"harpy" poems
Clinking of ink bottles
Scratching of quills
Rustling of paper
Pouring out knowledge
Sweating students
Angry teachers
Swatting of fleas
No more patience
Old mad bat suddenly
Shouting
"Bring me the earmuffs!!"
Laughing, crying, farting
Interupting the quiteness
"Why would you ask that?"
Principal Harpy asks
"Surely it isn't winter"
"Goodness me, have I said that out aloud?"
"I take it back!"
"Kindly continue with your exams"
But no matter, nothing was the same.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
So are her cutesy baby face,
Her twinkling watery eyes,
And her happy harpy voice.
So are her happiest smiles,
Her presence is truly divine,
And blessings for my heart.
So are her heartfelt promise,
Her thought itself is healing,
And even mighty is her love.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
It's a confusing puzzle,
But still holds true:
You can't live with me;
I can't live without you.
Life is but a journey,
I chose to go through with you;
But now that you won't have me,
It's hard for me to continue.
Fate is a bitter cruel harpy,
With her sisters she conspires
For the death of my Love,
As your Love for me transpires!
Hope is a painful therapy,
It burns while nursing Time's stabs;
But the scars strengthen Experience,
As it assists to keep Reason's tabs.
Love and Reason are antithesis,
That can't co-exist;
But their affinity is such
That to be together they persist.
Perfection in Love is when
There is room for Reason;
But when Reason and Logic court,
Love calls it Treason!
Love is unfair and immature,
And still as pure as a dove;
But there's no use of Reason,
With the death of Love.
This poem is an analogy:
Which in life stands true;
It's no use of me loving you,
If there's no hope for you to love me too.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
You’ve tamed the beasts -
my lovely Lord -
the twisted troll
the chucky doll
the banshee keening on the marsh
You whipped me to the temple
(they say you were too harsh)
these cravings flame insatiable
a harpy gorging fatty flesh
i ****** the thorns into your eyes
and cackled as they bled:
behold God’s raving jest!
then found you loved me best.
like wild waves and wind
You stilled at Galilee
such savage ache and violent lust
You lull with tender potency
once more a child
quiet, wide-eyed
my head rests on
the Master’s knee
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
for Nave
Busyness makes one idiotic and forgetful. And we nearly sunk the night
didn’t we darling, leaning on the wrong swing.
(It is always the peach tree.) Katrina doing her Harpy on Fullblast thing
with such deftness and professionalism she leaves us no room to respond
to legs and offers of spread cheese. And poets cave in like lonely black holes
if they cannot response as fully as they have peaches in their coffers to do so,
or at least they think so and so do we so I escaped to shower, and tried to make
the water hot enough to round me straight again, but my skin still gets in the way.
I wanted to peel off everything and douse my soul straight in the hot and the lavender, questing
for a readiness beyond the pale, some state rare, and infinitely usuable.
It was only when, and this is true, when I decided to make a list of
why I love you that the water went in
and the lavender grew instantly between my toes. And Rosemarey Clooney
danced you in to me and you were a happy Papa at last, and we knew enough. And there
was finally room enough to
mambo home.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
She is safe in
her madness.
A comfortable
tomb, convenient,
but suspect.
I wish it were
a gentle lunacy,
like Don Quixote,
almost admirable.
But it's rabid like
a berserker or
harpy, shrieking at
love and light.
destroying everything.
Some people are
drunk on power, pride,
and control.
When they
wake up and realize
they aren't God,
they change
direction or perish.
Oct 8, 2023
Oct 8, 2023 at 6:53 PM UTC
What song did the sirens sing, Ulysses?
What tune could break your will,
cause you to lose your way?
Were you strung by the sound of a harpy's harp?
Lured by the lies of hideous creatures
singing songs of fabled falsehoods?
Like empty eggshells holding none
of the nutrients they promised.
Was their melody flooded with the bitter truth of love unreturned?
Did they sing of release?
Release from the turmoil the journey was and would continue to bring?
Were the dissonant harmonics of a watery end,
the chance to be one with the sea
what made you beg for your bindings to be cut?
Perhaps the sirens sang the greatest songs of all.
Perchance they sung
of passion sweeter than nectar,
of love stronger than ambrosia,
waiting to be given to the sailor
that could traverse
death itself
and make his way to them.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Cosmic serpent
Flies in circles
Orbits earths
Visits vessels
Stings and wrestles
Prowls the plain
The desert arrangements
Faces fire no fear
Takes one look at the spider
Sees through the fire
Undresses the only envy
The necessity plenty
Of spiraling ascent
To meaning manifest
A plunge into the nest of the fortune cookie prophecies
Fate pulled from a hat
In the terraforming visions of the seven breasted harpy speech devours itself
The visioneer’s ouroboros precludes ovals of assimilation clinging tight to the exoteric
The vessel rejects the half digested
An ammonia laden upheaval
Dispelling folderol with blinding reverence
Inviting tragedy with nostalgic foresight
Wet nightmares
Logic abandons the visioneer ****** into the opposite of static
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Prerogative presumptive judicature, cantankerous cantilever capacity. Paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts, asymmetrical symmetry. Objectified manifest's dimensional delineation, intrinsic endemic innate opaque opulence. Protractive analyses accidence ambience acoustics. Spatiotemporal telemetry tactician's trajectory extant.
Prophylaxis protocol annex annul. Kinesiology kleptomaniac extraversion embezzlement euthanasia extortion, embark embargo extradition. Aura roan's rainbow mare's nimbus nimiety exorcism. Corporeally preternatural's existential exigence exodus. Cerebral cortex's ****** matrix's carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma, apex axis crux, exponentially extemporaneous manumission. Categorical imperative hubris, hectic duty deontological probity.
Astral projection's clairaudience clairvoyance. Tenets and principles, maxims and axioms, and doctrinal mandates. Exserted protuberance's edifice ******** Exotically ****** ethereally sublime xylem Xanadu sails. Erotica erectile errantry.
Fulham nuance ***** Formidable foundry of a foyer fracas. Harpy harsh hast, atrium attrition seditious. Oak tree ****** nails swarthy ******** swath swizzles and unicorn railway sails. Anchor pin tachometer troll wood harlotry's root clod rudiments, lightning bow hat pick. Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist. Transpicuous translucence alluvium aloof impunity.
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 10:07 PM UTC
the scream come from daffodils and parchment wrapped around dead fish
and demi-loaves of lunacy at new moon
succulent remedies to what not
and whatever... you remain altogether opulent in your nonchalance
whatever you wanted is dust; but you're not in France
you're maimed in false lies
of the ripple...
you're the noose garnet
swinging from the harpy's tongue
an impolite brigand
in the hate place
of your
miff.
and for what ?
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
A man stands. overlooking two different visions. Two different choices.
On the left he gazed over the glorious modernized utopia. Tall prominent skyscrapers, gleaming in the dazzling pure sunlight. Clinical white rows of spacious suburbia. Unnaturally green gardens of perfectly shaped, perfectly cut square grass accompanying the houses. Polished, scentless people strolled down the un-littered perfection of the linear streets. Enormous great smiles featured on the faces of all. The urban paradise. Biblical, eden in practise, sanctity. Economical bliss. Unpolluted, crime free, social perfection. No inequality, racism, no hatred only love among broters. No depression. The endless rows stretched glorious miles, convenience, supermarkets, brand new glistening, hospitals, all necessity in perfect working order. No unemployment, no political unrest. Every man among equals. Utopia.
On the right hand side, wretched poverty as far as the eye can see. Cramped, overwhelmed shanty towns. Terrified people, dragging themselves through diseased streets. Crippling illness plaguing the antagonized masses. There is no employment here, no glistening new buildings. Only the decaying festering ruins of lifetimes of selfishness. Hatred, jealousy, paranoia, neurotic fluttering harpy’s, harlequins of the night. Plagued minds, plagued bodies. Gargantuan monsters of men rose from the rubble. Demented. Lava flows freely through the crumbling streets. There are no trees here, no vegetation, only blackened earth. Blackened with the ****** despair of man. Only anguish in this land. The black sun burns with hateful rage in the sooty, cloudy toxic sky, the only rain falls as corpses falling from sardine cans to the sky. Burnt out cancerous lungs, filled with sulphurous air from the giant volcano's of dead minds, spewing deadly chemicals into the already uninhabitable environment. The demons of despair stalk this land, endlessly wallowing in there own self-loathing, amongst other vile things.
The decision resting on his shoulders governs life for all men, all men to come. His left side, yearning for paradise, freedom, equality for all, peace, communal gain.
His right side leaning towards narcissistic self gain. Taking the world for himself, watching alone the setting of the poisoned blck sun, poisoned by his greed.
He walked forward, leaving the realms of choice behind him. The future was his to choose.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Her memories are riddled with holes
from maggots gnawing away
at her already decomposing mind.
Rotting away inside her skull
like teeth soaking in sugar water
and Methamphetamine.
She has a basement filled with flutes
overflowing with year old concoctions
made of emotions and the echoes
of the harpy she once was.
They drip down the sides and pool,
coagulating on the floor like puddles
of dried blood.
Tattered and torn négligées and teddies
are strewn about the bedroom, stained
from the days of lulling men to their deaths,
like a siren on the rocks,
and writing the contract of her own demise
by drowning herself with them.
The lipstick is off.
The eyes of Medusa are closed.
There is no web left to spin.
And as her heart passes back into the abyss
it takes what pieces are left of of it,
an eddy of tiny mirror shards
reflecting the faces of those who once
shown into it and have now faded,
remnants, of its once glorious mosaic.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
Its not the point of killing faith that u will find someone.
Its the action of loneliness and controlling your bonds
Its empty alone and so is pretending to love
You cant make connections not like addiction to drugs.
Save the drug of infatuation.
No reason just meaning less
No selection. Just what drips in your lap
No focus just lenses that crack
The sextant marking starlines that guide your path
is no longer Coordinated calibrated to designate a map
Walk amble climb along to view a moral prefix
to design a way out of a sea just arms length
with the depth of the roots of mesquite trees in the spring
We are all stowaways in a ship waiting to jump to shore.
Trying to find a place to spill seeds in the tilled rows of a *****
The words you whisper are pretty and my minds enthused
tho i know every go at this game i shall lose
Im wandering in a labyrinth
Chasing in a brain
like a rat in a spinning wheel following reflections from a cage
You tricked me. Oh yes. You win
Im no longer a man like all women before you ate the innards left a shell
spit out the hull
Dragged my meat to the floor
One final kiss and i leave, i am missed
You say lies again
i pull off your fist
its on my head
its in my throat
i read words that you spoke
its not my fault
its the blood clot
keeping us unconnected in this note
I am dreaming
secret beaming
red lights blinking
help is sinking
No hope between two
softly stroking
my cross is burning
No fires stoking
On my fore arms
on my chest guard
all is sinking with the funeral
All the voices in my head
are telling me it should be dead
yet the ***** in my soul
tells me that he still pleas for bread
But i starve him
and i lash him
and i strap him to this ledge
for he is wrong
and yes he lies
you're the harpy of my dread
You ******* killed me like i was a lame horse to be put down
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
My eyes crave a sun so bright
a summer for my wilted heart anew
Blinded by the rays
fires of gold piercing my skin
Burning
Melting
My arms crave a mountain
of nails and ashes to drag my weak and fragile animation of bones
Set me on fire.
To become the phoenix
a harpy of the flame
My eyes crave a sun.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Winged caterpillar
That frees my soul,
Sets my mind to dreaming,
How the hand of man
Out plays the God,
Makes love
To its master.
With fondled fingers, you paint
A dumb firmament, the way
Light dazzles as it breaks
Or how the itching rain
Taps a teasing melody as it falls
To the lover ground.
Beloved of Orpheus
Whose wove you coiled in-
Vents a garment of bird song loom,
Content my breath
The way that water wells
And lolls into puddles
Nesting not before the hot,
Harpy steam.
O melodious pool,
Undulating lake, frame
To emotive vapours, without
Ship you ply in wakes.
The oarsman plucks the main,
Your body is the sail,
Drunkard winds and warblers,
Blow hard, but fail my ears,
Atone as well, the wretched sounds of day
For they are sour spells, and but a fools
Trash canned movements, in a state
So needy of weeding,
Mere sound is soiled
The way you rake.
Evolution spreads,
As stones do,
When moves the river bed,
Grace, in violence,
Sparkles as it blooms,
Like an ears creation—
Rose on the tomb.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
in
your
face
hell
mongers
you sit in judgement
condemning the lost while
your wings conceal gluttony
envy, pr ide and avar ice like
sulfuric eggs. You drop on down
like harpy eagles on fish
just forget you
ever took on
the title of
'Christian'
because you
can rest assured
that Christ Jesus will
SoulSurvivor
2/7/2015
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
You have gone - like the cool breeze in more temperate times.
I thirst with the depth of a desert,
wide and exposed to the sun a thousand years.
Parched, barren, with no flower of love, no water of life.
My hunger gnaws at the ribs of my soul as I contemplate a life
devoid of your kiss,
The taste of you on my lips, like nectar,
To bless a feast for the gods themselves.
Promethean curse, chained to this desire by day
Life plucked from my bones by the desolation of my soul!
At night to burn for your touch, your caress, your life-giving love;
My flesh restored by the dream only to be pierced by the dawn's light
as I hear the harpy's cry.
But still, I have hope,
That the one truth we hold dear even life's only hope,
May collect our souls and our love thrive.
Charon's dark curse be broken, and,
In passion fueled by hearts that as one buoy us up, ever up!
To that pinnacle so sweet until over we fall
into each other's arms - fast asleep!
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
I met this tungsten tongued pterodactyl
tiny ***** terror with a rattle snake rattle
cattle feasting, battle tested, harp playing harpy heathen
carpe diem; seizing the days of the dazed, the refuge of the refused
---
They said I should have seen her angel wings were dinosaur's
I guess I didn't see through the lipsticked maw -
the silken glove over the sharpened claw.
---
a little devil before a little death
petite mort with heavy breath
----
before she sheds her skin and starts again
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 5:59 PM UTC
Winged caterpillar
That frees my soul,
Sets my mind to dreaming,
How the hand of man
Out plays the God,
Makes love
To its master.
With fondled fingers, you paint
A dumb firmament, the way
Light dazzles as it breaks
Or how the itching rain
Taps a teasing melody as it falls
To the lover ground.
Beloved of Orpheus
Whose wove you coiled in-
Vents a garment of bird song loom,
Content my breath
The way that water wells
And lolls into puddles
Nesting not before the hot,
Harpy steam.
O melodious pool,
Undulating lake, frame
To emotive vapours, without
Ship you ply in wakes.
The oarsman plucks the main,
Your body is the sail,
Drunkard winds and warblers,
Blow hard, but fail my ears,
Atone as well, the wretched sounds of day
For they are sour spells, and but a fools
Trash canned movements, in a state
So needy of weeding,
Mere sound is soiled
The way you rake.
Evolution spreads,
As stones do,
When moves the river bed,
Grace, in violence,
Sparkles as it blooms,
Like an ears creation—
Rose on the tomb.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
your constant, unending noise
i rebuke thee, 'fuck off!', beautiful mind strangled into crude curses
profane in nature,
rituals of execration in the dead of night and stillborn morning,
lit by a brazier of an ungodly hued red,
as you roar like thunder into delicate ears.
'please be quiet'
i petition to the wailing angels
stabbing at my eardrums with harpy claws,
rip my brain to shreds in echoes of outraged confusion
'tearin' out your hair like a banshee'
LEAVE ME ALONE
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 6:52 PM UTC
I won't ever ask for more
complaining, saltwater bitterness I will endure
Have you met me?
observe such a pretty face
cares not for creatures but reflections
that smile back with the warmth of a star struck harpy
blessed to shine another flashlight on an award winning blaze
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
The sweetness in your laugh
Held all sorts of things
Like dandelion mornings and afternoons
And the way sunlight filters through those estuary clouds
A hope of a hint of normality
And I know I laugh like a harpy
And at times I don't even smile
I laugh with the irony of fluourescent lights
Blinking so unnaturally in comparison
Obsessed with the imitation
Your laugh was full of light
And lit your skin with that quiet sunset
That slanted onto your back and shoulders
Forgive me if I was silent
If I was inexpressive and staring
Forgive me my inability
To step out of my shadows
Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 11:39 AM UTC
Winged caterpillar
That frees my soul,
Sets my mind to dreaming,
How the hand of man
Out plays the God,
Makes love
To its master.
With fondled fingers, you paint
A dumb firmament, the way
Light dazzles as it breaks
Or how the itching rain
Taps a teasing melody as it falls
To the lover ground.
Beloved of Orpheus
Whose wove you coiled in-
Vents a garment of bird song loom,
Content my breath
The way that water wells
And lolls into puddles
Nesting not before the hot,
Harpy steam.
O melodious pool,
Undulating lake, frame
To emotive vapours, without
Ship you ply in wakes.
The oarsman plucks the main,
Your body is the sail,
Drunkard winds and warblers,
Blow hard, but fail my ears,
Atone as well, the wretched sounds of day
For they are sour spells, and but a fools
Trash canned movements, in a state
So needy of weeding,
Mere sound is soiled
The way you rake.
Evolution spreads,
As stones do,
When moves the river bed,
Grace, in violence,
Sparkles as it blooms,
Like an ears creation—
Rose on the tomb.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
The eagle that is american pride
Her talons do bring certain death
Have a care when choosing a side
Or you just may be on final breath
This raptor never bleeds for the right reason
Like the horror being waged in Dafur
Yet for oil this bird spews American treason
Trading out profit for the lives of the poor
Surely the creator must have been napping
Letting technology kick through the door
All will soon learn resisting is nothing
Splitting the atom made U.S. god of war
So run little sheep as fast as you can
Cause the eagle she has taken flight
Bringing red ruin to the world on command
Out of darkness and into gun sight
Seeds of discontent only grow if you let them
This affront none will ever achieve
For this Harpy's Master none other than him
Open your eyes and hear the world grieve. Hy
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
the little leaflet read out in bold letters:
ARE YOU HAPPY?
I thought about it
read the rest of the sheet
it told me how if I came to:
DREW HARPY’S SELF-HELP CLASS
my life would be changed
so I went
the initial question still not
answered
I go the office park where it’s supposed to be,
go back into a maze of cubicles and white brick
walls, and then this simple wooden door reads:
DREW HARPY’S SELF-HELP CLASS
I knock
the door flies open
and there’s Drew Harpy
smile of plastic
muscles of
silicon
he asks
WELL ARE YOU COMING IN FOR A NEW LIFE?
I say,
no thanks,
wrong door
and walk away
the little leaflet is still in my pocket
reading out:
ARE YOU HAPPY?
but,
I still didn't have
the answer
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 2:58 PM UTC