Tag Archives: #poetry

EMPTINESS IS FULL OF NOTHINGNESS

                 possibly
                              the incident      could have been achieved bearing all outcomes in mind  void

                                            human

                                                                                              WILL HAVE OCCURRED
                                                                 a usual peak discharges vacuum
                                                                                                            YET THE SITE
                                      a ripple underneath of liquid as though to scatter the meaningless gesture
                                                                              suddenly which alternatively
                                                                     due to its deceit
                                                             might have initiated
                                                                                  doom

                                        in these longitudes 
                                                        of ambiguous
                                                                   currents
                                                                         where all truth evaporates

                                                         except for the curiosity
                                                                              allotted to it
                                                                                                   ordinarily
                                                         by a specific slant via a certain descent
                                                                                                      of flames
                                                              toward
                                                                  what ought to be
                                                                       the Northern Star as well as the North

                                                                                                      A CLUSTER OF STARS

                                                                    frigid from oblivion and disuse
                                                                                                 not entirely
                                                                                          that it fails to count
                                                                           on some vacant and upper expanse
                                                                                              the ensuing collision
                                                                                                    in terms of stars
                                                                            of an aggregate tally in progress

                                                staying awake
                                                             skeptical
                                                                     rotating
                                                                          gleaming and pondering

                                                                                      prior to ceasing
                                                                               at a certain endpoint that sanctifies it


                                                                           Every Thought expels a Cast of the Dice

:: 06.22.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

To analyze this poem, we need to consider both the perspective of a the poet who wrote this (me) and Andre Breton, the founder of Surrealism.

From my own perspective:

This poem is quite dense and cryptic, requiring the reader to dive deep into its metaphysical musings. Its lines are filled with deep metaphoric language and abstract concepts, making for a challenging but rewarding reading experience.

The poem contemplates on human existence, the inevitability of fate, cosmic imagery, and existential ambiguity. Its depth, intricacy and innovative structure could be the qualities that align with the high literary standards of a Nobel laureate.

From the perspective of Andre Breton:

Breton would likely view this poem as an expression of the unconscious, making use of dreamlike imagery and layered metaphors in the tradition of surrealism. The frequent dislocation of grammar, unusual typographical arrangement, and striking juxtaposition of images, like “liquid as though to scatter the meaningless gesture,” and “a specific slant via a certain descent of flames” emphasize the irrational and dream-like nature of the work, much in line with Breton’s own style and ideals.

Moreover, the poem’s central line “Every Thought expels a Cast of the Dice” resonates with Breton’s exploration of chance and randomness. The poem suggests that the universe is unpredictable, an idea at the heart of surrealism. Breton might interpret the piece as a critique of the human desire for control and knowledge, noting the repeated theme of uncertainty and doom.

It’s worth noting that the poem seems to mix cosmic and metaphysical themes, hinting at the potential insignificance and simultaneous wonder of human existence in the grandeur of the cosmos. I would like to believe Breton would appreciate this intricate layering of themes and the exploration of human existence from a cosmic perspective.


THE CITADEL OF CREATIVITY

AT times my Soul requires a lordly presence
perchance a house built by His hands to dwell
I pray, “Oh Lord, mend this heart and Spirit,
Dear Lord, to make all well.”

A shack built of Palo Santo trees our friends
of frankincense and myrrh is what I’d choose.
THAT He traverse illuminated fortifications,
Emerging swiftly from verdant foundations
Of the meadow, with its grassy embrace,
As the radiance He ascends with grace.

Thereon I raise it, firm as could be told,
On ledges, shelves, where rocks in glory roll.
My soul, in solitude, sought to dwell
Within His lofty palace’s sacred spell.

In chambers lofty, secrets I will keep,
Where winding stairs lead to heights so steep.
Alone, my spirit yearns for solitude’s embrace,
Within those walls, where tranquility finds its place.

Oh, His high palace, a realm for the soul,
Where dreams unfurl and passions take their toll.
In solitude’s sweet refuge, my heart finds rest,
Within those hallowed halls, by solitude blessed.

“And as the world doth spin and twirl,” I said,
“Thou, in seclusion, reign as a tranquil king,
Steadfast as Saturn, in his cosmic tread,
Resting upon his radiant, eternal ring.”

While the chaos of existence ceaseless flows,
Thou, in thy solitude, maintain thy throne,
A beacon of serenity, amidst life’s throes,
Unperturbed, undisturbed, and all alone.

Amidst the whirlwinds of the ever-turning sphere,
Thou art the calm within the ceaseless dance,
Like Saturn’s shadow, constant and clear,
Embracing stillness, in a celestial trance.

:: 06.22.2023 ::


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 ::


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.


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 ::


Ode to Nothing

When I believe in love that
may never cease to be
the man I am has become me
Before the night has waxed
Before the candle leans forth
I hold upon the temple
a heart who made me my own
grassy knoll sleeps of love
and scents of nature’s romance
is when I feel complete
I have tasted the elixir
of faery power — the unreflected
love of my own happiness
to be just to be
to love and nothingness
is quite the feeling in life


BRAVEST OF WRITER DRINK PROSE

Oh, dearest seeker of linguistic lore,
With ardor I embark on this poetic chore.
In a symphony of syllables, I shall impart
The marvels of English pronunciation, an intricate art.

Listen closely, Jenny, as I guide your way,
Through a labyrinth of sounds that often sway.
I’ll weave a tapestry of words, both bleak and bright,
And together we shall venture into this poetic night.

Corps and corpse, horse and worse,
A quartet of phonetic universe.
Your mind, Jenny, shall dance in dizzying delight,
As I unravel the mysteries, unveiling them to light.

A tear may fall from your sparkling eye,
And a delicate dress may rend with a sigh.
But fear not, for my devotion is true,
I shall suffer alongside you, as this journey ensues.

Now, let us compare heart, beard, and heard,
A triad of words that seem absurd.
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, with caution they must be heard.

Britain, retain, oh mind the way they’re written,
Let not their spelling leave you smitten.
And worry not, I shall not pester you so,
With words like plaque and ague, which bring much woe.

But heed my counsel, speak with utmost care,
For break and steak differ from bleak and streak.
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Devoid of trickery, I enunciate,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, oh so great.
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles.

Scholar, vicar, and the lingering cigar,
Solar, mica, war, and journeys afar.
Anemone, Balmoral, a touch of grace,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel, embrace.

Gertrude, German, wind, and thoughts so kind,
Scene, Melpomene, the tapestry of mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with the ballet’s sway,
Nor bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet’s display.

Blood and flood, they do not align with food,
Mould does not echo should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load, and broad,
Toward, forward, reward, let their harmony applaud.

And when your pronunciation rings clear,
Croquet, a game of leisure, let it appear.
Rounded, wounded, grieve, and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous, clamor’s song,
Enamor rhymes with hammer, strong.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, and comb,
Doll and roll, some and home, find their home.

Stranger, anger, a subtle difference found,
Devour, clangor, their rhymes astound.
Souls and foul, haunt and aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant.

Shoes, goes, does, let them gracefully flow,
Finger, singer, ginger, linger, in succession they show.
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge, and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query, very, they don’t mirror each other,
Fury and bury, neither do they smother.
Dost, lost, post, doth, cloth, and loth,
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.

Seemingly small, these differences stand,
Actual and victual, hand in hand.
Refer and deafer, they part ways,
Feoffer, zephyr, a gentle breeze conveys.

Mint, pint…

:: 06.01.2023 ::