"unbefitting" poems
Holding on to whatever
is not worthy or needed
is terribly frustrating,
a waist of time and lives.
Letting go of the
unnecessary and unbefitting
is the only ultimate proper
response to lack of result.
Whatsoever that is beautiful,
and acceptable to the heart,
the mind has to admit
and adjust to all its ramifications.
Healing comes after turmoil
and chaos that ravages the body
and mind.
Our mood recovers from the shock
and pressures of the world outside.
Nothing can be more devastating
than the mere ignorance of ongoing
deception choking the life out
of the people.
Taken by the horns,
this beast of burden has to go down.
The fire is rekindled within
and ignited by the unknown forces of
the divine light burning in the heart to
cleanse our impurities of the body and mind,
refreshed by the spirit with sublime light.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
Love too strong for
those who bear it
is a curse invoked
by a deficit of worth.
It is not enough to
seek validation through
a proxy designated
Heaven on Earth.
With no center of gravity,
no anchor in character,
obsession is the limit
of the capacity to love;
Projecting impossible
desires and untenable
expectations amounts
to blasphemy of.
True love may not be
forever or easy;
parting may never
be pleasant to bear;
Love is not merely
what's pleasing or comfortable;
love is a crucible;
love is not fair.
Those fleeting failures
and moments of error
are chances at triumph,
a challenge to change.
Breaking our boundaries,
ballooning outward:
love is inevitably
savage and strange.
Unbefitting to cling
to the bridge that enables
a star in its wand'ring
to cross the abyss;
To carry the ballast
of vast insecurity
over that chasm,
untenable risk;
Or swallow the poison
of foolish dependence
on whimsical paramours,
obesiance thereof,
To be hung from the neck
by detestable premises,
weak and debased
by untenable love.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
(a sonnet in iambic pentameter)
I was drawn to you, from the first instant
something about you aroused my senses
a message unspoken, and insistent
that could somehow bypass my defenses.
I couldn’t show it, you couldn’t know it,
so I sat quietly and ignored you.
When chasing dreams, love is unbefitting
this I’d been told, and so, it must be true.
When I met you again, you were funny,
not what I assumed, you were something new.
Hashtag, as a boyfriend, he’s been money,
such was the start of our kissing booth truth.
Jul 2, 2023
Jul 2, 2023 at 6:49 PM UTC
There is an entire world
that you do not belong in.
Their dreams seem distant,
their hearts of stone,
their smiles withered;
upon them shines a different sun.
You reach out,
but are unseen.
Did they do so, too?
Why, they did of course,
with upraised words most unbefitting,
they reached out as well
to you.
What good, however?
Between us, a chasm.
And those that,
much to your surprise,
did jump it -
did not jump to treat with you,
but as you,
to linger.
You linger still,
as do your hopes.
You do not in vain
hope for this different world
of peace and understanding
of gaps sutured shut
with meaningful intention.
But your words
are misaligned.
And you are, to all,
foreign,
of malice,
greed
and hatred.
You do not dream in vain,
but for now, you don't belong.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
I've tried my best to let it go,
Perhaps I've not tried hard enough.
But still I feel so empty and hollow,
It all seems to be getting quite tough.
One step forward and two steps back,
Just one thing I can not seem to hack.
I hear your name and my worlds collide,
I don't know how and I don't know why.
My love for you I have never denied,
But I've always hid it I'm still so shy.
I had a chance that came and went,
Just like a love letter that was never sent.
A void so black and unfulfilled,
A broken heart that's left to bleed.
A once proud soul just hurt not killed,
A sudden stop with no warning to heed.
An inescapable chasm cut to the bone,
And now I'm left to clean-up alone.
I know I'll get through what perils ahead,
And speak the words left so long unsaid.
A life time of pain will relinquish its hold,
Instead of vacant the sign will read "SOLD".
A broken dream will mend in time,
But the sentence so far is unbefitting the crime.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC
.*who said... that German was, unbefitting to fulfill the concerns for the operatic?! Germans sing the most... nettopern known to man... their baroque reinterpretation... shudders the body to usurp all the ancients' phobias borrowed from the Greeks... goosebumps and... **** like:
freude, schöner götterfunken,
tochter aus elysium,
wir betreten feuertrunken,
himmlische, dein heiligtum!*
but then again...
anemia with the Wagner...
come: walhall..
come Chopin...
and an... orchestra!
you are born, to be lived...
and what questions you have,
are questions indeed,
but they are rudimentary...
and asked,
even if asked at all...
at what could be
beat estimated
the worthy time...
beside the / outside
the mortal script...
known as... life;
how does that feel?
when feeling
perfects
the "art" of the implosion
of thought?
the, missing moral "ought"
of the narrative?
the lost, theta?!
how does, that, "feel"?
all, emotion,
yet, seemingly,
no, thought?
how does that feel...
mother?
ship, micro-cosmos of
quasi-Braille telegraph...
how, does, i, "feel", mother?
the complexity of human expression,
within the confines
of the childish beginning,
culminates in the banal finality of...
that, which, is mortal...
that, which, is mortal...
will always over complicate the sentence...
and make life, almost causeless.
we are all but wagers,
in a game that consist of nothing more
than a win, or a loss...
a game, waging...
falsely perpetuating
a gain... mortality...
and a game waging...
not falsely perpetuating
a loss... again: mortality....
why should i forgive
the bass guitar omission in modern
music?!
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
*The age of betrayal
Unbefitting of a king
Passed down from gen to gen
The curse of never-ending pain
Solitude takes hold
As trust runs dry
The knifes of many
To heavy to bare
Seconds turn to hours
Time slips away
The ache in the heart
Remains to this day
Years go by
The suffering never ceases
Knives remain stuck
In this target on our back
Ever so casually
It grows bigger and bigger
Soon taking over
So nothing else remains
Betrayal hurts the most
From those you hold so dear
For when their knife slips in
Your heart shatters in two*
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
You always had that fire
burning in your eyes
Life's force flowed
through your veins
So vibrant , so alive
You had a laugh
that rocked the boat
You made the difficult
into a joke
So I was unprepared
to find you there
Laying still as if asleep
I studied every wrinkle
upon your face
But I could find no trace
of the you
I used to know
I sighed
with the loss of an age
I had come to find
the very last page
Peace was so unbefitting
of the manor I knew
You would be so
unapproving of the show
I came to say goodbye
but you were not there
Instead I found you
in the sunset of my dreams
that night when I looked
up into the stars
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Last-ting Pleasures (Leonard Cohen)
“Morning coffee on the balcony of this old duplex, the cat at my feet, and a couple of biscuits. Notebook near by. No one coming over.“
Leonard Cohen
<>
aging with graces saved from so many spectacular failures, I took droplets of wisdom where they were free to drink, yet
the best, were the most costly, for which you never end paying
but here I sit, well traveled, in Los Angeles sunshine, do my calculations, my final preparations, memorizing the blessings
so they flow easy, no stumbling, unbefitting a poet-writer lover
obligations diminished, bills paid, goodbyes said and spent, so long Marianne, lines of jewish buddhists wisdom seekers not too long, a few women come, last looks, a reminiscence for themselves
lovers seeking preservation, a signatory on their diaries, proofs, of what I know no longer know to state, sated, the statuary
sentence almost served, and last scribbles, to notebook dispatched
It is His Will, and yet here I am, asking forgiveness, as tradition demands and more, understanding, for it was all transcribed into praise of You and your god-sparked creatures, ah, bon chance, until we meet again, bring your robe and tallit, let us recite psalms
for if there was ever a wilder king, finer poet, lusting for life and god, all of us just birds on the wire, gambling which course to fly, where to, so waiting patient, resolution of the only remaining unanswered question, who by fire?
anyone, each of us, who first asked ourselves why not! before we ever thought,
why?
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC