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The black bull bellowed before the sea.
The sea, till that day orderly,
Hove up against Bendylaw.

The queen in the mulberry arbor stared
Stiff as a queen on a playing card.
The king fingered his beard.

A blue sea, four ***** bull-feet,
A bull-snouted sea that wouldn't stay put,
Bucked at the garden gate.

Along box-lined walks in the florid sun
Toward the rowdy bellow and back again
The lords and ladies ran.

The great bronze gate began to crack,
The sea broke in at every crack,
Pellmell, blueblack.

The bull surged up, the bull surged down,
Not to be stayed by a daisy chain
Nor by any learned man.

O the king's tidy acre is under the sea,
And the royal rose in the bull's belly,
And the bull on the king's highway.
Koray Feyiz Oct 2016
I am scattering your dower with a future chest
I find a word from anywhere I touch
***** laces everywhere
an empty frame, licorice, a silent aria

tomorrow they change for yesterday, that I don’t love
for darkness, for the past, pellmell
it is life, I say myself, just life
I must say, no happiness without tear


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)
betterdays May 2017
regret sometimes whispers
in a soft oiled voice, that meanders
through the mind, finding the raw
places of  guilt

those fires  that become embers
by time and studied ignorance
and blows soft worded memories
giving oxygen to cinders, that light
the night like cane fires, all smoke
and  the madly rushing things
that race before the fire
scream their  torror and fear and hate
as they blindly follow the exodus
into the light, into the short grass,
tarmac pavement, open grave
that is waiting....there they either
stop transfixed or continue pellmell
onwards...the fire roars behind them
they have no place but out
there is no control, there is no
measure thought or reticence
there is action, and smoke and grime

and a sweet smell, that is sickening
yet like candy, and campfires

I hate it when I  hear the slickoiled
voice of regret in my head...
for I know the conflagration follows
Randall Hasper Dec 2019
Cluck — then duck.

And there, in that dark park — shark and spark — mark, their responses.

Oh the powerful, how they bluster, hulk, sulk and skulk when exposed. And if they can’t deny it, they mouth crafty-drafty-daffy apologies.

I hate it!

I asked you, “Why?”

“Why do you think that even after you complained, he or she or they or Ray — his supervisor or even, say HR — did nothing?”

You weren’t sure why; I wasn’t either.

Systemic evil, personal stupidity, good-old-boy culture, a bark beetle, a comet, tormented egos, black holes, massive incompetence, weakness of character, fleas — money?

We couldn’t sort it out.

Think about it, all the complaints lodged all over the world — then dodged. It’s maddening!

You do the same job as he does and get paid less? Really?

You are assigned work that isn’t even in your job description? Are you kidding me?

He said, what?

****!

He touched you inappropriately?

My God!

He sexually assaulted you?

Ugg!

The ****!

The sick creep!

Hell!

Go tell — in order to get well!

Yes, I can see that, and I’m so sorry!

It is horribly and terrifyingly humiliating! But to not tell — that’s devastating!

Prepare yourself. Do it. Of course there will be the denial. the revile, in the aisle, the social media pretrial, the counter attack and threat to sack.

But, keep this clearly in front of you:

Secrets perpetuate sicknesses.

For there within the sinister silence of relational violence oozes the foul psychic **** of false shame and self-blame, a suppurating sepsis of misapplied guilt and a fetid, festering biotoxin of furious fear mingled with ferocious anger.

My God girl!

The organizationally administered inflammagens are virtually dripping out of the open crack at the base of your skull, running off the tip of one of your shoulder blades and bio-trailing you along the office floor.

This cannot continue.

I want you well.

I want you healed.

I want you empowered.

I want you vindicated!

Therefore, fill the hall, and tell it all!

Make the complaint, lodge the grievance, file the paperwork, notify the press, call a conference, sue their ***** off! Trap the fly, smack down the lie, out the tie, exposify — him, and hem and them!

This much is certain. We must not go on without you speaking up.

I’m standing with you.

Pellmell, raise hell, go tell

— The End —