Poetry Critical - TurboSwami - 2009-2011 - 1 of 4 (w/ Comments)

[turboswami]

Such A Darling!

turboswami

A curious face stares back from the night,
1

The one she sees, that of a chubby cherub, such a darling.
2

Curious mistreater of selfish corners,
3

Portal on a poor pour us face, poured fate,
4

Into an open vessel so out-stretched, why?why!
5

Rolling curseI’ve written across a strand genetic,
6

The prying throbbing need bares my throat and heart to sharpened thighs.
7

Hedge clippers.
8

Head lickers, with hands unseen.
9

Holding a pair of hedge clippers, naked, with a raised brow.
10

Below, I am throbbing away in recollections of the day,
11

I feel every pulse up my neck, separate, but running alongside the heartbeat.
12

Serious, now.
13

Straighten up you slouching layabout!
14

Hobble up grobbler of down below the alter.
15

Its time to drink your medicine and get into out-through-bed.
16

Can you climb into the bed to wake up?
17

A giant cavernous hole extending deep into the square patchwork blue of the comforter.
18

Crawl inside your comforter,
19

crawl inside my chest and I will hold you there.
20

Huddled up against my heart, there in my cage.
21

How to make a life out of this? Too easily!
22

Soak a crowd of screams into a night’s flick blossom.
23

The flick of a lighter, the burst of inward combustion.
24

The flick of a scene into the silence, crying up from the blue.
25

Echoing out into the memory in ripples rising color from the black.
26

See me, don’t see me.
27

See me, repel from the strength.
28

Further and further, only to return back up in a rush of buoyancy.
29

Or maybe never come back.
30

Release from the gravity of our opposition.
31

So this was the gaping cold of freedom, unrestrained and sensitive.
32

I never remember it hurting so much.
33

End on a good note.
34

Bah dum bum tchhh
35

Returning To An Older Lover

turboswami

Do friends do that?
1

Sing such soft fragile things into those big beautiful eyes,
2

Dim dashboard light reflecting her welling intensity.
3

Do friends do that?
4

Do friends caress souls on a long warm breath?
5

Or plumb the depths for the most genuine self to offer up as a gift?
6

Truth of self, like a precious stone, is bound to trust in a loop, a ring.
7

Can anyone trust a man who hides behind truths greater than himself?
8

In solitude he reveals all to that greater truth,
9

And only in the finality of marriage does She return the favor.
10

6 Mar 09

Comments:

I have to admit, your poetry is ten times better, from head to toe than mine. I mean, each poem says so much about the human experience. “Do friends do that?” I mean, wow. I know what you mean too, Its like you have no flaws in your presentation. “...caress souls on a long breath?” I know exactly what you’re saying there... Plus, the number of words, I mean prolix is the best way to express even the most complex of human experiences-only to confuse and frustrate the intended essence, right? I give this a two because of its ultimate comercial message of importance on carbon. Diamonds aren’t precious, they aren’t rare, and you are not profound, nor intelligent.
 - MattPat

Mattpat,

I am sorry if I came off as pompous or pretentious.

I was trying to use wedding ring imagery to carry the idea of resigning to a life of solitude, and that being own sort of “marriage” to spirit.
In truth, its a bit of a depressing idea... but I had just been dumped so, yea...  : )
 - turboswami

I’m sorry if I came off as angery or abject-because I was. Misinterpretation is easy with poetry; when someone reads shallow, or if the poem is vague in abstract ways, the reader may be wrong in their interpretation, or the poet may need practice. I believe the latter to be true for you, and the former to be true for my work, simply because poeple do respond to mine in the ways which I intend more often than not. Your hasty criticism of my poem was frustrating; it was obvious that you did not read the poem, but instead, projected your own reality tunnel upon it, and reacted uppon that without reading the poem the way a poet aught to (more than once, and searchingly). I have no hard feelings though. I took a look at your myspace. You are a very interesting character in all actuality, and that complexity makes you more beautiful than most can say.

That being said, I hope you realize that a marriage to spirit doesnt require solitude, but for enough time to realize that it doesnt take solitude, and that it is not depressing, but to a person who is not married to spirit.
 - MattPat

I’ll Mark My Door And Call It Ours

turboswami

Lamb down my pretty hurt searcher and rescue
1

me, I’m ok. really.
2

Lamb down and lay bloody, my fucking innocent.
3

I’ll mark my door and call it ours.
4

I’ll lay beside you and neither of us will sleep.
5

I’ll wrap you tight till you feel safe enough to sleep.
6

And the blood will stop.
7

I know a sunset that’s red like that,
8

I remember seeing it behind the wind of your hair.
9

I remember how the clouds were purple with pity,
10

Watching that painful red goodbye behind the wind of your hair.
11

And now the red is gone, the clouds are lost in the dark.
12

You are no longer with me.
13

And the night has no such pity.
14

It is too slow and deep to feel with me,
15

The memory of the wind of your hair,
16

Behind me now.
17

14 Mar 09

Comments:

She was so innocent.
So pure she could read my mind.
I dont miss her body as much as I miss the way she searched into my eyes like a curious little girl.
 - turboswami

I found your poem to be beautiful, but your comment kind of ruined it for me.
 - banditfemme

your comment about the eyes set me back many years... i always like to read between every line in every piece that comes my way, it gives “me” insight into pieces... “always read between the lines and write between the lines”  Ferlinghetti
j.g.smiles
 - goeszon

Bandit,

I am glad you enjoyed my writing for that brief moment before scrolling down. : )

Perhaps I should comment more about how firm her little ass was, if talking about her beautiful personality “ruins” her for you.
 - turboswami

ah, you misunderstood my point. Your poem box has impeccable contents; let others
add their comments.
 - banditfemme

: )
 - turboswami

I love the title, the poem, the way it flows.  Awesome.  :-)
 - starr

A Rest From Rational Fear

turboswami

For 5 days, I call four magic smiles to furnish any mood decided by any room. Each smile carries it’s own distinct tone, a smile for time and a smile of mine, a smile of his and a smile of the raging hate of inflicting pain upon a loved one...each of these I cherish, with however much guilt one or the other may deserve, in a way which loves me down to nothing.
1

For 4 days, I close my eyes and feel nothing and everything shift through my tugging guts, neither but both all alone with her as I do what I can to comfort my child’s mother. I must remember her and her free spirit which makes me smile and laugh, frown and cry, grit and spit; the freedom which I never allow myself an innocent comfort for the long days which are sure to come.
2

For 3 days, I learned to love.
3

For 2 days, I fell in love with a growling angel who’s emptiness fulfilling beyond the realm of words. I hugged her back into line, slowly rocking her from exhausting sleep. I said “I love you” with every breath, exhaled. I dug a well with a sharp shovel, ground edge of my 22 years, and with it’s icy pure water, pulled laboriously
4

up from aquatic caverns far below this heated stress, I wish to plant a fruit try tree, and with stern daily attention, feed a lover.
5

For 1 day, I taught what I learned of well-digging to a man who’s water streams deeper beneath his stress than abysmal love could allow his self-restriction to thirst for.
6

15 Mar 09

Comments:

thanks for the breaks... way to many words... as they say you should chop this down to what your heart means... you know what i mean ,i am sure... it hurts to do cause it is your baby but you gotta do it so it will work, beautiful words but to much explanation... poetry is the essence of ideas before they are distilled into thought... by Ferlinghetti... as usual j.g.smiles
 - goeszon

Yea, its a wordy bugger.
...I mean, I am.
 - turboswami

i am a man of many words... an i work on it... Ferlinghetti would say “”Think long thoughts in short sentences” just look at my comment i get blown off all the time .j.g.smiles
 - goeszon

This was very deep. I am still trying to figure out the last stanza..the him you are talking about..is that you or your child?
 - psychofemale

Whose Soul I’ve Known In Ten Thousand Faces

turboswami

I use a trouble to make a trouble.
1

I struggle juggling young troublers, but was punished.
2

I slaired a turning stair down deep to the lit ones.
3

They greeted me kindly and didn’t ask my name, and I remembered,
4

Them in my eyes who I loved All all my Life,
5

The greater Life, from before this choice’s memory.
6

The Divine lineage, the greater scale, my place on the spectrum.
7

I remember them there,
8

and I remember all my lovers as one;
9

one beautiful radiant woman,
10

whose soul I’ve known in ten thousand faces.
11

A man who has accompanied me,
12

spectating me (kind spectre,) performing in life for me,
13

or once meeting in a life as deep friends,
14

two old fishermen who told stories of the sea.
15

25 Mar 09

Comments:

you’ve made a troubling poem of the beloved one
where deep calls to deep,
that infinite-in just beyond where we sleep,
in a tunnel vision where all the dead-ends meet

well writ allusions to the infinite in where the heart speaks in the tongue of silence
 - AlchemiA

fantastic

dont like the title

first line . .. laughter . . .sounds a bit italian accent caricature?

possibly me being premature?

at any rate

wonderful stuffs

utterly delights

thanks
 - unknown

”Poetry is a hand print of the invisible, a footprint of the visible reality, following it like a shadow” L/F... this drove me around to the end where i found... two old fishermen who told the story, remove the fluff, cut it down in size an it will be a container of love with no lid needed... j.g smiles
 - goeszon

Goeszon,
Which lines, in particular, felt fluffy?

The last one is the longest... my guess is that one.
 - turboswami

Changed the title, and the parsing. Did it seem to help at all?
 - turboswami

A Torn Tomb Swallows The Sun

turboswami

On a life like today, a torn tomb sets the sun.
1

Swallowing the side of a cycle in a yawning recline.
2

Old stories are told around dim remnants of fire,
3

faint ember of a man recalling passions that once blazed radiant.
4

His peak, when so hot and bright he could lick the treetops teasingly.
5

Dim eyes faded peer out from his tattered camouflage army coat.
6

Heavy head enclosed by his shoulders, he speaks from inside his ribcage.
7

His thought’s long beneath his quiet words, so long away from that fire,
8

So distant his gaze, searching the horizon for that warm light he once knew so well.
9

“Was I really ever there?” so long ago fades into question.
10

He knew once that distant fire on the horizon was lost, he could never return home.
11

He would be alone without a beacon.
12

No direction to follow to the light of those he once loved so dear.
13

28 Mar 09

Comments:

http://www.myspac e.com/thebandabsorbed

Song accompanies poem.
 - turboswami

Contemplations then drawn to dim eyes , such as mine, it seems that an older age has caught up with his heart of hearts, was i really ever there? when i think of the things i got away with i almost shudder... this was well written and thought out perhaps from one who is close with the thoughts i am at  my age where i read this and breath heavy for the feelings of this piece... thanks for your piece... j.g.smiles
 - goeszon

Snivel Sly Viking Vine Snaking

turboswami

Drag a strong eye down across Surface Steet,
1

Walking into oncoming traffic.
2

Shade a clothes’ stage fractured,
3

halling up a forest shard of sky.
4

Fellows hellows waved down long halos.
5

From that break in the sky where they’re no longer clothed.
6

Feel their field and sunlit white dress,
7

Like the purest veil from above the blue hue.
8

It was a vine that grew through the sky,
9

a two-tangled spiral of body and spirit.
10

One of above, one of below,
11

they met and merged as a ladder, learned
12

and learning, enveloped each other informing.
13

12 Apr 09

Comments:

has some very good rhythms in the lines here.. but i’m not sure what it’s saying .. other than drawing quite nice pictures :)
 - Feminoid

I was trying to draw the “axis mundi” as two vines of ayahuasca, intertwined within themselves like DNA information.

I admit, its a bit vague-but that shamanism stuff wouldn’t have it any other way. ;)
 - unknown

Nice one
 - psychofemale

The Labyrinth of Tunnels Burning

turboswami

Awe-men Some,
1

Sons of Om and Ahm end.
2

Stories of strobic patterns of light,
3

and the doorways inbetween flashes.
4

Straw men burn within,
5

their billowy remnants flowing out.
6

Stores of winning stories flare up spirals,
7

through tunnels course flooded with purifying flame.
8

Scrawl cross a dried mudbed, the tendons stretch and ligaments prod.
9

Like chicken bone pillars in line,
10

enclosing the extending edges of a darkened tunnel’s blind corner.
11

Nothing seen beyond.
12

Wardens coil slowly, inspecting the damage to their defenses.
13

Extensive.
14

A loyal fire marshal swings in to lay down rules.
15

I need to bring the rules through for him.
16

Slobbering body hounds sleep slow and wake sullen,
17

To search and dig on leashed regrets
18

through charred remnants of winners.
19

19 Apr 09

Comments:

tub-o-salami your first two lines are the poem after which it reads like you’re one of those channellers of dead-ghosts speaking in the tongue of a drunken Irish-men lost in the labyrinths of your mind-people talking through you, can’t hear what their saying, only the echoes of your mindless chatter-the idea bears some resemblance to tunnels ‘n labyrinths but it seems to get lost somewhere-the sounds of lines one and two and the word play is very interesting, however
 - AlchemiA

i think of burned out england and the fire marshal swinging into action after the hell... or the tunnel fire that killed so many leaving some piled like chicken bones... but the hounds would not be use so much in char since their feet could not take it etc even with booties... anyway i am confused... j. g. smiles
 - goeszon

AlchemiA,

Mindless?
Really? Ouch.

Tub-O-Salami. Hmm...
Your comment seems generally resentful.
 - turboswami