"celebrants" poems
beneath one effacing blush
simmers veil ties liquidly i stare
fears pink with praise lusts withheld thimble shames
embalm a gift identity
daily sunny graves
dissembled life
with deeper breath akin to fisher netting cast
fog caress mneumosyne lover's misty thigh
traps me willingly
blinded i taste ambrosia
gazing at between zones believing anything again
cliches pyroclastically reborn in celebrants of ash and cynic deaths
energetic swim i stroke a butterfly in Love
instant tribadists commit a joyous toast to joy itself
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
From the 4 corners of Addis
Sunday school students
At a Meskel Square make a throng
All the procession beating a drum
Ululating and singing a song
With a passion strong.
"Queen Helena (Elene)
Mother of Constantine the Great
Found the true cross
Buried under
A dump-mountain long
By those who read Jesus
The incarnated word wrong."
"Advised by a monk
Led by an incense smoke
The whereabouts of the place
As she saw in her dream/revelation
(326AD)
Queen Helena managed to unlock."
The n-curve of the smoke
As a pointer
Allowed her a go ahead
To dig the mountain
Beneath its bed.
That is what Ethiopia
Has been zealous
To commemorate
To date
(For over1600 years).
At sundown
When by the patriarch
And the mayor
The bonfire is lit
Priests and deacons
Sing and dance circling it.
An electrifying vibe
Overwhelms
Spectators' spirit
Proving the event
A hit.
"Fail not to note
The cross is power,
Perseverance
And soul's medicine
To our sin an antidote !"
An ocean of vigil light
Accentuated by the darkness
Of the night
Allows souls' flight
To the extreme height.
At last if the bonfire
Falls towards the right
It will be
Celebrants delight
Specially if a rain
Puts the fire out.
Celebrants return
To their home
To attend petty
Similar events
That ripples across
The nation
In the same fashion.
On the morrow
Returning back
To the ashes' bed
They draw a cross
On their forehead.
On 27 Sep
Tourists in droves
Come
To Ethiopia
For a first hand knowledge
" Ethiopia raises
Its hand to God
Demonstrated many fold."
Here reflecting is a wise thing
In the division of the cross
To avoid a similar thing
Ethiopia(During the Era of
its emperor Dawit/Middle age)
has received
The right wing.
At a cross-like
Mountainous road,
It is placed
At Geishen Mary's church
Which the laity takes
As Saint Mary's abode.
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 12:02 PM UTC
I swirl galaxies
In a fit of pique
Soothe exo planets
Locked in orbit
Blow gentle air
From hot face
To freezing rear
This I
Centre of centreless
Space
Dimple in the chin
Of directionless
Being
Entire universe
Mere metaphor
Of how This I
May feel
Right now.
This vaunted ambition
These vaulted palaces
Celebrants all of
This I that
This I calls
God as a two year old
Stamping mighty feet
This nothing at all
This whatever
This I
That is what it is
And loves only
This I
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 4:34 AM UTC
Who needs chocolates
when your sweetness
goes beyond my tongue,
beyond my senses,
into my memory,
where it makes the taste
of everything sweet
seem sugar-free?
Who needs flowers
when I've got a field
spreading from our love,
filled with buds that don't die
and don't need colorful petals
to attract more than two,
forever growing,
with scent everlasting?
Who needs gifts
when everyday I get to
unwrap true love
covered in layers
of this friendship,
life's most valuable present
you can receive many times
but only keep once?
Who needs Valentine's day
when life itself,
for us,
is a celebration,
and our hearts are always
birthday celebrants
because everytime
feels like the first time?
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
A twisting and twirling body of words,
It hangs out against the arms like the moon lit light
Casting the shadows of a lost and broken dream
Tapping the head and forming the jaw
The fires kiss the withering blade to life
Enriched by the life of a crazy decision,
Struggling to climb it's conscious roots,
Only to have wings form out of the scars,
Cheated by a fate of lust and celebrants,
Screaming at a insomniac mind,
Pleading to make it's reason one of logic and focus,
However lost it is to the dreams given by the hands it has felt,
Curious the traveling becomes from our mouths, the words we speak,
Fly on and distance point A to point B
For the simple line must be drawn to connect them once again.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
Of no time and place...
save for due Truest North
of no time and place...a kindled
air as such...never a Draconian
night layeth upon...O Hyperborea.
Muse of Muse...whose tacit glory
begot lip and lyre...illumined
wholes that sayeth verily unto
illumined wholes.
Unbroken gaiety...where the only
obscuration's the recesses of
witnesses in full bearing...Beauty's
Knowing...Knowable Beauty.
O Hyperborea...as light, lighteth...
yet lit be not--high heaped upon
high, celebrants of whir and fire...
fire and whir...whir and fire!
Thou danceth a sun's one-upmanship,
to emblazon the dreams of Thracian
peoples.
That the world may know, and know
well...the north wind...of no time
and place--due Truest North of no
time and place...be kindled by
Apollonian graces.
As an urn contains what's trialed by
fire, as fire...Beauty unbridled...poureth
forth under the Hyperborean sun...
never to casteth a shadow.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
They sneak up on you
The same time every year.
But each year they are different;
Different people, different places,
More people, fewer people.
Old friends, new friends,
Lovers, family, random celebrants.
Each birthday is a time capsule
A specific moment sliced from the year,
Seemingly mundane, but oh so telling.
As we age, we pretend to ignore them,
Not wanting to count the years or
Admit to their significance.
But if others forget them,
We are hurt deeply.
As the day approaches
We are forced to assess our life,
The past months, the past years
The days ahead, the shortage of days to come.
A happy day is always the wish from others,
As if saying it will make it happen.
If only life worked that way.
But it is our day, our one special day
No matter our sins or transgressions,
We can bask in the glory just this once,
This day is our reward, for nothing in particular.
Just for being, just for living,
Just for having survived.
But maybe that is worthy of acclaim.
Every day, every week, every month
And surely every year
Is a struggle.
Let’s celebrate perseverance.
Let’s celebrate fortitude.
Let’s celebrate strength of character,
To whatever degree it exists.
Let’s celebrate hurdles,
Overcome or faced with courage.
Let’s celebrate disappointment
Profound disappointment that failed
To defeat us.
Let’s celebrate not giving up
In the face of overwhelming fear.
Let’s celebrate the journey
In all it’s joy and dejection.
And most of all
Let’s celebrate the days to come
And that glimmer of hope
That keeps us plodding along,
Fighting, struggling, sacrificing,
And wincing in pain
Every day of the year
So we live to see another
Birthday.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
*Flowers burst in joy
Confetti of Butterflies
Petals in the sky*
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
flaming torches in scattered line held high
crowd shouted back behind a safety line
celebrants, ministers officiate in stripes
dressed darkly to intimidate memories of war
red suited stranger rides along devil's tails
splitting ****** for laffs and noise spitting
arc light ahead of spent charred bullet case
screams evoked. stifles laughter as the smoke
evokes the War in mud so here : sticks are rifles.
over amplified comes over as cod eulogy flashes
the ears while sincerity plays out the church gate
we stand flickering eyed
"Feed the World ..."
murders silence
saviours hurry
"Turn it off, Harry"
Peace after a slowed to halt drum
Torches squared parafin trickle
air with smokey wax and uncertain
light that makes black to meet
the dark
poppies burn by the church gate
plans broken into an atrocious
conflict of split fuses sputtering
orange stars into painted skulls
burning splints takes cordite's place
making the air like thick magasines
filled with dum-dum bullets. homages
to horror waiting for the drum .
march.
the parade moves starkly on
cowboys
then
pearls
and
Devils tail.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
Flowers burst in joy,
Confetti of Butterflies,
Petals in the sky.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
Flowers burst in joy,
Confetti of Butterflies,
Petals in the sky.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC
Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome
See now Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome
Three celebrants mitred with golden light
And vested in pillar, temple, and dome
They lift life’s elements in sacred rite:
Jerusalem the Wild, where prophets sing
Athens the Reasoner, amid her vines
Rome, the Giver of Laws, whose trumpets ring:
All send us civilization through wonders and signs
In faith and form and word and polychrome -
See now Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
silent in penance
we await your serene expiation
of our savage hearts and
ravished inclinations
let your compassion
envelope us as we surrender
to your dominion
again among the celebrants
restless, tired and asleep
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC