Poet's Corner

[Impenitent]

Full of Love (Sonnet #6)

Love was around me, if i had a cup
I could have stopped to scoop a little up
I lusted as it sifted through my hand
My castles in the air were shifting sand

But now I have not even a toe hold
And find myself falling and growing old
I chose to do without the fight and fuss
No one to right me when I spit or cuss

All the lovers and the wife of one time
Girls who committed long forgotten crimes
Love wasted in a misbegotten youth
Only now I fathom the bitter truth

If when old you want to be loved and nursed
When you are young, always fill those cups first

 

[LadyGunSlinger]

Dancing in the Razor Hail

Storm clouds black out the skies entirely
Look, the sky is falling, falling with me.
Thunder roars as the clouds begin to cry,
Here comes the pain, leaping from the dark sky.

As I fall within, this pale skin,
Oh, Razor Hail, tear us down again.
Slashing and gashing, ripping and tearing
Reduce us to our Hearts and Nothing.
Tear away our skin in totality,
Reveal our true and pure beauty.

Dancing in the Razor Hail,
Caught amidst this vicious gale,
Swirling tempest, put me to the test,
(My sincere friends, do not let me rest.)
In the maelstrom I stand
In this moment, I understand...

Dancing in the Razor Hail,
Puncturing me through as nails,
Tearing away the beautiful veil,
When superficial bulwarks fail,

I celebrate this agony,
This Splendid moment of Conflict.
Truth revealed through Cruelty,
Resilience proving Beauty,
Is more than just razor deep,
In my pain, I prove Honesty,
In my Cries, I prove Conviction,
In My Suffering, my Intention,
In my Determination,
I prove my Passion is true.
(This is my Absolute Love for you)
I celebrate this Agony,
Oh, won't you come dance with me?


© Christopher Trenary D

 

[Impenitent]

"You Hide Yourself Within Your Flower"
(Sonnet #3)

I will neither shade my disappointment
Nor will I forge excuses of sour grapes
I've simply reached my end point, and I'm spent
Never getting my peek behind the drapes

The fruit is there, mystically eclipsed
Yet it's still intoxicating and sweet
Tho I haven't held you or kissed your lips
But our hearts did caress however fleet

This ardor I will carry in my soul
To Heav'n, once from my body dissevered
My one good thing, though out of my control
Has created love, lasting us forever

When my soul ascends to Saint Peter's gate
If spurned, i'll leave my love for you in wait

 

[midcan5]

'The Original Terrorists'

"The terrorists have been here a long time. The ones who took the slaves
The ones who ran and underbossed
the plantations. Especially those
who made money from them. They still at it.
They never stopped. These old guard terrorists. And
they still at it. Still terrorizing.
When slavery was sposed to be ended, they thought up the Klan
The Knights of the white Camelia!
When we was sposed to get reparations
They got Andrew Johnson
a barefoot white man
to stop it. Every time we take a step
these terrorists appear.
They ain't never gone no where
But you take a step forward
they come out!
King spoke," I have a dream!"
and we paid for it
with the four little girls. Blown up in Birmingham. Before that
we won the bus boycott
the terrorists blew up Dr. King's house.
The real terrorists
been with us hundreds of years. DuBois
called it The Sisyphus Syndrome. You push the rock up the mountain
The terrorists appear and try to roll it back down.
Now Obama get in defeating
Cain's son, the one in the bible
live in Arizona where they shot that congresswoman
in the head, and now wanna ban Latino studies
these is them Terrorists. Still terrorizing.
That`s Goldwater's state
famously backward. A terrorist. McCain turned tail in Viet Nam
He come back a hero terrorist. Terrorist
just the same.
We get clear enough to elect Obama
the terrorists take off they Klan clothes
put on some suits , they the t party, now. TEA
The Evil Assholes, they terrorists & Nazi's
like always. They do anything to stop America's getting rid of it's craziness.
They never let all of us
be Americans. They terrorists
And the Republicans they even got negroes
Real Public Coons, they terrorists too
like Tom Ass Clarence & his evil wife
Citizens United , they terrorists, hurt us worse than
the Taliban. GOP, Grand Old Psychopaths.
What Al Queada can't do the Republicans can
Been doing it in one costume or another
for hundreds of years
Now they so frustrated, they Racist Addiction
coming down on them, Boehner's nose running,
Got new maniacs to please, old jones coming down, Ted Cruz, a Texas junkie
had a crying jag in Congress, , or the other nut, Ryan
trying to stop you from sending your kids to college
He's a real mullah for sure
Terrorists took over congress, listen to them
absolute nuts. What the Taliban can't do
they are doing, close down
the United States government.! Now who
would do that? Think about it. What
the Taliban and Al Quaeda couldn't do. Terrorists in the congress
locked down the govt because
the black dude there, just as they would in the 19th century
when a blood wanted to vote. We facing the sickness
of terrorists. Been terrorizing all of us
for hundreds of years. When we gonna catch em
and lock`em up! These terrorists. Catch em
and lock`em up! Then we can cure ourselves,
America, of what has always
Ailed us!"

Amiri Baraka 10/13/13

 

[Capstone]

Somewhere in Gaza

A tiny 'human shield' stood guard today,
too young to fully comprehend his role,
to see his home and future blown away

by heartless men in concrete camo-gray.
Reluctant witness to their death patrol,
a tiny human shield stood guard today,

to hear his dying mother softly pray
and cough and gurgle through her bullet hole,
to see his home and future blown away.

Unable to avoid the leaden spray
of automatic rifles on a roll,
a tiny human shield stood guard today.

At war (decades) before his first birthday
with enemies in merciless control,
to see his home and future blown away.

And now where badly mangled corpses lay,
including his among the murder toll,
a tiny human shield stood guard today
to see his home and future blown away.​

 

[Impenitent]

Why do we read and write poetry?

(Dead Poet's Society)

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=aS1esgRV4Rc

 

[Capstone]

The captured songster always hid his frown
from fans who'd flock to hear him in his cage,
and when the manic bird took center stage
he never let those audiences down.
Who knew the Robin's song that made us smile
and laugh belied a deeper truth in him?
Who knew the bright performer on his limb
was crying out in sadness all the while?
So, where the multicolored feathers fell
and landed on their final resting place
inside a birdcage made of our disgrace,
the prisoner has bid us all farewell;

and we who cried in laughter at his song
now see the pain it covered all along. ​

In memory of Robin Williams.

 

[Impenitent]

MacArthur Park - Jimmy Webb

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance

Between the parted pages and were pressed
In love's hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain

I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again, oh nooooo

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees
Birds like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing checkers, by the trees

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain

I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again, oh noooooo

There would be another song for me
For I will sing it
There would be another dream for me
Someone will bring it

I will drink the wine while it is warm
And never let you catch me looking at the sun
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life, you'll still be the one

I will take my life into my hands and I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers through the sky

And after all the loves of my life
Oh, after all the loves of my life
I'll be thinking of you - and wondering why

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain

I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh noooooo, o-oh no-ooooo

 

[Impenitent]

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Like a fish on the ground gasps and flips
Or a bird can't fly because his wings you clipped
So cruel if this was just one of your schemes
To awaken a poet from one of his dreams

In the real world, there is only black and white
No action is missed, either wrong or right
But the poet twists and turns, and dreams away
Creating his own reality, where night is day

Would the Light Brigade's glory been wonder'd
If not with the poet, rode the six hundred
Or would there be an ode to a lover who speaks nevermore
Had not a dreamer seen a raven as the ghost of Lenore

I dreamt we were shipwrecked on a tropical isle
No hint of civilization had been seen in a long while
A mean old man too confused to know where to start
And a jaded young woman with a hole in her heart

The water from the spring flowed cool and sweet
Coconuts, fruit and small game provided at our feet
Your heartbreaks subsided during our struggle there
And every drink from the spring darkened my gray hair

Banter was light and easy, unreserved and so true
Souls you doubted, came to tell, they died loving you
I walked erect as well, my mind clear and wise
And I became a younger man, not merely in your eyes

Yes, it was a dream, where we were not star-crossed
Let me return there, before that construct is lost
Why are you looking more quizzical, softening your gaze
Could it be that you too, wish to escape through the haze

I couldn't be happy here, among your many Capulets
And my Montagues would cause you unforgivable upsets
Which draws a foreboding picture here for posterity
Return with me to that island, now and for eternity

 

[Capstone]

Plaid

God damn this strange affinity for plaid,
for which I'm at a loss to explicate,
except to say it speaks to the innate
ancestral links forever ironclad.

Examining the ways the lines are crossed
with colors often clashing on each swatch
and those that don't are neither Welsh nor Scotch
but Irish in the character they've lost.

Checkered relationships that so confine
the other colors, compartmentalized
(or segregated?), measured, analyzed;
but which as 'dominant' should we define?

Of all the fabric clothing that I've had,
none weaved a racial story quite like plaid.​

 

[Capstone]

Truth in Paisley

Some find a wondrous world in paisley silk,
without a clue as to the noble ilk
of men and Kings of Kashmar-Khorasan
(the Land of Honey and of Flowing Milk)
for whom 'the Buteh' was more sacred than
the psychedelic paisleys that began
to flood the hippie markets of the west
in homage to the fabrics from Iran.
Not widely known, the image of the blessed--
a stylized impression of the best
and biggest ever planted Cypress Tree--
is in the droplets, pears, and all the rest

designed to show the truth you've come to see:
those paisley teardrop-shapes fell from a tree.​

 

[Capstone]

Son' of Frankenstein

His hideous monstrosity sewn from the written word,
with bolts protruding from its neck-less body un-interred
from deep within the cemetery of neglected plots
and strangely pieced together by this madman undeterred

by 'men of science' shackled in convention's overwrought
desire not to stray from its accepted schools of thought,
lied on the table risen to the lightning stricken skies
above the laboratory on his castle's mountain lot

to be reanimated by a science gone awry
to serve the mad creator's will to never ever die,
immortalized by his creation, that for which he strives.
So come, you townsfolk, hearken to this crazy victor's cry,

and let your torches blaze against the blackness, "IT'S ALIVE!",
and raise your pitchforks to the beast, "MY SONNET IS ALIVE!"...​

 

[Capstone]

An extended limerick about the meanings of life, adversity, and reward...

Chasing Tail

No longer a puppy, Spot switches
to a new kind of 'tail' that he itches
to chase down and sniff
when he catches a whiff
of the 'good-to-go' neighborhood bitches.

In his way stands a muscle-bound bully,
whose intentions seem kind of unduly
territorial-like,
for the pit-bull named Spike
has been neutered (Spot feels rather cruelly!).

So he quickly tells Spike of his sadness
that a fellow butt-sniffer is nad-less;
that he has a good friend
if he brings to an end
all of this territorial madness!

The pit-bull rewards Spot's endeavor
to be diplomatically clever
and wishes him well
on his mission to quell
the desires poor Spike's lost forever.

Having made a new friend, our Spot smiled
and continued on fully beguiled
by the odor of love
from the heavens above,
yet to answer the Call of the Wild.​

 

[Capstone]

Prophets of the Fall​

Shades of sadness and anticipation in our children's eyes
prophesy to us of the impending Fall;
darkened clouds upon the canvases of ever-greyer skies;
howling winds that coldly mimic mourning cries--

both descendents and ascendents from the polar regions' heights,
where the Borealis and Australis crawl,
swirling naked in the Southern or the famous Northern Lights
during ever shorter days and longer nights;

stolen hours fenced at Sundown in the alleys of the dark--
daylight auctioned by the equinox's call;
faded leaves prepared to leave behind their limbs in barren bark:
not all human-like but prophets, one and all.​

​

​

 

[FRIKSHUN]

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Like a fish on the ground gasps and flips
Or a bird can't fly because his wings you clipped
So cruel if this was just one of your schemes
To awaken a poet from one of his dreams

In the real world, there is only black and white
No action is missed, either wrong or right
But the poet twists and turns, and dreams away
Creating his own reality, where night is day

Would the Light Brigade's glory been wonder'd
If not with the poet, rode the six hundred
Or would there be an ode to a lover who speaks nevermore
Had not a dreamer seen a raven as the ghost of Lenore

I dreamt we were shipwrecked on a tropical isle
No hint of civilization had been seen in a long while
A mean old man too confused to know where to start
And a jaded young woman with a hole in her heart

The water from the spring flowed cool and sweet
Coconuts, fruit and small game provided at our feet
Your heartbreaks subsided during our struggle there
And every drink from the spring darkened my gray hair

Banter was light and easy, unreserved and so true
Souls you doubted, came to tell, they died loving you
I walked erect as well, my mind clear and wise
And I became a younger man, not merely in your eyes

Yes, it was a dream, where we were not star-crossed
Let me return there, before that construct is lost
Why are you looking more quizzical, softening your gaze
Could it be that you too, wish to escape through the haze

I couldn't be happy here, among your many Capulets
And my Montagues would cause you unforgivable upsets
Which draws a foreboding picture here for posterity
Return with me to that island, now and for eternity

 

[Capstone]

Cut the Cord

Since long before its god-forsaken birth,
the progeny of false religious zeal
has bitten at its feeder's hand and heel,
exempting neither 'friend' nor foe on Earth

within its grip of treacherous deceit:
the maimed or murdered by King David's bomb
that afternoon of broken British calm
in 1946's Summer heat;

civilian targets of its failed affairs,
the cinemas, the libraries, the schools
run by American and British fools
in 1954 caught unawares;

from Liberty to *Lockerbie and worse,
the progeny's fulfilled the promised curse.​

*Oh yes, Abu Nidal has long been established as one of the Mossad's many black ops assets. Never forget to ask, "Cui bono?"...

 

[Capstone]

Consumerism, Hope, and Answered Prayer

A day past Halloween the music starts
on half the stations on the radio,
with songs like Jingle Bells and Let it Snow,
presumably to warm consumers' hearts...

as we blow every penny to our name
on tinsel, trees, and this year's trendy toys,
the Bump'n Chuck'n Bumper Cars for boys,
the latest dolls of Disney Princess fame,

those gifts for which our children hope and pray;
and parents share this common yearly goal,
despite repeated threats of lumps of coal:
to see their eyes light up on Christmas Day...

and feel the joy of answering their prayers
and showing them our happiness is theirs.​

 

[Treeshepherd]

Better not bother
Better don't bother
To wind your watch
Eat a whole jar
Of habanero sauce
Step into yer boots
Put a fist up top
Don't notify the boss
Dive into the mosh
Spin yer own cloth
Brew yer own slosh

Get up on them tables
Open up them stables
Cain it to the Abel
Like Abe Lincoln's troubles
Like Shay's Rebellion tripled
Get up like yer crippled
Throw like Rob Dibble
Crossover dribble to da hizzle
Finish like Godzilla
Fukushima filth.

Cascadia Plate
Quakes in western states
Tornados on the plains
Eastern hurricanes
I'll drop an EMP in the sky of your brains.
Hear the Mother speak
Ghost armies underneath
Like a grizzly bear in heat
She'll bring the kitchen sink
Like we can't even think
Like we ain't got an inkling
Weather vane be spinning
But it really ain't no thaing.
I'll just drop an EMP in the sky of your brain.

- Treeshepherd

 

[Treeshepherd]

[I seem to have the option to edit some posts. Others not. Above post, not]

edit:

This is the Tree-hop rap. Just rappin' from the treetops, yo. Just chillin', just spillin', just livin', man.

...2-3-4, kick it!

Better not bother
Better don't bother
To wind your watch
Eat a whole jar
Of habanero sauce
Step into yer boots
Put a fist up top
Don't notify the boss
Dive into the mosh
Spin yer own cloth
Brew yer own slosh
Grow yer own stalks
Grow it in the Capitol
spit out that bite of Apple
'86 them maptuals
Tea Party them taxuals

FULLSTOP

and listen to my scratuals

Get up on them tables
Open up them stables
Cain it to the Abel
Like Abe Lincoln's troubles
Like Shay's Rebellion tripled
Get up like yer crippled
Throw like Rob Dibble
Crossover dribble to da hizzle
Finish like Godzilla
Fukushima filth.

Cascadia Plate
Quakes in western states
Tornados on the plains
Eastern hurricanes
I'll drop an EMP in the sky of your brains.
Hear the Mother speak
She'll bring the kitchen sink
Ghost armies underneath
Like a grizzly bear in heat
Shaking up my trees
Making me spill my drinkling
We ain't got no inkling
The hour glass be sprinkling
Weather vane be spinning
But it really ain't no thaing.
I'll drop an EMP in the sky of your brain.
I'll just drop an EMP in the sky of your brain.

 

[Treeshepherd]

Hello from the gutters in the streets of the New York City.
Hello.
Hello from the swamps of the survivors of the streets of the New Orleans.
Hello.
Hello from the wreckage beneath the bombing of the Oklahoma City.
Hello, hello, hello.
Hello, hello.
Hello from the filth in the sewers of California.
Hello. Hello.