"irreproachable" poems
I am issuing a postmodern offensive on the retrocultural routine
an exhalation of postindustrial and reinstallation of irreproachable
Intertextual, multivocalities of the avant-garde and postcolonial others
dealing a degendered-(King)sian discourse on equality
This is an attack on normal
a breath of fresh air
A war cry of weirdos
a dagger to the fair
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Through these eyes
the looking glass world
where Alice no longer exists
Lost in Wonderland passé
the outdated reformed
old-fangled legend of
lovers caught in lust
captured, overthrown
their love a blessed curse
I see anew through
rose tinted glasses
kaleidoscope cylinders
with mirrors of beads
objects of beautiful forms
observed; a curve, a secret
a jewelled hand, gold painted nails
Her glance catches mine
eyes meet as lips are bitten
there's something in our eyes
love is seeing, an imperfect
woman, in all her perfection
Despite removing any glass
from miracles of the eye
there only remains a quintessential
irreproachable, unmarred deity
and as long as I love with such
profound affection, perfection
with her will always rein
Your glance shifts,
your gaze lead astray
your face tells
a thousand stories
in just one expression
*I am your island
and you are my sea
I sit, love unrequited
for you to return
the tide
back to me.*
© Sia Jane
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
I’m taking a walk, on a starry night,
Enjoying the serenity of nature’s marvelous sight…
Drenched in the creaminess of the twilight view,
All things seem to be reborn, and new…
The sky is black, with patches of star white,
And the fireflies in the air make it look even more bright…
The pond shimmers, in a dark navy blue,
The frogs hopping on the water lilies forms an effervescent hue…
The soft fresh grass crumples under my feet,
And the trees sway lightly, cooling off from the day’s heat….
And a night owl twists its head all the way around,
To look at me and greet me with its hooting sound…
And the crickets chirp, grasshoppers leap,
And my mind goes into thoughts deep…
For every thing reminds me of her,
And the atmosphere around makes her feel near…
My mind is put at mental peace,
As I hear the cackle of sleepy geese…
And as I hear the fluttering of a bat’s silky wings,
My heart beats for her and sings…
A green eyed cat stares at me,
Her beauty, in those eyes reflected I see…
And as silvery glistening fish splash about,
I know im in love with her, no doubt…
And as I look at my hands, and think of hers,
A sleeping squirrel gently stirs…
My love for her, passive like the night,
So irreproachable, and elegant, it feels so right…
And though a lady bug scuttles away,
I know she will be there for me, come what may…
And I wonder where she is right now,
As I walk by a drowsy cow…
The sleepy horses whinny their agreement,
That she is indeed an angel godsent…
And as the cool breeze ruffles my hair,
I realize how much for her I care…
And everything about this night is perfect,
Only because I see her in its every aspect…
I would walk endlessly, wishing the night were forever,
For then she would never leave my mind, ever…
And as the owl flies over my head, towards the moon,
Deeper, deeper into her memories I swoon…
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC
I will defy the movement of language
With syllables soft before the snow
For Autumn in the fewest chosen words
Along lines of simple alphabets
In the palm of my listening
I will observe you walk as a poem
Skips across ethereally this earth
With colors and bodies of Christmas
An instantaneous impression of beauty
I will sing a lullaby to the irreproachable sky
And kiss the poem-greeting letters
That dissolve as a soul among the trees
And the centre of music
That is a living expression of the times
Today the sun comes out in your poem
And I listen for the poem I will write in reply
I will be a hero of a recluse today, again
With an inner smile of jewel-pointed clarity
That the imagination is a universal thing
The night’s sheerness of black gardens
A voice from which religions spring
Spiritual movement completes itself
In an intuitive release of meaning
A letting go of the sadness of having come
And gone, like death, poetry takes me there
As a river of music, entering my blood
Chilling me with a serotonin symphony
The joy of being here, the glances and reflections
Of existence, mirroring poetry
Between silence and music
The snow and sun, men and women
The rain and drums stalk my fantasies.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
There was a time that I
Would laugh at the word
Known as the curse
Of the world—
Humanity
Destructors,
Murderers,
Abominations
Heedless,
Reckless,
Unspeakable
Without any doubt
In grandeur
Thoughts of themselves
Among artists—
Animals,
Innocents,
Irreproachable
Here for but
Love and safety
Nothing more
Humans—
Dreadful,
To the core
They have emotions of greater capacity
Empathy beyond explainable magnitude
Yet with humanity are neglected
In the case of convenient
Vile manipulation
Here I’ll ponder thoughts in nostalgic regret
Why give staggering, mighty, beauteous emotions
To only those who misrepresent
This bestowal of divinity
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
We break here.
Poetry is meaningless, irreproachable,
Irrational, Unmotionable, unemotionable,
Or is it?
Could it be the record of man's struggle, internal and external,
To this world of unjust pain, unnecessary violence and tiring unrest.
Or the poor man's perspective.
His gloomy outlook upon a gloomy world
A world in which the power of love loves everything except
Peace, the fellow man and morality.
That hates happiness, humour and humility.
Of glowing sunshines and dark shining moons
A sky set violet balloon,
Let loose from a sand dune
On a glorious beach somewhere.
Somewhere peaceful, loving, humble.
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 2:31 PM UTC
To write,
to write it down?
All words
were taken,
in lines of
unrepeatable,
irreproachable
wholeness.
Then,
that sudden whirl.
Words popping,
flooding it all.
To accept:
expression is a drawing
and the self an esquisse
to built upon.
Flaws are expected.
Because it all
comes down to a need.
And that is okay.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
I think of you now in Paradise.
Where the roses never die.
You stand beside Him in Glory.
In irreproachable Light.
Clothed in brilliant white.
Beside your Heavenly Bridegroom.
Holding a bouquet of red roses in your hands.
You are His Bride.
In whom He delights.
I am happy for you, sweet mother.
Although I miss you so.
A gentle smile alights your face.
As you stand beside Him.
Bathed in glorious Light.
Your heart is healed and whole now.
I see you running through gardens of roses,
Like a little girl.
With your Good Shepherd next to you.
Roses.
How you loved them!
Red roses.
Now you dwell in Glory.
Forever with the One who loves you perfectly.
Who loves you passionately.
Together you walk hand in hand with Your Eternal Bridegroom.
Where the roses never die.
Where the roses.
Never.
Die.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
Love is a light
A wondrous light
Bold and marvelously unrepentant
Love it is right
It fights the good fight
Championing hope and transcendence
Love is a light
A splenderous light
Unwavering in its resplendence
Love is a light
An irreproachable light
Gloriously devoid of repentance
©Jason Cole
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
You look into my eyes, and I get
so excited inside, smiling, my heartbeat
rising, shining, such a ray of sunshine,
sweet paradise at the right time, so divine,
your body giving me all the signs of lucid
loving, harmonious highs hovering
in the bright cerulean sky. I got you
on my mind, and I can’t stop hoping
that somehow you can see that you and me
are meant to be, come to me with your caring
and joyful heart where I don’t have to look
so far to seep in your glorious land of dreams,
welcome your embrace, make me escape
inside your flowering nakedness. I imagine us
bathing in a tub of bathwater together, consoling
each other, kissing, touching, rubbing, our hands
making water bubbles and blowing them out.
I dream of you wrapping your arms around me,
your chin pressed on my shoulders, your cheeks
caressing mine, telling me how much you adore me,
how there’s no one in the world like me, how you
will never abandon me for another. I can’t
help but love all the things that you do,
how your fineness is irreproachable, so lucky
to have a glowing rose like you, a great gem
that illuminates my aura. I get so lost
in your visions love, incapable of holding back,
wanting to give my all to you, to lean
into your serenity, wallowing in your charming
world, everything so precious and coveted,
refreshing to the soul, pure poetry dipped
in delicious honey. I write you into my life
a thousand times and more, each time
reorganizing the lines to make the words
flow so smoothly, to read each stanza
in silence and marvel at my penmanship,
how the syllables and vowels elevate
to higher escapes, how the verbs and adverbs
stir my starry spirit, how the prepositions and gerunds
glisten in their own light, how the similes sparkle
and stream with the magnificent metaphors,
giving me the deepest feelings ever.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 9:34 PM UTC