"inhabitant" poems
im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies
a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
a massive accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions
my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else
a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness
my cells talk **** about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around
i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying
or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co
py
of
a
a
co
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
An empty boat glides through a tide-less sea
Echos of thunderous silence reminisces the rowdy sailors once on board
Without fear they sailed across the dark waters
Without the knowledge of forthcoming doom they kept the spirits high
Navigation impaired by the wrath of silence, their abominable gaiety and preposterous hopes were muted for eternity
Life drained, flesh rotted, bones crumbled to dust, and the boat was filled with peaceful death
Though without an inhabitant it still continues to drift towards a predesitned chaos
Its calm trail behind disrupted by an impatient tranquility
Its still path ahead disallows all animations with an unfluent time
Yet it moves forward
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
Overcome -- O bitter sweetness,
Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl --
The rich man and his affairs,
The fat flocks and the fields' fatness,
Mariners, rough harvesters;
Overcome Gods upon Parnassus;
Overcome the Empyrean; hurl
Heaven and Earth out of their places,
That in the Same calamity
Brother and brother, friend and friend,
Family and family,
City and city may contend,
By that great glory driven wild.
Pray I will and sing I must,
And yet I weep -- Oedipus' child
Descends into the loveless dust.
6.4k
Tes pas, enfants de mon silence,
Saintement, lentement placés,
Vers le lit de ma vigilance
Procèdent muets et glacés.
Personne pure, ombre divine,
Qu’ils sont doux, tes pas retenus !
Dieux !… tous les dons que je devine
Viennent à moi sur ces pieds nus !
Si, de tes lèvres avancées,
Tu prépares pour l’apaiser,
À l’habitant de mes pensées
La nourriture d’un baiser,
Ne hâte pas cet acte tendre,
Douceur d’être et de n’être pas,
Car j’ai vécu de vous attendre,
Et mon coeur n’était que vos pas.
In English:
Your footsteps, children of my silence,
Saintly, slowly placed
Towards the bed of my watchfulness,
Approach, muted and frozen.
Pure one, divine shadow,
How gentle, your cautious steps are!
Gods! …all the gifts that I can guess
Come to me on those naked feet!
If, with your lips advancing,
You are preparing to appease
The inhabitant of my thoughts
With the sustenance of a kiss,
Do not hurry this tender act,
Bliss of being and not being,
For I have lived for waiting for you,
And my heart was only your footsteps.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
weary of mothers and friends
losing their children,
before their time,
weary of failing
to achieve reconciliation
with whatever one nominates
the force that regulates,
fate, Name-Your-God,
deity of your choice,
nature, laws of physics,
the "whatever"
that controls, interferes,
that you think to believe
wills these event's occurrence
non-randomly
cessation of formalities,
one sided truce
signed and delivered,
unafraid to call this
what it is,
**** and damning fate,
for no god
could be so cruel...
If only there was a
Dislike button
for life and the poems
wrenched from death
at 5:00 am
this thought is my
sole inhabitant
once again,
nature's bosses distort,
another friend's grief
asks, cajoles me
to betray my/thy belief
banish it or me,
for we both cannot be
cohabitants
under the one roof,
of this limited mind,
where flailing
poems
never good enough,
failing
to express my
sorrowed rage
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
So primitive that it should be criminal
like a limited pyramid of minimal
innocent citizen, inhabitant, or denizen
infinite vision and mission subliminal
principled, committed and disciplined
addicted to the privileged derivative
affirmative velocity, motive inquisitive
inhabiting, uninhibited, where prohibited
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:47 AM UTC
Nobody ever speaks of
The sadness that can be felt
In your bones
The kind that can be
Encompassed
By your whole being
Nobody ever tells you
How to manage
Feeling like a stranger in your own body
Sometimes
I am a stranger to my own body
Depersonalization
Is a term that
I have come to know all too well
I have come to know
What it's like
To watch life happen
From a distance
To feel
Persistant and constant
Dissociation
Nobody ever told me
About the depression
That can take over your soul
While simultaneously
Forcing you
To watch it happen
Without any ability to stop it
Sometimes I feel as if
I can't feel anything at all
And that in itself
Is truly terrifying
But I am trying my hardest
To take hold of the steering wheel
I refuse
To let it take control
In the past I have
Locked all of the doors to myself
Thinking that
If I was the only inhabitant
Than nothing could get to me
But lately
I've realized
That letting people in
Will not be the downfall of myself
Lately
I've realized
That opening up
Is the key
To finding answers
Is the key
To finding help.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
The grey fox barks
every evening, echoing
the perimeter of its
territory.
The red fox cozies up
next to the brook house
making a friend with the
inhabitant inside.
The black bear sits
its frumpy *** on the
porch of a new homestead.
The trees bend towards the
Earth. Reminding each creature
of its transient position.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
A pile of human teeth,
that which does not belong to itself but to the night and the moon
and the lock and the hook, that which once did belong to itself,
or to me,
a murmur and little more,
something you shake in the hope that answers to the questions
you want or some reasons you've yet to find
will come falling out,
an inhabitant in a house that becomes a crime scene during their absence and they cannot be an eyewitness,
she who wanders along the beach by the sea,
in search of shells,
to listen in for the sound of old echoes,
the unreal, suspended, irrelevant,
the night-time fragments leftover after
daylight gets its teeth in,
a rule-bender in asymmetrical glasses,
one of a family of confused clowns, juggling dreams
that were once in trees, struggling
and underestimating distance,
a cracked window in November that seems out of place,
a Tuesday afternoon, and specifically not a Friday sunse
or Sunday dawning,
a wishful **** belonging in the boneyard,
housing an ocean of unspeakables in
attic mind,
greenhouse heart,
cavern mouth full of sea,
the container of many unspeakables,
a cup, profoundly sad for being always a touch too empty,
contained inside a small glass bottle,
a paperweight.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Instead fear the spirits that now inhabitant your heart
Those whom you have betrayed in love
Tremble in trepidation of these souls
Whose sadness was birthed in deception and treachery
Grown and watered with greed in bitter soil
And whose eyes now see nothing but hate
That await dipped in anger behind a silent door
Fear not who dwells below you
Or he that dwells above
Instead, live in trepidation of ghosts that now inhabitant your life and heart
Those whom you have betrayed in love
May every strained breath be rife with regret
Every thought tainted with fear and blood
It is not who dwells above or below you should fear
Dread the wraiths you have betrayed in love
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby June 12, 2018.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
SILENCE IS SUPREME
(Bijoylakshmi Das, 9th February 2020)
Silence in the air
Silence all around,
I long to merge deep
In the depth of Silence ' play ground. Silence is Harmony
Silence is Suoreme' s breath,
To regain our felicity fugitive
In our mortal breast -
We dive into Silence' depth.
The One Exprrssion of the unique Sublime -
Amazingly awe-inspiring
Utterly captivating!!!
Silence is the Art
Which makes others live
A joyful living united with the Infinite:
Selfless and all-forgiving!
Silence is the silent throb of the heart
Of the One Highest Breath,
The Consciousness sublime.
Silence is smile
On the face of the One Adorable Being.
Silence is the lone traveller
On the vast expanse of Time,
Silence is the reveller of Joy
Of the never-ending rhyme -
All-pervading!
Silence is vast
Silence is Beauty -
Of the all - transcending Act!
Silence is Immanence
Of Creation's inherent Harmony.
Silence is the Mystic touch
Of the Absolute all-surpassing!
The celestial dwelling
For every loving heart,
Love's resplendent splendour
In life's journey vast!
Silence is perfection
That is never-ending;
The footprints from above
Solace descending!
The rare reminiscences
Of the One Eternal Inhabitant,
The all-shaping Flame
Of the Mystic Fire
Ever vibrant
All-commanding!
Silence is Light
That lies deep within -
Each living and non-living
In their inertial sleeping!
Silence is awakening
From the most senseless stupor,
Silence is the patron -
For earthly life
Solemnly condescending!
Silence is Humility of the highest order,
Silence is Dignity always to remember,
The Beauty and Mirth that in life we seek for
To rise above the mundane self and its self- made disaster.
Silence is Blessedness' Grace
For every grieving soul;
Silence is Symphony
Of the ageless yore.
Silence is the sole companion
Of Spirit's magnificent melancholy,
Silence is Union with the Beloved in ecstasy.
Silence is Poetry
Of our rhythmic thoughts,
Silence is manifestation
Of our formless forms.
Silence sits alone in its Kingdom vast,
Why not make it your Soulmate
Oh Man! In your endless journey of the mortal birth?
(Bijoylakshmi Das)
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The light refracting across the silent room
Everything is closed off; the blinds; the doors; the boxes
The glass eyes of the house muffling the sounds of the outside world
The inhabitant grown a slave to watching
The gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Stretching lines, darkening eyes, smiles turned hollow
She'll trace the filtered light with frozen desperate fingers
Her sounds are empty and echo like a dripping water from a faucet
The tiled floor is as cold as the snow that falls. Unseen
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
The wind seems to be whispering words she no longer yearns for
The blood is dancing with the cold
Warming the static embrace of her head and fingers
The inhabitant closes the blinds again, hiding the quiet scene
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 11:43 PM UTC
despite
the macabre march of corpses
straight into the raging funeral pyres,
it’s the icy waters of the Ganges
from your matted locks
which shiver my timbers
amidst
mellifluous incantations,
one thousand and eight lamps
floating on this mystical river
sparkle in an anemone glow
here,
a great sage
was taught a befitting lesson
in humility and spirituality
as i melt
hearing this soulful octet
in praise of this ancient city,
its most important inhabitant smiles......
truth be told
i’m in a Varanasi state of mind
© 2022
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 9:23 AM UTC
you are an earthquake
you start without a warning
and you devistate and destroy
and the people can feel you far away
and you cause death
but then you leave
no clean up crew
no instructions on how to clean
all of this rubble
all of this mess
i can still feel you
i can feel the shaking
the fractures are fresh to me
and those moments of terror
remain so vivid
and the way you intended to annihilate
and the way you wanted to eradicate
without a single afterthought
but the overwhelming aftershock
was too cruel
and the citizen
couldn't clean up your mess this time
so the inhabitant of
the chaotic results of you
decided maybe it was time to go...
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
each of my poems is a commencent address,
depending on the day, the time or place,
either an ending or a beginning
a moment unique, we mark a changing,
by tossing/losing a hat we’ll never wear again,
or picking up a shovel to bury a parent
in earth and casket we cannot share
an operating room, shiny clean, with mercurial microbes
awaiting a new arriving inhabitant, to defend and attack,
or bidding farewell to a elder child born blood-deformed,
whose wingspan shortened by virtue of our own gene-rosity
commence the commencement.
take the iron from the grotesque irony,
the steel from the stealing away seconds,
the hum from the humble mumbling, a disbelieving refusal,
the tears from the skin-rent tearing just
beginning a speech for the occasion and
ending with a prayer standing, by a gravestone
when you awake today, prepare a commencement
or a commence-not address
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
Looking upon Lake St. Clair
I saw it lying there today
In its watery grave
A large and lovely monarch butterfly
Its gossamer wings outstetched
As if it had gallently fought its death
And was determined to fly
Ascend to the air
To its temporary abode
Inbetween earth and sky
As far as its wings would take it
But it sadly did not succeed
On the one side, it was facing the lake
On the flipside, the open sky
I almost couldn't recognize it
As if it was a piece of junk floating along
But I eventually saw it cleary
This exquisite creature of noble name
And now I say that
Even this winged, airborne creature
Is bound to this earth
Like the rest of us
Who have not the gift of wings
And death is not just for suckers
The unfortunate who cannot hack it
For gravity must triumph in the end
And there is never a day
In which there ceases to be any death
Upon this mortal world
Many of us want to ward off its coming
As we bide our time
And try to outrun the inevitable
Hoping to outsmart the clock
Yet we are all creatures of this earth
Just as was this beautiful butterfly
Born to inhabitant this world
But never designed to stay
This isn't poetic license
In order to construct a clever poem
It truly happened to me
Making me stop and think
Out from a day in the ordinary
To ponder upon the brevity of life
With the instant reminder that
All magnificent things must die
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 10:49 PM UTC
She has never taken a silver spoon to the contents of her head,
or buried her body in a lover's empty bed.
She is not the old jacket hanging on the back of the chair-
but the inhabitant, a throne's rightful heir.
I imagine a life where there are no ghosts in the mirror;
when friends talk about their fathers, there's no bile in her throat-
the thought of spilling the contents of her stomach is an unfunny joke.
She doesn't change into her clothes as if a gun ha
d been pulled,
or dream of Icarus’ voice, “Jump” he goads
She looks both ways before crossing the road.
Her fingers don't pry at a laceration's half-hearted mend
or dig into her womb when the wind howls for her end.
Substances don’t brush away her thoughts,
Or birth them again.
This stranger version of me-
probably so easy to understand-
not a martyr in the least.
However,
I imagine without these callous grooves in my flesh;
I couldn't figure out how to fill the empty spaces of others
or hide myself
just right
under the covers.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
The mental capacity to carry on with the daily grind of modern mayhem slowly ebbs from view.
A hardened psyche is in the throws of disarray , dilapidates like a forgotten building in an overgrown forest.
Slowly the bugs creep in, they're the first of many to colonize this quietening storm.
Each inhabitant feeding on a memory, on a loving thought of youth.
As trees swallow concrete, the chill of numb nonchalance spreads as a disease, each and every part of relevance becoming so much more irrelevant.
Those time consuming chores that dictated, lost forever, a blank stare replaces, eyes that see straight through to another side.
To hold on would be a punishment, to relinquish is to hold the key to the gates of purgatory.
You can hear the wheels slowly turn as they now etch the sound of silence, when they stop and the madness begins when shall the twist of fate turn to a tapered end.
It's winter and the birds have not flown south, a great freeze as fresh nature grows all around , sensory deception for muted perception.
Before too long it will be too late to disturb the disturbance and rationalize with faith, with the heart of certainty this meaningless shall cease, the way ahead will be forged by my hand, I will not fall by the wayside of incoherence,
I will not return
And I will not let my sanctuary burn
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
The morally deficient have no clue,
not finding God within their heart;
are they absorbed by corruption
and unwillingly from sin to depart?
Our Lord gazes down upon Mankind,
seeing the vileness of human deeds.
Do these workers of iniquity know anything
about meeting any of humanity’s needs?
So many souls are wickedly consumed,
analogous to the devouring of bread.
How unfortunate and Godless they were,
being overwhelmed by fears and dread.
Therefore, don’t repeat the mistake
of never calling upon the eternal Lord;
for His presence is among the righteous
and those remaining with Him in one accord.
Salvation is available to everyone.
Learn to draw strength from the Lord’s power,
which is forever revealed in His Holy Word.
He can also be your refuge and strong tower.
Become a permanent inhabitant of Zion,
covered under the Kingdom’s protection.
Be filled with love, joy and gladness,
as children shining… with His reflection.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Psalm 14; 2 Sam 22:3; Prov 14:26, 18:10, 61:3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC
I am always just a version of myself.
Have I ever really known the full me?
Not necessarily.
She is but an aggregation of all the experiences she's ever had,
people she's ever met,
memories she's ever made,
even the ones that have been lost to time.
My personality, speech, and mannerisms are all imprints made by passersby.
Need I know the full me?
No, not necessarily.
Like stained glass that misses the details,
I am a mosaic known only in concept and suggestion,
and this is enough as inhabitant of this body,
even if the resident is unknown to self.
Apr 16, 2024
Apr 16, 2024 at 9:17 PM UTC
911
Too little way the House must lie
From every Human Heart
That holds in undisputed Lease
A white inhabitant—
Too narrow is the Right between—
Too imminent the chance—
Each Consciousness must emigrate
And lose its neighbor once—
967
I leave behind
a signature constellation of half scraped
blu tack smattered across the walls
a scrawl in braille to the shell's
next inhabitant: life is out there
I was here, living
I drew a picture of an elephant
for no real reason
I didn't follow the news enough
and skimmed books like stones
I persuaded three friends to beam
from a glossy page at a birthday party,
I cut a cottage from a magazine and
tacked it with a daydream
I hid from the clocks
and watched pounds stick then fall
stick then fall
I lived in this room,
now it's your turn
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
sometimes
i forget who i am
not my name or location
just what sets me apart
due to desire
to be more like someone else
i just have to remember
i am an escapist
i am a vagrant
i am a writer
i am a pyromaniac
i am an inhabitant of purgatory
i am half living
i am an addict
i am a statistic
i am a radio wave surfer
i am a bridge burner
i am a coffee stain
i am two young lungs
i am the girl across the hallway
in an old jean jacket
with paint on her cheek
trying not to cry
and i hope someone remembers
because i'm trying to forget
that i exist
to make it unreal
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
like me
O inhabitant in deserted skies
as I in lonely wilds
with my ghost baby;
let us put a charm together
a curse on men who betray their wives
and who put their seeds in young unwise girls
and run away
and hint the naive could **** themselves and their babies
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
listen to my tale:
*a charmer
dazzled my mind
and put his seeds in my womb;
and he told me he loved me
but he had other duties
and he said I should be ashamed
for being such a loose woman
and I should **** myself
and so take my baby within me*
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
feel the pain and horror in my mind
as I am doomed to deliver this script
night and night in this wilderness
Behold this infant I hold in my hand
this ghost of a baby
that has never seen life
******* at my milk-less white breast
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
come, let us put a charm together
a curse on men who betray their wives
and who put their seeds in unwise girls
and run away
and hint the naive **** themselves and their babies
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, lend me your strength and power
let us weave a curse, let us cast it over such he-devils:
*May their genitals rot
eaten by vermin;
may their eyes be eaten by giant flies;
and may their evil turn
into sharp-teethed ravenous worms
and stampede inside their bodies
and eat all their internal organs
and may these huge-bellied worms
eat every nerve and eat their brains part by part
O may such men die in pain, in madness
before their very wives*
Lend me your power
lend me strength
and curse with me
O moon, pale and alone
like me
inhabitant in deserted skies
as I in lonely wilds
with my ghostly baby
that has never seen life
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC