Sockets Poems | Examples

Not Feeling At All Myself Today

I'm not feeling at all myself today—
I see a sea of selfies. 
adrift in a mirror maze,
floating as reflections that are lost 
in a hall of posed intentions.

Each face is a practiced smile.
a seance of polished poses,
looped like circling carousel horses,
whispering secrets they pretend are mine.

I forge new versions of myself daily,
crafted to echo what strangers crave,
me to be, or to become, not what I truly am, 
hiding in the hollow eye sockets of the masks.

As for me, I feel more like I'm becoming.
A be, yet to be; a question still unraveling.
I'm a stem cell of identity. 
Not yet fixed, not yet become,
with a fluid potential to be everything, 
or just a little bit of nothing,
all in the same breath.

My shadow lingers behind me.
Faithful, yet mute, and blind—
unable to speak or swim,
or survive the spotlight’s glare.
It hides my darker inner self from me. 
That none of my selfie reflections, 
in the mirrors ever want to see.

Inherited Jawbones

I’ve taken up polishing skulls.
Not trophies, 
just my kin—
their sockets still 
echoing
what they aren't 
ready to hear.
Though it's only 
what they've said 
themselves.

I never knew 
what reckoning meant
however,
in terms of preparation,
that is, 
my training 
for the abrasing escalation 
of the manner 
in which they've behaved?
That's easy, 

I crack pebbles now,
knuckles before a fight,
teeth on a dare—testing 
hollow sentiments.

It's kept me protected,
but I will say this: 
it hasn't attracted many fans.

Moon And Sea Collaborating

Each pulls the tide in two sockets
Where moon and sea hang like lockets

One friction between two wading bodies —  
The pale head of moon, on cue with sea

The gentler anesthetic of the glass
~Within her encumbered salty past ~

Their flashing eyes in both windswept
Water is who they reflect 

A wavelength's shoulder muscling by —
The catch of forever swimming light
It feels every night —

The morning tears upon us soon,
Eyes on the sea, it's been moved.

Onions

my dear friends,

i am writing to address
a memory of sorts:
a lovely barbecue,
evening, on the beach.

you all brought
ingredients
to pile on my barbecue.

you all brought your onions
your palette knives
your cutting board
and one of you were
cutting onions.
                at the beach.

the juices, they pricked
pricked my sockets for droplets.
oh, it was lovely,
the sizzling crackle of veg.
and i took my chair,
i examined the burns.

the sizzles, the pops, how the knife had painted
the onions
onions!
red onions in the sky .

it scorched my eyes
oh! the taste!
and you were all so thrilled
to share your creation

the meal was fantastic
filling for the night, but for days after
i couldn't rid myself of
onions
without cutting them away from my eyes
so i vaguely remember
in a dream like state,
one of you took your palette knife
and scooped them out for me.
i cried and shook for hours in relief!

and, oh! what a time.
and, oh.
onions.

Dear One

Dragging my pen along the walls of the well,
The ink of meaningful words runs dry,
Blind to who you've become, and serving only to dampen empty sockets,
The misty drops of moments lost become the meaningless tears I cry,
And the blink of the eyeless is, likewise, frivolous nictation,
For it was yesterday upon them your image permanently seared,
And eternity is in the hurt of not knowing what to say,
Since my favorite words fell hopelessly on deaf ears,
And memories fail to give new sights or sounds,
As I look to see you, listening for your story, still,
To reign down the tempestuous quench of stillness,
And let the well refill.

A Radiant Neighbor

Kim commandeers hallway sockets in her high-rise
with a microwave to reduce her electric
bills: frozen dinners cooked outside her apartment.

An icy day clouds the sun seen through a window
of the building. Kim's smile captures the sun
racing across the sky to crack its disc

on her face, her chin and cheeks, a cheese-melted heart.

Lone Mind Got Devastated

                      My mind had a door embedded 
                         with gems of emotion !
                    Through that entrance I greeted you always.
                           Now all gemstones are fallen off,
                    leaving shadow of glaze in empty sockets.
                             You  walked away on promise 
                                to be back by 'tomorrow'.
                            No more to voice my ardent ardour 
                            but to drag dull days on false expectation 
                                  of your so called 'tomorrow'.

A legacy forgotten

Consider my grave your resting place too,
An empathetic soul who rests here.
Worry not poet, it haunts no more,
Covered with maggots, I've rotted here for a while.
These sockets are now emptied, I see nothing to judge.

With my brains swallowed,
I am no critique.
Only bones adorning dirt and bugs.
Justitia, you can call me.
Lend me your ears and I'll spit the truth.

They cherished me when lived, 
Now left in a churchyard to rot and suffocate.
Did I not serve them well? 
Recall the fights I fought, for our pride poet.
Yet, lie here, with mates, died in my lap.

Never craved for this grave,
But a life, unafraid.
Early, wasn't it? 
My beard never turned grey, in fact.
Celebrate my story, in a poem in your next birth.

Horse Color Cannot Be Ignored

Horse Color Cannot Be Ignored

Intentions, cryptic, in pockets.
Fiery darts lampooned in sockets.
The bow is a clue; not a sword.
Horse color cannot be ignored.

Wielding war’s arms, removing peace,
Men turn on each other, decrease.
Burning core, where anger is stored -
Horse color cannot be ignored.

Black as soot; rider holds grub scales
In hand; deprivation prevails.
Looking at the day prices soared;
Horse color cannot be ignored.

O the wretchedness of pale green.
Adds plague and wild animals, mean.
The ark, a save; won’t get on board.
Horse color cannot be ignored.

Last Night 03-11-24

Last night the westerly wind
climbed up the western walls
tearing ivy from its sockets at every meter
to glimpse the eastern dawn.

No Stone Left

Gouge the eyes from its sockets
Grate at the flesh
Chip at the bone
Scrape at the marrow
Churn out the intestines
Carve out the remains
Snip at the veins
Drain out the blood
Hack at the crown
Hollow the skull
What are you hiding beneath all of this?

You Can't Die, If You Are Already Dead

The streets are quiet,
no waves left to break on the shores of the silent,
No blood on the curb to draw the stray dogs.

A stray wind blows through the darkest of alley's
like you it forgets where it was that you came from.
And the boarded up windows watch where it is that you've been.

Death doesn't care about your great name.
You think it was clean—
and as one door shuts, the other never opens.

But the dead don't lie still,
they rattle on in your head
when you bite down on all your immoral sins.

They creep through the purple walls,
Children eating lead paint,
Their brains soft as their forgotten prayers
grey hollowed out eye sockets.

You can't kill any of those dead,
but they can kill you,
if you would only but let them.

Seeking

I am a demon and I want to be better….

The priest stared at the girl
A smile flickered for a see on his face
He grunted a cough

A demon wouldn’t want better -he beamed with exaggerated sense of worth at his answer

She tilted her head up

Her sockets devoid or eyes
Just a black crude pool wisp of greys slithering its depths

I need to be better…help me
A tear trickled her face it course burning the skin
like lightening crackle….

Breathlessness

as your tears form and overrun my sockets
I cry
everything vague as salty dew creep down my cheeks
mascara run down your dejected face
your central muscle beats unforgiving
I deepen my sigh as
I cover your hand with mine
upon your thigh
driving apologetic stares inside you
giving mystical answers to
uneasy questions before being asked
two spirits broken to be mended by faith
healed through truth
we are as one
as you breath inward
I breathe outward 
only to catch each other in
breathlessness...
we are as one

Earth Interval

     Typecast pivot rips past apart
     Scars inflicted by the furnace 
     Scatter derma with war stars
     Astronomy faraway magnifies 
     Little shards of light filaments
     Filtered shadow breaks brittle 
     

     Tucked amongst terra, tubers
     Crowd needy until seeker turns
     Space ahead academy shunned
     Parallel gripped group tightens 
     Outrage stoops, begger’s plight 
     Entombed below fossilised earth

 
     Dust skull sockets consumed
     Grazing on ash grain garbage
     Gamma ray gardener unfazed
     Leans into lambent movement 
     Moonbeam harvest penetrates
     Microscopic split creates twins


     Mind unbound by tribulations
     Scales ether, nova knowledge 
     Constellation inured in growth 
     Reaches for chaos, apex prime
     Shivers bravely beyond Pluto
     Fragility faces future undiluted





      First of October 
        Flying Over

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