"surmounted" poems
•
Your love is as sweet as the sugar,
That I've been addictively indulging,
For so many years.
*Every piece of you,
Is just the most gratifying that I have tasted!*
But when together we've been drowned with tribulations,
You just gave up rapidly...
And dissolved!
*Integrating and going with the flow,
Of those torments and allurements,*
Now where are you?
You are now a part of those afflictions that drowned you,
I can still taste your sweetness,
*Every time I sip through the trials,
That we've face,
Resulting to weaken your knees,
And been defeated,*
I was totally in great pain,
To know that your love,
Can be just greatly surmounted,
By miseries in life,
But what can I do?
I fight, you relinquish,
And until then,
You just become a memory,
Of an achingly baleful chronicles of my life.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
The attendees are told, in a manner befitting a high mass
You have been finally set free,
(Although, in truth, free is a very large and entirely vague word),
And the message is sent forth from all comers in all corners:
Vendor and visionary alike,
German socialists who left university to ride boats for Greenpeace,
First lieutenants doing their level best
To appear at ease in civilian polos and khakis,
But no matter the vessel,
The message is still the same.
The tyranny of cables and storage space is dead,
It is all but shouted from the lecterns,
(Although it is noted, in small print and sotto voce
That there are certain requirements
In terms of hardware and licensing)
And it is stated by Those Who Know
In tones which neither brook nor invite contradiction,
That they have surmounted, all Hadrian-like,
The alpine divide separating mere data and magic.
Two or three blocks down the street from the convention center,
In a narrow storefront housing an exhibition of ether-only comics
Which have broken the nettling constraints
Of editors and syndication,
There sits, under a somewhat opaque
And slightly scratched piece of plexiglass,
A yellowing comic strip of uncertain vintage,
In which a frowzy cat,
Free of the constraints of panels, gender, and standard grammar,
Is the recipient of a mouse-tossed brick
Whose flight, unfettered by physics, probablility, indeed time itself
Ends striking its mark right between the x’s of the eyes
The projectile itself an inexplicable alchemy
Of confusion, mirth, frustration
And the impossibility of an undeniably pure love.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
Protectress...manna, Luna, vulvic-veil,
my heinous highness, take this kiss upon
your forehead and crown.
Tinctured lips, paired pilgrims of our alchemy...
surmounted mount in tantric trust, the perfect
fit for this Age.
We watched each other's will hatch in the palms
of our hands...forgetting to argue who came first.
The rightful bliss of essential ignorance, world
manifest under our noses--roused by smelling salts
from intermittent faints...Love, Love, Love!
You, dearest of whomsoever came forth from innumerable
bodies, to be half-turn to my half-turn...round our world
on its head.
Bar to bar none axes...one string guitars from pole to pole--
played ****** by our fingers.
Corollas of red droplets...the poppies are everywhere, the
child you bore me was me--forcing me to man abandonment.
Caught at the lip of a curb ramp, I hurl handfuls of folly
skyward...as pieces of absence continually settle time.
I apply you to my proportion...Vitruvian Man versed in
your space, circle squared dear--circle squared...the poppies
are everywhere.
Broken down to simplest things, I lay you down, I lay me
down...try both sides of the bed where neither is met.
Just as I cease to exist, I-ness nets a sense of being, bolting
upright as if hearing the world fall.
We who observed continuous excellency of soul, stood
juxtaposed in extemporaneous awe.
How could I expel you, how could you expel me...from
such a juxtaposition?
The "invisible worm" brings tidings of forever before it
destroys the flower...the poppies are everywhere.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
I am of no use, is what it tells me.
That I have nothing special, and that
I am nothing compared to those around
me is the truest lie I was ever told.
It allows me to be soluble
in the lives and achievements of others.
The individual pieces of me dissolve
into insignificant, infinitesimal specks
that serve no purpose, and amount to nothing.
Anything I do - any talents I have - will be surmounted by those
who are more than I could ever wish to be.
Alone I am whole, where the love I keep under my
sheets and between my arms tells me
she values me.
But out there - out there in the world
I am of no importance and
infinite expendability.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 5:01 AM UTC
As I stare, deeper and deeper,
Into the abyss, before me,
It all becomes quite clear,
That the abyss was just a mirror.
Staring blindly into myself,
Made me realize how empty I am,
Not to mention how broken,
But that's best left unspoken.
I am empty, and broken,
Like a car on the side of the highway,
Or better yet, a black hole;
I have a body, but lack a soul.
I am an abyss of darkness,
I am empty and useless to all,
I haven't surmounted to much at all,
It's because of you; you made me fall.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Below is the first of two poems inspired by this piece of music, this one from a few years ago, in the midst of my divorce. The second, the better of the two, is:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/pachelbels-canon/
The music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kllZlF6mB2s&feature;=youtube_gdata_player
~~~~
Bereft of words,
one more time,
concussed by the hammering of
cacophonous silences
disabling my thought processes
In vanity,
for when denied,
Le Poet-Poseur angrily asks:
Did not Mary
have her cherries
by command?^
But when the trees bow to me,
the collective of leaves mockingly
whisper sweet nadas, baby.
each leaf wraps my tongue,
in a sushi compote of sand,
"hush-a-bye, baby boy poet"
June chilled.
But not chilling
Today, on a overcast Saturday,
forces have mogged^^ me on,
transmogrified into a
Seventh Day Non-Inventist,
the creativity disrupters
Sadly,
Amazon doesn't sell,
original poems for redistribution
Pilings of papers,
variant demanders re my
labors past and future,
**** work-product of
teams of lawyers & harlots
Four years on, demanding now,
300 files subpoenaed,
need I say, they want me to re-tour my life my cuntry,
once more
Dummies!
these esquires ****** for hire,
my greatest invention,
my poetry,
they'll n'ere posses
cause I give it away,
domain denied
In need of a ****** shot,
drink repeatedly from the
Kanon by Pachelbel,
cannons of human-law
surmounted by the one divine
This note,
the work product of
Pachelbel & Lipstadt,
harmony restoration,
a shared refuge,
a shared refute
Welcome friend to
a place that cannot be
bought, seized, sold
Pleasure thyself with each
note, scale repeated
Though the reign of the heavens
doth suffer violence, and
violent men do take it by force,^^^
peace and pardon,
earnest reward of
poets who lived gently,
giving gentle, freely away
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand
Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned,
To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say
To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play.
In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom
With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom.
Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high,
The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky.
Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee
Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree,
To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone,
Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home.
Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here
And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near,
Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale
Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail.
Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut
To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young ****
To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt
Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built?
And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room
I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon
And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day
And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay.
Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm
To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn,
Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed
With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head.
Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves
The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves,
Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind
Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time.
M.
Pukehana Paradise
13 December 2014
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
Vulnerability is characterised by a beautifully ambivalent experience for the majority of anthropological subjects, if the risk is indeed to be embraced.
But, haven’t we already surmounted the impossible ranges of mountainous biopsychosocial corridors in this geographical war against oblivion?
If we have, then let us raise our brazen shields whilst the cheerleading and aristocratic seductress chants her ceremonial and political letters of pronouncement.
Cosmological resistance of physical objects to any change in their sense of motion, speed or direction, is characterised by hilarity.
Yet, what does it matter?
It is likened to bursting forth from a position of submerged freedom of speech, where we must then tread precariously across uncertain ponds.
Stepping out from the metaphorical boat, we can acquaint ourselves with the beauty of The Vocal Artiste and conduct our transaction.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
linear constellations
publish prophecies
bereft of precision
birthing brand new eyes
like boomerangs they oscillate
across nimble currents
though once momentum surmounted
factualism had begun to trickle
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
I love, regardless
Loving feels complete and not to love feels empty
Joy is a place to be surmounted, not by the faint of heart
Caring is an action, that depletes all sources of glycogen and various energy sugars
It makes me and you strong
Do not give up use your energy stores
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
It's that time of the year again
Our politicians put on a new persona
Nothing new compared to the previous gimmick
Decade old cliched stuff, on the repeat.
A costly road ahead with a hefty expense
Back-channels, bargains and deals , none can comprehend
Funding is secured, the plans are now been drawn
Delegation to the foot-soldiers, with ease and control
The demography and previous trends have all been accounted
War-rooms being set up, as the arsenal needs to be surmounted.
Minute by minute, hour by hour
The ***** games and abuse of power
Horse trading has begun,
The influential will re-run
Money, honey or even the hard ways
Just break the loyalty and build pathways
Media Cells activated on the double
Spitting venom and creating trouble
Plethora of photoshops and planted stories
Peddling narratives, worst than conspiracy theories.
Meanwhile on the ground, a different game being played
The pawns as usual disillusioned and dismayed
Onslaught begins - First phase division
Divide by nationality, status or religion
Hate-mongering and fear-mongering
No holds barred
Political-correctness and propaganda not that far apart
All kind of theatrics have been put to use
Needless to discount the petty rhetoric and all the abuse
Both left and right wing ideologies hand-crafted to look cool
To trap the gullible and make them drool
And nationalistic pride sprayed like chem-trails
Beyond jingoism, everything else fails
Morality and conscience have vanished into thin air
Utopian lands being promised, as if almost here.
The voter's are intelligent, they keep reiterating
It's just a bait though, to lure them for voting
But then again, what is the voter supposed to do?
Greater evil or lesser evil are the choices to make
Can it get any worst, is his obvious take
Confusion, delusion and a hasty decision made
Now crib, cry, swear and the same blame game
Cometh the next election, its the same game play
The vicious cycle repeats
Politicians are back to deceive and cheat.
Alright! Been there, done that
To err is human they say
Well! Guess what?
I'll willfully repeat that!
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
*memories, sentiments, anguishes, exultations,
You dissolve them all...
Unceasing aeonian amorphous flow
you are,
You efface every life once for all..
Kings and Queens crumpled before you,
You stand grandiloquent and tall..
You took beloved ones, some ended in flames and some in clays,
You left us with a void in heart,
and dragged us into a pitfall..
You become a friend and a foe,
an opportunity takes it all..
No one surmounted you, none master did,
You mastered them all..
You are the Time, The Invincible Time,
That is what we all waul* ...
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
I hear the dull roar,
It’s a growing sound,
Keep moving forward,
don’t ever lose ground.
The cyclone is coming,
No escaping by running.
As they say, "move it or lose it",
Or your life will be forfeit.
Make a strong shelter
From the helter skelter.
Get your life in order,
Don’t run for the border.
Stand and be counted
All obstacles surmounted
Twister leaves you with devastation,
From life’s rubble; new creation.
Like a tree in the tempest
Stand up and pass life’s test
When calm is around, and beautiful the view,
You’ve finally found the new, stronger you.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 5:31 AM UTC
You will never understand my underlying battle beneath the surface if you spent a millenia breaking me down
I have fought
I have lost
I've felt
That isn't all that I am
I am
What I've learned
How I fought back
How I chose to over come
The ways I surmounted
That's ok
You were never meant to dissect my beating heart on the table simply for your selfishness of knowing
All that I am
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 7:58 PM UTC
Terrorists’ work of devilishness reflected of deterioration of peace,
Surmounted with hellish and purposeless dogma in religion,
What did the innocent do with terrorism?
I watched on the screen how human arms had waved for help,
How victims had fallen from top to the ground zero,
How the splendid tower had been collapsing down
When the monstrous killer plane had plunged into cubicles
When computers had had their tasks with their engineers,
How the second predator dived into the concrete chambers,
How human splendor had crashed in no time:
Might be human pride ‘gainst the Heavenly Glory.
Clouds of smoke and ash had swallowed the hosts and guests,
Sons and daughters had lost their fathers and mothers,
Fathers and mothers had forgotten the memory of their children,
Lovers and lady loves had been shattered without their fulfillment.
What would have happened to the human less predators on flight,
Might be burnt and charred with the steel machine elsewhere?
Do these human less predators work for emptiness in void?
Candles and flowers being carried by the kith and kin of the victims,
And their tribute is the homage to their beloved ones;
Yet is this act done out of ignorance, or of love, or of human bond?
The game was over, but the allusions and metaphors are on stage,
And they are the images of events to come beyond human wit.
A mark of memory and cry diluted by human prayers seen at Ground Zero
With tears rolled down the cheeks of the victims buried beneath.
I could still hear the distant cry of the victims with their arms waved,
The click sounds of the computer buttons can ne’er be erased,
And the bellows of the pounding tower are the death toll still heard.
Terror predators are still awake with their brandishing missiles,
And let’s all break the wings of the predators with our faith in the Lord,
And He will charge them with His Eternal Word on the Day of His Coming.
The Day is not far, and is imminent, must be fair and good in His sight.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:40 AM UTC
For a lifetime, we have waited for that moment, to behold the deepest deep of wisdom
For a lifetime, the seas, stars and the moon obeyed the rhythm
For a lifetime, years passed, we toiled for what seems to be or not
For a lifetime, we rest without delay
For a lifetime, we crushed our feelings; shouldn’t we let the emotions speak?
For a lifetime, being lost for words, verses become divine
For a lifetime, shall we say our prayers?
For a lifetime, we heed to advice, yet we still defy
For a lifetime, we have passed the tunnel of ages, against the odds of time
For a lifetime, have nature surmounted to the heels of mankind, yet its triumphs
For a lifetime, shall we reconcile?
For a lifetime, we sober for lost thoughts, yet laughter seize our pleasured moments
For a lifetime, we cheer for the happy times, thus the tides continues to change
For a lifetime, we endured the groans of existence, but we always prevail
For a lifetime, wishes come true, hopes are revived
For a lifetime, we are on a timeline
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
He held her hand all the night
She clenched his' tight
As fears of his parting surmounted her thoughts.
Not a word they spoke,
For feelings have surpassed the words.
Together, they wished to stop the time..
If only this night could stand still..
But it was inevitable,
Dusk faded away, eclipsed by the dawn
And the words have come..
Out of him with great pain
"Have to go now", he said.
Not a word she has said
Like a mannequin, she stared.
A moment passed in silence
And then two.
His eyes couldn't meet hers
For he knew he would not be able to go
If only he looked at her eyes..
Her eyes spoke for her.
Those moments in silence,
And he felt the moist warmth on his hand..
The warmth of the teardrop that left her eye,
For him.
With great reluctance, she left his hand
'Go', she said and the only word she could say indeed.
Painfully mellow was her voice.
For she knew that she couldn't stop him..
If only she could wish.
He wished, yet he couldn't stay
For her well-being in his absence, he prayed.
'I will soon be back' he said.
Hope floated in their hearts
That grim times will fade away
Good times will be back there
It' all just a matter of time.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
Time is like a mighty ocean rolling
Full, forever rolling, forever blest
Like the bell of death forever tolling
“Lord, give Thy servant forever rest”
Time like the sands of the shore uncounted
Time is like those grains of dust unmeasured
Time is like those years of Life surmounted
Time like those mighty em’ralds are treasured
Who’ll know what’ll happen in a thousand years?
A thousand years to God is like a sigh
Time is not counted like those sparkling tears
Before we know it we begin to die
Time is like a mighty ocean rolling
Like the bell of death forever tolling
~Marian~
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
Terrorists’ work of devilishness reflected of deterioration of peace,
Surmounted with hellish and purposeless dogma in religion,
What did the innocent do with terrorism?
I watched on the screen how human arms had waved for help,
How victims had fallen from top to the ground zero,
How the splendid tower had been collapsing down
When the monstrous killer plane had plunged into cubicles
When computers had had their tasks with their engineers,
How the second predator dived into the concrete chambers,
How human splendor had crashed in no time:
Might be human pride ‘gainst the Heavenly Glory.
Clouds of smoke and ash had swallowed the hosts and guests,
Sons and daughters had lost their fathers and mothers,
Fathers and mothers had forgotten the memory of their children,
Lovers and lady loves had been shattered without their fulfillment.
What would have happened to the human less predators on flight,
Might be burnt and charred with the steel machine elsewhere?
Do these human less predators work for emptiness in void?
Candles and flowers being carried by the kith and kin of the victims,
And their tribute is the homage to their beloved ones;
Yet is this act done out of ignorance, or of love, or of human bond?
The game was over, but the allusions and metaphors are on stage,
And they are the images of events to come beyond human wit.
A mark of memory and cry diluted by human prayers seen at Ground Zero
With tears rolled down the cheeks of the victims buried beneath.
I could still hear the distant cry of the victims with their arms waved,
The click sounds of the computer buttons can ne’er be erased,
And the bellows of the pounding tower are the death toll still heard.
Terror predators are still awake with their brandishing missiles,
And let’s all break the wings of the predators with our faith in the Lord,
And He will charge them with His Eternal Word on the Day of His Coming.
The Day is not far, and is imminent, must be fair and good in His sight.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:40 AM UTC
Out for a tea-break from rude routine drudgery,
Let our pupils pamper with green tea greenery,
In a wide cradle of hills down the western range,
Hey, enjoin and enjoy the beauty of lull in full swing.
Clouding mist cuddled the crown of gross green hills,
Warmed up trembling heights at day and night falls
Tourists touted, scouted up and down in curvy drills,
Marched ahead for feast of green smiles along miles
Short and smart tea-pool parade cool on high heels,
Unleashed the taste and toast of parallel paradise,
The train of tea plants planted mounting pleasure,
Surmounted gravity hard and soft in ups and downs
Wheezing wind whispered winter whimsy hymns,
Sun and rain sieved through mist for sporting spa,
In memoir cameras clicked sprawling green carpets,
What a tantalizing tea tree treat to tired tourists!
Nay, bonny tea bear tear and fear in its pink of health,
Of tampering heads, fracturing leaves, grinding dry,
Of cream, sugar and spice mixed to its boiling sweat,
For daily drink’s deep delight to trigger takers’ sprint.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
A look inside the hourglass will prove treacherous waves to be a mirage upon the sand;
Dunes plummeting to nothingness, surmounted by achievements once thought to be unreachable.
Like a puzzle piece, we tend to be enticed to the edges of sanity at the manifest of our trivial dysfunction;
Binding walls that keep the resolutions in order,
Though the boundaries in which we tread are but a gimmick in equivalence to this labyrinth of scattered dreams.
Find it in you to preserve animosity,
For it is the backbone to what love entails.
Embrace the animosity.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
Out for a tea-break from rude routine drudgery,
Let our pupils pamper with green tea greenery,
In a wide cradle of hills down the western range,
Hey, enjoin and enjoy the beauty of lull in full swing.
Clouding mist cuddled the crown of gross green hills,
Warmed up trembling heights at day and night falls
Tourists touted, scouted up and down in curvy drills,
Marched ahead for feast of green smiles along miles
Short and smart tea-pool parade cool on high heels,
Unleashed the taste and toast of parallel paradise,
The train of tea plants planted mounting pleasure,
Surmounted gravity hard and soft in ups and downs
Wheezing wind whispered winter whimsy hymns,
Sun and rain sieved through mist for sporting spa,
In memoir cameras clicked sprawling green carpets,
What a tantalizing tea tree treat to tired tourists!
Nay, bonny tea bear tear and fear in its pink of health,
Of tampering heads, fracturing leaves, grinding dry,
Of cream, sugar and spice mixed to its boiling sweat,
For daily drink’s deep delight to trigger takers’ sprint.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
You stripped me down
to just my skin;
looked at me,
and behold!
You were unfettered.
You held me still
as I resisted;
childish,
leary of the water.
Not because of my sugar
molecule DNA,
but rather, the lack thereof.
See, I feared that the water,
so often uplifting,
would reveal my ugly tricks.
See, I feared it'd seep right through,
flow between a clavicle,
a cranium,
some ribs.
But persistently you did lather
with the patience of a saint;
washed the chunks, the stench,
the filfth and fear quickly down
a rusted drain.
When the fight in me
did subside, I'd catch you
out of slits to glassy eyes:
solemnly faceded,
but in bright pupils
I did see,
how you'd fallen for a sin like me.
Oh, and it hit me.
The nothingness that somehow held.
And I wailed.
And I cried.
And I bawled until my eyes bled.
And I thought of mother.
And of father.
And of baby sister, and of Craig.
But none of my injustices
Surmounted to you,
and your need to make clean.
And so you scrubbed
with a fever,
to cleanse my every spot.
You are my Savior,
my King,
my God,
and I love you
for every spot you worked
so hard to make
perfect,
For our family name,
I love you,
even if I seem to not feel
as claimed.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC