"entreatment" poems
The cry
of the barrel screams
Screams resound across the earth's
Great Expanse
Expands from the lowlands of Vail to
the valleys of Los Angeles to
the depths of Oceania to
the oceans of death and,
after incessantly increasing,
incredulously stops.
Except not really.
Really, to most Valians,
he was just a name in passing,
fluttering past consciousness just long enough
to get a "poor thing" or a "shame."
Really, his body hit the cement a full
7 hours, 6 minutes before his parents came work
from home, not the other way round,
Saw the alien body of their offspring, then the corpse,
and threw themselves
at lawyers, counselors, and more lawyers
as each professional debated which lover
he wanted as his teammate in the opening of
The Blame Games.
Really, the cessation of Adam's heart
didn't open the gates in exuberant expectation of
The true savior.
His beats stopped when
the world began
The lost change in between his seat cushions
never had just one meaning.
Really, he never thought he would
ever amount to more than a dollar.
Really, the only question that matters,
the only entreatment with gravity,
is, Was he right?
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
refusal of ignorance beholds the vigor of the human condition;
it is in this repertoire between our minds that this ligature becomes real
we stumble over ourselves in our entreatment towards each other
dearth becomes so substantial that our hearts coil in trepidation
and for the shattered souls, we close the seal
so hold your fathers, and kiss your mothers
for they have bestowed upon you the purest of endowments.
be grateful for that which you can comprehend
for the imbecilic nature of the beast
that we all contest to extinguish
only the sagacity of our spirits can transcend
or tame, acclimatize, at least
and this is how we must distinguish
the idiosyncrasy from allurements
i can feel your pulse beneath my feet
from miles and miles away
i want you to be my heaven-sent,
i want you to be my king.
in your bold winds i will sway.
and for your adoration i will beg
until i am shackles on your legs and
ropes to your wrists
cold as sand in the nights of winter,
i want you to be my man,
where we can find our own portals in the depths of mists
you can call me your angel, your sinner.
i am taciturn in my consciousness,
yet so avidly alive
what are we good for?
you are whole in your somnolence,
yet so passionately sublime
when will i be yours?
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
In Life, Ephemeral In Death, Oblique
One in the same
Together Unique
While Life is a series of Twists and turns
Death is a summary of what someone has learned
This is a story of a boy and a girl
Who lived their lives in a very small world
The boy had planned on a very long day
While the girl was eager on passing away
He wanted to travel from place to place
She wanted to depart with a hurried pace
The man living Life, thought to be immune
As the girl's luck seemed to run inopportune
Both deciding to repudiate
All the lies they were told, designed to obliterate
The form of his optimism left in his wake
And the shape of her sorrow giving her heartache
Death seems so bleak, avoiding the light
Life a beautiful lie, it’s truths it will not cite
Searching for items from origins of avarice
Seeing the world from her eyes of pure justice
Rendering their actions in Life and Death Tedious
His logic, complex and seeming sarcastic
Her logic, ironic maybe even fantastic
An entreatment for guidance was all that he sought
A plethora of skepticism deepens the plot
Their mindsets so morbid, often inordinate
Hearken the call and quit with the obstinate
Exploring the abstruse way of life
Creating a way to progress without strife
Life forcing his early resignation
Resonant in her memories
She plummets into lamentation
In life Ephemeral In Death oblique
One in the same
Together unique
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC