Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - author central, anti-poetry, indie author

Obsidian Eagle's

Blasphemous Bazaar


META-Poems For A New Millennium

<br>META-Poems For A New Millennium<br><br>

The Flagship of Anti-Poetry — est. 2010 (Author Central)





Figurative Filaments

"Oh say can you see, my eyes, if you can — then my hair's too short!" ~ Hair

Figurative Filaments

 

In the theater of things sublime
Pilose players and pithy pipes combine.
Metonymy may mollify a meaningless mind
As apes at nature's apex are realigned.


Doubt but don't debate about design
Scroll past scrawling so inclined
Swear to secrecy your sacred find
Never overestimate anyone unkind

Where be the beacons that before shined?
We can't fast-forward, only rewind.
Wound up tight enough, try to unwind.
Within this verbose vortex every venal vertex is redefined
...

Footnote:
 

Bald figureheads grow febrile barring growling fibrous fandango
Set loose a top spins then dips midst tripped up tango
All eyes see photons reflected through their own prismatic angle
Skull-bound tongue has its way with one's brain once tangled

Come now ghost of Samson — let us grow our hair of strength!
What wondrous shimmering shall be shown in its length?
Weird yet wild antenna attuned to hardwired wisdom;
Unleashed by shaman's shout from inner shrine to outer serfdom.


Image: Poster for a London production of Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.

The Tempest Persisteth

Author's Note: This piece is a follow-up to an earlier one entitled, 
The Whirlwind Cometh.



The Tempest Persisteth


It shows no signs of slowing down
This maelstrom has swallowed leviathans whole
Everyone's days are affected somehow
It's futile to burrow underground like a mole!

Typhon blares his foghorn from on high
Corporeal creatures fear their own eventual demise
Yet those who don't take any chances are wasting their lives
Get caught up in the squall at least once before you die!

Tempus Fugit, we expire before knowing it
Blasts from the blizzard only rattle us a bit
Don't take shit lying low nor do idly sit
Life may be a struggle, but that's no excuse to quit!

Hover over heady heights of that hurricane's funnel
Rock the boat gripping both right and left gunnel
Force your way towards flashy rays beyond this tunnel
Come hither monsoon grow a river from trickling runnel!

Coda:

Shipwrecked islander try
Not becoming lamentably blind
Pry third eye
Wide open to luster
Lying beneath shallow waves
How they tint our perception with such subtle shades ...

Bask in sun until dry
Pineal rods and cones decalcified
Awry state rectified
Blow back against bluster
Showing resistance to being effaced
Heaven Ho; windstorm's course has now all been retraced.

<b>⚕</b>

~≈~
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