"compassed" poems
[Dedicated to George Raffalovich]
In the Years of the Primal Course, in the dawn of terrestrial
birth,
Man mastered the mammoth and horse, and Man was the
Lord of the Earth.
He made him an hollow skin from the heart of an holy tree,
He compassed the earth therein, and Man was the Lord of
the Sea.
He controlled the vigour of steam, he harnessed the light-
ning for hire;
He drove the celestial team, and man was the Lord of the
Fire.
Deep-mouthed from their thrones deep-seated, the choirs
of the æeons declare
The last of the demons defeated, for Man is the Lord of
the Air.
Arise, O Man, in thy strength! the kingdom is thine to
inherit,
Till the high gods witness at length that Man is the Lord
of his spirit.
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ARTERY CONFESSION.
_Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night._
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. _which he ought to water to flowery_ _And fruitage._
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, _with the fishes abiding therein,_ _as stars, moon,_ and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.
_his love to her can simply easily be compared to_ _GOD's towards mankind._
So he confessed and rendered his heart to her. _Like a teeming downpour upon earthen soften, it surface._
so her love compassed his heart comforting, _like pabulum to mind._
As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,
_gory to glory._ _He so_
Much love her and
really ready,
_in for her, fell in the water._
Lost and found with her for ever. _He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart._
because he see her heart compatible to his.
_Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes._ While talk through night, dusk till dawn,
_Remembered promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell._
*Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her ******* _how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure._
His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she _told him that after her_
momma he be next to her.
_She call him dad he call her Mami._ Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
_His young blood can't either forget her memories,_
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
_is all about thee._ _Can't forget_
her, _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. _He truly loves her because he knew she'd make a good mother,_
Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. _So remember he always told her_
that he will always be there for her as time,
_even in the world after here._ _Her love is so good to him_
She has the key to his heart.
_reminisce she told him she'd_
_rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side._
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. _His aspiration_
all is found in her, _all in ONE no one else but she._
She source the past time joy and still the reason _for today's and the hope_
of tomorrow's glee.
Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
_His mary, his eve and soulmate._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call
Of Homer’s or of Dante’s heart sublime,—
Not Michael’s hand furrowing the zones of time,—
Is more with compassed mysteries musical;
Nay, not in Spring’s or Summer’s sweet footfall
More gathered gifts exuberant Life bequeathes
Than doth this sovereign face, whose love-spell breathes
Even from its shadowed contour on the wall.
As many men are poets in their youth,
But for one sweet-strung soul the wires prolong
Even through all change the indomitable song;
So in likewise the envenomed years, whose tooth
Rends shallower grace with ruin void of ruth,
Upon this beauty’s power shall wreak no wrong.
4.6k
Beneath,
I amused fear,
drowning immersed in faith.
Near my final breath I mused Latin,
the etymology of 'entertain'.
*Tormented;
by mistake.
Entertaining fear,
over entertaining faith.*
In the quiet silence of revelation,
I took stock,
&
looked up,
180° degrees,
poised
&
compassed
my flesh,
to
unbolt
the chains
of misdirection
bound to the recess of my soul.
Unleashed!
Now to hike the proverbial mountain,
cobbled
in the boots of Wisdom.
Contemplative.
Afloat,
aloft its height,
coiffured
safe
by the proverb,
transfigured,
by wisdom of consciousness.
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
609
I Years had been from Home
And now before the Door
I dared not enter, lest a Face
I never saw before
Stare solid into mine
And ask my Business there—
“My Business but a Life I left
Was such remaining there?”
I leaned upon the Awe—
I lingered with Before—
The Second like an Ocean rolled
And broke against my ear—
I laughed a crumbling Laugh
That I could fear a Door
Who Consternation compassed
And never winced before.
I fitted to the Latch
My Hand, with trembling care
Lest back the awful Door should spring
And leave me in the Floor—
Then moved my Fingers off
As cautiously as Glass
And held my ears, and like a Thief
Fled gasping from the House—
4.3k
As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep
the black river of himself.
The grain of his wrists
is like bog oak,
the ball of his heel
like a basalt egg.
His instep has shrunk
cold as a swan’s foot
or a wet swamp root.
His hips are the ridge
and purse of a mussel,
his spine an eel arrested
under a glisten of mud.
The head lifts,
the chin is a visor
raised above the vent
of his slashed throat
that has tanned and toughened.
The cured wound
opens inwards to a dark
elderberry place.
Who will say ‘corpse’
to his vivid cast?
Who will say ‘body’
to his opaque repose?
And his rusted hair,
a mat unlikely
as a foetus’s.
I first saw his twisted face
in a photograph,
a head and shoulder
out of the peat,
bruised like a forceps baby,
but now he lies
perfected in my memory,
down to the red horn
of his nails,
hung in the scales
with beauty and atrocity:
with the Dying Gaul
too strictly compassed
on his shield,
with the actual weight
of each hooded victim,
slashed and dumped.
3.5k
"Love brought Me down; and cannot love make thee
Carol for joy to Me?
Hear cheerful robin carol from his tree,
Who owes not half to Me
I won for thee."
"Yea, Lord, I hear his carol's wordless voice;
And well may he rejoice
Who hath not heard of death's discordant noise.
So might I too rejoice
With such a voice."
"True, thou hast compassed death; but hast not thou
The tree of life's own bough?
Am I not Life and Resurrection now?
My Cross balm-bearing bough
For such as thou?"
"Ah me, Thy Cross!--but that seems far away;
Thy Cradle-song to-day
I too would raise, and worship Thee and pray:
Not empty, Lord, to-day
Send me away."
"If thou wilt not go empty, spend thy store;
And I will give thee more,
Yea, make thee ten times richer than before.
Give more and give yet more
Out of thy store."
"Because Thou givest me Thyself, I will
Thy blessed word fulfil,
Give with both hands, and hoard by giving still;
Thy pleasure to fulfil,
And work Thy Will."
2.6k
S is for Seduction, a vast verb saved for flesh,
But in her outer-worldly tune, my thoughts become enmeshed;
Like at the great Salamis, where strength sought strike the feeble,
Seduction marked our birth, their fall—an end without a sequel.
L heralds in some fifty lads, of whom mere five would pass,
Bugsy, Daphne, Sylvester, and Tazzy, above their peers compassed.
The tests were long, the trials were tough, from nothing we had fostered
A team of lucky, noble lads to fight these migrant monstærs.
A is the assault, outnumbered and outclassed,
Our heroes boldly braved their foes until their stalwart last.
Despite their lead by tyrants, such Nawt of Hispaniola,
Our foes were forced unto retreat, costing us Lady Lola.
M is for the ones who’ve fallen, for them mourn reminiscence,
For those who proudly placed their names for our petty subsistence.
The fight is done, the beasts beat back, denied all loot and hoarding,
And so a statue is ***** Honorum Mikael Iordan!
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
I blew a kiss and you smiled
Your heart shook in tremor
Won't you admit the vacancy?
It's like a field of football
Ball bouncing from sides
For whoever holds it wins
A repressive defence chains
Diseased denial cog wheels
Mind played, tongue slated
Sublimation of eager emotions
Compassed in all directions
Comprehended ridiculoupsity
Sinking stilettos drills deeper
Barbed wire erected to fence
A barricade of a no wait zone
Hedges cut, trimmed to invisible
No allegations stains to appease
Peace to transmute,a game changer
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
I
Why do I keep looking at you?
Today another photograph
pinned me to my notice board.
You, darling, dearest girl,
a woman so finely formed
by motherhood, I ache
to think I have lain beside you.
Nobody has your smile,
the sweep of your face
beneath hair that has become
my rest, my home.
II
I daren’t write about your voice
but I will, as it holds me to you down this phone.
I feel its formants rest on my shoulder
(like your hand)
and so compassed about with phrases
I am gathered to you in a shower of syllables.
So when you say *I don’t want this to end
our talk together* my body breaches
dolphin-like from a cold sea – in joy.
III
I realise in imagined talk with you
it is as though we are close in bed,
so close hardly a whisper’s spent,
barely a breath’s taken.
This is how it is when I walk alone
in the night-time park,
and then today in the shopping mall
I forced myself to enter, a short-cut
I said, but knew I’d regret the route.
How could I talk here to my love
when I have known you
under islands’ skies and soft air
kissing deeply at every gate
our hands unclaspable
steering our passion’s cargo
to home and harbour.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)
When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.
The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)
So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.
In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.
If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
One day I will give my full attention
to the twilight
I will discover exactly when it begins
and attend to its each second’s state
they’ll be no single degree of change
I’ll miss
Impossible, I know
This afternoon I saw it
far-distant
travelling south east
a soft gloom
a far-away gloaming
I thought I’d stand at my third floor eyrie
and watch it advance
with all the concentration
I could muster.
I couldn’t – muster the concentration
such was its imperceptibly changing light
triggering memory’s way with things
I was compassed about with thoughts
of her tenderness
with her gentle voice just sounding
as the dusk deepened
she bade me share love’s deepest kiss
I know how much this means to you she said
I did know then
and as twilight falls into night
I do know now I do
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
*The retrospect of material
I value those works on machines
Mainly in co ordinance of our commons
When you hadn't recoiled towards summons
Contrary compassed promotions.
Palpating the inadaquet; a revert
Chances to brandish
Never did you, cultivating no savvy aerials
Inspiring me not with world's flow
A place I wanted to spand;
Inside still do.
On pulverant turfs did we become jovial
Only until now has zest fulfilled
so I thought.
Stupor on you revulsion, and to attorny
hearsay rumors, spur verses words
Your flight remains hurt
The retrospect of days
Spays that gained ways waned
Which I could not jurisdict
Tactful our souls
Both cordial; satted in rage
Images of ****** past age
Halyconing things to say
But still I shake when I view you
Alone behind machines
A ****** head; drenching steam
To far former and prior; like dream*
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 8:31 PM UTC
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
Hopery, changery, stranger-than-strangery
tip the good vicar your hat—
as he sits with Obama, the global Gautama
indulging in neighborly chat.
Popery, popery, changery-hopery
grant the old Pontiff his wish.
Then summon a bishop to season and dish up
a kettle of catechized fish.
Changery, hopery—swing from the ropery,
garnish the Vatican stew.
The Cardinals compassed, the media rumpused
the Protestants joined in, too…
Fakery, changery, safety in dangery
lack of direction was lost
as it became clear that no concord was near
and the threshold of lunacy crossed.
Changery-hopery, soap-on-a-ropery,
buy the Obama a beer.
Let the Lord’s liberation enlighten our nation
as forums and quorums get queer.
Hopery, changery, babe-in-a-mangery
hail the immaculate mess;
until limbo is purged and repentance is urged
and the canonized con-men confess.
Babilo-mockery, roll with the rockery
kiss the pontificate ring;
til’ the old Argentinian wax Constantinian
causing Gods angels to sing.
Jiggery-pokery fooling the folkery
monkery second to none…
what was once sacrilegious is now a religious
conventional focus of fun.
Papacy, lunacy piping the tunacy
Father goose mothered the egg –
but it cracked in the nest while the stupefied West
lit a match to a gunpowder keg.
Yessiree/nopery—smoking the dopery
opiates dulling the masses
who bow genuflecting, with candles reflecting
the shine of their Latinate *****
Fakery funkery, pachyderm trunkery
hierophants never forget
but the clown and his trainer cut loose the restrainer
and cancelled the circus’s debt.
Piggery, smokery, tighten the chokery
offer the refugees bacon;
their mullahs may howl with a slaughterhouse scowl
but the empire’s free for the takin’…
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Loneliness walks hand in hand
With he who strides the long way forth,
With he who walks the path alone
Through solitary’s East and North.
Firm his sinewed hand so strong
That steers the compassed vessel back
Bridging pitfall’s chasm wrong
Through deft manipulation’s track.
Guiding they who pledge good faith
To fall then, by the wayside, weak,
Then in bridging disappointment’s song
Instead, he helps them to their feet.
So long that night of solitude
With stark decision’s crucial stack
When none would share that brutal loading
Weighing solely on his back.
Lonely is my leader’s song
Lonely as his dying day,
Would that he could share a word
Who would understand his way?
M.
17 October 2015
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Rejection
a roundel by Geoffrey Chaucer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your beauty from your heart has so erased
Pity, that it’s useless to complain;
For Pride now holds your mercy by a chain.
I’m guiltless, yet my sentence has been passed.
I tell you truly, needless now to feign:
Your beauty from your heart has so erased
Pity, that it’s useless to complain.
Alas, that Nature in your face compassed
Such beauty, that no man may hope attain
To mercy, though he perish from the pain;
Your beauty from your heart has so erased
Pity, that it’s useless to complain;
For Pride now holds your mercy by a chain.
*********
Original text:
So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
Giltles my deth thus han ye me purchaced;
I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to feyne;
So hath your beaute fro your herle chaced
Pilee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne
Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed
So gret beaute, that no man may atteyne
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.
So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 5:00 AM UTC
Again this compassed
Done with this feeling
Last with this bargain
Away with the dealing
Belated and lagging
Broken records play
Same old song, away
Screeching are sound
When you stay around
I am afflicted anew
Withdraw, my savior
Long past due
The bills are pilling
My thrills are dying
Dispassion growing
Heartbeat sinks
Inside the pit, the fire
Let the burning flow
Heaven sinistral
Purgatory sleeps
Only wakes on earth
I refuse to affirm
Which no one will know
I refuse to hold on
I will only let go
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC