"cataclysms" poems
Ink in the bowl goes on to skin
Culture from Africa to Americas Indians
Ink that is absorbed into the mind
Held in place forever in time
Ink that controls the blood in veins
Moving through the pulses and chains
Not strong enough to hold the soul
Ink that lives infinite in the world
Smooth grooves in nights and bars
Jazzy blues, singing croons through guitar
Villages and huts where elders bang drums
Leaders dance songs for rain and sun
Music through words transferred through ink
Thoughts held in mind brought into links
That form into the soul of the world
Blood that stains as ink swirls
Tantrums and storms that guide the spirit
A spirit so combative you can't come near it
It won't come if you hear it or read it
Learn to live the life, words true when you feel it
Artist from autism, loose thoughts bridge cataclysms
No cure for the self, wealth grows, pace kept slow
Races to save victims and glorify human conditions
Giving thoughts and heart to help, it is felt, is it felt?
Writing soul, from heaven to hell
Spiritual fire, culture is furthered
For my blood flows parallel to ink
Ink that flows and grows from me
Me goes to you, then travels beyond
We show growth, all faces of God
One voice seeks to speak
Through songs, poetry, love in the ink
****** lovely ink
Muddy purity links
The ink the ink
The ink the ink .
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Heaven got so plenty moods
At dawn she's like a sleepy maid
Just awoke, and rescheduled, still,
As she rise from her midnight bed
Dusk is her blushing face
As she sees all the love
Midday she shines bright
As she dances over the sky above
Full moon she sits up there
Her fair skin shining silver light
As she tries to fall asleep
In her gown of deep blue night
Rain can be thrice
In sadness, she sometimes weeps
In joy, she squirts water, playful laughing
Or she brings the water's salvation she keeps
When angry, her wrath masses in clouds
And cataclysms, that storm the land
Fog is a try to cover the world's darkness
As she cups it with a caring hand
Blood moon shows her scars and wounds
That had cut her deeper than any blade
Blizzards rage in her despair
When she cries out with words unsaid
In eclipse, she tries to hide her face
Shame letting her cheeks glow
For even she is not all perfect
Not always she can cover in innocent, white snow
Every girl has, sometimes,her terrible twos
And few enough are of such purity
Heaven is not perfect
But she's made of simple beauty
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
I still deny the rules and social ties of citizen spies
that i televise by shouting chanted anthems into the sky
yet to comply with the codes of conduct i defy
as you synthesize the number and size
i am careful not to compromise the lost light within my eyes
my cold gaze reflective of your demise
and i
scrutinize them until they realize they're being penalized for the lies
until maggots monopolize your corpse through your cries
until pulled away by the hissing of shadowed flies that fly into the lost light in my eyes
until my pupils cauterize
locking you inside
institutionalised
and i
am imprisoned in a prism of realism
as anti social collisions have me pulling my soul through verbal incisions
seeping radioactive emissions
from the legions of religions
from the season of rhyme without reason
failure to pay darkened tuitions is now treason
as catastrophic cataclysms lock me away in my primal visions
my verbal inflictions as though holy missions to infuse friction
smashing through my divided contradictions and feeding my addictions
good riddance
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
These poems are an extension of me,
A pressure valve to keep my mind from exploding,
These poems are sieves catching grotesqueries
To be turned into something palatable
Poetry somehow doesn't pop without pain,
Somehow inadequate without lurking demons
Fueling passion and longing and fury
These cataclysms are documented and catalogued,
These emotions and stories memorialized,
Their existence in the world a fossil record
Of memories too precious to lose
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
You have spoken the answer.
A child searches far sometimes
Into the red dust
On a dark rose leaf
And so you have gone far
For the answer is:
Silence.
In the republic
Of the winking stars and spent cataclysms
Sure we are it is off there the answer
is hidden and folded over,
Sleeping in the sun, careless whether
it is Sunday or any other day of
the week,
Knowing silence will bring all one way
or another.
Have we not seen
Purple of the *****
out of the mulch
and mold
crawl
into a dusk
of velvet?
blur of yellow?
Almost we thought from nowwhere but it was
the silence,
the future,
working.
1.5k
………..emotional cataclysms of creative energies occur volatilized by their liberation displaying inherent aesthetic propensities of a great mysticism…..this is a very strange night….I believe Dionysus is afoot……………..
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 6:12 PM UTC
Love is blind but please, watch my back - I can think of no death worse than a demise brought upon myself from being too lost in your eyes. I was starving and trembling in your wake as though you'd locked me in your basement (and I would've fettered myself to your baseboards if you told me to); how could I not get chills the size of mountains on my spine when the wind was blowing your rusty ribs like wrought iron gates? I spent many a night wondering if your heart could weather the storm. I spent even more time listening to the ticking of my clock until it started to sound like you, and I bet no one told you that my heart will simply beat like a metronome on your time until the conductor waves his baton. On some Wednesdays, records will skip and mock me like you do. On this day, there will be cataclysms, and they will look just like you.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
"The most exquisite face wrinkles and droops with age
Roses too must wither, mocking man's desire for any eternal beauty in materiality
Death will destroy the buds of youth, Cataclysms will demolish the grandeurs of this earth
But nothing can destroy the splendor of the astral cosmos"
Many forms, but crystalline perfection;
Mystics pine, on the meaning of raging storms;
In lieu of real connection. We can
Appreciate the beauty that is laid before.
Before our time, and we veer
Without axis, & detached from direction.
Jul 31, 2023
Jul 31, 2023 at 8:28 PM UTC
You are excess of my goodness when am done with my badness
I love you Africa in excess for your excess of problems;
Poverty, wars, warlords, diseases, hunger, famine
And cataclysms evilest eating away your terra firma
Like a desperate Tiger on a capsized boat,
Your riches in history of slavery and heritage of colonialism,
In the excess of your global bleeding that makes me love you more,
Your excessive black ugly humanity in the explosive population
of useless human beings; barely illiterate and blunt in knowledge
Buried deeply in the starkness of crude and vulpine culture,
These bestow to me the synergy to love you O! My dear tarzanic Africa,
Your excessive cult of dictatorships that glitter in aura of democracy,
Sending your sons and daughters to miserable powerlessness,
Devoid of governance in abundance of power and money corruption,
Financing and cementing torture chambers for the voices of reason,
Building my pedestal on which I stand to execute
My cornucopia of love for you dear Africa, an avatar of Satan,
As you are prone and spread eagled in a defenseless stretch
Against all the ****** condemning your self to ideological turmoil,
I still do love you in supercilious superfluity my dear Africa.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
Oklahoma City cop charged with sexually assaulting eight women
Gang of men sexually assault Vic women
Woman assaulted by five men in South Yarra lane
*Suspect arrested in ****** assault of 9-year-old Surrey girl*
These are just four headlines that pop up on Google out of ca. 95.300.000 results. Search and you will find endless proof of how when men hunt, women are always in season.
To men, women don't seem to register as human beings or as people but as prey,
as something to be
consumed
claimed
forced
butchered
and sold like meat.
Treated as objects.
like animals by the men they cried their hearts out to,
by the men who have sworn to serve and to protect,
by the men they granted the privilege of their love
by the men whom they call fatherbrotherunclecousin
Sometimes, you might wonder how the perpetrators of such savage, cold-blooded and downright ******* actions could ever claim to be human beings.
Human [adj] - sympathetic, benevolent, humane
I say bring these inhuman degenerates before a court of women.
Bring them forth, and let their victims gain satisfaction.
Let them pay the blood debts they owe, and let the women collect what they are due
Let women grin at them with mouths full of razors,
let them corrode the savage flesh of men with acid claws.
Let them swallow men whole.
Women are dragons, unknowingly
but when they learn of their nature - fire will erupt from their chests like cataclysms and men will be dragged into this century kicking and screaming, or they will learn not to meddle in the affairs of dragons, because thou art crunchy and good with ketchup.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
*The universe inside a teardrop
An expanding sorrow full with the stories it contains
Cataclysms and black holes
Creation and Armageddon
Stars and moons
There is life, and light
Darkness and death
Hopes and dreams
Reality
Loss
Pain
Insanity
There is a universe inside a teardrop
And you are the great creator*
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
In the billow of mercurial cataclysms
Sharp as the pyrexia of igneous pebble stones
Upon my hindquarters I was cast
The circles that were established
Branded my skin with cancerous nightmares
Crafting the twisted love song ******* my throat
Through the lavender haze I tread
Threatened by a medley of conundrums
The tongue legislating such echoes
‘tis the element I so daringly seek
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
(aka been there, done that)
lost between immensity and eternity,
caught between lieutenants♥ who both love me.
& what’s more, i’ll never be able to choose:
they can’t convince me of their truth.
“why can’t they understand i’m stuck?”
“why can’t i remove myself from this rut?”
—they offered me head of their revolution!
promised me black roads & nibiru cataclysms— ...
...do i want both?
you won’t ever feel how it’s like to live a life like me
you don’t know what life is like when you’re like me
they’ll never find a cure for those who are like me
they’ll never understand what life is like for me
i’ve tried not to show i’m pussyfooting around this:
i’ve tried so hard to hide all my knickknacking
because the eyes of a trailboss♥ can mistake
your innocence with guilt and blame
yeah, i’m caught between two lieutenants
with who i share a mutual stint,
either i digest one & ***** the other:
or wish i didn’t have anyone to call “sir”♥ ...
...to begin with.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
You call and say I'm aberrant
You don't wanna be stuck indoors deviating
I don't like your storms
I miss your floodwaters
I need an affectional sleet
I miss your earthquakes
Then you came with all your quaking
You must think I'm an aftershock
You must think I'm abnormal
Now I can't find the volcanism without you
Volcanism without you
Queer and two
Like the ingenue over slew
Subthalamic and cuckoo
And I'm dancing because you're undue
Twisters ain't nothing when I'm betraying with ya
Gay
Do you mind if I steal a permafrost?
I miss your downdrafts
Calamities are not safe
I don't like your cataclysms
And every homosexuality is failsafe
Then you came with all your frothing
You must think I'm a calvinism
It's time we had some infernos
Will you hold me tight and not go flaming
You don't wanna be stuck indoors backtracking
When I'm shaming with ya
Shaming with ya
When I'm with you, all I have is inappropriate thoughts
It's time we had some embarrassments
I'm rebuking 'til dawn
Na na na na gay
Na na gay
Like the tray over buffet
Na na na na gay
Like the valet over heyday
Transgender and ok
Got more halfway
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
Well, hello!
Nice to meet you,
I welcome you to come see
The Land of the Words,
That's within you and me
Tell me, what is it?
What words do you seek?
Are you trying to vaguely describe all the bleak?
Well, come in!
We’ve got it,
A library of words
To use at the times where yours just never work
We’ve got, you name it
Every word that there is
Obscure, slick and slimy
Eternal and bliss
Or maybe enlightened
Audacity, please?
Do they properly describe your
Brown dungaree jeans?
No worries, don’t fret
Don't think I'm done yet
Sit back and hold on,
Those words, you'll regret
Bungalow, bushy, cabal and unclean
Tremendously, vacant
And blindly obscene
Tattered and broken
Lies and Unspoken
Do they speak to you mind,
Like they are a foretoken?
Cataclysms with dark exorcisms
Punk, goth and metal
And hooliganism?
Tell me, what is it
The library goes on
I’ll talk your ears off
From dusk until dawn
Patiently, potent
Absurdly, outspoken
Is that how you’ll describe,
A bright golden token?
Charismatic, kick, addicts
Your thoughts are a savage
Discombobulate, ravage
The words can be baggage
Keep looking, it’s there,
Every word, and I swear
They exist to make circles
Out of regular squares
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Cataclysm of cataclysms,
The End of ends,
The death of Death,
To hell with Hell.
The Devil and his minions,
The Dead outside the Fold,
Subsumed in Fire,
Truth consuming liars.
Outside the flames,
The Great Relief,
Absence of Pain,
Forgotten Grief.
Cosmos free of all that's fey,
Night consumed by glorious day.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
I fell in love with dying suns
Chasms and cataclysms
I fell in love with landslides, avelanches, and falling rocks
I fell in love
I count the days
I count the hours
I fell in love with distant shores
Fading tides and raging oceans
I fell in love with angry water, jet streams, and all the currents
I fell in love
I count the days
I count the minutes
I fell in love with the world you know
Hungry poor and feasting monarchs
I fell in love with your hope, your dreams, and your despair
I fell in love
I count the days
I count the seconds
I fell in love with your feet
Walking through the world we see
I fell in love with the mud, and the dirt, and the street
I fell in love
I count the steps
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
In the infinite zero gravity of nothingness
comes a symmetrical cylindrical formation
alpha and omega baptised
circumferences spirally downwards
into abyss
breaching cataclysms of illusion
reducing giants into mirages of magical
creatures harvesting the mind
and all its hallucinations of depth and dreams.
Once in a while the outer skin
is breached and broken
and the telescope seeks inward resilience
as the topsy turvy weightless objects
roll and tumble
in precise formations
cascading through tunnels
of energetic figurines
appearing and disappearing
seamlessly into reality and out of it.
So it is with us
creatures trapped
in prisms of dimensional space
unable to comprehend
metaphysical existence within a sphere
of a simple lifespan.
we move from point to point
mere dots of insipid reason
ruled by simplicity.
Author Notes
The binary digits are just 1 and 0. Zero is nothing and 1 complements it and gives it value. All of the digital world revolves around this mathematical understanding. Without the 1 or the 0 the entire world becomes a useless unexplained theory ( or so I think).
The matrix revolves around this simple theorem. There is a nothingness and there is a 1 or an I ! Within this context , all of the action takes place. You cannot have just the I because you have to have the 0 to make sense of reality.
I see this as a philosophical spiritual understanding of existence and compare this equation of Everything/Nothing, On/Off, This/That, Alpha/Omega,Beginning/Ending as different understanding of the basic theory of existence.
My poem plays on the the infallibility of the 1 and the 0 together. Metaphorized as a spiralling staircase descending into nothingness it goes up and down at the same time in a perpetuating cyclical, cylindrical form. Infinity does the same thing.
We are all 1s ( I's) and the 0 or O completes us a 10.
We are the Matrix.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
shadows dancing atop volcanic
stones and red-painted mesas
this lad has known cataclysms
both corporeal and spiritual
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
Sing
I plead with you not to speak except to break the air and sing
Bring forth the heart that is listening
Dutiful to your passion, fulfilled, holding aloft that which can never be still;
The jagged heartbreak, the quavering schill calling plaintively, "Are you coming for me?"
...
"Are you coming back for me?"
And you reject the old bylines, criticisms, cataclysms of popular opinion
Noise buzzing within you turns to vibration
And you know
I have always been here
X
X
X
X
X
Grasp that which they say cannot be held
And continue as if no one is watching
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
What happens at the crux
when an implacable foe
meets the immovable force
adding energy they grow
Cataclysms defined, deluxe
a wondrous and worthwhile show
thunder and lightning at the source
punches, block, and throw
Eternity, at wane and flux
not moving fast, or slow
confined in the final course
with no place, left to go
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
How late the night drifts through our whimsical lives.
How bright the day dawns....raising hope, nurturing existence.
How deep swells the waters, ebbing our emotions with its tide.
How swirls the mists of time, blurring our sight ....our senses.
We will yell in protest against cruelty and anarchy,
We will tread gingerly through the posterns of history,
We will rail against the tempest that erodes our faith,
We will cradle frail tendrils of endurance and survival.
We may file against the Almighty for the wanton destruction,
We may flee before the kernel of our world implodes,
We may never be able to attempt a reconstruction,
Our memories are but motes within our Universe.
We heed not the gratuitous warnings,
We continue along our path, blinkered and scornful,
Who will turn off the lights behind us?
Our essences unable....our spirits mournful....
Candour and truth cannot help us now,
Cataclysms will smack us between the eyes,
Too late! We gasp our indignation...
Too late! We crumble and our world dies.....
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Flower – crouched, crowned in its color tender, entombed, sees the moon.
she has ten thousand things in her mind but only one heart
for the life of her. She looks away from light
through her spectacles yet only has her eyes on one figure, alone.
somewhere in the mountain, drunk with the clash of land.
she has her quicksilver of mind. Intoxicates when willed, talks,
expires heaven a manifold. Supernal silence when nothing
excites – she has mouths for kissing a hundred things but only
the kink of fire for one. A wrestled shadow taking form of
towers bigger than cities. She has two feet for the world, yet only
one destination – to herself, and herself alone.
She is much of herself the rest of the world shorn out of wide-eyed
ruin – say, small bird, wishing her luck through wet leaves
shake cataclysms down our sleeves – she does not know how to swim,
yet has the blue of sea; anchored in the weight of unborn laments.
No more moves the sight of her, but herself in the mirror.
Stripped of sense and naked in a fine-tuned near-death thrill
of hunkered ravening, we are left to our own devices, mapping out
labyrinths. She has heard so many farewells, shook her not,
steered her clear into the immensity of a wider room,
her hands steely, pried open and precisely the span of bent tapestry,
alive in the receiving dark now, she has her eyes the size
of Moons, shining on one alone, that is not I – furtively the distance
calms and there is truth rising from the depths of deceit.
The palpable freedom makes the Earth wider and she has only
the world in her hands, trying senselessly not to shatter it.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC