"incised" poems
Hold my heart for ransom
In exchange for your sweet whispers
Kisses and sighs in tandem
Along with moonlit midnight capers
Take my heart as hostage
A willing one it would be
Deep within its bony cage
Working up into a frenzy
Hold my heart at knifepoint
Incised upon I've already bled
Over cracked notions and disjoints
Chasing after hope that hasn't fled
Brand my heart with your seal
Press into and make your mark
Folded within is all I feel
Behind your insignia so stark
Choose my heart for blackmail
Ask of me whatever
Hope to accomplish without fail
Hopes of us do not sever
Play my heart like a toy
Adore me and hold me tight
Handle me with child-like joy
Share with me, squeals of delight
Mould my heart of clay
Wrap your fingers, twirl me round
Make me worthy of another day
To celebrate your sight and sound
Lace my heart and tug at it
Pull me closer so I could be near
Bind me tight so I would fit
Coveted spot beside you, dear
Enslave my heart on all fours
Lead me through your universe
Close behind us, lock all doors
Subject me to love's greatest murmurs
Place my heart next to yours
Let me be enamoured to the brink
In due time, and on laboured course
Perhaps we would finally beat in sync
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
My mother is dying.
It is a process. Days pass,
She neither eats or drinks,
Yet she lives on.
I watch each labored exhalation,
A subtraction, a countdown.
It is as if she was returning each singular day,
Every prayer uttered, answered and unanswered,
Every word e're spoke, every dream dreamt,
She ever possessed to the atmosphere,
For sharing, for recalling, for retelling,
One breath at a time.
~~~~~~~~~
Lipstadt-Roth, Miriam née Peiman, 1915~2013,
passed peacefully Sat. July 20th.
Critic, speaker, writer,
her fiercest feat,
her leading role, creator.
A near century of memories
her legacy, memories that
linger not, for incised,
chiseled in the granite of the
books, papers, and poetry
and the very being
of her descendants.
Her faith in Almighty,
unflagging, for he did not
forsake her in the time of
her old age, when
her strength failed.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
Though excruciating,
I have delicately incised my heart
And left it open for you.
Blood and all.
I am completely defenseless,
Truly surrendering what is deepest within me.
All of me is on display,
And I am vulnerable, exposed.
Our environment, unsterile,
Makes me susceptible to infections:
Hate, judgment, abuse
That spread through the words and actions of others,
Attacking my system.
And, subconsciously, I internalize them,
Accepting them as my own.
But I trust you to care for me.
I believe with conviction, I must,
You have washed your hands
In preparation to touch my heart
With the gentleness I need
And cannot provide myself.
Because alone, I am unfixable,
Permanently damaged and slowly losing blood.
Dying behind my seemingly perfect demeanor,
A closed facade.
I trust that because I have exposed my pain
To you, solely you,
We can begin to repair the destruction
And stop the hemorrhaging,
Together.
Thereby providing the means by which
This earthly vessel, and in turn
The fragile soul inside,
Can finally begin to heal.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
i can fix anyone except me
bring me your problems
i can put them to sleep
its nothing special i just say what i see
you see it too or you wouldnt be talking to me
its just a form of devils advocacy
i see your demons and i speak their language fluently
let them talk through me
occam would approve
as deeply incised insight like mine
is built on a life in ruin
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
The Other Woman (Kisses Incessant)
*There always is one.
I am a man, and yes that's my excuse.
It's not as if I kept her hid from your penetrating eyes.^
She has icing on her nose,
Heart shaped sunglasses hiding her pizazz,
She knows about my other woman too.
I write love poems for her too,
Like this one.*
Kisses incessant,
ten thousand for the present,
ten thousand more,
stored away for the future,
secreted in this poem
lest my lips dare to forget how!
Hugs galore,
beyond no more,
limitless,
defying foolish boundaries of
"enough, grandpa!"
Limit is an artifice,
a mind-made precipice,
kisses for the children,
are ethereal, open sky-wide,
limitless, here and now,
forever, for herein,
an oath sworn, taken.
Horizons demand demarcation,
physical selves,
containers for multi-taskers,
simultaneous five sense users,
ultimately biodegrade
after three or four choices made
But fret not, rest easy,
my love, my darling granddaughter,
here and now
and yet to come,
for the love I feel
and the kisses I provide
are spiritual cells,
that will divide and grow,
and never fade
**Kisses incessant,
one for the present,
millions for the future,
lest my lips forget how!**
Tears now, as I write,
thousands more to share
with you for when,
the inevitable arrivistes,
heartbreak and sadness,
Boyfriend troubles,
infuse your inexperienced heart
Even my best friends,
these bespoke words
that I string together,
for our future together, unneeded,
for when I go silent...
The reality of this composition
of kisses incessant,
of hugs galore,
tears and thoughts,
is for you, for us,
for now, for whenever,
for our forever, whatever that be,
but that too, limitless,
for this poem will be stored, incised in our
cojoined hearts
and in our genes
**For my beloved, my Isabel full of Grace
Oct 22, 2011**
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
*her soul a bride
her life a corpse at the gate
a naked mouth red
to lie exposed
without shame
to be rendered unconscious
to be touched, incised, plundered,
and remade
coyly she displays
the weight of her emptiness
chest heaving
her torso acquiescent
aching for the forbidden
her legs parted
saturated like
rain storms bilious cloud
ripe melon brooding
spilling outwards
she would levitate
if only held down
by a merciless man*
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
for Harlon
who recalled them to me five years later, asking for the all of them...
only on Mother’s Day +1
and for Miriam
———————————
My Mother is Dying July 2013
My mother is dying.
It is a process. Days pass,
She neither eats or drinks,
Yet she lives on.
I watch each labored exhalation,
A subtraction, a countdown.
It is as if she was returning each singular day,
Every prayer uttered, answered and unanswered,
Every word e're spoke, every dream dreamt,
She ever possessed to the atmosphere,
For sharing, for recalling, for retelling,
One breath at a time.
~~~~~~~~~
Lipstadt-Roth, Miriam née Peiman, 1915~2013,
passed peacefully Sat. July 20th.
Critic, speaker, writer,
her fiercest feat,
her leading role, creator.
A near century of memories
her legacy, memories that
linger not, for incised,
chiseled in the granite of the
books, papers, and poetry
and the very being
of her descendants.
Her faith in Almighty,
unflagging, for he did not
forsake her in the time of
her old age, when
her strength failed.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 5:44 AM UTC
Aku mengejarmu
ke tempat bayanganmu pernah singgah
Mencari suaramu di tengah hiruk pikuk kota yang tak pernah tidur
Sepi menoreh di tengah keramaian
Ketika orang mabuk oleh ilusi,
Aku sadar akan ketiadaan
Ketika mereka tenggelam dalam lautan cahaya,
Aku pudar dalam kelamnya sunyi
Mengejarmu ke kota yang telah kau tinggalkan
-------
I'm chasing you
to the place your shadow once alighted
Finding your voice in the midst of cacophony
of the city that never sleeps
Solitude incised through the crowd
People are drunk with illusion
Alone I am aware of the void
They are drowned in a sea of lights
I am fading inside the leaden silence
Chasing you to the place you've left behind
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
pink scars
peppered her lithe limbs
flower petals incised
on peach skin
moss coursed
withered yellow-brick channels
sloping loosely down
the crooked river mouth
clouds bulged
glazed heavily over the sun
like a flashlight
engulfed in sheets
lightning sliced
the pane of sky splintered
air ignited instantly
and danced around us
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
i'm unwinding my head
on
honey moon belly
******* carnivorous lozenges
falling in love with glazed
eye ball devils
hypnotic stare
destination
a tunnel of fiendish odysseys
blood drooling eel
vomits gush white
daddy long leg threads
in honeys wet cage
to wither
writhing spit hot
in fat muscle and bone
headless
head first
like a mindless falcon
after scattered mice
i feel her teeth tearing
syringes of ecstasy
ransacking swollen motion spirals
and ***** like bronz buckaroos
at a fancy pool party
crimson *** macabre
****** roast bon bon fire
licking her lump of desire
a rousing boogyman sermon
speaks in incinerating tongues
swallowing a hideous parfait
**** growl
girl squat
**** ****
mint julip throat
choke symphony
abducting lascivious pollinated gulps
take me in like reckless bull sap
through your red
dada warp land
pit of the brain
undulant flesh landscape
of shapeless ovule spume
mouthing night blows
Incised flagellation's
devour buffet spread maiden derelict
arched and trembling
drunk and drugged
like a buttermilk sky
groaning hysterical
in feral muck stained beds
of puce and slime ochre pigments
stunned umbra
a famished
deep veined jutting peninsula
longing for princess ***** dynasties
with vast thighs radiating inferno hearths
and rolling hill **** hieroglyphics
decipher rug pugilist lap songs
my goddess i long for your
bruised fruit
crawling like the dead of night
on pitch vanta shadows
where love becomes a savage
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
summer incisions on a crystalline day
(it sorrows me to end a poem this way)
every leaf, every tree,
edged silhouetted sharp
against the pale blue cadet uniform color of a
portrait background framing sky,
this museum piece painting,
unsigned, unguarded, uninsured,
yet, surely the worlds most valuable
the sun's early morn golden glint reflection,
somehow pools in the palm of the each chlorophyll green flat goblet,
this necklace of carat gold cavatine melodies
gets me happy drunk on an aurora of
the green n' blue seasonal summer's glories,
upon the skin-stamped a caramel hallmark,
what we wait for all year long,
all the earth's colors crystalline pure,
my senses say it's as it was
on the first day of creation
this is not the first day of summer 2014,
yet, it should be so remarked,
for summer visions so perfect crystalline
are summer incisions,
allowing entry of interferon hopes of we irregular,
imperfected assorted human shapes,
the marvel of a free-for-all serenity,
nature's sweet permanent kindness to
wayfaring temporal humans
corporeal that I am, my being flooded
by all of this and a grateful satisfaction,
but my mind knows that as real as all this,
is as well, the not well, the ashen pallor inside,
the burnt tongue words that circulate
in my bloodstream, the status of my
reality, where my job, survival, is a
Monday day to one day thing, and where the luxury of being
summer incised
is a sometime thing
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
and the computer asks
save this poem?
and I answer,
no, save me, save my family,
even if it must rain every day for the rest of my
sunsetting life
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
partially due to the weather,
state of the roads.
these are not just closed
due to snow, some
as cars slide, cause a commotion.
it is a steep hill, the crimea,
some call it a mountain
steeped in history.
plans change, while
the bus windows remain *****
sbm.
nails
#notes and jottings
Esgidiau Meirw Boot Dump, Moel Bowydd Primary Reference Number (PRN) : 14626 Trust : Gwynedd Community : Ffestiniog NGR : SH69924845 Site Type (preferred type first) : Modern REFUSE DISPOSAL SITE Legal Protection : Description : A mound of slate waste covered to an unknown depth with the (?burnt) remains of thousands of hobnail boots, heel plates, nails, eyelets etc. Dimensions 40 x 30 x 2.5m. <1> A low mound about 35m in diameter lies to the east of the A470 (Plate 66). Its earliest phase consists of slate waste from a shallow linear working shown on the 1889 OS 25 map. This is almost entirely covered by a dump of waste boots. The upper layer consists entirely of heel plates, eyelets, nails, screws, sole shanks and occasional sole plates (Plate 67). Beneath this is a thick layer of ash, also containing metal fittings. Until quite recently there was a grave slab with a pair of boots incised on it along with the inscription Esgidiau Meirw (dead shoes). The stone now lies on the wall of PRN 14777 (Plate 68). It was probably moved by the land-owner for safe keeping after being daubed with paint. The dump is known locally as Tomen Sgidiau (boot dump) and dates from World Wall II. The boots are rejects from a factory that was set up in Blaenau Market Hall to recycle old boots and shoes for the army. (Hopewell, 2005) A low heap of slate waste lying to the east of the present main road. The tip is covered with the rusted metal fittings of a large number of hob nailed boots, and other small metal waste, including nuts and bolts. There is also a significant quantity of a fine silty material – possibly the residue of burnt and decayed leather. On top of the mound is a slate grave slab with a pair of boots incised upon it and the inscription “Esgidiau Meirw” (dead shoes). The feature is thought to be a World War II army boot dump. (Riley & Roberts, 1995) Sources : Riley, H. & Roberts, R. , 1995 , A470(T) Blaenau Ffestiniog to Cancoed Improvement ( © GAT) Hopewell, D. , 2005 , A470 Blaenau Ffestiniog to Cancoed Improvement Pt I & II ( © GAT) Hopewell, D. , 2000 , Upland Survey 2000 , <1> Events : 40503 : Gwynedd Upland Survey 1999-2000 Moel Bowydd (year : 2000) 43801 : A470 Blaenau Ffestiniog to Cancoed Improvement: Archaeological Recording PtI&II; (year : 2005) 40295 : A470(T) Blaenau Ffestiniog to Cancoed Improvement (year : 1995)
see also
boot dump incomplete blog
https://sonjabenskinmesher.wordpress.com/2015/03/26/boot-dump-2/
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
Super Moon: If you were beside me
If you were beside me,
You would believe the unbelievable,
The Super Moon fills our bedroom cup with whiteness,
Light, a sky-delivered invitation to walk on the water
Upon a path illuminated that commences at the dock
If you were bestride me,
You would feel the majesty of
Our union in a new light, bathed in
Sweat and glory of nature's triumphant
Marking our bed and home, its nestled place in nature
Alas! Your potpourri of sleep noises,
The purring, the little yells, dream induced,
Signals that tho beside me, you are somewhere else.
The Super Moon, disappointed, has marked your card,
Marked it absent, but marked me, your lover~brother in arms,
Tasked, incised, upon my body, your homework assignment
Moon:
*Gaze upon his eyes when you rise,
Touched and filled with the history of your lover's
Encounter with the Man in the Moon this evening,
Study it well, memorize, these words, I have
Inscribed thereupon for you to read*
**When you next intimate, I will be there,
Whether in these words or his eyes,
No need to estimate my light,
It's safe, stored, so that the dawn's plight,
Vanity attempts to compete all will fail,
For I am, you are, the light unhid, in his eyes**
3:00am
June 23rd, 2013
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
Today I'm filled with muted optimism
Something not often seen skulking around my peripheral.
Some retail therapy and a ***** free day.
I write you blinded, literally, consumerism blaring,
shining RED in my eye. My new shoes and sparkly
chemical incentives sitting comfortably on my feet
and in the back of my skull respectively
you know? Just above my nape.
The weekend is over.
That person has left, incised from delicate parts
where hurt feels more justified than starving children and
diseased refugees, "oh so woe is me" avoided.
We shouldn't have gone skiing together, the snow was far from ready.
The passengers leapt from the derailing train, terrified of sludgy wet slopes.
This time around I won't let them come so close. Stiff arm, no more than three. No more poems for you, or freedom for me.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
There is a part of us
that isn't quite alive
until hollow-starved lunacy is sated
while showing the bright side
her hidden darkness emerged
when i tricked her into hurting herself
she would say come on trick me, trick me, trick me
and i would tell her
Count Dragool with ****** tube fingers
would take her slow
if she hit her self hard across the mouth
and she would scream to Eden
bash mashley thrash me
i want the men with red tridents
and ding **** tails too
while she watched my eyes
like surveillance drones
as if a great confederation of *****
marched towards her
certainly not painless
but the pain of an addict
who knows all to well the pleasure of the needle
first the little sting and then the great oooow
she is butter on the stove
im the rare drug
a Do Do bird beaking flesh
a cold hard ***********
she a yielding intricacy of complications
a bald Rapunzel
feeling under abused till now
with black crow lips and bangled earings
like a long jangling math problem that ends
with a big O
O popping blood berries
like pink flower hysterical *******
shooting bullets from tattooed
hip belted pistols
on a singing red bed
her limbs a yawing stretch
a torn zipper
being yanked up and down
a frenzy of crying blasphemies and raw kisses
dancing the bend over
on knotted knees
incised a writhing dance cha cha
creel of blood
cha cha cha
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 2:57 PM UTC
Sovereign, star-flower,
Sorcerer-painter.
Essence
of pink Skittles
and air incised by blue-lightning.
My lady hums fire between lines in lips
-- smoke
and perfume watermelon.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 5:14 PM UTC
One year and one day ago, the Super Moon filled the night and I wrote:
If you were beside me,
You would believe the unbelievable,
The Super Moon fills our bedroom cup with whiteness,
Light, a sky-delivered invitation to walk on the water
Upon a path illuminated that commences at the dock
If you were bestride me,
You would feel the majesty of
Our union in a new light, bathed in
Sweat and glory of nature's triumphant
Marking our bed and home, its nestled place in nature
Alas! Your potpourri of sleep noises,
The purring, the little yells, dream induced,
Signals that tho beside me, you are somewhere else.
The Super Moon, disappointed, has marked your card,
Marked it absent, but marked me, your lover~brother in arms,
Tasked, incised, upon my body, your homework assignment!
Moon:
Gaze upon his eyes when you rise,
Touched and filled with the history of your lover's
Encounter with the Man in the Moon this evening,
Study it well, memorize, these words, I have
Inscribed thereupon for you to read
When you next intimate, I will be there,
Whether in these words or his eyes,
No need to estimate my light,
It's safe, stored, so that the dawn's plight,
Vain attempts to compete the daylight,
All will fail,
For I am, you are,
the moonlight unhid, in his eyes
3:00am
June 23rd, 2013
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
as i grow old,
in days, disparate
from a
squander-ed youth
i lose my tusks.
wisdom, ripped away
in younger times
left me with clicking
lopsided grin.
but,
now the years,
have chipped and ground
away any,
intimated soupcon of,
scintillating, sensibility
and clarified inhabition.
clear incised & cutting thought process...
transformed to be
dull pointing,
half-remembered
things.
no longer chewing elephants,
by ontological bites.
now...down to *******
the marrow from within.
with a vacant and
gummy smile.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
the doors of paper
how high are the walls
of gold and poison
people with wise hands
giddy on incised vanity
the world has a high regard
setting the doubt the pride
Shine the lights in the expanse
the heat in your hand
we share the regret
Sandy in high voltage
the tidings and had scraped away much
my cheeks stuck
like blueberries to the test
of his juice
that roams by our genes
My only I am you
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
come pretty quickly out of air incised
precisely with your hips skinny waist:
Saturday
say
LOVE,
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
How long does it last
When it's forever
Rolled into the past
Running a fever
True colors, broad cast
One day as ever
All together, done
When another eon lies
Folding into none
Lows and highs
Whispers of old stone
Buried in the skies
Past time paralized
In incessant news
Eternal life sized
Waves of letting loose
Surfaces incised
From current abuse
Whatever goes back
Whatever waters away
Slips into the cracks
Only a matter of day
Some days cut deep
Most are lost to sleep
Apr 22, 2023
Apr 22, 2023 at 1:51 PM UTC
cloud bursts in the sky,
raindrops falling from many eyes,
one for one, for all
one four one, fall
victims
voices break and tremble,
though the Earth
might shake and rumble,
as the ground is incised,
again and again, again and again...
and raised caskets to the fill the skies,
enough to black out the sun,
but not of those children, or of their memories.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
In a minute
a vision
or two,
Incised with precision my eyes see,
Alhambra.
'a pearl set in emeralds'
a jewel to behold.
In the meanwhile
a morning
a cold day is dawning.
The old enemy comes in with the sun.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
I'm always loving myself off
a precipice, hanging from the
c r a g s by branch and string
wet down by s e a and dried
by salt, the w a l k here was
long in the tall grass that has no
trail where the wind whets the
bluffs and steals my hair from its
hood so that I am my own maelstrom
a shred of black off the cliffs, incised
into the gray like my body is only an
o p e n i n g but from far off i am
just a whistle against the headlands,
sea foam and pine needles or
the grains of sand that
never settle.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Dens, devils dark alleys
Apart from the quiet disco beats
The house-techno-electronics melodic
Or timbres of the naughty riddims rhythmic
And the dim coloured alternating disco-lights
Else, Dens are blurry dark
With all addicts-of *** narcos or gins
In there no one sees no one
Just the silent talks of sins around
The usual businesses brought them there
In the mixture of multicoloured lights
So no one will talk of anyone once lights returns
Yet they shared something in common
A gal maybe, a cocoa puff or a shisha vapour!
A cigar smoke or a ***** tot and danced it ***** to dawn
In there are naked nudes-
Dames as well as few muscled-dudes
Teasing silent seated decent dressed
Stripping, selling their worth or wealth
To these willingly seriously immerged
In the occults of the immoral ****
Some are seductively rolling with the podium poles
Their greased groins incised on it metallic luster
Grating-grinding-dancing dirtily down
Its silvery smoothness in timed tempting
Slow spicy synchronic, slutty slides
Watching the salivating seated
Erotically elated shift in their chairs
Some, skimpily skinned are snaking their boneless bodies up-down
In caressing zigzags of mastered dancers ***** arts
Immorally exposing their mostly expensive parts in bits
To tempt and trap these blind corrupted moths in their Lucifer’s lights
Forcing them to dig deeper their posh pockets to pay to be bemused
Business here is crooked, dark!
Like ***** and her Gomorrah
Or Tyre and her Sidon
It begins with the fall of the night:
The extinguishing of the day's light
And ends with moments to dawn’s bright
In there all night are all dealers of immoralities
Of dark arts, of *** or of drugs
Goons as well as criminals of government deals
And the corrupt business billionaires sandwiched
Richly enjoying the **** of the sinfulness-
Sharing, wasting, the rapacious richness
Of their easily gained supernormal profits
On these salacious naked nudes, free to feel
In there in the masquerade of these rainbow lights
No one sees no one, no one will say of anyone
Just cash exchanges hands
You got it, you get what you need
All the services you want-its all at your watch
With just a snap of the finger, all easily you acquire
You are the master, everyone else your servant slave-
At your disposal to your utmost attendance
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC