"howlers" poems
Sunlight played off
the limes & golds
& there were azures too.
And my oh my,
how the howlers howled,
as dew dripped down
from the canopy
above.
It was quite mystical,
those ancient stone faces
stared at something
even I couldn't see.
But you could feel it there.
Oh yes, you could feel it there,
between the vines & toucans,
something unspoken,
something unnatural,
like spirits
gathering
with angst
for the
clear-cutters.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
***I long for the soft swaying of the boat,
the calls of howlers nearby, signaling the
oncoming of another heat-ridden shower,
a sweet taste of red wine on my lips
while I watch as he stands on the bow,
the wind brushing hair from his eyes
as the rain begins to trickle down,
a nearby camel rushes for cover
beneath its sturdy shelter, and I wonder
if this is what peace feels like***
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
We stayed in a real temple,
bribed the guards
to spend the night with jaguars,
sleep with dolphins
& listen to the howlers
scream all night,
above our
sacred **********
which ended with the rising
of the morning star
& the coming of more tourists
to see crumbling pyramids.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Here's some homework howlers,
By hilarious pupil terrors,
"An octopus has eight testicles."
Did I read that with my spectacles?
"Mozart sailed to Vietnam." For how long?
Why is there a clavichord in the Mekong?
"Rome is now in Africa." Do tell,
Didn't you learn map-reading too well?
"Mummy and Daddy's fave place is bed."
Do your parents really want this read?
Are these mud-coloured glasses, or what?
How did I survive teaching this lot?
It's hard to take them too serious,
Homework howlers, hilarious!
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
Long ago,
I remember,
we paid the lone-guard
twenty pesos apiece
to camp on
top of the temple,
to experience
something cosmic.
And after he left,
we stripped down
to our bareness
& kissed under
the milky-stars
with howlers squealing
a backdrop melody.
I lost myself that night.
Tracing your lips with my tongue,
I felt the cool jungle air
swirling around us,
you did not fight me
as I melted inside you.
I swear the jaguars
rejoiced that night,
as we had rekindled
the acts of the sacred gods.
It was more than cosmic,
more than stellar,
I felt the poles shift
our hearts.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
I tried for the rope of ignorance
to jettison seemly hope
but the four winds conspired
to drain any thought,
whose intention complexes
the placebos already prescribed.
My ex howlers on the phone
she's asking me to give it a rest.
Already I sense she's swallowed,
the part that cannot make amends.
The siphon of good sense
wears thin like a DJ's copy,
should I kneel down
whilst finding lost sense?
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
We are the wild cats
We are the black winged ones
We are the light soaring ones
We are the free ones
The jungle vine swinging ones
With deep souls of fiery passion
We are the howlers
the grizzly sizzly growlers
Prowling our desires
We are yearning with an ancient burning
We are fire
Sacred fire
Untamed fire
We are risers
We are seekers
We are destroyers
Wanderers
We are the branch twisting
Tongue hissing
Cackly
Wild
Wild ones
Roots that tear rocky granite open
To stretch into the innermost
To reach into the bubbly
molten lava
Core
Of our cardinal sins...
="$%+=-Lightening$%$-#="
Electric galaxies
Zapping through veins of static hair
We are the witch sisters
Stormin' swarmin' transformin' explorin' roarin'
Stirring up a *** of sinister magic
We are the atrocious
We... are the wise
We are the... ruthless
We are...
A different kind of guardian
We are cats
Hungry
So, so hungry with longing
For the deep, deep,
Soul quakin'
Earth shakin'
Rumbling
Mountain movin'
Screaming volcanic eruption
Of untamed Passion
We are the ones
who caught hold of the sun,
left flaming
in our courageous hands.
We are
Restless hearts with lighted torches
Who shall run
For centuries upon centuries
Carving
our feet into the soil
We are the feathered tips
That wing into the crying sky
We are the ripe
Youthful
Laughing ones
Jovial
Free ones
The adventurers
the adventerous
The unquenchable
The mysterious
The stalking
The silent
The Venomous,
whose bite
will make you one of us,
Thirsty
So
so
very
Very Thirsty..
We are blood lustin'
***** stompin'
Vampires
With never ending desire
We are the cape wearing
Dracula
With flaring bats
We are absolutely MAD!!
MAD MAD MAD
to the bone!!!
And...
...all alone...
Scaring away those afraid
Of what lies at the centre
of that storm
Oh but we primordial spirits know
We have been versed in this dance
We have sung these songs
We have spun these flames
and
Even if
we cannot fathom,
Our bones shall unwillingly guide us
Pull us
to that place,
To the center
Of this storm.
For that is where
the truest light exists.
There lies,
The absolute,
The unquestionable,
The silent
Mother.
She waters our fires
(A gentle sizzling hum),
She melts us,
into her soothing oceans.
We are ( I say in earnest whispers) the wild ones
who run
run
run
run
naked
until starry eyed skies
make love
to daybreak
And
raspy sunrises
fold over yawns
Like soft warm blankets
Kittens once again
Bathing in the great
and
mighty
womb
Of all
creation.
Bathing...
in the
Ethereal
bliss
Of
Silence.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
We took the river boat all the way
up the Rio *****
to find the monkey rehab,
some said it was a loonie bin
for problem simians.
And you,
rebellious you,
always breaking protocol,
carried your wares
with you instead.
Did you not realize
the howlers
break the rules too?
Good God, it was the craziest scene.
Two wild ravenous fanged-monkeys ripping
threw your stuff like a whirlwind
spun out of control.
But I bet,
you didn't want that Nikon anyways?!
I wished I'd taken a picture.
Priceless.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
Time has rounded in the world of men;
The winds blow hard toward Anarchy,
While raving sailors hoist their leaking sails
To gather, jubilant upon the floods.
Howlers peer into the burning winds
Seeking ****
Spread indignant fire,
Seeding hate,
Burned with desire,
Drowning protesters
Die between tides,
No chanters chanting peace,
No aspirant hope of love,
The baby's in the gutter with the bath;
When mobs exhibit wrath.
Tear old history from dusty shelves,
Forget true hymns that honored God,
Forget the tired Truth,
Or rather Truth of which we tired;
Rules now only Chaos,
Fervent fuel of howling mobs.
Riot in the streets;
Ride the lawless swell,
No plan for reconstruction,
No lessons from the past,
No vision for the after glow;
Discordant voices chanting
On the ****** road to hell.
Yeats proclaimed the Second Coming
Must surely be at hand between World Wars,
Yet still the Second Coming holds its fire,
While ranters tear the old ways down,
Dictators ratchet missiles toward the skies,
And our leaders twitter platitudes and lies.
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
Anything,
I ask you all, everyone,
Who knows anything?
Oh, we think we know,
Some of us know lots,
Some think they know it all,
But we know who they are,
Price of everything, value of nothing,
That’s who they are,
Know-alls and blow-holes,
While most of us, hmm,
Well, we do the best we can,
We learn from our mistakes,
Howlers and horrendous errors, some,
But, tis the only way, for us,
To get through life; enjoy life,
For truly, what else is there?
Not a lot, sorry, one ride only,
Freedom and fresh air, only for some,
So appreciate what you have,
Before spiralling down to death,
While hoping, just hoping,
To leave a smidgeon of legacy,
An echoing simple truth of ourselves,
Something from which others may take,
Something to make a difference,
Anything.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
My ears hiss and hum,
they fizz and they freak
Like a song with no melody
week after week
You hear sound
and I hear distortion
This ever present noise
is driving me to exhaustion
I may never hear quiet,
or stillness again,
I wonder how long
till it drives me insane
a chord played by a corpse,
a factory, a machine,
an electrical substation
with a piano wedged between
a never ending, mind bending
permanent drone
its like 16 simultaneous flatliners
that wont leave me alone
An orchestra of electrical tools
A theme tune stuck on the e-cord
Dear god, I am tired now,
Please change the record
Distract me, but loudly
Give me a release
From this burglary of sound
I want back my peace
But don’t take away my sound
My connection to living
Just ease up on the howlers
That sound so unforgiving
People say ahhh
and they tilt their head,
This just makes me want to batter them
And let them hear my sound instead! J
Please remember my challenges
Even when I look happy and beaming
The volume is right down on my world
And the noise in my head is still steaming
Those times when you forget
you whisper, you mumble
I try as I might but I can’t reach
You through this rumble grumble
Have courage to speak louder
Direct your words to my face
This is an act of love
It is a kindness and a grace
Try not to lose patience
With me and my noisy faulty ears
These are tough challenges I face
These are my troubles my tears
I love and I laugh still
I try to forget it
Your remembering, and your sensitivity
Really helps me not sweat it.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC
I am not scared of the monsters under my bed
or the ones you told me as you went home from
summer camp—(bonfire stories near the lake
of green-eyed goblins and moon howlers with
famgs that oversee the mountains)
I am in fact afraid of the *monsters that knock
at 2 am in the morning prying my wooden
chambers of sanity like its playground
—giants that stay on top of my body as the
strongest and closest gravity I could ever know
—two little voices of small people debating
in a prosecution against myself. One brings me
dishonor, another brings me out of dark,
empty cells
—a vampire of the day that ***** out life
as the sun rises to its crown. Once done, I am yet to
fall in a haze of delirium and ecstasy of the sunlessness
that precipitates in my heart*
I am afraid because I know them too well. But the thing is,
they know me better
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
I want to go
To an open road
-A road that knows no bounds;
To find a bar that's been long dead,
Where The Wind has its only sounds.
So that I may drink of the only wine,
That travellers dare not reach;
Where the taste is so fine
Upon death's decline,
That my lips, it cannot breach.
Where the cold air tongue
Whips through its walls,
With only History's cross to bear,
I take up the saddle
From the rail outside
And saddle up
To the Old-Bones, there.
I might graze for hunger,
I might stop for pain;
The wretched past
Of lives long-last,
Whistle through my sinewed veins.
As I journey forth unto
This great canyon-grave,
Where old howlers'
Ribs be shorn;
By torrential storms
Inside their own enclave.
As part of dust we settle,
And to dust we return;
From all of those times in Life (we hope),
Were times we would have learned.
Ne'er shall it be an easy time,
For anyone to traverse;
The greater strength upon this night,
Is the Love for the Universe.
And when that Love has gone and left
Down along this dusty road,
It's right back to The Skies I'll go...
And re-open That Old Fold.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
The ape of reason
wakes inside the primate house
throws **** at the glass
and the gawking apparitions
whose eyes align with his own reflection
but for a few seconds
waits for the one who knows
the one who carries the yellow bucket
stuffed with limp greens
sprung grain and stink meat
to spill the feast on the concrete slab
he calls a pedestal
scratches at lice
his only bedmates
small
irritating
but his own familiar feeders
calling dumb and barbarous
the macaque in the next cell over
calling loud the howlers
calling lewd the bonobos
calling brethren the chimpanzees
who wage war on the neighboring troop.
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
Show me your gods
All fur, purr and bark
Feather, skin, scale.
Those demi beings
that mark your heart
and steal your soul.
Those scraps of love
That make hard days whole
mornings bearable and nights
A little less lonely, predictable
or indeed a little less cold
The bed hoggers, extra joggers
The shoe chewers, the foremen
the cuties, the mute beggers
Soulful singers, paper bringers
Howlers, growlers,meowers
Chirpy talkers, hissers,
water blissers,
Princes waiting to be kissed
sloppy drooly kissers,
the sandpaper lickers
The back leg kickers
those who make biscuits
those who sleep,
like loaves of bread
Tail waggers, live in baggers
Perch dancers, walkies prancers
**** machines, Catnip dreamers
Redlight baskers
Show me your gods..
be they small, large, short, tall
Slim, plump, grim lumps
Portly, courtly, royalty
or hot fluffly messes
Bring them out to parade
with these god's
a home is made
and in these days dark and dreary
We need these gods
for when we become weary
Of the world we've made
We need
somewhere to lay our hearts
some thing that has a unlimited
grab bag of fresh starts.
These gods
everyday the give you a bit of
extra heart extra hope
A reason to hang on
to laugh to cry, to talk to sigh
So show to me;
your gods
and say a prayer
and thank the lord
he made them with care.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 4:09 AM UTC
That one fleeting wish taking its time
The stars glow as they slowly aline
Celestial beings carved by a creator
Outer space and its fickle nature
Empty poems that carry dreams
So far away, as it seems
Drop of water and the sun that doth shine
Spinning around on a clock set by time
Oh free choice and captive rings
And many untold secret thing
A moon seen by two different sets of eyes
Each wondering if the shines
Oh wolf howlers midnight friend
And earthy showers that you send
The patient night bringing morning dusk
But in the stars who can you trust?
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC