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Matt Nov 2021
Crows caw
And the women chatter
While trees saw
A thousand matters
And a cats claw
And the wind carries
Whispers old and new
While, there, married
The fools who haven’t a clue
The voices within
Die in ignorance
Surface sighted men
Are idiots to patience
A thousand voices quieted
To the world rested in palms
As no appetites are wetted
We’ve forgotten old psalms
Gone is what matters
Supple sustenance for soul
Replaced by glass shattered
Yet the heart still grows
Nay it starves
For sustenance denied
Chosen laws’ Harvard
And empty A.I.
A thousand voices quieted
Craving cars within
Superficially saturated
Inside your Gods’ light dims
And restless is Morpheus
Emptied is Khemenu’s basin
Writing to your inner Boethius
And the day is out
I’ve been here since night
Watching the thoughtless come about
Enter prison, now returned in sight
Back are the chattering women
Gone is the silent respite
Abandoned is Gods Heaven
Be it not for the last flicker of light
But the Old Ones have spoken
Hymns of liberation
Visions be woven
Songs of man’s abomination
Dance and joy
Lust and pride
Forget the inner boy
Behind left a sight wide
Traded for shallow waters
Cyclopean cities of nigh
Tapped by the unbothered
Phantom of the dead city R’lyeh
Your newfound liberation is devolution
Freedom is your cage
For thoughts ceased their convolution
Once again bound by animal rage
Inward no
Outward tempts
Surface grows
Depth nonexistent
Pretentious know it alls
Who know nothing
In their selfish muse they fall
Without an original thought of something
And the wild kingdom
Expands its reign
Filled by blind fandom
And Zealous feign
The Old One herds it’s sheep
Eyes turned off
Their minds gone to sleep
While the unwilling scoff
They count their days
But the unicorn finds arrogance
For to the cattle they’ll fall prey
For they’ve abandoned their righteous penance
Forget the last as you commit the next
Crime, how soon until the ultimate crime
Hope not for the fallen, for let’s
Wash clean our soul in brine
But prey not fall to the Beast
Of the sea
Ready for your soul feast
To devour your faith and dreams
But still His word you pervert
And winged demon still steals
As His will you subvert
Your life turned into its meal
For they’ve abandoned their gift
Of independence
The point has been missed
And we are all so dependent
God is in the TV
Question and answers that are hard to solve
Oh Darling, please believe me
The darkest hour is right before the dawn
Yourself forgotten
A thousand faces in your mirror
Each day a new allotment
Not your voice, but theirs you hear
Valorless galore
Against the Krakens tide
Because their thoughts matter more
Your true self hides
The bird has rid its wings
A bird it is no more
And forgotten how to sing
A bird it is no more
Lions Pride becomes Hordes Chant
They’ve died and returned a Lich
Not a King, just a scamp
Just another stitch
There, there lies bones apart
Empty within
How can your revolution start
When with yourself you can’t begin
Turn back time
Reach into before
Bathe with the swine
Across a barren shore
Take your hatred out of me
I don’t have to listen
Campaign speech of liberty
Theatre masks gone missing
Love and joy
War and peace
Meat and soy
Sinner and the priest
You are everything
And I am one
Your hate deliberating
Murdered is the one
I am the animal
Who will not be himself
Thought unfathomable
Unrealized hell
Demons whisper in your ear
And I start to hear them
Your will a fulfilled fear
From you, Baal stems
Pride and humility
A spectrums range
Greed and charity
Perspectives change
Across the water
Unfairness praised
Unjust no bother
Open eyes hazed
What’s it then if I find my demise
A number for their ends
Begone to those who dare question
Just a means to their end
ConnectHook Oct 2021
Blue, blue is the grass about the river
And the willows have overfilled the close garden.
And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth,
White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door.
Slender, she puts forth a slender hand;

And she was a courtezan in the old days,
And she has married a sot,
Who now goes drunkenly out
And leaves her too much alone.
MEI SHENG, 140 BC 
(trans: by Ezra Pound)

I was struck by the title ...
Anastasia Aug 2019
My head
Is pounding
It hurts
Perhaps
I shouldn't have
Hit it
Over
  Ove r
  O v E r
   O   V  E r
O V e R
Again
Against a concrete wall
John Van Dyke May 2019
On this day, which seems a portal to the rest of life,
A pair of Rose breasted Grosbeaks come to the feeder
Under powerful white beaks, their throats are brilliant red.  
And Pound’s words: “What thou lov’st well” come to mind.
“What thou lov’st well”
Words I recited to Janey when her husband died.
To myself when I lost my house,
And that job, thirty years ago.
When mother’s white hair signaled her mortality
Now, this beautiful bird
And coffee
And taking breaths
An oriole in the apple tree
Picking nectar out of May blossoms...
“What thou lovest well remains,

the rest is dross

What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee

What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage”
I always wondered: Is this true? So far, it has been.
Marietta Ginete May 2019
Your name became my favorite sound.
It would always make my heart pound,
and even make my head spin around.
You’re different from the rest I’ve found.
how did you get me feeling this way?
Erian Rose Apr 2019
If I could tell you how much
You make my heart pound each day
I would lose sight of the Earth
You blinded me
From who I could be
adi Apr 2019
One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!

A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.

Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!

With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.

They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.

I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!

Come sleep - or come death, 
I can see no difference. 

Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.

He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.
ooh
ooh they said at match
as it is finished good for them

ooh! they said to compete
when their team got first

ooh!they shouted at celebrate
when engage or wedding occurred

ooh! they said and escaped
when they stole some pounds

ooh! they called at one
who failed for his leg in love

they may laugh at
or they may wish to be at
love is the way to get happy all over the world,. love mother, sister ,father ,wife and God
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