"unceasingly" poems
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are like sunbeams
I jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you remind me
not to bend down too quickly
she hounds me with her questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life
by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new faculties every moment
we are swift in our limitless
capacity for adaptation
a refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under the highest authority
or just higher scrutiny
wrapped in a paranoid blanket
of heightened security
all is being watched right now
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested
in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this
as we collapse upon the backs
of ecstatic languages....
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
We're all human here, right?
Why, then, is my side, most human,
Something bidden I hide?
---
Mockings chant their mocking things,
Swinging from the hinges of reality.
While, sneers and jeers born from,
Overgrown fears,
Leave small ****** in my ripe heart -
Unceasingly.
At the door, my mind assured me, go,
And my feet, those dumb things, did listen.
Went right into havoc,
Wreaked solely by tragic,
Souls, so pathetic, I can't even stand it.
Who's ripping up my soul so darkly,
Save, me and the audience I've made?
Surely, the swift-sounding people,
With valiant battles to battle -
Are too busy to waste time at the gallows.
You dug the hole,
And jumped right on in,
I merely picked up the shovel,
And finished it.
Though, now, my heart aches,
So red and opaque,
Curse you,
For doing you in.
07.2011
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
Remember that stretch in the crack of dawn
Late we both were so I thought I had companion
I ran fast towards you and deafeningly called on
But you walked past me in the hallway and waved a yawn
Remember those mornings in our classroom
When there was no other feels than gloom
You’d suddenly crack a joke and keep us abloom
You’d give us a good laugh and avert the doom
Remember the countless lunch times we shared
You’d go to the canteen and I’d have mine prepared
Then you’d come to me and ask for candy I had spared
I’d hand you one or maybe two as if I was compelled
Remember the sunlit afternoons, humid and hot
Obliged to take a nap but there’s no problem on that
When I couldn’t, I’d look out the window overlooking a vacant lot
And some random times I’d find myself glancing at your spot
Remember the twilight spent at some place
You came to me and all of a sudden broke into my own space
I went forth to desist looking at your adorable face
But you went after me and caught me in a chase
Remember that night when everything was easy
We talked for hours and not cared about the others, really
You leaned closer and made me breathe barely
You and me were finally we and I couldn’t help but be happy
Remember some other nights when we had it rough
When we felt like giving up and everything just wasn’t enough
But we unceasingly came out tough
We swept every worry and hurdle in our path with a laugh
Remember that other night in the busy city
Under the beautiful night sky in the hour so early
You walked beside me and held my hand tightly
It was cold and windy but with you I felt summery
There was also a night I can remember precisely
Your eyes were locked on mine deeply
I repeatedly swore I’d hold you forever dearly
And you whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie, till doomsday you got me.”
But as much as I would like the night to never end
The sun didn’t want the moon, stars and serene darkness to extend
It rose above quickly and it hurt so bad to see it transcend
Hence I woke up that morning being just your old friend.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay,
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley’s restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless—
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Unceasingly, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye—
Over the lilies that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave:—from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep:—from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.
3.7k
O Christ—Thou rarest flower of hearts—Thou didst sail on the storm-tossed lake of prejudiced minds. Its evil-scented, gloomy thought-waves lashed Thy lily-tender soul. They crucified Thee with their evil. Yet Thou didst shed the aroma of goodness and forgiveness, and didst help them to be purified by remorse, so helping them to become attractively sweet-scented with Thine all-loving Flower-Soul.
O Thou Great Lover of error-torn brothers—an unseen monument of the mightiest miracle of love was established in each heart when the magic wand of Thy voice uttered: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Thou hast healed the cataract of hatred, and now we have grown to see: "Love thine enemies as thyself, for they are thy brothers—though sick and sleeping."
Thou hast taught us not to increase their delirious kicks of hatred by battering them with the bludgeons of revenge. Thine undying sympathy hath inspired us to heal and wake our brothers, suffering from the delirium of anger, by the soothing salve of our forgiveness.
Thy crucifixion reminds us of the daily crucifixion of our fortitude by trials, of our wisdom by ignorance, of our self-control by the scathing hands of temptation, and of our love by misunderstanding.
Thy test on the cross proved the victory of Thy wisdom over ignorance, of Thy soul over flesh, of Thy happiness over pain, and of Thy love over hatred. So are we heartened to bear our crosses bravely and pleasantly. Teach us to pour out sweetness when crucified by harshness, to bear with calmness the assault of worries, and to give understanding unceasingly to those who unjustly hate us.
O Shepherd of Souls, wandering hearts are of themselves seeking the one fold of divine devotion. We have heard the ever-calling music of Thine infinite kindness. Our one desire is to be at home with Thee, to receive the Cosmic Father with joyous, open eyes of wisdom, and to know that we are all sons of our own One God.
Teach us to conquer the Satan of dividing selfishness, which prevents the gathering of all brother-souls into the one fold of Spirit.
Calling to one another by the watchword: "Love him who loves you, and love all who love you not," let us rally beneath the canopy of the universal sense of Christ-Oneness. Amen.
Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
3.2k
A teardrop from a woman's eye,
contains a magic so immense,
to shake the stars out from the sky.
A man may unceasingly try
yet fail to match one as intense--
a teardrop from a woman's eye.
It matters not if truth or lie,
once one among the men is sensed
it shakes the stars out from the sky,
and men will rage forth low or high
to save the damsel from distress.
A teardrop from a woman's eye,
which can be conjured with a lie,
un-twines sinews of muscled men,
and shakes the stars out from the sky.
Her greatest weapon is to cry
and warriors will jump the fence.
A teardrop from a woman's eye
can shake the stars out from the sky.
(C)2008, Christos Rigakos
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 10:18 AM UTC
for the ladies who liquid lunch
<>
the finest young women of the wild west,
(the best of course just might be in Texas)
don’t always get educated in the things best,
no private schools, so somethings sometimes,
like the upscale training of the taste buds,
must be learned on the job, training the palate,
by growing up, self+taught, thank god, yes!
<>
your salty taste
reminds me of ruffled potato chips, bugles, beef jerky
and
your very own brand of
loving tears
it’s true you know,
impossible to eat
just one, which is
why my tonguing
of your body parts,
is unceasingly seizing
I will always be found
attached unbreakably,
to your moving image,
moving inside of me
so sweet your salt,
it’s your story,
your flavored lives living on
in poems unnamed, to disguise
but the authorship of whom,
in body, in mind, so obvious,
cause in all your poems is a tangy
salty
impossible to eat just one
****
<>
p.s. you tease me mean,
cowman,
bbq and béarnaise,
sassafras and edible petals,
molasses and kosher salt,
ingredient combination
which of course
you just made up,
so I show my appreciation
biting your arm so my permanent
teeth marks,
will remind me,
and you too,
just how salty
biting Texas heifers who
can or cannot be salt cured
when
it’s their turn to write some
real good tasting
poetry
****
back for more already?
****
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
May we forever be lovers,
May we forever be friends,
And should we hurt each other,
May we quickly make amends.
May we enjoy our passion,
But never let compassion die,
Thinking in selfless terms as we,
Never emphasising I.
May we forever be soul-mates,
May our love eternally last,
May the food of love sustain us,
May we never have to fast.
May we use each other’s strengths,
When we are feeling weak,
May we both learn to compromise,
And always as one voice speak.
May we never keep dark secrets,
May we never tell each other lies,
May we both work unceasingly,
To ensure our love never dies.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
"Once he is within our custody, we shall take his life. He shall be, henceforth, survived only by the image that stains my CCTV screen."
Security is no longer watching the CCTV;
No longer watching the purchase of a rice pouch;
No longer pulsating in a sterile environment,
Simultaneously monitoring an image that was never on tape;
Focusing, so deeply, on a soul that was never on tape.
So deeply fixated on those who have committed a crime;
Those who are substantially unblemished by sunlight;
Those who are continuously touched by our Heavenly Father's sight;
Those who possess an artifice of the Sea Horn which was not originally their own;
Those who unceasingly scale onyx towers draped in a filthy government skin,
Waving pure flags against the night.
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 8:41 AM UTC
Moving from left to left, the light
is heavy on the Dome, and coarse.
One small lunette turns it aside
and blankly stares off to the side
like a big white old wall-eyed horse.
On the east steps the Air Force Band
in uniforms of Air Force blue
is playing hard and loud, but--queer--
the music doesn't quite come through.
It comes in snatches, dim then keen,
then mute, and yet there is no breeze.
The giant trees stand in between.
I think the trees must intervene,
catching the music in their leaves
like gold-dust, till each big leaf sags.
Unceasingly the little flags
feed their limp stripes into the air,
and the band's efforts vanish there.
Great shades, edge over,
give the music room.
The gathered brasses want to go
boom--boom.
1.8k
*What does this life desire of me,
that it granted and
then removed,
the knowledge of perfection?
leaving me striving,
writhing,
shivering unceasingly,
in my saddened, bursting,
hacking and hackneyed chest
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 4:56 PM UTC
I kiss upon your petals,
You kiss upon my scars,
If our love should be guarded,
Should we not both be guards?
You dissect me viciously,
I take you as you are.
I kiss you and say sorry that I'm breaking us apart.
God, I'm so ******* stupid.
The fellow you fancy is a figment of a feeble imagination.
An egotistical ****** with a heart of stone only pierced by your daggered eyes.
I wanted woefully to be that one for your love once.
I stood through senseless scrimmages to earn your satisfaction.
I played that part unceasingly seeking your acceptance.
But nevermore shall my strings be debauched by the pain of your plucking.
No longer shall I participate in pretending to be the man you make again.
Jul 6, 2023
Jul 6, 2023 at 12:29 AM UTC
When I hear you express an affection so warm,
Ne’er think, my belov’d, that I do not believe;
For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm,
And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive.
Yet still, this fond ***** regrets, while adoring,
That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear,
That Age will come on, when Remembrance, deploring,
Contemplates the scenes of her youth, with a tear;
That the time must arrive, when, no longer retaining
Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze,
When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining,
Prove nature a prey to decay and disease.
Tis this, my belov’d, which spreads gloom o’er my features,
Though I ne’er shall presume to arraign the decree
Which God has proclaim’d as the fate of his creatures,
In the death which one day will deprive you of me.
Mistake not, sweet sceptic, the cause of emotion,
No doubt can the mind of your lover invade;
He worships each look with such faithful devotion,
A smile can enchant, or a tear can dissuade.
But as death, my belov’d, soon or late shall o’ertake us,
And our ******* which alive with such sympathy glow,
Will sleep in the grave, till the blast shall awake us,
When calling the dead, in Earth’s ***** laid low.
Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure,
Which from passion, like ours, must unceasingly flow;
Let us pass round the cup of Love’s bliss in full measure,
And quaff the contents as our nectar below.
1.7k
I was walking along the shoreline
On a warm afternoon in July when
I noticed a piece of polished wood
Bobbing helplessly in the shallow water,
So I pulled it from the salty sea and
Admired the intricate carvings and
Detailed line work across the face.
Just as I was running my thumb
Over the still smooth edges, I
Noticed another piece floating
Just a few feet away from me.
Within the hour, I had gathered
An entire armful of wood, and
Within the week, I had an entire
Table full of mismatched pieces.
So I began working unceasingly
At putting the pieces back together.
I started with the inside, the
Smooth heart shaped piece with
The slight cracks and divots,
Followed by a circular piece
That resembled the brain
With the deep crevices.
I then pieced together
The smooth fingertips
And the rugged feet,
And connected every
Limb and joint together
Until a boy of about
Six feet was standing
In front of me.
I snapped on the
Final piece and watched
As he came alive before me.
His eyes as deep as the mahogany
Looked into mine and smiled, as
Though thanking me.
And he turned his
Back to me and
Walked away.
It wasn't until
That moment that
I realized I had poured
Every ounce of myself into
Piecing back together that boy,
So now every ounce of myself
Was walking out my front
Door with a real boy
Who didn't need
Me anymore.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
1. To be one with my beloved was not my destiny.
Had I continued living longer, it'd have been the same waiting!
2. I lived on your promise, thus-beloved, I knew it to be false.
For would not have I died of happiness, in case- I had faith!
3. Your delicacy made me understood that you have made a loose pledge.
You could have never broken it, had it been firm!
4. O’ someone should ask my heart about your half-drawn arrow.
Where would this pricking have arisen from, had it pierced the liver!
5. What kind of friendship is it, that friends have become critics.
If there had been someone as healer, if there had been an assuager of grief!
6. Blood would’ve unceasingly dripped from the veins of stone,
Had it, which you are considering grief, been a spark!
7. Grief is, invariably, life-consuming; still one cannot escape as 'tis a matter of passions!
Had there been no grief of love, there would've been sufferings of livelihood!
8. To whom would I confide that the distressing night is a severe catastrophe!
Would death be bad for me if I died once and only once!
9. Since my dying disgraced me-- why wasn’t I drowned in the river?
Neither my bier would ever have been carried, nor would anywhere be a tomb.
10. Who would ever be able to see Him, for unique is His Oneness!
If there had been even a sign of twoness, somewhere He’d have been encountered!
11. These inquiries into mysticism, this eloquence of yours, Ghalib!
We would’ve regarded you to be a saint, had you not been a wine-drinker
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
If I am blessed with magical wings, I'll hold you tight and fly so high
So you could dance with the moon and sing to the stars
While I watch and admire your talent with a proud sweet sigh
And let them take you on a journey from Earth to Mars
If I am blessed with the power to disappear, I'll bring you with me
To a beautiful place with mountains of snow, your utmost enjoyment
So you could make snowballs, whilst your face lights up with impish glee
I'll let you throw them right at me and see your eyes sparkle with merriment
If I am blessed with immortality, I would love you forever
I'll unceasingly protect you from all the masked faces and cruel intentions in this temporary world
I'll stand by you to face every challenge life has to offer
And through the whole path of your life, not yet unfurled...
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC
As endless as god's blessings are,
So should my praises be,
For all his daily goodness
That flow unceasingly!
- almighty emperor (premanand)
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
She's written with crimson red blood,
Unceasingly flowing
From her invisible cuts.
Dressed with carefully picked enthralling wordsー
Seemingly fitting, seemingly perfect
But as you read between the lines,
You'll be wrapped with her gloomy wilting vines.
She could either be a riddle
And leave you bewildered,
Or she could be an answer
And shed light upon you.
For she's a sad poem
But beautifully written.
©kg
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 2:29 AM UTC
The loneliness permeate down into the toes, walking along the sidewalk
The streets seem empty, vacant faces, hurried bodies avoiding the solace of a simple hello, their trifling stares stabbing at their incompleteness
Write pain only because the voice cannot verbalize it. We don't understand it. We don't want to
Trifling affairs taking us up, consuming us, completing us, then draining us
Walking life avoiding others, their daring greetings, their trifling
They, too, walk along the sidewalks and the gutters, getting tripped up on their own despairs Listen not to Dante's doom, that abandonment is futile
Futile fallacies, our trifling forays, our misfortunes
Street along, you masses, you unforgettable, delving into yourselves, forgetting
You cannot understand it, those trifling friendships
How do they compare to the miseries you trudge through, swamped in that which hold you back, slows you down, drowns you, chokes you
Your only connect is the carelessness of your incompleteness, contagious of complaints
That cracked sidewalk, tripping you up in its unevenness
Your shoes have rubbed out their souls, toes slamming their unending pressures
You feel defeated and oppressed. Yet you walk on
Why do you not just stop and rest? The lonely road does not end, it continues on and on unceasingly, its seasons one big blur
Year in and year out your days numbered as nothing but trifling affairs, your greetings to fellow walkers rare as encouragement from within. You have become swollen in refusing refuge from those that share that uncaring sidewalk
You balk at accepting a hand to take that lonely walk with you, it is just another pair of loneliness who seeks companionship, who only seeks to cease their own trifling affairs
Lend not your own complaints, but console and be consoled in the greeting of a walk together
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
We never meant for this to happen
For it to go so far
Malicious and heart wrenching
Are our corrupted memories
Your face pops in and out
I try unceasingly
To rid of it
Push every thought of you out of my mind
But no matter what I do
To busy myself
Distract myself
You come back
Your gorgeous eyes memorized
Every speck of gold
Every eyelash
Every in take of breath
Captivated in stolen moments of nonsense
You stir these feelings inside me….
Breaking me open
This bridge on opposite ends
Meant to be cut, severed
Never to be crossed
Never to be mended
You have her; I have him
Enough
Because every time we meet
You ignite, against every fiber of my being, a fire inside me
Burning deep
Waiting to be put out
Turned to ice, turned to hate
But you stand so close sometimes
A bittersweet longing
In those non-existent touches
Out of your grasp
Dangerously poisoning
Are our little games
We try to ignore those locked gazes
Those outreached hands
Those distorted thoughts
That we become lost in
Because you take it so freely
All of it, every last bit
In one bite
In one moment in time
Taking what was always yours to begin with
Coping with the loss of my being
The blood loss
The mind aching regiment of your face
Of your eyes
Of that smile that makes my day
Diabolical are we
Caught in our own web
Randomly weaved
When will it end?
This heartache
Tell me
I entreat
Tell me, please
When will it end?
This thing
Say when
Say now
My knees are about to give out
When will it end?
These memories
These stolen moments
These horrible mistakes
Tell me, please
I beg you
Because I’m about to give up
I need you ….........to tell me
Please
Put me out of my misery
Tell me how long I have to wait
Tell me it needs to end right now
So late
Tell me, love, tell me
When will it end?
Say it
Please, say it
Say now
Say it ends now
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
lurking in every place that others, who also pose as poets,
lurk in--disguised as human beings--rather ineffectively.
Not even as good at deception as terrorists do
but they do manage easily to deceive themselves..
Writing in simplistic rhymes,their inexperienced and shallow
observations, that are made with the blindfold of truth over their eyes.
Pretententious juvenile and middle aged posturers,
that write excretable prose about their shallow juvenile longings,
to possess another completely,and always call it " love poetry".
Begging for a mummy or daddy figure to "love" them,
and thereby give their miserable existences value
and validation,energy-sucks one and all .
Crying out in immature and verbally comatose
stanzas, insisting that they are not to blame,
not me guv!--never met him before!,
can I hand you another nail?..
Still afraid of the "roaming soldiers" in our midst,
the paramilitaries of the Oligarchies that rule everywhere.
On their knees beseeching the one they met momentarily,
and who has walked away from them,
heaving with laughter at their chauvinism and sexism
and lack of integrity and lack of truthfulness.
Begging their various "gods" and "goddesses"to return to their grasping and possessive conditional love the *** object that rfejects them..
"Poets"(very few of them here and I am not a "poet") expose these thieves of others integrity and truthfulness,to the ridicule they deserve,
for trying to twist the shining shimmering slender thread
of unconditional love into a for life shackle
of the conditional attachment that they call love .
Whether they be Heterosexual or Homosexual/Lesbian
or Bisexual is if no account to these testosterone fuelled
inhabitants of the ****** free zone.
"Be all mine" they cry out piteously.
"You cant leave me like this" they cry unceasingly
as if some fictional "god"or "goddess" will fasten
the shackle around the "beloveds" ankle.
What a lot of horse **** to dip your quill into.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
~for yocum~
<>
the quality of commitment is not
restrained by quantity, nor by size,
impressed by nylon sheerest volume,
avoirdupois grams, Imperial weight,
steeled feathers, immeasurable, one ton
tips no true scale into red lined sincerity
the necessary respectful silences it requires,
the social nearness of geo-distancing,
all need prodigal acceptance,
like a long lost son, welcomed without questioning
we flawed, banded by many weaknesses, poorly confessed,
yet, no excuses tendered, to it, long ago surrendered,
but understand this, constancy is not judged
by the frequency of our waves, but by the fervor of an
undertow of unwavering constancy
one that unceasingly rages, beneath superficial, steady waves,
and through the thickened, roughed old skin separating atmospheres,
I have grasped your heartened essence man,
found its depths, blessed it with words, you’ve never fathomed
surely you will growl at this, claiming obfuscation,
excuses not in your vocabulary, nor should it be,
though you require the steady reassurance of frequent brevity
so and yet, but and still,
I deny your claims, what you think, incorrect,
cause I know my heart, and well it kens what lays in thine,
what’s in yours is in mine, deep planted, a full nut grove flowering,
your complaints, mine as well, all part parceled, with grace accepted
for what is friendship but the path
through parted seas, joining two borders,
the best part of that is the landed connectivity,
leading to where we two ends,
meet in laughing two-gether
old fools, younger-then-than-now,
committed, grumpy men.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC
My favorite poem
is the next one, yet to be,
that I shall write....
Once, I wrote:
*a flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one^*
When asked again,
I still thus answer
For everything I have ever writ,
flawed,
even if the imperfection,
minor,
the clarity, not the pristine perfect
I sought
Digging mining refining...
this process endless,
a life long condition of being
human
It is therefore and ironically godlike,
unchangingly immutable,
this, the divine spark within me,
my nizotz,
unceasingly immutable
in search of the flawless poem,
my favorite-yet-to-be, to be
my favorite poem
is the next one I shall write....
and the one there after,
until the flawless one is either created
or found, bound, full formed
or
until the inkwell empty,
the mind black blot dimmed,
the eyes yellowed-weakened,
the lips, white parched beyond repair,
whichever comes last,
conceding,
the last poem, perforce, must suffice.
Dayenu
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
you were a brilliant composer.
you piece syllables
together into symphonies.
your words are
carefully crafted into a masterpiece.
in my every waking
i am greeted with new songs
that escape from
your lips
like sun rays at the break of dawn.
i can listen to you sing unceasingly.
but
the time of the
days, months, years that passed
became the length of the
distance between us,
and your songs got
softer and
softer,
eventually fading
into silence.
it turns out that was just an intermission.
you came back and
your songs start playing again
but
now i can't dance to your rhythm;
i can't harmonize to your melodies.
you were a brilliant composer
but now
i can't find
what your words mean to me.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC