"ululated" poems
Sagaciously gloaming melanite eyes
Resonating euphoniously ululated memories;
The shadow land of illusion
Rising out of the ash of an acorn
Wallowing in the blood of wars strident refuge,
Gnomic relics errant of an
Enigmatic almondine heart
Offering an olive branch upon an
Altar made of oak.
A ruminantly nostalgic requiem
Sedititiously traversing the firmament;
Ineluctable reprobation
Ineffably manifested,
The doves of meta-morphosis
Embracing the silk garments of love;
Sound minds cacophany
Devouring the delusional devout
Veridically inspiring ascendancy
Decieving serenities whisper throughout
The dominions audaciously
Rousing ambivalent fears.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
I had a dream in the wee of the yester-night,
I was sleeping a lone on a reed wick-work of a bed
In my late grandmother’s ruffian thatched hut,
On the bed which she passed on,
On the day of her death,
She had earlier declared the bed a heirloom and memento,
To run among the grand children in her family,
Thus I was a sleep on this bed and began dreaming;
I was in a strange city, I don’t knew it
May be it was Jerusalem or Wales, am not sure,
I was walking on street, ***** and full of garbage,
Each person I met was not concerned with me,
But one woman who showed concern was mad,
She was carrying a grey cat in her arms
She asked me if I were headed to the church,
Before I responded with my awed yes;
She ululated before my eyes in her full feat of madness,
Then a huge building emerged from her red headscarf,
The building swallowed me, inside was maudlin and dull music
Like the one usually sang by christo-pagans
When attending a burial ceremony in Africa,
It was replete with irregular sounds,
Of church! Church! Church!
Riff-raff of human hordes flocked in
All of them looked different from me
Their skin was not smooth, it looked rubicund
Some were laughing, other were making nasal sounds
Not clear to me at all, at all, other made funny shouting sounds;
We are the kingdom of psychopomps, we are psychopompous,
One shot a lightening slap at my cheeks, he snarled at me;
Black discoboli! Jump and fight with our bulls.
I saw two bulls dashing at me; I was at the center of the circle
Formed by my foes, the human oats that came in,
The bulls attacked me with an aim to gore my tummy,
I kicked the bulls with one other kick of a man.
The bulls turned into cats on every kick I threw
Instead of mewing, they went melodramatic,
They began talking to me in Queen’s English,
One of the cats duped me that; I better **** before we fight further,
I followed command; I pulled out my **** from short my trouser,
I micturated till my bladder was fully empty,
Then I suddenly woke up from sleep,
Only to find out I have terribly wedded by bed.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
A man buys a ticket for a show.
The Ticketman says to him,
"I know when the show must start,
and when it must end
and what the audience will wear
and be seen wearing,
but these thing I will not reveal to you."
"How then, will I know when to go?"
"You must be ready always."
So alone he waited for the show to begin,
the costly play upon the narrow stage.
But alas,
his patience had run thin.
He argued with himself,
why did the ticketman deny him knowledge?
making his mind think and his patience thin?
"Mr. Ticketman, may I ask you a question?"
"You already have."
"Why do you deny me the knowledge
of when the show must start
and why do you keep from me
the number of people that will go?"
"...If you were to know these things,
then all would soon know it,
and the show would be crowded
and be full of unwantings."
"Yes, but if only I was told,
I would not tell another,
so long as I lived,
for I would like to know
when I must come, so I can be free
and do what I want before the starting."
"And what is it that makes you so
special from the rest?"
"I have a wish, and I have a feeling.
I want in a deep way, in a very deep way,
to know these things and every day
I thirst and yearn for this simple knowledge."
"All do, you as the rest."
"BUT PLEASE! I HAVE WEPT! Do you not see me weep?"
"As have all."
"I Prithee!!! I am shaking, I shake. I have ululated
in the night and screeched with the force of a
thousand lions."
"As have all."
"Oh! I beg of you! I cannot handle this! I cannot handle it!"
"Nor can any."
"Oh, have mercy! I have a love for freedom, oh I have such a burning desire for freedom. I have cut and cauterized myself and died a million times over! I have called for executioners, I wish to die biting there gut butts! EXECUTE ME!! I have melted in the alleys of the night and I have burned like a star when thinking about, no! Becoming, the heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night. I have seen heaven, I have seen hell. I have seen all things sacred and worthless. I know God. Oh yeah, I know him well. I know his name. I know what you are and who you are! I know you!! You fiend! You self-righteous fiend!!!! TELL ME OR I'LL ******* OFF MYSELF!!!! YOU BEAST!!! YOU ******* BEAST!!!!!!"
"Likely story."
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
his body: swung in the drippy-foam. As gunmetal
cements unwavering bites on his collarbone,
I force myself from
hunger and exodus. maybe i, too
exit like light, searching warmth in mouths
un-flavored desolate electricity.
maybe i, too will compress my body into bruise
and swallow the excess.
but for what i want is to want his syllables
leashed around my neck, peeling the
ululated marks hugged on my belly. i wait for the flooding
to swell us upstream.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC