Monthly Archives: June 2023

GOLDEN BUMBLE BEE

In that realm unnamed, soar they high,
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee pass by.
No elegy shall mourn their flight,
For they defy the grasp of night.

In that realm unseen, some things abide,
Grief, hills, eternity reside.

Yet their presence doesn’t concern my plight,
Their weighty existence veiled from sight.

And there exist those who rest and ascend,
Can I unravel skies that transcend?

The answer eludes, a puzzle complete,
In silence, the riddle lies, discreet.

:: 06.202.2023 ::


Mother

Mother weeps in the cooking space, while father is intoxicated with sparkling wine.

The ruins of dwindling dreams for a promising tomorrow make the offspring silent once more.

Mother’s tears flow in disdain for every vow left unfulfilled. Amid the ceaseless fury and torment, it’s evident that things will never regain their previous state. Father treats her with the brutality of a savage creature until one unfortunate day, she breathes her last. The children are left mourning, deprived of the affection and attention once bestowed upon them.

:: 06.13.2023 ::


Silent Nights

Soaring through the boundless sky,
Leaves of gold sway gently,
Caressed by wind.

Golden threads break free,
Whirling and twirling,
In whimsical dance.

Sunlit leaves descend gracefully,
Painting air with radiance.

Whispering along the street,
In a dry and timeless ballet,
Leaves glide on worn-out feet,
Advancing steadily.

Breathless,
Restless,
Golden leaves spin,
Creating spirals,
Circles,
And curls.

Fleeting golden sparks
Illuminate gutters,
Flaring and flickering,
In a rush of vitality.

The brisk wind whispers,
Hushes,
Hushes,
Hushes.

And in that fleeting moment,
Silent and cold,
Across the lawn,
Lie dull pools of gold.

:: 06.07.2023 ::


Shadows of Humanity(The Thriving Tree Within)

IF we ceased to impoverish others,
Pity would hold no significance.

And if everyone shared our bliss,
Mercy would lose its existence.

Peace emerges from shared apprehension,
As self-centered affections thrive.

Cruelty then weaves its trap,
Delicately laying its snares.

With pious trepidation, one contemplates,
Cleansing the earth with tears.

Humility takes root,
Beneath the weight of their step.

Gradually, the gloomy shadow spreads,
Mystery envelops their mind.

Caterpillars and flies,
Feast upon enigma.

The tree yields fruits,
Deceptive and enticing.

Raven constructs its nest,
In the thickest of its shade.

Earth and sea’s divine beings,
Explored nature in pursuit of this tree.

Yet their quest proved futile,
For it thrives within the human mind.

:: 06.07.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

My poem delves into the intricacies of human nature and the interconnectedness between human actions and their impact on others. The poem can be interpreted as a commentary on the destructive nature of selfishness and the potential for redemption through self-reflection and humility.

The opening lines, “If we ceased to impoverish others, Pity would hold no significance. And if everyone shared our bliss, Mercy would lose its existence,” highlight the consequences of neglecting the welfare of others. The speaker suggests that empathy and compassion only hold meaning when contrasted with the existence of suffering.

The theme of interconnectedness continues as the poem progresses. “Peace emerges from shared apprehension, As self-centered affections thrive” implies that true peace can be achieved when individuals acknowledge and empathize with the concerns of others. The subsequent lines emphasize the insidious nature of cruelty, likening it to a trap carefully laid out.

The poem then takes a reflective turn, with the lines “With pious trepidation, one contemplates, Cleansing the earth with tears. Humility takes root, Beneath the weight of their step.” Here, I explore the idea of self-reflection and personal growth. The act of contemplating and acknowledging one’s flaws is depicted as a solemn, almost religious process, paving the way for humility to take hold.

The following lines, “Gradually, the gloomy shadow spreads, Mystery envelops their mind. Caterpillars and flies, Feast upon enigma,” create an atmosphere of intrigue and transformation. I suggest that embracing humility and self-awareness leads to a sense of mystery and allure, attracting others who seek understanding.

The imagery of the tree becomes significant in the latter part of the poem. “The tree yields fruits, Deceptive and enticing. Raven constructs its nest, In the thickest of its shade,” symbolizes the allure of knowledge and enlightenment. Just as the raven seeks shelter within the tree’s shade, individuals are drawn to the depths of their own minds to uncover profound truths.

The final lines, “Earth and sea’s divine beings, Explored nature in pursuit of this tree. Yet their quest proved futile, For it thrives within the human mind,” suggest that despite the search for external enlightenment, the true source of wisdom lies within the human psyche. It implies that individuals possess the capacity for self-discovery and personal growth.

As a Nobel laureate poet, the author skillfully weaves together themes of interconnectedness, self-reflection, and the allure of knowledge. Through the use of evocative imagery and thought-provoking language, the poem encourages readers to contemplate the impact of their actions on others and to embark on a journey of inner exploration.


SLAVES TO ANNIHILATION

INSIDE the mind resides unwritten, unsung unworldly laws

—the dust meets the dirt the flesh releasing blood ;

a propensity of the circle called Life.

how we try and kill it all away only to remember
everything said, seen, felt and done has universal
purpose.

Oh sweet One how everyone climbs the walls

reaching for it all only to find it mud then we slide down.

We wear a crown of imprisoned madness
as most to never again feel a thing.

and we never break away because we’re alone

Each month, season, decade, century

we remove all that empire we call

humanity.

Once a ghost now hallucinations are more alive.

That we dreamt everywhere now just slaves

to annihilation.

:: 03.16.2022 ::

Poet’s Notes:

The opening line creates a space of introspection, suggesting that our mind is a place of “unwritten, unsung unworldly laws.” This could be interpreted as our innate sense of morality or the unspoken rules and norms that govern our thinking and behavior.

The line “the dust meets the dirt the flesh releasing blood” can be seen as a symbol of mortality and the inevitability of death, a theme which is often present in existentialist literature. The fact that the dust meets the dirt may reflect the biblical sentiment of ‘from dust we are, to dust we will return’, while the flesh releasing blood could be an image of sacrifice or struggle.

The following phrase “a propensity of the circle called Life” depicts life as a cycle, underlining its repetitive and inevitable nature. The use of the word ‘propensity’ implies an inclination or natural tendency towards this cycle.

The next stanza evokes an image of desperate striving and futile attempts to escape the harsh realities of life. The imagery of people “climbing the walls” only to find “mud” and “slide down” speaks to human ambition and the often disappointing outcome of our efforts. This can be a critique of materialism and the relentless pursuit of success in modern society.

The phrase “We wear a crown of imprisoned madness” is a striking metaphor for the human condition. It suggests a royal burden of insanity, possibly due to the pressures and absurdities of life that we’re forced to bear.

The passage “Each month, season, decade, century / we remove all that empire we call / humanity” implies that over time, we are slowly stripping away our humanity. This may refer to the loss of values, empathy, or our connection to each other and the world around us.

In the line “Once a ghost now hallucinations are more alive,” the transformation of a ghost into a hallucination could symbolize how our fears and worries, initially intangible, can grow to dominate our perception of reality.

The closing phrase “That we dreamt everywhere now just slaves to annihilation” concludes the poem with a sense of fatalism. The word ‘dreamt’ hints at past aspirations and hopes, now reduced to servitude to ‘annihilation’, which could be a metaphor for death, oblivion, or the destructive tendencies of mankind.

Overall, the poem conveys a bleak yet introspective view of human existence, filled with struggle, disillusionment, and existential angst, provoking the reader to consider the cyclical nature of life, the pressures of society, and our own mortality.


THIS IS HUMANITY PLAYING FOOLISH GAMES

People portray their lives for your entertainment
on television, Claiming superiority and you nod in agreement.
He announces, “Screen my calls from behind these icy brick barriers,”
Saying, “Step closer, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”
One more medical invoice, another legal fee,
Yet another alluring but inexpensive excitement.
You know you adore him,
When you decide to include him in your testament, but
Who’s going to redeem your souls?
When it’s time for the flowers,
Who’s going to redeem your souls?
After all the falsehoods you’ve spun, my friend,
And who’s going to redeem your souls,
If you refuse to save yours?
We attempt to trick them, hustle them,
Even curse them.
The police are seeking someone
To crack down on Orleans Avenue.
Another day, another dollar,
Another conflict, another tower
Erected where the homeless once resided.
So we send our prayers to as many deities
As there are varieties of flowers,
Yet we consider religion an ally.
We’re so consumed with saving our souls,
Fearing divine retribution,
That we neglect to start living, but
Who’s going to redeem your souls?
When it comes to the destitute,
Who’s going to redeem your souls?
After all the untruths you’ve delivered, my friend,
And who’s going to redeem your souls,
If you refuse to save yours?
Some are walking, some are conversing,
Some are stalking their prey.
You have social security,
But it doesn’t cover your expenses.
There are cravings to satisfy,
And mouths to feed,
So you negotiate with evil,
But you’re safe for now.
Claim that you love them,
Take their wealth and make a run,
And declare, “It was a lovely time, darling,
But it was just one of those fleeting moments.”
Those affairs, those ties you need to sever,
So step onto the streets, ladies, and work your hardest.
Who’s going to redeem your soul?
When it’s weighed down with burdens,
Who’s going to redeem your souls?
After all the falsehoods you’ve spun, my friend,
And who’s going to redeem your soul,
If you won’t save yours?
Let me tell you about it,
Bide your time, simply bide your time.


LIFE’S FOOLISH GAMES

Oh, let me weave a tapestry of verse,
Where nature’s creatures dance and converse.

The pigeons, graceful in the meadow’s sway,
In flight, they flutter, free to play.

The game, nocturnal, swift and sly,
Seeks solace beneath the starry sky.

The water creatures, bound by liquid chains,
Yearn for freedom, where liberty remains.

And behold, the butterflies so fair,
The last of their kind, delicate and rare.

Even they, like others, thirst for a taste,
Yearning for droplets in this arid waste.

But oh, to dissolve with that wandering cloud,
Blessed by freshness, where dreams are allowed.

To exhale amidst violets, damp and sweet,
Awakening the woods, a fragrant retreat.

In this realm of nature’s vibrant hues,
Where life’s essence mingles and imbues.

Let us find solace, our spirits set free,
As we blend with the world’s grand tapestry.

:: 06.04.2023 ::


In Name Called Love

From celestial realms, I descend in glory,
Apollo, the radiant, I weave this story.
With words that burn and verses that blaze,
I shall compose the greatest poem that amazes.

In golden chariot, across heavens I ride,
A fiery muse ignites my heart’s pride.
With boundless ardor and artistic might,
I’ll sculpt a masterpiece with words so bright.

Oh, muse of epic tales and lofty dreams,
Grant me the power to soar in heavenly streams.
Let the heavens tremble and earth be still,
As my words, like arrows, strike with skill.

I’ll paint the skies with hues of cosmic art,
Unveiling secrets of the human heart.
In every line, emotions shall dance,
The tapestry of life, I shall enhance.

I’ll sing of love, both gentle and fierce,
Of whispered promises and passions that pierce.
Through longing sighs and tender embraces,
I’ll capture the essence of divine graces.

The wonders of nature, I’ll eloquently unfold,
Mountains majestic, and rivers untold.
From dawn’s first light to twilight’s embrace,
The beauty of creation, I’ll forever chase.

I’ll traverse the realms of myth and lore,
Unraveling mysteries like never before.
Heroes will rise, their valor untamed,
Their names forever engraved, never to be maimed.

From the depths of sorrow to the zenith of glee,
My verses shall flow like the mighty sea.
Through life’s triumphs and sorrows that wail,
I’ll breathe solace into every despairing tale.

Oh, Apollo, God of the lyrical verse,
In this grand ode, let all beings immerse.
May my words ignite a celestial fire,
And inspire generations with divine desire.

So, let the words cascade like a heavenly choir,
In this symphony of beauty, I’ll never tire.
For I, Apollo, the god of inspired art,
Shall etch this poem upon the human heart.

With unwavering spirit and limitless reign,
I gift the world my greatest poem, unchained.

:: 06.03.2023 ::


CHARLES BUKOWSKI’S SPIRIT SPEAKING

In the gritty details, where souls collide,
Beauty’s an extraordinary beast to ride.
Couldn’t beat that truth, so I fought on,
Wrestling with thoughts, tears streaming strong.

I ground those tears, every damn notion,
In the arena of my relentless devotion.
Sought meaning, dug deep in my mind’s dirt,
Struggled through the trenches, not one to skirt.

Yeah, it’s the soul’s nitty-gritty, the raw affair,
That makes beauty shine, I swear and declare.
In every scar, every gritty fragment I found,
A damn extraordinary tale would resound.

That universal truth, it had me pinned,
But I brawled and bled, wouldn’t let it win.
Tears and thoughts, a cacophony in my head,
Bukowski-style, I fought till they bled.

So take those tears, let ’em soak the page,
Unleash ’em, ignite the poet’s raging rage.
Embrace the details, don’t shy from the brawl,
For it’s in the fight, we find beauty’s call.

Yeah, let this poem bear the Bukowski mark,
With grit and truth, a poetic spark.
In the trenches, amid the tears that flow,
Discover extraordinary beauty, don’t let it go.


BEAUTIFUL WORDS

Abyssopelagic reminds my heart
of lost love at sea
/diaphanous without light\
breaking white and black keys
making melliflouous
waves ~~~~
\meeting quadrivium.

the world of beautiful words.

:: 06.02.2023 ::