deepundergroundpoetry.com

Ataru

ďBeing at peace in oneís life means not the absence of struggle or stress, but having enough meaning to be secure in oneís being, in the world where one is, by accepting the world in full awareness of the mess that it is.Ē
Surfing With Sartre, Aaron James

..

I will not speak

He looks at me, from that
Dark
House,
He gazes
Down,
From the window,
Over the laundry room

A palpable silence
Lowers
Its smooth
Palm,
Over the whole
And breathes
And swells

Holds
The living
Moment,
In the hollow
Of its
Hand

Iím beyond the yard,
Beyond,
The chain link fence

Goose
Pimples rise
Upon
The sibilant
Skins of
Midnight,
Sliding across the
Unmoored
Hours

Dawning
Dark
And a deeper
Iteration,
Weighted
Evenly,
Upon meridian
Scales,
Each,
Bearing
A path,

One climbs forward,
One slides
Back

Beyond the old
Asphalt
Avenues,
Faded
From rain
And sun
And hammered
By a hundred
Thousand
Footfalls

The doors of the
Train slide closed with an
Atmosphere
Decapitating
Thunk,
Behind me,

There is no going back

It lurches into motion

My vision is
Extinguished,
Struggles to
Orient
And dissolves

I sense the diameter,
Radius,
Intuitively

The milieu is saturated
With a cloying
Depth of
Night
And hush
Of its dreamers,
Its
Prisoners,
Whose breaths,
Treble the
Air

And I,
Am here,
Listening

He stays in that
Shadowed
Acropolis,
There is no
Exit,
He never left

Seconds skitter, on their spindly
Legs, across
The primordial stirrings
Of dawn

Saying
Nothing

I could not affect an end to change
And all my struggles were in vain

..

Yesterday,
Whilst walking, I
Passed
By
A mother
And child

Mother
Pushing her young teen
Daughter
In a wheelchair

Daughter
Had the glow
Of her youth, marred
By a mildly yellow tinge
Of illness, limbs somewhat
Malnourished,
Like a plant
Starved
Of sunlight

Mother's
Eyes
Were knotted
Hollows of grief
And exhaustion

She had the slow bearing
Of a stream
Over stones

The teen said
Hello
In a bright voice, as if
Chance
Encounters
Were a rarity

In a moment I was
Swept
With many intuitive
Impressions
And a wave
Of pain
Passed
Over me

But I kept on

..

Sleep
Is a planet

Chest rising,
Falling,
In smooth
Transit

Lungs beneath
Expand,
Contract,
These biological
Bellows,
Reminiscent of
Turgid
Ocean swells,
The fatigued
Calm,
That follows
A violent squall

Conscious and
Subliminal
Lock
Step
In a revolving
Circuit

Dyings and
Birthings of
Cells
Maintain their
Existential
Equilibrium,
Seamlessly changing
Orbit,
About the
Nucleus

Everything
Unfolding
Beneath an undisturbed
Mirror of
Presence,
Occurring,
In silent,
Full
Intent

The night persists, but
Begins
To raise
Its heavy
Curtain,
The stage ropes are spooling
From slack
To taut
And dragging folds
Of cloth
Are stirring,
In minute
Ripples

Great
Dawn
Is approaching

They struggle to
Sift and
Separate,
The old
Day
Relinquishing
To the new

The new,
Casting off
The chrysalis
Of the old

They pass and
Fold
Over me,
In cyclic
Iterations

Pass and fold
And bequeath
Their centers
Of gravity

..

Everything of this
World is
Beautifully
Broken and
Resilient, or it
Lies
In ruin, that
Sighs with its moldering
Tragedy and slumped
Shoulders, and we see
The beauty in its
Surrender, a fingers breadth
Before it rises,
In new
Incarnations

Even now,
Microorganisms
Sow the
Seeds
Of its triumphal
Architecture

Towers spear the atmosphere,
Ruins seem to slumber,
Both have their place in the
Paradigm of contiguous and
Continuous
Transformation

Each avatar holds
The foetus that cried
Its form

And I die
And die
And am born

There is great value, yet
To that which roars
Between the jagged teeth
Of its rust and
Sings its arthritic joints,
Throughout pillories
Of bone, these seated, sacral
Chambers and stalactite
Tunnels, held between
Their knuckles

And the anxious newborn
Is held
Aloft,
To bask,
Moored,
In the reaching
Sun,

Everyday,
It comes
And sits beside
Its friends

And I come
And sit
And listen
And speak
And waters speak and listen

And the pain is
A companion,
When songs have deserted
Us and hours misaligned, cannot
Seem
To weave
A merrier
Gather

And when no one is
There, I still hold
A bonfire
In my bosom

Still dance
About a stone, that could
Serve as a tomb, or equally well
To stand upon
And with a friend
Seated
On my shoulders, make a totem
With the moon

There are no finer cords
Than those
Of fingers
Entwined

We find out how we fit together
And as a friend said,
The energy flows
To where
It is needed

..

And he is there,
In the dark
House
And I am here,
In his stead

And all I fought to hold back
Fomented into every
Colossal
Incarnation,
Clad in spear and
Scale

Every fierce
Avatar
He manifested,
From that blue
Black
Abyssal,
To guard
The wound

And I am here,
His
Tower,
Erected upon the
Still
Rattled
Bones of
Rape and
Shame
Of survival

Every wind called
To ignition,
By the fatal abortion
Of what might have
Been,
Had he
Remained
Unsullied

He breathed
His last
Into this,
Engrossing rage
Of compassion,
Ataru

He crafted
Me
From
Shards,
To stretch
My spine
And blot
The stars

Bleeding brilliance,
From my fumarole
Halo

So,
Hold fast,
Carrion
Bird of
Tomorrow
And
Tomorrow

As I wedge my triangled
Shoulder
Into this obtuse
Fracture
And through applied
Pressure,
Widen the
Breach, until
The world breaks
Against its own
Dull
Vacuum
And vomits
Forth
Itís naked
Soul

Shudder
Vibrates
Itís magnetic
Coils
Against this
Untouchable,
Unassailable
Graven
Wail

A foal,
Emerging,
Upon spindly
Legs,
Struggling, to
Rise

And until then,
From this day
Unto that,
I will not speak

I will stand,
Sentinel enigma,
Center
Stage,
Holding
A nominal orbit

Saying
Nothing

..

Rising
Light
Warms itís
Hands
Against the
Windows,
Begins to
Saw
Between
The blinds

Drives its
Hot
Lances
At angles, to
Anchor into the
Surfaces
Of the room,
Driving
Shadows
Into sullen
Corners

They begin to rouse, all
Around me,
The sleepers,
Each,
An autonomously
Revolving
Spiral
Galaxy
And
Simultaneous,
Intrinsic
Organ,
Of the
Cosmos

Each, bears this
Immediate
Dichotomy, with an
Innate
Alacrity

Complete their daily
Ablutions,
Congress
Amidst their
Immediate
Circles,
Accomplish
Tasks that maintain
Their systemic and
Societal
Homeostasis
And the furtherance of
Intention,
To craft fruition,
Ex nihilo

Black birds
Clear the
Eveningís
Detritus,
White birds
Laugh at the
Limned
Shores

The new sun
Pours
Poems
Across
Horizons in a
Meteoric
Rising

A house cat
Purrs
Itís electric
Contentment
Into a lapís warm
Pool

The crescent moonís
Hawk
Nose and heroic
Chin
Pinch the
Sky into a
Healthy
Blush

Cars and
Trucks
Whuff fumes,
Between the narrow
Shoulders of
Painted
Lanes

Long shadows
Brood over a tattered
Fragment of
Memory,
Of that dark place

And, Gods above,
Gods amongst us,
Isnít it
All
So fucking
Beautiful

And I,
Will not speak,
Of it,
But watch
And listen,
In curious
Reverie

Come
And stand,
Beside me
And be my friend,
There is yet time,
Until the night
Arrives

Watch,
With the unflinching
Love,
Of stone
And tree

And listen,
From the hammering
Heart
Of God

..

Ataru
or
Form IV (aggression)
By
R_Sculptoris

ďAgainst multiple enemies, only a true Ataru master will prevail.Ē
DanielChristensen
Written by DanielChristensen (The Fire Elemental)
Published
Author's Note
Those of us who are broken and choose to rise in the light, rise in a rage of compassion.

Dedications:
For my friends.
Those of us who are broken and choose to rise in the light, rise in a rage of compassion.

Dedications:
For my friends.

Copyright © 2020 by Daniel Christensen

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