine mystique.
Born through Da Vinci's Smufato technique
Lady of Louvre, Lady of all arts. 



For Brian Strand's contest: "Ekphrasis-Painting"

Babel

The audacity of man to touch the sky,
To try and build the tower high.
Attempting fate, but sure to die
They tried to reach the clouds.

The tower they built was sure to fall.
Who would help or hear the call?
They knew not, no, not at all,
Meeting God was not allowed!

For then He turned the tables around
And let them build upon the ground.
Their voices, then, undecipherable sound
Was left for them that day!

He tried to teach them not to dabble,
For them to please disregard the rabble-
Rousers, who built up the tower, Babel.
It must be done His way!

Within the town of people, cursed,
Speak foreign tongues, to be the first
To build or lose, but which is worse?
He provided truth that day!

However, they spoke, but never heard,
Not anyone, ever understood the word,
For it all, sounded so absurd,
Others learned of His true way!

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