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DJ Thomas May 2010
We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!  

Stop glaciers melting
Huge population movements
Death of progeny


The small reductions in carbon emissions being targeted for 2020 or 2050 - are thought to little to late to slow global warming.  The melting polar ice and glaciers together with our changing weather patterns are now fact. The resulting loss of river systems and rising sea levels will mean the desertification or flooding of agricultural lands and famine, then the migration of populations - starting with the skilled and rich seeking safety, to escalate into the terror of armed bands
warring over water, food, women and land.

By 20 20
Lets hope for twenty twenty
A 20 20


There is now the thought that the huge physical change wrought by global warming can be charted by the escalation in earthquake and volcanic activity.  And that this may eventually trigger huge eruptions in the American and Asian continents,
destroying civilisations to create a planetary volcanic winter.

Again fire and cold
The cycle repeats itself
Destroying nature


Was there a civilisation in deep history before the flood, prior to and during the last ice-age?
This has been researched and written about in great detail during the last twenty years
and many now believe it already proven by scientific review of documents and
thousands of archaeological finds, also by scientists having used the exactness
in the astronomical alignments of ancient monuments
to recalculate there greater age.  

Dead sold souls herd us
Lost mindless finger puppets
Vapid witless words


Sadly, the majority put their reliance and faith in
the actions of lawyer-ed politicians, most of whom evidence
a fixation on their own welfare,  selfish self-glorification needs
and an unwillingness to rock-the-boat once in power*

Politicians thwart
Party politics deafen
Propaganda’s herd


Putting off all radical action required until after the next election.  
Many have gifted away the necessary legal control and power to take national radical action
to a political or trade grouping of nations - in effect retaining only national rights
to go to war, put up taxes, borrow and spend monies.

Please no rhetoric
Complete local transition
Forget politics


We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!

Living we give voice
So one voice might yet be heard
All being, believe!


We are left holding our eco-inheritance and children’s future in the palm of our hand.
Please let our love and imagination drive us each forward to make change.


Biosphere a greenhouse 
Target the impossible
Please gift some life soon?


So, we each of us have hard personal choices to make, which will encompass both positive and negative
benefits in terms of our time, lifestyle, health and wealth.  I chose to base my choices solely on how it
might benefit the eco-system and the lives of our children.

My choices are grouped under five headings: transport, food, home, lifestyle and further action. They are:
-  

Transport: Rail; Bus; Coach; Bike;
(I pass woods in bud - a Red Kite hunting twisting, unhurried moments).  
To give up ownership of electric / motor vehicles
and to avoid air travel where possible.


Highly vaporous.
Emissions farting -
barrelling vipers
.

Food: To eat meat/fish only once a week at most;
(Slaughteramas greed - industrial carcase-ed meals. Sheep full of cancer)
To study fast methods of vegetarian cooking; buy local organic foodstuffs;
visit local farmers markets and farm shops; grow my own when possible
and help friends establish vegetable/herb gardens.
To not ever feed, cleave and eat!


Fat shopaholics,
a deadly consumerism.
Cancers meat to eat


Home:   A cottage sized for me, friends and neighbours,
overlooking a wooded valley and trout stream.
Like me a little untidy and basic
.

Crossing the shallows
trout fingerling feed at dawn
White dots steep hill path

Dusk - eight painted queue
river paired mare and foal
Foliage lined dark black


Well positioned to capture the morning sun, airy and light.  
Yet insulated to stay cool or warm. With easy access to mountain bike trails
and long distance bus routes, plus several end-of-line train stations
in energetic cycling distance over the mountains


A differing beat
Quickly fading doubled steps -
pulling separate


Life Style:* A thinking poet mountain biker, living organic
not part of the great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired.

Pressured paced life -
impossible  commitments.
Organic living


Further Action: *I intend to give up meat not because of the terrible cruelty involved in ten billion or more animals
being slaughtered every year to feed the human race, but due to
: 1)  animal farming being a major factor in the burning of 50 million year old rainforests at a rate of one and half acres per second to generate huge volumes of greenhouse gases, destroying the richest habitats on Earth and a principal source of oxygen; and 2)  that these billions of farmed animals
are themselves a major source of greenhouse gases
.

Burning rainforests
Feeding to cleave open and eat
Subsistence farming


With ongoing intensive fishing, the world's fisheries already in crisis and climate change,
it could be that we will run out of wild-caught seafood much earlier than 2030!


Conserve energy -
and natural resources
Don’t waste foolishly


Each of us might have a different view of what globalisation is,
for some this word encapsulates the dangers of our global fast food culture, omnipresent brands,
popular culture, changing diets and the growing use of packaged processed foods
.

Freedom to act sought
Globalisation's curses
Octopus suckers!


For many it is the illegal international trade in endangered species of flora and fauna,  
second only in value to the $350 billion a year global drug trafficking trade that now services
perhaps more than 50 million regular users of ******, ******* and synthetic drugs
.

The label 'globalization' can cover the: spread and integration of different cultures;  
industry moving to low per capita income countries; sweatshops supplying this seasons branded goods
to retail outlets worldwide;  complex international interleaved financial trading instruments being developed
by banks and financial institutions to trade worldwide, create profits and pay huge bonuses, without risk to themselves
.

Globalisation -
orchestrated profiteers,
betting our losses


Many see globalisation as being the beneficial spread of free trade, liberty, democracy and capitalism,
involving the efficient allocation of resources and capital through the spread of technology.
Unelected international bodies and institutions such the World Bank actively promulgate globalisation,
a '‘world government’ promoting close economic ties between nations
.

Enculturation
Our sad indoctrination
Globalization
  

The anti-globalisation movements dislike the corporate and political nature of globalisation,
protesting the resultant harm done to the biosphere, a more rapid and extensive deterioration of the environment
and the unintended but very real consequences of globalisation: the erosion of traditional culture
resulting in social disintegration; a breakdown of democracy; the spread of new diseases;
changes in diet; increasing poverty.
.

I view globalisation and it's propagation as leading to the final destruction
of the world's cultures and civilisations by locked us into a
dogmatic world political doctrine secured through
trade and political alliances of states, institutions
and corporations that remain hell bent on
imposing this world governance. Such
that individual countries governments
cannot consider making substantive
radical change to avert the planet
being pushed into a natural cycle
that will end the human race
.

Caged in Fools World
The people hear heroic call  
Each one a hero
!

The peoples and cultures of the world need perhaps just one western country to
break the legal chains of globalisation and adopt a radical economic regeneration program
designed to make the total transition to a dynamic culture of localised
clean communities centred on the individual not competition*  

Only one tool
National taxation for -
economic change.


Here I begin discussing how global, regional and national economies might
be based on the growth of small organic local economies.
not the repeated foolishness involved in chasing lower cost base manufacture -
each time at great cost to the economy it has migrated from!
Then a further culture becoming totally reliant
on the transport of foodstuffs and goods -
I can here you saying
:

"Oh **** this guy is -
talking about change, changing -
the world we live in!"


Yes, I am and do we have a choice?  But such change will be organic and involve business
in the restructuring and regeneration of economies till we share green economies.  
In small part his is already happening slowly!


Unlock taxation,  
survivals powerful tool.  
Needed now for change!


This is why we need to consider doing something that many of today's
plutocrats, economists, bureaucrats and politicians, would dismiss out of hand or
discuss endlessly in terms of perfectly competitive markets, perverse economic incentives etc


Major solution
National taxation change
Human extinction



WORK in HAND

This haiku sequenced eco-haibun is an ongoing project being penned day-by-day by many that care and take action. Your reactions are all welcome, thank you


**Take back control now.  
Cease all squabbling, achieve act - decisively!

Globalisation's, global control cut away.
Diversity sought

Promote well being.  Act with imagination -
for ecology!

