Culling and the catharsis

I left the station today
Bone-soaked, mothy-haired
Shedding like a withered lizard
I wished for the comfort of her portico
 Found iron-bound gates
And an elegy euphemized as
Haiku
Rested my head on a granite
Slab
Even the dead are nameless here
Found no rest
Like the scarecrow of Golgotha
Sang to plaintive birds
Silence
No music in the still symphony
Weary soles stabbing
The static earth
I am old now
Wandering one
Whispering to the willows
Always her grace
Always her name
Always her wonder
Always her terror
Change inexorable
Change indelible
Change inexhaustible
Wakeful death.

Thus she spoke

In the waking moments of slumbering nights,
I hear her whisper-
The sounds of silhouettes,
Like puppets at the gallows.
 I can't help but listen-
Violins screaming against strained strings;
 I walk the fallow fields of the streets she
Created, sketched in recycled books,
Newspaper and receipts of faded memory-
At the expiry of an inebriated evening.
I toast an empty glass to
 The dead stars and their forgetful light
And begin to dream again.






***original poem, created by Cameron Morgan. Copyright 2014. ***

I nearly forgot

Original stream of consciousness poem-written on 12-6-13. thanks for reading!!

Love,
I saw you in hallways,
And nearly forgot
To make that motion
-Memento-
 Teeth-bit and turned around.
Darling,
I move too fast
And pass the little things-
Like the rain,
God,
Like the rain;
Did you notice?
The sky wept tears
For Mandela,
But also of
-Joy-
 Rebirth-
Of the never-ending, twice-risen-
Rock-rolling
Elation-
The kind that can't
Stay dead.

Blüme,

You are beautiful-
My heart is bountiful,
And I just can't help
-Thinking-
That your smile would look
-Lovely-
Lying next to mine.
Well, sometimes looks
 Speak louder than words,
And sometimes grand songs
Sulk to silent places-
Pantomiming nothing.
I just want to sing with loud letters
Forming your name,
Just want to let the deluge
Flood the sewers and fill the streets,
Culling, cathartic-
Yet, your eyes.
That look,
Resembling...
I remember...
Red weddings
-And-
Remarkably:
Renaissance.

The Source

This original poem is based on a conversation I had with a severely schizophrenic individual a few days back.  This individual thought that a world-wide conspiracy targeted him and his family-and that it was his duty to take them down! Hope you enjoy!

The source-
It has to go-
They
Have
To
Go.
Too long-they've schemed-
Hammer meeting metal,
Too many have come-
Horsemen engorged.
They tread lightly up-on
Superfluous words lapped languidly
 -From-
Forked tongues,
-Faceless-
The revolving hoard
Declared war-
 They peeled back
-Innocent-
Her nubile skull,
-Drilled that chip-
Clenched, blood-drained fist-
Murmuring their names,
As the sanguine-sun-set
Up-on dream-less streets-
Praying to God,
To give me

The
Strength...
To
Kill
Them
All.





***Original poem written by R. Cameron Morgan. Copyright 2013. All Rights reserved.***

Phoenix

As always, this is an original poem (wrote it tonight!) Hope you enjoy!



In love

With the silken contours of shadows of slumbered

Sunlight upon somnolent valleys;

Entranced by

The carefree breeze as it rattles eager trees

Limbs out-stretched to bountiful life-

Blessings-brilliantly-born 

In the womb of munificent present.

It is then that I see the truth,

Naked, opal snow on monastery-peak,

Nictitating eyes of atheist nature;

An atomic resurrection;

Phoenix moments set aflame

On the cross of troubled thoughts-

Only to rise again-

From the ashes of a setting sun.







***Copyright 2013. R. Cameron Morgan. All Rights Reserved.***

Halloween

This is an original poem that I drafted tonight. This will be one of many Halloween-themed poems! Enjoy!

Tis the one night a year, I can see my beloved
Guided by halogen stars-
 Beaming dead smiles,
Sighs and screams fill the alleyways-
And ghastly ships sail un-tethered from sepulcher bays,
Lit only by eldritch moon-rays-
Spotlighting the empty graves
As the restless dead roam un-moored
And lurk beneath the creaking floor-boards-
To feast upon the unlucky-living-lot-
It is then I see my beloved.

She appears,
Corpse-pale in the shaded grove,
-Virulent tears-
Nightshade blooms wherever she goes,
Ghastly,
As every man knows,
Who has ever
 Felt the shudder
 Of a Zephyr flutter-
Of drapes on a windless day;
A shiver,
And she is known to me.





***Copyright 2013. R. Cameron Morgan. All Rights Reserved***

To my Daughter (original poem)

Here is a new poem. I wrote the first draft of this on 9-3-2013 and just finished this draft a few minutes ago. I hope that you enjoy this emotional look at my imagined future.

Honey,
I haven't met you yet,
Yet I can almost see your
Radiant smile; joyous, knowing-
Beyond Piaget's confining years.
Can almost taste half-melted-
Ice creams at the craggy extremes
Of half-explored worlds,
Encapsulated in your eager eyes.

Darling, I can just imagine
Holding your tiny frame in
My nervous arms-
Cradling you like uranium.
Imagine taking your wispy hand
In my tenuous grip,
And standing with you
Aface a glaring cliff-
Embracing the eternal present,
Lest life un-twine your roots from mine...

And I know-
Summer roses and mud-caked knees
Will fade to cacophony-
And I know that love may
Leave you lost and alone,
But I will not desert you.
When the stars align-to-
 Deny you all things benign
I will be your guide.

Sweetheart,
I truly hope that I meet you;
Know that I already love you
More than coquettish life-that-
I will await you-with-
Open arms and an eddied, hopeful smile-
To make you laugh,
When you wish to cry,
To carry you when laid low by
The soles of beautiful-brutish being...

You will dance, when all others stumble.
You will fight when all others have cowered
And fled.
You will sing when the storms steal sonnets
And render the world silent.
You will be the light to lend sight to
The blind and the mad,
You will be my little girl-
And I your doting dad.
I can't wait to meet you.






***Copyright 2013. Cameron Morgan. All Rights Reserved.***