"berefted" poems
Introduction
_____________
some words
chase you around
infiltrating and winking,
in emails and poems to
your attention dispatched
undeniably messaging
a wanting to be
realized, completed,
teasingly speaking
you know
a poem newly birthing
in your left brain,
tender pleading,
love me already,
just write me
like you would
make love to a woman!"
messages from others employ
the self-same word r e p e a t e d l y,
you start to get the hint
very very v i g o r o u s l y
the rumbling,
the back-seat tumbling,
you're driving
bipedal composing,
guitar and piano
gas and brake
pedals to the mettle,
and the speed limit
was 15 mph under
where your brain is fermenting
all tuning you up to
meet the guild's
product quality standards,
yet unlike an automobile,
a poem, like a life,
has a unique DNA,
cannot just be
recalled,
for repair
and additional tinkering,
jes' because
once it is out there,
it has been outed
sure enough in my
my "started but *** file,
a lazy layabout,
overlooked and undercooked,
the poem below,
a dabble and a muddle,
so ignored, so berefted
for so long
it got this
special introduction
by way of an apology....
Incarnate
She is my poem incarnate
She is the carne of my body
She is the innate of my soul
She is my woman incarnate
she is all I need
in form realized and invisible imagined,
angel and thank god,
devil as well...
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
It's never just a single moment '
It's a confluence of events
Of my tragic demise
Muted with misery ;
Afraid and paralized .
I cannot rememb'r how't hath happened
' How I lost it all ;
Including my mind .
I'm berefted .
Since I realized ,
I stopped loving the things I loved the most
And nothing rings a bell
Except for a forgotten song
The places change
The pain remain
Lack of entropy
Got no string
Hybridity
Modernization
Temporary
It is, what it is .
Either be dragged
Or, let go
Or be torned '
limb f r o m limb
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 5:45 PM UTC
The steppe beguiled,
Unfriended by innocence,
Renders powerless the Seraphims,
Within the inner citadel.
The primordial whims,
Engulfs the spirit,
Impulses with unshaken strength,
Charges in, in coaxion.
Plain hues of tinted shades,
Delights the spirit,
Yielding unto the colourful disharmony,
Assailing its walls.
Berefted dignity,
Misses its way,
To converge with shame,
The eden pigmentation.
#El_Magnifico™
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
POWER in the blood
Is no STRENGTH of mine
’Tis so sweet to TRUST in Jesus!”
I shout in jest
Aging way before my time
“It ain’t well at all!” I rage
In berefted soul
I writhe and waste and pine AWAY
YET you refuse to make me WHOLE
You deny me fadeless hope
You forego my cry for PERFECT LOVE
You chastise my ask for LIGHT
You DISAVOW me PEACE AT ALL
You hide your HEALING HAND
You disrobe so I can’t TOUCH
I’ll never RISE AGAIN
When gifted DEATH & CROSS
Be thou my VISION
For I no longer SEE
This AMAZING GRACE I’ve once heard of
Isn’t really FREE
In this garden of silent PRAYER
I determine not to speak
Cause nothin’ but
THE BLOOD OF CHRIST
Means nothing to a Death Eater’s
Unremitting
Unrepentant
Unforgiving
Dance with Midnight’s GRIEF
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 12:20 AM UTC