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BOOK I

     Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad 'mid her reeds
Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.

     Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went,
No further than to where his feet had stray'd,
And slept there since.  Upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed;
While his bow'd head seem'd list'ning to the Earth,
His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.

     It seem'd no force could wake him from his place;
But there came one, who with a kindred hand
Touch'd his wide shoulders, after bending low
With reverence, though to one who knew it not.
She was a Goddess of the infant world;
By her in stature the tall Amazon
Had stood a pigmy's height: she would have ta'en
Achilles by the hair and bent his neck;
Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel.
Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx,
Pedestal'd haply in a palace court,
When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore.
But oh! how unlike marble was that face:
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
There was a listening fear in her regard,
As if calamity had but begun;
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear
Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
One hand she press'd upon that aching spot
Where beats the human heart, as if just there,
Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain:
The other upon Saturn's bended neck
She laid, and to the level of his ear
Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake
In solemn tenor and deep ***** tone:
Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue
Would come in these like accents; O how frail
To that large utterance of the early Gods!
"Saturn, look up!---though wherefore, poor old King?
I have no comfort for thee, no not one:
I cannot say, 'O wherefore sleepest thou?'
For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth
Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God;
And ocean too, with all its solemn noise,
Has from thy sceptre pass'd; and all the air
Is emptied of thine hoary majesty.
Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,
Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house;
And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands
Scorches and burns our once serene domain.
O aching time! O moments big as years!
All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth,
And press it so upon our weary griefs
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn, sleep on:---O thoughtless, why did I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep."

     As when, upon a tranced summer-night,
Those green-rob'd senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,
Save from one gradual solitary gust
Which comes upon the silence, and dies off,
As if the ebbing air had but one wave;
So came these words and went; the while in tears
She touch'd her fair large forehead to the ground,
Just where her fallen hair might be outspread
A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet.
One moon, with alteration slow, had shed
Her silver seasons four upon the night,
And still these two were postured motionless,
Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern;
The frozen God still couchant on the earth,
And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet:
Until at length old Saturn lifted up
His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone,
And all the gloom and sorrow ofthe place,
And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake,
As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard
Shook horrid with such aspen-malady:
"O tender spouse of gold Hyperion,
Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face;
Look up, and let me see our doom in it;
Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape
Is Saturn's; tell me, if thou hear'st the voice
Of Saturn; tell me, if this wrinkling brow,
Naked and bare of its great diadem,
Peers like the front of Saturn? Who had power
To make me desolate? Whence came the strength?
How was it nurtur'd to such bursting forth,
While Fate seem'd strangled in my nervous grasp?
But it is so; and I am smother'd up,
And buried from all godlike exercise
Of influence benign on planets pale,
Of admonitions to the winds and seas,
Of peaceful sway above man's harvesting,
And all those acts which Deity supreme
Doth ease its heart of love in.---I am gone
Away from my own *****: I have left
My strong identity, my real self,
Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit
Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search!
Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round
Upon all space: space starr'd, and lorn of light;
Space region'd with life-air; and barren void;
Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell.---
Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest
A certain shape or shadow, making way
With wings or chariot fierce to repossess
A heaven he lost erewhile: it must---it must
Be of ripe progress---Saturn must be King.
Yes, there must be a golden victory;
There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown
Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival
Upon the gold clouds metropolitan,
Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir
Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be
Beautiful things made new, for the surprise
Of the sky-children; I will give command:
Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?"
This passion lifted him upon his feet,
And made his hands to struggle in the air,
His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat,
His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease.
He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing deep;
A little time, and then again he ******'d
Utterance thus.---"But cannot I create?
Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth
Another world, another universe,
To overbear and crumble this to nought?
Where is another Chaos? Where?"---That word
Found way unto Olympus, and made quake
The rebel three.---Thea was startled up,
And in her bearing was a sort of hope,
As thus she quick-voic'd spake, yet full of awe.

     "This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends,
O Saturn! come away, and give them heart;
I know the covert, for thence came I hither."
Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went
With backward footing through the shade a space:
He follow'd, and she turn'd to lead the way
Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist
Which eagles cleave upmounting from their nest.

     Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed,
More sorrow like to this, and such like woe,
Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe:
The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison-bound,
Groan'd for the old allegiance once more,
And listen'd in sharp pain for Saturn's voice.
But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept
His sov'reigny, and rule, and majesy;---
Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire
Still sat, still *****'d the incense, teeming up
From man to the sun's God: yet unsecure:
For as among us mortals omens drear
Fright and perplex, so also shuddered he---
Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird's hated screech,
Or the familiar visiting of one
Upon the first toll of his passing-bell,
Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp;
But horrors, portion'd to a giant nerve,
Oft made Hyperion ache.  His palace bright,
Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold,
And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks,
Glar'd a blood-red through all its thousand courts,
Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries;
And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds
Flush'd angerly: while sometimes eagles' wings,
Unseen before by Gods or wondering men,
Darken'd the place; and neighing steeds were heard
Not heard before by Gods or wondering men.
Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths
Of incense, breath'd aloft from sacred hills,
Instead of sweets, his ample palate took
Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick:
And so, when harbor'd in the sleepy west,
After the full completion of fair day,---
For rest divine upon exalted couch,
And slumber in the arms of melody,
He pac'd away the pleasant hours of ease
With stride colossal, on from hall to hall;
While far within each aisle and deep recess,
His winged minions in close clusters stood,
Amaz'd and full offear; like anxious men
Who on wide plains gather in panting troops,
When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers.
Even now, while Saturn, rous'd from icy trance,
Went step for step with Thea through the woods,
Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,
Came ***** upon the threshold of the west;
Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope
In smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes,
Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet
And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies;
And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape,
In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye,
That inlet to severe magnificence
Stood full blown, for the God to enter in.

     He enter'd, but he enter'd full of wrath;
His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels,
And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire,
That scar'd away the meek ethereal Hours
And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared
From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,
Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light,
And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades,
Until he reach'd the great main cupola;
There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot,
And from the basements deep to the high towers
Jarr'd his own golden region; and before
The quavering thunder thereupon had ceas'd,
His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb,
To this result: "O dreams of day and night!
O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain!
O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom!
O lank-eared phantoms of black-weeded pools!
Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why
Is my eternal essence thus distraught
To see and to behold these horrors new?
Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall?
Am I to leave this haven of my rest,
This cradle of my glory, this soft clime,
This calm luxuriance of blissful light,
These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes,
Of all my lucent empire?  It is left
Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine.
The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry,
I cannot see but darkness, death, and darkness.
Even here, into my centre of repose,
The shady visions come to domineer,
Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.---
Fall!---No, by Tellus and her briny robes!
Over the fiery frontier of my realms
I will advance a terrible right arm
Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove,
And bid old Saturn take his throne again."---
He spake, and ceas'd, the while a heavier threat
Held struggle with his throat but came not forth;
For as in theatres of crowded men
Hubbub increases more they call out "Hush!"
So at Hyperion's words the phantoms pale
Bestirr'd themselves, thrice horrible and cold;
And from the mirror'd level where he stood
A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh.
At this, through all his bulk an agony
Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown,
Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular
Making slow way, with head and neck convuls'd
From over-strained might.  Releas'd, he fled
To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours
Before the dawn in season due should blush,
He breath'd fierce breath against the sleepy portals,
Clear'd them of heavy vapours, burst them wide
Suddenly on the ocean's chilly streams.
The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode
Each day from east to west the heavens through,
Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds;
Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid,
But ever and anon the glancing spheres,
Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure,
Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark
Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep
Up to the zenith,---hieroglyphics old,
Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers
Then living on the earth, with laboring thought
Won from the gaze of many centuries:
Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge
Of stone, or rnarble swart; their import gone,
Their wisdom long since fled.---Two wings this orb
Possess'd for glory, two fair argent wings,
Ever exalted at the God's approach:
And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense
Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were;
While still the dazzling globe maintain'd eclipse,
Awaiting for Hyperion's command.
Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne
And bid the day begin, if but for change.
He might not:---No, though a primeval God:
The sacred seasons might not be disturb'd.
Therefore the operations of the dawn
Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told.
Those silver wings expanded sisterly,
Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide
Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night
And the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes,
Unus'd to bend, by hard compulsion bent
His spirit to the sorrow of the time;
And all along a dismal rack of clouds,
Upon the boundaries of day and night,
He stretch'd himself in grief and radiance faint.
There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars
Look'd down on him with pity, and the voice
Of Coelus, from the universal space,
Thus whisper'd low and solemn in his ear:
"O brightest of my children dear, earth-born
And sky-engendered, son of mysteries
All unrevealed even to the powers
Which met at thy creating; at whose joys
And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft,
I, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence;
And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be,
Distinct, and visible; symbols divine,
Manifestations of that beauteous life
Diffus'd unseen throughout eternal space:
Of these new-form'd art thou, O brightest child!
Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses!
There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion
Of son against his sire.  I saw him fall,
I saw my first-born tumbled from his throne!
To me his arms were spread, to me his voice
Found way from forth the thunders round his head!
Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face.
Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is:
For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods.
Divine ye were created, and divine
In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb'd,
Unruffled, like high Gods, ye liv'd and ruled:
Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath;
Actions of rage and passion; even as
I see them, on the mortal world beneath,
In men who die.---This is the grief, O son!
Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall!
Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable,
As thou canst move about, an evident God;
And canst oppose to each malignant hour
Ethereal presence:---I am but a voice;
My life is but the life of winds and tides,
No more than winds and tides can I avail:---
But thou canst.---Be thou therefore in the van
Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow's barb
Before the tense string murmur.---To the earth!
For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes.
Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun,
And of thy seasons be a careful nurse."---
Ere half this region-whisper had come down,
Hyperion arose, and on the stars
Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide
Until it ceas'd; and still he kept them wide:
And still they were the same bright, patient stars.
Then with a slow incline of his broad breast,
Like to a diver in the pearly seas,
Forward he stoop'd over the airy shore,
And plung'd all noiseless into the deep night.

BOOK II

Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place
Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn'd.
It was a den where no insulting light
Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans
They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar
Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse,
Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where.
Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd
Ever as if just rising from a sleep,
Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns;
And thus in thousand hugest phantasies
Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe.
Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon,
Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge
Stubborn'd with iron.  All were not assembled:
Some chain'd in torture, and some wandering.
Caus, and Gyges, and Briareus,
Ty
You did not come,
And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb.
Yet less for loss of your dear presence there
Than that I thus found lacking in your make
That high compassion which can overbear
Reluctance for pure loving kindness’ sake
Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum,
You did not come.

You love me not,
And love alone can lend you loyalty;
—I know and knew it. But, unto the store
Of human deeds divine in all but name,
Was it not worth a little hour or more
To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came
To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be
You love me not.
Him Dec 2020
Sweet... so sweet at first; as if intending to overbear, and then in a moment's breath, the intensity having mellowed fades.

Next one's tongue does greet, a nuttiness that begs it to retreat; reviving dead memories of when you two first did meet.

Having now fallen from heights, be they ***** or steep; the taste of your tongue becomes bittersweet. Ending this final kiss, silently pledging to lose neither hope nor sleep; heartbreak leaves the taste of caramel upon your teeth.
How should one best wash this taste from their teeth? How should one erase the perpetual reminder... of love's defeat; that clings to the tongue and teeth, with the taste of caramel bittersweet?
Alexsandra Danae Feb 2013
We write the most beautiful things
and then, so abrupt is time, we end; pass on
after our deaths, we're dead and forgotten
unacknowledged, unmissed; just simply gone
every one of us lives this life with the need to be loved
each of us goes through life craving to feel as though we're needed
so we can write our lovely sentences
but it's worthless, for we can't escape our fate, and in the end we'll still die
the beings we were to become, no more than mere ashes in the wind
not worth even whispers to carry on our memories
so hurt thus fell these, our flowing words
our hearts consumed with bitterness; grey
years will continue to pass, none will visit our graves
our pages, our legacies shall sink; take solace with us in the ground
so we mourn now, thou still alive; oh how we sit, sit and cry
we don't really make sense
for why wouldn't we be loved by another when we for another can ourselves love?
perhaps unconscious self-contempt leaves us craving to feel neglect for our return
or perhaps we're just so terrified of being broken
we use our fears, rejections, anger and abandonments to write our most magnificent verses
why punish ourselves so, when time will still in the end overbear, and we'll all eventually perish?
oh, the merest of acknowledgments to such notions may as well rip our hearts from our chests
we may have fled truth, begging, pleading as we birth rivers of our blood, sweat and miserable tears
all alone then, without another soul in sight to wander with us while we roam deaths rocky beaches
So it's all of us who are broken, after all...
ella Aug 2011
i don't want your words that stick
like tar on the tips of my fingers.
they won't leave me
i don't want your thousand voices, no
all i want is silence.

towers overbear me
and for a moment i am thinking
if i ran faster,
faster...
(alternately titled random axe of violence)

I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,

iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear

trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale

dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing

rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square

with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability

at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare

the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate

parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere

slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took  innocent lives 19 plus years ago

which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Far moost o' me
     three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer

(spins upon the global axis
     (tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
     of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied

     for Pete's sake by Gabriel
     blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
     points to thermonuclear

and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
     of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing

     theoretical armageddon,
     when non plus ultra gravitates
     with e pluribus unum necessitating
     each individual to bend over

     and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless queer
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
     incinerates e'en

     the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
     arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid

     dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
     temperature nearing triple digits
     (along Eastern Seaboard

     of United baked States
makes this human,
     an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)

     basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
     within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
     creature comfort donning my

     stretched out birthday suit,
     (yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
     mountain of clothes

     as mooch as Yukon sales,"
     no matter mine ill mannered
     mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or

     laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
     which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,

     thy ******* passion linkedin
     with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Luna Casablanca Jan 2016
I believe,
to this day,
that everyone walking
by me
in the galleria,
the lakeside,
or the parking
lot
is just
as
confused
as
me.

I trust,
to believe,
that so many of us
are fully exhausted
because
we are trying
to get what
we
want.

Whether the light
burned out in the
spotlight for a show,
or rain is
pouring down
on the new field
on opening day,
at least
we are
here
this is
better
than
gone.

I know,
that some,
even me,
don’t quite know
what we
want.
I think,
we think,
we don’t deserve
our dream.

What if,
that dream,
tells us something
we never question?

The question we
are subliminally
asked spreads
among us
in our heart,
“why are you
doubting
yourself?”

So what,
if you forget
the words to
that song you wrote.
Who cares,
if you strike out your
first time at bat?
Why so bad,
if not crowned
at the beauty pageant?
It’s ok,
if our confidence
seems to overbear
our
skill.
How else do we learn?

How about,
taking the hard
work
and comparing it
to the dream in your
head?
Someday,
they will look the same
and you will smile
the way you do
when you dream.
Keep dreaming to find your place in life.
(alternately titled random axe of violence)

I calculated an average
     of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
     a morbid benchmark where,

iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
     which statistics tracks a unilinear

trend, and justifiably causing
     absolute zero reassurance
     countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale

     dismissing greater probability
     prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
     nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing

     rightful salient concerns with school board
     quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
     how second amendment does not square

with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
     lieutenant management,
     quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability

     at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
     immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
     et cetera on firearms scare

the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
     whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate

     parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
     inducing similar reactions as
     sports home team defeated, sans mere

slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
     when another tragedy gets tacked
     unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
     took the lives of innocent lives 19 plus years ago

which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
     lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
     of spent bullets fallout inflicting
     more than 208,000 vulnerable
     impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
No rocket surgeon,
     nor brain scientist called upon
but only Rudolf the red nose reindeer
solicited as psychological mentor
yes...undoubtedly countless
     decades removed since queer  
(not very gay at all!)
     ****** changing phenomena

     from thine angst riddled
     biological metamorphosis allows me to peer
with greater theft of mine precious youth stolen,
     via piercing overbear
ring mailer daemons,
     when mine tender age did near

cusp whence onset of puberty
     clapped development tight as if by
     a doppelganger mutineer
warp and weft of mine lifetime tapestry
     mine acute perception doth lear
as threads got tightly woven
     into mine casual knitwear

though pubescent phase
     wrought with oppressive foresight
     interwoven with jeer
ring bullying hmm...maybe thine ability
     to distill self actualization
     extant among interlinear
teenage stage viewable

     during my youthful days, but clouded over asper
     mine more vivid perspective here
from this present moment
     ha...amusing insight from present perch
     devoid of adolescent glare
sire re: brill grade

     do lobes gleam freer,
now with insight aye ear
rate at such pitch 'ere
perfect hindsight aye declare,
yet as a much younger self
     when I hapt to be a boy, acuity seemed oblivious
     to perceive via sight and sound

what social cues visceral, (visual,
     and audiological) seems crystal clear
revisiting non verbal
     awkward teenage mutant
     ninja turtle memories, that now deafeningly blare
at the threshold of ear
     splitting decibels, how hard of hearing human
     (nada so) subtle in retrospect, I am aware
interpersonal nuances clear as the tune
     Doris Day Que será, será
     did voice, a catchy air.
Jeromie adams Dec 2016
(Justice of love and hate)

Blindfolded,
You do not judge, by sight
Embolden,
By neither darkness, nor light

Balanced,
Your scales of wants, and need
Challenged,
To determine which, to feed

Justice,
Your sword pierces, the hardest of hearts
Mercy,
Compassion awarded, to birth new starts

Blindfolded,
You condemn what you, do not see
Scolded,
You point your ignorant fingers, carelessly

Unstable,
You overbear the scales from, love to greed
Maniacle,
Upon your slain and ruined, is what you feed

Vicious,
You seek to devour, the weakest first
Malevolent,
The blood of innocents can't quinch, your thirst
The Architect Apr 2020
I'm the river
in which you have found yourself
I will overbear you with my love
There it is!
blooming in my chest
a soft lotus springing from underneath all this melancholy
overflowing
radiating
as I give away pieces of myself I'll never regret
I've waited on the right person
to take all my heart
I'm filled
with content
-I'm here to show you that you're lovable
Written 10/04/2020
Mark Sep 2019
At times I think: those whom overcome with sadness
Overbear'd by an unshakable heaviness
Haunted by one shadowing and relentless thought
To end their body, mind and existence here on earth,
Actually live on in spirit, drifting within the winds
Caressing those who mourned their untimely passing.

I wonder if after the deed was done and spirit left
Was the immense sorrow of loved ones lingering,
Resounding around their spirit like a ring around a planet.
Circularly rotating, the bitter taste of a mothers tears
Currents of mourning waves from the memorial,
Compelled by remourse to return and comfort those left behind.

A breeze to such a spirit; a haze of misty darkness
Drifting through doubts and what could have been
What was lost and never to be again,
To linger and flow until all have passed on.
I sense it sometimes in my internal quietness
A companion gone in teenage years whispering,
Through a hush; I miss you my friend.

I feel that someday the same fate awaits me
How close I have come to drifting in that windy haze
To again be near my lost friend, away from this pain
Yet I foresee the misery anguishing in the hearts;
Of those whom bonds I have forged
And I realize for now, the winds are free from me.
Ordinarily, a discriminatory
guardedness factors large what I air
in close confidential quarters
within therapist office bare
ring pocked marked soul
of this feigned cheer
full contemplative, introspective,

and ruminative despair
ring fellow, whose unfettered
stream of consciousness
(oxbow lakes included) doth endear
me, asper when posting private
psychological scars fair
lee calloused now, during mine

placid lake state of being oblivious
if online readers scowl and/or glare
at how emotional
exposure seems cavalier,
yet the medium of cyberspace
deafens me against hear
ring objectionable outbursts,

thus not impair
ring ambition to reveal
much more about myself unaware
if some gal or guy
smolders with jeer
ring refulsion, not care
ring in the least about

regarding my dear
re licked existence, more so,
when bane of adolescence
as a nerd with longhair
internalized verbal assaults,
I let fester and roil
beating a path to air

tight impenetrable redoubt,
now demolition paid for by medicare
expunging angst, which
severely bruised ego, a nightmare
courtesy being nay say,
non braying "scapegoat" ne'er dare


ring to fight back, no...
never went nuclear
well...eons ago
admit swiped at spouse
altercations (often) triggered,
when the missus did swear
at me anger brewed

from her own overbear
ring similar saga (wallflower)
silently suffering scare
tactics loosed from anti semitic barbs
both our lineage of Jewish here

reddit tee, though near
re a jot, sans religion
Haim Ginott bore ye,
foyer hall ready aware
tummy, and no qualms declare
ring atheism asthma prayer
full leitmotif dog bless ya mud ear!
Sans Eldest Daughter Eden Liat

