She saw the face of Judas in him.
The bearded kiss festered no truth
and the metallic breath
exhaled putrid faithfulness.
The trampled petals spoor no lusting stares,
redolent no more
even as the tongue creeps by the shoulders.

The razors have summoned from the stinking room!
A slit in the neck
could rhythmically go by the thrusts unnoticed
But the chorus of the beasts
as shrill as the gongs of hell
maiming vengeance yet
not in the loss of blood will you die.
Not in my hands.

His demonic pleasures went on as the voodoo doll
resurrected in the beat of my own gongs.
Keep stirring as this spindle rouses my anathema!
his chest hairs
pint of blood
vulture’s beak
stallion’s tails
bobcat’s eye
dead evergreen
Deborah’s tears.
Stir and stir and stir!
Murmur satan’s prayer
mana mana mana boo!
ruba ruba ruba hoo!
Count the sands of the transient hourglass
expiring ‘fore tic tac sound.
Now her man froze,
bulging eyes, blackened pulse!


‘tis freedom, Deborah!

Free.

Doomed.




© Glenn Sentes
03-06-13

nayakan an repairman, waray man problema
dire man daw liwanan, ngan nadara pa
pero pamati ko, ruba na gud ada
kay waray ka na man tatawag, waray ka na magpakita.

🥀

#siday

Tomorrow when I wake up I'm finding my brother
and making him take me back down to the water.
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father.
I will not desert him. I will not desert him.
No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean,
or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me.
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
the sky that has been avoiding me.
I started this letter; I'm going to send it to Ruba;
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida.
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit,
she will recite the prayer of my pen.
Saying, "Time take us forward, relief from this longing.
They can land that plane on my heart, I don't care.
Just give me November; the warmth of a whisper
in the freezing darkness of my room."
But no matter what I would do in attempt to replace
all these pills that I take trying to balance my brain;
I've seen the curious girl with that look on her face,
so surprised she stares out from her display case.

It was the day of the wedding of Mr and Mrs Epithalamium they looked quite the Heroic Couplet and full of Romanticism until the Englyn  Prose-d the Questionku ‘ Do you take this woman’ …  then in a wavering Iambic Pentameter voice the groom whispered ‘I do not know’ ….Mrs Epithalamium felt quite Dizain and tried to scratch out his Ruba’I, the  Clerihew stepped forward to comfort her but tripped over some Concrete and felt like a right Cowboy. The brides father, the Russian Chastushka, grabbed the groom and with a  Carpe Diem attitude threatened to Choka him.

            The guests all gathered in an Enclosed Rhyme with the best man making quite a Dramatic Monologue, the brides mother had her  Hybronnet knocked off her head and the chief bridesmaid had her Kimo torn in the affray. The young flower girls Haibun and Hamd both burst into tears as their Crown of Sonnets were totally destroyed.

            The Rev. Pantoum pleaded for calm, then repeating his plea for the melee to stop started making a List of the damage, quick as a Ghazal and with great Imagism he protected the Crystalline glass from smashing into Ninette pieces. Meanwhile the poor bride was in a state of Nonet anxiously trying to get past the twins Munaajaat and Musaddas, her Idyll life had been turned upside down, today was the day she had hoped to change her Name to Triolet.

              Alliteration watched while women wept, then stepped forward and with a Lyric in his voice asked people to calm down, he told everyone he had Naat come here to watch a display such as this and suggested they went for a hot Canzone to discuss the next move, Tanka and Tyburn readily agreed as they were very hungry and particularly as it was Free Verse it meant they could eat as much as they wanted. The nearly bride couldn’t give a Sijo if she never saw her ex again she was sick of being Kyrielle to and did not want anyone else’s Epyllion and with a final Than-Bauk stormed out of the club…


© 6/4/2013

Sebab hari tak beraut mentari
Sinar malam yang di curi teknologi
Senyum anak cucu tanpa gigi

Mari pukul tifa deng menari..
Biarpun tanah adat sudah jadi kali
hutan ruba kulit
laut tinggal ari-ari

mari pukul tifa deng manari
biarpun suku tinggal hitung jari

id,02/april/2014, tegalrejo, bantul

Sebab hari tak beraut mentari
Sinar malam yang di curi teknologi
Senyum anak cucu tanpa gigi

Mari pukul tifa deng menari..
Biarpun tanah adat su jadi kali
hutan ruba kulit
laut tinggal ari-ari

mari pukul tifa deng manari....
biarpun suku tinggal hitung jari
di bunuh tamu: dari pulau mati
id,02/april/2014, tegalrejo, bantul

Ruba a qualcuno la tua forsennata stanchezza
o gemma che trapassi il suono
col tuo respiro l'ombra che sta ferma
di fronte ad un porto di paura
quel trascendere il mito
come se fosse forzatamente azzurro
o chi senza abbandono
che non sanno che il pianto dei poeti
è solo canto.
Canto rubato al vecchio del portone
rubato al remo del rematore
alla ruota dell'ultimo carro
o pianto di ginestra
dove fioriva l'amatore immoto
dalle turbe angosciose di declino
io sono l'acqua che si genuflette
davanti alla montagna del tuo amore.

Ruba a qualcuno la tua forsennata stanchezza
o gemma che trapassi il suono
col tuo respiro l'ombra che sta ferma
di fronte ad un porto di paura
quel trascendere il mito
come se fosse forzatamente azzurro
o chi senza abbandono
che non sanno che il pianto dei poeti
è solo canto.
Canto rubato al vecchio del portone
rubato al remo del rematore
alla ruota dell'ultimo carro
o pianto di ginestra
dove fioriva l'amatore immoto
dalle turbe angosciose di declino
io sono l'acqua che si genuflette
davanti alla montagna del tuo amore.

Ruba a qualcuno la tua forsennata stanchezza
o gemma che trapassi il suono
col tuo respiro l'ombra che sta ferma
di fronte ad un porto di paura
quel trascendere il mito
come se fosse forzatamente azzurro
o chi senza abbandono
che non sanno che il pianto dei poeti
è solo canto.
Canto rubato al vecchio del portone
rubato al remo del rematore
alla ruota dell'ultimo carro
o pianto di ginestra
dove fioriva l'amatore immoto
dalle turbe angosciose di declino
io sono l'acqua che si genuflette
davanti alla montagna del tuo amore.