"oblation" poems
Tis a grand vocation
to be an inspiration
Tis a winsome aspiration
may be an oblation
May take some time
along with perspiration
Along with dedication
may come a solved equation
Tis a winsome aspiration
may come with some elation.
Tis a grand vocation
to be an inspiration.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 2:42 PM UTC
Edifice erections surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first:
To offer you now at last my least and my worst:
Minor, absurd preserves,
The shell's end-curves,
A document kept at the back of a drawer,
A tin hidden under the floor,
Recalcitrant prides and hesitations:
To pile them carefully in a desparate oblation
And say to you "quickly! turn them
Once over and burn them".
Now I (no communist, heaven knows!
Who have kept as my dearest right to close
My tenth door after I've opened nine to the world,
To unfold nine sepals holding one hard-furled)
Shall - or shall try to - offer to you
A communism of two ...
See, entry's yours;
Here, the last door!
2.3k
I, too, saw God through mud, -
The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.
War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.
Merry it was to laugh there -
Where death becomes absurd and life absurder.
For power was on us as we slashed bones bare
Not to feel sickness or remorse of ******
I, too, have dropped off Fear -
Behind the barrage, dead as my platoon,
And sailed my spirit surging light and clear
Past the entanglement where hopes lay strewn;
And witnessed exultation -
Faces that used to curse me, scowl for scowl,
Shine and lift up with passion of oblation,
Seraphic for an hour; though they were foul.
I have made fellowships -
Untold of happy lovers in old song.
For love is not the binding of fair lips
With the soft silk of eyes that look and long,
By Joy, whose ribbon slips, -
But wound with war's hard wire whose stakes are strong;
Bound with the bandage of the arm that drips;
Knit in the webbing of the rifle-thong.
I have perceived much beauty
In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight;
Heard music in the silentness of duty;
Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.
Nevertheless, except you share
With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
Whose world is but the trembling of a flare
And heaven but as the highway for a shell,
You shall not hear their mirth:
You shall not come to think them well content
By any jest of mine. These men are worth
Your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
2.2k
Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborned informer, a true soul
When most impeached stands least in thy control.
2.2k
I offered my soul to the demon
Demon said ,
"You already have me lurking in you ........
perks of your vice surging ,
being unseen .
You are more of a demon
by being a human
than I am by being me "
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
The many voices of the evening
gramophone the sky voice the cell phone
the tablet the notebook, that monotone
observer of mutations purveyor of maladies
the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink
burning in the fires lighting up the skies
an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm
mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves
them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells
that are cut wounded and wear fetching
chants, to an yearning oblation
bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander
there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from
our holy wars to now our holy hours with
the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God
who used to thunder for the ****
old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we
called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation
an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether
depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Edifice erections surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
Edifice erections surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
. . . of incantations in
cantankerous philosophy!
Of these lying liabilities,
what startling objection, so accosting,
has exhausted me? More so than
named quite unfortunate atrocity!
Shall hordes of thought be accursed
by degrees of displeasing hostility
such that satiated curiosity
be evermore abashed in me?
“. . . but I have admonished thee,”
said he,
this subtle, blackened tenant
with a tin man's tonality.
This paper drum that bends to sing
does beg of him the courtesy;
yet, acrid rhetoric singes the hair
with unfavorable flintlock fidelity.
His evasive guarantee then
upends the pores relentlessly.
*“These words will compel a poor
foresight to bleed in the fray
as cascading tears cast their weight
upon cheek in dismay . . .”*
. . . to quash the cypress toxin
of a caustic potpourri—
a dissembling toupee
to one's balding reality.
O lasting opacity
of such poignant translucency,
this flagrant serendipity,
once spawned, must always be?
Possibly; though, I cannot count
how many sets see dawns at sea.
“. . . but I have astonished thee,”
said he
through this Möbius rebuttal
like some soap on TV,
though, it’s ne'er some rerun
what’s cliché wants creativity.
The veiling lee of his lofty marquee
beclouds that one pyrrhic mystery—
that now-clandestine oblation
of one bless'ed unanimity.
*“Akin to a twin whose soul’s
one sin was mine to portray.
‘I’ll pay ne’er a thought!’
curs’ed common naïveté . . .”*
. . . and yet, that's cause to bend
reverent knee, not to thee,
but to that which mine
eye's sole endeavor is to see.
“So, leave me be!”
I lament, ostensibly,
“Lest that passage fall paved
by none other than me.”
Perhaps the Second World war
is just my cup of tea.
“. . . or perhaps this darkness is me,”
said he
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
i've sculpted marble into her image,
a statue, flawless, down to each detail,
her beauty true and that of mind in scrimmage,
her replication filled with much travail,
upon the sight of it in its completion,
i gasped when i beheld its perfect form,
and to protect this object most like Grecian,
i built a temple 'round it for the storm,
one day, as i prepared my veneration,
i found her in the temple stumbling drunk,
and sharing with another my oblation,
unsheathed his sword and deeply in her sunk,
oh, never build a temple to a mortal,
for she'll escape to heaven through that portal
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
And you finally Knew what must be Done
This Copper Sword above the Iron Sun
Threw your Light-Spears to Rio's Promise become
Then Crown this Gold to your Heart's felt as One
As such our Prayers plead to Bless your Name
That once and every Year own your Craft unique
Let your Knights kneel; And Wisdom carry the Frame
To see how Raised Jamaica's Son succeed
For in that Pride - by Health must your Charms flow
Then read those Lessons Bruised yet Shining Bright
Frowned Eyes will Falter; Then see your Strength a-glow
As your Love's Soothing Arms enhance you on Sight.
Now your Oblation - greet that Morning be
Steam, Sir Legend! A Legend you will be.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
a dish containing my bones
& several vital organs
laid to rest on a bed
of colander and sage
a pretty platter
a selfless oblation
one hopes a gift of such
heart might be atoned
& wrapped in a cocoon
& sent away to float the sea
my insides ravaged
my restitution complete
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
Oblation, shared light !
suppose work rest and play
tackled a different subject
previously.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
I have known sadness
When in the solitude of my dark room
I looked to the blank ceiling, my mind
Impregnated with alien emotions
Seeing that the happiness I used to know
Has scampered off to a phantom horizon—
Untouchable….
And that she who used to be my lover
Has become a ghost of memory that haunts me
And I have been divorced from the colours of splendour
With which she like the artist
Once painted my world like a canvass
Into a cathedral filled with angelic oblation
Of a children choir chanting latin hymns
Now, happiness is buried in a tomb-like quiet
Covered by heavy stone of abstract thoughts
Surrounded with my heart’s frightening silence
Further worsened by her—death—to whom my thoughts
Are now betrothed, who bids me to join her
As she comes into my head every dusk
Dressed like a charming bride to lead me out
Through a door, she and she only offers.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
Edifice erection's surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like an incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 4:21 AM UTC
Edifice erection's surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like an incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 11:46 AM UTC
that moves from its mooring: it was from interstice
to intersection somewhere in Poblacion.
I was once there, looking for loose change beside
the market. Quickly I began as though an impression
was made past the kiosks dense with the matrimony
of the tabloids and print: its dearth on the streets
of Plaridel. Mud caked at the grey backs of gutters,
a spectacle
of leaves on the ground like deft
hands place them there for empires.
the first that I touched: wind,
last: your face, wind was it only that you and I were
never off-tangent, always, minus the blindfold,
seeking endlessly as though things refuse to be found,
pulsing in the heat of hiding grace.
and goes back to its source: something too splayed for science,
only too easy with a child’s fancy – chauffeurs playing checkers,
crossing each other out within conjunctions – much you or I,
our weights syndetic and our weightlessness, imagined – as if phrasings
loose like waters from the spigot left open: mother arrives, haranguing.
like how it was simple for the wind to remind us fit to this
meet constantly receiving your incidence, and my place stilled
to familiar topographies.
a window is left open, with its hands in the terminal of silence
holding light like obdurate stone; the surrender registers
with grievous art, you curved like a bent question mark,
or a swollen oblation borrowing its sheen from the ****
of bobbing beacons – the candid Manilascape you kept on
fevering for like an open sentence
only to find its birth.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
A song played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and oblations,
Beyond our mortal stations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
The worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enhances us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities,
Oh the Triune, King of the Universe.
So many pray to be pluralists,
Hoping for pluralist babies,
Praying for purple Daisies,
Looking at the mobius strips,
Where to even start?
What wisdom there is to impart?
Looking through prisms at,
The bluest of contraptions,
Through Goya's mixed abstractions,
Picasso's representation of reality,
Worked our way down the path,
A room that cannot be found,
A path that confuses and confounds,
A sin of pride sung by the bride,
Are these the stations?
The death of our nations,
Is it the deviations?
Calvin speaks of pre-destination,
Disbelief in oblation,
Summaries above his station,
Where is he now, what is now?
Every seed upon a rock,
Every foundation upon the vultures,
Lacking stability to advise the manufacture,
Trapped in a catatonic daze,
Disguising the onward march of fate,
For when time will count the date,
Rue the day when we ruminate about space,
Amplified Polar neuron twitches,
Passing us by with bipolar switches,
Uncoupling and unhitches,
Welted stitches falling apart,
The fool now plays his miserable part,
I know there was a room I couldn't find.
Did it ever manage to demystify?
Is this how the events arrived and came by?
With songs played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and variations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
That the worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enchants us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities.
For you are my refuge and security.
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 8:21 AM UTC
Today's trees
Hold yesterday's light in
Apple, pear, fig and plum
Nexus core of arms and feet
Knit earth to sky from cloud and seed
Yes, work is over
Oblation received
Under dying fire of sun.
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 10:35 AM UTC
"Avail me liberate from my realm of disquietude,
Words of rapture you could do just that,
May I not beg for that may I not beseech,
Only those words for a while I will be free,
A touch of rapture will achieve dry lament,
Your love supports me to be sinewy,
We will be together regardless of doth wheel,
Fixation is not love nor is fascination love,
When you are treated improvidently it is not love,
This is lack of the ingesting the feel of what love is,
When you act to another in benignity and oblation,
This is when love is pure and nobly prodigal,
To this love I will belong noble unquestionably,
This is when love is indissoluble and unexpurgated,
No heights one can’t reach with true amorousness,
With pure love eloquent other nobly prodigal,
By A.Guzaldo 07/28/2018 ©
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
my skin doesn't feel so bad
offering an oblation that i had
cigarette to a man,sheets of newspaper
bed for a night,mamak for ambience.
perspective is evitcepsrep
what's mine could be theirs
and what's their could be mine.
blessings untold and unfold
only when the scissors hit the cloth
and the tapestry of the veil begins to unroll.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC