"consorts" poems
Like Kundalini's awakening, for long this too was hidden,
the female part of my psyche, consorts
with male in her, to perfectly blend;
with in us flowers the dynamics of Shiva-Shakti dance
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 8:49 AM UTC
I broke the spell that held me long,
The dear, dear witchery of song.
I said, the poet's idle lore
Shall waste my prime of years no more,
For Poetry, though heavenly born,
Consorts with poverty and scorn.
I broke the spell--nor deemed its power
Could fetter me another hour.
Ah, thoughtless! how could I forget
Its causes were around me yet?
For wheresoe'er I looked, the while,
Was nature's everlasting smile.
Still came and lingered on my sight
Of flowers and streams the bloom and light,
And glory of the stars and sun;--
And these and poetry are one.
They, ere the world had held me long,
Recalled me to the love of song.
2.7k
Is there anything glorious about August the twelfth?
When people privileged with exceptional wealth
Think it their right, to blast the sky
And the birds that fly, ne'er so high.
Is there dignity to the flurry that follows?
To be first delivering corpses to fellows
And consorts, dining in fair London town
On the shot blasted flesh, fallen down ...
To British soil, the land of the free!
So free, to be trapped in iniquity,
In pursuit of what some think to be glorious
But surely Blake's heaven would be furious.
David Applin
2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
Muggy murky dawn clogged with gloom the abbey
Where his grampy sleeps ,
Through
the drizzles fizzle
As native orchids embosoms and blossoms in his lost vault.
like a curfew drawn in the church
The pew lost its crowd
With the paws of time.
Lone man sleep
In deep latin chants they petrify you
Before sheol purifies you
And litany literature lecture limbs you
When in overprotected embankments of battlements
They dry their garbs
Where your lore forayed growth
And sweat smeared smelt breathed wealth
Chagrin dreams washed ashore
lay as upon a cold mornings recollection on a tabloids sold column
which drew your freckles bolder
In a savour of remembrance
For your zealous zealots
Who on an another 'all souls day' reoccur revisiting
the truth of their establishment
in prayers
The good Lord adorn you
Let Lekker dreams cradle you
Your consorts concert never consume you
And earth never haunt you
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
The courtroom was buzzing,
Deals were struck,
Before Her Worship
Heard from the docket.
Will Luke be saved.
A line of roguish consorts
All on Legal Aid,
Paraded before Her,
In judical chains.
And the lawyers are asking
About The Game of Thrones.
There are too many cops,
All creased and shiny,
Carrying file folders,
Outling the crimes.
I was a spectator,
Small in my corner,
As Luke went to stand
Before his maker,
Before his deal breaker.
All charges dropped,
As if a matter of course;
Except for the charges
From the laswyer and court.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
All intellect is dissected
Through the tunnel visioned perspectives
Stretched thin
In a stream of feed
Producing the illusion of need
Projected from old men
Who grin
Below the suicidal idols
Of the rivals
And glutton in the maniacal sins
Commenced
By brain dead Americans
Painted in the amens of the dense
Commending the hymns
Of spent casings
Atop the blood of babies
And maybe
One day
It can be better
Than the clever endeavours
To sever the head of the predators
Washing our hands of their sedatives
And delivering the skulls to the slavers
But we are pay dirt
Shoveled into trucks to work
For a leafless tree
Ready and wanting to believe
In anything
That doesn't see our deeds
As we
Are manufactured with the greed
Of sleeved wisemen
With five of a kind
In the fight for life
Putting our souls
Upon our rites
We bet
Despite the path of right
Infringing on the height
Of success
In excess
Of the tests message
We are the blessing
Of a warning
Within a forgotten story
Historically denoting its anointing
We are the disappointment
Of the warrior
Defeated in a court
Of corrupted consorts
Sorting out the blueprints
For a new fort
Distorting the borders
Of moral disorders
With orders to ****
The hoarders of will
We are the shrill screech
Of a dying world
And we are alive
But dead
Born to ****
Batteries of a shield
Building hell
To sell heaven pills
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
We'll live off contemporary breaths
Feeling the others resonating behest.
Faltering novelties woven at peace by pieces sampling these dangerous games.
Strutting their stuff, presence increased, releasing their hold over the tame.
Grand new shapes in sight
Moving closer, my feet are too fast.
How many past times can this outlast?
Inflated euphoria, bleeds over and takes me aghast.
Lining my heart, these infectious consorts and subtleties.
Letting me believe only in quartz and melody.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
A star with night between her teeth; a girl
Staggers a dance of seven heels, less six.
Cues strewn along her route: a pin, a pearl,
A tired, ****** queen a-lean on bricks.
Though under veil of spotlight she makes sway,
No trace of rule remains on head or feet.
Each sunset swallowed before birthing Day
To toss to sirens feeding in the street.
Nocturnal vagrants fever dreaming deep
Her cafe consorts, seeking but a friend.
Mascara floods downstream where ducklings sleep,
So get her to a bed and to an end.
And though low trolls will ever tweet her shame
Each morning's jay will always sing her name.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Day keeps his tryst with winsome light
under the golden dome of the opulent morn,
still shamelessly eyes the leaving jealous night,
with the glad eye, reserved for a concubine,
to whom at sun down he stealthily returns.
This illicit affair both consorts are aware,
hasn't it sustained both, with him as the buffer!
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.
Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.
I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?
To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.
Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:
I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.
So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?
I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.
He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!
So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.
The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
It may seem peculiar indeed
To have not paid homage
To this Nightguard of Poetry
But claim me for society's victim
For upon gazing at her ether-omniscient--
White curves encase the infertile desert
As, if you'll recall, her ancient patroness
Her consorts are of far greater interest
(A weak word hiding unspoken depth)
Unique in their millions
And, I find, quite indescribable
Except appropriate to represent that mystery
(It resides among the ugly, fragrant shelves)
Unworded but for breezes and shadows and eternity-swirls
Her mysteries were long drained from that pale, gaping face
And of no great interest.
And somehow I am writing.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
The end layers over the beginning
in contours of time
Blanketing the middle
in consorts of connection
Rescuing the lost from themselves
—saving the foundling’s parade
(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 3:03 PM UTC
should any women
try to form
a cosy partnership with him
she'll put a cleaving wedge
in between them
it is quite plain
that she won't tolerate
that kind of thing
going on
apparently she's got to be
the only paradise bird
he'll ever see
a few of his prospective
consorts were told
to scram
and not to be tempting
him
with their eyelash
batting scams
a casual observer
might well say
she's pretty **** good
at vamoosing
the rivals
away
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC
Arise children of the fatherland
The day of glory has arrived
Against us tyranny's
****** standard is raised
Listen to the sound in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers
They are coming into our midst
To cut the throats of your sons and consorts
To arms citizens Form your battalions
March, march
Let impure blood
Water our furrows
What do they want this horde of slaves
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage
What methods must be taken?
It is us they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!
What! These foreign cohorts!
They would make laws in our courts!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would cut down our warrior sons
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke
The vile despots would have themselves be
The masters of destiny
Tremble, tyrants and traitors
The shame of all good men
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will receive their just reward
Against you we are all soldiers
If they fall, our young heros
France will bear new ones
Ready to join the fight against you
Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors
Bear or hold back your blows
Spare these sad victims
That they regret taking up arms against us
But not these ****** despots
These accomplices of Bouillé
All these tigers who pitilessly
Ripped out their mothers' wombs
We too shall enlist
When our elders' time has come
To add to the list of deeds
Inscribed upon their tombs
We are much less jealous of surviving them
Than of sharing their coffins
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or joining them
Drive on sacred patriotism
Support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished liberty
Join the struggle with your defenders
Under our flags, let victory
Hurry to your manly tone
So that in death your enemies
See your triumph and our glory!
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
In the night
Two young consorts
Start the night
Kissing eachother there kisses to
Each other both
Went slowly southward
The older one was more experienced
As a lover
For she had relations a a monk
For some time.
She told her
The other consort
She was going
To kiss her womanhood
And that the other consort
Went and did the same.
After they massaged and kissed each other’s
Forbidden flower
Muna told her lover
Murai that
She was in love with
The monk
But the love not
Ripped apart
And the she did not want
Another man
To love her.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:48 PM UTC
when shuttle feeds show the earth on fire
and unprovened ashes stray from the pyre
ammonium nitrate will still be there
to keep us unvitiated, cold, and bare.
not that we'll need it, the sun can warm
with its dying light it is no longer "aurum"
but "ater."
lying next to me, a body in destitution
rags and bones and circumlocution
no medicine can fix you, no analeptic drug
only the attraction of the gravitational tug
for when we are done with cosmic consorts,
we will be only sedimentary quartz.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Lids break over dusty lenses,
My heart pummels the walls until it bleeds,
ribcage rattling like a broken furnace.
This moment extends past the cage of sensibility,
onto a new horizon where darkness
and light
are not merely consorts lying,
pinky fingers playfully intertwined
as a stray hair closes the distance between
their bodies yearning,
all of law is subject
to their complete breath burning.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
Boohoo, Boohoo,
Weeps the self pitying fool,
A heartfelt cry, cried every night,
The world he feels is too cruel.
Boohoo, Boohoo,
The gods have been untrue,
A prayer sung right, is to reap great heights,
Yes the pious man lays unswooned.
Boohoo, Boohoo,
He sings this merry tune,
He sings to the world, hoping someone will hear,
And tell him he'll grow to.
Boohoo, Boohoo,
The melancholy seeps through,
His world spins around, all upside down,
Yet unchanged he continues.
Boohoo, Boohoo,
The weeping man's a fool,
He lost it all, his girl and consorts,
This man is failure come to.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Our world is in a mess.
There is no denying.
I send money so people can help.
I love doing that.
There are wars.
People getting hurt on all sides of our polygon,
They're dying in all manner of ways.
I love the way people will fight for their convictions,
Fight till death if need be,
For FREEDOM, LIBERTY, HAPPINESS.
I love that.
I love people in detention for their beliefs,
Their faith, hope and determination.
I know what bog schools are, penal laws, Black and Tans.
(I also know about cages, Jim Crowe, and Proud Boys).
I love their tenacity. I love their lives. They matter.
I love their politics, their altruism; the really giving of oneself,
To serve one's nation. To truly love one's country.
For these reasons,
I love Sleepy Joe.
He gives so gracefully.
Sacrifices the remainder of his life for his country,
His people, His family.
I love how the Tyrant will collapse,
Feeling betrayed, mocked, humiliated, parodied,
Jeered at, ostracized for his megalomania.
A shower will never wash away the
Odor breathed among his consorts.
Brushing will not diminish the Trump taste, the rot in your mouth.
I love Aristotle's Poetics, The Wheel of Fortuna, The Great Chain of Being, and the cathartic effects of tragedy.
I Love Life.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC
Silent tears still flow
Pooling slowly in my heart
Memoirs haunt my every moment
Past hours I waited
Time sieves our thoughts
Drawing new consorts
Building new lives
Conditions beyond my conscious
A dangerous deception we travel with
That the world will always have a place for us
Little are we aware of these dangers we toy with
Simple shadows mimic a candles flickered dance
Shaping the nights
I’m having trouble accepting this loss
It seems to me I may have truly loved this time
But how it’s gone without my disclose, beyond my judgment.
These darkest nights no longer dance. No longer sing. No longer glow
These hollows we journeyed were so much more with you
But now, seem empty. Distant. Barren.
Please this despondency, taunts, in hearty death
Not much longer will I continue to shed these tears
But least know that I can still love
And my love is eternal
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC