Best Protrusions Poems
A light wind gently rocks our sailboat as
breezes begin to pick up on the sun drenched dock.
Cable wires rap and tap upon the mast as
daylight filters thinly through the clouds.
Egrets begin to peck around the gangway
foraging for scraps from bugs or grubs.
Great blue heron busily prepares her nest
high upon the eucalyptus tree.
I sit and daydream on the harbor deck
just enjoying the sea breeze, sights and sounds.
Kelp beds sway rhythmically with the currents
lapping the rocks at low tide, while
massive flocks of birds perch purposefully
near a lonely lighthouse high on the jetty.
Open seas spread toward the horizon where
pelicans busily dive bomb for fish.
Quarry rocks surrounding the harbor create
rocky protrusions, allowing ground squirrels to
spy sailors earnestly jibing on ocean water
tacking swiftly through the northwest winds.
Under the pylons and gangways
various starfish and mussels cling
with schools of fish swimming in tandem.
Xylophone sounds drift with music from a
Yacht club hosting a spring concert.
Zeal for the beauty of harbor life moves me.
Written on 2/11/2015
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
Thorns about the snow
Cantilever tombstones
Gathered in a row
Broken bits of someone else’s deed
Weeds are overgrown
Thorns about the snow
Endless come the struggles as you bleed
Ravens are amassing
High above the trees
Searching for remaining shards of bone
Circling intruders
Cutting through the breeze
Waiting as your sins you now atone
Thicket mangled wings
Fractured fighting fear
Carving sad initials on your skin
Thunder clouds approach
Storms to gather near
Drenching darkened sorrows now begin
Iron barred protrusions
Block the jagged way
Keeping you from exiting this place
Fall upon your knees
This your ending day
Every thought of you to soon erase
Fade into the gravel
Claw this frozen earth
Quickly 'fore a morning sun does crest
Bid a found farewell
Far beyond your birth
Time has come to take your final rest
Life and death consequences
by two choices have recompenses
omitting natural or spiritual senses
renew the former omit death dispenses
Death’s protrusion
has an all inclusion
recompensing illusion
an Armageddon conclusion
Life has an exclusion
written for purpose of infusion
of private capital preclusion
`t is of Love’s transfusion...
consequences,
recompenses
of serpent senses
then death dispenses
sharks teeth conclusions
of infusions
`t is illusions
of protrusions
playful Dolphin exclusion
insights infusion
removes teeth of confusion
reality of illusions protrusion...
consequences,
recompenses...
senses,
dispenses...
Selah
In a future that did bleep and blare,
Under a sky full of darkest pollutions,
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Faces glued to screens without care,
Lacking energy, making no contributions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
Minds gone and bodies barely there;
Breaking out into gross contusions,
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Forgetting how to farm, build or repair;
The horrid creatures ask no absolutions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
Having destroyed their water and air,
Surrounded by unspeakable protrusions:
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Chemical radiation spilling everywhere,
Wheels in wheels spinning revolutions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
In a future that doth bleep and blare.
Every journey worth its salt has rocky places
Bank to bank filled with frothing white water,
The economics of avoidance, steering a lean course,
Avoiding higher peaks that thrill - vouchsafed to others.
Rest days taken during times of lower water
Even portaging some sections altogether,
Below one dam a three mile jumble of boulders.
Only one stretch really caught us napping.
Truth be told it really had me worried,
But knowing that we were riding higher water
I steered as best I could between foaming protrusions
That prudence whispered likely hid a rock.
Just once, as I recall, we grounded on gravel bar,
But I pushed us off before current turned us broadside. (10)
Minnesota's rollicking Mississippi is a charmer,
And many State Campgrounds court her boundaries,
Some even have hot water showers and manicured sites,
But a pall of mosquitoes infests more timbered parks
That no wind short of a tornado has the power to disperse,
We ate our evening meals under beekeeper's hats and nets,
It is funny when mosquitoes dive bomb cooling plates of food.
Poet's Notes:
(10) This is a real danger for a canoe in a rapid. A canoe that turns broadside to the rushing water can be rapidly filled with water and swamped.
“Four dollars a shot,”
marched from the bartender’s mouth -
each syllable carried the clanks
of Herbie’s Rhodes – jutting like
glacier crags in swells of desert-base.
They carried the smoke curling like
a silver chain draped around a neck,
and the bulges of slurred blurbs.
The words seeped from the regular collection of
the blood-sweet odor of smoke –
not the bartender.
I understood the bar, but I didn’t know what he meant.
The four dollars rustled out of my wallet
and crinkled on the table like
brittle leaves popping back into form.
The sap-colored whiskey
plunked on the bar,
and hummed a sharp
alcoholic song.
Masked, the bartender noticed
an obtuse heap of slurs that
rumpled his skin into a smile.
His shoulders flipped,
and he was swept into
the patterned shrub of sensation.
He was now an indeterminable piece in a clouded order.
I swilled the amber,
and stumbled through links of smoke
until I spilled out
into the violent protrusions of the quiet evening –
like sails glaring on a sun-crushed sea.
I still can’t figure out what that four dollars was worth,
or what the bartender said to me.
There is such a chill.
I’d make use of my flesh
as a heart warmer if only
it hadn’t withered to naught.
Bone protrusions meddle with
the rags of skin that remain
to drape about them.
I feel shame board off
the windows peering into
my mind.
What does one do with their rejected help?
Where does one go to hide from the
monsters of hopelessness?
Care tries to focus beyond the boards
into the depths of my answerless pupils.
I hear pain meagerly challenge the
question deep within my heart, gingerly
prodding at the loose cloth that remains
of my physique.
When did arrogance overpower the
affect of compassion?
Tears collect around my eclipsed eyes,
drowning out faith, drowning out liberty.
My eyelashes swing profusely at the pools
of sadness, but needles of ignorance
sew them to my brow with threads of pessimism.
I try to watch through the sorrow.
How can such barbaric norms exist amongst
one’s mind?
Slander poisons the air my lungs rely on,
dirtying the words that exit my mouth.
I feel my throat close.
Slander is poisoning my air.
My throat is tight.
Slander.
Tight.
As my eyelids become heavy I have but
one thing left, the fold of serenity in my brain.
Poisoning slander.
Throat closed.
Serenity.
I feel the air carving prejudices into my voice box.
I restrict.
Choke.
Restrict.
Choke.
The only segregation I allow is between my mind and the slander.
The choking is done.
I am done.
Serenity prevails and
I am done.
I am done, but serenity prevails.
Form:
Tis’ my abstract notions, which cause the commotion’s,
polluting your impure thoughts with my truthful potions,
concocted from truthful explosions, lassoed by mind energy protrusions,
upon the ignorant lay the confusions, as it shatters their illusions.
As hearts are striped of clutter, and laid bare,
karmic debts in the black, stomping ground fair,
everyone’s on track, there’s enough to go round and you’ll get your share,
have faith in the universe, your place in the circle awaits, pull up a chair.
Form:
Time disorder is common in a concert meant for those who rush
one organized by adrenaline and moderated by passion
a boomerang transaction, where the receiver and giver are the same
in a speedy interplay, faster than lightening and confusing to the clock,
a deal where the expense is simply the profit.
Her effect in this cold feels like warm hell in cracked ice
proving that sexuality is the best chef, which leaves her expertly baked
for this burning tease to dispossess the rain of its rainbow.
It’s time to do nature’s homework with an instinctive craft
where lust is king and fantasy, on a red bikini.
This enticing invitation with a humid feel can’t be given a missed call
I deserve the death sentence if I let go of this appealing grip.
Sliding through her flat front with a distracted composure
sinking into her back door protrusions with that sense of entitlement
feeling those submissive rib bones like the keys of an organ
all in one body capable of unfreezing the ice of antartica.
Lips melting into mine like a burning candle wax
two mountains with tips, the only gateway to the pink skies
in need of my suck, they stand round, firm and below her rubber shoulders.
She gladly wears my impatience like a fitted leather belt
complimenting it with accelerating moves in dire need of a stabilizer
folding into each other as we dance the ‘lock and key’
then every cardinal point is met by our sliding, rolling bodies
and greeted with the appetizing sounds of our clapping torsos.
