"surging" poems
The downward momentum is clear to me now.
The engine has built up a full head of steam.
I’d try to stop it, if I knew how.
The fires of industry must burn on somehow;
they tend to burn brightest when fuel is extreme.
The downward momentum is clear to me now.
When currents are surging, we shouldn’t allow
the jingoist fringe to swim in the mainstream.
I’d try to stop them, if I knew how.
Civility means more than I can avow,
but poems can only allude to a theme:
The downward momentum is clear to me now.
Each click of a mouse that shouts holier than thou
is a cog in a treacherous clockmaker’s scheme.
I’d try to stop him, if I knew how.
We worshipped the circuit and forsook the plow
in search of a false technological dream.
Our downward momentum is clear to me now.
I’d try to stop us, if I knew how.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
if the ocean would carry me
it'll collapse under the weight of my bones
made with cement and steel
and the burden each brick owns
witness the waves howler and scream
just like the heart caged in my chest
blood bubbling around the muscle
surging with every beat and protest
the bottom of the sea may be quiet
like my tongue folded neatly in my mouth
though feral beasts deep within
choke with pressure more than i can count
the ocean and i are seperate
both flowers from different gardens
one ephemeral, one wilting before your eyes
but both's head tilting up to the heavens
sorrowful eyes, swirling, storm awakening
chaos mingling betwixt water and blood
ravid souls in dire need of feeding
cursed and blessed by god
i wonder if i could carry the ocean
within just the corners of my palm
i and the ocean - we are one
a catastrophe after the calm
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body
4 Illuminate
3 the masses
4 Self-immolate
3 to ashes
1 break
3 conciousness
4 cosmic I lapse
3 death cleanses
8 dissipate into the nether
4 essence of life
3 extinguished
4 the chains that bind
3 relinquished
1 Pain
3 Surging through
4 Serenity
3 Gleaming blaze
I, long to be cosmic,
dissipate into illumination
To, become the nether -
to lapse in lost
consciousness
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels
8 Obsessing through the tesseract,
6 scouring past illusions
7 beyond spatiality,
4 distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color, figments of my creation
Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception
Breathe
I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, attain the ether -
planetary
cognizance
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels
Obsessing through the tesseract,
scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flash of colors, figments of my creation
Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception
Breathe
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Your
Sultry
Eyes speak of
Impulsive thoughts.
Combine together
As one, our lust and love.
I hear my name unspoken
In your warm unwavering gaze.
Pressing kisses taste of surging need;
Awakening wild passion within me.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
i feel your energy surging through me
-
through the veins that keep me breathing
and the scars that keep me fighting
(though i wish they didn't)
through the extremities of my fingers
all the way to my tippy toes
-
your energy is all i need
i feel your smile energise me
-
through your whitened teeth
and your crooked beam
through the timid smile i can't help but create in response
i know with all of my soul
you are far brighter than a thousand suns combined
-
your smile is all i need
i feel your breaths complete me
-
through your oxygen
that circulates through my body
through my detritus that yearns for you
(and just you)
i've come to realise
you've become my only supply
-
your breaths are all i need
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
The Great Barrier Reef
A beauty born out of rock and sand
Seldom touched by human hand
An image of beauty
Slowly demolished
By the unpolished
The Great Barrier Reef
An unexplained bleaching
Its beauty compelling,
Its color expelling.
It lays in pain,
Forever longing a voice.
The Great Barrier Reef
It burns with heat
A half now surrendered
To the changes from above
A feeling unknown
Whirlpools surging
Destroying all we’ve known.
The Great Barrier Reef
She’d given up
Hope.
The destruction will never stop,
Her perseverance now lost.
But maybe someday,
The world will once again live in peace.
The Great Barrier Reef
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
First things first
I'd like to apologise
I'm sorry I'm not the good Indian girl I was bred to be
I'm sorry I don't make round rotis
I'm sorry that the tongue I use to speak punjabi is broken and hides in my mouth unused until desperately needed
I'm sorry that I don't cook and clean efficiently enough to be wifey material
Sorry that I love who I love and don't hate who I was told to
Sorry that I can't follow gods blindly and not try to sneak back stage to see their shining gold adornments and blue body paints and multiple arms in full and bare glory and scandal
I'm sorry that I'm actually not sorry for any of this
I'm sorry that these are false and empty apologies
I am unapologetically whole
A human not just a race
A female not a trust fund or business transaction
I filter out the good parts of the culture I'm from and the ones I identify with
I'll wear docs under my saari no apologies
I'll grind on dancefloors and do the best Bhangra dance you'll ever see unashamedly
Hareems and hoodies
Bindies and pin up eyeliner
Hedonism and head in the clouds
My ambition is Ambedkar untouchable
My drive is a salt march surging silently non violently through cities
My hometown pride is built in concrete and rickshaw dust,
Prejudice and Bollywood lust
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
Red is the color of passion, but the passion of love
A firey burning sensation, heating and fueling lover's desire
Orange is the color of energy, blinding, and fast
Zipping through space and recharging the multiverse
Yellow is the color of friendship, sunshine and bright
Lifting frowns and bringing joy to all
Green is the color of life, growth, expansion
Of Gaia and the vibrant vivacity of Mother Earth
Blue is the color of sadness and melancholy and despair
Of the salty water of both tear and sea
Indigo is the color of calm and surging stillness, contemplation
And intellect, the color of knowledge
Violet is the color of passion also, the passion of music and art
Powerful and strong, mellowed and smooth
And octamarine is the color of magic, the eighth color of the rainbow, falling off the edge of the world into space
White and black, not contained within a rainbow, but both contain the rainbow themselves, they intertwine, yin and yang
White signifying good, pureness, gaiety, life
Black symbolising evil, taint, gloominess, death
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
O rescue help the boys in dreadful cave.
Those adventurers could meet their demise
Unless in hour of crisis comes the brave;
But one by one emerge and none yet dies,
Unscathed though bruised from historic ordeals,
Escaped the jaws of death. Those left behind,
Our prayers they overcome their perils.
The tears flowing freely cruel minutes grind.
A strange surging water locking them in,
The force push them up to higher chambers.
Upon a mount waited; with anxious kin,
With families, monks believe still embers.
We salute rescuers' courage to save,
And one to God his precious life he gave.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
it's hard to predict
the course of coming
destruction,
wide or narrow
I ponder the future path
as waters
will always find a way
my father said,
if she's angry in her wrath,
see the ones
that had never
breached their banks
that swell up
surging ***** water
fast within,
just a few brief minutes
before,
it comes
in such
high waters again,
all is flooded quickly
everything in sight,
then just...
g...o...n...e
all is just
gone without a fight,
yes including,
my dear old parents
sweet abode
in the terrible flood
of that ***** Irene
an if anyone had been there
that day at their home
they likely would have died
it's like nothing I have ever
really seen,
an today, as
the worst storm
in the history
of what we know
recorded,
is bearing down
on our lovely crying planet?
so I ask- what do you think
you can do
when the fire comes raging,
will you put it out or fan it?
I think,
to myself
I am seeing
many new animals
especially the birds,
rare ones,
insects and plants,
an some look just quite absurd
it is exciting but scary
but seriously different weather
well
i say why are you not wary?
becuz
if you don't believe
in climate change
or global warming
NOW?
well God please help us all.
Ma Cherie © 2017
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
Over the surging tides and the mountain kingdoms,
Over the pastoral valleys and the meadows,
Over the cities with their factory darkness,
Over the lands where peace is still a power,
Over all these and all this planet carries
A power broods, invisible monarch, a stranger
To some, but by many trusted. Man's a believer
Until corrupted. This huge trusted power
Is spirit. He moves in the muscle of the world,
In continual creation. He burns the tides, he shines
From the matchless skies. He is the day's surrender.
Recognize him in the eye of the angry tiger,
In the sign of a child stepping at last into sleep,
In whatever touches, graces and confesses,
In hopes fulfilled or forgotten, in promises
Kept, in the resignation of old men -
This spirit, this power, this holder together of space
Is about, is aware, is working in your breathing.
But most he is the need that shows in hunger
And in the tears shed in the lonely fastness.
And in sorrow after anger.
4.9k
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,—
By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—
By the gray woods,—by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp,—
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,—
By each spot the most unholy—
In each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by—
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’Tis—oh, ’tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only.
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
4.9k
What will you do when the clocks no longer tell?
After you smash to pieces Cronos' clock
And you slip into the stillpoint as the Eye opens
In the palm of your hand; after you cross
The Threshold and return to offer up your Boon
To man.
When the ego falls away and you begin your
Gift of servitude.
When the trees drip light, and each child you
See has around their head a circle of light.
Light surging up and over,
Bleeding from eyes and hands;
Oceans of light illuminating beaches;
Lovers enveloped in a cocoon of light;
The crow blasting through photons,
Climbing currents into the face of the sun
To erupt in all-consuming flame;
Like William Blake driving Apollo's
Chariot into a supernova;
Walt Whitman pulling from the River
Why a fish erupting and igniting his
Beard, showering him in corpuscles of light;
Like a Devish whirling, shooting off sparks
And laughing like a madman dancing and
Burning in the Dragon's jaws.
And Vincent, in your dreams, deep in a
Sea of sunflowers looking up at you
With the wondrous eyes of a child
And waving his arms like a Sorcerer
Conjuring and you see what he sees:
Heaven in a wildflower.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
With vehement force,
The white, weighty water,
Races between my thighs,
Grazing my fingertips,
Crashing into the wasted bank,
And splintered stone,
Scattered about the course,
Surging towards the fringe,
Of the river road,
My toes curl,
Latched to the rock-ridden surface,
Fighting the undertow,
As the water plunges,
Down the waterfall
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:00 AM UTC
dahil wara katapusan an duon san mga mata
mabubuhay akong minamatay
san dating kaaway ko sa lawas na ini
sa lawas na ini naghambog an talawon
pinapagubtik an kaaluhan na nagpapamuda
muda na nagpupukaw saakon gurugab-i
kendi na nagpapahibi
mesias na naghahala-hala
magiging madalas an pagsid-ip niya sa bintana
para laen ko makita an liwanag
malaog siya sa kahon ko
laen para magkawat
kundi dagdagan an pagub-at
makasakat an pagbagsak
siya na ako
masurat tula.
~Written by Melton Balicano
(a bikol dialect)
since these eyes have been weighed down on unending
i shall live while being slain by an old foe in this body
this body where the craven had once boasted
surging chagrins that blaspheme
blasphemy that rouses this corpse in the dark
treats that shed tears
a messiah that taunts.
he shall constantly peep through the window
so that I see no light
he will break in my casket
not to thieve
but to burden further
the downfall shall rise
then he becomes me
penning a poem.
~a translation of Balicano's masterpiece
Glenn Sentes
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
lovers are burning.] balsamic ****** gallops from shame
into the overwild wetness of labial volcanoes, caramelized in musk. by love's labor.
laid bare, their bodies origami inhibition...[ lovers are burning. ]
and surrender is victorious !
Eros is speechless. maidens howl into cumulus goose-down, chewing carnal haikus
with swayed backs.... hips wide and wanton. masculine wands plow oyster beds, unmade.
they joust pearls... and [ lovers are burning ]
.... a damp conflagration; tongue stoked and windswept, conspires.
monotony is slain !
puritan harps are plucked and thrummed ! lewd harmonies anoint the perfect pitch
and a chorus moans. the ghost of sylvia plath, straddles Apollo; and he earns his wreath
surging besotted. [ lovers are burning ] and laurels forgotten.
lotharios charge the seldom road; the starfish door to Saturn's parlor.
pumping unbridled, that glistening, cloven moon. her riding crop insists !
his urgency must do.
satyrs sup salaciously and summon staves to dip in brine. they grin and grind
their sutras, stripping karma gears with silk scarves. ankles to a post, well spread...
cushions crush. flowers press... stamen fed.
nymphs clutch their serpent stones
to drain what nectar slips the slit. they ***** and throat.
they peck and pinch their quivers; knock their arrows to the purpose, half spent.
[ lovers are burning ]
eyes ablaze. nostrils fetch randy fumes of consent. mouths seek.
a pouty swamp with Spanish moss.... finds a matador
and a bull, a china shop.
lovers are burning the rough sketch of a lost god
and their angels are voyeurs
with unclean thoughts
for gospels.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
She is My cream nicotine
The
Surging through our blues
The fluidity of divinity
Juxtapose
Whoever said love was easy…
Yeah 'Ol Chap, they Sure had it right,
Because no man or lady can ever Subtract
Once their hue has mixed it can never go back.
2 Whipped Cream and Other Delights.
And why would you?
The dregs are bitter,
The milk too sweet.
If you water it down then
All flavor retreats
Life is just better off Bitter-Sweet,
Cream never asks coffee
On how it should mix
Why do we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?
The intrusion is dilution of the Makers choice
Through imperfection comes the lesson
Learned perception with each sip
The air red dried truth
The
Words stuck to the lips
Tasters Digest the last drink drips
Yet I question why I am so subject
to infusion
Her meaningful quips
Why we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?
Still I question why I am so subject
to the infusion of Her
Dips
Sometimes I call it Love
Sometimes I call it Quits
For You My Dear
Let's Cheers Another Grip
of
Seared Buds and Belly Aches
and
Lactose Licorice
So
Pour Another! while the Argument still in Air
and
While Dilutions of gratification Grind into Frothy Despair
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
Unknown are the names
of the flowers that have been trampled
Birds have fallen to the Earth
and long for the wind
Prayers won't solve anything
Only the will to fight
can change the here and now!
O pigs who laugh at the resolve
to walk over corpses to move forward
Livestock complacency? False prosperity?
Give us the freedom of dying,
starving wolves!
The humiliation of being caged
is what triggers us to fight back
We hunters slaughter prey
beyond the castle walls,
consumed with surging bloodlust,
as our crimson bows and arrows
pierce scarlet holes into the twilight.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
I want to sip
the morning dew off
your body
Taste the honey
that collects on your goosebumps
I want to hear the raindrops
dangling from your skin
aching to roll
like a current
through your coral fingers
I want to trace
the sunlight
on your lips
that leave your warm kisses
on my neck
I want your nails licking my back
like hot steel
crashing against my frozen body
I want to run my fingers through
a curtain of your hair
Flowing freely in my palms
I want to drink the colour from it
I want to taste every word
through our kisses
And decypher
the secrets engraved on your tongue
I want to lift you up
with a single pinky finger
and encase you in hands
that feel like arms
I want to love you
like leaves carried in the wind
like the stars cradled in the sky
like your breath surging in my lungs
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
The snow is thin and pale today
like that girl –
you thought –
from the Home Depot –
the palette of an empty day
I think, instead
to smooth my hand along your arm
extend dominion 'cross your chest
To till the damp slope of your shoulder
in surging heat
of earthen tones
to find in winter flames
your brow, your cheek, your neck
...your mouth that way...
This is the braille I'm all about
being far-sighted
and just too close
to even focus on you –
your eyes –
and all
the loss
these days
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
If I have a daughter
I will name her Katrina
Remind her she is beautiful
Brought forth from the passion of the sea
She is a mix of warm Atlantic winds
strong enough to devastate a nation in
just a puff of her breath
wild enough to tracer the ocean
stretch out her wings and fly
watchful enough to remember
that spinning is dangerous
but curious enough
to want to go find land
In Winter, she hibernates
waiting for warmer weather
to envelop her soul
and bring life to her feet
In Spring, she stretches out her arms
and yawns, smiling
as the sun’s rays caress her face
In Summer, she giggles and
asks to travel,
whip across the ocean
sprint across the earth
She has no idea that exploring
Surging through the sea
will bring destruction
but when I tell her
she only laughs and says
Mom, you are the eye of my storm
and I will keep you safe
So, in Autumn, I will buy her
a ticket to anywhere
and as she spins out
of my home
I brace myself
for her eye to shrink
and her storm to intensify
because I know what is coming
While she loses herself
in the ecstasy of life
I shield myself as the eye wall,
the freest of her passions,
crashes down on me
with the force of 400 tornadoes
But I smile
because I know it will
be over soon
because winter is coming
and the rains
will cease to fall
and she will settle down
into her new life
and her new home
and one day
I will get a call
“Mom, our daughter’s name is Sandy,”
And I will smile
and watch from afar
as history repeats itself
and once again
I will brace myself for
the most beautiful of hurricanes
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC