Sobriquet Apr 23

Throw your line down
and sit with me below,
beside the cray pots and the fish.

remember the gifts the sea gave up
the rocks and stories that made their way into my pockets
for your indifferent hands to overlook on the windowsill.

Throw your line down
beside the crabs and tangled weeds,
and remember a single line
is not enough to tame an undertow
that sings arias to the moon.

One of my favorite things about you Is the fact that I still get butterflies whenever you are near.
Don't mistake my silence as a means to push you away or the fact that
I don't have anything to say.
It's just that I am still in complete awe.
That fluid motion that doesn't complicate anything.
That selfishness that has lost track of exactly where our kisses have landed.
But still craves to have more to compensate where the others have went.
That somewhat nervous jitter that occurs with the slightest touch.
Your mouth crashing against mine.
Lost in a tidal wave of tongues.
Cheeks relaxed in steady current.
There is nothing gentle about how well we conduct ourselves, except in the calm before the storm.
A floodgate of teeth raising in euphoria.
Releasing the echo of emotion felt from one body to the next.
A complete unison of waves lost in gentle current.
Our eyes closed in search of the light seen across the wave of tongues.
Watching it fade to black, soon to reappear.
The light that flashes behind our eyes.
An eclipse of heads following each others motion.
Our ears like seashells, resting along the coast of us.
Hearing the sounds, cleansed in the current of waves.
This wave that longs to be near you.
The complete awe of becoming apart of something more than what's presented.
Although expressed physically.
This depth of emotion swims in schools of love.

tamia Nov 2016

in baler where the sun shines and the waves visit
is where freedom bathes under the blue skies
in the seaside realm of surfing

simple hotels line the shore
where you can run to the beach fronts
after settling in little white rooms,
and in the blue water
wait tanned, youthful surfing instructors--
local boys of the province who've grown up
with the salt water as their playground.

get on your surfboard and
join the waters,
"mag-timing ka sa alon,"—
"wait for the waves", the instructors say
and lie down on your stomach on the surfboard,
and when you do get the waves you ride them fearlessly,
you are lifted, invincible,
by the hands of the philippine sea.

and if you don't surf,
the smooth sands are there,
calling you to lie around
under the seaside sun.

and when night falls
and the waves are reckless,
you can sit on the sand
with a bonfire and some drinks—
watch the stars
with the sound of the tides as your music
and do not fear;
for in the morning
the waves will come rushing
back to the shores of Balers
to give anyone freedom
as they always do.

Baler, Aurora—a beautiful province in the Philippines known for its beautiful oceans, a place where surfers and everyone else come to ride its waves.
Jordan Fischer Sep 2016

I wrote previously about the electronic implications on the written word
But the smoothness of this pen upon paper has made me neutral on the subject
It's insanely intoxicating when your words flow onto the paper just as they do from your mind
But, death has a way of bringing you back to reality
A birthday, In which the birth boy has passed
Twenty four red balloons, caressed gently by the wind as they are carried beautifully skyward.
Red of passion
Red of love
Because twenty four is infinite
Also is the love and the friends you left behind
But we love you,
I love you
And we will forever follow you
Upon these rising currents
Like those twenty four red balloons.

I float on crackers
Adrift in a red sea
Toast and tea
Butter and sugar

You would be
The briny fish
Pickled silver
Vinegar and bones

We drift together
Where currents lead
Slowly winding
Sweet and salty

I had posted this before and didn't feel it was quite finished. Here is what Untitled became. Still not sure about the title, does it suit?
Casey Carter Feb 2015

I've given birth to many things
Cloudy nights, slanted rays
Set ways, uneven days-
Wet it, let it
Permeate its hues-
Like rock 'n' roll
from the womb of the blues

I got a whiskey-drinkin' woman
She waits for me around the bend
Starts harvesting the plants
Now, whenever I drop in
We both play mute, 'cause we know
Where glowing fingers of the fire
play blown wood, like a piano

I've given birth
to birds and snails
Solar systems
that have failed
Let it pour, let it roar
and pay its dues
Like rock 'n' roll
from the fertile
womb of the blues

Currents © 2013, Casey Carter
Casey Carter Feb 2015

Like love
Is indifferent
To race, color or age

I see upright monkeys
With honed, lunatic, pestilent
Around endless corners
living out-
and hosing down somberly-
Frequency dreams
Battery life sputter drains
that whip with sardonic torment-
Beat with blood-bathed smiles
Laughing to slow vertiginous rhythm
in captivating faces

Take, take, take-
To receive such
an empty promise

And I've lost interest
in this silent war
We've constructed
so dizzily

Currents © 2009, Casey Carter
Casey Carter Feb 2015

To see the abnormal in the usual
To spy a quaint sliver of seperation
A stutter of fluidity; fluidity primary
The unknown subjection personified

These idealistic constructions forever permeating
Where currents join in twitching pools, swaying
to let their particles cloister and vibrate with
infusing spasms that dispel and attract-
Creating the magnetism of substance

Blank resound bliss
Drunk on a thousand drops
Vindicated from a thousand poisons
at grid dot
Flowing invoice implode
All afterward foreshadowing
Being this precursor

Not an equation to be witnessed with
the surgical pangs of intellect

None of this
Something ness

Of the womb sea
Blank resound bliss
without tributaries
though sensing its leaks
After Big Bang of suitor system silt
Wanton to multiply
Rabid and violent
In conquest
of joy and earth

What I bring to light
My depths are dark
Empty is the surface
Empty is my sleep

Currents © 2013, Casey Carter
Casey Carter Feb 2015

In the dawning
Of the morning
All is well
And the pieces
Of the night
have all but fell
While the sea gulls
Pick the oceans'
Shorelines clean
I rise
From a dream
To a dream

Is that a wave
Or a thought
Is that a universe
Or a shell
What you have bought
You shall sell
And all I see
Has an abstraction
It seems
So I rise
From a dream
To a dream

With the death
Of the day
Sprouts the evening
While the clouds
Flash and spume
I whisper of my love
And my hating
So I seek the caress of the womb

Is that a wave
Or a thought
Is that a universe
Or a shell
What you've bought
Don't think you won't sell
All I see
Has an abstraction
It seems
So I rise
From a dream
To a dream
So I rise
From a dream
To a dream

Currents © 2013, Casey Carter
Casey Carter Feb 2015

I Am-
I am-
A jigsaw puzzle
Laid out before
A drink of water
Watch me
Reassemble my selves

The contradictions
The contrasts

I am here-
I am there-
I am nothing-
So very empty and alive-

I am a tree
Perfect and formless symmetry-
Growing in every direction-
Yes I am-


Currents © 2013, Casey Carter
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