Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
~~~


every word I write is a tribute


now listen here,
let's clarify the inescapable,
what this tribute thing means,
cause what I'm doing here,
ain't exactly clear

everything we write,
is only a watery-encapsulated
reflection of our lives,
which of necessity,
will always be messy

what the heck does
this guy mean.
when enlisting
this shady word,
tribute?

at 3:10 in the AM,
tribute is dressed in its
more defy-nition sinister,
a bad news speaking cultural minister,
who never fails us
by reminding,
tribute originated
as the nasty kind:

"any exacted or enforced payment or contribution"

every **** word
that I've written
is a **** tribute,
an exacted, enforced, wrung from,
payment
of a pound of flesh,
Shylock's variety pack kind

I'm not bitter,
a touch angry, perhaps,
even brave, ok, unafraid,
to admit, overall,
got it pretty ok

but that I still struggle
to get that satisfaction,
in everything minute and daily,
the tiny and the tremendous,
the cost production load only goes
unicycle upward sloping,
this crisis crazy we call being
alive,
and to you,
who keys and ken
my meaning well


herein is my good kind side
my paying
tribute
to you, your courage,
even me, periodically,
for awakening and walking
into the unknown outside,
and giving it up
in our travelogue of
shared poetry

5:48am
Jan. 21, 2016
NYC (aboard the stationary bike,
paying tribute for forty years of sinning)
for Joel, for Lesli
It's 23:45 and I'm sitting outside in the rain
It's chilly and this weather makes me want to cuddle
The lightning strikes while the thunder rumbles across my vision
Vivid flashes blind me and in the darkness followed by the bright flash I see you
I see your dark wet hair from after you showered
An auburn red that soaks into my memory
I see the navy blue boobtube dress you wore that day and I remember how amazing your neck and shoulders looked
I see your spine as I remember massaging your back in the softest most pleasurable way just so that you could be comfortable
I see your gorgeous legs draped over my lap as I remember tickling them and flirtatiously pushing your dress up a bit more each time
I see your giggly smile as I presented my hands to you and I remember how you put my hand on your hip And explored the other as if you could unlock all the secrets that lay within
I remember imagining kissing you

I remember each detail of that day just like I remember every single ******* book on my therapist's shelf because it doesn't matter how many time I call myself brave I still can't look him in the face as he helps me to dissect my morbid disgusting insecurities......

I remember how I told my friend that I fell harder for you than standards do at a new years party

I remember telling you my secret.....the one that you alone know on this earth...
What happened to that?
What happened to 'never letting me feel that way'
And I can't help but think that at the end of the day I was just a stupid ******* kid who fell for an amazingly ****** up woman....
And yes I said ****** up
And yes I said kid

I remember the stupid note I hid in your sketch book
And I ******* hope you don't find it
And at the same time I pray you do so that maybe you could fathom the pain you put me through

I remember how the abyss threatened to drag me down as I regretted not trying to kiss you

I remember thinking that I'm willing to dive into the abyss for you.....

At the end of the day I never did jump
I never needed to
Why would somebody jump if they had someone willing to push them
Not the greatest but the purest.
 Jan 2016 Joe Adomavicia
chimaera
As the night unfolds
its quietness,
and distance
is silenced,
and movement
is carpeted
into echoing
rumbles,

a sight unveils
all once blinded
by day light,
by the hazardous
ransom of rush,

and it appears
before me
what lays
within
a trap of sand,
breaking down
the bones of will,
grinding morrow
into the narrowness
of a held back
gesture,

it appears
before me,
naked
like a stillbirth,

my solitude.
29.01.2016
one-sentence poem; a prompt from pw.org
You flew from my side
As if the suns rays
Poured thru my hands
And I forged a cage
For which no free spirit
Dare risk singed feathers

I tried simply to hide
All anguish of days
No way to understand
Containing the rage
For which no real merit
Could cut away tethers

A mere blink of the eye
I saw thru the haze
As you took my hand
Saw fabric cut of age
But it's not fair ******!
Selfless be your measures
 Jan 2016 Joe Adomavicia
ryn
I was a shape in my cosy little shell,
I stayed...
I nestled.
My cookie-cutter thoughts would
occasionally rebel...
And stray to the windows.
But still they were imprisoned by the
walls that surrounded.

I would steal bashful peeks
out a window.
I'd let my senses take unrestricted flights,
as I stared into the grandeur of the carnival
that seemed to have sprouted overnight...

Just beyond the confines of my home.

"What a marvellous circus!" I'd think...
I'd gawk with child-like adoration
and never blink.

The universe lay sprawled
in a celebration of systematic chaos.
It stretched far into the horizon...
A delight to the senses,
perceived through such young eyes.
The world had told me stories.
They were like fireworks
that speared up to the sky.

I wanted to be a part of the jubilee...
I longed for the validation of my existence.
I wished to claim the gift of life bestowed upon me.
I'd resent being held hostage by my indoctrinated ignorance.

I was a shape.
I knew I was a square.
I knew I had a home...
But not within those four walls.
Simply because...
My heart wasn't there.
There are still
people in the
World
With
Clean eyes

The people
Who have
A pleasant
Profile

Their pure
Scent is
Another simile
For goodness

I've lost my
Bronze shiny
Anchor

Therefore
Anaforas in
Before spring
Blossoms do
Afloat

Me and you
Are a rolling
Records

Cosily unbound
Wraped around
The ancient aquamarine
Amphoras

As the numinous, dire
Paragraphs of our lifes
Know also of the succulent
Sweetness. Inspiration.
And everything.

I am. You.
Omnipresent

We collide with marvels.
Rainbowy bubble plops.
The world is back again.
Trickeling over tenderly
Undulated membranes.
Also the eyelid seas.

United in the ephemeral,
Ever changing images.

Desire and goodness.
The day and those nights.
Imagined by
ImpeccableSpace
Poetic writer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dark as night it washes over me.
The waves as dark as those of the Styx.
My Achilles heel has become my whole body.
I shall save two obols for Charon
For every step I feel may be my last.
When I said I would take a bullet for you

I didn't think you would be pulling the trigger.
Autumn fades away
Cold air drift in with the snow
Wood burns fire crackle.
Haiku.
© Тадеус 11-6-2015 8:44pm
Все права защищены.
Next page