"expiation" poems
being a poet is not planned
**~for Gabriella Garcia~
~~
*a sixteen old soul says she understands,
being a poet is not planned,
forcing an old mans re-collection of the first time,
he made love to a virginal white
papyrus with muscles trembling,
body bent, chest bursting a rockets red glaring,
eyes marking the sheets with salty drip spots
what possessed the wrist veins
to wrest a cheap ballpoint pen to transfuse pain,
in a semaphore of uncoded ink blotches,
what was he thinking
was he thinking?
that it was an ejection
that it was an ***********
that it was a tribulation expiation
that it was a tribute explanation?
that it was an injection
that it was a circumspection inspection
that it was a circumscision surgery of emotional complexion
excising an infection with a written genuflection?
try, but no might, the first is subsumed
by the thousands that followed dutifully
though his one poem flawless, expertly recalled,
it will always be the next,
and unplanned just like this one too
who anointed his brow, the hair and forehead,
with oil pure, dripping down onto, into his cut cain marker,
who is not answering a query relentless
is this his plan, his appointment,
is this his flawed excellence,
is this his imperfect penance perpetual?
knowing well and full
now
the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloraturas*
~~
upon this he reflects,
praying that
god protect the
young poets
from planning
______________
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2893127/unplanned
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Alone:
It began when she moved to a small town. She was not the town's normal girl. She was different. Her skin tone, her voice, her eyes. She played suddenly, walked differently. She could and would never fit in.
She went to the school where she was made fun of. It was tolerable at first when she was younger. Buy as she got older it got worse. The one person who would stand up for her left. He left her to the torments and the teasing.
Soon all they did was relentlessly make fun of her. Push her buttons. They could not see what they were doing to her. They were destroying her. Her love for school turned dread. She would have to face their voices as they called out hatred, mock and scorn. She would dread seeing or talking to them.
The little things grew as she kept them to herself. They started small, inconspicuous. Then the grew. They grew bigger and bigger. Deeper and deeper till they became the center of her universe.
She would put on a fake smile everyday the real on had been gone for some time. Her love of school had faded some time ago, but now her love of life was like the faint flickering of a dying candle. She would talk to no one unless talked to. She ignored their looks and comments, but their whispers were heard like shouts to her.
Finally one day they pushed her over the edge. Three simple words. Three words that don't mean much to anyone else but to her, those where the words that finally broke her.
She went home that night knowing it would be her last. She was done with life. She had played their game and she was tired now. She was tired and she wanted out. She left no expiation. Just a short note saying that she was sorry.
A single gun shot rang out into the quiet night. Her patents came home later that night calling to her. She gave no answer because she was gone. Rushing upstairs her parents found her body.
Her mother collapsed. Her father broke. Her family that loved her mourned for her. Those who taunted her and teased her finally realized their wrong but it was to late. The damage was done. She was gone.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
**zero context shifts
*multitasking is multi~asking your brain
to do what does not come naturally,
the enthused poem starts up, lion roaring,
a muscle car, brain throbs organic pulses
semi~orgasmic of a near-completion in
your neuronic ***** exciting and ****
all you-writ so far is:
your name, some crazed, minimal
two fingers of words with
no context, no preconceived word lotion to
balm-spread over the enflamed areas of
your brain skin
except that it’s
6:47 am, coffee in hand,
your woman slumber rumbles a left over dream,
speechifying, and room, cool conditioned cold,
ignoring notifications of overnight elections,
and a reminder-by-photo where you were this
day seven years ago today, all put asided,
permission ungranted to any distractions,
there will be zero context shifts* til the
spillage of your morn squeaking meager is fully
pillage~d here, it be within my it-takes-no-
village,
@ 6:56 and Whitman is tsk-tsking at the low poetry of my scripting, Hafiz says “hey!
nothing about god or love, what good is that?”
but it’s ok for i’ve emptied the early morning
brain bowels,
defused fusses and asides, tossed asided & there is yet some coffee
remaining but the expiation for having been
reborn this newly birthed day has earned me atonement
for taking up space in this planet
and as of yet, I’ve not stated yet to any, no. all
humans, I hate you ~ but the day is infantile
and opportunity plentiful
@7:03AM
nyc
morning
Wed Nov 8,
in the year of hatred,
a/k/a twenty twenty three.
Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 7:33 AM UTC
The walls cry-out as they burn.
A tumult of roars wreathed in the crackle of blazing matter.
Which is louder?
Perspective will tell.
The one who assaults,
Or the one assaulted?
The roar, or the crackle?
The giver, or the receiver?
Pleasure in two forms, two-faced gratification.
One hand for dispensation,
One mouth for sublimation.
And do we not all sublimate?
Base impulses, rank ideas,
On the surface, vindicate?
The residue of consequence
Brusquely scrub and expiate?
Perspective will tell.
We espy hedonism, unbridled delight,
And may envy those who bathe in these muddied pools,
Focusing our most ephemeral sense on dazzling cacophony,
Ignoring the estranged husband of hedonism,
Shunning the divorcée of delight.
Which is truly louder?
