Covered by the dark demise of runaway laughter,
I find myself lost in a chaotic chapter.
How cloyed it is to be consumed by rage,
As emotions swirl and violently engage.
Most savage-such than our gentle origins,
Anger grips me tight, its grip tightens.
I crave solace, for a moment of peace.
But in this storm, my anger does not cease.
I am wanting to live in my remote portrayals,
Where laughter embrace is an adytum that never fails.
In this realm, I am free from the chains of fury.
Where joy and mirth replace all that is dreary.
Oh, how I long to be lost in laughter warm hold.
To escape the darkness that has taken its toll.
To find solace in the sounds of contagious mirth,
And let laughter guide me back to my own worth.
Staring the sky , whispering towards the star,
full moon rise upon the winter sky.
"Talk spirit talk grant the hopeless person a wish,
reflect upon the sky and teach how to preach".
Lying with one breath left on the bed,
tears stream running as the memory flash back.
One last blink and close it forever,
body grows cold like the air in winter.
Nothing's left , the one last sigh end with a void,
the air dances as the body becomes cloyed.
The richness of death and the poor life
was toyed by the hands of the sweet bitter love.
Try to often and readily avoid
What makes others annoyed:
During prayer pressing android,
Invading others’ spaces, yours void,
Another appetite getting cloyed;
A plane stopping from being buoyed.
Try to singularly avoid
A killer knee on the neck of Floyd
Leaving A Triangle to draw A Cuboid
A Circle skipping for A Trapezoid
A Human making out as A Humanoid…
With others’ dreams I’ve never toyed.
Ever more alone than this
No creature life to tease my eyes
Mornings roach long gone to freedom
Hands ice cold on cell block bed-rim
Ever more alone than this
Invasive sound intense in meaning
Stark distanced clang of high tensile steel
Bitter requiem, my poor mans bell chime
Ever more alone than this
Copper mouth of fear, stark marker
To thickened tongue, for no good reason
Behind lips as dry as perished rubber
Ever more alone than this
Cloyed aura of human bucket smells
Chilling reminder of my frail mortality
On mucous membranes condemned to death
Intense unbidden claw of fear now rising
To clutch a heart to late for hope
Never more alone than this
Most sweets their nectar pollen pollinates,
Preserving life before their sap gets sapped;
Yet amber's sweetest resin resonates,
Ambrosia's essence from death's lap gets lapped.
But you, my sweet, are most untimely soured,
Indulgent hungers feed with greedy gluts
On dulcet fares, you're from your prime devoured,
Consumed unsweetly through most seedy guts.
You're like a cloyed, discandied bubblegum,
A sweetened, syrup-sugared pixie dust;
Your cheer gets halved, they're more than double glum,
An eaten snack succumbed through tricksy lust.
Most sweets conserved from death live still distilled,
Yet those most sour that have their fill fulfilled.
A smile is cast upon your sultry face
as lover's glance makes way for love emblazed.
With timid touch your breast my fingers trace
in search of love's familiar urge unfazed.
Your skin like silk pressed warm against my chest
entices feelings longed for in my bed
then with a kiss your love leaves me caressed
with cloyed emotions, burning flames have fled.
But lonely hearts, so filled with you, will break
on lips as soft as heaven's sweet whipped cream.
I taste your soul with every breath you take,
when passion's hunger's lost within my dream,
then dreams of you are all that I can see,
for love for us, in truth, can never be.
08/02/16
The beauty from outside the beast from within
How careless was nature to commit such a sin
Not to equally on your parts grant its grace
Sparing the heart and saving it all for the face
The face of a princess the heart of a tigress
You’re cloyed with beauty but lack loveliness
You still can adjust this error, if you start
Working less upon the face and more upon the heart
Under the depths below the deep
of this Atlantic Ocean
live the lobsters that crawl and creep
with an articulated motion.
On the ocean that smells so fresh
the boatmen cast their nets
for lobsters' tender, tasty flesh
which they'll sell to pay their debts.
With a great catch this new season
the boatmen head for home;
the frozen lobsters give them reason
to reach harbor and not to roam!
In restaurants and sold at stores,
the lobsters are enjoyed
till all on New England's shores
are full and over-cloyed.
Oh, faery finch, whose golden form does climb
Athwart the starry bays of poesies, sweet,
I hear your voice, and drown in slumber’s clime,
As I sit, pond’ring in my woolen seat.
My quill spills no sweet word or sweeter song,
For my heart such cloyed passions cannot game,
And doubly more lies speechless my sore tongue,
And triply even more, my soul’s the same.
As hours pass, upon these pages, bare
I stare as if no passion stirs to fly.
To mount into Eutrepe’s mystic lair
I couldn’t, ‘till your tender lullaby
Had touched my ear, and from my breast awoke
Some passioned fire, hearing such sweet voice.
Of Heaven’s bells and Heaven’s harps. Out spoke
Your lilting charms which, magically employs
All of the Muse’s finest strengths and spells:
Eutrepe’s mystic hymn, Erato’s grace
And Calliope’s trance which softly swells
In finest verse, and in such verse does trace
Vast time. Oh, finch, were it not for your song
Nor for you visiting me, worn with age
No words would spill from out my stricken tongue
And writ wouldn’t be to you, my own homáge.
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
It was at our gate
A tree the bloomed white rose
And bore velvet leaf
That type of thing that makes a child believe in fate
I mean the sweet scented kind
Like a woman's skin covered in oil
One day I stood there again
Long after my father fell asleep
Leaving me like an abandoned child
My heart was cloyed with grief
And like a child I weep
For love I had taken for granted
Was gone
The fence had fallen too
And I was forgotten
At the forgotten gate
Where the myrtle rose grew.
Love latent in us unladled cloyed our heart with pain
Orgasmic thoughts that seed our efforts vain
Residues of things that will not walk away
Nested in the memories few, the longing lips to say
Always in innocense, yet love yearns still for you.