#tie
Hold me at the tip of your tongue
And speak not, intimately
In suspension of that trembling scaffold
Lest it crush our unsaid space
Touch me the right way
And say the wrong nothings
That in ambivalence I may stray
To some mistaken grace
**** me over in your dream,
Lay me out, exposed,
And carry out your shrouded theatre
Recompense for your absence in mine
And gently, in your tangled strings of pathos
Tie me at the cusp of your love
Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 8:59 AM UTC
tumbling to the tide
the screams inside won’t die
plucked all the pretty petals
now all i have is vines
tie them tight around my windpipe
tumble into the tide
sink into my sadness, meet divine
this was my destiny, my time
kissing the only memories i have of you and i
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 9:21 AM UTC
It's miserable to see
that a man can dress clean and proper
only to hide the storm
that fills his heart
while the tie is the only thing
he can fix
and the white sleeves cover the scars
that hides thousands of battles
so he can wear the suit and tie
once more
Nov 15, 2021
Nov 15, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
••
__Tied;__
down. To thought,
thinking aloud
in my silence.
Do worry about
your own will;
especially worry
of where it will take
you. Don't be led
to hanging necks.
Picking only wrong
words in life'
game.
But be well fitted
to speak out.
_Down to Earth;_
_on a stepping stone._
_Take heed of_
_this poem._
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 11:21 AM UTC
_She offered to walk in my shoes, but hadn’t factored in the soul-destroying task of having to bend over and tie the laces every morning._
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
Tuck into your suit and power.
Stand tall amongst dwarves.
The ditsy mistress polishes the pleather
Fake sheen, fake ****
Fake smiles, fake gits.
Cheesy grins all round,
Lap up that cheeky cheddar cheese.
Now onto desert.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
They say at the end of your rope to tie a knot and hold on
There is light touching the horizon
But what do you do when your grip slowly slips loose?
When insides of your palms are lubricated with sweat
And the crevasse below darker than a black hole
So much that it threatens to rise up and with one tug take you spiralling downwards to swallow you whole
So instead of making a knot at the bottom of your fraying rope you may as well tie a noose instead
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 9:18 AM UTC
Wearing shoes has always been fun
We learn to tie them and off we run
We run all day and into the night
We have to be home when street light, lights
It always seems that the lights light, too early
Because hide and go seek when its light, is just girlie
Dinner is served when everyone's there
Who's turn is it, to say the prayer
I know it's not mine, cause I said it last night
It's got to be Sis’s, I hope there's no fight
When dinner is done the TV goes on
Or we play family games sometimes time until dawn
We really don't play untill it's that late
I just said that because bedtime is eight...
Brian Hill - 2019 # 273
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 11:17 AM UTC
Woke up Sunday morning
Put on my Sunday best,
'Cause I didn’t want to go
And look different from the rest.
When the meeting was over
Was among the first to go.
Made a beeline home
Put on some comfy clothes.
Every weekday I work
Must wear a suit and tie
Feels so **** confining
It makes me wanna cry
By the time my shift is over
Tell you goodness knows
Can’t wait to get on home
Put on some comfy clothes.
Comfy clothes are great
Doesn’t matter what the season.
Just can’t quite explain it
There is no rhyme or reason.
But if you feel uptight,
Don’t know which way to go,
Things will get a little better
You put on some comfy clothes.
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 11:00 PM UTC
Fear is the trap that confines all
Fear is holding hands with the grim reaper
It will haunt you to your grave
Taunt you in your dreams
Tie you back with the strongest rope there is and the hardest knot to escape from
Fear takes no time to find you
Takes no time to hypnotise you
Distorting your beliefs, questions are all that linger
Yes fear is strong but we go on
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 7:02 AM UTC
Tie me a knot
A knot stronger than the wind
Tie me a knot--
A weapon I will wield
I'll carry it all day
Treasuring the knot you'll make
Walking a mile distance
From the draw out line I gave
Heave it strong and brave
Carefully making connections
Between the rope you made
And the rope I kept
Heave-- tie our ropes
The rope you used to save life
And the rope I used to end mine
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 11:10 PM UTC
cognitive dis
sonnance sonic vibration shaking
the core
of our age
constant hey, hey look this way,
walk this way,
talk this way
bitchnmoan
groan, big stretch intended
to en
velope volve gauge and me
asure real if I can make
my bubble gobble yours,
you're in mine,
your's popped.
It's okeh, I expected you.
I prepared a place, come and see.
you can't go on pre
tending to aim at invisible hope
for things you see, right here.
The end of any mortal moment
is always near. In your heart, you know.
The kingdom of God (a term yet undefined),
if this is a place,
this stack of lines your learning lets you read,
then this is your heart-felt happiest possible place,
sometimes
this is like heaven to you,
after all
is said, and done.
--- that's published ---
a seed
or a flower, or leaves of grass
as good for me to grow on as
any sacred cow,
chewinginging blissish backward belching
methane, to warm the wind,
to ease the groaning from below the ice,
chewing leaves of grass,
as in times past,
when fusions were being warmed
from industrial effort to make the Iron Legged Monster
trample the idea
of calming words easing pain as sure as momma kisses
always did,
when you thought, as a kid and could believe such kisses
evidently worked,
you felt un-pained, the kiss alone could be blamed.
Did you notice? When kisses made hurts go away,
was your attention the price
of the kiss or was it a switch clicked as the lips of another
touched your skin and authoritatively declared,
all's better, and this is the direction
the vector from one remembered kiss of this sort
epigenetic trigger cocked, then pulled
endurance of developing process patterns with all the pieces
scattered
laid out
before our eyes, asif
intended to be seen, pain,
pay attention. Sharp can be evidence of fracture or
proof that whetting the edge makes our shaping
painless on this scale.
Aim at nothing, imagine what you hit. High five,
one hand clapping,
one more way to see the sublime.
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
If you’d like me to,
I would change my world view,
I’d lift back up the veil,
And learn to see in Braille,
I would cut out my tongue
And leave some songs unsung,
I’d go to bed at a reasonable hour
And adopt some face that isn’t sour,
I’d work a nine to five like the best of them
Till the lights inside go dim,
Get a little overtime,
Follow the established paradigm,
It’s not so big a deal,
So I will make no appeal,
I’ll put on a suit and tie
And wait my turn to die.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 5:36 AM UTC
krause asu
AN accident.
That's how, but why?
Many universes, many realities, imaginable
conceivable
how long must one live in a cardboard box
to confess the experienced
boxtime
altered next from then to now.
Copenhagen Calvinist or Lutherin or Anabaptist
holier than I, as was I, as the Hermit hidden
in the fool on the hill,
telling secret meanings to nowhere man, now
here
we're...
touching a time when knowing out paced known
knowables, imaginables were
imagined, not evil, but fine tuned to approach
per fection in effect
what more can I ask? All my debts are paid.
Accidental debt accrual demands accidental debt relief.
Political-lic, that's where my party stands.
Jubilee, nowhere has the ver been
a time like
now. We being at all, as mere words, heard only once,
never uttered
utter non sensed tone tuned to augmented minds
-- bio logic circuit
-- try a spark
Gleam in grandpa's eye, try umph, boy. Better up.
Swing and there is the crack of the bat
never heard, a clap
just now, you are on the ball, and this is
what that always means,
history-wise.
Okeh. Like safe. No war. Okeh. Mark to follow, someday.
biologic circuitry is so unbelievable,
to whom? All who see the supsumpsystems and the info resources,
re re re, every, meaning as if ever were in
finite, every things reasonable countable and measured,
AN ark is a box. Rectangular, most oft.
A box. Hermits live in boxes, some times,
with a coven-ante-cipitate, tincture
of this and that, with a drop o' Paracelsus fave,
Hermetic hermenuetic magishit.
Mercury, liquid conducter, okeh.
You axt a reason for the faith in the wrong *******
autodidactic augmented and medicated old man.
I hapt to save a dammercury switch from an old thermostat,
with a bi-metal coil we could
spring
into action and launch afacethefact face that fact face of fact
fracture
tap. Twist it, there, balance, level, spirit levels bubble
hermetic form flow act
ioncat ion quest
ion--
spark-- the idea imagicish dealybob- gleam
right
the feeling of gleam. Toothpaste imparts
*** appeal, I pana imparts diligence, pepsodent is perfect
for explosive types averse to yellow,
stripe,
oh my god,
game changer. Hidden persuaders never saw us,
by stripe are we healed and made bright white and loveable,
said the tooth from the future, we learned, in school, to love
each night, with a brisk brush before our
prayer for no cavities could be answered.
tap right there.
Gem quality. The meaning of life, I magine, is more.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 7:48 PM UTC
if I've fought back
(biting my tongue and tasting blood)
with hands bound
and tongue tied
imagine
what I could do
with only one hand
behind my back.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
I'll tie the loose strings
Around the glass bottle
Slip in the letter
And throw it out to the sea
Hoping someday you'll read it
With my name scribbled at the edge
Your not so secret admirer
Erian
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
The strands tangle and twist
As if my finger,
Is the center of a tiny universe
Of interlocking twining twirling black
With a simple twist and snap
Are ripped,
Star crossed lovers
Every Romeo to his Juliet
Are rip, rip, ri-torn apart
The hair from the hair tie
Yet,
Like tentacles clinging on
A stubborn slug, repulsive
Yet in an obscure manner
Admiringly persistent
It continues to hold on
Like a lizard regrows it’s tail
Impossible,
To truly chop off
So too does the hair insist
Upon an adamant refusal to separate
As if hair and tie are one
Interlocked
In a ferocious battle... Or,
Perhaps, a passionate embrace?
Are they one?
Whether it be so or not
I decide not to bother
Why, should I take up the mantle
Of the evil stepmother, wicked witch, cruel king...
You name it
To separate the two, lovers or competitors
They maybe
Why insist,
Upon what will never
Come true,
At least,
In the case of any proper Disney fairy tale
Is what I tell myself,
throwing down the hair tie
In favor of writing poetry about it
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 12:30 AM UTC
Who was it that decided that a knot should be so painful to untie?
Sometimes, a tie is loose,
It has no purpose,
It is old,
It decays!
So why do we hang on?
Why don’t we just allow the knot to be broken when its clearly no longer functional?
Its quite sad really. How a knot becomes so weathered when two ends just can’t let go.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 11:57 PM UTC
i will spend the week
in hourglass torture.
listening to seconds
go bye.
i cant save them
they live as quickly
as they die.
there is no tragedy
in seconds.
no funeral procession
for time lost.
just memories and
blank space.
the bitter blade
of nostalgia just
sharp enough to
pierce weak skin.
there is no excuse
for lost time.
just a .44 pointed
straight at a mirror.
one victim.
one criminal.
i am as guilty
as i am innocent.
so i am really nothing.
just a quarter
in a crisis.
the king of
neglect.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
full of knots
that have tied themselves.
ropes of lies and ideas
crossing over one another.
they tighten every breath
and they become tangled.
why must we try to untie
these cords
that fasten us down
so we don’t float away?
we obsess over detangling
and untying
while we refuse to see
the tapestry
our bodies have made.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
An emotionally orphan.
Thrown away like garbage.
Like our blood ties are cut off.
By the scissors of regret.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
Grinding....
Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over
Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner
Grinding...
Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching
It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm
Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces
Grinding...
Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root
My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...
I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself
Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night
Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone
Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits
Grinding
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
Could this be the day, you and I
Would tie the knots for real
And be miserable together?
We've put a hold on our lives
Hoping to explore,
this crazy world for more
Yet, we keep running to each other
In circles,
looping on every direction or corner
As we're searching for our soulmates
Which they do not exist, except us, for
Each other, the two miserable creatures
Whose hearts are parched in an
Illustrational quests for love.
But call it fate or destiny
We're meant for each other,
We're built for one another
Because our tastes in people
Are the same, for
We'd meet lost souls like ourselves
But they never sparked or shed
Lights on our misery and loneliness.
Therefore, let's be done
With the forever longing
For something we'd never find
And tie the knots, so we can
Be miserable and lonely
Together, under the same roof
Than wandering by ourselves.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC