Best Unshapely Poems
We always knew Miss Daisy
Was crazy.
The way she said things
Then played with her bangs.
Her shirt
Covered in dirt
She let her head fall back
And scream, "that was wack!"
But Miss Daisy,
And her crazy
Didn't like to leave.
And me being naïve
Thought it was okay.
To say
"Miss Daisy,
Just lately,
You've been
Awfully thin.
Maybe we need
To feed."
Miss Daisy
And her crazy.
Unshapely
thin.
Tiny
Small.
crazy electric guitars raping your consciousness
bruising your sense of focus like a madman in a defeated village
bruising a lonely prostitute
and you think you got something to prove
and you think it's all but a phase
that kisses your cheeks and leaves
no headphone's gonna kiss your bleeding ears
no scream will bring your malady ashore
it's dirty but it's not earth
hold your breath for a little while and open your coward eyes
let the vomit find its way outta your skin and into the alley
let the blood dance like a beheaded cow at a tribal feast
let the sense of timelessness enter your ribs like a rusted knife
like a shrapnel
no water will do any good to this melting room
spit the cowardice and inhale the ash and cough all the hunger
away
let the phone ring and the samovar turn itself off
for the flame soon will cover them both
you see the unshapely red and black and gray thing?
that's the bastard son of your books and your poor coward cat
put the stupid water away and watch the festival of births of
shapes and copulation of things with the void.
A little pebble-like form finds it's home in the dark cool damp earth, it begins it's
comfortable journey there in the womb of "mother earth". The dark porous soil allows
for air to find this nervous seed. As it finds room room to breathe, the seedling
discovers itself expanding and stringy fibers strangely emerging from within its small
frame. As droplets of daily moisture ease it's way to this unshapely creatures home, its
expansion continues, to the point when only a shell of it's original form remains.
Accustomed to this place which this former seed calls home, it expectantly waits for the
sunlight to bring warmth through its muddy existence. With anxious yet eagerly the little mutant seed receives the light. For now all that remains of it's former shape have
nearly vanished and turned into gnarly looking fibrils!
Half solid half softened whence the moon sheds saturninity down to a boudoir maudlinly marooned.
Half directly half deviously whether the night wind sneaks to snoop about the notes therefrom crooned.
Half mauve half blue, with empty goblet impaled, whither diffuses the table lamp's dim light.
Half sharp half shaded whether a woman's shapely profile touches up an unshapely night.
White cigar's smoke curling up, red wine's spirits fizzing up, her own
soul sinking into shackled sallowness breath by breath, hard to lift;
Buckets of betrayal bolted down, jorums of jeremiad guzzled down, her own
yearning wafting into the wild dark yonder wisp by wisp, hard to suppress.
Woman in the small hours, hickeys on face faded, attachment in bosom fast; The face, jaded, nowhither to recall belying kiss passed.
Woman in the small hours, redness on lips faded, fret of remnant fizziness fast; The lips, jaded, nowhither to retrace fine wine passed.
.
Beauty's bane, Hebe's drain, the least lasting are tender looks on the wane.
Mood heedless moon hearkening how teardrops are stealthily strumming the crow's feet.
Romance's fane, Penelope's pain; the most indelible, bulky bleakness down memory lane.
Melatonin meagre melancholy massive how muliebrity, murk-muffled, is moaning in affinity to lone lamb's bleat!
I'm what you may call fresh clay...
We've all at some point passed this way.
I'm cold, moist, soft, and tender, just waiting
to be held...
If I'm not held, molded, and shaped then
we all fail
Yes! I need a pair of clean, warm, loving hands...
If I can get this now, once my texture begins to set
I know I'll be able to stand
Too often, fresh clay like myself is left untouched.
But we later shake our hands when we can't
feel that old, dry, unshapely stuff that should've been reached
Time is of the essence; I really cannot wait...
So, someone, please! Send me a pair of warm, strong,
gentle hands, don't hesitate
My dearest love, My cells yearn to touch
yours in a way that our universe has no
explanation for. Your scent fills my empty
and full desires as you're a distance away
and as we become one...I see through
your eyes to a place of blue fire ecstasy,
and I am safe, finally to hope in our
foreverness. .Never believe that you've left
my heart, unless I perish forcing the
threads that bind into an unshapely
garment to be tossed away..
I live under the bed
Sleep with the “dust kittens”
I guess I appear scary
To the children
When they catch a glimpse of me.
Not my fault!!
Every time I come out
From under the bed
The “dust Kittens”
Come along with me
making me look
large and unshapely.
I have a simple request:
“please clean under the bed”
That will take care of the “dust kittens”
And, I hope, my scariness.
Oh, and kindly use a soft mop
Those brooms hurt.
John G. Lawless
©5/10/2023
LOVE MAYBE KIND LOVE MAYBE SWEET
BUT WHEN IT GETS DEEP DOWN IT CAN KNOCK YOU OFF YOUR FEET
SOME DON'T DESERVE IT AND SOME ALWAYS THINK IT IS TRUE
WHEN YOU WANT IT YOU NEVER GET IT
BUT IT COMES TO YOU WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT
YOU CAN FIND IT IN THE ODDEST THINGS
SOMETIMES UNSHAPELY AND UNFIT
BUT WHEN YOU DISCOVER LOVE NEVER LET IT GO
HOLD IT TIGHT CLOSE TO YOUR HEART
PUT IT WHERE EVER YOU WANT
BUT WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T LET IT GO
habituated to joy currents
we encourage bliss magnetism
to dance within our body as it likes
but it's pain that we choose to resist
and therefore feral residue yet remains
within feeble form, as delusion unresolved
just like the unshapely jagged rock
we prefer the river's gentle caress
that smoothens edges over time
minding not laboured breathing
in our decaying organic form
the slow path, definitely
why then complain
14-December-2022
The Shift
The shape that simple.
Not sewn to disguise
the inner person...
Wise in its design,
the unmissable adress
complements the mind,
laid out, informal.
Desire embroider sight
with hidden shape
and curves not known well...
Seamless the shift
from closet mind
to knowing it all-
shifts the childlike heart
from unreal to real.
Rarely left unpicked,
the cotton - on cloth
of an unshapely mind.
Aqua Marine:02/12/2024