"ferrous" poems
In the Boondocks of the Ozarks
Salty caramel smelt of August
Swathes stench of rotten trailer parks
Imprisons barren mid-west dust
Feral fevered kids a hunting
For to cool; shoot up, or drink
Arthritic railroad; tie and shunting
Ferrous old town wretched on the brink
Since the cease of mine and logging
Depletion of iron lead and zinc
Nag horse too dead for flogging
Folks futures draining down the sink
Some respite in the summer heat
RV’s; tourists and campers for trails
Like blackfly plague pick off the meat
Fly fast; escape as another harvest fails
Dark currents pepper darker mood
Intolerance grinds in the daily way
Resentment bread as only food
At someone’s door the blame shall lay
In the graveyard of the Ozarks
Rednecks dance on industry tombs
Burn brown smoke spice. Moonshine sparks
Oblivion; no life. Back to mothers' womb
©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
May 23rd, 2019
I first felt the ferrous fissures
Delivering shivering quivers
Down my spine
As each chime took the sight
Outside our present days
Then the shakes grew into tension
My naked, sobering suspension
Was left never to mention
Nor whisper what I needed to say
And when I asked you of this
You withdrew so quick
I only had time to trace the lines
Of your last escaping shadow
Holding on to tentative strings
And all the small things
You left for me to find
The same gray forests of signs
And plaintive silent ways
Designs you used to craft
And convey with clever ease
Laughter once beseeching my thoughts
Silence now haunting my dreams
These memories are now
Presently looming
Cold coniferous trees
It's not as if I can pretend
Like simply taking paper and pen
Could possibly remedy this
While I have to look down
At the ink staining my foot
Ankle and wrist
I'm convinced that I created this fate
Because in this picture frame
I'm the only one who made a mistake
*You carry the hate in your heart
like it's been privileged to you*
*My misgivings have adopted
the persona that I imbue*
*I faced the other way as we faded
when you withdrew*
*You suffered daily
and faced this struggle alone*
*Claiming everybody abandoned you
and did you wrong*
*-But you don't lose me
Like I've told you all along*
RE: August 23rd, 2021: - but now you've lost Me with the same old song
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 2:20 AM UTC
Walking through the road of bones, on the way to Gulag,
Sleep by the sleepers, till you are just leftovers.
Making way for the ferrous wheels, mean machines,
The Red Tsar is still a reverend, Sukhois fly by.
Witness the northern winds, take a time lapse,
Stare at the Kremlin, wonder what Putin's doing?
Deserts of different shades to the opposites,
Unsaid and unclaimed they rule the north.
The lost Soyuz men in the space, still a mystery,
Few hundreds revolve with little hope and air.
Uncle Sam's contender from time immemorial,
Its a mystic land, Keeps you wondering of it.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
each day lasts forever.but the weeks are forcibly torn out.crumpled into the void like unwanted notebook pages-the years are the most frightening-just to slide by them.folded over like the rolled edge of a dull pocketknife. imprecisely honed. imperfectly lived. [memoirs of a boy scout drop out]there's something suffering (in the way you do those things) stumbling into the musky, razor-blade winters of jack london's finest fantasies.like a ghost seen walking in circles around the perfect spaces in-between the empty moments of gentle speech.mumbling softly over the warm murmurs of crackling embers delicately pacing distance between themselves(so as not to burn so quickly.)the hot tangy slurs of blood dripping from downward facing fingertips.teeth gnashed together, translucent grey flint-wheel sparks springing from the shadows-flaring nostrils coupled with rapidly expanding lungs.breathing in the ferrous red-a single hammerfallpulsation. arms interacting with the bitter indifference of the cold that snaps open the veins throbbing wildly in clumsy hands-letting the animal spirits trickle out unrhythmically-into jackson ******* droplets.
onto the pristine snow.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
enriched macaroni product
(wheat flour, glyceryl, mono
stearate, niacin, ferrous sulfate
(iron),
thiamin mononitrate (vitamin b1)
riboflavin vitamin b2 folic acid)
cheese sauce mix (whey, malto
dextrin, corn syrup solids salt palm
oil modified food starch milk
fat milk protein concentrate con
tains less than 2% of tomatoes*
milk mediumchaintriglycerides sodium
tripolyphosphatecream citricacidsodiumphosphatelacticacid naturalflavour** onions*** tricalciumphosphatepartiallyhydrog
enatedsoybeanandcottonseedoil guargum monosodiumglutamate garlic****yellow5yellow6spicemalicacid enzymes disodiumguanylatedisodiuminosinate artificialflavour cheeseculturemodifiedfoodstarchmaltodextrinpotassiumchlorideacetylatedmonoglyceridessaltmediumchaintriglyceridesapocarotenal(colour)contains;
wheat
milk
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
Summer lies while river rats gnaw on posts
weathered from the reverence tides.
Hunching over limestone slate,
picture pissed-eyed states of the caricatures.
Loss of limbs in dissociative fugue.
St. Anthony's fire up along the coast.
Ergot Dreams: Such splendid things!
Waking up in a pool with callosum yarns
spinning words of concern.
And i've come so close
time and time
to find the pinhole tube light.
Words keep seeping out,
I hear my mother holding me here.
Frozen solid.
Stuck in a cot.
Letting the little ******* off his chain just to
hear him stream
How many lives to burn in the ecclesia pyre
while jesus sweeps the remainders
off to sea?
Maybe I have died again,
living in this ferrous skin.
Seeded fledgling after all.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
Saturday Afternoon at the Smithy
Heart-pumped heat wall -
bellow-breathed cherry tip
Tink-tung Tink-tung
spring-hammered hop-head rhythm
bingo-winged ripple, suet and mouth.
Square peg – round hole? No problem.
Hot iron wrought with box-jaw tong tease.
Tight fit. Good. Sweat-drop-splatter.
Wire teeth scrape garnet rifts,
Pig scratch back into scraped coke -
metal to plasticine.
White fizzy sparks fly and hiss
Phlopp – thirsty water stings.
Ferrous blood taste – time for tea.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
And I gave my First Snowglobe to them.
…And When I had given that to them, I had told him to give me a gift in return that may have more to itself than just simple life.
“Inahah oona sept amni kquestal”.
Yet I had no other thing to give, this broken soul, beyond more than just flesh, I was naught. And so she had nothing more to me than that of the great overtone, the great silence of the earth, of space, her arms stretching invisible to hold our gaze to her innumerable foreign light show and state--
Perhaps there is another lover of soul somewhere within?
And he said simply to me, that there is someplace for me to be, someone for me to see-- that there was innumerable and inexplicable, incalculable and incomprehensible, powerful and overwhelming deterministic fate that guides my eyes, lets me chose without choosing, think without thinking, know without knowing.
And he knew—and she knew—and they knew with a knowing that I can never know; true and whole and unspoken, I can only dream to describe.
"We made the world for us, for you."
And I felt their love radiate that ferrous heart, steeled with centuries of pain and removal, heated by the ***** of her truth and guided by the loving, tender hand of his true brilliance that blinded and pleasured my aching eyes.
The entire web of the cosmos, in my eyes, dreaming and thinking that maybe I’d be back there one day, whole, float-- bool and cruelty of world inconsequential within the vast expanse of everything—
A powerful, emanative, restorative code of the universe that held itself no information but all, no hate but the misidentified ache of longing love, differed from the soul of the grinding earth—so far away from god through sickly skin and broken bone that without expanding into time and vaporizing into pure light, these feelings which we can never know.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
with him included? the devil's dozen, or
the 13 -
then the hours of Horus:
noon - Simon Peter -
later with covenant
of the hour: holy spirit,
and the minute hand: son
and the second hand: the father
oh quiet the trinity handful,
given year zero -
hours 12 through to 1
Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew,
Thomas, Matthew, James, Thaddeus, Simon, Judas
s / p.
s. a.
θ. j.
j. Δ j.
m. p.
b.
look at the ******* clock! something's awry!
Simon peter 12
Andrew 13
James 14
John 15 (3 a.m. / p.m.)
Philip 16
Bartholomew 17 (5 p.m.)
Thomas 18 (six)
Matthew 19 (seven)
James (ibn Alφaeus) 20 (eight)
"θ" (nine),
Simon K9'ite - ten
Iscariot - eleven - clocks are wrong...
the year 0 a.d. is based on this,
twelve disciples, twelve hours a.m. / a.d.
and v.
p.m. / b.c.,
hence the trinity / Δ -
an hour for the holy spirit to catch on,
son monetises the minutes
and the father being omnipresent understands within
seconds...
but i was aiming to do justice to the harvest missed
last year, i was intending to make wine;
hence the list of ingredients,
a) wine yeast;
b) yeast nutrient:
diammonium phosphate,
magnesium sulphate, nicotinic acid, magnesium carbonate,
thiamine hydrochloride, zinc sulphate, ferrous
ammonium sulphate, biotin;
c) pectolase:
pectinase enzyme, dextrose monohydrate;
d) bruclens cleaner / steriliser:
sodium percarbonate;
e) fine fining A: silica sol,
" B: chitosan (derived from crab and shrimp
shells, contains sodium metabisulphite)
f) two months' worth of patience.
it's that time of the year where you make wine
(just a little bush, enough for 12 bottles) -
and gestapo a curry -
a tarka dhal
and a kheralan chicken with coconut milk...
i love when **** decays, it tastes better than
when **** blossoms and isn't exactly edible
but merely colourful.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
Iron graces my tongue
Hephaestus' ferrous fire
My song won't be sung
accompanied by drum or lyre
This won't end
never now or later
See the burns
on your most worthy opponent
See how far
how far you bent
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 10:29 PM UTC
punctuality suckles a speedy affiliation
with wakeful limbs, christened of an inferior exception
some days I might touch upon a suitably plain persistence
through a righteous soliloquy,
an instance, steeped in harmonic fear,
where music can no longer buy sleep but ****** gestures imagine a time
when oxygen will not consent but leave my lungs,
scabbed,
torn
then will come the difficult hello
for whisky rarely clears the mind
of smoky memories in slowed down time
more so while you still live in the hole
I drank into the side of my jaw
eternity
it seems so vague,
spacious yet thimble sized
whilst nature frowns,
cured,
withered and ferrous
noting the unobserved,
even as the militant dynamic
of every unendurable star fingers forever
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
.
Beams of light are entering shyly
into the darkness through
dungeon bars
Carried from the bridge are resounding
Screams and chains and wailing cries
Confined prisoners the defiant
The suffering paying their price
The walls are echoing
With whispers of the final prayer
Falling down the tears of blood
Frightened by the ferrous tide
And the Infinity’s deadly voicelessness
Perished the wholesome
the innocent the hungry
Against the injustice to rebel
To their children bid farewell
For the freedom of their children
when they drew
that final breath
Drawing close the final moments, my life
May you never forget
That moment of horrid death
The innocent could not object
The prison drowned
in tempestuous sea
Immersed the dungeons
in sharp water entirely
To pieces scattered victims hearts
Bodies and souls torn apart
With a screaming cry
Heavens let out a painful sigh
Saša Milivojev in Venice
9.11.2012.
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
www.sasamilivojev.com
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 7:14 PM UTC
all things consist as sounds consist
of the elements
[Here follows the history of the four]
evident then,
what we have said before
all men seek causes named
we cannot name any described before
not at all.
the Subject lisps
it is young and bone by virtue
the essence and substance of
flesh and tissues
the elements and
the names - fire and earth and water and air.
He has not said clearly.
Our views have been expressed before;
but let us return the difficulties
perhaps we may get some help towards
our difficulties.
The Subject of our inquiry:
we are seeking the universe.
the fire, forthcoming
as flame would follow
moth to candle
vapor to lust
lust to yearn
yearning to dust.
A fire’s flame, inquiries made
the perfect deep shade
of rust.
crumbling to ferrous, ferric
streaks in the Earth
the earth.
O humble, o depths
of rich and mysterious mud
o magnum mysterium
overturned with resounding
thud
and iron streaks richer than blood.
but crumble it shall
in many waters, rivers
the orbital, the oculus
the eye of all clarity
and all washed away
it is time
it is time
the Subject: washed away
into vapor
into air
into wind
the howling, the holy
the Subject lisps
and it is holy wind
holy flame
holy earth
holy water
wholly: the Universe
and nothing more
and nothing less
than its elements
than sound
Here follows the mystery of the four:
they are holy, inherently
and wholly, inherently pure.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
the waters ring red
with the ferrous clay from these plains
brutish brown on cloud cluttered days
caramel during floods
my feet know nothing
of water moccasins, though
a rattler nipped an ankle on these banks
a million years ago
feet don't recall
they slip into the cool tickling stream
innocent, not looking for a Baptismal
though the serpents are ever present
slithering in the depths
just beyond my eyes, only a few silt filled steps
from my ten toes, waiting--wanting fallible
flesh to slip within their sights
where there will be no
original naked temptation, only the striking,
the ********** venom, and the second fall
from grace, without woman to blame
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
lost ardor, long hidden beneath these initial wastes
pinpointing the mines and matters, estimations and worth
your excavation operating on the surface of my bereavement
without any evaluation of its dolorous costs or the extent
of these ductile veins, rivers through our subterranean natures
your shadow requirements, eroded and befouled
now, neither my eyes nor I much love your dark
epicardial secrets, projecting deposits of debris, the chloride fragrance
of our secrets, hidden fires underground; your love, all and away
digging, mining proposed new lovers out of us both; gravels and
pain and gas; ferrous exploration; uranium reclamation anew via
caustic layers of ore and deposits of once-flowing love
alloys of dead flowers and waste form my rocks
seething into scabrous life like bantling cacti after a lover has risen
such risks always require a proportion of love be livid, recoverable;
threads of passion dissolved in the complexities of the body
grains of unconsolidated minerals evoking love and potash
yes, secret metallurgists like you pose acidic dangers
to my soft endocardial things
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
A man I knew once
Of nobility and pitiless prose
Forked tongue, a mind who blunted those of ferrous wits
A soul nurtured by the forest ewe
Adverting stimuli, in solemnity he sits
A flicker of passion in his throat arose
Promptly licked by that silent promise
Condemned to obscurity, like firm soil he is composed
Ardent and sullen like any cracked timber,
He remains fixed, as the dead in peaceful slumber.
All and none, brothers of the pupil akin
The zenith of event, he has already been there
Visions of splendor, grandiose pulchritude, and ruin
Of his that mine eyes seek do not they dare
Of mine his eyes have never been so cursed
Blank but fruitful what glory he has seen
Of things beyond all mortal belief is he so well versed
Encased in lye and pewter flesh,
No hands were laid upon that sconce
Preserved in ****** garment, immune to life’s thresh
Did not he ignore a man, but rather lack response?
Him lacking had no name, but the case of which him befell
I called, ‘tis true, beckoned him here
And not a nod in my direction
Yet to beseech a brook at the chine of a knell
A thoughtless benediction
But deluded I, spent drunk immersion in this life
Drowned by rushing torrents and temporal maelstrom
A reward of prolix strife
My thoughts composed of endless lies, theories
Countless deeds of fitful right and wrong
Yet he, so pure, have thought nothing like myself
No speech to taint his canvas
Nay, he’s different, of this I’m sure
He’s not diseased, he’s not impure
For it is I, of adamant ardour,
Who should seek his mindful cure.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
I thought you changed for the better
You were nice and sweet
Our days together were filled with laughter
I really did choose you over her
Since I just wanted someone to call a friend
For a while it felt like I was betraying one of my best friends
I gave you a chance
I hate how much you neglected my love
For I enjoyed our time together
Then you met a guy and he takes all of your time
We don't talk often but you texted me today
In a ferrous rage saying how could I betray her
I don't know what I did
She's telling me I spilled the beans
The thing is I never had the beans
She must of miscounted her beans and blamed me for some information that leaked
So you are just too childish for me
Apparently I can only have one friend and not two for you two have too much history
Now I pick her over you sorry but you are a nut job
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
luscious corpse meadow salvation
wet waxy journal scrawled generous
be straight narrow crooked armor amour
fractured ferrous magnetic skin
dry husk sheathing thee: she spun metallic
so, yes, i will
but just this
once
May 18, 2010
May 18, 2010 at 12:03 PM UTC
She sit then grow something in my cup of coffee
How can something so obvious become generous?
When we talk about ferrous and phosphorus
Chemistry and smile become vitamin
and your whole existence, addicting
like a bunch of amphetamine.
**** like you did in January
Oh, my lady died in beauty
For my butler, angel and death
In your hand, smell like a ****
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
beats musically the eternal
recalls remembers replications
rhythms flows driven
we just act innocent, is it all all about hooking up
attraction, repulses magnetic ferrous responses,
******* or not, crude, or maybe
I am not fooled.
It's all about how many times we get a nut.
How powerful we are, the total amount of
genetic code we leave.
Only one way
to do that.
We are,
all animals.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
This ferrous heart
Rythmic in my chest
Striking sparks of scarlet
The rush of love
Urgent
Liquified
Thundered pulse beneath Hapheastus hammer
I am tempered
Precious metal wrought in chains
Your weathered hands strain
Clenched against the inevitable
Release….
You know you want to let go
Hesitant fingers rest
Against your hoary spine
Your response
The seismic reverberations
Rippling epicenter
Spasmodic undercurrents
Your shimmered skin betrays nothing
Silence
Before small sighs break
The surface tension
The catalyst
The chaos
Does the earth move for you, Baby?
Terminal velocity
This pyroclastic flow
Paroxic refrain
Embrace to disengage
You curl up mummified
Like the mutts of Pompeii
Ash covered and ragged
Legs splayed and heads thrown back
Against the seize
Measured breath forms fumaroles in the twilight
My vesicular skin soaks you in
Haphaestus aches
This ferrous heart sparks and breaks
In a dented cage
You never penetrate me
Eros Eternal no more valuable
Than chips of pyrite
Grace the palms of your hands
Transient cheap glitter
This exchange of fool's love
Procreation of Titans
Is best left to the gods
After all I give
You return only the memory
Of satiation
I gave you all of it….I am broken stones
TL Boehm
01/30/09
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
.
In this century withal
Rivers of blood still flow
Bombs echo
Children are being killed
Heads are being severed
Millions are starving
Diseases are devouring
And you are singing
The gallows are trembling
In the valley of the fallen
In the salty tears
With our putrescent sores
We fall prey to the crows
Our festering entrails
For the starving wolves
A shattered house
Little boy is weeping
Over the body of his Father
That forever now is sleeping
Schools Temples and bridges bleeding
bloodstained wedding guests are screaming
Little white coffins
Maternal howls
Above Uranus
Hear the painful growls
Delirious poets are prattling
And not a word are you uttering
They blinded you
When they ***** your daughter
Strangled ‘er with the wire
They abducted your brothers
Tortured in the cellar
Shattered their fingers
With ferrous clubs
With a saw agape their skulls
Their legs wagons lacerated
Their limbs with machete dissected
Flayed the skin of their backs
Dumpers of corpses
Bulldozers to the grave consigned
Roads run over their bones in cement confined
Bodies filled the bottomless well over the brim
Come closer
Look within
The infinite darkness of the abyss
To hear the silence of the universe
A spark is glistening in an innocent eye
Children are helplessly falling to the dust
Venomous saliva dripping from their mouth
As their rosy intumescent faces bust
In their closing prayer
Reverends to a cross immured
Laughing at the stake they burned
Tender ivory cherubs
Flew away like a flock of birds
Rip my heart out from my chest
As I am unsleeping
May your golden ship catch wind away from shore
To raise your glass of blood once more
As you feast your eyes in silence
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 2:09 AM UTC
What's a ferrous person
Doing here, they asked, those bars of gold
Clutching iron filings as if seeking to squeeze some life into them
Some heat
I clenched my teeth,
Furious
Snobbish, looking down on baser metals,
Mixing only with the company of diamonds
I pulled no punches, held my fists
Red while they jeered
The cracks of ore in my coat
Furious
I bandied through their
Glittering parting like oil and water,
Sliding off me like I wished their wit might,
White hot and flaming, cracking brittle,
Fragile filings
Melting furious
Uncontrollably smelted
Hammered by their eyes
Clenched by their sneers
And burned, scalded, reshaped, reheated
Abused
Scarlet-whipped and chamber fitted
A drill, to reform to a drill,
Aimed at
Softer metals, I
Turn on them, they
Shy away, anxious not to mix
With baser metals, throwing
Iron filings to the floor,
To the earth
Where gold wishes it could be
My jewelry
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC