"mystification" poems
After comparing lives with you for years
I see how I’ve been losing: all the while
I’ve met a different gauge of girl from yours.
Grant that, and all the rest makes sense as well:
My mortification at your pushovers,
Your mystification at my fecklessness—
Everything proves we play in separate leagues.
Before, I couldn’t credit your intrigues
Because I thought all girls the same, but yes,
You bag real birds, though they’re from alien covers.
Now I believe your staggering skirmishes
In train, tutorial and telephone booth,
The wife whose husband watched away matches
While she behaved so badly in a bath,
And all the rest who beckon from that world
Described on Sundays only, where to want
Is straightway to be wanted, seek to find,
And no one gets upset or seems to mind
At what you say to them, or what you don’t:
A world where all the nonsense is annulled,
And beauty is accepted slang for yes.
But equally, haven’t you noticed mine?
They have their world, not much compared with yours,
But where they work, and age, and put off men
By being unattractive, or too shy,
Or having morals—anyhow, none give in:
Some of them go quite rigid with disgust
At anything but marriage: that’s all lust
And so not worth considering; they begin
Fetching your hat, so that you have to lie
Till everything’s confused: you mine away
For months, both of you, till the collapse comes
Into remorse, tears, and wondering why
You ever start such boring barren games
—But there, don’t mind my saeva indignatio:
I’m happier now I’ve got things clear, although
It’s strange we never meet each other’s sort:
There should be equal chances, I’d’ve thought.
Must finish now. One day perhaps I’ll know
What makes you be so lucky in your ratio
—One of those ‘more things’, could it be? Horatio.
3k
You seem lost
Whenever I encounter your presence
No matter if you’re in the center of civility
Or the most savage of circumstances
Wandering in the midst of a world
Obsessed with being found
You roam
In between the most extreme of situations
Trying to join this crowd
Who claim to be found
To belong
Yet, I wonder why you would wish to be normal
Perhaps I haven’t been clear
Watching you go through your journey
Seeing these valleys you traverse
Entranced in your delicate balance
I wished you knew this:
You have a place
It’s not much
Simple structure, empty space
With no sign of anyone previous
But still one I would show to no other
Perhaps my hesitation lies thus
In the mystification of why you would accept this place
I do hope you know, however
That it will remain
A small oasis in the midst of the desert you travel
Forever undisturbed
For if you never find such a place
To take shelter
From the storm that rages around you
There will be one awaiting
Next to me
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
I am here now
Amidst the ashes;
Away from the world's mystification.
Do not weep for me now
Remember my sacrifices;
My love, my life for the nation.
They reckon they've won now
They laugh, they celebrate-
Sad! they do not grasp the ramification.
Mother have lost her child now
Holding a grave ache in her heart.
And me- a fallen father for my girl and son!
Will I be avenged now!
Or end up like a long lost memory
Of honor and love for my country?
Will I be avenged!
Or end up as a tool in the game of politics
Between vultures clutching on the opportunity?
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
Water of remembrance sprinkled
On the mountain crest of recollection.
Indulgent mussy memory catapulted
Stones of retentiveness into the
Courtyard of events like bricole
Of battles.
Pendulum of reminiscences swinging
On oscillating milage of roads like
Trotting horse with drippage of sweat
And itching foots.
Ghost of reminiscences restlessly
Roaming with carriage of yesteryear.
Final year educatees required
Boardinghouse,
But list of items engorged dear
Mother's treasury
"where do l raise money
to buy oyinbo mattress, Ilori?"
Mind pullulated with weariness.
Intonation of worries.
Cantillation of wants.
Deficiency of measured means.
Oyinbo mattress beyond ladder
Of reach.
Gluttonously waiting to devour
Lesser items,
But rays of compulsion unslammed
The gate of respite.
Lordly arrival warmly welcomed by
The dorm room's porter,
Walking majestically to the bed-space
With the acquired cotton wool and raffia leaves mattress.
Gamut of items passed through the eagle's eyes of the housemaster.
Silver painted pail donated by a neighbour passed through the sentry of inspection,
And got its admission.
Mother's used cloak turned bedsheets
Passed through the rigorous scrutiny.
Newly built portmanteau unlocked and neatly dissected, item by item.
Agazed eyes focused on the cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress.
Expectations rattled mumbling astonishment.
Legs stuck in the mud of mystification.
Telepathic dews covered ocean of thought.
Tranquil silence engulfed vicinity,
Deflating the balloon of hope like a litigant awaiting verdict from the jurist's chambers.
Porter's gesticulating gesture connoted nothingness of demeaning disapproval, perambulating on the hilly terrain of approval.
Akimbo stood l.
Now the verdict!
Molten volcanic magisterial command erupted in a gestapo gesture,
Spudding out from the barytone's baritone voice from the selfsame housemaster,
From the bastion of authority,
And the house generalissimo like a wild brant squalled, matter-of-factly,
"we do not accept bed bugs cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress here".
Entreaties collapsed.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:30 AM UTC
I dreamed a dream,
A beautiful dream
That was a dream of love, of passions coming straight from the core (of my heart)
Of emotions, that would never go sour
That was a dream of care, of devotion and prayer
Of feelings which will make the eyes full of tear.
A dream of courage, of getting rid of the saggy evil wreckage (of my mind)
Without becoming my inner demons hostage
A dream of gratitude, coming out of the shell of solitude
A dream where begins the end of solitary confinement,
The journey of all new excitement
A dream of endless emotions
The eternity of its mystification
A dream where you speak your heart out
Even when you are in crowd, you just standout
Once the eyes opened,
The whole thing shattered with a scream
And that was the end of my beautiful dream
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
I'm tired of screaming
And not being heard
I'm tired on blabbing
On and on
It's absurd!
Just wake me up
From my forever sleep
And restrain from my master's keep
The dark forbidden tomb
That is my cascading mind,
Is trapped forever,
Frozen in perpetual time.
Striving for perfection
You get nothing but "perplextion"
Confusion
"Bemusion"
Mystification
It's my only relation.
As I wander in dead darkness
I feel the heat creep up behind me.
I feel the flame lick my neck
I feel the cold linger
No longer a speck
A speck of hope
A speck of fear
A speck of soul I cling to dear!
My love is my torch
My love is my lamp
Even when God's tears drip and fall
Trying to make my spirits damp.
But I tread on
Through that doomed sepulcher.
I tread on...
No one can help her.
They say God has a plan
One everyone must follow
Right up to the very man...
A plan called fate
A plan I hate
A plan that dooms us all in state,
The state of fear
We wallow in,
The state we hear of indifference...
Every night I hear the screams
In my commemorative dreams
The screams of my peers
That echo in my ears
They match my own
My silent screams
They mask my dream
Their silent screams
From neglect above,
He neglects to save me
For I fear to speak aloud
For I fear to be misunderstood
From what i suffer...
The count down to the ever-stated doom
Is pounding in my head
A heartbeat that is hushed
Am I really so dead?
Wish me luck as I travel to space
The clock goes tick
I have one wish
I wish for freedom
I wish for tears
I wish for more people with ears
Ears that will listen to the cries
Of everyone
Everyone that dies
But everyone must die
So now it's my turn
Wish me luck
Send me to space
Please! get me away from this place
I want to be free
So please
Let me be
Count down
say five
Don't drown
say four
Not from my tears
say three
Not for many years
say two
Just please Lord forgive me,
say one...
For I have sinned.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
locked in prison
endless reams of mystification
why this chastisement
why do i feel no guilt or shame?
just a cell full of questions
why am i here?
i speak to a ghost-playful as ever
but that cannot be-never!
why am i not saved? where is my lover?
devoid of emotion, just feet that want to run
breaking through the walls and bars
running through a football field
unable to stop dashing------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-Vijayalakshmi Harish
13.10.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Do you taste it?
The ease and cool mystification she gives you…
The addiction like a passionate revival
Do you feel it
The gratification she grants
BAM you’re baked like a cake
Her lips like a love potion
Her hips like LSD and you’re riding the cool waves of Janis Joplin
Do you need it?
That midnight body on you like I did
Those ********* hands, that ********* tenderness
Do you **** it?
Like there is no tomorrow, do you make that body quease under you?
Little do you know she’s toxic, like a cigarette between your teeth
Swallowing the forsaken **** up that is your whole being
She is like a tear rolling down your cheek, exposing you.
You’re in deep and in love with a *******
Cigarette
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Where her preponderance takes over rainbows will overtaketh thy dark cloud, the phantism of her queen screen projection is for all to daydream of!!! What a riddle shell leave you upon thy emptied tray, her mysticism and mystification can leave a bruise upon thy name!!! An atlas of lost time, shell pursue to all oceanic depths, a mall thief of unbelief, she just could pile all thou has left!!!! An intensive heart throb to maximum proportions, she will jeer you to distortion if thouest forget her special occasions!!!
How lovely is thy own grass when it withers? Still leaving behind sheers of myrtle grove? She will dissavow your heated warm loathe.... Discerning one, disclose me all the way, where is thy key to ones disorderly dungeon? The embellishment to all real estate!!!!
One whom I can fascinate and rellish to mine and hers own doings!!!!!!!
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
0100110110- etc..
0 & 1 & 2 is 3
" ? "
i know two numbers,
one and zero
though the "two" cannot exist here,
the inclusion of an additional
element becomes a necessary evil,
for zero once paired becomes
a paradox resulting from three
instances of enumeration
(presumably at once)
since the zero is involved in all this,
its very existence must count, even if
in fact it only represents a void—
to correct this numerical anomaly,
the two must exit this array by first
taking nothing with it...
"a binary mystification"
© 2010 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 7:08 AM UTC
the inertia of animation of Narcissus...
the water that becomes ice
of a fixation...
in visage...
if only Narcissus found
himself...
fixating on his shadow...
then again...
whatever Jung proposed,
in schematic,
and without mythological
imagery...
to propose a counter...
has been lost
to the vague attempts of
countering mythology with
mystification of the shadow...
borrowing from Kant...
a shadow is something deemed
cold...
i say... a shadow is something
deemed animate...
Narcissus fell in love with
an inanimate reflection of himself...
and this is why Jung
failed to explain the shadow...
in that...
his explanation does little
justice to mythology...
and serves nothing more than
mysticism...
how can mythology not be treated
seriously...
when the current contest
of lived to recorded time
is exponentially comical...
myth is time with the logic
of said myth, being kept as...
what coincides with
whatever happens
now to happen later,
having borrowed from
what happened in the past,
a past, that... mediates the impeccable
intricacy of scientific prodding...
to disavow a humanism of
the, "grand explanatory project"...
as if... that will not be countered
by an irrational tomorrow...
to the rationalism of...
oh... say... 3 billions year, give or take.
the shadow is too mystical in
Jungian terms...
my explanation of the shadow is...
counter to Narcissus...
the demigod who...
looking at his shadow...
made a more subliminal
fascination...
the mere form,
and how thought somehow
contradicted consciousness (dasein)...
Jung took the mystical,
archetypical route...
i took the mythological,
archaic route;
i guess we both returned to the same
conclusion...
only that...
there wouldn't be a Narcissus
without a lake,
since there would be no Narcissistic
observation on either sea
or river...
but i sure as hell can cast
a shadow onto the sea,
as i can, onto a river.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
unless you can write a story about someone from omniscient point of view, without skewed romanticism and self-centered mystification, you don't know the person. love is never a first person narrative. you can't just say you don't remember. no, i won't let you have that postmodern indulgence, you can't be unreliable narrator.
but what are you then? the almighty author? god? those boys been long dead and gone, and i just don't know anymore where i stand, or where you stood. do you think about me ever? do you sometimes write about me? am i perfect in your memory? do you remember the smell of my perfume? will you be able to write about me, trying to pick the right shade of lipstick to wear?
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
Sleep wanders without consent
Vilified of contemptuous regret
Placated thru abyssed depravity
Unbeknownst by virtues deplored
The external, eternal mystification
Of burning eyes wide burdened
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
San Creation
Regeneration
Altercation
Explication
Duplication
Mystification
Explanation
Stuplication
Devination
Jubillation
Termination
Dumb Found Nation
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC