PHARAOH LAMBERT

Born in Cameroon, raised in Trinidad, survivor of six Saskatchewan winters, Pharaoh Lambert is the author of an unpublished collection of poetry entitled Pathetic Smear. He is also a distinguished composer-musician and master of Indian stomach yoga.

 

MUSIC
Season In Solitude
See The Light
Desiree
Moonglow
Silver Bird

 

NAUSEA

Nausea invades on mildewed stilts,
crawls through my spleen
and dispenses its perplexity.

It becomes my enigma and makes me one with Sisyphus.
Christened with perpetual climax and anti-climax,
relief from its clinging tentacles
is momentary.

We are doomed to a life of paradox.

 

SEWER CRUISE

I lost my path to freedom. Sour grapes.
I lost my chamber with good view and absurd setting.
Health and homage to yonder enemies.
Enamel glass on metallic click sound to pan on concrete
solid like your divinity.

Some like it hot.
Action in Rue Morgue.
Dark and dank evening.
Light rain, trickle of blood-red water in a Paris slum.
On same street walks humid whore
with exposed upper thigh and tight inviting crotch.
The beggar looks up from the vermillion stench,
limpidly reaches out for this exquisite meat
only to remember
that he has already had his supper of boiled potatoes
and rancid meat.

Goodbye to suffering.
He quietly slits his throat
and drops into the gutter,
his blood making no impression
as it becomes one with the wretched waters.

 

BEING AND NOTHINGNESS

in a shaded dale all along the purpose grass
falls the fallout of consciousness
stained with its own brand of emptiness
shelved and repressed for decades
finally to be let loose in one tirade
regurgitated with one's dying breath

all along the cerebral vomit
rides the kite of death

a humanist swoons from the stench
topples off his sympathetic bench
into the arms of a passing wench
whose presence proffers
prattles a toothless profit
flexes his welted tongue to question the credibility gap

he foams at the mouth
his head falls in his lap

a brainless cranium cracked and oozing pus
discards its last member
a rotting thalamus that rolls down some pristine slope
whose residents grope for their last supper
mouths to chatter lips to stutter
tongues to utter
bondage and servitude forever

a hanging date palm
blandly wavers in the astral air
flagging fate
then opens the gate

a giant ape watches coldly
as the ocean waters flush
and worlds gush
into nothingness

 

HAIKU

Cyclops siphons
a vialful of vomit
one-eyed in the autumn tide.

 

BAY OF BEGGARS

Behind the floating mirage,
beside the creeping vine of servitude
lies the bay of beggars
where massive rocks and vast stretches of sand
proclaim a degree of integrity.

Eagle talons
cling to abrasive cliff edge
as keen eyes scan for carrion.
Ancient mariners
ride tidal waves through time,
finally embarking on beggars row
where bronze beach combers,
garbed in eagle feathers,
mark praises to absurd figure heads
before offering a mutilated, moaning sacrifice.

Molten lava
pours over the once proud terrain
reducing it to nothingness. The slithering snake
rattles no more.
The last battered beggar
begs his last
and shouts to the crimson skies for mercy.

As if in answer to his pleas
the rising tide
washes in a lone piece of weathered driftwood.

All Music © Pharaoh Lambert
Poetry ©Pharaoh Lambert