"distillate" poems
Sweet and savory tides
Fill the self-perpetuating void
Spinning spokes of inspiration
Distillate of jungle and earth
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
*
The fume
A thick dark fumy cloud
Dormant it lies, but often loud
Precariously overhead, it flowed
The sunshine of the life, it swallowed
It rained, challenged by the mighty peak
In the heart, It pained, to see it weak
The cloud was small but heavy
However dusty and floaty.
The doom and gloom
Embracing in its shadow
In desert, plains and meadow
Eclipsing the days, sunny bright
Dreadful, with the darkening night
With me, always hanging around
When noticed, nearby it's found
Haunting me with a sadness
Flaunting its darkness
A lot in the cloud explored
Then consciously, It was ignored
But dancing at the back of the mind
Past hurts and pains, it put to rewind
The boom and bloom
And then, letting it flow across, I got immersed,
In fine tiny droplets, the cloud
dispersed,
Now each droplet addressed
separately
Was dried in the shiny sun
completely
All of the cloud, dripped to
evaporate
Condensed eventually, as
distillate
My pains, by that elixir,
cured,
Alchemised me
into
24 carat gold
*
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
"What distillate can be discovered from herbs
of a witching brew," said an aesthete,
"what distillate prepared according
to the formulas of ancient Grecosyrian magi
which for a day (if no longer
its potency can last), or even for a short time
can bring my twenty three years to me
again; can bring my friend of twenty two
to me again -- his beauty, his love.
"What distillate prepared according
to the formulas of ancient Grecosyrian magi
which, in bringing back these things,
can also bring back our little room."
1.7k
Appalachian Alchemists
Weaving Gold from farmer's grist
Whiskey Stills
and Copper Pills
Magick Wyrm cools vapor mists
Shine down from a Whiskey Moon
Silver Gift and Nature's Boon
Corn Cob Wands
and Thumper Pots
Mountain Spells from Summers' June
Lightning flash in jar of White
Burning Soul, distilled delight
Mountain Streams
yield Moonshine Beams
Corn-fed Wizards, dark of night
Wisdom cast in Silver hues
Blessing born of Mountain Dews
Love's Desire
from Smoke and Fire
Ancient kin-folk's hidden brews
Inspiration Distillate
Poet's Draught, inebriate
Charcoal Casks
and Secret Flasks
Of this Spirit, Celebrate
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Over this I vacillate:
The writing down of verse,
Wealth of language distillate
Quench and cause my thirst.
Easy enough to hesitate
When errands need be run,
Either way I procrastinate
Leaving the other undone.
For quiet I equivocate
Time and time again, for
It is bliss to terminate
The what, the where, the when.
Sometimes I stew in stalemate
Two webs entreat be spun:
Revel in stillness or illustrate,
I pay with time for one.
Rilke said discriminate
If one must write or not,
To breath to write to oscillate
Conundrum of my plot.
Awareness and artistry bifurcate
My will in two extremes,
Yet I know when conjugate
They vivify the means.
Unsure if it is designate
I muse and metaphor,
I know with thrill words compensate
When they begin to roar.
What is the thing that animates
This soul to write a poem,
Passion to note and formulate
Or to be loved at home?
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 8:25 AM UTC
I’m sick of it,
The blasted hordes like dried-out gourds
Screaming, cawing for more water.
Feed the flesh, delight the eyes
Give us our shining fantasy. With flippancy
Strip down past all the layers of
My skill my voice my person,
And then take me, break me, make me
Into someone I am not.
Into something that is not.
Pull the paints out.
Imperfections had their day
Yesterday.
Today we’re going all the way.
Make or break you,
Take and shape you:
Tonight you’ll be the idol of the world.
Set the lights, hold your poise.
There’s a goddess on the stage tonight.
Not a person. Not a voice.
It’s the *** doll’s dance tonight.
But we’ll call it art.
I’m sick of it,
The cursed curve,
Numbers up, so clothes come down; and to think I started out
So innocent.
But the eye of the tiger is broken,
The clearness of crystal is crushed -
and those shards just make the perfect dress!
Crystalize, sterilize,
Put me on a different plane.
Separate, distillate,
Don’t let them see your pain.
“If you have to show you’re broken,
It’s gotta be so you can gain.”
Strip away. Everything.
Don’t show them who you really are.
We need an image for the covers
Not a person. Not a windowpane
Into your soul.
So break free, defying,
Undying.
You’re like a god.
No more trying. True flying
Means no more rules for me.
Don’t let them try to
Defy you:
You are now allowed to breathe free.
But only if you push the line. Flaunt your paints and shine your sparkles, leave behind your decency. You stand before a watching globe It is your job to entertain. So really, you are not your own.
The masses are the masters, though they pay.
So no, there’s no way out for you. There’s only forward
Which is downward. And no chance
To just be you. Because
Your freedom isn’t free.
They just can’t take a faulty human. It would be a let-down,
A break-down.
So let us shove you in a box.
Tell you how you have to be.
If you’re gonna keep your money
And your parody of free.
Then take the stage
Play the part.
There’s no more music
No more art.
Just a mad house, a cat house
Diced up platters serving meat.
Kiss my chains, take my gains,
For all my pains
I still ain’t free.
But still. We’ll call it art.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
wanderlust thirsts for earthly scents
the farewell of a soul allowed without fear
for gratitude becomes unnoticably purer
on cracked lips above ****** sandals
and searcher is the silent word in my most
valuable friendship with this kingdom
we feel the temporary darkness trembling
and point at birds that refuse to stay
despite our crossing footprints despite
the black hourglass of our history
full of secret horniness
I would prefer to distillate your tears
drink them with a smile for everyone
and sadly point out the sparkles of hope
what keeps me from doing so
some call wisdom
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
I told him:
"I don't want to see you
see the world,
the way I do".
"I don't want to be a witness, to your heart as it breaks".
I am a soft distillate,
on the edge of a glass;
You are a table
unsurfaced.
I thought,
That the best way to love you,
was to not;
but I did anyways
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
What Characterizes Life?
Bodies born & change & die.
They live and pass.
But what is life?
What marks it out?
In my assessment it is consciousness -
Just being conscious.
If so, leaf must be…
Virus must be…
On one or many levels
All that ‘be’ must ‘have’ it, ‘be’ it
Till those bodies go.
I can’t think that there are exceptions to the rule;
That is, if life is consequent, consistent;
Essence, distillate,
Underneath all things that do a something by themselves.
I don’t know yet.
Can’t find words, a name, an adjective, a verb,
A sound that does it justice.
I know now – and only that.
And when I go inside myself
That’s all I meet
What Characterizes Life? 1.22.2017
Nature In & Of Reality;
Arlene Corwin
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
A puncture
Leaking life through suture
Surrounding existence
Dying without a chance
For worthwhile meaning
Or rebellious screaming
Against the institution
That perverted your prostitution
For it's own benefit
Uncaring if a flame goes unlit
And so you're gone
How brightly you could have shone
A mind so effervescent
And a life so incandescent
Waxwork drips down
A colourful wick burned brown
And a single plate
That can carry no more hate
May 9, 2022
May 9, 2022 at 12:35 PM UTC