Wednesday, October 5

Poetry

Ordinary Times (Poetic Prose)

Poetry
Ordinary Times (poetic Prose)(In three parts: "Ordinary Times")PreludeWhenever I've traveled - since the age of nineteen years old - I've stepped down into the so called under - world,with more of a mind of an explorer,yet at times I've got caught in this motley world, in which has made me thankful of my youth, and strength,to escape it, lest I become buried in it...It has of course, humbled me in spirit to have witnessed and lived this passage of life -Having a distorted life indeed, has made me, thankful.In Seattle per near starving to death,nearly robbed, and rain drenched, yet finding work because of my youth and strength -In San Francisco, I eaten at the Mission House, slept on porches.In St. Paul,I slept in my car three months, once, and thereafter in my youth, a day here and day the...

Friends, Strangers, Nomads Keep Yourselves Free From Disordered Inclinations That Attack The Soul

Poetry
All kinked up, mangled chaos, confusion, may enter a disordered head, Distorted sounds like wild hair, indecipherable elements that never amount to a relevant word Because it is the screeching in the clamor, the clatter, the uproar in the battle, but just tell me have you ever seen blood dripping from the canal of an unwanted ear Yet this is how it shall pervade in small water deep rivers a proximal entry to the brain So there may be nothing else that you can do other than to grimace, facial expressions, stretched skin at the outer edge, the corners of a mouth that have been burnt and battered for too many unkind remarks and unpolished pearls, see it simmering there, efforts to bring the new world rising for it will bring the nomads to the flatland, desolate grass an uncomfortable place T...

Gold Is Cankered, Fine Clothes Eaten By Moths, In Fire Riches And Fortune Will Devour Your Flesh

Poetry
It could start just about anywhere but you can be assured that the flames will be burning hot and bright, white heat like the end of a poker cast into a beleaguered eye For the point of entry might be as tragic as it hurts, the arrival of a foreign reality so distant but carefully cured because over the years you have become quite accustomed to the images that have originated in the external world before they have become an integrated history that have allowed you to attach meaning to symbols, the golden pitch of a yellow one, someone who is afraid to crash and glow So allow the flicker, the spark, the gutter, the glimmer to create uncertain bands of color, disparate patterns in heavy smoke, alternating witchcraft, signs, tokens, figures and marks excruciating night blindness rushes on ...

The Park Keeper

Poetry
Just at that moment I came out of the café, a man emerged from the corner of the park pavilion, at Como Park, that stood alongside the edge of the building's corner. An odd sense of familiarity made me do a double take on him. But the man had done an about-turn, and was walking rapidly the other way, away from me, as if about to walk around Lake Come, a half mile walk. There was something about the slope of his shoulders, and outlying of his short curly hair between his neck collar and slump hat that aroused vague memories for me. I quickened my pace, trying to think those thoughts that formed hidden in my brain about this person. Who could it be in those long and baggy and faded overalls and jacket-shirt that said "Como Park Custodian?"I paused, as he turned about, looked straight into my...

Five December Poems:

Poetry
1) A thousandYears from this EraThe scientist, the astrophysicists, theAnthropologist, archeologist, and geologist:The psychologist, and the philosopher-God has their weary bones, their souls in checked!...They are but naked jungle huntersIn a primitive kingdom, with primeval kings:Still a thousand years from their era in which, manIs to be born into a clear field of spaceTo see and understand God and his cosmos!-and the ample ventilation of those trulyOpen doors, at each end of God's Universe.12-1-2014/No: 46432) Tomorrow's SunI have no one to comfort me in my old age,but my semi, old wife!My children-stooped low-pass betweenone day to the other!Days to them are like chains of acorns thathave fallen beneath the pine...I am content though.The joy of these latter years has taught me:Yesterd...

Go Now Weep and Howl For Misery Shall Come Upon You

Poetry
Avoid the trap as it is the only thing that you can do Yet you know that it has happened many times before Jaws of iron, a maniacal shard of steel, all of it the result of a planted seed, the meat of a beastly animal rolled-up into a precious piece of tweed This is where the stitch and gap might begin to unravel, depending on the tailor's mood and the order of the day as misery loves company something that was never meant to be concealed Life as a magician might have been appealing but let's be serious, such an existence requires cleverness and the ability to deliver an impressive sleight of hand If it had ever been in the cards we would not have seen you here stuck inside a springe, a gospel or a gin, trying to avoid the ambush of a bloody battle the confinement of the will for this cou...

Quatern Poetry, Free Lines

Poetry
Not This Song - Never (Quatern Poetry)In the night the song waves start to disappear Like white trees, when there is no one their fall to hear. Earth's shadow hides the moon, a harp without strings. Lasting love shines on crazy engagement rings. What does love mean, when the elves come life to cheer? In the night the song waves start to disappear, And in the moonlight your feelings become blue. The flowers cry for our time with tears of dew. Bud butterflies become whispers in our dreams To complete our entwining in the life's streams. In the night, the song waves start to disappear On the moon, a double-meaning pamphleteer. The green knows that through the darkness shines the light. And love has sense, when the saints pray for the height. And life blooms, when the God's angels hurry near. ...

Three Poems – Villanelle, Pantoum, Terzanelle

Poetry
Poem for Oscar Wilde (Villanelle)Against the British philistinism Oscar Wilde contrived,And loved the saints approaching to the perfection of God.In prison, through the poet St. Francis his soul revived.Of a poetic life, by Isaacson, he was deprived.To Bosie he addressed a letter wanting Christ to laud.Against the British philistinism Oscar Wilde contrived.To hear that Alfred published his letters, he was surprised.Crying like Marsyas, with pauper friends he made a squad.In prison, through the poet St. Francis his soul revived.Douglas denounced him; from the church his ideas derived.While addressing sonnets, his manner to accuse was odd.Against the British philistinism Oscar Wilde contrived.Walking in his dreams with Jesus, at Emmaus he arrived.To live in humility and Light, Oscar gave the...

Slave, Submit Yourself Not Only To Those Who Are Good And Considerate, But Also Those Who Are Harsh

Poetry
In a deep chamber she excels, delivering the instrument black leather strips, sharpened whips steel chains Bare backed, naked buttocks, torn nipples, severed penis, it happens quite slowly in an act of extraordinary discipline, admiration for the devil, mercy of the angels Under a flame of white light there are demons, evil spirits, savages and ghouls, this is where the worlds collide in ritual, brutal attacks, ghastly assaults, never missing the point, in depravity mangling the body for those who are considerate and harsh, degeneration, scandalous merit, those ripped apart, still born, conflicted and always frayed, unravel the hard parts, disentangle them from the forest, the wilderness, the indubitable spark, the inner self, the life force, the wild bushland, the woodland, the mulberr...

We Wish You Happiness

Poetry
In the world where the crazy snow spins around,Where the seas threaten with an abrupt wave,Where at times one waits for the kindly item of news for a long while.It is very necessary for each of us to know that there is happiness on the earth.We wish you happiness andGood luck in this big world!May it comes into your house in the wayAs in the mornings the sun does it.We wish you happiness,And it should be such one -When you are happy,Share your happiness with another!In the world where there is no rest to winds,Where the cloudy sunrise happens,Where on the long journey one often dreams about homeIt is necessary both in a thunder-storm and in a snowfallSo that someone's glance of the very kind eyes should warm you.In the school's window some clouds peep up,The lesson seems endless.The creak ...