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I want to thank hellopoetry.com and it's wondrous submitting poets, for giving me the confidence to write. Thank you all! X All poems posted here …
30/M/Salem, New Hampshire
Here, now
Chicago
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Poems
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
Ben-Oni, Son of Sorrow
Nat Lipstadt
Dec 2013
"Ben-Oni" is a Hebrew term meaning "son (Ben) of sorrow (oni)," and the name of an 1825 manuscript describing a chess opening.
"Whenever I felt in a sorrowful mood and wanted to take refuge from melancholy, I sat over a chessboard, for one or two hours according to circumstances. Thus this book came into being, and its name, Ben-Oni, 'Son of Sadness,' should indicate its origin." - Aaron Reinganum.
From the Old Testament,
Genesis 35:18;
“Her dying lips calls
her newborn son Ben-Oni,
the son of my sorrow.
But Jacob, because he would not
renew the sorrowful remembrance of his
mother's death every time
he called his son by name,
changed his name,
and called him Benjamin,
the son of my right hand."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ben-Oni, Son of Sorrow
Love,
you can fall in
and out of.
Happy,
comes and goes,
in waves,
cycles of differing amplitudes.
Its schedule of
arrivals and departures,
most erratic.
It is always
a two sided affair,
don't blame this messenger,
it's the way of the world
that it comes,
then it goes
Tho certain sorrows,
special, may
wax and wane,
they, a once, then a forever guest,
a full time resident,
taste, once acquired,
cannot be erased.
Part of your museum's
permanent collection,
an addiction affliction
that can't be undone,
be beat back,
ain't no emotional methadone,
to inhibit its delicious lows
Like a passerby,
a mound of stones espied,^
a grave marker au naturel,
compelled and compulsed,
duty bound to add a stone
to keep the pile intact and sound,
another 'sorrow' poem to add
to the internet's dustbin.
Sorrow,
a rich, old moneyed patron,
with a wealth of ancient lineage
orders and commands
yet another a poem
to celebrate its entrenchment
in our constitution personal
Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.
If you spoke Hebrew,
understood you would
the quality of the sound of
Oni.
It is a soundless sigh,
a virulent scream, part wail,
part exclamation, part groan,
say it slow - oh nee.
You alone,
a father,
can own,
the sorrow of a son,
who denies you.
It cannot be denied,
expiated, signed away,
a syllable of grief
that says mine, all mine.
Watching the sun push away
the backdrop,
the stage curtain of the randomized
but they a-keep-on-coming,
summer thunderstorms
that have scattered
all living creatures
to the comforts,
the shelter
of loved ones,
but yours, present, or not,
return your message
either marked "well received'
or sadly, postmarked
"addressee unknown, get lost."
Curse me to stop,
and I can't,
already accursed,
add your curse to my collection,
makes no difference to my pile,
of sorrowfully fresh recollections
We slept together,
so many good night moon
stories read,
pillows shared,
side by side,
a stock exchange of
kisses and hugs,
trades that can't be cancelled,
having been entered officially
on the books and records of
our-sorrowful hearts.
Lesser men
cry to themselves,
their loneliness, their tragedy
a soliloquy, revealed in a
one man show,
Off Brodway,
before an audience of none.
Not me kid, my oni,
is a public theater
of a visible shriek
in every breathe,
but the Supreme Court
gone and ruled against me,
and now there is no possibility
of injunctive relief.
Will travel to faraway lands,
asking different courts
for a hearing, knowing full well,
that I will be plea-denied,
having no standing,
for here,
there and everywhere
I lack proofs
and my son-accuser
wears masks and presents
no charges,
and even if he did,
I would gladly confess,
if he but presented them
face to face.
Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.
Come let us exchange
new names, new poems,
for we, though both poets,
do not read each other's
Works.
It is time.
"Whenever I felt in a sorrowful mood and wanted to take refuge from melancholy, I sat over a chessboard, for one or two hours according to circumstances. Thus this book came into being, and its name, Ben-Oni, 'Son of Sadness,' should indicate its origin." - Aaron Reinganum.
From the Old Testament,
Genesis 35:18;
“Her dying lips calls
her newborn son Ben-Oni,
the son of my sorrow.
But Jacob, because he would not
renew the sorrowful remembrance of his
mother's death every time
he called his son by name,
changed his name,
and called him Benjamin,
the son of my right hand."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ben-Oni, Son of Sorrow
Love,
you can fall in
and out of.
Happy,
comes and goes,
in waves,
cycles of differing amplitudes.
Its schedule of
arrivals and departures,
most erratic.
It is always
a two sided affair,
don't blame this messenger,
it's the way of the world
that it comes,
then it goes
Tho certain sorrows,
special, may
wax and wane,
they, a once, then a forever guest,
a full time resident,
taste, once acquired,
cannot be erased.
Part of your museum's
permanent collection,
an addiction affliction
that can't be undone,
be beat back,
ain't no emotional methadone,
to inhibit its delicious lows
Like a passerby,
a mound of stones espied,^
a grave marker au naturel,
compelled and compulsed,
duty bound to add a stone
to keep the pile intact and sound,
another 'sorrow' poem to add
to the internet's dustbin.
Sorrow,
a rich, old moneyed patron,
with a wealth of ancient lineage
orders and commands
yet another a poem
to celebrate its entrenchment
in our constitution personal
Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.
If you spoke Hebrew,
understood you would
the quality of the sound of
Oni.
It is a soundless sigh,
a virulent scream, part wail,
part exclamation, part groan,
say it slow - oh nee.
You alone,
a father,
can own,
the sorrow of a son,
who denies you.
It cannot be denied,
expiated, signed away,
a syllable of grief
that says mine, all mine.
Watching the sun push away
the backdrop,
the stage curtain of the randomized
but they a-keep-on-coming,
summer thunderstorms
that have scattered
all living creatures
to the comforts,
the shelter
of loved ones,
but yours, present, or not,
return your message
either marked "well received'
or sadly, postmarked
"addressee unknown, get lost."
Curse me to stop,
and I can't,
already accursed,
add your curse to my collection,
makes no difference to my pile,
of sorrowfully fresh recollections
We slept together,
so many good night moon
stories read,
pillows shared,
side by side,
a stock exchange of
kisses and hugs,
trades that can't be cancelled,
having been entered officially
on the books and records of
our-sorrowful hearts.
Lesser men
cry to themselves,
their loneliness, their tragedy
a soliloquy, revealed in a
one man show,
Off Brodway,
before an audience of none.
Not me kid, my oni,
is a public theater
of a visible shriek
in every breathe,
but the Supreme Court
gone and ruled against me,
and now there is no possibility
of injunctive relief.
Will travel to faraway lands,
asking different courts
for a hearing, knowing full well,
that I will be plea-denied,
having no standing,
for here,
there and everywhere
I lack proofs
and my son-accuser
wears masks and presents
no charges,
and even if he did,
I would gladly confess,
if he but presented them
face to face.
Son of Sorrow,
Son, Sorrow,
two conditions,
one necessary and
one sufficient,
combined,
a logical causality,
or a casus belli.
Come let us exchange
new names, new poems,
for we, though both poets,
do not read each other's
Works.
It is time.
I have a first born son who I rarely see and only, very, very occasionally hear from, and then it is by email or text. I do not judge for he is the product of my *****, and who cannot wonder if...
^a Jewish custom is to place a small stone on the tombstone you are visiting at a cemetery. The custom, ancient, is derived from when a mound of stones would be a marker of a burial. It became customary for a passerby to add a stone to the mound to perpetuate its existence.
^a Jewish custom is to place a small stone on the tombstone you are visiting at a cemetery. The custom, ancient, is derived from when a mound of stones would be a marker of a burial. It became customary for a passerby to add a stone to the mound to perpetuate its existence.
NeroameeAlucard Jun 2015
Oni Mask
NeroameeAlucard
Jun 2015
Obscured by this ornately designed day ****** covering
Is a damaged mind that's still recovering
A broken heart that's still recovering
Love, life, and friendship again
Behind this mask is a dead man that's been resurrected again
He is becoming a new
Without the mask he is no longer blue.
The old world behind him
His new world will find him
Without out this mask his light can shine through.....if you wanted to go that direction of like New life
Behind this mask memories pass straight through it's eyes
When you stare at it slowly your faith dies
The mask was the man's demise The mask is where the darkness will rise
Is a damaged mind that's still recovering
A broken heart that's still recovering
Love, life, and friendship again
Behind this mask is a dead man that's been resurrected again
He is becoming a new
Without the mask he is no longer blue.
The old world behind him
His new world will find him
Without out this mask his light can shine through.....if you wanted to go that direction of like New life
Behind this mask memories pass straight through it's eyes
When you stare at it slowly your faith dies
The mask was the man's demise The mask is where the darkness will rise
Collaboration between Myself, my friend Joana and my other friend Chubbz
Katlyn Orthman
Oct 2012
Death was not unfamilar to me. I'd killed my share of things classified as monsters. I wasn't complaining really, my job kept the humans safe. I just felt guilty, I was practically a monster myself. They call us Warriors of the night, we're not Vampires, we are born with extra strenght and a long life span. I was born a long time ago, I was raised to **** monsters that terrorize the human race. Since I was six, I'd been trained to ****. I was a killing machine, best of my kind. Yet somehow, even though what I do is considered an honor, I don't feel proud. I've been doing my job much to long, and lately I'd began getting sloppy with my work. God knows Rowan would be one ****** of boss if he heard about me letting the group of baby Werewolves. I wasn't a complete heartless ******* to **** a bunch of babies.
I might've been two years ago, before the whole incident happened. I layed my head in my hands, I couldn't go there, not now. I needed a clear head. My small apartment in Master Singu's house was getting messy. I hadn't had time to clean lately with all of the monster attacks that had been popping up lately. Ghouls, Goblins, Oni, Ogre, you name it and it's been attacking. Wasn't much we could do with the Banshee, they were more of a signifier then a monster. A signifier of death, and usually they gave me a heads up if the person who's house it's been surrounding, is gonna die. Banshee were cruel looking creatures, never gotten to close to one, they make **** sure of that. Not sure I ever want to. They were ruled by the one and only, Death. And i will gladly stay as far from death as possible. Haven't heard too many good things about him. Death is one of the Four horsemen. Scariest ******* in the underworld, and I would gladly never meet any of deaths brothers or sisters, what ever the gender their welcome to stay away. There was a soft knock on my door, io glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already three. Warriors worked night shift basically, since thats the time most monsters like to come out.
The victorian styled door was a black cherry carved wood, with a ancient symbols carved in so no evil spirit couls cross into my apartment, so I wasnt worried any monster was at my door. But I was suprised to see Cameron when I opened the door. Cameron and I used to work the nights together until he'd gone off and gotten married to Sylvia, who was a vampire. Vampires were only considered monsters when they didnt follow the rules. No feeding off of unwilling people, only donors, and they couldnt go around killing people. Their biggest rule though was not to tell any human what they were, Warriors like me had a lot of people to execute.
"Cameron, never thought I'd see you around here anymore," just as I was talking to him I realized, Cameron looked scared and desperate. Unlike someone who spent his life killing evil monsters that were twice the size of him. " What's wrong Cameron?" He shook his head and walked past me, through the door and into the living room. "It's Sylvia, Theon please help me," Camerons voice was going all thick and his eye's all watery. This was deffinetly something bad. " Tell me, what has happened with Sylvia?" I needed Cameron in his most focused form to help me out, but as I looked at the shaking man I knew he was beyond that. " You remember the king vampire we took down to save Sylvia?" Cameron said quitely, but I knew instantly what vampire he was talking about. That vampire had killed Abelia. I quickly swept that from my mind and focused back on Cameron. " Yes I remember, " I had no idea where Cameron was going with this. " You remember his brother than, the one that got away, he said that we would both pay. He, ah, made you pay that day. I never thought that he would carry out with his threat. He kidnapped Sylvia, and Sylvia is pregnant, " Cameron almost lost it right there.
I never thought that, pip squeak of a vampire had it in him, but he was smart and possesed powers we hadn't known about until we had come across them. Their king that we had slayed, had been capturing girls of all species and abusing them in such barbaric ways.
We had to put an end to his affairs, and we did but his brother wasn't too happy about it. He'd done one of his tricks and manifested behind Abelia and snapped her neck. Everything for me had stopped, all I could hear was the blood in my veins. I didn't breath, I could still remember the deafining roar I had unleashed as my monster had gripped me, took the reins and killed all of the mans servants.
Blood had bathed the walls that night, not even the crickets dared to sing. The sun rose late that morning, and I sat inside this very apartment, on that very couch, and cried. For the very first time, I had cried until my eye's swelled shut, until my throat could bare no more. Until I passed out.
"We'll get them back Cameron, don't worry. For now get some rest, we'll start investigating later tonight, I have meeting to attend," I was going to **** that ******* when I found him. He had taken my only love from me, and he would pay this time, I would make that absoultely certain. Cameron nodded and headed for the door. It was a long way back to his house, and he crossed quite a few bridges. I didn't want him making any bad decisions, " Cameron you can crash here, I have a guest room your welcome here man," I say casually so he doesn't get all prideful. He stops and looks at me for a moment then nods " Yeah, thanks man, and also thank you for agreeing to help me on this I know it's a bit of a touchy subject for you, just know i appreciate it." He made his way down the hall, I listened for the soft click of the door shuting before i went to leave.
I grabbed my coat, and the keys to my Ducatti and ducked out the door. The hallway was long and at the end of it was two flights of srairs, I lived on the third floor. My motorcycle was parked right were I left it, it was a beauty. Black and red sleek metal and nice leather seats. I loved the bike so much I had named her Racer. I loved to drive fast, and so did she. I tore off out of the parking lot and listened to the purr of her engine on the way to Rowan's , my boss, office. It wasnt to far, but I wasn't in a rush either so i took the long road just to stall. I knew Rowan planned on giving me a partner. Probably some ****** that didnt know his way around a swiss army blade, let alone a sword. Warriors didnt use guns unless absoultely necessary. I loved the feel of my sword slicing through the air. I didn't, however, enjoy the noisy bang of a gun. A sword was like another limb, you have to trust it to take you were you need to go.
Rowan's office light was on, and I could make out the form of three bodies. Great, I knew it, Rowan was going to assign me a partner.
I hated partners, the only one I'd ever slightly enjoyed had been Cameron. I got off my bike, patted the seat for good luck, and made my way into Rowans office. When I pulled open the door I was ready to yell at Rowan for even thinking of giving me a partner, instead i dropped my hand off the doorknob. " *******," was all I coluld say. I was stunned to silence.
I might've been two years ago, before the whole incident happened. I layed my head in my hands, I couldn't go there, not now. I needed a clear head. My small apartment in Master Singu's house was getting messy. I hadn't had time to clean lately with all of the monster attacks that had been popping up lately. Ghouls, Goblins, Oni, Ogre, you name it and it's been attacking. Wasn't much we could do with the Banshee, they were more of a signifier then a monster. A signifier of death, and usually they gave me a heads up if the person who's house it's been surrounding, is gonna die. Banshee were cruel looking creatures, never gotten to close to one, they make **** sure of that. Not sure I ever want to. They were ruled by the one and only, Death. And i will gladly stay as far from death as possible. Haven't heard too many good things about him. Death is one of the Four horsemen. Scariest ******* in the underworld, and I would gladly never meet any of deaths brothers or sisters, what ever the gender their welcome to stay away. There was a soft knock on my door, io glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already three. Warriors worked night shift basically, since thats the time most monsters like to come out.
The victorian styled door was a black cherry carved wood, with a ancient symbols carved in so no evil spirit couls cross into my apartment, so I wasnt worried any monster was at my door. But I was suprised to see Cameron when I opened the door. Cameron and I used to work the nights together until he'd gone off and gotten married to Sylvia, who was a vampire. Vampires were only considered monsters when they didnt follow the rules. No feeding off of unwilling people, only donors, and they couldnt go around killing people. Their biggest rule though was not to tell any human what they were, Warriors like me had a lot of people to execute.
"Cameron, never thought I'd see you around here anymore," just as I was talking to him I realized, Cameron looked scared and desperate. Unlike someone who spent his life killing evil monsters that were twice the size of him. " What's wrong Cameron?" He shook his head and walked past me, through the door and into the living room. "It's Sylvia, Theon please help me," Camerons voice was going all thick and his eye's all watery. This was deffinetly something bad. " Tell me, what has happened with Sylvia?" I needed Cameron in his most focused form to help me out, but as I looked at the shaking man I knew he was beyond that. " You remember the king vampire we took down to save Sylvia?" Cameron said quitely, but I knew instantly what vampire he was talking about. That vampire had killed Abelia. I quickly swept that from my mind and focused back on Cameron. " Yes I remember, " I had no idea where Cameron was going with this. " You remember his brother than, the one that got away, he said that we would both pay. He, ah, made you pay that day. I never thought that he would carry out with his threat. He kidnapped Sylvia, and Sylvia is pregnant, " Cameron almost lost it right there.
I never thought that, pip squeak of a vampire had it in him, but he was smart and possesed powers we hadn't known about until we had come across them. Their king that we had slayed, had been capturing girls of all species and abusing them in such barbaric ways.
We had to put an end to his affairs, and we did but his brother wasn't too happy about it. He'd done one of his tricks and manifested behind Abelia and snapped her neck. Everything for me had stopped, all I could hear was the blood in my veins. I didn't breath, I could still remember the deafining roar I had unleashed as my monster had gripped me, took the reins and killed all of the mans servants.
Blood had bathed the walls that night, not even the crickets dared to sing. The sun rose late that morning, and I sat inside this very apartment, on that very couch, and cried. For the very first time, I had cried until my eye's swelled shut, until my throat could bare no more. Until I passed out.
"We'll get them back Cameron, don't worry. For now get some rest, we'll start investigating later tonight, I have meeting to attend," I was going to **** that ******* when I found him. He had taken my only love from me, and he would pay this time, I would make that absoultely certain. Cameron nodded and headed for the door. It was a long way back to his house, and he crossed quite a few bridges. I didn't want him making any bad decisions, " Cameron you can crash here, I have a guest room your welcome here man," I say casually so he doesn't get all prideful. He stops and looks at me for a moment then nods " Yeah, thanks man, and also thank you for agreeing to help me on this I know it's a bit of a touchy subject for you, just know i appreciate it." He made his way down the hall, I listened for the soft click of the door shuting before i went to leave.
I grabbed my coat, and the keys to my Ducatti and ducked out the door. The hallway was long and at the end of it was two flights of srairs, I lived on the third floor. My motorcycle was parked right were I left it, it was a beauty. Black and red sleek metal and nice leather seats. I loved the bike so much I had named her Racer. I loved to drive fast, and so did she. I tore off out of the parking lot and listened to the purr of her engine on the way to Rowan's , my boss, office. It wasnt to far, but I wasn't in a rush either so i took the long road just to stall. I knew Rowan planned on giving me a partner. Probably some ****** that didnt know his way around a swiss army blade, let alone a sword. Warriors didnt use guns unless absoultely necessary. I loved the feel of my sword slicing through the air. I didn't, however, enjoy the noisy bang of a gun. A sword was like another limb, you have to trust it to take you were you need to go.
Rowan's office light was on, and I could make out the form of three bodies. Great, I knew it, Rowan was going to assign me a partner.
I hated partners, the only one I'd ever slightly enjoyed had been Cameron. I got off my bike, patted the seat for good luck, and made my way into Rowans office. When I pulled open the door I was ready to yell at Rowan for even thinking of giving me a partner, instead i dropped my hand off the doorknob. " *******," was all I coluld say. I was stunned to silence.
To be continued! Hope I left you wanting to know more!