Twirls, etc. (Nine Poems)

[Philip Locke]

Twirls, etc.Nine PoemsA day for tearsBehold this wretched day,With deathly, drowning amber Mixed with static white,When colors lose their tickle, And bold heroes cease to fight.The high stars dance for no one,And below the breath of trees In the crushing silence shoutsThen someone curses a flower,In a weeping child dawns doubt.ANSUZThe explosions were like great blistering blossomsUnfurling hideous petals of fire along the horizon.A dreadful, alien dark violet crept into the sky,Slowly seeping into the blue blanket draped above.The sun himself, prideful from his heavenly reign,Seemed to quaver and proceed lay himself prostrate.Clouds, the chariots of forgotten gods and heroesDisappeared without so much as a farewell gasp,Incinerated by the wall of violet, eerily wonderful,That eased higher and higher into the celestial archUntil it was all that could be seen, banished was blue.From on high came no angelic host of golden saviors.The voices of yore screamed silently that fateful morn.Pity the fleshed, whose blood ran cold as a wench’s heart.Kindred hearts and sworn foe no different before doom.Chaos and Misery embraced like long lost siblings,What good is some iron against the fury of so many spliced atoms?That ghastly morning Man’s own iron make did rebelBeneath the pressure and swelter of wicked weapons,Tools of hate forged for those with blackest of hearts.Boutique by boutique and coffeehouse by coffeehouse,Roof by roof and wall-by-wall collapsed Man’s world,A metamorphosis of order to rubble and life to death!The screams of lives ended that day dwell in slumber stillAnd wash the dreamland with horrors sinister and murky—Some long past and some still down the winding road ahead.When at last the devastation ended and the winds settled,Twenty-three turns after heaven was stained by violet,The earth was scorched, the sun a cold and distant husk;A hell bound to the dead rock by tragedy’s own pull.Humans, with macabre pluck, emerged from crevicesSad eyes tinted red from the violet robe above,Teeth stained red from the most unthinkable of deeds.Upon sites unsavory to mortal eyes they gazed:Ashen fields barren save some plump scavenger birds,Pillars of infernal matter spurting up ungodly seedFrom some twisted abyss entombed beneath the rock,Endless stretches of ruins riveted by snares and traps,Innumerable corpses grinning wildly from a better place.One boy, a timid creature, disliked by the cruel FatesWas among those who were damned to last in squalid waste.Before Papa’s cornfield he rocked a little and then stood still,Staring into the scorched black eyes of his old friend Dog.When he touched Dog’s ear the beast remained just as he lay,So the little one cried, tears rolled down each sooty cheek.Upon meeting the air they sizzled, burning trails as they fell.But the last child of fair Earth did not cry out in pain forHis crimson orbs were fixed on something queerly familiar:Before him stood a broad shouldered, tailed and winged thing,Head wreathed by a hissing serpent, standing on razor hooves,Eyes like stirred embers, in his fist was clenched a rod of thorns.Without request the boy touched the demon and returned to dustBut not before he muttered in a strange tongue, “Abaddon has come again.”The City of Amber SilenceA tear for those whose rainbows stretch only in slicks of oil,A tear for those who souls whither as in metal cages they toil.Murder! A single street paved over the seas and the lands,Murder! Spider webs of iron bind mother-earth’s pure hands.Woe to the artists whose paints are soot, smoke, and steam,Woe to the poets many whose words never break from dream.The screaming dolor of gardens eclipsed by giants manmade,The screaming dolor of soil unfamiliar to the punch of a spade.Alas, this urban incubus whose talons rot the verdant soul,Alas, this usurper of ancient Gaea has devoured mankind whole. Evening ReflectionTwo old oaken lovers share a timeless, woody kissWith gnarled, mossy limbs they hug and they embrace,In the grooves of their trunks forgotten passions I retrace.Upon one’s rutty brow a songbird is gracefully perched Colored blue black like dawn with ghostly, glazed eyes;The winged onlooker is ruffled as the vernal wind sighs.Above floats an orphaned sliver of pocked razor, adriftBathed in the majestically arching heaven’s chalky-blue,Rising as the sun slips westward and the sky changes hue.Evening’s subtle grief now weighs upon all of the earth,Intoxicating senses and soul as behind slips another day. Twixt trees’ locked lips the dark bird sings last light away.Sleep! Calls mother-earth to her myriad of children, Sleep!And unto dens and nests and beds they scurry and they run,To rest during night’s silent reign and emerge with father-sun.Ode to Scraped Kneeswith scraped knees and shaggy hair, wide eyes and dirty nails, under the golden sun and green apple treesWe run and playwhen we are young.with minds on what will be andthe future, marveling at things just out of siterun-of-the-mill to the old, we watch and are amazedwhen we are young.with eagerness unending andquestions innumerable, as many as the stars themselves, We question and ask the grownups this and thatwhen we are young.with the impatience of anornery mare we wish and pray to grow and changeso that we might be the learned oneswhen we are young.and with cloudy hearts and nostalgic soulswe yearn to return to thosewonderful happy times(under the golden sun and green apple trees)when we are so oldCosmic Ballad, Part 3.14Oh! Let's bound past the pasty crescent, the bump of a star sounds ringing;Oh! Let's be and be through booms and bangs, the birth of creation tickles singing.And between diamond studded superforever galaxies we shall dance sublimely free;And amidst esoteric, fruitful supernever darkness we shall embrace holistic majesty.Three Haiku (Nostalgia, War, and Life)Autumn; crying leafFramed by the slinking red sunUp floats a sad face.Under the sun’s glareSimpering vanilla skullsOh, simian soiree!Little buzzing bee,Nectar coated, yellowStay alive and well.Soul's RequiemSee Him in his many terran footstepsFilled up with heaven’s azure tears,Face floating in the rainbow stainsUntouched by the entropy of years.See Her in the fish’s watery splashDancing merrily amongst the cloudsClothed in a burning crimson sash: The Absolute who knows not shrouds!The entire world as a templeRadiating with the fire of lifeIn harmony with the BeingWho plays Reality like a fife;Earth and Heaven fulfilled in One,The husband sun and his earthen wife.99 Cents and A FlowerFly across the oceans,Walk across the sands,Always stand beside meWe’ll never ever land. We’ll soar around the world,We’ll flutter through in breeze,Your lips as red as roses,Your eyes as deep as seas.And then at last,We’ll reach the past,Tomorrow holds the key,We’ll always stay togetherYour lips as red as roses,Your eyes as deep as seas.

[Scott Alexander]

It is good.2, 8, and 9 are my favorite.2 scares me. Too much synchronistic symbolism stuff.

[Philip Locke]

I think that there are hidden messages in "ANSUZ", but I wrote it a few months ago so I can't be certain. Maybe that was an earlier draft. Locke.

[Zirandorthel]

I like the Haikus, especially the one about war. The Cosmic ballad would recommend itself to me solely for it's title, and the inclusion of the word "holistic" just tops it off. I like Ansuz aswell, I was reading Revelations just last night. Very good imagery in all of them, and not too pretentious, which is always enjoyable. ZirandorthelThe Golden Darkness"In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God."-Stephen Braveheart Proud Citizen of Pyramodia

[Philip Locke]

Word, thanks, and all that jazz. Locke
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