Bred in Captivity

by Richard Lyne

Overview

How can madness be defined? How do two souls survive apart? How can loneliness and darkness be overcome? What words can describe the experience of sitting by a lake? How can the deepest stirrings of the heart be penned? These are just some of the questions that the humble poet must strive to answer. In a world where science and consumerism seek to explain everything, words of meaning are too often forgotten. Through poetry, people have always sought to find truth and a way to release their emotions. In this book, you may find the answers you're looking for. You might be looking for an interesting read. Maybe you just want to see for yourself what poetry's all about. Whichever way you lean, welcome to a unique written experience.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781452025155
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	07/29/2010
Pages:	108
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.26(d)

Read an Excerpt

Bred in Captivity

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By Richard Lyne

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Richard Lyne
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-2515-5

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Chapter One

To Get Her, Together

If you were the sun, then I would be space, Taking in all the warmth from your face. If you should fall down, my vacuum's your grace, But your gravity holds me in place.

If I were the time, then you'd be my clock, Displaying our system as steadfast as rock. If you ever stop ticking, I'll wake with a shock, But to always go onwards I'm locked.

If I were a fighter, then you'd be my shield, Clutching my arm on the battle-torn field. If I must leave you, your strength will not yield, But together, our wounds will be healed.

Rose

You breathe in the pale morning air outside in the spring. You can't get around or deny all the highs that it brings. If only you cared, if only you learned, You can't walk upon all the bridges you've burned. But if you say there's a way right out of this hole, I will throw my lifeline down; I will bring my last chance round.

I open my eyes in disguise of the wound singing songs, And my arm is a branch in the wind, wrapping me strong. Never wanted to try, never wanted to fall, Didn't want to be there for the telephone call. What salvation can stretch to a wretch put down in this hole? I will throw my soul's chains down; I will bring my life around.

The branch lands adrift in a stream lost asunder in dreams Where there's never a need for a reason, ripped out from the seams. Death's not the end, death's not a crime. The people it leaves will be called back in time. But if you say that someday I'll see you again, I will throw my gravestone down; I will hold your place in sound.

For Teen, Nine Tea Too

October blues mean nothing new, but this year brings a hope. In doubted fervor and daring vigor, one last chance won't disappoint. So sails he across the sea in a fleet of three; Promises of old flow in his silver-seeking eyes.

Preconceived notions are defied and defied, weeks blurring into weeks And preparations failing before hunger and the elements. Some desire to return, and all wish for an end to this, But land still lingers afar, perhaps without existence at all.

He stands on the deck, the wind convulsing through the sails. It could have been a fortnight since he rested, Though he cares not. The journey is almost finished. An armada of grey sails like colossi drift overhead.

The white hand of death sears the prow for a moment; The breath of demons and kraken-waves rattle the Occupants like toy soldiers in a child's clutches. Apocalyptic days have surely come!

The storm adjourns its court of judgment for the time being. Remnants live on, but their hope is missing, presumed dead. Yet, all is not lost as the glimmering coast crawls into view, And the sand seems more gold-like than the riches they sought.

Self-Martyrdom

The dark man draws nearer, muttering under his breath. He has not his mind, no heart upon which to kneel. The night does he both greet and despise, a prize much like death. While sleep's escape may it bring, demons snare his heel.

The waves and lines move beyond his deluded control, And far be it from him to ask too greatly. A dying pentagram scratched and clawed in swirling patrol Is his fallback, his sanity loosened lately.

His gods bring no salvation, but instead hang him from a cross To be mocked by himself by the pure blood of some saint With the courage to let others pass judgment's loss. "My soul, why have you forsaken me?" ask the faint.

Omitting Fifth Word-Part

It may look, at first, a straightforward task: That which I am trying to do right now. But to bring forth a work is a brutal labor If it is to forgo using a crucial part-of-word.

How lucky that mankind has this particular tool; For without it, how am I to say what I wish? It is a constant strain to avoid violating such constraints, But a mind lacking goals to accomplish is of slim worth.

It may look as though it is good timing To quit this pursuit with victory in hand. But it would cost additional work to bring rhyming Into this, and a writing victory would I land.

Oppression

A peaceful kingdom rested on the banks of a fruitful river, Where the people cared neither for woe nor poverty. The warm rays shone upon their hearts, And for centuries, no trouble could rise to dismantle it.

But as the strength of the land grew, the other empires became jealous Of the happiness and carefree prosperity which blessed it. They said "you should not have such majesty without toil!" And they plotted the demise of the kingdom.

First, their sabotage came in hurtful words and gestures, But before long, many harvests were stolen and wives taken To be sold as slaves in disgrace while the men watched in despair; Without weapons of malice, the kingdom was defenseless.

Soon, the land fell before the cruelty of its enemies, Yet the resistance of the people could not be stifled. Burning crops, land, and homes as they fled, They left desolate the realm which others had stolen.

Of Lovers and Lords

The blue morning comes, a victorious warrior From the darkest realms of starless heavens. The throne of the skies now stands vacant for the king, That proud, boundless flame that seizes even empty space.

As I watch, the lord of old retreats with dignity from the realm; He is still clothed in his magical robe of shifting black and white. He never turns his back upon the world, nor does he abandon it. The possessor of the night does not forsake through cloud or day.

Yes, the sun has surely conquered his prize, but to what avail? For he is but a shimmering heat, an ember burning afar. The Earth and moon are kindred lovers of old, both solid and orbital. They never leave one another, though day must break.

Now, the sun fades to patrol elsewhere in pride, leaving a pure blackness Broken only by his billions of distant cousins, and one beacon. One lover always returns. In the blessed night, when not concealed by clouds, He may yet hold sway over the eye.

Miss Sunlit

One heart inside two bodies, that's what we always were, I'm your waiting shadow-him and you're my sunlit her. How many years of flying in small circles will it take? Whoever said that you and I a union couldn't make? Oh, a heart inside two entities can really cause a quake. Be sure to call me out if I'm a fake.

I'll see you in Chicago and you'll see me in LA, I'll see you in my poems and you'll see me in your clay. Who can fill a promise made in friendly fire fight? Who can save their brothers when they're dying in the night? Oh, one heart in different places doesn't really seem too bright. But no human spark can set this thing alight.

Be there one fine morning and you'll be your own reward. But if you cannot wait around, you'll meet yourself abroad. Ellen Page is only trying to be quite a wit. I wish I didn't know the things that throw me for a fit. Oh, one heart can be a difficulty when you want to quit, But I will be your shadow, you're sunlit.

I will be your shadow, Miss Sunlit.

THIS

Pieces of a soul, rearranged into some dark, menacing Orchestra that plays without end, always upon paper; Emotions and psychotic ravings are the norm, surely frowned on by Most, who see only that which hits them squarely in the face.

If you saw it, you would know how the gears and cogs Spin tirelessly, and perhaps you'd understand what truth means.

Do you present yourself as an offering before the flame? Or do the lines of words follow your unbroken command? None but He who determined their meanings eons ago Even may suggest himself master of the art of language.

Flames, flames ... they do not die after any centuries. Only the blood-drenched spirits of the poet may satisfy the altar. Release your work into the void. Watch as it is consumed. Embrace the ashes that escape in the returning breeze, Verifying what you believed, confirming your sacrifice, that Evil may crumble when faced with the overwhelming force Rising from that which mortal men call "poetry."

Try, Try, Try ... Again

Gunshots broke the silence; innocence incensed violence. For long years, they couldn't see me, but I see it isn't easy. From childhood on this magic train, I learned that when You cry in the night it's a sacred sin of the never-sleeping God of eternity. To die incomplete of a good deed wasted denies where we're from, in this life. Oblivion's empty; right what is wrong from the start around. Right what is wrong for your friends, an intimate shoulder To cry softly on when there's none.

Razorback flight through secret skyways, Looping around the dried-up cloud-lines. Happiness rests on a melting iceberg with cold shivers gone.

Hey there, can you give me a free ride to Mississippi? I'm going there to find a new scene, though I know it won't be TV. From Texas on a silver tray, once again we're Back on this bus with fall leaves outside us, Back to the days of identity, back to the days of the weary weather

When nights weren't so long to my eyes, unendingly darker. The sky sings the song of this man alive. Why was I wrong when I thought the rose would unfold soon, implied all along? From this roof we shout! We can't be restrained! And I tell you this: I am alive!

I had to find out. There's no plan to supply A way to lose hold of my grip on a duct-tape mountain, Right through the core of these paper war wounds Where sunlight melts all the plastic cases that cling to the end.

War of the Rivers

From the north rides the mighty champion Upon a crystal steer, shimmering with sunlight. The land smoothes before him, as it knows him well, For he has ruled here for eons.

Alas! A challenger made by men slowly approaches, Solid and grey in its stance. It does not flow. It is a river new, yet in rigor as if an old man. It holds no life, nor does the land heed it.

It plows forward over weeks, slowly moving to meet its rival. The stony river finally reaches that made of water. Now nature greets artificial creation in battle, Steadfast concrete combating cool currents.

No matter how it struggles, the roadway cannot harm the river. It cannot move in defense, but only stare in surprise As it is eroded into nothingness by the gushing stream. As plants fill the cracks, the closed mind breaks apart.

Cry Havoc!

Suave is the softly singing guitar, each note fading quickly into another. Every string crisp, the pick making not a scratch Upon the pristine instrument as it plays.

Does the guitarist play, or the guitar? Do the means explain the end for which they're meant? Or does the end explode outwards through the means in glory? Perhaps the two are perfect partners, each exalting the other.

But just when the mind begins to ponder, one hundred new doors Are opened as the amplifier adds ample fire to the shooting arrows, And the lyrics are embodied in a rugged voice.

The drums blaze like the repeating roar of a machine gun; The bass growls like a man resolved. But the guitars! The guitars! These are more! A second joins the first and all becomes sound.

Melody on melody! Harmonies filling loose spaces add new flavors and potential To what is already a majestic symphony. And onwards they strum, strike, smash! Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of rock!

Scientific Lecture

Perfect like clockwork, little signals from the air Trigger expert reactions while circuits keep cool. Ones and zeroes: A language of divinity above men That cannot hear nor feel, solely function.

Sorting through data, its knowledge only what it's fed. It sees more than some, but is it wise? Does it define love as more stimuli? Or is it merely an augmented connection?

Is this my heart? Is what I believed a set of givens? Or is it the world, written as variables and laws? So much for science. What have you taught me? How exceptionally useful this will be in my life.

Jungle Monsters

The jungle is alive with sounds at night, roars and cries From all manner of monsters who seek dominance under The new, metallic trees with steely haze that cloak the skies.

Amidst the hunters and prey and luminous insects on stalks, There dwells one animal that never forgives nor forgets. For despite all attempts at reasoning, the stone never talks.

It lives in this city with the sky-scraping branches of metal, And it shuns all who greet it with love or reconciliation. For this shameless creature scarcely feels.

Counting by Truths

One way to Heaven, but caught on Ambivalence Avenue With two sides bearing down on a trinity within. Four directions in points on a compass, a five-sided die. Some hexagonal honeycomb concealing seven seals. Eight is one up on perfection, and nine knows not where it lies. Would ten helpings of faith have served the eleven men Who cowered under unsettling ceilings after the twelfth's betrayal?

Twelve tribes left Egypt, the Red Sea forming the shape of an eleven As it parted. For ten, ten, ten years and ten more, they wandered As would the Nine Kings of men in passionate death. Eight sides in red warn against proceeding, but lucky seven Is with me. Roll those dice, six, bring me fortune. Some pentagram haunts my dreams from four corners. Air, earth, and ocean are the three spirits that Find me stuck on Ambivalence Avenue, two paths too tempting. But only one escape.

Back in 1979

Efficient as a machine, revolving, devolving so true In cycles and cycles that grind you so far. Years hear our fears, but tears sear in you. You live for me and I live for hope. Run long enough, it's enough to cope With skies so black and flowers so blue. Freedom is nigh! Show off every scar.

Balance is the key that got us this far. When you can't do it any more you'll pay with a scar, Because they lied when they said you have no wings to fly. Keep running so that no more visions will die.

Wax museum meltdown surrounds every turn. A rundown runaway keeps failing to fly. It doesn't matter to me which books they burn. None of them are mine and they taught me just That everyone thinks their thoughts will combust Unless they get sold to everyone, and nobody will learn. We've got to keep running until the day we die.

Rainmaker

The rainmaker is roused from his slumber By the sorrow of his most beloved people, For there is no rain! Not even the mightiest warrior Could quench the thirst of the land with blood.

He knows well his sacred task, for it was Entrusted to him before the eons by his gods. The rainmaker knows what he must do. Only he may intervene, calling water from above.

The messenger returns to his village with the assurance: The next week will bring storms! Torrents! Gushes! Only one old man, the eldest of his tribe shouts with jubilance. Others do not share his confidence, but a little faith braces all.

In front of his hut, the rainmaker does not stir. He sits with closed eyes and extended arms For six days and nights, neither eating nor drinking. Children dare not approach his silent form.

On the final night of the promised week, No one could see the stars or the moon Through a gale such as none had seen before And more rain than ought to redeem one man's faith.

Glimmer Rick and the Irish Hoping Girl

There once was a girl who believed That her fears someday would be relieved. When asked why this was, she said "It's because I know somehow my heart will be received."

There once was a limerick line About a lady whose eyes always shine. When asked how it was so, she replied "Don't you know That someday love and happiness will be mine?"

There once was a new sun ascending, The will of its light unbending. When looked on by fear, she says "Disappear!" Somehow, I know her light is unending.

There once was a man who found joy, Grew up to himself from a boy. When he sees the young sun, he'll tell everyone "I've found my own Helen from Troy."

Social Not-working

Friend, unfriend, block, write a note, like, Report for harassment and stick with spikes. There's no more becoming a fan of things; Internet changing everyday for nobody.

Events and causes, impersonal friend suggestions, Gifts for the mafia and anonymous questions. There's nobody online who cares to chat. Hundreds of people, but still disconnected.

Applications, complications, running a farm. With a relationship status, broken hearts do no harm. There's no one on the surface whose message is clear. But when I post truth, will you be the first to comment?

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Bred in Captivity by Richard Lyne Copyright © 2010 by Richard Lyne. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

To Get Her, Together....................1
Rose....................2
For Teen, Nine Tea Too....................3
Self-Martyrdom....................4
Omitting Fifth Word-Part....................5
Oppression....................6
Of Lovers and Lords....................7
Miss Sunlit....................8
THIS....................9
Try, Try, Try ... Again....................10
War of the Rivers....................11
Cry Havoc!....................12
Scientific Lecture....................13
Jungle Monsters....................14
Counting by Truths....................15
Back in 1979....................16
Rainmaker....................17
Glimmer Rick and the Irish Hoping Girl....................18
Social Not-working....................19
Cooperation....................20
10:31....................21
Pencil Marks....................22
Third-Stage Dynasty....................23
The Address....................24
Monday: The Quest....................25
Tuesday is Respectable....................26
Wednesday Syndrome....................27
Thursday and the Cruel Lover....................28
Friday's Return....................29
Saturday Night....................30
Sunday Morning....................31
Alight....................32
Begin ... Again....................33
Chains of the World....................34
Hieroglyph....................35
Looking Back....................36
Olden....................37
Resignation....................38
Revel....................39
Visitor....................40
We Who Learn No Better....................41
Four Horsemen....................42
Irregular....................43
Mental Note....................44
Onwards....................45
Simple Recipe....................46
Stories of Struggle....................47
Symmetric Syllabic Smash....................48
The Haiku Meeting....................49
The Iris of Annette....................50
Too Soon....................51
40....................53
Madness not in Sparta....................54
Rhyme Schemes....................55
Secrets....................56
Security Breach....................57
Stream....................58
The World and Weather of Inside-Out....................59
Tracked....................60
Veil....................61
Dawning....................62
In Progress....................63
Expedition to Eden....................64
The Age of Endings, the End of Ages....................65
Lifeline....................66
Piano Man Strikes Again....................67
Ode to Those Strange People....................68
Tidal....................69
Global Thoughts....................70
Rumblings Within....................71
Happy Tune....................72
A World of Heroes....................74
The Shiny, Rainy Day....................75
The Hunter....................77
Piano Wire on Display, Faces for Sale....................79
Candle Song....................80
And You?....................81
My Beloved Seas....................82
Coffin Buddies....................83
Together Alone....................85
The University of Universe, the Stellar Song....................86
Assessment....................87
Miracle....................88
Of Lost and Lingered....................89
Life, Guide to Living....................90
Last Book on the Shelf....................91
Endangered....................92
Poet in a Hallway....................93
Tools of School....................94
White-Bearded Man....................95