"ering" poems
voices, mirror glance inward-outward
-inward-outward-inanoutandinward
in simultaneous disease-like passion--
divine like bacteria kneading and bleep
-ing up to one to one against to one toward
a unity, a collective evolutionary force begin
-ning in a marshy wallow-- forward to a creature
slithers rocks unsure if fish or finger-- beyond unto
a sharp-claw carnivorous terror (the Divine Right of
Kings) and slowly, in the wake of the destruction the
shattered continental plate lifted like a carpet during
renovation violence, the bacteria stayed away and
under soiled-earth to slowly form toward the muddy
saliva of a strangely-fit mouse-rat....
through the dissipating wake of molten mist, a
sabertooth tiger yawns with a growled-tremor
and an after-bath shake-- ends a trampled scrap
under mammoth foot having indicted this panic
in its desperate mammalian hunger-- this bacteria,
kneading and bleeping, continues its one to one
against to one as a meaty slab metabolized by
opportunistic caveman feeding his cubs and his
loves before courage became the theoretical pond
-ering of Voltaire's and Descartes's and Camus's...
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Art is food for the heart and like food it is often hard to find.
It might come from a source that is renewable,
yet how many have forgotten that the brain is even usable.
The inspiration we seek comes from inside our own mind
where the fairies wait, having fed on our own experiences, wishing to unwind.
But as full as they may be, one can clearly see
that they cannot make art till they jump on our heart in hope of making it start.
They first have to tickle it with their little feet
before it can even begin to produce an audible beat.
Maybe giving an idea for a visual treat or a literary feat.
These fairies each come from different locations
as imagination is not limited by any dimensions.
In the world of creation, pain has long been a mighty fairy-nation,
the muse of separation, the dictator of desperation,
the soul's frozen animation, a generous, fugly frog of inspiration.
So next time you feel blue, channel that blue stream into a pen
and you may start to feel better again. Blow a kiss to that frog,
clearing the misty lake from fog. There is no call for divination,
simply let the frog jump in celebration all over your pond(ering)'s stagnation
and it will stir the waters in its elation.
Embracing pain not only does wonders for creation,
it also helps dull that cruel yet just sensation.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 4:05 PM UTC
Whare ripples
trickles
dreeps awa,
Tha fluid run
tha water braw.
A' triple race frae which it stems
aneath tha starry heevenly hem,
whare a' come an thereby pass
tha rivers edge wha gleams like glass.
Upon tha wintery echo , far weel I ken
tha cracklin tree like a bantom hen,
chuckles oot apun tha glen
aneith tha dark too'ering Ben.
This cul' dark an weary nicht
hulds tha worl' e'er sae ticht
tae tha lays tha lan' does spill
grasps yin an a' therein tae fill
Tae a' tha glory O winter's parade
tha tinsel show, its masqurade.
Fills us a' doun tae tha bane
tae tha spirit O winter's ain.
© Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC
the boy has a match
in his back poc ket. hovering
janky steps
sheathed by fluffy ice
chest reverb erates
as a single rain drop
trickled in pinful loop...
theforestwaits
Undisturbed
not wanting to be burnt but he rations
not wanting anything at all.
in destroying one makes something
whence once
there was nothing. he
s t r i k e s the match aflame and alive,
l
o
w ering it fit to spread
and surely cause his life some havoc... havoc...
havochavochavoc
HAVOC
H A V O C
havoc;
he ruminates the meaning of the word a while
and settles
on it being better than boring old nothing.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 11:32 PM UTC
may i too see the exponential
splint ering of a tree
into branches with the foremost
awareness of the tetragrammaton
as keenly as i swore to recount
the stump made into duo
of alveoli made exampling
and thereby exponential to a gratifying
mystery of the unsolvable y (pin-point,
your self - and as many girls
in the green Ukraine as those absolving rites to
a marriage, beyond? then i too eager claimant
of a bachelor status! i too the stature of exampling
the bachelor status and hopes of polygamy
for the beggar women who can't be left
bereft of materialism of any kind
since the dog, since the dog, since the leash).
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
pendently crimson wearing elfin ******* &
chatoyant eyes
grown from boundless harvesting she is
lonely from survival, tenacious pedicel tight
against countless snapped, spent-black fleshlings.
ripe with costly price and left single amongst
decay she adopts (though morely wields)
venin wet juice that poisons whichever loves.
sev ering her stem
with weathered hands, i hoist her cheek to mine
where pressure reveals the tender path
of warmly dissolve.
though she strains & twines with rot and
(the core soaks through) i devour her ***
blight seeds, wholly
so she can grow (afflict me) elsewhere.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
bathing
chandel eirs
exhausted by
nomads retreating within
the
paracosm of a Mountaintop
snow in your voice
a bell being sounded
bell(((((
)))))
receptive to the running water
a sauna made of afterflower
you have heard the gospel of lazy shoepolish/obsidian palms
and worried over
beaches that are really just an exte
nsion of the whole
jealous Pacific
flaura shyly stripped of glory
whisp ering
like a convent
about the mist applause
the python noise of
hot springs
where its inhabitants were born/why they release a certain
desperate O
to the mountaintop sleeping with spirited confidence
this palace of stone which relies
on no approval
not even the sky, or the early tangerine
dawn
not silence
or previous wars, these travellers seek to cocoon & spring forth as a
colossus
that no longer has the capibility for tears
where home becomes world
as rock communions with Yggdrasil
and the leviathan of time will
collapse
unceremoniously before the first leaf
of the newly formed valley has
ever heard
Autumn's seductions
ah, the golden migrant wreathed in
the liquid base of their worship
may oneday achieve
an
absolute renouncement of the soul
for a bluebird to be born
amid the
overgrowth
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
a 3 goes 1x1x1
in
procession
possessing a multiplicity
that shifts in threeish splinters
they mutter hushes
e n t ering
that hallowed cavity
of cinematic
d
e t
o nations
exploding a visual eruption
on their willing
1x1x1
i's
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 12:32 AM UTC