"soothsayers" poems
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH. ALSO,
ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER.
BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.
........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
The legere sacristy of pure love blazing
Feline confluence across ethereal plains
Arched angelic collusion of things sepulchral
The arcane occidere travisty of
Transmogrification canonized
Darkling eminence ordained;
The verity aura of radiance
Twilights tidal blood- dye magenta,
Germane sleek meagre wealth chiming lo!.
Finitudes golden prayer draping flounded
Brutality tithing the zenith with mealy
Doer aptitude majestically turbulent
Sacrificing thoriums weld feudal
Of heavens deceitful soothsayers,
Fellow djinn of Gotterdammerung
Soli of vilest stoic jingoism.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
Tingly under the daisies;
Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
Westernizing—
Romanizing—
Constitutionalizing—
Institutionalizing—
Perpetually searching
And dying
And living,
Watching Death survive
And scythe the frolickers,
The prancers,
The rompers,
The merrymakers.
A rose clamped between his
Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
And he dances so joyously.
“Yes!” say the naysayers,
Confused are the soothsayers,
Lost are the cartographers.
Oh, Utopia!
The monks are extravagant;
The meditations are a farce!
The preachers are beggars
And swindlers and chargers,
And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
Ritualistically sacrificed,
And their blood is spilled, drunk,
Slathered over the ***** man.
The evangelists scream and lie:
“You are all predestined to die!”
Oh, hail Utopia!
Wedded are the girls to the girls;
Wedded are the boys to the boys;
Wedded is Death to Death,
Life to Life,
And Life to Death.
Wedded are the living to the existent.
And the milking babes are slaughtered
Ceremoniously,
Surreptitiously,
Ostentatiously.
Oh, hail great Utopia!
We are all dead and unintelligent:
Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
Stupidity.
Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
Your retardation.
Laugh, laugh, laugh!
Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
Aesop was drunk,
Aristotle was delusional,
Michelangelo was blind,
Beethoven could hear,
Poe was sane.
And I can't read.
They ramble,
I watch.
They sleep,
I watch.
They dream,
I watch.
They sleep-talk,
I watch.
They scream,
I watch.
They choke,
I watch.
They suffocate,
I watch.
Stone-faced, I stare;
Raspingly, I breathe;
Uncontrollably, I twitch;
Inwardly, I rage.
I hope you die, I hope you die.
I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
I want you begging and crying,
I want you blubbering at my feet,
I want you gnashing at my ankles,
I want you writhing in pain,
I want your arm twisted off,
Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
I think you’ll see
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows everything about me
See, everywhere in my emails
there’s some tortoise-shell reading
of my inner desires, needs and personality
Today for example
I’ve got several magic readings
several secret readings
Let's start with the first:
*Meet **** women in your neighbourhood* -
Oh my God, how did they know
I was thinking of my neighbour’s wife?
Make $4000 per week - work at home!
Oh my Dear Stars! How did they know?
Though with this of course I can combine
my need to meet all the **** women in my neighbourhood
while I’m making $4000 online
O it’s all so easy, see -
but scary
And it gets scarier with these mystics reading
my needs and wants
Grow an extra inch!
Oh! Oh! How do they know? How do they know?
Erectile problems? We’ve got the pills!
OK , listen guys - my wife has been talking
hasn’t she?
*Best Buy ****** Generic Online - ****** 100mgX60 Pills $125*
OK...my wife has certainly been talking! That precision exposes her!
And comes more:
Stop Snoring Tonight - Guaranteed!
Party on all night with our wonder pills...
Dental plans - Oh God! Defend me from these mind-readers!
They even know I’m losing my teeth and need dentures!
Is nothing sacred any more?
And there’s another one
and now it gets even scarier
cos they tell me things I didn’t know about myself:
Put on this bra and see your man rise to the occasion!
But Oh ye Aliens who observe all things human -
I always thought I was the man!
But maybe I never knew I am a woman actually?
for they keep coming:
Bras of all styles, types and sizes just for your body!
Dear God! Heavens!
Why have you done this to me?
Why do you create me as man, run a male program for over 5 decades
and then bring in these soothsayers
to break the harsh truth in a gentle way:
I am a woman - and needing more bras!
And one more:
Ladies, look 20 years younger with LifeCell!
I’m finished! I’m zilch!
I'm a woman and I'm getting old!
The magic weavers have found me out
the truth even I had not known...
Do you suffer from depression?
Yes! Yes! Oh - not before, but now yes! Yes!
The Scientific Breakthrough is here!
Oh, the devils know me! The devils are out to get me!
and so gentle reader
be you aware
the demons are out there
and lest you laugh at me
they may already have started work on you
they know every thought and wish and desire in your heart;
and if you don’t believe me - just check your emails - if you dare...
for I think you’ll agree
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows innermost secrets
everything about you and me
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
Looking up, I can see the old moon
In the arms of the new one.
Here I stand, at the edge of my demise
Overlooking the city on this building,
To gaze at how the bustle of this metropolis
Begs for release.
I will be the first.
I stand on the edge of my demise,
Its crowds of people faltering between
Fate and struggle,
This city of revolution
Where blood has been spilled on its streets.
I overlook the hustling crowds and see,
Down below,
The swinging lifestyles,
Thieves and soothsayers on every corner,
Talebearers and backstabbers along the sidewalks.
Standing at the edge of my demise,
I long for wings to fly away
Like a dove, harmless and at rest I would be.
Atop this elevated place,
The light of early morning shines along
These towers of terror.
As I lift my foot to step off the edge,
I notice a puddle next to me.
Staring into this small basin of identity,
It reveals what I have missed–––
I remember what I have missed in me.
My face is unlike the rest of those
Who populate this hustling city.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Towering over the rocky shore,
mentoring the intractable,discordant waves.
Rigid and stubborn,over which the eagles soar
"They" come here for absolution,the murderers,the soothsayers,the knaves.
Tweleve kilometers away from the tower,she watched,
living in sweet sardonic solace,in an ancestral cottage.
how "they" climbed the crumbling earth,body and soul parched,
desperate to be purged,freed from guilt-driven *******
Ruminating over the storm swept silence,
she loathed man's dependence on belief.
Comatised, mentally enervated in its absence,
The belief commands discipline, our obedience.
Scrambling over the jagged rocks,
she climbed to the base of the dominating column,
A vulture sitting high above,looks down to mock.
the blinding circulating light,an eerie feeling she could not fathom.
Ascending the two hundred and forty eight iron spiral stairs,
as surreal force encompassed her, she instantly felt possessed, her mind awakened by last night's nightmare.
As she stood high above,adjacent to the vultures,
She acknowledged her mind grow vacous,empty , free.
There was something calming or demanding about this structure,
exterminating her inner thoughts and memories,reaching an ******** apogee.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
I think you’ll see
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows everything about me
See, everywhere in my emails
there’s some tortoise-shell reading
of my inner desires, needs and personality
Today for example
I’ve got several magic readings
several secret readings
Let's start with the first:
*Meet **** women in your neighbourhood* -
Oh my God, how did they know
I was thinking of my neighbour’s wife?
Make $4000 per week - work at home!
Oh my Dear Stars! How did they know?
Though with this of course I can combine
my need to meet all the **** women in my neighbourhood
while I’m making $4000 online
O it’s all so easy, see -
but scary
And it gets scarier with these mystics reading
my needs and wants
Grow an extra inch!
Oh! Oh! How do they know? How do they know?
Erectile problems? We’ve got the pills!
OK , listen guys - my wife has been talking
hasn’t she?
*Best Buy ****** Generic Online - ****** 100mgX60 Pills $125*
OK...my wife has certainly been talking! That precision exposes her!
And comes more:
Stop Snoring Tonight - Guaranteed!
Party on all night with our wonder pills...
Dental plans - Oh God! Defend me from these mind-readers!
They even know I’m losing my teeth and need dentures!
Is nothing sacred any more?
And there’s another one
and now it gets even scarier
cos they tell me things I didn’t know about myself:
Put on this bra and see your man rise to the occasion!
But Oh ye Aliens who observe all things human -
I always thought I was the man!
But maybe I never knew I am a woman actually?
for they keep coming:
Bras of all styles, types and sizes just for your body!
Dear God! Heavens!
Why have you done this to me?
Why do you create me as man, run a male program for over 5 decades
and then bring in these soothsayers
to break the harsh truth in a gentle way:
I am a woman - and needing more bras!
And one more:
Ladies, look 20 years younger with LifeCell!
I’m finished! I’m zilch!
I'm a woman and I'm getting old!
The magic weavers have found me out
the truth even I had not known...
Do you suffer from depression?
Yes! Yes! Oh - not before, but now yes! Yes!
The Scientific Breakthrough is here!
Oh, the devils know me! The devils are out to get me!
and so gentle reader
be you aware
the demons are out there
and lest you laugh at me
they may already have started work on you
they know every thought and wish and desire in your heart;
and if you don’t believe me - just check your emails - if you dare...
for I think you’ll agree
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows innermost secrets
everything about you and me
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
Come and let me tell you
Tales of distant wizards
In far off foreign lands.
The speak in words of poetry
And magic incantations
Even they don’t understand.
They tell of arcane stories
Of dragons and the caves
Of gemstones where they hid.
They tell of verve and derring-do
And swashbuckling heroism
In legendary acts they never did.
They chant, these ancient shamans
To deities and gods of ancient name
Who they know well are fakers.
They foretell and portend wonders
And riches for those who rule, and
Call themselves movers and shakers.
These magic-minded soothsayers
Drape themselves in auras of mystery
And tell the believers they can heal.
And if the congregation fails to look
Closely enough at their performances
They believe the mythological is real.
And time can coat the stores in paint
That looks like the patina of the ages
So it passes the inspection of he willing.
No true believer looks for cracks
In the walls around the real facts
Or questions the truth they are killing.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Finally, I now know death
Albeit a resurrection
Eight red pills began the dissection
Of my finite ego.
Scions of a different kind gain momentum
Finding love's erosion
Corrupting my conscience
A trip was in order.
A dizzy Carnival,
The calliope muted
As decorated stallions dance
My recklessness reaches its peak
So what the hell?
A soothsayers sorry signal as
The venomous ***** gyrates,
My eyes bleed with regret.
As the chemicals persuasive grip subsides,
The trip done,
A schizophrenic clarity remains,
My heart empty
My essence renewed
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 9:56 AM UTC
I think of an end, and it will appear
I think there is no end… and it’s the beginning of my life each and every year
I choose where I am, by having chosen where I've been
A number of wise decisions… with a lot of nonsense in between
Epiphanies hit me and I see life in a split screen
Shared blunts with street urchins, with no idea where the spliff’s been
Arrested a couple of times… in holding cells I have been
Series of unfortunate events unfolding… in short spells?
I was reckless and immature… I was seventeen
But I stayed on, believed in the blessing…
From above and realized that between God and Satan… one of them must have been testing…
Me
My resilience, my ability to learn from experience…
My brilliance?
