"agonised" poems
(Pompeii/Florence, 1997)
Vulcan was real, alive as you were,
you and your language, long dead now.
Your town was prosperous, with its paved streets,
bars, bath-houses, brothels,
mosaics, painted walls, graffiti.
Your domestic gods too were real to you;
they had saved you before,
and when the superhuman hammer blows shook
your houses, you repaired them,
decorated in greater splendour,
erected a temple to your protectors.
But Vulcan was not appeased - years are not long
to the lord of earth and fire.
This time he struck swiftly, sending you death
from his mountain, overwhelming you
as you ran. Your garden
gave you no protection,
hot fumes choked you,
hot ash surrounded you,
sealed in your tomb as you died.
The ones who excavated your town
marvelled at its completeness,
and in the ash that filled your garden
they found hollows.
Filling the hollows with plaster,
they found . . . not you,
but echoes of yourselves,
like statues in a museum.
We came to see you, and after that
to the Academy, standing in awe
at David's perfect marble humanity.
But we were troubled by the others,
the uncompleted ones, the Prisoners,
their twisted limbs, hidden faces,
frozen in the act of emerging
from the stone, recalling too painfully
in their unfinished creation
your own agonised poses
as you died.
*"I had seen birth and death,
but had thought they were different."*
.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
Can we call it freedom if it divides?
Is it correct to ridicule revered name?
Was that in defence of freedom?
Or was that for easy money and fame?
They went on with their provocations;
And justified it with arguments lame.
Numerous hearts were agonised.
But few turned wild, difficult to tame.
Extreme provocations and insults.
In the name of ' Freedom of speech'
Extreme response and harshest reply.
To avenge the insult and to teach.
When one's ' Freedom of Expression ';
Gives one the ' Freedom to insult '.
Hatred and dissension are promoted;
And can lead to horrifying result.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
*It's optional
Like the fading of skies
Early, wild, or remorseful.
All the impalpable space in the lights
Scaled in weighty gilt and curls
The locks and gold of sun,
early as it sets on a moiety of moor grey
Brushed by shadows of agonised poplars
on a spiral land of sheer pistachio blanket.
Muffled by lyres played from the trumpets of
convolvuluses, behind spears of the brain-
an imagery commence to carouse
into planet deep.
A promenade atop the tulle of skies,
an optional way to live.
Saunter and fall onto slopes, shudder, meditate
and hit a bee coffin pebble on the temple
Where there are options to live, to bleed.
Like the lurid sunrise sifting on
yellow-green nuts, and dandruffs combed
like granulated sugar
Oh the taste of chemistry
on the shea butter candles.
It's sanguine and optional,
your farewells on laden calendars of poems
A promenade- back into sea of spears and flames
A cadaver veined in pink,
bearing plethora of methanol
down pulverising bone.*
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
He put a flint to the lantern once
They’d walked across the crest,
Were lost in a group of headstones that
Lay hidden from the rest,
And down in a slight depression he
Lit up a certain tomb,
Where the name of Elspeth Trelawney
Was reflected in the gloom.
Trelawney held up the lantern high
While Corby held the *****
And Gordon Bracks with an old pick-axe
Stood back, he was afraid.
‘I fear the spirits are out tonight
In this graveyard of the ******
‘Get on, and turn up the sod,’ he said,
Trelawney forced his hand.
The Squire was quiet and ashen-faced
As the two had bent their backs,
Corby tipping the earth aside
Then standing aside for Bracks,
‘The earth is solid, it’s packed right down,
We need to pick it loose,’
‘Just do whatever you have to do,
There’s little time to lose!’
The Squire had buried his Elspeth back
In eighteen twenty-four,
For seven years he had held his grief
But he couldn’t take much more,
‘I have to see her again,’ he said,
To kiss her pale, dead lips,
To stroke the hair on my darling’s head
And caress her fingertips.’
She’d taken the coach and four one day
Way out in the countryside,
The coachman, used to a horse and dray,
Had begun to speed the ride,
He whipped the horses and lost the reins
As the coach began to slide,
Tipped the coach in the watercourse
Where Elspeth drowned and died.
He hadn’t looked at his lover’s face
Before she was interred,
But tried to avoid the loss of grace
In her face that was inferred.
‘I only want to remember her
As she was in the flush of life,
Not in the throes of death,’ he’d said
When talking about his wife.
They’d rushed to hurry the burial,
On the day that she was found,
Popped her into a coffin, then,
Planted her in the ground,
Trelawney later had agonised
That he hadn’t let her lie,
‘I couldn’t bear her to be around,’
He said, with a tearful eye.
But now he wanted to see her face,
They lifted the coffin lid,
While Gordon Bracks had turned his back
To see what Trelawney did,
The horror showed on the Squire’s face
As he gazed into her eyes,
For Elspeth lay in a bleak dismay
As her fate was realized.
Her hands were raised and they looked like claws
They’d scratched at the coffin lid,
The clumps of hair she had torn right out
Was the final thing she did,
And on the lid she had scratched his name
In the torment of the ******
‘Trelawney, may you be cursed by God!’
She’d scratched, with her dying hand.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
I.
in this space without shadows,
i was a witness how this world became stranger
until it wasn’t mine. the memory of touch carries the torch,
through a deserted island, an abandoned house,
another girlhood turned ghost-town.
his sour amaretto mouth
closer, closer, closer.
saturday mornings i used to watch cartoons on the tv,
big goofy characters. these pictures come to me from afar
and dissolve into black lava,
at his hands cold metal sting.
with the tenacity,
i cling onto the hope of forgetting,
monuments were built for
gods and prophets.
so it goes.
somewhere in the world
mouths move around the filthy word,
forming the saddest companionship,
like two orphans who recognise each other.
II.
once upon a time,
i believed in a magic stronger than seduction.
why don’t we try to be less entitled?
after all, nothing was promised.
those of us,
attacked, assaulted, agonised,
in the sacredness of home,
in the public eyes wide shut,
fade into TV static noise.
how loud are the sounds of this
realism replica,
in bold letters proclaimed
now available:
FEMINISM!
(sold at every fast fashion retailer)
ALL GIRLS ARE BEAUTIFUL!
(but we still need to profit off your self-hatred)
LOVE IS HURTING
(why don’t you try to see his side?)
it’s nothing personal.
shame just happens to make good money.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
Sickly, sticky-sweet syrup
oozes into our minds,
unbeknownst to us, so vulnerable.
We are painted the perfect picture,
sneak peaks of Utopia;
and are kept locked away by a camera lens.
Agonised and deliberated over,
by those who seek a fairy tale to repair a torn away heart.
Take a Lollipop with a wink,
Break up those four letters
and attack them with a recipe preached by idols,
two spoonfuls of lust,
a pinch of promiscuity,
and, (if you're really ravenous,)
finish with a sprinkle with insatiability.
Greedily we gluttonous Gannets
eat and eat and eat,
until the idea of right and wrong flies off the end of the scales.
Discover me using your own map;
And pick me,
and make me your favourite chocolate,
Throw away the box.
I'll be your smooth praline,
your sweet Turkish delight,
your bitter liqueur
all in one bite.
Love me: Dust me in a gentle coating of sugar.
Don't drown me in treacle.
Enjoy me: Dip me in dark chocolate.
No need to top me with whipped cream.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
All the love you gave me..
Was it all a lie?
cause before hearing the answer "yes ",
Id rather die..
All the years spent together,
Tell me, did it mean nothing?
All the days of love, wherever,
For I'm still waiting,
Each day now I,
Keep on thinking,
Was it you or just I, lagging
Behind, hanging low,
Far off where your love was,
Wish I could be the one,
You always dreamt of...
But me,
I still gave you affection,
Baby I was born to make mistakes,
Not to fake Perfection,
After all these years, i still think,
Was it you or was it I,
For me it is still at halt,
After all the time did pass by,
Now, I lay here surprised, still agonised,
Still remember the final day,
When you left me paralyzed,
Not by body
But by heart,
It stopped beating once we were apart...
I dont know about you,
Saw you laughing down the road..
Seemed so real but not true,
Heard you saying..
you moved on
Well so fast? Dint know you were so strong!
Or tell me you dint love me actually,
Or even maybe like me,
Why did then you play my heart?
couldn't you even see?
i gave you all but no pain,
But you went on hurting me..
For all the things.. you did to me all through,
You'll have to pay the price,
Oneday, of the tears I cried for you......
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 6:06 AM UTC
Safe in my harbor,
docked with you...
assured my heart,
was safe with you.
My turn came to take the crew,
time to part from the dock and you...
looked at you sideways,
but was forced to steer away.
Thought you would lift your hands,
and stop me from sailing by...
thought you would rush to me,
riding past the rough waves...
Felt your pain as you tried to break away,
your agonised look when the ropes didn't give away...
you grimaced and I felt the tremor in you,
as I took every step away from you.
Not so sure when we would meet again,
We would if the storms are kind...
I will brave the winds and the storms,
to rush to your side as soon as i can...
Wishing for another crew,
sail you en route...
What more can I do,
except wishing you would join.
The wait is inevitable,
The wait is frustrating...
The wait is intolerable,
The wait chokes me...
Wish we're merged on our sides,
that way we can move side by side...
Be it morning, be it night,
life would be fun with you be my side...
sunbathing on a sunny day,
fighting the waves on a stormy day,
not caring if the sun dries us,
or when the rain soaks us,
or when the wind tosses us...
Together we will stand proud,
like a flag at full mast...
fluttering with joy,
Gulls bellowing by....
Wish we're merged on our sides,
that way we can move side by side...
Be it morning, be it night,
life would be fun with you be my side.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
the anguish of this agonised arena
where black angels
roam delusional paranoia
a commitment to life
a responsibility to death
an obedience to immense solitudes
of anticipation generated by inspirational charge
an agony of imagined dreams
found in missing time
the unattainable that no longer exists
an unrealized reality
oh the anguish of this agonised arena
this continuous invocation of other
of I of me of we
a great elucidation of emotional chaos
the outer geography of my imagination
where all is led bare
and i see the black shadow of light
qualified, qualified, qualified
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
The garden served little purpose
It sprawled across the bored ground, despondent beneath the yawning sun
My mother would wail her annual rage
At the snarling weeds that softly smothered the flowers
How I loved those flowers
Rejected footballs perplexed the lawn
Their obtuse hulks spoiling that ripple of green
I found a four leafed clover there once
He poked his obscure head above his brothers: a suicide mission to bring me luck
They are all dead now
I didn’t waste nearly enough time reclined on that jealous cushion
Watching the lethargic clouds wobble on
But most otiose of all in that seldom wandered paradise was the Wall
That Wall was never high enough
I see it from my back door
Squat, depressed, sighing, each dusty clot of red brick seems so lifeless
Doomed to live out the rest of its days as a failure
All flung ***** that compress their rubbery bodies against it will soon vault over
It crudely bookends the busily neat hedge
Simply because that is where the drunken soil runs out
It fails too at its chief instruction:
Be the purgatory bridge between Our heaven and Their hell
But the Wall was never high enough
I remember the other side of the Wall
How I crouched in filth
Needless to be afraid of a cut from a single blade of grass
Impoverished chickens clucked in the squalor
How they survived such malnourishment awed me
The friends I thought I had there cheated me
And I ran from that disastrous place
Where chaos twisted the agonised branches of the hedge we shared
But it followed me like an age old Gypsy curse
Even today, a writhing, mewing splodge of night will sit on the Wall
Looking too fat for its own fur coat
It will viciously attack the thin air for a while
Perhaps accept a stroke but, seeing no morsel, wander home
But I am not spared
For I can see its wasteland kingdom from my window
It is not an evil place
But the Wall was never high enough
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
The hanged man
A satanic symbol
A cup of blood made into wine
The death of the divine
His flesh made into bread
that we eat in silent reverence for the dead
You were made to pay for our sins
But we still live on your grace
A miss shaped agonised face
You are said to be immortal
A portal to heaven
Where we can all live in paradise
We just have to drop our human vice
and be forgiven and believe
But did you die only for a story?
That an apple was picked from a tree
You took a fall for Adam and Eve and all humanity
Or was it just an elaborate con
That our civilisation leans upon
That we are taught that we are inherently evil
Or else we would live, love and forgive
Perhaps the universe understands
that humanity lives on a see saw
one day you're on top, tomorrow you're in free fall
The one gift we have is life
However short
Love each other understand others like you already knew
You don't have to be taught.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
A scientist
on TV
was watching an abandoned bear cub
search for its mother.
The scientist knew
where the cub's mother was.
"I'm not sure
how much I should intervene,"
he agonised,
"or whether I should just
let Nature take its course."
As if
his kindest instincts
and his burning desire
and ability to help
were not some of Nature's
most glorious bits of work.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 10:23 AM UTC
A spray of saliva flies from your mouth,
like a anger-ridden ocean storm,
Eyes widening white with an unfathomable rage,
You're like an ugly monster trapped in a cell.
"Are you claustrophobic dear monster?
Tell me is that the reason you shriek,
like an amplified agonised bird?"
I avoid your mouth,
because every time I cross its path,
it spits out vicious flames which burn my senses,
and I fail to recognise who you are.
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 12:10 PM UTC
There's nothing like,
that heart breaking feeling
of realising all your work
was meaningless.
The time and effort.
The thoughts imploded.
