Bashful, but least bothered by
His cheeky peeking.
Who against this hemlock lies
Sings for; none seeking.
A green warbler's - I look through!
Girl- my Emily!
Add this wish. Off whose coned shade
Nevermore wrenched free!
Bundles of the pungent-stalked
In placidities
Baskets of the flashy-stemmed
In felicities
Walks, of all lengths, the world o'er
As gathered up are.
From air wrenched down! For air weighed for!
Not that you're aware!
I thought of you stranded on that shelf,
your plastic hands curled around empty air.
I woke dad; he didn’t say just a doll.
put boots over bare feet, keys jangling.
truck's headlights cut through frozen dark~
yellow eyes leading us to silent school.
dad lifted me on his shoulders. I’m here!
he wrenched window open; cold rushed in;
you awoke; we brought you home!
roots wrenched from the soil
tendrils ripped from trellis frames
I scour myself raw
clutching a fragile harvest
in my bare, cold, trembling hands
A knife slashes through
the bruises and bitter scars
etched deep in my skin
leaving only what still glows
and can sustain my hunger
steam clouds coil and writhe
from the pot of shattered parts
softened by the heat
rendered down, made pliable
enough to begin again
I devour this dish
a meal for my well-being
inflamed with spices
for renewal, bite by bite
to face tomorrow's trials
My mind invaided with overwhelming thoughts.
I don't care, I surrender my clean streak.
I climb up the stairs at a complete loss,
And retrieve the blade that I often seek.
It hovers inches above my scarred skin,
I bury it deep and drag it slowly.
The gut wrenched feeling subsides within
Not before my arm is red and bloody
In the days that follow I cover up in shame
Let someone see I will be outcasted
No matter what, the hurt remains the same,
But i prey on the relief thats short lasted.
As I see the crimson turn white and fade,
Once again it’s time to pick up my blade.
what is born must die …
this we know but do not accept
in as embrace with vibrant nonchalance ~
no, let us admit it fellow souls
we are in truth truly afraid
we have seen birds in mourning …
majestic lions tear eyed when grieving
rain drops falling when skies are weeping
one by one fangs of death have wrenched away
family and friends who made us feel complete
we too will die, who then are we, we wonder
scriptures and fables offer not the taste
direct knowing of death that erases doubt
to imbibe truth we enter time dissolved silence
animating attention in the bardo of formlessness
soul’s eye then beholds dead leaf of ego drop away
reflect oh hermit, do we not die with each exhalation
at our core we know the next breath’s not promised
sleep is death yet we look forward to it each night
is not death then just waking up from this dream
why oh why do we cling to ephemeral illusions
shrugging off death of form ~ death yet pursues
we die when voice of conscience is subdued
when lust, rage and envy are fires we fan
or a girl child is abandoned at the orphanage
we die whenever ego opaques the light of our soul
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
Such bitter tea the cruel sea can steep
and I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
Moments that count, are those bliss drenched
Joy makes us feel complete
Both fear and desire, from heart wrenched
Our head’s laid at God’s feet
Rapturous and aglow
In tranquil stillness slow
Ceasing seeking we flow
Horse of love mount
Moments that count
Like uncared unfulfilled wishes creeping to the fore
Irresistible! Impossible, yet? Dilemmatic?
Shy about removing the robe that might reveal the core
Could the cut be covered with the costliest cosmetic?
Disgruntled, like a lion brooding over a lost prey
This itch turns into karma leading to endless rebirth
It becomes the root of my yokes on which I have no say
Expect I dare to scratch till stern stillness surrounds the girth.
Uprooting the weeds, forever, might be the best solution
Could we pluck out the plants because they trouble a little?
Rubbing with a hard surface might be a substitution.
Though commonality amidst these acts is mere brittle
If thirst, physical or spiritual, is timely quenched
The fulfillment of the heart will never be wrenched.
There exists a chain, one that no one can see.
My feet are binded with this chain, to a series of cues.
The vibration of my phone, the sharp increase in her voice, her judging eyes piercing into my heart.
This chain reaches into a deep, dark hole that I find myself peering into, every moment that I have.
It's my instinct to check it.
I fear for the times that it calls to me,
Everytime that it does, my feet are pulled by the ankles, wrenched deeper down into the earth.
One day, my feet will fail to move.
Another, the light will escape my eyes.
The last, I will be buried under a pile of my regrets.
I have asked myself,
"How do I stop this chain from hurting me?"
"How do I remove this chain from my body?"
The last question I asked myself,
"Will it stop hurting at the end?"
My brother went to limbo
Stillborn and unbaptized
Faultless but Original Sin
Status unknown
A soul in liminal space
Lost between heaven and hell
Damnation spared
Salvation denied
Consigned by papal decree
Resigned to the Mercy of God
Wrenched, a mother's heart
Bedraggled the old man sat, monkey on his lap.
However could he recover from this mishap?
Louts took his organ and attacked him with a bat.
Monkey on his lap, bedraggled the old man sat.
His old heart gutted, his mind totally wrenched.
Rain yesterday had left him quite drenched.
We are OK my darlin, to his monkey he muttered.
His mind totally wrenched, his old heart gutted.
The rooftop a safe haven, for he and his pet.
Not much chance of another organ, he will get.
He was an expert on the organ, a regular Maven.
For he and his pet, the rooftop was a safe haven.
He can still sing, dance and tap the old soft shoe.
He was the best organ grinder New York ever knew.
Shoes are worn, organ gone, his monkey is everything.
Dance and tap the old soft shoe, he can still sing.
We cannot calm the turbulence in the open sky.
We must bear with its disharmony as it passes us by ~Quote by poet
Tempestuous moods erupt within, a tumultuous severe agitation
Brings forth undulating vibrations, exploding with a pounding pulsation
Retributions unholy, big blue-sky echoes with conflicting resound
When the balefully coarse maligning words mercilessly expound
Somedays gliding my way high through a stream of consciousness
Taken back by the waves soaring low to a destiny that seems endless
My soul, wrenched and wretched, lets loose from my clutching mind
Over the ocean, tempest-tossed above knotty seas less than kind
Excuse if you will my slashing unabiding, dismissive demeanor
Never shall I find where tides gently flow, and grass that is greener
Clashing and clawing through dark gathering clouds are my fate
Exit you my friend from my world and my presence before it’s too late
A mass of emerald and ochre leaves,
sway upon the light summer breeze.
Suction of boots to big, wrenched from the muck,
grunting, banging, the metal bucket thunks.
The old farmer in his coveralls stands at the fence,
watching the struggling girl, bucket bangs, eyes wince.
'Ya wanna ta' feed um' he urges her on,
huffing, puffing, nose wrinkled of odors not fond.
A glorious glint of green and blue plumage,
is all that's needed to encourage.
Shrieking cries they emit, she jumps in fright,
screaming, slipping, sliding, then caught in plight.
Stuck in the mud, smelling quite rotten,
are boots too big, long forgotten.
that carves out a space of measured boundaries
that's given shape by force of will
that makes one smaller in walled existence
to think outside the box
to forge a different understanding
to upend expectations
to act on words that burn with fire
trail blazers
like seniors lapsing marathons
what's blocking the exit?
a box of familiarity that isn't freedom
when shadows stand in for substance
a lethargy of vision
where no fresh colors flash their sheen
what can be wrenched apart?
the box that traps us in seclusion
to re-imagine music
to elevate like choosing
Poem written April 30, 2023
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