I yearned to play in the big leagues with the main players
I could have sworn that I could see the future like Soothsayers
I was going beat them
Despite being riddled with inexperience
I tried once… tried twice, made a step
Tried the third time, another step
The fourth, a leap
And I’m still at it, hoping to reap…
From this artistic thing
These poems, this music… when I rap, when I sing
This is the breath of life to me… it’s more than just ‘a thing’.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
as daylights shine wears thin
and evening is leaning on you heavy
like the engine of time has
forgotten to grease its wheel
your futility fueled smile has lost ground
in the struggle with the grin
of the man wearing a clown suit
he is a rainbow of laughs
he is the face behind the face that
you look into with approaching dread
the obvious winds of encroaching rain
tread briskly past my quiet ear
a motorcycle engine winds up its gears
in the summer like distance
like an echo in this autumn brink of evening
pretence of the storm
a few scattered cool drops of water
fall casual to the hard red surface of the patio
its faded and tattered paint beset with taint
here once sat a small brick wall
its remains scattered amongst the litter
in the overgrown weeds
as the rain begins in earnest
she leads me inside the house
and to a bedroom not used by shooters
the two of us sit in silence and listen to the passing storm
a woman without a word enters and
gathers herself in a corner
outside the window
sunlight creeps back over the world
reveals the man with the clown suit
sitting waiting for you outside the window
he had waited all his life
and he waits still
in his comfort chair
its worn plastic form strains but holds
his heavy thoughts
as the world passes in two's or threes
all the laughing faces
and the desperate lookers eyeing the safe harbour
he had waited all his life
inspite of the noise and garbage
he sits here and plays with the firebox
its heat keeps him from getting
a frozen heart
the three of us
leave the shooters house
making roads for the soothsayers den
only she can settle our earthly delemia
me, her and the clown
full on night gathers around our swift feet
the lights of the carnival
reflected in the puddles left by the last rain
the already stale the water is disturbed by our passing
the air smelled like cotton candy
and is full of noise
the soothsayer is mute
her lips sealed with beeswax
because she is mourning her camera
cause the camera was once her ticket out of town
it was gonna be a one way nonstop to hollywood
but it ended up being hollyweird and it wasn't in california
the four of us head for the interstate
if you cant solve it
run
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
Another book for bedtime
and that's fine and dandy
books come in handy.
In gothic script
I ripped through those pages
with stories that told
of soothsayers and sages and went to sleep with blood on my lips
torn from my trips through the history so real it had to be true.
Do you know how it feels when the hurt never heals
but bleeds out every day in the same bleedin' way
and the scar's never far from the tongue in your mouth when you want to shout..'Bollox'
but your upbringing demands that you sit on your hands and do nothing at all
and you look through the wars through the bolted, barred doors that you've gone into quite willingly
when the satchel you had on your back was filled with a stack of blank pages to write on
and you wrote what you saw but that wasn't a lot
so you penned in some fiction but the friction of lies that struck fire in your eyes burnt it all.
Do you know what it's like
when the clock starts to strike and you wonder if you'll be around for the next round of hours that burst forth like flowers ablaze in the sun.
Was it fun
can you remember when we shivered in the condemned house in December and January and November and all those other times when we listened to the chimes and the clock was just that
was time really so flat then
did we care about if and when and the what will we do when the Summer falls through the Winter's embrace
could we and did we face things together through the bitter cold weather and the nights when we cried wishing that we had both died and had gone to some better place?
To stand up and face what the face never tells and to hell with convention
A mention to my Mum
who never closed me out.
A mention to my Dad who knew nothing about anything but knew everything he needed to know
and here's to happy families and the crowing of rooks
and to beggars and crooks
to those outcast by design or by the looks of the honest and pious who trip by us with never a thought that we could be them
dead men and donkey tales
dead men trapped in the sails of those ghost ships
and my lips are ripped once more by the stories read of horror and gore.
Another book at bedtime and the dreams that follow are fine
for the dreamers who are few and far but between the morning and the dusk where the musk of ladies tickles my nose
I know
I'll read some more.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
I have busted my **** sliding down rainbows
And fell through many pink clouds on my ear.
I always whistle as I pass by graveyards
Threw hundreds in wishing wells, over the years.
I defaulted my rent on castles in the air.
I carefully avoided stepping on any cracks.
I walk endless miles not to walk under ladders.
I carefully avoid walking near any cat if it is black.
I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.
I’ve cramps in my fingers from them being crossed.
I would never break any kind of mirror, of course .
And I still have salt sprinkled on my shoulders.
Wishing on many stars, I have made myself hoarse.
I always look away when a funeral goes by.
I spit in my palm when I hear something spooky.
I drop coins into the bowls of all beggars
Even though most of my friends think me kooky.
It’s not like I go broke on soothsayers
And buy all the amulets I see on TV.
But It makes little sense to take a moment
To avoid the omens anyone can see.
Yes I buy copper bracelets to save me
From arthritis or rheumatism of my knee.
I never wear clothing the color of blood,
That only makes common sense to me.
Some think I’m a few boards short of a fence
Be that as it may, and all well and good
My guess is you all have looked around
To find something so you could knock on wood.
I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Memories of childhood, reminisce of pet-like life
Time unborn, devoted to cartoons and toys
Tiny lives filled with little joys
Little fingers drew the future, coloring all sorts of objects
painting white walls
Our masterpieces
punishment
And then, tears
We mouthed storytellers
Innocence was not of choice
Questionable belief in soothsayers
“Music is forbidden!” They shouted
But our jumpy feet touched and danced
We moved in circles
Incoherent dance
tiny lives filled with little joys
Careless giggles at the cautious tales of heaven and earth
Death was a mean man in a black robe
We were fearless in the face of mystery
Little wanderers armed by the Whys and Hows
But dear, little did we know
That death is the lingering shadow weighing on the edge of our beds
That afterlife is a haunting nightmare
That morals are the sleep paralysis of chaotic choices
“Childhood is the only known heaven!”, we asserted
So we became fitful sleepers
Actively protesting the killings of children
With our toy-like, light beaming devices
Such despairing hope
We search for little joys
Now we feel older than we should
A cause for misery
Trapped in a ruinous decay
Trying to remain joyous
Because we merely remain
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
the glory days of forever ago,
we drug ourselves into thinking that this was a good idea.
but of course,
as luck would have it,
i slipped through the cracks in the gene-pool that would have called me an addict.
life is good and all is quiet on whatever front i'm at,
at the moment.
life swirls on.
and so does the dust in my eyes.
big surprise, i'm still here,
mumbling indecency after indecency.
sip after sip,
soothsayers make mention of my doom,
in bubbles and in glory.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
The poets of old;
the soothsayers, not forgotten, but dusty.
Warriors with pens, to be acclaimed, worshipped.
Warriors with swords, to be spit on, othered.
Supposedly, a distinction, an acceptable outlet;
tell me: did you eat last night? Yes? Yet you are quick to dismiss those who seek to gain food by force.
tell me: is your father in prison for selling dope? No? Yet you are quick to dismiss those who throw bricks.
I fail to make a distinction between Mao's Little Red Book and Mao's Big Black Gallows. Only so far as one should come with a warning, yet which one?
Does Bob Dylan know? Has the hard rain fallin? Or is it yet to drench us?
Does Leonard Cohen know?
We are quick to celebrate the white man who starves by choice,
We are reluctant to support the black militant who demands justice.
Ask yourself, is Ghadaffi a hero?
Did he not make great leaps forward for his people?
Yet, is the blood of a few leaches to much of a price?
Tell me, do you hug the cancer away or do you cut it out?
Do you ask your oppressor to please make a concession?
Or do you forcefully take what is yours?
Liberalism seems to be the prevailing ideology of the elite.
Who is preaching non violence? The oppressed or the oppressor?
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
I love you...
Like women's children love laughing,
Like misery loves company,
Like we love crying,
Like women love their children...
Like ladders love painters,
Like brushes love canvas,
Like the pen loves paper,
Like the world loves Atlas...
Like bitterness loves constant dwelling
Like a housecat loves warm napping
Like soothsayers love the act of telling
Like women love their children, who love laughing.
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 8:27 PM UTC
So today, I think, I
will simply search out my own people.
The thinkers, believers,
soothsayers speaking in acrylic discrepancies
between what is and what will,
what might and ought but won't as long as.
It's so simple, they say.
Just apply yourself daily
and try not to sway
lest your habit break.
Then striped of practice,
you take up your vows again.
Simple, it seems.
Except that I'm swearing daily
**** all this!
Tropes and tricks!
There's no ease here.
How could there be?
Baring me scarcely seems
to meet the measures
of rarely seen wear and tear
but these **** seams are holding true."
Remember you have only to apply
once daily doses of madness and hope.
If memory serves, it's these
worthwhile self-service tricks
that have woven our sails.
Drink the seas. Come and capsize.
You'll finally meet me.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
Spill blood
like wine
over the bed-sheets.
This ceremony
leaves none
unexplored.
As soothsayers
we see dreams
and visions of
time past
and passing
in the entrails
and tea leaves.
What did we hope to find
in the fleshy hollows
where our sweetness
sits in wait
to rot?
Once found
is our fate made sound?
Solid.
A still life
in the waiting room
where we will break our bonds.
When the movement
stilled
and the dust kicked up
was hushed,
did we find ourselves there
under the blood stains
and honey,
or were we waiting
forever on the outside?
Always am I transparent
under a shifting moon.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Poetry is part of my story
So I write not for glory.
I care about it like my health,
And protect it like my wealth.
Talking about wealth ,I have none.
But if just in case I get some,
It really wouldn't matter.
For me I think peace of mind is better,
So I pen away my thoughts.
Leaving no rooms for any doubts...
My emotions,
And my inspiration.
My frustration,
And desperation.
Through it all,
I tried being stoic and rational.
Even though my pains
Even when it rains.
I write not about a special thing,
My work covers anything.
Sometimes it's about love,
Or about the issues I can't solve.
The things I take to God in prayers
The things others take to soothsayers.
© IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
Bottle opener
Cracked vermouth
Naked lady
The kids grip their
Hearts
Like newly stolen candy
I'm a leaflet notebook
Fire parade
Fortune teller dressed in secrets
Kimono headdress
Ketamine lines
Upside down caligrpahy
Apple wine
Summer time
Open faced hamburgers
With the moon
On the infinite rise
Trickling melancholy
Purple moon
Hustlers under mailboxes
While grandma's line-up
To do the
Foxtrot
Sinister balloon
Of heavy-metal persuasion
Big titted foul players
Of foreign speaking
Soothsayers
Can it be that we
Are all out of players?
The ***** are in
The goals are scored
There's not a hand
Manning the board
Usurp the direction
Upend the powers that be
Peek through the keyhole
Discover the lies
Behind the masks of men
Who wear brightly colored ties
Music moves through
The meek feet of the weak
What're we all looking for
But the big vote
To take us all the way through.
Better butter down Sutter
Baby sitters been broken
The kids have gone missing
Instead of doves
We've got pigeons
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
How can it become
My form of rebellion
Is speaking the truth?
Soothsayers could not talk to God
The way I can
And you are not god
You are man
The whole worlds a cynic
What can you do for me?
And all that I see
Idiotic people everywhere
People people people
And people are stupid
The whole worlds a cynic
What can people offer?
How can it become
My form of rebellion
Is loving on?
Mystics don't know the spirits
The way I do
They talk to you
You haven't got a clue
The whole world's a cynic
What do we give?
Just people multiplying
Not living than dying
People people people
And people are stupid
The whole me is a cynic
And if I have nothing to say
That you want to hear
Nothing to make you smile when you don't deserve it
My form of rebellion is speaking truth
That goes over your head and through the roof
Something you'll never comprehend
But don't worry, I understand
People are stupid
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
His palm is a sepulchre,
It holds captives and sun-rays.
Macabre consolation fractured his skin.
He who embalms the petals of my words,
to paint forlorn attempts.
With keen acumen he carves the coffins
And adorns the figures of decay.
As alchemists, he works,
to convert base spirits into colours;
Immortal for all the decades of disdain.
His palm is the afterlife,
It keeps hummingbirds and streams.
Unholy droplets cured his cells.
He who puts me on hold,
like soulless novels on his shelves.
As soothsayers, he says,
"You count your pulses; no longer."
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC