"resurrects" poems
I wish you detox from drunken heights,
I’m jesus for today until my current shift ends
and the next one begins, after many nights,
in the garden centre of fallen south coast eden.
Shine shine shine
Light of mine
For now everything’s just fine
People’s faces glitter as I go by,
memories of sinless youth,
for my hands blind with nostalgia,
that my being resurrects.
The child Lazarus scurries past my side,
to his home with his future in his hands,
in my hands, cupped wide.
Shine shine shine
Light of mine
For now everything’s just fine
I can love the unfortunate,
for my fortune is golden.
Delivered in letters
from North, West, East.
My trinity circle who join me at my supper,
breaking the garlic bread and sipping the borello,
to top crab ravioli baptised in the stream of sauce.
Shine shine shine
Light of mine
For now everything’s just fine
The gates of heaven are open,
unblocked by the deaths of Keats, Shelley and Williams,
their souls not blocking the exit with an Underground Queue.
I give my blessings to
Livingstone and Charles Gordon
The one native he changed and the others’ sacrifice at Khartoum
Gained me my crown to modestly flaunt.
Shine shine shine
Light of mine
For now everything’s just fine
I float down the hall, to His Mighty Voice,
as my gold becomes a donation on the alter,
to gain the choral hymns of Mercury gilded rock gods
that will brighten my days
for now,
oh glorious moments.
Amen.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
The first thinkers were poets
Naming Mother Earth
Beginning symbolic thinking
Of nature, death and birth
Though themes are often repeated
Love, Beauty and God
Poetry in the guise of Religion
A prophet or a fraud
The poet resurrects the Primitive
Through allegory and similes
Disarming the unknown like explorers
Sublime Prophets and Visionaries
They must lay bare those treasured images
That must be expressed
Unraveling and revealing the sounds
At each soul’s behest
Encompassing the entire Cosmos
So lyrical the beat
The poet’s excitement flows outward
Laid at the Reader’s feet
So original, individual
She won’t examine or explain
Letting go the festering feelings
Disturbances in her brain
He exposes his dark, wounded psyche
Just to release and express
Such capacity to see and compare
Hyperbole at its best
I love, I hate, I suffer
A special dance in rhythm and rhyme
The poet as a buffer
Lessening the pain and sting of time
Laden with symbol and feelings
She gives you sweet relief
From something urgent, revealing
Confusion to belief
Through a cinematic kind of seeing
The poet purges to transform
By leaping through Alice’s looking glass
She never was one to conform
Quite intolerant of convention
Just like The Mad Hatter
His passions immune to all logic
In syncopated patter
Jamming up the poet’s mind
Struggling for expression
Seeking order out of chaos
An infantile regression
Cleaving to his imaginary world
The poet breaks out into words
Creating sound paintings to be unfurled
So his own agony is blurred
She succumbs to storms of passion
With instinctive techniques
Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion
Out of hand flows mystique
The poet mines from his unconscious
The Reader is not blind
For every single line and symbol
Means something to the mind
Causing an inner liberation
Enlightenment or flight
It is a matter of life and death
When darkness turns to light.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC
Come on my Love! Let us move to the East
Where the sun resurrects after his interim death
Where darkness first gives way to light
And life renews itself every morn
Look to the East beyond those crooked hills
Where poplars grow tall in line
And wild weeds hem the edges of pathways
Where bunnies and squirrels hop and jump
And merrily run round the trees
Where the wind moves whistling through bamboo reeds
Where the laughing cataract leaps down from the rocks
And flow along in silvery rills
Where the languorous breeze plays upon the leaves
Away from the tumult, far from the crazy crowd
With the pandemonium of the world
Hushed to serene silence
Let us move to that sequestered glade
Of perennial greenery,
through the sunlit grove
Where we shall walk hands locked
Till the bright day gives way to dusky night
Inhaling night air in scented perfume
Under the stillness of a star lit sky
Through moon blanched woods, mysterious
Listening to the sweet whispering of our soul
And ‘drinking life to the lees’ from the chalice of love
Oh! Come on,
Let us not tarry…. Let’s go!
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC
I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light
the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love
with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?"
"It really is, you are right there, but pardon me
I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled,
"Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit"
I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant,
the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss
with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender
or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth
that not even expect any kind of reciprocation,
blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees.
Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk
whom one only could think as incarnates
came down to lift this miserable world
up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen
because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
These nights I pretend to myself
and whisper to myself that
its not only you but,
alas,
you are confused why it still pervades you.
But I am told that
God calls lying evil sin.
And through Eden,
God tried to say to the world -
that lust is demolishing.
( but who is god to say)
it’s all so beguiling
and delirious.
and god yes it’s demolishing,
when reality resurrects every day and I am
thrown to watch it before me
even if I close my eyes
or bite my tongue till blood.
only the false sins I whisper
will wipe the blood clean.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
On scraps of paper
strewn about the house,
I catch a glimpse of your handwriting
and it resurrects you from the dead.
Amongst the living,
I can hear your whistle
as it echos in the hall
and I remember how I thought that,
'one day, you would make a good dad'.
Amongst the living,
I forget for a moment
that you’re thirsty
for my blood.
and that dust now gathers
in the spaces
where the blood used to flow.
Amongst the living,
I forget for a moment
that you’re haunting me.
That you’re still here
but I can’t speak to you.
That your corpse still lies
in the next room
Still.
Tv blaring,
The smell lingers
and it’s getting bad.
my phone lights up with your name
and I jump.
Amongst the living,
I remember
that you’re only broken.
I can see your smile
in my mind’s eye,
Your freckles
and how I used to count them.
I wonder now
how much time I’ve spent
staring at your face
and how I knew our baby
would have those eyes too.
primal, astral, ancestral,
blue.
I loved you once
and for a moment,
I remember.
Feb 13, 2023
Feb 13, 2023 at 9:37 PM UTC
Pining to be loved
I sought asylum within these pages
Every line, every word, every rhyme
Was a reflection of the sorrow that ruminated
Beyond the looking glass.
Yes, I fathomed I was alone without a
Guiding star, without a lodestar to lead the way, O, but now I am liberated
By The Sovereign of Songbirds
Who solaces me by his mellifluous musicality.
(Yes, I am free)
Soaring beneath the stratosphere, thermosphere, mesosphere, and exosphere
I saw all the suffering underneath the sun
And remembered what it was like to slumber.
Rest is something I took for granted
Feeling it was only forged to flee lament; oh, but that is only half the freedom
Of truth: Yes, we are reborn when we slumber.
So lull me and lead the way; furthermore, I am liberated.
The Sovereign of Songbirds enspirits me
By the clairron lullaby, by His voice.
(O, I am free)
Dreaming, I lost sight of all that made me human;
Limitations forgotten, I drifted heavensward. I forsook
All I held beloved.
Why must phantasy mean sacrifice? Must the fantast
Be sundered in order to claim transcendence, ascendence?
Yes, I was burned by The Incendiary Sun but
My heart has survived. It leads the way to liberty.
I am risen by The Sovereign of Songbirds who resurrects me.
I am summoned from the ashes like a Phoenix Rising.
(O, I am free)
(Se’ lah)
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 7:49 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,
That smile,
Those eyes,
You could make a blind man realize
His purpose in this world,
The beauty in you resurrects me,
Plastic genocide purple roses with the red thorns,
Demon gardens couldn't keep me away,
From tasting your warm embrace,
Kissing your gorgeous face,
Embracing your life,
And extra love just in case,
We stare deeply into each others ya know....
We kiss for hours with no sign of the world and the people in it,
I needed you to be my everything,
I have you back,
And now Moms don't know why I kept smiling,
Blushing,
Loving,
Bubbling,
With joy,
Needed you in my life to fill the void,
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
The dreamy eye lashes of your eyes
When they meet,
The soft wisps of your hair
When they fly,
The quiver of your lips
When you feel shy,
The spell of your smile
When it comes by
Stirs the void in me.
Resurrects the dream.
And my heart,
Then embarks on a flight
Of myriad conjectures
Only to stumble
And fall
In the abyss
Of lustful hope.
.. Yet again.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
Mabey it was just the days
that seemed prolonged
My mind that resurrects the dead
To the reaches far beyond
Fatigued i let myself wander
Fulling false emotions blurred by imagination
Confined in my prior self
Till Im a tyrant to my own degradation
The bittersweet animosity of false hope
Like watering a blossom in hopes of a willow
My self-pity only absent in my dreams
had i wished they where nightmares not long ago
Strangled with fists and stains my pillow bears quotes i suffocate through
That quote
Go to bed
He’s not thinking about you
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
Inhaling your breath against my lips gets me high. Love this potent should be illegal, it feels so bad... like someone sold me your heart in a little plastic bag from the pocket of their hoodie in the cover of night. I lit it on fire and breathed in every panted wisp of smoke pushed up from your burning core. I bet distant cities can see our flames on the horizon, and the citizens are rushing to church to kneel before God and pray to be spared from the glowing apocalypse crawling towards them. What a beautiful way to die... but the world has already ended to me, because nothing matters in this moment but you. I think I can hear their screams beneath yours, as the ****** of Armageddon firestorms falls from the angry heavens that generously matched our souls.
Then silence... the beautiful silence that drapes the earth once everyone and everything is dead except for us, at least until the sun returns, and the alarm clock rings and resurrects the world from its hallucinated grave, and I head out to work hungover with love.
lying together
in the last of the darkness...
I awake
to the hiss of flames
and plumes of candle-smoke
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Satan Rejoices:
On Day when Life Resurrects,
Lives sacrificed to despise Life,
that Death begets Death
and Death is stronger than Life.
Satan Rejoices:
For Lies are believed and Died for,
that the Desecration of Life's Sanctity
and Usurpation of God's Authority
are rewarded and glorifies God.
Satan Rejoices:
Brother turns against Brother,
Cain reigned supreme,
Circle of Revenge and Hatred turns,
Evil and Sword worshiped.
But Abel's blood still speaks
Blood-soaked Earth's cries are heard
Victory is assured but unseen
Patience is mercy not weakness
Evil shall judge Evil
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 7:50 PM UTC
In the mystery of its soul
Light holds a soulful secret.
When darkness casts its conceit over the horizon
in monochrome shades of melancholy,
it resurrects as a Firebird
in golden silhouettes of flame,
illuminating the warped convictions of a
perverted darkness.
Light once knocked
at the stony tomb of your conscience
calling out your name.
But you feigned, refused to leave
the comforts of a pretended ignorance!
You didn’t realise you’re my thoughts
incarnated in charming colours of a conundrum!
How long will I call out your name
before you allow the light of my resurrection
to shred the shroud of a deathly pretence?
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
Rock's chill in early Spring shadow
keeps leaf-buds folded
while greenery's frocks, still frozen
in fuzzy stiff mold,
reveal growth's frigidity goes
hand in glove with cold.
As ice-wind becomes zephyr stone's
rime loses control,
frost melts when pairing takes over,
plants' ****** role
exchanges gender, smouldering
with intent that shows.
May's rising sun resurrects tones
of need-coloured gold,
male and female lustily hone
livened desire, hold
hands, steal kisses and gene-loaded
feel blood embolden.
As time turns to love Nature owns
the chase will not slow
for copulation re-proves growth,
appearing sans snow
stirs fur, feather and human bones,
to what all are prone.
The heat of togetherness sewn
into weather owes
its success to overflowing
need for warm clothing
for cold never turns bread to toast,
or so I am told.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Caught in your thicket of embellished verse
Trite but resolute
Efforts to crack the indestructible
Here you say:
Willowy white Lily-of-the-Valley
Softly flowing waves of ecstasy
Delights a recessed heart
And resurrects the willful soul
I say:
No one knows the heart of one
Cast onward towards the billowy grey
Destined to revive
My vain attempts at life
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
If they wrote about me,
The narrator might explain
The dangers of exponential decay;
Of how I might give my soul
As tribute.
He may call me
A slave to substance,
In more eloquent terms,
And to the inevitable pitfall
Where one hits rock bottom
But resurrects three days later.
The second coming,
But not as pure:
The heroine, but a homonym.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Thine eyes were first, earth angel mine
To arrest the breath from within my lungs
Lovely and deep blue pools, I drown in kind
But naught a drop from heaven flung
Afterwards in reprieve to calm my wits
That your flawless face should dawn
And as tho' a corpse that escaped its crypt
Your beauty dearest, resurrects dead songs
Where in my bones had lingered none.
Oh how I should sing of heavens proved
Having myself been saved yet undone
For thou art gravity of the stars and moon...
My savior, delicate and fine, divinely saves
Since my life has been touch by your grace today.
MY HERO
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC
More vital than breath
More precious than gold
Reliving the story
I have already told
Again warming
This heart’s so cold
Under this pain
I crumble and fold
Freezing cold
And so cumbersome
This burden
Is a most unbearable one
Until the moment
I see the sun
It instantly fades
My frostbitten pain
And resurrects
This heart that
Once laid slain
Now the darkness will melt
Erasing the hurt I once felt
Now feeling the soft rays
Of the sun’s affection
They are the cure
To this heartbreaking infection
So I stand in the light
Afraid of the cold dark
If the sunsets
And disappears from sight
I’ll be eternally lost
In this painful frost
Of the dark frozen night
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC
stay up with me please
stay silent like me
let’s be quiet like death
let’s live as one in peace
i want to hear you breathe
just let me hear you
exhale
inhale
exhale
inhale
stay, i’m so restless
my headrest, your chest
resurrects me beneath stars
just let me listen, please
you help me just by breathing
just let me hear you
exhale
inhale
exhale
inhale
i feel your heart, it pounds
my ears pound with its throbs
the pounding in my head
beats down my heart’s rhythm
but there's peace in your breath
just you can hear me
inhale
exhale
inhale
exhale
stay up with me please
your beatings mend my pieces
i’ll meet death halved and peace-less
if for one moment you leave me
with lungs that gasp for air
and no exhales to breathe in
- end
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
The only time capsule
I ever buried
is decomposing
in the bottom of my belly
filled with the different ways
I have not been able to
cope with loss
It resurrects names
remembers faces
who are changing
and living in different states
while I am still trying to digest
their absence
It looks for the bundle of fur
that once modeled a now
empty, worn collar
unable to comprehend
only one set of brown eyes
gazing up from the floor
during Sunday morning coffee
It is learning to accept its reflection
could just as easily be
a shadow
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
We are the coffee stains on waiting tables
That lie unattended in cafes
Of our own making
We are the imprints
Of a life lived haphazardly
Without any patterns to follow
We are…and are nothing more
Each day I immerse myself
In the torrent of a New York Sidewalk
Knowing that Life and death
Have never been closer
Than at this very moment
Each day I see people
Living lives of quiet desperation
Caged in suits of blue and black
Bought for 250 dollars
At Saks fifth avenue
Without looking at price tags
Because who argues
About the price of a straitjacket
I leave the crowds and walk down further
On a street that seems empty and yet full
There is a tree standing at the corner
Of two numbered avenues that
Are different ,yet the same
In the nightmarish way
That only cities can hope to achieve
It looks anaemic and withdrawn
Gnarled beyond recognition
Unnoticed , except by dogs
And posters for lost dogs
That offer paper rewards
For a live beating heart
It seems to cry, tearlessly
Soundlessly
At each nail that tears through its skin
Trying to find its pulse point
And silence it for good
There are brownstones lining
The street that I turn into
Brick mansions that should
In their ridges hold
Stories of wealth and joy
That surely follow
All green paper trails
But instead, house
(Like exotic museum specimens )
Cheating fathers and acrimonious mothers
Drugged out sons and prostitutional daughters
All by products of a generation that measures
***** into its morning cornflakes
And keeps itself alive
On a steady diet of Adderall
I come to the end of the street
And watch as the sun sinks down
Over a dead end world
Wondering if the night will hide
Or reveal all that lies hidden
Wondering if remembering
Buries or resurrects …
Or whether we are all graves
Postmarked optimistically “To Heaven “
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
The river moves steady along
Down the stream the water flows
In the course set long ago
Parts of the river flow peacefully
Places where the fish swim
And people gaze onto the calm creek
In some places the water flows to a sudden drop
Where the water roars down the fall
Splashing below the cliff
Then flowing normally again
Moving steady along
Down the stream the water flows
On another region of the river
The water rushes through rocks
Through gorges and pits
The water roars in the Rapids
Here the fish don't come
For they know there lies danger
I see a fish lay dying on the rocks
Rejected from the dangerous rapid
How I am like the fish
Thrown from the once peaceful stream
Onto the dry rocks with no help
How am I not like this dying fish?
From the once-peaceful stream I have been thrown
Rejected by the violent rapid
On these rocks I now lie
With no one to assist
But along the violent river lives a man
Of whom I do boast
The man gives living water
Water that heals
Water that gives life
Water that resurrects
On the dry rock I laid
Until the man dropped me into a bucket with that water
The water wetted my scales
And my gills welcomed the oxygen
As I could breathe again
The water was sweet
And it was clean
Cleaner than the muddy river water
Then he poured me back into the ***** river
But the clean water remained with me
And I swam along the river
Never to fear
For I had living water
And will never die
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 10:34 PM UTC