Ousted
In this madhouse world
Where the beacons are blind
And the canopies succumb
My eager sprouting vines
I tend to escape away
Engage in a subtle espionage
For the quintessence of life
Does not crawl in the skin
Of this moiré perfection that
Idealism vied to wrought
Under our noses and
Beneath our roof beams.
A tatterdemalion meanderer
Of agog sole and yearning,
A goaded and fragile arsenal
Of words and contours
Slurring in surreal slopes
To defy and to define
My voraciousness for hope
A touch on its sterile skin
Chaste, clean and deceptive—
A blinded scheme of beauty
I am a stain, a blotch of blood
Like a maladroit red pyrotechnic
Scintillating eloquently in
The undulations of the water
So I trampled in a rendezvous
With the stale grandiose of bitterness
Ensconced in the trance and
Inveigles of cheap panaceas
To desperately dab the wounds
Of the flagrant destitution
And to extol the fumes that
Will hide the desiccation
Of an unrequited contending
And no one will have to know
That you are ousted from
The sunset of your own funeral.
Everything shriveled,
Darkened and crunched
And putrefied without
A chance of exoneration
Because I cannot mourn with you
And dissect my lamentations
In your hands, for you have
Superfluous wrists of four
But only a single pulse
That cannot alter the beating
For a klutz waltz of death
If another wrist shall bleed
And the sun went down
Dripping with a red star
Ousted from the sky.
This is how it works;
This is how we'll subsist
When the Gods sequester
The bones and the morsels
From the aptitude of spirit
Ousted from their schemes
Their lives tight-roping seams
To live on without it and in
Solitary confinement.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
3 Legged Races
The insulated melody
Of the dripping spigot
And the restless weather vane
Drops tranquility in fathoms
That can make an ocean
Vast of wondering
Instigating a stride
Into a walk, a haste, where
Another leg is welcomed
Whilst you endure the lack
Of company in the ethereal
Highway of romantic jargons
And the tales in your skin
Ran down like the insulated melodies
Of disquietude devoid of
Tranquility, it flashes down
Like virulent kerosene
Sifting through lacerations
And yearning saliently
To burn the virgin lamentations
Reckon infinitely and
Convince the maladies
To crawl back in the nightmares
That haunts on unconscious states
And vie to steadfast into
The eager eyes riveted
In the horizon where
You belong and these thoughts
Ousted, run in a steady pace
Unencumbered by another leg
And do not trip crumbling
To lose their paces
Into the vale, faceless
poem by Norman Santos
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Machine Gun
Let me speak with tongues of loathe,
Let me bawl without strangling hopes,
Let me share my inconsistencies, and
Let me finally, bleed for me.
The putrid illness spilled into the bland sky
And the days sculled only to plummet down
Because the sun was ousted from these veins
And only darkness can linger into these alleyways
Now, watch me jump into my decay whilst you gyrate
With your blind lust and your gilded patina and rusts
This is the last time I would ever submit
Into the cajoles of your ulcer and fever.
Up until these dead days, I am inveigled to bleed out
The irony that shuts out, now hark: when did you ever care
About the toppling of the quartz? I know a dark limbo
Where the thoughts juggle, I found a parcel of vision,
Where your lonely sea of iridescence flailed from
Her ever pristine undulations, and it provokes you
To the machine gun's hollowed chamber.
You were only a bullet to your own gun.
poem by Norman Santos
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Bonescraper
There is no future for us to suture
Your life ill-fated, beat down and hated
Shot in the head, walking undead
Numb to the world, around your head
Rip my skin from my bone, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
Hide in the shadows, deep black, and hollow
Empty void of light cuts clean, like a knife
Damaged and torn, punctured by thorns
I've felt nothing since I was born
Rip my skins from my bones, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
My flesh <-> Your flesh
Your eyes <-> My sight
My pain <-> Your shame
We are the same ...
Rip my skin from my bones, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
Rip my skin ...
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know You're Hurt
i know you are there in your usual
electronic silence, facing the monitor of your laptop.
the kind of person who keeps all the hurts inside her heart
you bleed and you simply let the blood flow from your hands to the floor,
and the blood flows like water spilled from your
drinking glass.
the beauty of your pain
shows through those beautiful flowers
sprouting on the floors
all the vines of green and blue tendrils
spreading on the window sill, the ceiling, the roof.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Skin Cannot Hide!
black skin,
...white skin,
.....red skin,
.......brown skin....
human beating hearts!
...red blood, needs and wants,
.....all breathing,
........the same air!
diverse souls,
...unified spirit!
coming from darkness
.....into the light,
wrapped in different packages,
....all by the same hand,
small pieces of the universe,
...crying out to be joined!
skin cannot hide God's reflection!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Suspended Mortality
My bones shifted
Where a truant soul
Once malingered,
My eyes lisp into
The siphoning light
Purge into whiteness,
My lips quaver malignantly
And then sojourns shuddering
As a wisp of breath escaped
Into an abortive valley,
My grip tightens then
Loosen its flimsy cajoling
Torn between fighting
For convalescence and
Submitting into honesty:
To severing the cord;
I chose to fought to keep
The persiennes open
And to resuscitate
The painful haggling
But how do we fill our holes?
We live and breathe,
But what do we live for?
This skin is marred
By scars of little deaths
Pestered by the superfluity
Of bruises and sanguinary
For many a struggling and
Infinite unrivaled contending
These oppressions that
Sullies the sleepless vault
Is the same desiccation
I found in a burning wood
Thrown into the hearth
Accumulating warmth
This is the machinism
Of the puppet and his strings
Finding quintessence in
Harried places.
And as we ruminate
Into these glacial trail
Of our squalid putrefaction
We hope to make amends
Underneath a requiem
We vie for verve, we vie for demise
We vie to remember, we vie to forget
The tongue held in the cheek
From gorging the elegy
Because in living life
We nurture death
And the greater breath
I heave for your robust
Vigor and bereft
The greater defilement
Slither in your veins
Like sleeping cells
Waiting to burst
And poison you from
The very core
Without my struggles
The pain and its
Ever glorious spawns
I am tight-roping
In a suspended moment
Of perpetual decay
poem by Norman Santos
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Gone Away
I have gone away and I shall hesitate to stay,
Ousted and wept my partial compliance the day.
When night I suffer and expensive cures I hide and
Seek whatever held my trust as long as I live inland.
Sending away the same day I weep,
As for him I keep a sentence of faith,
That may end in botheration and row,
So go away and leave me alone!
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Making of a Prince IV: Eternal Wars for Sovereignty
A pen—a claymore, a crown; power
A paper—a vast land unconquered; possession
Tear drops and blood trickles down
In a troubled gypsy, pristine in beam and frown;
In a white lily, queen of her regalities;
An esoteric mesh—keys and codes,
Algorithms and genetics ensconced
In the marrows of a little prince's becoming
Burning a thousand year, browning a thousand leaf,
In the escritoire - the sanguinary palms of scars
And there I was, cringing without recoil,
A tatterdemalion defeat
A breathing carrion
Slumbering like a mirror
Concealing light.
But there's the damsel,
The king, and the star,
They vied for me
As how I shall for them
And now they have whittled
A prince from a lifeless stone
Shoved apathy away,
Lulled the demons to sleep,
And gorged destitution to death,
I shall depart and san
This part of the story
Where I shall wan away
From their reach
And shall they recognize
And leave no chance
To stagger and miss.
poem by Norman Santos
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Pay No Obeisance Unto This Purgatory
Do not stoop down, dear friend
Walk underneath the moonshine
and bathe in her splendid light
Never conceal your agog shadow
praying for a moment of dancing
under her phosphorous luminescence
Walk through the seething fire
and bathe in the freezing hail,
wear your grandest masquerade
but never let the salient rivers
on your unfathomable mirrors
to slumber into abeyance
or succumb into oblivion and
forget the splendor of its radiance
Do not lean upon the thicket
of the looming trees around us
for they are rooted in a land
that will never quake and shatter
even when the gears relearn
their clockwork motions, for in the end,
desolation awaits alone
Seek the counsel of the flowers
and let them blossom with
the stashed lamentations
because these will be the bones
of the flaccid and lifeless silhouette
prancing and bowing haplessly
against the swooning of the monsoon
This will be the arsenal and turret
protecting the frangible beauty -
in the semblance of brambly thorns
slathering the slender body
Fall not into trepidation
and never succumb to defeat
as long as these slivers
of a shabby heaven
still manages to subsist
upon this purgatory.
poem by Norman Santos
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Rendezvous At Sunset
Back on my feet
Another week is nearly over
We gotta meet
Now the beat is taking over
I work harder now Im done
I want a little fun, so tight
I took all I have to do
And now all I want is you tonight
Lets rendezvous at sunset
Take it through to sunrise
Well have a night well never forget
Well have the time, the time of our lives
Take me away
From here and into heaven
Need to escape
And I wanna go together
When Im oh so close to you
You hold me like you do, so nice
I can feel the rhythm now
Gotta get on down tonight
Lets rendezvous at sunset
Take it through to sunrise
Well have a night well never forget
Well have the time, the time of our lives
Lets rendezvous at sunset
Take it through to sunrise
Well have a night well never forget
Well have the time, the time of our lives
Rendezvous at sunset
Rendezvous
Rendezvous at sunset
Rendezvous
When Im oh so close to you
You hold me like you do, so nice
I can feel the rhythm now
Gotta get on down tonight
Lets rendezvous at sunset
Take it through to sunrise
Well have a night well never forget
Well have the time, the time of our lives
Lets rendezvous at sunset
Take it through to sunrise
Well have a night well never forget
Well have the time, the time of our lives
Rendezvous at sunset
Rendezvous
Rendezvous at sunset
Rendezvous
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where The Roots Sank
The incarcerated echoes
Inside your robust cage
Of ivories and porcelains
Resonated your name
Coiling into the navel
Where a brambly foliage lay,
Where one fates to fumble
Rummaging for an enigma
Ensconced in a solitary rose
With soldering petals of flame
Enervating the void dark
And the austere ravine stark
To pounce yonder your eaves,
Swell mellifluously condescending
Malignantly ascending
Like a staircase pummeling
The heaven in you tresses
And it reached my low canopies
In an eloquent fashion
Resembling the sun's expedition
Skipping through sodden trellises
Ineffable and esoteric
As how tomorrow's gloaming
Can set before today's dawn
Your infernal flower possessed
An enthralling redolence
A mystery more puissant as
It entangles its thorny vines
Into the slicing vesper's face
A labyrinthine for a rat race;
A phantom damsel for a dying knight,
An adversary for a chivalrous crusade,
An ensnare for the despondent beau
Of aphorism and ideals, all the same
A vermillion spit of life
Licking the brittle bones
No grander than the comported semicide
Ablaze my graze as I submit
To your inveigling light
Usurp my entity and bury me
In your fastidious color
And I shall thaw in your amber
Like a wax molding to morph
Brand new visions and inflections
I shall swim through your blood
And reside in your pulsations
Let me sink yonder your lips
Ajar and trifling a perplexing limbo
Of Eden's horrifying grandeurs
Until I become one with the flames
Its prancing and its stings
And the plummeting of the cinders
Spewed and ousted from the core
The warm hearth where everything
Is enticed to thaw, to sink.
poem by Norman Santos
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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Octavian This Time
motionless. this is the circle. you are out.
motionless. open,
parenthesis, i am inside, i am a pause, i am enclosed,
close parenthesis, and you are out. ousted. a bird, a pigeon, born to fly
to get the bud, and tell me, there is peace on the land,
trance. my tongue shrinks inside my throat. i am silent.
i keep things inside. they are gifts of silence. i treasure them
inside my heart, they become my priceless treasures.
my hands. do you touch them like greek gods? what do you offer?
a goat, a calf, a turtledove. rise up, and be a star. reborn,
a chasm, you fall, and you keep on falling,
darkness, and light, getting married in that chasm, and you
are there cradled between them
light. so much light. blindness. gaze. stare. close and sleep.
you ask, where are we? where i am taking you? you ask if i am still
holding your hand?
through your eyes. this is the passage of time. through your eyes.
leaves. flowers. clouds. the sun kissing the mountain top.
let all these stay. in your heart. let them sing about the birds
that build their nests in your dreams.
we arrived. we shall now leave.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Faults Of The Mechanism
The maladroit pacing
Of the gears toiling aimlessly
In the gnarls of my temple
Trembling for exoneration
From the imposed mechanism
Where another constellation
Of wintry metallic gears
Hold a violent clout
Girdled by my very thumb
And beckoned by my forefinger
This is how it works
For a masked man
And crystallized soul
A diadem of surly thorns
And impatient magnums
Is the incendiary plying
Of my blood's colour
Riving to be spilled flagrantly
And spatter to stain
The numbness of the grins
Or the chagrined moue
The mechanism is simple:
Come close, touch me
In the sanguinary skin
Gnawed by a bloating fear;
Come closer and scrape the sun
Haul and save me from this gun
Make me run, in your lovely pace,
Hold the gun
Now, loosen
Forget the vows of the forgotten
Release the burning forest
And watch the sullied man
Remove his fluent mask
And metamorphose eagerly
Into a carrion fenced by crows
And vulpine smiles
Of cheap remorse
Putrefying in your shadows,
Haunting in your memories.
poem by Norman Santos
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Goes mellow with that little dances
Don’t bleed your life with slow death...........
Engraved with beauty
Your puzzle is riddles
Your burning desires to live are above all...
Your drawing is not a drawing.....
But a masterpiece
Your magic has touched my soul...
Amazing
The soils where we were born are our flesh and blood...
Broken promises are hard to swallow
Regretful ness is better than ever
Before you're gone too far and deep
Bears in mind
Family ties are like water....
You can't cut it off.....
With a knife.
One of the holiest things in life is to forgive
And be forgiven
It’s like a solitary confinement….
Eyes wide opened...
To view the horizon of doubtfulness.....
Bad memories are always haunting and terrorizing
Be brave and ride the storms
Satan will befriend
Worshippers of evil and men of God alike
Keep hold of your anger
You’d need it in later life
A true heart will last the longest friendship
Nothing is enough when greed overcomes
Sometimes our lives is like a cheese
We enveloped the breads vividly
We will face the music of life everyday
A brilliant that could open up the hanging mystery of times…….
Hope for the future
Hope nothing would interfere
Hope for the best….
Everyday and any other day
The last words are always as good as the first
Death is a pleasant thing awaiting all mankind.
And the heartbeat………..
Goes mellow with that little dances
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Ouroboros
The snake that coiled asleep
Underneath the misbegotten
Earth unruffled agitated from
The vanguard of its slumber
Because his cold blood
Could never grow colder
And the scorching land
Could never get warmer
And the unselfishness
Could never be selfish
He shed his gossamer
And fragile skin to
Eviscerate the phantoms
Slithering with his dispositions
And super impositions
And then swallowed
The undraped suit
And the night was
A blood lusting
Carnal show
Where you blew the flute
To surrender and
Call it truce
He stuck out his tongue
Forked and rived
And palmed the warmth
Truant in the airwaves
And the arid coldness
Beckon the void chance
Of subsisting yonder
The scorching land
So his blood froze
Congealed with the
Chamber of fire
He held somewhere
In his labyrinthine frame
He developed a fancy
In eating his skin
And soon he shall
Eat his rattling tail
But never would he
Cave out again
To face the devoid
Chance of getting
To where he can live
For himself
And while she gets jealous
And while he gets jealous
He shall crawl away
Far from the dancing flames
Where his skin is charred
Only to molt him
Into nakedness
And leave him there
Eating his lost
And unwanted chances
To settle it fair.
It is an ouroboros
Eternally ensconced
Into the lattices of
The void.
poem by Norman Santos
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Kerosene Dove
From the dithering distance
The fountain puke swelling
In the belly of the sedentary sheens
Excoriating the cobbled streets
In the void knots of the theme park:
Amused with clockwork courtesy
And a tethering idiosyncrasy,
But the azure moiré of the canopy
Was no better than the soigné hostility
Imploding a muted friction;
A compulsion in its best
That scathes the incrustations
Of a reticent fellow in the flue
Clipping the flustering plumes
In the comport of a king
Ousted from his throne
Injecting the secrets to the bones
That where hollow in constitution.
Our fellow dove made of kerosene
Opted the safety in the blear of the scene
Suffocating on the surfeit effervesce of coos
While the soupcon quintessence kicked and flew
Far from the cotillion of the pendulums
And the infelicitous instigator of the palming odium,
But in the frangible hurls of the paroxysm
Beneath the torpor of his brooding wings
Is a fire that consoles the condoles of bliss
Yearning for the violent daze of the setting sun
To flick the yawning switch of shuffled impulse
Clipping itself to branch out in deeper fathoms
In the bosom of a cavern with smoldering fences
The wafting with the winnows of inadequacy
Lingering in the air will gyrate to enthuse
The urges of sadomasochism in the kerosene
Lathering and inebriating our taciturn fellow
With pseudo-valiancy and its kiths and kins
Thus, he will hurtle unfettered by any string
And he shall kiss the pregnant gloaming
Allowing its fingers to seize and grate
The lithe feathers bristling to scintillate
With the ignition of the kerosene
And the air shall stop breathing
And fanning the implosion of whim
To watch the dove incinerate
Slithering in austere vividness
Into a surreal orb of quasar
Sending the sun to abeyance
While singing the swansong in synergy;
The demise in an esoteric lilt
Humming in a whispering sift.
poem by Norman Santos
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When Beauty Said Goodbye
At twenty one she is a physically perfect being
No words can ever tell of her beauty
That has no parallel
She is the object of men’s’ fantasies
The woman all others envy
Her only Endeavour
Is to be beautiful forever
Yet as surely as sunrise turns to sunset
Her beauty faded
At forty one, she is petrified
Her perfection has been flawed
A soft skin has become hard
The effects of age she tries to control
Though sooner or later we must all grow old
Now sixty one, she is desolate
Longing for her beauty that once was
She has lost what she most loved
In torment she watches
As her beauty slowly dies
Mortal is the beauty of the skin
But true beauty, everlasting beauty
Comes from within.
poem by Bancroft Boreland
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Braille
Pray tell, my sleepless child
Without your name, who are you?
Does the color of your skin,
The sly motions of your lips,
Or the canopies underneath
Your sweeping eyelashes
Tell you about your secrets?
The tabularazas in our open palms
Shear the exhumed constitutions
With the blandness of nothingness
Because we are nothing
But blotted pages
And our blood is the ink,
Our contending is the pressing
Of the angrily hissing pen.
Let me take your hand
Into the frowning crevasses
And the pockmarks that
Slanders your skin
Like salient stones
For the dead man,
Slither into these roads
And understand
That we are made
Of bruises and scars
Now let me guide you
Underneath my shirt
Closer to the pounding
Of the harried chest
Inside this cage
Of feral yearning—
A yearning that is
Dangerous
The blue rivers that
Opposed the bloody ripples
Sprang from a chamber:
A pantheon of screams
That was unfettered from
Their vivid dreams
Pray tell, my ignorant child,
Now that you have
Traversed the untaken roads
Will you tell me why
It is so painstaking
To look inside ourselves?
Pray tell, blind soul,
Amongst the pointing fingers
Who can read
This mendacious braille.
poem by Norman Santos
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Usurped Eternal Frame
Your vines crawling upon my constitutions -
a glove to the empty hands of my
insufficient quintessence decapitates
the imposition with a severe abandon
In a not so subtle larceny of flames,
I foisted an intrepid whuthering
equipoise my defeated brawls
slowly stone-freezing in naivety
Because this loquacious tableau
still jousts with your nonplus propositions
adhering to the mellifluous conflagrations
by the hands of your phantom's exodus
And still, the furnace of your skies
shears the shadows of your manifold nets
like a storm-troubled sunny day
passing with an undecipherable augury
And like a murder of crows
I malingered on your adamant frame
pensively waiting for an aeon to fluctuate
and succumb to your succinct eternity
The searchlights pried behind curtains
and the sieves of the persiennes
its vindictive glare snide on my face
when it caught my sullen stares
The intrepid percolation inveigles
the beleaguered privacy to submission
but why are the supercilious rifles aimed
with stifling danger on my chest?
And the jabbing of your trifle attention
scathes my assuaging beacons, and
I donned more metal, more ignorance
descried out of safety and out of bliss
So I rocked slowly in this limbo and
the cadence of saudade serenades,
obstinately waiting for the an iota of change
to dance in a binary rhythmic pulse
Because in this eternal frame -
a bad case of impassable musing
reality grew visions and they are
usurping my delusions ever more.
poem by Norman Santos
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