"monotones" poems
We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.
Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.
When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.
Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.
That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.
I'm sick with
every disease I
know.
I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
A chaque fois que tu rentres de bonne heure,
Mon coeur se remplit de Bonheur.
Tu illumines nos soirées monotones,
Tu nous fais rire avec tes blagues, même si elles redondonnent.
Avec toi on ne s'ennuie jamais,
On parle, on crie, on s'échange des secrets.
Tu n'hésites pas à nous faire des câlins,
Même quand tu t'en vas de bon matin.
On n'aime pas te voir partir si ****
On préfère quand tu restes dans le coin.
La Russie, c'est comme le bout du monde,
Heureusement que tu n'es pas James Bond!
On aime te voir à la maison,
Avec tes pyjamas troués et ta barbe de bison.
Même pas peur quand tu vas chez le coiffeur,
On connaît ta tête de pomme par cœur!
On a beau se plaindre de ton penchant pour les sucreries,
Il faut avouer qu'un peu de graisse, c'est aussi confortable qu'un lit.
Même si tu trempes ton pain au fromage dans ton café,
Nous, on a même pas peur de t'embrasser.
On a toujours hâte que tu reviennes,
Même si ca ne fait pas une heure que tu es parti.
Ne t'inquiètes pas on restera les mêmes,
On sera toujours là pour te faire des guilis.
T'es le roi des bisous, t'es le roi des Papas,
On t'aimera toujours, même si tu manges du chocolat!
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.
But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.
Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.
And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.
Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.
Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.
I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.
But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.
Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.
'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
My absolute destiny is to skull **** the **** out of life
To blast open the empty cleavage
To shatter all the deceptive phonographs
Those that you now consider “convenient modes of transportation”
Every dawn I will howl into your vibrating monotones
Your Dutch rambling will be reduced to ashes
Alone in a ***** hostel
You will be shocked by the sight of a desecrated ******
The fish scales still burning
Left in their natural preservatives
The lowest of all the adorned creatures
Is he who succumbs to mediocrity
An ordinary existence is worse then a wasted *** receptacle
If they cant see the truce in a setting sunlight
It is a sin to deteriorate comfortably
Making circles with the tracks of your laymen’s truck
of waking up happy with your plastic name tags
carved to resemble an ignorant life scrap
This **** disgusts me
It is the skull ******* that define a generation
Grab your sword a
and plunge deep into the night
A laudable combination of weapons of mass destruction
and drunkards
This is one less moment you spend being ordinary
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
'where night is....
monotones of silver stars'
emotions
blues, greys,
summer tied
to our hair,
love on our
lips,
in a moment
we live and die,
kisses of golden
skies,
our dreamy heads
lost in the clouds
uprooted like a
strange plant, we
run to prove we're
still alive,
dance to say we're
beautiful and strong,
like a polished stone
we find ourselves in
weird pockets,
where the air sighs
where our ribs are no
longer a cage for
our breath
where the stars
hang like fisherman's
nets wrapped to
a black ink sky,
strange sea of stars
love so gorgeous
it sings like the
wild storm-grey sea,
where night is....
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
dead stares
and longing eyes
monotones
and **** lies
virtue swept
beauty poised!
skins bare
body throws...
rapid fashions
repetition
designer popping
ammunition!
smiles for the cameras
an exhibition!
Apr 13, 2011
Apr 13, 2011 at 10:48 PM UTC
He waits for nothing
trapped inside vendettas of the past.
To compensate for all the pain.
Collapsed by storms, aghast.
Mouthing words into the plated
metal microphone.
Omniscient spy who gawks upon
his wretched monotones.
Patient Dr. Jekyll sits still
with longing looks.
While Heyde is toying endlessly
amongst his fellow crooks.
If only neither played a part,
and both were but a dream,
No plague of silent conflict
would crowd his every seam.
Within the realm of tragedy,
is where his soul endures.
Ty; intrinsic predator
searching for a cure.
And as his restless measures
of feelings coincide,
and harmonies escape his lungs
while beats start to collide,
The distant Dr. Jekyll protrudes
from vacant sleep.
