Long Smithereens Poems
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(The Spanish conquerors of the
Americas read out their legal
document, the "Requerimiento",
to the Indians. Failure to comply
meant the Spanish were free to
do what they wanted.)
Conquistadors in Vera Cruz
found themselves a radical ruse.
If pillaging was muy, muy lento,
they just whipped out Requerimiento.
Composed in fifteen seventeen,
this document was ultra-mean.
It won more scraps than Robert E. Lee,
was deadlier than DDT.
Suppose you met an Aztec mob
that wasn't happy to be robbed,
and far from handing on a platter
its gold and silver, wives and daughters,
was minded to contest the matter,
Requerimiento got unrolled.
In legal Latin, gooks were told
with lots of quid and quod and quaem,
exactly what was sought of them.
The royal writ was read aloud
to help the puzzled Aztec crowd.
So none may later look askance,
the dinks got every sporting chance.
All the Aztecs had to do
(clause forty-nine of section two)
was pay the pope an entry fee,
accept infallibility,
and send some gold to line his coffers.
Who could baulk at such an offer?
Clause fifty-eight - the Spanish king
must get his cut of Aztec bling.
They're hazy over "king" and "Spain"?
We'll have long decades to explain.
They don't respond? It simply means
we blow them all to smithereens.
The finer points can wait till later.
Non-compliance means they're traitors.
We've read the thing, so now we're free
of all responsibility
for theft or damage, flood or fire,
and if perchance it should transpire
that they don't dig what's going down,
why, take it up with Cross and Crown.
Thank God it's not like that today.
Before we step into the fray,
we tell them they're a "conflict zone",
and send in laser-guided drones.
If they accept their crude religion
is now a dead and pointless pigeon,
and take divorce and teenage moms,
then we won't use our cluster bombs.
There's other stuff here, on our list -
like Coca-Cola, lobbyists,
The Dukes of Hazzard, John McCain,
obesity and acid rain ...
at least we don't do like before,
and sell them, as we wade ashore
to occupy their ancient land,
some junk they'll never understand.
A battered pier glass, the length of a running lightning,
The width of a Caesarean window,
And next to an agelong, framed
Daguerreotype, lies face down across
A musty room.
Shafts and rods of robust sunlight from cracks and holes
Make it less dingy.
The smell of arrogant tobacco haunts the breath
From the shattered floor tiles to the somnolent ceiling.
Shards and smithereens, curved and piercing,
Hook up on the protocols of stalagmites
Through the affront of invading nuns.
I see hope and despair.
I hear the muted sounds of betrayal.
The shards picture life and stress,
And are far-flung.
A small, earthen gallipot is among the shattered.
Spewing gunk on the platform of a volcano,
The confronted floor charges at my wandering feet.
My right heel bleeds gently.
I look out not for a suicide note since it’s a rare
Occurrence in rainy summer,
But I hasten cautiously to the foot of the room,
Like a worshipper strolls piously to the base of
A mountain.
And right there, I garnered the news of the day.
To begin with, it was a just a tale of a trumeau mirror —
A patented piece of introspective glass,
Part of a speculum.
And someone, not entirely debauched,
Once owned it proudly.
How did I get in here in the first place?
A portal,
The size of an elephant’s bowels,
Opened up and let me in through an
Apothecary’s maisonette.
For some fellows, mirrors crack with lightning’s
Image;
For some others, they crack with impunity.
And my shtick,
(Since the age of the hen and her eggs)
Has been to patch broken mirrors together,
Piece before piece.
Come one and all, IT'S HALLOWEEN
WHOOP!
I sent Freddy to invite you to a bash
I see he's told you of it, sight unseen.
With a wicked dream and a bloody gash
You've been sliced to smithereens!
AHHH!
So stumble down to Elm Street for a little more gore
It seems you have a little blood on your slacks
There's a secret password to get in the door
It's: yell, "HERE'S JOHNNY!" and *Chop down with an axe*
SMASH!
Mr Voorhees will happily take your coat
Don't mind the expression, it never alters
Start to run now or he'll slit your throat
That machete there, he NEVER falters
EEEEK!
Oh what fun, up from the sewer and out on the town!
Keep on your mask so your skin stays in place
Before my next guest, a cannabalistic clown,
Makes a mask out of you! (for his friend Leatherface)
NOOOO!
I love party tricks! So I invited Jigsaw
The ones who get picked are always so lucky
Now show us how to get that contraption off your jaw
Hurry now, times almost up, says Chucky
TICK TICK TICK…
I think perhaps there is a party crasher here
A nasty little leprechaun, wrong holiday
It looks as though he's slashed you ear to ear
I guess he's in the spirit so.... he can stay
GULP!
You've met the oogie boogie man?
He ain't goin' nowhere, he's singing underground
No one can boogie woogie like he can
He dances around while you hang upside down
MWAHAHA!
Oh dear Mike, you’re looking a bit rough
I doubt behind that mask there sits a grin
Is it possible tonight you’ve had enough
Or that you tasted your own medicine?
BOO!
Tell us of folks with conscience clear on terror; of trusted neo
terrorists that oust teams, terrorizing thousands... near, far, and wide
May it marinate in their minds; peace and equality are as grated rind
with scent of pure zing... unlike vexed souls, bent on terrorism
Just last night, amid day light, before photographer's sky, right in
spring's warmth... such unforgiving moment of sudden fright
Thunderous wondrous sounds of bombs whirred, then cease, and
just like that came sight of flight 8430, blown to fallen pieces of debris
I saw red, white, and blue of American airlines's plane, meshed with chaos
just as those blown to smithereens during 9ll... Still I'll fly. Why shouldn't I?
In this land of plenty, we won't share cowardice with tyrants of immorality;
not on their watch! freedom bell has rung for everyone free of contentions
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." (... they knew not...)
Flight 8430 felt Coup DE main... not of You, Great God of earth, sky, and dew
I shan't forget humongous, booming sounds of invisible bombs that flew and
flung sudden terror so near, i hastened with thoughts of Islam and coercion
Of intimidation, degradation, castration; of trepidation, and mutilation
that moved me to see martyrdom in terrorism as ignoble affiliations
I'm due like you to sit snug and breathe with ease here and now, without
quest; will I survive or will I have time to utter one final goodbye
Night's stream of consciousness was dream, dear God, but Your world need You...
only You; by power of Your might, turn terror to unadulterated thanksgiving; so
As we ponder canvas of sky with eyes beyond clouds; we'll grace life with
courage; for we shall over come with hope, with aims, and with our dreams.
*
HONORABLE AWARD POEM :
Allpoetry July 26
Prompt : Evanescence: Album Sanctuary
Song : Sanctuary
_____________________________
[Intro]
Now is the time
awake to shine —
above and below together !
separation’s in smithereens
sky an expanse filled with dreams
no more distortions beaming
towers toppling, new earth asking
truth no masking —
[Verse 1]
Go into sanctuaries
solitude in limitless dark
building safe arks
inner strength uncrackled
virgin life unbuckled
[Pre-Chorus]
You are here touching
astral stroking
hush hushing
[Chorus]
We are our own sanctuaries
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey
let them walk skew paths
we make our own ark
[Verse 2]
Plumed serpents we moulted
watching for those who came
sanctified by our suffering
in darkness we were buffering
[Chorus]
We are our own sanctuaries
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey
let them walk skew paths
we make our own ark
[Bridge]
Over aeons we served the All
missions without constrictions
guided by seven rays alluding
now we are concluding
[Interlude]
Into sanctuaries we go
hush hushing
towers are toppling
solitude in limitless dark
coupling, no hustling
[Chorus]
We are our own sanctuaries
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey
let them walk skew paths
we make our own ark —-
__________________________
Unbearable thoughts barreling through my head
Decaying in this silent chamber...
Where I desperately cry for help
Words come out useless...I have no capability to yelp
They haven't collapsed in the hands of the unforgiving jail-keeper
This pain grows in my bones...making me weaker
No one bothers to consider me
Circulated by envious glory
That snicker at my carrion body as it drops in dripping failures
Dragged by the sickening thought of living with jailers
As if i had no outlook to life...
I'm still placed in this cold-heartened chamber
Because I'm drenched in silence...
haunted by the deafening atmosphere
sensing a load of terrorized fear
Shame embraced me, never leaving my presence
Cautious of the hovering thoughts,
transforming itself into my dreadful, panicky past
This hopelessness doesn't seem to matter
In this chamber of deceitfulness
Someday...hopefully Someday...
This silent chamber will shatter
For now, I'll abide in this loathsome,
silent chamber
Until God, My Savior, will shatter this wretched place
Into smithereens
How I remember lazy Saturdays
at grandma's house. It always was a treat -
and after carefree time at childhood play,
I would come in, tuckered, hungry, and beat -
and what was Grandma cooking all that time?
her patented, dependable, grand feast -
from pots and pans, savory steam would climb.
and just in time, us kids would take our seats.
for roast beef, mashed potatoes, and string beans,
salad, cranberry sauce, and buttered rolls.
Then my stomach would burst to smithereens,
from homemade pie and ice-cream served in bowls.
I recall each and every happy day,
and Grandma would have wanted it that way.
"If your hate could be turned to electricity,
it would light up the whole world."
And if that hate rose up, and you like a volcano
shattered, bursting through every eclectic synapse
of your tortured brain; if your mind, it being so close to God
that no space could ever be in-between both,
then that hate would be blown into an infinitude
of charged particles, and those electrical smithereens
would flare out, magnify as a great expansion
to become in one instant innumerable suns
and thus the light of the world would be love eternally.
For love can be reborn from hate, but never
hate be birthed from love.
"Be alone, that is the secret of invention, be alone,
that is where Ideas are born."
Originality is not found in company. Aloneness
alone brings forth an Idea that will only arrive on its own.
Then quickly the many will also realizes that idea and claim it,
but the one who received that Idea from the One Mind
that one was alone.
cutting the line, turning the page in front of the mirror
removing your name from the door
because it should be irreplaceable
for ever
I can not write anymore
of this fierce absence
that doesn't fear the ice of the night
that doesn't break itself
in the dark depths of your distance
it's the most terrible night
it's the most suffocating
and paralyzing Winter
in the broken dream
of a bright mirror
it was yours, and it was mine, just yesterday
and was shattered at a stroke
in an only instant
ruining into smithereens sharp
with whom, devastating me,
they cut my soul
in the smallest arid fragments
not reconstructable
landsliding-dawn
on the threshold of our house
when it lacks even the verse, and you can not
you can not turn the page
in front of the mirror
anymore
and you only can
remove her name
from the door
because it should be
irreplaceable
for ever
patience is not an embargo;
eerie enmity oozing flows
gaunt gores, perforated pores pruned
fostering felon feasts - foiled fluid
neither is patience hoisted hay;
nocturnal nature chopping day,
smothered smithereens callous clips,
dark dribbles, moist mood, drizzles drip
patience is all but wanky wait;
taciturn haste fuming torn trait,
etched emotions lagging, joy foiled,
confetti of wishes - wit's spoil
patience's an ocean draped'n torrents,
amateurs savor waves' torments.
'20:06:27:12:20
Note: of pored patience.
Listen here: https://soundcloud.com/zuxian/reserata-carcerem-xxvii