Feasting in the accommodation of her wrapped gorgeous limbs
oblivious in pleasure’s park from the blanket of her flesh
erotic hospitality not in history books, served by the sheets of her skin
I’m wild, lost in reality, faded in sanity as both bodies prey on each other
displaying a vigil of powerful affection void of the pause button
for the sun to delay its rise as it hopes for a continuous replay.
Even in expensive suit
a monster cannot be glamorous.
A young lady full of life and purpose
is blind to the script she had never read.
She's charmed by his scent, sense of adventure and boldness
but to fall victim of her bright colours, turning dirty.
Her age and experience both in incubation
and from the producing heat, she gradually gets burnt,
as time gets drowned
and life becomes a gentle toddler full of beards.
The only evidence of his humanity
is his unbelievable appetite
which hits fire alarm to greedily sniff all her condensed flavours.
His whip is stained with her DNA,
from the moment he owns the buttons of her attention,
his paralyzed heart with sharp protrusions
makes every embrace in need of an urgent X-ray.
The walls scream each time they hold hands
and Angels change to black robes whenever they kiss.
She's contented with partial satisfaction
as her head lay on his foamless bed.
She awaits the rain with hope on the cloudless sky,
not seeing how his pleasures come with side effects
shown by her smile-shy face which declares happiness a contraband.
A dress with a hundred stitches can no longer fit
but she holds the needle in continuous labour
to please one who scares the layers of his own skin.
Love frowns at this terrible being
who makes water boil at sub-zero temperatures.
Love shrinks at the confused one
who pokes the eye of the serpent in misjudged loyalty.
The world shakes its head in pity of her
for her eyes open, but very slowly to the filth of her foolishness,
as her young and beautiful legs
get stuck in the mud of his ruthlessness.
Love is blind but the lover shouldn't be.
Ladies' protrusions are a joy to behold
To snuggle, to squeeze, to caress and to hold
After all these years
I give them two cheers
To appreciate this duo, we're never two old
As this world is not my home,
Into the paranormal I often roam,
Into the center of my being,
In a Godly way I’m seeing,
That there are many things of mind,
Worth absolutely not the time!
Illusions of the mind’s protrusions,
Leads a soul to false conclusions.
As top a spinning has a center spin,
Kept from chaos by love’s yin.
A soul must center as it began,
Or else dwell of a mind of sin.
The precept is uncompromised,
Never telling the mind lies.
Is sought to be owned by the many…
minds, is source of life a plenty…
The mind yang,
Thinks he knows everything,
And wants greed of gain,
Even though it’s causing pain.
These protrusions vain,
totally insane,
reveal your wild child Cain!
I was so unkempt
like how we accidentally met,
and my first impression
begged for a reappearance
so I went about
realigning the structure
of my spiritual inclination
for you to be my foundation
Like a wrinkle in time
you redesigned
my divine
An ocean, bold and wet
we slid towards these conclusions
wrecked on our illusions
made love without protrusions
With tears in ours eyes
we learned how to
reconcile whys
and how comes
and wherefore art thou’s
You were Juliet
before women even existed.
My muse and prose
all roll into one. Sun
and space and everything
in between
A cognition
the way babies realize
a mother's love
can be felt simply by
blowing an eyelash
from an irritated eye
You too are like that
kind of high.
From infant to grown
you've always been known
Back then I didn't know what to name you
But in my mind I had framed you
Had a picture of you
before we were ever introduced
that's kind of why I botched
our first hello.
The first time I saw you
a lifetime flashed before my eyes
and I was unequivocally surprised
Disappearance
Like delicate snow that melts
in the midst of our breathe
Can you feel the heat of what we say
taste sexual precipitation
When our tongues drag across
sensuous excavations
delivering a pause
where we examine protrusions
Practicing a more deliberate
artifact extraction.
A woman's golden place.
Let me taste your snow,
as you melt away, I'll claim your
disappearance,
making ecstasy reappear
two or three glimpses at first
then you visualize that final surprise
Capturing tiny bits of rain drops
that tickle my tongue.
Everytime I speak I want to feel
your wet interruptions
In midst of my pardoned eruptions
from this lust entwined love affair.
We taste rain
even when
skies are clear.