"chasms" poems
who knew that in about
4 years time,
or maybe
10,000 years lost in
10,000 multi hued tears,
id be on the same trip-
dancing to the same
shimmering inner grove as before-
braiding fresh cut
flowers-
delicate genital-hands, unfolding in prayer
into my subconscious mind
or perhaps into my hair-
saving colored prism fragments
of knowledge or nonsense-
digesting intoxicating
incense smoke into the
deep throated green streaked
laughter chasms
that are my lungs-
spinning vinyl, spun mind
unwinding, undulating
through string music-
contemplating the sunset's sweet
immaculate form, reoccuring
and balancing itself right outside my window-
dressing in shells, bones,
and beads; kaleidoscope fabric dripping from
the ******* like mother Kali in a Fellini
flick-
peeping out at heads slinking down
the ****** pavement streets-
my hairy angelic form grooving
intensely, spastic-
body flung, strung out in
hot patterns of
mirrored arms and legs-
brain brew bubbling; wicked, fantastic-
limbs waving and grabbing at
tangible tasty morsels,
smelling strongly of indigo
and patchouli-
the East smiling on me and
my intrepid journey to the ocean city-
head thrown back in
tranquil madness-
pipe smoke curling like
ancient hound howls from the corners
of my lips-
smiles spread like insanity, a wicked disease
lost in the forgotten finger painted
confounds of creamy
****** milk consciousness-
basking in lamplight
of the golden glistening
Now.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your ******* are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.
27.2k
shadows in the morning mist
phantoms in the fog
echoes in the murky light
that bounce around the bog.
from the chasms in my mind
where darker creatures dwell.
i looked into the deep abyss
and caught a glimpse of Hell.
where winged angels fear to tread,
my dreams in twisted pose
descend with me to Hades' realm
where nothing ever grows.
except the fear i keep within
which never seems to sleep.
and this will grow in leaps and bounds
as lower down I creep.
but faith will rescue all despair.
the morning mist will rise.
the sun will drive the demons back
to darkness where they thrive.
the angels take me in their arms
and raise me from the grave.
the darkest places close again
and trees, in breezes wave.
dark though dreams can often be,
the dawn will ever rise.
i wear faith like armor
and see through his disguise.
the Devil, ever vigilant,
invades when i am weak.
even if i'm innocent,
my fall he'll always seek.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Filter the perfect shade of the forenoon sun,
Not too bright, not too dull.
For with ease and carefree thoughts,
You let the sunbeam-drizzling fairies play
As the beauty reflected in your retinas.
Capture this scenic view:
Where the burnt chestnut colored oaks
And mudstained sweetheart sundress of yours
Dance in three-four beats of waltz.
The Crayola strokes of the skies
And the watercolor streaks of daydreams and nightmares
Paint the canvas of your disquited thoughts.
This is the peripheral view from your suncrashed irises and corners,
This is your world.
Let your knees down to your sore feet
Be engulfed by the chasms of the bewildered grass,
As the smile makes it way to your plump spring lips;
Callused fingers from guitar strings
Twirl and twist the blades,
Cutting through flesh
And green and red and blue and yellow,
All sorts of color came spilling from your playful bruise.
From this panoramic view of yours
Of a wonder wonderland,
Where the ticks of clock
Follow the sunflower throughout time and forever,
This is the beauty of that stem:
A key to escapism
To a well-dreamt lovely world.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
.
The waves spilled the rising tide
back into the scattered footprints in the sand
deeply entrenched in life’s mystery,
receding into every breaking wave
A stiff sea breeze put back every grain of sand,
elements of a larger object gathers,
gravity firmed, into the silent shoreline chasms—
a beheld essence washed out to sea
by the fugitive tides and retreating sea-foam
Soon all trodden traces visibly vanish;
unmarked mileposts on a metaphysical pathway
slip away back to a windswept shoreline
and elapsing summer tide
Seabirds glide in slow-motion,
held sway into the shapeless gusts —
as if feathered puppets hovering,
hanging from the rafters
of the burgeoning orange sky
There's an uncommon peace in the renaissance;
effervescent crisp ocean air filling
the indefinable emptiness
marooned within each heartbeat’s echo
Each new breath inhaled, disappearing within
the unhealed hollow of every thing once believed;
fully aware this life is unholdable as time,
yet feeling many things deeply retained
in each passing moment—
slipping away like a handful of sand
sifting through all these hands once held
Presence becoming wreathed in a miasma of stillness,
space that levitates like an unpredictable fog
that seeps into the gnawing voids
of an unsated hunger
harlon rivers ... August 1st, 2018
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
I met a girl with X-ray vision.
She found herself quite smart.
Yet despite
Her fantastic sight
She couldn't find my heart.
There was an *****
that pumped blood
But surely there was something more.
So she climbed
Into my mind
And opened up a door.
There she found
Things somewhat profound,
But they were not of any interest,
So she rose
And found the words I spoke
In the chasms of my lungs.
She saw debate and
The arguments I fought
She saw what I cared about
But it was still not what she sought
Then she leapt into my hands
And saw all that I wrote
She tried to find double meaning
To the carefully chosen words
But there was no leaning
Or things of note.
So she gave up
But began to fall
For when asked what I cared about
My girl with "X-ray vision"
Knew that she didn't know me at all
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 10:33 PM UTC
.
Like a watermark through crisp white vellum
a face appears through the veil of dreams,
to colour wash away a montage of image
and decorate a mosaic of sleep dust seams.
As halcyon lakes waterfall into prism nebulae
and the courtesan face evades its emotions,
inevitably slipping between the chasms of space
like golden dolphins through plasmic oceans.
© Pagan Paul (01/09/17)
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,—
By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—
By the gray woods,—by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp,—
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,—
By each spot the most unholy—
In each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by—
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’Tis—oh, ’tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only.
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
4.9k
Draw a line
Feel the boundary
Not to trip over
Or falter
Only a line
Yet, restricting
Undulating ground
No straight lines
We may try
To draw perfect lines
Futile attempts
Only chasms
Line goes deeper
In hearts and
Annals of history
Edges out many
Marginalizing humanity
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
When humanity loses their beacon
Future plummets to deepest chasms
No light to welcome the future
No hands to hold, in our weaknesses
Only shenanigans
Will finally obliterate us
Leaving this celestial space lonelier
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Enter the dragon with death and disruption
Pride and tradition cataclysmically thrown,
Magnificent structures reduced to rubble
Distraught people bereft of their homes.
Chasms of heartache with bodies of babies
Strewn with the bricks in vast disarray,
Dust in the air and the howl of the sirens
Shouting police on a horror filled day.
Christchurch is bleeding, her confidence shattered
Our keynote cathedral is lying in shards,
Vacant eyed people are clinging to strangers
Jagged black holes in suburban back yards.
Christchurch is bleeding, our torn, gracious City
The nation arises in hurt and alarm,
To face the challenge with strength and resources,
To nurture our sister with healing and balm.
Sympathy shown by the myriad faces
Racing to help from all parts of the globe,
Expertise offered with money and labour
Students with shovels and priests of the robe.
Sadness and torment for kin of the missing
Frustrated rescuers work till relieved,
Moments of triumph with lost resurrected,
Agony felt when the dead are retrieved.
Led by the strength of the Mayor of the City
Courageous citizens help where they can,
Moments of bravery, moments of agony
Inspirational feats of elan.
Poignancy shown by the sad Maori Warden
Guiding the aged through the strewn broken glass,
Aiding the ambulance crews in their labour
Proud to be Kiwi as folk show their class.
Christchurch WILL arise from the death and destruction
Once again people will overcome grief,
Pride and resilience will triumph with the passing
And time will repair with deserved relief.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
AUCKLAND
25 February 2011
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 8:26 AM UTC
She bolts awake from nightmare’s fear
Her mind fumbles for the mask
Its visage calm, gaze cool and clear
Once in place no one will ask
Exhausted from her restless night
Escape routes all slammed shut
The knots already pulling tight
Deep down inside her gut
The enemy stand at their station
They circle round her bed
Anticipating her annihilation
The demons in her head
Her feet are not yet on the floor
But the battle has begun
Another endless day of war
She must fight, she cannot run
She glances quickly in the glass
Haunted eyes she cannot meet
The enemy charge takes the pass
Her soul in forced retreat
The mask will serve her well today
Its rigid smile conceals
The terror barely held at bay
The torment that she feels
She plants her banner on the mound
Though hopelessness holds sway
She grits her teeth and holds her ground
But the ******** make her pay
All day the battle rages on
But the mask remains in place
Though at her feet hell’s chasms yawn
The world sees not a trace
The conflict ebbs, her shoulders slump
No victory is claimed
She turns for home, trailing blood
Count her among the maimed
Return to camp yields no respite
Command’s duties have no end
Cares for her troops into the night
Strength's last measure she will spend
All her charges now in bed
Mask in hidden place she keeps
In resignation bows her head
And midst the dark, in silence weeps
Now when the camp lies silent
In night’s hush no pennant streams
She braces for coming violence
And girds for bloodshed in her dreams
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
His body lost temperature as he pressed himself against the chest of hers, seducing her with his love.
With his sleepy **** voice, he hums her romantic morning lullabies.
The gray walls of the room soon embosomed with gleaming hearts of their beauteous lust and speedy soft breaths, leaving nothing more but powder blushes of crimson on her flowery cheeks in the springtime dawn.
The honeyed lust in the veins lit the bodies of two lovers like candles into eternal flames of romance.
Under the chocolate brown duvets,
Milky fragrances of the tea dances along the bare hands of two lovers,
while he serves breakfast on bed to her in an old-fashioned way.
Bleak morning mist tango around the vitreous skins of scratched windows,
as fat hummingbirds' tinkling giggles paint beyond the nature's smiley meadows,
sending a major abundance of lovable freedom and glee to the people.
In the bathtub,
Velvety calyx of dreamlover rose flows smoothly through the silk water.
They shower each other and let warmth grasp their naked body.
He kissed her dancing soul of chasms out
and tie uncountable amount of butterfly knots to her pancake stomach.
His abilities of heart possessions had captured the universe's breath.
*Nothing has changed since day number one, everything is iridescent.
Everything is swimming in a magical pool of scarred perfections.*
As the sun sets to the west,
The undarkened nightfall sings lulling melodies and let its harmonic fire burn the skies.
The shadows of their love whirl out unstoppable romance that vanished away void hopes and pain.
The lover's spirits echo and echo into spring gorges and dashing rivers,
Feeding darkness with lucent fragments of light.
Oh they were only two humans in love...
Or only a size of two negligible lovedust in the mystical galaxies...
But their endless love never fails to deluge the world with drizzling tears.
A facile spark of romance can be an amazing set of fireworks that creates indiscernible fruitful happiness.
Who in the world could resist this unpredictable power of their spingtime love?
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
I wish I could paint the contours of your body
onto my skin with invisible ink
So you would be secret
And you would be special
And you would be mine
I wish I could sketch your face into the craters of the sky
So that when I looked up at the man in the moon
I would really just be looking up at you
I wish I could tattoo my heart onto your soul
Then I would be with you always
And you would never leave my side, but
I wish
I wish
I wish
And as I stare up at the black heavens,
searching the chasms that imprison the stars
I wonder if this is what loneliness truly feels like
Like, what if the night sky, the most beautiful thing in the world
Was really only beautiful because of me always missing you
And what if all I needed was to reach up
And embrace the stars
Remind them
That they are not alone in this cold, forsaken universe
Remind them,
In the end, not much matters, we all die
But
Remind them
Death is not the end, but the beginning,
The beginning of perfection
What if what I really needed was to
Burn up with the stars
Blaze crimson in their cold light
And just
Disappear
Would you miss me then?
Would you come back, crawling,
hoping, just maybe, it's not too late?
Well, darling,
let me tell you something,
it's never too late.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
Life is unavoidably ecstatic,
at every scale, degree, level, dimension,
an oscillation,
season to season
day to night to day to night
cycle by cycle
wax by wane
feeling
by feeling
to feeling
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
crest, trough,
cresting-
falling,
lifting-crashing
riding, riding out
and in
and through
and by
and by,
bursting..
I could explode,
I might explode,
I did explode,
I do explode
though I'm contained,
boundary by boundary,
transcending,
including,
moving
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
rainbows weaving spectral waving,
rivers raging, bodies growing,
organismic, oceanic, orgiastic
in-ing, out-ing,
coming-going,
holding, letting go,
flowing, flowing, flows
surrendered, building,
pursing, pleasing,
pangs, paining,
ripping, breaking,
sorrows to joys to shade to shine,
as chasms to substantiation,
as abyssal to full,
as burn to burning,
to smoke etheric,
to ashes, to ground,
all passions
as passions
passion
pumping, filling, releasing
on-ing, off-ing,
alive-dying-birthing-living,
living as moving
always moving,
transforming
breath by breath
by breathing, being
this to that,
a changeling,
changing
always moving
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Torrent of light and river of the air,
Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen
Like gold and silver sands in some ravine
Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!
The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where
His patron saint descended in the sheen
Of his celestial armor, on serene
and quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.
Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable
Of Phaeton’s wild course, that scorched the skies
Where’er the hoofs of his hot coursers trod;
But the white drift of worlds o’er chasms of sable,
The star-dust, that is whirled aloft and flies
From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.
3k
dented but not broken
in the demon dark
the deep chasms
of the wilderness
and the forgotten recess
silence from tender slumber
has awoken
the synergy of temptations
on their merry dance
sip divines peach nectar
the naked flesh and heaving chest
unleash thy sporadic vital spark
the impressed intent
of thy chosen scent
fuels the interactive nodes
neon infused electronic spasms
that echo in the dark
a subtle jowl in latent jest
as twilights nimble fingers
unbutton what remains of carefree days
and the fallen angels
with such sweet caress
to touch the mystic
unfurl the arc of your rainbow
and shine your rays
on cobbled memories
of Paris in the rain
and Tokyo Blue
hustles in the backstreets aroma
blow the cobwebs a gentle kiss
on days like this
left unchecked and laid to rest
gathered in momentums voice
and uttered as a sensual breath
the nakedness of emotion
the arcane interventions
should not be left to fade
to fill the empty space
they call the void
these technicolour moments
we've made
stumble on the waves
the fragrances of youth etched
in unedited stop motion
the contours of discovery
sparkle in the ether
the azure eyes
and the open arms
of the ocean
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC
She's this insatiable urge
gaining on me,
like a herd of horses
galloping in the treachery of the wild,
their muscles brushed to a shine
rippling down their calves
to embrace the ground
beneath their ironed hooves
shaking it up, tormenting its calm,
whipping up tremors
that know no chains and travel far.
When she's around
dust and sweat break free
with muscles aching in symphony
the heart is all worked up
like a boiler room in heat
pummeling all of its adrenaline
in one fleeting indulgence
which the universe with all its hatcheries
is itching to contain
before the raging tides in
and floods my world.
She's the elusive horizon
used to passionate chases
and the sly azure lunging at it
for one sweet glimpse of the cleavage where it conjoins with the earth
looking for Elysium that never is.
Ah! But that is what it is
for the tamed to think of love
is an impossibility
for it grows in the wild
separated by a hundred chasms
and a million mazes
waiting for a fool to cross over.
When she isn't around
the rumpled sheets tell our story
for it has seen the storms
that raged in the cavernous nights
and filled up balmy noons
with the savagery of love
still crackling like embers of fire
which have seen better days,
and, light up still, with a death wish
to tell of our smouldering lives
that thrived in spasms of our last breath.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
The dichotomy
Splits the life
Sometimes goes deeper
Creating chasms
Trying two balance
Can’t stretch more
Wider the abyss becomes
Threatening to engulf
The life
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
me and my friend isolation
go on long romantic walks
through the deep chasms of my brain
and each repeated path we take
deepens that beaten matter beneath our feet
we stop at each mile marker
and she tells me all the reasons
i should doubt myself
and i believe her
and i stay
me and my honey isolation
send love letters through the mirrors
i lay my hand on the glass while she beams a smile
but she slithers her fingers
around my wrist and quickly pulls me through
she traps me in a place
that i find too much comfort in
she tells me i’m alone out there
and i believe her
and i stay
me and my lover isolation
hide behind a locked door
a somber light flutters inside of her eyes
it illuminates my hands
revealing their connection to the pencil
i draw a picture of my heart
that she rips to shreds
and tells me she loves me
and i believed her
and I stayed
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:38 PM UTC
My words crawl
away into the shadows
cowering under the
echoed silence, the fear
of pasts claws.
It's a quiet place here in
the chasms of the soul,
where forlorn murmurs
of wisdom, breach the
signature of mystery.
Feeding the lands of
my mind, seeking oceans
hold, I cannot listen to
the voice of reason.
I follow you into the
woods and dancing in the
light of our dying fires
I rise, I rise, I rise.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
Back to where we started
Broken homes
Broken hearts
Us against the world
Let me tackle darkest parts
Past plots reincarnated
Where we are at now
Foolish enough to believe what happened once
This place we won't allow
No matter how we strive to improve
Story is destined for tragedy
Bad behavior repeats repoitore
Stop trying to force what isn't meant to be
I think we know how this ends
Tried mending a million ways
There is no way to avoid the outcome
Yet we still cling tight to "always"
Happy ending in negative mind
Even close to reality
Disappointment forged chasms between us
Bond isn't what it used to be
As we call eachother corny names
Pain hidden behind each letter
We are back where we began our tale
Maybe this time will be better?
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 4:53 AM UTC
I came to you, oh mighty land
Asleep to everything at hand
Lethargic from more southern air
Not yet awakened, unaware
The panorama I beheld
Composed a view unparalleled
A pastor with his best endeavor
Could preach forever and forever
And never say with words as clear
As the aura of this atmosphere
In the awe inspiring craggy peaks
And the chasms as His silence speaks
Where His creation stirs conviction
That brings a balming benediction
To one that hungers for a proof
Here, upon the planets roof
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 3:30 PM UTC
perplexity and confusion
through deep chasms of self-deprecation
we trudge world weary and troubled
furthermore we play philosopher (of dim shadows)
or worse fortune-teller (of self) creating self-fulfilling prophecies
that tell of tears and framed laughter (within society’s embrace)
turmoil coupled with turbulence (what if? what if not? why me? why not me?
wreaking havoc in the present clouding all sense of joy and peace)
not realizing that the past is dead and gone
in future times - que sera sera, there is no point
fretting and fuming
worrying and burying happiness six feet under ghostly nonexistence
***that is why I choose to **** all negative thought***
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 5:27 AM UTC