Saturday, June 26, 2010

Heredity


Darkness dwells deep

Constant conflicting
Quiet curse
Caring conscience's
Cold consequence

Survivng sorrow
Surrendering silently
Sinister scenarios

Flaws found
Frayed fabric
Future freedom
Fleeting feelings

Brutaly battling
Before begrudgingly
Baring beautiful betrayal

Darkness dwells deep

By: Pancho Madness

Sunday, June 13, 2010


we laugh
between
breathes
heads thrown back
mouths open to the sky

our laughter rises
singing the song of solomon
"I am the Rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys"

it settles quietly
on the leaves
ready to unpack
to mingle with the warm summer currents
and get lost
in the brilliance
of the sun

Saturday, June 12, 2010


The disaster in the Gulf reminded me of this poem by T.S. Eliot:

The Hollow Men
By: T.S. Eliot

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Summer


Soul's match met
Swinging swaying summer
Your music makes mine
Longing to linger like
Moisture in the air
Sticky humidity
Till your breeze slices
Refreshing exhileration
Splashing lightness into existence
Dreamy streams melancholy
Unconcious of reality
Lost in the swell of you
Giving no heed to caution
Only the rapture of your scent
Deserves attention to detail
Delerious dancing
Under shade of tree
Only now is real
This eternity of
Summer love
By: Pancho Madness