Best Teeters Poems
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Sitting all alone
Sitting pondering time
Time I can't get back
Time travel is impossible
Impossible is but a state of mind
Impossible until it's possible
Possible to rise
Possible to think
Think beyond here
Think past now
Now is more than now
Now is the intersection
Intersection between yesterday and tomorrow
Intersection of logic and imagination
Imagination lifts
Imagination removes boundaries
Boundaries set in stone
Boundaries impossed by others
Others not worthy
Others to whom we gave our power
Power that was never their's
Power to change
Change is inevitable
Change changes everything
Everything and nothing
Everything is connected
Connected by time
Connected by thought
Thoughts we ponder
Thoughts thought by greater minds
Minds interconnected
Minds over matter
Matter is not a solid thing
Matter is vibrating energy
Energy is not in short supply
Energy is in all things
Things that seem small
Things thought insignificant
Insignificant until they are not
Insignificant teeters on possible
Possible outcomes
Possible compatibilities
Compatibilities of opposites
Compatibilities not seen with naked eyes
Eyes lost in memories
Eyes blinded
Blinded by sad
Sad
Memories
The ruffle of fleece at her neck
makes her feel manufactured, not born—
brushstrokes of windswept wool,
all soft edges and curves
the color of old milk.
Her lips were no artist's accident,
nor the smirk as she lurks
in the corner more knowing
than any ewe usually dares.
Coy smile, a pearled necklace
of fur and her hind-end musk—
drew the brown ram sniffing
while a dirt-faced ex-love nearby
chews through the cud to find
whatever’s left of her.
Closer to the cliff than either,
she teeters, grazing weeds
like the dutiful daughter of lamb stew,
like she doesn’t know the cost
of this life: skin blistered by sun,
meat slow roasted to melt
on the tongue, bones cracked
for their marrow, dreams curdled
and spun into the itchy arms
of some strayed-from-the-flock husband,
all too eager to forget
the warmth of her body.
But Clover knows better.
Knows that sheep go one of two ways—
a fireside comfort or the fire itself.
Knows the herd will go
where they are led,
always too late to see
the teeth of the cliff.
She stands alone,
the day's last shadows
pooling at her feet
masticating through daisies
and regrets. And then she leaps
toward the yellowing horizon
gathering salt-wind in her wool
along with the cliff-kissed breeze
of freedom that promises nothing
but the opposite direction.
The low suffer most the blow of the law
And no better do they fare with its flow:
From injustice to injustice it carries them
But none ever calls this a flaw.
For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be,
Born of the mighty as she is.
Once, though, every eternity the cords of
patience snap:
Justice is demanded and swiftly she comes.
It's time for revolution, the clash unto ash
between the classes.
By saw and seesaw there'll be newness abroad:
The old system teeters as its sinews are severed
And from cakes of blood springs another;
That long denied by law is now seized by claw,
And from star to tar the mighty tumble
As their thrones are lowered for dwarfs to
mount.
Upwards go the erstwhile low
To be class dwarfs no more
But the mighty of the land.
Amidst this newness, though, an old song
soon intrudes:
In voices faint and mournful we hear it sung
By those from star to lowly tar fallen.
In fields and taverns, at work and at play,
It dwells on lips bright and sullen;
But up above behind stately walls where
stands the palace
None but the children dare sing it—
The song they once heard old papa sing,
Which loosened his lips like a wicked brew
But now binds them shut like a glue.
When from frolics they break
In their playfields green
And in palace parlors
At once warm chants from their breasts erupt
Which with glee and charm they long sustain
Till every soul feel their lips beguiled
To render accompaniment in a whistled melody.
Then swirls the music about every ear, and all can
hear the palace ring:
“The low suffer most the blow of the law
And no better do they fare with its flow:
From injustice to injustice it carries them
But none ever calls this a flaw.
For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be,
Born of the mighty as she is.”
Moonshine, diesel fumes, and chicken wire.
Laundry hangin’ on the line.
Bible open to the Book of Job.
Backyard thick with prickly pine.
Jacket pocket full of Red Man dip.
Work boots laced with leather thongs.
Wedding portrait on the mantel piece.
Shotgun right where it belongs.
Kettle simmers on a cast iron stove.
Faucet’s drippin’ in the sink.
Matchbook underneath the table leg,
Teacup teeters on the brink.
Cobwebs draped across a window screen.
Horseshoe nailed above a door.
Things calmed down some since the weather broke.
Same sad silence as before.
Ma’s been servin’ up the buttermilk,
Boiled potatoes in a bowl.
Pa starts eatin’ while she’s sayin’ grace.
Lets her worry ‘bout his soul.
Man might say he be a slave to love.
Women make the same complaint.
Neither really know the meaning of
What it is and what it ain’t.
Do you ever think of tomorrow and wish you had a glance?
Tell me if you had a crystal ball would you take a chance?
Do you ever think of yesterday, a song you used to sing?
Embracing all the memories, joy and pain they would bring
In the space of your today, up underneath your skin
Do you find a certain comfort the one that’s born with-in?
There was a time in my life I really couldn’t stand myself
I was so confused as to what a man should hold as wealth
Every life has a turning point as it teeters to and fro
And sometimes it is very hard to know which way to go
There is no way to excuse the choices that I have made
And I’m the one who is to blame for prices I have paid
There is nobody else to blame for the things I’ve done
It was of my free will I chose, not to follow the chosen one
I rode with demons as they laughed and watched the angels cry
Never even once second-guessing or asking myself why
And I used to be a liar I would lie all the time
Was no end to the excuses come out of these lips of mine
But that was many years ago I’m not that man today
You see I found the Lord and got down on my knees to pray
I said, Lord as you know I’ve wasted every bit of my youth
Today what I’m asking of you Lord, please grant me the gift of truth
I figured truth and honesty would be a good place to start
To try and better understand how the bless the human heart
I quickly learned a lesson, a lesson of untold wealth
The trick to being honest is being honest with yourself
For if your honest with yourself to another you can’t lie
And if you just confess everything you have no reason why
My methods may not always appease but know these words are true
Honesty is the motivating factor behind everything I do
And everybody knows it they don’t even question why
They know I would have lied about myself if I were going to lie
And the reason that I know this I’m very proud to say
Is by the comments left to me just the other day
I just wanted thank everyone for their supportive
comments the other day. You have became such
an important part of my day I would be lost with
out you guys, God bless, MJ
Hush o'er azure stone ridge,
hypnotic wax moon dash,
wispy crescent rustle from,
a piebald furry deer,
nocturnal stealth enshrouded,
silver tint antler scoops,
limp orange leaf detritus,
canopy of maroon ink,
black mist dewdrops spill,
corral Northern Bobwhite quest,
shuddersome elk teeters on,
bituminous coal summit,
cast a pearl oyster glance,
into an uncanny precipice,
enigmatic phenocryst ravines,
spellbound immersive trickle,
species of the dome shape,
muted in clandestine trot,
oe’r mushroom quandary in crossing,
to slink away the eerie stillness
What is this world coming to, I ask,
Where hearts grow cold, and hopes unmask?
A realm once blessed with unity's grace,
Now teeters on the edge, a fragile space.
Gone are the days of tender connection,
Replaced by walls, of isolation, protection.
Technology's grasp tightens its hold,
As loneliness festers, untold.
In the glow of screens, we seek a thrill,
But lose touch with what's truly real.
Fake facades and filtered dreams,
We find solace in virtual streams.
Where compassion ends and anger begins,
Injustice triumphs, morality thins.
Wars persist, tearing nations apart,
Could love ever heal these broken hearts?
Nature weeps, in quiet despair,
As greed consumes, without a care.
Species vanish, forests wilt,
The earth's plea, we've come to guilt.
Yet, amidst the chaos, a whisper remains,
For within our souls, a flame still burns,
A longing for peace, a lesson to learn.
So let's mend the fractures, one by one,
Bridge the divides, until we are done.
Embrace our differences, let kindness lead,
Rediscover the unity our world so needs.
With her fall from grace
She stands all alone in this place
With ebony tears falling down her face
With lighting streaking across the sky
She hangs her head to cry
Broken and alone she wonders 'Why do I try'
No one cares if I live or die
Maybe tonight is the night I die.
Closer to the rivers edge
Her soul teeters on the ledge
No will to live
with nothing more to give
She closes her eyes
and takes a deep sigh
But as she's ready to take the jump
The wind blows and she feels a slight bump
It's a crimson red rose
As she picks it up, she realizes the future it holds
A fallen angel she may be
But Gods love will always be!
Pushed by a momentum,
Thrust up by a force,
Might and power dominate,
Naught can change its course.
Heaved up high from deep below,
Strength so unrelenting,
Reaching up to grab the air,
Shows no sign of bending.
Hoards of debris get swept in,
Tugged up in the swirl,
Creatures, plankton, all aboard,
Helpless to the whirl.
Gathering intensity,
Roaring from the deep,
Flexing muscle, mass and brawn,
In a skyward leap.
Thrashing like a man possessed,
Water turns to foam,
Deep, marine, turquoise blue,
Cradling a white dome.
A monolith Colossus,
Craving to succeed,
An ancient water-saurus,
An indestructible breed.
Alive with a spirit,
Whirlpools in its wake,
Dominating nature,
But for nature's sake.
Shadowing the sea below,
Reaching for the clouds,
Like a dead man come alive,
Trying to leave his shrouds.
Water gathers up itself,
In battle formation,
Rising from the sea around,
A majestic creation.
Reaching for the sky above,
An awesome show of might,
As if challenging gravity,
Offering a fight.
Higher, higher, higher,
The wave keeps its own,
Tugging at infinity,
Riding on a throne.
Gripping at oblivion,
Desperate to rise more,
Propelled by all the yearning,
That pushes from its core.
But...
Then the wave stops rising,
Like it's done its best,
Hovers in its glory,
Teeters at its crest.
Its very tip starts curling,
Slipping from its grip,
Losing all momentum,
Slowly starts to slip.
All the mighty buildup,
Potential and the might,
Lose their fight with gravity,
And swiftly lose their height.
Crashing back down to the sea,
Its force forever gone,
All that's left's a little spray,
The mighty wave is done.
------
So much like humanity,
The wave strives to grow.
And so much like humanity.
The wave fights his foe.
So much.
Like humanity.
The wave endures.
Its pain.
Yet so.
Unlike humanity,
This wave won't try.
Again.
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.
one hundred meters run and swim
gymnastic teeters in the gym
judo boxing race on bikes
rowing coxing running spikes
water polo lifting weights
shooting solo tens and eights
football hockey all ball sports
fast and rocky kayak course
wrestling diving shuttle cock
sailors striving around the clock
dancing horses games with swords
racing courses springing boards
synchronized swimming taekwondo
atheletes winning skill with bow
hurdles cycling and pole vault
chasing spike king usain bolt
national teams state there claims
at britains dream olympic games
Pitter-patter of
feet: raven teeters
on ledge examining me!
Caught up in cycles of love-hate
she dons a smile to hide her hurt.
Yet, her conflicting emotions,
lead to inevitable pain.
In her fantasies, she's happy;
although that feeling is fleeting.
For in her world of make-believe,
she conjures hope from denial.
Jealousy lurks in the shadows;
taunting her devastated heart.
For whenever she's feeling blue,
dreams dwell on melancholy thoughts.
Youth's impenetrable shield failed
to guard her vulnerable heart.
And as lies obstructed the truth,
illusions fueled delusions.
Smitten by unrequited love,
fantasy shuns reality.
And teeters on the very edge,
of despair and insanity.
Matthew 6:22
22The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. 23But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!
if therefore your third eye be open your whole body is light
pure energy gathered from the cosmos is an inherited human right
but because of the cosmic battle we were disconnected from the father
and the balance of humanity is on a scale that teeters totters
if the bread of life is the word of God then show me how to eat
and if bread is all we have then how can we enjoy the meat?
i know this sounds so fascinating and so very hard to accept
but our imaginations and our thoughts are often left to neglect
if men would only love he would see creation at its best
but the mind is swayed to imprison love in the cavity of his chest
guilt and fear is the venom concocted by other beings
transferred to the psyche by mans collective feelings
if we can listen carefully we can hear our inner cries
the cataclysmic events that induced the turning of the tides
Lumeria and Atlantis was where human thought was key
as the balance between their forces brought the world to its knees
both civilizations were doomed from the beginning to meet their fates
as the portals of each dimension became a closing gate
each gate was locked for a reason, specifically we do not know
but only in our collective consciousness can a picture start to show
if thoughts are really physical as scientist do suggest
then how can we not believe if we never put our thoughts to the test?
we live in a multidimensional universe that we have little access to
but the key to unlocking true potential starts with loving you