"benumb" poems
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,
Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ****** in the shambles of the moon,
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
behaved haughty and in disdain,
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
roving like noble patrolsmen.
Traveleres and trainees at sea
humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
volatile and toiling,
tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.
Hence the heroes heed
to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
in the murky shadows of doubt.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
Over hill on a golden afternoon,
Down thro’ the wooden dales, where lights succumb,
Wondered when Stars wink at the Moon,
To shame the Sun and hearts benumb.
At last, the night! Alas
The peep of owls, so flash,
The squeal of ghosts, so brash,
And shadows gather mass.
Old whispers stir, unkind,
Through mist and hollow wind...
Avaunt! Wild beast deform’d…
In silence loud, the former praises sound.
Nola, lone, she forbore beneath the Stars,
With timeless strength on cold playground,
Glanced swiftly at their Wiles, and roars
Reverberate… While the storm
Came dancing in the frame of Flurry East,
When deep into her pools so brilliant, prowl
A chilling sight of restless beast,
Screaming, each on hill, sad jovial howl
At Moon, aboon the norm.
Premeditatio Malorum
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC
Sweet wind that brings me desert dust and ashes
Or salty mist as blood on burning lips
Sweet wind that carries smells of roads and mountains
And rocks, and sands, and rusty wires, and tires,
And bullet-pierced sandbags, mines, and empty tins
And holy thorns that grow through them
And hot, bleak sky high over them
And dry, cracked clay embracing them
Sweet wind that brings me memories of war
Wind softly stroking dusty oleanders
And rushing all along the endless road
Wind –
Now tell me, when the land so lolls in sleepy peace –
Kids playing, women chatting, lovers dreaming,
Men building houses, furnishing, arranging –
All more fragile than cobweb lace
That busy housewives sweep away on sleepless daybreak
Sweet wind, tell me why I
I try to fill my mind with buzz and humdrum
Of knowledge – words, and thoughts, and numbers,
-- to stifle the voice, the shadow haunting me –
The voice that whispers softly, sweetly killing
To wake me up – to find myself again –
To send me far away where is my home:
To prison, madhouse, hospital, dodjo,
Wet dugout, earthquake rubble, secret lab
Where I belong, where all like me are going –
But still in vain,
For happiness, my prison guard and mate
Me torturing,
And happiness, the evil sheikh of nightmares,
His long, thin legs me strangling, hanging down
My shoulders,
His mud-brown hands me stopping ears, and eyes, and mouth –
And me
Who wanders through my days as empty rooms
And endless corridors of giant fallout shelters
Where lonely steps reverberate in hollow hallways
And ruthless light
In which the shadow of my shadow
Me follows – counselor, and silent friend,
Unhurt by splinters of that broken magic mirror
That **** in air; may some benumb my heart
And let me play the game of words and numbers
That spells ETERNITY;
And let the sweet hashish of words and numbers
Make me forget;
Make me forgive, and live, and lie
That I believe the world of war will never come.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 6:28 AM UTC
There's a vine shaped as lightning--
grapes bittersweet, supple...come to it,
each an epiphany.
Crushed, their red skin lets out juice,
life-yield.
Sealed up and put away...the body knows
its blood, wine-empurpled, crimson throb.
At the wrists, at chest, at temples, at neck.
A synchronized pulse keeps in touch,
batting wings.
It is love that's prepared...to move what's
been born of it.
Embodied to embody--there you are my love.
In shock we've been sutured One.
A forever downed to earth, to imbibe drunken
passion--to keep the body from falling over
lest by love.
No cusp more steady than two lips touching
tale--an Edenic one.
Yet--the more we juxtapose bodies, something
ruptures--hands go wild to clutch that ******
In shame we block the parts that entered
one another so freely.
Shadows are broken light--love can be
prodigiously cruel, but who among us has heart
to expel such cruelty?
Thusly...the heart drinks deep...to benumb.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Sent to prison for killing Autumn,
I made the same mistake last year,
Each bar an icy steel column,
Separating me from summers cheer.
My feet are numb, my fingers frozen,
Kept from the world in my frosty pen.
I reflect on the lonesome path I’ve chosen,
But know I will do the same again.
This prison is hell, chilled to the bone.
The warden called Weather is rather glum,
Winter does that to a man starved of home,
Its freezing walls are fast to benumb.
I beg for pardon of my crime,
I feel remorse and true dismay.
I am defrosted just in time,
To be released on Christmas Day.
I reflect on Winter’s release of me,
And wonder what the future will bring?
The gloom defrosts inside of me,
As my heart is warmed by emerging Spring.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
1 Life’s melody plucketh on broken strings,
2 When thou visage pulsates songs of passion;
3 Resonating frail music thy tongue springs,
4 Thee’s faltered core of fettered intentions.
5 Through rain I burneth, in thou radiance chill,
6 Thy mind defeats what thy heart embattles;
7 If pain lingers sweet, I benumb to feel,
8 And feed ceaseless bane and boon entangles.
9 Lest thee feeling withers, I recompense,
10 The gaiety of life in thy love’s commend;
11 To abhor the horror, erase the tense,
12 And finally embark to last the end.
13 Though Uterpe’s shut, Cupid’s arrow broke,
14 Our hearts shall sing rhythm, love will uncloak.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
Addicted
craving and sleeze
Because every time i breathe
Adds a prescription of anesthetic I need
To benumb shaking hands
And passive aggressive thoughts
Passing when our eyes
Forget that our demise could be prevented
With one gentle cry of mirth
My skin screams from all the sights it must take
And every touch on this earth
Crawls with aggressive ****
But my gentle breaths
Make my heart flutter without beat
And that is all, not of death,
The world must ask of me.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
Blue-eyed girl, why is it that you cry your soft tears?
I cry when the darkness consumes me
Its tenebrous mouth devours my glimmering being
With spindly hands immersing my heart in a well that travels down down down too far.
A maze of rotting algid bowels benumb me,
Paralyzed by its poison sludge
That clogs my breath and silences the drum that pounds inside me.
If I could flee
I would.
But instead I am bound by the caustic chains of fear.
Oh blue-eyed girl, does that make you weep?
I weep, I sob
in a tumultuous wave of agonizing gratitude
When a pure and beaming body sets ablaze the darkness and climbs in with me.
I only weep when illuminated.
I save my heaviest tears for the light.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC