"dervish" poems
All I do is win, for I'm an Ace
Painting a bulls-eye on everyone in the place
In my plane I leave everyone else
bailing out of the fight in disgrace
If I was a horseman, I'd be War
'Cuz like the card game
I win against Kings and Queens
and take them out of the deck
like the Joker on the sidelines, alone and bored.
I don't need a Diamond to win you Heart,
and I don't wanna join your Club,
this was skill and not luck from the very start
I am the Ace of Spades,
and I'll use my ***** to dig out your graves
I've been painted on the sides of planes
cars and trains
helicopters, submarines,
and the munitions that deal out the pain
I'm a trick shot Ace with the pool stick
As a quarterback, I've yet to throw a pick
As a pitcher, I make the other team sick
The starter and the backup plan
the Ultimate Ace in the Hole
The best card in a poker hand
lay me down and the money's in the bag
I run solo, streaking across the land
You only need to hold me in your hand
and your enemies will become ****
and I'll give 'em a taste
of this whirling dervish's mace
Leave them breathless upon the ground
as I rob the air from out of this place
you'll stand in awe of my greatness
take a picture, make a statue
Fill up every empty space with my name
For I am an Ace!
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
Violating a placid spirit
Memories transgress
desecrating the sacred.
Memories are
the dark side
of a full moon.
Memories are unsatiated desires
couched on sorrow
entangled in time
a perennial wrinkle on the soul.
Memories are trespassers
possessing neural atrium
wading saline sockets
slithering in to throbbing veins
tiptoeing to hollow spaces
burying all under their eerie weight,
Memories are an inescapable affliction.
In fragmented mindscape
Memories are violent winds
littering the past.
Lurking behind aches
in ethereal garbs,
Memories are assassins.
Or sema
of a swirling dervish.
Hurtling within, Memories
is an avalanche
pounding the abyss
choking the void
one gasp at a time.
Memories are
nameless apparitions
fused as shadows
to the very being.
Memories are an assault
on identity and belonging.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
Dancing on the lifeline,
Flying through the dirt,
Mixing into puddles,
Resembling the sky...
Everything is nothing.
Nothing is everything.
The truth is but a lie
Not looked in the eye.
The spoiled goods we buy!
Dancing on the lifeline,
Spinning dervish, spin.
Aquire all the knowledge you seek,
Find it is within.
Poets are the prophets
To the souls of those that read.
The magick that is in the verses
Always plants a seed
To enlightenment, the need.
We are all
Dancing on the lineline,
Connected by the threads,
That comprise the ribbons
Of the thoughts within our heads.
Everything for which we thirst
Is already in our chalice.
We only need to drink of it,
But need to keep the balance...
Beware the one called valiant.
Never fear that victor,
Who has never seen a challange,
Who has been given everything
On a silver platter.
Listen to the hope inside.
Follow it, as you lead.
As you cast your spells
And spin your webs, take heed.
Dancing on your lifeline,
Holding onto what is true.
Only when you care for others,
Will you know they care for you.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
Growing flames will turn your name into a cloud of ashes.
A flowing mane remains untamed through whirling dervish clashes.
Beating hearts as hope departs through valleys long and winding,
Burning sun, you turn and run, the path ahead is blinding.
You always knew I wouldn't do, so why'd you even bother?
Pass my time by penning rhymes and double ******* lagers.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Whirlwind demonic dervish, lights flash,
Psyche rides alive!
Schizophrenia bites, jagged knife blade, soul caught, brain flavour caught, snatched by diathermy wires...!
Burning always,
No, not me, someone long ago once known, dead in body...don't know how deceased..!
Found alone in chair, cold stone!
Left bejewelled gift,
Pure treasure chest ,
Legacy of dream escape,
Female child now twenty three!
Livvi Kent27/04/2013
(no he was actually really sweet just very messed up Not the demonic man from "Secret Conception", that was just a write!)
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
At the end, will it be brandy-wine or mescaline to sugar coat
enlightenment, the purpose,
the omnipotent influence?
Some live to make a whirling dervish swoon.
Some pray to Love, composing sonnets for the moon.
Some find themselves floating, bloated lungs with lazy currents,
mourning free-will.
With questions perched atop your windowsill,
do decomposing wings pull with yearning to wake
in dawn's warning? Your beak,
a rattling, pneumonic drill.
It's a dead end,
fear and adrenaline.
Invite me in
to ostracizing nuisances.
Therefore,
I may imprison myself in cylindrical cells,
pop out wisdom like bubble-wrap,
fight the mighty ocean swells,
or shimmy up the lobster trap,
With inevitable siege by buzzards eying wildly,
shedding sea-salt feathers that won't be washed for weeks.
Still, the mad-hatter trades me one more spill for spill.
And I taste the honesty we sip for swollen memories
whose frantic bodies let fists fly on flushed faces
that we never truly see.
In profound confusion we stumble, blind.
Then, we all forget so blissfully,
once we reach the rainbow's end.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
I.
something within me,
maybe its my amigdala,
misses the oven-turned-gentrified clot,
that great collection of want,
of transient soles-souls.
I miss how we’re piled three stories high,
so close to each others’ mouths that we must
burrow in criss crossed, colliding tunnels
to our point b’s, our job sites,
our lovers’ houses.
maybe it is indeed part of our un-nature to do this,
to cling to one another even
as our unforgiving sungod bakes us whole,
cornish game hens on the el train,
hurdling 40 mph, to and from
our personal hovels, heavens
and bedsheets,
tethered to this place, possibly indentured,
definitely flawed,
where we revel under roofs to prove incredibleness
an virility.
II.
our eyes are not closed today.
they may not blink in unison
as mannequin lids do,
so effortlessly, plastic and mechanical,
but those, we are thankfully not.
for we are flesh,
and air, and miles of gastrointestinal turnpike, if unpinned,
would stretch from here to panama.
we are each of us
a viscous mound called
Sally, Bertram and Queen Mary.
We are the collision of milk flowing, divine,
a whirling dervish
in scalding darjeeling.
we are air,
gliding over enamel into the collective breath
to be devoured so sweetly by others,
as saintly man-scripted gelato,
dribbling down our chins in piazzas.
la dolce ************* vita.
III.
that’s the funny thing about living
in this size 2 world,
the ability to appear anywhere upon its face at a moment’s notice,
to be in front of any face when desired,
to live sans toll booth or customs desk,
to simply dust off our ability to fly
and tumble icarus-adolescent into the collision
between the two blue planes called sea and sky
Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 9:58 AM UTC
When you shed that chrysalis of clothing
Releasing the dragonfly wings of your longing
Wholly among the sanctity of your skystrung ribs
Your hips gyrating on the revolutions of the moon
The astronomer in my belly burns to look up to the sky
And see you spreading yourself among the singing night
My fingers, matches skywriting
The contours of your body
With the lingerings of fire
Nails soft scratching the runes of desire
Among the hidden temples of your skin
A secret language you twistup and rumble
In like the sea swallowing a storm
Inviting me to wade in your waters
Till the lighting comes
To reunite you with the heavens
Let me lick a long crusade
From summit of spine down
The long whirling dervish of your legs
Relight wildfires only to douse them in all
The tsunami of your wet
And wash you in the convergence of thunder
As it rumbles among the fault lines of your bones
Till we rattle the pearly gates loose
And quake the caverns of hell
Grind yourself upon me into
Something so much
Sweeter then stardust
Break your body open
Into a firefly and ignite
Upon the rough embers of my wings
This friction will elicit a diction
Spoken only in vowels and the
And in the crescent arch of your spine
As we sling ourselves skyward as fireworks
To rupture open the night
Suffocate me on the whirlwind mane of your hair
There is a lioness behind those lips waiting to devour me
A sacred hunting upon moonlight to take me in the dark
Don’t you see
All of this is yours
The rumble of the earth
The heavy breath of the heavens
The match
The candle
And the sweet rush of the burn
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Beowulf the hier of nothing of rot
Mother he know not
Raised in shame banished wroght
Returned to his village to seek wrothgar a father he yet sought
News of death the sorrow he fought
Till the night trouble it brought
Grendal at night did strike
Killing thous from wicked and strife
None but Beowulf saw the **** of the fight
Guards did come, and saw a false sight
Beowulf they thought the killer that night
Sentenced to death but never to suffer that blight
Beowulf escaped and rode at dawn, Off to seek golem and where he lurk
Off to the woods there they found Grendal
With much haste golem charged Beowulf dirk was drawn
Hacking off the fingers of golem was hurt
Grendal roared and ran
Holding tightly to his wounded hand
Beowulf returned with trophy in bag gasps where made across the land
Guards double watch patrolling village to make a stand
Night came and blood was shed
Grendal made way to the mead hall all the way warriors bled
Beowulf was ready and calmly said
I have his fingers how about his arm instead
Attacking the creatures buckled arm ripping it off golem then ran and fled
Beowulf grabbed arms and said fingers now arm soon his head
They reassembled on horses arms ready and raged
Gave chase
All fell but Beowulf by accord golem laid dead he lead deeper around bend
mother by him seducing Beowulf of power and ***** by all that was said
Beowulf accepted the fouls bargain
But all was not well in thee end
Dragon flew to the sky warriors of King Beowulf Fend
Beowulf killed his son of the dervish deal the dragon
But deadly wounds of were not on dragon alone Beowulf had fallen both a killing blow send
Beowulf funeral ceremony of fire and water below the deep the foul was spotted to be burned alive with Beowulf lover in arms
Blasphemy and Treacherous woes for all of she slaughtered
Now known Beowulf deed leading men like fodder
Against them knowing deal he had waged
Too be written and sung in the latter days
Beowulf the hero king the liar the cheat they called
Beowulf the man flawed as all that ultimately brought his downfall
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC
Autumn, like an Indian classical dancer, dressed up
Arrives with soft rhymes and quickening steps
She comes aglow, aglow with a rare beauty
Dancing to the bracelet's tinkling song
Her floating robe falls in deep folds around her feet
As she mesmerizes all with moves full of grace
Viewing the flaming colours in assorted display
We are apt to wonder if Nature carefully saved up
All that is best for the closing grand finale
Autumn tints look enchanting all through the land
With pervading green, offset by crimson, citrus yellow
Flaming red, lustrous gold and a faded russet
The air stays crisp and sweet in the ripening fields
While stray clouds ramble in flawless turquoise sky
When autumn is thus all agog like a frenzied dervish
It gives us morbid pictures of death and decay
The trees wrestle to free themselves of their worn cloaks
Causing a cascade of withering autumn leaves
Now they fall scattered in endless stream and lie in piles
Like charred carcasses after a fierce forest fire
The rustle of dry leaves blown by the wind
Falls in our ears with the gabble of migrating birds
Pale sunshine sifts through leafless trees of maple and oak
All those leaves once stayed regal in stations high
But now tossed out like worthless chaff
They come nose diving and fall several meters below
Spreading a hazel curtain over the moist earthen crust
When trampled mercilessly by careless feet
They silently mourn their thankless fate
Graying that comes at the end of each autumnal fall
Reminds us of the pall of gloom that awaits
It is disturbing like the parting song of birds
As they fly southward before the fall of winter
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
I am an invisible woman
inside a circus tent
- a ghost of a clown
who lost her nose
fading into red
weighed down
by words unsaid
I am a clumsy dervish
whirling
a tumbling blur
forever restless
like a wild curl
I am a shadow
when need be
a wallflower
a hidden bower
protecting me
I am your mirror
your frown
your smile
I am your window
as you are mine
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Mirrorball - “the fabrication of our performance”
a life long struggle to accept who I am,
of course, lose, and lose again, and
the fabrication of our performance now
inherent in every excuse and mirrorball
revolving asking, no, laughing, at our
vanity, as we endeavor, enabled by the
paucity of ego, the neediness of weakness’s
to catch, keep, hold each single flickering
light spot in our open, slick palms forever
we fabricate our performance of daily living,
modifying our measurements to match output,
only a human cannot wake only to fall within
each daily tabulation without thinking, once:
*I am a hero, worthy of acknowledgement, just
look at my hands! see how many spots of
light I can claim as mine! the mirrorball turns
and turns paying no mind to the worshipers
below, until some sorrowful fool confesses,
fools fail, fools fail, turning the dervish off,
the white flag of ego darkened, once more...*
we are all false poets, false prophets, occasionally confessing
7:34 AM
Sat Jul 18
The Year of the Virus, Corona
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 8:03 AM UTC
Addict.
Fly free unwanted conqueror-
I detest you
And your haunting illusion.
Midnight visage-
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
Of redemption.
You who scorched my fields
And ignited my fears,
Laying waste in a furious
Dervish of extrapolated ecstasy.
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
Was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying sputtering
in the destitute mud
That comprises bewilderment ,
And you showed me mercy-
Such bravery in the face of havoc.
And now you gladly accept me,
Embrace me in cold arms,
Wantonly smiling at the distance-
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense,
With the certainty of a madman.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
~
Rigel
*Art thou
Thy soul
Of souls
Reaching
O to thee?
Or that
Celestial
Tide thus
Brimming
So, most
Delightful
Beams o'er
Me?*
~
Sirius
*O, Yes!
My Bride-to-be,
Spinning fiercely
Like a dervish in
This galaxy!*
~
Rigel
*My flames! My core!
Held together by my
Own attractiveness, I
Assure, I need not thee
Tis myself I do adore!
Fantastic mysteries
I keep thus pure!
Woo me to Love?
You seem assured
Of your Self as well!
But you must make
Haste to hence take
This, my body, O!
Heretofore to meld.*
~
Sirius
*My lust forsaken
Broken, taken!
See how hot
These fires
Thus burn,
All my Love
To you I turn!*
~
Rigel
*Be gone!
Be gone!
My Love
Must be earned.*
~
Sirius
*O what woe!
Woebegone
And melancholy!
Ease my malady,
Be my Lady!*
~
Rigel
*Perhaps one day
I shall, but as of
Now, I turn
Thee away.*
~
Sirius
*I shall do
My utmost
To burn
So close
Today
Tomorrow
So perhaps
Someday
It will be so.*
~
Rigel silently
*Sigh, you
Persistent thing;
I wish to cradle
You, soon too.*
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
liquid light
oozing over
solid sound,
gasping gas.
static singing
focal filaments,
breaking brains.
lightning licks the
devilish dervish,
knighted king, the
anointed anarchist antichrist,
now nowhere.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
I was cleaning out the fridge today
And in the back I found this "thing"
It was furry, soft and squishy
From the mind of Stephen King
I didn't want to touch it
It looked like a tangerine
But, from all the fur and oozy stuff
I don't know what it had been
I knew I had to move it
But I wasn't sure quite how
I'd seen things much more appealing
Come from the rear end of a cow
I emptied out the other stuff
I put them in the sink
I was left with this small land mine
That really had a stink
I needed some protection
Before I tried to grab this bomb
so, I closed the door real quiet
And I went to get some on
I put on swimming goggles
To protect my eyes in case
It exploded when I grabbed it
And it jelly-fied my face
I then grabbed my old rain coat
And put it on all front to back
So my front was well protected
In case this thing chose to attack
Hockey gloves to save my hands
Work boots were for my feet
All this to dispose of this
Thing that people eat
I opened up the door again
And as I looked inside
I could swear this thing was throbbing
And it had grown to twice it's size
I slammed the door and grabbed a beer
I had some in the sink
I had to get this thing destroyed
I needed time to think
I called up both my neighbors
I said "Evacuate" the street
I told them I was killing
Some thing that people eat
I couldn't tell them what it was
Because I wasn't sure
I must have bought it months ago
But I didn't know what for
If I knew that this would happen
If the expiration passed
If I knew this when I bought it,
I would have eaten it real fast
I went to get the garbage
I put three new bags inside
I would put the thing inside one
And would then get all three tied
I'd run it to the dump myself
But, I'd have to freeze it first
Because, Imagine what would happen
If the plastic bags had burst
One more thing I had to do
was get some stuff to hide the scent
I thought I'd get some vapo rub
So off to search I went
Now, all prepared and goggled up
in raincoat and in gloves
I was set to grab this thing
For push had come to shove
I opened up the door and there
Where the thing had just now been
Was nothing, not a single thing
Where was my thing of green?
It didn't get out on it's own
And no one would eat it up
The only one who'd like it
Was our garbage eating pup
It was at this point I saw my son
Rolling outside like a log
Playing with our whirling dervish
He had fed it to the dog!!
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
Like in a ballet of Bolshoi
She dances round and round
Lost in a galaxy of glittering stars
Like a shaman by a feverish fire
She goes round and round
The sun for her warmth and glow
Like a smitten little puppy
The moon goes round and round
Her for love and in utter devotion
But in the midst of it all
Like a whirling dervish
She spins round and round
In a dance of venerating trance
To the Grand Choreographer;
Never seen, but always conducting
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I like to rage on with
flying snakes. The fog deepens.
You skid on the ice of the bridge
after the freezing rain. Infidelity
becomes the pick of the day. I
look at my Goldie, the pug,
sitting on the step. Waiting for me
like a meditating Buddha, eyes
half-closed.
Let me see your hands. Your
bones are becoming frail, twisted.
You cannot lift the book, hold
the pen. When you write, your hands
start trembling, as if you are
being watched, to write your last
will or ready to jump in the river.
Life had been very cruel.
When you said, you are a dervish,
the hyenas started laughing.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC
Staid solitude and silence lend me ease
from mind’s congestion, tongue’s propensive burl
toward chatter’s looping, irritating whirl—
exchanging dervish dust for bonny breeze.
My soul may sing and soar from quiet’s nest
or sit in stillest calm without weight’s care
within the waiting, because God is there
who knows me, hears me, grants me sweeping rest.
The Everlasting God, the LORD o’er all
who understands me, loves me with no end—
most faithful, fervent Confidante and Friend—
pervades the sweet quiescence with His call,
“Here in My peace, come find your heart’s desire.
Serene in Me, soul catches My love’s fire.”
May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 10:34 AM UTC
"O, to be a whirling dervish,"
I think to myself
as I drunkenly stumble to the bedroom
and collapse, naked,
slurring bleary hate speech
to a god
I don't believe in.
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
rhythms en trance
***** princess dance
come **** me cruel
eat me like ants
wont you hurt me sir
out comes the dagger
her eyes get so large
she wants me to bag her
she knows im in charge
wont you rip me sir
foot arched **** puffed
where are the whips
she moves like fire
and slink-ally strips
my ******* bleed love sir
howls like the wind
for **** and the blade
begs for it now
***** **** in the shade
the knife between my legs sir
*** shakes and prance
to the congas beat
eyes flirt wild
as she whips her own feet
won't you cut my toes sir
***** *** aches
whirling dervish
break me my love
as she dances the curvish
use my mouth sir
her ankles clamped
legs spread wide
arms pulled back
theres no where to hide
smother me sir
head *****
gut ***** spleen
eat it all
devour the queen
my belly is yours sir
she looks in my eyes
says thank you for my fate
spreads her legs wide
i take the bate
disembowel me sir
oh lover bleed
im up deep inside
i work you down
and cruel is the ride
my ****** sir
she cries and writhes
and she **** so hard
she wants to burn
and is slathered with lard
my rose **** sir
i break her in half
and lick up her ***
she cries and she squeals
as she starts to pass
pluck my eyes sir
i crush my love
to finish her off
she begs for more
and starts to cough
take my ******* sir
face to the the floor
the music turned down
baby death dance
in water to drown
remove my head sir
I did the dance
i love to be slain
stretched flat by a roller
i loved the pain
dinner is served sir
thank you sir
may i **** you **** sir
drink your **** sir
lick the toilet clean sir
you've crushed me to nothing sir
beaten me dead sir
****** me a thousand times sir
is there anything else sir
yes sir
thank you sir
what ever you say sir
your so good to me sir
ill be right back from the dead sir
i love you sir
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
It seems like only yesterday
That the first lambs of spring
Were running, bleating, over the fields.
Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was.
As seasons rush relentlessly
Down tracks that may, or may not
Lead to hell, the dogs of hell
Are barking: Can you hear their demon cry?
They cry as one: wolves undone,
The hounds let down their hair.
The night turns to day and
The summer to winter. The winter to spring.
A pin drops: does a mouse
Hear it with an ear attuned to silence?
Or does it crouch oblivious,
Awaiting scraps and scrapes, cats and shapes
That shadow its every move
Along the wall? Whilst standing tall,
The ruthless dance: a dervish trance
Has them in its dreadful spell
And with its whirling wisdom
Leads them down to burning hell.
And us as well.
And us as well.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
The wandering minstrel,
sung a song that kept hidden,
deep in his lonely heart,
it touched the dancing girl so much,
she sprang up on her feet unprompted,
and danced the way the song spoke to her.
Oh! it was marvelous and she was swift
like a lightening during monsoon,
there was a subtle absence that heightened her presence,
her admirers, a whole lot, was caught by surprise,
strangely, they got agitated,
as her move was unexpected,
that stirred a hornet's nest
which, then led to a melee of sorts,
every one was running helter- skelter,
while the whirlwind swirled around,
the girl still danced like possessed.
Only now they saw the Dervish,
with long white hair and flowing dress,
while he gently circled, his aura bright
created a dazzling circle of light.
It became difficult to see what happens,
to most, without the inner light.
**To the few with opened inner eyes
it was revealed at once thus:
the swirling dervish, the ecstatic dancer
and the wandering minstrel lost in his song
went beyond,
became one in spirit.**
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
*Turbulence and tranquility,
the waves taught me both,
from seagulls came
silent flights, smooth landing
on moving waves
and cacophonous rage,
dervish dance was the gift
coconut groves granted
during the months of monsoon,
the art of hiding sweetness
within hard shell, too was their lesson,
"Don't exhibit,
let them find out coconut water
if only they deserve" the tall palms
implied while they danced like
feverish, passionate lovers,
hair splayed, rocked by crazy winds.
Your eyes spoke about a kind of
beautiful transience and unaffected calm,
at the end of the quest for the ultimate.
From many we flow towards one,
tranquil, eternal, omniscient.
I pick and choose from various notes
to create a symphony of accord
knowing in my heart that it's what we all share.
Night took me to the heart of deep sleep
and said the specs of light will not perish
"Cherish it to make days of sun and dance
then come back to the ample ***** of darkness"
Youthful spirit told me about the alchemy of love
between hearts and heart breaks too, that teaches one
that sadness has it's sweetness.
Walls proclaimed all about limits,
also patience and courage to break it,
if one removes stone after stone bearing pain
every wall will eventually fall.*
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
Ever seen the darkness shake ?
like the serpentine spine of a blood red snake
vibrations sent to the core of your soul,
burning your mind like simmering coal,
clamber for the light in your claustrophobic space
the demons in the shadows know your face
the tears wont fall just stay in your eyes
whilst all around you everything dies
dance the macabre its the only way
whirling dervish no time to pray
the ancient rhythms too much to resist
it eats you away like a cancerous cyst.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC