"bermudian" poems
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
I will be here, I will be here, amdist all I will be here,
For a day to a month, let the year Show the rhythm,
I will be here for you knew me,
Out of nothing to something..
Even when am judged and marked..
I will be here...
I will be here through the timeline
When voices less unknown speak for me...
I will be here when I justified silence to be my punishment for aquitance.
Where the bee and the honeycombs dispare.
I will be here when I took the will and mantle..i know who I am to no avail...
I will be here casting my lot on fair reasoning.
I let myself fall on the petals of red rose.
I will be here because I choose to be the judge's verdict.
I will be here when Silence burried my voice casting the scorn on me.
I will be here because of you,us and them, sharing a piece of literature while I let posterity judge.
I will be here for long even time might stop for my sake.
I see myself as a valley flowing along the Bermudian..
Oh cast my stone down the mountain for then my thoughts would rest, for thy table are filled with oester and leashes to welcome me.
I have no reason to say a hearty tone, I have more reason to drown on the mountain top, for whoever judges is fair. The wisdom of Solomon and the thought of pharaohs
God bless my thoughts pure and gentle
I remain a son of today, tommorow and forever.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 2:02 AM UTC
This isn't a word,its is a vision
The main crust of a saddled soul
Its a kind gesture of uncertainty
A heart lost in the world
Standing in the center of the Bermudian
Every action being judged by precedence
Let me show you the way over lost
This vision seems blu
I cant find my way out
I denote being taking away
Its fetal and dark amidst the light
Trenton pumps my heart ablaze
Ode to the wind of the cold noon
I wish not found to you
I lost not warmth to be bitter
Life of a painter without a brush
I rush to the cardinal,astray of the wide
Do not look at me because no sight no vision
Having judged all but a path
I see a mast in thy eyes
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC