"sourceless" poems
Bruised and battered egos:
Retaliations –
Flaming tornadoes spiral up to stormy skies.
Mixed metaphors of caviar and custard
Maelstrom mightily around the mountains of Hell.
Trolling is appalling
And flaming burns.
Let go of that ego
Is my advice.
Be humble from the start.
No-one is great enough
To be beyond reproach
Or criticism.
Who cares how good or otherwise I am?
Who cares what anyone says
About my work?
I am what I am,
End of story.
To Describe what I am is fine:
See those metres, verses, rhymes
And metaphors.
Dismantle me if you wish,
But (please) put me back together.
No-one should stand in judgement,
Except maybe God,
With His bright wide wings.
So stop the abuse,
And sourceless insults.
Cease the condemnation,
Or stand to be IGNORED.
Paul Butters
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 6:44 AM UTC
I'm not immortal...
my head aches from ache..
A sourceless cower
I sit inside my head...
not a tear...not a tear...
the fear subsided
for now a year...
and finally the conclusion is here...
I'm lost..I'm weary
I'm not as close, not nearly..
I'm farther than I started...
backtracked to nowhere
You were the last smile I remember...
the last place when we were together.
I knew who I was then...
but now I begin again...
I lost myself in you
Love, magic and blissful caress..
how could I compete...
a time beyond time..
ineffable, defying my breath...
Soon after, cold after...
the happily ever after
the laugher... died into tears..
and soon the tears..
dripped in the silence.
But the time never begun once more..
You walked and time followed
the shut, the ache..everything misplaced...
Now one year later, I sit rather jaded..
mystified at why I cannot seem to be...
Everything that was supposed to happen..
has turned me..
into nothing...
give me back to me.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
I have never seen such a star before!
It shines
by and to
the sides of my eyes
but only until I’d look up
to see it Fully
It has never been there maybe!
or is it its nature to just disappear
when
and because I look up ?
or are we
playing a game of
kika boo
to test
a rhyming faith?
which could
become a melody
to the lines of darkness
uncloaking us
once or thrice
does not seem matter
to the form of my observation
sheltering in a multicolored ice
Catch this subtle point of luminosity
Now ! - If you can
and once you have it
Set it free
or Stay there
as if meditating on headstand
and clear your mind
before night diffuses into light
and shines through a crystal
with a hidden star inside
I cannot prove If eyes are not be made of its
material
and only a deluded mind -Alas !
questions
such useless
doubt of difference
of the other
by the other
about the other
And the other
always and only
drowning
in the corridors of beliefs
and thought-constructs
but
Is it not pointless
Trying to catch
a star
Camouflaged
in daylight ?
...
and sometimes recklessly
at the tip of my nose
makes me giggle just
as if a **** tickle
at a mystic corner
on a lover’s lip
longing for its kiss variant
then
I look down again
Tired of the silly mind game
Just to feel it by my side
A sweet friend
A sweet love
Made of my trust
Only appears
to the side of my eyes
So what!
A needle tip sized glitter
sourceless
Living only
in the reflection of the reflection
of a night sky
Shining on my window
behind which I hide now
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
sinking into the sourceless fog
sinking into the view from across
sinking into the detached crowds
sinking into the hot, flushed shame
sinking into the worrisome slouch
sinking into the city streets
sinking into the bleak thoughts
sinking into the humid nightmares
sinking into the silence at dawn
while I sink with a slump towards the bottom of a down
where is the fight against the deep and dark drown
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
In trying to pick out a pattern in chaos,
I found neither symmetry nor direction.
It just was- and that's all it needed to be,
Unadulterated.
Speculation free.
No rhythm, no purpose, no agenda.
Just pure chaotic goodness straight from a sourceless chasm
To even attempt to decipher the endless web of desires,
of sorrows, or fleeting wonder- is to attempt to unravel the spider's web by speaking it. It is to sing down the moon.
It cannot be done- but there is no harm in trying.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
I crop the lungs from my ribcage,
Tearing through the fragile shell of muscle and bone;
A tissue paper tomb.
They lay on the ground,
Spread before me in breathless anticipation.
I slit them open, so they're no longer valises of air,
But instead
Lay flat,
Like cloth waiting to become part of a greater whole.
I compose a sturdy pair of wings
From my pair of feeble lungs,
And like Icarus before me I'm ready to dive into the air,
The heat of the sun on my back,
The deadly thrill of salt spray on my tongue.
My feet are
Weightless
As I run towards the edge,
The toes of my scuffed shoes barely touching the ground,
And as I hit open air my wings capture the wind,
Lifting me higher into the sky.
The view would leave me breathless
If I had any breath left to lose.
With a gasping throat I dip towards the turmoiling sea of energy:
Trying to taste your life in the thrall,
Trying to find your light amidst the spray.
But your sourceless heat is scorching my lungs,
Despite the disconnect
I'm choking,
Plummeting,
Charred membrane flapping in tatters,
Streamers of flesh
Turning my death from tragedy to ceremony.
Crashing at your feet,
Broken and spent but thrilled all the same.
You stare at me,
A sick combination of shock and consternation,
Kneeling beside my dilapidated form,
As with a heaving chest I try to breathe in
Some of the life you bleed
Even though my lungs lie in ruin
Around me.
k.f.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
Mark how, with alien glow--
an imposing form proclaims your
ecstasy, mark!
This monolith of first blushes.
Circuited by a spirit on leave...contours
of seeped salt lit by their sweet burrow.
Ground firmed, with every step the fall
of the world--whose rise only knows
successive steps.
Fast upon heels...keeled over--glistening
with anointment...mark how!
This overarching winter--of co conspirators
in the dead of...who bank and blow
blood till blue in the face.
Their skulls slated to sleep through, as white alms bowls--
yet they contrive...bite you upon both hands,
with the crumpled features of the face you empower.
You are the bell's curfew, a sound more
ancient than rite...where hearers come out
of their skin.
You leave peace to itself...to your quadrant
gape--lest to see what may, or may not configure.
Knowing what endeavors to stain--will belabor
to dissolve as that stain.
How like grape to wine--how like wine to oblivion...
to sodden a leavened sky.
With the care of a flower--never petulant in its exorbitant
youth, cut and set down...one for every step circuiting
this monolith.
These shocked straits of limbs, overrun with sourceless
current...flow onward, onward, onward--by command!
One miraculous, an continuous deference to that
command...seeking out what shall sate the need to do.
What is it to be content with what thou art...is it to forgo,
do what thou wilt?
Retain thy image...do not cast what thou were cast in the
image of...a voice says.
Who hears--as command is voiced, both command and
commanded hear, here.
Unmoved mover--Monolith...dispassionate salve to daily
death, circuited by spirit.
Till blindness, deafness fully informed of stone--alien with
glow...marked how!!!
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 12:50 AM UTC
For centuries we’ve fought to keep our sanity. To suppress shakti is to stay in control. To never let go. We are as old as the rivers. Consciousness controls us. We become beholden to the formless. Sourceless. Oblivion. Lions roar in obscure forests. We dare not utter our reply to the night’s lullaby. I shudder to think. All wisdom is a lie. We are trying to fly but can’t get off the ground of reason. I am surrounded by shadows, in an arrowless sky. High as the ceiling in my mind. I try to climb towers and spires made from rope and steel. We are already here. In the beginning we roamed the earth and ate from the soil. A morning’s work, is not a life of toil. Love never rots. Love is undying. We are trying to take something that is never available. We are hardened. With lots of red earth under our scars. We are scared and trying to fix ourselves. Bless your fear. Shine the light on these breadcrumbs. You’ve made yourself smaller than a pencil. Instead, be a permanent marker.
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
I spend my days paralyzed
If you ask me why ill blame the weather
Not the Washington rain
No one ever asks about the storm from which I'm sheltered
Its a **** storm in the minds of man
Carrying out the wack wills of lunatics
On light waves from dark eyes
Rending dementions untouched by hate
They see the light In me and turn an evil eye
Not knowing why or to what end
My soul mourns for them and their sad life
My body revolts at the new found pain writhing unsure of its cause
My mind trys to make sense of the seemingly sourceless flight or flight reaction
Just a twitch And we lock eyes
Clarcognesence hits like a three story wave and I can see it
Taste it
Feel it on my skin
I am your enemy?!?
Were do you know me?
No!
not me some dreem...
Some scheme gleaned by some other fiend
the sun makes us all look bad by contrast
So I hide in my pad
Ask me why I'll say the weather
It's not a lie just easier to swallow
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC