"disport" poems
The Phoenix
Williamsji Maveli
Phoenix Birds have no doom
From scented snow of bloom
You thrush that serenades me daily
Would not trill out his glee so gaily,
Could he foretell his wrongful breath
Would sadly soon be stilled in death.
Yon lambs that frolic on the lea
Would scarce disport them could they see
And incarnate the joy of life,
The shadow of the butcher’s knife:
Oh Nature, with your loving Ruth,
You spare them knowledge of Dark Truth.
Creation’s triumph ultimate
Where you will be intimate
To bring the sad humanity alone,
The grimness of the grave is known,
The dusty destiny is ever unknown
the bird and beast in their elegance
Effulgence it’s all in ignorance!
Oh man, provisioning the hearse,
With fortitude accept your curse!
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
www.williamsji.com
[email protected]
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
My demons come when I am weak
wounded lion spirit
hyenas scratching at my bloodied sides
fingers pushing at cracked glass soul
corpse of decayed love whisper vile insanities
once kind life voices mewling crowing
over fresh ****** wounds to new for rotten
push your grey fingers in through my split skin
fish hook tenderness as you disport in my misery
defiled by the profanity of soiled joy
black shapes flap and rattle at the thin glass
break through with the shards and pierce my soul
my heart is frozen by your lapping rising tide of eversore caresses
too late to cry for help if death comes to me in a demon's red eye
it will find a fallen spirit of light burnt by close flame falsehood
and regrets barren embraces
held in the grip of the twisted gone
it is the crack-scabbed tomorrow that mocks my today
wounds cry tears of knife edge expectancy
arms shrink at cutting-shrine memories
God cannot stand against you but vomitting can play his role
4004 6015 numbers list your mocking horde
to late for redeemers blades
reject and defile the war cry of the un-dead
choosers of the slain cross skies of dead hope stars
No dandelion seed would stoop to carry my soul
too twisted for heaven's soil
rotted leaf shrine heat of decay warmth
no hell for demons to dwell carried within heart-carcass vessel
sail through eternities baying grief this reward
cherish fear and pain marks the hours of still alive
window of thin despair ready to crash but striving still
gossamer molecule threads still cleave to me
fight against 1916 cloying of death-sweet expectancy
shell hole camaraderie with last summers corpse gas kisses
twenty-eight pills later summer needs to come soon
at four degrees I can be water ice or gas can I be alive
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 1:57 PM UTC
You gotta have an own to hold
Something to hold on to
The truth is great and shall prevail
When one cares whether it prevail or not
You gotta have an own to hold
It's something that you'd rather have so
Something you'd rather have so than not
So get up something to say for yourself
Get up something to say for yourself
that's the important thing
Getting up things to say for yourself
If you want to hold your own
A man is outside himself and inside himself
Cell walls breaking down and making at the same time
Cell walls going down and cell walls coming up
And forming again, reforming
Poetry, the free field of metaphorical action
Play, where you disport yourself, almost alone that is thought
Eyes find eyes, eyes stay with eyes all our lives
Play, where you disport yourself, almost alone that is thought
You gotta have an own to hold on to
Something you'd rather have so than not
So get up something to say for yourself
When one cares whether it prevail or not
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
Overnight alone, swifting out to be disport
Nonetheless I'm numb to loneliness
Begging please I don't want you in my head
Because the truth is I'm numb about you
Got home, Still alone no one's there
Time fades fast I didn't even see it coming
There are things still obscene on my thoughts
The last way I reckon is to turnaway from the past
Because a girl like you also feels the way I do
And sometimes we're just like puzzled on whatever we do
Tears are not needed to be seen..no more
I don't want to forget but I know thats also the end
Did I forget how to love?
Or my heartache is the reason why
Even how many times I got hurt
I still can't leave ...you
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
She's surly shy with her lines
the curtains fell on her face
when adept only flash of evanescence
with a bite in capital and shoal disport her dress
in polls today hop with her as such a surprise wink at her frill that land upon shoes and ruefully construe her entirely with her malice fore bash in bistro extradite uproarious faith that fully entice her orthodoxy and succeed with premier.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
My legacy was
To be laved twice a day,
To disport myself around the garden.
Enveloped in my crisp creaseless clothes,
Encircled by the aroma of blossoms.
My gladsome day was rounded
Off with a dinner fit for a King.
My education taught me
To read, write and a lot more.
I was conditioned to expect nothing less.
Her legacy was
To toil the soil on the farm
In threadbare clothes.
Steeped in baked clay,
Engulfed by the stench of the fields.
Her meed was to eat
Whatever there was.
Her education was to do
More than her fair share.
She was privileged to expect nothing more.
We walked the earth,
We breath the same air,
Yet,
Like the two oceans,
Our lives never transgress.
Our challenge is to reconcile our inheritances with what should be.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC