"harken" poems
Mine
6:48 a Wednesday
Two Weeks later
Then: Thanksgiving eve
5E; MIT
I sit at my desk:
stare out of the windows <
My skull
at the Chocolate Bock I just
Overflowed > all over my notes
on the Circe episode of Ulysses,
which I have not yet read.
20 minutes after I just ––
Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone
Above the porcelain enterprise
Taking that litmus test of humanity
Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail.
It was rather clear I think
Honestly? I don't remember.
Two weeks ago, I stood there==
and came up with this phrase.
Standing there with special eyes::::
Seeing.
Came back to my room, I did, faithfully
Looked there below my second fridge
A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe *****
Probably marijuana
Only the first my own
Who remembers?
Next to it: an empty prescription bottle
"It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even
_have_ asthma!"
"Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass.
Just use discarded prescription bottles."
An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot.
Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual
We make it. And have made it.
For years now together after midnight
[or so]
4 years. Soon it will be
Maybe I shall leave; probably not
but harken back, that fortnight, less 6
To that evening. Orange and purple
Effort sublime but not enough:
Lost to a team of Freshman.?!
~If only:~
"Tripped mad-laundry shrooms",
6 and a half months ago
Two men sit in the corner of my room
I know one; the other spoke
2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard
I am not sober, but who is?
Last night. Remember those videos?
reminded me that *** can be beautiful:
After basically 2 years: I almost forgot.
x-art.com. December 6, 2011
I have a perspective now:
It is not the same as yours
it is not and, by necessity,
can not be the same.
But I see it. Stephen Daedalus
calls it immature—lyrical
but **** you, James: it is mine!
I am. Will always be.
Will have never been.
But, God/Goddess **** it now!
I am: I See.
I try!
~D.B.Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
Beltane Bride
Harken to the drums of the Beltane fire
Pounding out its rhythm as the flames leap higher
Dancing around it, your senses overcome
Moving with abandon in time with the drum
The longing in your belly starts to rise
Along with the passion that shows in your eyes
Sweat soaks your body, your bloods on fire
You tremble with the force of your raging desire
You start to chant the ancient rhyme
Calling to your lover “come to me, be mine
Come lie with me in the wildwood tonight
In honour of the Ancients, let us unite”
Then through the smoke and dancing flames you see
The one that you yearn for, wild, proud and free
Wearing the antlers of the horned god on his brow
He watches you intently, then gives you a bow
You, are his chosen one, he’ll lie with you this night
Deep in the forest under the stars shinning bright
Like the Lady and her Lord, you two will be as one
As you make love to the rhythm of the distant Beltane drum
The drums are now silent with the dawn of the new day
Your loving now more gentle, for no drum beat now holds sway
Buried deep within you, his fertile seed pours forth
With each powerful ****** of his, you feel its potent warmth
A Blessing was bestowed on you virgins both that night
By the Lady and the Lord, the only witness to your rite
Today is our Hand Fasting, he whispers softly at your side
I will love you for eternity, my beloved Beltane Bride.
Blessed Be
9th April 2012 Dragonborne Wolf
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 7:45 AM UTC
Summer sun, lots of fun, let's go to the beach,
The moon tonight will be warm with light a border does not breach,
The wind carries dust along, rust adorns some iron, lets sing a song!
Birds and bees, fly through some leafs of the happy blossoming trees,
This time to come, as spring moved along, worth looking forward to
Oh little cloud, are you coming in a crowd ? The sky begins to darken,
A thunderstorm with many lightnings, harken to their voice,
Growling loud and ominous, it's not like you would have a choice,
Once this heaven clears up, the scene will shine brightly,
Like the sun, gone beyond the zenith simple yet lightly,
Lose yourself in the wandering fragnance nature offers you,
Once you're back, your back will crack by the work you do,
Wishing to have cherished moments of such joy to an further extend,
Time is some wealth everyone possesses yet you should not pretend,
to have plenty of it when it is running out and coming to an end,
Let's enjoy the summer sun, together as long as we can,
Doesn't this sound like a good plan ?
~ Umi
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
Harken ye temptious ear
To this scandalous tale
Of the indebted lovely Lady
Sorrowfully saying "For Sale."
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
green hills, rolling green
i like you
with fresh dewy innocence
you speak in hushed voices.
your sides are guilded
with coral white
your tops are crowned with clouds.
green hills, rolling green
i like you for the majesty
you wear your verdant vestment
forever stretched your arms to the blue
forever sheltered by the stars.
green hills, rolling green
tell me, do you like me too?
would that when i harken
to the trumpet call, when there would be
no excuse to tarry
i should lay spattered on thy peaks
first touched by the divine finger
piercing the nimbus mantle.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
.
Come! Come! One and all,
come to my woodland hall,
attend ye all mid-winters ball,
in friendship harken to my call.
Paths awash with candle light,
in the branches burning bright,
such an enchanting magical sight,
to guide you gentle through the night.
Friends with whom to drink and eat,
cuddled warm in a sylvan heat,
while dancers fling to keep the beat,
songs are sung, lovers meet.
And by a fire in a little glade,
words are spoken, promises made,
the Bonding tree with hearts displayed,
brings memories that will never fade.
.
*And when the party is at an end
I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend,
and quieter than what lies beneath,
whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.*
© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
Harken now to the fighter's call
From demigod warriors to the petitioners at the mall
We band together and rise when they divide and fall
E Pluribus, Unum: we rise above it all
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
Friend Rockstar,
Listen, yield to a robust think-tank,
earlobes skidding against wheat and grain.
Terrible story, yes, what happened to that little girl.
Sterile teddy nightgowns weeping in the squad car windows.
Teacher – Teacher, do you harken my yodels for grace?
I’ve never been maternal.
Put the game on. Abortion.
That’s what I’m about.
Grab a bra. Sling some weight.
That’s what I’m about.
Some housefly wings on a weathered corn cob.
Some downhome, homegrown twang for those fancy, fussy britches.
Muddy workboots. Sweat-soaked collars.
That’s what I’m about.
Him done made me read, sir.
What sacraments did we write today?
I can still remember my first broken bone.
I can still remember my first broken *****
That could be what this is all about.
Mary, Mary, you can be contrite,
so knife – so critter – so laze – so stalked.
Who fertilized your seeds? Who reared your sprouts?
Cockle shells and silver bells, honey,
can’t grow up
to be pretty little maids all in a row.
Sterile teddy nightgowns – green bells in gaseous gardens.
Friend Rockstar, you may have to sleep.
This restless harbor is a shivering anecdote spilled from a belly,
a vast, deep cavern with love notes written in milk.
Your fried, stern smile was a flaking fingernail adjacent to the crack in the flowerpot.
Some garden, I say.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
Harken My Daughters
by Solitaire Archer
Harken My Daughters I bid listen to me
And as I say these Words So Mote it be
Teach her from now till time is forgot
Teach her broom and teach her ***
Teach now no reason to hide
Teach her scents and times and tides
Teach her hues and Teach her to bide
Teach her Moons and teach her flowers
Teach her herbs and to keepsafe Our bower
Teach her Air and Water and Fire
Teach her Oak and Teach her lyre
No buildings of Stone No meter high Towers
Let her Dance in the Snow and Dance in the Showers
Hark to me my Daughters dear Teach her so she has naught to fear
Show her Signs and cards and runes
Teach to her to call down the Moon
Teach her Sight and Teach her Bane
Teach her to invoke my Name
in my Place too- call down the Power
In our Circles or in our Bowers
As I have taught now you must too
Pass it forward your line ensue
Daughter to daughter your line in Light
for this moment forward as far as Sight
Witch follows Witch for eternitys Flight
Daughter to Daugther gives Power and Might
Harken My Daughters Listen me
Child go live it
So Mote It Be
These are my words, This is my way.
Doyenne Solita Arcanna ShadoeWalker @2012
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
The rosy-green flight
Of hills and ramps
Blurred in twilight
By a soft lamp
Golden valleys darken
Red in the breeze
Small birds harken
In headless trees
The sadness fades
In my mind’s medium
These autumn shades
Shatter the sky’s tedium
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
Maiden, maiden, maiden, a depilidate mobious minaret –
Holical, Eris begs an atlatl defection, the
Genuis-from-Mars technique – an erathicus lecanopteris.
Suffretex, past-perfection in pastel gloxinia,
Glowingly acidic and shiftingly glossidic, it’s cosmaltry mariala;
Ungual outmoded, holonym singing Aquilar rapax as demiurge.
Demos and Phobos weep, coruscating terrathos, killing riva.
Swell quickly, optic ophidia, lest the ira florena rise –
Rise, maiden, rise optic ophidia, ignore Irredelphine!
Strut the hematacolpa and pace-willow, but fail flow:
Deciduous telechir beckons, demanding autobogotic-hajra.
Piss-venom and picea hovea, eche verri naught echo –
Beta-decay and COBOL error, fandango with teeth
And sing praise for Eucladanic soignè solaris
Sprint quick, maiden-solidago gesparisè, to Misra pourum!
Majerns and hapax, death-knell aloud and encelia,
Enfloranè, haste! Enatic haste tichodrome, flee, anise!
Apios, harken: tryst-sans-thermobic sweeping of thresher-thrown,
Little-low else yet achroma, de-jubilance:
Fall fairly, ayah! So to be so, blanking systemic,
A thousand steps for one death.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
Every morning, the touch of her skin. Each feel of her fingertips awakens the senses, and I remember, for one second, that I am loved.
Its easy to forget when she's not around, and I harken back to that dark corner that holds me, holds me harder than she ever does. She knows little of it, only beckons my freedom for her nights and her pleasure and then disappears in the morning.
She seduces me with lasagna, did you know that? Promises the contents of her fridge and then leads me elsewhere, a place I know she's leading me, but I eat it anyway. She stares at me while I eat, always begging with her eyes to begin the dangerous tango that I can never ignore, and I pretend not to notice, but I do.
Then she asks me how it is and I say delicious, even when the meat is dry or the noodles are hard, its always delicious. Her lips look delicious, her skin look enticing, her curves and entrancing. Truly makes up for the questionable lasagna.
I know I love her. She knows I love her. But she doesn't care, and just plays with me at night and in the morning, makes some excuse of how she must go, ruffles my hair and says thanks for the good time, sport, like I am some child. But I'm not a child, I am a man who loves her.
Love doesn't seem to be enough for my Lasagna girl, and every Tuesday she proves it. The loves not enough, the *** isn't enough, I'm not enough. Just another pawn in her game.
Every Tuesday I come back though, and I always will, until the calls stop and her beauty stops and the world stops.
Maybe it'll never stop. Maybe I've found my soulmate over a plate of half-baked lasagna, but the funny thing is, she will never bother to find me.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
䷇䷄䷂䷀䷊䷌䷼䷶䷩
Jupiter and the moon take most blows for us
a very nice arrangement for blithering piles of pus
intelligent design or some grand coincidence
the phenomena that is life is no mere incident
64 hexagrams comprise the I Ching
64 nucleotides in a DNA string
anthropic anthropomorphic antagonists
dripping and drooling with dread
that (what if) God caused the thoughts that reside in our heads
the phenomena that is life is beyond your stead
Big bang
hot thing
can't explain
why the rain
brings gain
to the blamed and the sane
God isn't real, that's their deal
religion's exist because you feel
pithy platforms of persistent intrusions
pulpits of platitudes feeding delusions
the phenomena that is life is no mere illusion
Church day, fey day
leave your questions at the door
harken hear the story
of God in all its glory
the grand and the gory
the mysterious phenomena that is life
䷇䷄䷂䷀䷊䷌䷼䷶䷩
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I’d climb to touch his window
And make his casement fine.
And if I were the little bird
That twitters on the tree,
All day I’d sing my love for him
Till he should harken me.
But since I am a maiden
I go with downcast eyes,
And he will never hear the songs
That he has turned to sighs.
And since I am a maiden
My love will never know
That I could kiss him with a mouth
More red than roses blow.
2.1k
Eftsoons, thee would fain depart and chasten thy chance
Meseems to be fond of thou beloved with fears:
Harken thy anacreontic jovial at once,
For whosoever conveys love shall drown on tears.
Thee may not ratify affections I bestowed;
Each morn may bring no reasons to behold the sun.
Yon enigmatic events has come and winnowed
Beseech, to cease the fires, afore thy love has gone.
Somehow, blossoms will wither, as rivers will dry
Mayhap, thy heart I own shall be shattered in twain,
Welkin rings, pearls cannot retrieve ev'ry goodby
Maimed and futile; whence, no one can withstand the pain.
If these velvet ropes would seize thine eyne twixt the thrill,
Utter prayers, for Heaven would burn me in hell.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
Contain the wind and darken the Sun
Dim the stars and let Havoc run.
Let Havoc run the world once glad
And thieve the joy that we once had.
Let Summers scorch the dying soot
And Autumns grow darker than the dirt under foot.
Let Winters cover the dead with fierce cold
And let Spring's regeneration never be told.
Harken pain and mourn the slain.
Let cries fill the skies and drive thee insane.
Never smile lest it be brightly seen
And thou be known as Evil's Unforeseen.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
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barometric tendrils
psuedo-random and hybrid sets
growing like ivy in the clutches of time
such a
chocking
but actualising
grasp
..huh? what?
oh yes! sorry, sorry
come in, come in,
..you know,
I too, once, like how you are now,
was here too
so
very
very
present.
Aha! Oh yes!
Permit me a mock stifled cry of ostentatious self derision,
'hee hee hee'
aaaaaahhh..
I really was pitiful back then.
seeing you there now, I feel oh so whimsical and overcome
with
ahem
sorry.
..dank and musty cellars,
hashish and a can of beans.
(baked, not fried, -we were really naive enough to believe that?- )
had it all back then though, didn't we?
By which I mean we had nothing,
but the conviction
that obligation was something that actually meant something
rather than a Cryptocurrency in a Ponzi scheme,
(with a slice of lemon)
confidence intervals stockpiled in the stocks of confidence men.
Derivative markets
oh, so very much so
so very
derivative
idiomatic
and *******
asinine.
..Still, it does harken to its era, doesn't it?
'detached and disposable.'
toothpicks
limbs
ideals
all that
goodness!
I was supposed to be offering advice, wasn't I?
Interpolate up some mediated conjecture.
But the kids can look after themselves just fine, can't they?
So our fiscal policy seems to think;
'I wager we shear up the youth
to buy shares in implementing youth wages.'
sorry, I guess it's an antiquated complaint,
“think of the children!” , they say?
Can't they see,
the whole **** market's aimed at the proto-teens??
we do it all for them the little snots.
laissez faire welfare
hedge or double down?
A shrubbery?
Or a bacon butty with bread as ****** chicken and cheese?
(I just vomited in my mouth a little,
(how pastiche))
See, and people ask why I’m trapped in the past;
the future's got me car sick.
and honestly
we're just brimming with history
(the scourge of post-modernity)
like a black moss spewed on the walls
Poisoning visions and Rheumatic fever
tearing up our lovely
lovely
pacified
pay and display
psuedo
proto
posterity
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Sitting in a run down bar
Toasting Christmas' once again
Making New Years Resolutions
That in eight days I'll amend
Watching Christmas Specials
On what happened this past year
All the while waiting
For another glass of beer
Commercials for electronic this
and battery powered that
Pill that **** your acne
Machines that **** your fat
Little plastic whatzit whos
That vibrate and make noise
Not one **** ad of one **** thing
For Christmas...girls and boys
Where did Christmas go to?
When did Christmas die?
When did Amazon take over?
Telling us just the things to buy
Where is Christmas spirit?
In a movie or a play?
At an office Christmas party?
It's all saved for Boxing Day
The beer arrives, we look about
The bar is filling fast
Most talking of the better days
The days of Christmas past
People on the tv set
On that **** show TMZ
Reality folks, who don't know real
At least not like you and me
I harken back to days of yore
When Christmas was so real
When there'd be fifteen aunts and uncles
At our house for a meal
When charity was normal
Cynics..few and far between
When Christmas trees dropped needles
And all had a slight lean
Where did Christmas go to?
When did Christmas die?
When did Amazon take over?
Telling us just the things to buy
Where is Christmas spirit?
In a movie or a play?
At an office Christmas party?
It's all saved for Boxing Day
It's getting on for closing time
It's time to get on home
Where, I am not sure of
It's nice...I'll think I'll roam
A bench, perhaps, inside the park
I think I'll be all right
I'll pick one near a walkway
By a nice and shiny light
Oh, most of us are homeless
We hit the missions for our meals
We drink some down at this old bar
We just like the way it feels
We spend Christmas Day together
Our extended family grows each year
But, before I go and find a bench
I think I'll throw back one last beer
Merry Christmas
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
those who are big of mouth
apparently believe that putting down the other
calling them names & pepper them with slurs
might get them some advantage in the race
for the position that they crave
they better harken back
to the old wisdom of their mothers
those who sow dragon’s teeth
will harvest dragons
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
By your leave, let I slumber once forever..
And my moment shall never realize itself.
My portfolio possess no wherewithal wager,
My seat of affection is now dull and rough.
Sepsis leak a foggy black since blight is nigh,
The sea is feeble whilst the sun shine naught.
The corpse of venal men flow unhealthy dye,
Henceforth pervade the soil with miasmic malt.
Lest my mistimed demise be not remembered,
Shall the script mark y'all failed to deter abuse.
Today my ember is snuffed and plundered,
On the morrow a bright star will rise, I muse.
Heed thine auguries borne from frigid stupor,
Vicious tendrils cascade upon my rigor mortis.
O gray vision as though gazing through vapor,
Hear that silent gasp veiled under my spicy lips.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:11 AM UTC
It's our day,
harken back
to our
progenitor
who spread the
the seed of our
Becoming,
A legend who
let fearless man
to fear,
A prince who
left his crown
For a war invasion,
A great, who caused
100 million
natives and
homesteaders,
he was an instituter
of religion and
culture, he was
a constructor
of the,
North and south
East and west,
Nigeria and Niger
Ivory cost and Benin
Cameroon and Sudan
Chad and Ghana
Eritrea and Togo
Congo and Gabon
Algeria and Burkina Faso,
with or more
100 million speakers
of Hausa language.
was a hero,
Named BAYAJIDDA
Abu yazid bn Abdullahi
son of king of Baghdad
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC
Palestinian Liberty
I hear your cries, I harken to your call,
Beautiful children, loving mothers I see you all,
Weeping orphans, bereaved parents I share your tears,
The bombs fall, panic, chaos I feel your fears.
Stay strong children of Palestine,
Stay strong oh family of mine,
For the day shall surely come,
When we will rise up as one.
Mutilated corpses, Rivers of blood,
Severed limbs lay on your sanctified mud,
Upon which prophets and martyrs stood,
Pillars of faith, your forebears, upholding all that is good.
You gave refuge to your captives in their hour of need,
You roots of usurpation, you planted that seed,
Graciously breaking bread with the holocaust survivors,
It is you who carry the standard of the emancipators,
Now it is you who call out for the liberators.
Will we laugh or cry at the irony,
That only the men of Palestine carry the bravery,
That only the women of Palestine bear the humanity,
That only the children of Palestine possess the capacity,
To sacrifice, to provide liberty.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
A drop of sunshine
i sneak glances when i know not to look
for one glance would leave me blind
and broken behind the nook
A drop of moonlight
i search for light, in vain by clouds
you're as hidden as a winter night
and as far away as the wind allows
A spark of darkness
i light up only to have you fade out
silence suffices one to harken
and i hear nothing in her shout
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
Sailor come hither and harken our song
and be calm and becalmed on our uncharted sea,
and unhindered by storms that would sully thy sails
and the thunderous waves that would pummel thy decks;
oh sailor come hither and harken our song
and our voices will sing joy to thee
Rejoice and remain in the waters we share
with the planks and the plankton, the rainbow of fishes,
the garments of sailors and whalers with whale tattoos
over their chests and their necks;
oh sailor remain in the waters we share
and our voices will bring joy to thee
Swim deep to the depths of our uncharted ocean
And see the fine wrecks of the ships of thy fathers,
the littered bones strewn from the deck hands in hand-me-downs,
anchor chains rusting and bells of submariners;
oh sailor swim deep to the depths of our ocean
and our voices will give joy to thee
Draw breath from the water to taste the fine fragrance
of wines and of gold and the many fine horses
that sailed from old cities to trade with the new towns
and ventured to hear of our song of their happiness;
oh sailor draw breath from the waters fine fragrance
and our voices will sing oft of thee
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
Soot and ashes are the platter from which I dine,
the pool of my flagellation is the outpouring Merlot.
I forget to breathe through the lash,
rending the sackcloth until my nakedness is set before you.
The bells harken, the pendulum keeps time,
my requiem is set by your pulse.
DO NOT dismiss me, DO NOT neglect to
render my salvation in parcels.
Level after level of purgatory the holy grail
I imbibe and drink in ruin.
As the shredding of my skin with filaments of rope,
dislplay a journey of persecutions selfless ardor.
Crouching I beseech, I grovel,
forming steepled hands.
Oh, humble penance
slips my parched tongue and crippled lips.
Sweet King, Soveriegn Lord, Merciful Master,
I cower in my nothingness,
wrapped in the robes of bleak shame.
STILL I PRESS FORTH,
through decadent chambers,
in filth for a glimpse of your being.
For the simple gesture of uttering
your name.
Does your crown sweat with the bulk of my sobs?
To wipe your brow,
smear your worries on my bodice.
Enticing you from your throne to love...
a slave.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC