Untitled, 1st February 2016

She placed the world against arousing paradigms
that salaciously played with wood and feathers,
fire and flames, that grew in aching hours, prurient
and gradations folding with new dissonances. Each
lubricious memory, that danced within the chasms of life,
hold suggestive to those witnessing their yearning, rife
and pornographic to those with privileged visions.
In smutty condensation, the world splashed indecent
hours lightsomely across the stars in spring time.
We heard they were improper reflections, and knew
that only these pictures held us to such reproduce times.

But, we are not together in these realities. Only images.
In the world we will be free, it can never be so here.
The world and stars brand our memory. Free them. And,
we will still have our words, no matter where they travel.

 

© Phen Weston 2016

Dramatis Personae

I pretend to have emotion,
or, render these holes with
an elastic plastic filler, an
epoxy resin to resemble
the apostrophe that displaced
the empty seats within my soul,
I fill the empty glass
with nothing more than this,
or that, dried frozen goods
to dwindle past the tedium
of foreign memories, of another
you, who was little less than I, yet
each the same and nothing more, but
strained to wear this face again,
that face filed away with age
and the abstract trails we made in
those fields of meter high grass,
graded on the way to ever-last, tomorrow,
clipped at the knees of my sorrowful
friends in fearsome storms, and
mourning of the eyes I long
to share between the sheets of.
Not. Another. Love. Poem.
About regret and tenacious
redressed pride, the collapsed,
the stagnant, the hurtful crime,
that stripped these eyes for vultures
and long to be apologetic.
Not. Another. Love. Poem.
She cried into the windscreen
as the world rushed towards her,
until hearts bled with turmoil,
the gushing, frantic cascades.

  
© Phen Weston 2016

Sacrarium Deiparous (Revisited, 27th January 2015)

Today words curve around my vision,
stumbling from my parched core
to soak again those strands of silence,

And all I can see, standing straightened,
in violet lies and blind endearment, is you,
focused on falsiloquence speech
for those loving spasms of my life,

But I have no time for feretory displays,
when light conceives new beginnings
far from those madding crowds
of hyperborean malice renewed,

There is peace in this celestial world,
stinging and striking harmonies,
where I sit beneath the canopy of heaven,
relinquished of flavescent fevers,

Fructiferous by my own self will,
A being of human significance,
in my place of sacred objects.

IMG_2920

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

3 Quotes/3 Day Mr Rupley Challenge… (A very late) Day Two!

So, Mr Rupley’s challenge is slightly late, and I’m really sorry… But, I promise I will make it up to you all… So, to do that, and because I know Mr. Rupley will appreciate this… First I will give you a quote, and my nominations and then I will share with you all the secret truths of the life of Rupley. A man who is an amazing movie star, which the world is unaware of! So first, a quote…

  
A beautiful and truly amazing quote about how precious life really is (from Carl Sagan)! The world is perfect! We are all connected in ways we cannot possibly comprehend. Humanity is too young, but oneday everything will make sense, and in ways that will make the pettiness of the world look completely irrelevant.   

Now, my nominations:

  1. Murrsma of the cracked crone. A truly wonderful and beautiful poet!
  2. The very wonderful BusyMindThinking, a fantastic mind and blog!
  3. The newly discovered and wonderful GenuinelyEllie of t0bec0nsidered

  

But now, because I know how you have all been waiting for this… The secret life of Mr. Rupley!

   
    
  
    
  

3 Quotes/3 Day Mr Rupley Challenge…

My good friend and fellow poet, Mr. Christopher Rupley, has challenged me to this three quote, three day challenge thing that seems to be going around (like the common cold during this wonderful winter season). So, have a quote…

“Kindness in words creates confidence. 

Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. 

Kindness in giving creates love.”

– Lao Tzu

I thought I would go a little further though, and give you a little background to one of my favourite ancient Chinese philosophers. A teacher who came into my life when I was searching for meaning, and has never left. If you have not read his Tao Te Ching, you really should! It’s a fantastic and beautiful book.

Lao Tzu (Chinese: 老子; pinyin: Lǎozǐ; Wade-Giles: Laosi; also Laozi, Lao Tse, Lao Tu, Lao-Tsu, Laotze, Laosi, Lao Zi, Laocius, Lao Ce, and other variations) was a mystic philosopher of ancient China, best known as the author of the Tao Te Ching (often simply referred to as Laozi). His association with the Tao Te Ching has led him to be traditionally considered the founder of Taoism (pronounced as “Daoism”). He is also revered as a deity in most religious forms of the Taoist religion, which often refers to Laozi as Taishang Laojun, or “One of the Three Pure Ones”. Laozi translated literally from Chinese means “old master” or “old one”, and is generally considered honorific.

    According to Chinese tradition, Laozi lived in the 6th century BCE. Historians variously contend that Laozi is a synthesis of multiple historical figures, that he is a mythical figure, or that he actually lived in the 5th-4th century BCE, concurrent with the Hundred Schools of Thought and Warring States Period. As a result of being a a central figure in Chinese culture, both nobility and common people claim Lao Tzu in their lineage (Goodreads, 2016).

    So, my nominations today will be (if you want to take part, haven’t already, etc.):

    1. Tone at Mister Norcal
    2. Karin at The Eclectic Poet
    3. Lis at Gedichte, Zitate in Einklang mit Bilder

    Go check out their amazing blogs too (by clicking on the names). I promise you won’t be disappointed, they always have beautiful words to offer. Have a wonderful day/evening brilliant followers!

       
      

     
      

    4 Micropoems

    Today I thought I would write a micropoem while I had a few spare minutes, that then turned into attempts at several bilingual micropoems with similar themes. Hopefully, my inability with languages has not hampered the meaning within.

    Thank you for reading.

    ********************

    You are there
    as only ghosts can be,
    draped in aphonic shades
    I long to hear anew,
    speak my name
    iubirea mea, părăsit.

    ********************

    Show me your heart-
    giulgiu și umbra
    tell the story
    of our whispered night-
    arată sufletul tău
    to the wolf- ispită

    ********************

    Ofili cu sensibilitate
    into desire,
    do you want our touch?
    Corpul nostru gol
    to winters storms,
    ierni dragoste.

    ********************

    Apoi da-te la lupi-
    their bed is warm-
    secretul nostru- core nostru-
    with teeth of crimson-
    devorat și întreg-

      

    © Phen Weston 2016

    Dissembled Shift (Revisited, 14th November 2014)

    Does desultory skin dances
    Along the isle of life’s dreams?

    Devotions void on efflorescence ripples,
    That lasting, feathery feeling,

    How I’d walk the line,
    Riding high on crucifixions ecstasy,

    For those chasmic reflections
    Or deep wandering sanctums,

    Serendipity marks her forehead,
    Washed with ebb and flow,

    What peace is found in rough wake,
    Plethora settled by dawns panoply,

    And I see it all again,
    The waking loss of divine love,

    But, oh, that’s another story.

    IMG_2822.JPG

    Poem © Phen Weston 2014