Best Retinas Poems
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
You didn’t notice my tears.
As you both kissed each other
like two lonely plungers
who just escaped from plumber’s solitary confinement,
your eyes open and wander up.
You didn’t look across that banquet hall
with my feet planted against wood polished tendencies.
Its creaks motioning time towards yellow-signal identity.
As my breath declares sudden death
against lake’s dripping reflections…
…you didn’t think to set your photo album on private.
Advertising lust
wrapped in pretentious cloak
sewed in recycled fibers of “love”.
With ignorant enablers speaking chic-flick tongue,
“Oh My Gawd! I’m so happy for you! I wanna ovulate!”
As I, put my head down
returning to this moment in time,
I had to let my song…cry.
Lenny Williams begins to exude “cause I love you” chorus,
as I walk towards bar
sensing your seductive retinas
stroking against my Latin swagger.
Your ring finger
chained by 3 carat, naïve cut, diamond
motions an intense, streaking caress
against wine glass filled with Zinfandel sin.
Because you know I am your addiction.
Your diabetic lips never forgot
that taste
of my
brown
sugar.
But, you didn’t notice my tears.
I wish you had.
For all this time, these tears
were of joyful splendor.
Because solace holds my hand
with candlelight warmth.
Slow dancing with my soul
in mystery Salsa sway.
While you stand on home plate,
holding your 2nd place trophy,
with 3 strikes against you.
A reminder that my heart,
was flexible enough
to dodge
a bullet.
© Drake J. Eszes
To hear me would sound like a symphony of octaves –
played all at once with concrete fingers
on diamond in the rough strings.
To see me…O’, to see me you would have to turn,
ever so slightly sideways, to ensure proper exposure –
one would not wish to either scar his or her retinas
with too much light; or murder their spirits with silky
raven on a moonless night, darkness. No, no. That
is far too much for the eyes to bear.
To touch me would be like dipping warm fingertips into
a pool of liquid mercury; like the sun’s rays beneath
the water, touching the ocean’s deepest silver depths.
The scent of me would bring your waiting nose to a
dichotomy of frenzy – one side wanton, and as eager
as a schoolboy with a playboy – but the other side!
The other nostril would shrivel under scrutiny; buckle under
the burning scent of disgust and unrefined madness, as if you
were smelling your own death, not the florid scent of Eden.
And to taste me…to taste me would leave the tongue
as twisted as a winter apple’s branches; as torn as a wool
tartan from the shoulder’s of a traitor; and as confused
as a year without Spring. To taste me would be like
tasting every dream you ever lusted, and every ending
that ever broke you – like sipping lemonade in the void.
But…if you are the one; the only one in the midst of all
this impenetrable chaos who can sense me, beyond
the average man’s malleable stone-walled borders –
than I bid you come. Test the likes of this diamond
against your rough-hewn backdrop – try me on for size;
see if you have the stones to not. Get. Cut.
*Inspired by Nathan Leccese's Diamond in the Rough, contest. :)
The “forthcoming” backtracks on dilly-dallied whispers.
They place verbal down payments on layaway,
Incomplete soul mates
Running on muted slow dances
Blanketing their pain
“Oh, how I always wished for your lips against my selfless animosity”, said Nobody.
Another decrepit smile
Pandering arrogant Bible verses,
They stroke heartbeats
Made of blood diamond fallacies
Reflecting upon misery with convex eyes,
Companionship denied,
“I’m so glad you stayed”, said Somebody.
Placating vehement touch,
They ache for petulant innocence
To rock them to sleep
Lullabies venture unto unknown certainties,
Lackadaisical clef sharpens ill-fated tomorrows
They make “love” to invisible yesterdays,
Feeding off strenuous caress
Torn, silky dress
Perpetuating restraining orders in duress
Bloodied retinas blink,
Vexed
©Drake J. Eszes
How long did it take her to be free?
How long did it take
For the wingless dragonfly to finally open her heart to the world
How long did it take for her to overcome Devil’s workshop
Slowly caressing her retinas
With silky daffodils and two-faced tulips
Where
Now
She dives into a glistening pool of complicated risk
Opening her atrium to the masses
Shedding incumbent teardrops
Just for that one standing ovation
To SET
HER
FREE!
It was then
Where pieces of plastic chains fell from demure stratosphere
Dented taps, similar to a shoeless dancer,
Setting off bass tones and low-key monotony
For she was
One cholesterol filled syllable short
To be genuine
One tearful, hyphenated lyric
Too blunt
To be embraced by their “god”
One dilapidated vowel shy
Of being honest
Her diary didn’t have enough pages torn
From emerald sanity
There were too many “Wows”,
Diluting into disingenuous shoulder pats
Her stanza pushed aside
A glorified booty call with no call back number
Leaving messages towards empty dial tones
…
How long will it take her to be free?
Until she looks up
Knowing she already holds the key
©Drake J. Eszes
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
For turning my eyes into shallow Pacific blues,
because nobody likes Chocolate.
For transforming the freckled clusterbomb on my face,
into baby skin smoothness!
Because freckles are humanity’s alleged worst enemy
and I refuse to allow my self-confidence to stay Pro-Activ.
Thank you, Photoshop
for giving me that liposuction I ALWAYS wanted
in less than 10 minutes!
Working out is BENEATH me!
And I’m too busy dating these "5 Guys".
Thank you for bathing me in your Black & White Fountain of Youth!
60 is the used 25!
I refuse attempts in removing this fallacy
crawling under my lifted eye sockets.
My wisdom wrinkles shall stay imploded under pretentious needle.
Otherwise, I can’t continue to be fed
flirtatious appetizers by horny sheeple
and bi-curious copycats
hocking hairballs at the sight
of my airbrushed collagen lips
while they dry hump my computer generated thighs.
Their retinas grope my artificially inflated Grand Canyons
which are really only peaked valleys.
Yet, they won’t look at my defaults…
So, I thank you Photoshop
for being unable
to crop my misery.
© Drake J. Eszes
"Dedicated to those who are unable to look within themselves." -D.J.E.
They place my vowel
Under barren landscape
Sipping from cracked porcelain cup
Of an alienated heartbeat
Devilish grins
Slapping Karma’s bottom,
A quarterback’s misguided win
Liar’s prophetic retinas glaze
With metric, disciplinary ruler
They place my consolidated lyric
On upper hand
Of cubic zirconium petulance
Their torn, lanolin coated tissue
Degrading polyester embedded uniform
Mislead by “savior’s” belief
A desolate embodiment of character
They observe me
With cherry coated pupils
Through rusty, iron bars
Its frosty echoes
Portraying fickle sonatas in these stale winds
Yet,
My ambient tear
Is simply a hoax for their recycled victory
Holding wooden spoon against my waist
Ready to crawl
©Drake J. Eszes
Cohabitating with your floral penance,
I slow grind
With
Memories
All metaphorical bets,
Off
Jumping head first
Another solemn wish
Unto you
To caress my smile
Another didactic breath
For your silky, titanium retinas
To share this potent sway
Against time
I, grip
Rusty handle bars to ride
Upon your caramel sunsets
Sweetened with diabetic urges,
Feening
Feening
Inject me towards unbridled upbringings,
Chrysanthemum sentences
Etched upon your neck
Of Egyptian cotton awakenings
…
I do not want to be your tomorrow,
Because that could never be promised
Yet, all we have is today.
Because all we have is today.
All we have is today…
©Drake J. Eszes
A story inscribed in the constellations
of the punctate canopy of night
Perseus astride the winged Pegasus
Hurtling to save his fair maid Andromeda
from the beastly Cetus the seasick sea-serpent
While her folks, Cepheus and Cassiopeia
gawk dispassionately
Poor parenting enshrined above us
The pancaked 2-D IMAX look
of the heavenly vault
belies the relevant numbers—
Trillions, quadrillions of 3-D miles between,
My retinas bathing in light decades old
Not a preschool connect-the-dots
but a giant mobile
of impossibly remote thermonuclear furnaces
turned cosmic Rorschach test
My eyes drink the mother of pearl
galactic smudge in the telescope
and I feel you gaze right back
Ancient light, yet a staring presence
a Mexican standoff of unfathomable dimensions
Telescopes at 600 hexillion paces, pardner
Don’t blink
Is it my imagination, or your mind?
Crazy quarks’ quantum entanglement
making instant “spooky action” at a distance
40 million light years away
Hundreds of quintillions of miles
whatever in God’s name that is
There you are again; I feel you
Verizon Universal Consciousness Connection
That’s going to be a heck of a phone bill
but I’ll be long gone by then
I think
8/1/16
Calm in the center of the carnage,
inaction seen by detached retinas
Silently viewing
societal norm walls falling
Violently by lewd winds toppling ...
house of marked cards folding
Rendezvous bluff blowing in the bedroom again,
lust treasure memories buried under closet debris sin
Like a thief in the night,
you always wanna take out more than you put in
Step lightly
into the storm building inside of you
Blow the farm silo doors down,
set the milch cow on the barn roof
Step darkly
into the center of the storm,
Rest your troubled mind
inside the heart of the dead calm
Wait until the storm is abated and gone
Then, go outside of yourself ...
see the wreckage everywhere
The twisted limbs of your lovers
strewn in shocked poses of incredulity
Look of lonely etched on their faces,
saying: How could you, baby, do this to me ...
Why did you leave me outside to die horribly?
Blowing them a kiss,
you shovel them into piles of compost
Fertilizer love turning them into ground feed,
and as soon as you finish the dirty deed
Another tornado is forming,
another hurricane is coming
Step inside the fury swirling,
sit inside of the storm, where it’ll be safe
Every new lover wanna shelter there,
but they came to the wrong-hearted place
This poem was inspired by a poem titled
"The Evolution of a Broken Heart" by
the talented poetess, Leanne Lovejoy-Burton
My
eyes are
sorely touched
with the harsh flash
of puce and pink-red
exhaust fumes leak lazy
from the line of matchbox cars
clogging humanities sewers
lungs gasp at green tires lay rubber
like the wail of infants taken from tit
dangling arms wave the air seeking entrance
to the already well come fill’d shunt
sighing rubbing my lids lights strobe
just past the seared surfaces
of my bruised retinas
my feet throb swollen
now depressing
releasing
pedal
push.
One may be "Touched" in physically, mentally or spiritually.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
she reaches behind the smokescreen
of her sunken eyed curtain veils
films of tears void of translucence
stoke reminiscent ashes that trace
another blinding thick-skinned defeat
hidden by camouflage and smears
touched up campaigns of bravery
her retinas a web of hallucinations
illusion delusion cataracts and dreams
stirred but not entirely shaken as
she reaches for another glass to empty
while numbness mixes with mirages
of victory over hits and misses
on battle lines of reconstruction
a palisade and shield from truth
her sentience slips into severance
from memories epiphanies and falls
from grace as she applauds the circus clown
and crazy court jester she became to be
in sadness badness insanity while
holding on to fragmented shards
screeching on the palette of many
a brush with fate curses and agony
she is a survivor of abuse and violence
exploitation and deliberate transgressions
and reaches deeply into her resolve
to allocate anger to where it belongs
instead of blaming her own kindness
she lifts the olive branch closer
to her tumbler spits out the hemlock
and trusts that tears will dry
once excoriations have dried up
until then she is not the drunkard
she is made out to be by sycophants
and hypocrites who spiked her
drink of life but merely coping
for the moment and longing for solutions
29th July 2021
Upon revelation’s flight
Under Orion’s focus
I witness a fiery glow towards familiar horizons.
‘Tis no sunrise
It is a striking reality.
My saddened retinas witness monochromatic pitchforks,
Desolated screams,
Embellished declarations from misguided leaders
And self-made stallions riding into condescending sunsets
Without any earned punctuation to be taken seriously
A House of Eroded Representatives
A village of One
A village of souls
Pushing
Back
…
There was a home upon these well-worn landing strips.
This was my home.
But, these forged rooftops now taste
Withering, hurricane gusts of red velvet cake’s mold
Rusted nails forcibly detached from honored foundations
Unto egotistical coffins
The reality
Shining through meter-less corruptions
Comes full circle
Small doses of poisonous vendettas
Fed from tarnished, silver spoons
Echoes of Cuban Fidel
Lace elasticity of “open arms”
With onyx, unfiltered coffee drops
Coating infant’s petulant lip
Witnessing cotton-less sheep walking with listless fervor
Towards silenced, condemned “Noahs”
I signal pilot within my melancholic wisdoms
To redirect our flight
To a new horizon
To an unsheltered domain
Where even waterfalls still allow
Conducive verbiage to rise
Amongst the unabashedly meek
To a destination
Where stature is defined by all
Not by one
Where character
Is developed under accountabilities’ pen
Where high horses & curtained theatrics
Are the only victims of banned tomorrows
Where honor
Is still defined
Without deleted, impulsive banter
Where friendship,
Love,
Wisdom,
Memories,
Shine
…
Because
Things
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same.
©Drake J. Eszes
“And my ties are severed clean. The less I have, the more I gain. Off the beaten path, I reign.” –Wherever I may Roam by Metallica (my lifelong song)
Her embedded dialect,
Savored
I become a speechless stanza,
Craving her conjugated inhales
Hopped up grins,
Engorge momentary lapse of pre-judgments
Grandfathered seconds pass my retinas with
3rd eye epiphanies,
As she encroaches my textured tomorrows
How do I fly upon this gifted morn
When her lily-coated grins placate my Gaia wings,
Without uncertainty’s scorn
How do I breathe new breaths,
When her articulated verbs
Conjugate my silence
…
©Drake J. Eszes