#askew
Always different but somehow not new
That's the only way I can frame this walkthrough,
The day to day I walk through
To look through these eyes is not something I'd wish on any of you
At best it's glitchy level design, I can't get a map I don't fall through
Worst, this is all predestined,
like wrestlin',
Every blow right on queue
A nonconsensual change of view
Not only but mostly due to the view of what relentlessly plays out in the minds eye,
A prisonesque venue
I didn't use faulty glue to put this mess together,
Who would choose this to turn into?
Nobody buddy,
Bad seeds planted in toxic soil is why this shiit you see here grew
This isn't the standard "good plan gone askew"
This miniscule piece of timeline was doomed from debut
In every story there's never enough time to repair before I will predictively have to leave you
At least according to the solo read through
Please forgive me for I loved you the only way I knew how too
My "how-to" example did more damage than I could undo
This is already more than anybody expected me to amount to
These aren't woven excuses, this is off the cuff, from the heart impromptu
I just want you to be the one who doesn't see me like they do
I know that's a lot of me to ask of you
©2024
Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 6:01 PM UTC
my hidden shames
are an excellent source of moral fibre,
nurturing, but not nutritious.
we coexist in a quiet
mutual acknowledgment,
coexisting but un-categorizable,
nonetheless,
among my oldest cohorts,
their singular coordinated characteristic,
they are mine alone,
not meant to be shared.
But they will someday
make an excellent poem.
Mon jan 2 2023
6:47am
@here
———————————————————-
the askew
are my oldest companion,
dating back to my naissance,
faithful, eternal, but single-minded,
with a rueful sense of humor,
of course,
refer to my relatively plentiful hairs
inherited from my mother’ genetics.
a morning chore,
to return their antics
to an adult,
dignified pose,
plenty sufficient to be be brushed,
straight back,
the preferred orderly compose,
of older men
who cannot waste time
with foolishness,
the excessive vanities of
curls, parts and pompadours,
and yet,
every day they wake me with
ridicule, mockery, by presenting
themselves.to me,
as if electrocuted,
each
hair raising itself
pointing to the heaven,
whence
their true Creator resides.
no amount of product
persuasive,
they do what they must do,
akimbo, askew,
with inordinate amount of
malice aforethought and
a venomous sense of
hairy (and now hoary)
absurdity .
a splash of water,
a handful of rigorous brush strokes,
returns order
and the pretense of a serious mien,
an adult demeanor.
But their purpose accomplished,
they have reminded me of the
absurdity of human vanity,
to humble myself
before forces
more powerful
than human self-aggrandizement
by accentuating
our human foibles.
7:13am
same time & place
——————————————-
morning prayers are
always
a trilogy
the rounded evenness of three,
provides the necessary gravitas
of sufficiency,
three being
not too short,
not too long,
not too quick,
just three right,
to impart
the seriousness
of gratitude
for having gained
another day upon earth,
with it,
many multitudes of
chances to share
thankfulness,
kindness,
yes,
& love too,
and to write,
one more poem
encapsulating
all of the above.
7:35am
same day
same place,
same cup of coffee
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 9:17 AM UTC
I had forgotten how it feels to be touched by you
You left my heart broken and mind askew
The longingness to see you
For eternity and eternally, or just seconds, few
I, henceforth remained unbothered and sad,
Even in a gala milieu!
You came back by a whisker and feelings, see through
And asked me to gather something new and old , something borrowed and blue
I felt some jitters and saw love inked hues
I felt so lost when it should've been good in lieu
Then one day you woke up and away you flew
You told me it's over, out of love, you grew
I then remembered how it feels to be hurt by the cruel,
I then learnt, love leaves you unscathed and glad, if true
And seems precious than any material, money or jewel
You will find it in the world, first find it in YOU.
May 10, 2022
May 10, 2022 at 11:57 AM UTC
the silence will shock and the world will rock
when we all can go out and play
the world will be new and a lot less askew
so **** it and stay out all-day
Brian Hill - 2020 # 235
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 9:16 AM UTC
what is happening
has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion
has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb
has the moon imploded
crumbled
fallen to dust
I realize not
and yet
the world seems askew
out of sync
I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity
my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend
my thoughts are confined
within this realm
and so
it continues
the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists
and I wonder
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Gladiators wear
a twisted smile
More than a
little bit askew
The snarl of
disdainful contempt
and the optimism
of the eventual win
For him it's just
another judgment
day again
Confident in the outcome
His preparation is for war
Knowledge of the victories
triumphed in before
Behind the stoid steel facade
He glares upon the prey
Another snarling man
who expects to win the day
The adversary also
He wears the twisted smile
Expecting that
the man He sees
is another man whom
He will slay
For every day is
judgment day
again.
-R.
(10.17)
-LA
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
True love poetess
A little nostalgia lost
Girl on the picture!
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.
Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.
Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.
Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.
Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It ***** It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my **** Lord Love-a-duck.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
Foggy perception
Tenebrific moments
A long tunnel of
Uncertainties
Makes journey’s askew
So near, yet, so far
Never ending maze
And a blinding haze
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
You've always meant more to
I,
Than I to
you.
And that's what's led us
Askew.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Which soul of things
dispute me?
Each slit or crack in the street
has their soul in me
the flower is I,
the mouth that speeks, the feet tied
all escapes are I,
what disputes tonight my soul?
a horn or the adventure
the cat who crosses the bridge
under the silver pond
the meat, the weaving material
in each sniff I think,
with the sweat I love,
your life deserves a dead soul
that I may dwell
Being small
without explanatory words
we were the curtain closed
the **** of my mother
and it would seem that soul
enters a woman
that turns …… when seen
like losing a coin
She inhabits all me
I am she
as decomposing meat
between us
ships, trains and horses
already vanished
how many souls will have ******
her breath
while wandering through my body
in the leaves of the trees
each
trembling with their own way
Of thinking me
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC