"knowest" poems
[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]
Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !
Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !
I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !
Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?
Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
**** and SET be TWINS."
A fico for repentance !
Ay ! O Son of my mother
That snarled and clawed in her womb
As now we rave in our rapture,
I know thee, I love thee, brother !
Incestuous males that consumes
The light and the life that we capture.
Starve thou the soul of the world,
Brother, as I the body !
Shall we not glut our lust
On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled
To a hell of jesus and shoddy,
Dung and ethics and dust ?
Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me !
Come ! what hinders? Believe me :
This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ?
See, how subtly I writhe !
Strange runes and unknown sigils
I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe
Are these male incestuous vigils !
Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us !
Wherefore I solemnly affirm
This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget
Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call
The Soul of the Unnatural
Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain
Lets the Beyond be born again.
This weird is of the tongue of Khem,
The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die,
His bowels rotting inwardly,
Save he uncover and caress
The God that lighteth his liesse.
6k
Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems--not to suffer pain?
Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
5.8k
Thou knowest all; I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed—
The land is black with briar and ****
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.
Thou knowest all; I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil
And the first opening of the gate.
Thou knowest all; I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again
In some divine eternity.
4.4k
Aye, Vladimir, just before I met thee
I hath been sure I hath loved him-
no matter as queer as it may hath seemed!
Thou knowest not, how much tears I hath shredded
and noticest not, how t'eir vanity made me look dead!
But why-why then didst thou appear-
and wokest within me t'is secret fear-
with understanding in thy eyes,
and with a love t'at is to me so dear.
Why-why t'en thou left me, left me again!
Whenst I got to knowest thou but for a moment,
ah, with not so much of an endearment-
afforded ourselves only t'at streak of lovely,
but still weak of too a bond,
or any pact, of young novelty.
And everything was corrupt
As soon as thou re-released me
into t'ese qualms of insincerity
wherest I am still tossed about, guilty.
And hushed, hushed always,
like a trivial, parallel wind!
As though my dear heart's bathed in sin
and of a soul t'at is so thin
So worthy not of thy soulfulness
and sweet dreams of many happinesses.
Ah, Vladimir! If only thou could knowest
T'is thread of passion thou hath sowed
and how my entirety seekest being loved
By thee, and only by thee, o my rain!
As thou art but king to my sneaky moon
and my very own kingdom of stars
Not him-not him, o t'is I entreat,
albeit his wits hath been but to me so sweet.
Still he be a mistake, ah, a chilly autumn mistake
to me, from whom I didst just turn awake.
Probably thou would hath loved me;
imperishably and blindingly,
until all thy superb charms and wit
t'at wert but tortured and unbending
shalt be left within me lit;
and thus leaving our fiery souls entwined
with winds t'at art even sweeter
yet might be torturously everlasting.
Vladimir, Vladimir, oh my only Vladimir!
Thou altogether belongst with me; here,
so unjustly yet heavenly
And in our hands is cherished
our love, o, so wickedly-but fatefully!
How I longst to be thy lover, dearest-
and be so comely as thy only flower;
which ripens thickly in thy winter
and blooms robustly, in thy summer.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC
My new-cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
By my own work, before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
If there be good in that I wrought,
Thy hand compell’d it, Master, Thine;
Where I have fail’d to meet Thy thought
I know, through Thee, the blame if mine.
One instant’s toil to Thee denied
Stands all Eternity’s offence;
Of that I did with Thee to guide
To Thee, through Thee, be excellence.
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain,
Godlike to muse o’er his own trade
And manlike stand with God again.
The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.
One stone the more swings to her place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth—
It is enough that through Thy grace
I saw naught common on Thy earth.
Take not that vision from my ken;
O, whatsoe’er may spoil or speed,
Help me to need no aid from men,
That I may help such men as need!
4k
I
How should I seek to make a song for thee
When all my music is to moan thy name?
That long sad monotone - the same - the same -
Matching the mute insatiable sea
That throbs with life's bewitching agony,
Too long to measure and too fierce to tame!
An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame
Is this great ache that grips the heart of me.
Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws
Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws
Till I am dead. Then let me die! Who knows
But that this corpse committed to the earth
May be the occasion of some happier birth?
Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose?
II
Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth
In the white breast that trembled like a flower
At thy name whispered. thou hast marked how hour
By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth,
Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe
This passion ineluctable, this power
Slave to its single end, to storm the tower
That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth.
O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold
How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold!
Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep
Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep -
And the unutterable word by spoken.
3.9k
That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must have also the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it,
Art its height could never hit,
It came never out of wit,
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? what the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight;—
When thou lookest in his face,
Thy heart saith, Brother! go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden,—
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad are his shoulders, and strong,
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening, and young.
I hold it of little matter,
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,—
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are drest,
In the coarsest, or in the best,
Nor whether your name is base or brave,
Nor tor the fashion of your behavior,—
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed, and my fire warm me,
And dress up nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good,
That one thing is success,—
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.
3.8k
"O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me?
Me whom thou settest in a barren land,
Hungry and thirsty on the burning sand,
Hungry and thirsty where no waters be
Nor shadows of date-bearing tree:--
O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me?"
"I came from Edom by as parched a track,
As rough a track beneath My bleeding feet.
I came from Edom seeking thee, and sweet
I counted bitterness; I turned not back
But counted life as death, and trod
The winepress all alone: and I am God."
"Yet, Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me?
For Thou art strong to comfort: and could I
But comfort one I love, who, like to die,
Lifts feeble hands and eyes that fail to see
In one last prayer for comfort--nay,
I could not stand aside or turn away."
"Alas! thou knowest that for thee I died
For thee I thirsted with the dying thirst;
I, Blessed, for thy sake was counted cursed,
In sight of men and angels crucified:
All this and more I bore to prove
My love, and wilt thou yet mistrust My love?"
"Lord, I am fain to think Thou lovest me,
For Thou art all in all and I am Thine;
And lo! Thy love is better than new wine,
And I am sick of love in loving Thee.
But dost Thou love me? speak and save,
For jealousy is cruel as the grave."
"Nay, if thy love is not an empty breath
My love is as thine own--deep answers deep.
Peace, peace: I give to my beloved sleep,
Not death but sleep, for love is strong as death:
Take patience; sweet thy sleep shall be,
Yea, thou shalt wake in Paradise with Me."
3.4k
Oh Rock! Upon You I build my foothold
Don't let me wander off astray
Tie a knot of a bell on my pleading throat
You who reign over all, King of Old!
Seasick and half dead from the flooding dangers of my vanity
Help! I'm getting ****** down-dry, a slice of my deadly miry pie
You're hand not too short to lend me life anew and of serenity
Oh Endless! Awakened from a dire sleep
I come before Your tireless feet
Bathe in springs of abundant grace
'Til my hands grow tireless toiling the earth for the shade of Your face
Time may move its hands of tricks and deceit
Stagnant pool of smirking clocks
Right before I accept defeat
Stay my hand with everlasting wings
Oh Steadfast! Aiming towards love with eyes so true
To You who deserves where all praise due is due
You look through me, creepy candy coating
Embraced with arms everlasting
Love of which knows no cease
One desire of which heals all disease
Dogs lie await to be fed by the crumbs of You, Purest.
Show me great and mighty things thy mind hast not knowest
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Some only seest her flesh
And her bones;
I seest God's handprint
That brushstroked
Her soul.
Some only heed her outer
Reflection;
I seest a masterpiece
In paradisal direction.
Some only observe her comings
And going's;
Not perceiving
Her tears, beyond year's;
Hath been like white water's flowing.
Some only descry
Her Filipina eyne;
Whilst under her roof
She's lonesome, aloof;
Pain is her daily bread,
As is her heart's
Screaming proof.
Some only espy, the girl
They seek to know; not
Knowing nothing of who
She really is, an Angel from
God's throne.
Though this Queen doesn't seest
What I seest, she is blinded by
Worldly lies; demon's art her
Enemies, because she's God's
coruscating light.
If only she could take a step
Out of her body and her mind;
She'd be free, to perceive
The treasure she is
As the creator made
Her after his
Kind.
If only she could
Seest, the elegance
Inside her soul;
She would
Knowest
She was
Created to be
God's light, lamp;
God's perfect mold.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Sardua nagley ( agapi mou) dedicated
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Liberal affirmative action!
Bill Clinton responds with the bananas of racist market economies.
Paula Jones holds meetings on the trade embargos of Republican controversies.
Thus Newt Gingrich has affairs with voluptuous filibusters!
Congress serves subpoenas to socialist health care.
Knowest thou how the Justice Department debates with Social Security's agony?
The Religious Right wants to impeach poodle ecstasy,
But it's known that Rush Limbaugh spews forth fundamentalist tax cuts.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
I looked for that which is not, nor can be,
And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth
But years must pass before a hope of youth
Is resigned utterly.
I watched and waited with a steadfast will:
And though the object seemed to flee away
That I so longed for, ever day by day
I watched and waited still.
Sometimes I said: This thing shall be no more;
My expectation wearies and shall cease;
I will resign it now and be at peace:
Yet never gave it o'er.
Sometimes I said: It is an empty name
I long for; to a name why should I give
The peace of all the days I have to live?--
Yet gave it all the same.
Alas, thou foolish one! alike unfit
For healthy joy and salutary pain:
Thou knowest the chase useless, and again
Turnest to follow it.
2.2k
O' agrestrial daisy, don't lose hope; for mine love is not fading. Ague hast hit me, thirsting to touch just one finger from thy hand.
Im a child within a man;
Im weak, hurting, eyes worn,
Drowned in no time,
One pocket and a dime,
As I seek out thy soul,
Mine soul wails and mourns.
Seeking a vessel, to sail the sea's,
I'd do anything, to get to mine queen;
Anything tis, tis I'd do, even if still far, I love thee mine muse.
Dost thou not seest, mine heart beating quick; it quiver's, it aches,
From the fears that I get.
The fears tis I get, to be thine own best, even in mine sorrows,
Darkness, distress.
I smile to impress, to show thee warmth, because O' how I love thee; even in mine own hurt.
Even in mine own pain, with crooked teeth, and an ancient way; im a soul of the past, not one of today.
When thou art cold, mine hair wilt be thy quilt, when the world try's to hurt thee, I'll take all it's filth.
When the cloud's overcome thee, I shalt be thy sunlight; when thou only knowest wrong, I'll make it all right.
When the bird's no longer chirp, i'll be that baby bird; that whisper's it loves thee, even in all of it's hurt.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
©earl jane nagley dedication
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee, from the hill-top looking down;
And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton tolling the bell at noon,
Dreams not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent:
All are needed by each one,
Nothing is fair or good alone.
I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home in his nest at even;—
He sings the song, but it pleases not now;
For I did not bring home the river and sky;
He sang to my ear; they sang to my eye.
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave;
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me;
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
And fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.
The lover watched his graceful maid
As 'mid the ****** train she strayed,
Nor knew her beauty's best attire
Was woven still by the snow-white quire;
At last she came to his hermitage,
Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage,—
The gay enchantment was undone,
A gentle wife, but fairy none.
Then I said, "I covet Truth;
Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat,—
I leave it behind with the games of youth."
As I spoke, beneath my feet
The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
Running over the club-moss burrs;
I inhaled the violet's breath;
Around me stood the oaks and firs;
Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground;
Above me soared the eternal sky,
Full of light and deity;
Again I saw, again I heard,
The rolling river, the morning bird;—
Beauty through my senses stole,
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
2.2k
I know everyone
In the town
Said the Big Brother
But everyone
Knows me
Replied
Swamy Downey
Nonchalantly
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:24 AM UTC
4
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
** Pilot, **
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar—
Where the storm is o’er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest—
The anchors fast—
Thither I pilot thee—
Land ** Eternity!
Ashore at last!
2.1k
Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?
Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
2k
O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.
O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.
O were I thou that she might take me in,
And lay me on her ***** and her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died.
Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?
O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown:
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.
O tell her, brief is life but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.
O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.
1.8k
When beauty finds thee
Trapped in toiled imagination
the stars do shine more brilliant than any man hath beheld
But when beauty declines
A hole opens
And leaves thee gasping evermore
When thy to God do pray, to help thee find a way
Beauty beckons thee the very next day
Thy soul doth leap in joyous song
And thy heart does play along
But when thou doest, a revelation doth occur:
Happiness is never pure.
Even when upon the world thou sits,
Beauty may free thy mind.
Or tear at thy sight, make thee blind.
When beauty’s not but a wish,
Thou knowest nothing compares.
The worlds jealousy common shares.
When beauty plays a seductive dance,
A lustful art known by chance.
And every moment spent in beauty's grace
Leaves thee trapped in beauty's love.
The pleasure pain rest not only in thy chest
But in thine eye.
Thine nose.
Thine hand.
Thine skin.
Thine lips.
And beauty's touch is needed more
Then oxygen or water.
Thou wantest to bathe in beauty's touch
With bated breath.
Touch it.
Hold it.
But thou finds thyself blocked by a mountain made of glass.
This mountain is taller than thou could ever hope to climb,
Wider than thou ever hope to pass.
What of this?
Is thou free to climb,
Knowing full well thou will never see an end?
Or dost thou choose to walk,
Hope that a day will pass when mountains end and beauties begin do meet,
Ready to be wrapped in a loves embrace?
Or does thou journey elsewhere?
Scour the earth in a futile attempt to find something else
That can compare to a summers day?
To what dost thou owe beauty?
Nothing at all.
Even still, beauty is worth times sacrifice.
So I say, thou work hard.
Build thyself a stepping stone.
Fight for beauty and one day beauty shall be found.
Though the roads travel is like a window into time,
Endless, infinite, full of memories and regrets.
Still, journey on.
Never lose sight of beauty.
For win or loss, time is time well spent,
Chasing after an aureate phoenix.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
If you aren't proud to be my girl in front of the world
I'll still be your ***** little secrert
but know my heart is not fit so when you hurl it
be not afraid it may break on whateva it hits
as surely already't shall be long broken to bits.
An affair wants to spill,
to share of its glory
as a Lioness shares her ****
Or an author his story
No act is so private it does not seek applause.
True love seeks the ALL & knowest time doth not pause
so as a consiquence
Passion never shys from standing up for this cause
uplifting the object you desire Human flaws and Awe
Ghouls shant go hating on her without those fools hating him
and right or wrong and vice versa each other they ever defend
'Else Love becomes a shadow of what it could have been
Not even if 'twere to never heard of such things
however unbeknowest t'will still be a sin
if in this dark world Love's Light isn't unfurled
if dead creeps into beauty & darkness roots its way back in.
best we be Happiest now intact with our Love there in
so for once instead it's the 'morrow that can't wait to see us again.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
‘When that dead face, bowered in the furthest years,
Which once was all the life years held for thee,
Can now scarce bide the tides of memory
Cast on thy soul a little spray of tears,—
How canst thou gaze into these eyes of hers
Whom now thy heart delights in, and not see
Within each orb Love’s philtred euphrasy
Make them of buried troth remembrancers?’
‘Nay, pitiful Love, nay, loving Pity! Well
Thou knowest that in these twain I have confess’d
Two very voices of thy summoning bell.
Nay, Master, shall not Death make manifest
In these the culminant changes which approve
The love-moon that must light my soul to Love?’
1.6k
We can hear: "caw caw! Ping ping!"
As we return to the bust of The Wiygg;
He who knowest thou deliver Burning Sword
To Sanjeet and Romesh Singh,
Those who beat their blood-soaked wings.
Once that particular door has been shut,
And twilight enfolds from within,
Lang, Rita, Jamal
And Hatesh P. Benjamin,
Where will you call home
Once the end of the night begins?
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 9:18 AM UTC
918
Only a Shrine, but Mine—
I made the Taper shine—
Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come,
Regard a Nun—
Thou knowest every Woe—
Needless to tell thee—so—
But can’st thou do
The Grace next to it—heal?
That looks a harder skill to us—
Still—just as easy, if it be thy Will
To thee—Grant me—
Thou knowest, though, so Why tell thee?
1.5k
Child of a day, thou knowest not
The tears that overflow thy urn,
The gushing eyes that read thy lot,
Nor, if thou knewest, couldst return!
And why the wish! the pure and blest
Watch like thy mother o'er thy sleep.
O peaceful night! O envied rest!
1.5k
In light go all the heartrendingly serious problems I've been writing about lately, I decided to write and enter another side of things.
A Lighthearted Poem For All We Scorpios♏️
This is a poem to cover
All we Scorpios alive or not.
In case you didn’t know,
We are a special lot.
‘Cover’ means:
Envelop and enfold, embody and embrace.
We are lovers
And the charming-est of ‘race’..
(of course I’m not impartial).
We are: fixed, we don’t change easily.
We must learn flexibility.
And mixed: Our colors brown and black,
Deep red/maroon;
Our rulers; Pluto, Mars, Uranus, Moon.
We’re born between:
Oct. 23 - Nov. 22
This poem’s for me, this poem’s for you.
We are the highest and the lowest:
So you ‘knowest’, we are:
Forceful and intuitive, passionate, magnetic.
Lovers,
We are great survivors.
BUT, we’re also jealous and possessive,
Wilful, secretive, compulsive and obsessive.
Make sure you choose the best;
Turn secrets to transparency…
Watch out for all the rest.
Believer in the mystic all/ material
One or the other/none of these
You are a sister, brother, father, mother
Therefore, take astrology with ease
And live with love, and how you please.
A Lighthearted Poem For All We Scorpios 10.31.2018
I Is Always We Is You; Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC