"incant" poems
Oleander wax
Dribble and curl
Betwixt Rosemary, Sage and Thyme
Tiger's eye dust
Lamb's blood and rust
Rubbed heavy with
Switches of Rye
Smoldering Ash &
Freshly pressed hash
Entwine with bubble and snort
Sing for the dead
Cry for the living and
Mop up your tears
From the floor
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
sweetest writer,
climb forth from the deep trench
in my heart's wound
and quench my thirst for love
dear doctor of written expression,
incant the melody, cure this malady
with verses that expose the affinity
that is inherit between her and I
smith of words,
hammer out a spell to please a vampire
with a quick, orangy sunset to transpire
wield the blade of dusk
against the morning star until it expires
as we conspire to set our bed on fire
there is no consequence too dire
for my one and only desire
master lyricist,
compose the sensual phrases
a song in whispers that ripens
her delicious fruit until ready for savoring
and last, to the dear poet within,
feed the lust filled inclinations of creatures
that hunger for each other's bare skin
allow your words to manifest
her sensuality alike a tinderbox
so I may then ignite her fantasies!
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 6:46 AM UTC
up on Boot Hill
the sun sets early
the soaked anguish
of grieving mothers
swaddled in
twilight's vestments
mourn the death
of another murdered
child
we roll our eyes
and speak in tongues
tiny prayers
incant
RIP
these reflexive bits,
our shattered votives
litter city boulevards
on each solemn
street corner
new alters
of desecration
are erected
then despoiled with
the wasted wax of
misspent novenas
our extended families
are bloodlines of fear
spawning
prostrate men
tattooed with
multicolored pain
who refuse to cover
body marks
bespeaking epic tales
of sorrow,
divisions
countless separations
also marking
righteous reasons
of seething
resentments
eager to settle
accounts
sweet vendettas
clever ambushes
carefully deliberated
for generations
by discordant clans
believing in malice
exalting guns
shared loss
is our
common
affliction
uniting everyone
in envelopes of sadness
becoming live
Dear John letters
bearing news of dearly
departed loves
atop the coffins
of dead children
votives pile high
with scrawled eulogies
of fevered graffiti
solemnly pledging
“gonna make someone suffer
gonna even the score
never forget you
RIP”
and we all die
looking stupid as hell
lamenting
love don’t rest in peace
hearing
it scream from the grave
witnessing
the hallowed earth
churning with revulsion
accepting the bitter ashes
of another dead child
for the love of you
is your funeral march
love don’t RIP
it stalks the tomb
of indifference
it mourns
the ambivalence
of its devaluation
it haunts the
day dreams
of what could
have been
it restlessly
flits among
the playgrounds
of our minds
cluttering the rooms
of our homes
with grief
up on Boot Hill
we clasp the
small hands
protruding from
shallow graves
groping to find
a graceful sleep
for love don’t
rest in peace
Stevie Wonder:
Love Is In Need of Love Today
Written to honor
Love Appreciation Day
jbm
Oakland
1/19/13
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
But why, apt this centred Sidhe decide
In her own Verbs your Best Herbiage enchant
And mix the addled *** O' Mandrake hide
Then by Best Pour that Mantra she'll incant:
"Impart this Softling! Nee' Life concentrate!
Rose-Round vye Princey-Noose to Shape betroth!
Reform Adonis! To Makeroose State!
Swell this Fruit from the Garden of Naboth!"
By Fruit she meant Grape. Which tempted the Fig
To feign its **** for your barrows be sweet
Which, even a wee, expand your Heart big
Praising one day your Late Romance repeat.
Even she of her Onerous Chants aware
Hugged dear Naboth his Murdered Earth laid bare.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
"Not my president!"
The protesters incant
As they take to the streets.
We hear them loudly chant,
"Not my president!"
In cities nationwide
Their voices all in unison
Become amplified.
"Not my president!"
The marchers hold in disdain
Recent election results.
The ongoing refrain
"Not my president!"
Echoes across the nation,
As demonstrators express
Their cries of protestation.
"Not my president!"
What makes democracy great
Is we have the right to vote
And the right to demonstrate.
(11-10-16)
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
Now seeing this view of the Evening Sun
Well-Wished Voices found their best slots to chant
And you on-seat, wrinkle upwards for fun
Whilst lovely Sailors lay their hymns incant
Or should I say, Sailorettes? That which so
In-differ whichever lingam you choose
Despite your bath of rose-petals they own
Enough to turn your Manly Flavours loose
How true time-trialled these Fancy Trends trend
From whose Life the Weary Market en-cash
Their Choice - yours - feed on your Fashion depend
Then ask your Shirt reprieve your flesh to bask.
Never have my Signals wired to restrict
Whichever Circuits your Engine remits.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Tender scalps
swollen lips
numb fingers
and bruised hips
tooth and claw
tear tender flesh
tears fall
the pain fresh
fingers clasped
sobs and gasps
...breathe
I can’t
a sigh heaved
incant soft whispers
mantras in darkness
Chaos, my lover.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
Joy in desire and my sole desire toy
Is my mad passion, I lute from on far
My love an unknown woman like a star;
built in dreams no waking will destroy
A placid place far from life's deploy;
By spirit breathless to store the silver bar
Of twilight beyond dawn-gates stood ajar,
And raised on Paradise, a dazzled boy;
To look first upon the sea's inlet foam
In the first beginning; in star stud night
Chiffon the mistress musk on high;
Tho no celibate a two ball groom, nor Greece, nor Rome,
Hero to misdeed, the heads of state incant;
I adore thee, my love, 'tis my inflamed chant.
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 2:54 PM UTC
A sliver of light
Burns
(Not as the heart burns)
A sliver of light
Burns
Me
Bed is a nightmare
Sleep is a nightmare
You are a dreamscape
I want to be woken up
Wake me up with teeth marks
A giver of light
Yearns
(Her and His heart yearns)
A giver of light
Yearns
For
Ruin of favor
Holy desertion
Kisses like lightning
In between bare thighs
I welcome you always, though you
Incant prayer
Lock me out
I welcome your weakness, though you
Flee from my strength like it's your night's bane
Bed is a nightmare
Sleep is a nightmare
You are a dreamscape
I want to be woken up
(Bite)
Wake me with your teeth marks
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
1
Sleep is not kind to age.
Evening and morning
mean little to me.
Awake when awake;
asleep when asleep.
As Janis Joplin said,
it's all the same
******* day, man
2
Sleep is for the young;
now I grab a few hours
here and there when I can.
I have come to know that time
really is of the essence.
3
Older now,
inevitably less
everyday.
Sweet Muse,
I do not fear death,
but dread the thought
we may never meet
and that if we do
I will not
be enough for you.
4
You are the wise woman,
the alchemist of my soul.
No longer a poet
I have become your poem.
Incant your spell
and I come to life.
5
Old men live on
medicine and memory
telling each other
the same stories
over and over,
enjoying them
each time
while the young
yawn.
6
Sons grow tall and strong,
take up their lives
and leave yours behind.
This is an old story.
It will be told many times.
7
The girl I loved
at 17 is 68 now
and lives in Greenwich
contentedly retired.
I have seen her picture.
She is still beautiful.
Why wouldn't she be?
8
Deep in our aged hearts,
bucking all the odds,
we know that nothing
is ever really lost.
9
There is a
whole world
out there;
in here, too.
10
When you find her,
love her;
the universe will
show you the way.
~ mce
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC