st64 - Hello Poetry

st64 Nov 2013

nothing like unsmoothed-potential
handed out
by
the dense-influence
of
libraries

1.
symbiosis personified within
the heart of libraries
where tomes could be spilt
in split-seconds

2.
staked into the other
like a dove-tail joint
yeah, I'll smoke you yet
on a day beneath a sun-trilled tree

peanut-butter sandwish on a windy-day
hm.. ain't nada like libraries
as fine-shelter
for fretted-shoulders*

S T - 14 novice 13

oo-wee.... put your head on my shoulder.. the things one can learn in libraries..
w-wot-a-day!

sub-trench: oo-wee!

oo-wee, indeed..
all eyes fall upon a greenish-figure
whose eyes sit on scales of half-shed mediocrity
balance, balance to the left, now to the right
tip-tipping the weight in favour of the duality
on an unending highway
to
the unexpected

and yes.. that highway..
ah well, never mind!

best grab-a-book and stuff me mug into it :)

st64 Nov 2013

Once I Dreamt I Was the Snow - Siv Cedering Fox

Once I dreamt I was the snow
that covered all the town
with a comforter on each roof,
a blanket on each lawn.
I let a white cat of snow
stretch on every branch,
each berry got a hat
as soft as wool,
and inside every silent room
bells were ringing WHITE,
WHITE, WHITE, WHITE.

*by Siv Cedering Fox

Siv Cedering (February 5, 1939 – November 17, 2007) was an award-winning Swedish-American poet, writer, and artist. She occasionally published as Siv Cedering Fox.

st64 Nov 2013

piece of blue sky

my piece of blue sky
and I'm so thankful for your kindness
to include me
at all

there's nobody I'd rather see on this globe
than the presence of you
and boy, do I sense you!

my beautiful piece of blue sky
tucked inside somewhere
only the still cirrus-call
can feel

S T - 13 novs 13

oh boy, wot-a-day!
fine and finer are thus.. nearly newborn :)

sub-entry: surprises

though hardly a fan of it
I daresay
the world sure has a way
of sliding
sweet-surprises!

st64 Nov 2013

twin-seal

r EVOL ution
uncoils slowly by the fire
pondering of profound-flickering in the reverse-sparks
within the pupils of shifting-light

1.
love(r) dips deep within a hardy fire-maker from another sky
body recycled and soul carried on
mind unlike any other
it’s simply a matter of Time.. holding that rusty-key of long ago
entrusted to a cavorite-place behind silent-wells whose treadle-functions heaven forgot

2.
yet what counts highest sits on a ledge of paradox
as happiness falls short upon the threshold of *fornever and never after

there are tumult-fears to overcome
and it needs time, once again
as hearty does beseech temporal-cogs to ensure one full revolution

thanks are not enough for things that words fail to express
no specific thing to pin-point
of the immense power the discharged-missile holds
who is ever the same person in the marching of months?

3.
exponential growth is combustion understated and surreal-excitement catches
to find traction in the whistling wind.. only a quarter-whisper away
it has instead.. been phenomenally unreal

.. can't explain it
.. won't deny it

4.
the full idea has near-outgrown its twin-seal flanks
that choices came shaking.. aghast and
dripping its magenta-fury in heavy-drips upon the sand
                                                                                                        half-spilling lava-filled cups of ire
near the camp-side
grabbed it by the lapels

shaking – I love you so
now, why can’t you say it?
why won’t you declare it?
what holds your yellow-*** back so?

5.
there's a power-burst in the trajectory-whirligig here..
can’t be stopped, won’t be stopped

burnt offering rises up in a scathing-hiss

  and exudes such a sweet-cleansing

   of

semi-cinnamon and subtle ginger

and.. love is but a word whose letters
lie
in the sand

S T – 11 nov 2013

so, yeah.. that’s about the size of it.. lol

sub: none

none of loss
in moult of moments
let go
to see the new

st64 Nov 2013

not fade

a dragonfly settles slow on languid-fingertips..
can they smell my heart melting?
there’s a super-cracking inside this geyser
soon to crack some more

1.
I hold a tree inside my palm
you can’t actually tell where its roots really grow
veins don’t fade easily.. just the eye won’t see it

blackest bull-dogue waits behind the silverfish-caravan
who the heck knows why it waits in saliva’d-chains
but it lurks there, in silent-rancour

one eye flicks inwards and gets inverted
licks at all the flies inside
there’s a buzzing to be *felt from miles away

touch-tone insignia keeps calling and calling
screaming off its ugly provided-head
demanding eye-scales which cannot fall

black-stockinged nuns profess utter-diligence to duty
hide their want within the deep-wells of darker-veils
while rosaries are fever-fingered with reverence

keep swinging that twig under my scissored-wishes
you may just miss once
and catch my whirring 'copter-feet

2.
man, if you jump high enough and not fade.. away
you may never have to feel that wicked-thud of landing
one click onto the nebulae and you’re truly home

at the young boy’s feet, they lie
a host of little beings.. not breathing
that jokers cannot understand

as sang in epic-tunes of yore
better to burn out than rust
stay forever young..

reach out with seeker-arms in pin-striped shirt
yes, push mercy down upon its sweet-cheek
and sense the reek of discontent in neat patterns.. waiting to fall
no use looking at poverty crying for a way out as blood runs down its head
tell yourself it’s only paint.. meant for a well-researched lesson on another day

pick up your chair, poet.. and ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnn!!
while feathers fall onto the heads of sinners who sack the fading light

and mind you don’t trip on your way out
your head..

aches

S T – 4 nov 13

never quit.

st64 Oct 2013

ab-struck-shin

sense is seen
when scents on scene

1.
jaunty-laddie walked and grabbed the sun out the sky
hid it leisurely in his back-pocket
while the candy jumped out the sweet-jar
and the farmer fed the dog to the food

2.
an elm-tree nearby coughed nervously at the encroaching-air
as the letterbox chatted lively to the ivy-hedge
the wind popped by and whistled out a papery-sigh
that the clouds caught and flung into a blue swing-lasso

3.
working out moves in ab-struck-shin
sweaters and jumpers* at the local gym got all scratchy
and went on strike to protest against the über-cool fridge
and gravity took a break
and we all
flew
a way..!

woof-woof

S T - 26th of October, is it?

spot of facetious ink :)
when the world takes a healthy-break .. much of good doth come.. and larfs ensue :)

sub-entry: paint

bird flew high
so high..

the wind came by
and blew off
all its paint

its feelings got so hurt
it flew higher still
off to Arcturus
36.6 light years away
where candy-souls reside

st64 Oct 2013

asleep

gently fall now
go to sleep . . . go to sleep
it's what you want, anyway
too witless
to see what tumbles into your mind
when your psyche decides to take that funnel-trip
into the curlicue-recesses you hate to find

there, on the edge of your ear sits a world
some troglodytes wait to inhabit

two inches deep into the toe of a steep-mountain
waits a hirsute creature to unlock your marsh-dreams

outside the bulge-belly of your *sick-and-*******-fat judgment
stands an accosting evangelist to sort out your lovely-list of sin

a reticent boy reaches out to catch the flying-thing
between his fingers, he can feel the pulse of fright.. and he lets go

beyond the bland-sidelines of a mall's congested parking-lot
cries a pimply-teen, snotty-tears: get the hell out my head!

adolescent-parents make latent-choices born of lack
baby gets a cig-burn and unexplained accidental head-fall

a sufferer battles to survive the output of night-riding fiends
yet scoffs heartily at their existence in broad day-stacks

brother gabs to brothers, finds poor-sobriety in parochial world-eye
och, no matter - let little sister (s)weep succint-harmony

an unsettled-recoverer spits feverish some colourful flasher lingo-gobs
as nobody knows what threat he carries in his hacking-chest

busker-dreamer-***-star plays and plays to no-pay café-audience
it's called street-corner blues for those in the know

an ageing-dame tarries departure, yet smiles genially at all her guests
****, but are these flippin' noisy folk really related to me?

uninvited chap with wily-scythe comes by to help out some
only the sick can smell the rotting-book of his gaunt-art

there awaits a pestilence within dark-cartwheels you can't see
well, all because you're too blasted-blind to lick that-a crap-wax out!

(mind so asleep)

wake . . . UP...!

guess not, huh?
wait then.. until that moonlight slants your way again
and then, guess whose mind will be sweet-milked
and your fine-assurance be stunning-hostage
as you shut-down wide-open thoughts
the things you close debate on
in the dayyyyyyy-time..
better be ready
to daydream
into your
self

how elegiac a tribute then
to
the unwoken..

tất cả chúng ta ngủ..

S T - 25 ox-axe

axe ****** judgment of others..!

yeah, I think.. tonight - I'm a-gonna HOWL at that silent, mocking moon.. wake up all them sad and lonely-monsters inside.. I mean, who do they have to talk to.. ??
ok, relax.. joke!
ha ha, said the brown-cow.. mooooooh..
or.. I'll just smile politely.. again.. and wink at the night-sky :)

sub-entry: when

when will we wake up
to see
that the world is NOT
what we think it is
or what we see

when will we
wake UP..
and see that
the cloak is
so
heavvvvvvvvvvy.....

(nice self-imposed penalty.. just nice)