Bleeding words - Marieta Maglas (new reading .txt) 📗

Content

-1.Words of Love.................................page 3
2.Metaphysics...................................page 4
3.The Snowman...................................page 6
4.Dance of Love.................................page 8
5.Sunset [ double Quintain (English and Sicilian)]....................................page10
6. One for My Baby.............................page12
7.Bleeding words................................page14
8.Moonlight Sonata..............................page 15
9.The Blue of His Face...............................page 16

10.The Eagles....................................page 17
11.The Lamb.....................................page 18
12.The Passing of Time .........................page 19
-13.The Non-Existent Truth...............page 20
14.Spaces of Faith................................page 21
15.The Echo of the Highest Peak....page 22
16.I'm no Longer Blind (Quatern poetry)....page 23
17.You Ask Me to lLeave (Pantoum poetry)..page 24
18. Queen Anne's Lace (Choka poetry)...page 25
19.My Crying jJail...........page 26
20. The City....................page 27
21. In the Same Space(Concrete Poetry).......page 28
22.The Computer Tree- Algorithm (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)........page 29
23. Metaphysics (Triple Cinqku Poem).....page 29
24. Pacific Trash Vortex (Triple Tetractys)...page 30

25.Araucana Chilean...............................page 31

 

26.The White City.....................................page 32

27.Variable Reality.....................................page 34

28.Summertime............................page 36

29.Odd Sensation.........................page 37

30.The Stone........................page 38

31.Natural Thrill..................page 39

32.Clinical Death................................page 39

33.Roses' Scent............................page 40

34.The Blue Cafe.........................page 41

35.God Breaks the Chains..........page 42

36.The Shadows of the Trees..................page 44

37.This Universe..............................page 45

38.Flamenco Dance.......................page 46

39.Bible, Franz Kafka, and Mayan Popol Vuh.............page 47

 

 

Words of Love

 

I have seemingly missed your words of love,
Those words that were written in the sand
And erased by the first wave.
Do you remember, my love?
I have enclosed them hermetically
With that last kiss.
And after that,
Another kiss
And another exotic beach
And another feeling, autumnal feeling,
Of another ostensible seemingly love
Fulfilled my nothingness...
Among corals and shells,
Dried by the winds of the sea,
I awake in following my forgotten steps,
Taken by the waves
And redirected to the great unknown in the sea,
That great eternal.....
I still love you,
I love you more, miss you more.
Yes, I still miss you
And I realize that all I can do now
Is to lodge near the moan of the sea's sand,
Which feels like a worn-out

silk slip dress,
When I touch it.
And slantingly I elect the oblivion,
When
I want to kiss again and again
Your gray-haired temple,
But, in reverting, I receive only
The kiss of our child...

 

Metaphysics

 

If we combined
The perfectly good and the perfectly evil,
We would obtain imperfection.
If we took 
A piece of paradise
And a piece of hell

 To gather them together,

Our souls would become less beautiful 
Because the truth would swallow the lie, and
The absolute truth would become relative.
If our love swallowed our hatred,
We would love each other less than usual.
If we formed an amphora
While trying to find the absolute truths
In a new and perfect love for Him,
We would need all our faith
To remove
All the lies and all our hatred of us.
If we lied and our hatred
Became two trenchant
Weapons,
And if we could chose Lucifer for hitting
Our relative truths,

They would mathematically fall to become
Downright uncertainties.
The wounded love would disappear from us
And we would turn into new salt stones, 
As Lot's wife turned while seeing Sodom burning. 
And if the truth was equal to the lie,  
And our love was equal to our hatred,
We would become
Absolutely nil persons,
While dying slowly and while melting ourselves
Into nothingness,

While the absolute truth and the absolute lie
Was in no touch.
The reason to save the self
And to search for the purity
Is that their arguments are always perfect....
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

The Snowman

 

The snowman doesn't know why
The reasons are balanced perfectly by feelings.

He was dealing last week with a snowstorm
Wondering how many snowflakes could fall..

The snowman thinks of
The pure joy of being alive.

Now, the rain comes down in trickles to melt the snow, 
And he wants to let all the weight of life fall to the ground

and to become a part of it.


He shines like porcelain now,
And he knows that he has nowhere else to go.

He makes an effort to distinguish between
These two incommensurable realms, nature and freedom.

He examines the black hearses spanning out of white.
He discovers the twilight sky, the rising sun,

and this inconsequential world. 

He understands that flourish of innocence and simplicity.

He makes an effort to distinguish between
His own immortality and his existence.


The snowflakes begin to fall so softly upon his icy heart.
The gentle snowflakes begin to fall again.
A blackbird starts to hang the darkness of the night.

The whole world constitutes for him now a

great ambiguity and elusiveness. 
He remains tightly closed with his owner inside. 

Significantly, the night begins to kill the day's seconds.



He makes an effort to distinguish between
The ineliminable input of external and internal sensations....

He begins to have his own consciousness.
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

 

Dance of Love

 

The wind scraps our deep love dance off with the sudden gusts.
Our swift flicks it several times, its tip just touching the wet sand.
The sky is blue, and the leaves of our tree are covered with rust.

My hands move down your body before reaching your hips.

 

 

The predation tremor is the early life dance of thrills flounder.
Cradling my body in your arms, my lips are warm against your lips.
Your thoughts make me shiver as my eyes wander endlessly over.
You take steps, and make the turn into, and become a part of my dance.


An explosion of dawn light and the stirrings of happiness herald.
You take me to a loving place, take me higher, I fall into a trance.
I keep the new world in the grain of green having eyes of emerald.
You keep close, love whispers in my ear; I fly to the heavens’ high.


While touching me, you dance your lips in many orbital circles.
It's a rip in the space-time continuum, and I hear the love sigh.
Love makes slain the sentinel, a deity surrounding our corpuscles.

It is a connection  between the hearts, the soul, and the body.

 

 

We dance our feelings, our tears, our thoughts, and our passion.
Dancing in the rhythm with stars, our love we need to embody.

Dance is deep, intricately intertwined, the impetus of our vision.
Ecstatic moments are rumbles of our minds and our souls.

 

 

 

We swallow deeply each other; it is like madness
And like a naturally flowing rhythm of our existence to feel
Every part of our molecular structure and to relieve the sadness.
You fulfill my desire, and you get my heart on a string.

 

 

We understand the language of our bodies having polar reactions.
Without you, I’m like a little star losing its mass and its rays.
When I’m with you, your love enhances me and gets me in a trance.
We become two souls dancing our love dance in the same clay

 

Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

Sunset

 

( English and Sicilian Quintain ) 

 

While the bud butterflies melt their wings
Within the light red poppy chain,
The pink-gray clouded, sad sunset rings
In this lost sky, the sun’s light vein
Is almost thrown in a bloody pain.


The leaving sun abandons the sky
For the moon, and in the cricket crawl
The leaves of the oaks whisper “goodbye,”
While the coming night has a dark shawl.

She looks at the stars with a black eye.

 

The sun and the stars find synergy,

In the regolith on the moon,

But with helium fusing energy,

This moon looks like a big balloon,

Or like a fragile, silky cocoon.

 

 

And like those thoughts enveloped in words,

Or like angels carrying their pure love,
Are the Feathers of the Holy Birds 
In that rain dropping the divine globes,
On the strong souls needing love’s rewards.


Any epistemological sphere
Is pouring up to the Holy Book,
Or is falling down to disappear.
The reverse arch gets a killer look.
Tries to provide fragrance of fear.

The fluid, wicked waves draining in sight
On Earth to meet at infinity
Are like the dark rays in the pure light.
Light rays are arches of Trinity.
Dressed in the wind seems to be the night.

 

Stars are candles and night lights them all,
The colors withdraw in the last light.
In the black darkness, they look so small.
The dream seeds germinate for a fight,
Becoming real for breaking their wall.
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

One for My Baby

 

His single-mindedness has been gone.
Became contradictory.
Relinquished to fight with
his chimera.

 

Now, he denudes, takes off his self.
Dismembers.
His lulls have to give shape
to his own abyss, as well as to open
the portal of enlightenment he does
not have without identifying the image of his emptiness.

 

All his convictions are to be cut off.

Nor is he not inaudible while he has to summarize
his own epic—a life being
not even wrong,
nor any sigh can be heard.

 

She is like no one else.

In the casino, the piano swallows all the heavy notes
instead of him, while
dropping them one by one into an
imperceptible mouth
until the culmination.

 

A quarter is lost.
She is forgotten.
She is no more
In his mirror.

 

Her age is wrapped in wistfulness.

 

His robotic carrion needs
life for raising the balance of his moneys—
nickel rocking rocks to change the destinies.

He has never hoped to be a better one,
but he forced himself to become a true story
of life.
His entire life,
he has been a poetic dreamer
locked inside his oppressive subconscious.

 

He has never stopped questioning himself
about the world around him
while he was afraid to live.
Ceaselessly, he has balanced his beliefs as he would
like to bend some sounds
for no more sadness about the true stories of life.

 

Now, she is no more his tomorrow,
albeit he is still in love with her
while trying to be
a compassionate one.

Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.

 

 

Bleeding Words

 

Your life with him was really horrendous,
a prolongation of a sad wishful thinking,
waiting to spew out his whole
stupendous spiral of love, and much
more, waiting to carve his
icy bloody memory on some
wave-washed wet shores of your mind.

All that had transpired as a sad part of this
numb reality
has truly died.
That invisible wall between you both

had been merely built on hip thrusts,

until finally,
you awoke alone
as after a horrid dream instead of love.

With a bloodshot eye and a fatigued bone,

you understood your anxieties and confusions.
The wind of change waved down

your moldy dreams.

You lost your hope,

being under delusions,
even you could survive as well as a golden
oldie.
You’ve been told that nothing good may happen
after a crude awakening in your
deep life abyss.
His sense of life meant only
power and rapine.
The reality still contorts and
deforms your bliss.
“What could have been” remains
a never ending effort to be yourself again.
You still hope to survive
within your lackluster woman
structure, pretending
that your unique dream of pure love is

still alive.-

 

Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

 

Moonlight Sonata

 

The cold winter can't destroy the miraculous invincible seeds.
The germination fundamentally changes them in the earth's maternity.
It is a new life running time when the cold snow irreversible recedes,
While a new spring embraces the deep mysteries of magical fertility.


When the seeds germinate, they always throw out a few anchor roots.
Those splintered cracks of the deep roots try to hide inside the soils.
The tall trees need deep roots and branches to bloom and to bear fruits,
While the whole land receives and nurtures the life it essentially contains.

When the divine spark leaps from the divine hand to the human hand,
Making the human roots so deep that they can face  the rage of each stormy clime,
Moreover, taking an ultimate shape in the law of the very green land,
This life becomes a moonlight sonata, which is always sublime.
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
2010.

 

The Blue of His Face

This angular house
is flooded with silence and solitude.
The blue on his sad face
is a photograph
hidden in the darkness,
whether ’tis love
in my dreamless sleep,
or ’tis suffering in my sleepless dream . . .
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.

 

The Eagles

 

The eagles can never know

The secret of the volcanoes
When they seemingly fly carried
By the sliding winds
Over cupped peaks of mountains
With the fire of their anger inside
Smoldering in the carcass of history

The eagles don't understand why

The green still suckles the spring's teats
And why the scream can be an echo
And the echo can be a scream.

But the eagles can hear

The cubic rocks which roll for rolling out
Their song
And the brooklet ripples which fall
With murmuring sound

And the eagles can see

The winding forest path
Which is apparently suspended
Like hanging wall thoughts
On the slope fringe
In a rock