Translate

JoeC's original poetry and photos about life and all things under the sun.

Search This Blog

Thursday, August 17, 2017



Sunshine Before The Thunder

I think I've gone mad now,
Wild dogs keep barking at my gate,
Earth worms speak to me somehow,
My hands bleed as I toil, signaling fate.

Ravens come croaking stories, grafting other migrate tales,
Scavenging ancient myth from some mysterious hidden place,
Soaring far above this turbulent world as anger rants and rails,
Illusions condition deceitful clouds, escaping without a trace.

Waking in a fire dream, squatting beside a flickering Brujo,
Everlasting incense swirling, skirling prayers and phrases into smoke,
Sipping carnal knowledge, drinking from pools of bromine mojo,
Chipping intonation with sparkling flint, embarking into a fumarolic stoke.

Buddhist sentiments align with condiments along a spicy altar,
Medievil tapestry adorns this faithful pedestal where commitment lives,
Symbolic refrains and phrases, atonement better uttered, grace ne'er did falter,
Curled sticks grant consciousness to essence, unfurling certainty as blessedness forgives.

People have become complacent, gnawing on black and shattered bones,
Folk becoming desperate living dire, deformed places goading us with sharp slivers,
However it seems few of us are e'er reminded, remanding forgotten ancient tomes,
Ultimate destiny recognizing memories, navigating canyons and running deep rivers.

Sweet mango relish drifts like perfume, fragrance suspended on a equatorial breeze,
Aboard and awake on deck again, warily swabbing mahogany shipwrecks in a slippery sea,
Angry waves dash me ashore time and again washed and gashed, I lay spent but appeased,
Living bows to another sunrise, flood tides stripping death of reward with stippled me.

Gleaning rich profits, mainlining money like heroin and hardrock candy,
Why not herald our addictions, view this world through smug ruthless eyes?
Mountains of devils food cake, potent potions and virility seems dandy,
Maiming heaven men defile honour, craving desirably sly and devious lies.

Greed has marginalized our future, confusing thoughts of wrong and right,
Barbaric hath delivered us to the gates of rampage, rage manifesting a garbage heap,
Purity hath been imprisoned, something so very awry, all things robbed of intrinsic light,
Lethargy hath cooked the golden goose, losing that deep sacred we dearly hoped to keep.

Immersed in dangerous pools, swirling round all our hallucinations,
Whirling into some unknown, darkness wrapping itself around all life,
Prophetic signs paint relief by faith, pointing upwards with all our protestations,
Staging pompous acts , our Leviathan appetites engaging a bloodied knife.

Blood creating planet strains, veins altering our compromised atmosphere,
Mercurous lake, poisoned rising ocean, dammed river, spoiled radium spring,
Polluted soil, choking air, spirit body and ethereal mind, yet only a virtual tear,
Sacred vision has been lost, tossed hopes cry out, desecrated by everything.

Dreaming exalted Sperm Whales, clans drifting head down in the dying sea,
Forty catastrophes, ocean regions depleted of every fish and all forms of strife,
Dead zones growing astronomically, still pirates rape, pillaging free of every levy,
Water planes, subsonic whale song reforms joy to a dirge, bemoaning awful life.

Honesty should be served with our cannibal nature, consume population,
Tear out hearts, bleed the world, greedily devour every good thing raw,
Bludgeon children, squander life as we are tackled in this final conflagration,
Declare gluttonous war, admonish poor foreigners, diminish aliens with a profit only law.

More power more riches more wealth, barriers deflated then inflated so strong,
Pump crude oil, slash forests, mine oceans for snug corporates, smug corporal worth,
Peasants surviving plight and aggression simply to live, is not a moral wrong,
Waking on this abysmal crest rests a Sacred Turtle, still blessed by Mother Earth.
 

Curving carnival mirrors disfigure nature with strangely real impurity,
Deep oceans well up, roiling like cyclones in the midst of this desecration,
Sanctity flounders with this Cyclops terror, snagged by extreme insecurity,
Profiting tongues babble like broken records, preaching to a new generation.


Balancing I tip, elephant trumpeting, a physical lip on my extended trunk,
Possessing a wee jungle portion, glorious terra firm rising up to meet we,
Dreaming again, still trumpeting energy, manifesting silence as I monk,
Though I fail to speak, while merely smiling, the stars will even hear me.

Dissension feeding a smoking mongrel fire,
Like air like smoke dressed in reckless attire,
Ascension scaling forever higher and higher,
Like air like smoke like some sweet desire.

No comments: