#cyclical
Crackling of a flame
Recollection of a name
I peer down,
Each foot is casted in grey
Descending, casting soot
One before the other foot
I trudge along,
Leaving behind a trail of smudges.
Turned to filth as I pace back and forth- and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
Now, my pants are filthied.
Another task unto-
Dusting off hands, washing pants, and mopping floors,
preceding the wonder of taking a chance.
The everlasting dance of too much to do
**** I never cleaned my shoes
1d ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 1:03 PM UTC
My memory is mine alone to keep
A fleeting window into my past life,
The life I still own,
I suppose, my essence to the bone.
When I think about that day,
Surely in May,
I remember him,
I suppose an old childhood friend,
But we weren’t really friends, I knew him for a day
Does he remember our day of play?
We went to play on the street, I'm sure,
Joined a group of neighborhood kids,
Then played hide & seek,
Traveled worlds unknown,
Ate watermelon to the rind,
Fought the ghouls and goblins around every corner,
Jumped rope,
Floated in the air above the trees,
Talked about the live-action Aladdin movie,
Played four square, “NO SNAKE EYES!”
Then, I'm sure, we caught fireflies!
Does this boy, I’m not sure of his name,
Remember this glorious day?
Is this my memory alone to keep?
Why must one bear the burden when two bore its beginning?
His hair was black, I think
His voice was soft, probably
His legs were swift, must’ve been
His words were kind, likely.
A definitive fact is this,
My window into this juvenile joy
Will, surely, one day, fly away.
What brings me solace is this fact,
This boy once knew my name as I did his.
We both shared the same gleam in our eyes,
A connection we knew would only last a day.
Maybe, who knows, he remembers me too,
He carries the burden of this memory all the same.
Regardless, one day this moment will flutter into the abyss of time.
Returned to the earth,
Then to the grubs,
Then to the larvae,
Then to the beautiful fireflies,
Fluttering in the sky,
Just as the ones in our eyes.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 4:47 PM UTC
Life lies in its beauty
Going extinct
Leaving you on your own
And as you escape into another's
Be it torn or silent
An absence of yourself
Connecting on to new noise
Sound loves to interact
Distinct from touch
No permission for being created
Or coming into you
Life continues it's deceit
Beauty escalates
Comforting it's captives
Your attention is drawn
And there upon an unfinished laugh
There going back, after an ended kiss, the absence speaks
Not knowing how to open the present you are takes you home
Having been extinct, you don't have to disappear again
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 8:44 PM UTC
rain floats down here
wishing to be free from this cycle
cycling around in this phase
rain slips through the streets
the first cracks
wish to be told dreams
the second smiles sweetly
hoping to fade away
and reincarnate quickly
this life has treated the rain nicely
yet it isn’t selfless
so it didn’t acknowledge
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 10:53 AM UTC
Love will always be gone,
But never for very long.
In that way,
It's a lot like happiness.
In that way,
It is akin to contentment.
It's just difficult finding it.
Sometimes, it's difficult maintaining it.
In that way,
It is akin to happiness.
In that way,
It's a lot like contentment.
For love is everywhere,
Even if it goes nowhere.
Apr 19, 2025
Apr 19, 2025 at 12:25 AM UTC
Passing through mists ,travelled he deeper into abyss,
Loosing all beliefs ,discovered he the myths.
Situated there the tremendous oak, whose branches laid broke.
Shrouded was every nook, Unbelievable was the look.
To cover the labyrinth, the aim of the oak.
Twenty year old heavenly tree, with no fruit to see.
No bird near it to nap, as it was nothing ,but a trap.
It stood tall with no weight, a husk which gave; no aid.
No shade, no seed, no flower, no feed,
A hollow disingenuous tree, stretching through routes; as it felt free.
‘Never to leave the labyrinth’, was the destiny of the folk.
As beyond the ground, laid a dozen dead folk.
Despised the oak of, the spreading truth.
“Death to doves, who threaten my youth".
Folks believed of changing season,
Hoped men for fruits from the ‘oak of reason’.
Maintained the oak, all they could.
Stacked they chambers, for all they could.
For all they wanted were changing times,
But all they could were changing tiles.
As times changed, and the labyrinth caved.
The new order was played by, plain old slaves.
They called him ‘the oak’, “the protector” they say,
But peel the bark away , and he is rotten as decay.
Crows around, enforced to the ground,
Worked crows for new lords, among new laws.
So called men of holy faith, nothing but folks of hollow faith.
Protected men, the oak from nesting doves,
Promised men it caused “harming sprouts”,
But it just made nestling doubts.
Flying through labyrinth, away from the abyss.
Losing all beliefs, discovered the dove ‘true’ myths.
Situated there the colossal gate,
Of which locks laid in a destructive state.
Shrouded was every nook, Unbelievable was the look.
To escape the labyrinth, was the aim of the dove.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 7:01 AM UTC
Unearthing the dirt
Buried in the heart
Planting a seed
With hope and love
Waiting for it to grow
Into
And out of
It all
Sep 12, 2024
Sep 12, 2024 at 9:27 AM UTC
Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 1:48 PM UTC
Forest floor, underbrush abound;
The light sprinklings of winter found.
Snow kissed scenery, that
Whether cold be dreary
Still seems the more dreamy, than
Tracing each step.
These frigid months of death-
Before life springs back
Bringing fresh greenery
Jan 18, 2024
Jan 18, 2024 at 8:37 PM UTC
Flower bloom, Summer's end.
The past looms, no wounds mend.
Vicinal tomb. Please pretend
All is well, everything' fine,
And there is enough
Time is a flat circle,
Not a straight line...
Seasonal shift. Darkness find.
Self-cannibalistic, sequestered mind.
Life and death, nature's rhyme.
Final breath; peace from mind.
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 11:42 AM UTC
of what is a love poem
for me, to me was
always cyclical
first noun
then pronoun
then nothing
noun loves me,
pronoun loves me not
noun loved me last week
prounoun loves me not this week
noun will love me evermore,
pronoun, poe-no, nevermore
a name is a noun
a pronoun is a substitute
***for matters of love I announce forevermore
only call me by name
no substitutions***
even cycles must end,
only call me by noun-name,
forevermore
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
…and quite becoming, disillusionment.
Old and young children are holding their legs
At the terminal of a new life,
new…
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
I climbed to the top of a mountain
And rolled back down in a barrel of oil
I threw a plastic bottle in the ocean
Just to see what would happen
I visited the tropics, both of them
And littered in each one
I am the creator of worlds
And I am the destroyer
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
Stapled in blue light harmony, I abuse my silence, thinking in a way that could be construed as past tense
Slaved to my sand castles that were taken by waves
I'm a kid on the beach giving way to tourists' enclaves
Seaworthy and daft I **** my own gun, a habit I tell you is nothing but fun
I smoke myself to death on this boat that lies rest to my wake
Waves I've created I tell myself I'm obligated to break
I promise the hinges of my door are stressed for holidays sake, and everybody's got a piece of advice that they need to take
It's always as transparent as wishing on a birthday cake
There is no salvation in my morning slumber, whether I hear birds chirp or horizon rise
Car sounds are just as good of an alibi
As childhood dreams are for validating highs
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 5:35 AM UTC
deep in the pit of my stomach
sits a small but heavy rock.
like water at the bottom of a broken well,
it sits, and sits, and sits.
but unlike that water, it does not evaporate.
It will not evaporate. It cannot evaporate.
the rock in the pit of my stomach sometimes feels like homesickness.
that’s how I describe it:
an intense longing for comfort, for ease,
but no respite in site.
one year ago
i thought i was at the brink of escape.
the rock would escape the well.
i would escape the rock.
i was foolish.
you cannot not run from rocks
in the pits of stomachs
so engrained into the lining
that they are fully a part of
who you are.
one year ago
i thought i was at the brink of newness, freshness, wholesome beginnings
i was to be born-again
i was to be crying, screaming into a new life
i was to be able to breathe without fluids
drowning my lungs with expectations.
life cannot be born again.
life cannot be restarted.
life cannot be a clean slate.
each atom i have is different from the atoms i was made up of last year
but they've seen all the same ****
there is no escaping
there is only moving forward.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
"We'll see."
(Thirty-two team,
two kyoo-bee,
a full-starting
O-, and only
two-guys on D.)
Mixed-media,
played-with, in poetry.
War, on, inside-me.
Implying-unstable, infer-me,
infirm the insane,
afraid,
and a stain,
and-to-blame.
And,
for shame,
part of race, don't,
myself, run-in.
Tryna buy-my-lunch. (&)
Motherfucker's brought a gun-in.
Element'ry school, and all you wonder's where the fun's went. (&)
"Probably in another-empty-bag of
eaten-Funyuns." (&)
Probably, blue-blew fireworks, with fingers-off...
stumped-him. (&)
"Stomped'em."
Wonder, beauty, why you cryin'?
"Wonder,
if you'd drive?"
Bought-in, you did! To
all-I've-said, ugly and
alive-eyed.
"Wouldn't cough too much,
with tube-in!
You're mouth-dry."
Hampton-Beach-power-plant-hug,
July Five. CJD makes-me.
A bad brine, mine.
Another-youngest,
"Brother has died,
blind."
North Hampton,
on the way to
Hamherst-dam.
"Tryin'-man!
Love, the fam.
Will it be too late t'jam?
If I leave, you, now, from where I am?"
I leave now, from where I am. So,
[Leave now!
From: where I am!]
Leave now, "from where?"
(I'm already there.
Or did we come
the other way?)
"I'm getting there,
****
I.
Am.
Despite the **** blizzard.
Why am I afraid to say
"it?"
Like:
"it" isn't.
I'm a Wizard.
Are we set,
now?
On-a-plan?
I'm a lizard,
tail-dropped.
Basilisk-Kenevel,
walking water-cans.
Bet you coulda. Know I woulda.
Puddle-crossed,
"Bye," I ran.
Ogled-over noodles,
with the
"wrong-sauce-
Dan-Dan."
I'm always glad to read you.
Wrote to your-self, I am
THE man, I am
THAT guy! I'm not?
"You are."
Just-High.
I fry.
These-frilly vegetarian-victims.
I ripped flesh from bone, before my dogs,
had to sic 'em.
Oh--
if you don't like the channels you can clickclick-click 'em.
If I'm showing off my ***** "Better go-head."
Lick'em.
See? Hawk-my-cock, and
Stickemmmmmmmmmm.
Didn't happen to 'bic' him."
D'you know
how to pick 'em?
Cuz I take hit, like you
take-a-dick:
Ummmmmmmm
...
well.
And, I turn-it.
All-around.
And I make you
fuck-yourself.
Sucking-on my
"all-that,"
it comes, with.
Now, Fall! Back!
Cell-tough, in round-III, so
convert, or burn-winnin'. "Comfy-
When-sinnin'." In-system,
Preferably would, and should-be:
Bobs. Newhart and Lee and "the
Third. " "Cornball." Griffin.
Racist, your second-choice, whiffin'.
K-battin', ten,
outta-tin.
Hear it in the heat, soul-hissin',
lion-sun, bathing,
and she-glisten.
Cast me, to an
island away,
swears-by-we,
"Listen."
"More pills, son?"
Try'na name
your brand,
Of volley-balls.
Wilson,
Rus-sell
"I call them the
'defensive-stars,'"
And this-league: ***
*** Arr.
Ain't-no-side-
hus-tle.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
I woke up, had ***
I woke up, just one more smoke.
For ‘morrow, I sleep.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
I have one wrist shackled to my watch strap
dragging me to obey the sweeping hands of another
like a traffic cop ordering hours of peaks to start and stop
relentlessly spilling time from a once brimming cup
splish splash out into oceans of flashy imaginings
I need the delicate precision of a jeweller's screwdriver kit
to make sense of the shared purpose of the springs
pushing the wheels to wear green amber red carats
tiny diamonds that aren't meant to sparkle
but sit immovable within sealed circles waiting
in partnership
inexorably waiting
patiently forever for the sun to release its shackle
the chain dripping a ting a ting
from the earth into a new star
winding up the decayed orbiting
to trap the same diamonds on a second
hand swept somewhere afar
and with a roll ex-galaxies expired
their guest president bracelet
their gasped jewelled weight
in loving eyes of liquid gold
not ordering us two
to be a slave to anything
now time shone
free could not be sold
apart ever again
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC