"seceded" poems
Long days have passed
Since I tried to forget you last.
Pain and resentment have seceded,
Yet the vile melancholy has succeeded.
And part by part,
it chokes my heart.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
In a strange mood - see/write art
in a strange way, disorganized but straight on,
light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth,
knowing what to say, and the meaning too,
I can more than walk, can write, on water,
where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words,
themselves, on light waves lapping in a
shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^
in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches,
Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens
doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey,
painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me,
imperfect clarity but still one voice,
see/write art,
so went and caught the wind, going gently into night
to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out.
knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling
verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above,
roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side.
wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded,
seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting,
tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is
all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden.
a ***** well respected man in daylight,
the hidden references accuse,
woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born,
askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before,
when my palate clefted,
when eyes chose not to distinguish
between right and lefted,
in the nightlight,
a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention,
and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone,
but always the truth, speaking,
the visions, leaking, mind to eye,
recombinant, into our minds eye.
^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell
Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
I am cab ma, please
don’t! Is I, lass, I who brought
scald without such pains.
I am mumbling
coherently a ******
most apparently.
Phospholipids leave
envelope area soon
endoplasmic doom.
Opened neutral taste
I’m sinking in laughing at
something sunken in.
What hell overwhelm
brings ribosome organelle
use geared hither, tell?
Seceded certain
atoms like Democritus
withdrew incursion.
Truncated heavy
organelles under tissue
systems use cycles.
Half polypeptide
accents intergenetic
nuclear spaces.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
Crackling. Rocking. Crackling. Creaking and oscillating, a century old Mahogany Wood seceded to the paSsage of time.
Particles of sand, confounded by the Peninsula’s chaotic, blasting breeze now revealed a shade of burnt tar.
Outside of the second floor Maissonette, sways the rocking chair once warmed by Grandpa.
A Tactless, impatient, rhythmic Requiem Bashes near the wiNdow pane as the sunset falls Under the frame.
Empty Folklore presides like the Residue of a once lambent effigy… SwOosh. Hush!
Cocktails were a Preamble to lunch like diabetes to Nephropathy.
Corrosive Rhetoric seeped in to expose the ego of a Sommelier.
A smile would Parachute down when you needed it like Nicotine to remind that no Precedent had been set, just an Anomaly.
Cutthroat beginnings, this was no Analog man.
In grade school his Cosmos found Zion and “The world to come”.
This baby’s Cradle, abandoned High atop a mountain was blown by a Chinook towards the Atlantic.
“I was found swallowed in a stained Table cloth by Balkan children on a treasure hunt, with no Guarantee and no resignatIon. "
The boTtle narrates these chronicles and a smile parachutes down when you need it like nicotine.
Dionysus Crafted his accounts while most Garnered his spiels with Snide. As they witnessed dream remembrance; he thought his memory was Presumably accurate, and although his tales were triFling to the gathering audience, they became his Heliocentric history.
Calling me a young Galleon and handing me a map, Grandpa scanned his hand across the vast land
guaranteeing trEasure would be found if I had no resignation.
This Asinine assertion to my teenage sister Symbolized the Barring of her unheeding imagination by time and then a smile parachuted down just when she needed it like nicotine.
_TRF
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
one would think these old owls might have learned
a hoot of wisdom, and shut off the bright lights,
concisely concession con-seceded to the simple **********
of the union of the night and moon, its sleep crowning ownership
of these particular hours
let me not false claim that I speak for all the grandfathers,
nor raise myself as a caesar among them,
for there are too many shrieking claimants of all knowing,
know-nothings these troubling days
no longer do we revere or agree upon
the certainty of any incontrovertible self-evident,
truths and beauty we from early ancestors inherited,
fore-seeing the risky possibilities of a freedom-less future,
a melting planet without enough air or water to be shared
for our fast contentedly, asleep babies
no, no, I speak only for myself, and those few million of grandfathers who message each other in the wee hours about silly trivial concerns that keep them awake and writing foolish poems
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
Drum up the emoticons of Tweeners
Lost between the couch cushions
Smoking on Cush,
Listening to lines of lying lions.
No soul,
Symbols twisted into idols
Non-paralleled,
Prophets for profit
Refusal to obey convention
Convection will guarantee a feature flight
To where?
I don't know.
Nowhere near never, never land
The fall will forever fragment followers
Peons of lies, hope, and mirrors
Cause is not lost, for change
Moons tide motions for…
The ebb of conscious thought, drowning the flow of seceded freedoms.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 10:52 AM UTC
An inquisitive mind—flourished from oppression into a cave as rich as Reed mine
Where tourists can flood my thoughts
Pick at my gold and sell it for their lives
Stabilizing their own
While weakening my historic rise
Greed increases, and relationships are seceded
Because everyone wants to obtain sacred pieces
Wandering through pixels of distorted visions
Gatherers become hunters
Painting with blood, their own ambitions
Setting standards for the continuing generations
In turn, a figurative genocide
For the sake of remaining proclamations
Paralyzing, terrorizing, and destroying indifferent others
If time manipulates unfortunate events, perhaps the solution
Is just the opposite
Creatures of habit soon face an evolution
Once protagonists reach a state of lucid retribution
It defines them as antagonists playing a role of uncanny acts
The renowned vigilantes use time as their sword
To reenact their own demise and call unto their lord
Scattered within the affluent cave
The people and their children
And their children's children
Are enslaved, digging their own graves while being influenced by vacuous hopes and darkened shapes
The repetitive motions devolved into psychopathic notions
They attempted to escape but were punished for breaking the rotation
Whipped, humiliated, and shamed
The cave insulated the pain
By offering priceless artifacts
Within my knowledgeable den
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
We danced, the cognate vessels
Nested in walls &
Cowered in blood
We buried love deep into
Beating flesh &
Writhed In Utero
We emptied veins of reason
Laid in torment &
Seceded in white gowns
We--Empiric experiments
We--Deficient devices
We--Thrashing threadbare
We--Womb
We--Woman
--
c
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Here today, in hell tomorrow.
If wisdom leads me there, I won't feel sorrow.
If the man who wanders in darkness
is ready to take my carcass
My body decayed by nature
my soul released in danger.
When the moon if fading out
and my brains are aroused.
When my existence is no longer needed
and stupidity at last seceded.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
His season o' sorrows had seceded;
- the joy crept in reluctant an' slow, though,
- because he was aware the cycle'll be repeated.
Yay- t'was one thing that he did, certainly, know:
- that - with the blustery an' bone chilling snow
- will be brought along another season o' sorrow.
For now, though, he'll enjoy the golden suns glow.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
DREAM LOCKDOWN
We let our minds play fancy, not reaching in to deep just gently dancing
Strolling along ,riding astride in a cautious glide,mimicking many nights before
Locked in a sterile rhythm avoiding a mental collision,softly we stay prancing
Destiny never asked for, now never answered,nothing lost, nothing to restore
Drift into the night no interest in former plight,simply never know what the future is planning
Remember those VIVID visions,not lost still interned,left inside for us to deplore
Relaxing pleasantly lacking contention ,easily laying down without becoming draining
Blind to what is outside the walls ,shielded from the abyss not seeking to explore
Meek mild not thinking to wild ,pillows our new protection marking twilight without explaining
Will it be cheating if not recreating, unexplained actions as if being forced to recall such gore
Playing along is not wrong ,we have not seceded or been defeated, but managing to live and learn as we are changing. R.C.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC
Weathered, worn and shaken.
I saw and felt. I wish never again these pangs.
You saw and responded, you seceded from.
You receeded from pain.
You of gain
This is mine
This is ours
This we meet again
Hours,years. How I go,
availe myself.
Undressed in humility.
We're If I not, who is at fleeting and false of self.
Of Wolf an will
Words of comfort are jagged tooth and claw
Words of truth and mau
Reckless
Resonate
Repeat
I am not retreat
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
My retinas severed one weary, darkened night,
I could no longer stand in my own fright,
My cuticles lost to some melancholy lore
Flipping through pages I used to adore,
The blanching of the atoms, each and every cell within,
I could not hope to pursue what lies therein,
Some weakened, hollow shell of the man I used to be,
I would keep looking for you,
But, alas, I cannot see.
I once thought that my mind would eat itself,
Every forlorn synapse, fighting amongst themselves,
When the doubt came clouded, and my head gave in to rot,
The rain became too crowded, each drop is what I sought,
The creation of this December, so cold and without morn,
Gave birth to iced embers somewhere inside to scorn,
I personified malice and yet still my hatred grew,
All but one living thing I wanted to undo,
I wanted you to see me at my most evil worst,
I wanted you to breathe my name as curse,
But now that I have seceded to the inner most retainer,
I see how worthless the person is your body keeps contained here,
Your **** heart locks love like loose lace,
Spilled wind chills fill your killed embrace,
The frail, pale gales pierce your assailed bones,
As your shit-shining ship sinks, think of home.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC