Poetry (p.2) - (attempts from 'the muse')

"CANTO-UPENDED" (Pt.2)
Copyright (c) 1992 Maljam
 

X - “The Lie”

The lie became truth.
So truth revealed;
Believe in what one
wants believed.
Even if the truth distorts ‘till the
Disfigurement is coldly alarming,
Until the point of absolute pain.

What knowledge does this
Hurt pass on,
Anger of frustration or the
Rage of bitterness?

Whereas now, only fear and hiding
Cover the ground with their
Heavy damped’ blanket of
Soddon loathing.

Who in this, that
Mocks the innocence of those
Seasoned obscure?
Dominating their featureless lives
Of none who wish so more,
But can never attain their
Unpublishable contrived perfection.

What! To overwhelm the mocking cries of
Living these satirical lives of want.
Desperation tires of desperate minds;
So thus contrived the lie.

October 1990
(c) 1990 Maljam

XI - “The Midden”

What recompense the pale insatiability;
Come-back the dawn of remorse.
“Thinking of tractor-engines” to remove theses
Disillusioned self-controlled motives.
Of longed-for harmony; but in a dissonant
Destructive decay of pathos,
Upset the balance of these un-gifted lustings that
Find their home in a lost space of
Weeping conscience.
Try to dismiss the agony of heartache torn;
Left to rot in the rut of repellent desire
That owed its’ defaulted origin in
Callous selfishness.

(No sense of loss, not but fetter game played;
The waste from the wasted night,
Removed without honour into oblivion’s domain.)

January 1991
(c) 1991 Maljam

XIX - “Day in Ancient Rome”

“I hear death has taken the day off.”
The impracticalities of our wild statements
Made my parents mad. In wishing for peace, we
Attacked their serenity with noise, images of
War, sleepless nights.
The key broke in our front door lock,
Grounding freedom in her youth, the
Establishment fell on top of us, cull-linking us
to the pearls on our fathers’ sleeves...
The dream-like state in which I exist -
endless; awakening in sunlight,
poured like streams flooding the yellow-brown
headaches that drown my lost view.
My parents shadow my every move;
“I am not here. This is not really what I feel.
What I want is far removed from their reality”;
Inheritance, its’ claim weakening,
leaves me gasping for my life.
I know now the lies
sweetly iced, family life caked rich with
royalty, cosiness and servility.
I can never get that back.
What I own, I keep hidden in a lost
dream-time, mine to share,
with no-one but time, asleep,
if just beyond my reach.
Will I ever have a lifetime to
complete these fantasies I keep?

Ancient Rome knew greater disaster:
on muddy banks, whole legions of proud men,
swept to their doom, all thanks
to their ancient vanities, caressing faces
of the newly-dead, washed pale under the
madman’s bridge; foamed brown
water freezing their fingers, encased
in their masters’
dread.

I live, as my heart
gives me life.
I weep.

Maljam, July 1992
(c) Maljam 1992

XXI

Lost in a sea of hopelessness

~ If an answer lays within our

~~...hand of mankind laying webs
 

surrounded the wasted ebb of

~ minds, hearts overrule conscience;

~~ spun inward, trapping this:
 

my drowned youth, searched

~ Looking up, the world sees

~~ unknown, fearful, disinterested;
 

unfathomed; finding no answer

~ so small, when viewed from

~~ Closed eyes, clear vision,
 

in the echoes of my cry.

~ within. My confined

~~ shadow my sudden
 

Silence.

~ grief.

~~ loss.

Maljam, July 1992
(c) Maljam 1992

XXII

Maljam, September 1992
(c) Maljam 1992

XXVI - “Surprise 2” (Alex)

Ibelieveinthinking
butonlynowandthen,
someone’slostthethread.
Livingiseasy
I’vebeendoingitforyears.

Alex Macdonald 1990.
August 1992

XXVII - “Carlos”

Maljam, July 1992
(c) Maljam 1992

XXVIII - “Extremities”

......................it’s all a bag of lies.
a bundle with no finish.
Wander on, in sight of the emptiness of pain
Finding the crying unbearable until it hurts;
Where no cure could mend.

Hand in head, errant towards a fallen horizon

To find nothing but nothing...

A wall of deceit never-ending
Pitch blackness you’d never wished seen
until its’ time became loathing.

The years were good to you
though what use are they now?
Where there is no sun,
where there is no such thing as
Joy...
 

Light!!!
Wincing fright,
Your eyes find sight
focussing clarity, you can grasp reality.

Remembering truth as it surely exists,
resolute as love always will -

The wall dissolves into unconsciousness,
Intensity is blinding.
Opening the door that stands surpassing
and you will live it.
Lovingly.

Mal jam, July 1987
(c) Maljam 1987