Cheeky grins
and hidden sighs,
wasted on an evening.
Nothing like utter failure,
to take you back to gloom.
Heart in your throat;
choking back your stamina.
What felt like a real connection,
turned into just another bottle.
Perhaps tomorrow you'll think of me,
sober and agonised.
Steal a kiss between coffee breaks,
and admit that you were scared.
But I doubt that'll be the case,
unsightly girls like I,
never get to relish in their feat.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
Visual chaos runs havoc in a weeping world,
echoes of screaming pain in my bleeding words.
The ocean is made from nothing but tears,
a reflection of the fears we hold and self worth.
The stars are slowly fading away into darkness,
love is dying as everybody is becoming heartless.
It seems evil is free to roam in every path,
could we imagine exactly what the stars felt?
We live our lives on hope; an article now lost,
everything we ever once had is now gone.
Faith and belief are becoming nothing but myths,
and dead are now the dreams we had of bliss.
My pen is hurting at the tip leaking drops of blood ink,
silent screams I can hear synonymous to what i think.
Truth has become what we feared as nightmares,
and yet unaware we remain of what the shadow brings.
I'm lyrically paralysed when they physically analyse,
Individually agonised as my syllables detect paradise.
We sit back as we watch the world being visibly vandalised,
And how the seekers of truth are ridiculously patronised.
The winds whisper the secrets of life we never found,
The sins linger with the sight of hell and it's sound.
We have lost this war against the creeping shadows,
and are consumed by our thoughts and our doubts.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
I know you haven’t heard from me
For a millennium, but here I am
Still around, still observing, still involved.
I am ancient of course but no older than before
When you knew me as a warrior-striding
Over flaming mountains and trembling seas.
Do you remember?
Do you remember how I inspired you from
The clouds? My voice like thunder,
My voice carrying lightening from a darkening
Sky? ……………………Well, anyway, good to see
You all once again.
I actually haven’t been myself recently.
My legs have troubled me. My eyes
Have been plaguing me. I cannot see the earth
Clearly anymore. In my wizened vision
It resembles a roughly-used marble,
I am after all, now and forever, the ancient of days.
Here’s the thing. I’m getting bored both of
Your antics and your obsession
With me. Please, lighten up! I made the
Sun so you would smile, children to give you hope!
But, it didn’t work I fear.
I can abide your petty squabbles.
Truly I can. I can abide your desperate need
For war. It’s quite exciting really and once I played
My part. The agonised features of the dying
Appeal to my nasty side to be honest.
I have a very nasty side as you are well aware.
I like your skyscrapers, your irritating as flies planes,
Your huge cities, your good as well as your promiscuous
Women, your strange observances
Songs and poetry. It is all very jolly. But,
And it’s a huge ‘but’ I must admit,
I have grown bored.
You no longer inspire me. I am no longer
Eager to view your funny ways
When I wake, and before I sleep. I’ve decided
Your little planet must go. Sorry, I’m like that.
I follow my whims. Tomorrow, at 10 I turn off the light
So, please, stop praying. It’s so depressing.
There will be no reprieve this time. Accept your fate!
You will not feel a thing! So, let’s make our final goodbyes.
I have really enjoyed your company-
Au Revoir. Oh, please stop crying-
It was great fun after all for all of us. Remember,
Nothing lasts forever. Not even me!
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
Like a bird in cage,she flutters her wings for freedom
Prisoned in his devilish abode, she craves for attention
The Demon, bold and strong marked upon her his scent
'This is my territory and you are my prisoner
Never in my wildest dream will I let you free
as you are my only solace' he told her.
'I want freedom, in its accepted form'
Devasted I am with this imprisonment guarded by lust,
How can I unlock the cage to your heart,' she replied in a voice which trailed off into muteness
Agonised in pain
succumbed with misery,
She realised the path to his heart
Is one tough journey
The Demon made his appearance into her chamber,
Startled with his presence, she kept away her thoughts for later
For he came and pushed her
Kissing her passionately,against the wall.
Holding her up against the silky red plasters,
He worked his way to open her antique lace dress
With perfect dexterity,he unhooks every button
And plants silent kisses
She moans with pleasure
As he marks her with his teeth down her neck.
Lost herself to the demon of lust.
Not her mistake to fall in love,
Little did she knew the cost of love.
Such lust ; Such pain
The endurement of love.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
Dull pattering through agonised woods
fumbling winds, serrating storms
animals vanishing into the undergrowth
scurrying beneath the ground
birds huddling under leaves.
The river breaks its bank
water spreading out like *****
villages swamped with infestation.
The storm batters and bruises,
bellowing through the night like a troubled god.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
Cold walls closing in around me,
The heat of midday sun in my brain,
Distance, such distance in the white box,
The picture of the white room spinning past my eyes,
The tension in my legs,
The teardrops stain my eyes,
Red, blood red and haunted,
I smile...that face smiles...the one that is not mine,
But a clowns,
The cover of the frozen screams,
A hand covers my mouth, not my own,
The one with the strings,
Pulling my strings,
Making me dance to his tune,
I am stiffly gliding in air,
My blood is pumping viciously,
Rush...I rush,
Explosions in my eyes,
It's free, and I'm dancing on electric breezes
Unknown sensations hit my body,
Aroused and agonised insane,
The time I spent in space with needle forced pleasure,
Floating in the clouds,
Running up buildings,
Biting my arms,
Blood running out and nothing is felt,
Just tingles so soft,
My body is touched from head to toe,
No inch spared,
The clawing nails,
I win, I lose, I start to fail.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:14 AM UTC
A green crescent shines over the white grass
Plastic bags, teddy bears, and cheap make up
Scattered around the muddy land
You drink my violet blood from your crystal wine glass
Reminding me of the Christ, and the immortal cup
You touch my hand
And your thoughts escape to my dysfunctional brain
Planting thoughts that are darker than the sun
And they grow and grow,
You water them with your agonised memories
"You are beautiful", I whisper to your ear
And you smirk, yet you didn't hear
My voice is drowned by your narcissistic bickerings...
And I stare at the green crescent
I bring the gun to my head,
And slowly, ever so slowly, pull the trigger
And **** you.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
Dad,
I am no longer your little girl
you can no longer protect me
not from the monsters within.
In a black hole you see me falling
In dark corners curling,
In the bottom of oceans sailing;
storms stonewalling.
Dad, you might think I am thralled -
But I tell you!
In my bed
I am appalling, trawling
reaching
for something to grasp
trying to calm myself down
Shoving the memories back.
Fighting the demons.
I see them
sprawling across
me
my dreams
my lungs
my THOUGHTS..
my thoughts
my thoughts...
DAD!!
I am betrayed
by my own mind...
my body
is REBELLING against me...
Despite the mountains
I trained
to carry
above my shoulders...
Some days -
Some days it feels
I am skinned alive...
One breeze of air
is enough to run sirens
alerting a world of
A BILLION neurons
Leaving me
stranded
agonised
looking for shelter,
wishing I can
crawl back
to my mother's womb
sit, curl, and hold my legs -
grasp the umbilical cord
hear her heartbeat
1... 2...
Breath... In... Out...
Dear Dad,
don't you worry.
You raised a strong girl.
patiently she learnt -
how to beautifully braid
her fears and tears.
Your little girl
learnt how to play-
with the monsters nested in the head....
and the monsters under the bed.... into poetic ink
and art on the wall
she transformed them all.
She is a survivor, who copes
That said...
Every now and then
in my own bubble
you'll see me
slipping
in my favourite corner
sitting
unconsciously
graves for my unborn children
digging
not seeing a point for
living.
Deep inside
I will be silently screaming
I am brave
I am brave
But I am
slightly cursed
scarred
wishing I was still
your little girl
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
It's all too crowded,
The breaths in the room.
Cornered.Surrounded.
Lost,Hand of mystique shrouded in gloom.
Can you hear the drops?
diamonds clink and bounce
frozen tears-fatal-to stop,
and bleed the unwound-able in one fell swoop.
Tragedy that the height you fell from was meteoric,
A skyscraper length until you hit the ground.
A tossed doll,broken, pre-loved
Agonised tortured scream that made without a sound.
No longer a fallen angel when you keep treading
the waves of murky water.
Can't you delve into the depths of my soul and read the
depleting resources that are farther-
from where you are.
Isolated Island,find your way home.
But breadcrumbs can float,
if all the lights are extinguished and you find yourself alone.
Darling,don't you notice I'm dying,
Each day you stay growing in the shade,
The more nutrients that are shielded from me
I am overburdened with pain.
Smile,it might surprise you
Laugh it may caress you
Live, with or without me
just live in that rare beauty.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Dull pattering through agonised woods
fumbling winds, serrating storms
animals vanishing into the undergrowth
scurrying beneath the ground
birds huddling under leaves.
The river breaks its bank
water spreading out like *****
villages swamped with infestation.
The storm batters and bruises,
bellowing through the night like a troubled god.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC