evilbeej | Entries tagged with poetry

the sun warm even late in the day, though the air is cool
at this juncture, the golden hour is longer by half again
still but for glittering ripples, the pond is limned with brightness
and tiny swarms skim its surface

so many songs and calls in the air, liquid burbles and caws
chiming and cheeping and rambling, scolding and twittering
a thousand thousand indecipherable conversants with everything to say
and everything to say it to

currents and waves and wind in the air overhead and through
the creaking of the umbrella, the rustling of leaves, planes in the sky
trucks on the freeway and planes in the sky and trains through the trees
guitar and raucous laughter from windows

sirens in the distance until a greater wind moves the treetops
drowns out the manmade noise with a rush like ocean waves
but the sound is everywhere while the sun is warm
and the shadows dance long

the book in my hands is half through and grips my heart tightly
pulling it up into my throat until my mind is louder than the world
i feel like i'm dying; lungs constrict and adrenaline courses a shock
through numb fingertips

i am not on the back patio of the house in which i have lived my years
the world isn't lilies of the valley, electric hums, wind in spring leaves
isn't routine and serenity and school and the internet, or my backyard
or existing to skim introspection

it is danger and ghosts and magic and myth, the long memory of location
romance and tragedy, the bravery of the unknowing on sudden understanding
secrets and death, enormous ancient things at the command of the young
breaking hearts and living dreams

words not printed on the grey screen of my reader, but on my soul
and burned into its substance with delicious imagery and wrenching immersion
the story steals in and owns me, runs wild with me in tow, sinks teeth
and i forget i even exist at all

unlike dreams that do the same, i can wake from this
break from this
breathe

and listen to the windchimes
the birdsong and a distant dog's barking
a motorcycle tearing up the peace across the lake

look at the dancing shadows
the backlit greenery
the rippling pond

feel the sun on my skin

and remember where i am.

Current Mood: enthralled

it's echoes in the dark, and frozen hands,
and clinging mist that soaks through to the bone.
it's certainty i've walked these haunted lands
and knowing i've not always been alone.

i can't remember what i'm searching for;
somehow these dripping caves are all that's left.
i think i may have been here once before,
but don't remember feeling so bereft,

for once upon a time my name was called.
the voice that spoke it was a sound too dear,
but name and voice, forgotten in my fall,
are distant and may never reach me here.

so onward walk i through this endless night,
for letting go would never grant me light.

Current Mood: gloomy
Current Music: messing with thumbjam

Although I speak in haiku when I’m good
And stand atop the tallest of tall things
This evil impulse grafted to my blood
Requires that my stanzas be unhinged

My rhymes may not be perfect in this arc
But I have never claimed that as a skill
Iambic is the way of kingdoms dark
Pentameter is how their minions kill

You think that this is proof my reason’s left
I cannot argue logic while we skate
Instead I’ll posture while you stare, bereft,
And draw their aggro as I flip my cape

Tho’ brainwashed to the cause of Beryl’s boss
O Sailor Moon, how stunning’s your lip gloss!

Current Mood: meh
Current Music: thumbjam messing

Forever safely cold and locked in stone
Resolved to keep its burdens out of sight
The heart that cannot face the world alone
Remains immune to freedom, life, and light

“It’s not so bad,” the dreamer will insist
As echoes filter down from up above
Of all the things he thought he hadn’t missed
And loss and friendship, care, betrayal, love

Until that love with beauty bright and true
And kindness and acceptance of the weight
Contrives to break the prison that he knew
And help to shoulder loneliness and fate

With disposition lightened now perforce
Triumphant is the heart that’s shown its course

Current Mood: spoony
Current Music: messing with thumbjam

Rezish mofendey suris canidyne
Pretonka lesmer fillis kera fash
Osortney fletson colmic tinto grine
Mo dafny fegger selma teerin glash

Erest bedolan sonder porin fing
Loringa sedintolar forras blide
Mefleeton feezer torin scolering
Ne sorith kindo sarsha fenomide

Relarto stevla reetyl malic porm
Dooblinga sacklen arto salicann
Sittonga creshty barras endogorm
Negain blem terby soush tigolfer gann

Bideech sa glaynid dayden serry fam
Frelinger cass boshoney snabo fram.

Current Mood: gloomy
Current Location: United States, New Jersey, Denville
Current Music: Tiny Taco Drama - Melmoth Bright

house of the lonely son

there was a sci cop stuck on Braal
depowered as can be
his mouth was full of bitter ash
and head all filled with grief

this man was once a Legionnaire
he kept his flight ring close
and when the time came to back them up
he served the Legion's ghost

'oh dyrk, my friend, we will come back'
the Legion's leader swore
'we'll come for you and you shall have
the job you had before'

but months turned into years on Braal
and never did they call
it took so long the sci cop knew
they'd never come at all

so when at last they disappeared
right from the face of time
young magno swallowed all his hope
and grimly battled crime

and then he stood with all the worlds
his Legion had come from
and watched as time unravelled itself
and knew his wait was done.

you writers, tell your characters
to hide their shining eyes
for when a new team takes your place
the best will be downsized.

Current Mood: gloomy
Current Location: United States, New Jersey, Parsippany

the vile smoke that billowing curls throughout the choked and blackened sky
in triumph stands a testament to evil deeds and vengeance nigh
all bloody, soaked and fire-charred bedizened garb and castles lie
'round sodden wrecks that bodies were of those who chose to stand and die

the sun broke bright that morning as glad tidings for the merry day
and at the feast the wine was drunk 'til even staunch young men did sway
when war did come all unprepared fair Pendrafen's defenders lay
on downy pillows, soft and sweet, in trust that darkness was at bay

alas for watchmen, brave and cold, who not a drop of warmth did drink
their temperance was all for naught as not a one could shout or blink
when eerie lights belit the woods and hell belched out a brimstone stink
of poison gas that burned and killed before the men could even think

the rumbling things all laden down with weapons devil-made at best
came crashing through the ancient trees to bring an evil wedding guest:
the prince's younger brother who had failed compassion's smallest test
at birth when he his elder stabbed to suckle first at mother's breast

and at the van of his fell force a rolling fortress did appear:
a metal beast with holes for eyes and rivets front to armored rear
whose mouth spat flame, as did its eyes; whose tread ate game that died of fear;
who laughed at all resistance 'til its master's path was rendered clear.

the noises were cacophonous, the walls of stone seemed paper-thin;

Current Mood: cold

And now the time's arrived at last
for the taking of names and the kicking of ass;
the lady entabled? A wound has acquired
and if we can't sort this then /we'll all get fired/
so cleave with your blades, run off at your mouths;
we'll kill all these fuckwits (pardon me, ladies) before things go south.

--

Strangely shifting shadows, ward his blighted eyesight's gaze
Away from hated dwarves and toward this labyrinthine maze!
Long see him things that can't exist, long scourge his sanity
and curse the things that he holds dear if he should think to flee!

--

everything broken and falling to ruin
daylight and eyesight and rhythm and tune
what's in the mirror that breaks all its glass?
who's on his deathbed and when shall he pass?
groping through darkness on trembling floors
hearing her screaming, the slamming of doors
lights in the sky that foretell all our fate
we whisper this prayer as they're closing the gate
never the sun again, never the sea
only the shadows that chase after me
friends within memory, friends long ago
steady my footsteps as toward death i go.

Current Music: Kyoto's House (stage blood is not enough) - Philip Glass

precision timing and tuning the brass
motion in shadowboxes under glass
the gears are all spinning, the fittings all gleam

my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream

the ticking of clocks and the winding with keys
a metronome's timekeeping, windowless breeze
no buttons undone and showing no seams

my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream

my dancers are turning, my soldiers at arms
my telescope watches my castles and farms
and ships that are sailing or chugging with steam

my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream

the children are perfect, the old folk are kind
no parent is idle and no eye is blind
and friends and good neighbors all cheer the same team

my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream

it's sunshine and roses that bloom in the shade
and nights full of fireflies and stars that won't fade
no war and no irony spoil the theme

my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream
my world is like clockwork that comes from a dream

Current Mood: creative

if you need rain, you'll get rain, it'll wash clean your face
and the sunshine will dry it, leave of tears not a trace
on a soft bed of grasses, you can lay down your head
with a blanket of mosses to shield you from dread

so sleep in sweetness, your cares put aside
for nothing can harm you when with me you bide
your fears i'll parry with hope and with light
and the morning will greet you with sun shining bright

if it's indoors you're sleeping, you can still rest your head
for the doors are all closed and there is naught 'neath your bed
and the closet is guarded, no monsters within
so be still and be silent, that your dreams may begin

sleep in sweetness, your demons at bay
for nothing can harm you when with you I stay
fears can be vanquished with hope and with light
and the morning still greets you with sun shining bright

Current Mood: creative
Current Location: United States, New Jersey, Cedar Knolls

we are the free minds
a people of all kinds
of thoughts and convictions
and love at its best

before us are legions
of doubts and of questions
and we with our answers
will lay them to rest

and if these our answers
are found to be wanting
then new-formed opinions
we'll devise and test

Current Mood: transcendent
Current Music: psilodump - jag minns inte

( Bad-tempered foul-languaged anti-WoD-vampire freestylin'. )

rrrr

Current Mood: bitchy
Current Location: work

as i was out a-walkin' in the dark and misty wood
i met a woman hunting and i knew her aim was good
as witnessed by the animals she'd taken for her prize
and hurriedly i ran to hide myself then from her eyes

i didn't hear a single sound arising from the brush
so silently she stalked the ground through branches full and lush
and when she came upon me hiding deep within a cleft
"hello!" she cried, a-laughing at me, dignity bereft.

as i was out a-calling on my friends along the road
i met a man familiar as all the winds that blowed
he sidled on beside me with a knowing little grin
but never could i place him 'til "hello!" he said again

and still was i mistaken as to who this man could be
so thought i that his sister a-hunting i had seen
i said that i had never seen such twins as were the two
he laughed again and told me that my guessing days were through

the goddess of the wild hunt had caught me in a chase
this twin that i conversed with now was but her other face
beyond the old divisions that humanity employs
this archetype beseeched me to let go and enjoy

so sing you i this story as we sit around the fire
we'll have another round of drinks and mock the world entire
and then we'll toast to fallen friends and friends we've yet to make
and choose to live our triumphs just as loud as our mistakes

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Location: home
Current Music: steeleye span - king henry

the crumbling wall beside the gravel drive,
once made of concrete, stones, and grasping weeds,
replaced by hands professional, alive,
with newer stones and ne'er a mind for needs
sat low and bright in symmetry and line:
a place for shady reading, watching ants.
the saddest loss of all was something fine--
our names, paved over by improvement's dance.
what some might call graffiti made us clear:
a permanent addition to a song
composed by one sicilian engineer.
we were the record of belief held strong.
of course, the arrow pointing toward the well
was also lost, but wishes never fell.

(shit, i thought that looked short. duh. 14 lines, not 10.)

Current Mood: tired
Current Location: work
Current Music: Muse - Unnatural Selection

There's some confusion involving the stagehands and Czcibor and some 'really? what? Me? Now?' gestures and expressions, and then the Polish administrative assistant in the nice suit tugs at his collar and displaces his tie slightly, grimacing. He makes his way up to the microphone and takes his little black notepad back out of his pocket, flipping pages, then flipping pages again, and clearing his throat uncomfortably. Finally, he looks up at the crowd and squints in the spotlight, forgets what he was going to say, and has to look down again. Then he realizes he didn't write an introduction, and clears his throat again, and just starts:

"On dying highways in the countries south
Macadam, ancient, crossed by crackled lines
And berries ripe for putting in the mouth
In grasses drying twisted 'round old signs

"The travellers tread light with silver shoes
And only tell their stories in the shade
That frighten, calm, bewilder or amuse
And earn the keep of children of the rade.

"Now time that passes strangely in a reel
With steps that baffle those with creaking minds
Is home to riders on new mounts of steel
And stories that they tell are hard to find

"The hours weigh upon the golden roads
But nighttime will remember lighter loads."

He pauses, then looks up at the crowd again-- he didn't actually, you know, adjust the mic. At all. So really the whole production is kind of awkward. "Um, thank you." Then he steps back, looks uncertain, and moves off the stage.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Gina Donahue - Sauber Verbrannt (short edit)

http://calufrax.nac.net/~gina/homer/sauberverbrannt-v.mp3

( Plus moar lyrics. )

Introspection with guitar.
Honey, and lemon.
Half-awake with sickness.

Fever dreaming that burned out in a minute--
Seeing that sigil traced fire in your eyes
and burnt water on the stove
in a tea attempt.

I was ringing her up with no answer
until I remembered that she was dead.
Someone else's line
on cue
cut in.

We can find her, you and I, yesterday
when summer was here
and she was here
and we went swimming in the lake
getting sunburnt all over.

But

You'll never try
because you'd rather write about her
than bring her to life.

Current Mood: sick
Current Music: Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon

The Bordertown Waltz
(written by Gina Donahue, performed by the Configurations)

Came morning you found me here with a suitcase
Some books, a few records, old clothes and new face
I'm leaving today and I'm not looking back at this place

As long as you've known me you always could tell
That passing for normal's my own private hell
I'm headed for parts where existing's a jubilant yell

O Borderland city you dance with delight
You bless us and keep us and sing all the night

I heard, to find Bordertown, there's but one way:
Belief and desire and more than one day
Will take you from hopelessly lost to that city so fey

The afternoon sped me; I made no goodbyes
Can't stop me -- I'll deck 'em if anyone tries
I'm leaving for home and ahead of me I've got clear skies

With light heart and fleet feet and stars in my eyes
I'm bound for the Border to shed my disguise
The weight of the World has been heaved but without heaving sighs

O Borderland city you dance with delight
You bless us and keep us and sing all the night
The weight of the World has been heaved but without heaving sighs

Current Mood: jubilant
Current Music: Primitive Radio Gods - Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth With Money in My Hand

Crickets in the fresh-mown grass and
dozy nocturnal birds calling sleepily
   harmonize
   in perfect cadences all their own
   complementary rhythms
     with
protesting transmissions and squeaky belts
purring perfect engines' fiery hearts
the insistent whining of flourescent lights
interstate eighty singing over the wall
muted heartbeats from warring bass speakers
chattering consumers exiting the mall
   and
     someone's radio through an open window

This busily quiet orchestra
removed by the infinite distance of
   double doors and two hundred feet
   from the Saturday insanity of
   tired impatient shoppers
is overseen by the creeping twilight
   canopy of blues after sunset

Here and there again stars
bright short pinpricks glimmering silently
observers of nothing that see it all
distant suns join a chorus of
   inaudible motion
their graceful imperial waltz cross-sky
   is joined gleefully by these:
     humanity's high-flying children
     jets
     contrails in the stratosphere and
     streaking quicksilver bright
     satellites
     madly high orbits
        presbyopic young-old winking in a
        proudly competitive dance-a-thon
swinging fast and furiously in comparison
observers of everything that see nothing

Everything in this warm freeze of moment is
     (concrete and asphalt
     brick and gravel
     rows and columns of automobiles
     ashes and cracked mortar
     puddles and cigarette filters
     bugs and grass and people
     me)
washed in the dim blue light of reality
     here
        living
             now.

Current Mood: calm

On dying highways in the north country
Tiny canals crisscross ancient macadam
Now in customarily understated valleys
Blind joyriders sail past futures past
These are the places that keep all time
Unnumbered broken telegraph poles lean
Slantwise aged avant guardsmen
Silently hold secrets proudly carried
Slow quiet warm afternoon sun bakes them
Minutes subtracted in golden glow
Years struck off the tally by hurricane
Decades gone with graceless combustion

If neither side cares of the loss of another of the other, in the battle where paper beats rock but is crumpled thereafter, and the archives are written by the winners but the winners are dead--

--whose choice is it to raze and raise anew, without even the homage given by the PT Cruiser?

I ask you that.

Current Mood: frustrated
Current Music: Iron and Wine - Love and Some Verses

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evilbeej

November 2019

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Gina DC: Continuity Cop

Armed and Clever!

Entries tagged with poetry

on reading the raven king

mamo sonnet 3

mamo sonnet 2

mamo sonnet 1 (the soldier who embraces all)

Non-Lexical Vocable Sonnet

To 'House of the Rising Sun' of course

the fall of pendrafen (in progress)

Spells by Macsen Guledic, Kalashtar Bard

Happy Ending (I'm Sorry)

Lullabye for Liam

well-meaning drivel

vampire bs

Bercht[a|old]'s Ballad

driveway wall sonnet

Faerie Cos at a Poetry Slam: Oh God.

Revised waltz.

Honeylemon

For Emma Bull, and for Orient

Twenty After Seven: For Kirk

Restoration/Recompense

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November 2019

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