In the rust drain,
She sweeps memories,
Revolting white froth,
Effervescent with fast time
and alkaline bruises
too slow to catch up.
On rustic terracotta,
She walks with pricked feet,
That foam, it recurs in tides
and spreads all over
like spilt milk on spoilt food.
And she shoves her bruises,
The nostalgic nightmares
through the drain,
She’ll cleanse her rustic terracotta
But she doesn’t know,
The foam will come again.
The vast and subterranean
depths awake,
An undulating wave begins
to grow,
As tidal currents violently
awake
And stir the bioluminescent
glow.
The hyper- luminescent
sapphire wall
Ascends against the high
celestial sphere,
A fluid, panoramic, sweeping
hall
Where atmospheric shadows
disappear.
Then comes the thunderous,
explosive crash,
A multifaceted, bright
diamond spray,
As liquid glass and ancient
granite crash,
To wash the solitary coast
away.
The subterranean gargantuan dies,
Reflecting iridescent
midnight stars.
The final rush of water slows
its pace
To trace a lace of white upon
the sand,
A gentle, slow, and soft-
unfolding grace
That gently pulls the edges
of the land.
The wave returns to where it
first began,
To heal the wounds of where
the currents tore,
To wash away the heavy
steps of man
And smooth the wrinkled
apron of the shore.
It is sacred rhythm, dark
and old,
A constant breath that never
seeks to rest,
A story told and then again
retold,
Upon the ocean's wide and
changing breast.
The wave is gone, but still the
water rise,
To match the turning of the
midnight skies.
We all know one fact
that Earth is our home,
But why do we do this
and make it to foam?
Earth is our mother
and feeds us with her milk,
But why do we do this
and make it to silk?
We are not her only child
and her only worries
But why do we do this
and make ourselves her worries?
We all knew this one thing
that she is our only way to survive
But why did we do this and kill her
for only us to thrive?
I went to Starbucks this morning,
it makes me sick with regret,
now my morals I am mourning,
And I hate the drink I get.
I want to be more punk,
Minimalist and spikes adorning,
so i ditched all my stuff,
but still get Starbucks, how boring.
I rant and I rave about how i hate the 1%
i say lower taxes and drop the inflation,
But i still get the chai with milk 2%
Raging Waves Hiku 29
white foam floating on shore
raging waves crashing on reefs~
ocean`s wild dance.
The wind moves soft through silver air,
A hush upon the waking sea,
And morning spills its golden light,
On white foam on the bark of the tree.
The waves have whispered through the night,
Their hands have shaped the fleeting spray,
Now pale as ghosts in trembling light,
They gleam and softly fade away.
A moment caught, a breath held fast,
Yet time dissolves what cannot stay,
Like love that flickers, fails, and past
The trembling dawn is washed away.
Oh, let me be as foam so light,
To touch the earth and kiss the sky,
A fleeting thing, a hush, a white
Soft echo as the waters sigh.
(To the tune of “Home on the Range”)
Oh, give me a poem filled with feathers and foam
From a couch that remains on display,
Where, although it was new, it had feathers that flew
And that shouldn’t have happened that way.
Foam, foam made the change
From the pillows where feathers flew free
To a place you can sit for much more than a bit
Without fluff on your tush or your knee.
Oh, how often we try when a purchase we buy
To make sure that it’s just what we need,
But we never can tell from the places that sell
If our comfort will be guaranteed.
Foam, foam made the change
From the pillows where feathers flew free
To a place to relax, good for butts and for backs
And I’m sure the poor goose would agree.
When young, stay in the heat of the foam.
Where both strange things and miracles roll.
Old age is for picking out supple blue pools.
Counting blessings and mincing what's left of the fool-
The foam is where gift, opportunity and temptation collide.
A bit of a pants-pissing red-eyed carnival ride.
The pools can be an offbeat and queasy reflection.
When harpy and angel spar over the ghost of regret.
Stay in the foam as long as the fragile dream holds.
Until bones collapse or you strike a thin vein of gold.
You'll find quiet pools at the end of life's rapids.
Where black scythes collect black back taxes.
Until then, stay in the heat of the foam.
The waves beat at the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
White froth churning
My eyes watering
My throat tightening
I open my mouth
Nothing
Silence
Water blissfully moving by me
The silence so sweet
Yet saltier than the ocean waves
Neverending cerulean blue
Wading through this Atlantic oblivion
Wallowing in these dark depths
Deeper
Deeper
Laughing
Water filling my lungs
Crying
Needing you
Needing just a breath
A breath of your chlorine
Your toxic gases that are so inviting
That’ll save me
The waves beat against the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
The sea foam takes me, engulfs me swiftly
As if it’s last supper
You just watch
You don’t help me
I float among the waves, as they gently touch my shoulders
Their fingers so cool yet comforting
Something I craved
They whisper nothings in my ear
They encourage me to follow their maniacal, repetitive beating against the shore
I can finally let myself go
And let these waves take my hands and follow their peculiar dance
That is so freeing
In this freeing bliss
I can rest now
Not at peace but at blissful ignorance
And the thought that I tried
A building is not a home,
Because it’s got a nice foam:
There has to be some blood ties
One can feel their truths and lies
Or man and woman with rings
That control their reckless wings…
A building is not a home
For looking like ones in Rome:
It has to be rather safe:
The skins there should not just chafe…
You get to like Homes caring:
The best place for child-rearing,
Children strict ideas grabbing
But for soon sniffed ones grubbing…
A building is not a home
For its finished top like office:
The White House is an office
Don’t in your home office fix.
Thanks to the magic of marriage
Had nicely changed Lucy’s carriage
Clearly now, a coming of age;
A new knack for acting the sage…
6:00pm strikes fully at home,
A charming sight on fluffy foam;
White House of a home with its dome!
As she waits, straightens her hair with comb…
For Jim kiss no man can wedge,
Love making that has got the edge,
All-night sex spared displeasing gauge;
They’d go for it with all the rage…
“While Jimmy continues to roam,
He can’t venture as far as Rome.”
When we slough off this mortal coil,
it’s best we die on memory foam,
imprinted on the ones who toil,
the ones stuck cleaning out our home.
H/T to John Grinsell's Thoughts on dying
Form trembles my mind
all matter fads to decay
Empty sense objects
void, hollow, insubstantial
breathes mental impermanence
I noticed, once I closed my deal
That no matter what I chose to feel
Everything is so purple and blue teal, ever since I cried out my fears craving to succeed
I've been swiping for hours but not a single face makes me desire
I go out and kick some street, saw some beautiful angels on a streak
Even though I left out my soul, like the heart that you threw on that narrow road
I've been on that vibe and ain't did nothing wrong here
My momma reached out to me and said look what God gave
Gave the years, the eyes and some golden wings
To cross the sky in a silver lining, riding on my thoughts when you were defining what my year was about in a summary
Not constantly but rather instantly became luxury, with some riches in my body and in my back
I'd rather buy me some new feelings, explore more at night, maybe some parks
But at the end, that Asian girl didn't have the spark
Maybe it was the blonde one that keep seeing from a far
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