Creating employment -
with local utilities, local food and transport

Incentivise tax,  to create local benefits.
Gain prosperity

Income taxation -  value added tax, aged -
dangerous mistake

Local licensing.  Lead don't follow excuses.
Saviour taxation

Imaginative - energy, food and transport -
local licensing

An alternative - energetic strategy,
greening business

Organic foodstuffs - out compete processed food.
Life promoting health

Healthy government - a healthy population. 
Zero income tax!

Locally taxed - by distance it travelled -
and category

Products bar coded.  Point of agreed production -
and category

Local added tax, by distance it travelled -
and category

Local energy, initiatives supplant.  
Replacing at risk

User energy, capture and storage.  
Eco-dwelling plan

Local water works,  supplanting initiative.
Replace the at risk

User water need.  Capturing and storing half.
Securing supply

Communications, local initiatives.
Protecting our needs

Local healthy food, life saving initiative.
Planting guaranteed

Sort unemployment, local work available.
Agriculture base

Radical transport - initiatives needed.
Change made possible

Season’s colours blur - in ageing contemplation
chilling warm breezes

Ganges dried mud - dust
Armed hungry thirsty tide
Generations despair,  lost

Our politicians -
squabble condemn progeny.
Flee panic and die

HAIKU SEQUENCE FINISHED

HAIBUN PROSE BEING ADDED
Day by Day
This haiku sequenced eco-haibun needs prose and additional haiku added day by day.  Contributing comment and reactions considered for inclusion...

copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
Amour de Monet May 2014
I may be silent
but my heart will
deafen you
Amour de Monet Jun 2014
blind me
deafen me
take my limbs
for i have lived in love

it is not with my eyes i see
it is not with my ears i hear
it is not with my hands i feel
for i have lived in love

blind me
deafen me
take my limbs
for i have lived in love

i have seen your smile shine
i have heard your laughter sing
i have felt your arms keep
for i have lived in love

blind me
deafen me
take my limbs
for i have lived in love

my heart still sees you
my heart still hears you
my heart still feels you
for i have lived in love

blind me
deafen me
take my limbs
for my heart has lived in love
and i shall live in my hearts memory
I  miss you Andy. I still can’t believe you’re gone. It’s funny - I still want to show you things all the time - and I sometimes even send them to you anyway - where they go I don’t know - I don’t care - You were always in tune with me - no matter what it was or how our distance - You always knew my good, my bad, my happy, my sad… and I wouldn’t even have to tell you how I was doing - you just knew. Wherever your soul went Andy - wherever all that energy and life and love only you could shine with went - I hope it finds its way to me from time to time… just to check in.

Love you. Always Penguin.

Your Puffina

_______________________________________
vircapio gale Aug 2012
boasting of the god of love's attentions,
this magicweaver lures her prey--
conjures forth her whim
seeking quench of fickle thirst within
attempting avenues of guile
numerously failed, and baits another heart
to suit her object's mate,
whose favors hail from Shiva
unto dominion everywhere,
  except at forest hut where Rama--
with Sita --honeymoons in exile
having snapped the cosmic dancer's massive bow
to win her for his wife, yet bound
by family word to wilderness
  in elder-shade of mystic eagle
guarded by their builder,
brother Lakshmana, in whose absence Kamavalli comes
to woo the godlike archer for her own.

little bells on anklets ring--
from creeper snagged
as if in venery yearning,
urgent vines would find their way to rest on skin
and squeeze in verdant rooting underform
prancing by, playfully demure
to enter subdued greenery
of Panchvati's gated yard
to catch the stoic Rama's eye
in invitation flashing for his gaze:
a sculptured form of flawless grace
nubile teeth shining from the forest dark,
a smile unassuming of callipygean sway
beneath the flitting lashes of her iris' swell

baffled there he stirs to praise her openly
as perfect--
despite his inner-goddess-for-a-wife he keeps inside--
with tripping words
welcomes and blesses this new girl,
exalting her with blushing queries,
sylvan surging rush to know
interrogate her mystery,
rapt in wide-eyed wonder verging beatific breath--
but learning of her lineage...
begins to plot their deaths.

banter light,
flirtations with a hidden, cosmic weight to pun against,
his praise asserts its hold
pretending bachelorhood;
his kindly, transauthentic voice resists
and in a sympathetic, skillful tone, promulgates
a drama to entice her eager mind--
ironic fancies of domestic bliss
flow from Rama, subtle jests
become her plight obsessing
into darkness embered with her lust
to truly claim him as her love,
her grandiosity defused in simple
entertainment quipping of their castes
and then with sudden burst entranced in luminescent rays of stunning rustic glow
from cottage comes his wife to claim her presence known.

the blow is dealt: Manmatha lays Kamavalli's fate: to self-disintegrate

jealousy to deafen gods, in cave retreat
to nurse her spite, surrounded in a dance
of serpent flails to sate her woe,
and only feed in ouroboros knotslip pulse
a lump-filled throat of gulping incite forward zest salacious
pungent flare of earth identity of fang and blood
the cry to shudder down a wolfine howl
in blast of animal, from screaming womanhood
the swoon precipitate-- vast height, abysmal fall
on being spurned by one who led her on
into delusion wrapped in sham an alter self
she met in bed a thousand cravings razing sanity
into a hate for moon, for elements themselves,
railing at Manmatha's haze infernal globe within and out
projecting Rama's face transfixing her inept
in wracking convulse whine of every cell,
her being sweating out imagined arms,
palms of his to cup her, lift from hellish pit of stifled longing never known 'til volcanically regrown--
in new love's throws an innocence of honest
selfhood found in him, bizarrely enemied in Lila's
killing spree of ego-dolls of lotus costume tracing all
searching through his fresh phantasm for her quelling salve
his diamond ******* targets for her soul
his broadness engirthing her to moan until her last in ecstasy
unknown asura-brew untold invented only now forever lost,
the moment fondled vastly gone,
his chest but gossamer instead of flesh
the emerald shoulder glimmer fake
the boundless confidence exuded in his
tender skin's encapsulated sinew strength
merely thought on causing pelvic quake
repeating there an apparition for her nearly endless letting out
he comes for her a demon double of her making
demi-god creator-demon vision for her writhing,
abandoned to the ambrosia torment he provides
wailing at the cavern sky her prison boudoir den
enscaled with slither pile coat of snakes, masturbatory wake of swooning still again

through to dawn..
in which psychotic break decides:
Soorpanaka births herself anew--
possession of her goal, or suicide.
the dewy spectra shines reflection of the choice;
rave committal forms its mould--
exhaustion hatches colorspray of plots,
braving mutilation to abduct,
lies and bribes surmounting each before
in ****** propositions to her ever widened bed,
else demonic armies loosed,
infatuate Ravana's heart
with illusory snare of golden Sita's rumored wares
to get her man alone and hew derision
with her desperate charm, by cantrip or war
spawned from deeper lairs of a broken,
fallacious heart, toward matrimony
or destruction bent













.
-marcesibleghost Nov 2014
I feel like a volcano, that will erupt.
The lava isn’t cooling, it’s just heating up.
The lightest wind, will ******* off.
The most little rain, will drown me in.

The lightening strikes, my so called soul.
And thunder will, deafen me from my core.
Walking in this darkness, I can see no more.
Walking in this darkness, I can see no more.
ryn Jan 2015
I can't write...
     I have a stash of twenty drafts, bearing a couple of lines each
I can't crack...
     Every draft seem to have developed a shell I can't breach
I can't gather...
     My thoughts so I could nurture these drafts to fruition
I can't think...
     The clatter in my head meant only to deafen
I can't fathom...
     What went right from what had gone completely awry
I can't find...
     Much needed sanity to let soar and fly
I can't cry...
     The tears I've beckoned for so very badly
I can't scream...
     Only muffled gurgles of notions drowned at sea
I can't see...
     The bigger picture...that consumed us both
I can't hear...
     Except for the dreaded voice of reason that I loathe
I can't piece...
     Together one decent little write

I can't breathe...
     I can't breathe...*I'm losing this fight
Rockie Jun 2015
Silence deafens the weak and the lonely,
So does it deafen you, my good man?
Rai May 2017
Did you lay me down on a bed of nails and expect me to surrender my all ?
I felt the waves wash over and they engulfed all that was good
Dragging me down lower than I have ever fallen freely
I wanted a lover
But you entwined your darkness into my light
No one heard the screams
The midnight hour so haunting
A chill lay in place of your heart
You looked straight through me just before you leapt
Head first into oblivion
I just stood motionless for what seemed like a million years
Then I turntable and left
The memory is hollow
But it is memory all the same

I beckon you here
But not so that I can surrender to your will
But so that I can show you the truth in all things good
You may shy away
Hide in those self created shadows of misery
But I will  lay waiting
Just past midnight
The chill and silence deafen my soul
My love I beg
I beg
I'm falling
I'm sitting within your oblivion
Surrounded by creatures not of this world
Demons reign and I fear the fall
I turn
I always turn
You may leap into the hollowness of oblivion
But I fear it's clutches
I fear the hand of love
So turn tail and return
To the moment before midnight
The moment just before
The memory lingers
And the strike of twelve is never heard
Luiz Aug 2018
Surrounded  by a sea of sorrows, he is shipwrecked on a lonely island of her memories.

He walks her island every day and more at night...

Barefoot, he feels every fine pebble of her warm, delicious sand caressing the most intimate recollection of her perfume.

He searches for her at every corner of this island, but her silhouette escapes to the past.  He takes a long walk into the deepest of his mind and there, he argues with yesterday, as today retorts and tomorrow just listens.

As he goes to and fro in alternate realities, he suddenly returns to the moment.  Weak now with exertion, he falls past the sand on her beach and onto the carpet of his living room.  He's on all four now (to and fro), mimicking the table with their unfinished chess game on top.

To and fro.  He stares into the bright glow of the Sun...only interrupted by circling ravens as they signal for the dark knight.  The galloping hooves of the pale rider now turn to his direction.  The toxic winds from yesterday howl her name and deafen his will to survive.  He fights like a gladiator to refuse fate, but there is no strength left in him!

She had taken the strongest of his will and put it in her pocket...along with her last words of hate.  His kin at her side.  

The inevitable is ready to keep the life promise she sold for a few comforts.  Only a few more minutes stand in the way of the Gladiator and his eternity.

The king is on his knees upon her sands... his body is permeated with the pebbles of her essence and the only thing in his mind is her sweet face.  The executioner's shadow slowly rises from his exposed lower back and crawls to cover him completely.  The golden circle is thrown before him (fro) on the carpet. breached, broken...it no longer connects the circle.

The player takes the king and tumbles him on the board... imminent capture without his queen.

Like so many brave players before him, the king resigns the game of a lifetime at his queen's failure to keep her words of adoration.

(to) The sword's tip reflects a bright flash of the Sun against the pages of forever as it speeds down to crown a treacherous thing.

(fro) The ***** room is silent and dark. Suffocating! No oxygen, all ashtray.  There is a small ray of sun punching it's way thru the dark curtains, but it's fight slowly fades.  The light enters the last round of the battle, but twilight lands a striking blow! The light is no more.  

The last thing it lit was the crossbones...still on his left hand.    

(to...and also fro)

The King is dead!  Long live the Queen!

©2017
Luiz
DJ Thomas Apr 2010
Tacked tin sheets
promoting brand names

Real local grown food
little meat eaten
our elders thin, bony and fit

Yet birthed another foolish generation
seeded by World Wars
planted by Lend Lease
fuelled by aged forests
we farm, feed, cleave and eat

Greed walks besides naive naivety
slaughtered sheep full of cancer
processing industrial carcase-ed meals
shopaholics fat consumerism
a speeding, partying, dancing waste of ills

Lawyer-ed  politicians chain us
whilst stymied party politics deafen us
Money-ed propaganda’s herd us

Local economies destroyed to feed
National ..European ..Pan European ..Pan Asian ..World Bank ...
Prime Minister ..President ..Minister ..Senator ..Consultant

Globalisation’s plague of selfish-self-grandiose labels

A generation’s survivors
will despair
as the Ganges runs dry
then die with their children’s children
in an armed-hungry-thirsty tide

.
copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
Diverseman2020 Jan 2010
Working these lonely nights
While everyone asleep
Chained to heavy irons
As I pace slowly upon the deck
Paying an old debt
Whom the crew has butchered
Leaving no witnesses
To persecute
The captain is decease
I, a stable boy
Knew the real truth
For my tongue will never speak
Nor mouthy words make noise
Being a mute
Who eyes can only see
The silence of horror
Coming towards me
Blind me
with light

Deafen me
with sound

Dance till midnight
and move around

Chill me
with whispers

Burn me
with passions

Till my mind blurs
and world comes crashin
After being blinded by obnoxious headlights, I turned the sour mood into a ligh-hearted poem
Crow Jul 2018
Measure my love in starlight
And set the sky ablaze
Measure my love in words
And eternal speak my beloved’s praise

Measure my love in raindrops
And overflow the seas
Measure my love in sighing
And make storms from a summer breeze

Measure my love in music
And hear all the world’s choirs sing
Measure my love in riches
And make every pauper a king

Measure my love in heartbeats
And deafen every ear
Measure my love in laughter
And banish every tear

Seek to measure my love as some might wish
By consulting the learned or wise
But each effort will fail, because such a scale
No mortal thought can devise
Äŧül Jul 2013
If you must insult her & torture me,
I shall request you to rather **** me.

For I can't see the love of my life being soiled,
Fresher torrential treatment to her endowed.

Don't just blind me for I can't take it,
Deafen me such that I can't hear it...

For sake of the supreme power you believe in,
Freak out, cut my limbs but don't torment her.

Has time made you as cruel like this,
Have we invited such horrible steps.

Gory steps you advance with towards my love,
Glowing with fury my chained limbs struggle!!

When I set myself free then you will see,
Would you be able to face the same fate.
A 7 paragraphed poem inspired by a part of Shakespeare's legendary drama Macbeth.

To be noted: I have not read much of Macbeth prior to writing this poem, there might be contradictions in this work of mine. Please feel free to point out any mistake, I will appreciate it. :-)
My HP Poem #380
©Atul Kaushal
D Conors Oct 2010
Colors blind the eye.
Sounds deafen the ear.
Flavors numb the taste.
Thoughts weaken the mind.
Desires wither the heart.

The Master observes the world
but trusts his inner vision.
He allows things to come and go.
His heart is open as the sky.

__

"Lao Tzu is believed to have been a Chinese philosopher (a person who seeks to answer questions about humans and their place in the universe) and the accepted author of the  Tao Te Ching,  the main text of Taoist thought. He is considered the father of Chinese Taoism (a philosophy that advocates living a simple life).

Read more: Lao Tzu Biography - life, name, death, school, book, old, information, born, time http://www.notablebiographies.com/Ki-Lo/Lao-Tzu.html
Written by Lao Tzu
Jay Apr 2016
i am sitting here at 3 am
confronting the empty side of my bed
my thoughts hold me hostage
to create a cage
that i will not be able to escape

i try to play dead
until they leave me alone
i try to shift shapes
for a hope they might leave
i try lighting a candle
for flicks of light to cast
the darkness away
but i soon begin to realize
that im not afraid of the dark

i cant get out of bed
my thoughts are holding me hostage
im at a place i dont want to be at
and can not leave
the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me
the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me

all that i see through the reflection of my glass
are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust

and here i speak to my thoughts
that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots
they ring my ears, with demands
to give up my soul to their filthy hands

i stumble as i try to stand up
i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut
my knees tremble like magnets
attached to no other but my bed
they repel any movement to stand up straight

panic fills my fearful cup
my gaze shifts to my reflection
and i see the ghost
of forgotten remains of someone who
has lost

i do not want to die
i deserve more
than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts
i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists
adrenaline painfully waking my body up
with every ounce i have left
i try to detach myself from my bed
i am peeling layers off
and have never been in more pain
but it is all worth the pain
for i wont fail myself again
to become forgotten ruins
of a life-time faded into a blank sheet

there is more to my story
than just an empty bed
for i will not be manipulated
by my own self again
even if it shall be 3 a.m again
Third Eye Candy Oct 2012
plead your case. the silence that follows will deafen your prayers... it will eat your rain.
tread where smoke has layed eggs in a nest of flames.
use your thoughts nimbly, and thereby, climb the ladder madly

humbly gone by love, my love.
humbly gone
by love.


these are not the words in my mouth. they are god's frogs. a soft plague of cecil b. demille with ampibians and barbedwire. these are not the fickle neptunes in dischord. you are not the last unicorn. only the basilisk in my zodiac. my marvelous queen.

these are not the feathers of a proud crane. but a wrecking ball reassembling a dandelion with a leather whip and a chair. they tumble from my limbic intimacy with your private lies. i bring genuine venom to cure blindness; but i leave an antidote under my tongue should your kisses beg to be a fool.

i won't say what this is.

i have bruises where your name left a dent in my kevlar.
Katy Laurel Dec 2011
The last time we spoke was in early hours
Full of impersonal inquiry.
The return of encompassing doubt
Brings back images birthed from tragic experience.

Trailing blood lines lead to the southern coasts
And I begin to doubt the intention of my late inclination.
Another lover unable to contain my heart
Another running away from the abyss of ugly honesty.
It's all very overwhelming and too much to bear.

I will return to live in the well of my brain
And dream of the ocean.

No one will hear this mournful siren trapped in the earth,
For I have picked the most hidden tree to observe from my depth.
Even if they traverse the infinite path,
Only those who bare insanity will look away from the branches of knowledge
And find these pupils in the infernal darkness.
But my heroes never know how to temper these depths,
Either falling to their death
Or painfully giving up with rightful indignation.

The waves of my thought deafen this soul
To the courageous explorers of my immortal caves.
Leave me to the well of my brain, darling.

The early hours bleed into dawn
As I think on the embarrassment I feel in love.
I have much more to understand
And you don't deserve my naivety.
I decide to close my eyes
And force your departure.

Finally, I can sleep with the ease of accepted solitude.
Preston Nov 2014
It begins with your body shaking,
And then your hands clench into fists
Nails digging into your palms.
You’ve felt it build for awhile now,
And feel it well up,
A dam about to break,
As you hear your heart beat,
Bursting in your ears.
And your eyes close by reflex,
As your jaw stretches open to its further extent
There is the noise that causes people to stop and stare.
That makes hearts speed up,
And others wonder why.
This is the raw primal scream.
Do you then slam your fist into a wall,
Again and again until your knuckles bleed?
Or do you grasp yourself tight,
And crumple into wracking sobs,
Gasping for air?
This is a colorless scream.
Simultaneously devoid of feeling,
And filled with every feeling within you.
The desire to die every waking moment,
And that stubborn will to survive.
The rage at being powerless in your life,
Frustration at continuing to **** up,
The cry of trying to be better than who you are,
But not sure why.
The howl of two wolves,
Gnawing at your insides,
You no longer sure which you are feeding.
This is the scream that can crush mountains,
Raze a city,
And deafen all those in its range.
At the end of your rope,
You stand upon the brink of nothing,
And deep within you all you feel that you can do now
is scream.
But then you open your eyes,
And nothing has changed.
So you take a deep breath,
And try and ignore what you just did,
But wonder if it was even what you needed.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
The Blue Men of the Minch



It is told that In poor weather or big seas, the Blue Men would come for you.  They would haul themselves—embodiments of storm and high water, malicious mermen—onto the deck, ready to pull you down. But then, they would  give you a single chance. The leader will throw you a line of verse and, one by one, everyone on board, from the skipper down, needs to offer a reply in like rhythm and meter. If by some chance all can answer poetically, the ship is freed and the Blue Men, those slimy *******, slide away to find another victim.

http://celticqueens.blogspot.com/2011/02/blue-men-of-minch.html

----------------------------------------­----------------------------------------------------------

Sept.­ 25th, 2012
2:51 AM

Thus it is in the real world.
Cancer, death, betrayal, disillusionment,
("Whatever," he snickers)
Rises up quick, bitterly blatant and obvious,
Pulls you down slow, enhanced by a phony lover/friends in disguise,
Eager, learned, in the ways of drowning you,
Testing you all, all of us poets,
Under fire, under siege, facing inevitable defeat.

Yes, you too, a poet.

You misheard.
It's not the poetry in motion,
But in emotion, where you too can win
A noble peace prize.

On certain days,
In uncertain times,
We are all Olympic athletes, poet laureates.
Some train all their lives for the seminal,
Most of us, wholly unprepared for the eventful,
Or worse, the tempered draining of the uneventful.

In the place where anger and fear commingle,
When the battery is dead, the only pole negative,
When sounds of life energy discharging skin-tingle,
In the hour, when the unemployed wake and walk,
Their past and future human debts crowding all other thoughts,
When the parent-less child cries out to the sound of no answer,
When we ask, why is my bed empty of love,
The Blue Merman are visiting and vesting,
Recruiting on your campus for new graduates.

Small, half consolations is all that's left on the table,
Single words, trite phrases of repetition,
why me,
Yield no comfort,
sate not, deafen and infect ache.

So commandeer the words hidden within,
Sort them by rhyme and meter,
Answer the critics, bend them over to your way,
Write your own poetry, fearing no ones judgement,
Put your self out there,
I have so many times.
Death, betrayal, disillusionment,
Regular visitors in the upstate prison cell of my head,
Are all greeted with new poems of old words,
Sent packing, but confident in their inevitable return,
I write defensively between their visits,
Best prepared, a good offense is eloquent literacy.

You offer me Xanax,
I offer you this.

Your endless supplies of potent, bitter pills,
No match for recombinations of Webster's diction,
All of us lesser poets of a higher degree.
Fresh out of inspiration so I dug this one out of the sewing box. Understanding takes work, time, reflection, most I suspect will read and discard....not bother to chew on it....I write defensively between their visits. Best prepared, a good offense is eloquent literacy.
Cerrie Dec 2012
Alone I walked into the sea,

Engulfed by amber waves of ecstasy,

In which I crossed a boundary line

Where I left my mind behind.

I swam and swam until I tired

Yearnning for something I’d never acquire-

A thing that was the death of me.

O, those amber waves of ecstasy,

How they tossed and tore at my fragile being

Attempting to show me what I was not seeing;

Reaching for conclusion that would be freeing.

Amber waves of ecstasy,

Amber waves of ecstasy,

Please come and drown me once again,

Come deafen the screams within my head

That crave to be released from me.

O, amber waves of ecstasy,

The fault of my errors lie with me.

O, amber waves of ecstasy,

Please show me how to set myself free.
Jared Klein Jan 2014
EDM
just let that ******* bass drop.

and throw in those lights as well.
definitley some smoke.
lasers too.
maybe a few LED screens.
or ten.
or twenty.
or just one that fills the entire stage.
that's cool i guess.
paid a **** ton of money.
i want a ******* trip.

i want my ears to ring.
her *** to bounce.
fifty thousand fists to pump.
in perfect unison.
like it means something.
those girls with fake flowers adorning their heads.
all of the bright, like a feast for the night.
the glitter. the paint.
the airborne cake.
.
.
like it means something.

this scene will continue to grow
because nobody knows
what it set out to do in the first place.
big lights and pop hooks.
small pills and good looks.
now you're one of us.
no knowledge required.
the music plays
without you
on stage.
deafen me.
defeat me.
alive.
this is what it means to be.
Jacob Singer Apr 2010
I wear white
I wear white

I wear white and stare right back at
the other end of the world

The hems of the loosely fitting traditions
Barely touch the ground anymore

I wear white
I wear white
White like the chalk on the blackboard switched from
right to left.

Aimless and bereft of the desert I once called mine,
I walk alone

I wear white, I wear white
As I have done for 14 hours
and 14 years

7000 miles on the screen and 2 more up there
to be precise. It faded for every mile
Just as it has been doing since the day Darwish died

I wear white, I wear white
A different breed of Semite than they're used to

Not walking but flowing almost
as contradictory as "poutine Arabesque"
The routine wears my jaw out
as the vowels twist from right to left

I wear white, I wear white
Not just quite there yet
Not even close
Not even halfway to the surface but then again
I suppose we've always been at ease at the depths of the sea
Pearls and black gold abound

I forget that sometimes in between
intermittent bouts and doubts of "3arabiyun ana"
As if that's what makes up the anatomy of an Arab
As if that's enough for you, Khaled

I wear white
I wear white
Or at least I tell myself I do
Leave myself open to the prospect
of life starting anew
Forcing myself to see it through
See life through your eyes
Or are they my own **** you ?

Tell me for the love of Christ
Call me by name and don't
bury me under the empty discarded photo frames
that you stockpile

I'm calling to you, Walid
And will keep on calling
And trying and burning and aching and failing and dreaming and irritating
like a bad itch

I sink under it all and push it all off step 3 repeat as necessary

I scream in the tongue that you deafen your ears to and pull at the beard you've tried to shave off
I pluck at the horizontal heartstrings you've tried to mute

Above all, I wear white...
And I fight.... I fight.....

I FIGHT
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2012
A Father for a Nation

A lot of knots now show in our discord but in our great beginning the great living God went into the
****** pristine forest and plucked out one of uncommon character and dignity from this choicest

Material a people would be brought forth that would be the admiration of the world so George
Washington with the common materials of only a quill and parchment set in motion a new course

That abridged history and chartered a course for this unique land a trek was begun across a vast frontier
Many obstacles and difficulties lay ahead the king and tyrant’s angry words would blast you into action

They would come sweeping across the Potomac whipping and lashing until men of devotion and devout
Faith could no longer ignore their substance or their intent a struggle began its clamor would reach and

Deafen the English crown that tried in vain to squelch freedom’s infant cry in places like Yorktown White
Plains and Long Island musket ***** would run up the tally the individual cost in human souls for a

Required season agony were paid their demanded sum into the chasm of ugly death marched the
Gentle souls of our fore fathers paying a price so that we could be free not free to do as we please

But to carry on this proud heritage that was given to us by their great sacrifice oh mortal soul on self
I did not bestow to another one day I will be careful to behold his face trace it well make sure it shows

Peace for with him you are to dwell I have not been a man of war it was the responsibility of others to
Defend my rights on the field of battle they knew unspeakable horrors walked the thin line between

Sanity and madness sacred honor held them from going over the edge to them in everything I owe them
Profound thanks we use to say the pledge of allegiance George but now lip service is even too much

Our national monuments were made of marble the idea was to build them from an enduring material
We go and gawk and gush and say how marvelous all the while our actions have eroded these precious

Symbols of freedom the true picture is marble that is in a state of decay pock marked chipped bits and
Pieces piled at the foot of what was once a great edifice for freedom the statutes of bronze who

Symbolize our national heroes take on the guise of doddering foolish old men that don’t know where
They are or what they are doing this our reality not theirs in each generation it falls to individuals to

Arise To the occasion and meet the need that reality prescribes I believe the God who gave us George
Washington will lift up a leader with the power to pull us from the quagmire that we find ourselves in

It will only be by His mercy in every other time He has never failed all is needed is humility and prayer
As the portrait shows George kneeling in the snow in his generals uniform he knew where his victory

Would come from as well as Abe who said we don’t count on our bristling battlements but on the
Righteous God who loves freedom and is the true source of it endurance we in true humility say thank

You Heavenly Father and thank you father of our indebted and grateful nation with grateful hearts
Thanks and happy birthday to you remembering you gives us a connection to the past and to each other
That is Profound

This is being posted late in the day as a tribute for the father of our country but it isn’t late this was
Written in ninety six I picked up a car and a old royal typewriter here in Illinois on the way back home I

Held up in a Motel in Flagstaff Arizona for two days watched hours of the history channel and wrote this
And other Pieces those old royal type writers were what the soldiers hiding behind enemy lines used to
Send their Communiqués back to the front I’m very proud of it I try to do honor by it when I write
B Beckwith Aug 2013
D
Disastified. Dissatisfaction. Disappointing, disappear.
Disability, disdaining- disgusting
Difficult
dislike
Disgrace

Let down. Saddened. aghast - balked.
Beaten. chap-fallen - deafen.

Bitter-pill. Blind.
Alley. Blow.

Anticlimactic.

Crestfallen. thwarted, foil. baffle, bilk - discomfited, frustrated.
thwarted.
Unsuccessful
words
Ivie Aug 2014
Dear AK.S,

I wanted to write you poetry, but my words fail when it comes to you, but my heart revives when i think of you,and i still don’t know why you call me the queen of cheesiness,surprising name.
I wanted to coat our times with synonyms and rhymes and metaphors,but when comes to us, simplicity is the beauty.
Simplicity might not be beautiful to you, but i hold it like like a fragile flower plucked from its ***, and put in a vase,with water, mere water, what is water in front of dreams.
And you have known my dreams circling around new york and road trips from the beginning and i have known your dreams, around chasing boys and the boys who circle around you like man-eating lions, since the beginning, yes, i disapprove of every boy you have ever liked, but YOU held me tight when i drowned in the hopelessness of these dreams, and i hugged you, and ranted about how they were foolish frogs, little *****, as we blocked them on Facebook and they floated away like clouds, their lanes got cut-off from our highways.
We have danced with flaming fire ,and danced ,jumping across barbed wire and we have danced with cunning liars, and times have made us dance to beats that deafen out hearts,
And we have screamed and shouted, in the club like maniacs chasing after beats,and out of club like we have just lost limbs , like Britney spears and will.i.am not at all like them.
And dare i forget, the coffee trips and song tags, nine inch nails,to t swizzle, macchhiato to java mocha chip we have covered them all, we have dreamt of texan to cali beaches and we have dreamt of those new york skyscrapers and apartments all white filled with Bukowski and Lang Leav, we have lived on the edge and lived with the mainstream,
We have lost it all, like distorted bouquet, and we have forgotten all the love and given out aré hearts to people to rip the pictures of each other inside of us, and we have fought and fought brutal civil wars, and world wars with nuclear bombs to have to all back, to have it all back,

WHY?

WHY?

Because no one can compare to you, to the words you say, even if sometimes they are like requests of candy crush game, no one could make me as happy as you do even if our bad days are like a B-grade horror movies, and i am pretty sure are, you have no one that talks as much *** as do, so you only keep me around to hear my wild fantasies, but our good days are better than 90’s rom-coms.
We hurt the ones we love, inevitable, and regretful, but we burn and scatter the ashes of those moment for those we know we wouldn’t be better off with,   and i have burnt countless chocolate molten lava cakes to come up with the perfect gooey one for you.
In all honesty darlin ,this final attempt did come out perfect, it needs a little finesse on the edges but we can sort that out, we have won, we have won wars that they haven’t seen ,and when they look us like we are made of stars, they could not even reach, i know, I know travelling 10 light years and all these meteors shooting through me , the gruesome struggle to reach the stars has been worth it.
I wanted to write you sonnets that will do down in posterity and sing you pitch perfect love songs in front of millions, and graffiti your face in thousands of brick walls throughout the landmasses,
                                                            but all i have is this love which grows like wildfire,
                                                          which I hope is enough for this lifetime.
SO PLEASE STAY,EVEN IF WE MOVE TO DIFFERENT CITIES NEXT YEAR.

I PROMISE TO **** ALL THE WASPS AND SPIDERS THAT FIND THEIR WAY IN FOR YOU.

Love, V.J
Edward Coles Jun 2013
The world is fast and reckless
Like a stampede of beasts and
Teenage ***.

We traded smog
For the roar of the city and
I am then reminded of my mobile life
Before atrophy set like plaster
In my bones.

Similarly, I lived above a bar,
And the roar of the crowds
Was compensated for
By the free drinks I would receive
To placate me,
To deafen me.

I remember heading out to the office
Already half-cut
Even before the banks had opened.

I remember everybody walking,
Not because the roads were too crammed,
But because it was so.

It was so, it was so,
And now that excuse is just not good enough
Anymore.

Neither am I.

I still walk the streets
And stop by outside windows.
It takes me a little longer these days
To read the signs and labels,
The mating rituals of the merchants;
Buy me, buy me, buy me!

They remind me of the girls I see these days,
The ones who live in semi-agony,
Lactic acid in their muscles and
A lack of sugar in their blood.

The way they walk so consciously nonchalant,
Impostered hair dragging in the wind,
Just living for the double takes
As they pass the men in the streets.

Nobody courts anymore.
Hands are held far too easily
And intimacy seems to me to have become
Just another commodity.

I remember my sweetheart.
The years we lived in absences,
Sleeping between lies and compromises
And lying awake at night,
Our bodies spent as our cheeks sunk into our pillows.
Our eyes staring past the darkness of the room
And beyond to something, somewhere,
Far from where we found our lives had laid.

I remember her so well, my dear coffee bean.
How desperate the years were
When we were apart,
Living out our lives and
Exchanging platitudes for company
In our loveless marriages.

I remember how bitterly disappointed I was,
To be bounded to the forever decreasing circles
I had to move within each day.
And I remember, so exquisitely remember,
The day I broke from them.

And we met.
We met over letters,
Recited by our eyes and written by the hands
Of our desires. Oh, the saliva of the stamp
Bringing us to a closeness
That was unbounded by geography.

These days,
Nobody understands the thrill of the postbox
And the dependent trust
You had to invest into the postman.

Nobody.

The welcome mat is now nothing
But a place to wipe the **** from your shoes
And to kick the bills away
From your footfalls.

It was once a pigeon hole,
An inbox and a faceless meeting point
For all of your dearest allies.

How I recall the excitement of the morning,
My sleep thinned to prepare for the slap of papers
And the return of my silent darling’s words.

Yes, today that has all gone
And so has she.

How I miss you, my dear
And the snort of your laughter.
How I miss counting out your imperfections;
Each another reason to love you
And to love you more.

Now that you are gone my darling,
My life is little more than an emptied school
In the endless weeks of summer.

I lie in wait, coffee bean,
For each time you appear, a phantasm
In my day. I wait for those special moments
Where I assume you will be sitting there,
Ageing with irrefutable brilliance
In the chair you so stubbornly frequented
Every day of our retirement.

I’ll take the hit that comes with it.
I’ll accept the come-down
When I enter the room
And realise
That you are even less than a ghost,

A passing thought
That decays instantly in the air.

And the air darling,
The air is filled with noise in these streets.
Do you remember when you and I would stop
And listen to the busker by the bridge?

I do.

I think he is gone too now,
Though sometimes I still hear his music
As I pass above the river.

Now, I live on in near-silence.
It has been weeks since I last spoke to somebody
Who did not rush me through my sentences.
And so I’m learning the patterns of today
And instead bow my sad head
And just pay up for my goods.

I avoid home mostly.
It is okay once I am inside it,
But it is the returning that I am afraid of.

So I mostly walk the streets,
The same route each day,
Until darkness or hunger delivers me,
Confused at my door.

I stumble lethargically to the television set,
The one we bought together for our first apartment,
Do you remember?

I turn it on quickly to **** the breathless silence.

Now, whenever I do get to talk to somebody,
I feel my eyes blur to tears
For some inexplicable reason.
Oh! The ache in my guts

How often I must swallow panic
And all of those pills that do not work.
Instead they just fog my mind
And distort all of the anchors
And features in my life.

Even the television will shout at me.
Everything I watch is an advert,
And the news is getting uglier with each day.
Sometimes I will turn on the radio,
But music isn’t music anymore.

And so I’ve learnt to read above
The din of gameshows and the gunshots
From dramas full of anger and devoid
Of love.

I’ve learnt to read again,
As we did together in the warmth
Of the crackles that interceded
The crooners that used to play through the grooves
That my life is once again set between.

At times I feel I am the only reader left in the world.
That all authors write for myself,
Vying for my attentions.

Nobody reads anymore.

Though the depravity between us
Made our love all the more sublime,
I must admit I regret those absent, wasted years.

How wonderful it would be now,
To see your features mixed with mine
And hidden behind the faces of our children.

I would give all that I am,
Which admittedly is not much anymore,
To be able to see the pigments in your eyes
Again, in whichever form they took.

How I would kiss our daughter’s hands
If they resembled your’s.

How I would weep into the shoulders of our son,
If he resembled your heart.

And so now my darling,
I wander these thoughtless paths like a machine.
And though I look out at the opulence
Of the city streets, I am instead
Just walking through a memory,
Or some old doctored flicker show,
Where I cut out all of the ugliness
And leave just us.
Shaurya Pal Jan 2014
On a very dark night,
in a frightfully dark place,
there's a dark alley,
where light has no trace.
But what do I see?
A pair of eyes,blinking rapidly
cornered in the darkness,
a small little creature,
whose face is hidden,
behind its darkened feature.

Its the eyes,those huge,watery eyes.
They call to me,for help,for aid.
The poor kid is alone,stupefied and afraid.
I cannot let him be devoured,
by total darkness,
unbearable the thought,
to leave it helpless.
So I further my step,
and prepare with grace,
for what lies ahead,
is a terrified face.

I cannot possibly imagine,
how he ended up,in this alleyway.
All by itself,its difficult to say.
Perhaps a lost soul,
or a troubled fate.
Whatever the reasons,
its unsafe to venture this late.
He could end up dead,for all I know,
I can't leave him alone,
further I must go.

I can hear soft sobs,
see the tears flowing,
frightened by the darkness,
the poor ****** is moaning.
If I don't help now,
it could fall prey,
the evil which lurks in the shadows,
is forever prepared to slay.
It feeds on the weak,
on the vulnerable mind,
those with a soft heart,
those who are kind.

In mortal danger,this creature could be,
saving this child,becomes my destiny,
hence I advance further and further,
deep within the blackness,
towards the beacon of eyes,
which have mesmerised me.

As I reach closer,
it senses me,now calm,
almost serene.
I'm glad it didn't panic,
it somehow trusts me.
Careful not to scare the whelp,
I stretch my hand to offer help.

As I feel its soft fur,
I see its shape,almost a blur,
but those eyes,they just went wider.
Replacing the tears,they show some vigour.
There's no movement,
neither his nor mine,
our moment here sort of divine,
but now an unsettling presence,
disturbs this tranquillity,
the eyes disappeared,
amidst the darkness,
the situation turns scary!

I feel my hand,its colder than before,
some sort of liquid,oozing from the core,
its Blood! Christ I'm bleeding!!
Rushing in a surge of pain,
I cry out in agony.
My consciousness begins to drain,
to the darkness all around me.

So this is it then,
I made a fool of myself,
failed to realize,
no creature could have,
ended here all by itself.

So much for the ironic twist,
a clever plan in the darkened mist.

I fell for it,fell for it bad,
and now my fate lies,
in the hands of the devil,so sad.
I search for those eyes,
where have they gone?
Guess they played their part,
smoothly all along.
For I'm trapped,
in this surmounting terror.
With no chances of redemption,
for my grave error.

Head spinning,eyes rolling,
mind completely going insane.
Its the sudden rush of adrenalin,
like a bullet coursing through the mane.

Suddenly the place lit up,
with eerie noises,creaking sounds.
Like the devil himself playing,
on his very own grounds.
The song of death,a requiem,
singing with a baritone,
is that really him??

The noises only get louder,
till they deafen me,
the sounds almost mocking,
laughing at my stupidity,
the laugh almost a sneer,
abusing my magnanimity.

With no energy left in me,
I sink down the ground,effortlessly,
plunged in the throes of darkness,
with just the blackness to see,
inducing the comatose of dizziness,
my heart thumping heavily,
a continuous sense of a presence insinuating,
the mere thought is killing me.

The sheer terror is overwhelming.
Feet numb,mind stopped discerning,
I look towards the dark sky,
no moon,no stars,just pitch black,
I wonder why.
Seems to me,this night will take me
to a place which hasn't seen,
the light of the day,
a place far from home,
a place where I'll be left astray.

The noises soon recede,
giving way to an eerie stillness,
with only my heartbeat to hear,
audible enough in the darkness.
I hear whispers,of someone,
calling me,my name,
They don't care how I feel,
for them its just a game
they play with their victims,
like the predator with its food,
they burn down their prey
with an oil so crude.

The idea alone is tormenting me
I'd rather **** myself,
than suffer this tyranny.
I can't let the devil,
savour his sadism,
there's only one way out,
from this wretched mechanism.
I can end my life,
with my own hands.
I need not wait for the night
to draw blood on this land.

Alas,I got no weapon,
I brought no siege,
I have no assistance,
nor any liege.
Man, its torture
in its extreme,
I can't live or die,
let alone redeem.

I have to think of something,
beyond me,out of the box.
Have to find a way,
to get rid of this paradox.
With whatever energy left in me,
I search my attire,
to find something worthy.
An ordinary shirt,with blood soaked sleeve,
pants which are torn,holes like a sieve.
I reach my feet the rugged shoes with their strong lace,
Sigh,there's nothing here
which feels out of place
HEY wait a sec! Lace, that's it!!
Think I've found a way to forfeit.
I could choke myself with the lace,
and die as a martyr,
to serve under God's good grace

All I need now,is the strength to endure,
the pain,more than that the urge,
to not go through with this cure.
Its not wise,to say the least,
but I'm left with no choice,
the darkness all around me,
will soon take over my body,
mind and soul will be gone,
the endless cruelty,
would make me wish I wasn't born.

So I must muster my strength
for one last time,
and give whatever it takes,
even if I have to play with the slime.

I pull out the string
and one glance at the creepy blackness,
I close my eyes as I cannot witness,
my own death.
I wound it around my neck,
ans slowly tighten it,
the pressure builds up,
the pain AARGHH I feel it.
With immense determination,
I keep pulling the lace,
it almost entered my skin,
a sort of paleness crosses my face.
The string now drenched with blood,
slowly submerges in deep,
lungs nearly bursting,breathing I cannot keep,
my eyes gauge out,eyes start popping,
surely my end is near,
I sense the devil slowly retreating.

From what I know,
I'm pretty close to death,
a little more to endure
and keep up with it,
till my last breath.
I begin to choke,
it feels as if my throat,
reached up my uvula,
tongue smacking out,
the last taste of the Nebula,
my mouth now wide open in shock,
my fears finally running amok.

With one last stroke,I pull harder........

.
.
.
.
.

A corpse lay,
in the dark alleyway,
accompanied by a figure,
not human,not animal,
just a pair of eyes and lips,
face kept to minimal.
The eyes widen their gaze,
towards the cadaver,
the face twitches,
the lips force a smile...............
Part 1 of The 'Karma' trilogy
Reece Nov 2013
Caustic doorway blues
The fog sets in,
and the moon doesn't glow
when brick structures crumble
Rats in worn carpeting, writhing
The screaming from pensive terminals
and insects live on dead wood
trees felled in hollow rounds
This is the end of something warm
These are days of hydrogen loneliness
and grey skies applaud the tarmac
Pornographers snap pictures
of silhouettes in garages
and the playground hears no love
when gunshots deafen the trees
and the old mattress is sodden
Stale alcohol pungency
near the alleyway, dormant today
But the lights are still glowing
in the house by the canal
where somebody's memories still linger
David Beresford Jul 2010
Seven forty five we start to arrive
To tea coffee water or squash
We’re all there by eight and no one is late
Not without a good reason or ten
There’s Barry, and Michael (his brother) and several others
And Sharon and Karen and Ken

Keeping it neat in our stocking feet
We find ourselves somewhere to sit
We all bring a bible and some bring a bottle
And some come with paper and pen
There’s Anita and Jill and some others still
And Sharon and Karen and Ken

Breaking the ice with something nice
That’s happened to you in the week
We go round the room and each takes their turn
Telling what happened to them
There’s Geraldine, Barbara, and others we’ve seen
And Sharon and Karen and Ken

Now the serious bit we listen to it
From a tape or on D.V.D.
Then we split to discuss not shouting too much
Taking care not to deafen
Hosts Pauline and Paul and that’s not all
There’s Sharon and Karen and Ken

From heated debate before it gets late
We gather our thoughts and pause
We offer a prayer for those who aren’t there
For the world and for the church Amen
From Wendy and John and I should mention
Sharon and Karen and Ken

Then a choice of drink what do you think
Of squash or coffee or tea
Now a glass of red wine that would be fine
It’s hard to know when to say when
For David and others I won’t mention (the brothers)
Or Sharon and Karen and Ken
Nana Yaw Ofori May 2019
Drops round and run down low
Mud forms and creates tiny valleys within.
Red roads drop and rises ,
As insults flashes like thunder bolts.
Horns deafen ears,
As blood blinds eyes .

Rollercoaster highways,

Or more like riding a bull,
Feel the aches in the waist.
Infact the mechanical horses were older 
than earth herself.
You could see holes and rust 
in the metals.
The government stood by the red road idle,accepting fines and kinds.
If only they had listened to their cries,
Blood would still remain in veins.
Most road accidents in my home country are due to bad roads, old rickety trucks and careless drivers. Some blame the government, others blame the traffic police (they believe it's their job to check these things yet their corrupt ways make it impossible!....  The citizens call them "aban" which means "government".)
Julianna Eisner Mar 2014
O broken and battered beatnik!
My tormented kindred spirit!
  I offer you a hundred lifetimes of my self-condemnation
  How can I deny finding portals to your spirit and soul with such ease any
longer?
  Only now how to reach you out on the physical plane...

Kick down my door painted black so I may crumble in your ****** arms like a poorly constructed sand fortress, sobbing salty tears of regret, wiping snot-nosed drivel onto your cotton-wool blended Ceredigion suit

I'm sorry!
I'm sorry!

Let me explain the truths of my hesitant trust, battered and bruised -- like affectionate kisses on the cheek with open and closed fists
and childhood neglect turned adult isolation -- like visitations in dank bars with hitchhiking mothers

Let me tell you how I closed my eyes as they saddled up to the roulette table,
Licking their wintery chapped lizard lips, and
  rubbing together their sticky hands
Placing their lucky chip
(free with the price of admission!)
On bets
Red.
    Black.
        Odd.
             Even.
I tried to rig the loaded ivory ball to fall on odds Green, Double Zero
house's edge
                                                              ..­.but...
Momentum lost,
Screams muffled as I saw them
  parade in celebration
Blowing trumpets and twirling batons,
  taming dancing bears in crinoline tutus

What have I done!?
What have I done!?

Punish me no more as I cower in my remorse!
Remove this needle from my tongue!
So I may provide the unheard voice in your narrative gap
When I found you alone, in an empty theatre, heaved there by a
  force so Divine
Never could I have conjured up a Love so true!
  Ohhhh! The tears!

Let us construct resolutions of brick and mortar placed
  hand-over-hand
Become co-conspirators and together
  build parallel neural pathways in our
       Meta-Mind
Our synaptic impulses firing in unison as
One
  neurotransmitter
We'll scribe the words spoken in real time
  pulling inspirations from our restful dreamlands
    coiled together in fetal spoons

I am here!
I am here!

Please grant unto me my only request,
allow me to hermit here awhile in this new warm home where I feel safe       and happy and fearlessly blissful
A quiet refuge
   most needed to rest my Self
Away from siren squawks that
   deafen feather-tufted ears
I may venture out for the news or for weekend browsing in local record         shops, but
      here
is where I reside and come home to you each night
Keep my literal words as a gift only to you
(But please paint dazzling murals with abracadabra brushstrokes, with every colour!)
Do not pass around my sacred scripts of our lore (we've been warned)
My trust is the most honourable endowment you could recieve, please cherish it as you so deserve
Give this unto me and I will give you
           an
        infinite
        well of
       musings
         and a
         legend
            for
            the
           ages!

I love you!
I love you!

O broken and battered beatnik!
Tortured kindred spirit!
  I offer you a hundred lifetimes of my devotion
  Your spirit and soul my course of navigation!
  Using compass and stars, meet me
  Wandering cautiously out on physical plains

I love you!
If you want into my life
Leave your baggage at the door
I've got enough all packed away
And I've no room for any more

I know you want to be with me
And I want to be with you
But, box up all your past mistakes
And you know what you can do

I've room to house all sorts of things
My cupboards are all bare
But, baggage like you're carrying
It's not stuff I want to share

If you want into my life
Leave your baggage at the door
I've got enough all packed away
And I've no room for any more

I went through hell a thousand times
Packed a bag inside my mind
for every failed relationship
And times I was caught blind

I want to have you in my life
And share our hopes and dreams
But, pack those bags up in your mind
And help deafen out the screams

If you want into my life
Leave your baggage at the door
I've got enough all packed away
And I've no room for any more

Whatever you did long before
Or even just last week
I don't need it here inside
I don't want to hear it speak

I've room for things..material
Like books and clothes and more
But if you bring bags of emotions
Then you'll not get past my door

If you want into my life
Leave your baggage at the door
I've got enough all packed away
And I've no room for any more
Hector Nov 2015
~

Oh the cruelty of life to meet you now

among the ashes left from fires

of dreams burning through my years-

I called for you, didn’t you hear?

My voice disguised in sounds of wind

the moon reflecting my desires

and every morning the birds would sing

my call for you, didn’t you hear?

And in the sea your skin I touched

and roared your name

with every wave, didn’t you hear?

And now too late to start again

you showed yourself

and called my name,

when in the middle of my search

I couldn't hear-
'''
H.O
'''
https://soundcloud.com/som-40/deafen
'''
Aging face with boyish charm,
broad shoulders to care-free arms,
manly nave to dancers hip,
soldier's legs to a child's skip.

heavy heart through lightened words,
booming voice to deafen hurt,
eyes to sparkle wit with play,
soul set stone in subtle sway.

A seer of all to be seen,
a prodigy for stage and screen,
A star in his very own trend,
A Coatman, a true best friend.
Sleep, it calls for you.
Your lover when twilight sets in.
But the crevice in the narrow opening
Of daylight's yawn is holding on to you,
Calling you to cuddle its distractions.
Distractions that grind your spine to dust,
And turns your heart into a mutton.

Sleep well my dear.
Do not let the drama of day consume you.
Let her satiate your brittle bones,
Let the moon embrace you in solace,
Let the faint white noise deafen you to slumber.
Suffer like little children no more.
Lotus Nov 2012
Tree’s ravaged roots
By axes a thousand
Spilling the blood of forest barks and mosses
The trunk’s weeping screams
Enough to deafen the nearest fowl

Each branch sheds tears
Of liquefied organs and veins
That once hitting the ground
Flow in rushing meanders
Enough to drown soil housed insects

Every leaf that was born
Green and luscious under the sun’s beams
Now recoil and shiver
Into a rusted deathly brown
All the breath that once recycled
Back through its green body
Chased into a withered chasm

One by one
The axe takes a thousand lives in one
One by one
The world that nurtured humanity
Decays by humanity’s hands
One by one
The ruin of all
Will occur
By the axe
Of humanity
Kurtis Emken Sep 2012
Your touch fractures unwound futures,
the softest shock to my system.  Infinite
undiscovery radiates off skin like new born
stars skipping straight to supernova.  Light
grenades blind, deafen, expose.  Truth blurs
focus. We now know what the body is for.
I sabotage and we crash into earth, incinerating
the atmosphere, restarting cycles. We forget our
odd numbered days exist. Our catastrophic collapse
was the best of my life.  For a split second I am now
one as He is three, looping unopposed into life
and death like continuous screaming nothing.
For that, I wish I could thank you.

— The End —