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Charlie Chirico May 2012
A...

Body and title.
Benevolent temple.
Brevity to misconstrue.
Beseeching is ample.

Coarse line drawn.
Completion marked for a later day.
Complacency made eyes blind.
Conception vague, I'm led astray.

Define by showing.
Deplete the art of talk.
Distraught by nature.
Dashed, the outline: chalk.

Erroneous calculation.
Every rhythm wrong.
Expect a hand for help.
Effronteries made for song.

Freedom fought for.
Frivolous attitude displayed.
Feeble attempt concerning unity.
Frightened, we kneel, we pray.

Gullible we've become.
Gregarious while holding motive.
Greed is behind our movement.
Genocide is holy solace.

Hark the herald,
Humans sing.
Habitual enemy of one's self.
Humility stings.

Insecurities overpower our decisions.
Indiscretions aren't seen as shame.
Instability is welcomed.
Idiosyncrasies are left to blame.

Juxtaposed loser.
Jovial perception placed.
Jealousy never apparent.
Just relationships - never disgraced.
To-night retired, the queen of heaven
  With young Endymion stays;
And now to Hesper it is given
Awhile to rule the vacant sky,
Till she shall to her lamp supply
  A stream of brighter rays.

Propitious send thy golden ray,
  Thou purest light above!
Let no false flame ****** to stray
Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm;
But lead where music’s healing charm
  May soothe afflicted love.

To them, by many a grateful song
  In happier seasons vow’d,
These lawns, Olympia’s haunts, belong:
Oft by yon silver stream we walk’d,
Or fix’d, while Philomela talk’d,
  Beneath yon copses stood.

Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs
  That roofless tower invade,
We came, while her enchanting Muse
The radiant moon above us held:
Till, by a clamorous owl compell’d,
  She fled the solemn shade.

But hark! I hear her liquid tone!
  Now Hesper guide my feet!
Down the red marl with moss o’ergrown,
Through yon wild thicket next the plain,
Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane
  Which leads to her retreat.

See the green space: on either hand
  Enlarged it spreads around:
See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade
Extends o’er half the level mead,
  Enclosed in woods profound.

Hark! how through many a melting note
  She now prolongs her lays:
How sweetly down the void they float!
The breeze their magic path attends;
The stars shine out; the forest bends;
  The wakeful heifers graze.

Whoe’er thou art whom chance may bring
  To this sequester’d spot,
If then the plaintive Siren sing,
O softly tread beneath her bower
And think of Heaven’s disposing power,
  Of man’s uncertain lot.

O think, o’er all this mortal stage
  What mournful scenes arise:
What ruin waits on kingly rage;
How often virtue dwells with woe;
How many griefs from knowledge flow;
  How swiftly pleasure flies!

O sacred bird! let me at eve,
  Thus wandering all alone,
Thy tender counsel oft receive,
Bear witness to thy pensive airs,
And pity Nature’s common cares,
  Till I forget my own.
I

Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find!
I can hardly misconceive you; it would prove me deaf and blind;
But although I give you credit, ’tis with such a heavy mind!

II

Here you come with your old music, and here’s all the good it brings.
What, they lived once thus at Venice, where the merchants were the kings,
Where Saint Mark’s is, where the Doges used to wed the sea with rings?

III

Ay, because the sea’s the street there; and ’tis arched by… what you call
… Shylock’s bridge with houses on it, where they kept the carnival;
I was never out of England—it’s as if I saw it all!

IV

Did young people take their pleasure when the sea was warm in May?
***** and masks begun at midnight, burning ever to mid-day,
When they made up fresh adventures for the morrow, do you say?

V

Was a lady such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red,—
On her neck the small face buoyant, like a bell-flower on its bed,
O’er the breast’s superb abundance where a man might base his head?

VI

Well (and it was graceful of them) they’d break talk off and afford
—She, to bite her mask’s black velvet, he to finger on his sword,
While you sat and played Toccatas, stately at the clavichord?

VII

What? Those lesser thirds so plaintive, sixths diminished sigh on sigh,
Told them something? Those suspensions, those solutions—”Must we die?”
Those commiserating sevenths—”Life might last! we can but try!”

VIII

“Were you happy?”—”Yes.”—”And are you still as happy?”—”Yes—and you?”
—”Then, more kisses!”—”Did I stop them, when a million seemed so few?”
Hark—the dominant’s persistence till it must be answered to!

IX

So an octave struck the answer. Oh, they praised you, I dare say!
“Brave Galuppi! that was music! good alike at grave and gay!
I can always leave off talking when I hear a master play!”

X

Then they left you for their pleasure: till in due time, one by one,
Some with lives that came to nothing, some with deeds as well undone,
Death stepped tacitly and took them where they never see the sun.

XI

But when I sit down to reason,—think to take my stand nor swerve
While I triumph o’er a secret wrung from nature’s close reserve,
In you come with your cold music, till I creep thro’ every nerve.

XII

Yes, you, like a ghostly cricket, creaking where a house was burned—
“Dust and ashes, dead and done with, Venice spent what Venice earned!
The soul, doubtless, is immortal—where a soul can be discerned.

XIII

“Yours for instance: you know physics, something of geology,
Mathematics are your pastime; souls shall rise in their degree;
Butterflies may dread extinction,—you’ll not die, it cannot be!

XIV

“As for Venice and its people, merely born to bloom and drop,
Here on earth they bore their fruitage, mirth and folly were the crop:
What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

XV

“Dust and ashes!” So you creak it, and I want the heart to scold.
Dear dead women, with such hair, too—what’s become of all the gold
Used to hang and brush their bosoms? I feel chilly and grown old.
Sean H Jan 2015
All of this flesh!
Longs; hurts; tear it free!
Light singes the wax,
Cold pressed, inside of me.

Eyes windows of the soul;
Sharp glance, outside knife.
Fear bars and strangles,
Longing for true life.

Every night questions pour,
“Why, Raven, why?!”
His glare catches the mind
With his dark colored lie.

This voice I hear is
Dreading and dark!


Fear, child!
“Flesh. Destroy. Soul!”
“****** are you!”
Light you cannot know!

Weep as you drip dread;
Full, like an unfulfilled crush.
Heart becomes carrion,
“Cursed bird will not hush!”

Sweat washes destiny on my face,
Helpless, bound with mindless ways.
Bloodstream sipped away;
The dark bird preys.

Lies! False vision dark!
There is no voice
Within the Raven
Lies! No imbued hark!

Light belongs, fair child!
Walk in the meadows so fair.
Soft as woolen flax,
As the fairy’s hair!

Hell belongs to devils,
The devils belong to Hell.
Do not be deceived,
By ****** spell!
They offer freedom,
Through Raven flight!
Only descends deeper;
Cavernous night!

Love moves;
Static it is never.
Open your eyes my dear,
Be your heart cleaver.

I am not light,
But light is in me.
Tented with flesh;
I will tear free!

Inhale warmth,
Inhale light.
Exhale peace.
Exhale right.

**** that carnivorous bird;
Raven of night!
Soar like an eagle,
“Soul take your flight!”

1/27/2015
Sean Hovater
Rangzeb Hussain Oct 2013
Art painted, art confined, art denied,
The skin of the canvas cages and congeals the art,
Colours more plumbed than the peacock of paradise,
Yet trapped and tossed about in stormy framed emotions.

In the end it all bleeds away,
The paint dries, decays, and dies,
Faint leaky lines leave behind faded memories,
Life’s canvas rusts on the ground in solemn silence.

Hark now! Unhinge your ears!

Hear now music flowing from elegant veins,
Listen to how the strings pulse and weave the notes,
Watch how the music flies free and completely unconfined,
Those butterfly melodies entwine and in the air flutter and swirl.

Their dance is the ecstasy of a nightingale’s song,
They sprinkle and circle round and round, up and down,
The music of the cello is love’s supple spine, smooth and sensual,
Hear it, inhale it, caress it, sway with it, and be at ease and free with it.
Drake Brayer  Jun 2015
iOS iOweU
Drake Brayer Jun 2015
Oh iOS, dreary titan of technology!
An SOS, hidden in secret typology!
Oh woe is me, tragic symphonic melancholy

If heaven had eyes, and hell had ears
Heaven would see, and hell would hear
The discordant storm, the miasma of tears

The screen is blank, my heart is dead
Error! Error! The bleak message read
Death marches slow, overlord of dread

Bright red head and monolith of Mac
iSurrender, iGiveup, Iambeggining to crack
Silent foot falls across the carpeted track

The darkest song of the darkest day
appleID.apple.com in the mindless gray
Hark! Hark! Once more into the fray!

March my brothers, to full lines and all!
Some may die today but the victors stand tall!
Monoliths of glory, providers of tech support call!

iPod, iTunes, iCloud, iPhone, iPad iknowitall!
Prices beyond reason, reset, restore and reinstall!
Kings of iLog, rulers of this bleak blue ball

Apple support for one! Apple support for all!
Unless your outside your support eligibility!
Sorry! Not my call!
The wind aches for barren abandonment.
A red rose's agony!
A lost soul sorrows to a  sorrowful grave.
Listen!

The Earth calls forth red, red sorrow.
Hark!
Heaven weeps for lonely a Silver Dagger.
Oh, how the dark night shines like the ecstasy of ****** red blood!
Bob B  Oct 2016
Three Poisons
Bob B Oct 2016
Greed, hatred, and delusion:
The three unwholesome roots.
They are responsible for so much suffering:
Pain, sadness, disputes…

"I want, I want, I want…":
Such is the urge that drives us.
And we, poor fools, are unable to see
The goodness of which it deprives us.

Hatred buttresses the ego
With vengeance, distrust, and despair.
We end up being inextricably
Caught in its captious snare!

Delusion poisons us all
And obscures wrong and right.
We flounder about in blind confusion,
Unable to see the light.

But, hark! All is not lost.
Three antidotes exist:
Generosity, loving-kindness,
And wisdom--just a short list.

Generosity quenches
Our constant, greedy craving.
A truly magnanimous spirit leaves
No room for misbehaving.

With loving-kindness we see
The good that comes from caring.
Ugly hatred can't survive
When it's kindness that we're sharing.

Delusion is maybe the hardest
Unwholesome root to destroy.
But just imagine conquering ignorance
And bathing in radiant joy!

If we applied to the poisons
The antidotes listed above,
What a world we could ALL live in!--
A world full of peace and love.

- by Bob B
She left me in a hurry,
with no word of her return
so I sit and wait, in longing,
keep her treasures safe, and yearn

for her face to gaze upon me,
as she fettles her dear skin,
with the pots of creams and lotions
I keep for her, within

my rose-lined drawers and cupboards,
the little blue glass bird
with wedding rings upon his beak
I asked, he hasn’t heard

of when our lady may be back
to grace us with her care,
her brushes sit with us and fret
of the tangles in her hair

and all lack of gloss and shine
finger tips cannot bestow
within her titian crowning,
oh! Where did she go?

Days slip by unhindered,
and merging seasons pass,
without her song or laughter
reflected in my glass.

I may as well be firewood,
my veneer begins to crack,
then, hark! I hear sweet footsteps!
My mistress has come back!

Her wedding rings rehomed at last,
the bird and I rejoice,
as she brushes out her hair and sings,
for we have missed her voice.

She polishes away the cracks,
takes a seat upon her throne,
rearranging pots and lotions,
I’m so glad that she came home.
Olivia Kent  Dec 2013
Carol!
Olivia Kent Dec 2013
"Hark the Herald Angels sing!'
The children sing out loud.
Darlings,
With winter kissed shiny cheeks.

Scarlet capes and furry muffs.
Fluffy in snowy white.
Shiny black buckled patent shoes.

Huddled together.
Singing songs of Christmas joy.
Several girls and one tenor boy.

Lantern keeps them safe.
Offers holy glow.
To show the children.
Just which way to go.

For it is the season to be merry.
Mincemeat pies a glass of sherry.
Only for the mum's and dad's.

Won't be long til Christmas is gone.
Gift wrap popped away.
For soon it's Christmas Day!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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