Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
PYTHAGORAS planned it.  Why did the people stare?
His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move
In marble or in bronze, lacked character.
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love
Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
That passion could bring character enough,
And pressed at midnight in some public place
Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
No! Greater than Pythagoras, for the men
That with a mallet or a chisel" modelled these
Calculations that look but casual flesh, put down
All Asiatic vague immensities,
And not the banks of oars that swam upon
The many-headed foam at Salamis.
Europe put off that foam when Phidias
Gave women dreams and dreams their looking-glass.
One image crossed the many-headed, sat
Under the tropic shade, grew round and slow,
No Hamlet thin from eating flies, a fat
Dreamer of the Middle Ages.  Empty eyeballs knew
That knowledge increases unreality, that
Mirror on mirror mirrored is all the show.
When gong and conch declare the hour to bless
Grimalkin crawls to Buddha's emptiness.
When Pearse summoned Cuchulain to his side.
What stalked through the post Office? What intellect,
What calculation, number, measurement, replied?
We Irish, born into that ancient sect
But thrown upon this filthy modern tide
And by its formless spawning fury wrecked,
Climb to our proper dark, that we may trace
The lineaments of a plummet-measured face.
April 9,
The way you clench your fists
I know you've chosen fight over flight
showing enmity to the world
for what you how its wronged you.
How you've fallen so low
into the tiger's maw
A bet to lose it all
lashing out at the will
that binds in blood.
Though its hard to relate
when fear fuels itself unto hate
spending your time burning in space
roaming through the night
setting the flames
destroying the web of lies
belonging to...whom?
Be there, frustrated
puzzled at how defective you've become
a future obscured by tar
buried needlessly in needles.
The hunger is not unique
like a black cat struts
evil, prowling through empty streets.
Dorothy Apr 2014
Sitting on the porch watching
Those rowdy ******* girl dressed teens
Mixed in with guys rocking their fit but saggin' brightly colored jeans
Was enough to make this 1930s born woman
Turn into a tumultuous *grimalkin
Boy have times changed
Jayne E May 2019
Stolen clutches in dark night
unspoken aches for lustful rites
fervent whispers from painted lips
over reaches to breech my cliffs
tantric tongues slow dancing slips
this inky night across flooded plains
weave the ****** hypnotic bob
through these wildly freed terrains
small quivering pulsing throb
awaken awash with sweetest desire
furtive fingers seek obtain & dance
to find inferno grimalkin lit on fire
gifted your tongue untied to entrance
proud presence stands fast and firm
accent to my sifted pearly softness
emplore me to wait as in set terms
bitten lip chained back rivers to my hips
shortened breaths restrain the slip
canters becoming gallops quicken must
push, pull, & once again this push of lust
damns all shattered now broken down
relent, release you me, free we drown.

J.C. "honey-tiger 05/05/2019.

— The End —