Curfew

March 23, 2024  :: 0 comments

When night falls, I sit on my balcony and gaze at the streetlamp below. A week ago, I kissed Maria beneath its globe. A cop, with a twisted smile, arrived and warned us that the curfew would soon begin. Anyone found on the street would be arrested. Maria had to prepare a lecture on Freedom. So she rushed to her …

OMPHALOS

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2024  :: 0 comments

Blood-red omphalos on the side of the road

almost hidden
behind the mutilated moribund trees,

You reveal only a Lilliputian arc of yourself,
glowing religious stone & holy presence that

you are,

& still, I feel you
& know you,

in my strange unfathomable vision-
in a glimmer of celestial light

coming forth
from the center of the earth or perhaps,

the cosmological hub of an unearthly place
of my own beautiful & grotesque creation

editors note:

This one is definitely not to be left unturned. – mh clay

HOME

featured in the poetry forum December 4, 2023  :: 0 comments

Out there-in the skies and at sea, and in foreign lands, we
search for them, although there are strong suspicions that
sleepers have already arrived, perhaps years ago, waiting
to be called, praying to hear the shibboleth and to begin
jihad.

Yet here-at home-over seventy years ago, almost every
night, a war of terror began again and again, when Father,
a product of the old generation, came home from work, with
raw rage and the threat of a hard black leather belt to teach
character, especially respect, in the privacy of our home.

In the good old days, through a secret culture of terror, I learned,
as did the other children of my generation, to obey.

Our Fathers created us in their image. And we recognize the face
of terrorism. Do you?

editors note:

A beating is a bitch, best to obey. – mh clay

ONE DAY UNFATHOMABLE

featured in the poetry forum October 8, 2022  :: 0 comments

One day unfathomable

Coming
forth with fury & propelling you

Away
from the life you knew & lived

one day shattering a shared reality so

Never
again shall you & she possess/see the magical dream of quiet everlasting love

a sweet phantasmagoria pirouetting across unending years together
one day

Coming
forth with fury & epiphany

Eerie
truths nestled in a ravaging reality & a nuclear bomb of

Revelations
unbearable crushing emotions entangled with sempiternal love

in metamorphosis with the looming ghost of ghosts
the omnipotent phantom coming forth in pitch-blackness
penetrating/drilling through our darkness
devouring our souls & flesh
& possessing us
until our last
mortal breath

editors note:

Brace yourself… – mh clay

BOKETTO ON THE CONEY ISLAND PIER

featured in the poetry forum January 23, 2022  :: 1 comment

Boketto
on the Coney Island Pier

&
waiting for the first snow

alone
in this barren place I taste the oceanic solitude

&
inhale the vacant universe & the cosmic breath of the Ultimate Nothingness

&
now I dream & gaze mindlessly into the Void where a vast desolation eats my brain

in
Covid time

Boketto
on the Coney Island Pier

&
drifting through the chimerical snow I vanish into a dream a fugitive from the Un-Reality

of
the eerie earth & its unspeakable secrets & the Self growing in me-transmogrified & alien

editors note:

Take a long stare into what you’ll be somewhen, somewhere. – mh clay

ELEGY OF THE SHATTERING

featured in the poetry forum January 18, 2021  :: 0 comments

Here
inside the shattering, I watch the unfathomable

invisible
veil of un-earthly revelations

encircling us in metaphysical mystery covering our eerie madness with celestial visions

observing
us – masked humans wearing death masks tasting inhaling suffering asking why

In
the deep snow of despair

I
speak with the Ultimate Nothingness

&
the snow falls from the Heavens the heavy snow falls without end

&
the vast silence shatters

the
kingdom of I

&
within the shattering I am a beautiful madness unmasked & free in search of divinity

editors note:

Pieces picked and placed anew; beautiful, indeed. – mh clay

Hellfire on the Devil’s Highway

December 8, 2020  :: 0 comments

The Kafka brothers, tiny men with thin moustaches and matching scars across left cheeks, hardly ever speak to one another and forget the other exists, even though they live in the same house. Now in the bestial winter, they have not spoken in over a month nor have they seen the others’ dark brown eyes. The house is not a …

Night Call

February 14, 2020  :: 0 comments

The phone rings incessantly on this seething August night. It is 3 A.M. but the night call does not disturb my sleep. You see, I suffer from insomnia, my air conditioner is broken, and on this oppressively hot night, I sweat profusely. “Hello,” I growl. “I need your help,” the eerie voice whispers. “Who are you?” “Don’t you know?” “No.” …

& THE STRANGENESS OF EVERYDAY LIFE

featured in the poetry forum January 13, 2020  :: 0 comments

& the strangeness of everyday life
blossoms into the vanishing/suffering

& an existential question mark
pirouettes through the air
where

the butcher’s knife
slices the barren day

& a shattering
spills into nowhere
an oval prison cell

& the emptiness
within
& faraway

becomes a transcendental meditation in the park
about Heaven/Hell

& a non-guru wishes to bless
& taste the trauma & the sin

& within
the eerie
mystery

a demonic force devours the divine
but suddenly spews celestial light in an otherworldly sign

& waits for the vanishing/suffering
mine

editors note:

& there we dig. – mh clay

G-D ON TRIAL

featured in the poetry forum September 6, 2019  :: 0 comments

Losing faith, a cracked invisible egg drifting homeless in the universe, G-d slipping away, a raw concept with no reality, only Freudian wishes, and an oxygen-spiritual tank in my dreams, and G-d on trial. Now, it seems I’m homeless too, a wandering creature forgotten by You, no Mother, Father, just G-d on trial. Lost, in a galaxy cul-de-sac, I pray to a make-believe Savior; I pray because there’s nothing left to do but appeal to a Higher Power, or cry incessantly, for no one sees me; or die laughing, inhaling laughing gas in Hell’s vast but desolate prison, where the invisible sit in solitary confinement for eternity, drinking a wasteland of sadness or uproarious madness, and pondering a runaway G-d who betrayed them from the start, a G-d intoxicated with nothing more, perhaps, than a fugitive dream He can never fulfill, a G-d on trial.

editors note:

Such great expectations we have. Knock, knock!? (no answer…) – mh clay