Long Slip in Poems
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Dear God,
I wish to complain,
for the pain I have had in your name,
as the Master of all
it is really your call
to ensure that our life’s not in vain.
We believe you say “don’t live in sin”
but your actions leave you on a limb,
as example to all
all the things I recall
that you did made pure evil slip in.
Tell why you let my daughter die
tell why you removed my right eye
and to add further pain
just what was your game
when a cataract you then did try.
Oh I nearly forgot you decreed
and with cancer you planted the seed.
Did the piece of my arm
they removed to save harm
give Celestial pleasure indeed.
Thank heaven(?) for my fellow man
who has helped to preserve what I am.
For your every sick deed
to make my pain your creed.
was defeated in no way ‘you’ can.
So really as ‘Master of All’,
I’m complaining that you make the call
to treat all Mankind
in a way that’s not kind
with the things that on us you befall.
I would ask that you soon mend your ways
and listen as everyone prays
for a chance in this life
to be free of strife
and let all of us all see better days.
Dear God,
I worship your name
for helping me bear all the pain.
As the Master of all
it is on you that I call
when I feel that my life is in vain.
Although sometimes, I fall into sin,
it is you who then guides me within
and helps me recall
that there’s goodness in all
if you don’t let the evil slip in.
As my child’s loss made me want to cry,
in the pain as I lost my right eye,
when cancer found me
as they cut it free
it was your love that helped me get by.
And then when I near lost my sight
as a cataract gave cause for fright
with you ever near
I faced all my fear
as you helped the doctor put it right.
Thank Heaven for all of your care
that has helped me, my life to repair.
For whenever I’m sick
or I’m beat with a stick
it is then that I find you are there.
I worship you, Master of All
and will follow wherever you call
as you guide Mankind
from the evil we find
and on us all your blessing befall.
I know I should follow your way
and ask for the strength when I pray
to live good and true
and be more like you
from your pathway I never must stray.
Ivor G Davies
I splash my ideas onto a canvas of creation.
Creativity seems to run off of the painting
as I try to rush perfection.
I feel the stress of procrastination
placing its weight on my chest.
Drops of craftsmanship fall from the edges,
being destroyed by the harsh impact with the ground.
Stress turns to regret as time
escapes me more and more.
Pressures of failure squeeze my head
and puncture my thoughts.
I cannot handle the weight anymore.
Stress crushes the easel of my mind,
causing it to collapse.
The contents of my brain burst
from the severity of the fall.
Everything has failed.
I have failed.
My mind has failed.
I try to scoop what I can save back
into my skull but,
it all seeps back out through the cracks.
I watch as all I have worked for drains
out of my head into the mouths of
stress and pressure.
I run my fingers across my scalp and
feel the cracks close up,
leaving my abilities to die.
I stop feeling the cracks.
My fingers slip in between chunks of my hair
and cling to it.
I widen my eyes as I attempt to pull
my hair out my head.
Pain shoots throughout my body,
stinging my retinas and burning my head.
I stop feeling the cracks
because all I can feel is the pain.
I want to give up.
Give up on creation.
Give up on trying.
Give up on pulling my hair.
But all I can feel is the pain stinging,
burning, and laughing at me.
I watch as I float away from my mind.
I watch it get consumed by monsters.
I stop pulling my hair and
fall back to my mind.
Pain still boils my heart as I
watch my mind get consumed.
Tears attempt to sooth my pain but
dry up short of the source.
I reach for the tears but only get failure.
I reach again.
Failure.
I reach again.
Nothing.
My tears soon turn into sadness as
failure accompanies my procrastination.
I want to kill failure but
it’s too strong.
I kick at it.
It breaks my legs.
I swing at it.
It bites off my fingers.
I feed it conventions.
It vomits them all over what I have left.
I give up and scream for mercy.
Failure laughs.
Stress pulls my hair.
Pressure breaks my bones.
I try and try and try but failure
eats my soul.
Form:
I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.
As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.
My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.
As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.
As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not,
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
pain-free.
*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."
I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.
When mum would talk to other folks about her family,
She’d always speak particularly proudly about me …
Of how I’d gone to grammar school, my bookish ‘steel-trap’ mind.
To hear her, you would think I was a boon to all mankind!
It should have made me happy to have such a super Mum …
So why did I feel sheepish, and fat, and gross, and DUMB?
Why could I never say to any person how I felt,
Or tell them how I wished the ground beneath me would just melt?
Could it have been because I sensed that, under Mother’s pride,
The plain unvarnished truth was, she was never satisfied?
Did she feel that I’d let her down by being fat and clumsy?
Or was it that I loved my Dad more than I loved my Mumsie?
For, truth to tell, that was a fact. For all she wished it other,
I loved my father in a way I never could love Mother.
I do know she was jealous of the love between us two …
She let it slip in ‘chance’ remarks such as “Who’d look at you?”
“Your skirt’s too short!” “You’re much too fat!” and far unkinder slurs.
She saw me as a rival for his love, that should be hers.
She never learned the secret. No, she never found the key –
That he loved me just as I was, not “How I ought to be … “
The tragic thing was, we loved her in just that same way too.
We tried to show it, but poor Mum could not believe it true.
So, after all, it wasn’t me who wasn’t good enough –
No-one could satisfy her, not a soul could measure up.
For Mum had never loved herself: she’d never felt worthwhile.
That was the truth behind the boasts: the tears behind the smile.
She couldn’t let herself be loved. She never could perceive
True love can never be possessed, but it must be received.
I feel so sad to think of how she wasted her whole life
Pursuing love, in such a way all she could cause was strife.
By fighting hard to keep us, she was driving us away.
If only she could let us go, perhaps we would have stayed …
But now I am determined not to make the same mistake.
From now on, I shall give love, and accept love, but NOT TAKE!
I sit here and think about all that was said
About my life in general and when we’ll be wed
But confused thoughts still drift in and out
They swirl and dance in my conscience and come in and out
I think about what all that he’s told me
Fantasize about building our own Christmas tree
Raising our children in a family-filled environment
About holding you in my arms and smelling your scent
All the laughs we shared and the dreams we discussed
And how your gone and my world’s left in nothing but dust
I want to touch your skin and reassure you are there
About feeling your fingertips running through my hair
The best feeling alone is thinking of you
And being fulfilled that our dreaming is true
Lying beside you every night by your side
Not rushing through life and just letting it glide
On our days off you teaching me to work on a car
But losing sanity slowly when I think about how you are so far
You’re the other half of my brain when I can’t think
I talk to you when I am about to completely sink
I wonder sometimes if you feel the same
I wonder sometimes if I’m the one to blame
It hurts so much to know you’re not there
Stuff comes to realize how life isn’t always fair
Your gentle voice softens my beating heart
But still I know right now we’re still apart
Help me come to terms that right now I’m alone
Help me to understand that I’m not just your drone
Make me realize who you really are
And help me understand that your not really that far
Thank you for everything you’ve helped me realize
Thank you for letting me win the biggest prize
Thank you for being just you that I am proud of
Thank you for not letting me slip in the mud
Thank you for keeping my head held up so high
Thank you for finally making me try
I can’t wait until I am in the shelter of your arms
Thank you for keeping me inside your dreamy charms
Most of all thank you for all that you do
And thank you for being so wonderfully true
For that reason alone I will always keep you within my heart
Basically, for the most part, keeping me smart
"The White Noise Bukowski"
Dreams
are playing fields
where scenarios
can be altered
at the whim
of the voyeur.
sometimes
“they” come to you
in dreams
and your time
is manipulated.
“they” reveal
their messages.
soul to soul.
blue avians
like singing
blue birds,
they come anytime,
not just nightly nightingales.
they slip in,
hovering over your
secret time,
singular or plural.
there is always
some ulterior meaning
in the rhyme,
in which they
turn your channel on,
express themselves
to you, Bukowski -
they visit you,
in the white noise.
the blues bring it on.
tall whites whisper
in your glazed glass mind.
visions not nearly clear,
seen for what they
really mean.
levels of descent
are freedom of will.
mistakes and errors
are necessary,
for novitiates
to elevate.
what’s the point
of the make, if not?
shades light and dark
blend complimentary
taken to shape,
the elongated decisions
for you.
you sometimes hesitate,
you sometimes wake,
before the message
comes in clearer to you,
breaks the forward way, for you;
when you’re
the one holding the key
to the gate, in dreams -
'tis your choice
to turn ignition on,
salute ignorance
turn your back
on what was,
take the risk to
dive off boards you
walk daily
in repeating grooves,
change up to 5
targa gears.
transition rough
or smooth;
warp speed
recommended,
for successful
take off.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
gvlm
"Above the vault over their heads
was what looked like a throne of lapis lazuli,
and high above on the throne was a figure
like that of a man.
I saw that from what appeared to be his waist up
he looked like glowing metal, as if full of fire,
and that from there down he looked like fire;
and brilliant light surrounded him.
Like the appearance of a rainbow
in the clouds on a rainy day,
so was the radiance around him."
merkaba.
"Blue Bird", Bukowski.
Oooh, Andrea, can we take a walk,
because my time is passing
and we need to talk.
Seems the days grow shorter
when the ice melts in
And we don't know if we're gonna fall in.
But there's a place we can go
the same old yard we both know.
And the rivers are divine,
you can love the world...anytime.
Oooh Andrea, we need a break
withe people rushing, I can't slip in
But if I hold you close, then I know
we'll make it to the next show.
And I will be with you
and both of us can't wait.
By the shores of destiny, by the indigo of fate.
Oooh Andrea, if I said I was wrong
could it make you see?
All the joy. you give to me.
Bringing home a loving gift,
to the last I'll ever kiss.
My heart, my soul a peddler's treat,
for the world itself to feast.
Be then to me, a lasting note,
of sipping drinks and Christmas snow.
I heard the sound of fading doe, and Ray and me.
So hard it was to eat the dirt,
the peasants tilled; for what it's worth.
And now my sins be washed in blood,
and now my mind be drowned in flood.
Elijah the earth, the crop to be sown
when the grimmest nuances are left alone
Begone and steal away some grace
and kiss the memory of her face.
Begin again and all we've done
is passed in time and lost in fun.
To saturate a living a dream
and crush the last word.
We sit afloat our tropic boat
and think we're never heard.
The type is set at zero
and the fall is set to find
a way to get through the mountain,
so we don't have to climb.
It's the way that we sit awake,
the way the words still rhyme.
Like a flowered bird in paradise,
a maiden on the Rhine.
Photographs of the lillies,
pictures of us all.
the projections of our vision
until we break the wall.
Just roll your eyes like you used to
and fly like we are one.
Grip the sighs and the gleaming
of the crystal light to come.
To saturate like a raindrop,
and melt into the breeze.
While we sit idle by the fire,
all in vain: we freeze. We freeze.
I've got a medicine cabinet
doubling as my bedside table
to where I'm able
to store my Bacardi white rum
in case I wake up
teary-eyed and screaming
in the middle of the night
from a dream
I wasn't preferring
My heart's a shot glass
that no one wants to take all of
so they sip me
and I burn them mercilessly
leaving little time in this
'pour me another' romance
for intimacy
So if a shot glass cracks
as it struggles to keep up
with the names
to the all the lips it touches
does anybody care?
Or is it just
a morning after
mindless answering machine message stare
into one more window
that shows fractured life
through chipped glass
And if a shot glass
falls off a table
shattering on the floor
in an empty bar
three hours past cut-off
does it make a sound?
Well
I set my alarm for
four a.m. after a heartbreak
and I put a pitcher to my chest
to check and see
and yes
a shot glass does indeed
scream when it's smashed
But it also has the capacity
to laugh
and it particularly purrs
when it's led
by two loving female fingers
to a VIP room
And later
my body interrogates it
about the experience
because the heart
always feels things
a few seconds faster
than everything else
So a shot glass
glowing alone
on a neon bar sign lit table
is just reporting
the days news
to the extremities
And a pitcher
is just another way
to say
'I'm still alive'
And a medicine cabinet
is just a place
to keep secrets
that keep you that way.
And your body
is only the bridge between
real, emotional, and spiritual
Making alcohol the lubrication
to which we use
to slip in between two opposite lives
And planning to leave one behind
would be like begging
for our shot glasses
to cut our lips
with mis-matched romances
and flowers playing themselves off
as people pretending to be
'forget-me-please's
It's too bad the glass
can be both half
of empty and full
simultaneously.
Form:
The feelings of your fingers deep inside me.
This is the time when our intimacy you can see.
The penetration given by our connection.
Theres never a time our body shows rejection.
How your lips taste on mine
Its ecstasy like doing a line.
When your tongue is what I feel.
Our intimacy is a steal.
When that burst of ecstasy explodes.
It's my turn to reload.
I kiss you on those sweet sweet lips.
As my body begins the thrust of my hips.
I kiss down on your neck, and breath in your ear.
Your body is now ready to share.
Your areola I run between my fingers.
That feeling I feel it, it lingers
I kiss down your body to your hips.
As my fingers slip in between your lips.
Your body full of excitement.
This feeling is an amazing enlightenment.
My tongue licks hips to thighs.
I look up and look into your eyes.
I see the sensation looking back at me.
Just let your body relax and be free.
My tongue touches your sensitive clit.
Some would said these actions are unfit.
I flicker back and forth and feel your body.
Now, your beginning to get soggy.
Circular motions to sensitivity.
This isnt the end to our festivity.
The explosion to my face.
The intimacy I embrace.
The toys come in to play.
The excitement does stay.
Double sided, connection is close.
In our facial expression this we know.
Slow and deep, sensual and intimate.
Our bodies begin to dilate.
Your moaning becomes louder.
Your body I want to devour.
You want more and more.
So faster and deeper to the core.
Your nails down my back.
Holding me tighter and my ass you smack.
You explode and look deep in my eyes.
Sometimes you say it's so good you want to cry.
We hold eachother close and kiss our lips.
Sometimes still with a slow thrust in the hips.
At the end of our connection.
We hold eachother showing affection.
We fall asleep in one another's arms.
Knowing neither of us is in any harm.
"Stepping Stones "
From the mind of a veteran
many demons flow... Not mine specifically. I only flirt with dark places. Like poltergeist and Carol Anne, I don't watch television after 2 a.m. I still remember when the American Flag came on letting us know "This station will discontinue." I fear sitting in the dark with a snowy TV. Two females in a tub full of jelly is not my idea of fun, so I flirt with the scary things veterans have seen but I don't actually pay admission. I'm giving you a bootleg version, never my own.
"Stepping Stones"
A current moving
at river like pace
That's not to say
it's a stream,
but mississippian
by comparison
A firm warning
not to slip in
Coast up stream
like Huck Finn
Each step is treacherous
a floating turtle shell
quite the deception
Some fall for others
to learn a lesson.
Which step to take?
Why do some make it to shore
and others...not so sure.
If I make it, how blessed am I?
I keep looking back
for my brothers who aren't coming
It's about perspective really
On one hand, I'm living in hell
constantly looking back
The other,
My brothers went to war, died, but didn't remain there while I go back every day
oftentimes
in an alcohol induced state of mind.
Their sacrifice should be a call for living but when I answer the phone & say
"Hello, who's this?"
haunting are my images
why doesn't the world follow
Ghandi's blueprint?
Once upon a time, I knew
some men with teenage mentality
They wanted to experience war.
Now they're grown
fighting what can't be undone
That's war’s ugly truth
Isn't it?
Some make it home
still focused on a rising river
that isn't rising.
Looking for a flag
that says
it's safe to turn off
the haunting
The mind of veteran, demons do not go, they're too afraid to witness the things that can't be unseen. Angels always welcome.
Stepping Stones!