"gongs" poems
I want to look out the window
And see bright stars
Lights, and shattered visions.
I want to see
Colors and flying discs.
People thinking, dreaming,
On the edge of discovering
Always not knowing,
Always around the corner.
The timepiece etched in diamonds
Solid, imbued with living darkness
And sheltered worlds.
Pass the time along rivers
Motion, curling smoke and ladies dancing
I want to hear bells and raindrops.
Scattered droplets of rejuvenation
And solitary gongs calling into the depths,
I crave to see the night
For what it could be.
For what it really is behind
Closed doors, and open windows
Behind every mind the desire to know
Others and people
Moving flesh and deep breaths,
Sighing into one another
Haunted by control,
Thoughts of distaste for the lack of
Efficiency.
For I fear acceptance,
To accept a flaw,
A spiraling flood of color
A crack in the shield of dawn.
The weeds pushing up through
Concrete,
Trees, skyscrapers grasping at the atmosphere.
Shadows beyond the fences
And your eyes when I've asked too much.
I want to feel the night for what it is.
Not for what it could be.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
1
*Gongs and drums sound rambunctious,
a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night,
a slow number first, then in quick time
racing fast,everything ends in a blast.
his self control lost, he dances like one possessed,
in the moon lit places and shadows alike.
This angst is not his alone, he feels,
as if mad at the way the world these days is.
Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis,
drums sounding mysterious, made life different.
2
Once when he and his girl were making love
deep in his veins drums rumbled,
and he couldn't but stop and listen,
she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?"
smiling, he resumed his dance
thorough the valley and plains, like wind,
to the tune of temple drums,
his hair flying and sweat pouring like rain,
she could catch the change of rhythm
intense love was there, in the depth of fury.
Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet.
holding each other tight,she said;
"you are like one possessed, fantastic,"
but he had felt the presence of a third,
he felt in his bones,
a benign female presence, who is she?
3
The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade,
wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told:
"It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit,
her songs and dance were snuffed out
at a young age, when it slowly emerged,
it happened at a time we don't know when,
a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul."
the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes,
"Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is"
the oracle threw a bit of holy ash on him and said:
"Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess
is pleased, this spirit will survive,
her speakings will come out from you,
all will be just fine, being kind you received her,
so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb"
They walked together, the woman without a body
to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs,
at times of loneliness the drums sound,
she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight,
in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.*
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
I am here, risen up
from dust
and I sit in the sand
beneath the mangroves
as fruits fall around me
thudding softly in the
strewn leaves.
We sit here,
where I am,
these fruits
and these insects
and small reptiles,
watching the clouds roll in from the east,
where the ocean sprawls,
lavishing the beach with delicate hands
under the phosphorescent moon.
We all sit here,
the fruits,
insects,
reptiles,
the ocean,
and I-
We watch dense clouds roll in
as distant flashes of light
and gongs of thunder
grow more frequent-
we sit-
we watch-
and we wait-
for the rain.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
I think in Japanese,
write down my thoughts in English,
then twist it all back into sushi:
a tasty bite to eat.
My mind is like origami
folding thoughts into meditation;
meditation unfolds
into a crisp sheet of city lights.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
I love the way you giggle nervously.
Titter-titter,
"Tee-hee-hee!"
It must be amazing to find everything so funny.
Big city, sake sunset;
a karaoke moon rises
over a robotic, neon inception.
(transmutation)
Transformers, Transformers:
autobotic-neurotic Bumblebee
comes to the aid of Samurai Prime.
"Autobots, transform!!"
Bored of the bright lights?
Weary of the snappy-happy gaijin
doing photo-photo
while they look for a sweet sakura-panpan?
Then take a leisurely stroll up to Hokkaido,
where there's less sucky-sucky,
and more bow-down-low-austerity
alongside the 108 gongs a-bonging.
Chant a few prayers,
speak with the sacred cedars,
take a dip in the hot springs
with some smiling monkeys,
and watch snow fall, together.
Nippon, you offer everything.
I can eat 20 times a day
without gaining a pound.
There's always more room
for miso, chanko nabe, shabu-shabu,
gyozo, okonomiyaki—
I am going to stop writing this list
so that I don't drown in my saliva.
I refuse to look back,
refuse to go back to the boredom
of white picket fences and hamburger dreams;
I want to stay here forever.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
totemo ureshii da.
March 1st, 2012
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
Winding down the alleyways,
Climbing up the walls,
Delivering their urgent schemes,
Yelling down the halls,
Hammering on all the drums,
And pounding on the gongs,
Calling out my burning thrums,
And writing all my songs,
Small things- all things,
These cause my ways.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
Harmonica and strums sail my shores
Tell my whole clan sonny, he ain't good
That I met a troller under a sycamore
He passed me all the love as he veiled
We walked around,camouflaged by leaves
Tell mummy he was a preacher's son
A soul that was open and hid it's stick
Unharmonised in accapellas I drowned
Swingers of melodic stormy strings
Tell sassy to keep her tassels tucked
To calm her tussles and noisy gongs
Shake on the octave of the beats
Whisked dreams of the lost yesterdays
Tell Jimmy to listen to her heart raise
Tie her down, bring her back home
Liberate and let her fly like a wild bird
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
How will one's feet dance to the rhythms if the gongs have ceased to pump the veins?
Are the hues of the palette enough for a leonardeschi art to transcend?
When your mezzo-soprano fails to hit, will your story still get heard?
Will a cyclist still pedal to savor the orange horizons without his friends?
Who will listen when the wrinkled fingers lay on the dusty piano?
Do these words still tell of a poet who once penned in flames?
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 12:06 PM UTC
She saw the face of Judas in him.
The bearded kiss festered no truth
and the metallic breath
exhaled putrid faithfulness.
The trampled petals spoor no lusting stares,
redolent no more
even as the tongue creeps by the shoulders.
The razors have summoned from the stinking room!
A slit in the neck
could rhythmically go by the thrusts unnoticed
But the chorus of the beasts
as shrill as the gongs of hell
maiming vengeance yet
not in the loss of blood will you die.
Not in my hands.
His demonic pleasures went on as the voodoo doll
resurrected in the beat of my own gongs.
Keep stirring as this spindle rouses my anathema!
his chest hairs
pint of blood
vulture’s beak
stallion’s tails
bobcat’s eye
dead evergreen
Deborah’s tears.
Stir and stir and stir!
Murmur satan’s prayer
mana mana mana boo!
ruba ruba ruba hoo!
Count the sands of the transient hourglass
expiring ‘fore tic tac sound.
Now her man froze,
bulging eyes, blackened pulse!
‘tis freedom, Deborah!
Free.
Doomed.
© Glenn Sentes
03-06-13
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Gently close the door before
Running away from the sangha of the gongs,
Running to the sangha of the forest.
Dualities, so extreme,
Oneness, so infinite.
I step more patiently now,
With the same wonder,
But with increased senses.
The senses feast on stimuli.
The senses fast on deprivation.
Yes the green is greener.
I return to the chakras,
The protection of the fox,
The fuzzy comfort of soft things.
To hear music, to bake bread,
To feel touch.
Now our distance is greater,
And it creates closeness.
Now the sadness of spaces
Creates refreshed longing.
I smile at the mystical and curious
May Apple Retreats.
The Big Tree, the threshold.
The portal, welcomes me,
Shelters me.
Practices breathing fully,
Proclaiming:
“LIVE LIFE,
LIVE LIFE”
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
Whales of thought
Dance unceasing
Bellies full curved
Chambers of bones and water
Eyes small and young
Old and wise
Whales of thought
Holding their breath
Ten seconds
Letting out song
Gongs of the ocean
Ten seconds
Rippled currents
Vibrations of voice
Stifled caresses
Tongue licking touch
Whales of thought
Songs
Ten seconds
Gongs of the ocean
Ten seconds
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
This is a psalm by my friend Mad Pastor Grovell
Praise the Lord with the sound of the trumpet!
Praise the Lord with the psaltry
(whatever on God's green earth that is!)
And with the harp while you are at it!
Praise the Lord with the tambourine
(another queer one!) and with dancing!
Praise the Lord with stringed instruments and electronic organs!
Praise the Lord on the loud cymbals and gongs
(and the high sounding cymbals too)!
Let every thing that breathes praise the Lord
(even midgets and the clinically obese and perverts)!
And that includes YOU - so get praising Him straight away!
Get down on your knees, blow your trumpet,
Rattle your silly tambourine like a mongo!
Clash your assorted cymbals and play with your *****
Sing songs and hymns and cries of adoration to the Heavens
And clap till your hands are bleeding with joy!
Be a one-man band of earhole-busting praise for the Lord!
Praise ye the Lord lest He smite thee totally ******* senseless!
Or else WATCH OUT FOR THE GOOD LORD
WILL BASH OUT YOUR ******* WORTHLESS BRAINS
FOR YOUR FILTHY SEX-SINS AND ALSO CONDEMN YOU
TO AN ETERNITY OF PASSIVE ****** IN HELL!
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
You bide my time, and cleanse your mind, and board in damped corners of mine.
You fall asleep at the wrong time to rouse when gongs resound inside.
None be so scarred to sleep as he; let him emerge for me to see.
Here I am; I've won already. On my God, how are you doing?
~ A.M, F.H.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 10:55 PM UTC
The Circus gongs excite the Throngs in nighttime Never Land –
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat above the shifting sands
And Lady Fat sits down to chat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the Band,
Ask crimson Clowns with frozen frowns, to hold a mutant hand,
While Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure Cats entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents boast black-tusk contraband
To regiments of Sycophants who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonesome Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their tattered rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
To play a part in Three-Ring Art, I thought I’d try my hand –
I mastered skills, I felt the thrills, I breathed and seethed firsthand –
But destiny denied to me to taste a lifetime spanned
With tightrope walks and trapeze chalks ... excepting second-hand...
For alcohol provoked a fall, as if a reprimand,
And now, a heap, I sometimes keep the ticket office manned...
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
along the red marble hall in the east wing
on either side, hung from the talons of granite stones
resting on their brother's shoulders in the bitter load baring
framed in golden oak and cherry wood, gilded arcane; several paintings
in the style of the Old Masters. And a long rug from foreign fjords
like a flat dune of spice, the length of a mile. pinched to a vantage point
in a spider's web. and a draft.
a draft through the twelve senses. your song un-gongs the gamelan
and the bells remain. pecked by crows of a different summer.
beads of honey making war
on paraplegic bees. we keep these in styrofoam cups to just enough; seal our wounds.
we encounter the lost rooms with the odd keys
on either side, the full length of the east hall. stout, brawny portals to discord and fable.
perhaps even windows of a different winter.
perhaps we know.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
I have been urged by earnest violins
And drunk their mellow sorrows to the slake
Of all my sorrows and my thirsting sins.
My heart has beaten for a brave drum's sake.
Huge chords have wrought me mighty: I have hurled
Thuds of gods' thunder. And with old winds pondered
Over the curse of this chaotic world,-
With low lost winds that maundered as they wandered.
I have been gay with trivial fifes that laugh;
And songs more sweet than possible things are sweet;
And gongs, and oboes. Yet I guessed not half
Life's symphony till I had made hearts beat,
And touched Love's body into trembling cries,
And blown my love's lips into laughs and sighs.
1.8k
Check it out see what melanin is about
To shine you embrace you
With multiple clues
That'll stiff you like a statue
So I'll be black as the sun and black as the moon
Black as Saturn rings and Jupiter's moon
Black as the Hennessey and the shadow in the room
Black like a smoking heart that can no longer consume
Black oxygen soon to be a black death
Lost breath finna be cooked like a black chef
Cajun fire blazin' So I can climb the
Ladder of black steps
diggin' deep formulates my black concepts
Black as Madonna tongue swift as an Iguana
Tail no fairytale black as the prison system filled with with
black hell
Black sin casted since our souls blackened
Black like thoughts you'll see once the skulls get the cracking
Black like the Vietnamese burned into the ashes piles of scented death just stacking
Black like the smoke from a chimney
So ya know fire is what's happening
Black like deaths clapping
Appraising souls swarming black hole
Preparing for rapturing
Black capturing black like the Billy Lee
Leading Washington
Fighting the Great Britain
During America's revolution
But no black solutions
Still tryna climb into a black institution
Black intuition
Hidden deep within wondering
If the Black Lord will forgive me of my sins
Let back of the black souls be watered and cleanse
Black like Boyz II Men tryna find a road that doesn't end
Black like storm pushing strong winds
Black like my ancestors forming hurricane across the desert ends
Black as Mahogany angled to perfection with black geometry
Black with knowledge of Dogon
Black Sirius like the Dog logo so long gone
Cuz black love is gone black vibes made from black lungs
Fill with black vibrations from.the mental gongs
Black like the law canonical stolen from my ancestors manual
Europeans ain't nothing but savage animals known to be cannibal
Check my black cerebral digging from my black celestrial
Dropped the sugar now I see the black extraterrestrial
Waving so I can jump into the black.mothership
And dip where no other brother live
Black as night sky line
black as heiron cooked under a spoon
Black as blueberry pie
Black as darkness in an empty heart filled with gloom.
Yo talk to em Yosef
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC
rickety minutes twitch in wood stained cabinets;
mittens in a bin . birch tones postpone in mauve
twilight... an unfinished diorama.
clandestine. a small glitch in a good rain... cabbages
smitten in mist. a thirst groaning; long bones caw
fully reclined... as timeless Brahmans.
old beams of light stack like gold bricks in a humidor;
mittens in a bin. black birds comb rogue stones then.... [ pause ]
triffids... blemish barnacles.
crystalline. a ball of lint in a storm drain... vanishes -
bitten out of sight. at first, toning old gongs... wind
chimes... earth's most wanted.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
Out of the loop de loop into the swirl of hoopla hoop
Transfer into the oasis of illusion, awaiting the water boat
Fall over the bolder dropped from your shoulder
Rolling and gathering moss, scraping off the parasites
Bowling the ball down the aisle into the skittle alley
Knocking down those fellows who denounce you
Don't hear you, read through your eyes to the back of
Your head and beyond, into their own ace of space
Rolling around the ground belly aching their sound
Machine, mean warriors of gloom, for soon they'll fall
Short of time to relish their pleasure boat, punting along
Paddling their pedalo into the grey below, capsizing
Forlorn arms stretching out to capture, only trickery
Bickering, as you fall through the gaps and rake your ratted
Soul with grit between teeth, spit, of solemn men who
Give out black track thoughts for you to devour.....
Finality bleats, gongs the looming song....the hour, fatal shower
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC
Kyoto rock garden:
mist rises among the pines...
where is that remote?
Bashō-san help me !
That big frog on lily pad
scared me with Haiku.
Shinto temple dawn...
monks ringing the temple gongs:
what a hangover.
Island of robots
poetic soul of *****
and those weird soft drinks
From bowlegged troops
invading the entire East
to bland consumers.
Japanophilia:
weakness of the western mind
grass no greener
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
Sing the songs monkey.
Bash the gongs monkey.
Do no wrongs monkey.
Do as you're told.
Life's a game honey.
It's all the same honey.
What's your name honey?
Come when you're called.
Don't back down sweetie.
Yell in the crowd sweetie.
Take off the shroud sweetie.
Fight it till your death.
Where you going kiddo?
Time keeps flowing kiddo.
There's just no knowing kiddo.
Give it up or else.
Run the risk of dying dear?
For the chance at flying dear?
Sadly I've been lying dear.
Get down from there.
Listen to the letters kid.
Listen to your betters kid.
Just accept your fetters kid.
You won't change anything.
It's not real dude.
You can't feel dude.
All you do is steal dude.
So just shut up.
Break from all the violence friend?
Break from all the silence friend?
Or maybe just the islands friend?
You can try all you want.
I'm just a clown spirit.
Talk me down spirit.
Break me down spirit.
Please, do it for me.
Break the rhythm.
Break lies.
Break the sadness.
Break me please, spirit.
Bring me ease spirit.
And as you leave spirit,
Shut the door behind you.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain
Songs of life's injustices and wrongs
Songs of protests, wars, and gongs
Songs of love and life and peace
Songs of captivity's sweet release
Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain
For folks like you and folks like me
For folks who need open eyes to see
For folks who feel a tortured soul
For folks whose lives are at a lull
Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Ever since I was, Me,
This particular me
I was told;
I cried and whimpered-
I cried and Whimpered,
as I came out of womb,
still in wail, still in snivel,
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
I Sniveled,
and sniveled that day,
into the madness I was in,
out of universe, into parallel whim,
I wondered,
I wondered:
Am I dead into my bones,
Where is the world, I have known,
The world, I have known for for 9 months-
or am I just a door, opened into storms,
May be it was for today, for few moments,
the Ill be gone !
Or, May be I was reincarnated into days,
of games leading to this game;
or was I just a foible,
dependent to layers,
of layers,
expanded into life's flare;
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
I cried and whimpered,
as I came out of womb,
still in wail, still in snivel,
I was staggered,
in utter astound, and amazement;
For absolutely no reason,
Peace,
Peace,
Yes, Peace, all peace,
Love
Love,
Yes Love, all love,
Harmony,
Dear Harmony,
All Harmony,
Then again,
I jump down the lanes of memories,
She says,
Are you done trumping?
Aren't you late for working?
Aren't you late for life, this real life?
Then slowly,
I go mad,
By and by,
I am Mad,
into today and tomorrows,
anxious;
into emotions and fears;
.
Covered by joys and tears;
.
Eroded into feelings,
.
leading unto her being,
.
So,
it again becomes a helpless game,
where,
I cry and whimper
And there she is,
after all this while,
she seems to be in my dreams,
or in her dreams,
where she wail, and snivel !
Glued into her memories,
her eyes, to mine,
distant aero-plane into her abstain,
not much of caring,
yet, in her cosmic sharing;
repairing myself, into her un-caring,
tunneling a way, into sharing;
that love, that peace
that harmony;
Mommy,
in her tummy, had her, as baby, where a cell grew into body;
in some hide and seek, in melancholy
a bit sloppy, a bit swampy;
into dancing infinity,
along, my pace in her infinity-
my safari, in her serenity;
like some birds, singing songs,
of wordless hums,
just some gongs,
in shores, in her floor,
a flower out of spores,
her songs,
silent applause,
of this bird, who explores,
into the space-less, horizons
that thunderbolts,
B O O M
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
There are times
When the clock
Stands still
And has no use at all
There are times
When the hourglass
Is empty
Without a single speck of sand
There are times
When true love
Is not the fiery flame of bursting rose petals
But holds the guilty pleasure
Of a freshly exhaled cigarette
Crying its way into split grey and blue wall paper
Water stains splattered around
Like a shotgun blast
To the temple
Of Pollack
In this hour of stillness
The sound of dripping water
Is like
A solitary fortress
Filled with Ancient
Chinese gongs
The crow taunts with universal preciseness
Staining itself with blind savageness
They are like my ex's
Crying for
More and more
Love
Here
This place of pink eraser head monotony
Head bobbing as blue faced doctors
Flick their butts into the eyes of God
Their names being called half way through their break
Their lives being spent and bent around the dismal dead
Their lives to be revealed as the table of savage time slowly slowly turns
And they will look into the eyes of the young and say...
"That was me once"
But here
In this lapse between love and loneliness
Ambition and Ambivalence
Passion and Impotence
Elegance and Clumsiness
This place I
Clumsily
Naively
Stumbled upon
Where the block is ****** with heads
With all that have come before me
Strewn mile long entrails
Lining a wooded dust covered stage
As thousands of peering peasants and tight tipped thieves and makeshift martyrs and raving royals
Watch
With keen and stale horror
Here where eyes and ears and teeth belong to everyone who has ever lost
Men and women
Lift their heads
Towards the last stretch
Of key clicking
Infinity
Here
In this place
I turn and stare into the gritty haze
Of the past
I turn again
Like the wheel of mismatched fortune
Toward the blinding illusion
Of a future
With no clear stars
In this place
A lone tree poses atop a hill of fire and death and freedom
And I stand
Beside it
As if
It were
My only
True
Friend
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
Menaced by a triumphant chanting of lament
Entrancing the soul of Hades’ kin
Missed eruptions of the sensory nerves
Onomatopoeic of hollow gongs
Resonating, maimed through the indescribable facets of
Your forgotten youth.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
Tonight the starving children are on my mind,
and how I carry on,
as if I'm blind.
The sorrow is not mine to bare,
so I carry on as if they aren't there.
I ***** and moan about a wounded heart,
how someone stole my dues today.
I stuff my mouth with beer and bread,
and a shallow laugh gongs from the hole in my head.
I know those kids are selfish too,
and want to live just like me and you-
so they eat leaves and stones and sticks that don't satisfy,
until they fade away on a dusty floor,
while their mothers cry until they are no more.
I think about the love I have lost,
now I walk on past while I count my costs.
Too much effort in my busy life,
for guilt trips that will wring me dry.
Its cosy here with my petty doings,
meaningless pursuits and incoherent spewing.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 1:10 AM UTC