Wayward Beatnik

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

It's an anthology of poems.

Submitted: January 03, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 03, 2018





Grey sullen

face of the sky—

from above there’s

an angry barking of

a dog;

pink sheets are

dashing in and out

as fierce shades of

nature’s lust;

arrows of an

unknown God

are pouring the earth;

the earth is wet

as a sacred whisper,

voices in it are drenched

as poems of metaphysics;

the rain has become soft

now, singing a melodious





Your book is

Being opened—

I am in rapture of

Its sensuous delicacy…

Your text is a garden

Left in the sanctuary

Of poetic prose;

Yield the letters

Of your meaning to me…

Let me write verses on

Them with mystic adoration.




Sun Set

Placed by the

Mad seer’s divination—

The sun shone red,

A mystical ball of fire…

Light started scattering

From a veiled curtain,

Littering imagination

With the aesthetic

Of impressionism –

Light remained gay

In the clouds,

Ripples are scattering

Magic of an uneven stream.

I am trembling with passion—

I watch this dream fade

From its surreal abode

As dark currents

Submerge the oasis.


Rain is invading

My silence as

A torrential fugitive—

My ears are welcomed

With a symphony of

Nature’s music.

A dog is howling,

Terrified by the appearance

Of Macbeth’s witch.

Poems are swimming

Puddles, eclectic with

postmodern signification…

How I love the rain,

A fusion akin to Mozart’s

Symphony –

I am wet and drenched

In its ecstasy

And feeling like the

Poetry of making love.

For Amy


Let me embrace you

As the writing

Of poetic music …

Let me cover your lips,

Envelop them

As a painter stroking

His brush—

Let me see you naked

Like beautiful Eve in Eden…

Let my eyes swell into

A beauty of desire …..

Gently seeing the

Way your body curves

And flows like a Mermaid

Of the sea…

Let me caress your bounteous

Breasts and suckle your nipples

As a new born lamb

 does on to the udders

 of its mother…

Let me kiss your hive

And lick all its honey

As a devoted lover…

Let me mount on you

Like the waves of

 the ocean splurge—

Ecstasy is pouring

The soul of love….

Dedicated contented

We lie in happy embrace.



Haiku Cardboard

Placed carelessly they/

Are in a comfort zone and/

Viewing destiny/


Wake me up in love,

You poem of an erotic lullaby;

Let’s make the music of love

Into a symphony of ecstasy.

Sun Set

The sky has veins,

Resting on the

 palm of the hand;

Aesthetics is the

Palmistry of poetry;

The sun fades

Like the closing

Of one’s eye….

Night has become

A Delicious Black Forest.


Song for a Lover

Darling, I have grown

Fond of you in adoration;

Gently open your book of

Poems for me….let me read

Its text as a poet fond of delicacy….

My nights are thoughts of you

In the music of love—

Songs that awaken me to

Lyres of passion….

A kiss is like the

Opening of a flower;

An embrace,

The fond striking of a guitar….

Passionately open the folds

Of your meadow to me….

Let me drench you with

The symphony of ecstasy.


Song for a Lover

Darling, I long for you—

Your soul for me is love

Burning in a furnace …..

I think of you often,

Remembering loving words…

As a poet writing poems….

My heart has grown to love

You and presses its keys

Like a Piano in adoration….

You are fruit delicatessen …..

I long to melt in you

And feel your lyrics

In the music of Love…..





Pounding on the roof

Like hand claps,

Like the thundering of hooves…

Rain’s making love

Pouring  elixir on the roof…

Missing birds of the sky…

Speak of solitude in nests…

The sky is roaring 25000 Watts ….

Undressed pink clothes are bathing….

A muse, drenched is wagging its tail….

Rain trickles from the gargoyle like a

Gushing water fall….

The blossomed flowers of the

 gardens are wet with nectar…

Rain teases the mind in

Invocation of playful metaphors….


The clouds become

Elastic grey horses—

Now it’s a savage drum

Bellowing angrily.

Cupid wearing pink clothes

Streaked across the sky.

It poured in musical rhythms,

Lightly at first

Like a ballerina standing on toes,

And then plunging heavily

As a belly dancer on a wriggling spree….

Thoughts sank into a poem,

And art a beautiful sight

For the eyes.


Sky is a scattered

 garden of flowers;

ripples of clouds

are nestled and searching

the sacred chambers of

a lover’s secret;

in the sky I see a

lover’s nest—

a pink cloudy grove

inviting intimacy to

ecstasy in its surreal abode;

a purple melody chimes

sweetly as a swaying wind chime;

the sun has let its hair loose

and sinking like a beatnik

into oblivion. 




Feathered undertaker—

Speculating dark shares

Of the mystic underworld…..

Reveal to me,

The sacred whispers of the Devil.

There you are now,

Feathered and devilish

Gleeful with a deathly omen.

You float now,

Gentle with the rhythm

Of cosmic breeze…..

Grant me wishes

That I make secret

As a vow!



Woke up early morn—

Night’s football glances

Ethereally for players

To appear.

The moon gazes at me

As a pregnant womb.

My thoughts borrow the dark

Yet envelop the milk of roundness.

Day’s rays are rising

And your apparition is vanishing. 




Colored scattered robes,

Spreading euphoria of a

Stormy sea….

The rhythm of many haloes

Cascading as mystic waterfalls….

 Pink gazelles frolic like a ballet,

A concert of many symphonies….

I am a stranger in the evening,

But appreciate its veins that

Proliferate into pulchritude

Of a sign that’s tranquil and meditative

Like a voyage on a peaceful ocean.

You have put me into a dreamy habitat

Where I long to be with her and soak

The evening into joy of a lover’s gift.





The sky

Is scattered—

A bed of colors;

Hazy abstracts

Settle down as music

On an eager canvas;

My thoughts are with you

Of how we could embrace

In this dusky euphoria.



The Sea

I long to be in it

And feel it

As a metaphoric


A child building

Sandcastles reminds me

Of a forgotten childhood

I love the waves as they

Sound and pound

In the music of streams

Of consciousness….

The sea’s calling out to me

The echo of a bird’s wing,

Yes I am going to the sea now.



The sky robed

In dusky hues—


red and pink,

Setting a tone of

A defiant metaphor

Sun is painting its

Last strokes

And vanishing

As a vagabond painter.



A voyage in it/

As a metaphoric poem/

I have reached bliss/




Red ink—

Splashed the sky;

A crowd of metaphors

Are bleeding;

The sun is

Donating blood

After the fill

The sun is fading.



Haiku Flowers

You have knit the ground/

With an embroidery that leaves/

The viewer speechless/


Haiku Umbrella

Picasso resurrected/

Leaving an umbrella as an/

Art to blind the sun/




Ezra Pound hurled

The red ball—

There it stayed in

The early copulating morn,

Scattering erotic shadows,

Tempting the poet to

Pen a poetic lyric.



Haiku Coffin

Sculpture is waiting/

For a lamentation; who/

Will occupy to sleep/



Dusk wove to a

Shimmering red wing;

Apocalyptic visions

Are a rejoicing poetic music….

The Illuminati is coloring

The sun into a red ball of light….

My dreams are straying far

Like the floating of a lonely raven …..

I dream of women, their poetic orifices….

My mind is walking in the floating apparition

Of colors drenched in

The opera of mystic ecstasy.


Hazy scattered, red brush

Strokes are like a tantalizing spread….

The birds float melodiously,

Their wings are tuning hymns….

My thoughts proliferate

Into nature’s abundant art gallery…..

The blossomed garden has lulled

Me to a beatific poem…..

Contentment is poetry ….

The attitude to become an aesthete….





Round illuminated

Spectacle, beaming

passionate; romance

with me; fornicate me

to write an adulterous


Your fleshy ecstasy….

The curvy nude transcendence…..

Your rhythmic silence….

Invokes a musical euphoria….

I gaze at you fondly

As a woman’s open breast…..

Are you a halo discarded

by an apostate seer?

I am puzzled when you

Empty the innocence

Your color…

That drapes the

Chthonic angelic Lucifer…


You flow a spatial lyric….


Haiku Flower

Euphoric as art/

Decorated to be gazed, an/

Ecstatic music/


Haiku for the Muses

Pour, pour creative pen/

Flower a psychedelic meadow of/

Writing that’s an art/

Haiku for Nietzsche

Though art wise and you/

Have rebelled with God, freed the sign/

To ecstasy, rhythm and melodies/

Haiku for Derrida

 From you I learnt to/

 Write, to signify meanings to new heavens/

 With my roots on earth/

Haiku for Roland Barthes

In you I have found the/

Language to be a delicious as/

A fruit in writing/

Haiku for Foucault

In you I have found/

The mask of writing to be tissues/

To be re-written upon/

Haiku for Bakthin

I have embraced your/

Textual contours, yours, to be/

In dialogic writing/


Haiku for Sartre

Beautiful soul you have/

Unraveled the plot of existence/

To live life, an art/

The Spirit of the Dead Watching

Gauguin you have been eclectic,

Panting symbolism, esoteric

Chthonic landscape……

Your colors are haunting and hypnotic…

The nude girl of Tahiti is splayed

With an innocence of being open

To be gazed as an erotic sublime…..

He body is a psychic depth….

A road on which poet can

Travel in writing……

The gaze of the Ghost is

Open to an interpretation….

A desire to mask one’s own

Inner temptation…..

In your art impressionism

Reaches a peak of Himalayan


I meditate on your art

And copy into the gallery

Of my enthusiastic psyche…..


Rodin’s Thinker  

You have sculpted

A trope….

A contemplative ecstasy….

A Plato in ecumenical

Catharsis ….

Europe has woken to life….

And has written philosophies…

To unravel the meaning of life…

Why are you stiff in your pose?

There is much left to be

Open to the heart of liberation……

Monet’s Sunrise

Passion sets into

The mind as a

Sublime tranquil…..

Blue reverberating

As the singing of a

Mystic  hymn …..

 Paint scattered

As the legerdemain

Lies like picturesque ribs….

I am tempted to a love….

A strange passion to be

Submerged into your art….. 


Haiku Toothpaste

You have been squeezed empty/

now you are like a coffin/

Left to be buried/


Haiku Grilled Chicken

Delicious as art/

Deco; you will end up soon in/

 As tasty flesh in mouths/


Gauguin’s where do we come and where do we go

Impressionistic tapestry –

Setting the mind to gaze

The rites of symbolism…..

Legends of Tahiti

Are gently flowing

On your aesthetic brush strokes….


Colors are brilliant in

Aesthetic softness, toned,

Reverberate the mystery

Of life as actions of a

Pleasant incantation…..

The plucking of the fruit

Is as sensuous of EVE

Eating and transgressing

To a voyage of the forbidden….

When I see you, my senses

Awaken the subconscious

And spring out an isle of a dream….



You feminine oasis…

I dream of submerging

In your luscious habitat….

In your beaches, I want

To spread my mind like a

Wild flower; I want the waves

Of your womb to splash on

Me and serenade a catharsis

You mermaid, I long to

Writes poems of love…..

I want to feel your land

With my heart….

I want hear the mystic calling

Of your tranquil beaches….

I want meditate and feel the

Sweet caresses of the many

Women that I long to love…..

Oh Bali, I am dreaming of you

With mystic fondness.


Van Gogh’s Starry Night

Crowds of impressionistic,

Metaphors, awaken and seek

To liberate the mind into an

Odyssey  of an illuminated art…..

Moods have been painted

To echo dreams of a cosmic flute….

A soft enchantment, a tempting

Diaspora to be tuned your art

And be immersed in your beauty.


Van Gogh’s Terrace at Night

Art lit in mellow hues ….

A wonder to tempt the imagination….

A de ja vu  of being in poetic wander…..

Your solitude has opened picturesque

Wonders …..a baroque ornate renditions…

A loud cataclysmic  burst with ecstatic


I am dazzled into beauty and I am submerged

In the tempest of your cathartic madness.


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