No matter this papa
who may as well live in Zaire
he reckons "star student"
no longer relevant to me,
now grown independent upon
your twenty second

orbit since...yesteryear
(happy birthday orbit around the sun
fast approaching twenty second year
December twenty second,
this glum papa doth wonder, where
he wishes owning magical power

to reach back across space/
time continuum and volunteer
to make amends for situations,
he contributed to make unbear
rubble analogous to aftermath
of unleashing paternal thermonuclear

inflicting harm upon
your psychological state
as if pierced with a razor sharp spear
unnecessarily provoking rage,
dischord, grief, et cetera,
now fallout rear

ring up inside my
psyche with **** quare
lee invisibly pummeling,
thus I indirectly persevere,
albeit indirectly thawing chill
between us without,

I can no longer overbear
the torturous repercussions
as if choking by unseen near
medium small at large lightly
shocking me with about
a bajillion microampere

charge emanating
from tragicomic mask
courtesy Classic Greek
playwrights, whose ghosts lear
sporting harris tweed knitwear
haunting me in close proximity - jeer
ring at my parental facebook,

and sundry faux pas
unwittingly causing unpleasant interfere
rinse knowing (i.e. intuitively
sensing) telepathically here
ring cackling laughter,
and imagining a cruel glare.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
perhaps REM had that song: night-swimming...
if i could write a song it could be
something along the lines of...
   night-cycling... esp. in winter... gloves, long sleeves,
t-shirt... jumper...
a wooly hat...
and... U2's electrical storm (the william orbit mix)...


what was once a Thai trans-gender phenomenon...
transcendental-genderism...
the Thai-surprise... emerged in the west
like some, language restrictions...

fair enough when the transition period
ends up convincing me,
but what if i can't call a "hammer" a 'hammer'?!
what then? am i supposed to pluck my
eyes out, lie to myself...
if a trans-male passes off as fuckable,
if a trans-male passes off as attractive
to the opposite ***...
fair game... open season...
but if that's not the case... let my just
amputate by ******* phallus...
raise it in the air and swing it like some
raw deal mr. *****... for ****'s sake...

so much for mere burning bras...
if this subject matter has its recurrence gravitas...
i think i'll just stop merely thinking,
and writing: altogether...
it was fair enough when the Thai lady-boys
did it... but those Thai lady-boys,
those Thai-surprises didn't invest themselves
in changing language:
i can see authentic dysphoria when i see it...

don't change my language: ergo....
i will not change your feelings, decisions to change
your preferred ***...
the ancient Greeks had a notion of reincarnation...
they deemed men reincarnated as women
as lesser creatures, a form of punishment...

if reincarnation is to be minded: well, originally,
there are only a fixed number of individuals
that pass from one life to another,
the rest are just zombies...
parasitical souls... host bodies...
there's currently a backlog of reincarnations
taking place... it's almost like we're living
in times where the last judgement is taking place...
in the metaphysical realm...
hence we're noting all these... outlier concerns...

"concerns"...
if the topic wouldn't creep up, i wouldn't be
writing about it, but the topic infringes on my language...
gender neutral pronouns, which were already
available via the Royal One and the Royal We,
for ****'s sake! for ****'s sake!

one ought to...
we ought to...
                 what about languages that employ
noun distinctions via: a masculine form, or a feminine form?
i know that English (as a language)
doesn't apply these distinctions...
can't a chair be masculine?
you can't rid certain languages of... "sexing up" their nouns...
it's inherent in them... that's why this
lineage of argumentation is so successful
in the English speaking word... grammatical bypassing
techniques...

it;s like a pet peeve...
but... there's winter...
(a) you get drunk quicker,
(b) you breathe cleaner air, air so clean you almost choke
(c) the insects are hibernating
(d) the trash doesn't stink
(e) people are dulled, lullabied into submission...
(f) the nights are longer
(g) you get to employ the use of pockets more
often, not to hide items of interest,
more... to shelter your hands,
should you not be equipped with gloves...
(h) snow, if, any...
(i) the moon entertains the night sky more often,
more so than in summer,
it's the winter sky riddled with constellations...
+ the moon....
evidently missing during the spring or summer
months...
opaque nights, when the moon is absent...

some (j)? maybe.... pull me up before i decide
to drown....

i better be doing the duties of chores,
than merely lounging...
women live a waste of tine....
my mother best invoked...
if i can't invest in my mother,
i can't translate that to a woman
i'd ****... period...
whatever, seriously, whatever...
time's up!

  language ambiguity...
there's either a formal rule of language...
or there's an informal rule of language....
some schizoid framework...

i want to rub my hands together...
i want to make fire from friction..
i want to doubly desire a skeleton...
i want to "hush"... rather... breathe into my cusp
of hands to warm them up...
  
pouring cold water onto cold hands...
it sometimes makes them feel:  warmer...
god... girls... even 50+ with fringes...
then again: i prefer pixie girls
with short-hair... but that's just me...
toy bring toy...
**** it... let's play the proper sort of games!

ha ha... Alexander Dumas taught me one thing,
and one thing alone:
don't give advice... some people will regret it...
Alexander Dumas or... Athos, Oliver Reed...
how "they" treated this poor drunk when he was
shying away from his prime...
little, suffocating, sociopaths...
   little people, terrible people... somehow...
"necessary" people...
i'd die twice to be thrice honest...
i'd live this once... to...
    ensure everyone lived it so, under their disguise
of individual rights...
best be left, forgotten...

coaching packages, blah blah... just, *******, swim...
or... better... take up bicycling!
Athos or Aramis? Athos.... but i'm renowned to be prone
as the joker, team player... a Porthos...

ugly truths... i also fancied a richard chamberlain...

you don't come against my use of language
without consequences...
a Thai surprise is one thing,
but telling me, what i ought and ought not say?
is another... i will raise Adolf & Satan himself
should you overbear your concerns:
which are no concerns to begin with!

don't tread on eggshells that become
hostile objects! keep me in mind, don't leave me out
on hostile grounds... you want to go home,
i want to go home, there's a football match taking place...
appease me, while i tease you... let's pretend i'm
in a position of authority...
let's, just, pretend... savvy?

thank god for my figure... 6ft2... 98kg.. a beard... i might just look menacing enough, when the park has been emptied... that's the reception i got, from the faces in the crowd... they read: i saw you in my dreams! i liked that...

i forgot about love a long time ago,
i forgot about being endearing to toddlers,
even though, i can't tell them apart to cats, or dogs...
it was almost a pleasantry to forget about love,
i don't think i want to experience that
uprooting of sensation...
i don't want to feel loved,
the sensation of feeling loved would...
weaken me...
i don't want to feel being loved...
i like this... impartiality of the impersonal...
it leaves me with a three-dimensionality of a a person...
what good is love,
when you can't trust someone?
what good is love,
when you can't... be assured?
what good is love...
when it's only mitigated via
being loved: rather than also: loving?!

i curse these days!
so seemingly pristine! best they be kept
forgotten!
there's no love here...
at least there's minding a civil obligation...
but love?!
i can't be ***** into loving someone,
whatever trans-racialism is invoked...
you want me to **** a man
pretending to be a woman?!
no thank you...
you want me to **** an African woman
pretending she's Asian?
what, you're going to inject me with
some Sildenafil? am i to receive an
"auto-correct" hard-on, for ****'s sake?!

the war is staged... it's not yet physical...
come on... it's still in its infancy... wait a while..
give the chess pieces a moment to somehow
"reflect" on their re-coordinated repositioning...
wait a little... it takes time...
me being ******* is no clear assumption that
things will turn awry...
it takes time, dedication, repetition of already
stated mistakes...

wait a little... live a lot...
come to think of it... if they, "they" gave me a rifle...
tomorrow... i think i'd be bound to being found as:
trigger-happy... sowwy... i think i could... i would be...

oh but i'm pretty sure this current zeitgeist of politico has already ******* a wrong type of crowd... the schizoids & the psychotics... if i'm on board, if i'm being receptive to, their sentiments and i think them bogus... n'ah... n'ah ah ah ah, ah... sorry... this will not pass, not even: nicht sogar mich! not even me!

as a man in Warsaw:
i feel like a fox in London...
as a man in Warsaw
i feel like a fox in London...

why do crows only fly in pairs over the skies of
England... why do they,
flock on the continent, in swaths,
in such numbers as to secure them
the stature of intimation?
as if, Barbarossa is to be resurrected?
nsw Jun 2020
No matter what other traumatic experiences may occur in my life
I feel I've gone through more than enough
I'm intact with my emotions and I am in control of my mind
My anger will not overbear me
My sadness will never take over again
I'm growing.

— The End —