"helms" poems
eye lids move slowly
over the eyeballs
in an effort to garner
sleep to a worn out
body to restore the
metabolism to normality
yet sleep eludes
the slight movement
of the eyelids never felt before
is sensed as the brine tear
a lubricant between the interface
where surface tension dominates
all other forces of physics
what force dominates my heart?
I know not
and sleep eludes me
Unconstrained emotions flow
around like unsettled dust
particles glowing in the sunlight
that escapes in through a ventilator hole
sedatives themselves are sedated
and sleep eludes me
I still have five more days I foresee
before hallucinations and delusions
take over me
before that oh sleep like gandalf
arriving at helms deep
please come back to me
but not at the breaking of the dawn
not when light is bright
but in silence of the mysterious night
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Here, I sail to regions unknown.
On the tides of bliss, you are shown.
Your sweet strokes can calm my heart.
As fear and pain depart.
How the sun is dim to your smile.
West winds blow as I dream of the Isle.
For one day, we will lock our hands.
Upon the golden sands...
Writhe and roar! Sea and tempest grow!
Rise, my Dutchman! Rock to and fro!
Set the sails and man all the helms!
Postpone our journey's end.
Death ascends upon the throne.
As wild as I am alone.
Come to the sea, and cut through the waves.
Hurry to your watery grave!
And my love, who can't be restrained.
I will vow that I'll make you pay!
Drag them, bind them, take their souls!
And hear the death bell toll!
For my love, I gave you my heart.
So that we will never part.
Forever you were my always.
I'll set the sea ablaze.
How I've dreamed we'd meet on the lands.
Words of love have crumbled to sand.
For years, I drown with misery.
I want my liberty...
Unlike you, my heart isn't chained.
Hear my ***** feel my pain!
Lost and cold, my heart knows no rest!
Within this dead man's chest...
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
Our galaxy, a ship, speeding into the depths, of deep space, a casualty in permit, heeding the concepts, of our place, in space-less mass, glimmering from the cast, of gods, even from the cracks and smog, we move along the path, of our intent, hell bent to extend our wrath, upon the woes of men, unknown to the myriad angles, in the dangled essence, of the limitless blessings, in the finite structuring, of negative nothings, filling our hearts of imagination, manifesting, in our epiphanies recollections, of days gone, but came back to be, born freely, looping infinitely, simultaneous, in every possibility of personally realized realities, realizing themselves in sunless helms of technology, merging with the organics of our being, and seeding, the start of everything.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
The wind is beautiful this morning
Awesome and soothing before my body
relaxing like the sights of the water lilies
embalmed with nature's aura
marinaded in the helms of the valley
defiling the sanctuary of my mind
I let this beauty envelope my very being
as I hang on to the very last straw grasping for air
like a desperate baby clutching on to a candy
Holding on to the very notes from unsung pipes
gliding through the very surface of the sun
dancing to the beats of these symphony
this orchestra, peace for my troubled heart
beauty for my broken soul
I let myself swim in the parfum inhaling every essence
as I watch the wonders heal my soul
I beheld the tranquil touch my heart yearned for
as I let peace conquer my anxiety
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 3:50 PM UTC
The little letters dance across the page,
Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes;
Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise
Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage
At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage,
Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies;
Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise,
And let the air pour in upon my cage.
The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars
Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms
That whisper things in windy tones and light.
They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars;
And I -- I hear the clash of silver helms
Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night.
2.2k
Music
by Stephen Vincent Benet
My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open.
Whitely without rest,
His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
. . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
An army stormed the bastions of the air!
Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
Marching together as the lightnings march,
And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast-
Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
From the loose net of words to deeds again
And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
. . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
"How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.
2k
Two years of laughter and smiles
Two years of being worth the while
Of course for David it could feel like its been two years
Worth of Lucy's tears
You are my greatest friend
My love from the beginning right to the end
Battles fiercer than those of helms deep
But love that forever is ours to keep
And although when I'm angry I may look (and act) like an Orc
I do still love you more than a lot
In truth I'm more of a hobbit
Loving and loyal
(Not so much small)
Entirely devoted
To my David and my David alone
For you are my precious
My love, my only one.
No one can have you (not even Sauron!)
I'd like to see him and his ring wraiths
Face me and my one woman fury
Two years today we started a journey
And still today we are forever learning
That you hate mushrooms and sugared tea
90210, gossip girl, and feet!
But I love you and you love me
And may this journeys end never be
For I love you more now than two years before
And I know for sure that, this love will grow
14/6/11 until the end of time
I love you baby that's just how it is
There and back again
A love tale
By David and Lucy
So do me favour and keep on laughing
Otherwise you've wasted 720 days of minecrafting!
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
FAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
Saw the pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
And till a hundred moms had flowered red
Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods:
And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
And sought through lands and islands numberless
years,
Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
A woman of so shining loveliness
That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
A little stolen tress. I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?
1.7k
Looking deep one may see into the looking glass.
In their rough, ragged cloth, the pale old Magi.
Appear high in the trees of the hills.
With hard faces like rain-beaten stone,
And all their helms of silver from the depths of the Dwarven mines,
And all their eyes focused on the valley ahead,
Thick pipe smoke spiraling into the sky
The unnameable mystery of a ******* score.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
NOW as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of Silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the ******* floor.
1.4k
The came down from their misty mountain hold
Short of stature but oh so bold
Helms of beaten iron on their heads
Belts of gold on girded waist
Sword Axe and hammer, the tools of war
Oaken shields also worn
They came to beard the dragon in his lair
Bring rescue to a maiden fair
Held in fear against her will
In that rancid caven deep in the hill
Each warrior knew of the danger faced
But would not retreat as coward disgraced
When the searing flame of hell released
Would burn the hair and singe the face
For these were warriors of a race so old
They the dwarves from the misty mountain holds
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
Steady pounding upon the bronze sides of hordes of men's helms,
only to realize the impenetrable god's gold is the fate of another realm.
Reincarnation, heaven and hell, 70 virgins, and many more voodoos fritter among as distraction, constructed to insurpassably shadow this pain.
Will the truth be revealed as a nonsensical stalemate?
Can we finally graduate to a more evolved interstate, and gravitate to the knowledge we accumulate over life's days.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
The sun creeps over the horizon
Spreading divine rays across the sky
Golden fields sown with ripe corn gleam in the radiant sunlight
Bejewelled helms reflect multi-coloured lights as kings ride to war
A day of new beginnings, joy and wonder
The last shining light of day disappears over the lip of the world as shadow sets in
Grey immerses the world in perpetual slumber, the only witnesses nocturnal
Sleepy eyed townsfolk trudge to bed while thieves and spies awaken
The reign of night has begun
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
Oh, Howling Wind,
Rupture my senses.
Freeze them.
Walk through them.
**** them.
Ashen them.
Erase them in the slides of a past catacomb.
A fragile memory it is,
Falling into the dark closed of the Beneaths.
Folded into its darker flab.
Be my accomplice in the helms.
Up till the hems,
Drag me into the deeper,
Make me another you.
A part of you.
A synechdoche.
A part of your whole.
Just a mere part.
Then, pull me to the core.
Into that black.
Sear me first.
End me with a scar.
Rain me.
Cleanse into me.
For the last sepulcher.
For the last dirge.
For that last sweet hymn.
Of the awls sealed into my ruptures.
Of my torn cartilages.
Of my scattered distastes.
Of my oblivated conscience.
the symphony of my pain.
Sing with me.
Howl within me.
Rush through me.
Be my paroxysm. My mirage and Ilucion.
Be my vortex.
And my, reason.
My wail and my groan.
My facade and my heave.
Sear me in your wrath to be the wraith of vengeance.
Reach out for the darker.
Shout out with me.
Take me with you.
Hurricane me in your divine dance.
To the Up above. Fuse in me.
Impregnate me.
Blend in.
Diffuse me to dissolve in you.
Just howl till you die, with me.
My sweet love.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
oh believe me, i'm dancing a love-joy
dance when your funeral ended, on your grave....
cheese disco... B-52... ooh hey yeah! things
are bewildering enough to be celebrated...
another mother ****** bites the dust!
a staff has two ends in eastern martial arts...
as it does in western conception
of love, never reaching the billionth
mark... a smack across your ********
orangutan diet of silicone, just to move those
down-syndrome eyes together
i took aim, and... SMACK!
hey presto! George W. Bucks!
some said it looked like
Picasso's impression of Frida Kahlo...
some said i discovered the famous
stone of alchemy...
************ you have't
even tasted the bile i'm spitting
using the pop-culture covert method;
get you jiggling the jingle bells
for a Christmas choir and a prostitute's
suicide worth of sainthood and helium
sweet talk: Bobby Helms:
jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock, jingle bell swinging,
jingle bells ring; snowing, and blowing...
******* minds you get the present...
but not the family;
well, take it from a cat and a person concerned
grooming, days after having solidified its presence
in the garden, thistle needles near the ****
a bit like a grizzly bear with Dr. Dolittle taking out
a myrrh thorn taken from its paw... more meow
than conversation, and all the better for it being so.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
Taller than I, assembly of faces;
Said greater than I – too is my vision:
Gather round me as I lift into grace;
With me, this unto there; companions
unchanged will secure my rule in bright bloom!
Bring me to dragons, I’ll prowl neath gold heaths;
Fell sinners, tear ’part quick my slow virtue:
Bedded I, sore stinged ***** bleat to spry sheath.
King I am. All else is transient, SAVE I.
By stone and peach I am edged off my bed.
Friend that follows, that rids, nimbly closed my eyes
with careful, frenzied, bound blade I have wed.
Earthern army abord to uncharted
Dew, time, faceless therewith, I was yearning...
Rows of you, helms of safety, you guarded
To be shepherd and sheep not returning.
Be still, I reached mourning; by last breathing
I hushed; lucid thunder: youth, embrace me.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
Love found is oft the doing of luck
The sum of picked-up pennies
And good deeds stored away for such an occasion
But love can also be found in luck's absence
A karmic apology for years of despair
So how then can we know when to expect it?
Through palms read and stars watched
We are given our timelines
Loose strings along which we bounce around
Praying always to just stand still
Through horoscopes and faulty quizzes
We are told who we will become
Self-fulfilling prophecies at their worst man our love lives' helms
While it is true that love is everywhere
We must not search
We must not turn over a single rock
For then luck and karma are out of a job
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
Fairness dances away elusively
The brightest lights flicker, then turn dark
You are now an idea we cannot see
Limited by time, you still made your mark
Betrayal against boyish colored blue
Tragically, evil controlled the helms
When everyone you trusted has failed you
The sadness in your story overwhelms
Left without vision of who you will be
Abandonment of care was defaulted
When counting stops at merely twenty-three
Earthly justice appears to have halted
Where does real adjudication derive
In twenty-three months of being alive
© Christopher Chronister, 09/18/2018
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
We lived in a house a cleric built
In fifteen sixty-three,
Deep in a copse of Roman Elms
A grand and mighty tree,
The place was Tudor, half timbered,
And it creaked in every storm,
The wind was rattling through the eaves
Before we both were born.
We saw it up in the window of
The Realtor, going cheap,
It needed some TLC because
Its look would make you weep,
It badly needed a paint job and
Some timbers plugged with tar,
The years of rot had disfigured it,
‘Are you interested?’ ‘We are!’
Dead leaves had cluttered the downstairs rooms
And damp had swelled the floor,
The leadlight windows were dark with gloom
There were rats down in the store,
We worked and slaved on it, Jill and I,
Till it soon became a home,
Nestling in a hollow that
The locals called a combe.
I’d lie awake in the poster bed
That had been since Cromwell’s day,
The beams and curtains were overhead
And the wind would make them sway,
While Jill slept soundly, I still could hear
The wind sough through the trees,
Come rattling up to the shutters and
Slip gently past the eaves.
But then some nights, I’d hear some muttering
Down there by the elms,
Like ghosts of soldiers, loud and stuttering
Underneath their helms,
And then I’d hear the sound of marching
To a Roman beat,
There wasn’t even a pavement but
It sounded like a street.
A street that clattered with cobblestones
To the sound of chariot wheels,
I’d stare on out from the window-sill
To see what night reveals,
But nothing moved in the shady wood
To make those strangest sounds,
I searched and searched in the daylight, through
Those ancient wooded grounds.
Then one day digging a garden patch
I came across a stone,
That held a funny inscription on
The face, that smacked of Rome,
I think it mentioned a Lucius
From Legion Twenty-Nine,
I pried it out of the ground and then
I knew what I would find.
He lay there still in his breastplate
With his helmet and his sword,
His sandals still on his feet and tied
On tight, with a rotted cord,
The skull stared up at me in dismay
As if to say, ‘Who’s there?
You’ve broken into my endless sleep,
Invaded my despair.’
I swiftly covered him over so
That Jill would never see,
A sight to give her the nightmares that
I knew would come to me,
But then I settled his stone upright
That he might rest in bliss,
And that was the end of the mutterings,
From that day until this.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
Dance for me, dear minstrel of the moon,
Sing languidly, sweet flute of the lune.
Tressed in silver trains and sashed with gleaming stars,
Galaxies for your flowing mane, Princess of Mars.
White against red, like blood to linen cloth–
Such is your skin, as soft as a white moth:
A spot of whitewash, a drop of pure milk
That stains the heavy crimson sky with silk.
Descending from your ship of steel,
Your gaze in veils of iron concealed,
You step onto the sand of the Moon –
The first of foreigners in the land of Aün.
A grand procession seeps from the ships:
Brass, woodwinds, and pipes on their lips,
Maidens of braided coiffures and gowns,
Menservants bearing jewelry and crowns.
Lances, spears, percussion, and cheer,
The Universe revels in awe and fear.
Gonfalons, standards, colors, and banners:
Kings, lords, and men of all manners,
Gathered from every corner of this Realm,
With ships of all sizes, and captains at their helms,
To witness and celebrate a sacred union
Of two people, two nations, in a blessed fusion.
Aün and Imandi, two worlds made one,
A union, a tie, dare challenged by none.
The Moon and Mars now weaved with a loom
Of iron and silver–the bride and groom.
O Princess of Mars, allow me one last glance,
As the breeze whips your hair in a dance,
As your dress sways to a sweet lullaby,
As I whisper a final goodbye.
Though I’m unworthy, allow me this word,
I’ll dare to say it, though it sounds absurd:
I love you, o princess–a plain, simple love.
With my heart of hearts, like a tender dove.
Not a love of pain and lust,
Neither one of ashes and dust.
Though it’s rude, admit it I must,
Lest my strength be made to rust.
Go, dear princess. Take your prince’s hand;
Enter with his people, his heart, and his land.
For now is not the time to weep,
But to sing, twirl, dance, and leap.
A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd–
Ten thousand races, hands aloud;
Brass resound a hymn from Mars,
Pipes and drums echoing the stars.
With a forlorn gaze, I sigh and falter.
With quivering breath, I sadly whisper,
“Farewell, dear princess. May your years be prosperous,
And your love be stronger than a fortress.”
With one last look, I turn away,
Boarding my ship, the 'Evergray'.
Though I’ve no plans, I’ll return someday,
A visit to the Prince and Princess I will pay.
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 8:45 AM UTC
I can't fathom the depth required to indulge in trust.
The possibility escapes me at critical moments.
At moments of possibility,
At moments of change,
At moments of new life.
A larva.
Here is my word, hold it sacred to you. It is my life, hold it as
though, if dropped, the ground will swallow it whole.
Here is my shield, you may glance, gawk, or gaze, but
this I hold sacred for when the ground swallows my word whole and reincarnates it as everyone's air to breathe freely and wholly.
A butterfly.
You may have my word.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Hands stretched exposing their webs, and then
flexed into white-specked fists; and then again. And then the hands stretched. The ground unbuttoned as the word descended clawing at draped silk.
A butterfly, wings tattered.
Capture. Torture. Exploit.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The atmosphere was encompassed with dread and longing -
a smog of guilt, anger, and repression. Diamonds lied on their sides and bled tales that stung the ears of all in the vicinity.
A caterpillar, hope helms.
Bleed. Infect. Repeat.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Passerby after passerby shuffled along with wide eyes and hushed whispers. Faint feathers were pressed outward, hitting people like bricks and leaving craters behind.
A moth, lights negligent.
Judge. Sabotage. Forget.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dignity lost and feeling next to naked. Covering myself with my token. My word builds; my walls build.
A larva.
Heal. Scar. Fear.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I can't fathom the depth required to indulge in trust.
The possibility escapes me at critical moments.
At moments of possibility,
At moments of change,
At moments of new life.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
they'll demoniße (schwankend s),
they refers to politicians,
it's not a paranoid pronoun -
i freak out at some installations
at Tate modern, but freaky is duke,
baron, cardinal: an artistic revision
of what goes on in the heads of
those patriarchal maternity heads;
name them:
jesse helms v. david wojnarowicz
(voy-na'h-ro'h-vee-ch');
yeah i know he was gay,
but now the stigma spreads into
kind regard to the ladies of the Goodmayes
brothel, who weren't Roma but Bulgar
(Cyrillic pizdiec) - but hell i'd bonk a gypsy
like a slice of wedding cake -
anything that moves, anything that moves
(well come on, daddy's a politician
and she's gorging on a mustang phallus).
indeed, with conclusive words,
the english schwankend s (the wavering s,
mediating sometimes sly, slack
and sometimes zebra and dice).
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
Rise, brothers,
Freedom calls us.
Grab your guns
Wear your helms
This day all tyrants
Will turn to our servants
This night their hearthstone,
We will own!
Army of the horde is on the way
Warriors, line up!
Standby for battlecry
Bloodlust has conquered our minds and our souls.
Rip off their hearts,
Break their skulls!
Trenches made of corpse
Armors made of bones
Slaying the horde is our goal
Taunts and cry-outs
Sounds of swords and shields
Is our music
Their throats and their backs
Sounds of the bones break
Injured warriors are bleeding
It paints your soul
Stand up and fight
Drive the lance of light
Into the eye of the night
Free the world from the rage of this dark hate
Army of the horde is on the way.
Warriors, line up!
Standby for battlecry
Bloodlust has conquered our minds and our souls.
Rip off their hearts and break their skulls!
Rise up!
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
Here, I glide to regions unknown.
On the tides of bliss, you are shown.
A stroke from you can calm my heart.
Forlorn and fear, depart.
How the sun is dim to your smile.
West winds blow as I dream of the Isle
For that one day, where we lock our hands
Upon the golden sands...
Writhe and roar! Sea and tempest grow!
Rise, my Dutchman! Rock to and fro!
Set the sails and man all the helms!
Our journey never ends.
Death ascends upon the throne.
As wild as he is alone.
Come to the sea, and cut through waves
Hurry to your water grave.
And my love who can't be restained.
I will vow that I'll make you pay
Drag them, bind them, take their souls
And hear the death bell toll!
For my love, I gave you my heart.
So that we will never part.
Forever you were my always.
Your curse, I won't obey.
How I've we'd meet on the lands.
Words of love have crumbled into sand.
For years, I drown with misery.
.Dead chest, safeguard my heart...
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC