"castor" poems
1
My mother would say:
“Little boy Raj…
Go to Muthu’s
and get some
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic”
And so I go to the shops
singing all the way
and when Muthu asks me
what I’d want
I rattle off a list:
“Sesame seeds, onions
tomatoes and pickles”
And back home,
Mother twists my ears
Ouch!
2
And inevitably I grew up
and inevitably I got married
and inevitably my wife says to me:
“Dear husband whom
I married in a fire-ceremony;
could you kindly go to Woolies
and get me some
flour, castor sugar,
pepper, pasta sauce and pancakes…”
And so I drive to Woolies
singing all the way;
and walking down the aisles
I throw the following
into the trolley:
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic…
And back home
though my wife does not twist my ears
I feel Mother reach forward
from the other world
and she twists my ears
Ouch!
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:03 AM UTC
This disaster by master
Coming faster
An intoxication and
Not a charm
This disaster spread
Like word of honorable pastor
There is a cloud
Dark cloudy cloud of
This disaster
This disaster flirting the environ
This disaster caressing the mammals
In its environs. ..
Oh this disaster a disaster
They fear this disaster like when
Oil castor drops in fire
This disaster pretty nice not
Like pearls in shells of oyster.
This disaster scary to their bones
Take this duster
Rub and wipe this disaster
Please take it!
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
castor and pollux
the twins from the milky way
argue in my head.
© Matthew Harlovic
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Saturn Venus & Mars
If you live in the Northern Hemishpere of this universe,
go out any night this week an hour or so after sunset,
and look at the western sky to catch a planetary triple play
starring Venus, Saturn and Mars. The first thing skywatchers
will see — weather permitting — is the planet Venus,
slightly north of west, in the constellation Gemini.
Look for Gemini's twin first magnitude stars,
Pollux and Castor, just above Venus. As the sky gets darker,
the planet Mars can be spotted to Venus' left as it appears
in the constellation Leo very close to the bright,
first magnitude star Regulus. Further still to the left,
will be Saturn shining in the western part of the constellation Virgo.
The sky map below shows how to spot all three planets.
Venus, Mars and Saturn are all currently appearing,
slightly north of the ecliptic, the path the sun appears to follow
over the year, shown in green in the sky map. This occurance inspired
the poem that follows.
Good morning my love, hope that you slept well,
while you were away my dear, all the night sky fell,
the only stars that remain, are the stars in my eyes,
when I gaze upon your face, the tears my heart cries,
for I can only dream a dream, of you in my world,
and wish that I could kiss, those sweet lips so curled,
I also wish that you, would think of me this way,
holding you in my arms, is my wish each and every day ....
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
December, 1870
After the beef was gone,
after the pork and the lamb,
and the fowl and the fish
and the dogs, and the cats,
and the rats in the gutter,
the butchers turned to the zoo.
We ate the wolves.
We ate the wolves
broiled in sauce of deer,
the antelope truffled and terrined.
We ate the camels
with breadcrumbs and butter,
and when they were all gone,
we sharpened our knives
and primed our guns
and came back for the elephants.
The gunsmith Devisme did the deed,
hurled an explosive ball
through each of their docile heads.
They fell like mountains,
like the pillars of Dagon
pulled down by mighty Samson,
and then we hacked them up
and carted them away to the kitchens,
to feed the wealthy and the rich
in the clubs of bright Paris.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 4:51 PM UTC
I am but a single
dry dead leaf
laying beneath an endless willow tree
around the waters bend
close to the toadstool pow-wows
only inhabited by the faeries.
& the moon- she still shine,
captured but by a sphere, yet so free
her light may breathe
a chilling, frigid touch
between the memories you
have buried so deep.
So please do not fret your wondrous mind
over all of your insecurities,
though she may shine with a chilling reminder
I promise that in your eyes
a beautiful soul
is all she sees.
As my mind races I feel
I am unable to describe
the exact emotion you
have gently
injected into my mind.
My eyelids grow heavy
my minds afloat to space
all that is left in my world as I know it,
is the perfection on your face
You see darling,
I am a hija de la luna;
the stars will align with
Castor & Pollux
Cancer, Aphrodite, & Fortuna.
They greet me as old friends,
join me in my nights of fantasy.
tell me darling what do these strange constellations mean?
Oh how I pity thy cataracts
eyes white & glassy
but I promise the warmth will melt your frozen gaze
& in time, you will see.
The horizon shifts as I do to you,
how long do you wish to be at sea?
Alas, you know my poison
doubt seeps into my skin
like an 80 patch.
Through thick & thin,
even on the sorest of feet
I will skip merrily along your path.
Round my head I gaze,
The sky has been stained
with fuchsia & clementine
among the blues.
tell me again, how may I find your presence within the hues?
Wrap yourself within my blanket
of ease & security.
Trust me with your life or not,
for I want to be
there, when you most
need me
You cannot help
you are a broken bird
I cannot deny my psyche as it worries
*does a dove not care about her nest back home
when she soars above
the sea?*
Next to the beating arrhythmia
you try hold dear ‘twixt your ribs
my favourite poem of yours has changed
where I will weave a small nest
dream of your lips
& the sound of rain.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
Brothers share one life
menaced by the great bull's horns
they are sons of Zeus
together they run
forever in the night sky
Castor and Pullox
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
XVII. TO THE DIOSCURI (5 lines)
(ll. 1-4) Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of Castor and Polydeuces, the
Tyndaridae, who sprang from Olympian Zeus. Beneath the heights
fo Taygetus stately Leda bare them, when the dark-clouded Son of
Cronos had privily bent her to his will.
(l. 5) Hail, children of Tyndareus, riders upon swift horses!
2.1k
The first day was the longest
Mornings were for ambrosia
Nights were for castor oil
Lying through teeth and tempting through lenses
Purpose lost to the blind men
Who learn to sleep in seclusion
Visited rarely by saints and messiah fathers
Learn through pain, Oh sweet little pea
The second day was all too short
Kindred, but misunderstood
Sowing seeds and ripping up weeds
Parading around town with roaring sorrow royalty
Following scripts and playing parts
For judges, elders, and "renegade" symbols
Promises, popularity; it's all just a rusty mirage
This place isn't for you, Oh sweet little pea
The third day was spent in Dada
Purgatory for insanity
Whimsical, yes, but something was blatantly missing
This place was rich with new color and null
Vibrant, yet lifelessly powered by prescriptions
No real substance, only mist-forms
Bubbling broth in a surreal soup
Don't get digested, Oh sweet little pea
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
Watch me closely, God,
though you’ve seen it all before.
I’ve got the universe up my sleeve
and it’s itching for a sleight,
if you’re willing to be conned.
The stardust filling Aquarius
has poured for countless millennia
and it won’t brim the bottomless cup
of your oceanic blues.
That’s the warm-up for Lepus
who, lean and polar-white, leaps
out from my flipped-over cap
and is chased by the steel-plied
Orion’s hankering for roast hare.
Hunger-driven this heaven hunter
has a saggy belt; his sword’s tip drags,
slicing Gemini in two,
but twins can’t be parted long
and divinely grasping Pollux clasps
Castor’s pause anew.
Conjoined, they bow together
under showers of milky petals
kissing no-longer
furrowed brows till black
velvet curtains fall
and are followed by your eons of
endearing applause.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:41 AM UTC
XXXIII. TO THE DIOSCURI (19 lines)
(ll. 1-17) Bright-eyed Muses, tell of the Tyndaridae, the Sons of
Zeus, glorious children of neat-ankled Leda, Castor the tamer of
horses, and blameless Polydeuces. When Leda had lain with the
dark-clouded Son of Cronos, she bare them beneath the peak of the
great hill Taygetus, -- children who are delivers of men on earth
and of swift-going ships when stormy gales rage over the ruthless
sea. Then the shipmen call upon the sons of great Zeus with vows
of white lambs, going to the forepart of the prow; but the strong
wind and the waves of the sea lay the ship under water, until
suddenly these two are seen darting through the air on tawny
wings. Forthwith they allay the blasts of the cruel winds and
still the waves upon the surface of the white sea: fair signs are
they and deliverance from toil. And when the shipmen see them
they are glad and have rest from their pain and labour.
(ll. 18-19) Hail, Tyndaridae, riders upon swift horses! Now I
will remember you and another song also.
1.6k
Existent tomb's
Of ourn own did we waketh
God separated us two
For a billion years for ourn strengthening
Yet once back together
The moon became ourn pillow
Locked into the nebulas of castor and pollex
Seduced by ourn eyes
****** saliva from ourn chalice
An ****** of a universe
We left ourn bed stains
Two crazies in love
Amour' intense insane!!!
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
I feel like I am drowning
But all at the same time I'm not.
I get pulled under and
I don't know which was is up
or which way is down
and i reach for the surface
but its
not there.
but at the same time I am
standing on my feet,
without any idea of how
or what i am standing on
or how solid it is.
I am standing yet drowning.
and
drowning is so scary
I can't breath.
There is no air
around me.
my Lungs are being filled
with the water that drowns
out all my bloodied
attempts of knowledge.
but i'm not dying
I feel like I am coming back to life
I feel like i was already dead
and the drowning is bringing me back.
As if I need to swim harder,
to find who I am,
where I am going.
As I sink further into the
oblivion
that consumes my dried skin
...
you.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Four life-size lipsticks jive, they
groove in tune with costumed comrades:
the monstrous tapeworm, unfitting for even
a family of whales, head held high like
homemade dragons on Chinese New Year, or
the bald man decked out in navy felt, garb
saturated with plastic spoons he
needs to get laid.
But the lipsticks in their red, red heels, with
human eyeholes hidden behind fabric, which
shows the blend of castor & chemicals, what hue:
dark crimson or barracuda berry?
They wear but a fraction of the common ingredients
used for dressing up,
makeup as the encore.
It stains the lips,
the coffee rims around the country,
the chests of restricted lovers.
Let us celebrate the metaphor of makeup
on this festus day--where it’s excusable to act out
the fantasies of being not
ourselves.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Light breaks through the littered cinerescent clouds as I watch from a Windex streaked window
Tangerine incandescence fighting it's way through as dusk approaches
Warm rays caress my face through shadows of the evergreens that line the street
As if a reflection of a giant brass *** was being cast into my living room
Fragments of dust filter through the clementine colored air
sitting cross legged on an old Persian rug covered in dog fur
A weather beaten Japanese maple scratches its fingers on the window
The stellar jays bask in this rare gift, hopping from branch to branch
The inevitable gloom and grey catching up
Ashen warfare surging on a daisy farm
A sense of malevolence runs through the clouds
A split screen between the high spirits and the melancholy
The Castor and Pollux of the skies
Like a giant wondrous creamsicle threatened of being swallowed up by the smoke
This contention sends them blissfully unaware of the eclipsing nightfall that is upon them
Twilight enraptures the heavens, ending in nebulous sovereignty
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Astro capsuls(car) warm delight
Ballistic speeds to the extreme
Catagorised on shape and style
Detour from the mentor
Elevated on pavement close to enslavement
First to the mark forging through the dark
Grounds down below like a rivers flow
Highlighted with lines to guide you along
I see the danger to react is no stranger
Jerky action bad disaster
Klinkity klink klink on a broken castor
Left outta breath, DMT the chemical master
Money leaves my pocket to fix my expensive little rocket
Need all my wheels to feel, now its heel to heel
Orange is the word that mixes well with porrage
Porrage stays good in storage unlike an orange
Question the suggestion of a new auto selection
Running and walking without the radio theres more talking
Service stations fuel the imagination
Time slips by in the wink of an eye
Under the weather convertables arnt better
Vast spaces traced in the unknown race
Watching life through layers of sand
X-ray vision lights at hand
Yellow dot marks the spot of caution
Zenieth and zorrow were standing on the Yellow
and thats how i crashed my ABCs
next time wont you please
GET THE **** OFF THE ROAD for me
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC
mild, so mild in the night
to travel with the earth
amongst an early starlit bloom,
muddy fields fill the air
with pubescent June.
goslings waddle, fuzzy scurries.
mother, father,
enlarge and hiss
protecting their long months work,
now free from pipping shells.
so cool is the night while
laying hidden in uncut fields.
chilling winds dance atop feral growth.
sanctuary for outward gazing,
through to unknown worlds.
there is no envy from a distance.
breath feeds wonder, spilling over
into this vessel, so soon to be forgotten.
spoiled from within, the unborn,
rotten. a shell too hard to crack.
there is no nest for that sacred sibling.
forgotten by mother and father.
their failed incubation, rotting.
lost amongst the stars
but within the field of all.
Apollo sings to Pollux and Castor
stroking somber tones from Lyra.
"Greet the voiceless into forever;
attach to them their rightful wings",
"chirp, chirp, chirp"
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
He’ll spare the rod only to spoil
The gagging throat with castor oil.
O.O
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
We walk atop the clouds,
above the oceans, that have swallowed,
the crowns that we had once worn,
wave, after wave, dragging the sands into her tables.
Look upon the sky of black,
where the thousand stars reside,
while in the dark, they harmoniously spin,
the seven brothers of the Alpha and Omega.
Brothers, once united strong,
have grown apart with seas in between,
now look at one another with discrimination and disgust,
eyes now containing anger, and fists clenched with iron.
The comets, they fill my pupils,
my heart now filled with stone,
as we walk the path of good and evil,
and watch Castor and Pollux cut each other's throats.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother.
They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand.
They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums.
“They came too soon.” I was told
Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said.
When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die.
*****
Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck.
Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies.
Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled.
“Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….……
recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..…..
……………..Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute…….
………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.seconds………….............................................................................................................................................
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision……………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………The sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
NEEDLE! Through the middle of a razor-edge! Face in face out face sin face spout! I cannot see through the masochism of honesty, corrupt the faucet and leak and drain into a towel of wet PAIN! Holes rid themselves of fantastic-type dust! (And on the cusp of agony's grateful constitution hereby is a sitar scimitar). Unwilling to grow old into throats of bold and I am here today so what does it matter? Cough n' clap n' clasp n' rappin' sapping my soul's voidy tounguester. Have I become throats? Or abomination ropes? Tungsten blow-hole deep neath the depths of water-disgust! Rapture came along with whipping writhing throngs of toothpaste convolution tongs pulling out the wrongs and wrong doings of King Kong's rightful songs. Randomize architecture so that a building can grow from blue dirt into the sky and spread at the top and cover the entire planet of the human-beings where there'll be forever-shade shading shaded, faded, blue. Tuesday is a monkey banana bonanza bizarre bizarre scarring n' scaring little toothpick carrying caring creatures faring their merry way past curds and whey fields. Acclimate to constipate and betroth-berate irritate-type tube tape. Youthful castor plaster made from youngster disaster number: one.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
Hmmm....
If I could travel back in time,
I would trek it back to Egyptian times,
and climb the Great Pyramid of Giza,
so that no woman in Egypt today
would have to suffer genital mutilation.
I would invade **** Germany
and extract the right arm from ******
so no man would ever salute him.
I would Rome with Helen and
Zeus for fun
just to get closer to Castor Troy.
I would lay with Ambrogio
and the early vampires,
because drinking blood sounds so tempting,
but,
eternal life trumps all.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Walking along a desert, a fool,
Thirst prolonged, a heat unbearable,
As if a passion is stirring,
Screaming, is the fool,
For allowing the desert to consume him.
Alas in the distance he finds the oasis,
Shimmering bright with a lovely invitation,
Radiance divine she invites him, though
The fool is not trusting, perhaps a mirage,
A trick for the trickster. But no,
The fool enters his oasis;
Castor beans and rosary peas with the beautiful Oleander
Adorn and decorate the oasis.
Beauty contrasted by the harsh desert around,
The fool smiles.
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 8:54 PM UTC
on the charted floor of souls
fire heats twelve iron bowls
rafters echo devil screams
arms and legs hang from the beams
roast the skin with castor seeds
hair of crone and spice of weeds
stir and mix the flesh and blood
till the supper looks like mud
splintered skulls of fresh-chopped heads
each laid out on nightshade beds
plates of bone and knives of steel
sharpened for the midnight meal
who will choose the honored seats?
who will serve the roasted meats?
who will **** the sockets dry?
who will live, and who will die?
if you serve the master's will
every wish of his fulfill
if you heed the master's call
he might eat you last of all
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 12:32 PM UTC
Death which has been
cast upon one by
a sober hand is
indeed the most
intimate of the act
that is ******
Death in the seeds
of the castor plant.
Death in the barrel
of a dulling syringe.
Death in the growth inside
of you,the one you
never knew you had.
Death of the Love that took
all we had to **** .
The Death of reasoning
and reality.
Death of all that we
kept hidden inside of us.
Death in the dancing
girls eyes.
Death on the prison yards
where no one forgives.
Death in the terms of
the ways of our world.
Up close Death ,
just as death by the
knife is personal.
The Death in you
as you pass a beggar
without the least bit
of charity even
crossing your mind.
The Death of our
Heroes.
D.Boons Death.
A Death by
misadventure.
Holy Death
my vengeful
mother
my heart bleeds
red for you.
The Death of
that smiling face
in the
photograph,
that face who
looks too much like
me.
Her promises
reeked
of the Death
of me.
The Death of
the flames
when there's
so much left
to burn.
There is no repulsiveness
in the promise of Death,
it's a tender helping of
frivolity which helps
to ease the unimportant
and minute details that
only you can and
do cast upon this.
The life you're forced
to wait through.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC