"abysm" poems
Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;
Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;
Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;
I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.
Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget
3.9k
The lead ideas fell on a field as voices
coming from a bad dream. The yellow
of the daisies became sharper than the
serpents’ teeth, and the fragrant sun
started to tremble in the wind. The ideas
would fall into a silent abysm, but they
have become as hard as those boulders
falling to hit people and to ****** their
reality. I am talking about those newcomers
picking the flowers and having injured
smiles. It looked like the life was destroying
itself under a predefined set of circumstances.
Those people had ghostly, spectral feelings.
Those feelings began to grow into the Light of
God, Who has started to reconcile all things
to Himself through His Embodied Word.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
*stone-blind to suppress
the poison that enlivens a soul
how cryptic a fool you become
to see erroneous fantasy
to chase a false reality
wake up and see the aftermath
Love, is a mischief
oh, hold your horses- apathy
a broken dream
and you are entrap*
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
The abysm of the unbodied Infinite;
A fathomless zero occupied the world.
A power of fallen boundless self awake
Between the first and the last Nothingness,
Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came,
Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth
And the tardy process of mortality
And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought.
As in a dark beginning of all things,
A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown
Repeating for ever the unconscious act,
Prolonging for ever the unseeing will,
Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force
Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns
And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl.
--By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Forgo Summer to Die in the Winter
its quite alright that your a *****
you should have never showed up last night
i thought I told you the score
repeat, repeat, repeat
a time or two before
dance this silly dance we do
back and forth
score for love, a score for secrecy
we should have never held one another that close
electric and morose
it's over and it can't be fixed
there is no coming back from abysm
instead I seek an important peace, within me,
and for us, for us
do you remember the us?
wait, i heard you
no longer an us
we are nothing
as you say, as you say, as you say
but I held out for respect of a friend
none to be had
you show me how that can be done,
more lethal than a loaded gun
sad me walks and walks alone, alone, alone again
you leave in silent steps
quiet tongue
as always
as always
no change
you say I confuse your truth for mean
you confuse my communication for gibberish
your ears go numb
you forget...
me
you act as if you don't know what to say...
to me
so much time to know me yet you remain amaurotic
you curtail and introvert
deaf ears, hardened heart
questioning the tears
telling me to not roll them out
you wouldn't, why would I?
berating, blind, black-hearted
forgiveness is but a lark
It was important
I tried to tell you
I am sorry you chose to miss it
this is going to hurt...
it’s yours
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill
Which ****** scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’ergreen my bad, my good allow?
You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steeled sense or changes, right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices that my adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppèd are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense.
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides, methinks, are dead.
1.4k
spelling backwards through time,
stroke by blurry stroke
a maiden's coal-black hair regales
the flattery from her lips... and so the doom
-- and boon of a crimson warrior's arm --
was drawn from speech a flame,
and kindled mind to burn away for lust,
one speaker fed and doubly fraught
by goddess's
invention brought
to give away his name and trust,
for doppelgangers' games
and beauty
to consent~
that trollish abysm our aching selfhood
deems unworthy, war can celebrate:
iconic genius symbol may encourage,
it may remembrance windows of our history~
but only breath, and inner sight so keen
on solid strength of living fact
can triumph in the plain!
some semblance of an older wisdom
strains to orate still, and lust itself afar,
but brawn and tested fibrous body build
must turn the page of time;
and this, to know the truth withstood
that vision
of a perfect youth
forever,
one start and line without an end,
a floating dance of pulling under waves
that never waves as being surely does
like no ancient-honest country-prophet ever saw--
thus, remnants of the wisdom from a fallen mind;
and so he fell to her and had not her for long...
she had a wider window, immortal panes,
this temptress
suppleness of limb to shock
and shake the bones of foolish learning,
that thinks itself imbued with everlasting fame.
it was a mossy light
of eyelash shine
and sheen
to woo
the wisdom out,
electric sense to lure the hapless sap
into a brutish trap: to learn alone the
atheletes pathos, relearn the heart-race
from a chest of seemless vigour,
from lungs of endless winds
and legs of trunkish growth the
channels and the prism of an empty skull
instead of learned ships and foolish mimes of finer times--
he does the bidding of her will.
