"acrobat" poems
the bones were hard to give up,
they pushed out like daisies
caressed under the hounding
heart of a copper sun.
unbridled and undried they bore
zealous arrogance of themselves,
petals dripping ****** convictions
and vibrating like awful angels.
under cruel devices they tried to
soften my bones and mold thick skull
constructed of lackluster candles
on their last flame.
days passed like doctors and white nurses
examining old wires that pray tell
the routines, the stools, the teeth.
i am their Jesus, their Lazarus.
my hearse, my sheep keeper,
my pretty things,
i become the acrobat at the
finale, the last supper,
supplementing at the **** of my
recovery. i lay my skin down for all
of you to see: here is my breast!
my toad belly! my glass feet!
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
He is that high, dazed and alive
When you spend hours stealing
Glimpses at the stars
Like keys wrapped around a promise
To free you from these bars
Limitations placed so certainly
On top of you on top of me
I seek my way out
Like a star gazer seeks understanding
I’m planning on playing my hand just right
Putting you next to me
King of hearts at my side
Or maybe you are a joker,
Either way put on your poker face
We have life and space, set no pace
Like untimed steps under
A fall to far
Sing to me a jazzy song
From a time that’s far,
Dance with me
Dance along, move your feet
Make no promise you can’t keep
Just feel it
It’s like freedom but on fire
Like trust without certainty
Acrobat without a wire
Like letting go
A grand release
Like fearlessness
A found voice to speak
Passions pushed blood to cheek
Blushing past shades of pink
Pull you in, close to me
Fearless in you and me
Just fearless
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
I made my own stop.
I made my own end of the line.
I made my own terminal.
I end here.
Someone died here today;
the start of their journey,
and the end of my own.
oil blood urine
fluids of mechanic and natural origins.
I peddle my wares;
I sell my sweat;
I am an energy salesman.
I ride this rail on rubber, not steel.
I do not intend to steer clear
but still be clear when the front-end is near.
Electric elephants bound to acrobat playgrounds.
Painted Tusks as valuable as my soul.
I do not meddle with my pedal:
joules of life grow more valuable.
energy exchanged
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
A simpler life
No more anger and strife
In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun
A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat
Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips
Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme
Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
faintly sinister smiles
twitch their way across her acrobat face
and as her rolling and tumbling expressions
make their way through all manner of devious delight
your hearts hungry eye fixes on her
come hither and lets make whoopee nasty girl dress
her favors are optional
and she will tease but never share
the ever present dangling carrot
like a perfume
fills the air with delights but its just air
shes a happiness monger
so its best if you don't displease
its always a bitter mote neath the plastic vibe
might as well be a rocky mountain monument
little miss twisted in a little patchwork dress
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
Dragonfly o Dragonfly
framed against a lazy summer sky,
you'll hover and ponder out yonder,
like an acrobat you fly.
You'll dance and dart, hover and peer,
Touching, stalking, feathered walking.
On pond shadows dark and near,
onto sunbeams sparkling clear.
Casting imaged reflections,
on a mirrored surface of life's crystal pond.
Where ever-diminishing dainty rippled circles,
disappear onto a distant misty shore beyond.
You'll ponder and peep,
through dark secrets your pond might keep,
captured images of animals & bees,
scented flowers & soft young trees.
About political boundary bursts,
and agonizing desert thirsts.
While strife-torn agony song is being sung,
at the scorching heat of the searing Sun.
Witnessing a climate change,
Industrial, Oil, Air & Waste pollution.
With no workable cleanup program in site,
to warrant a solution.
Our planet's resources stretched,
to its limits by human misery & industry untold.
Life's habitats are disappearing,
the beginning of Earth end is nearing.
It is inevitable that soon, to soon,
after million a year, on life's crystal ponds so clear.
You'll too succumb to man's industrious endevours,
and for eternity disappear.
Andreas Strauss.16 June 2007
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
Once there was a carnival.
It was exuberant and joyful,
With elephants and lions befriending the penguins and sea otters,
And little fairy-like acrobats leaping and zooming across tightropes,
As if they were walking on solid ground.
There was a faint smell of funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn,
And the sound of people chatting animatedly about,
"Wasn't that act precious" or "oh, darling, look at that penguin! Isn't he cute?"
And then I got a little older.
And the carnival was still joyful, but something had changed.
The carnival had this joyful facade but it was hiding a darker exterior.
The elephants and lions were growing old, and the ringmaster,
Displeased with their best efforts,
Had started to hurt them.
The fairy-like acrobats had gotten injured over the years,
And wobbled a little bit here and there, with hints of hesitation
Perspiring on their foreheads.
The funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn smell lingered still,
But it was almost as if people had grown tired of the taste,
And in the heat of the summer day,
The food had started to grow stale.
And then I got old.
The carnival had closed now.
Overgrown with weeds,
Stalls and tents covered in graffiti and muck,
It was now a gathering spot for children to make believe,
That they were the fairy acrobats who had once been so agile and captivating,
Or the animals that had struck terror and awe into toddler's hearts.
The carnival was gone,
but the children would run home to their grandmas and grandpas,
and they would tell them the story of how the lion was this close to biting off their nose,
and how one time the acrobat honestly did a front flip from a horse on to a bear onto a lion, and they were honest to God telling the absolute truth no matter what their spouse would say in the room next door.
The carnival was gone, but the stories would go on in a bittersweet never ending circle of intrigue and mystery and magic.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
I left this carnival,
or so it seemed to be.
My views have
Changed. Good or Bad?
I won't be the one,
To say in the coming years.
Girls with hula hoops,
Boys watching in awe,
How fantastic the
Colors seemed to swirl.
Like the fallen leaves
On a windy day.
But not the trees
are mainly bare, as
the circus crowd
Gathers around to
Catch the acrobat if
they should Fall.
Outside on the dirt path,
is me. sitting in thought,
Talking to more then myself.
The trees, grass, and
The earth listened to
my many tricky questions.
Why can't life be
Like tonight.
With all the vendors,
music, and travelers.
I tried to hide from
the rising sun, instead
my body made me absorb,
every bit of light.
The sun was the reminder,
To return home and
be in this other life.
More free then the
bird floating above me,
I thought of people
and the whole world.
No money left in my
money clip. I found some
water. I saw the ring leader
of the carnival and,
She eagerly smiled
"Life is what you make it."
No help this was, as
more and more contradictions
Sprang from my mouth.
Again she just smiled, so
Pretty was her smile.
Early that morning,
I tried to talk
to other beings, spirits,
but no truth was found.
Then like a lightning
bolt hitting a tree,
and causing fire everywhere,
The answer hit me. On
the ride home, I had
The same pretty smile,
as her.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 10:49 PM UTC
the water filled our lungs
and bled through the cracks in our skin.
bubbling, brimming
the sea touched my eyes and you were white
with seafoam, curdling between lashes,
silvers pooling over stark blues
on fingertips.
sinuous, submissive.
the piercing cold mixed with the rough salt
over tide-smoothed shells.
we breathed out our mist to cry over crashes of thunder.
enigmatic, flowing.
you are an acrobat, my prideful tide.
your steel waters wash the sand from my legs
and glassy waves cleanse, twisting and curling,
releasing through our ocean breeze.
you opened your eyes and all i saw was sea glass.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
When I am all grown up
There's lots that I can be
A million different choices
And the choice is up to me
I can be a fireman
And drive a truck all painted red
I can work inside a kitchen
And make sure that folks get fed
I can be a sailor
And sail from sea to sea
I have a million different choices
And the choice is up to me
I can be a teacher,
and teach children to write
Or I can be a singer
And sing on stage each night
A footballer, a builder
or a worker in a zoo
It's up to me exactly what
job that I will do
A dancer, or a dentist
A scientist or vet
It's up to me and no one else
What kind of job I'll get
A painter, or an acrobat
A lifeguard on the beach
I can be an astronaut
And to the stars I'll reach
I can be most anything
There's lot's that I can be
There's so much for me out there
The choice is up to me
I can drive a race car
Let my imagination soar
This is just a short list
There's a million, million more
I can be most anything
There's a lot out there for me
For I am just beginning
And there's lots that I can be
An astronaut, a soldier
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Looking back at life brings on a shiver:
landmarks and stygian fragments,
radiant corrosion.
Will my feet still carry me home?
The morning breaks,
turn the blue skies on!
we're committed now,
guided by a God few know.
On Earth the math is made up,
8 billion people
and 1,000 questions,
out here the days
are numbered differently.
But in the ether aura
there are silent obligations:
we're trading passengers midflight
--the jester and the acrobat inside the LEM,
Marco Polo on the rocketship,
we're eating the survival kit,
making postcards of the trip.
All spoils for survivors.
Post signs for a near perfect disaster.
You are on my mind.
You are in my heart.
Are you in my blood?
I would die for you.
If this is goodbye, remember,
these things happen...
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 8:39 PM UTC
Raindrops collect in the cracks of the windowsill.
Tears acrobat out of my almond eyes,
My heart is a black flower crumbling in ashes.
I would die a hundred times for my heart to meet yours.
The wet magnolia petals in the churchyard
root my weeping into the ground.
Tylenols for the depths of fever,
in sunrise of morning, my eyes are stained pink.
Dreams of never-ending fall from atop a building, coming to you.
Mist of pine-needles brush stone-carved grave beneath me,
Whisper prayer to beloved on my knees,
roses, daisies, marigolds in vase water the beauty of him.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 11:42 PM UTC
20.
One’s speaking softly in considered tones,
a quietener to his child’s whim. The other’s
sailing the contented seas of early
love. The storms that tried to strike these brothers
down are over now, the bitter taste
has passed, and bells of laughter have replaced
the stones that once we hurled at one another.
Back in the tent, high up on the trapeze,
bracing his body for the triple twist,
the acrobat swings. The great crowd shifts and groans.
He wants their wild applause, but if he’d have it he
must seize the point where his arc has slowed and kissed
the stillness. For this is his gentle Pentecost,
the white dove motionless in zero gravity
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Lizard, peerless strategist,
calculating well, sprung on the spider;
the eight legged acrobat, escaped
sliding down briskly on her web.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 8:29 AM UTC
20.
One’s speaking softly in considered tones,
a quietener to his child’s whim. The other’s
sailing the contented seas of early
love. The storms that tried to strike these brothers
down are over now, the bitter taste
has passed, and bells of laughter have replaced
the stones that once we hurled at one another.
Back in the tent, high up on the trapeze,
bracing his body for the triple twist,
the acrobat swings. The great crowd shifts and groans.
He wants their wild applause, but if he’d have it he
must seize the point where his arc has slowed and kissed
the stillness. For this is his gentle Pentecost,
the white dove motionless in zero gravity
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Wasted words I should have thought instead of said
Wasted dreams of who knows what stuck in my head
Wasted thoughts and wasted time,
Wasted explosive dramamine
With about fifty billion fuses.
Wasted money
Wasted laughs
On wasted verbal acrobat
-ics that used to summon smiles,
T'would only last but for awhile
Before they'd disappear again
Though I may not see you,
You're still my friend.
Wasted smiles on
Wasted jokes
Wasted guys in overcoats
Written on pages
Never finished
Endless stages.
Wasted sorrow
Wasted pain
We may ne'er connect again
But I still love to make you laugh
Though you may think I'm such an ***
I am wasted.
Wasted for the better ends
Wasted for family and friends
But I still see where hope begins...
I am wasted.
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 3:07 PM UTC
it would appear the semi-colon
has an identity crisis;
it might appear
it can’t decide if it’s a dot
or a comma
and so does an acrobat act;
but really the semi-colon does more than that
for it does
complex listings the comma can’t manage
and can say things quite cleverly, like:
“All things are expensive; life *****
So really this semi-colon
is not a semi - but indeed a full-blown device
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
he is gone....
night's dark
shadows flit
and shake,
shadow breezes
sing of past
love,
when i kissed him
our love was a bowl
of exquisite rose,
lust ripped at our
bones sunk into
them like a gold
sun's bloom,
my heart remembers
him like a grey ghost
of the past,
worn and unholy,
my love for him
is still a whisper
in the grass,
my love for him,
and only him,
is water and fire,
fire of ghosts that
melt with love,
water of love that
drowns in pools of
steel
for what is forgotten
reaching down to catch
an invisible hand
i am an acrobat
remembering heaven
and love,
a leaf on the winding
wind, incredibly brittle,
for these nettles
i walked in still
sting as i sigh
for his name....
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
have you seen the chipmunk climbing up a tree
with his stripey coat as fast as fast can be
looking for his food a nut than he can chew
with his chipmunk teeth so he can bite through
jumping branch to branch an acrobat his he
a creature of the forest and a life so free
he has big long tail and stripes along his back
running up and down along the forest track
living in a burrow in the ground so deep
this where he goes when its time to sleep
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
His mother always told him to throw away broken toys
to make room for new ones
and maybe thats why they never keep me around
I've become an acrobat
balancing my self confidence on the tight rope of his words
It’s hard to walk when your legs are killing you.
My knees didn't always creek like this, I promise.
My smile didn't always come with a disclaimer
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
The Circus gongs excite the Throngs in nighttime Never Land –
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat above the shifting sands
And Lady Fat sits down to chat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the Band,
Ask crimson Clowns with frozen frowns, to hold a mutant hand,
While Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure Cats entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents boast black-tusk contraband
To regiments of Sycophants who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonesome Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their tattered rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
To play a part in Three-Ring Art, I thought I’d try my hand –
I mastered skills, I felt the thrills, I breathed and seethed firsthand –
But destiny denied to me to taste a lifetime spanned
With tightrope walks and trapeze chalks ... excepting second-hand...
For alcohol provoked a fall, as if a reprimand,
And now, a heap, I sometimes keep the ticket office manned...
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
*An acrobat of love is she,
who contorts, sensing
which way he loves to move,
constantly making spirited coos.*
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
they look at me as a circus act
they look at me as an acrobat
I'm twisted and turned and pushed on my back
that's why they call me a circus act
and I am the ****** you point and laugh at
but in reality I am the sanity
of this circus act
and we all take part disguised by lies
we all have our own show
we are famous for our wonderful tricks and our flips
because we are the circus show
and we try our hardest to get out of this cage
the lions are hungry and we cant play this game
and if the circus doesn't **** you
you will hang
on the tightrope
no net on the ground
and we will ride our unicycle off of the bridge
we will gather our money
every penny and dime
for tickets to see the freaks in the circus act
but we are the show
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
I came to a bend in the road just the other day.
In a dusty forlorn desert at the edge of town.
A narrow one way street with no room for cars to meet.
And I must make the choice whether to skip town or stick around.
It only goes one way, this lonely barren path.
So I guess I must decide on the direction I will take.
The fear of losing what lies behind is all that holds me back.
But human nature fears change, and I am one to defy humanity.
To find satisfaction, I am afraid
there is to be one choice.
Because to live a caring reckless life.
The one way street knows best.
So goodbye my sweet safety net town
I must put my acrobat skills to the ultimate test.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC