"verdurous" poems
Call me to the mountains once more,
Oh sweet, murmuring gusts,
And remind me who I am.
Sweep up my laughing toes to the tops
Of these proud outcrops
Then give my breath to the dome
When after looking out, I see my city,
But not my home.
Bring forth the rich perfumes
of startling everything-ness from the valleys,
And after I have drunk the proud skirts
of these verdurous hills,
Let your sweet touch guide me up,
and pin my head to my scoping bed.
Then hush, let me be as I espy
My gentle, distant, giant lovers,
Dependably rising from the East,
with supernal gossiping
for my cognizance alone.
Let me imbibe their wisdom
until all my queries and qualms
slip from my eyes,
dissolving into secrets
and thanks beyond measure.
One last request, my swift-flowing friend,
Wipe these wet lessons from my face
And carry their essence to the edge
To Karman,
And meet the angel who waits without air
To carry my cosmic missives there
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 5:54 AM UTC
Ghosts hide behind her eyes
Joyfully burning in violet flames
They make her chest quake
And her hips shimmy-shake
As she tosses and turns in her sleep
In the morning she bursts into the daylight
Fleeing the urgent shadows of the night
And spins into the wind
Which dances around her body
And wishes it weren’t invisible
As it glides across her skin
She wallows amidst the verdurous grass
Bathing in the eager warmth of the sun
That permeates her sheath of clothes
To the soft shimmer of flesh underneath
Her dark curtain of lashes flutters then closes
As she breathes deeply while her mind floats elsewhere
She dreams of lace around her wrists and
Rubies falling from her fingertips
She wears a mollifying grin
On her tender strawberry lips
Surrendering to the rapture within
The earth splits open
It craves to reclaim her
In all her ripe and resplendent glory
Her fingers curl themselves in the dirt
Violet eyes fly open
A fierce gnawing hunger
Has been ignited in the pit of her belly
There is a pomegranate tree in the distance
Its branches heavy and voluptuous with fruit
On lithe legs she dashes to the tree
Plucking one gently from its cradle
Once broken open
Its swollen vermilion seeds gush forth
To fall about her feet
With a sigh she bites into the milky white meat
Sticky sweet juice cascades past her lips
And along the curve of her throat to tinge the skin pink
She is filled to the brim
Inflamed and engorged
She blushes
And lets the ravished pomegranate tumble to the ground
There is laughter on the wind
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
Protected by your existence like a canopy of green,
Shielded from the relentlessness of the driving sun,
I pass alone in this wood,
My own existence of no consequence to you.
My verdurous being, a revered reflection of yours,
Purposefully strides through this untrodden thicket.
A determined will is mine,
Emboldened by the prominence of your own stature.
Yours is a mettle tested by the summer tempest,
Cultivated in the rich soil of the ancient detritus -
An earned eminence,
Beyond the grasps of many adoring hands.
Reaching is just a feeble attempt at an earthly yearning;
Your presence in my mind is a more satisfying ownership.
It is what you are that I own,
Taken away only by being untrue to yourself.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
I don't eat no beef
No **** no lamb no swine
Only on the verdurous etch
Doest I within my thine I dine
I don't eat Jellie and sauces slick with ill
Confounded with animal ****
Nor powders and honeys dripping and grime
Spent with the wretch of genocide's time
I don't hunt for game or trophy ****
I don't glorify **** or bile or swill
I don't bow to the customs and conventions of now
Now matter what serve of the demonic a sow
I don't **** my brother or sister for food
It's not blood on my hands that's reddened and hued
So why take the life of an innocent babe?
An animal born here of terrestrial habe?
What for the taste of delicious a flesh?
To accompany sauce Cantonese wan szech?
Or is it to sate gastronomy?
That bloodies the hands of you and me?
That forces the carnivore?
To act the ****** *****
And ***** an animal innocent and bright
Is this self deified act requite?
What do you proclaim to be?
To ****** an animal's right to be?
A god with insight and power so great?
To forsake your right to heaven with hate?
Or a devil or demon anon?
To justify your sleepy murderous throng?
Or merely a human who follows the lead?
Of our common culture's bane banal creed?
So what is it that drives you to the deed exact?
To cut the throat of creatures in act?
Are you saying that murders ok?
And you'd enact this upon your own whether or may?
If you could knock or whack a human for merely the taste of its flesh?
And not because their discord did not mesh?
With your idea of what justifies life?
And end a being forever of strife?
Is it ok for aliens to prey?
Upon our earthen developments stay?
And enslave our species to sate their gut?
To fawn and feed and slupper and glut?
Because they have a higher IQ?
Or more dextrous fingers with which to hew?
Are you sure you want to be an unthinking one?
Of the masses maraud and to the deed done?
As somnambulist reaching with a laden gun
And end life forthwith no winner or won
Unless you count dinner to the taste of your tongue
Trained since a child to sing the song sung
Of the glory of meat as to salivate and savour
As if bowing to the idea of what will crave ya
Haven't you ever heard of an acquired taste?
Well couldn't we now apply this with grace?
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 11:48 PM UTC
Angel form of angel bells
Knell to the springtime of our love
Forebear to the summer heat ensue
Requite endure of somas delight
Feracious profundity verdurous express
The unct of skin and alls impress
From angels hearth of arch and tecture
I speak to you of perfecture
For if this bodies embrace wrapped in skin
Holds a heart that's true
Then let me see form of your face
And be with our love due
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
sometimes i gaze up at the sapphire skies,
pearly clouds low like my hand could cup them,
and i gander at her onyx eyes,
obsidian, iridescent,
they might be dark but our love is the light of the world,
like the saffron sunshine gleaming down on our backs,
similar to the verdurous flowers, lilac and carnation tints deep in the lush chartreuse like splotches of paint on a canvas,
almost like lurid snow sitting softly on frosted branches,
and then i wonder,
how can love this beautiful be a sin
Sep 27, 2024
Sep 27, 2024 at 4:39 PM UTC
Nonpareil love:
My love for her lavishes on me every moment,
but my longing of reciprocation of love resided in me only for a stint of time,
As I would be the last person on the planet that she wants to love or reply,
She remembers me only when she forgets everything,
I am glad that I exist at her boredom.....
At least she would fill her moments of ennui with one-word replies for me,
Her reply is oft rare,
and the rare is rapacious,
But my unremitting love never ceases to fantasize her replies,
Only to sentient one-word replies or blank replies with the awaiting eyes, schizophrenic mind and destitute sound,
And this sheer life is to her to resonant with her stoic silence,
It takes one lifetime to understand and love someone completely...
So let me disintegrate from this life only after understanding her silence and
only after my love transcends into eternity,
and only after when my love sprawls into her silence,
Even her one word replies rove me rapturously rattling into the rustic mountains of verdurous life and ravine rocks....
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
i.
on such frigid atmosphere lay,
a serene fugitive.
do not look at me with such lithe eyes:
the sepulcher is only starting
to begin.
your sleep's regimen twice-folds
origamied on the quiet cloister,
hang there, puts to test the unblinking
certainty of we who bear no retrieval.
ii.
remember when
all the fish you gut and all the *****
you cleave were all but meaningless
fill?
a mutiny of stench is released,
as men continually purged you of
your poisons — us mortised to this
vague mandate.
i have wished for them to miss the mark.
i have longed for them to mime only
but your placid face.
they have ransacked the quarry of flesh
flashed bare against mirrors riveted
to split-seconds of hours.
iii.
when i was young,
much sleep was needed — a noonday travail to all fretting but a dream of dogs.
now this thump of quietness
may mean no recovery.
the speculations to gnaw for sleep are
lost in a blink of an eye:
the blanket that once smelt of camphor
now engulfs in a single blast of cerement.
— this scrap of a thing that we
almost have no use for.
iv.
a furious consideration of roomfuls
disallowed by a heady ruling of
emotion's precision.
that, of the most difficult choices—
knowing where to fecundate rest.
your body heeds
no metaphysical reckoning.
the preordained space for you to occupy, this unwanted silence that keeps
on renaming things we cease to forget.
a sentence seized by a clause of wood.
all too soon to wave as a single beat
is thrown a hundred ripples into my
eyes, dragged along and trundling there,
left lengthening to leave, never to wait.
not with time, nor with a touch we choose
to contest — but an eyeing space,
a moment to attract transience.
v.
i will only look at you once — lacquered
with solace.
no ellipsis of breath could continue you.
no paragraphs would forgo of your
punctuations. i deny my defeat
against one who brooks with victory.
no hint of other chroma.
a chiaroscuro of beating petals,
left only to thrive and not swing
with verdurous display.
how to tell if this is true?
i touch myself as words gyrate
in the room that received your body
like the lighthouse that feeds the sea.
— or maybe sheathed with the untruth.
this enigma yields no revelations.
too late to ring yet still continuing on,
an early drop of dew.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
Look!
now they sleep bloodless warriors
pandemonium stilled agony slain tranquil
death sanctified in rigid cartesian rows
honored for their sacrifice and selfless valiance
laid to rest beneath mourning grasses
Ask!
where was the higher honor due them before war
are sacred vows to be profaned to be misemployed
Why!
do once verdurous lives lay cold and pulseless
as spatters of red petals tearfully fall
families breathing wistful flowers
distilling rue with lulling scents
Adjudge!
all men who enact lies
dishonoring crossed graves
greed calibrating scales of injustice
bodies tilted high by tonnages of gold
Aurelian kisses vaulting wars riches
Do Not!
dishonor a warrior’s willingness to die
for bravados mouth is a soldier’s tomb
do not forsake truth and honor our only faithful ally
ask ten-thousand whys before one soldier dies
before the bugler's breath sounds death's lamenting cries
Think!
Contemplate war’s fiery womb
hatred born inextinguishable
good & evil indistinguishable
Look, what stillborn bones lie locked in battle
this fleshless monster we mis-named peace
gv.2014
Matthew 6:13 . . . deliver us from “evil”
Evil as translated in 6:13 is "Poneros" A name also attributed to Satan
Which means: "he is not content unless drawing others into the same destruction as himself"
(From Lexicon to the New Testament by Spiros Zodhiates, TH.D
"Soon
the world
won’t have a rib intact.
And its soul will be pulled out."
A line from Vladimir Mayakovsky's 1917 poem , Call To Account
“They made a wasteland and called it peace” Publius Cornelius Tacitus
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
When happy her
Eyes turn green like verdurous
Hills I hold so dear
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC