Quotes about searing, page 14
Trapped
Today the sky is blue as far as I can see-
Except perhaps for one cloud
Dancing within the shadows of time.
Today I am locked inside of a metal box-
A metal box with one small hole
From which I can look out and see the sky-
But only the sky.
A gentle breeze blows through this hole, and
Slightly cools the fire searing inside of me-
That fire of anger that rages as would a forest bonfire,
That shall not be quenched.
Flames rise and smolder inside of my heart, for
There exists a small door inside of this box
To which I have the key to its lock-
A key that dangles from a string which hangs around my neck.
All I can see is the sky but I know inside of my thoughts
There are tall and beautiful trees outside,
Which that cool breeze rustles-
There is a trail where deer gracefully run wild,
Cardinals fly about and cicadas sing.
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Twins
[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]
Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !
Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !
I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
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poem by Aleister Crowley
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Ode to the Senses; a Sense of Prayer
When first I lost my sight,
my universe went dark obscure
blackest pitch of night
lit by dim memories
that blazed impressions
clearer than with lustrous light
though greater loss
not seeing you
than losing sight of all my world
and all the things you do.
When hearing left me deaf, a stone,
no worldly sound
my silent macrocosm locked inside
tinnitus my companion tone
quiet footsteps on the ground
your voice a memory that died
a quiet death,
though greater loss
not hearing you
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poem by Lorenzo Costigliolo
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Only In My Dreams
Only in my dreams
There exists such a place
Where there lives someone who dwells in this unique terrain
Defined as the heavens,
In whosever’s wakefulness
Paints the sky robin’s-egg blue, and as
Clouds, silver lined may
Never be permitted to
Obliterate the sun-
A special tree there grows
Holding in its keepsake
Many fond memories
Bearing flowers of a different kind than
We can see on this hellish planet earth,
The place I have named
The land of the delusive,
Fire burning in this torment,
Searing the flesh of my soul.
Voices personify madness,
Never defining safety of
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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Proximity Two
It was proximity alone;
the nearness;
the contact
on a too-close basis
that harmed her
she explained.
'Some people' she said
'by virtue of who they are,
by virtue of their being-ness
without malice on their part
can be bad for you,
sever your innocent heart.
It might be they are prettier,
smarter, calmer, or they remind you of
someone or some thing which plants gnawing fear in your soul.
These are Irresistible Flame;
you are the Irrepressible Moth
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Autumn Squalls
I miss you! I miss you!
I miss you! Screams banshee wind!
Splatter spatter of rain gusted upon
frosted streaming window pane.
Nails drum strike homeless portal
blown battered stand tormented trees.
Weep wethered keening banshee wind
weep all-solemn ash-coloured shroud mist.
Fugitive. Flee. Rush On. Without Rest.
Forever searching forever transient
forever recalling memory achingly lost.
Sighing through winter woods haunting
is windblown soulless lost chilling call.
Try Try to hide. Hide.
Refuge! Never! Is place found!
To hide haunted heart within
affirmation entombed memory.
Like a beached soulless mariner
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hudson
Hudson bawled loudly inside his head
As the harpoons of lightning struck
Piercing his six-inch thick chest.
He had expected the violent rasp
Before it had even transpired,
Essentially, he actually
Ignited the electrified fire;
But farcically or inevitably,
It had not kept him from turning over
To flailing into the famished sea
Of consuming ignorance
It had consumed him, especially his eyes,
Now aqueous and dithering
With no reservations for coagulation.
With such wavering and waxed vision,
Hudson had dispensed vexation
Into a twaddle tug-of-war
Between skepticism and ignorance.
He tried to outrun the asphyxiation
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poem by Norman Santos
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Downhill Path
Life is never a flowering tree and a hurricane snatched some brutality away-
In one sense of the word freedom would rule and
In another, I can only see the rain. I foresee no future-
Only dandelions grow all summer long and
Leaves fall from the maple trees as autumn sets in.
I grew up in a home in which
I often believed I was living in purgatory-
Far away from stars in the sky, although overshadowed by clouds-
The sun always rose at dawn.
Today rain falls upon the essence of time and
I can feel the heat of the brushfires in hell below me
Searing the road I am trying to walk- all uphill with no direction-
I have yet to find my place in this world, in other words, reality-
It hardly matters because behind me exists a downhill path upon
Which I can turn back and walk back upon to the world of my thoughts;
Life has never been a flowering tree and although rain has been said to
Nourish trees and make them grow- fog is dense and I am locked inside
A chamber of madness where the only sounds I can hear and see are
Monstrous beings and voices that cannot be seen or heard by anyone else-
I would pick a bouquet of dandelions in the summer if I believed that
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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In a Greek Amphitheatre: George Seferis, poet
Noon here in hot summer in this quarter-sphere of stepped stone;
the smell of herbs rolling down from the mountainside,
the light so strong that it seems to have bleached away all thought;
time is taking a siesta.
come sit with me here in this almost deserted amphitheatre
which has stood for more than two thousand years,
only the bees are quietly moving,
searching the flowers which grow between these huge blocks of stone
which someone quarried, someone brought here,
someone acted out the world upon, some many sat
and were moved to fear and tears;
someone ate olives, spat the pits between the blocks of stone;
now an olive tree bears witness,
its bleached roots like an arthritic climber,
splitting the stone blocks with the insistence of history.
‘Memory, wherever you touch it,
hurts’…
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Searching
The sky is raining teardrops-
Although the sky is a deep shade of cerulean blue-
The mountains reflect the color of the sky, and as
The sun is trying to rise above mountains of uncertainty-
I walk a never ending pathway leading to nowhere,
I fear the world that the sky rains upon and
These teardrops falling from the sky
Intermesh with the tears emanating from my heart that bleeds
Pain, confusion and terrifying madness
I feel as someone's hand is reaching out from the sky to taunt me, as
Eyes are seemingly staring from the creek that runs beside me-
Although dread is tearing my body and mind apart,
Robbing me of my flagging grasp on reality, -
I keep walking steadily upon that pathway, though seemingly void of direction.
The sky is raining teardrops-
Teardrops that could be falling from the depths of my soul-
I fear the world, inside which I could soon be drowning in a river of tears,
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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