Recognition to be given by the Congress of the Republic of Peru,
from “DestAcados” Magazine, to Dr. Dennis L. Siluk, for “Promoter of the Culture
of the Mantaro Valley of Peru”, 17th April, 2015“
Twenty-eight March
Poems
(2015)
…by Dennis
L. Siluk, Dr. H.c.
International Latin Poet Laureate,
and Poet Laureate in Peru
(Recipient of the Gran Cross of
San Jeronimo)
Poems
written from the roof top of poet’s Lima home
Copyright,
© March, 2015 D.L. Siluk
1
Obama’s Intentions
All that troubles me is that I have long
foreseen, Obama’s original scheme, it has always been to weaken America, as if
to place it at a level with its unfriendly so called friends; thus, the
advantage which she now holds over them through possessing capital and above
all military superiority will come to an end, and be easily outweighed by the
fact, its enemies will hold an equal advantage if not superior. They will have
ample skill and experience for warfare, and nuclear capability will finally be
in the hands of those little imps, from Iran and North Korea; and who knows whom
else? Whereupon, they will not accept anything better than their present
circumstance, and their original intentions, along with Russia and China (and all those dictators around the world,
from Africa to South America), their original
dream of regional dominance will be in reach; and America’s wealth will be
blackmailed from Tartarus, and America will bleed. Thus, when America goes to
fight, it will be bleak and bright, it will be the day of Armageddon.
No: 4720/3-17-2015
2
A Man Forgets
What
was your life like before?
(Asked
Surr’el) I do not know!
For
I remember very little
Of
that life so long ago.
What
war was I in, in Asia?
What
nation did I pledge?
Around
my hut whose Army lay,
At
the edge of the China Sea?
Was
I a drunk, a duff or a tramp?
A
soldier, a scholar, was I?
Who
saw me on Cape Horn?
Battle
the chill-blustery skies!
I
saw a pure Power, one morn
He
stood watch over my ailing bed
Firm,
steadfast he stood supreme
As
if tilting over a summit’s edge!
I
sense I saw much, in that single life
Until,
slowly my great age crept in;
More
and more people I loved died—
And
more and more I wept!
What
anger did I leave behind?
In
those forgotten years—
Only
its shadow touches me now!
From
out of that life, so short, so dear.
No: 4713/3-13-2015
3
Nuclear Rain
What
sorrow stirs in the pit
About
to break the world’s ribs?
A
mist of twilight’s nuclear rain!
Hides
now, behind the edge of day!
—in
vain, in vain, we play the game
And
wait, wait for nuclear rain…
No: 4714/3-14-2015
4
No Sanctuary
Led to your heart, betrayed
By
your betraying rills.
Happy
for a while, I was, —
In
gibbous-moons, old memories
Catch
me! Drain the lonely
Goblet
of your death…
No: 4715/3-14-2015
For: M.J.H.
5
Christ’s Face
When I am all
alone
By
the enteral beauty of the word,
Or
where the mountains shadows glow—
Christ’s
face comes back to me
A
ghost entering, and I know not why, —
A
divine presence, my restless soul
Acknowledges
with a sigh!
And
ah, so long ago he cried!
So
long ago he died!
So
young and innocent.
No: 4716/3-14-2015
The Drawing by the author is of an old Roman coin
70 A.D.
6
Surprised by Noon
Noon
has arrived
I
looked up in the heat of the day
And
it was there!
It
has come over the Andes!
Through
the streets of Lima
Walking
quietly over the asphalt,
To
my home in San Juan Miraflores!
The
day shall never end I think.
Sister
Marleny and her nuns are coming.
It’s
Betty’s birthday.
After
them, after lunch, quiet moments
Will
rise, and I shall rest…
As
does the worn-out wings
Of
the trying fiends of Tartarus.
No: 4717/3-15-2015
7
March 12th (2015)
There’s
a dome over my head—
And
my voice is hollow!
And
my face is numb
My
eyes feel heavy
Especially
under the sun!
I
slept long, but woke up to pee
A
number of times, last night!
My
balance is off today
I
have heartburn.
The
rills in my brain stand dammed:
The
cells, thick as toothpaste!
They
can’t move along the channels…
What’s
going on?
The
KFC man just showed up,
I
hope the mash potatoes and gravy’s
Hot,
and not like mush!
—last
night was too warm to sleep
Someone
said I ate too much hen soup!
And
here I thought it was ‘worry’ …
No: 4718/3-12-2015
8
The Law of Progress
Some
countries, nation-states, cities
Haven’t
figured it out yet:
Peru,
being one, who is trying it out
For
size, — the Law of Progress!
It
works something like this:
It
is only when every individual has made up
Their
minds to move forward! —that progress
Will
remain in a state of progress…
It
is individual vs. nation
(some
call this patriotism, some evolution, and
then
some: good old healthy growth…)
It
comes with free will and destiny:
Hand
in hand, should to shoulder!
Corruption
is fought, politicians become
Worthy
of their rank in the sight of God—
And
they do not work against each other;
And
are willing to enforce progress! —
Other
than that, the law is just a law!
No:
4718/9-1-2013 (bone up: 3-16-2015)
9
This Poet’s Motto
If
a poet is really a poet he remains a poet at all times.
A
Poet, even in prose, uses rhythm and rhyme, cadence and time, stanza and
lurking thought; he avoids feeble words, restates a cliché, and s/he’s honest—
There
is nothing more striking, than the ordinary, the Conventional, the contrary,
the strange!
Think
that every premise, even a guess weights an end.
To
not achieve a daily madness one must find:
God,
then reason, and then examination.
Do
every day a poet’s duty! —everything is a subject!
Write
today, what you think will wait for tomorrow—
Inclination,
predisposition, it heals all unhappiness.
So
compose, comprise, and combine: those words:
So
challenging: obsessive, possessive, dynamic.
No: 4719/3-16-2015
10
Mike H’s Haiku
(Poetic
Tales of Mike H.)
Mike H. I thought him
To be a friend, but all he
Did, was spit in the wind!
He lay in darkens
Rolled stones down the slope, perhaps
Chance stones, perhaps not! …
Badly-aimed, at me!
I make no charge against him—
I’m still here, not he!
For me, life’s clock
Is at half-past elven, God
Is shutting His pad.
My sins, piled up high
Gravity will soon take my soul:
After my lost sigh...
No: 4722/3-18-2014
11
Minnesota’s March Winds!
A Minnesota wind at the end of winter
A wind that keeps whirling round and round,
One cannot for longer than a moment
Open one’s eyes, — for the wind will
slash
Snow into your face, time and again! —
And as you walk, one gets no farther forward!
You must duck under the wind, like a midget
And with a little pleasure in the struggle
Along the way, it’s over and done with.
No:
4723/3-19-2014
12
Cosmic
Rays
The stars are but the
spray on the waves of a sea,
In
the cosmos where resides dark matter, dark energy
Where
the guts of stars burst into cosmic rays, go at
---the
speed of light, every-which-way!
No:
4724/3-19-2015
13
Carl
Sagan’s Hypothesis
“If you
have no evidence, reserve judgment.”
That’s
what Carl Sagan, the scientist says.
But
if you do, it’s a difference story.
He
says too, “I want to know if it is real, not
Just
in my head: I say, that’s well said.
But
for him, the universe is too big to fit God in!
I
have a big God, and that’s why we have a
Big
universe… and for me, He fits quite well!
Now,
let me say: I know what is in those dark
Places,
he infers are: ‘Godless mysteries!’
If
what he says is truth in his hypothesis, it
Makes
me aware: a link to the consciousness
Of
God, — for I have seen that he exists, in
Undreamt
physical wonders, and visions
Throughout
my life; thus, having better proof
Than
even Steven Hawking’s Black Hole!
No:
4725/3-19-2015
Drawing
from a vision
14
Venus’
Demise
Venus not so unlike Earth, a billion years ago, —
but something went wrong! —perhaps too much
Co 2, for its mass to swallow?
Thus, in a nutshell: heaven became hell. Now
at the
point of no return, with no way back, with
hot clouds
forming, hot enough to melt iron, and with
the sun’s
heat, once inside its soup bowl, kept in, in
like the
white cliffs of dover, its carbon dioxide,
frozen
within great walls, Venus became an inferno…!
No: 4726/3-20-2015
15
Shoveling
Minnesota Sidewalks!
(Poetic
Tales of Mike H.)
Minnesota snow,
when it comes, sometimes it comes in blacks and tons!
You got to shovel it
by the hour, lest you let the ice settle under the snow, and God and the Devil
only knows, what then?
And be what may, the
Devil, if he has his way, he’ll cause you to slip, break an: ankle, leg or rib!
—Mike H., hired to
clean those sidewalks for his landlady, kind of drove her crazy, he was quite
lazy, said more often than not:
“Why clean those
snowy pathways, it’s a waste of time, I’m from Minnesota,” he’d say with a
grin, shoulders back, proud as a peacock ready to attack, “you’re from Peru, I
know better, better than you?”
No: 4727/3-20-2015
16
Justice (Double Haiku)
It was never meant
for
you, nor I, to get justice
but
try as we may!
Whom
really is the
door-keeper
for justice, is
too,
god of the air!
No: 4712/3-05-2015 (Haiku version)
17
Luck
We all will have bad luck, and good luck in
life:
lest we let shiftless creatures demoralize
us!
—with ill-luck; for it would be east enough
to get on with.
No: 4729 (3-20-2015)
18
Idle Horses
St. Paul, Minnesota, 1906
Idle horses imperturbably turn their heads
equally sleep sodden, one to the other,
being ill-treated, not so unlike the slave.
The harsh night lights from the streets
burn their eyes. Relays of bar-men
keep slipping by them, backwards and
forwards they move as remarks are
thrown up to them. Annoyed that man
will not leave them in peace; literally a
prisoner. The horse he has no pleasure in
the spectacle around him, man is but a
great clatter, however inaudible at his
height in God’s creation, he bows! Yet
gazes absently at the people around him,
at the people pouring out of house-doors,
peering down from balconies, and staring
out of windows, flanked by arch lights,
automobile headlights. Strong giants, as
they are, cannot take a step of their own
free will, thus life goes on without plan.
Each horse propelled by his Master.
The Master shouting, orating with a white
face,
clinched fists, the horse urging in breathless
bewilderment: the effect, the horse’s mind in
complete darkness: “Haven’t I told you what
to do?”
says the Master, “Hurry up!” He stretches his
arms.
To the horse, man indeed is evil-smelling.
“Just look at this” the Master says to
himself.
He beats the horse on the back with a lash
the horse endures the blows, though they
make him twist with pain: the Master now
feels the resistance of the horse growing
more and more, and its sinewy body bracing
with greeter enmity against his Master. Now
with scintillating eyes, the horse kicks his
Master against his chest, it causes searing
pain in his back and head, then the collision
“You scoundrel” he yells. Ah, and now the
horse has come to thinking ‘What,” he had
forgotten everything, “what is the point of
all this!”
No: 3-21-2015/ No: 4731
19
Demon’s for
Lunch!
Pope
Francis said recently, “Christ never invited demons to lunch…”
What
exactly did he mean?
To
my understanding: if you are a criminal you are incompatible with Christ!
Why?
Because
Christ is incompatible with evil.
In
other words, incompatible meaning: not like-minded.
No: 4732/ 3-25-2015
20
Demon’s for
Gossip!
The Person who gossips says, Pope Francis
Is liken to a Kamikaze.
Or better yet: a terrorist who drops a bomb
Destroying others.
No: 4733/ 3-25-2015
21
Answering the Judge!
Tell me, is there any sense to defend oneself where there is no
good will?
Does it not depend on the spirit in
which one is judged, if he is to make an answer?
No:
4730/ 3-20-2015
Insights
from the works of Franz Kafka
22
Saturated Love!
When
God’s love saturates you,
You in
turn saturate those around you
With His
love.
No: 4735/
3-25-2015
From the
Readings of Pope Benedict XVI
23
Possibilities!
I believe
that there continuously will exist the possibility for change, where people
have been tested by life, and perhaps by great sufferings, even in the face of
despair! Each person I believe can
change, even the most cynical. Why do I believe this? Let me answer my own
question: man, he is the person in the
image of God, we have his breath, and the Holy Spirit, can change one’s sense
of right and wrong. That is I suppose optimism at its highest point.
No: 4736/ 24 & 25 March, 2015
Insight from writings of Pope Francis (From news
reports by: CNA)
Note: I have seen the most unbelieving people, turn
to God, so much so, it is no longer a surprise, as it once was.
24
The Messiah
Like
pelts stretched from side-to-side
On a
wooden cross, undressed, alive—
The
Messiah hung, like a wild beast,
Uncouth,
uncrowned, no dignity.
De-boned—like
fish—His body hung;
Lifeless,
deformed: — in silent pain.
Dried
blood upon his ransomed face,
Eyes
decaying, hardly seen.
Pours
hemorrhaging with a gloss of sweat; —
Skin like
mounds of inflamed tar
(Like
boils reflecting off dark shaded ice).
Deep
distress around His soot-covered veins,
A mixture
of Saliva, Dirt and Shame; —
Ugly as
sin, beyond recognition
(Like
open incisions of an autopsy).
Acquainted
with grief, yes, oh Yes!
As the
prophets foretold, long ago.
A new
scene, we became REDEEMED!!
No: 68/ seen and documented in 1984, written in poetic form, 1988
History of the poem: The Messiah
The Messiah, between 1959 (at 12-years old), to 1965
(17-years old), Dr. Siluk had written 23-poems, two for his High School News
Paper, “Beyond Man,” and Typing.” In
1971, he wrote two poems in Vietnam, and then in the next decade, another
10-poems, making it 33-poems. Then for his first book he wrote, 45-poems “The
Other Door,” of which 43, were new poems for a total of 76-poems in total, by
1981. Between that year and 1988, he had
written about 20-more new poems, or a few more, perhaps a little under
100-total, thereabouts; thus, making the Messiah, between number 69 and 74,
thus I shall give the poem the number No: 68, it seems befitting. The author numbers his poems, as of March 26,
2015, he has written 4736-poems, so this is a very early poem, and now
published for the third time in volumes of poetry.
The
Messiah was originally published in the international volume of poetry “On the
Threshold of a Dream,” First Edition, 1988 (for the National Library of
Poetry), and again in 2004, in the book “Sirens” on page 100. The Messiah also
won two awards: ‘Editor’s Choice Award for 1988’ and published in other
anthologies as well. It was selected as one of the 135-best poems out of over
10,000 entries to be honored. It caused a stir at Calvary Baptist Church in
1988, Roseville, Minnesota. The poem is
from a vision the author hand in 1984 (as indicated in the book “The Last
Trumpet…” by Dr. Siluk, when its substance was written down in prose. The
statements from one of the many baffled church members was: “How could anyone
write such a poem!” And the poet answered, “By see it as it happened.”
25
The
Attic Bedroom
We lived in
Grandpa’s house, in the bedroom attic, my brother and I back in the late
fifties and throughout half the sixties.
The
floorboards squeaked like mice, and the walls were cardboard paper thin.
The
summers were hot, and the winters cold and reserved.
And
the branches from the huge oak tree in front of the house, beat against the
bedroom window.
There
were times I pulled the sheets over my head, from the roaring and riding wind
that swept over the porch roof, above where our bedroom window stood.
And
I tried to be as quiet day to night, as quite as I could be, at ten and
fourteen, and so on; and rest assure, if I wasn’t grandpa’s tongue was as
powerful as horse hooves, so loud I thought it would set the bedroom clothes on
fire.
In
the middle of the night, I’d wake from a dream—I had whips, and lassos like the
Lone Ranger, and Zorro!
I
was, more often than not, the hero of runaway coaches on mountain passes, --
On
a white horse in a windy gallop
Past
cactus fields, I’d yell: “Gee-up!”
Then
when I had to stop quickly, “Whoa!”
Then
I trotted some.
And
then I woke up, usually not getting to finish the dream, unfortunately.
No:
4739/3-28-2015
26
Poem
for the Dead
Did you abruptly change
your jacket?
Dressed yourself for
the hospital
Explained that you
must go,
Leaving with a few
curt words!
Banging the door on
the way out
In hast, according to
some degree of
Displeasure you think
you left behind
Last time you were
there!
When as a result of
this decisive action
You focused within
yourself all the
Potentialities of
this action, —did you not
See the greater
strength you needed to
Accomplish this
swiftest of changes?
And then to cope with
it, in your frame of mind!
Then for that moment,
all got away from you,
And all faded into
brittleness: the infant
Bodily-drawn to your
heart; did you not know
It was such a late
hour in your life?
Love has all but made your eyes hollow
((yet love covers all sin) (Pro.
10:12))
You were in the deepest gallery of your
mind!
You dropped down to his knees, alongside
the infant’s bed—
What was said?
Such a manner lies beyond my
comprehension.
Did you not know, or
perhaps care:
“Love is as strong as death”? SS. 8:6
No: 4738/
3-28-2015 Copyright © 2015 by D.L. Siluk, Dr. H.c.
For M.J. H.
27
The Good Death
Go now, quick, gently into that good death,
Your bones are old,
burn with rage at the close of night;
Run, run against the
dying of the sun.
If you were wise you
have nothing to hide!
God has counted your
hours and days, accordingly;
Go now, quick, gently
into that good death.
Devils and angels,
wait and wave, your ways!
They are weighting
your deeds on a balancing gauge!
Run, run against the
dying of the sun.
Good men caught
frail, lost in the wilds of sin—
Snagged, learn late,
too late, soon will grieve of their fate,
Go now, quick, gently
into that good grave.
And you, you my
friend, who has reached the end,
Cursed or blessed, I do
not know, with stark cries I pray:
Run, run against the
dying of the sun,
Maybe it is not too
late to change your fate!
No:
4740/3-28-2015
28
Course
for Course
(Double Haiku)
The Rat Cat Eater
The
bird eats the worm,
The cat eats the
bird, and the
Huge rat, eats the
cat!
And the Vulture eats
the rat!
How about all that?
Tactic for tactic…
No: 4737/ 3-28-29015
Note: birds have come back to our house garden, for
a while they disappeared because the neighboring cats were eating all the birds,
now they have returned, and the cats have disappeared, which has brought about
this poem.