Commences to erode a quiet
conscience, from the deep.
Sudden need for elsewhere
is all that Ty can see.
Every fiber recognizes
where he needs to be.
And suddenly the microphone,
who knows his every pain
is sitting lonely,
mesmerized
by silent noise again.
Ty is but a victim, sullen thoughts
that make him sick.
Never can he compromise,
when all his habits stick.
Forever now ambivalent,
confused and losing time.
Ty knots his laces,
bats his tears,
a façade: pressed and fine.
Ty's dreams are crushed,
disintegrate into the offshore sand.
When all at once he notices,
his life is in his hands.
A straw that Jekyll used before
is laying on the ground.
Heyde is shaking shamefully,
but cannot make a sound.
Ty looks upon the dreams he crushed
and searches for his will
its lined up right in front of him,
dispassion in a pill.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
In between shear white and jet-black
with a strong dollop of indigo blue,
lies the pale uncertainty of grayness
the most God-awful hue.
Grayness frustrates the senses.
Grayness stipulates malaise.
A shroud of indecision
arrests the imagination;
chained in wisps of doubt.
The definition of things
routed in a solitary
palette of insincerity.
Grayness negates options.
Grayness obscures landscapes.
Objects disappear
into walls of foggy smiles,
whispering repetitive monotones
of monotonous monologues
in incomprehensible language.
The mind is muted in a pall of haze.
Endless colorlessness of the days.
Days upon days of arctic blight.
Midwinter's endless drama.
White dust
sprinkled on the brain,
layering coats
of a suffocating
ashen pallor.
Dimming the wit,
Quelling the spirit.
Thoughts of light are captured
then lost
in craggy crevasses
of a dull blackened cranium.
Light can't touch the eye
Plaque builds in a hearts ventricle
Warmth escapes the body
and evaporates through
the magic of convection.
A vision remains;
barely an apparition
of a distant
dissipating ghost.
Belgian Café
Hudson St.
NYC
1/29/99
Music Selection:
Roslavets, Three Etudes
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
:::::
This afternoon gets warmer by the hour,
weird, sweaty, sere ground.....no water,
not even a shy wind to blow a feather
an unwanted restrain....very much, a tether
senses seem numbed.....unaware,
:::::
suddenly,
clouds part....in a flick of a finger,
a bolt of lightning.....then, roars the thunder
sweet energy cracks in a simple quiver
:::::
tap ruptures........rain pours
releasing scent of sweet petrichor
withered soil and rain unite
nourishing roses...yellow, pink, white
soul is sparked....instantly inspired
::::::
suddenly,
eyes and mind are drunk, yet, they concur
bulging with ideas and images without blur
all are energized by the miraculous rainwater
:::::
suddenly,
behind the wet bushes, an open mic unfolds,
frogs' croaks alternate with lizards' call...behold,
up the trees, crickets, katydids sing relentlessly
ahhh, a kind wind....it's a bit colder...finally
:::::
where sun dips, and beyond...amidst a cold
dark, a slam poetry session is live, where the bold
ones hiss, shriek, or sing in monotones...no rules,
all do their thing at the same time.......like fools.
:::::
rain has stopped, folks are out, taking it easy
............mosquitoes are ever ready
this night.....could really be ****** :)
:::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 6, 2018---
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 8:53 PM UTC
Observing you
Animated, you speak in increasing overtones, filtering even traces of any creeping monotones.
With a passion that boils like lava in volcanic fissures, you express your convictions in strong hand gestures.
I see in you a certain glow, within which your inner strength shows.
I know now that you're one to stand up and not leave.
I see in you, a solid belief.
Your head whips back, as growing laughter wracks you in vibrations sharp, every little motion originating from your hearts little shards.
I see in you, something I don't see in me, a bravery to bear the brunt of a dishonest society.
No need have you, to repress or regress every feeling or thought, so subconsciously you confess. You detest going through the motions, but know enough to be true to your emotions.
I see in you something for me, honesty.
As you speak of the people you lost and the people you just had to let go of, an incomplete smile and lying eyes tell the story that your lips just cannot. Smothered by the memories, your smile waits for the tension to release.
It twitches and ceases, seemingly against its own wishes.
I see a broken world in your eyes, but also a flame that never dies.
I see in you a veteran of storms, a resounding bell that never stops.
A temper you hold, that often flares in your eyebrows.
I steal a glimpse, even when you won't let it show. But you hold your beast down, and a more permanent smile replaces that momentary frown, as you reject the things that make you drown.
I see in you kindness and resilience.
I see in you, empathy and forbearance.
You speak of a thousand places and times and a oceanful of faces.
You speak of the worlds that you are a part of, the experiences that you're at the heart of.
Your eyes tell is wonders that are and have been. Even your songs bear the mark of the celestial, a beauty that stands on a pedestal.
I see in you, the work of God and now to the effect I see how you really are, imperfectly perfect.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Je veux, pour composer chastement mes églogues,
Coucher auprès du ciel, comme les astrologues,
Et, voisin des clochers, écouter en rêvant
Leurs hymnes solennels emportés par le vent.
Les deux mains au menton, du haut de ma mansarde,
Je verrai l'atelier qui chante et qui bavarde ;
Les tuyaux, les clochers, ces mâts de la cité,
Et les grands ciels qui font rêver d'éternité.
Il est doux, à travers les brumes, de voir naître
L'étoile dans l'azur, la lampe à la fenêtre,
Les fleuves de charbon monter au firmament
Et la lune verser son pâle enchantement.
Je verrai les printemps, les étés, les automnes ;
Et quand viendra l'hiver aux neiges monotones,
Je fermerai partout portières et volets
Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.
Alors je rêverai des horizons bleuâtres,
Des jardins, des jets d'eau pleurant dans les albâtres,
Des baisers, des oiseaux chantant soir et matin,
Et tout ce que l'Idylle a de plus enfantin.
L'Émeute, tempêtant vainement à ma vitre,
Ne fera pas lever mon front de mon pupitre ;
Car je serai plongé dans cette volupté
D'évoquer le Printemps avec ma volonté,
De tirer un soleil de mon coeur, et de faire
De mes pensers brûlants une tiède atmosphère.
882
Maneuver your stride towards me,
towards optimizing roads
For decades your desires were not so consistent
but for me it remains deliberate.
The peak of my dreams are atoms of dark pessimistic matter,
even if a fraction of the optimistic shatters.
Your still a quaint engineer severing many individuals to planks,
but lucky me I flew away, like cranes.
I may be mesmerized by the tides of these oceans zones,
but unlike you I know just how to divide the depths
into separate monotones.
Prisms reflecting, concepts dissecting,
and nothing more than the galaxies 3rd rock
revolving towards dissolving.
Anxious bones, weary nerves,
everyone has been a lust of the moment spur.
I beg your resistance but aren't you a *******
Never spoke to yours either?
Some men are just cowards.
Yeah so some shells broke
and not every pearl was found,
But who really needs a new necklace and fake ocean sound?
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.
Les feuilles sont sèches et passives
Et les fleurs mortes et inactives
Plus **** c’est la neige
Les voisins de l’auberge
Voient passer les cerfs
Toute la sainte journée
Et pendant toute la soirée
On sent changer les nerfs
Pour accueillir la nouvelle saison
Où l’on est **** de la moisson.
On peut entendre de très ****
Le vent qui fredonne dans les foins
Les vibrations ne sont pas monotones
Puisque les colibris des mornes
Font sentir leur présence spectaculaire
Et les poètes aux jardins imaginaires
Décrivent tout ce qui se passe
Dans la contrée où la masse
Demeure insensible et ignorante
Et où les élus corrompus se vantent.
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.
P.S. Traduction de ‘ The Ancient Canticles Of Autumn’.
Copyright © Novembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs livres de poésie.
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 10:44 PM UTC
As I lay in bed
Listening to the harmonies of Gaia
The crickets play an ensemble
of strings
Follow by the alto rain that sings melodies of love & grace
Finally the rumbling roar of thunder
A behemoth of baritone brass notes
to disrupt the soothing articulate ending
An ending to remind me of a bittersweet finale
This piece is known as laments of my truly dearest
As I inebriate this broken hollow shell
At the dismal hours
of an aching heart
Tired eyes that only finds comfort within art
Shattered mind
Pieces everywhere
It's all fallen apart
Motionless to where I wander life with only my ear
With the rehearsal of nature subsiding
I'm only left with the drone like monotones of quietness & loneliness
A reflection of the abyss that spirals inside me
Once fallen
Numbness becomes seductive
Just like a black crimson dress
Appealing like a sensual flaming rose, but misleading
as you're pricked by the blackness of each thorns
Like nostalgic memories
Joyful moments that always end with mourns
I glare at the foggy misty window
to see gray faded portraits
Dull without a soul
Gloomy & yet so innocent
like notes played in dissonant
With that extra note that makes you sound beautiful
The night soon creeps at the calm of the storm
A moment to reminisce
the day I laid eyes on you
the day that ended with a kiss
Malevolent, but fragile in the inside
Like a mirror
One poke to fall apart elegant like
You needed someone to love you...
As I wake up to nightfall storms
A reminder of uneasiness
As if the storm was telling me to never forget
As if the storm was the manifestation of woes
A reminder that it was real...
Just one more moment to have
my hands feel your pearl like skin
Your velvet & golden eye...
Finally your goodbye
Taken away by vines
You told me it'll be just fine
Resonance that echo
a broken man
Finally your demise...
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 4:15 AM UTC
woe to those who live
without passion,
who their whole lives have walked
inside the lines
who live in one, straightforward
black and white world;
who, even in their rejoicing,
wear monotones on their breath;
who have never wandered
and have not found their way;
who have never fought -
they must not have anything worth fighting for.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
I sat in the refectory
for the first time
a monk was reading
from some book
on Queen Mary Tudor,
Deus videt in corde meo,
visitors sat in the center table
surrounded by monks
and no one spoke
except the monk reading
from a high platform
his voice in monotones,
and she spread herself
on the bed
legs wide
and said
enter my port,
Hugh talked of singing
in unison as if I wasn't
as if he hadn't chanted
like a cow in labour,
he should knoweth that
whoever undertakes
the government of souls
must prepare himself
to account for them
Benedict said,
I watched the monk
limp along the cloister
head bowed
and carrying a *****
head to one side,
bell rang from bell tower
God's voice Dom Charles said
picking apples
in the abbey orchard,
she spoke in that soft tone
she had velvety silky
and kissed me over and over,
Dieu ne se trompe pas
the French monk said
clipping the hedge
by the garden wall
and passing me
the clippings,
tolled bells rang out
across the cloister garth
and George spoke
of priesthood at some time,
the scent of incense
as I entered the church after Terce
and sunlight in the high windows,
Gott im Mauerwerk
the Austrian monk said
rubbing fingers down
the brickwork in the cloister
feel Him he added
and I did,
it is not enough to possess
a good mind but to use it well
Gareth said by the abbey beach
quoting Descartes,
Dom Joseph(dear Bunny)
smiled his broad smile
like a sun rising at dawn,
the abbot tapped
on the table
and the reader
ceased reading
and prayers were said,
after Lauds
I made my way
for black coffee
and brown bread.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
Buzzing alarms, striking eight o' clock with a plan,
Dressed pin-striped so I can meet " The Something Men".
Among them are the monotones that pierce no silence.
Reaching, SLAMMING on the clock a bit past ten,
Shedding feelings that hardly I can mention.
Patent leather hitting Own St., and I opened my briefcase at Soul Plaza.
Waking before the city lights close their eyes,
Deciding between the instant oatmeal or corporate bath.
Never will industry keep watch on me, I keep my own ******* time.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
*(washed out
and falling
through a pastel
hued autumn
into winter white
and worried)*
thick and fuzzy
headed through
multi-toned rings
dimmed down
colorless jewelry
that doesn't fit me
*(if i shut my eyes i
can see colors bouncing
through the gray
matter lost to time)*
and i'm sorry
for who i've become
sorry for who
i always was
*(shouting in colors
outside and
choked in monotones
where it matters)*
yellow and navy
to match my
favorite pillowcase
the one place i've
found my head
feeling safe
*(i love the darkness until
it swallows me whole
and i can't find my way
back into the light)*
a rose gold
regret
a lifetime of
my own
eyelids to
forget.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.
Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.
When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.
Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.
That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.
I'm sick with
every disease I
know.
I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
Sitting on hallowed pews,
Fighting the insuperable desire
To let my leaden head
Fall into the wake of sleep,
Bobbing in and out of consciousness.
My faith is not something strengthened
By these monotones, memorized traditions.
Wasn't it He who asked us to set ourselves apart,
To not just go through the motions.
Floating in serene waters,
Expression soft,
Mind at peace and exulted up in prayer,
This rememberance of Your omnipotent love.
This feeling of awe and wonder.
This is faith for me.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
The magic of Music ,
The gospel hallelujahs,
Nostalgias of lost lovers,
Captured in notes and stanzas,
It is Companion to the lone traveller on his own,
Strangers from every corner,
music is for all.
The faith in it the love the fear the regret ,
Adds beauty to the universe,
The morning birds' acapellas,
The soprano of the wind,
The beauty of mans beat's
Distinguished from all beasts,
Every note heavy with memories of past and hopes of future,
The art meant for the heart is music,
altering monotones and sorrows,
Giving hope for tommorrow,
An endowment of ages, for rayals and sages,
As it rises from within the quiet of the conscience,
Defeating explanations of science,
How it sparks chemistry is alchemy,
Down through history
A lovers afrodisiac,
A trusted sedative through pain,
Meditative,it lives and breaths,
A beat ,an art, a beauty,
Now read from bottom to top.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Lost--
Pieces of me
I let dewindle and stay.
This invisble war
Was love-
Fall
-ing
Into lon-li-ness.
I've been circle sawing
Idle thoughts
--Prozac tents,
Disregarding her while
Crawling caterpillars are my skin,
I begin to drift algrid monotones.
With lead volcanoes
Weighing majestic suffering
To broken keys and hanging fingers.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
evenings dwindle ever so slowly
as if Time had forgotten to breathe;
suspended, in effortless gloom
wildly wishing
the overture would change for once
monotones bleed from things once cherished and abhorred;
people so beloved
held cruelly by the vortex created by Time and Land
the clock strikes its usual hour with an poignant ‘ding’
echoing in the staleness of now.
perhaps I’m deluded Time had forgotten her cue;
perhaps I myself had forgotten to live,
perhaps I had turned cold and merely waited for warmth to thaw me,
perhaps the wait for that elusive desire
halts the need for progression;
Perhaps
I have tasted the dismal dismay this disgruntled encasement delivers;
it took so long to notice...
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 7:09 AM UTC
It drones on, with empty determination,
the moving mouth;
pouring out a jumble of blurring monotones,
onto halfhearted minds.
While stiff gears grind the rust of in-imagination
and spin silent thoughts,
that stay quiet and subdued.
The people move in silent obedience
to some empty hearted duty;
colonizing the corridors like clockwork,
hoping to find refuge in the knowledge,
behind their murmuring doors.
Solace to the lurking shadow,
a fragile future,
hung by fears and dollar signs.
An intangible force,
that makes our feet march in time,
along the road to success.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 3:27 PM UTC
Water in my roots
And once again, my stems bleed me out of an aquamarine cyclone
Flying through every cloud, floating through the dopamine daydreams
manias and monotones
After a decade of droughts
I twirled in a tornado
While the demons ate my brain
So I designed a tavern
To lock myself in
Water in my roots
And once again, a blurred vision of ecstasy blinds my eyesight
Looking in opaque mirrors, pressing the pearls of the pendulum
sepias and saxophones
I danced through a hurricane
While the angels saved my torso
So I tore the broken chains
To let myself out
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC