the statued man
the starving man
the burning woman
each needed the river

the statued man needed to the river
to erode and soften him

the starving man needed the river
to drink and live from

and the burning women needed the river
to dive in deep and put out the fire

so the statued man
sunk his feed into the shallow stream
sat and stayed a thousand years
the starving man kneeled
and grappled at the flow
the water rushing through him endlessly
and the burning woman
dove so deep her feet melt with rocks
and the surface forgot her completely

I am a compound of knowledge
I accumulate stories of redemption to serve privilege.
My existence is portioned for a little while.
But i shall remain a kingdom not for this little while.
All my reign I've always became ones rebound; elevator. Their legs knowth no grounds.

I kept fearlessly hoping for much less
Ain't lesser than a new day.
And that was being brave anyway.
Clear blue eyes of my inhabitants statued high at me.
How courage and passion never stopped to be.
The storyline I had is still now a motif of endurance.
I gave up not, and show offered my perseverance.

Away, from my bitter overwhelming insight.
Wisdom is one great amigo, less than him I'm wiped.
Done so good to every heart, though I remained a bad part.
I opened all my doors to welcome each, keep my composure and listen to their preach.
My grounds grew a seed out of that;  everyday.  Their eyes tortured me to believe in what they say.
Direction sometimes looked clear on their paths,
Never knew success starts on a dark start.
I kept this in my sanctified upper room.
The future is bright,  all flowers can bloom. And this is who I am; I'm a compound of knowledge.  I accumulate stories of redemption to serve privilege.

Upon that day and in that park
Two lovers lorn in statued pose
Entwined limbs, tight as tree to bark,
Soft as scented summer meadows,
Orchestrated by the larks
As timeless as a river flows

And passing by, an endless stream
Of strangers came and stragglers went
And all who stared upon the scene
Of statues carved with love's intent
Would oft' recall their sweet serene
Beguiling stares of merriment

And time that brings to man the dark
Of endless nights in sleep's repose,
To leave a stately stony mark
Where flowers wilt beneath the boughs,
Will oft' recall a peaceful park
Where lovers stood in statued pose

It's happened again
cupid has cycled his laughing cast
Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents

One man finds a mate
through an easy game of chase the scar,
Lazy frowning and statued emotion

Her eyes sparkled in such a kindred flame
Artificially, just as the sad boy does
rebounding desperation on both parts

He as the hermit,with a minimal compassion
She played the role for all affection
Drove her half mad, cutting lonely

A last chance to see him to the dance
pupils strayed off, eating the smoke
For a couple months, I think, maybe more

Distance was death for the loving seperation
Caring is old, the premature pleasure maker
Chakra cats and Vampire disease

Chased with blood, drunk on a rhapsody
The girl dumped the filthy ****** baggage
Humbly fornicating with a more fitting fellow

Similar in grace and taste
Aspirations and dependence on denser levels
Red to black or black and blue

With a new foundation built
Companion demolition, scheduled for certain
Love sued the suit and Brothers close at heart

It's happened again
Cupid has cycled his laughing cast
Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents

Sing me songs of farewell
This red shaded dawn,
Recite me lines about unknown -
Please, recite them well.

Let your tongue disguise the words,
Make them look fair
While I'm statued in life's ropes
Tied to this porcelain cold chair.

Speak loud, stand proud -
Then look at me straight.
Let your shadow strangle my neck,
Bathed in my acid tears around.

It's neither's fault, you say...
Only this mischievious cicle
A clueless timed canvas,
That lead you feel this way.

I can't scream, can't defend.
I only let the ending end.
Take your promises back,
Take your tender looks too,
Burn each of one's illusions,
******* their ashes, take them with you.

Don't leave me your apologies,
Your blured confusions...
Just leave me here,
In eternity's fusions
Drowned in a heart attack.

The years have passed away.
My hands still tremble, mildly.
Wrapped in pottery shards and blindly
This disease have rot me inside
It's what they say...

In fact, I died at the bottom of the sea.
The cure is simple and hopeless to me.
Give me a pill of amnesia
And my five o'clock tea.

Wildflowers
Of sun soaked orange
And blood soil red
Pale sobbing violet
Dancing gently in cold breeze
Dancing gently in hell fire
They are no doubt alive
Statued in dirt
Reaching toward rain cloud
There is just nowhere else to go
There is nothing else to do
But dance during dog **** showers
But dance during petal wilting
But dance until root rot
Wildflowers
Screaming at the fire
Trembling in moonlight
They are no doubt alive
Forcing themselves to continue
While feeling as insane as
I

A.

afore the blush of placid cheeks is A
proffered crop of luscious fancies
limpid groves of silken corpses (mingle
deftly apathetic death) maligned posies
stinking of bloodless roses; their amorphous skin
blotting dusty shelves pages tumble
briefly sleeping verses profess loving tongues
rasping effigies unlike the clamour truly divine
milk of feminine ambrosia

grotesque the statued poses, a love writ tawny
embers litter blossoms strongly and indolent
they sparingly divided, ample thighs crossed,
leak no pleasure (but taunting accurate plush
). so to luna breathe in the excellent pools of
lipless fantasies piled in ardent devotion about
roots deeply sensual aphorisms. and metastasize a
plaguing remedy breeding steadily in residence
my cracking synaptic core. every thought enamored
to her cause

2.

a symposium of muscle more perfect never did
reside in flesh as well so as this splinter static
in repose sighing hues unsightly, a rainbow of burning
sin blisters the empty air between our pumping
artifices;  CHAOS: a tumble of dry nothing spits
from an oral sanctum in ownership of I and numbly
splitting vocal cracks i dare pray to evoke your
crass symptom of beauty, in every hillock it doth lash
your frame, to reside on me its angles.

cHEW the gristle of my fatty words, if be the flavor
to the liking of your buds may i lay into your
frame the vestige of mine will and blossom about your pearl, hid
in denim armor, my mouth in every effort of its loyalty
to the sanctuary of thy splendid yoke. and yoked to thy
the chain of my hips. weaving dainty clouds of "yes"
from the soft cavern of your prim voice?

*

Froth, the sea, my lady in waves of festering verbs
a shore, mine, they do land in manifolds of colour
loving every cut of these sharp enunciations; some claret,
i do well from the clefts. cells reticent of the screams brewing
in their nuclei, it's an ideal clove shod in scents somnambulant.
a territory of my libations to your flexing presence,
may always be you by the side of i

but waits the coldest sleep and the heaps of soil
generous on our boxes; so shall i make to you an offer
of my life. in hope, thou shalt accept its filigree and
decree it upon your soul as have i so we may be
in eternal blessed sickness of our amorous lace
bands fingers circling, do denote the promise of
my hands.


                 TO THEE. TO THY. me

Pulling the softened irises

From the mud in the darkened yard.

Pulling the statued eyes

From the window that is barred.

The night the air made way

For the golden mountain love song

Whose lyrics stung “God save!

Sing lonely! She’ll be gone long.”

But the empty field rang silence

Beneath the pleading marsh

Clipping shoulders ‘gainst the fences

Where the neighbors began the march.

Cremated Love

Two souls, dancing the times
One foot forward, two times
To the side, the other, and back
Back to each other’s arms
Took a step back, two, three
A stab to the heart, it was
The sounds of their footsteps
Towards their separate distances
As they danced, drifting away
Two, three, and more feet away

Two beings statued together, a light of the town
Crafting their silhouette, a shaft of light through the hall of fame
The talk of the town, fame has had its toll on their shine
Two, three, and more times, they’ve fallen to tame and shame
Tears flood what has turned to be flames
Like a waterfall falling from the rocks
Are the tears from the aflame eye sockets
Rumbles from the heart’s rhythms
As the mighty statue begins to tumble
Crumbles from emotional harbours
As the silhouette fades into grey shades
What used to be, now turning into ashes
Ashes that will never, in forever, release a phoenix
In a cemetery, cremated love lies hopelessly

Mongi C. Nkabindze

Barred Owl , Nighthawk ambient harmony ..The crash of Shellcracker
over smoky waters , the footsteps of Gray Fox and Blue Heron
audible along the shallows .. Wind swept expressions carry through statued marsh , Tree frogs , Katydids and Cicadas fill the young nightfall with varied chantey as white stars cross the impeccable , woodland firmament ..

oh, who am i kidding
to be breathless
and frozen,
to be statued
and unbroken,
to be loved
and careable,
is everything that i want.

to die,
is everything that i want.

to be dead,
is all i am.

.              how disapproving. to hear chords as yours,
I thought how clean as a viola;
               well, then as smooth as looking through a person.
I thought this blackness was opaque.
               so why sunlight through my ears when I hear
your ******* like water through a straw:
               notice: in my country, drought-heavy
cow-full, dust-bowled, bare-footed, large-
               accented-- skinny-boyed, big-thighed sauntering
girls-- what words: girls, boys-- notice:
               in my country water is desperate and
mottoed. we sing for it as god. when it
               rains mothers cry. your ******* is a waste
of water and a waste of my skin. transparent.

(o lightskins!: post-colonial nymph-paragoned
sibylline demigoded golden Greek-statued heroes--
               how full of **** y'all are!

and I Hephaestus...)

The empty darkness engulfs my weary body.
Tight lipped smiles, feigned laughs.
Tension bathes into stiff muscles,
A tired sigh resonates softly.

Silent screams, pain jabs into my mind.
Wavering eyes gleam in the darkness.
Lips painfully etch into a smile,
Hiding the glint gleaming within dark brown orbs.

Light flickers brightly,
Dissolving within a glossy ebony mist.
A glimmer of silver twinkles in the night,
Red paints the tiled floors.

The door creaks softly,
A gust of wind seeps through.
A statued form lingers in the doorway.
Drop by drop, a stream of tears begin to fall.

White bandages bound a pale wrist,
Silent sobs wrack in the night.
Arms embrace a troubled soul.
The silver blade abandoned, lies beside a trembling body.

overly theorising poetry can only allow university profs. specialising in the subject the mid-grammar eloquence of philosophical narrative endeavour the um-um-um-ah-ah-mm-mm-blah-blah in trying to elaborate or simply clarify... as it stands... i'm using roman lettering... but i'm writing in chinese in order that many more can live and claim the sire totality of entitlements via lost marxism and the endowment of 3.4 children being nailed rather than ******* into the tangle of seaweed comparisons along the beach of socio-economic paraphrase - i can write english... and you can pretend to be stupid... believe me... i can play this hide & seek until our death dies when we live a second time and forget that i wrote this and you read it; we'll hide ourselves in the blanks, and the hope that remains is: we won't despair over having our memory wiped out like robots unnecessarily memorising the digits of π after 3; how i rather till the field at late summer than till my thoughts into numbers for the sunshine of i.q. glee in parental authority gratified and applauded to simply turn me into a white tadpole of rosy cheeks chequered between success and failure of strangers' expectation levitated into the ******* familial model that's ready for the jaws and clumsy fingers of scientific failures known as statisticians... the journalists of the world of science with numerological headlines that call you - also included.*

sometimes theologising with israel
is like standing next to the brimstone
caste of the golden calf
trying to resurface with people
not used to cast statued embodiments
of pharaohs in stone among hindu
endowments of number & sustenance...
but so it goes...
palestinians come as fleshy shields
for egyptians not having moved an inch since
the crucifixion...
elongating the nile higher than the crumbling
everest of buddha attempting border
and horizon of the dali lama's exile
not extended to los angeles in quest...
if only all nations stood the mark of colorado
of easiest divide in linchpin park of stuttering piston remark...
no i didn't decide to escape through there...
i took the friend's groomed necessity of remorse
to keep him sane...
i grew his remorse and my once loved love
to be his kin... his kind...
i grew his remorse like a vegetable
into a success of career and familial reliefs...
i grew him into a son
into that he might feel remorse being fed
responsibility of the life i could have also lived,
and her too... into a lived i could have lived with her...
and they germinated... into germany...
and i solidified my etymology via logical coupling
with epistemology and eugenics that was without
logic except darwin who was not the only
person to logistic time, timing and timings...
and there it was left... a poem...
a scratch of nebuchadnezzar on the wall
prior to the fear seen by balthazar...
the fear of seven years of madness:
the judea slaves could see the pythagoras a-tip
the pyramids...
but salvage the mind of civilisations
to upkeep prophecy with the foolish
gardens of upside-down, encrusting the king's
skin with oaken bark creases in human age
known as wrinkling or turtle... to see sense of mind
dribbling senses in equations of 1/5 and 5/1
given correlations for the messiah to be sacrificed
and ordaining the comfort of prayer on the crux,
rather than the discomfort of prayer through
work and the thing ordained prayer - on a throne
to our wonder of not having looked
eagerly for the knee to bend beside the algebra of
90º and a, b, c... but instead provoked the anger
of cloning narcissus in mirrors and wax of the idols?
why are you praying over suffering - are you praying
for more suffering, or a quick end?
are you praying for more suffering or your liberation
through the choices of others?
i cannot deny that you took your choices like you
picked up chopsticks... and decided you life
was a free chicken chow mein...
if it was... i can see the bums regurgitate raw cement
into your eyes... and if it wasn't...
i can see you partake in gang rapes of the pensioners' purses
driving them to suicide...
i can then remedy my "name & shame" poetry...
excusing it all as... "capturing the moment,"
given the early stressor signalisation of traffic
past 20, 21, 22... beginning with only the second decade,
of the 21st century.

you hardly knew what they were talking about,
when they said you were dying from the inside out.
& you still can't maneuver me.
& I'm still like a statued hypocrisy.
Don't look for me on the other side,
where even the monsters have to hide--
I won't cheat death, or defeat it's concept.

There is smoke, escaping from the bathroom.
the hard surface exposing a poisonous fume.
Wake up, feeling like all night you've been dead,
Wake up, feeling either a coffin or a bed.
I never said I was a savior, let alone in your favor.
Hide behind your lies, wear them like mask
Living in your disguise, isn't an easy task.

I dream in color,
so on the nights I don't remember
I just pretend;
I never rose in the morning,
The sleeping didn't end.




& it was in the morning,
when I got that wake up call.
Your voice sounded so distant and old,
My own story abandoned and untold.

Two paths endlessly woven together
Connected by the distant frozen leaves
Numbed by the earths breath.

Two eager beings
Rubbing their palms together
To block out winters chill.

Two trees embracing each other's touch
Huddled together
Devouring the warmth.

Two birds
Still and statued
Holding one another's gaze.

Two beings endlessly woven together
Embracing each other's touch
Devouring one another's gaze.

He likes you when you're mad,
He likes you when you're sad,
He likes every moment together you've had,
He likes you enough to talk to your dad!

He likes you when he doesn't know,
To the ends of the earth he'll even go,
Til on his brow cold ice doth show,
Your path he'll make through 6 feet snow.

And as his body doth fully freeze,
Stands all his soul against strongest breeze,
On statued lips his heart doth seize,
Are words to you, three words are these!

I had this dream the other night  
in a dark blue gradient  surrounding,
you and me statued In center
Staring deeply into each soul,
no sound no voice
but a warm light glaring on us

Stares got deeper
it somehow felt real
Two palpitating hearts could be heard
Sweats could not be stopped
Blood rushing from both cheeks are seen
This intimacy is what I'm feeling
This fleeting moment is what I've been wishing

Yet something odd
made me woke
from this sad nap

As you bow down,
You powerfully tore one of my knee
As though you're the karate kid that Jackie chan trained
and I was the wood which he asked you to break
I cried the hell out loudly
Literally screamed
And knocked out

Right then I knew
how this is really just a heartbreaking,
nerve wracking,
and depressing dream.

For reality speaking,
all you ever broke is not my knee
but the whole part
of being me.

I appreciate travelling
the blur of a road
the burning of a sun
and the smell of the rain

I appreciate the wind breathing new life into my soul
and the prospect of growing tired and old

But if travel means moving
moving away
and there I go pushing out further from you
then a statued stance is what I will withhold
from now until the end of time
and the road will never blur
nor the sun burn away
nor the rain fall
nor the wind sway me back
nor will my heart wither and die

i will not live my life to simply pay the gas bill... i assure you not... i will not live my life to forget, forget via paying a gas bill or the local tax.*

what are we, to mention mortal
man and his grievances?
what are we?! if nothing but statued marble
worshipped! akin to mortals' concept
of thrown stones across the lake!

the universe watches with her
mischievous eyes
as silence stretches on
between me and the mechanical city

from up here, in winds’ embrace
the cars are decades away,
and lights only a vivid memory
straining the back of my skull

the universe, too, breathes
I hear her now
hear the vacancy stir
in her bones

one— and the archers running
down my throat
two, like the lambs slaughtered
beneath them eyes
three and four and nine—
cracked toe-nails laden with mud

—ten women weeping
eleven wishes for the wilting weeds
I sense a chariot
bumping down the ribs
twelve for the wounded boy
limping up the hill

twenty— a hundred
and hundred more

inhale

I fathom the seconds kiss their hours
and hours melting into days
weeks and minutes,
years and more
all chopped and cooked
to a frothy stew
I feel it fill up her being

and vehicles with their horns
midway
halt—
an owl’s scream stopped just
beneath his beak
and sun, statued, stands

a thousand and the stilled plane
twenty and five
for them frozen flames
sixteen— and the shooting star
taped to the night
— seven prayers left unuttered

three for now, and three
for the past,
three more as all, into the unseen, falls
two shivers, shivers still
—one and a lone worm crawling
down my veins
one and the blue child up, up the swing

exhale

I swallow
as the ticks sink back into the clock
centuries dancing again
— and months  
come stumbling home
millenniums and moments
back to their protests

as all the circus is born again

Wake up time/ by me..,,, Your statued liberty will collapse oh dire nation! For where is your station? On CNN or ABC? MSN turned TNT! Explosions to come, children will run to tower's of pure inferno! Mourn them, mourn you, for you shall have a box nailed next to theirs! Do you not scare? To witness evil dignities? For all pains turn pity to doped hallucinations! Clean out your ***** tracks you smoked up and cracked out! For terror and doubt will be men's own making! Sinful lust in the making! No not Hollywood, only misunderstood to anthem of star spangled sinner! Unloosen your chain's you slave to what is! Whats wrong !? Not hearing clearly? Potent venom will stricken the veins of rich and poor alike, where no love yet all strife will come with your new order! Form shut up your bowels the same as your borders, the bombs are bound to cross in!!! Nations split to perplexity! No smiling, all grins! Wake out of the dust you sleepy time dreamers, you new age and young pheners, you protest the wrong things! For you will be startled as a thief to the night! Its happening already! No Freddy Krueger story, no living, all deathly!!!tensionatic visions have been for told, for copper does not stay gold in a world to be swept!

War,
A disease ridden body,
A commentator between Satan and god!!
War,
A *****, a slob, a demon for all taking!
A plundering statued ******!!!
War,
A masked perfume,
Upon thy evening news it waves back at thou!!
War,
Its taken
Young and old alike,
There's no wrong, nor any right, just blood to sweep the dune!!
War,
Thy mother and father's platoon,
It hides between the rooms of terrorism and fear!!
War,
Drink away thy sorrows,
No new day tomorrow, just radiation to crack thy skin!
War,

No one shall win...

rioting crowd in the east-village squire,
crowds part in a brooding haze,
and a dice rolls across the years, stumbling
oh he painted himself a fool, luck hangs blasé

brush and crayon trace over lush ruin as etruscan love
pierces this thin veil of civilisation,
once coloured in imprisoned
years of ambition

and irony is warm and it glows 'cause
time is a conundrum, a fate, a paradox – and thoughts
are irrelevant in this oak-veiled cage,
for when the unimpressionist sings,
dreams start to sway

in a vaulted room, basalt
vases hold flowers,
****** bare of fruitful love
by the unimpressionist,
who holds pride and flattery high above

and outside the cage, the artist lifts his paintbrush
oh he dreams all too aimlessly, alight with naïveté

and as he pulls down jewelled ashtrays and the night-sky of tangier, he takes another smoke,
little artist doesn't paint for himself
statued replicator of somebody else

"ignorance is always so selfless and so kind"

his words form an echo at the end of his time
disapproval lingers in this great artful lie,
he's been played sideways, been handled and pawned
now the unimpressionist hangs
trapped, feeble
warned

I was told not to move
Or my father will disprove
I must improve or remove
The reason why I need to prove

The cold was frigid
making every statued human rigid
The was block was human grided
As if the town was knitted

The fire raged
But I was caged
The men from the houses rampaged
But there I was, unpaged

I drive by to see if he is out on the patio

or by the bench in the sun

Statued in stony white

Taking in some rays

Getting warmth while he can

If he is

I stop in  to have a smoke

Time is short so I don't stay long

Just a brief stay

Like the spring breeze

Just long enough to have been there

And then gone

There isn't much left to him these days

A man once

But

The pain meds have him in a fog most of the time

Fading in and out

Clouded like mist

But he still has spirit

One last fight

He's holding out now for St. Paddy's day

He heard that there's a party at a nearby club

And he plans on being there

I hope he makes it

If he does

I'll be his ride

And we'll have

One last day of being Irish

Only when rooted veins get stripped from skin,
Delved from flesh sinking sin,
For darkened nightshade permeates the iridescence,
With tearing clouds of reminiscent melodic pleasures.

Lonely nights become a tangible entity
That lurks upon the edge of night tremored beds.
The promise of potential draws a close,
Curtains strained, contemplate alone.

A conscientious troubling vestment,
Caused by an arrogant caked resentment,
Through words that do not press,
Statued by most ignorant jests.

Language decreed to fragmentary letters,
But a vessel to help forget;
The self-loathing that never subdues,
Reflect upon those uprooted veins,
The bearer of bad news.

We are full of joy
thought you never see
30 seconds ******
statued devotee
No smile for your eyes
No movement in our limbs
No expression can we wear
except the one of grim.

Her eyes already betrayed her
Waning patience...
I'm sorry I'm sorry was the feeling I gave back to her,
And she glanced, fuzzy,
Still looking down and
Continued to muse, completely dripped
In the syrup of her thoughts, then:
The twitch of the ear,
Untucked from the frenzied bundle of hair
Assured me that no,
"I'm just lost in the fruition of it all"
And she needn't say one word to me,
Because she's reading my mind already;
I would tell these things only to Dallas
But she's impatient and told me to write
Them all down-
I glanced back up but still her windows
Betrayed the same storm raging her
Subtle consciousness:
When does harvest start?
And I don't know either, because I'm Hungry too;
And even as I sit and watch and glance
(Now witness her statued eyes)
I wonder
Will this creation cure her feelings
Or simply treat them;
What does she prefer?