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On Writing And Words Angst Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Angst

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Details | I do not know? | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine


Details | Free verse | |

Come Back To Me

The Ink Bottle sits, alone,
It’s only Companions,
The Feathered Pen,
The Paper Pad.

The Desk, once alive,
The Words,
No longer,
Written.

Love, abandon,
But wanting not,
The Freedom,
It has.

A Wooden Chair, dusty,
Reclines not,
For the Comfort,
Once given.

Time, a mystery gone,
With passing,
Never to be recovered,
Longing.

Days of gloom, waiting,
Shine not, The Light,
The Heart,
Once brightened.

Come back, to Me,
My words, of Joy,
Of Laughter,
Wisdom, once known.


Details | Free verse | |

Tension Waiting

The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard 
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.

I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.

And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.

But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,

As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.

And here I am, pouncing at ground before me, 
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.


Details | Ballad | |

Unanswered Poems

Don’t send me more 
Of your tragic poems
My dear 
Covered in blood
Of your monthly flood
Of tears

Don’t send me more 
Of your angry poems
My dear
Carved with the knife
Of your molten spite
And fears

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

Don’t send me more
Of your bitter poems
My sweet
Forged in the fire
Of your endless ire
And grief

Don’t send me more 
Of your hopeless poems
My sweet
Ripped from the womb
Of the lonely room
You keep

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

(You see that shadow on the road
Trudging ‘neath its heavy load
A heart weighed down by sands of time
And your poems only make him cry
And he won’t add them to the pile
So he can walk another mile)

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear 
Too heavy, dear
For me to read 
For me to bear

(They make him sad
Make him cry
Beat him down
Deep inside)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

They make me sad
Make me cry
Feel as though 
I want to die

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(A heart weighed down 
By sands of time
And your poems 
Only make him cry)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear



Details | Free verse | |

Flinging Poems Into Wind

We seine them up
like dust
in pollen-stained hands,
briefly weight them,
balancing them in minds,
determining worth,
profundity. 

And like those before,
we toss them absently
into wind—
winnowing maple seeds—
whirling them from us—
as we shape lives,
change destinies.

Now, 
they seem to flit
to nothingness,
like us—
pale night insects
pestering
opal moons,
infestations of night
thickly settling
on the liquid glass
of our tongues.



Details | Epigram | |

Sensationalism or Journalism

(Another childhood or teen years poem.)

Newsprint small talk
in Mediocrity's lead pot
rustles and gossips while,
splashed spectacularly across
the speckled page of
Society's intellect,
a murder making column one
hides the hushed massacre
of minds.


Details | I do not know? | |

souper's lament

ghosts of the world befriended me
a silence borne of secrecy
ghosts of the world befriended me
to share in their love of revery

ghosts of the world are blind to me
comments section all I see
ghosts of the world are blind to me
though they call me family

ghosts of the world won't hear my plea
we live and die by our own decree
ghosts of the world won't hear my plea
mired in blah mediocrity

ghosts of the world do not live free
attention seekers' comment spree
ghosts of the world do not live free
a silence borne of secrecy


Details | Rhyme | |

Tribute to Negative People

Here’s to all the negative people
You know how the story goes
If brains were freakin’ dynamite
You couldn’t blow your nose
When people make rude comments
They act without common sense
If you’re negative and reading this
I hope you take offense
When I hear about my friends put down
Every bone in my body cries
If you rub yourself with Preparation H
You’ll probably shrink in size
So if this makes you  pout and cry
I didn’t mean to put you down
Besides someone already wrote a song
About the tears of a clown
I’ve changed my ways in recent days
And try to act with class
If I had run into you twenty years ago
You would have been laying on your @ss
So take your sarcasm somewhere else
And leave our poets alone
And try to find your self-esteem
In a place called the twilight zone.


	Dedicated to those who need to 
Make negative comments.


Details | Rhyme | |

Whimsey vs Angst

~~~~Whimsey vs. Angst ( or-
 You Don't Have to Be Drunk But it Helps)~~~~

Words of whimsey from my pen flow,
while words of angst I bury below.
Which is me, you may never know
if it's only pieces I care to show.

Whimsey is as whimsey does.
So frivilous, happy thoughts buzz
around in my brain , as if it was
full of nothing but fluff and fuzz.

Writing of angst is not my thing.
Words of sadness, words that sting.
Whimsical words always bring
a happier mood, a fest, a fling.

So don't ask me for a sad, sad song.
It would definitely be wrong
to bore you with an epitome long
that saddens and depresses the throng.

Poetry of a happier time
flows in verses and in rhyme.
I'll pen you thoughts joyful and sublime
if you just pass the tequila and the lime.


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Clown The Fool And Me

Many nights I've sat typing things for which none will ever read.
Burning midnight oil only to add to this mornings trash.
Then going about the act of pretending it's all good.

Wearing a mask of my own creation.
These long nights of endless confession to empty wall's.
Hollow thoughts from a bitter heart to scared to exist as himself.

The page lay beaten only to be erased.

the circus of life is a deception for after the show when the dust settles 
the magic gives way to truth.
Tempers flare  and thoose happy clowns appear to be just angry ordinary
people who hate and loath there so called friends.

Dream that it would have all been diffrent if not for this or that.
never taking blame just putting it on others like normal so called adults.

These long nights breed anger and that page takes  the punishment
and like a coward I look apon this act of pure thoughtless work.
And second guess myself wishing only for the approval of people who yearn only 
for the approval  of some one else.
Like hamster in a wheel never getting anywhere.

For who wants to be themself when you can be a watered down version of someone who 
wasnt good to start with.

I cant say the comforts of being a clone wouldnt be nice .
But I never did like things that were nice.
Never cared about being on a list  or kissing someone's rearend just 
to have them talk about me as soon as my back was turned.

Be yourself and cherish thoose who hate  for  the bitter and cruel amount to
nothing  and there only hope is to lure you down there same dead end life.

The clown tries in vain to make you laugh.
The fool doenst know or care if you laugh.
And me Im just the jerk adding to the mornings trash empty 
as the page that sit's befor him.


Details | Bio | |

A Note To the Young Girl On The Other Side Of This World

Hello, Farrah....
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi    (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......)  Hope you have a happy day.....write an 
indepth poetic bio??   I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas?  Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon 
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history)  What 
city are you in?  Ever travel???  A favorite destination???  Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?"  We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and 
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies???  Need books to read??  I got a library 
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my 
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect.   I have lots 
of funny stories.   I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years 
of living.   Youf friend in poetry, tom."


Details | Free verse | |

Another Name

Tears
Such a soft, gentle word
For an experience
With the power to
Shake the soul
Wrack the body
And flood the hollow spaces
Of the heart
The hot, hard tears
Of anger and frustration
The constant clinging tears
Of grief and loss
The uncontrollable tears
Of irrational despair

Someone should invent 
Another name
For the relentless pain
And shrouded darkness
Called “crying”
And free the word “tears”
To mean only the iridescent
Tears of pure joy.


Details | Free verse | |

From beyond the Grave

Your hands would just reach up 
And control my life 
Your eyes would open wide 
And rip open through my spine 
You would stir awake in your casket 
If only you could 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave. 

Your will would just drive everyone away 
And I would be alone 
Your words would be heard by all 
And none would hear mine 
You would wake from the dead 
If only you could 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave 

Your desires would stir the restless 
And they would do your bidding 
Your arms would open up wide 
And prepare to embrace the sky 
For you would rise to this occasion 
If only you would 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave. 


Details | I do not know? | |

Why I Really Write (2005)

I grew up where my opinion was a waste
Everything was chosen even my taste

Speaking my mind was seen as rude
Everything I said caused a feud

I speak my mind 
It helps me unwind

I'm honest and don't beat around the bush
But after every word I heard 'hush'!

To develop communication it needs to be fed
All these words should have been heard and not read

I was told that someone would cut off my tongue
I was very young

I could barely read or write but I had little choice
My pen and paper has become my voice


Details | I do not know? | |

Go to Hell

(This is a fictional poem)

You called me a bastard and that was uncalled for.
I don't want to be your friend anymore.
You're not only a jerk, you're a loser as well.
I'm tired of taking your abuse so you can go to Hell.


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Lyric | |

More Than Words...

Once again as my pen fails the page
In a humble but sincere effort
To honor my loving sage

As I ponder and attempt to deduce
In a low, soft chuckle, “more than words”
My rhetorical excuse

By function; words exact, color and define
And with Webster’s sword levied I chase
Definition of you into the sublime

Concept, newly born of insight and ash
Presents no attempt at justice
So its fate is sealed to trash

And alas, as a thousand times tense
I seek to corral feelings
By pen within paper fence

For moment’s sake, suppose these words I cannot cage
I humbly offer in place of love song
The feelings that surround this page


Details | Limerick | |

Cheaper To Keep Her (Divorce Club)

(Haiku)- * Motive, infidelity messing with the Queen Bee's Honey*

Queen Bee sits on throne,
Bumble and drone bees as one
Sample flowers dew

------------------------

(Limerick) - *Admission of guilt leads to compensation*

Indeed this is how the story unfolds,
Pete said, "It's a poor rat with only one hole"...
Love had taught a sad lesson;
Divorce court was now in session,
Judge rules favor, Pete's pockets full of holes...

----------------------------

(Couplet) - *Take vows seriously payback often belongs to Spouse - Queen Bee*

Love said, "Pete too late you've opened your peepers"....
"Man, you should know it was cheaper to please her"!






Submitted for P.D.'s Divorce Club Contest (Haiku-Limerick-Couplet)


Details | Free verse | |

and Woody Herman played

Blues in the Night.

A malignant moon
shines his metallic claws -
combs my hair and brushes me forward.
I am alone in the shadowy crooks 
of a poisoned metropolis.

A clandestine garbage chute -
where waifs and strays burn
within the fetid bowels 
of a cavernous concrete underbelly.

The orphanage awaits my arrival,
as muted outcries are crushed 
beneath my footsteps. 
A parentless prison
teeters atop Utopia's dreaded brim;
the hamlet where Orwell slew Hilton.

St. Peter has been released
and no longer tends the kitchen.
Agony and angel wings reneged
a redundant brotherhood of sorts.
His recipe for remorse shall be missed. 

Blues in the Night.

In the distance, 
feigned epileptic outbursts
placates a patron's fears.
Caffeine injections

stimulates another's venial sins
as it magnifies their cardinal options.
An insomnious woman converses
with a napkin holder. The surface

is dull and unreflective, like she.
Banter never-to-be heard
by her never-to-be gentleman caller.
I am home –
amongst the dead I adore.

A haggard waitress serves me a menu.
A laminated journal stained 
with melancholy and mustard.
Desolation and demi-tasse
are tonight’s midnight special.
Ten cents additional, if you order deluxe.

Blues in the Night.

I twiddle my thumbs 
for I have no other’s to borrow.
I catch my rugged reflection 
in the asylum’s window.
I espy my counterpart again

in a twisted spoon -
realizing I’m three utensils short 
from a grievous quartet salted
with Mack Sennett misfits.

A collection of dishes clatter
above the sanatorium’s jukebox. 
I place my spoon on the counter
and pick up a lifeless knife.
I envy its potential and possibilities

as Woody Herman croons 
in the background.


Details | Concrete | |

A Written Soldiers Fight

A supreme soldier walks truly alone in the depths of night
he is soft spoken from a life of being so hard that he was stoned until his eyes filled red bloodshot in his sight
he notices what he once thought to be? Was wrong and very far from right
So he asks God for forgiveness from his very own darkness that it may to like his Redemption be shone upon his lost light
He knows its no longer about the bullets in this battle for it is the words in his very own Mind that will matter most in this life among death upon a written soldier's fight.....


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Leashed Down

Leashed Down


Bound by my hands
Bound by my legs
Bound by my waist 
Bound by my neck
I can't  hear
I can't  smell
I can't taste
I can't see
I put everything away and only thought of
What brought me joy.Nor do I want to
Cry leaving my captures to smile about
To gloat,to have that unknown brutal power
Over me which is held in one tear.
My  body numb,my heart is stopped,my mind is blank
Is this dying? Why am I paralyzed? Could it be falling a sleep?
These chains are cold but everything is hot.What feeling beside
Pity would become of me?..Be it not grief not sadness not even remorse.
But as I stand up from this seat,I am nothing more then a well mannered
Pup on a tight leash.


Details | Ballad | |

The Forgotten Ones

Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete. 
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep. 
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep. 
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep. 

Forgotten by those on the outside. 
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide. 
No choice left but to sit and fight. 
In here only the strong minded survive. 
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right. 

All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time. 
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes. 
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying. 
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying. 

We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
 We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
 There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it. 
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
 
In here there is only time no fun. 
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun. 
Only by our own selves we may be out done. 
BECAUSE IN HERE IT FEELS LIKE WE ARE TRULY THE FORGOTTEN ONES....


Details | Ballad | |

Family First

I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had; 
Its time to step up and be a real dad; 
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
 Its time that I start doing good than the bad; 
I want for my child to see me as a role model; 
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle; 
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow; 
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow; 
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow; 
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst; 
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
 I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst; 
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first


Details | Ballad | |

Im Gone

Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks 
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white 
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts 
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack 
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks 
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack 
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past 
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back 
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast 
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast 
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask 
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
 Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas 
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it 
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it 
but I know only this one man controls it 
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it 
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it 
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet


Details | Free verse | |

Poetic Robbery

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Etheree | |

The Writing Game

Ideas
are at
times hard to
capture into
one good piece that will
be appreciated.
It is a constant struggle
to please yourself, yet please someone
who would buy what you write. It's like your
soul and spirit takes a negative hit.



by:Brandee Augustus


Details | Rhyme | |

Blank Page

Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me, My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring I know there is a message that's dying to come out— I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt! It's a simple predicament to manipulate, Into a mass of thought A futile attempt to insinuate, Weak hints are left with naught I sit here in silent desperation, What can fill this page? I slap myself in indignation, My eagerness becoming rage! Like roaches sporadically running from light My thoughts are but a haze The words I write just don't seem right, On this cruel blank page!


Details | Free verse | |

Dripping Pages

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Couplet | |

Where does the Time go

I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…


Details | Free verse | |

Roll Call

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION








Details | Nonet | |

My First Time

What will I write for my first Nonet?
It’s something I have not tried yet.
To some they seem very hard
Later will I be scarred?
Pain will not last long
Try writing song.
Then you’ll find
Nonet
Rhymes.

Written By John Posey
12/26/12


Details | I do not know? | |

The kitchen sink

(Only the first line of this poem is true.)

I've written poems about everything but the kitchen sink.
I write so much that it hurts when I think.
I'd write some more but my pen is out of ink.
I'm the only man in my town who wears a mink.
Don't mess with me, I don't take sass.
If you tell anybody about my mink, I'll kick your ___.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Death Of A Believer

        DEATH OF A BELIEVER
The death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all that few can ever see.

It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.

     Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
      and no one cares for all your sweat and tears,
    your rest is not until it's done in death,
      but keep the faith in what you've done for years.
            © ron wilson


Details | Sijo | |

iambic sick

I have been trying my hand at writing iambic feet
Reading example after example in Debbie Guzzi's blog
But my stubborn mind refuses to learn - "stressing" me out!



1/29/12
Received 8th place in "on your feeet" contest


Details | Acrostic | |

Everytime I Look Around The Corner

I live a life in a place where alcohol violence reigns supreme/ 
over a dying culture split in se7en groups of se7enty times se7en of rival teams/
 I hear my brothers hollers I hear my sisters screams/ 
I see people live among broken glass like that of many broken dreams/
 I sometimes wish I could not see what my two eyes sometimes see/ 
I cant act blind as if it were just a brush off my sleeve/
 The more I lose in life the more it seems the less I need/
 I try and overcome my own selfish greed/ 
I got a child on the way I now look at what kind of role model I'd be/ 
I was was incarcerated so I must not take for granted for the simple fact that Im free/
 But it hard with tattoos on my face in place where tattoos like mine seem a disgrace/
 Lord watch over me as I take last place in this life game race/ 
It not a matter of being first second or third Lord cuz all I need iz your grace/
 help me to better walk off this destructive road and slow my pace/ 
Just take me now if Im done with your purpose if thats the case/
Because I dont want to live like I got to look over my shoulder right around the corner....


Details | Couplet | |

Writer's Block

You know what I hate about writer’s block,
How my creativity is hidden behind a lock;

Time ticks away as I stare at my screen,
My heart beating faster from the strain of caffeine;

The cursor flashing lulls me to doze,
Til a fly lands smack on the tip of my nose;

I swing at the fly and glance at the clock,
How did 10 AM turn into 5 O’clock;

I stand and I stretch and then walk away,
And say goodbye to another wasted day;

Maybe tomorrow will inspire my brain,
Or I could be slowly going insane…


Details | Haiku | |

Note to Self

Stop writing haikus
They don’t even make sense now
Something something cake


Details | Free verse | |

Posthumously

Destiny
Sordid, shoddy succubus
Culled consciousness
Mottled, beguiled muse
Hungry for hope
An eruption of erudition 
To be showered with praise
Cleansed pride
Chloroformed strife 

Where dreams tease unkempt hair
And eulogize tear stained verse
Sacrificed on stripped oak altars
Trembling hostages of insatiable sermons 
Sterile sunrises
Mourned by cramped, fertile fingers
I pray to my paranoia of invasion

Voices
Viscid footsteps
Shadows of salvation 
Which pass without query
Again
Chortling echoes of obtuse obituaries
As I lie shackled to tomes of obscurity
Tortured
Starving
Undiscovered 
Dead


Details | Free verse | |

Reflections: Intellectualism

To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

Pseudo-analysis
An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Existentialism
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.


Details | Imagism | |

Grey Rabbit White Paper

Grey rabbit... White paper...


I am the grey rabbit
Snared, trapped by restrictive wires
Unseen
I reach for the quill of significance
Yet she teases
Just a tug too far
Ink wells spilt upon verde grass
Parchment paper
Leaves me parched
I cannot paint nor write
My fluffy tails lost it's sheen
I'm off down the burrow
To lick my wounds
And
Ensure my hovels clean


Details | Limerick | |

That Elusive Ingredient

I'm feeling a right nincompoop; my spirits are starting to droop. I need to amaze, a magical phrase, which wins me first prize - in the Soup. ~
For Andrea Dietrich's Limerick Contest.


Details | Free verse | |

The Pristine Society

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

~JSLambert
© 2011 JSL


Details | Free verse | |

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
indulging
in shameless 
self-promotion.
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
bare.
skimmin’ 
	skippin’ 
		scannin’…
all’s fair
in tactical 
warfare.

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 
lit 
missile. 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”


Details | Lyric | |

Sin And Poetry

As the night sets in, it's as black as it's ever been.
My soul is in ruin, and my heart is like a back pack carrying a load of sin.

In the closet my skeletons scream, and constantly torment me.
The rage in my blood stream causes me to blaspheme religiously!
I am doomed because I'm so consumed by that very rage;
Engulfs me like burning fire, wraps me like barbed wire that causes a rampage!

The malice in my heart craves the blood from a helpless foe.
I feel I'm being ripped apart like some dark work of Edgar Allen Poe!

So many sins to atone for, and I get on my knees to repent.
Again with my face on the floor, I pray I receive a love that's heaven sent.
The evil is eating me alive from the inside out.
I can't survive when I feel like I'm fighting a 12 round bout!

My greed has come between me and my family.
I just wanted to succeed, but I admit I did it selfishly!

I seduced Lisa knowing she was married to another man, I just didn't care.
As Lisa fell in love, I became her number one fan, and then I ended our love affair!
My conscience wouldn't let me continue on the path of destruction.
I think of the consequence of losing you and laugh because now I'm unable to function.

I now see literally that it is better to lose an eye than your soul.
As I write my sin and poetry, I cry knowing my heart is as black as coal!   


My new form written strictly for Constance's contest "Create your own form maybe" ? is called Stanlets because it consists of couplets and stanzas that rhyme and is a dark subject.
Jimmy Anderson


Details | Free verse | |

Hateful expressions....

"I should have killed her!" he said as he pulled the ladybug from his chili,
"She would have suffered less than drowning in a man's dinner"

"What a faggot!!!" she said, marveling at the current bundle of willow I was trussing up,
"In fact it's nicer than the faggots my grandfather used to tie up!!"

"God, how I hate him..... i just wish he would die!!!" he said in pure misery,
"That Jack Frost attacks my arthritis every year...with glee!"

"Man, I just wish they'd wipe that ENTIRE race off the planet!!"
"I'll never enter the Boston Marathon again..... they robbed me of my ribbon!!"

"If you ever leave me, I'll hunt you down and DESTROY you!!!"
He was serious. He would have to stamp out any errant ember from his "secret" habit,
As the barn was the only place for a clandestine smoke

"Wow!!!! That's the biggest, shiniest cock I've ever seen!!", he admired out-loud,
Knowing that fighting these magnificent birds was wrong...

All of which are demonstrative of CONTEXT, CONTEXT, CONTEXT......
Even "hateful" expressions can be something other than!
Can we take it too far?? Have we?? Should we??

Wear your heart on your sleeve, but for God's sake
Grow a few more layers of skin, so we all can be our own censors!!!!


Details | Ode | |

Ode to A Healthy Prisoner

Just breathe in the clarity
Clarity of the whole
Whole or negativity
Negativity eating your soul

Head for tomorrow
Tomorrow always waits
Waits for enlightenment
Enlightenment heals mistakes

You are where you’ve put yourself
Your “SELF” now reminds you of shame
Shame brought on by acting out thoughts
Thoughts a conscious shouldn't retain

Give yourself an apology
An Apology you deserve to have
Have some faith in your timing
Timing bleeds wisdom in man 

Bless your self and live righteous
Righteous spirits rise above 
Above all if you are kind
Kind souls conquer hate with love

Poetry brings torment to a halt
Halt all your never-ending thoughts
Thoughts are forbidden evil hiding
Hiding light inside divine spots

So please write down your own deep thoughts
Thoughts penned will conquer your inside trap
Trap your life up in your cell  all alone
Alone you shall stay smelling your crap~



please don't be offended by the last line~ 
I felt it was necessary to get my point across~


Details | Free verse | |

The Drought of Word

I am empty; nothing have I now to say. 
The stream of my soul from where sentiment once flowed; now runs dry.
An unexplained drought of words I know not why.
I am in desperate need of showers of inspiration and illumination.
A thousand words I would pray; for this drought to end and once 
again take up my pen.
 Alas, my pen no longer speaks, but in silence now offends. 
 Writer's ink disappears upon a white bleached page;
the quill has nothing to lend.
 It is as though a fire shut up in my bones; a burning heat within.
My heart aches for a single drop of brilliance
as I seek for something to say, and earnestly pray for inspirational rain.
For streams of refreshing I long, OH, that the heavens would open and return 
my poetic song.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rambling of a Faith Poet

Sometimes it is hard to know what to write or when to write when you have just about every
thought possible flowing through your head. I wonder, "Should I please the public with
how "poetic" I am or should I please You? I know what the answer is but at times I'm 
worried about being liked or whether people get me. Is my belief in Your Son too far
above their heads or will they get it? Should I even worry about public opinion? Of
course I know as a follower of Christ, sharing my testimony and telling them about the
Lord is what I'm supposed to do. On the other hand, have I become to preachy and
dull? Am I shoving my beliefs down their throats? Then I realize, didn't Jesus make
himself of no reputation? Everybody thought that He was weird, blasphemous and not
qualified to tell them anything when it came to how they were living. I'm only here to do
what He wants me to do, nothing more, nothing less. If I do my part, the right people will
hear it, love it and appreciate it. All I should do, is write the word and leave all my
"rambling worries" to Him.


Details | Limerick | |

Another Talent Arrives

There was a man named Ed Coet,
Who turned out to be quite a poet,
He spoke from the heart,
Thus he did impart,
And now all of Soup does know it.


Details | Free verse | |

Bipolar

What’s big to me may be small for you
But when you hurt I hurt too
So many different phases I’ve been through
Withdrawal & self-indulgence just to name a few
I dodge sleep to note this nonsense to both me and you
My desperate attempt at understanding 
Has only led to more questions
I remember when medication numbed me well enough to stay quiet
Nonchalant 
A zombie!
All last night I cried and cried
And
You slept while I died all the more inside
I don’t have all the answers
One thing I know is
Dreaming and fantasizing 
In these worlds I find solace 
Seeing and realizing
It hurts…
It hurts…
People have been so unfair –
But then again 
What is fair?
So many questions…
Once upon a time,
I’ve put down my pen 
And 
Followed doctors and drugs
Their drugs, my drugs
Just stop judging me and fix me!
I’ve put down the drugs
Picked up a pen
And this is the reason other people say I’m doing well?
What’s real?
I can’t tell
Is it what you tell me or what I tell me?
Drugs have concealed me
Silenced me…
Taught me that I don’t have to feel just see
And shake my head
Now I can both feel 
And
Shake my head
I can verbalize 
Sure
But I’d rather not talk just write
I can write and write just to get it out on paper
But
It’s still in my mind
I’m not fixed
Still I cry and cry
While you sleep
So which am I supposed to choose?
Solace or the truth?


Details | Kyrielle | |

That Thought I Repress

Poetry Soup, I now confess,
Passing would bring me misery
That thought I surely should repress!
O God, be merciful to me.

Lost place to care, lost place to grow.
Lost friends, which share their poetry.
Around in circles I would go.
O God, be merciful to me.

Without the soup, my heart would cry.
Dilly-dallying, fixed ably
Would cause my life to go awry.
O God, be merciful to me.

My troubled mind would soon regress.
In sadness I would walk grimly.
My thoughts might fall to senselessness.
O God, be merciful to me.

My anguished soul would flood with tears.
My happy thoughts would loose their glee.
Blessed by the soup these many years. 
My God, has been merciful to me.

© February 20, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen


Details | Quatrain | |

Wounding Words

words that pierce like a sharpened edge
the pen has no regret
old pain incessant we must dredge
if not forgive, forget?

but the power of a simple verse
overlooked by the creator
has made the past in present worse
and lesser pain now greater


Details | Free verse | |

Words No One Hears

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

~JSLambert


Details | I do not know? | |

Got milk?

(This is a fictional poem)

I drank a man's milk when he went to the john.
Now all of my bones are broke and most of my teeth are gone.
He was over seven feet tall and he was a menace.
He poured a piping hot cup of coffee down my pants and scalded my penis.
If you ever consider drinking that man's milk, please don't do it.
I know first hand that you might not live through it.


Details | Free verse | |

Inspiration

Onion skin pages and empty windows
Repel us as much as attract—
Possess brief images locked fast in place—
Memory melded in faded photographs of thought.

We are things we once were—
Frozen kaleidoscopes of dreams
Cupping eyes and pens so tightly,
Casting free flaxseeds of imagination.

Still, sepia leaves seem white-boned
And open windows let in absences.


Details | Free verse | |

One Voice

 Old poems/New posts inspired by new articles on poetry soup


One Voice

Wandering through words
I know its all been told before
Language an ancient whore
I use as if I might
With some particular genius
Spit black and white
And make us all aware
Of what we always knew
However true
That I don't care
For distance and silence
---Too cold--
I'm not so bold
To think I know
What I'm doing here
What you experience
All done with a mirror
A trick of the tale
Any words will fail
To be real
Between us
They let me feel
That minds can meet
Beyond our pain
So I am without choice
In my sadness somehow complete
When all becomes one voice
Calling in the rain.


Details | List | |

Screwtape letters

Devil deceives
Sheeply creeps
Enters the front door
always wants more.

Takes your pie
makes me cry!
Never sorry but sore
Aches and pains he brings
Doesn't let you sing....


Details | Tanka | |

'System ErRoR'


it is there again that dreaded system error restless night ahead I'll try again in three hours will set my alarm instead
©210220122100


Details | Free verse | |

I Said I Thought I Saw I Was

Old poems/new posts inspired by recent articles on PoetrySoup

All forms relate to the word
So from the beginning
They carried their ideas
In their minds eye
Shaping symbols
A dimension of spirit
The eye that underlies eyes
Vision makes the flash seem longer
In one blinding flash  I thought   I saw   I was
I said
All forms relate to the word
Being based on a set of words
Also forgotten parts of yourself
Evocation and reproduction
Of the things of life
As strange factory-born personages
Words very mysterious
Every process of Creation begins with
Also with Imagination
Of past ways
Of seeing and experiencing
Detached from life
Finding a way back into it
Breaking from time
Fracturing the sense of balance and place
Where past and future are interchangeable
Achieving synthesis of time and space
One can literally pass the time
Cut loose drifting slowly through
Slowed down space of next to nothingness
Detached from life    until

In one blinding flash   I said   I thought  I saw   I was

The word falls on its face on the floor


Details | Haiku | |

Suffocating

A suffocation
Poor poetry drowns me out
Most of it my own


Details | Narrative | |

CURRUPTION

Debauched, extortionate and inconstant 
was the knavish and foul mercenary?
The perfidious praetorian reprobate
was a venal unscrupulous slug.
Debased in character and depraved in spirit
this purveyor of evil tended to his wicked ways.
Morally spoiled, he was a putrid putrescent 
and an aberration to integrity.
Nefarious and tainted in character,
he infected the soul.
Treacherous and two-faced,
underhanded and unethical, 
debased and unprincipled,
this snide poor excuse to humanity
defined the meaning of "corruption."


Details | Free verse | |

I Want to Write

I want to write but I can't think straight. 
I want to translate this turmoil in my head 
into meaningful, metered, poetic sense. 
I want to be able to express this angst, 
this battered emotion, this ridiculous notion 
that everything will be alright - how contrite! 
I want freedom to express this pent up agony. 
I want words to flow from me and aspirate this pain. 
I want to start to live again....to breathe easy.. 
to trust, to love, to feel, how ideal 
that would be: a chance to be ME.  How quaint! 
.
..Breathe...BP lowering...Inhale....Count to ten.....Exhale................................. 

That torrent of words has brought liberation - 
it always does! It's my medium of expression; 
my art form; my Valium; my addiction; my shot 
of heroin; my snort of cocaine - Halleluiah! I live again! 




(p.s.  There isn't really this much angst in my life - I wrote this several years ago!)


Details | Burlesque | |

"Lust County Fair"

Standing in line, I saw you over there.
Purchasing your ticket to the "Lust County Fair."

Your lips were locking at the County kissing booth..
Looking more like "exchanging of the tongues" than just a smooch.

On the ferris wheel, your hands where all over her.
You could be "her father" you old ugly buzzard.

In the "petting farm", I see your fittin' right in..
Amongst the other swines and swindlers bathing in their sins.

I hope you feel justified with your so-called young date.
I would not give you the time of day even with a "mail in rebate!"

You came over, pounding and kicking away at my door.
Seething with anger, no rain checks this time bud; it's over!


Details | Epic | |

Mind Thought Determination

What is mind thought determination? 
It is the sophisticated thoughts of a individual wit self-taught mental sophistications.
 It is the chemical mind thought process brain inspirational enhanced created word creations.
 It is the one thought that keeps your hopes from being eliminated by your own weak minded self-doubt double eliminations.
 It is the the thought that can turn your own pains into pleasure of our own sensified sensations. 
It is the thought that can turn you into a leader of tis lost generation to inspire my reservation and maybe even in others parts of this nation to get your own redemptive vindication of those who took away your aspirations.
 THIS WORLD IS YOURS FOR THE TAKNG. 
Mind thought determination is for your embracing not to be forsaken, 
you are your own movie in the making, let not your hope in the mind be shaken.
 MIND THOUGHT POWER over all tis senseless hating, we got to stop all our senseless
 chasing, you are forever a leader in this free world racing. 
If you locked up it don't matter how much time that you facing. 
INCARCERATION IS JUST A MIND THOUGHT METAPHOR FOR SELF-INFLICTED IMPOSED LIMITATIONS.
 It is the thought to use what is against you and turn your hateration into inspiration.
 IMPRISONMENT or EMPOWERMENT the choice is yours REINCARNATION over REHABILITATION. 
My mind has but one destination of all mankinds fascinations .....and that is to finally use my MIND THOUGHT DETERMINATION.........


Details | Narrative | |

Title Taken

The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank.
Winter filled room in the middle of june.
Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.

Now I scavage for remains of my soul.
ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return.
Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.

The page stayed empty for a reason.
They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.

Me the fool brave or foolish enough to  attempt the
impossible  with little to show for it.
A broken relationship and some bad tattos  in 
some  weird places.

To be stuck down in a  hollow .
Is fine  with suplies lowand the truth a sober mind brings 
time was ticking the false deadline was apon me.
And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test.
I was stuggling  waitting for the teacher to say times up.

Hands shaking from the need throat dry  and a headache
that would last for a week.
Why had it always come to this  isolation.

Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back.
Like a lover calling me back to bed.
To entangle untill the mornings light.

Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title 
kept me trapped to this place for nights on end.
You cant grasp what is never yours its 
like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.

Everytime you find  one with which your heart agree's 
 You find the titles taken.
life and love will always  bring you to your knees.


Details | Ballad | |

Hidden Deep Within

I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

I always think I'm too spiritually weak, 
when I choose to ****ing smoke, 
but even ever more when I take that next drink, 
killing myself ain't no ****ing joke. 
Soon I will be six feet deep, 
I'm down in the reservation gutter finally broke, 
words said softly but nothing meaningful ever spoke. 

I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

Tell me something different Lord! 
Tell me why I grew up so ****ing poor! 
Tell me why I spent time sitting in prison crying to you on a concrete floor! 
Tell me why I can't have what I want in this life in what I truly do adore! 
Tell me why I am doing this when I can be doing that because this *****I'm doing now is a bore!
 
I'm back to my writing, 
I'm back to my thinking, 
I dont know why I keep fighting, 
I don't know why I keep drinking, 

I know the answers I ask are hidden deep within, 
I just have to look past my sins, 
I guess I can be an outlaw of just another outcast laughing at the world with a silent grin,
 I know I can be no hearted in the land of OZ I'm the mother fuking man of tin, 
I know if I would I would do all this *****all over again. 
I used to be the one at the end of the trail with just another loss but this my time to win.
 I know the answers I ask are all hidden deep within.


Details | ABC | |

Dear Lord (by kimmy holmes my daughter)

Dear Lord 
please receive me
i've been stumblin around
deceivin me
i wan't heaven now
how do I get that?
do I stop eatin meat
stop being me
How do I get to Heaven?
I NEEDS my mama
I need my Sons
My SUNS
I'm lyin
dyin
before everyones eyes


Details | Acrostic | |

DAMAGE

Drain out the violence from the paintbrush and smear it to the canvas 

Aggressive creatures scuttle into my expanding cranium

Memories of him echoes through the forest…into the atmosphere

Astonishing screams of misfortune filter the forest where he once trailed

Great solitude and rage tortures us all…we will not fall!

Everlasting breakage paints me a portrait of turmoil and what not


Details | Free verse | |

Rebellious

                                        What???...

To get someone to read my poems… Contests there must be.
They must be bleeping nuts thinking I can follow all those cockeyed rules.
Out of a zillion types of poems they always pick the weirdest ones.
Allowed only 16 lines… I found I stopped at ninety-one.
And for a topic they want a bird throwing glitter from a tree.
How about I spank them as I put them across my knee!!!
And why must I name it… as they told me? Where’s that for creativity?
Then they want a special comment added in the poem…
I would rather not add plagiarism… I’d rather call it my own.
But, you know, I am so very needy that I’ll do whatever they want.
Well… I’ll do, maybe one or two… of the things they want.
I know this makes it harder to judge the poems that are found therein.
But to me a poem… is a funny bent on my crazy whim.
Then suddenly, Lord Have Mercy… my poem didn’t win.
But I’m happy as punch for even with their strained smile…
I’m sure they read one of my poems yet again. :)

(Meant only for fun) I'm not really complaining. Just having fun.


Details | Senryu | |

Character Limit - Senryu

So many things in 
my heart that need expression.
Character limit.


Details | Free verse | |

Writer's B L O C K--

Writer’s Block 
is a farce
a blue excuse
with no good reason
an open ended discussion
of waste

Writer’s Block
hangs out 
with Santa  
drinking  
no reason to join them 
at the North Pole 
of nowhere

Writer’s Block
is a temptation
a black rose
waiting
in the hand of the wicked
telling you 
it’s okay to be lazy 

Writer’s Block
is an imaginary friend
of the desperate
feasting on your company
and the smell of your beauty

Writer’s Block
is a weak hoax
marinating in dumb
a submissive idiot 
who barely exists
so leave him alone 

Writer’s Block 
is fine without you 
let him be single
You are better 
without the mix of his device.


Details | Free verse | |

Bittersweet Bouquets

Poetry is bittersweet
sweet when the words
strain away the angst,
bitter as reminders
that do not wane.

I take these feelings
from a moment in time,
capturing them
in flowered words
and hold them there
like bouquets for the taking.

They do not wilt,
dry and decay.
But as I hold them there
my hand tires so
but I’ve grown this stem
in the soils of my heart
and am thus bound by every word I pen
subject to this blooming realization
that unlike me
will not wilt.



If you like this, and others, check out my book "As I Write These Words", with a full preview on Amazon (available on all online book stores, as well as ebook format) for many more.


Details | I do not know? | |

Poet Love

Never fall in love with a Poet
for they are blackholes of the broken hearted 
Set on a treacherous sea blindfolded
to distracted by butterflies to properly set up a captain's log

Never fall in love with a poet our emotions burrow themselves deeper than a naked mole rat

Exposed, Vulnerable

Just like that time in biology class dissecting the rigamortis set frog
JUST LIKE LOVE
Paralyzed
Nailed on all four appendiges

For what???
Love?
Love is sometimes a Lie that we tell ourselves so we feel comforted.
The fairytale we read to children
The moralistic ones where the princess is a vision
and the Prince is an amorous gentleman
Walking hand in hand in the sunset immortalized
as one of the biggest lies
But what of love??
Real love the kind that drives you to a sickness
So nauseating you lose yourself in the process

Only simply to be there for them......... to eleviate any of their suffering

What of the tears???
That LOVE seems to squeeze out of your once sprite like Disposition
Like a worn out mop
that drips milky white left over mess
Lackluster like a dying fern, you have lost your glow
Resulting from the aftermath that your hurricane love 
Dissapated 

What of loneliness....

Love

Makes your fingers at night notice how alone they feel
Like a drug, you go through withdrawels 
You try to intertwine your left hand with your right
You know it will never be the same

Your Queen sized bed feels as if it has grown
to the size of Antartica
Where your insides grow so frostbitten from your bitterness
and you fear that you are so far gone and isolated
No one will hear your whispers

What of loves, loving distrust
Lies and Broken promises seem to defeat a person sometimes from honest confessions
Because distrust is like a math problem. 
Sometimes my friends, you have to discover what type of equation is their male partner.


But love is more like the Infinity symbol.
In that 2 bonded circles flow
LIke simultaneous toilets being flushed in Australia
Circling around sucking water into the pipes back into the earth

Love is the Infinity symbol because nothing can be Charted in Infinity
Understood or even Wanted
LOVE IS TEMPEST like a TSUNAMI TREMBLE

Love is kind but scarring. You never know if you have found your penguin dance partner that 
will always stay beside you

Or

Ensare you faster than a venus fly trap.
Ripping you apart like a Praying Mantis

This is why you should never fall for a poet

We know Love,

and sometimes the horror of it.


Details | Epic | |

A New Collection to the Eye Forest

Crackling blood lies in these forest grounds
Grass growing by its lively effect…
Growing a grimace to the environment    
As the predators hung her on the branches,
carving her left eye on the oak tree
and carving her right eye on the olive tree

They grow livelier…
sucking up the carrions from off the ground
Drowning the vines that try to 
suffocate and remove them for life
left to be in history…unceasingly forgotten 

Now the forest has industrialized into an Eye Forest
Eyes protruding…extorting on the tree trunks
Liquefied by anguish…they had wished to escape
Their pupils punctured by arrows of death 
They grow more affectionate towards the lively soul… 
watching people suffer in indignity and disproof
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
 
Hunted by the worst predator out there
in the deepest of the forest

The eyes seem to stare into your own
Locked with your frightening vibes 
Feeling your dangling fears and pain 
Weeping them insane…
there is no one out there to be blamed,
even in the deepest of the forest

Oh you carrion heart, soul and body
you are accepted to the collection
and grow insanely and look into a world of reflection

You are one of those who lie in the midst of obscurity 
JUST wait till the day of Resurrection... 

Oh you carrion soul and body 
Surviving through the shadows of the forest, 
roaming along the compacted forest, 
moping about in displeasure 
because without a doubt 
you are a magnificent collection 
to the eye generation 
to look upon a cheerless, remorseful life,
Given away by the predator

They soon diminish the evidence…
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
You’re left for dead after all

Allow them to spread one of your eyes
on this tantalizing tree
Let them do their job as a hunter
Your awareness is diminished

Allow yourself to not be startled 
Lose yourself,
and later on, you’ll break free of pain and fear


Details | Haiku | |

Three

------------------------

cracks reminding us 
a calender hangs silence 
by all irony.

---------------------------

Practice for the blind 
circulation shutting down
shall twist towards plot

-------------------------

Running for their skin,
civilised sugar paper , 
for response alone.

------------------------------


Details | I do not know? | |

The Cracked Liberty Bell Versus The Raving Braveheart

"You're, but, a fascist flag,
yanked in blue, white, and red."
"I, alone, killed Hitler,
stalled Stalin, you damned Red."
"You're a racist who kills,
world's stained with the blood bled."
"You're a hate-filled sinner,
ranting as you're faith's bled."
"You're mind's wee as you're heart,
and you're a stupid-head."
"You! I'm gonna punch you
in the back of the head!"

All this pointless drivel,
"I said, you said, I said...",
an idiot debate,
best stare at walls, instead.


Details | Senryu | |

short nature poems

short nature poems
ignite a haiku morning –
creates division


Details | Blank verse | |

A Thin Smile

I sat down to write a happy song
But the words won't come
And neither will the tears.


Details | Free verse | |

Without our Haven

our Soup bowl empty, vanished, gone creatures of habit, culturally deprived sit stunned before a blank screen our universe suddenly imploding daughters of sadness, sons of despair no friends to care; no verses to share windows to other parts of our world shut and locked lonely artist dwells in a somber room reading verses aloud echoes ascending through the chimney words dissipating in winter air without this link this lifeline we could read to the sea, mountains, forests no replies would come perhaps a breeze of acknowledgment grey life that was once colorfully vibrant longing for camaraderie we would never know
*For David’s “Life without Soup” contest


Details | I do not know? | |

Buried By Haiku

I'm here
amongst the huge pile of haiku.
Can you see me? 
I hope you do.

I've been buried here
and I don't know what to do.
Each time I post a poem..
it gets buried by haiku! ! 


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet 15

As technology has progressed , bound leaps ,
within the nanny state , Man simply sleeps .
Replaced Automatic ; Manual Labour.
Solved by Machine mind's , Binary No more .
For synthetic constructs for your whim , creeps
pumping cheese-its into bulging wheeze heaps.

So keep That lard thru blood , spotless , can ignore
such irritations as ; Clearing the floor .

While Digital duty serves ; watch those beeps 
streaming 24/7 fiction keeps
sake in sight , forms pixel ; away those flaws 
by Avatar's dream , away life's true claws.

While around , leashed , the world quietly leaps ,
Attended by metal hands ; Left
	Man Sleeps....


Details | Free verse | |

And Her - Of a Friend's Muse

Out of the depths of my soul comes  my Lady
Across heart and mind to spread a light
Radiant as the slender moon as she
Floats the still black waters of the night
The universe comes into being
In the shadow of her presence
And seized by the vision I am seeing
I'm drawn by a longing so intense
Entranced I would fly to pull her to me
And could I hold   or would I
Overwhelmed by her mystery
Tumble back down the dark sky
With all of heaven too far above me
Condemned to the earth beneath
Imprisoned in this small life I create
Bewildered by this bitterness and grief
And left in the deepening silence to wait
My soul locked and chained within
Without her my spirit unable to rise
Denied the grace of inspiration again
To see the world with merely human eyes
So far from the one that produced 
Wholeness of vision   beautiful   divine
The heart of the unseen reduced
To words once made to live and shine
By love of light from which they sprang
Fashioned first by woman and as fine
As any woman's child who lived and sang
The songs his mother taught in lullabye
While still enfolded in the arms of her who brings
This joy from which I stand apart   estranged and shy
To suffer love   perhaps to learn to love all things
And recognize in the lowest and most mundane
Forms hidden behind her often closing door
Are echoed and mirrored in the most arcane
Authority  that I have honored so much more
And charged with the burden of my own success
Required to learn what silence has written
Is more than any tongue can express
Or struggle to contain and fit in
The emptiness of words if stirred to verse
When all is her   and her eclipsed I find
The eloquence of love can be a curse
So much greater than this little mind.


Details | Free verse | |

Me Arthritic Finger

I detest writing on this poxy little phone 
Hunched over a 2by3inch screen 
Punching away at the imaginary 
Glass keyboard 
Boss eyed 
Cross as hell... every time I lose connection 
Hence half hour 
Wasted ... oh well 
Crucifying my wretched eyesight 
And arthritic finger aching 
Pleading 
That I should go out and play 
Unaware that this old bag is way to old 
To enjoy herself 
And throw caution 
Right out of her cracked conservatory window 
And slam dunked mind 

Oh isn't life grand 
Winding up ole misery guts 
And driving her round the bend 
Up the Swanee 
Heading over the cartoon hills to 
Bedlam by the sea 
Tapping away on her poxy little 
HTC 
The scream  


Details | Free verse | |

and we are gone

... And be one eye , one soul 
as the world recedes , gone ,
away far climbs. Vanished like a 
driven cloud.
		He is merely flesh and blood Reality ;
slaughterhouse stumbling through script
	typed in selfless pursuit.
Wanting only quickened wit & Pupil's Needs.

Mortal simian image, which we , the living 
only feel and bear and tremble and 
are gone. 
Upon my Darling's beaming eyes The summit 
of everest slurs into a bog or quagmire , deep 
and dank.
	So gazing with the boldness which prevails
love, and peace and gracious mirth.
	with a voice less loud though its 
joys and fears show wool in dissembled 
colours shine.
	
	As the passers by near us drew 
the Need to know from our stares, going further...
	" O Merciless Lady & Vulture Poet
when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall
I will turn my bewildered eyes out 
of soil and darkness , to run through 
every alternate scene 
Where I  used to play on the green
in goodly colours gloriously arrayed.

And a voice less loud brought me 
breathless to Aphrodite , throned in 
flowers beyond this pale picture ; 
be the dream. Roaing with laughter 
as a fallow deer is clear cut through 
the sun seen peering out the skull.
Alls 
vast lilliputin language cannot describe
an Echo of the Time, after the rainbow.
Then , as if some strange mystery aware
that you should remember & be sad.
Now memory feels itself grow weak , I can 
not endure,
	I am merely flesh and blood "
"it will be found once more , I say to
thee with furtive flagons , white and red.
Now get back retreat, depart."
	She of the tribunal did command
great at sea, and the Heaven. From some 
touch of pity which may still restrain 
she let him pass.

A leaf fallling softly at my feet,
but I saw it was not as thought , 
only inked. Falling in Heaven's crescendo.
Climax always brushing distance out 
of reach.
As to long panoramas of Visions, of 
my faith , I'd give whole to see the architect
of my dreams once more. I am 
waiting here for thee, flesh and blood , merely.

	Ne'er to be found again. I am 
like a flag unfurled in space. Oh ! Lost 
to Her and all thy race to wit
 faces of scorn , stuttering ends 
this morn ; O Weak Heart. I long 
to rise. Never being a Poet of God's making ,
laughter to thy lips, wandering to sigh 
among mortal men dust ; shall return to 
dust. As the storm cries everynight 
and those that know me confirm that it is thus.
Easing a new epilogue , tremble 
and we are gone...


Details | Romanticism | |

Written words

Words swirl around in my head
I starts and until I write them down
They just won’t end
Writing my words on paper
For people to find significance within them
These words are very real to me 
The emotions are far from being pretend
Some say you looked right into my heart
You’ve seen my soul
You read my mind
Just how did you know
You pinned my feelings to a tee
How again could you see
Everything within me
Here’s you answer as to why
The words that I write are my pain
I’ve seen you, yet not knowing you, through my own eyes
Just because we are different, don’t mean we are still not the same
Emotions are universal
They make the world go round
The silent cries of screams
Quiet is my sound
To often of times
The struggle leaves one
Lying on the ground
The hurt so heart wrenching
And so very real
Time is never ending
Life is what the pain will steal
So breathtakingly helpless 
Is what you will feel
Heartbreakingly hopeless
Devastatingly you just can’t seem to heal
So yeah,
I write my words of hurt and pain
On the pages of paper to share with you
Many will relate and they often feel the same
At some point of time
I do hope you find some sort of comfort here
Within my lines of worded rhyme
Perhaps they will help your heart and soul to let go and heal
Cause while they do help me get by
Most times they don’t really help mine


Details | Free verse | |

Disdain Of Words Formed Just So

They are packaged neatly in this form for you
Just so you know I disdain it, this form you choose
Forever keeps me guessing at how I'll lose
Guess on says you, guess again says I, cause 

Weakness betrays this poet, and it betrays the
Exhibitors of kindness.  I see your weakness
Punctuated at the end of a sentence.

Slays a dragon and steals the treasure to repent,
That's what this warrior did, i'll never conform
To your form the way you'd like. Devil may 
Come a nockin on yer door dear though if
Ya strike.  Strike me down with your disdain
But I'll come back and I'll always complain.

I disdain your little form, and at last I punctuate this with a storm!
For is it not the antithesis of the way I feel?

This poem will refuse to relocate itself, but It will infuse itself in your memory' in the hopes that you will find it very, very, very grammatically incorrect;




Details | I do not know? | |

Stress

I am giving up
The stress is past the point of throwing up
Every day the same routine
The repetition has become obscene
My hands are blistered, sore and torn
While my face looks old a worn
If my nerves are bent any more
I will snap at the middle and break at the core
Just a little break
To relieve me from more than  can take
A rest for the weary is all I ask
A little relief from this stressful task


Details | Tanka | |

An Empty Bassinet

Anguish paints the mask.
Choking on dysphoria
begrimes a collapsed heart.
Hypothermia sets in
when squeezing the color blue.


Details | Rhyme | |

Finality, And Beyond

Finality, And Beyond The person who wrote this book is dead Though he never really lived Beyond the written and the read And every word WAS a lie I think I knew him once I think I knew him well I think he killed himself But he didn’t go to hell He was delivered from it And he thought that he could tell Everyone to be okay But it didn’t sell So he decided, without change He could no longer dwell Around the ones that he loved And bid them fare-thee-well The person who wrote this book was never alive Though he’s not really dead The road of life has been along for the drive As he stares over the wheel with a foot made of lead


Details | Rhyme | |

Dawn of Misfortune

You’re the dawn of despair and gloominess
You’re the sunset that discards my gladness
You deceived me…you made me trek the road of calamity
You grieve for me…you yearn for my sympathy… but I overlook your pity

Horror strikes me, scorching away my destiny
My confidence has slowly departed from me…so what should I do?
Terror swallows me alive, now I’m begging to flee!
My self-reliance has disregarded and fled from thee…now I’m crammed with woe

Digest the emptiness that I feel deep inside
Heed to what I’m about to announce to you…
Digest the affliction that I brushed aside
Hear what I’m about to warn you about…it’s all true

You deserted me…melt the isolation that has filled us with woe
You brainwashed me…you tarnished my bliss
You captivated me…now I have nowhere to go
You terrorized me…you singed up my happiness



You’re the dawn of anguish and shame
You’re the midnight stars that burn with fame
You betrayed me…you made me cut down my garden…shedding fertility
You mourn for me…you long for my forgiveness… so I’m ready to accept your plea
What is the code that will animate your presence?
What is the code that will liquefy the ice of silence?


Details | Free verse | |

The Dark Side

The Dark Side

You want to know my mind
What I am thinking
Can you stand the darkness?
Will the demons scare you?
There are no prayers for hope
God would never tread these lands
What will you say of my twisted reality?
Is it because of drugs or alcohol?
Could it be the way I see life?
I know there is beauty in the world
I have heard so much about it
It’s hiding what you don’t want to see
Take a walk on the other side
See what I see
Dream what I dream
Let the words flow
Tell what you have seen
Take time to write a dark poem
Write of its beauty
Enjoy a world you have never known
Then return to your world
A world of flowers and bunnies
But know that darkness exists
And it is a part of your life


Details | Rhyme | |

Just Two Lines

My tears flow, glistening,
as I realize no one's listening.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

THE REAL FACTOR OF LIFE

FORGET MIS*FORTUNE, FOR I AM 
NOT FOR-SALE. THIS PRICELESS 
WORLD TAG WILL NOT; AND CAN 
NOT SLAUTURE ME; OR EVEN TAKE 
ME DOWN IN A FIGHTING*RING. 
THE BUSTED FACE N' SWOLLEN 
HANDS THAT BLEED APON ME; ARE 
THE BRUISED N' BROKEN BONES; 
PRONE TO TELL YOU THAT VICTORY 
WAS WORN APON THIS TORN 
SHIRT OF PRIDE... FOR NO HUMAN 
IS: "PERFECT" SO IF YOU EXPECT 
IT JUST TURN THE OTHER CHEEK, 
CAUSE I DEMAND ALL RESPECT!!!! 
THIS IS THE REAL-FACTOR OF LIFE.  
"SO GET OVER YOUR/SELF AND 
STOP CRYING OVER THE SPILT 
MILK....


Details | Romanticism | |

Hoping my words will find their way

The snow shining so bright from the reflection of the night moon in the winter sky
My mind drifts wondrously back into the past
Remembering so vividly of you looking so intently deep into my eyes
And thinking of how we thought what we had would last

We would hold each other ever so tight
Whether it was over the phone or we were with each other right there
During the day or deep in the night
It didn't matter cause we had one another, so we did what we had to do and took it at that 
without a care

Laying wrapped up side by side I could hear your heart beating along with mine
Those feelings neither one of us could completely hide
Those moments forever captured in time

Seems our thoughts of us lasting back then however, were wrong
So we had said goodbye and tried so hard to move on
But although hiding what I felt for you worked for awhile, I've been in love with you all along
True love never dies nor is it ever completely gone

I'm here in this place with all my regrets and misery
It all runs so extremely deep hitting my heart hard and ravishing my soul
All I know is that I need you here with me
I know I need to regain, over myself, some form of control

I sit here and wait for you
Hopeing each day, what I'm saying here, soon you may come to realize
Yes I do this partly because this is what I choose to do
But also because it's never ever too late and sometimes, to get it right, it takes many tries

I write my words within these poems upon paper, they are so truly how I feel
Here on these pages are what, to you, I still need to say
In some small way they kind of help me to somewhat heal
And they help me also make sure all my thoughts that are needing to be said
Don't get trapped, stuck, and lost within my head
And to insure that to you my words will find their way


Details | Sonnet | |

Last Supper – A Winter Sonnet

I spit the words you made me eat, and then
they land on you as there you stand aghast –
You cringe and stare at what you said; thick phlegm
bedecks your face, a white-hot, slimy blast.

They left a taste, a bitter paste of hate
and painful anger. Tongue to teeth, I fled
the room and slapped the twisted hands of fate
from off my neck as choking life-breath bled.

I tripped, you screamed and tried to grab me back –
Too late for that, and now we fall apart.
The precipice is yawning, grim, deep black
and down I plunge, my ending and my start.

The forge of stellar flame blows hot, then cold
as melting, sculpted frozen wings unfold


Details | Free verse | |

My Startling Moments X-D

It’s rather odd
That I woke up pretty early this Saturday morning
It’s rather odd
That I awoke from my indescribable dream, filled with mysteries  

It’s somewhat peculiar
That I enjoy being a teenager—now I could do whatever I want and when I want!
But that’s selfish of me, huh? Ha-ha like I care…psh!
It’s rather alarming
That I awoke from a motivating dream without the alarm going off
But that was only a coincidence…I think!

It’s rather startling
That I aced a test in my Algebra 1 class and…
 Yet I failed the class miserably…so I have to take Algebra over again! GREEAT!
It’s rather startling
That I faced my past fears and… 
Now I don’t appear to look like a fool anymore…or do I?

My startling moment was
When I noticed that I had an acting talent!
My startling moment was
When I noticed I had a writing ability too…
My startling moment was
When I composed my own song—now that’s awesome!
My startling moment was
When I heard that my brother was going to be kicked out of the house! 
My startling moment was
When I did my piano practice on my own—now that’s tricky!
My startling moment was 
When I noticed that I had suicidal thoughts…
I had horrible experiences while facing this problem…DX 
My last startling moment was…
Uhh, I totally forgot…
What was my last startling moment if you know?
Oh!! I know! I know!
When I first created my main characters in my future trilogy! ? 


Details | Couplet | |

Have Some Gumption

A cheater never a winner was.
An honest man earns his great applause.

Bootlegged words make confidence schism.
Stealing verses denies truth's wisdom.

Writing one's best makes ideas glisten.
Expressive minds hope people listen.

So go ahead, have some gumption.
Live life golden; ascend con's basin.

Deceit never did bring satisfaction.
Observed ideals take positive action.

The harmed forgive, though it is not easy.
A higher order shows loves flows deeply.

One should never choose to plagiarize,
Not while thoughtfulness remains alive.


© October 30, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen


Details | Rhyme | |

Thank You!

When I think I have no talents
And nobody disagrees,
I find comfort in your works,
Sighing at your expertise,

I vow never to write again
Because I'm not good enough,
But then it's always a surprise
When you lift my spirits up,

I don't deserve your kindness
Which builds my self-esteem,
But still I'm happy and I'm humbled,
For you all are friends to me.




((( A huge thank you to you guys, you don't know how much your kind words 
mean to me =D )))


Details | Free verse | |

Nun But You

How do you know? 
Who tells you so? 
Is it premonition? 
Over-ambition? 
One who forever butts in with song;
With the voice gone entirely wrong. 

Do you reach for opinions of loved ones? 
Would they inform you the talent you suspect is none? 
Would you be mortified by truth.....? 
If truth was sincere? 
Or could you embrace the honesty you hear? 
Would you regroup; or give in? 
Would the fighter arrive telling you to win? 

Is it even worth trying to continue.....? 
Or is it only false hope that lies deep within you? 
Are you a no trick pony.....? 
With no chance, no passion, a phony?

But it does burn deep inside you. 
Most times, the only friend to guide you. 
It listens and makes you talk back. 
Filters your senses, pushing you back on track.
 
You need no affirmation. 
Only self adaptation. 
When the voice inside you fails to love and guide you, 
Release the headaches of self doubt. 
Let you figure you out. 
Because when those in which you’ve confided all depart, 
You are the one left with aspirations..... 
Of the calling you failed to start.

JS Lambert


Details | Free verse | |

Petrifying Peace

Like a rose lacking its pedals,
My tranquility disregards its fascinating smells
Like a tree shaking off dashes of its mangled leaves 
The switch of seasons interweaves... 
You infuriate me with petrifying peace
You unlocked the gate... unsealing healing doom

Miniscule doom rummages through the town,
Wreckage brings peace, making us whole,
Stumbling down by our enrapturing gown
Polishing the mayhem, what a fine world...
You ate away at my purifying peace
You unfasten my fate... concealing chilling doom

Like a guitar tattered and out of tune,
The havoc that I observe is merely a mouldering misfortune
Like a drum busted open during the afternoon,
The peace that I yearn for has expired again...
You hesitate to gather refreshing peace
You unwind my misery state... unraveling incorruptible doom 



Details | Senryu | |

' Orbit Gum ... ' 28th Senryu

‘ Orbit Gum … ’   28th   Senryu 



       A Devious Tongue
    Is Not A Dry-Witty One
   Just Dirt and Mouth-Scum


Details | Free verse | |

Shoeless Muse

I have endeavored to retreat behind common experience
Finding salvation far from transcendental
Happily plotting meaning as if some wisdom was
Possessed, only to be shown through the veil of
An incantation that the lines hardly end in the
Most appropriate places, clinging rather to a 
Need for old-fashioned sociability
Yet remaining far beneath, crying perhaps too
Loudly for its own sake, the doubt--
Cloaked as existence to the flawed so trampled
By the unattainable light reserved for
Men of glass whose honesty shatters the helpless
Sinner sacrificed to misfortune
'Tis a thing of beauty this universal gladness
I only hope its meaning is revealed to its
Author in a way far too brilliant to be
Extraordinary


Details | Senryu | |

No inspiration

No inspiration,
Just an eraser marked page
And an empty beer.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

No Blessed Slumber Given

Thou Death! To me no subtle thing
But of common visage, known,
Unto my days so well betrothed!
Yet in its clutches not Mercy's scythe
But cursed quill
Which no surcease permits-
And granting not that blessed peace
Does letless rage and torment, sting and prod
'Til e'en poor Tantalus would hold his lot
And not mine, for it, dare barter;
For Hades very countenance more fair a thing beheld
Than promised Dawns deferred,
Each alighting hope but a moment's sigh
By Hell's cruel breath consumed
'Til naught but cinders adorns my path
And Love, sweet corpse, its darksong warbles...


Details | Quatrain | |

Absent

I don't love you for your wit
You're always spitting bile.
Reluctantly  I now admit
I do not love your smile.

Nor do love your manly touch
And I don't love your smell.
I just don't love you very much,
So why's your silence hell?

I do not miss your lilting voice,
Nor do I miss your kiss.
I've never seen your laughing eyes
So what is there to miss? 

I don't love your hand in mine
It's strictly for the birds.
Without your love I'm doing fine,
But how I miss your words.


Details | Rhyme | |

Deep rooted

unrelenting screaming in my head
Words deleted before they are siad
wiped of the page, never been read
comfortable 6 foot under in my bed
Paradise falls beneath me as I am lead
Hungery demons can now be fed
draining my soul for now I have bled
satisfied thurst, call me when I'm dead
 
Overwhelming hurt embraces my mind
Dirty, twisted, diseased, rotton all intertwined
This anguish and torture is never defined
Keeping away from the world remaining refined
Myself and others I call me are all combined
Nothing can be said this is how I was designed
Hidden away, locked up, staying confined
Rejected from the world, forever delcined





 


Details | Free verse | |

An Attempt

How can I define to you in a rhyme 
This pain, melodically, that i acquired in time 
How can I make anyone feel what I feel? 
When all I know are lies, nothing is real  
Let me try and bring you down with me 
We’ll walk through the fires, then tell me what it is you see                       
Let me throw you to the loins blindfolded 
Stand your ground and see how long you can hold it   
Give me 18 years to diminish your worth 
I’ll be in your brain until you regret your birth 
Hide like I hid 
Only then could you feel pain that I did


Details | Free verse | |

Parchement

On this parchment
I am forced to write
That of which I cannot speak

On this oh so delicate paper
I am enraptured
by my under lying thoughts

On this meager piece of material
And this once sharp pencil
I try to express the deepest of emotions

On this once blank loose leaf
That I now read to it's fullest
I find that though I wrote about nothing

On this one piece of parchment
About nothing at all it seems
Is full of something you feel, not just see


Details | Ballade | |

CAGES

                           

                                    ***

A day can crumple like discarded verse,
Poets pat the hands of weakened hours,
Time will not heal and its ways are terse,
We mop its brow, bring it dying flowers.
Due to its disdain, within we cower
for the dearth of minutes and blank pages
that can either impeach or empower
enslaved words kept in wrought iron cages.

The past can debate, draw blood and curse,
Behold sunken motes, cold, lofty towers,
All scribes hide old wounds, unable to nurse
what rots under skin, hardened and sour,
Red carnage disguised by rose and bower.
Minds and hearts jar, the old battle wages
in lines that cleanse, but can never scour
enslaved words kept in wrought iron cages.

All prisons hold, most refuse to disperse,
and walls are thick between act and ardor,  
We bards ache for paths we can not traverse,  
Oh, the pen should surrender to splendor,
Remain unshackled, free from marauders 
and villains that consume us in stages.
Life downs rhymes, a thousand tasks devour
enslaved words kept in wrought iron cages.

Tonight I write, release autumn showers,
but a song for a winter’s night ages
in its cell; oh, the sighs which escape our
enslaved words kept in wrought iron cages.




For Francine's Gordon Lightfoot Contest
Song used: Song for a Winter's Night


Details | Free verse | |

Distressed Like the Weather

Dark, departing clouds waved their last goodbye
My smile transcends and then…descends
Brought down by unexpected departure

This weather stays with me for a while
But, with my trustworthy friends by my side, 
They’ll encourage me to move on—even if I’m sunk deep with regret 
At least I have some numbers to dial!

Anguish once again reigns upon my mind
With God always by my side, 
He’ll clear my pathway and renew my frame of mind

I could pray for a bright future to rely on…
While I wait till the weather’s completely gone 


Details | Free verse | |

Teal

"and don't forget the pretention"

###########
everyone nodded along as 
the first line Hit 
 cut w-/ Posh .. chugging 
stars , throats end to end slit.

	Schemes o'er everything 
I realise now that you need 
these 'things' , 
imaginary or other wise.	Anything 
to keep the Belief that 
Life is worth living.
	By their ridiculous Forgery 
to emphasise insubstantial shapes , mutilated 
text , colour & breathing connecting Heart 
to Pen under strict obligation 
to remain Nonsense
	Above seperate Action.

I just want to be Honest
	o'er the vicious Cycles of Trend
inspiring by reflection 
	We replace real life as we all 
like Motion Pictures 
	Lost within Code 
he might be you or me Beating 
the walls as we try 
	out these twillight eyes switching o'er
to Terra's Remote viewing 
	zoom ignites thy Bone's hollow Fractures 
happening, pure & simple , we errode
	in a sudden glass moment ...excuse me 
& my obvious slander .. Keeping it real may soon dismay 
at a pulse of Cheekbones ; Paper artic traces flickering on 
nervescreens before our pristine chords reciting
	"Nobody's story" revolving round 
nothing really ... simple words.

Oh Lord its so clear
	All Places & All Times 
		its just us 
trying to make faces in the sky....
		and scream no more dropping 
for
	your daily optic reset calibrating 
BRAND NEW 
	Our CCTV standard view 
	declining to smash utterly as Minute 
Splinters 
	prevent such ink immediate 
between Mind & Matter ,
	Powdered Charcol , meaning the whole 
Legal Judgement satisfied 
		Logic there in  
Personal reasoning & Multi - simplicity
	Leftscreaming up the curb 
as if 
	you were just walking by... Society's Needs 
cackling inhuman . Adverts scattering   w-/ only One 
Purpose 	rocking aby sentence.
		Cast Calm to Create.


Details | Blank verse | |

Certain Poems Need to Be Released from Their Cages

I stopped what I was doing.  I got very still, and I breathed like I do when I hear noise
outside my room at night.  
I listened to my poem.  
It told me to stop expecting, stop thinking 
and just be there for it.

I quickly squeezed one out. 
I wanted to be a chef and 
feed my friends a poem. 
No.  
That wasn’t it.

The poem peeked out at me again and said 
I want to say to you what the wind says to you and what the warm breezes say.  
Now, listen.

I stopped to listen. 
I took from my book of seeds and crumbs.  
I wanted to share a story like the stories that begin with, “Yesterday, I…”, or “I heard
this…”, or “Can you imagine…”.

I stopped chasing the poems. 
I let the poem catch me.  
The poem may hold you for a moment, then let you go, or it may become part of you 
-- and you are one.

Title quote-attributed to Robt. Bly


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry's Defense

Complicated...
Degraded...
Debated... 
Mandated... 
It's time to overthrow complication 
To cease the reign of complex words' occupation 
Million dollar syllables will no longer make up what is considered deep
Shakespeare-like riddles are banned from "classical legends" to meet 
Non-breathing, abstract matter can, now, die from being personified 
It's time to stop the degrading of such sweet expression 
Give me your confession 
Promise your words' digression 
Because until then Poetry will be in depression 
Notice these rhymed conceptions 
See their unnecessary communication 
Realize that your intellectual, finger-snapping speaking is a deception 
I pray you rehabilitate this addicting obsession 
It's time to have your sentence debated 
For your talent, you've faked it 
Some judge that individual words is what makes Poetry 
That may be true, but rare writing does not make it hard to beat 
In effect of you saying what people can't comprehend 
Doesn’t mean it's deep 
This...you may not understand 
So ridiculous...it's going over your head 
It's time to enforce what is mandatory 
Required for you to study this written directory 
An obligation for you to sacrifice your mislead words of feigned innocence 
Necessary to fight the war to rekindle what is left in Poetry's defense 
With my mind's passion, I can only have it stated... 
Words: 
No more complicated... 
X - out the degraded... 
Cease the debated...
And do what is mandated. 

3/21/2010 


Details | Free verse | |

I Should Have Won

Now, 
I'm not one to jest, or protest,
-or say "I'm the best".
And I'm not one to pout, or put down,
-but I have little doubt...

That I should have won.

Oh yes, there were good entries,
Thrilling tales, brilliant reads.
But among those submissions getting recognition,
were poems of old entities.

Random words with abstract thoughts.
Tired rhyming, splats and gobs.
Nonsensical, gibberish disguised,
as wisdom for eyes that bought the lines.

-But MINE,

was brilliant, fresh, straight to the point.
-Funny, original...and something else that rhymes with point.

So I leave you now with this one fact;
My poem should have won, and that is that.


Details | I do not know? | |

Seeking Faustus

I’ll sell it to you
if I become famous,
if I can sit idly about while 
masterpieces pass from head to page 
in effortless debauchery.

You have the connections now,
bored and burning in some distant 
consequence, wishing you had more time,
wondering at your own folly.
I hunger for immediate gratification
 
but fear not the chime of midnight,
meandering as I am through words
and passions, eager to find the 
formula you must have missed, when
thoughts parade themselves but refuse completion. 

So, surely, I can forfeit myself 
for an eternity if I make it big,
and my parable continues beyond 
this brain demanding worthiness,
if I know what lies

beneath, what lies I hold 
at my fingertips when I want it now,
when my eagerness surpasses sublime creativity
and all I can think of is myself.
I will wait for you here.


Details | Free verse | |

Metaphysical cutup

It is not that I love you less
When first my lines of heavenly Joyes
made mention 
	through regions farr divided 
see with what simplicity 
      see! With what constant motion
Philosophers have measured mountains 
Man, dreame no more of curious mysteries
	Oh wearisome condition of humanity !
Oh might Nothing ! Unto thee 
O Joyes ! Infinite sweetness! With what flowers
	
	Must I then see, with what busie heart 
	Heare mee, O God!
Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with teares
				Busie old fool , unruly sunne
    Absent from thee I languish still 
O sweet and bitter monuments of paine
	Out upon it , I have lov'd  
Sweet day , so cool , so calm , so bright 
	where do these voices stray 
like to the falling of a starre
Poet and Saint ! To thee alone are given
A ward , and still in bonds, one day

All my past life is mine no more 
	How vainly men themselves amaze
dazel'd thus with height of place 
	Here lies wise and valiant dust.


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet 6

Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.

	... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed 
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed 
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.

All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .


Details | I do not know? | |

ART

Art is art is Art,

and as such it will be confrontational to someone,

and will at some point in it’s existence, 

piss someone off every minute of the day



( CLiPiCs AKA Kriss Lee: 03-06-09)


Details | Free verse | |

Heartless Fire

In my fervent heart,
You knew I treasured you
But you didn’t return those tender feelings
Just see the fumes arise from the consuming fire
Because my wicked desires wasted away into embers
I love you…I love you…These feelings are ever so new!
I LOVE YOU…I love you…These feelings are always true!
You knew I honestly adored you…oh yeah; I always did from the start
But you don’t consider those mild feelings—you wrecked those bits by bits
Ah! Now I’m crammed into the ascending fire, splintering me with the strokes of death
Because of my virtuous desires, I’m wasting away into the pit of corruption
I thought you were encompassed with my passionate kisses
But you wanted to chase after your callous blisses, now I’m faced with crises
I detest the thought of adoring you…but I have to admit—I love you!
I love you…I love you with all of my heart! Do you love me too?
I know the desires that I have constructed for you never occurred in your heart
I know in the bottom of my heart that you were only enticed by your sick pleasures
You’re dumping me into the raging fire and you’re a sneaky little liar
Because I ain’t lying like you do deceitfully to me—I’m in love and I can’t draw back my desire
You brought magnificence in my eyes, comforting angel
But I’m subsiding into the cavernous fire
Because I surrender to my legit desire
How could I free from the embrace that yanks on to me?
You brighten up my dreams and set me free from reality’s calamity
I love you…I love you…These feeling relieve me from the blue!
I LOVE YOU…I love you…I adore your every existence—do you get the clue?
You knew I kept this feeling inside for so long
Nevertheless, I feel that I belong
In your heart…In His heart…
In my heart…we’ll never depart!
You are my true endeavor
And I wanna win your heart forever!
You’ll always be loved because you’re above beautiful
But, you don’t believe this love will survive in this stranded palace
But I’ll attempt to win you with all of my might and I’ll defeat the malice
Our boundless love is like two fireflies floating in the midnight sky
But you disturbed our greetings and you didn’t even accept the feelings I felt for you
Why did you blow away our interweaved feelings of passion
And blew them away into the heartless fire?
My precious love, why did you diminish my eternal desire?
You knew I worshiped you
In my sensitive heart


Details | Free verse | |

Verbage Stew

I salt the soil of my mind
spew forth a regurgitated mash
of syllables and vowels
meted out in a rhythm
only a lunatic could dance to
Buy me a package of 
instant identity- a dash of Plath,
some Tagore for good measure
that I would no longer be distracted by
the sound of my own pen tapping
on an empty page
Deceitful brain!
How you've betrayed me
Your promise is dry ink
and screeds of nothing


Details | Burlesque | |

Poetry loves Porn

I hate the words
when I can not touch them
I love life more than I can say
This is the reason why
I tried to seduce Poetry

But she was a whore
Dressed like a slut
Eating like a horse
And talking like... me

I saw Her walking in the streets
She never noticed me
I eat Her just like I use to eat my brain
She never noticed me
She was in love with another Man

She never knew what love was
Because she never had a soul

Poetry loves in a porn way
She gives everything
Because she do not have to give
Anything


Details | Sonnet | |

Beat Red

I’d like to write poems beat red.
Like the color of my face
when white spit foams the lips.
I’d like an utterly violent embrace.

No pretense, nothing dishonest
about this undoctored rage.
Hold nothing back, let it all go,
tear off clothes, and punch the walls.

I’d like my poems to be suicidal.
Willing to jump off the Golden Gate,
overdose on sleeping pills,
a Black and Decker drill to the skull.

At least then I will have killed
for complete love of the poem.


Details | Free verse | |

AfterLife

Bleeding so painfully...I escape the light
 I try to forget the hardships...brewing in life
 But, it's too hard to live this life...this life
 
Breathing so heavily...I fade away into the night
 I try to forget my past...it slits me like a knife
 But, it's too hard to live this life...this life
 
Fight away the monster in my heart
 Throw away my sorrow...Take away my wretchedness
 Burn away the hideous rage...tearing me apart
 Take away the anger...renew my joyfulness
 
Oh God...please forgive me...
 I long for Your cheerfulness... to set me free!
 
Bleeding so dreadfully...I pray for delight
 I try to pray for mercy...for this pain is too much to bear
 But it's too hard to live this life...this life...
 
Fighting back tears...I discover His light
 I try to pray for comfort...and I know He is there
 I pray for His wisdom...to scare away the strife
 And escape from the darkness
 
I look forward to the afterlife
 When there's no sorrow or pain...
      When there's no manipulation...no evilness...
   no violence...no craftiness... 
Replayed...replayed...
 
Someday...someday 
That time will come!


Details | Free verse | |

Threshold -Zelazny-

"I know you are
	specially designed for this operation"
	the man twisted as the Old Stories 
streaked gold across the wall opposite.
	
	When the lights went out a 
moment later , touching his throat , like
a piece of ice dictating :
	' Lies about Man's psychological &
biological make-up.'
	"I know ; I wrote it , seldom happy
& junk sick" Laughter from 
	the Alcatraz of his eyes
	asking someone for The Synopsis of ;
Flight , wordless.
	Hate , an active verb.
Fury , the inside of a furnace.
	Pain &
silence...


Details | Free verse | |

Lost Poetry

I carried my poetry in an old

Leather valise closed and opened with

A pleated accordion top that 

Kept my notches recorded in little

Books and tiny magazines from

Small universities and shimmering

Ambitious pressed until

One day in a thunderstorm,

My valise was swept away and I had

To start all over

Every poem save memories

Washed away like bottles with notes

Bobbing in the waves

Going away, receding into the 

Depths and I could not swim

Bravely or fast enough or smart enough

And the rescuers could not deal with bottles of

Poems

Sheaves of paper

Unpublished manuscripts lost at sea.

A baboon eating cereal guarded the 

Waters, slapping at my creations

Sending them further and further away

Until a tear in my heart collapsed

And I backed away into a higher dimension

Starting a new poem that I carry in my new valise

Still time and explosions to be filled


Details | Rhyme | |

A shady truth to me

God forbid we should draw inspiration 
From fellow neighbors who try to comply 
To better a craft, push beyond limitation
Expanding the graveyards where sunsets die
Envy runs rampant within the benign 
Sucking the life out of lessons to teach
While sticking new frames on old designs 
They rant and rave, practice and preach
And hide there faces while spitting in the wind
Like not being able to face their fears
Like false starts in rearward races begin 
Or crying in rainstorms to camouflage tears
They stand for elite ones in business suites
Forgetting of the ones down in the dirt
While reaping rewards and picking the fruit
Anchored in faith that contests such hurt
Protesting the feelings that all of us know
Unlabeled compliance humanely built
Confessing true lies, while hoping to grow
And cover with tree shade their feelings of guilt


Details | Free verse | |

The Idle Writer

Go on, put pencil to paper
Coordinate mouth and mind
Leave it not ‘til later
Lest this heart ascend 
In the meantime
Remember the bruise 
That smiled
And the laugh that cried
Every aching moment compiled 
Every tear soon to dry
How simple it should be
To express the soul 
In tune or ink
I should hope it isn’t only me
Too suffocated to think
Mediocrity poisons the mind
And paralyzes the hands
Unyielding, this thing called time
The ambiguous notion, made by man
Despite objection 
The moments tick by 
Breath by breath
It leaves me
Tremors melt in soft sighs
The pen is idle
Inspiration flees
Hands sit less than steady
The ceiling holds a blank stare
My brain has grown thick and heavy
And still, my page is bare


Details | Rhyme | |

Crumbs of Deception

...A poem dedicated to a character named Koreen Mae Garson (a lady, not a man)... 

Your love smokes me like a worn-out cigarette Your love blemishes me with bite marks You brush aside the crumbs…now I’m stomped on all over again Your hugs are constricting like a serpent Your hugs loses its passion…my fury vigorously sparks You abandon me cold-bloodedly, now I choke in harsh punishment Your treachery strangles me…you don't consider my screams of importance You snatch away my humility and leave me with the crumbs of shame Your arrogance plants a grave in me…you don't notice that I desire your radiance You ditch me with senseless remarks and you make me feel game You ruin my modesty You stole away my heart’s virtue You bruise my sustaining dynasty You complete me with rue Your conceitedness intoxicates me… Your arrogance underwhelm thee… You unscramble my remains and insert me with the liquid of corruption Your self-confidence leads me to never-ending fate…you disregard my joy You handle me with maltreatment/enchantment and smudge me with your provoking expression You crushed me with your cunning plans, now you made me hunt after my prized boy Your hatred penetrates me with lush, crooked trace You swap me onto the floor, now I’m smashed into smithereens Your smiles lose its splendor...your enlightenment gains disgrace You disown me carelessly…now I spilled your moldering beans You’re imprisoned by the chains of infuriating heat, Feeding off the crumbs of deception


Details | Free verse | |

Ventricle

While back to the head in the 
sand tricks 
	Mountains become just another 
comma ; diagram.
	Caught by this flash....

Daylight surfing past my window ,
	drawn , 
please to our begging. Sailing 
out to record.
	Rooms congealed w-/ smoke 
as the last cigarette falls from yellow
fingers , a cough ignites the body ;
left ventricle collapse and the rest is...
Profit ... Mr billion dollar money suit 
falling flat on his face.	Punishment 
always for the capital.
		They say 
As LOGIC above 
	shoots this expected expression....


Details | Free verse | |

Refill

I am the pen of life
Held between the fingers
Of a much greater power
I flow my footprints onto pages
Even glass, wood or the roughest surface
Engraving a non cryptic legacy
Bleeding in cursive inkblots
Embedding confusion into the psyche
Of the psychological
And stain with smudges the white card backdrops
Where all but the unknown remain
To taint and blemish
The nature of the purest liquid
Rolling, tumbling, leaking
Crying mascara from start to finish
To leave some memory
Of any sort of acceptance
While in a putrid state of lucidness
Gliding, striving, soul seeking
For purpose and repentance
My greatest fear
Is that it will start to rain
Before the ink has dried


Details | Free verse | |

World Cutup

what from the founder Aesop fell
	vital spark of heavenly flame
	unto my thinking thou beheld'st all works

	Who ever weeps somewhere out in the world
	Yellow butterflies 
A dream of Venus 
	let nothing disturb thee
	music first and foremost of all
Mystical Strains unheard 
No, I am not, as other are 
since I am convinced 
	hoping all the time 
I arise from dreams of thee 
	Here , Where the world is quiet 
	For many thousand ages 
	Break Break Break 
Even 
	Far as Man can see 
lest you should think that verse shall die 
	A Thing which fades 
	I found at daybreak yester morn 
 low on chromed cloud 
		open to me 
		Remember what past 
Pity! Mourning plaintive tone 
Since I am convinced 
	That time , I see you passing by 
Thou art one , The first of every number and foundation of every structure 
	Break Break Break.


Details | Cinquain | |

Angst Of Burden On An Overcast Day

onus
traps me inside
myself -- suffocated.
to love but be unloved -- my cross 
to bear.


Details | I do not know? | |

Get off the damn phone!

(This is a fictional poem)

Get off the damn phone and I mean quick.
I'm expecting a call from a hot chick.
You'd better not cause me to miss her call.
If you do, you won't have any balls.


Details | Free verse | |

Face Take Two

understanging nothing 
of radios,
cars or aristocratic
intentions.
...weslipped...
past to
alter 
w-/ out figures
turning from 
an ambigious image
To suggest 
it is easy to concede 
vegence 
behind barbwire fences.

...Years ago ; memory....
sober in the spotlight
saw
Facts that 
are for once 
cherished in a world.

Reluctant to 
proceed 
beneath democratic 
government.
So 
just Hold you 
Breath
&
Break
a foreign face.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet

Living in the fragment
Shards keep me stagnant
I’m both plaintiff and defendant
Daily tried in my own lament
Choices within myself I resent
Down on my knees I repent
No answers leave me discontent
Or are angels ever sent
Pulled by the devil so evident
Mired in midlife not my intent
My poems where I vent
Giving and taking advice lent
Days slowly pass and there’s no dent
Lost souls are my life’s precedent
Sickened by my own ailment
Painted with emotions so transparent
Love adds to my abandonment
Pain penetrates like an insurgent
There’s no way to circumvent
To trust again I’m ambivalent
The pleasure of pain coexistent 
Looked upon as an embarrassment
Dreams realized are only a figment
My story no one could invent
These words written are blood sent
Of a life forever being spent
Seeking a valid endorsement
Blood , sweat, and tears are a requirement
For we have to be diligent
So all can understand what we meant
The life lived unknown as the  poet…









Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Writer

If you want to be a writer, you might as well forget money, forget richness, forget happiness, the ink pierces your skin- in, out, in, out, such a pattern of mourning- it strips all pride in hopes you'll quit- give up- like they all do. You might as well sign the contract of death- to die before any work-if that even is published, or merely acknowledged. The steps of becoming one with the pen, and page- begin with hurt there's no way you can achieve a smile when a thousand doubts are slapping your face. Mocking you so you're locked up in your own world- without a key. The pity emphasizes the fact you're unknown and from that you always will be hopes and dreams are stomped on while you continue to change the world with a single line- 7 syllables; I want to be a writer. Well of course you do- but can you run through the eternal disaster? Hoping you get through without a single scar single scratch, blood only kept within. That's the defining moment- blood seeping through- searing feeling of the climax and then it all ends.


Details | Blank verse | |

The Poet

The poet's voice, a lonely flute
From the grotto of orphaned dreams,
And Sorrow the arms which wrap him
'Til e'en they grow frail, and falter,
Thus failing, cast him down-
A writhing soul unblest
By fair Sleep's last kiss...

His word, a sword
And princely thing!
His power firm, and curse-
For his the alighting of Heaven's sighs
Or a phrase to stymie giants...

Tho his thousand sonnets tribute Roses,
Nary a one will bed him-
For his the rage of the seeking Winds
Which howl through gardened graves,
A midnight dance of madness 
By angels peopled and tears companioned...

Thus, then, he lives,
As touching the Dark,
And then the Dark awakens...


Details | Sonnet | |

Inability

Emotions fall to meaningless cliché
attempting to unravel lover’s mind,
and plummeting through endless fields of grey
though vibrant you, poetic threads unwind.
Obstructed by the trials two lives have brought,
the beauty seeks its eloquent release;
expression, though we surely have been taught,
will fail when all poetic urges cease.
The promise made, ensuring we survive
stirs not the timeless scribble of the pen,
though every small betrayal so alive
does beckon me to empty page again.

The passionate alone can drive the quill;
as such, it seems my pain is stronger still.


Details | Rhyme | |

denruT segaP

denruT segaP Every love that claims me Tells me I’m the first, and last Maybe so for a moment But what was now has now passed And you’ve made yourself a liar So you set your words on fire In the flames your letters cast The alphabet never got so hot Than when you said your love was not Who can say what pages are meant to be turned When love is only a chapter in the book of life But even though the leaf has flipped The story remains By the transparent graces of the paper I can still read it backwards Now the beginning is the end And I’ve never loved at all


Details | Free verse | |

Anger

teeth clenched
tension creeping
up or down my spine.. 

rage flickered
meanness flared
burning up my mind..

the apple don't fall..
far from the ugly tree..
muttered neath my breath..

damn I'm a heifer..
the anger died.. 
a swift and sudden death..

what apple he asked
what tree he dared
and I cried..


Details | Blank verse | |

Too Many G-D Poets

Too many poets. 
Dreadful.  
Roiled.

Yes, I too, am a guilty poet.  

While I sit and wait for my soup to arrive, I read a few pages of Simic, and the Seattle
papers. 
The noodles cook and drain.
Mrs. Green slices the smoked pork.

I fight to tune out the background signals, the  laughter and static, 
while I scribble arthritic sentences 
in my composition book.

I never run into anyone from the old days.  
They are all far, far away or dead.  
I don’t remember the last time a pretty girl 
made me laugh, or an old friend 
told me a good story.

The bowl of Pho came, hot and spilling over the side.  

I watch a skinny teen with bad skin, scribble in her binder for fifteen minutes, and I
wonder what she is saying.



Details | Free verse | |

Destruction and Decadence

I have no idea what you are facing in this segment of life
You are like a labyrinth; I can’t untangle the mayhem without any clues
Spill out your emotions…there’s a waterfall in your eyes ready to collapse
I don’t have the time and willpower to hike on your colossal mountain

Are you fit enough to climb with my echoing praise?
I doubt I ever have the strength to crawl into your agonizing thoughts
Of destruction and decadence
Of despondent dreams and isolated guidance

Do you accept my benevolence towards you?
Do you believe that I can mend your shattered dreams?
Do you accept my fondness towards a friend like you?
Do you have faith that I can make your dreams a reality as it truly seems?

Your contemplation is another expedition to trek
You are like an island, separating cramming chaos from undying peace
Rise from the cave and attack…there’s a bear in your nature, watching over her cubs
I don’t have the ability and determination to trudge in your soggy wasteland

Are you slick enough to trek with my shielding gaze?
I doubt I’m nowhere to be found in your thoughts of desolation
And destructive formation,
Springing forth the equipment of your
Turmoil and damnation

With any luck, I hope we can arrive in one piece
On the other hand, I wish that we both escape from this horrifying journey
Because I want to discard the labyrinth, crafting puzzling pathways that draw me back to
Destruction and recklessness
That I, by no means, address


Details | Rhyme | |

No Words, No Peace, No Sanity

My feelings block my mind,
Words are too hard to find.
My thoughts can't be expressed,
My head is beyond stressed.

Adrenalin has rushed,
My screams cannot be hushed.
But  words cannot come out,
Words replaced with a shout.

The pounding in my head,
There's no tears left to shed.
The burning in my eyes,
These feelings I despise.

I cannot take this pain,
It's driving me insane.
I try hard to cool down,
Sanity not yet found.

Wash my face with water,
Cool the need to slaughter.
Now everything's all right,
Take out my pen and write.

I am trapped no longer,
Now I'm growing stronger.
The pieces are now whole,
Now I am in control.

By writing, words increase,
I feel a sort of peace.
Insanity maintained,
My sanity is gained.


Details | Rhyme | |

Vanished

I tally all my thoughts at bay,
disguised within my fevered mind,
and to them I regret delay
but wary I will fall behind.

For I believe these weary thoughts 
have given me the time to fear,
All such madness, craven draughts
of one more hour, wasted here.

And for the barkeep I may pass
a time, a piece, of relished bliss,
because my form no longer asks
of me, to find that worthiness,

that lies behind these broken seems
and sulks between my fingertips,
eager for abducted dreams
of words I know and thoughts I miss.


Details | Senryu | |

' Mimicry ...' 23rd Senryu

‘ Mimicry ’   23rd  Senryu 



        Is That Mimicry ? …
Yeah ! … A Caged, Enraged Polly
          Parrot-Parody !


Details | Rhyme | |

00:56 - Fire from Faith

It surprises me still, how devoted I am,
You're a form of religion, I will be your lamb.
To herd or to slaughter, or do what you will,
I'm yours for the taking, a vessel to fill.

I've found my addiction, but it's one that won't feed
On a liquid or tablet, but a different need.
For it's writing of you that's my ultimate vice,
And no matter the danger I'll pay any price.

It kills me that you are the prize I can't get,
For the moment at least, so I can't touch you yet.
And I hold you in my world of paper and ink,
But the pages are fragile, you burn and you sink.


Details | Free verse | |

An old motto renewed

woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
in denial
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
singing it
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed

Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works

Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point

Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the 
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck

an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
why not?


Details | Free verse | |

Writing and Riding with Destiny

Empty only seconds
And yet I fell so lonely.
I was pushed into a world
I wanted but never could have to my own.
I wanted one night with him
And a thousand from another.
I wanted and I wanted
I never needed.
I will never need it.
I'll face eternity alone
In jealousy and loathing.
Plagued by the desire
Of flings with older beings.
The wise old souls 
With a book to his nose.
My everlasting hope
Even when my hope is wasted.
Ever is my hope wasted,
Wasted on these petty dreams of mine.
Always dreaming when the sun still shines
Abound my skin
I shall resign.
I shall grow strong.
I will move on
To distant songs of lovers gone.
I shall move on
And then move on.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One For Love

Your sweet breath escapes you and engulfs my soul 
Through words spoken as though from some celestial being 
Warm emotion floods me, floods my very fibrous core 
Love I feel is not a mere four letter 

Word that reluctantly man takes for granted, but more a 
Monument to the jubilous fire you set my soul alight with 
Speak, I cannot, the true magnitude of shear bliss 
Endured by my mortal flesh. With the slightest brush 
Of your angelic fingers. None can know or fathom 
what true insurmountable beauty lies within 
green fields of yet discovered highland plains laden with 
flowers and sweet honey aroma blows within. Feeble 
in my attempts to profess my own meek emotions 
turmoil of my own past colliding with the yet to be. I destroy 
myself knowing such turmoil I cause in an entity 
none like yourself. Meager apology and material possessions 
offer no hint of emotion of love and remorse contained 
My, love, our love, will endure of that much I am sure. Open my mind 
My only wish, to show you things I need you to see. I have known 
No strength such as yours you take for granted. Times as this 
I've never known but with you only would I have it to spend. Forget 
Not the who I was, the who I am, and the who I will be. 
My love, our love will endure of that much I am sure 
 
Monotony & Mundane remain the same 
caught in this slippery pretty net 
we're all falling in and around our own whirlpools 
our upward spiral climbs too high - the higher up the further down 
Fly the same play the same one with the other 
floating always floating 
This sea we've created weaved in the merciless 
fabric of the time we all flock to certain death 
holding the hands of our clocks & wondering why 
our own bleed. double edged is the face of 
a sundial. With each shadow flicker anguish & 
joy death & life exist permanently & are lost forgotten 
by time held by life lost by eternity. 
Let's all rally hand in hand while the band 
plays on 


Details | Free verse | |

Lost My Damn Headphones

Ears being tortured
by the feeble music
on the jukebox,
    mind sporadic,
losing my train of thought
         to Madonna.
Ideas mottled
   by conversations
like something gnawing on wood
in my ears.

My horrors
   are hidden from me
by the likes of Beyonce’
blaring throughout the place,
     mucking up
my mental pathways.



 I usually write in my local bar with my MP3 player on 
    and as the title suggests I had lost my headphones one night.


Details | I do not know? | |

Just Thinking

Why even bother.
Stop reminding me of irrelevant notions,
You know that they don't matter anyway. 
I'm tired of hearing lost thoughts inside your head.
"Sorry I was just thinking about what you said...".

Ah, so now you'd like to talk about my day?
But where were you when I needed you the most. 
Lost in someone else I suppose.
I'd really love to hear your silence instead.
"Sorry I was just thinking about what you said.."

They're only words!
They always have been to you, nothing more.
Priceless little nick-knacks safely tucked away inside a drawer.
You're kidding right? I think I'd much prefer the emptiness beside my bed.
"Sorry I was just thinking about what you said...".

Don't bring my writing into this,
It's the only thing that won't deceive me.
Much more loyal than you, honey please believe me. 
Hate me? Fine. My loving looks are cold and dead.
"Sorry I was just thinking about what you said...".


Details | Free verse | |

Skunky Beer

why am I so different?  
                                     am I?
I'm beginning to think 
          that I just have a blown up ego,
          metamorphisis metabolic 
untrancible genetic 
                                    generic flow flaw
a reconditioned range 
          of freedom gizz 
                                    that's stuccado in yr craw,
a wild and willy wondrous 
          and silly piece of turd -
                                    that is the word,
a point to this eternal ephemeral joint, 
          that makes me doubt 
                                   what it's all about
A waste in a basket, 
          hovering over a casket...
                                   nearing a fatal mask of death,
what do I mean, 
          the unobscene?...
                                   too tubular to be inbetween...

gives me fitz 
          to glamourize 
                                  the sh!#^ty arses on TV,

when what I really want 
          to say is what 
                                  I really want to mean...
I'm in a trance now...
          a Holy Cow...
                                 a place to recognize 
and over despise...
         the simpleton lies....
                                the public cries
 for they fear no evil, 
        and see little 
                                of what I know...
they understand little, 
       of what I hold 
                               under my big toe

crap...my beer is warm


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

I hit a student

(This is a fictional poem)

I used to be a teacher who was admired.
But last year I did something that got me fired.
I hit a student because he told me to go to hell.
I got the boot and I also went to jail.
I regret what I did as I sweep the floor.
I can no longer teach so now I'm a janitor.
My student knew which buttons to push to get me annoyed.
He was a jerk but I shouldn't have hit the boy.
My temper was something that I should've controlled.
It was wrong to hit a student who was only thirteen years old.


Details | Free verse | |

Sleeplesszzzz

I cannot sleep
And so, I go and fix some hot herb tea
He wants to help but some things I must do alone
 It is the wine, he says
You drank too much
The wrong kind
Without the ice
 I am fine I say 
Go back to sleep
 By now, I think I know what the problem is
I have a head too full to lie upon a pillow
 It is not full of wine
 Not full enough at least
Just sleep, you need your rest
I need some peace
He cannot understand
I can help you go to sleep
 He wants to touch me 
I do not want to be touched
His dog is barking
The stack of bills on the desk call to me 
 I walk past to fix my herbal cure
The computer beckons me
I have to push the bills aside to find the keyboard
How long I have missed you
I caress the keys
 My fingers find the words to open up my soul
No one empties me as you do I tell it
 It struggles to fulfill my demands
 I war with it
We do a verbal tango
I sip my tea
 I am calmer
My headache subsides
I am feeling sleepy
Thank you I whisper
I drain my cup and turn off the box 
That moments before bled its glow over my fingers 
And lit up my face
Thank you I say as I retreat to the snores that fill the night
Thank you God I whisper as I crawl into a bed full of warmth 
A large snoring lump of resting passion 
And what is this
Small hands reach out to touch my cheek
They pull my face in for a sleepy kiss
Good night angel
Mommy is here
I sleep
Finally


Details | Verse | |

Castles In Spain

Drumming from the amps, bristling with snares and hooks,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Aide memoirs of the past, post-war resurrection, stubbornly,
Wreathed in wires of smoke and delineated by baselines,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In the imaginary glare, scrubland plains play host,
The homeland of bleached white sonic structures,
Aspiring to touch the scorched stonewashed sky,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Ravaging the cold corpses of pastoral dictators,
Burying them in gritty sand, interring with their
Emotional fascism for companionship on the final
Journey into the heartlands of the dead conquistador,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In that hopeless kill zone of love and promises,
That vain and empty body of soulless night,
That reflective insult of scorn and terrible beauty,
Replications of dreams laid bare, films on her iris,
Panoramas populated by citadels of waste,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”)
(“I see in your eyes…castles… in… Spain!”).
But what can I do?


Details | I do not know? | |

Vessels

Though the crease begins to crumble
These old pages still run blue
Currents pulse beneath the surface
Pen-leaked ink that bled your truths
Pen-spun words that writhe like veins
Under skin and paper skies
Cold to touch, crept through your core
Settled clear in frozen eyes

So I’ll read you like a book
And I’ll write you pretty lies
Just to fill the empty space 
That’s revealed between the lines
Won’t you move a little closer?
Let it spill into your ear
The tide of breath that harboured
All the words you want to hear

Well I tried to kiss it better
Blood and bones to fuse the cleft
Bruised and broken, lips split open
From the effort, nothing’s left
So you say that I’m a sinner
Preach of hearts and ribs and fists
Well I may have made the plunge 
But you revelled in the twist

Now you’re tearing at your wounds
Sanctimonious with pain
Because it helps you ‘hear the music’
Yeah, it helps you play the game
If I pour a little salt
Will you smear it in your eyes?
Feel its grain twist round your lids
As you soliloquise

About the blame you tried to forge 
All the nights you wept and claimed
‘You can’t comprehend the world
Balanced firm between these blades’
No one told you it’s a lie 
And the story really goes
Constellations, superstitions
Are that Ancient’s only load

All the pretty rhymes and perfect crimes
You try to hide behind
Well they just serve to remind me
How you once spoke those old lines – 
‘Your tongue is as a rudder
Guiding vessels safe through storms
Moving mountains with inflections
Making ripples in reflections
Hollowed hull meets hallowed shores’


Details | Free verse | |

What is the point?

I see no point in the words that once ment so much. AM I losing my grip. Where 
is the color that use to give my world. It used to be filled with wonder. Words they 
scream at me to get a grip and write them down. What is the point. No longer 
does that seem important. I miss the strength they used to give me. What is the 
point of these meaningless sounds that are most often used to hurt people more 
then not. I am tired of the sticks and wish to throw away the stones that seem to 
be the only words I seem to say. What is the point?


Details | Rhyme | |

Stinging Words

How often have we felt it, 
when hurtful things are said? 
When someone says such painful things
you wish that you were dead.

Many times we just don't realize
the pain we tend to cause
when we say things to instigate
the laughing and applause.

The sting of words is painful.
The scars will linger long.
We carry hurt around with us
even when we know it's wrong.

So, choose your wording wisely.
It hurts more than you know.
Sometimes the ones you hurt the worst
are the ones you never know. 


Details | Verse | |

How is enough

It must be asked how we ended up here.  
For this place is perilous and wondrous and necessary.
Who has brought us here? 
Our own self deliverance? 
Our own self loathing? 
Perhaps

But I believe our way out is still the way in
Subjugation?
Perhaps

"How" is the only justification
The only "reason"
The only "why"
This "how" embodies the soul.

Remember the soul?

This "how" embodies the very essence of all
For it is my belief that this "how" embraces the necessary as well as the unnecessary
I embrace the me that should be cast away. 
I have held (cradled) the part of me that does me harm and promises the false….

No more

I lovingly hold that part dear and let it fade. 
It must be and it shall.
I must be more 
but no more than that.


Details | Rhyme | |

Heaps of Wretchedness

Numbness prevails over me,
Masking me… sending me pangs of suppression
Deadness tears its way inside of me,
Consuming me… devouring me with yanks of oppression

Darkness frowns upon me,
Dragging me down…sending me scraps of sadness
Gloominess molds me inside and out,
Chasing after me…surrendering to my wretchedness

Shadiness lurks above me and it wildly swarms,
Murdering me…scarring me with my unbroken misery
Murkiness blankets over us like troubled storms,
Shaking us up…bribing me with heaps of boundless fury

Edginess overrides me like a wraithlike form,
Misleading me…sneering at my failures and agony
Blurriness absorbs in this uncanny terrain…no sign of storm
Still, I’m withering into sand, grinding into shards of tragedy


Details | Free verse | |

Not Blank

This page is not blank
Not just empty lines.
I fill it with what
I'm afraid to speak.
What I fear the most
Crawls through these pages
Not caring at all 
that it scratches
this clean white paper.
If I were to leave it 
inside myself instead...

No
 
Please

Not that.

So into this maze of white lined pages
It must be let out
To rove and to roam
Free to be itself
or rather
myself.


Details | Ballad | |

Get Little

I hopped on a south bound

with my head in the clouds

thought I'd prove a few wrong

maybe make a few proud

but just like every other time 

there's no rhyme or reason

just a reason for a rhyme

I must be out of my mind for crying out loud

I'm gonna get little Lord I'm gonna get small

Gonna keep on shrinking till I'm not here at all

just me and the molecules with plenty to spare

won't take up too much space won't breathe too much air

I never meant to be "touched in the head"

It's seldom clear to me, what i just said

I know I'm better off living and breathing instead

cause I already know what it's like to be dead

The baggage that I carry with me

I just bring along, 

for my daily dose of self pity

and the occasional song

Honestly I'd love to be

what everybody wants to see

but all these years have made it so clear

that it just ain't me, it ain't never gonna be

the right, the left , the middle and the status quo

Have in no uncertain terms given me the old heave ho

time to go now

 I'm gonna get little Lord

I'm gonna get small

gonna keep on shrinking till I'm not here at all

I won't have to hide what I ain't got 

won't have to worry bout who I am not

I'm gonna get little Lord, I'm gonna get small

Gonna keep on shrinking till I'm not here at all

Just me and the molecules floating in the air

won't take up too much room, won't breathe too much air.

I hopped on a south bound with my head in the clouds

thought I'd prove a few wrong maybe make a few proud 

but just like every other time

there's no rhyme or reason, just a reason for a rhyme

I must be out of my mind for crying out loud.


Details | Rhyme | |

Austen's Emma

Emma.

You may be handsome, you may be rich,
You may be clever, all factors which
May mean you have a happy home
And are blessed with the best that the world can bestow.

Your twenty-odd years may have passed with such ease:
No distress to compress, ever vex or displease.
Your match-making skills have succeeded again
And I'm left, at the end, in non-fictional pain.


Details | Free verse | |

Getting blacklisted by the feds 101

FBI
Allah
Iraq
cocaine
Bomb Bomb Bomb
Gun
die die die
smuftee
hash
Bush
bullet bullet 
knife
marijuana
kill or be killed
death
drugs
heroine
New world Order
KKK
white power
snuff
crack crack crack
kuwait
UFO
Satan


Details | Light Poetry | |

Sestina

Sestina sounds romantic like a lazy siesta with a Latin lover.
Foxy tanned skin and dreamy pools of irises.
Words can confuse and taunt the innocent and simple mind.
Words can turn vile and bitter after the romance has faded.
Lovers become cold and distance, leaving an empty shell of
A former grandeur, and burned out emotions that are unable
To form a complete sentence. Dare I say poetic words that do not flow?
When all hopes have been doused with ice...

Do I dare revisit the sestina again? Hope beyond hope for a reunion of words and 
cohesive thoughts? Is it possible to have a poetic thought again?
Old friend, my eraser, comes along on this adventure. When you reduce, my sestina 
will rise again from my thoughts!


Details | I do not know? | |

Thoughts And Feelings

Time flies
When I daydream and write.
Though I despise this place,
I know without a doubt
It is where I learned
Every trace of my thoughts.
My heart is solitary,
Though is so deep,
It feels as if
I may never find
What these feelings of mine
Always dream.
I write my poetry
Through love, feelings
And even hate.
In this life I seem fated
To forever be lingering
Within this world
With faded dreams and feelings.
This state of mine 
Is so misleading,
I must find more meaning.
Time flies
When I am glancing into
The clear blue skies.
The sun rises
And my soul realizes
Every day, every lifetime
Is a new beginning.
As I am writing,
I am thinking, searching
For this life's meaning.


Details | Free verse | |

The Diary Journals

This will be a real series of excerpts for civil war diaires fron Jan 1, 1864...mixed 
with my diary journals from 1967-NOW...
there will be no censoring, so tender minds may wish to avoid.....

The first entry is from Jan 1st, 1864;
     A driving rain storm, and this is the first day of a New Year.  I am all alone, and 
have felt very lonesome all day, and hope today is not a sample of the coming or 
future years.  I was so hoping Jerrie---would come out tonight, but the last train 
came and so perished my hopes of his coming tonight.

_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________


Details | I do not know? | |

Bring the Bitter Voice

Bring the bitter voice
Broken game of sacrifice
Embrace the sea of yesterday
Reconcile winter poetry...


Details | I do not know? | |

The Officer and the Poet

A man in a comical hat,
Who was simply very fat,
Came riding on a one legged fool.

As I attempted to pass,
He stopped and politely asked,
Had I committed a rhyme?

"Of course." I then said,
And the fool shook his head.
"I am a poet and rhymes are my tool."

"Then," he replied, "you are under arrest.
To go quietly would be best,
For in this land that is a grievous crime."

"Then surely," I exclaimed, " you are guilty too,
Just by rhyming as you do,
So you might as well arrest yourself!"

"But I am an officer of the law,"
He said with a grand guffaw,
"Therefore, myself from the law exempt!"


Details | Rhyme | |

Twisted Ankle

I twisted an ankle
On a word,
One I used,
Not one I heard...

The pain rose straight up
the spine
Because that foolish word
was solely mine

When brain and mouth
Of two different a land 
Stangers to the other
Cover my mouth with my hand...

I twisted an ankle
I hurt someone
Oh, foolish man
What have you done?


Details | Shape | |

Writer's Block

I hear a voice calling me To put down my pen and walk away It brings me to an 
edge 
of 
life 
I 
look 
down 
and 
see 
the 
swirling
mass
Of 
what 
I 
cannot 
describe
I
try 
to 
grasp 
at 
the
thoughts 
The 
wicked 
words 
that 
mock
my 
reaching 
hand
Spinning 
down 
farther
Out 
of 
view, 
spinning 
into 
you
Where 
you 
take 
the
truth 
I 
once 
knew 
in 
ink 
You 
erased 
it 
from 
my 
eyes 
And 
now 
all 
I 
have 
is 
nothing 
Nothing 
Nothing but a blank page



Details | Free verse | |

College Essay

Two days before the deadline.
Fingers flying frantically,
Condensing a lifetime’s achievement
In 500 words or less.  

Eyes are bloodshot from the long night, spent
Staring and scanning every line, every blip
With the careful precision of a surgeon.  

Secretly beautifying my faults 
Like an embalmer, decorating wounds,
To make even a dead body presentable.  
 
All to impress anonymous judges  
Who are endowed with the authority 
To confirm my life’s worth.

Judges who grade lives—
Out of a pool of million—
Superficial enough to be condensed
In 500 words or less.   


Details | I do not know? | |

Scorpio Tendacy

You're messing with my mind
I'm trying to find
Words to get my anger easily out
Subtracting the options to scream and shout
Rant and rage
My anger will stampede with a rampage to destroy and kill
I advise you to procede with caution at your own will.
Will to risk getting hurt with somewhat fatal wounds
My words come out as bullets, piercing everything I aim for
But lucky for you
You are my designated target
And trust my shot is accurate
Or should I say on point
Precise.
And everything else in between 
And outside the lines
Trust,
I will not miss
My anger is tempting to stampede with a rampage to destroy and kill
I advise you to procede with caution at your own will


Details | Free verse | |

The book the wizard wrote part six

your new split second decision 
your new cult of fashion and intuition 
back to the middle

Say what you
I run away
your new dream to wonder 
around again what’s there if it isn’t love?
the stories that it creates
plant the seed to be healthy 

I set you free
Don’t ever set me free
Turn me loose
I love you
I will be with you

the tangents that you go on 
did you discover his fate or was it all fake 

My salivation

was it propoganda
it not as simple as it seems 

the psychosomatic drowns in you
was my grandfather a conspirator or a joker 
will I ever know the truth or was everybody given everything that they need
Near and far and everything
brainwashed by a political bully 
who had no answers 
be my world as you drown
I wanna fly

what are you fighting for
whose keeping score?
Does anyone understand?
When someone shouts out loud
Ask him what it turns into
I lost my 
Salvation
I set you free
Say you love me
And you’ll never stop
I wanna fly

Forgot my
Tokyo 
Lost my
Record selection 
tear out whatever pages randomly if you wish 
strategically if you desire 
\but what you do what you will 
I love you
Closer together
what you realize you will come crawling back when this book leaves your hands 
to test you and the future generations of this intellectual dance of angels and 
demons and mans 
I will be with you
plan to tease ease and escape them 
one day I will write this book 
I’ll set you free
Dance with yourself
and every possible reality will be a riddle and every direction ill guide you through 
and 
another jeckyl and hide faked fur inside fashion mag
every prophecy possible will be in there so you decide your own fates and 
puzzles 
you want your family to rehearse 
and know one day someone will control them all
couldn’t get attention
\love operation
didn’t want to be ignored


You got me goin
and they tell me their diggin’ the Heroin
she’s the one they like best
Come top the place where they finally found you
 Nothing to lose
so the books will start exchanging hands 
And the change might do you good









Details | Free verse | |

Mind Jumble

Misunderstanding, rejection, hurt
So hard to articulate
Body tightens
I must write down the words so that I can own this feeling
Disappointment
Did I give myself away too quickly?
Is who I am and who I am perceived to be so different
That I have misplaced my identity somewhere in the gap of the two
This is petty.
Strength, focus
Don’t question, just be.


Details | Free verse | |

' Lost Poems '

Only A Poet Would Understand
Only A Writer Will Know…
Why I Would Feel This Disheartened and
Why I Can’t Shake Writer’s Woe… 

… I Lost 200 Poems or More
Tho’ The Exact Count Doesn’t Matter
Most of What I’d Written Before
… is  no  longer  gathered

A Circumstantial Mishap
My Family Didn’t Realize
That Case… That Mildewed, was a Map
Of My Flight thru Vision-Skies!

Eclectic, Romantic, maybe Eccentric
… also of Favorite Things and Fantasy
… Kinetic, Static or Copacetic
And Sojourns into Soliloquy

… Only A Poet Would Understand
Only A Writer Will Know
Those Exact, Precise – Phrases, won’t come again
… I can only end-up where they go…

Lost Type-of-Line, Pencil-Points of Lead
Lost Sonnets, Songs and Secrets Said
Now, Instead of Ink-Blots, My Tear-Stains Spread
Those Lost Words… Ripped My Throat to Shreds !

… Lost Track … Lost The Time …
Lost Treasure – Can’t Find Rhyme
Lost That Paper-Trail… of Where I’d Been
Lost Paper-Peace –that was Marked:  Amen

and I’d Rather Have Lost My Money
‘Cause I Can Always Earn A Dime…
Instead of My Increased Memory
that Remembers This Literary Crime ! 

… Lost Documentation of Determination
Documentation of Dreams
… My Certificates of Celebrations
… My Tickets To My Park-Themes:

… of Snowflakes to Raindrops
From Heartaches to Heartthrobs
From Whispers to Declarations
Of Best Friends, and Far-Vacations

200 Trains of Thought – Wrecked
200 Expose’ Sheets – Axed
200 Treatises, Throwed Away, Gone…
… on Tragedies, Joys, Jokes and Moans

… Yet, I Rely On God, to Resurrect The Dead:
My Older-Sister, Brother, Grandma, Mom And Dad
and … if its not too silly, vain or bad…
Resurrect Those Words, I Wrote and I Meant to be Read…

Until then… 

Only A Poet Would Understand
And Only A Writer Would Suppose …
If I Do Not Write Again
What Lost Poems You’ll Never Know…


Details | Free verse | |

When "Sorry" Seems Lame

Sorry if I made you worry.
To doubt or question me.
It's totally understandable.
And even I can this see.

Sorry if I hurt someone,
Somewhere in my past.
Sorry if I felt hurt as well.
And the pall it did once cast.

Sorry for your troubles,
So much deeper than are mine,
Sorry for sin and anger
And for those who feel just fine
After tearing hearts to pieces
To fling into the sky
And kill the innocent,
Makes one want to cry

For those we lose, and mourn
Those we wish were never born
Those sick of being sick
And tired of wondering why,
Those who cry to live forever,
And those who want to die...

Life can seem brutal,
Nasty and unfair
Makes you sometimes wonder,
Why you should even care

But a minute of true love
Makes up for all that pain and sorrow
And a taste of unselfish caring
Makes one want to live again tomorrow

Beyond my understanding
Beyond the wisest soul,
Simply beyond the scope of knowing,
Something just a goal

To taste a taunting hint,
To half understand in momentary flash
But never quite get it all
As hopes of such do dash
Upon the rocks of failure
As yet once again
We crash

So "Sorry" is a word
Too hard to understand
And far too often flung,
In words that seem off-hand.


Details | Free verse | |

my life defined

a series of acts
with a few different scenes
and the script is me knowing yet praying 
that it wont be
a tragedy

Every act i face a series of tests
each test given a name called a scene
I repeat these scenes like life lessons
and when i get them right
like a game show 
i move on to the next act

How many acts are in a Shakespearean tragedy anyway
will i be strong enough
when in this test no matter how near or far from home 
that's always where I'm pointed

I walk out one door
to find myself on set still
outside this time so it should appear
another door i walk into leads me inside
but yet on a yacht going far away
and the actors are always there
asking me dilemmas
choose this choose that
and then I'm right back at the beginning
flashback making it all make sense
like a dram of circles inside my head

the foreshadowing is thick
for we all know the circle routine of the circle of doors
that lead us around on the set
from act one of home to outside
then faraway and jail
to yacht to flashback home again

what is the lesson to be learned
depends on the actors
and the foreshadowing is thick
story lines story lines

this is my life
the show must go on
and i sit here wasting time to write
the actors of my life were never friends
and proof for look they are all on strike
leaving me to walk these circles in my mind
alone on this set blind

home
open the door
sunrise blue bright outside sky
open the door
I'm on  yacht
open the door
I'm in jail
open the door
I'm in outer space
open the door
I'm home again
and the foreshadowing in this scene is clever but oh soo thick
as i walk in circles by myself
the story seems to stick

how can i make their guts crawl and plan to fail soo tragicly
no one would intervene and it would make us all sick?


Details | Free verse | |

Reaching From The Darkness

Red haze
twists and spirals 
around me.
Words float about within
   barely seen
through the 
     light stealing mist,
blindly
    I reach out
        snatching them
out of the air,
twirl them between my fingers
then snap them together
in perfect synchronization
so as to bring them alive,
     my creation,
          my monster,
   scratching
at the back of your skull,
   drawing
images on the back
                of your eyelids,
line shifts
                  bring mind shifts
causing childhood fears
         to resurface,
touching on something
             familiar
and yet repulsive,
   smacking you
with emotionally image forming
        stanzas and verses,
knocking your teeth loose.

My touch on the ma cab
    is sadistic
         and meaningful,
sliding that grey,
       oil like sludge
around in your brain
forming a meniscus
    on the inside
of your cranial cavity,
    marring it
                      forevermore.
The expressions
I throw out
dry the marrow
within your bones
  causing a fragileness
       to the stability of your mind.
                         (What if?)

And when 
     I reach out
          from the darkness
its not just to say "hello"
   but to cause
     that shutter 
        in the back of your head.


Details | I do not know? | |

Thanks For Pretending

Thank you for pretending
Like I meant something to you.

Thank you for pretending
Acting like I was needed too.

Thank you for pretending
While you were never there.

Thank you for pretending
Like you could ever really care.

Thank you for pretending
Because I felt like I could fly.

Thanks,but I'm not pretending
I love you,and it's not a lie.


Details | I do not know? | |

Clue no.2 for quiz no.8

Somewhere you did fashion this  feeling I imagine.


Details | Bio | |

Middle-Aged Poet's Lament

I am old and unfulfilled
I sit upon a lonely hill
No dreams to dream
No plans to scheme
I feel as though I want to scream.

When I was young
And had the time
I could not rhyme for one thin dime.

But now I'm old and time is short
And I could do with some support.

Or at least some understanding.


Details | Free verse | |

Quiz Clue #4

This is the final clue,
Before I tell you,
Which I will by tomorrow,
And end your puzzle sorrow,
Though I hope someone
does pass this test,
And be smug with all
the rest


Details | Senryu | |

Mouth Corner Escapees

Glass fingers and toes
stepped on and broken by words
gone anvil in haste.


Details | Free verse | |

Joining the Suicide Club

We have to buy our own black leather jackets,
sharpen our words like switchblades.

Poems are dangerous things.

We shoot them up.
Our tattoos read:
                        beauty=truth.

We die for it.

Watch out for us. We will violate
your daughters with our villanelles. We will
                  turn the street wet
                        with our deaths,
for no one cares
                        or reads these poems
held at our heads.

You call our bluffs, wave back
at us from our bridges, our windows
                              our ovens.

We die,
exploding these poems
                        like seeds.


Details | Free verse | |

Trippin'

Stammer and trip
Over my own words
That come back to haunt me
Like sewer turds

Buzzards fly about my house
Guess they know I thought to douse
Myself in gasoline
And become a self-torched
Buddist monk,
For some of my words
really stunk...

But there I go,
With my mindless chatter,
When will I learn
It doesn't matter
What I may think
Or I may say
The world goes on
In it's own way.


Details | I do not know? | |

The brush that doesn't paint (2005)

It’s in my head but my head won’t paint
The brush breaks and the colour is too faint
There’s a missing screw
Faulty parts where confidence won’t glue
When will my mind act rather than think?
When will my words be longer than a blink?
Its so easy to write
But when I go to talk my lips are tight


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Go straight to Hell

(This is true)

Some women have rejected me because I don't have a lot of money.
They thought they were being smart but they were really being crummy.
I was shocked and appalled by their greed.
If you prick a man's skin, he will bleed.
I have something to say to those women and they better listen well.
What you did was wrong and you can all go straight to Hell.


Details | Free verse | |

The Undisputed Champ

       Introducing the undisputed champ - "The Fallen Star!"/ I'm aware people stare at the 
extremely bizarre./ I'm that "beep, beep" on your hearts radar./  This pen is metaphorically 
my scimitar!/ Poetry Soup says I'm cursed,/ because of the content in my verse;/ but I feel 
as if I'll burst,/ and it will only get worse,/ If I don't relieve this stress!/ So allow me to 
express/ what's on my chest/ before I become possessed!
       I will start clawing and fighting!/ If I don't here you say: "You make this site so much 
more exciting!"/ So what if I don't play nice,/ but I bring that Latino spice!/ You damn right 
I'm a sexy S.O.B.!? And I don't give a flip if you don't like my poetry!/ Who are you to judge 
me?/ You wanna hear an apology?/ For being comfortable and expressing my sexuality?/
       Look I'm 32,/ and that's the difference between me and you./ I've never felt more 
alive!? Don't get upset with me because you're 65!/ I know you wish I would just disappear,/ 
because I live in today and not the day of Shakespeare!/ Don't no one read his work no 
more! / Yes I bring a poetic war./ Blowing up verses like C4!/ My sentences are sharp like a 
carnivore!/
       I don't like fake individuals no way./ Why should I listen to what a hypocrit has to say?/ 
Someone told me to just leave it alone./ So those without sin casts the first stone!/ - I didn't 
think so!/ I hope your house gets blown away by a tornado!/ Sometimes my heart grows 
cold like an  Eskimo,/ and other times dark like Edgar Allen Poe!/
       Look before you start pointing fingers at me,/ and condemn my poetry./ Take a look 
see that others have wrote erotica too./ I can name a few./ And nothing I write is taboo!/ 
You just probably stay away because you have bird flu!/ So I can care less if you're my 
friend./ I'm just out to set a new trend!!!!


Details | I do not know? | |

Five finger discount

(This is a fictional poem)

While we were shopping, you tried to steal a bracelet that was worth a lot.
But before you could get out of the store, you got caught.
They thought I was an accessory so they prosecuted me as well.
I'm mad because you got me arrested so you can go to hell.

This incident has caused me a great deal of grief.
My girlfriend dumped me because she thinks I'm a thief.
You may not realize it but stealing is a sin.
It will be a cold day in hell when I go shopping with you again.


Details | I do not know? | |

What's from beneath

Unable to succeed in my dreams
A yearning of what I need to let go
Is impatiently dying to be freed
and spread it's wings
I feel like there is someone else inside of me
scratching it's way out-while I bleed
Internally,prefusally
spreading rapidly-like a deathwish disease
But I always make sure I keep my dark past
And my mistakes buried deep
Aching,ever slowly breaking
And piece by piece taking
All of the nothing left I say is a lot
Of everything I don't really have
In denial-I believe
I'm afraid of waking up tomorrow
Drowning in my deep blue sea of sorrows
Will somebody please get me awake?
'Cause, I don't go to sleep to dream any longer 


Details | Free verse | |

April Fools

The warming
muzzle of sun
burrows into
budding souls
till wind changes--
turns its back,
broods, then touches
us cold
as temperatures
fall
and yes,
this is
the cruelest
month, the
naked temptress
of sateen summer.


Details | Free verse | |

Retort To The Masonites

Ah, the Freemasons,
Are to Prevail,
Many changes it will entail,
Limit to ten poems a week,
If it's freedom of speech you seek,
You'll have to get permission,
For those who vote
About the meek

You may have in your mind,
Temporarily words sublime...
Gotta wait till Tuesday,
If memory aint too choosy,

Next it will be alphabetic rules,
This week only poets whose last name
begins with A, B, or C- can post,
but only up to three...

Follow up rules: Moslems get one poem
only; to a Chrisitan it's two,
Jehova Witnesses and Mormons, but
one a year,
They're oddballs, don't you agree?

Then the FreeMasons can decree,
Short poems can no longer be
allowed into PoetSoup,
they might polute the talent loop.

Left hand writers, they come next,
They should be seperated from the rest,
Set up camps for them to learn,
Their kind, we're going to burn...

And yet another thing,
Those poets whose hearts want to soar on the wings,
of insight, feelings, fears, and other things,

And for those who knowingly break their quota,
We'll send them to re-education camps,
Some cold place in Minnesota
Poetic Prison Concentration camp for them,
No getting out, you're in Masonite Hell

So act slower, and dumber,
Insure to others you've seen the sun,
And no more post poems on the soup,
Cause some people want you out of the loop,

Newbie, Newbie, Go Away....
Find another site where you can play.

Let the Dark Ages Come Again,
Brought about by some whining hen,
So let the persnickety poets persnick,
but her idea makes me sick.,.....













y


Details | I do not know? | |

You're not fit to wear that badge

He has broken ribs, a fractured skull and a face that is swollen.
You beat up that man because you thought his car was stolen.
You thought he stole it because he's black.
He was innocent and he didn't deserve that attack.

You assumed the car was stolen because you thought a black man couldn't 
afford a Ferrari.
You are ignorant and you nearly killed that man and you're not even sorry.
It scares me to death to know what kind of a man you are.
You're not fit to wear that badge and you should be behind bars.


Details | I do not know? | |

I voted against Phil Bredesen Part 2

If a ninety year old Tennessean buys some cigarettes, he has to show 
identification.
He has to prove that he's not under eighteen and that's stupid intimidation.
Bredesen must think that people will mistake senior citizens to be people who 
are under eighteen.
The law he passed makes all tobacco users show identification and it's the 
stupidest law I've ever seen.
I voted against Phil Bredesen because I'm appalled.
It's a damn shame that he can't be recalled.


Details | I do not know? | |

Hope is in the Future

When your heart grows weaker and you no longer want to fight, 
And the hounds are howling, a struggle in the plight,
Remember, Hope is in the future, the outlook is bright.

When feelings of insecurity quickly begin to grow,
And your spirit is at an all time low, consider this even though, 
Hope is in the future, this I do know.

Sadness surrounds me, life is so unclear.
My hands tremble and am always filled with fear, although I must adhere, 
Hope is in the future, the target is near.

The army grows stronger little will to fight.
Everyone has their own wrong and right, but I know with all my might,
Hope is in the future, with faith not sight.

Summer is not eternal winter will come.
No mortal can comfort what damage has done.
Hope is in the future through Christ God's son.


Details | Romanticism | |

Writing my words

I sit here often and write on paper these words
Cause this is the only way to which they can release me and be heard
I write exactly how I feel inside
I do not diminish any emotions I will not let them any longer hide
These poems I write are heartfelt to some so I'm told
Within these words is my way of daring to be bold
They leave my heart open wide, so extremely vulnerable, and left to bleed
And it's left here to plead
Here in these words of rhyme, is pieces of me shared
If one looks they will see my very soul is completely bared
Begging for mercy from all I feel and relive everyday
Remembering everything in every way
From what dances inside my head deep in the dark of night
It's the why I feel all this writing is for me so right
I feel in writing them, I get to have him again
He is my everything, the one who knows me better then my closest friend
Then I see him in the distance so close yet so far away
I long to be with him and love him so much more everyday
So yes, I write on paper and share with you these very words
As it's my only way in my moments here, and my mind in re-living my past, they can be 
recalled easily, then so truly quietly and every so loudly be heard


Details | I do not know? | |

My dentist's revenge

(This is a fictional poem)

The dentist worked on my teeth without any novocaine.
I screamed and screamed because of the pain.
I've been doing something bad because I'm a louse.
My dentist found out that I'm sleeping with his spouse.
She's very sexy and impossible to resist.
I think it's time for me to find a new dentist.


Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Reading

Dimly lit with staged spotlight 
The beatnik coffee house 
Espresso or moca in every cup 
Black berets and sandals (optional) 
Digging the sounds of be bop  
In dark sunglasses 
Renditions of Miles and Coltrane 
Smoke like dry ice in water 
Dancing and disappearing 
In light in darkness 
Satisfaction and discontentment 
Free love and hopelessness 
Remembering the past 
Thinking of the future 
With neck-or-nothing passion  
In black 
Stepping to the open mike 
A poet appearing 
No applause 
Finger snaps beating claps 
Extempore and reading the script 
Tables nodding and chanting groans 
Finger snaps speeding claps 
Nodding and groaning 
More and more and more 
Oobalee owa. Selah. 
A poet disappearing 
Satisfied and away discontent 
Freely loved and away hopeless 
Remembering the past 
Thinking of the future 
With neck-or-nothing passion 
In black 
Berets and sandals (optional) 
Digging the sounds of be bop 
Stepping to the open mike 
The smoke dancing and disappearing 
Speaking of light into unseen darkness 
Dimly lit with staged spotlight 
At the beatnik coffee house


Details | I do not know? | |

Sound In Your Mind

The sound in your mind
The word on a page
The common dream
Fading with age

Living just enough
Seeking inclusion
Searching for realism
Realizing the illusion

Striving for legitimacy
Marking your word
Starving for intimacy
Wanting to be heard

Everything's better
When we pretend
That we're dead

Someone please stop
All this madness
Swirling inside my head


Details | I do not know? | |

You might as well have cut her heart out

(This is a fictional poem)

You refused to marry her until she agreed to give away her cat.
But it hurt her really bad when she had to do that.
She treasured him and when she gave him away, it made her cry.
Giving her away made a big part of her heart die.

When you made her give him away, it was a low thing to do.
Now she's miserable and it's all because of you.
She says it doesn't bother her but that's something I seriously doubt.
When you made her give him away, you might as well have cut her heart out.


Details | Free verse | |

Indiana Jones In Search Of The Lost Ruby

Travelling the world,
Seeking the mystical poetess,
No Tomb too dark or scary,
No too evil Nazi so wary...
This Jewel must be returned
To the Soup Treasury....







(add your verse, sil' vous plait!)  Email me @ Quasarttt228@aol.com for me to 
amend.


Details | Free verse | |

The Things I Just Cant Say

I dont write my words because I'm angry.
I dont write my words because you're mad.
I write what is truly on my mind.
What I feel deep down inside.
It may not make sense to you.
But to me, my words really do.
Every letter of every word in every sentence.
They all work together in harmony.
To say the things I just can't say aloud.
To say the things I just can't allow out of my mouth.
I love you, you know thats true.
But when we fight like this, I can't say a thing.
Too afraid to say things I may regret.
Too afraid I'll say things I don't mean.
I can only tell you that I love you and walk away.
Maybe one day these words I write will explain.
The things that I just can't say.


Details | I do not know? | |

I voted against Phil Bredesen

Many people voted for Phil Bredesen but I didn't agree with their selection.
I voted against him in last years election.
Some people like him a lot.
But I have to say that I do not.
I wish he wasn't the Governor of Tennessee.
He's passed some laws that infuriates me.
One of these laws restricts all people from buying tobacco unless they show an 
ID.
That law would be great for younger people but it's for people even if they're  
seventy.
It's hard to believe that he'd pass a stupid law like this.
It will be a great day for Tennessee when he leaves office.


Details | Free verse | |

Writing my reading aloud

Reading poetry
and writing poetry i realize
that creative writing it is soo expressive that it is best produced
when actually talking almost
out loud in your head
slowly dramatically physically producing audible sound in your head
like tiny little speakers

and reading other peoples 
works
of art
out loud to see their pauses
and ponder the voice
as to wether the were
a las
lonely in a bed 
of thorns
or tired 
of coughing from a broken iron lung


and when you find the audience of which whom you entertain and they slide away 
and you rebirth your self again
and the major audiences are grasped at
the several voices of target audiences appealed to in on e piece
you have a best seller
and this is your royal novel sucker patrol routine

When i make a cd i pick the best song of every abulm i have on a disk
and the best song of those disks into themes
and write one line form every song into a data base then organize those 
sentences into rhymes and different themes
see what missing in the vocabulary of sang language
as we fit this and that memorized busted 
all you did in school all day when you taught me a s a teacher was read stuff out 
of text books and then regurgitate it anyway where you just made up the answers




Details | Haiku | |

These Words

Sing songs hearts cannot
say or articulate, posed
in mouths left agape.


Details | I do not know? | |

Small Sacrifice

I loathe poets,
their lust for constant pain.
Anguish of love,
abused with such disdain.
Pale martyrs,
bearing suff'ring as a yoke;
Their bloody wounds,
they plead of you to poke.
Always yearning
to vanquish the world's doubt
With whatever
torment they're on about.
Scribbled sorrow,
their sole, small sacrifice;
But, to revel
in despair's such sad vice.
Puny bards,
if pain's all they've to offer,
I have to ask,
for whom do they suffer?


Details | Romanticism | |

Written words

Thought it might help me tonight
If I at here and just write
About how my life I've since lost sight
Don't know what to do anymore
Nothing seems right
Losing any and all strength here
I have no more might
Words can sometimes help heal
The wounds that had cut so deep
But these words aren't helping me here tonight
I feel like I must weep
But do you think tears coming down from my eyes that seep
Will be what helps me here
No it just causes more sadness
And more fear
I've successed at failing
And have failed at being a success
My life before wasn't my own to lead
Now my heart is lieing in wait
It's already began to bleed
For my heart will never be freed
For the love I have for someone
To which I don't know if he feels the same
He's the one I let get away
And now I live with that shame
You know who you are so I don't have to say your name
No the writing of these words tonight
Still didn't make anything I've done right
They didn't give me peace
They didn't let my mind by forever quiet
All that could only come from time spent with you
Funny what a few simply spoken words from you could do
For me
Before why couldn't we see
What we had been searching for all along
In everyone we met
We had right here in us
And we let time pass by like a phantom jet
God I miss you
Somewhere inside me it's saying
You are missing me to
I'm scared
Never had feelings like this before
Taken a hold of my heart, of my soul
This time we need not shut the door
Let our hearts be free and soar
Then these written words I would need no more


Details | Free verse | |

Somebody Let Me Know!

Please advise me if I have used up my allowable quota of writes for today.


Details | Burlesque | |

When the Blues Is Bad News

Oh, yeah, momma.
I got'z de blues today,
Funny thing is,
Why I gotz it, I can't say,
Ain't nobody I'z KNoz,
Who dunn dyed 2day,
Ain't got no nu bills,
What I kant aford te pay,
Empty pochits, 
I dunn be uzed te' dem' now,
I no I'z survive sumhow,
So bak to da bahroom,
for anudder Tanguiry
Mayb pike up my spirutz
What can I say?
Wowry bout tomaro
When dat daze son do shine,
But up intill den, eye ant
Gonea wuwee n i aint gonea wine.


Diz B 4 Shar, smile, god damn it!!


Details | Quatrain | |

Stain

Let your soul stain the paper
Like your blood stains the floor
Smearing squalls of liquidated life
On the palms of your scribbled war

Squeeze your heartache with your hand
Like a sermon spills a pariah’s plight
Cleansing the sins of your visceral voice
With the tears from which you write

Strain the sediment of your strife
Like starvation scavenges a gutted shore
Siphoning the spoils of weeping wounds
Dripping from the lines of your lore


Details | Quatrain | |

Birth of a Novel

In a troublesome mood, half engulfed firelight
with a silk sheen perspire, emerging a thought
In round wire glasses, too light to be noticed
and a brass nib in ink, the moment was caught

It was twirled 'round a finger, half calloused with ink
with a wedding band clasp, from a lifetime ago
to be mulled an enigma, in bled scroll designs
on pages which only his fingers would know

By the crack of the fire, he stretched to the brink
every nuance he carried, like whispering skin
The embers died down, 'till he caught up a chill
but he couldn't conclude, what he didn't begin

The words were in charge, in general ink
and he wrote in a fervor, and shook until still
with bones turned to ash, in the blue of the room
a novel was born, but the author was killed.


Details | Burlesque | |

When Things Go Wrong Part Two

"As I said, once started,
The flood impossible to stop,
Like driving in an out-of-control car,
And trying to explain that to a cop....

I spent well over an hour...
Trying to fix my computer glitch....
With a tech on the phone from
Optimum,
Oh, this is a b_tch!...
Try as we might,
We couldn't tame this witch...

And now I have no outgoing
phone service...
And that truely does suck...
If it weren't for the bad kind,
I'd definately have no luck...

So once again...
Nothing to do but go to sleep...
My medicine refills I need,
I can not pick up,
Makes me wanna weep....."

The "bad luck" phrase was a paraphrase of a Willie Dixon blues lyric.  Gotta give 
credit where credit's due


Details | Free verse | |

Poor Pathetic Porcupine Pie

Use'n me last dolla'
Mom sent me to get,
What looked like it might be,
Our last meal, as far
as we can see.

I went to the village bakery,
In hopes but for freshbread,
A new bakery apprentice,
Took me aside...
Said he could make me
Momma's pride...

He would sell me a Porcupine Pie,
For the same price as the bread...
And, he assured me,
I'd be a hero to all I fed,

To top it off, toothpicks included
No more convincing was needed,
I paid the price, and I heeded,
His last words to me;"One thing needed;
Absolute faith,or it won't work,
You'll ruin the spell"
Now I have to show this jerk.!!

Got home, Mom upset,
"What in heaven's name
child, did you get!????!!"

She grabbed the porcupine,
And flung it in pain...
Several sharp quills
Found a vein...

"Bad Boy!" she cried...
I send you out to get some bread...
You come back with a Porcupine, instead!

"Don't worry, Mom, I'll
sell if off,
and get something better!"

Off I ran, porcupine in hand,
stab wounds adding fast...
Got to the Market,
With a plan....
Something I'd heard in a fairy tale...

I harped the tale, of the "golden egg', which
came from childhood memory...
Many greedy shoppers came by,,,
I'm a lousy liar,
so I wonder why
Anyone would believe me!

Later that night,
My porcupine I sold,
To an old British soldier..
Corporal Clegg,

After he left, I was
cleaning up...sure enough,
There lay a golden egg!!!!


Details | Free verse | |

My Life is a Sink

My life is a sink
Yours is the toilet
We both wash we both throw away 
Nothing is rejected
You are porcelain
And your skin is hard
As hard as my eyes
Which are the faucet
And metal like the drain
Which is my mouth
Absorbing everything,
Not much comes out.
Your showerhead is broken.
Your face is flat.  

Today is a sodamachine. 
Venue here and venue
	Across the street
I’m dead.
You’re sleepy,
Tired in the head
Of remorseless shadow
And undercut
Under steeples
Of broken churches
Ring bell put me to sleep
Undercut
Under blade in a tuft of grass


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

You'd better stop stealing!

(This is a fictional poem)

For the last few Fridays, you've been stealing from my grocery store.
I'm not going to tolerate your behavior anymore.
Last week you ate ten cookies from a pack and six pickles from a jar.
You open things and eat part of it without paying and that's going too far.
You say you're not stealing because you're not taking anything when you leave 
the store.
You're carrying the stolen food in your stomach as you walk out the door.
Your days of eating things in my store better cease.
If you do it one more time, I'm going to call the police.


Details | Acrostic | |

Shadows

Simply running won't deter them
Hiding under beds and tears
All the hope you caught and hoarded
Drain like liquid with your fears
Owls clasp the bulging moon
Wishes snatch your feet
Simply running won't deter them, shadowed, incomplete...


Details | Free verse | |

The Missing Poetess

I looked all over,
In the closet,
In the shed,
Under my body pillow,
In my head....

Vanished like a puff of smoke,
Makes you wonder if
You just awoke....
And the Twilight Zone
Was where you dreamed
Maybe she skipped town,
Cause of an overdue loan?

She lives in Maine,
Maybe she got too close
To Steven King's ghost
And away she was spirited,
To be the host,
Of a new Poetry site...
The thought's a fright!

Let's send out the Mounties...
Maine's near Canada Dry, no?
Probably lots'a counties,
And she'd know,
Where to hide,
To keep us guessin'
Or maybe with our brains,
She's messin'

Nah, she's not cruel,
In fact, she's pretty damn cool!
So get back on the stove, Ms. Rube,
The Soup's boiling,
You're like a Rubik's Cube,
Impossible to figure,
Like a musician
With one too many a "doob'"

We'll wait faithfully,
Candle in the "Windows"
Hoping our jewel comes back,
As quickly as she goes.


Details | Burlesque | |

Congratulations to The King of Poetry

Oh Mighty King Heck,
What less could we expect?
Thine shining poetic armour,
For sure was just the charmer,
To set poetic fires a five alarmer,
Thus to beget the highest honor,
Words that flowed from Gods above,
Such talent one must love,
Dare I say on the next round,
I'll take off my gentleman's glove!!

Congrats, good buddy, and Merry Christmas!!













































































Details | I do not know? | |

Buckingham palace

(This is a fictional poem)

When I went to Buckingham palace last month, I got in a bind.
I accidentally saw the Queen naked and it caused me to go blind.
It was awful to see those sagging boobies and that wrinkled butt.
It was so disgusting that I puked out my guts.
It was disturbing to see all of that wrinkled skin.
I don't think I'll ever be invited to Buckingham palace again.


Details | I do not know? | |

He burned my bacon

(This is a fictional poem)

He burned my bacon and my eggs were runny.
His meal made me sick and he still expected money.
When I wouldn't pay, he got pretty sore.
He shot me in the ___ as I walked out the door.
I have a piece of advice for people and you better listen to what I say.
If you eat at that man's restaurant, you better make certain that you pay.


Details | I do not know? | |

Ink

You've dipped into the ink well again
Writing words without a pen
Your thoughts become etched in stone
In your world you're all alone

Take my words
Twist and turn
Take my words
Live and learn

Your heart is black
And that's okay
You'll always paint
Your world to grey

What's left for us
What can we say?
With your ink
You rule the day


Details | I do not know? | |

Watermelon slices

Food Lion is charging about four bucks for three small watermelon slices.
It really ticks me off when I see these high prices.
An entire watermelon only costs six bucks.
Charging four dollars for three slices really sucks.
It makes more sense to buy a whole watermelon for only two bucks more.
If Food Lion would lower their prices, they'd have much better stores.


Details | Bio | |

How I Get

I get cranky,
I get dumb,
I get times,
I wish,
My tongue was numb.

Later on,
I see my folly,
I cringe and think,
I should have held
Back that volley...

I'm only human,
I make mistakes,
I wish I didn't,
For heaven's sakes...

But it is what it is,
I am what I am
And though I'd guess,
Most don't give a damn...

I wake, I walk
I sleep, I talk,
I wonder what
The next hour
will bring,
And all I can do...
Is for my hope
for me to cling

So, when I do
something ill-thought-out,
I can assure you,
with no doubt...
I never mean to hurt
anyone...
I'm not quite that 
much a lout.

It's but the
brain dead walking,
The stupid man
talking...
I can but try to
refrain,
From my path
insane.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

You gave a little boy a joint

You gave a little boy a joint to smoke.
You thought it was cool to see him take a toke.
I told his dad what you did and he called the cops.
Your days of poisoning kids are going to stop.
What you did was mean and it was wrong.
Now you'll go to jail and that's where you belong.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Rape is wrong

(This poem is for anyone who's considering committing rape.)

If you're considering committing rape, please don't do it.
It causes a lot of pain and nobody deserves to go through it.
You wouldn't commit rape if you knew how it makes the victims feel.
They suffer tremendously and it takes a long time for them to heal.
If you're considering committing rape, I have a message for you and you better 
not ignore it.
Rape is wrong and evil and if you commit it, you will go to prison for it.


Details | Bio | |

Just A Note...More Tomfoolery

Yup, did it again...2 am, and I lost 4 or 5 poems...which will have to be redone...I 
will try to wait till tomorrow, as I am exhausted from a stressful day...what am I 
doing wrong???  However, in the past, when this has happened, I find I can not 
go to sleep...my mind won't let me, so I wind up getting up, and back on line...and 
as so many times too often, greeting the rising sun with weary eyes and weary 
body...and no TV to watch, it's all paid programming, infomercials, and the 
likes...and unlike the classic telemarketers, who'se chain I pull with great 
glee...being overly friendly and asking "dumd" questions ...and baiting them for 
upcoming sarcasm...I LOVE a battle of wits...on my last psychiatric evaluation 
last month, by the time I was done with that "shrink", he needed a psychiatrist!!
Just give me a pompous fool, and in no time at all, I'll deflate their egos and they 
will go home crying...later...


Details | Burlesque | |

Unrequited Glove

I love my glove,
I really do,
One thing wrong,
I have but one,
I think they usually
come in twos

Does that mean,
The one hand clapping,
Is that my fate?
Sittin' with the left glove,
Right one to wait?

Yes, it's an unrequited glove,
Deemed so from above,
One hand nice and warm
The other frostbitten and forlorn,

They say one hand washes the other,
The very thought of that makes me shudder,
I guess I'll get used to, somehow,
Posting only 50% poems from on, now,
And hopin' someone will understand,
I write with but one stinkin' hand.!


Details | I do not know? | |

On a Notable Quote

"Poetry makes nothing happen."
              --W.H. Auden

We see what we want in mirrors.

The wind that incites the leaves to falling
Makes nothing happen to those arched in expectancy.

There is no celebration, no exaltation of watercolors
Swept upon the textured sky taunt with time, 
Unbending.  It haunts the halls with endeavor,
Never ending: bows to sunsets, calls them clever
While claret news clippings clutter rooms.

Poetry like sterile tombs are places where living
Seldom happens, forests turned fragile to saplings
Not knowing of the wind, but rather the stirring;
Without the song there are no cicada, only whirring.


Details | Blank verse | |

Weary

I just wish to scream.
I see all these smooth words.
with perfect rhythm.
and the thoughts so complete.
that I want to tear the paper up.
so that I can have peace.
just leave me be.
 these words I write,
whose balance and form
make me weep at night,
I stare at the old and
say how did that happen
My understanding is gone
Not only of thought
but now of the soul
with fear that the images
in my mind will never find their home
they refuse to just stay
so I write out my soul
until nothing is left
of this bone weary soul
all I want is rest
to be where they no longer cry
to be released
of the prison
that they consider my mind
The bars no longer block my mind
unless you count
the crumbling wall
that was meant to
keep them at bay


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Black customers

You follow the black customers around your store where you work.
You think they're going to steal things because you're a jerk.
What you've been doing is wrong and I've spoken to the proprietor.
He says he'll be watching and if he catches you, you'll be walking out the door.
It's people like you who give this country a bad name.
Black people deserve respect, you should be ashamed.


Details | Narrative | |

Another Sleepless Night

I’m too tired to sleep
So I’ll sit here and write,
trying to make the night go away,
and turn into day
As the words are flowing,
Time is slowly ticking by
My tired eyes can barely see the screen,
but Sandman won’t come and send me into a dream
There’s no relief in sight
I’m stuck here writing,
trying to pass another sleepless night


Details | Free verse | |

Negativity's Spool

This spool of negativity
unraveled, sparked and metal lime
pierces eardrums in their skin
and wraps conundrums 'round the brain
It usurps all the confidence
which should be stored in violet bowls
to sip when low ignition strikes
and twines the weary, dragging souls
It threads the skin of counterparts
to skin cells loving anger
and twists it's turns through open mouths
to happiness endanger
This spool of negativity
spat and rolled by rotten tongues
will stretch and tear at the slightest tug
like paper silk gone soaked in rum
It dusts disintegration
and sleeps in rusty coils
and snakes through poison mushrooms
in the darkest forest soils
It winds a whisper metal lick
into the hearts of mighty men
constricting blood of pumping life
until they reach to sorrow's end
with thoughts too steep and oiled black
to negatively condescend...


Details | Couplet | |

poetic youth

poor little people
children of pain
they tell us about it
again and again
but we can not save them
we can't say a word
we can't breathe a line
of the grief we have heard
we open the blanket
and bid them come share
a moment of comfort
we cuddle them there
swathed in the rhythem
soothed by the rhyme
children of chaos
waiting in line
tell me you love me
they whisper in verse
this day will consume me
the night's even worse
give me a morsel of bread
soaked in wine
to deaden my journey
to placate my mind
the cold wind is howling 
so deep in my soul
come tell me the secret,
how can I grow old?


Details | Free verse | |

She

Her thought fall from her mind
They glide onto the paper 
They seem like some one else's
This sadness could never be hers
No one believes this is how she feels
Why would they think that
She never acted sad 
She never told them 
No one ever thought to ask her about her life
All they saw was a freak
They didn’t see the pain inside her
Why should they look for her pain
She was just another freaky person
She didn’t fit in
She would not have been happy as one of them
She was fine being a freak
She would not change to be popular
She stood up for what she believed
She would not back down in a debate
She never wanted to be them


Details | Free verse | |

Feast or Famine

Some days, they flow like the nile,
bringing life to the parched soil.
Some days, they bring forth
a dark emotion to the open
like waves of a raging sea,
swelling to break free.
These voices in my head
screaming at me.
Other days, like prying fingers
of the long dead.
They are cemented in my head.
No matter how I ply.
Still they stay,
locked away,
awaiting another day.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Tortured

(Warning:This fictional poem is gruesome.)

I begged for mercy but they ignored my plea.
They took me to their house and tortured me.
They gave me third degree burns with a blow torch.
Over ninety percent of my body is scorched.

They cut off my fingers one by one.
I wanted to be dead by the time they were done.
When the sunrises in a couple of hours, I may no longer be alive.
That's okay by me because life might not be worth living if I survive.


Details | I do not know? | |

Best As A Sigh

Yes, I have learned there are words to live by,
  Though, at times, some might sound best as a sigh.
My lips have since become cracked and bloodied,
  And my meaning is, as yet, unstudied.
Of all the words that we had often shared,
  How is it only mine bespoke my care?
Were you too busy rhyming-off numbers,
  Slamming the door, or dicing cucumbers?
      Now, I know, not a letter showed profit,
      Words hold no promise,if love will not fit.


Details | Light Poetry | |

u'z guys iz grate

this is such a plus in my life....all these talented new friends..where souls are 
bared, and laughter shared....and you've all cared.....how I dared....my mind 
compared, to someone who sweared, that he was fared amongst those who 
blared, their trumpets snared, in time now squared.  Ya didn't expect it ta'  make
sense, now, did ya?


Details | I do not know? | |

porch on trenton

sitting comfy and cozy relaxed on the porch 
wishing this candle could produce the light of a torch
writing these words helps to pass time
a gift i'll hold sacred to the very last rhyme
some thoughts with substance and value would be nice
i've had such thoughts before once maybe twice
words transfer from head to pen to paper
as energy starts to infiltrate and penetrate like a vapor
experiencing life like a brave new world
for this happy medium i thank you lord
otherwise life is just spent wasting time spotting trains 
that have no destination other than personal pains


Details | I do not know? | |

Writer's Block

You're doing fine, you fought the fears
You hang your words on crystal tears
from dripping, burnt out chandeliers
to light the cobwebbed thoughts

You bite your tongue, you shake awake
with egos blown up, stuffed and great
with whispered voice, you supplicate
to have just an ounce, just a sip

This caustic emotion stings for a moment
a wound licked with fresh gasoline
Burnt to discovery with unholy reverence
yet quick to burst open, to bleed

You start the war, your pen in hand
Words leak like tepid milk, sour but bland
Cursing the ground which your lowly feet stand
Light cavities dim to darkness

You limp like lightning, you flood the hall
with kerosene brilliance, you'll burn them all
to the white washed dream you barely crawl
to give birth to purified greatness...


Details | Free verse | |

The Last Autumn Poem

Again,
        apple cider season,
              cool autumn whiskey,
                    burning leaves.

No one needs another autumn poem.

      We grow gaudy phrases
                  like pumpkins,
hollow out foreheads,
throw away seeds.

Always paring, cutting
eyes
      with awkward thumbs,
seeing autumn
      as a pewter stallion
and winter
      wildly undone.


Details | I do not know? | |

Ace up my sleeve

(This is a fictional poem)

One day I was cheating at poker and I got caught.
When I saw them get the branding iron, it sure looked hot.
They branded my balls before I could leave.
I seriously regretted hiding that ace up my sleeve.


Details | I do not know? | |

Monster

(This is a fictional poem)

I made a monster out of body parts just like Doctor Frankenstein.
Many people have been killed because of this monster of mine.
I have goosebumps because this is a chiller.
I wasn't aware that I gave him the brain of a killer.

He has killed many men.
Tonight he will kill again.
I just put six bullets in his head.
But he didn't die because he's undead.

Now he's really mad and he's going to attack.
He has his hands around my throat and everything is going black.
I couldn't stop my monster even though I gave it a try.
I hope that somebody can kill this creature after I die.


Details | Lyric | |

I Write for Myself

So sue me
I don’t write like you
I don’t pay attention to form and rhyme scheme,
And I shouldn’t have to,
That’s the beauty of art

I write from the heart
I say what I feel
Why must it be structured a certain way,
In order to be real?

I will not write a haiku
Nor a senryu 
What’s it to you?
Does that mean I’m fake?

It’s time you wake up
Get over yourself
I won’t change my ways,
Because you say they’re wrong
I won’t change my ways,
Because the forms say they’re wrong
I don’t write for your forms,
Or anything else
I write for myself


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Pay for your own repairs!

You did something at the end of your sermon that was going too far.
You asked everybody in church to give you money to repair your car.
You make good money, pay for your own repairs!
Trying to get others to foot the bill isn't fair.
Yes it's true that people should help one another.
But if you have the money, you shouldn't burden others.
You may be a preacher but that was still a wrong thing to do.
The person who should pay for your car repairs is you.


Details | Romanticism | |

Lost and found

Never would've thought in my younger years
I would be here now with all these damn tears
Tears that seem to continually fall like a hard rain
Why does love cause anyone to be in such lonely pain
In my childhood dreams I believed I'd find love with no strings and no games
Thought someone would love me just the same
I foreseen my life being pure bliss
I never foreseen my life as this
how was I to know in my past
That up to now I would never find love to last
Wanted to be a wife and mother and do my part
Instead I find myself alone trying to make yet another new start
Isn't funny how love can grab on to your soul
Make you lose yourself and not quite have control
Love can take hold of your heart
And if you don't watch out sometimes it can tear you apart
Not saying it happens every time or to everyone
But sadly it really does happen to some
Be careful remember lead with not your heart but your mind
You life as you know it is not always so kind
Don't keep turning a blind eye
If he's leaving you all the time
With nothing to do but have tears to cry
Get to really know and understand him from the inside
Telling him how I feel I have began
I have a long way to go 
And more to say
But for me words only come easy when writing them on this page
I need to for surely tell him and would pay all it cost
Because not telling him everything will continue to leave me feeling lost
I keep right on hoping as I look around
That one day soon I will be again found


Details | Rhyme | |

Black Ink

My poems are
What I write
I care 
But don’t
If you like 
Or don’t like
Because my words 
Start from my heart 
And at my mind
Is where 
I draw the line
And whether 
Their right 
Or wrong
I know I’ll
Lay them down
Better 
In due time
And whether 
One line rhymes 
And 
The next one doesn’t
I’ll keep trying
Because poetry
I really love it
So read this
And tell me
What you think
Because from the pen
To paper
I’m giving you this
Before I become extinct
It’s My work
Written in
Black ink……


Details | Lyric | |

The Blank Page

On this blank page where I 
Type down an empty life, 

Thoughts juggle, in and out, 
To and fro, again and 

Again, trying to look 
For ways to muse, but it 

Will be better when there’s 
A paradigm, but there’s

None to be found. Perhaps, 
I just can’t figure it.

Ahh, it will be best that 
...I don’t find it at all.

Or maybe, this blank page 
Is too kind, to me, ‘cos...

Who surely knows what evil I’ll unwittingly expose? 


Details | I do not know? | |

Nintendo's rainchecks

A lot of children will be unhappy on Christmas day.
They will be expecting to get a Nintendo Wii to play.
But they'll be shocked and angry when they only receive an IOU.
They'll get their Wii's sometime next year, that was lousy of Nintendo to do.
Nintendo should've made enough Wii's to go around.
They're not being efficient and they've let children down.
Some children will throw tantrums and others will shed tears.
They want to get the Wii on Christmas day, not sometime next year.
Christmas is almost here, it's less than one week away.
It's sad because many kids will be disappointed on Christmas day.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Valentine's Day Birthday

My sweet Ruby's birthday,
Naturally on Valentine's day,
In her honor, the NY city of Beacon
Will close their schools!
Ain't that a kick?
Though, sadly, 
She seems to be "missing in action" lately,
Many wonder why,
She is so loved on this site,
Many of us cry....
So come back home,
To the five and dime,
We'll even through in some 
Jimmy Dean sausages!!!

Or, as Kenny Roger's first song went,
"Ruby, don't take your poems to town!"


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Statutory rape

(This is a fictional poem but sadly this kind of thing really does happen.)

My daughter is only thirteen and you're twenty-two.
You seduced her and now I'm going to call the law on you.
You're thinking about running but you can't escape.
The police will arrest you for statutory rape.

It's my job to protect my daughter from creeps like you.
You're really going to regret what you did when I'm through.
You took advantage of a sweet girl and now you'll pay the price.
In the future if you consider seducing another teenager, maybe you'll think twice.


Details | I do not know? | |

Sometimes I feel like screaming

Sometimes I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs because I'm in pain.
I have to take medicine everyday to keep myself from going insane.
I have schizophrenia just like my late uncle did.
He was committed three times when I was a kid.

Unlike my uncle, I always take my medicine.
He always stopped taking it and that was why he was committed again and 
again.
With each breakdown he had, he got even worse.
Having schizophrenia is like having a curse.

My uncle thought he was God, he was completely out of his head.
I don't want to suffer the same fate, I'd rather be dead.
It's terrible to know that schizophrenia is what I've got.
I guess I was destined to be mentally ill but I hope you're not.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

I blew his brains out

(This is a fictional poem. People should never take the law into their own hands.)

A drug dealer's drugs killed my son.
I went after that bastard with a gun.
What he did to people was a disgrace.
He laughed when I confronted him so I shot him in the face.
Now I'm in prison but I don't regret what I did.
That animal will never be able to kill anymore kids.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

44 magnum

(This is a fictional poem)

A man is pointing his 44 at my head.
If he pulls the trigger, I'm dead.
He appears to be a deranged lunatic.
He needs a psychiatrist because he's sick.

I'm really scared and my eyes are beginning to well.
I'm about to be killed by a man who should be in jail.
It's pitiful when I think of all of the people who are turning to crime.
I'd give a million dollars if I could hold my wife just one more time.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Suspended animation

(This is a fictional poem)

I was put in suspended animation in 1953.
After fifty some years, they revived me.
I've woken to a world that is different and strange.
It really shocked me when I saw how much the world has changed.
Some things are better but some things are vile.
I'm shocked by these commercials about girls going wild.
Schools are no longer segregated and that's great.
But people are dying of aids and that's something I hate.
Some of the changes makes me proud but others make me hurl.
It's not easy to adjust to this strange new world.


Details | I do not know? | |

That's not rape

A man was convicted for rape even though he didn't commit that crime.
He'll be branded a rapist for the rest of his life and that's a long time.
When this man slept with a woman, he promised to wear a condom but he did 
not.
He didn't deserve a rape conviction but that's what he got.
Rape is making a person have sex by force.
Not by neglecting to wear a condom during intercourse.
I'll be the first to admit that what that man did was wrong.
And he probably does deserve his jail sentence that is long.
But he shouldn't be called a rapist, that's not fair.
Such injustices might not happen if people were more aware.


Details | Ballad | |

SHE CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND

She can never understand
That words have meanings
Shapes
Souls too
 
For, upon a page
I lay bare
All you can see
Is all of me
 
She can never understand
The beauty of a word
How it touches me
In ways
She thinks are absurd
 
For, upon a page
I lay bare
All  you can see
Is all of me
 
She can never understand
The colours that flow
From my pen
She will never know
 
For, upon a page
I lay bare
All you can see
Is all of me
 
She can never understand
The places I go
So far
Beneath moon and star
 
For, upon a page
I lay bare
All you can see
Is all of me
 
She can never understand
Where I have been
Such beauty
Far,
I have travelled
In lands of richest green
 
For, upon a page
I lay bare
All you can see
Is all of me


Details | Lyric | |

Depressing Blessing

It’s a depressing blessing
I am finally able to write
sure, I’m losing the fight with unhappiness
but a momentary triumph is mine
as I pour out what I’m feeling
as I’m revealing what is on my mind
if only the victory weren’t so brief
I’d never need to write again
I’d never need to be loved
I’d never need to feel accepted
I’d never have to face rejection
I’d never have to notice my imperfections
I’d never be unhappy again


Details | Free verse | |

The Essentials of Poetry

Lacking definitions
for glasses without bottoms,
we call them telescopes
or megaphones.  But still
they crawl down our throats
like silver centipedes
because we close our mouths open
at just the right time
and we spit up poems.

So who cleans up
the order?  Leaving it there
long enough, it will go away
or like a dog we tongue it back up--
coo at its sweetness, faces
blank as Big Chief tablets--
holding out these empty glasses for more,
wishing for the long, lasting sip of stars.


Details | Rhyme | |

Children

A child throws a tantrum,
Cries and protestations,
Threats, then hesitations...

Waits to be coddled,
Before he's ever toddled,
Only a fool would fall,
For such immense gall...

Yet nursemaids come a'runnin'
While he's not even done gunnin'
To sooth his poor baby's butt,
Oh, God, this hurts my gut...

He loves to fill his Pamper,
Or cloth diaper in a hamper,
He was once full of it,
Now the whole house reeks of sh__

Okay, you made your point,
Threatened to leave this joint,
And all the nursemaids ran
Just as fast as they surely can,

I just grin and spit,
Never saw such a crock of sh__


Details | I do not know? | |

P.O.W.

(This is a fictional poem)

I.m in Vietnam and I'm a prisoner of war.
Regaining my freedom is the only thing I have to live for.
I don't know what day it is or even what year.
How old am I? How long have I been here?

They keep me in a filthy cage and it's very crude.
I'm starving, they give me very little food.
Sometimes I want to die and get it over with.
If I can't be free, I don't want to live.


Details | I do not know? | |

School isn't something that I'd repeat

When I was a child, I hated the sun because it melted the snow.
When it was all melted, school was where I had to go.
The teachers liked to paddle over the least little things.
When I think about it, bad memories are what it brings.
They paddled the students when they talked.
The hallway was where many kids walked.
One student got paddled because he poured a small pack of salt on a seat.
I'm out of school and believe me when I say it's something I wouldn't repeat.


Details | I do not know? | |

Snuff

(This is a fictional poem)

You cussed me out and that was pretty rough.
You did it because you saw me use some snuff.
You made me eat the snuff because you're a brute.
But I got even when I puked on your Armani suit.
I get abused even though you smoke cigarettes and now it's your turn.
I'm going to stick a lit cigarette up your butt and give you a third degree burn.


Details | Free verse | |

And There Was A Day...

Somehow, I don't know how,
I wound up at the Soup...
The minds I have exchanged thoughts with,
I could find nowhere else...
The Sharons, the Christys, the Hecks...
These are jewels of humanity
Whose eyes see so much deeper
Than the most educated fool,
And there are so many of you!!...
I doubt the reality of my life...
I've never been this lucky....
I've never found minds that match mine in rambling thought,
Now I have found them all over the world,
So many who I will learn so much from...
Best of all, these are people who take
an interest in my life,
And even worry about me...
When I disappear into the medical
Nightmare ahead...
The satisfaction of knowing,
these minds,
and that my words are out there...
Maybe they will make sense to some,
Maybe a smile, 
Maybe a revelation...
But, in any event....
My words are posted...
My thoughts, my dreams,
My life...open to all for review...
And it feels good....
For I am assured these readers...
Will understand,
What most would not...
You are my valued friends...
You have made me walk all the taller,
You have made me think thoughts
I might have missed...
And you have provided me...
With the "Safe Harbour" of Sharon...
My favorite poem...
Although you are all gems,
All I can say is thanks, buddies...
Keep those words flowing...
You ARE helping people."


Details | Free verse | |

Melody

Write for me a melody
of pain and submission
Torture the innoncent
til they are black and blue
from the beatings to ensue
til the wall records their screams
and the floors beg for their release
and all that remains
are their remains
so go the spoils of war
so beat out my melody


Details | I do not know? | |

Ice Cube

(This is a fictional poem)

I've watched him in Friday and in Barbershop.
Last week Ice Cube beat me up and he wouldn't stop.
I kissed a lady who turned out to be his girlfriend.
I'm in the hospital and it will take awhile for my broken bones to mend.
If you see Ice Cube, don't aggravate him and don't make him mad.
He'll kick your ___ too because he is bad.


Details | I do not know? | |

Swastika

You are a person who I truly detest.
You have a Swastika tattooed on your chest.
That Swastika is a symbol of hate.
It's time for somebody to set you straight.
You should not have a Swastika tattoo.
When people see it, they won't like you.
You say that you intend to start being a nice guy but that's something you'll have 
to prove.
You can start by having that damn tattoo removed.


Details | Free verse | |

Creative Wriing Workshop

We revel in our deceptions,
Careen in the mallowness
Of the majolica
That is our life.

There are no truths—
Only deals.

The sky this evening
Seems surreal.

This is art.

We are critics
Of the coffee cup,
Knowing what we like.

Those who do,
Will.


Details | Bio | |

Devil In the Chem Lab

Highschool years,
Not my best,
Though I easily passed any test,
I joined the chem lab,
To assist a bird brained woman,
She was rarely in the lab,
And we were rarely performing,
what we were supposed to be do'ing,
We'd mix different chemicals,
Until we got, the explosion we were brewing,
And poison gas feared us not,
We had a whole lab classroom ,
As refuge from our evil doing...
And in that lab class I'd proudly write,
On all the blackboards there,
"The "Gors" rule, we'll cream the "Cams"
And other childish drivel...
The birdbrained lab tech could
not figure out...who might be so uncivil...

Our bigggest joy was creating explosions,
For the lab tech was always gone...
The bigger, the better...
Our success measured by how many
Chem teachers ran in, to see what's up.
A challenge we always met,
We never got punished,
And thank God we killed no one,
Cause a lab full of chemicals,
And two fools with no knowledge or concerns,
Was the same as two madmen each with a gun.


Details | Couplet | |

Disenchanted

Shows about reality
Get my news from MTV
Ugly people everywhere
Kids today just don't care
Where's the passion where's the fun
Video games eclipse the sun
Online conversations rule
The internet's our research tool
End of times? Have to wait and see
Things today so literally
Tsunami here, earthquake there 
Freaky weather everywhere
Why's this poem got to rhyme
No problem man I've got the time
Got your gold card, big SUV
Welfare generosity
No more teachers, no more books
E-zine publishings the hook
Find the paper, find the pen
Find your niche, your call, your zen
Talk to people get a clue 
Don't let it be the end of you
Get a job, take a chance 
Grab some rythym, bust a dance
Try a new thing, remember the old 
Be a big baby when you catch a cold
Pamper yourself, flatter your friends
You won't find yourself alone in the end 
Hope you like it, hope you care 
At least I had the strength to dare


Details | I do not know? | |

I like black people

I like black people, black people are pretty cool.
But the way they used to be treated was very cruel.
They couldn't eat in restaurants and they had to ride in the back of the bus.
White people should've treated black people the way they treated us.
It's nice to know that black people have come a long way.
Now it's possible that a black man may be the President of the USA.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Bitten

(This is a fictional poem)

When I decided to go on this hike, I didn't know I would be bitten by a rattlesnake.
It bit the back of my leg a few minutes ago and now my life is at stake.
I've been yelling for help but nobody has heard me shout.
I'm going to die if nobody sucks the poison out.

I'm starting to cry because it's so sad.
My wife will be a widow and my kids will be without a dad.
After I'm gone, will my family be able to get by?
A man doesn't really appreciate life until he learns that he's going to die.


Details | Free verse | |

My Soul's Revenge

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

The Ocean's fast asleep 
and still my soul is weeping 
spent the night counting dreams 
you make it up to me another way. 
The sky is just too big 
it reminds me of my insignificance, 
how small I am 
this far away from the sun, 
and still my eyes burn. 
Nowhere to run to sort things out 
and I'm lost inside 
It's like the transmission scrambled my thoughts 
so the unholy wars wouldn't begin. 
I'm on my own, 
I'm down on my knees, 
I'm searching for answers 
with this lost hope and broken dreams. 
It's too late, 
I don't want to go on 
all talent has abandoned me 
all gifts of virtue plague this heart. 
And the stars remind me, 
I'm a lone soldier in this faded memory 
of what is once known to be today. 
They say eventually it will come 
and it will come from a deeper place 
They say it will happen just baby steps 
but I always fall flat on my face. 
Can't you see? 
even in my hopelessness 
I'm a ray of sunshine, 
sending my chaotic confused love to you 
can't you see 
in this organized serenity 
you've taken from me 
I'm a momentary hero 
holding you from the light 

The ocean's fast asleep 
and still my soul is weeping