Perspective will tell.
In Oscar Wilde’s Salome the moon is thus described:
“She is like a woman who is dead. She moves very slowly.”
Pandemonium in the hall, the howling of wild beasts,
But she remains “a woman who is dead,”
And “she moves very slowly.”
The divorcée of delight,
A pitiful coming-down.
The remnant of misuse,
The scarring of abuse.
One reads on a stone:
The hardly-lovéd daughter of overuse.
And the one who gazes overlong is warned:
“You look at her too much.
It is dangerous to look at people in such fashion.
Something terrible may happen.”
The walls cry-out as they burn,
And they cry in desperation.
What we see is conflagration.
The light: A brilliant exultation.
The crackle: A herald of termination.
But when ash is blown in silence,
It is dangerous to look at what remains:
Scar tissue.
Slow death.
Residue.
The head of John.
The bones of Salome.
Broken glass.
Wilted flowers.
Cracked foundation on hollow cheeks.
Red lips the stain of blood on ivory cloth.
Festering flies.
The beating of vultures’ wings.
The snoring of satiated beasts.
The stumbling home.
Apologies.
Sublimation.
Conflation.
Expiation.
…
One’s well-mannered pause until the other’s end,
So that the one may pause…
And begin again.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
As the author was discharging his Pistols in a Garden, Two
Ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a
Bullet hissing near them, to one of whom the following
stanzas were addressed the next morning.
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o’er thy charms
And hurtling o’er thy lovely head,
Has fill’d that breast with fond alarms.
Surely some envious Demon’s force,
Vex’d to behold such beauty here,
Impell’d the bullet’s viewless course,
Diverted from its first career.
Yes! in that nearly fatal hour,
The ball obey’d some hell-born guide;
But Heaven, with interposing power,
In pity turn’d the death aside.
Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Upon that thrilling ***** fell;
Which I, th’ unconscious cause of fear,
Extracted from its glistening cell;—
Say, what dire penance can atone
For such an outrage, done to thee?
Arraign’d before thy beauty’s throne,
What punishment wilt thou decree?
Might I perform the Judge’s part,
The sentence I should scarce deplore;
It only would restore a heart,
Which but belong’d to thee before.
The least atonement I can make
Is to become no longer free;
Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.
But thou, perhaps, may’st now reject
Such expiation of my guilt;
Come then—some other mode elect?
Let it be death—or what thou wilt.
Choose, then, relentless! and I swear
Nought shall thy dread decree prevent;
Yet hold—one little word forbear!
Let it be aught but banishment.
1.6k
inspired by a short story from the man from Snake River
<>
no alarm clocks heard expiring,
unrequired and unrequited,
we,
those, self-employed by the
nocturnal repetitive recounting
of sins of omission and worse,
those commissioned in
anger and haste, that breed only
more anger and lay further waste
from humans to
humans,
awaken with an
irregular precision
and bad disorder,
demanding chances,
expiation, restitution, amendment,
but time erodes
possibilities for the
impossible,
foreign forgiveness
knock-you-down rushing currents
of water erodes Snake River boulders,
them oldsters just like the litany of our
malfeasances, indestructible in nature
geologic,
and in
human nature
illogic,
terms, such as time measurements,
irreverent and irredeemable,
for our sins
live far longer than
our owned memories,
in those harmed, who
cannot in the unlimited timeless quantity of
ever ever,
understand
your wry smile,
your why cries,
audibles you’ve
play called, go
unheard, unseen,
even and odd
Bach Orchestral Suites,
Beethoven Sonatas
more mock than soothe
trapped between industrial carpet
and flat unpainted Armstrong ceiling tiles,
you
in a hell of your own creation, forgot to include,
a Sabbath day extant, of rest for weary creators,
ever ever,
or planned in a world you’ve designed,
so the best you
can do
is write
another and another
confession ever ever
watching and listening to
the alarm clock that neither
requires setting, for
it’s audible ticking is
alarm-ing curse
enough ever ever
that always never
rings
Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 8:50 AM UTC
Dig deep poet;
You too reader;
Commandment One:
Both must obsess to possess,
Air the curvature of each line
shape with two hands, creasing and
no ceasing not till the air waves have filled
your flushed face with compressed comprehensions
You weep as you compose!
Good!
The well of tears where hid
the pool of emotions
in cavernous reservoirs
in the center of your
gravity,
needs a daily tapping,
a draining, a purification,
a quenching sweet and
raucous
where you dig, salted water will come
in the soiled, imperial but imperfect body/mind cappuccino,
there are swirls of treasures, sins and histrionics
that need discovery, expiation, expulsion,
when~then, object is surgically removed,
accept surging water will desoil,
and you can revel
in the revelation
of honest effort
Debate Commencement:
reveal, which, what and how
much, how much? how much?
(this reverbs)
what must be shared,
what must be reburied,
what must be refuted,
what must be reconstructed,
refurbished,
and what must be
demolished & deconstructed
ah, but as soul judge,
you hold yourself to a higher standard,
but in all of this but two constraints rule:
the quality of the recalled data,
the quantity of storage space delimitation
do not tease us with rivulets, nor bury
us under thunderous rushes of memories
spilling and cresting with a reek of abandon,
unless, you’re abandoning the memory en tout,
giving us your newly orphaned all innermost,
then, we must accept the product of your labor,
whether it be spoiled fruit or glorious
truth
Tuesday Apr 16
8:32AM
(the year of pollard, a/k/a 2024)
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 8:51 AM UTC
Tread beneath the sphinx
There, beyond it's hardened gaze
A riverboat waits
Slip among the papyrus
And sail south to Amun-Ra
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
532
I tried to think a lonelier Thing
Than any I had seen—
Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in the Bone
Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
I probed Retrieverless things
My Duplicate—to borrow—
A Haggard Comfort springs
From the belief that Somewhere—
Within the Clutch of Thought—
There dwells one other Creature
Of Heavenly Love—forgot—
I plucked at our Partition
As One should pry the Walls—
Between Himself—and Horror’s Twin—
Within Opposing Cells—
I almost strove to clasp his Hand,
Such Luxury—it grew—
That as Myself—could pity Him—
Perhaps he—pitied me—
1.1k
“***I read to find inspiration.
I write to restore candor to the mind.***”
N. Scott Momaday
<<<<<>>>>>>>>>
Find Inspiration:
a phrase that diodes light, a one-way current within,
making me a selectman, “of thee I sing, of thee I write,
of thee am I composed and fodder for thy dissection &
”my decomposition.”
a phrase that reads me more than I read it,
jumps onto my ontological eyeballs, a great leap
forward, and I suppose humdrum you could call it,
inserted inspiration
Restoring Candor:
thus begins expiation+ excoriation+ exhumation;
a longish road to candor restoration, where plausible
deniability is denied, Jedi verbal mind tricks are
just in movies, and candor is really “can-do(r)!”
but
no one dare say that
for fear of being laughed at,
a cancelled jingo-lingo-patriot.
Oct 24, 2021
Oct 24, 2021 at 10:47 AM UTC
for JR
at the grove’s edge
you meet them all, each one
dripping hurt, steel eyed
dusted and luminous
moss trod and lichen lipped
you go on, forgiving and seeking forgiveness.
looking back, you see that
none follow and alone you go
liminal in the margin
at the dipping point
each river pool clears of whispering ghosts
your trinkets, tokens, icons of memory
are placed in offering as expiation
each gesture a steady movement
each step up the mountain, lighter still
you are deep prayer moving steadily
toward foresight, toward reclamation, toward flight
ascendant
you are golden haired
loved by the gods
you are sweet-breathed
as friend, father, brother, as joy-bringer
you are seminal and unbound
MCHALLIS © 2015
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 1:32 AM UTC
my congenital heart defect
~for C.E.H.~
*’tis true, my heart long damaged by repeated resuscitations,
the endless revivals invasive + new favorite hits, now so enlarged,
the doctors say, no más, no más, mr. boss, don’t let your guard down
too small to accept more standbys, ones needy most, the beseechers,
the ones who only know a single equation, love = pain, are witnesses,
no theorem proofs required, the ****** expressions unholy sufficient
a few invitees rush the red velvet ropes, inside, they hunker down,
finding a cozy artistic artery hangout, filtering my blood-streaming,
eyes for new artists, new poems, new strangers to take in, shelter...
much caring for the living, strains existence, a heart has limitations,
every human has capacity constraints for loving, but they bring their
friends, coequals in pain/heartaches/false positives, no rinse cycle
it is like calcium layering on you bones, additive, addictive, andieting
is a precursor to exhilarating dying, when love and pain passes
the point of no return, once, then, there is no expiation, no forgiveness
for the trail of your damaged acts requires admittance, recompense,
3 in 1 motor oil de minimus, you want to love equally, but impossible
task, yo, won’t last, but stretch flex skin to squeeze one more in, SMH
the puzzled doctors find my weakness DNA genetic, my lexicon has
no word in any language for barricade, fence, restraints, keep out, the hearts, smelling my blood, open cells, pile in, no blame attached*
lender of first resort, giving my organs, what an exceptional way
to hasten my inevitable and total fulfillment, stretching my limits
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC
I’ll tear up the paper and go back in history.
When I still hadn’t met you, in Columbus’ time.
For your sake I combed my hair, did the washing,
dried hankies and watered the hyacinth.
On the door hangs the cloth of expiation.
It’ll become dusty with time, and the junk dealer will charge for it as much as for a quick cup of coffee.
Maria Panoutsou
FROM GREEK LANGUAGED TRANSALTED BY Yannis Goumas
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
In this life or the next,
nothing is promised
In those moral lapses,
we must seize expiation
In our web of bleak moments,
we learn that diamonds are not forever
In one hand, I held my doubts
In the other, my regrets
and I declared the daunting vow
that I would break them just the same
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 2:14 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 5:10 PM UTC
silent in penance
we await your serene expiation
of our savage hearts and
ravished inclinations
let your compassion
envelope us as we surrender
to your dominion
again among the celebrants
restless, tired and asleep
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC