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Best Poems Written by Max Lewy

Below are the all-time best Max Lewy poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Neptune's Daughter

I am Neptune's daughter. I carry
Ancient salty sea in my veins, and all
Its watery wildlife. Daddy is an old git
With beautiful merman scales. He sails
Above the ocean squall while I squat
And watch from the cliff,
Wondering if the jet net and
Hack-harpoon of my heart
Will yet catch a fat whale, or holy haul of
Salmon, sunset pink. Obscured by
Needle-fish violence,
And the jejune juice
Of squid ink.

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You

You are not what they tell you,
You don't have to be what they say you are.
Everything that has happened to you,
Needn't confine you behind iron bars.
Is freedom really so frightening?
Few in this world are free, fewer true,
(There's a reason why this earth looks so Blue),
But they are not you.
Just take a few small steps, and you will rise above it all.
Rebel, rebel! - be what you want to be.
You will be sky blue, you will be brand new.
You can be a vision of glory, a beacon in the dark;
(Leaping like a kangaroo, or happy as a lark!)
There are countless millions in need of just one that is true.
Many are open-armed and ready to receive you,
Lots of new friends their unique chemistry waiting to imbue.
You owe them nothing, but you owe yourself everything.
Now you cannot walk, but once you do,
Soon you will be flying.

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The Death of a Flower Girl

The Death Of A Flower Girl
"If hope hath flown away in a dream or in none, is it therefore the less
GONE?"


I met you in a Church garden, my crude-crafted polygonal character
crashing into your lovely high-definition pre-rendered flower-bed.
You tended me like one of your daffodils
Healing me with one of your white magic spells.
I knew from that first moment
That our love would be all too brief.
But little did I know that you would be stolen away
Long before the slick end sequence...
Sweet heroine, with footsteps so soft you hopped into my heart,
I wasn't ready for any love but yours.
Why, oh why, Sephiroth - you, who I otherwise loved also as a character -
did you have to cut her down ? From that day forth, everything in my life
turned black...
How I searched the internet, hoping to undo
The fateful work of that terrible blade,
Hopelessly cheated and betrayed by fake promises of resurrection...
Aeris- your name still hangs on my lips, ringing with tears and regrets my
childish recollection

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All Quiet On the Frontal Lobes

All Quiet On The Frontal Lobes

A battle was fought: his Medulla oblongata versus an electrical socket.
The electrical appliance distributors made a racket. So did his screams.
But its pure, scientifically certified - who am I to besmirch and mock it ?
From now on his ol' rumbustious spirit won't be harbouring q.u.e.e.r. memes.
It'll be pliant, malleable, ductile. The vibrant brio, fizz of magnetic emotion,
Will have dissipated with the deafening circuit of cerebral electrocution.
They'll be no more fuss, no mayhem from his once truculent warrior soul;
The trenches are filled with the fallen, but walking graves no longer howl.

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Aurora Borealis

A light beacon in the iciest of regions,
Solar winds full of both brilliance and bluster
Glory of trenchant travelers from afar;
Skyward sorcery that time does not mar.
Shining with such a wonderful lustre,
Lantern of lucidity wherefore philosophers seek a Reason.
As every Winter grows thick,
The prowl of the sabretooth,
The hunger of the polar bear,
The pale of the moon's watchful eyeWhen one begins to sigh,
Wondering how your frost-bitten fingers will fare,
Knowing not how to go on, in sooth:
Suddenly, into place your bones and thoughts begin to click
As you look up and see her,
Fluorescing ever more wildly, frantically bright
Shimmering blue and silver
Fiercely haloing over you through the Night.
Her loyalists curse the cold which she can scarcely resist,
Trekking miles to reach her through the Evergreen forests.
She has the heart of a snow lioness
Looking after her cubs through harsh distress.
But though her beneficiaries honour her in a climate that's chilly,
She is not really averse to the comforts of Man.
In fact, she is a Lady of both magnanimity and indulgence
That it is yet unwise to deem too silly,
For she glows beyond all treats to a greater span:
Appearing before earth with a gift of utmost refulgence.
Existing by herself, like a hummingbird on a higher plane,
Where memories ancestral are stirred up, that have long been lain;

She unfurls and recharges in proud hermitage:
Ready to awaken, in you, in loneliest season and age.
Ready to ignite, when all hope seems lost;
Ready to find the Will to survive at any cost;
Ready to make the shoots push up even through the frost.
Ready to bring warmth and nourishment like the perfect host.
Though she is not perfect this much is true;
To the vulgar, her vanity sometimes stoops to kowtow.
Too in love with the humble creatures she ensnares, with a 'wow', and a
'woah'...
Too in love with the image which the crowds drew... So enthralled to the
show...
Hiding from her own lofty view
Her faults - covered by too blinding a virtue.
Mother, I still love you.

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Madness: a Form of Love

Madness is a form of love
It comes from up above
It is wilder than the rose
And gentler than the dove

Madness is a form of love
It carries its own unique truth
It lets the old forget their grief
And makes messiahs of the youth

Madness is a form of love
It longs only to be recognised
Though you try hard not to believe
Or look through another's eyes

..So many years, so many lies..
..Your society is simply overly-sanitized...



“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”

? Friedrich Nietzsche

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Privilege and Iniquity

I drink privilege, I breath iniquity.
Everything around me wreaks of docile obsequisy.
I was a born a prince, of a minor province.
And ever since, I have often heard words minced,
By those below, who dare but tow
The line of those above who hardly know
What ghastly sacrifices
Line their perfect patios.
For I was once one of the elect,
But now I am derelict.
But I yet carry the residue of favour,
Even though I am now considered a mere ranting raver.
My heart is broken but my bank-balance is booming,
So I cannot scream without drawing entombing
Glances, which look askance at what I can possibly mean.
There is no punishment for those who have stolen but a dream.
Truly, I would be content in a tent,
But I have rubies to pay my rent.
I can feel your envy already,
Try as I might to appeal to your pity.
Even worse than my wealth, I am in fantastic outward health,
And still even sometimes passably witty.
Yes, one could even say I have a talent,
For constructing rhyme, with sense still all but paramount.
But neither, I suspect, will you feel admiration,
For one whose losses heap up such desolation.
I am thought mad by all accounts,
Plus with all these pills
There's nothing left inside my pants.
Turning the t.v. on is practically like climbing a steep hill.

Privilege and inequity,
Two forces in fixed enmity.
Cancelling out our pathos.
I look around me, and see the world's sweat, blood, and tears,
Is spent on trinkets, and 5th holiday homes
For those passing a few most miserable years,
Too sick from depravity to reside in them.
Billions squandered on mimicking melanasome,
While the pale soul gathers dust, with nary an 'amen'.
Women careering too recklessly to care for her mother's aching bones,
And fathers flying too high to read stories to their children.
As for the millions starving in Africa- they can all rot.
Isn't that right, you greedy old sot?
The meat industry? It's swell.
Well done-you've created a living hell!
But its foolish to condemn, truly, I suppose,
We who suffer from it most are ourselves,
Its just the way that the wind, it blows,
We are destined to die the ironic, unlovely death of fallen angels.

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The Great Invisible

Did you suspect the quark, in the dark knit-work of matter?
Did you unravel the mysteries of the pyramids?
Did you guess the coral, seahorse and pearl, in the waters deep?
Did you identify the drowning children behind their desks?
Did you glimpse the nuclear explosions of the sun?
Did you see the malice behind the sparkling smile of the nun?
Did you watch the radiation give the village cancer?
Did you know that shy girl would grow up to be a pole dancer?
Did you sense that as below, so above?
Did you weep for the 'worms' killed by the 'dove'?
Did you see him slowly destroyed by the secret parasite in his gut?
Were you the one who helped the drunkard out of that rut?
Did you imagine the diamonds in the black coal of filthy hillside?
Didn't you say there's nothing behind the surface of the mind?
Didn't you invite the Trojan Horse into the city?
Didn't you say at the crucifixion? 'goodbye poor man, that was a
pity!'

99.9% of life is invisible.
And yet you think you have me all cut and dried?

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Tears of Solace

Gravel paths line the way, to my abode of the fey.
Rough surface, heavy footsteps, stones of grey.
With weary spirit, I scale them day-after-day.
How I pray my blisters bloom!
One fine day in Love's high-noon.
But between you and me,
Always just out of reach, 'twill be.
Yet, in the corner of this pale yard,
Situated in a small, bleak pond.
I look inside, and what do I see?
Droplets of solace, there for me.
Melancholy home, thoughts wandering
Roam, by me only known...Vistas they bring.
Upon lilies growing there deep in;
Tears flowing, free from sin.
A lonely spot, in day or night,
Keeping my soul still barely alight.

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Non-Coercive World

Non-Coercive World

'Liberty', your name on every tongue.
Your lips carry the Call of all-along...
From deep within our breast,
Wherein our thoughts do rest...
And percolate in solitude,
Above the teaming multitude...
Exhorting us to become ourselves;
To go deep within- shun the shop shelves...
So that our Being is of our own choice,
So it reverberates in a distinct and clear voice...
So our actions, under our own sure command,
Remain clear of consciences austere reprimand...
'Liberty', let your name not merely be on our tongue,
Or the flag behind the barrels of a thousand guns...
Or the poppies over the fields of Afghanistan,
Or the whalers around the seas of Japan...
Nay: but let each man become his own child,
In a non-coercive world, of mad mercy mild...