"absolutions" poems
Day breaks over a sleepy village
Morning absolutions completed
An excited buzz is in the air
Everyone is a buzz with cleaning
Hundreds gather wild flowers in the fertile fields
Many were in charge of raising the fires
Soon the whole town had bright blooms weaved from one end to the next
The horizon alight with smoke and power
Goddess and God rights invoked within circles round
Pulsating, rhythmic energy racing through each dancing body
Gyrating to the cosmic beat of life
Couples jump merrily together over cauldrons ablaze
High hopes rise and give way for dreams of children
Lovers round and round they twine
Maypole ribbons rainbow hued passing through hand to hand
As dusk falls the Queen is crowned
Mead flows freely through the jubilant worshippers
The moon hangs round with fullness above their heads
Lighting the way for love into the night
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
Your body
Is my pilgrimage
Of worship
A place
Where my hands reach to
Offer absolutions
I use my silvery tongue
To get you around the bend
And tell you that your flesh
Blesses mine, with a stain
That’s more than just skin deep
So I press my heart against yours
Waiting for the two drums
To beat as one
I press my mouth against yours
And eat the words
That died upon your lips
My mouth traces
Every inch of your skin and bones
Until my hunger is satiated
A sliver of the midnight moon
Bathes us while we
Tangle ourselves deeper into one another
Every heavy breath, a sonnet
Every bite, an ode
Every moan, those three tired words
The air is heavy
With the scent of old perfume
While our two bodies talk
The burden on my hands, absolves
The stars in the sky, dissolves
And the argument our bodies have, resolves
As we bloom synchronously
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
They call me bohemian,
a lost intellectual
hidden with no ambition
A happy go lucky,
who hops and hits
like a river flowing downhill
A philosophical dreamer
with subjective absolutions
unrealistic surreal expectations
They see my eccentric fashion
the chic grease of mismatch
A happenstance of my day's mood
My mind is indigenous
My soul is gender fluid
A vessel of masculinity and femininity
One day, it's a skirt and blouse
The next is a bow tie and shirt
The other is a blend of two
A maverick in a world alone
I felt it all my life, the lack of connection
No motions with the convectional
Their whispers cannot be heard
I am done with biting my nails
Let them pull their hair with their noise
Their chitter and chatter complaints
As I gaze and talk to the floor
weary of their mediocre complaints
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Freddy krueger?
Kreuger?. Kept a leuger as backup. Sharp edged steel ?
Made him feel the essence of perdition.
But high speed projectiles made him smile just like burning cordite did.
So freddy hid. His piece in his back pocket. Wrapped around it was a chain and locket ,wrapped around a crucificx. For absolutions sake.
What made freddy tick.?
A temporal trick.
Wrong place right time.
Tick..... tick.... tick.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
There’s a drum set in my room. Just beside my bed.
I have 4 pairs of sticks; one has a broken head.
The cat is roaming around, finding a place to sleep.
He plays around with my blanket. Needling it with his feet.
A bottle of beer, half empty, half full.
Another half drank bottle of wine, a commodity of a fool.
A ***** ashtray in the table and a cigarette between my fingers.
Just right between my pinky and the ring, where it putridly lingers.
No one’s playing the drums, yet the silence is deafening
The broken stick head is still on the ground, where it fell from breaking.
The cat now quietly resting, just licked his nose after yawning.
His name is Sae, the syllable I say in a high pitch when I call him.
The beer is now quarter full, around hundred fifty milliliters
It’s 750 if full, but empty when touched by drinkers
The ashtray, dozen of butts, ***** of ashes
The loneliness, the silence, an evidence, a witness.
It’s just another night of my life, my joy, my agony
They said young life was fun, not for me.
I have no job, I have no partner, I have no money.
And just to make it worse, my father was taken away from me.
Now, I’m alone, though I still have family.
One from my father, another from my mother and a brother younger than me.
I’m not complaining about anything, I love my life and I live it too.
A philosophy of mine, ‘if you love love, love has got to love you.’
Even if love loves me, fate has other plan planned for me.
An invisible web of thread hidden from me.
Though it would be easier if I knew where I should go.
And not think of excuses and impromptu responses once the troubles grow.
I see the Sae staring at me, his eyes mildly close, but looking at me.
He wants to sleep but still waiting for me.
If only it was that easy, that one can sleep and forget everything.
A beer and a cigarette and every problem would be nothing.
A potion, a smoke couldn’t change anything, nothing at all.
But helps you forget the times fate made you crawl.
It would only give music for a silent night but noise for the trouble.
Lets you sleep, but wake up in the morning with the trouble doubled.
Fate, oh fate. If beer, smoke, music and Sae could only convince you.
That I’m young and senseless, would you make it easier for a fool.
If only the silence bear music, the beer give solutions,
the smoke give predictions, and Sae tell me that in fate, there’s no absolutions.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
I don't know where to begin with this
All I can say is that I am tired
I was given dreams
dreams like fresh fruit
Ripening in my palms
My world was blue skies and
orange slices
litchi juice on hands
climbing the jungle gym
My youth was flora
sprouting out the earth
branches picked clean
we were absolutions
I don't know when that all disappeared
Grown-ups are supposed to know everything
When did I start seeing adults crying more often than I did
We are grey specks in the sea
tumultuous
overwhelming
absolute
We are droplets
whirled into the horror of bloodstains on the road
I am lonely
Endless
Mattress on the sea
Floating
Sinking
Drowning
This is carnage
terror
silent genocide running through our veins
The hours are passing
The air is smog
the trees are dying
the fruit is gone
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
The bed against the wall
near the crucifix
on the wall above the bed
and a small lamp
on the bedside cabinet,
et sonus campanae,
time to rise
and prepare for Matins
opened the shutters
over the windows
to catch dawn's 5am light,
and she said
come back to bed
I want you to make love
to me again,
George in the toilets
getting water in the jug
for absolutions
but said nothing
because of the Grand Silence,
Dio parla nel silenzio
the Italian monk said
after Mass as we walked
from the church,
sunlight came and went
as we walked along
the cloisters after Lauds,
O Lord help me to be pure
but not yet
Augustine(saint) said,
I wondered that as I washed
down the walls
of the sluice room
after Terce smell of bleach
in my nose,
la remise de soi à Dieu
the French monk
told me as I helped
tidy the sacristy
before Sext and lunch
stomach moaning,
she was small but she
had this way about ***
that was tireless,
Hugh spoke
of his father's visit
and his father thought
he'd make abbot
but he left years later
and married,
the bell tolled
in the cloister
the French monk held
the rope as we entered
for lunch and grace prayers
and readings by the reader
maybe Cromwell's life,
hablar y Dios te escucha
the Spanish monk said
the rain fell as we waited
for Vespers
and I saw a rainbow,
it is easy to forgive
a child who is afraid
of the dark but the real
tragedy of life
is when men
are afraid of the light
said Gareth quoting Plato
on the lawn as we ate tea
and biscuits,
to walk with God
or in His shadow
looking for light
even in the darkest night.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
Blue and somber white, I ask that
you ponder in your waking dreams and solid songs to bare the fruits with these eyes
like children and horses and such.
Naked and trembling. You frighten me.
Words of a thousand suns are witness.
They cross out the years of servitude and grace.
Absolutions. They yearn
to survive until they crave mortality.
I am about to give way. To see you with fresh sight,
hear the voice of another betrayal. Thus far,
there is only One
I have never seen
I have never heard
I have never known.
Cruelty abates
itself, shuns itself.
We wait in silence and petulance,
longing for a day to last
a thousand days
and more.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 7:25 AM UTC
i can’t believe i’d forgotten how
you would talk to me until two, sometimes three
in the morning, nonstop messages
fingers taking flight over the keys,
telling me stories, sometimes just
listening, incessantly
exposing yourself in
uncompromised open wounds.
now, it’s not quite the way it was
now, i tell myself
this doesn’t mean anything.
that we shift & settle
like dust
upon past incarnations
of us, but i miss what you gave me
early in the morning,
filling the space within my chest
that is often
empty, giving me truths &
performing absolutions
for all my past sins.
the truth is, i am no longer
the shiny new toy you are
desperate to play with
every second
of every day
i am the book at your bedside,
measuring my days by
when you turn my pages
& when you don’t
wanting you to devour me
whole
once again.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC