Archive for the ‘Poetry/Verbal mess’ Category

February 9, 2011

Valiant are the words rendered unto others

by the pangs of toil propelled

Marshalled as grenadiers, at-arms brothers

by bloodshot word-lords led

 

The armies of target and source deploy

in their breasts for armistice a tremulous cry

They beseech a gluttonous polyglot’s employ

And by their skilled and merited conductance ally

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Relieved

February 4, 2011

The flesh in the pillory is ours alone

the audience, spectating, may offer at best puny words of admiration

forgot a short while later

but it is our head and palms, alone, undesired

that fill its slots

and those whose heads were dismembered would attest

that our courage and personal passion

are our only merit, are the singular keys

to the gates of heaven

Spectator

February 3, 2011

It has been my calling to view

much agitation and theatre

and record in silence, unpublished

Wondrous and comic, vile and vicious, many a tale riveting

 

Heaven mine is a continuous thread of spectacles

each moment trying, magmatic

later yawned, now fawned

A fossil of passion, ruin of marvel

 

I would sit in deserted galleries

cogitating lone upon moments glorious

when they all wailed, cried and cheered

lamenting that all moments are not such

 

The Nature of Words by a Man who Frequents Dictionaries

October 2, 2010

F10*

—————————-

Words uttered with great tales to follow

proliferate, become stock, and spread

————————————->

And then, seamlessly

become entries

and these entries are brief, succinct

————————————->

When I press definitions unto my lips

unto my mind, unto myself

I consider them with care

I treat them as newborn children, and do my best

to provide them with everything a word needs

But I know that their history surpasses my frail efforts that

they will mean, someday, that which dictionaries cannot describe

My lettered children, I grieve

for any note or chord played to your credit

that did not intend as you would

*

Shortcut key for Babylon-Pro

Substitutes

October 2, 2010

In the attempt to balance my budget

of pernicious addictions I defer

to replacing them with new ones

————————–*

Above the murky waters of doubt

gasping for air, I view for a moment

the world, splendid, colored by the absence of born crosses

————————–*

To balance is not to repress or set loose

Balance is sought by push or shove

it is gained, however, by both

————————–*

I sat down following my newly adopted daily crucible

and noted, panting, that before my eyes two large screens parted

a clear view of the front now visible

————————–*

And the two screens fizzed and frolicked with words and shapes

they frothed with fury as they endeavored to close in

and could only remain separated by my gnashing of teeth

Free Labor

September 26, 2010

The reach of your hand places a price tag

for

to venture out inebriated

is an escape warranting punishment

protracted,

a silent assassin, lurking in the sober dark

I restore my hand out

of any missives of choice I may have lent it unto

for I was a thief stealing moments I did not have

The craft I took credit for belongs to a man I could not be on my own

And credit is due in entirety

to a bottle of wine and a keg of misery

Not friends, and not those I would desire

to associate myself with in any work of art or science

Lock and Key

August 8, 2010

Lines collude into shapes

and shapes into function

Stress one down into a

corner and present a convoluted lock.

It is within the nature of the clever beast

to wield a pen and scribble, madly

for each knows its Key, for each it must extend it a loving hand.

In its ears, wrapped around claws, it heeds

“form me, unlock and Key, I am best to say

what is the nature of the beast

It is only

to return me

And as you design

to oblige the gate to yield

You unwittingly concede

I favor you, peerlessly

by being everything

***

Not so sure about this one. Maybe revising it won’t do it any good.

Bin

August 5, 2010

Photos on the wall

Grinning albums in our drawer

Expensive rings and cheap words

Gentle limbs that struck like swords

I weep, I weep

Upon this heap

of disposed trash once revered

I press against my chest

all that you bequeath

– To wear that lot, I assume the shape

Of a frail shadow, a humbled throe

of a man in defeat

Writings on the Wall

April 30, 2010

Mudded to my shoulders

I cry havoc for my injuries

A time set in peace

Is noted unbearable in war

Again I turn to icy days

that float slowly as I disintegrate upon them

Each night, pus accruing, I seek their end

Abolish them, haste, that I break bread with silence.

Searchlights

March 11, 2009

(Warning: verbal mess written in a very pensive mood ahead)

Science, or equivalently, human experience, is like the tiny radius of a searchlight.

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