"exhuming" poems
Though you've barely had a ramble
are no wayward canine daddy of note
that brief encounter in our brambles
has left the experts fearing a cancerous growth
So we starve you of your pine nuts and bacon rinds
so we can feed you anaesthetic
and betray you to the thief of time
only to make you, I imagine, feel pathetic
And you often so full of life's exasperate scurry
I worry
will the shine stray from your eyes
those hazel pools of so much of
my feeling mature, just for
pertaining to a creature's care
we all seem in too much of a hurry
to stifle what little spirit
that surrounds us
to wear
down on every minor aspect
of childish delight
in this silent sacrament
of the aging process
and with arguably years
of your fatherhood left
in the very ***** some dry eyed savant
decides it correct we should tamper with
Tomorrow I will snuggle you in favoured, bouncy eiderdowns
that will blanket your unknowing
and treat you as if
you were an eastering child
on cured hams and other saltiness
after you awaken
from those strangest enforcements of sleep
and through our eyes we will trade more secrets to keep
And we will hope, as we only can, that it was for the best
For you, Yorkshire's son, or Sheringham's
And consider with all of your
exhuming breath
That we meddled, stilling over life
To cheat a slightly delayed death.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
See the Rabbi. See him tormented by choice. See his people. See them wracked by hate. See the others. See their anger radiate outward in glowing spokes, exploding firebrand in a tinder city.
On a night like any other, the moon at sixth house, fulcrum of pinwheel zodiac, the Rabbi, awash in lidless starlight, rises somber and makes his choice. And when the sun is furthermost, he and three of his others gather at the murmuring riverbank where the brown clay is most pliable and begin to dig, sifting rock and root from trundled earth. Hours spent exhuming the clay, molding it, kneading its muscles, tracing its veins, baking its skin in the starlight. More hours spent in whispering prayer, the words bent and somersaulting over themselves like tumbling books.
See Truth drawn on its forehead, life etched from clay and word. As the sun rises, so it does, wavering at first, but steadier, lapping at the river, and their faces move slowly across the water. See the Rabbi speak to it, his words winding its mechanism. See it stride past the ghetto, wade through the market, and into the borough, siege unto its own.
See the others scream for mercy from the kiln of its stare, from their flaming tenements, their crumpling rooftops.
See it wade back through the market, past the ghetto, back to the riverbank to kneel in the underbrush. See it tilt its head to the lilt of a stranded daisy caught in a vagrant gust. See it caught, too, and see it see. It sees the colors of Eden in the ferns. It hears the river churning sediment, fossils, gravel, whirling over driftwood. It touches moss on a rock; gently rotates its hand to let a grub complete an oblivious circumference. See it sit in silence.
See the Rabbi meet with the others, then his others. And on a day like any other, when the sun is at its apogee, they slip down the riverbank where it still sits, still. It ignores their autonomous logic, their homunculus rationale. They are perversions of variety cloaked in righteous intention. So it remains.
See the Rabbi and his others gather at the murmuring riverbank, shadow conclave in shifting sunlight, then rise somber and decided. They pin it to the earth as the Rabbi chants, invoking the void in which forbidden knowledge spirals. It squirms under the power of the Word, mind-forged manacle as incantation. See the Rabbi draw to a close. His hand is arbiter, swooping down to smudge Truth from its forehead. What is left but Death.
See its hand crumble in its passage as it reaches for the stranded daisy. See the colors of Eden darken in its eyes, its own body the dust that denies it light. See it collapse into itself, the clay that was once animate spilling onto the riverbank. See the Rabbi and his others shimmer then fade into city grey.
The daisy stands still.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 4:22 PM UTC
Mouths meeting rushing to be fed and feed
Tongues mingling and exploring
Hunger and thirst crushing need
Passion’s fire roaring
Bodies and hearts entwined
Soul and mind thriving
On all they find
On a journey bereft of depriving
Passion’s fire consuming
A life unto its own in their head
Exhuming
What lay buried, lost, undiscovered, forgotten or dead
Born anew or resurrected
Nerves, thoughts, and emotions it imbibes and revives
By passion’s fire new life injected
Brings new purpose and experiences to their lives
Passions kindled now burning so hot
It sears, mind, body, heart and soul
Delivers everything they sought
Two lost, now one tempered and made whole
Passion’s fire, burning growing as they explored
***** freaky, and debauchery with revel
With passion's fire they soared
FInding the primeval
In the chasing
In the wooing
In the embracing
In the doing
In the B, in many ways
In the D, defining each other’s roles
In the S, setting new trails ablaze
In the M, reaching dark corners of each other’s souls
~Wes Noneya
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
course fur
tangled up
matted down and
entwined with nature herself
She yawns exhuming
releasing all troubles
as they float on up
silhouette outline shades inside filling up
coloring in the lines and
all you can make out is
an incandescent glow as
twilight sky
streaked watercolor beckons
as the stars line up
take their positions
spelling out the truth
always watching
always shining bright
lighting the way home for all
who find themselves
lost and alone
looking for the answer
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Your are a flavour of mystic flow and justice
Resounding effortlessly in vapoured divinity
A channel spinning within your furling crux
Cheers to our cups of leisure and pleasure
I turn around and your warmth embraces
I'll wait holding the gaze of your bright eyes
I'll wait touching this revolving total eclipse
I'll wait as I sense our forbidden mind-scapes
I have sensed your whole when we are apart
A near leap to meet,cuddle and feel the vibration
Uncovering the glistening gem that penetrates heat
Fondling the electric ******** oscillations under the bridge
Here is my cup, holding a rapture of your breath
Here is my cup, melodically swirling in fine entertainment
Here is my cup,exhuming and exhaling our magical essences
Our cup it is! Cheers! As we sprout and bloom pleasantly
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:59 AM UTC
Warning!
Her mouth spews thunder while sunken eyes flash brighter than lightning.
Warning!
The fury that stirs within her could tear down houses faster than a twister. Believe me,
no force is strong enough to stop her once the wind picks up.
Warning!
This woman is a perfect storm.
Every time she cries, tears hail from her eyes, so untamed it could drown cities.
But he loves it.
He loves that no amount of restraint can stop her winds from exhuming trees from the earth.
He loves that there are not enough words to subdue the typhoon that envelops her head.
How courageous it is to stand in the eye of the storm showing no signs of fear, even more courageous when you lie with that storm every night.
You see,
I am that tornado ripping a part everything in my path.
I **** the sun out of the sky through a straw that is my own mind and leave nothing left behind but grey.
It is not a noble feat to love me. You do not get praise for standing out in the storm.
I never asked you to wait in the rain.
I never promised you a rainbow.
When you met me I blared my flash flood warning and handed you and umbrella.
I told you that I am like nature,
layered and unpredictable.
So when you come to me,
with a smile on your face saying that you've weathered the storm,
don't say I didn't warn you
when you hear thunder rumbling in the distance.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
~
*Wake, no wake
He dreams of obituaries
And toe tagging
Exhuming dearly departed dollars
And biting the nails
Of his cadavers
Forensically speaking
He can talk of the dead
He's one lucky stiff
Pushing up daisies
All over the yard
Of his rose cottage
This life at rainbow's end
Each day mortiferously expires
It's all there in the brochure*
~
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 8:44 AM UTC
How many days left in my body?
How many poems left in my body?
One and the same, one and the sane.
My body is my poems.
You cannot distinguish me
in any other way.
eye-scans, fingerprints, belly buttons,
areolae.
all possess, all differentiate, none suffice,
I say it thrice, still you do not understand,
none not a marker singular,
they are not me,
nor are they you.
so if you read but one of my poems,
my body,
you do not know.
but when I find you perusing, exhuming,
the-ones-that-went-before
then you will, can know as well
as I know myself.
each poem a pore,
each pore a poem.
**How many days left in my body?
How many poems left in my body?
one and the same, one and the sane.
my body, my poems.**
my body is not episodic.
turn on the tv, no imagination leaps needed,
but each and every contingent on the prior,
each poem a stepping stone to the in side,
insight to the story of the body.
more story than poems,
I began in the beginning,
believe me there are thousands
of writs that lie about, lay about,
that sunshine has n'ere exposed.
but enough survived
enough shared, enough spent,
You have never seen my face,
what matters that,
when you have seen my poems,
my body, more than windows into,
they are the very pores of me.
Jan. 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Twisting endless all-consuming halls
Drain faith from faceless souls
Drowning fragile minds as a white black hole
Deadening the faint cry of tormented minds’ calls
An ocean limitlessly deep
No bottom, no surface, all sides ever-expanding
And containing, concentrating in this treacherous keep
Forever feeding, and forever demanding
This prison of mind so real in the flesh, always inhuming, never exhuming, always changing, yet always the same. An honest suffering, all who are so free are chained in their own selves. Reality is dementia and insanity is standard, the ambitions of old are long gone to the wind. The candles of emotions are blown wild in the gust melting wick, wax, and burning wooden stand to become one hideous, beautiful, abnormal, fantastic anomaly.
I ferment in this sickening hole
The pungent smell of mindless efficiency
Creates an equality I cannot stand
This nightmarish labyrinth can break a man
The ones deemed just, fuel this travesty
Of false love and compassion, feeds the gates toll
Once I had a meaning in life
But it vanished in the course of a night
In the past I may have had some grand scheme
But eternal freedom has intervened
I wish deep down that I could live again
In the sunlight world away from my pain
In my stormy mind there is always rain
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 2:53 AM UTC
I see you there, impatiently disdaing my arrival
Turning head from side to side
Your eyes relentless, open wide
It’s funny that you've only ever seen me as a rival
For we’re much the same, both you and I
We sometimes laugh, and often cry
Lost somewhere within the everything you've never done
Lies the essence of a memory
Of all we were and all we’d be
How did you so blindly miss the nothing you’d become
Every time that you abandoned me
Exchanging freedom for a key
With every time you lied to me
Convinced that I am but a fool
Another link in slavery’s chain
To keep yourself bound further
Than you ever thought you’d go against the grain
But still you sit and wait for me
The one you hate, but hope you’ll see
So you can blame me once again
To make yourself feel better
You spit me out so tastelessly
Each time you sink your teeth in me
And here…you’d have me once again!
Such truth in every letter
This message that I write for you
Will never quite sink into you
For you can only see it
From your dark side of this glass
This message that I send to you
Refracts within your thoughts of gloom
You place the blame, not own it
As each sentence comes to pass
Each time you see the truth in me
You twist it into such a tool
To harvest every ounce of pain
Continuing to ******
Every broken piece of mind that peace would claim
You’re winning
I’m losing
I’m just your reflection
Hair thinning
Confusing
Such lack of attention
Refusing
Demanding
I’ll show you the end
Exhuming
Disbanding
Such lies you defend
Revealing
Ignored
Still held in contempt
Repealing
Abhorred
Yet you make no attempt
You glare at me with such hatred…
When I’m only what you've allowed yourself to become
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Living now only on prior imagery I summon them up from their bed
Visions of how they looked to me when they were dead
Thinking of how they must now look their filling my head.
Waiting for the day when I can make my life complete
Exhuming his bones I want the bag back that I put at his feet
Inside you will find trinkets, pictures and also a devil’s treat.
Opening your casket because you’re inside and I want to see
Giving you a fresh breath of air like the times I refilled your A/C
The crypt keeper they say I was dog dollar and you Richie Rich to me.
I remember the song when I was told you died at 45 years of age
To the hospital drinking in the back seat I’m angry and need to rage
Turn up the volume please so I can hear Bob Segar’s Turn The Page.
If I knew then just what it is I know now you brother would be proud
Keeping you alive I tell everyone about you I say it clear and I say loud
I love blending in public places like a chameleon I hide in the crowd.
Happy Birthday, Rest in Peace, See you Soon!
(SirCARSr 4-21-12)
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Gazing into the void—
with his pen going
to and fro onto a blank page:
just like two lovers
kissing each other,
repressing a momentary qualm,
exhuming the extravagant proof
of their existence
—is the writer,
lashing out
every synapse of his brain
for nothing.
Nothing.
iamthe_avatar ©2015
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
Silence is the comfort of a conflicts hush
silence is the sound of a dead crows caw
silence ain't abatable, so don't even try
silence is thy lord's voice and his word is law
It's unquestionable, deadly, doesn't care what it kills
a force gradual and steady, from the dark our night it fills
it reeks of loneliness whilst exhuming sweet beauty
modest and loyal, quietly it does its hidden duty
crying through eyes non-existent
it's love invisible, so painfully distant
all alone, comfort gone from that old favourite song,
it's presence tranquil, opening your eyes to where you went wrong
It's neutral, doesn't take sides or excuses
a poignancy so strong, bitter and raw
twisted, life and death somehow entwined
I gazed upon its face and 'twas the most beautiful thing I've ever saw
- - - -
a vision flickering like a fuse in an abandoned house
it's rooms gas filled, primed for explosion -
I sleep and walk amongst the fields of dreams
as silence drips upon life and starts its graceless erosion.
AJ
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Waiting for a muse to whisper
Into the partially deaf ear of my soul
Exhuming arcane truths from the source
Distilled through the ephemeral mind
Shadowy vestiges reflected in spirit
Fluid spirit flowing through pen
The ineffable spoken in sacred tongue
Ink revealing more than mind dictates.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
*If I find the right words
after digging deep down,
exhuming them
from my deepest darkest corner,
Will the splinters and blisters
caused by my *****
bring some light
and make my life
any warmer?
If I find the right words
and the strength
to finally set them free,
Will there be an empty space left behind
where they once hid and resided,
or will you replace them
with reciprocal loving words
meant just for me?
By Lady R.F ©2017*
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
By Jennifersoter Ezewi
Back in the days
People see city as the way out
But recent happenings
Had proved diaspora
As the messiah.
Moulding lives beyond the awe.
Crowning efforts made
With beautiful payments.
Giving meaning to lives events.
Dignifying the last jew man.
Beautiful diaspora:
Thou art so colourful
In your own ways;
Exhuming your challenges and rules
Which flaws men that violates your orders.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 2:56 AM UTC
A newborn, awaiting, decrepit, and rotting,
His mother waits for him to stir,
Her eyes emotionless and defensive,
Her dismal namesake will not return.
-
She gazes at his chest, hoping that his breast
Would return to a timelike rythm,
Alas, he is dead, putrified in his bed,
Arms outstretched to a broken woman.
She quietly gasps and inhales sobs,
While her tiny one stares at nothing,
Exhuming her fear of each and every tear,
She desperately clings on to something.
-
She could not stop this folly,
This tragedy entombed in holly.
The umbilical noose, too tight
She held on too strong,
He tried to fight along,
Unknowingly suffocating in her embrace, slight.
After his movement was stifled,
She peered over to the rifle,
That sat to protect the two of them,
She thought and was consumed,
With visions of Hell, and torture too,
She chanced it with an undying stem.
-
To paint a scene in words,
To describe the horror heard,
By no one when no one was there…
What is the magnitude of ******
What lines are crossed to massacre?
And foretelling the wise ones fair.
-
In the end she sat in a rocking-bend,
The chair that carried him off to sleep,
He now lay in his cradle with sodden eyes,
Weary of counting so many sheep.
She had the sawn-off in her right hand,
The wall behind her, a portrait of her brains,
Half her face bereft of her body,
The white walls now hold crimson stains.
The infant’s hand lay through the gate,
As if even in death telling his mother “don’t do it”
The insignificant ominous one
Had lead her then right to it.
Her mouth agape, and jaw five feet from her,
Her right eye rolled back in the skull,
The blue baby seemed to look on in dead horror,
As his body witnessed in full.
The shotgun blast so strong and centered,
The power rocked her chair back and forth,
This creaking moan was all to be heard,
In this silent room forevermore.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
If to pluck a petal
makes me wonder
"love me not,"
then every pebble
(cause of stumble)
heeds a path
that most forgot.
Just a human
now exhuming
bones deep buried
under doubt
that with sunlight,
wonders one,
might not life
live without?
Much too late,
conversation
we never braved
to breach,
forsaken--
but with faith,
self foundation,
bleed so others
we can teach.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
There is a storm setting in and the current shifts from ceiling to ground
We run with scattered brains, with our mouths stitched shut, running without a sound. Fear lives in the hearts of men and fear isn’t the best company to keep. So I hold my shield grip my sword ready to face what hits me. Battles come and go some remain in history teaching generations to come the failures and the victories. Misery loves company but I rather weep and wallow on my own, darkness is my only friend and in the infinite silence we merge as one. I embrace the wicked deep inside of me, the soul is meant to be explored and non of us come with manuals or warning signs, so i dive into the abyss of my reality exhuming blood and bone, exploring realms unknown. We are black and white with tiny shades of grey but if we dig deeper we might find something else, something out of sight, out of mind. As dual beings we are made with sin and integrity but it matters not what we are constructed by what matters is our choices and who we choose to be. When our time runs out and the tide swallows us whole it matters not the vessel but the soul. We are children of day and children of night, we are duality darkness and light.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Moonstruck secrets spiral and bless
Tattered nests as the sea is breathing
Sunlight exhuming across frosted prayers
Perfect hilltops with valleys and wings
A blue voice in long shadows
Drifting in clouds of peace
A silent haze made of stones
Flowers with scars will sail away
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Hey come here let's talk
Speak, conversate, communicate
Let's relate words of love and hate
It's not too late
You got enough on your plate?
No wait, Let's plan
Yeah to overthrow the man
When the **** hits the fan
No rewind that
Let's go back
That **** was whack
Let me give you another track
Let's attack
From another angle
Get star spangled
and untangled
Fill our plates with knowledge
Take all we can from college
Get the message and meaning of
Life
Without no strife
The truth cuts deep like a knife
Hold on, info overload
We can't handle the mother load
Yeah we can, take our time
Fall back on reason and rhyme
We'll rise to the sublime
Flying high among the clouds
You hear our words
As we shout them out loud
Noise, deafening, booming
Heart and breath zooming,
Consuming, exhuming
The words of fore fathers
Our daddies, our pops
excavating, digging
with a shovel of need
Throw away the ****
Plant the seed
Like I'm doing right now
How?
In your mind
Seek and ye shall find
The planted word I sow
Sit back and watch it grow
Then you will know
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 9:29 PM UTC
at finding my insides a conical waste,
unfettered and zealous, I strolled deep into flames
in jungles of obesity and anticlimactic falls
the auras of her spells instantly dissolve
and all of the noises his bloated coffin gave
removed what remained, inside
velvet smoke culled like a viper
exhuming its prey
now hobbled crutches sway at the prow
(ship of gold holding more blue than the sea)
inhaling drops of silicon through the heated chemical rain,
melting
praying for this specter to absolve
even as it was forgiven in Eden,
now blue and useless
buried in clouds
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
*scowling as a storm cloud threatens
sombre as a brooding sky
my errant thoughts stumble
and leaving my tear ducts dry:
exhuming an abundant cascade
of strained expressions that reflect
a stained and bedraggled soul
whose fond recollections failed to connect*
●○
°
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
Her leaving heat wakes my shattered mind,
And torn tendrils of sex-stained dreams
Slip and slide away, noodling into;
Incomprehension, anger, hurt,
Coffee steam stays the pain,
Relief and hope mix in an
Exhuming brew.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC