Kazayan Raawban


Biography Of An Eventual - Poem by Kazayan Raawban

Never created....they simply eventuated. They were no-thing at all...... more of a possibility than an actual fact...they existed on the fringes of a hazy nebulae...
claiming their home was the valence shield of an atom...
here, there, everywhere....and no-where at all...
can they be called male or female? ...do they think? ....
not in the classical sense anyway...
to say they were always appropriate would be the best way to describe their behavior.
cold flow of emotion lost on them... into a black hole... of sorts...
a red brick house with flowers in the middle makes a coffin....of sorts..
as long as there is bread for wine...diamonds and mimes....mines....minds....
a brisk wind whistling wayward and home again.....
to a place where we're recognized as sinning men...a symbol of all faith-practices across the known land...
a metamorph into a broad figure of delight and remorse...a cold shoulder to lean on...to cry on....
and a coarse, hard morsel of course....i am a drunken war-horse...a whores divorce...
.a fading force to be reckoned....
a kind witch, of whom i'm fond and friendly with...
...flirting with a false pretense that i had latched onto...
...in case i got lonely standing only alone...
who are we fooling? ...like a bad clown at a child's party...
...what a hideous smile...
...bloody red grimace...
...like he had eaten something vile...
a sick grin stretched over aching teeth and trembling lips....
...cross-stitch...a royal bitch....
...murdering, sniveling wimps....
candle wick who's bright burn spent it's last hour....
you'll just have to speak out of turn
i wont qualify you anymore...
...i can not stop you...
little spot of True…dab of glue…pasty little hasty made thing...
four fingers pressed through the same ring...the Lion, the Panther, the King, the Steed...
marvel at this...and receive a miracle....
enjoy this savory moment...
where you stand at the edge of an active volcano....could i say 'no? '
...if the drain closed and slowed the tight tornado...
...pools of precious jewels forming in my navel? ...
warm my hands by the fire...rub them together...
like two lovers conspiring......sliding their salacious palms forward in a walking motion....
...pretty psalms and poison word potions....
...the sway of a small boat is a dropp of doubt in an ocean of hope...
...disharmony and an army of sour notes...
one man sings aloud on a balmy night...the moon high
over his shoulder and full...
taking in his every word
...a bubbling brandy stirred...bumbling dandy deterred from his True love and stumbling birds standing on the verge of peace...
only this....and what's more...i should have known...
but i was in the field laying in tall grass and wild flowers....crying eyes shining white...
i am lovely as they...dragonflies riding light...frightening lies hiding spite...
with no effort at all....smelling like innocence, warmth, and infancy....
fresh and desirable as a cold orange...you are not kicking against the pricks...
...you are a comfort to me....
...as a promise is… to a fool....
your cheeks are cool to the touch...
but your body is warm....
lay with me....
and let me inhale your goodness...Never created....they simply eventuated. They were no-thing at all...... more of a possibility than an actual fact...they existed on the fringes of a hazy nebulae...
claiming their home was the valence shield of an atom...
here, there, everywhere....and no-where at all...
can they be called male or female? ...do they think? ....
not in the classical sense anyway...
to say they were always appropriate would be the best way to describe their behavior.
cold flow of emotion lost on them... into a black hole... of sorts...
a red brick house with flowers in the middle makes a coffin....of sorts..
as long as there is bread for wine...diamonds and mimes....mines....minds....
a brisk wind whistling wayward and home again.....
to a place where we're recognized as sinning men...a symbol of all faith-practices across the known land...
a metamorph into a broad figure of delight and remorse...a cold shoulder to lean on...to cry on....
and a coarse, hard morsel of course....i am a drunken war-horse...a whores divorce...
.a fading force to be reckoned....
a kind witch, of whom i'm fond and friendly with...
...flirting with a false pretense that i had latched onto...
...in case i got lonely standing only alone...
who are we fooling? ...like a bad clown at a child's party...
...what a hideous smile...
...bloody red grimace...
...like he had eaten something vile...
a sick grin stretched over aching teeth and trembling lips....
...cross-stitch...a royal bitch....
...murdering, sniveling wimps....
candle wick who's bright burn spent it's last hour....
you'll just have to speak out of turn
i wont qualify you anymore...
...i can not stop you...
little spot of True…dab of glue…pasty little hasty made thing...
four fingers pressed through the same ring...the Lion, the Panther, the King, the Steed...
marvel at this...and receive a miracle....
enjoy this savory moment...
where you stand at the edge of an active volcano....could i say 'no? '
...if the drain closed and slowed the tight tornado...
...pools of precious jewels forming in my navel? ...
warm my hands by the fire...rub them together...
like two lovers conspiring......sliding their salacious palms forward in a walking motion....
...pretty psalms and poison word potions....
...the sway of a small boat is a dropp of doubt in an ocean of hope...
...disharmony and an army of sour notes...
one man sings aloud on a balmy night...the moon high
over his shoulder and full...
taking in his every word
...a bubbling brandy stirred...bumbling dandy deterred from his True love and stumbling birds standing on the verge of peace...
only this....and what's more...i should have known...
but i was in the field laying in tall grass and wild flowers....crying eyes shining white...
i am lovely as they...dragonflies riding light...frightening lies hiding spite...
with no effort at all....smelling like innocence, warmth, and infancy....
fresh and desirable as a cold orange...you are not kicking against the pricks...
...you are a comfort to me....
...as a promise is… to a fool....
your cheeks are cool to the touch...
but your body is warm....
lay with me....
and let me inhale your goodness...


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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 7, 2010



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