"accrues" poems
for leather accrues
The miracle of the streets
The scents & smogs &
pollens of existence
Shiny blackness
so totally naked she was
Totally un-hung-up
We looked around
lights now on
Top see our fellow travellers
~~~
I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes
I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply
The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain
And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain
~~~
She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
just out of reach
A candle stranded on
a beach
While the sun sinks low
an H-bomb in reverse
~~~
Everything human
is leaving
her face
Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass
Stay!
My Wild Love!
~~~
I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It’s no fun
To feel like a fool-when your
baby’s gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I’ve done nothing w/time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing
w/Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I’m bold-
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass sliding door (why can’t I
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain- dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down- & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?
~~~
In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you’re not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
’til the dogs rush out
I’m going South!
40.3k
Age and Grace
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.
Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.
The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..
She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.
She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.
Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Things sometimes fall apart
Among sisters and brothers,
No matter what they once were.
Childhood picnics and dreamy games,
Memories of trips with Dad,
Since Mom was tired of us.
We would climb Appalachian peaks
Or drive to look at the Mayflower.
Every summer there was a golden week
A lakeside cottage and all-day swims
In crystal water, becoming mermaids.
But time passes and bitterness accrues.
Imagined slights grow like slow tumors,
Never excised but nurtured by some.
I go to college and am freed
From the poison of ignorant rage,
From the creeping depression left
Like diesel fog on an endless floor.
Four or five years of delight pass
With only hints here or there
Of a sibling’s misery at home.
Of a once close sister, Maggie,
Who is ignored and never loved
By any man she pursues.
She blames me for it, for reasons
I have yet to fathom.
Of a brother, Francis, deluded, drugged,
Steals the family car in a rage
And drives to New York City.
Of Deirdre, the middle sister,
Whose friend who knows men who feed
On her ignorance and rebellion.
Only Susannah tries to rise above
The maelstrom of misery.
I send her to a school far away
And she sheds despair, at least.
Decades drawl, children are born to us,
While the bridge between us, obscured,
Sags and frays under weight of rancor.
Christmas dinners and birthday parties
Turn into chores, invitations kept as scores.
Petty grudges, like acid, sever the bridge
At last, all ties are abandoned.
When we are all grown and scattered,
No one speaking to anyone else,
Unaware, uncaring about the others.
Only Susannah visits me and smiles,
With no ulterior plan for insane revenge,
Or accusations for errant slights.
Her once dark hair is grizzled and wild
And her girlish skin now creased.
But her treacle eyes, “black aggies”,
I used to call them, still shine.
Only Susannah writes a letter,
Wishing us well and
Healing scars made by others,
Returning the word “family”.
To my basket of small treasures,
I carry with me
Into the twilight.
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 10:52 AM UTC
a million ears listening
no one hears a thing
basest news a big surprise
ignominy is crowned king
a squander of treasure
best minds laid to waste
price of fear forever accrues
funds the purpose of the place
eyes of a diligent nation
brains filled with briny mush
ears clogged and waxen
expertise in smelling ****
central intel brainiacs
the heft of heavy dudes
a sordid nest of vipers
collecting despots dues
Music selection:
Radiohead,
Artificial Intelligence
Oakland
2/14/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
Gaining wisdom,
Listening to Mos Def
Not to be boxed in by the quadrant of the bass clef,
Because I like the melodies of the treble.
If Eye am to live a life to be confined, then call me a rebel.
Letting out all that was repressed
Counting blessings instead of stresses
Picking up messes &
Preparing for the test
To invest in myself,
in you
~
Diving below the depths to see what's true~
The interest accrues
But there's no use -
in paying these taxes to factions
When they should be subtracted from the equation
For exacerbating trivial situations
til we see the answer is One
You have the control, a full mind\body/soul collaboration
Sort out ya chakras and rebuild your nation
Plant seeds and reverse the deforestation
Let creativity fill your wounds and be captivated by fascination
Follow your own soul
Guided by sensation
Close your eyes and breathe, if ya need, some quick elation
...Away from frustration or the contemplation on the
"right" choice.
Just share your innermost genuine voice,
Keep the soil moist,
& the stem strong in order to stay poised
Lose the armor
For you are formless
In a state of vulnerability,
We are never dormant
But rather, open to the occupants
that we can't even see
Let your heart explode with love and you'll know what it's like to be free.
Don't open up though, and we'll be doomed to repeat
Be not afraid to call upon the Youniverse
Disperse what you rehearsed
before your vessel is within another in the confines of a hearse.
Weird to hear, but we can't wait for one more day.
It could be anyone's last grain of sand,
So by all means,
Say what you have to say~
You have a gift,
& It's called the present
Living with the ability to lift,
and make others' lives pleasant.
Muster every ounce of love and drift,
Right into another's essence
You hold the power in your hands, reach out~
..You'll never go hungry..
Giving vital lifeforce to those experiencing drought
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
I think I need a girlfriend
But maybe then I don’t
Suffice to say
That when the day
Comes I get what I want, I won’t
Waste a minute, waste a moment
A nanosecond or more
I’m by no means clingy
But the joy she’ll bring me
I’ll glady return in scores
I think I need a girlfriend
My hand is far too cold
It speaks to me
(Between ************
And asks for another to hold
Was that too much information?
If it was, apologies are due
It’s just, you see
The overwhelming lonely
Like ***** sometimes accrues
I need to shut up if I want a girlfriend
My censorship is not the best
My intentions are pure
But my words get obscured
As soon as they leave my chest
Because... ugh... and also... grrr
And **** And **** And sigh
I just want... you know
So we can... smile?
And if someone would give it a try
Then I would love and cherish a girlfriend
Id wipe away the tears
From her, from me
And everything
And love her, far or near
I’m distant and I’m awkward
I’m clumsy and sometimes stupid
I’ve been the ****
Of love, a joke
And the victim of broken arrows from Cupid
I think I need a girlfriend
Who sees me for the poetry
Without a word spoke
Nor the ones that I wrote
Just one who accepts me for me
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
Either this town is without character, or my own lack thereof blinds
me to what style hums it into history. The brook's rapids are drowned
by the highway roar, central song that never passes through, spilling
over walls and roofs. A railroad collects rust between weeds, silent
authenticity. Impassive clouds remind me of other ways to witness.
And this is real, too; sadness accrues over store counters, fatigue
glowing in the pavement connecting all, cracked and rubble
facing skies a simulacrum grey. Inebriation, par for course,
a hidden semblance of a self-chosen haze within a haze.
Gravity, acoustic footfalls question my arrival here.
phosphene breath--
dark, dark mining town solstice
unearths inner rainbows
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
Charity is never wasted,
Even when refused;
Your simple act of selflessness
Cannot be reduced.
Kindness is never wasted,
Even when refused;
To think we think of others first
Cannot be diffused.
Courtesy is never wasted,
Even when refused;
Shake a hand, open a door,
Say Please and Thank You.
Patience is never wasted,
Even when refused;
Bide your time contentedly
Dealing with the obtuse.
Faith is never wasted,
Even when refused;
Believe in what cannot be proved
Even if confused.
Hope is never wasted,
Even when refused;
It gives the taste of fine red wine
Brimming o'er the cruse.
Hate is never wasted,
I know you feel abused;
It's just a tact under attack
That haters like to use.
Love is never wasted,
Even when refused;
It's educed, then enfused,
And spreads as it accrues.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
I want too mean it when I say I'm working to improve
But I know I'm on borrowed time due too a marriot of conflicting issues
Turning greener pastures different shades of blues
Most of the root doesn't even originate from my property,
Still the hardest to remove
Doesn't help I'm held accountable for the damage my damage,
Caused by others mind you,
Always accrues
I think I've overpaid my dues
©2024
Mar 17, 2024
Mar 17, 2024 at 10:19 PM UTC
Air thin and caustic
each gasp leaving me a step closer to nauseous
lips taste the reality bitter and noxious
feel every breath taken, leaves me chest riven with anxiety
killing this ache that eats away at the dreams that live inside of me
if eyes are the windows to the souls, these eyelids secure my privacy
smothering the hazel pools from basking in sun ray's, yet these makeshift curtains no match for a fire sky
heart strained reminded of dire times
where I combined
every ounce of energy I could muster into one effort
made my bets and held my breath awaiting my death's ledger
the hypoxic reality that ensued
haunted me with ghostly recollections of you
my restless mind ventured through memories plagued with stinging sensations of uncompromising resent
I factored in my all the time spent
as well as my mind's rent
that you owed, being its only tenant
yet now that all emotional debts seem square, I don't have the heart to spend it
perhaps I'll store it away in notebooks and old pictures, praying the balance accrues interest over time left untouched in this my personal account
in something other than your love and its varying amount
battered hands pain-stakingly surmount
the pile of photos and letters, written with a future in mind
eyes wide, allowed you views inside
air thin and caustic, the light draining from these windows that leave my eyes dull
remain motionless, praying on a change, searching for my revival...
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.
Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.
The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..
She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.
She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.
Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
Hibernating in the northern-most hills,
Beneath Winter’s canvas, the wind’s grim shrills,
‘Midst the caverned silence unsung by bird,
Lies man’s deep-buried soul, its pulse unheard.
Frost buries warmth no fire but man’s can lend.
Strong limbs bow low before a blizzard’s wind,
Their foliage taken, the bush is bare,
The woods wither because man does not dare.
If the hearts of man should wilt and then wane
Then Spring shall follow with guilt and disdain.
To Wake and Live, Sleep and Let Die: Choose!
Before, Like O’erspread snow, his death accrues.
Awake the Savage! Where is Man’s hunger?
Too long he slept, too long he has slumbered.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
She seldom said good night or did she reply,I didn't ask either,
She used to reply silence whenever I text her,(paraphrasing)
I created whatever I want from that silence,
I thought she is so magnanimous to provide such a nothingness to accumulate my thoughts,
But I don't know why they call it as a fantasy,anything that is created out of nothingness,
If this is a fantasy then the existence is a fantasy,as the existence is created out of nothingness,
I want her to be seen as a fictional figure rather than existential monument,
She never saw me with the eyes I saw her,
Perhaps I am talking about intention,
I think my love is unconditional and love is unconditional,
My feelings towards her doesn't have anything to do with her feelings towards me,
But sometimes it pangs me as how the flower feels when the bee sips the essence of it,
The flower accrues for over a period of time but the bee ***** out momentarily...
So did she **** out my love,
I love when she does that as the flower is indifferent to the suckling of bee,
Only her fragile silence invokes her virtual visage..
The visage with the black in her eyes,
The black which only eye-lids can shutter,
The moment she closes her eyes is the moment I see nothing,
The darting eyes,too irresistible to distract...
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
My shallow existence in this beautiful world
I shall now paint you a picture, with powerful words
Words that describe the joys of the birds
How they move threw the sky as if nothing accrues.
Brazing bison that stroll threw the world in powerful herds
As the evolutionary pool is swiveled and swirled
I look into the sun and try to fight its powerful rays
My earth circles round it and brings me age by days
It lights my life, i sleep and wait for its return to light my way
It brings my garden to life to the vital part it dose plays
I walk into the water, it sways me with calm
But without a alarm it can be viscous cause harm
I respect it. Its big and vast my plants weapon of arms
Can take human life no way to disarm
I lie down on the grass. To smell the flowers and bees
I breath in and get the scent of apples and trees
Trees are so green, cool wind of a breeze
Bees wisk round pollen,but no sign of a sneeze
Crisp white snow no foot print of mark
Bright white moon that guides the way threw the dark
It reveals a big brown oak with strong rich staggering bark
My natural beautiful world gives me hope for my hearts.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
What I would say, if I dare
I'd say that life is to be lighter
Death a mere path to something else
That we do not know, et all
Pity on those who think,
But do not know.
Salt on those who know,
But do not think.
Find somewhere in between
Where buds can blossom
Without hesitation, and
Minds can shift -
Without resignation
Let harmony carry our thoughts.
Pursuasion is the worst of sins
For those who slickly speak
In tongues that whisper fictitious whims
Leading you to darkness.
Doubt idly leans on
Those who hang heads low
And talk of maybes and almosts
Without a chin to spare.
Pursue a path to growth.
The price of knowledge only accrues
Don't limit this power where-
In these small hours we can waste
Swaddled in naivety.
Shed upon our small existence
Humility and love
Openness and kindness
Who knows what is above?
Accept beliefs of others.
Let's live Life now,
it IS all we know
So let it be, as is
Dream, Create, Learn and Grow
Find something you can give.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC
Tied to the tracks
you can hear the inevitable:
Whistle blows in the distance
and it must be getting closer;
but you've been lying here
for years.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 12:52 AM UTC
Too hot. Tousled paper-thin music. 23. Nothing else matters but the conscious: psychic, physical — I arrive, take space, therefore I am. Nothing hurts deeper. Stays. Dagger to gut. Always, the dogs are, always. Much harder for the soul to plead in front of inviting cathedrals. Fire in this side of the Earth. Running. Out of time. Running out of time.
Crossing criss-cross of cars.
Curious cat gets run over, bones break,
brains splatter, blood dries faster than
water.
Flattened by things: menials, stereo cool. Subcompact breathing space. Clinging on to dangerous playthings is
recherché to the average. Death is nice.
Twice of it, better. Breathe fast. Live faster—
Short moments believable. 23 ~ 55. An equivocal calling to mind. Gamblers here
have no parlay. It's senselessness against
another throb of it. Nothing accrues for
greater victories. Slam the ride, deface
the labyrinth. Take it. Ride fast. Do it slow. Pace is everything. The tempo is infinite,
dance wears away like chip on the old floor. Out of cigarettes.
It is splendid enough to remember
the horses that jumped past
fences of pain than having to mount
them in all separate mornings, severances, all that. There's no magic
in farewell. There's no lie in that.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 1:32 AM UTC
The dirt in line with your toes,
the grass in line with your ankles.
Your arms jump then freeze,
your fingers touching the grass.
Nothing has ever seemed so real.
But, it is only a moment.
You begin to dig and
you keep going, you don’t care.
You don’t care.
Pestilence growing in your nails,
refusing to see the grass, so flimsy,
now that you finally had the courage,
to hold on to the dream.
The dream that abates in line with the thought that follows-
Why god, did he do that to me?
Sweat accrues, and you wipe your face.
The dirt from your nails beseeches your face.
The clock is ticking.
You stare into the hole you are making.
And as you do,
you feel the grass beginning to grow once again.
Your fingers, greasy, yet you remain dedicated.
Dedicated to this craft!
Dedicated to this destiny!
But you can’t stop the grass, time is running thin,
the rain has begun.
You must finish.
You dig more and now, now,
finally, the water slips from your cheeks,
landing in the center of the hole.
Creatures,
with endless and dazzling tiny legs you dream of come out of the sides,
only to find that they, too, are merely experimenting.
Ripped grass tears through their bodies, and as your rip it out,
so do their screams. You hear them.
Begging just for one more breath,
before you crush them with your feet.
But the hole kept shrinking.
But their screams wouldn’t cease.
More kept coming from the ground.
Begging for peace.
You disrupted their lives, and so,
you must **** them all.
They simply needed a way out of this.
You thought you were doing them a favor.
You thought you were doing them a favor.
Your hands jump back to your face.
Their screams remained,
or was the memory just that vivid?
You’ve grown tired.
Leaving your motionless state
was enough.
You can’t do this anymore.
You made the wrong decision.
But, now, the disease has spread.
Running out of words to describe,
Is just the beginning.
You hear the screams returning.
Do you not deserve this?
You can’t move at all.
You feel, nothing, but,
regret.
More creatures escape,
and surround the murderer!
You beg, you beg, just for a response.
But they just stare.
Moving as eternity.
You beg for mercy.
But they have none to give.
And the rain becomes too much.
They drown one by one.
They scream standing.
You hear birds in the distance.
Finally, the rain has gone,
and, finally, you are
above the clouds watching peace take over.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
I get around to you
because
you asked me to,
then what did we do?
She accrues favours
like some get the gout.
Hurting is healing
she'll say,
and I guess that it's right
when we cry in the night
we can smile through the day
so it seems to be a half dream,
like it comes
in instalments
fulfilment's like that too.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 5:42 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 5:10 PM UTC