Poem Collection by vincy kamberk
Just like that
I can take you just like that
and you wouldn稚 even know
may be in your dreams
you might get the slightest hint
which you値l readily dismiss
once you wake up.
I assure you there is no such thing
as mutual consent,
once I have taken you into my world
through the means of my psyche
here my relentless imagination
will make you do as I choose
tease you and striptease you
If that may be the case.
It hardly is so trivial
as titillating myself
at your expense
even in the eye of my mind
I can be gentle in this ruthless
task of taking you
of possessing you.
Be assured you値l have
all the breathing space you want
you値l have total freedom
like you never thought possible
If you ever shed tears
they will be tears of joy
and you値l have them
pouring rampant
throughout my lucid dreams.
The thing is you値l never know
how come my name triggers
the fondest memories in you
how come the distant image
of someone so remote as me
whom you have hardly met
hits such a deep spot in you.
You値l never guess
in your wildest imagination
that just a short poem you wrote
just those few words you scribbled
and just the place you touched
got you into all this double life
the one that you breathe
and the other that I have.
I saw you see me
I saw you see me kiss my hand
and being such a good friend
you seemed not to notice
while I pretended to suck it
cursing the insect that stung me
right on my forehand.
I saw you see me bite my tongue
you acted as though you had not
'you are quiet' you inquired
'It is nothing' I assured
'daydreaming again' you joked.
I saw you see me pick my nose
you looked as though you did not
I scratched it in a rush
'bloody nose' I complained
keeps on itching.
I saw you see me wet my pants
you looked the other way
while I, in a hurry
poured my glass onto my lap,
'I spilled some wine, no harm done'
you passed over a towel.
I saw you see me kick my ass
you took notice, you took offence
fuming with rage you accused me
'Your ass belongs to me mutherfucker,
this will cost you Big Time!'.
Soulsearch
My truth is in the here and now
I can only stretch into eternity
when devoid of further promises
of supernatures metamorphosis.
For the time being
all ambitions, all prospects
of resurrection, reincarnation
all possibilities of continuity
after the point of death is heresay
it bears no assurance of reality.
I do not want no false promises
no sugar coated carrot sticks
to escape into a future fantasy
when truth is neither here nor there.
I want it all right here, right now
and if it ain't here for real
I wouldn't go wanting any further
enough's enough!...
On the other hand
it is equally foolish of me
to dismiss any such possibility.
What if, I have come again
with total loss of memory
yes, a 'de ja vu' is at play
I have been here before
will most likely again
weather I like it or not!
Wait a moment, I think
I may be on to something
suppose wishing makes it possible
without intent I might miss the chance
Chance?...what chance?...
what if it is all predestined
what if I have no choice in the matter
I shall be falling in line...in place
weather I like it or not!
Whatever will be will be
I need not surrender to destiny
just surf this river of time
so long as I am with the grain
the going is smooth, it slides through
I need not swim, I shall float with it.
When it gets jammed though
when the going is rough
the waters troubled
the World upside down
against the grain of nature
synthetically induced
fanatically imposed
brutally enforced
crucially flawed
What then..??
Whatever will be will be
so long as I can
hold on to
just a smile,
a nod of acceptance
'Que sera sera!'.
The blood of silence
I once saw a poet
bleed to death
I heard him whisper
his last verse
the blood of silence
so intense!
I recall hence
at his expense
so much nonsense
that makes sense.
This is the illusion
of the illusion
of the illusion
of the illusion
of this illusion
of being here.
Fallen angel
An angel fell from
high... high the sky
into the ocean of my dreams
with a big splash!!!
My tides came up
waves hitting
the shores of my mind...
This was a wet dream
sweat and tears and more
she was sinking fast
I dove deep
held her in my arms
gave her the mouth to mouth
she coughed out holy waters.
When she opened her eyes
I heard the silent cries
of a fallen angel
" I fell in love
with a breathe
I fell in love
with a breeze
I fell in love
with any thing
I fell in love
with everything
Then I woke up
with a smile
and for a while
I was so high.
Man made
Lost scriptures reveal
ancient tabernacle
restored under
delicate circumstances
to be kept alive and caged
in state sponsered museum.
See, a loser by profession
and a chooser by choice
will only kiss the feet
that has enough meat to eat.
Take them losses as they come
hardened,hard to take,hard to live with
this hard core passion for martyrdom
has been nurtured into abundance.
Some losses can not be contained
but such a loss as the human soul
will blow up and over and hover
like screaming ghosts longing to discover
the sceletal remnants of man made power.
Cosmic lust
Ancient life falling down
onto mother Earth
meteorite showers
sprinkling space dust
all over this planet.
The friction of entry
is peeling the crust
warming the seed
hatching the eggs
the universal deed
is here indeed.
Do you believe that divine power
wanted to come lower and lower
this may be nothing but cosmic lust
In whom was it that we did trust?.
URGE
......
Hey what's the rush
I can feel your crush
on me and then you push
go...go...go...go...you urge
If you love me so why this purge
I shall thus surge and hit them wild
with all the kisses you have spared me
heavily armed I shall proceed to fuck them
like I have never even remotely done with you
will you consider having me back when I'm done?.
TOMB
Come in
open door policy
is in effect
there is no privacy here
just space and us
though time is a factor
it ain稚 worth the fuss.
Open up
this room is cluttered
but you don稚 have to be
here is evidence
of traces of life
walk all over this space
in your own good pace
the quality of this take
is in the giving.
Out of context
In a Village square
knee deep
in the glut of irony
and mumbo jumbo
beware
of life
a horizontal fall
which will roll
down the slope
gathering speed
as it goes.
When you hop out of it
in mind first
then of body
politicking xtacy
not a square price to pay
for times shifted
out of context.
Arise, arise above it all
meet the sky eye to eye
let go of the home baked pie
before you die.
Blueprint
From the moulder's intent
into the frying pan
a rude awakening
to life's ordeal.
The predator's word
a double-edged sword
the escapist sings
a forsaken song.
The primitive urge
too eager to surge
embracing pain
from the serpent's tongue
to the unicorn ears.
In the time of need
one persons hunger
another's greed.
There are traces left
of what was indeed
a primordial feed
the pillaging and theft
of the original seed.
Journey in time
Time is a mighty river
everflowing
towards eternity
while we journey in it
towards some destination
some metamorphosis
some point
we call death
where we stop
while time goes on
and on and on
or...
do we go on
while time stops
Shall we ever know
the whole truth
nothing... nothing
but the truth
collectively
clearly
ultimately?
When we are one with time
we are not merely passengers
we are the journey.
Are not there then
those moments when
we catch a glimpse of eternity
as time in all clarity
stands still.
Display
Something is burning
without flames
somebody must be
playing games.
Ashes turning
into dust
invisible dreams
beneath the crust
Birds are singing
so we must
hear the whispers
of the past
find new meaning
in ancient trust
Time is burning
here at last
life is changing
changing fast.
Artistatement
My art emerges
without any deliberate
intention.
Not a single stroke
is foreseen.
All are dictated
by immediate impulses
the faintest tremblings
of signals
coming
from the depth
of my being.
What proceeds
is the gradual emergence
and recording of
unpremeditated imagery.
This is a mode of expression
that fully satisfies
the eye or the ear
by achieving
rhythmic unity.
What counts
is the spontaneous
the impulsive.
My drawings become
what they are.
Like poetry
the lines
the forms
rhyme
and become
animated.
All is constantly
changing
as it is being
created
and when it is over
it goes on changing
and living
according
to the state of mind
and perception
of whoever is
looking at it.
I am not merely
the executor of my art
I live my work!
Tomb
Come in
open door policy
is in effect
there is no privacy here
just space and us
though time is a factor
it ain't worth the fuss.
Open up
this room is cluttered
but you don't have to be
here is evidence
of traces of life
walk all over this space
in your own good pace
the quality of this take
is in the giving.
Lucid Dreamer
Dare I ask
of a sleeping self
who and what
to dream about?.
Dare I dream
wondering
all along
why whoever
is in there
won't stop
touching me
to fit them
to serve them.
Why whoever
is in there
won't let me be.
I have sacrificed
my earthly
posessions
for the gift
of the sight
of their
charred
aftermath.
Layers and layers
of dream traces
in my faces
my visions
are squandered
washed against
remote corners
of the mind
where
the faintest ideas
gather and season
longing
to be set free
from
the grasp of reason.
Dare I ask
this lucid dreamer
If he can spare
the will to change?
With this poem
I move
into a space
where
I can not be
touched.
With this gesture
I move
into a pasture
where
I can not be
traced.
Look Twice
If you be the beholder
of those runny eyes
catching sight
of an image
of immense beauty
cracked under
intense exposure
dusted out of
harms reach
I beg of you
to look twice
once at the virtue
and then at the vice.
Breathe
When I came to this world
nobody told me to breathe
nobody taught me how to
I just took a breath
all on my own
or
did the breathe take me?
I have journeyed this life
for half a century now
taking a breath in
then letting it out.
I still have much doubt
if I shall leave the breath
or
the breathe shall leave me?
Destiny's Will
Why bother to resist
that which has been
laid on you so far.
You are after all
the makings
of a specimen
which has
a track record.
You are statistically
the static remnants
of history's dust,
the chronic conjuror
of a string of lies
played like a violin
over and over again
till there would be
no more strings
attached.
As I Wake Up
In my sleep last night
I imagined this dream
waking up into this story
that I dreamt of imagining
where I am strolling
through this obscurity
of a sleep
where I dreamt
of waking up
into this novel
in which I am
sleeping with you
and slipping out of you
simultaneously.
As my imagination fades
I wake up to dream
of sleeping with you
once again.