"galvanizes" poems
The clock is filled with mockery
As its ticks and tocks
Ring in my ears for centuries
I watch the sun slowly set
Knowing it will rise once again
Having lost the uncertainty
That ensured my happiness' existence
For those whom I
Once shared life with
Have long left this world
And I will never know their fate
I will never experience
What galvanizes my curiosity the most
For we have
Unintentionally ended our lives
By disabling their ability to end
Causing a truly perpetual imperial affliction
As wishing for more
And for less simultaneously
Often causes
My eternal regret
Is that of greed
And disregard
For immortal consequences
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
The ugly poetess
Over the housetops,
Above the dry blades of the sugar cane husks
I have known fear, I have known hunger
I felt the pain of a nail wound deep in my foot
I belted out the blues like Nina Simone
An era of reform: the moments of truth,
On top of the hill, lies a village in Barbados
Acid rain, rooftop leaks on to my bed
It was a rough year:
only food sources were rice and breadfruits
We lived through it all:
It was my destiny:
To love and to hate them:
those old fruit loops
Through the eyes of a uprising poet
The curving of his pen,
Somehow, he made amends, he purge
the smoky air,
the disgusting sight of the pig pens
out of his mind
lack of personal dental hygiene,
the elders lost their teeth
Grinding down on sugarcane, while they
awaits the big meal of the day
Supper!
With innocent eyes and achy feet
I read so many books for inner peace
My stomach was empty,
but my mind was at ease
To dream big while aiming high
Marlene, Delores, and Linda
Known as the vanishing three
Migrated to North America
Where a Barefooted child
like me wasn’t supposed to be
Eventually, I know I would have followed
I have woven my feathers,
while looking upwards,
In my little corner under the old rusty galvanizes
.
At the old country shop the vanishing three mothers
told me that I wasn’t pretty enough to leave the island
Words of hatred, mere words of discomfort
I felt my wings tighten against my rib cage,
My tongue, glued against my jaws
From that day forward the poet smile against stupidity
And spitefulness, she too had come to
Eat her words, the old shopkeeper
The poetess enter another line from that era
Uncaring beauty without brains
Where are they now?
I walked with confident down that street
The misty air moist my skin
The poetess return to the Island of Barbados
Without the sugar in her blood..
.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
your words like high speed winds
making noise on my skin
I put on a psychedelic lipstick
I take off the blue dress
(made in India)
- he tries new scores with
oxidized fingers
galvanizes the silence, the thirst, the dreams of the air-
I want to confess iloveyous louder
than the coffee machines. Louder
than the morning radio. Louder
than tram number 5.
life is what happens while
you stay, leave, come back and
redefine our melting point
I open the door,
you are there
with your carnival smile
and nothing prepares me
for this obscure truth:
imponderable I feel
when you say
my name my name my name
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
The mountain peak penetrating the sky
A lead sky hidden behind the indigo clouds,
Tapping with its shade the rain shower
Which beats the world of emaciated feelings
Those feelings keeping the encroached souls
In a mesh of life without hope
In a framework of themselves
The sky penetrating the mountain
In its valley's green depth
To the place where
The life's last illusion flows
In the middle of the chasms
Where the running water galvanizes
The gold silence
Weary wandering seemingly to nowhere
Trying to vanquish its metamorphosis
In the time sight
And on the time ear
The echo of its sound penetrating the life
Of a new spring, in its own
When the absence of the old one
Means not forgetfulness
Unlocking the ubiquitous meanders
Making the rain to shine
The cold gray stones
With their arms and their *******
Freaking the pick of their thoughts
Freaking the strength of their iron veins
And their paradoxical conundrum
Like a voice which is still alive
Or like a mysterious touch
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 7:25 AM UTC
Flickering like a tentative alpenglow corraded from profaned time
A whisper jostles through a crowded rumpus prescient of teleology and design
Jolting with pangs of panic a screech emanates from the brontides of tomorrow
A chagrin outpaces the gingerly apprehension of a peevish sorrow
Among the ruffled plumes quaffed from pedigree and put to disuse
A banausic electricity galvanizes the ****** of the amalgamated acuity pinched from the sordid, the obtuse
Refracted like off a darkened moon that clenches the darkness in an abstruse tomb
Combs through sentience of Saturn presiding over ineluctable doom
A silence louder than a plangent ****** of phantasmagoria debased
A looming victor erodes with the putrefaction of sworn and utter distaste
How to obtrude on the evening with triaged fulmination
Is an affront to the rudders of a piecemeal civilization in tatters with exacting doddering calculation
Graveyards bustle with the eidolons of scurrilous spite
Congregating around a blackened epitaph on an alabaster palace gilded in the swanky pinnacle of light
Scuttling the outmoded flanks of an abortive war
Against a henchman of state too ostentatious to hardly ever ignore
We clamber with insistence hoping on fortuitous deliverance
Yet we are deranged of the clasped distance between the crevasse of the clerisy and the satisdiction of futures passed with meticulous diligence
Absconding with furtive furrows on a wizened guild an entrusted world we helped build
We witness the silence creep over us like a trepidation contained as lethal killers of the cartel willed
That which frightens a self-fulfillment is a fatalism gone awry
Someday soon omens excavated from immolated tombs will beseech a more universal backlash, an alienated sorrow that will one day cry
But until that fetched disaster occurs
Let us meditate only on the process of emanation among wayward words
That dance with a destiny that the hegemony of momentary circumstance much prefers
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
When I look at the beaming blue sky
get always an inspiration to soar up high
with strong wings of ***** and adventure
to explore the new altitude of the nature
and learn the astounding lessons of
clairvoyance and perspicacity to never to give up
While beholding the deep blue but serene sea
it always galvanizes and stimulates my dreams
to dive deep into the kingdom of knowledge
and Inspires to unearth the mystery of its depth
by gleaming the pearls of new hopes
so that new sun rises tomorrow with new dreams
Getting lost into the blues eyes of my partner
I always feel curiosity to learn
new formula of math and chemistry so that
knotty and complex equations of life
are made soluble and enjoyable by all
really blue triangle teaches untouched lessons
(By Kishan Negi)
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
i have not seen it in the
surge of the next moment. it arrived like a letter from complete anonymity to the familiar gape in the doorstep.
i wish sometimes, now that i am
full with age yet none the wiser,
i were a bottle of wine sitting in hermetic space, where no breaths could go in and out of, as disconsolate light trudges the finite spaces its fingers like a taut grip to a gun, able to drain completely of its poisons.
i have you in my blood
and sometimes its immortality
coils into morbid contortions.
a rally of aches, scraping the sinews well and accurate, paring them of their pretensions, this kinship.
i have you in my mind
and sometimes when the impetus
galvanizes me into stolid incitations, my voice lifts and then vanishes into its shy desolations and without sound,
i pass through the deluge of
all this - of i being you,
and you, being me.
i have you sometimes in my eyes,
when these two brown planets
wax in their postulations,
nebulae of emotions explode
into tiny aggregations and now,
i am a lone star in its celestial ambulation through protruding shards of our battlements.
i have you in this warm fount
and sometimes, like a dog
choosing its memory, i sometimes
wish to forget my station and elude its equanimities and only have in my dull mind, where all
the bones are kept and
guard them in the midnight where they shape themselves into
massive morphemes digging deeper to soft skin and mangled, looking
down on me like a prey caught in a hawk's periphery and lunged at,
where all aches are awakened
with recalcitrance, casting
me away from my own tenancies.
i have not seen this in the
coming of the next moment -
we were firstly, laughing at
the smallness of things, sharing
light and other affectations,
until we came in the way
of our trains and closed their
stations, looking for
a place to go now, anywhere
but home.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
If We Speak of the Hurricane
We think of past storms, the aftermath
The deep wailing of the crowd
The interview of the bystanders
And here comes that sad looks
of the homeowner faces
And there it stood that uprooted fallen tree,
Inches away from their house
And that when we know,
It was the rightful thing to do
Listening to the voice of God:
In the wind of the solemn sound
I remember the falling Palins,
The rusty galvanizes that blanket the streets
Where the birds of prey nested:
And once again, we listen to the voice of God
In the wind of the solemn sound
If we speak of the past storms,
and chat about hurricanes disasters
I remember how the winds pressed on the
Apartment window, forcing it way in.
But I listen to the voice of God
As I heard an uprooted tree, clash down
On the rows of park car, before the alarms sound
Scattering debris, block the drains
Water filled the lonely streets,
And once again, we cry out to God
The volcanoes, now hurricane Elsa
Why We??
Jul 3, 2021
Jul 3, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC