Showing posts with label Tempest Poetic and literary works. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tempest Poetic and literary works. Show all posts

Thursday, August 5, 2010

A half broken glass

Poem by Marc Aupiais

Half broken?
Half fixed?

What is a glass half shattered?
Can we call it whole?

For the word good means whole,
Thus wholesome means good!

Evil is lack,
A glass isn't half fixed,
Perhaps half still preserved!

A glass half broken,
A splinter of what was,

Can be fixed!
But not if we deny the other missing half!

How else to fix it!
To make it whole- good-
Useful for its purpose again.

A glass half broken,
If replacing a full glass,
Is quite evil,
Quite a calamity,

Though slightly less broken,
Is better than ever slightly more inadequate!

Some are broken for their purpose,
But there is goodness and lack!

Aim to be a whole glass,
Try fix yourself, it's hard,

But worth it,
Aim not at your own broken standards,
But at God's

For "the spiritual man judges all"
Says our God's scriptures,
In the Testament, the Gospel's epistles' that is New!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

A strange noise

Poem by Marc Aupiais

A tribal drumming,
Like a buzzing in sensitive
ears! Yet! To me! A
thunder! Deafening! To my
...

broken hopes of hearing life!

And the distant elephant agreed,
Almost in Jest!
As it stomped softly on the
African ground!

...

Trance like! My head started
Almost to throb.

...


I withdrew for some air,
Least I get sick.

...

In the distance was a fire,
And more European sounds,

...

Out in a wilderness: a parish,
I entered it!

...

Salvation from what I couldn't comprehend,

"Ave" I said to it and to Maria,
And Pater I said to God,

...

Nothing changes of Mother church,

Hail I say, Father I,
Petition, I pray!

...

Where elephants were- now are trains and trucks-

And taxis, all more
... dangerous than beasts

And white clouds rest above,

As on Sunday morning we say an hour's prayer-

And devour our God!

More close to nature-
Than the pagans I watched!

I flee to the church-
The elephant agrees!

In her quietness is historically-
Deafening silent noise!

And unlike the pagans I watched,
She is not foreign-

Not to a foreigner in the world-
Not to me!

Sweet joy of honey scented daffodils

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I look to you baby girl,
Where are you?
In fields of flowers?
Is that a river?
The river of your heart,
Your arteries and rushing veins?

I eat and drink and move
in your graceful presence!
Baby girl! Where are you!
Today! You are mine baby!
Mine! Love! Today and the
morrow's today! Infinite
Promptly and so!

Roses, I smell,
But your sweat is more sweet,
Violets and daffodils-
Mean nothing much to me,

But your smell,
And your looks,
Your face,
Your body,
Your sound-
That voice!

Honey scented daffodils-
May do much for a bee-

Quickly serving his master-
His queen!

Yet, you are more beautiful than any ordinary monarchy's broken, stupid, foolish- scene!

And I fly, fast into your light,
The flame I'll flammably never resist!

Monarchical- the buzzing bee-
Knows not life-
For I know your love!

Broken clouds over endless white, grey and infinite contrasting dark and light

Poem by Marc Aupiais

Elephant skin- is how I'd describe the cloud.

Elephant skin, maybe a dry rocky desert,
A highveld, Kruger style drought!

She spoke to me, standing barefoot on Mother Earth.
She stood softly in front of a grave,
In the graveyard of Mother Church!

And on the grave- engraved her name!
Dead now, but always alive,
Buried in the graveyard in the bowels of Mother Church,

Set several feet below dear Mother Earth!

She spoke- standing on an elephant like cloud!
It shook its ears,
And began to charge!

Yet mist turned to mist,
And every threat was gone!

Sucked in by her grave,
Her death- chaste life!

She spoke to me of love,
Of the blackness of hearts-
And how to love she taught!

A dead woman- centuries mist!
She spoke to me of passion!
Of promises,
The deadliness of Caesar's lust!

And she spoke to me,
An anchor tied around her neck,
Three arrows in her heart.

Her bones all splintered and broke!
She stood there,
Fire arrows flying left,
Flying right, right into the vision of eternal light and finite timeousness of night!

And then my ankles were below the dirt, and the sand storm of time came-
I was buried un-timeously-
In night!

Hyenas- cleaned my bones clean,
And together with her, stood my grave,
Kindly engraved-
With the name others in mankind-
Did call me promptly by!

Comment-allez vous?

Poem by Marc Aupiais

Bonjour Monsieur, Comment-allez vous

Je dis,


Yet he is British, and he will not reply, while he does understand,
Even adore the language.

J'adore parler francais.

He looks at me with a vague disdain.

Goiedag ek het gese.
I said it to a Zulu man,

And likewise the Afrikaner refused,
My kindly worded:
How are you!

Broken in death at Babylon,
Language holds us apart,
Held us together!

How can we another comprehend,
When everything his blood is,
We softly can well despise!

Death beseech me,
She told me not to fear!

She said language,
Is one of many ways to speak,
Not all require the use of human ears!

She swooped down on her blessed black wings,
As though softly calling me home!

The way we live here matters,
And it is our duty to live for Life!

She looked at me and spoke to me,
Of how language isn't life!

Of how we may not understand another-
Yet we can all understand the love of husband and wife!

C'est la vie- we are different, and that is life-

Yet some are chasms,
Others puddles,

Which of us is swimming, to lay a bridge to life!

Sometimes it is better not to understand,
But rather to despise-

Not our fellow but his galloping horse,
... which heads the dark not the light!

Light of broken hope- washed without soap

Poem by Marc Aupiais

In the distance a tower- with a light above,
In the night, a hallowed scream,
In darkness which endlessly does it not repeat?

Shadow and water combine in this night,
A flash of lightning,
A sound in my living death,
In endless depth,
Of darkened death-less night!

A light of hope, not of man,
A light he cannot wash away or make clear with human soap,

A light of hope- within of mankind.

She looks at me, this light of hope,
The tower bends,
Looks down at me,
And lifts me up,
The tower of death's life hopes!!!

The night makes noise, a crackling sound,
Whips of sound,
Whips of light,

A circle,
Then hope in the night!

The moon stares, and guides my life,
She shall lead me!

My only reflection of light!

A man I am- I am a man

Poem by Marc Aupiais

The French ancestor, humble artist painter,

Oft, I am true man think of him,
Oft I wonder at the poverty stricken man,

I wonder at my ancestors there,
Artistic but in monetary,
Lacking!

I am a true man,
Caught up in emotion,

Yet so strong is it,
I pushes me down a painted current,

And into the painted winds of life,
Into the tainted blood of what was settled, quite trite,

I look into past times,
I weep, contrite,

My woman I look to,
My child I won't spite!

I look to you standing there,
The Madonna in my mind,

But if one were to paint with you,
To draw your dear life,

You are not paint,
But one day my blood and one day my flesh!

Dearest girl, paint with me,
Make life out of death!

Who am I really

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I wonder this now as I write in the dark!
I don't know God for I don't know me,
My weaknesses in loss of self control,
Or rather in perfect control,
But by a me I despise!

A me who uses others,
A me who can lie,
A me who seeks his own pleasure,
His own every desire!

Treachery! I look and cry into your eyes,
I let you down again my love,
Hug me while I cry!

I live my life for you my love,
But emotion and fear and foolish lack of pause,

The void that is where I'm lacking you,
The void is my sin,
And whenever I am missing you,
That is the void I mustn't fill.
I compromise in sin, but an inch is a mile,
And evil takes what I bargained for oft!

Have faith in me baby girl,
Least I lose faith in my map,
Least I lose faith in your faith in me,
And depths never cease to weep and tremor in death, my death for loss of your love,

I am not who I am,
I'm selfish, not a true man,

Common is my sin,
Even if I weep in shame,

I do not know God,
For I do not know me,

Don't lose faith-
Don't lose love-
Don't stop hope-

You're all that I have-
Love,

Have faith my very faith,
Trust in my love,

Its all I have,
Least of all,

Its all I have,

Most of all!

I give it all to you!

Monday, August 2, 2010

Silly baby- wise lady- I love you baby girl

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I want to say: Silly Baby- I love you;
Never doubt me babe;
I am yours forever-
Trust me ever baby girl!

I wear you, my silly baby;
Within my depths of heart;
I hold you, and clutch and hug you baby;
Innocent and clean;

I want you to me mine baby;
Forever; and ever and ever and ever;

To lock me to you;
Shackle me;
Take my freedom;
My entire life;

All my ambition-
You are my only want!

None but you are my life!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

What is want to God? What is your death, christian fool!

Note by Marc Aupiais

What you want does not matter,
Realise truth as the desert sands swirl, and destroy.

What you desire, is hardly a concern,
It means little if anything,
It isn't even what you really desire,
You don't know what you want,
You are a fool,
Worse than an infant,
Less intelligent than a donkey,

Ask your self what you want, then look back a bit,
Say: why: why do I really want this?
Ask: what lead to this:
What did I want when I decided I want this?


Simply because a line of thought is no longer popular, does not make it wrong,
Popularity of thought, is as pointless as fashion.
You don't want what they say you want,
They don't especially know you,
Not more than God,
And they only want to destroy you.

Anyone can follow fashion- few ever learn style.

Ask what you wanted, realise your deep despair and loneliness,
Know why you sin,
Why you store up what is not yours,
You infinite fool,
You finite idiot.

Why would God help you if you don't trust him?
You have a duty to yourself,
But not in sin.

You will die by tomorrow's noon,
In this dark evil night.

But some raise again in dawn not dark



[Analysis of today's Gospel and readings brought here by Chastitysa and Tempest and the Hurricane, by Marc Aupiais]

Friday, July 30, 2010

I'm scared my baby girl

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I fear my daily spool!
In it I am a fool,
In black and white!
I have my fights!

And fall into eternal darkness
How is it I long for you?
I fear I may be Yesterday a fool!

Replac-ed in tomorrow's dews!

Baby I want your dawn!
Be into my heart in true!

Rise upon my dawned deathly bright light!

Lead me unto heaven,
Solid ground for a steed of light!
Teach me not to sin my love!

All of this is paramount!

I took it after you

Poem by Marc Aupiais

When I said! I do!
And promised my soul to God,
Like a wedding! Girl! To you!
For you kiss I long for is life!
And like!
I weep in your white dress,
And hide in you like a sleuth.

Baby, I long to hear your angelic voice!
And seek comfort in every noise!
I know how treachery does pain the heart!

Baby! Make me always all to you!
For I'd end me, if not for you!

In quietness I sin

poem by Marc Aupiais

Yes, dearest, you know its true I do,
You know I've sinned, I sin for you,
In hope you'd spare me of my life,
For without you none is worth,
And my goals ultimately pointless,
Apart, my dearest, from dearest you!

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Its ironic

Note by Marc Aupiais

I love debate dearly, especially Godly debate and discussion. And SACNS used to have much of it and two main faces. Now its mostly me who does the writing for our news team- I'm scary to answer to- though our other main voice can stand up to me. Anyway, I have decided that as SACNS is Scripturelink News division, we shall finally forsake that last little bit of independence between the internationally acclaimed Scripturelink search engines, apologetics brand and our news sites. We are finally accessible exclusively under the scripturelink name brand. Blogger will redirect, as we still find the Google blog the best tool for a news service: we are maintaining our blogger engine, under a scripturelink domain on our more than 20 blog based news services, just about!

Sacns is now a scripturelink product, and thus under that name. And we may add other blogs or services to that brand, even if hosted elsewhere. Prayerfully we will have more faces soon. My scary image as a tough editor, may be combated if only articles selected go on the main service. Really, I don't bite that much... Okay, maybe I do! Still, I hope one day we will have many voices under the scripturelink Catholic banner, for now we may soon be publishing from a few, or just one more, if the brilliant blog/article author and friend of mine says yes, and no: unlike me she's not infamous: I've been the only SACNS author to ever use his real name. As a result: I have received terrible threats from powerful and weak alike. And have my name gracing an anti-Catholic hate site, where they ask violence against Catholics- mentioning my name as an example of a Catholic, of the type deserving violence. It is not the only time hat has happened to me, but is a time when for once I did not have it removed. I am proud of it. That said, because of this, our authors are anonymous mostly, expect that if we have more voices again. Its always easier to hide behind me and often wiser. We are also looking for that kind of staff, and for the type who write, perhaps in future. None the less, hopefully a recognisable voice from our past will write for us again. Pray for that please. I miss their writing gracing our pages!

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

I couldn't help myself

Article by Marc Aupiais

What does that phrase denote? Helplessness, or giving up! It denotes giving up! Not- I failed at helping myself- but a statement of despair- I couldn't! Even if it is said with joy- it admits something! That we should help ourselves! To not help ourselves to sin, but to do righteousness, in any case! It is always choice! Laugh at sin! Try! Laugh at what it suggests. If you say: I don't want to! That is the key! I - ego- me! Choice!

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Republishing: Asynchronisity: a God of Chaos: who sees Chaos in Order/ Order in our own Chaos

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2008

aSynchronisity (Article originally scrapped, but republished: with editing: on receipt of an email, I was sent: which encouraged me in reworking it)
Article posted by: scripturelink
Survey on Article:

(Journey in a Broken World)

Article by Marc Aupiais

Chaos is to the benefit of the prescient, and those who can predict better than apposing personages: as it happens: by order, we predict the future. Chaos, is that which causes confusion, to those not understanding it. Those who know where an ambush is laid can avoid it, those who understand a routine can use it. Utter chaos is the field where they, who know the future best: outwit all.


Confusion, mystery, chaos: imagine this: fire on water, and war all around, gun shots blast, and sirens blare. Blueness covers the scene, a hidden, not always noticed blue. Perhaps that of the sirens, but not. Red dots, yet this is not a battle between police and robbers. Somehow, the mind must understand, and make order to know what they are dealing with. What makes the red dots: are these vague images lights?


There is a battle going on, a small scene in a great chaos of conflict. One feels the stream, currents of time and space, and move slightly between carnage, and chaos: as bullets spray, and things all of a sudden explode. The sand is muddy now, one is fleeing, one is crawling on scrapping knees, and jumping, and rushing. The heat begins to beat so fast, yet one is guided, one escapes.

Imagine this, and how such casualties are struck, and death wrought all over, as one pauses and moves, like a guerrilla in the woods, or a woodsman hidden in a known forest, or kayaking boatman in the ocean, rowing between icebergs, and whales. It is a complete image which hits me, it always is as an author, and such images combine, and are woven, and altered like clay in my softly moving hands: to create novels: coming in day and sleep. Yet, while such chaos may benefit, none moral would make it through evil: that does not mean that those who are moral and in a situation of such: will not use chaos to their advantage. How much more is it certain: that while free will allows for evil: yet that which is order itself: will use the chaos from such hostility: for the good of all who love Him. In fact, they right thing can well be to tolerate some evil at times: yet call it account when it is best: because immediately smiting one may hurt the innocent: like God, we to only tolerate evil while in a time, and place where it is of benefit to good to do so temporally.

Chaos, and order in this temporal phase of the universal stages: are illusions of sorts, or rather: in the perspective of the beholder, they don't really exist, not here in any case: or else: they exist, but in a way which the ordinary man does not fully comprehend; but which the saint can see: whereby order exists, and chaos: but these are different from normal everyday uses of these connotations to sound. Order refers to control, but only so far as it is needed because control of events by that which is stuck in temporal time: needs to rely on predictability, even cause it. In other words; to order that something be done: is to try to cause a sequence of events where it occurs: orders are there to create order, or an order of benefit to the one making them, or which such thinks of benefit.

We cannot by our perception alone: know the future, or why God does as he does; mystery creates a special "chaotic" code, which only in the seeing of truth, we can understand of all. God is not temporal, but eternal, not even aeviternal, as "rational" souls are. Yes, perhaps the body of Jesus is aeviternal: and that which leaves his form is temporal: but in his divine nature he is eternal, his human nature: I am not qualified to say this: but perhaps it contained temporal or aeviternal parts; yet in such a way as that which is divine could possibly have this: Jesus was fully human: perhaps then his human soul is only aeviternal.


God is eternal: that means he can be none but basis of the fabric of time and space, the little bubble of necessity: we walk and breathe in. Outside of God, there is nothing, there is but darkness: he is the blue bubble which causes the flickering spark of life, caressing all: yet as a lover, not an enemy. He is not the chair I sit on, nor my DNA, yet he is the power in which these are supported; in which all reality rests: against which; ever for now: sin falls against in rebelling, with destruction: breaking death loose on the world! Evil, fighting this power creates false perceptions, so that we neglect to see order in the chaos: and therefore are hit by it and harmed. Even as we admit that a sort of chaos is the order of the universe: we must admit that a good God would create a way for even us to conquer the chaos: this is the purpose of ethics, and virtue: that which is good is compliant to the "chaos" which is God's plan. Morality is simply a dance of sanity: which keeping us safe beyond any prediction's extent. It is sanity which acts morally. We do not pretend to understand time and distance, or fully: the life after death. We do understand that it, which is compliance to the Chaos of God: keeps us alive as breath cannot, beyond death; when we obey God to every extent. Chaos is simply us admitting we cannot control the world. We mourn the pain of animals, and our own pain: and though this is why often some attack God when animals are hurt due to elements of time and space: it is because we are like them; and fear: yet God does no matter of moral evil or anything he considers evil: to man; either evil causes death: as sometimes, it seems: occurs; or in fact: death is not an end; only a doorway to the next sections of our consciousness: that final place: when we are alive or illusion and of death. Indeed: death is the responsibility of God, even the Greeks put this to their Gods: the three "Fates": to disobey God is the route which all sin takes: and whereas morality is the peak acting of sanity: sin: is the slow loss of such needed sanity.

Imagine Him we worship: walking now, by a lake, yet what does that mean? What mystery incarnate: that infinite being: appearing to be, or even being aeviternal in a way, with even perhaps temporal parts: such seems chaos: such energy in but a small form. It is the goodness which makes what seems chaos to be order, and which conquers all illusion which is the actual chaos: this ability to comprehend, and conquer chaos: is the gift which is given. Our salvation lies in the child: Jesus, a man at this time: who walked by and on the lake. Showing he is in control, he walked on such lake against our predictions. Such is "chaos", is it not?

Yet, he is as much a human as a God, even now, he is both: and a human made order of chaos: not by taking the chaos away: but by giving meaning to it, and all things, so that we could be sane, and calm in chaos: collected: and able to exist forever.

God is not a God of contradiction or chaos, but God is also not only a three dimensional being, but a three personed being, yet not three Gods, but one. Our ways are in order, and prediction, his is in a higher mysterious order, sometimes appearing to be chaos and his ways are in knowing, and doing true things. The war between God and evil is between Reality and falseness. God is reality, the very DNA of time and space, or rather: something more elemental than that.

We rightly think God is order, he is not then simply our order: simply put, unlike His rational soul: we are not entirely sane. He is a God who created order: but that is for us, and of his nature, by which we are ordained to be born, he is a God who is logical, but that is because he is the fabric of the universe: that one which all relies upon, on which the fabric of the universe relies, and rests. He is not all things, but all things need him to exist. That which is real relies on him, yet all things cannot include evil. Evil does not technically exist, but is a misfiring, something, a madness which choice allows man: which sucks his very life from him, like the merciless tide of the unforgiving seas. God is "chaos" in a way, but ordered chaos. The chaos which is evil is that without meaning: it is the slaughter of the good; it is evil. Evil: is that which makes us less real: if God is Reality: evil is Illusion, while it does not exist: the void where it is does: so that one truly disobeys by sinning. Evil is a lack of Good: of Reality, of God.

Every Just War, or Just Uprising, is also an unjust war and unjust battle. Those fighting on one side are fighting a Just War, those on the other, an Unjust War.

Is God Chaos in his eyes: no: yet that which is aeviternal cannot fully comprehend that which is eternal: at least not yet. Chaos, in fact is what we use to denote a situation in which we are unable to predict far enough ahead, so as to handle it. Chaos is dangerous. It is how one may well describe many things: it is danger, and fear all at once. It is when: if we could predict its source, we could well survive.

So; if the universe is chaos: it is dangerous: how then is survival adequate except in Love: the key to all things. To comprehend love is to begin to understand God. Love believes the Gospel, it believes the faith: because of the source giving the truth; which is truth. Love, is in fact the meaning in the madness: and by it we can make the right move to stay in key with the music of God... What seems to atheists as insanity in a Righteous God: is not insanity, but love: God's chaos may not be comprehensible to man: but its meaning: love: is.

Love explains all: it is our mentorship in times, and oceanic bouts. Love is deeper than romance: which itself is not love. As yet imperfect: human love; oft wrought with evil illusion: this nature of a higher force: tells us of the perfect Devine love. Waves in the ripple tank reflect the mammoth monsters of the ocean, which hide sharks, and monsters, and powers, and wonders.

God is not chaos but Order: this we know because in some things we understand his ways: especially in matters of love... at least we can understand such. Lust: which tries to falsely appear as, and substitute for love: is a reason many are denied comprehension of the chaos of life.

We do not understand the ocean, not either do we entirely comprehend, nor understand: the spiritual. That which is seen is influenced by unseen horrors, like a boat in the ocean, and protected all around by unseen deity, and goodness: that of Jesus, and the entirety of the Triune God, is that which orders things to protect. Each person has a guardian: an angel to aid; and we each can ask of a Patron; our sister who watches us like a lover, and bride. Yet, our safety is in God, in that which sees order in the chaos, and protects us: heart and soul.

Odd, or convenient, or simply informing for us: that the antonym of "Chaos" is "Order": and when we speak of commands we say it is "orders". We admit that by "authority": "chaos" is fought, or that commands maintain a status quo: yet this is to say that orders which increase meaningless chaos are meaningless: that society and commands are only justified when rational and ordered to the true nature of God. Orders, are that which attempt to combat chaos.

Our way to predict the world's actions is to understand that which causes them. The relation of Reality to us: is what we study, and we know that like in the ocean, jumping before or as waves break like walls, and fall; by mimicking the tides of time and space via what Christians call love, truth, sanity, and faith: we are able not to see God's actions as "Chaos", but as Love, and in this in Sanity, which is the only sane action: we in fact dance with God; meaning that we are safe.

That we have a word: "chaos"; this alone proves such fact of our inadequacy, and of our need of God, and saints, and angels and such: our perception alone is inadequate to maintain our life-force: yet Love, Truth, Reality Himself: offers us an opportunity; not simply to predict today, or ten thousand decades of millennia, if those even shall come to pass: but rather: the cause of the ripples, the love of God asks that we join him forever as saints; he asks this through the living and the Aeviternal saints and angels, and His Son. Here, his prediction, and nature, and the nature of the universe itself preserves us!

To say that the universe is chaotic is to admit we are unable to understand it fully: and to admit that we are not self-sufficient to handle our live here: we die, do we not? If our aim is life, then we are in need of life, so how can God not be needed..? He is needed!

The reason all living people, this even (as shown by the incident at the temple:) including Jesus, when he was incarnated as a child: make mistakes: this reason is that God realized that we would have a choice. We can live in chaos or order: but order lies not simply in handling chaos: one must conquer chaos to have order, and God is not only the God of what appears chaotic; he is the God of Order: order which to those as yet incapable of managing it: appears chaotic.

Now, to those not understanding a culture, or procedure: is it not all just chaos? Yet God gives us guidance: his hand is out, he is waiting, and moving backwards: we must look beyond the swaying waves: of the moving crowds, which do so simply frame his image: we must see beyond "chaos" into the true order, by which we tame the earth with order: we must see God; if we ever want safety. For the purpose of predicting the future; by all our statistics: is self preservation: and preservation of man, and his interests: and yet; the universe, while made with the aim of aiding man: was made for man and God to share: as a place where God has company with man and man's right desires: perhaps even Animals' temporal souls also exist in heaven: in another way than here. Truth is, if they do: it is for our enjoyment.

Somehow, suffering: and things which cause such fear in my heart: these are often the place and time where I turn to trust, and sane action. What is sane in the universe: is that which complies with the true order of it: morality, and religion: Catholic Religion: under Christ him self’s rule from the heavenly king's power: his power: his own truth in his kingship of all: to truth: to love.

So, while one sanely suffers small pain to avoid calamity, as with going to a dentist, or for surgery: we endure "great" pains here in exiled chaos of the mind: but this is nothing, and no thing's power: if we are to live forever in bliss. Chaos is a term which only the limited, finite beings, and perhaps that which empathises with them: can comprehend. Pain: when seen in the light of love: is small compared with the promise it carries for the Just men.

Love, while seeming madness: has meaning: making it somewhat predictable: at least in its purpose. God is not Chaos, but love: and what makes love sane: is a basis in truth!

Saturday, May 22, 2010

A flower in your hair, a dress, all white, as snow, and your brown eyes, in them I stay

A flower in your hair, a dress, all white, as snow, and your brown eyes, in them I stay

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I fight lions for you, and men who are like lions,
One can only kill one, as it is about to strike, I know this as I hold my dear pathetic stick,
And I walk, as the ground does cake and break, and i climb the strange mountain, I have never really been seen to know,

The night is dangerous here, as I seek you out, yet move not at all, I’ve hardly left my room,
I seek for you, in nightmares, and in dreams,
In memories, which the world neglects,
I seek you, whom I betrayed,

I seek you, having become suddenly awake,
Suddenly capable, and as awake: in pain!

I seek you, my medicine and more, but not to cure me,
I seek you, in hope that I may be there, as your thing,

Will you find me, as I seek for you,
A flower in your hair, a dress, all white, as snow, and your brown eyes, in them I stay
As I dream of you, the desert in my dreams, the arctic in my blood,
And nothing much left of me as such,

I seek you out, white maiden of hope,
I search for you, whom I love when sane, and when awake,
Eyes close to the world, and the lies of sight, and sound,

I seek you out my love,
May I never cease to believe,
May I always be so deluded: or whatever the world does call me for my quest,
A flower in your hair, a dress, all white, as snow, and your brown eyes, in them I stay
And you stay in my heart, and in mine,

For nothing is like loving you, and nothing compares to being loved by you!

The Sky was jagged, the dawn was broken, the waves, did sweep me away

The Sky was jagged, the dawn was broken, the waves, did sweep me away




Poem by Marc Aupiais

The Sky was jagged, the dawn was broken, the waves, did sweep me away
Friendship lost, hopeful gone, so much gained, so much lost,
And ahead was the dawn, and jagged rocks, and by the sea, netless, as it was, I noticed fins,
I noticed sharks, and felt much sympathy with them, so much I nearly swam,
Yet, ahead, were the jagged rocks, ahead was what was hard, ahead was pain,
Daily pain, moment by minutes, second, by hour, ahead was pain, I followed it, my dear grave,
And as I entered the current, cautious of the sharks, knowing I’d cut my feet on the rocks,
As I pushed, and was swept out, I wondered how long I’d have,
And I grabbed onto the rocks, my hands now blood, and desperately pulled myself forward, as around
And beyond, a different current came, and in my pain I felt nothing, then everything, as I crawled, and jumped,
On broken feet, with broken bones,
And as I moved, in danger with ever step,
And up ahead were the jagged rocks, and by them the dawn,
And I walked, and I hopped, and I screamed, screeched like no banshee ever has,
And out-howled every wolf, as I approached dawn, not dusk, the sun which is my moon,
And around me, the fins did circle, and some did jump, as I scampered, and lunged, and as tears and blood filled my vision, and my life, and as ocean spray did fill my senses.

And as missiles, these fish did move so fast, so smooth, with no effort, in the tidal pool of life,
My fate is hardly secure, I can only try, and my heart does beat, perhaps to fill the blood I have lost,
Perhaps, to give me the strength to get past this spot,

And it’s like you are there now, watching me, as I want to give the fish, what they desire,
Out of some empathy,
And as I drip my blood into the water,
And I wonder,

Shall I go on, or fall, knowing that a strange, evil force shall catch me,
And while I crave the other, in all my pain,
I know that forward is the only way, and as the tide does come, and as the spray does spit,
And as the rocks are suddenly less secure, I leap, and hit the ground,
And wonder if it is the dawn or sunset I strive towards,
In this dusk as I hope I jump to rocks, as some of the rocks I see do quite fast, move,

Forward i head, towards what I hope as to be dawn!

Does not play much well with others

Does not play much well with others

Poem by Marc Aupiais

Does not play well, such is my title,
Does not get along, or gets along too well,
And becomes your heart, even your god,
Does not play well, much, with others,
Such is me,
I snuck into your life,
I stole your heart,
But unknown to me, you stole mine too,
And yes, I betrayed you, a thousand times,
Yet, it hit one, like the morning smog,
And I awoke, to the bright light of day,
Suddenly in pain, Suddenly not only to regain,
God’s will I asked, a fateful step,
And as the ocean did sway, my feet did move,
And to your song did I sing, and to your words did I sway,
And I died yesterday!

And while it hurts, and i do love the sunset night,
The purple of the deep dark shades,

Yet, somehow, as I ask God’s will again,
And infuse myself with it many times again,

My heart flutters and begins to beat,
And while many a person I have lost, and many a friend, long-time, no more,
Yet I look to you, my dawn, and kneel in hope of thee,
And your kiss alone I crave, as what is lost,
Is but lost, but I am no longer so lost from/to thee..!

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Your bed is on fire, with Antarctic fire, you're sadly burning for me

Poem by Marc Aupiais (I really enjoyed writing this poem, it is the sort of humour which helps one become chaste)

With passionate something, you’re burning for me

You say you’re hot, it’s not only you, dear beautiful woman,
Your soul is hotter, it’s burning with hell,

You bed, may be burning, burning for me,
But you are crisp in it, dear perfectly tanned woman, a skeleton’s key,

And your best clothes’ you’re wearing, the ones you know I like,
They’re tempting to me,

Yet, the hotter we’d get the closer to hell,

You are quite hot and bothered,
To that, ma’am I attest,

Yet, are you ever hot for God anymore,
You bother him in that tempting short dress,

And you wear make-up for me,
And whatever colour you know I like,

And anything else to ease a transition from dark to night,
But I still want to choose the light, and you are no lady of the night!

And I wonder what we lost that moment,
When first you saw me different,

When first I was not human,
And when you wanted me!

When did you go from wanting to wanton,
Am I nothing to you,

Every man can fall,
Even I can, especially you, dear ma’am,

And yet, I belong to another,
A promise I made, A promise I made,

And I look to you, all dressed in black,
At your eyes, and at your mouth,

All dress up for me,
No,
Not me,
It was never for me,

It was for you, to tempt me into you,
To change my being into something else,

And I look to you, all beautiful, and sublime,
I watch, moved by you, and your moving dress,

And I approach you death, wondering what of me is left,

And this is my light, as I approach you in the night, and as I begin to choose death over light life,
I look to you, your lips are not hers, your hands are not her hands, your hair is not hers,

I have miles to go, and promises to keep,
A promise to her, for all eternity, to be,

Whatever happened, should I be snared, caught or free,
To her my soul, my body belongs,

And should you snare me now, a million times,
I will free myself, and seek not thee,

If I were to fall three times, three times I’d seek her,
For she is mine, and I am hers,

And in my promise, and by humour, by laughing as I turn,
Laughing at what you should whisper in my ear,

I realize what I am missing, and I am hers,
What can you offer me, some infidelity?
What can you give me, anything in whole and truly,

Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,

I am not your boy toy,
Nor your someday boy whose your toy

Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,

Truly, I am hers, not but hers,
... and hers and hers and hers and hers... hear ma'am bunched panties: alone!