"reanimating" poems
.
And her arms enfold me,
I lay my cheek
against her breast.
The shaking starts,
the tears fall,
as sobs emerge unhindered.
Cries from way down deep,
and I hear her heart,
slow, steady, metronomic.
So I follow its rhythm
along a path richly bathed
in warm sunlight.
Through an archway
and across a threshold shrine,
the cemetery of the Ancients.
A hundred thousand names,
carved in marble,
adorned with statues and plinths.
Holding knowledge of old,
and the sound of silence,
like an abandoned library.
The shadow of love hovers close,
driving through midnight mists
and leading me on.
Practising narrative necromancy,
reanimating old words,
giving them life newly born,
upon the first carved marbles,
its names burnished with wisdom,
and the anonymity of obscurity.
There glows one name
in forgotten script
and I know my deepest identity,
the weight of the aeons
flows free into my mind,
histories of the millennia.
I know
my Forest Lady holds secrets
that belong to me.
And she gestates them all,
a coveted pregnancy.
A path-working, an etherical dream,
and her heart skips a beat,
as another part of me
crumbles and dies,
to mingle with the dust
of ancient knowledge.
© Pagan Paul (11/07/18)
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Your voice is electricity
that shoots through my ears
and down my veins like
Frankenstein's Monster.
Reanimating the dead
cells and tissue with
surgical precision.
Arcing across my back
and shoulders singeing
hair follicles and chattering
decrepit teeth in my mouth
like dice in a cup.
Your voice is electricity
and it's clinging to my chest
like a defibrillator, sending
shockwave after shockwave
through my heart and soul.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
If you should ever mourn
for the trickery of distance
take heart, my clever love
for I am there.
I never left you.
Close your eyes.
Can't you feel me?
The Trans-Canada Highway winds all through your veins
and I'm travelling from limb to limb, leaving mementos in all your provinces.
Inhale, your cranium is my house.
Our mingled memory, the portraits of every hallway
reanimating CBC radio conversations of our own frequency.
Now...
Open your eyes.
They are my electricity.
You need merely to exist
to keep turning me on.
Listen to the silence, the thrum of blood in your ears
is my car pulling into our driveway-
Speak words of love, for your mouth is my bedroom-
Look closer-
And I know you will see us plainly.
We are never, ever apart.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Bloom had a gravid heart last night
She could not relate but meditate with leaves up
Bloom received a thicket from the moon
While she froze in a posture of
‘a gift to be presented to ... but for whom?'
Fitted well in length on both of her parabolic curves
as if a newborn glume
a galaxy made of a wood flower
a heap which once a cycle blossomed
same color as the fragrance of a lover's desire
in a deepest clearing at the heart of hearts
at a holy spot where a ray shone
Just one night falling on one cycle
to awaken a moonflower
She sings the magic wood's tune
to matchmake destined lovers
living in such mirrored cycles
....
The golden bunch which she then gently grasped
until a fist would became its skin and pulsate
in mindful rhythm
reintegrating the nature of nodes within
reanimating the beat from and through the leaves
delivering health to All its unitless dimensions
The nourisher and the rejuvenated
the heart of joy
a flow
to find its way this way
along the equifying particles
on one smiling body
she dreamt of
....
Next morning I got up early
seeing the municipal cars aside
with stacks of healthy roots inside
all to be planted in a day
to grow trees
in front of her little house
and yes she could relate this time
first with bewildered eyes
then with bewildered mind
then with a breathing belly
then with a full heart
she smiled
....
She was a mystery studying facts only
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Stay over me
I feel you on the water
You converge with my faces
We have no space between
Work your way over my chestplate
Earn me with your stressed delay
Trust me when I keep you safe
I hold you here and dear when you're awake
Leave me to rest
Then you come back along to sing
With my body, you make the world scream
And I rewrite myself in you
So don't use me with the limelight
Like everyone has found in hindsight
I don't need another blindside
I need reanimating twilight
(starlight) to be aligned with you
(streetlights) to be aligned with you
(lifelines) to die inside with you
(hold on) to grow side by side with you
Who will be the one to claim me?
Who will be the one to slay me?
Will the music that I make end up making me?
When will there be lucidity for me?
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Shade siting , escaping scorching rays.
A book in hand, words reanimating visuals.
The scent of pages drowned in tears,
They are different of course. Bitter is the scent of sorrow, few are the drenches of joy.
Past words coming to life, old life lived anew.
Lost words are found, though plain words are lost in interpretation.
This inked paper offers an escape.
Return I will, not now but the end.
Let time tick till it sets,
While words tock to infinite.
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC
*The way we love
is deep ocean rolling
into the depths
parts unknown
quickened
reanimating
as her hips sway in my mind
to a melodious Adagio
and every day,
when we talk
she unravels
like the threads of a scanty dress
more exposed
our souls held
in a steady grip
caressed at first
like nested fledglings
open mouths begging
blood bells weeping
liquefied
swallowing each others souls
like bears
eat up-leaping salmon
pink tongues
frothy saliva
blood
and runny roe sacks
loves hungry mouth
merciless
a ***** head
a brute
storming her *****
sweet fluttering nightingale
singing the high notes
she opened
like queen snake
pierced to the core
royal lady weeping
lost in heaven
and then cut off
we hang up the phone
left longing
for more words
and
butter kisses,
eating
butter kisses
mixed with
whisper cocktails
a sea of fire
that singe and burn
our love
a flaming pink cloud
puff
brains like cheese melts
mouths like powder fizz
our feet and thighs
flexed and scorched
by lurid desire
and if it gets murky
if the fog blinds us
we hold a tender stretch
of vastness
and endless lighted torches
as the lifeline pulls through
a pulsing chord
Umbilicus
binding hearts
by threads of light and crimson plush
fused by cosmic fires white
hollowing parched sockets
pumping out epiphanies
in beaten silken swords
bursting
full of faith
spines like temple columns
i am free to love her
as trees cradle monarchs
both of us
children of the heavens
she
dark lover yielding
in lustful throngs
as we thrill
in the realm of the senses
like dancing flowers
in sprinkles of dew and light
as love blushes
and shimmers up around us
like rhythms of a thousand kissing eyes
undulating
penetrates sinews and the body electric
like winged Venus
when two souls
love each other
unbreakable
yet obstructed
by oceans and continents
a colossal brood of lands
while beneath
shrug tectonic groans
our love
air and fire
while flesh remains
un-thawed by proximities neglect
panes of ice
waiting
waiting
waiting
*
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
a single sight of you is just like
inhaling after breathlessness
trapped without air
just to come into utopia
a single touch of your skin is like
an electric shock to the heart
a defibrillator reanimating me
breathing spirit into my lifelessness
a single kiss is like
all I’ve waited for
my hopes and dreams suddenly settle
at the touch of your flawless lips
but without you is like
being ripped of all dignity
destroying me slowly from the inside because
i need you
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
Your voice changed my mood like a chameleon. Flooding my mind in deep nostalgia, I am surrounded by reminders of what pleasures we partook, we indulged, we unapologetically did, we confidently said and we therapeutically wanted. We ravaged, we begged, we, were, human.
Your scent still leaves a trace that even a bloodhound could find. Roses vanilla and a hint of cinnamon; my tongue tingles from the pleasure of closing my eyes, reanimating the masterpiece that went down at your unguarded borders.
But, I kept it cool when you introduced your new boyfriend.
'Hello this is____'
I replied 'What's up, the names Kitarō'
But as I spoke, I could tell we were harmoniously in sync when he called out your name twice; no response escaped your lips.
The third time triggered your body to respond; when your crimson lips were finally free from it's white prison it was photographically known of what was unsaid on your beautiful luscious red painted canvas
I knew you wanted me.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
Breathing in the dark,
Chemicals cloudy
Aged and coloured,
By the breaking down
Of skin, soft tissues
And dreams.
Animals dream, too,
Here in tubular palaces
Captured and floating.
Each footfall vibrates
On singing parquet
And they stir,
Timed by my movement.
Breathing in the dark,
Heart settling to a rhythm
Swaying in time,
With these spells of ages
And a Blackbird caws
At the centre of my brain.
In dim-lit netherworld
Songbirds feast
On plastic berry Bacchanalia,
And the owl eyes a mouse
Who has yet to discover
His second death.
A fox cub
Curling infinitely about herself,
Shows a varnished bacon tongue.
Cutesy and hot-headed in her starring light.
And I…
I stand as still as they.
Suspended in this spirit lab.
A player just as beastly,
Mentally reanimating
Every twitching nose,
Lightless eye
And curious, scratching paw.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
The illusion of power,
Grandiosely secured,
Dreams, we hold dearly.
Controlled environments,
Machinework in souls.
Metabiological cyborgs,
Reanimating constructions,
Perceptions in a simulation.
Will we love another?
Will artificial intelligence
Teach us love.
Will oxytocin flicker?
Receptors are to respond
to the empathy chemical,
and the altruism principle.
As such, a society is divided
By humanity and machinery.
The movement to transcend is strong.
The will to remain, strong also.
Boulders catapulted toward eachother
By ancient war tribes
Brought from the past,
Ressurrected from textbooks.
Time repeats itself,
Cyclical, spiral, constant.
And the simu-film ends.
The audience applauds.
Human emotion,
Intensity and experience,
Life is lived vicariously,
The new man is just as old as the old man,
Our future is within the present.
The future is today,
The movement is you.
The action now.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
Rhythmically reducing time
for you
for I.
Coagulation increasingly lessens the beat.
Off-written and wrecked,
We can’t turn home as
Junkies and
Dealers.
This home,
Washed out in familial gossip of relapse and resurge
After our firefights
Against venomous appetites.
Yet here we light this pipe, you and I,
With a reprise of shell-shocked war stories
Reanimating the grind
Of addiction’s battle.
Promise by the world,
A mind’s conviction and a 12-step program
Would naturally manifest in abstinent purity
And after,
Serenity.
Through the itch
Still
We are lumbering on, yet raging.
Violently insisting that these dreams are vouched for and
Stances held
Should leave our slicked soles immobile.
Smooth winds crinkling past twigs
And I with you, my dealer,
Am a lubricated branch on smooth-weathered granite grade.
In descent I tear at the throat with embarrassed tears.
Cries that only slicken the stone.
So of it, I swallow what will fill,
And beg you to do the same.
As fingernails rip from flesh
In grip of a still frame I can hear the 12-step program bid out again.
“Let there be sweat till the clouds run red.
Let trailing beads glisten while
I the blossom
Begin budding in the fall.”
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 12:00 AM UTC
"are you happy?"
echoing
lingering
imitating
reanimating sound
"maybe"
cyclic
anemic
phobic
armistice
"I am asking for a yes or a no"
endangered
requiting
enamored
caprice
"so which is it?"
vibrating
shattering
lingering
doubt
"are you truly happy?"
monotheistic
never-ending
asphyxiating
reprise
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 9:06 AM UTC
The ghosts of emptiness still linger about me, reanimating the corpses of long buried memories, as well as those fresh in the grave. As they writhe in their inebriated waltz, delighting on the flesh of my insanity, pain blossoms across the field of every sensation; every emotion. Every vision I behold is infected with the essence of the knowledge that this has all happened before, as it will ever after, reverberating lunacy throughout the depths of my soul. Devastatingly intoxicating, I suffer in such bittersweet ecstasy in having gained from this life both laughter and madness. Despite it all, a smile lights upon my lips as I embrace the fact that though this tragedy may not be mine alone, it is the one thing no one has ever been able to take from me.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
"A yummy granola of uneven stanzas, metaphors and similes, meditations, and confessions."
<>
this is I’m told
the how of how
I script,
I like granola though not
necessarily my premieur choix,
unless I’m breakfast buffet’ing
in Switzerland
and the all white mountains urge me
to climb aboard
I do not quatrain or cinqtrain,
my plan of attack is
****** and parry, defeat the
white enemy of empty,
with love my soul delivers
that which is rapidly transiting,
decomposing in my lobes,
awaiting perhaps reassembly and
reanimating in a new combination
employ the employees of writing
with liberty for all and
allegiance to none,
and the wild child within calls the shot
and asks only one question:
*what do I deserve,
more importantly,
*what do I know and owe you?*
Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 8:06 AM UTC
the night before
the moon grew bold
I felt the darkness
move in from above
in ominous grey
opaque
it reached for me
half asleep, I
acquiesced
relinquished
pillowy clutch
splayed sheets
like legs
for his
chatter bones to chill
where my sallow
is tissue thin
his hail knuckles
affixed to wet tongue
drug me to the floor
raking my hollows
over and over
reeling terrors
on sepia filmstrip
some scenes repeating
some to-fro rewound forward
some hovered gory ending:
frigid tools cutting
to expose my insides
stirring entrail with bone
tugging ruddy strings
to see what sounds
they made as I
buckled; choked
on my leaks
I closed my eyes
tried to escape body
but he projected on
my shuttered
darting
knotting esophagus
around the backbone
fingerpainting my end
on worn flesh walls
in char-red spectrum
choreographed in
perfect harmony
with rote fear
chanting
*this is how
you die -
alone*
I felt it all
happening.
dangling my happy
memoirs with nooses
ungraceful reanimating
decayed draggy dancing
Xs where bright eyes
were once upon
and wide
open
every ache and
smothered secret
chirped by dark faeries
too quick to swat
but when all
the pushed down
were given mallets
they crescendoed
into discordant jarring
and in its peak came
a piercing shriek:
so loud -
all stilled
to look around
I couldn’t tell
if the voice
was him
or me
but after terror climaxed
the hear ripped and
grip released
I allowed myself
to loosen, breathe
headthrob slowly
melded into felt
beats:
limbs and tips
all pulsing
relief
and I
could see
no one was there
but me.
wielding expertly
book in my own hand
thick with tested maps
to exquisitely torture
every tenuous strand
in my fragility
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
Tolled
one-rolled-bone away
from sweet inconsequence
thereby, the flicker
of an exit-sign, the
grand idea of life's
unlearning flirted
hinted
hands around
the throat of fate
were ultimately mine...
and to the
suitably anesthetized,
the rubbing clean
of canvasses,
the pulling down
of blinds,
appeared enthralling...
a cobbler's thumb
of fumbled ruse,
the blueprints
to a master-plan,
a calling card that
meant no other morning
after all...
Bowled
one-rolled-bone away
from all that greatness
an acolyte
invertebrate, upended
in some milky way,
the lateness
of my dragon-chasing
thawed all rude persuasion
reanimating appetites
in dubious remains.
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC