Best At Least Poems
Our hearts were a veritable slow dance
And I didn’t have to put my baby
In the corner
Our retinas
became diamond forged binds
In serenity’s lock
Dipping
Your tear ducts within our wishing wells
Never
Running
Dry
Our flesh
Bringing lukewarm elasticity
To gentle boil
Every graceful thrust
Mimicking fireplace embers
Under cabin’s winter moon
Until my deep sigh
Embedded paragraphs
Within “Dear John” parchment
…
At least
Trinity’s hourglass
Permitted me to sing I love you choruses
Before your hearts’ phone line
Disconnected
…
©Drake J. Eszes
I feel like a star
cast amongst this ambiguousness
of sky
and I'm hanging on
to vacant air
as all the saplings
and gawkers
slurp on lattes
and wish upon my misery
alas, when one of those whims
chooses to make itself
come true,
I'll shoot like a meteor
into nothing
but a tittle of dust
flickering
in someone else's dream
Unsure our world is now, and folks have fear.
From rules imposed on us we dare not veer.
Some say the days foretold by John the Seer
(when chaos soon will reign) are nearly here.
I dread the horrors that might next appear.
Our govenments are puppets; what they do
is what the “powers that be” tell them to.
Lies today and half-truths are nothing new.
An accident this was? You think that’s true?
It’s my belief this all was by design -
an evil plot to cause the world’s decline.
The masterminds of it are filthy swine!
World domination they wish to procure.
I wouldn’t be surprised they had the cure!
The worst is yet to come, most probably.
All we can do is cling to what is dear:
our friends and family; our freedoms too.
Be watchful; there will be more than one sign.
Be faithful; of at least one thing I’m sure:
The good - one day - from earth’s woes shall be free.
April 14, 2020 for Emile Pinet's Minuanetta Poems Poetry Contest
She never leaves the light on for me
Or at least, that’s what I thought
As I rounded the darkened hallway
I reached down and petted
my birthday present from last year.
I kinda wanted a dog
Or at least, that’s what I thought
I heard her gasping, crying out
As though she was hurt or in pain
Or at least, that’s what I thought,
When her sounds filtered down the hallway
Ran fast, door flew open
I see her alone in our large bed
Or at least, that’s what I thought,
until her eyes met mine and she
released him from under the covers
I was supposed to return tomorrow
She would have the evening
To frolic and play in secret
Or at least, that’s what she thought
I knew she loved me and at one time
I would never hurt her
Or at least, that’s what I thought,
As I took the gun from the dresser
And shot them both
Time does our earth presence sever
But the post office is clever
And offers for sale
For its eternal mail
A stamp that is good forever
Author's note: The idea that anything associated with this planet will be consumed "forever" is peculiar and laughable. It is also destructive in that business holds the truth in shadows.
How is it I'm only 26
Sitting here in the middle
Of a mid-life crisis?
I haven't even had time
The older ones tell me
To slow down my rhyme
To find the logical reason
Behind these actions
Of unquivering self treason
But its all I've known
Living paycheck to paycheck
Was how I'd grown
Job to job, city to city
Cut the lights off and
Look I'm still pretty.
But this face doesn't pay the bills.
And my body can't handle paid thrills
And the circle comes right back around.
At the ripe young age of 26
I'm smack dab in the middle
Of a mid-life crisis.
You said: the skies, are more than one
There should be at least, two
That like us, are in love.
You know?-then you said;
Why in spring, so much thunders we have?
-It’s the skies, making love
The light of their fire, goes…you know where?
Comes to bring my longing
Into your eyes,
(not) to die inside them.
Up and down, up and down, up and down
I don’t know if I have any more energy for
Up and down
If the line would flatten
I could finally rest
A masked woman wearing scrubs
Fights my inclination for slumber
But, sleep equals peace
My lungs and head droop
Alarms blare
I hear mumbled words
Something about rousing my oxygen levels
I breathe the shape of a box
A trick learned from a Seal
It works as prescribed
Briefly
But, also adds weights to my eyes
The black beckons
More voices
Persuading
For a return to deep inhalations
Inspiration illuminates and
Instead
I sing
Laughter and confusion
They believe they are witnessing another
Drug induced performance
However,
I
Am
Lucid
They don’t understand
I’ve dwelt in darkness
Many times before
I’ve tried to disappear
Into its obscurity but,
For reasons yet revealed
Someone
Keeps shining a spotlight
On me
On everybody
So, I croon
Only a few notes initially
My oxygen spikes
Astonishment
Giggling turns into song requests
A Frank Sinatra classic was my first
Fully awake
Stability
With challenges
Ups and downs, ups and downs, ups and downs
I’m so tired
Nevertheless,
I’m on stage
The spotlight shines and
The traditional theatrical battle cry insists
The show must go on
I acquire grievous compost in my mind’s glass eye,
piles and piles of waste debris lingers-
my subconscious feeds my intellect
and I am left breathing pure black ash
sinister by true nature yet pure as the whitest gold,
I seek the landfill only the poor seek;
for the needy realize the worth of
nourishment, not material wealth
my mind cracks open ineffably with vivid memories,
and this junkyard dwells where things
do not inhabit the universe - well needed
healthy thoughts ascend when the pure
crystalline hourglass stands perfectly still-
(as still as an imperial monumental column)
fear of the acumen residue in my dark mind procures,
feet planted firmly, standing upright-
ephemeral thoughts in my mind’s glass
eye flow through my bone marrow-
I embrace the remnants of solitude that
restlessly reside in my favorite junkyard;
(where I shall salvage what joy I have
left, and yearn to dispose of pain's refuse)
22 lines (sorry I just could not delete anymore lines)
October 31, 2019
Craig Cornish
My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest
Twist around the rim, a drunken ballerina
Of unsorts, elbow deep in catastrophic
Breakings-perfected works of fiction shatter a
Curtain call. Lasting shards of what I can't stop; it
Burrows into my flesh, becoming hybred with
Misery. I would choose such over infamy
Though difficult to resist omnipotent kiss
It's comfortable the way it is: Destroying me.
A badly broken code of strangled DNA
Foxtrots with weighty pheromones boxed in a high
And void of selfless speakings, whispers yet to say-
The music stopped some time ago to hear deep sighs
Or heartfelt hymns by the nonbelievers;
Symphonies strangled into the night, far deeper
"At Least We're Not Letting Our Pheromones Go To Waste"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
At least for a few hours
An empty corner bends
beneath street lights working overtime
and a bench, cold and lonely,
damp from previous storms
and those threatening,
closing dark curtains
on a weary skyline,
beckons, offering a seat,
hard slats horizontal
last occupied by another
with hopes and dreams
left to wander, wondering why
A black cat crosses my path
and I laugh at its expression
Knowing it believes bad luck
will come of this, little does it know,
I have no path for it to cross,
no destination or planned outcome
Pushing the crosswalk button
again and again
and still it reads don’t walk,
I do as I am told
I feel drowsy as I settle in,
counting cars and flickers of
the faulty neon sign
at the 24 hour tattoo parlor
Where needles aren’t the only thing
spurting ink, perforating skin,
creating a lasting impression
that even a beautiful sunrise
can’t erase as I fall off to a world
that doesn’t seem so bad,
at least for a few hours,
hoping that when I wake
it wakes with me
....and she laid it so bare,
Her soul to my hungry ear.
All her fear, hopeless and frail
Washed over me like a tide
I could not swim the likes of this
The eddies pulled me under
All along I wondered how she survived
The constant surge of her life
In the end, I'm glad I was there
It took it's toll on me to endure her pain
She only needed my ears and my silence
She only wanted to be loved.
For a night, we shared some peace from the world at large.
Only to find that NOTHING had changed.... But us....
I found it curled in the shadow
of what used to be a hospital.
A slow hunch of fur,
the color of old bark—like the forest
had tried to grow itself a question.
It didn’t look surprised to see me.
Just blinked, as if measuring
whether I was worth the glance.
I sat cross-legged beside it,
tore foil from a protein bar—
offered the whole thing,
wrapper and all.
It took the crinkle in two fingers,
held it to the light. Didn’t eat it.
Just listened to the sound
plastic makes in a nuclear breeze.
It exhaled desert globemallow.
A whole Quaternary extinction
in a single breath.
I didn’t ask my question out loud,
but I think it heard anyway.
Do we stand a chance?
The sloth leaned its weight
across a rusted sign
that once read urgent care.
It didn’t speak, but something
about the pinch of its thick,
prehensile lip
said it knew what we’d done—
to the soil, to time, to ourselves.
It forgave none of it.
When it finally turned to leave,
I followed.
Not because I thought
it could save me,
but because it didn’t try to.
We all have a need to worship where we will
All sorts of gods we take comfort from still
But we all tend to worship the same god at least once in our life
And we swear he’s our saviour through out all our strife.
We pour out our innermost parts to this God
Technicolor sacrifices, our heads bow and nod
Arms outstretched and grasping this god of porcelain
Supplicated our selves with so little to gain.
"Oh God" we hear the cry of worshippers in anguish
Praying for their bed so that they can languish
Coloured sacrifices from deep within repeated often
Cradling this god whose heart does not soften.
The wide open mouth sitting with his back against a wall
Sometimes we sit on - we like to share our all.
But then when we yawn that great coloured yawn
Into the chasm praying for death, or praying for dawn.
We knew we should never have eaten so well
Our eyes were too big, our belly did swell
And so to the porcelain God in this room
We pray on our knees while fearing our doom.
He takes all of our sins and flushes them away
Leaving another day where we promise - no way.
©~GG~12/08/2012
Milk
I try to pour myself a glass of milk
The milk thinks the counter is a glass
Notebook
I try to grab my notebook to write this now
The notebook slips down to the ground
Doorway
I try to walk through a doorway
What could go wrong?
My toe stubs the solid wall
Music!
Music can heal anything! Hey, it’s my favorite song!
I’m dancing and singing at the top of my lungs
The best part is coming up
Then right before the big chorus drop
My ears are magically too small
And to my delight, the earbuds fall
Toast!!
What is easier than toast?! Even I could manage that!
The toaster is opened and lo and behold
The bread is black as black
Nutella!!!
“Nutella can fix anything!” I thought
So I run to fetch my gold
I turn the nob then bam!
My head meets the corner, the sharpest corner in fact
Now my vision is blurry and a heart beats in my head
A doctor will be seen for that!