.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
as conscious mode,
vague aboutness, it stales romance
in metaphysic stench, this telic sense,
unlike the comfort of a family nest
my locus drifts on wind
i'd rather culture in a jar
on the counter (no secrets there) or even cellared
responding to the world's response, anthophilous
com][part][mental-mania
warehoused too for sticky label stigma-sized
cover-glint akin with stamp of human frailty, resource that i am,
far from pink and snow banana plants
no inward passion of a chimpanzee in chains
though i assume the name
pan troglodytes applies to me as any species, or much more,
riddled with neuroses, caves every each to steal away from being seen,
from open goals to shade concerns, rotted fancies
manifestering the soil by the laundy-bin abysm--
commode in time, this musa media mind
so urgent in its pseudostemming scour
will flower unsterile and so find its fruit
with bunching finger fronding infloresce
and write about it in the bloom
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
We only danced like floating shadows
in mesmerizing daydreams
wistfully yearning
to drift as light as shapeless air
Warm brush of skin seemed so tangible
across the distant horizon
touching souls
only in the throes of musing dreams
Sailing blindly down unmapped winding river shorelines
tiptoes touch
at shallow waters’ edge
"Close your eyes" ... swim afar
where feral currents beckon
waft away adrift
in a moonstruck daydream trance
Only in sumptuously
lucid night dreams
we swim stark-naked
in a sea of sublimity
Plunging into an alluring metaphysical abysm
into the secret titanic depths
azure oceans bathe
Plummeting from the edge a Utopian threshold
swirling beneath restless
swollen waves crest
Unraveling passion’s prevailing tidal maelstrom
the wanton estuary
where lovers yearn to swim
Yet … I’ll drift away alone in this restless moonlit solitude
fly by night through star dust
showered cosmos scenes
crash into naked stars
in their luminescent splendor
Imbibe a spellbinding elixir yellow moon on the rise
Only in dreams before morning dewdrops gather
impearled flesh glistens
on the cotton beach of dawn
Awakening sighs replaced by warm enraptured whispers
the sensual asylum
passion tenderly betides
Splendidly improbable entrancing reverie
inspiring indefinable
enchanting realms
Awakening to another lonesome daybreak
the outgoing tide,
drowning in the trove
beautiful dreams befall
Someone you used to know
2017
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
The waves are crashing harder
than the sound of my pulse beating
The sea eagles flew ahead
Mighty and free, powerful with the gift of flight
A glimpse of a round, blue canvas above me is all I could see
as I lie down flat, on the sea bed.
The miniscule grains of sand are everywhere
on me, on my pale arms and down the curve of my spine
The mermaids tell me of the waves above me
and of the people that comes in floods of hundreds in the heat of summer
They invited me along to the swim to the top
but honey, I am tired and I do not try no more
Once I was from the land above
but slowly the currents drag me down
I tried to struggle but the waves didnt release its death-like grip on me.
It drowns me in a silence so deafening loud
Too tired to swim, too exhausted to care
I close my eyes and everything becomes pitch black
The sea swallowed me whole
I belonged to the sea now.
A long time ago, the people tried to save me
They came with a ladder to get me out
- the ladder that was the only chance I knew
I hesitated and I didnt know to reach out or not
then they were gone and I was alone again
After that for a longer time still
I wondered if I would have grabbed it with an intense fervor
or be deathly quiet and composed, sinking back into the darkness that hid everything the mermaids knew
Its dark down here in this abysm
I can hear the water pouring down
It hits my body without a warning
Its cold its freezing its numbing me
The damp sand is burying me and I can't scream out
The waves are threatening to fill this crevice
My anxiety is sky rocketing but my body is still
I will not leave this hole I am in after all.
This is the end I chose for me.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Amber conduit seeps through the glaring abysm in haste,
smothered by tar-pulp of the midnight wound,
disheveled corona; bled into contrast,
dithering; thrusting scoria into the eve,
intoxicated by gasoline vapour; obsidian-wretch,
night crime pining of cheap indulgence; bottle-cap snare,
miasma fleet whining - lament,
pavement tessellation; cosmopolitan unrest
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
This poem is dedicated to all poets in HP of whom I am a happy participant--a very new one--like someone just entering a kindergarten
We don't carry swords
we don't fight in battle-fields
we don't seek power or fame
we are just poets--word-warriors
who put the sword to sleep
to spread that which is noble and worthy
we see the worm festering and eating
into the heart of civilisation
and shall not turn a blind eye
we will keep vigil
as silent sentinels
never mind if we are set aside
by assailants whether open or covert
we know
the world is weeping
and in the abysm of darkness
there is not a single spark of light
quo vadis **** sapiens?
who or what will give hope
in the face of despair and disillusionment ?
because the world is weeping
we also share its tears
because hearts are broken
part of us dies
because there is loneliness and desolation
we become part of that loss and ruin
because there is poverty and deprivation
we loathe all that wealth and opulence
that seek but their own gratification
but is man born for sorrow and defeat?
where should we turn next?
is salvation and redemption in sight?
Though we are only vox clamantis in deserto
we will despair not
nor should we walk away in cowardice
we must have faith
patience
endurance
words are our bullets
compassion is our shield
will is our fortress
it might take a millenium
to bring about a brave new world
but we are the word-bearers and word-warriors
until the invisible battle is fought
and won
we will never yield
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
Sinking into the abysm of the dark corridors of my mind
Here, In darkness where every thought becomes so clear
Each breath mirrored by silence
And this solitude forever drills tiny holes into bits of me
I shudder when I catch my own reflection in the mirror
My tormentor looks just like me.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
O, cry morning, sun breaks again
In that history of banalities
Are written, I finished the cigarette
Before the coffee, twirling wind
O, sigh morning as inverted
Could carry me to the rock wall, thinning grey,
Of the house where egos, bruised, seek guidance
The black bird builds a decoy nest
O, shy morning. churlishly answering questions never
Asked before, “nah-uh, nah-uh, nah-uh,”
(A ****** is heard, of most[ly] fowl)
Spoken mostly to the fact:
It is what it is. Acceptance
O, belie morning. builds a brutalist window, round by row
The they that walks whistles low with nebulous intent
To remind itself to forget
Abysm is a stranger in your city streets.
O, blithe morning. Such cringing in place
Of those sleeping hours, parsing the drop-ceiling’s
Calligraphy: kings be draped in robes of flesh
To depose the anarchists in cerebral lands,
O, yes, my morning. a lechery for the heart,
That religion of my given path
Or its surrogate, the lawful rebels
Writing on every city row, so willing but rough,
My guest, O, my morning, such a pity!
Restless and genuflect, the they does not find itself
Swayed by the largess of absence
Craning neck eastward toward the perfect morning,
Ever on the cusp of the perfect twilight.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
*...and I never did learn to fly
always trying to take flight
came close a time or two,
could never quite get off the ground
wings were clipped as a fledgling
stories written on caged walls
echoed, yet there were no lyrics to sing
without a voice on a prayer
plummeted to abysm's bottomless pit
till I could feel no more
there in the dark stillness lie the secret
rhythm and music filled the air
Found the poetry within my soul
realized the wings were in my heart
all along, I was meant to dance*
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
When push came to shove
he knew what to do
so push, shoved him
he knew that was right
push fell like brick
down and down
into the abysm
and right now people
that all.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
Cotton aromas,
Become a cloister
That shifts into
Lavender conundrums--
And the field you see
'Winces'
As it caters-to-corpses
All lumpy; fractured
With reds so dry
From hues of 'once been' and ' Never hads'
I'd been beyond an abyss; darker
Than demons piled up
'Peeping'
Senseless death.
As the chronosphere
Parades.
I see treacle as bones
And razors for
Bandages.
I grew tasteless here
Where cutting couldn't
Help-
Dandelion daisy chain odours
Leave my veins-
And somehow they'd stolen moments
--Moments I never even knew I'd lost.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC