MUDDY VENTURE

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Stormy weather whether tempest come and go.Violent feather, to reap what we did sow.

To this levy, I parked my worn down chevy. Thought love had wings, yet questions were heavy.

Through pipes of shit, I planned an escape. Another movie and another soul can not relate?

Engaged beings, being untrue to each other. Constant bleedings, cheating every known lover.

Carnal craft, loveless bane of fortunes wrath. Mid-way past rays of sun and upon long path.

Culmination of things turn as this poet thinks. How much love did yearn and dead still stinks?

A worthy delight, to fight winds of a change. Yet whose might insights those said strange?

Trouble with the whiskey and cried with wine. Did a daisy doubt her color as I did pine?

All lights glitter souls of the living dead. Or the old skin that a snake would shed.

Muddy venture, and secrets of riddles I freely tell. Unbroken bones, yet soul tempered by hell.

Can you touch or clutch this invisible heat? My course determined by movement of feet.

Proper english, a fish more than a sought word. I may finish and die from a short cord.

Stones to stumble unto the glorious “Judas Tree”. A simple escape, yet anothers’ soul did bleed.

Fools of wrath hath pools of blood. Yet I laugh and cry tears till flood.

Never unknown the sorrow, yet painted a foe. Where do I fit in, in your stories of old?

A brother of dear kindness and not a fool. Used by many hands as a temporary tool.

I wonder still, thrill of puppets of tangled string. Which seek to kill such a wonderful thing.

Love bleeds and every day Christ we kill. From brutality, shock therepy or a pill…

Drama led me in and dreams did give chains. I trusted a sisters love through many pains!

Visions in clouds and future…my eyes did peer. Yet I cannot have until very last tear?

I smoke a cigarette and regret harm to this soul. I will comment, death is not the eminate goal.

She tried to take me, yet as all…ran away. Instument of design, to witness her play.

“Mein Kampf”, to kill a mere mocking bird? Letters tell the truth, so gather your herd.

Once I was bound without sound, yet chaos within. Weariness would resound around my very skin.

“One in the morning and two at night.” Keep me doped up and hidden from sight.

A chosen One, born to fly or die for grace. I flipped a coin and torn from a civilized race.

Past repeats, as the old gamers do know. I sternly jest the tricks of many foe.

LOVE…FOR SALE

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Know me, for my heart overflows indeed.

Surely I sow to reap from a lovely seed.

Know me, before the world falls to dust.

My devotion is dear with love to trust.

Know me, contemplate me while you comfortably lay.

A mediocre character of a long forgotten play.

Know me, before this life fades to gray.

My heart is a harp, for you to play.

Know me, who is desperate for a slight hope.

Kind eyes for you, and none other to scope.

Know me, in spite the wreckage of life.

Waiting patiently and enduring the strife.

Know me, to fathom the unreachable thing.

With another to share a most fantastic dream!

SHOUT THE GLASS

 

12910433_179668832420366_672481879_nUpstart the heart. Live and learn. Douse the fuel. Yearn and burn.

Sacred allegiance to fulfill what must. Head in hands and devoted to trust.

Invite torment and spell is undone. Sometimes weight feels as a ton.

Mysteries of dreams and seeking me out! Mother or lover, as a pain filled shout.

Dancing in the den and revealed is my within. Whether lion, scarecrow or lonely man of tin.

Beautiful orchestration and demonstration…is the love that overcame me. Tormentive revelation, seasons of rotation is the web in which I weave.

Pride is loud, I know. From bowels of understanding yet not demanding is a hand to hold. A feather in the wind to travel where ever the wind may blow.

Before now, I have worked the plow. Serving pigs and idols that they bow.

As others, from sisters to brothers. Clueless renegades from skittles of colors.

Throwing stones and bones to somehow distract my keen eye as I sip my tea. Clues come and go, the end I know…filling this relic with most glee.

Why revel in madness of the one you can not control? Seeking dynamic purpose and genetics from pole to pole.

Telling the truth, yet art forgetful still. Beyond the mill and nations sought to kill.

In dreams, stitching tapestry as a work of art. Yet bleeding and pleading is my beating heart.

Waiting on signs that may point my way. Only one lover I know, yet will she stay?

In spite of cynics and critics. All the same to me. Kicking a single stone or cutting down my tree.

At night, I pour of passion of deep delight. At day, a character of play of emotional might.

Giving clues to fools, as I shout the glass. Yet men desire earnestly to repeat the past.

Obviously pushed in a corner. Wants no part of me. Is not red the color that we all bleed?

I am down, I know. Begging love at the door. A mere man, with tears that cover the floor.

Covertly covered, yet eyes strain and do not lie. Honoring the heart given and moment to fly.

Life is made, whether house on hill or den of thieves. Take ones’ words he loves, to see him bleed.

My yin to my yang. Believe me, I do know pain. If love was taken away, what will remain?

Shake the bottle until the top will pop. From beast of brutality or friendly cop.

Deceiving appearance, or truth plainly seen? Scrubbing me upon a washboard, till I am clean.

Different paths to take, maybe. Yet same conclusion. No matter the math or cycles of delusion.

Love adapts like roaches, only to survive. Or protecting queen bee and honey hive.

Forms of nature and order of Holy Heaven. She spoke “no more”, that lovely raven.

 

THE HARBINGER OF SECRETS

10325344_507068336064175_6694291280011412587_nThroughout ages and pages a man of forceful hand did lay the ground work for another’s endless work. Telling tales of youth over food with a ready fork.

Endless wrath of a man born from luck or mere design. Those before understood not the pledge, yet so inclined.

Many gods gathered to infuse torment to his soul in the shapes of shadows…and man. The course of winds did blow from blood of war to scar skin by an earthly hand.

From Atlas and from pole to pole, many mocked and sacrificed youth to bring mutation. Against the day and culmination of dreams of lovely things and slavery of nations.

Upon a Rock, he mused between the lies of elders and cruel justice of pontiffs and power thirsty men. The One in the heavens did laugh and promised wrath against the organism called “sin”.

What fondness to know the heart that can be helped or hurt? Blood drains and bones remain…long forgotten relics in the dirt.

This soul in pages gone, as loveless beauty races to and fro. Selfish men and mimes gave signs from death to dope.

Candid faces brings about happiness and pure with graces. Upon the screen are smiles at things obscene as the heart races.

Secrets came from both the evil and the good. Selling ones’ soul for craft and forget payment of blood.

Disease and death riddles minds from since peaceful streams did flow. Murder at day, and fornication at night under heaven as moon did glow.

Knives collide from forth the hands of lust with bullets of war. Lions wait for weakness to even the score.

Good is the tapestry, yet woven within is a thread of red devoted to art. Fascination of the One that balances all things within the heart.

Brothers are kings, holding secrets of most hidden things. Fancy omens give flight to the fearless in dreams.

Eyes spring forth from the forest and trees, as leaves blow in the frigid breeze. Melody of mind and beating blood while soul is at ease.

And what to say to the dealer of death that exists in two places at one time? Who supplies clouds of grief to make one drunk with wine.

A postcard unto forever, this lonely man does send. A content life to lay down and carried in the wind.

LONELY MANS MEDICINE

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What bowels from this heart sings? A box ready open to give heavenly things.

Look on, if you deeply desire to do so. Does my voice tickle ears in winds to blow?

Gentle tapestry of thy face of no escape. Eyes mysterious, passions of mine gently rape.

Stuck to your shadow, longing a slight touch. In my corner, as your essense does clutch.

Purple wetness pours from your secret place. Longing that nector, on my mouth to taste.

My heart remembers thy deepest delight! As two foes danced before of darkest night.

Oh! Rarest honey comb do slide close! Rape me in wind by your subtle ghost.

Cravings of evermore, as the stars do shine. Gentle wind with embrace tender and kind.

Loves’ threshold of reality and many dreams. Passion indeed shines and busts the seams!

Soft lips to kiss as heaven hardly knows. Finger tips touch as wind chills and blows.

Wine from sweat, and memories of former life. I know! Heart bled of jealosy and a knife.

I live to give boldest respect of all ages. My soul shouts of kindess in all my pages.

Past finish line and waiting for my trophy. Mustard seed of faith as I sing dear poetry.

REQUISITION OF A KNIGHTS DREAM

knights-1920x1200Requisition of a knights dream.In this knight are thoughts unseen. Seeing this world from place to place. Withered lives seen from face to face. Ongoing the struggle between evil and good. Breaking down the mighty, in might they stood. He pitches his tent beside the rivers. Eating the meat given from many givers . He questions his soul in a mid-night song. Dreaming of a place where there is no wrong.

Requisition of a knights dream. Upon a table is peace to bring. A steady sword, sharp and long. Sturdy armour, thick and strong. Fighting dragons of long before. Knowing happiness is at the door. Upon his horse is bliss…to find. Giving grace to kings as they dined. Villans tempted him within his path. Thus bewildered,  by his hand of wrath.

Within his dream is a sort desired much. A gentle lady who beckons his touch. She has seen four corners and he, the world. Will she be faithful as the rain that poured? A friend until the end, until they part. Could she tame the beating of his restless heart? ”This dream is mine, even before I wake. Until then I count these steps I take. From boiling blood and vengeful hate. I battle for love before my fate.”

THE JOURNAL POEM

 

 

There she stands in her purple dynasty.  Taunting this heart with true ecstasy.

I desire her true…I desire her dear.  Her movement drives a man to feel.

I yearn earnestly and endlessly to revel her with wine.  I burn furiously and doubtfully for that which to call mine.

With black hair, the darkness of night.  Purple lips to kiss.  Tis beauty in sight!

Brown skin, yet love radiates from within. Flooding my life in my uncomfortable den.

A reality from a mere spoken dream.  I often drink my coffee without the cream.

May not my love end with bitter waste.  For that mouth I long to taste.

A smile and I felt sin most vile. I seek love and not the latest color or style.

Her smile wraps me to encompass the gloom.  In her arms to almost welcome my doom.

She comes and goes as the winds that blow.  I long for her as my blood does flow.

There is gold and silver, yet I have none.  My weariness feels I have carried a ton.

I desire her gentle loving touch.  I can not live without a crutch.

Between empty death and fluid life.  I seek a cure for my lonely strife.

Forgive this soul, for it has traveled so far.  Be not another wound to another scar.

Longing for that name, with courage to ask. I promise to rid this ridiculous mask.

As if to contemplate, I anticipate a painful tear, then feeling reduced by an empty fear…that boils inside because I can not hide a love that is forever or never dear.

Be not fieriously hot or rigid cold.  Be the one someday, I cherish to hold.

Forget me never…for my love burns now and forever.

Cherish me, till heaven and earth do pass. Though our faces age within the glass.

I will sweetly sing and do bring…someday to you a golden ring.

As the rivers roll, into the ocean they will go.  As a faithful man reaps what his heart will sow.

Beauty is vain, yet the heart I will seek…within another to cherish and keep.

I saw her in the magazine section.  Her smile froze my heart, without objection.

With her eyes, I sensed anticipation.  I long for her love and not infatuation.

Her eyes spoke riddles to question…still.  As if my heart forgot how to feel.

She is within the heart, and she is in my mind. I long for her essence to someday find.

She stands in a purple field upon a hill.  Hopefully, my heart she has sought to fill.

Tears of my devotion pouring its endless potion. Upon your grapes to taste, my heart beats in times haste.

Gentle are you, for my soul would often sleep within the bitter rain at the dead of night. For your love I sought to keep before death comes to rid my sight.

Be the sweet whisper my soul desires to hear. My travel is in vain if love is not near.

Break the dam and flood my land!  For it thirsts a desiring hand.

Let my heart be with hers, I do pray.  And let it not be lost along the way.

A tender devotion, I long ever more. Let light shine within my very core.

I cry at nights which are cold and bitter. With one request that appears so little.

Upon my bed, I will lofty lay. Praying hope will shine this day!

Rid the voices that desturb my rest. Hold down the request of my flesh.

I long the touch of her gentle skin. Enough so not to heed taunting sin.

To someday love would be my delight.  I would cling upon it with all my might.

My pillow knows, it has tales to tell.  My floor knows, is where my knees fell.

Around her neck lies a purple lace. Her smile shines in an innocent grace.

There she stands still, in her purple attire. Is this love or a fools mad desire?

THE RED THAT BLED MY TAPESTRY

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A kiss to miss upon the blue yonder of time.
You are no longer yours and never more mine.
No locket or key and never more moments of glee.
One instant of lust carries a handsome fee.
A payment to be trodden by horses and men.
Eating dust of others in a race hopeless to win.
Her grapes gave wrath upon a broad tapestry.
My life I did give and was buried in history.
No other doors opened and no knob to see.
I question the path of my own misery.
My pen did probe the vessels of my heart.
And coffee did not keep me from coming dark.
Lies of sweetness, became bitter in the gut.
Was my heart decieved to drink of her cup?
I picked a rose, and yes my fingers did bleed.
Her beauty drained the life I thought to need.
Sultry lips with dark eyes of deep wonder.
Indeed it was I that shuddered at thunder.
Many misfortunes crept to seal my fall.
Yet in her mirror, she was the fairest of all.
Many starless nights along to suffer the cold.
I yelled at the wind that did break my mold.
No fame. No glory from whence the grave to go.
Many agonies reaped from what the heart did sow.

AGAPE WITH PEN’S MIGHT

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                                                                     I

As I tread the place once tread before.  I long to know what is behind the door.

Is it heartache or a dear lover’s delight? Arms to shelter me within a stormy night?

Classical music, in the background would play. Seductive movement, in a cool night in May.

I once ventured this way, but not like this. I feel closer to desiring lips to kiss…

Is she a riddle or clue to my past?  Many times I feared, so I wore a mask.

I once fell headlong and void of sanity.  A preacher told me that much is vanity.

I weighed his words, as I still tried. Myself and the floor, to forcefully collide.

A favorable delight, I still held in sight. With all my strength, yes, all my might!

Bursting through the ground, in temporal hell.  Did she have eight arms weaving her web?

My words, I know cannot reshape history. These very steps I take remain a mystery.

Yes, lovers laugh as they forget the past. Once alone themselves, drinking whiskey in a glass.

Cumbersome is the problem, to someday fix. Will another offer treats or a bag of tricks?

A quiet loner, till I am revealed by love. When we twain will fit like a glove.

Life is a tragedy…flowing within is joy. Spilling my gloom and thoughts of being coy.

I sip my coffee, for I no longer drink wine.  Desiring a love that’s not forceful or unkind.

I reverence God now, and forever will.  I will not stoop for another’s’ happiness to steal.

I want for myself to someday own.  Bonded together by a valuable stone.

Through darkness, the lightning and thunder. This poet gives words to cherish and ponder.

Ponder the grief, while happiness is yet.  My heart is thirsty and my mind is set…

…to venture life as my soul doth battle. To question the enigma I sought to unravel.

Life is filled with grave and wonderful things. Yet the heart speaks in the midst of dreams.

With colors that bleed like a work of art. Dear things flow from the depths of the heart.

Like a faithful clock, it forgets not to beat. Love is hidden strength, when it is weak.

 

Der Untergang der Titanic

Der Untergang der Titanic

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I pondered love, to sow…surely to reap. Love will be known, as death will creep…even after its cold fingers would chill and taunt the spaces yet to fill. The gravity of love, it forces not its own. Nor does it boast, yet forever is strong. Mending what pride relentlessly cut. Stitches of love does heal the wounded gut.

Inspiration, I have yet to tell it to thee. I have yet to carve your name on my tree. Infatuation, I pray it doesn’t steer my heart. If lust sets in, I will be in utter dark. Lost in the middle of a very large nowhere, surrounded by souls with no space to care. Drinking others sore bitterness and gall. Blind, surely a hole awaits to greet my fall! Two steps taken and I will be no more. Why would I knock upon your door? I have not sought for a mere pleasure. I desire for another to be their treasure. No other foundation laid down but love in the midst of madness that would push and shove. My eyes would not venture, for they is less than you! Why would I taint something fair and true?

Alone, with no company but the cigarette smoke. I cherish all the words my hand has wrote. I am thankful for grace God has given me. In the midst of a raging emotional sea. Endeared to Him…forever and always. Unalone am I, as I walk life’s hallways. Containing pictures of past and soon to be. The Lord is my trust…in Him I do flee. One request, with another is my desire. Someone to pray with when times are dire.

Desperation, to fathom the unreachable thing. In the distance, hope hangs from a string. Almost hopeless, yet there is little light. On love, I will soar with wings of flight. With a great hope, I hope in anticipation. Desiring love and not mere infatuation.

On the bottom of the ocean, my ship does lay. It rests far below the light of day. Waiting for discovery, for it has much treasure. With wealth to give, that none can measure. A fish’s habitation, to not become a prey. Underneath the wood is his place of stay. My ship is small and sunk with might. The grievous waves did roar within the night. Its shipmen safely found the nearest land. For their lives, forsaking the wealth at hand. Within the Atlantic, my ship continues to wait. For the wealth within serves not a crafty bait.

I will thirst more when my river runs dry. Pluck my feathers and I will cease to fly. Why is a book judged by the cover? What is a man, if he has not a lover? A bag of apples and one is rotten to the core. One house with no knob on the door. A chick will weep when mother is taken away. Money is wasted if no characters would play.

Long is the road and narrow was my past. I forsook my face and wore another’s mask. I was within, desiring another to come in. I pondered my four walls of my lofty den. Judging the books, another has ripped asunder. Peering through my window to see another blunder. I have eaten the apple then my belly did ache. My pain was known, that I could not fake.

Love is not a dream, it is concrete and real. Within a place no man could ever steal..

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT: HEARTS AND ARROWS, HALOS AND HORNS

I suppose you could call it literary A.D.D but the latest thing to come from the dome of our very own Daniel Louis Crumpton (D.L. for all his ghetto bruddahs) was that his next publication would be very much in Monty Python tradition…something completely different. All you Zenners who frequent our little site are familiar with his spiritual and political writings, and for those of you who arent the lazy type that wait for the movie; his novel Then Came the Flood was a gargantuan of completely different. So what pray-tell is the next trick he has decided to pull from one of the myriad of his hats? A rapid fire, three round burst of modern day poetry dripping angst, emotion and grit coming to us in just a matter of days.

hahalogoThe first collection; Hearts and Arrows, Halos and horns is scheduled to be released on March 20th underneath the super-duper mega moon eclipse thingy and we are all sure that has absolutely no connection with why he decided upon that date. Like a roller coaster of emotions, concepts and perspectives the collection shifts gears fast enough to give you intellectual whiplash as it takes you through over twenty years of never before published work.

The second (Wasting Despair) and third (Perspicacity) installment’s release dates have yet to be announced however The Ochelli Effect was kind enough to have D.L. Crumpton on recently to discuss his upcoming projects and though saying he was a little under the weather is quite an understatement (many of you out there have experienced the horror of the recent cold strain destroying a week or two of your lives) our little slugger still did a decent job.

After the interview the crew of the Zenterprise had to put him on medical leave until further notice and while he recovers we thought we would serve you up a slice from the interview. So grab a tasty beverage, kick back and enjoy Chuck Ochelli and Daniel Louis Crumpton rap about Hearts and Arrows, Halos and Horns, self-publishing, Edgar Alan Poe, the insanity of a writer’s life, content control and whatever else managed to come out of his medicine head. Enjoy!