"bargained" poems
We were poets,
Once,
Hearts etched upon our sleeve
The lords of our intent,
Words bloomed for all to see.
Each branch of thought considered,
Chiseled,
Whittled to express.
Carving the forest in our likeness
We paved the landscape with our breath.
Woods would sway in idle days
Sunkissed glades lay bathed in gold.
Nights waylaid by dancing maids
Cheap ale and tales of old.
Fires burn, flames unfold.
Though
Embers remember
Tender clutch of the cold.
We tend to forget the bargained,
The sold.
Up rivers and creeks,
Paddles, disowned by the meek,
Cast away to distant shores.
Glades decay,
Fade to grey.
We become poets once more.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
I saw her
I saw her smile
Focus out through the sparkle
Reflecting from her danglers
And the ones in the atmosphere.
Turquoise sequinned with beige
Crackers, all around her
Our first new year
Where she took me by
My hand, entangling fingers
Lacing, when she thought she'd
Lost me,skipping between
White walls and brown floors
Finding a way out
Through the maze.
Low hung ceiling lamps.
Dragging me back through my memory doors
Remains the same
White walls and brown floors
While I wait outside.
Inside you're having your chemo.
Crackers
Inside my heart
Slithering through my mouth
I see her in between
Those flinging and swinging
Prayer flags, I recollect
Hanging them in the backyard
Of our home, you
Bargained them out
A flea market, before
That year's Diwali
You had inside of you
A life that would bless us
In three months.
A tangerine Georgette Saree
And rhyming with it,
Rani colored bangles
Sneaking up on the roof.
Crackers
White walls, wooden floors
You lie quiet, unmoved.
A skyrocket ups in a distance
As I light you up in flames.
Crackers
You'd always come back
Focusing, defocusing
My memories' pitaara
Sparkling, dangling
Skipping and lacing
Through all those crackers
Lighting me up
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
I hadn't heard from you in a while, so last night I humored the notion of you, intrigued.
You asked me how I was, high off your *** on Vicodin.
Drunk off my *** on red wine, I admitted I wasn't doing
So well.
So, well,
We spoke for a while, and I admitted a lot of
****
Well, ****
More than you bargained for,
I'm sure.
So sure,
You called me out on my mistakes like you always have:
Telling me that I was far too lovely,
To be so ******* lonely
That I would waste such a beautiful side of myself,
In so willingly giving so much of myself
Away.
And in a way,
I know that you're
right;
And I can't just pretend I'm
alright.
I need to buck up and make all things
right.
Holy **** what a night.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 11:48 AM UTC
Tell me you couldn't do it anymore and had to leave
Tell me I wasn't what you bargained for and the feeling isn't real
Tell me I'm stubborn and maybe too ambitious for you to deal with
Tell me I'm naïve sometimes and can't seem to keep up with your beat
But never tell me I made you leave
Never tell me you tried to get even by going for my friend
Never tell me I had roaches in my cupboard,
Never tell me you left because I was unfaithful.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
The old fishing boat shiny, worn yet proud
Had many an old fish bone scraped across its deck
Heard stories that would make your hair curl
and had seen weather at its worst but what the heck.
Had seen all the fish available from all the seas
nothing would surprise this old girl anymore.
Had the strength to carry on whatever the gale
Grin and bear it or go as you have gone before.
Its engine, had seen some time in its old life
struggling through seas as high as waves could get
Through ice as thick as an island so as to speak
and the new fishing boats wince if they get wet.
They would not last five seconds in conditions
like my fishermen have served thought the boat
Well if it could think that is what it would think
They look delicate and I dare say they would float.
But now the old fishing boat was being admired
stroked lovingly by tourists with cameras and tales.
Ice cream accidentally smeared on the deck
With its worn polished look and ragged sails.
But it was proud, and so it should be
For the fish it has fed folk, fishermen it had sailed
But now it had a place in tourist's heart, the town
It was admired, photographed and now emailed.
A buyer with plenty of money and hope in his heart
had bargained and won his bid. It was now his dream
to sail the boat with children on board and parents
sightseeing on board complete with a holiday team
Dressed in navy and white striped with straw hat
No fishing lines, nets, poles just an orange float.
With a sign that indicated the price of the trip
A retirement, a nice little trip for the fishing boat.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
"Shelter From The Storm"
Bob Dylan
'Twas in another lifetime one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness a creature void of form
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
And if I pass this way again you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death and men who are fighting to be warm
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Not a word was spoke between us there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile ravaged in the corn
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Suddenly I turned around and she was standing there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Now there's a wall between us something there's been lost
I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker he blows a futile horn
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I've heard newborn babies wailing like a mourning dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
In a little hilltop village they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence, I got repaid with scorn
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Well I'm living in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
I sat around waiting
Minutes
Hours
Still silence
I pleaded
Begged
Bargained
Talk to me
I don’t even know
What I did wrong
The unknown
Is killing me
Your words
Sting
But your silence
Kills
I wish
I never gave you
The power
To make me feel so worthless
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
it's sad to think
that at one point
i thought i was
madly in love with you.
and it's so strange because
i was so convinced that
everything would be alright
despite the downfalls we had
and how i would stay up at night
wishing i was there with you.
and sadly when i finally got
to know how your lips taste
they were bittersweet
because there was doubt
in the way that you kissed me
and no matter how convinced
you were that those kisses were true
we both knew
that deep down inside
you weren't sure how to feel about it.
our path was a loose gravel bridge
that fell apart with every step that we took
and no matter how hard we tried
to fix it along the way
things seemed to get worse.
but we kept at it
because one just doesn't give up
on something that could be so perfect.
i thought you were perfect
but when your colors truly showed
it wasn't the hue i thought
i knew.
no,
our colors didn't go together
the way we once though they did.
and it's a shame i invested so much time
into someone who in the end
couldn't live up to their promises.
dead ends
with dead feelings
and an aching head
wasn't what i bargained for.
so now when i stay up at night,
i don't wish about holding your hand
or kissing you.
i stay up because
im upset that i wasted so much time on you.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
I've said before I'm not very good at poetry but that seems to be only when I'm going to write about you and I guess it's time for a trip down memory lane.
the nostalgia of our friendship cuts like the blades you used to beg me not to use (but you never really cared it was all part of the plan)
I remember so clearly your favourite line to use to get me to calm down, "I've been with you this long, why would I leave now?"
so tell me why 6 months later you told me I wasnt important to you? you exploded that night with all the hurtful things you had been holding in for two years.
two years is a long time to lie to someone. I'm impressed you held it together for that long. but I guess at some points you needed me. you needed me to cry to about the girls who would never love you but now that I think about it, it was probably part of the plan.
I remember all the promises you made, and I guess I was so naive to believe them because in your letter you told me you were naive to make them.
all I ever was to you was a charity case. something to make you feel like you were making a difference in the world. like maybe if you saved a broken girls life a few time it would make you a good person even if in the end you lead her to attempt taking her own life. I hope you go to hell.
I think the worst part of sharing two years of my
life with you is the fact that you know all my secrets and my darkest corners and my favourite lines. and the fact that no matter how long I go without seeing you there's pieces of you in everything. like the way I spell favourite or colour with the "u" and how every episode of my favourite show will remind me of the night you held my hand while we watched it.
it just hurts because you broke not only my heart but me entirely. I've said it so many times before but I will never be able to trust someone else like I trusted you and it's scary because I'm afraid I will never fall in love again.
I guess at some point I became more than you bargained for and I'm so sorry for that.
I wish I could say I hate you but I'd probably let you back into my life if you asked yet I never want to see you again in fear of breaking down.
I wish I could stop writing about you but I miss you in my bones. **** you.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
There is a history, could be called their story,
But the clouds,
To the dirt beneath,
Their finger nails,
All were lined in silver,
Or other precious metals,
Smelted with treasured memories,
Weaving silver through all,
The storms, along every cloud,
Each raindrop and teardrop too,
They labored,
In veins of mineral mines,
They smelted iron ore,
Got more troy ounces then they
Bargained for, by the millions,
Gold and silver for those linings,
Precious and semi-precious metals,
From deep holes in the ground,
To a furnace that evaporated sweat,
Under the fireproof suits, they worked hard,
Honestly while wearing protective lenses and
Not rose coloured glasses, it was a good life,
Memories and faded glory days,
Until the Company, took it away, bit by bit,
Leaving,
Flame but little glory,
To those special days,
And bygone days,
There are still a few,
Who survived modernization,
There are many more,
Whose best memory,
Is the pension,
Crew mates are gone,
Spouses are gone,
Yet the special days,
Are celebrated anyways,
In the Silver City,
That joy is almost,
Tangible, to when,
Generations of men,
Went home to their women, children
Broke bread, drink vino and shots of grappa,
Sharing day shift or afternoons,
And graveyard shifts during the boom,
Today many years later, more than 100,
Now the fireworks light the night-sky,
While figments of the past, stand shoulder,
To shoulder, with those who remain,
Shared memories of silver linings.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
there is a certain amount of
a n g e r
bound in a persons
poorly wired heart
under layers of thin plastic skin
in fear of ripping off band-aids
to find they took more than
what they bargained for
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
This isn't what you wished
Upon that small baby
This isn't what you wished
This isn't the head you kissed
The head of that baby
This isn't what you kissed
This isn't what you held
The weight of that baby
This isn't what you held
This isn't what you smelled
The scent of that baby
This isn't what you smelled
This isn't what you felt
Felt for that baby
This isn't what you felt.
This isn't how it was supposed to be
This isn't what you imagined
This isn't what you meant me to see
The isn't what you'd bargained
This isn't the life you choose to live
This isn't the trust you chose to give
This isn't the love you once entrusted
This isn't the marriage to which you'd come in
This isn't the daughter you once knew
This isn't the love you walked into
This isn't the hope you'd had before
This isn't the love in fairytale's lore
This isn't at all what you expected
This isn't at all what you should have collected
This isn't the right end for an angel
This isn't, as it seems, quite so fatal
But this is me
Imperfect glory
Oh, this is me
With a sad, sad story
This is me
Timeless and dying
This is me
The blood I'm crying
This is me
The failure's jive
This is me
The end of a life
This is me
On sanity's cliff
This is me
Ready to drift
This is me
Desperate and wanting
This is me
Pretending and flaunting
Yes, this is me
Your youngest daughter
And it's not at all what you wanted
My dearest mother
This is me
The smoke, the pain
This is me
For loss, for gain
This is me
This is that baby
This is me
Now a young lady
This is me
Looking for love
This is me
Small and starstruck
This is me
On the wrong path
This is me
Treading on broken glass
This is me
Begging for help
This is me
****** to hell
This is me
Waiting to be saved
This is me
Turning away
This is me
Nearing Death's door
This is me
Saying I can take no more
This is me
With smoke in my lungs
This is me
Absorbing the sun
This is me
With knife in hand
This is me
Enjoying the land
This is me
Pleasing those men
This is me
Washing my hands
And this isn't what you wanted
And this is why you cry
And this isn't what I expected
And this is why I wish to die
Oh, this is why my mind is unclean
This is why you weep
This is why we couldn't foresee
And this is why I can't sleep
This is why the night is frightening
This is the absence of hope
Yet this is why we live
And this is why we cope
And this isn't life
This is unidentified
And this isn't strife
This is why we live and die
Maybe this is a maybe
Maybe this is uncertainty
Maybe this is a per say
Maybe this is you, is me
Yes, maybe this is human
Though this is inhumane
Maybe this is *******
And cannot be contained
Maybe maybe is uncertainty
Maybe maybe is insanity
Maybe maybe is a waste of hope
Maybe maybe is the knife at our throats
This is me
With a ring on my finger
This is me
With a kiss on my lips
This is me
With a love that lingers
This is me
With a sway to my hips
This is my reflection
So pretty, so ugly
This is my reflection
So imperfect, so me
This is life
Tiring and refreshing
This is time
A burden unrelenting
These are my friends
My children, my life
These are my friends
So perfect, so right
And this is pain
And this is gain
And this is love
And this is hate
And this is trust
And this is my place
But first
Foremost
This is me.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
The stars aren't as tasteful
as I'd hoped they'd be,
*You fickle moon,
You eclipse of a lover.*
Vinegar. That's what
those cosmic light bulbs we
call stars taste like. Raw
and savoring, bold & eccentric.
*Kissing summer on winter's lips
The cheek of spring still stings from autumn's hand*
And I'm marooned in this fine
red wine hour,
nostalgic in the art of reading
The hum of dragons pulse~
The whisper of the wolven breath,
This time around your blood
was thinner than ice.
Twisting the tendrils of our thistled love
across my snowy throat,
***Crimson is so ******* beautiful***
It was your job to swallow sunsets and it
was mine to throw up sunrises. We
followed the commandments branded on
my cheeks.
*It was the only bible we had,
Because my scars were worth
"something"*
When the roof of the sky meets the jaw of
the sun, the teeth are the clouds & constellations.
I fed the world my spine because it was starving.
chinking off marrow, and mouthfuls of my flesh,
Devour me.
*And in my wake you shifted the lapis void,
forcing my eyes open as gold tears spilt*
Streetlamps groaning at midnight,
will you watch the ravens with me at 3 a.m?
I'm not one for fate but,
destiny is mine for the taking.
Bones wish they're bending,
yet promise they're not breaking.
I bargained my soul and sins with Lupus,
and now I am his poet.
A daughter of aurora borealis,
buckets full of silver sloshing admist
my eyes.
When I no longer love you,
it will be silent,
and tragic.
.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
For Basil@Egmont
Old school hotelier, conservationist, mountain man.
Festooning drapes of weeping moss
Hang damply from the trees
Cascading lengths of dripping fern
Bring wetness to your knees
The clutching boughs of gnarled branch
The olive greens and damp
The winding path meanders up
This mountain's rocky ramp
Grey boulders in the river bed
The rush of torrents fast,
The song of falling waters
Plummeting into the past.
The flash of brilliant plumage
A blue kingfisher in a dive
And the tragic death of this field mouse
Means other creatures stay alive.
The mammoth mountain hangs above
The snow is clean and white
The cornice shadow aqua blue
Ridge ice is sunlight bright
The summit wind is blowing hard
The snow is curling round
To recreate a billowed crown
Atop that seaward mound.
A dancing *** is eyeing me,
Impossibly it clings
Inverted from a totara trunk
With rapid flitting wings.
Exploding from it's hiding place
A ponderous pigeon *****
And weaves it's way between the boughs
With noisy wing tip slaps
The magic of this secret place
Is the drama in the air,
The solitude of teeming life
In green-ness everywhere.
The hardness of the freezing night
The harshness of the wind,
The grandeur of it's wilderness
Paints splendor as it's sin.
Taranaki's goblin forest
Is resplendent in it's garb
Of emerald green and turquois-ness
And rugged rocks and shard,
Cascading rivers, waterfalls
In sweeping walls of trees
Where pools of still transparency
Bring you breathless to your knees.
Where Egmont's goblin forest
Will make your spirits sing
And the urge to climb another mile
Will reward you with something
You had not bargained for in visiting
This remote and splendid place,
......It will reward you with a warm,
And knowing smile upon your face.
Marshalg
Dawson Falls Romantic Hotel
Mt. Taranaki
15th September 2008
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 8:28 PM UTC
It's taking everything I’ve ever had,
not to crawl into the crevice between your arm and hip.
I want seep inside of you
and live with you,
like the parasite I am.
I’ve bribed to God to make you love me,
And bargained away my future sins.
I want to forget the golden retriever
You took on walks longer than our **********
And the way your body writhed beneath my touch
Like a body bracing for a car-crash,
And how with every kiss
I could feel your rigor mortis set in.
I want to read you poems about Kurt Cobain,
While we do ******* at midnight in Golden Gate Park.
And watch you have a visceral reaction
To the memories
Of the times you tasted someone else’s skin.
Instead I’ll
dye my hair black,
Cancel all my credit cards,
And run away to Chicago
to Cheapen myself
and reek of Popov
In a dive bar next to the railroad,
That no one’s heard of
so you can tell strangers
in the subway
and at the New Year’s party,
(at which you’ll meet your wife)
how much I’ve always meant to you
and how
You will always wonder what happened to me
(Even though
you won't.)
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
I bargained with Death,
And Death said to me,
"I'll let you live,
But it will be a life full of misery,
And one day you will beg,
For me to come back,
And I will simply turn my head,
And laugh."
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
**Shelter from the Storm
by Bob Dylan**
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence I got repaid with scorn
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
I am like the bicycle you let sit in the rain,
turned sideways, wheels still spinning in reverse--
an abrupt split second call once my small SUV showed
its dull red color and token dents, signs of an irresponsible me
(and a still judgmental you).
Once upon a time you prized me,
snatched me from the wall of Grandest Biggest Rewards
for those who throw their money and efforts into
impossible pursuits.
My hair gleamed. My skin glistened. My eyes glinted.
but my legs would not spread.
they could not for fear of Eyes of a Watchful God.
when the day came, the day that no one believed you would come,
not even me,
you closed your eyes; I squeezed mine shut,
as did my doors, never to let you in.
Not even when you begged, bargained, bribed.
When you flung insults like the beagle's feces,
fresh, frenzied, frantic,
I dodged each smear physically, but let the memories
haunt my fading floral youth.
Now, that the doors have opened
to admit those who may be trusted,
and have closed deep within a secret,
discarded like a rush of blood--
just as meaningless, just as insignificant,
Now, you've found another bike to prop against the cool
sheltered garage wall, newly painted--
both the garage and the bike,
and her arms emerge months from now
with baby and baby and baby.
Brimming with baby.
And I sold that bicycle months ago,
the one I fought so hard to retain.
I was never the material, nor the istic.
Just used goods gone sour.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
I was in another lifetime one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness a creature void of form
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
And if I pass this way again you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death and men who are fighting to be warm
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Not a word was spoke between us there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
I was burned out from exhaustion buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile ravaged in the corn
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Suddenly I turned around and she was standing there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Now there's a wall between us something there's been lost
I took too much for granted got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker he blows a futile horn
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
I've heard newborn babies wailing like a mourning dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question man is it hopeless and forlorn
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
In a little hilltop village they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation and they gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Well I'm living in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
"Come in" she said
"I'll give you shelter from the storm".
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
Someone’s world jumped
onto a cold set of tracks
at Jamaica station
early last week.
Someone’s world jumped
into the universe next door,
leaving us all for
being too human.
At the time,
I was trapped at Penn Station.
A pain spread
about my stomach
like a pen pressed against
a sheet of looseleaf.
MTA officials made announcements,
calling it a mechanical malfunction.
9 to 5 businessmen in
deep black suits with bluetooth headsets
groaned and bargained
for passage home,
ready to ride
through a stranger's graveyard.
Little kids ran through shops,
fingers sticky with frozen yogurt
and popcorn- surprise treats
used as pacifiers.
I sat in a well known coffee shop
pondering life and death.
The word suicide didn’t hurt
like it used to, but I felt
connected to this stranger.
I thought about
that person’s lover,
that person’s sister,
that person’s mother,
that person’s friend.
I thought about how
all of their galaxies stirred and switched gears.
A planet of theirs- tremendous or trifling in their own imagination-
collapsed and changed the course of everything.
I wondered if their galaxy halted and
each star and planet mourned or
if their galaxy smoothed over the craters
and dodged all the meteors and
didn’t even blink.
My galaxy shifted and
clouds laid thick.
Stars dimmed their lights in harmony.
A few years ago
or even a few months ago,
I would’ve cried
and thought
about following this
stranger to train station heaven.
But now,
I thought about
my sister’s galaxy,
my mother’s galaxy,
my best friend’s galaxy.
Now,
I felt sadness
but I also felt love.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Each of you.
My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing.
Conceived 1955.
Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable.
Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me.
*** for you, stopped me.
Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop.
Backing off, I respect real you.
Don’t push me Me.
Don’t dream.
Will dream us.
Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be.
We combine beans and seeds and gourds.
That’s science! Culinary!
Botany, true, but I’m enaturated.
Human pod progressed.
If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not.
Forget every word.
But make each and every word count.
Then add stash, socked away.
I concede.
Mi casa su casa.
Paint it.
Together.
Made mistake then fixed it.
Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I).
We walk talk island jib.
I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool.
Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred
My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe.
Asunder goddesses should be together,
While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled,
Their own private imbroglio invaded
By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt.
You tell me this short story.
I cringe.
My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus.
My shadow child joins me in Paradise,
Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent.
My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky
Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for
In the games that decided who’s hungrier.
You could have been that gal.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
Karma was a dancer
at the Déjà Vu,
trading fantasies a few days a week
for ***** crumpled bills and
then living the dream on her days off.
That was before I knew her.
Before she faded just a little.
Which is not to say
that she was no longer beautiful
with her mermaid hair,
the color somewhere between
phosphorescent amber and
burning chestnut brown,
down to her *** and falling all around
her painfully sensuous curves.
The faint pucker lines 'round her mouth,
that liver spot,
a slight, barely discernable paunch,
I could see such things, too but
they only endeared me to
the façade of some silly notion
a kin to forever.
We would stay up late,
even on the weeknights,
wine silly and
**** chatty.
She would dance
and I would tell her
****** poems in exchange.
It seemed like a good trade
to me but the truth is,
she was being shorted in the deal.
We said,
I love you
but I’m not sure we knew
that we didn’t really have that
to offer one another.
Both of us had sold more
than we had ever bargained for
long before we met.
When money ran thin and
times grew hard
she split.
Hope still stops by on occasion.
(She was a dancer, too).
But it seems a bit easier to distinguish
differences between the faux
and the genuine these days.
She doesn’t stay long.
I like to blame it all on Karma
despite knowing that I was just never
quite frugal or savvy enough to afford more than a few perfume-drenched moments at the foot of the stage.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Lost Lost Children's song
Lost at 3:20
in the morning where clock ticks
struggling to blend
*Slime-smoo-thie, slime-smoo-thie drink
Slime-smoo-thie, slime-smoo-thie drink
Oh* Sia has never been wrong
Bullets brain, bargained
Ballet shoes, never worn out
Stay as clear as tears
Stay as clear as tears
Just burn the witches
where clock ticks
struggling to fade
Oh not even could light a cigarette
Lost Lost Children's song
Lost at 3:20
Found it
Stuck in your baby pink lungs
*No smoking, sweetheart
Smoking kills*
Lost Lost Children
Do not grow up so fast
Just come back home to Mama
Heal your scratched knee,
never
Do not learn to bike anymore
Just stay home with Mama
Mama has a song too
Mama sings only for you
Just come back home to Mama
*Downfall like baobab's
How dare you grow so fast
Downfall like baobab kid
I hope you find your sheep*
Lost Lost Children's song
Lost at 3:20
Lost at wrong perception
Do not find Mama is fine
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
Every time I think of you,
I think, "What a ****
And then as I think
I can't exactly think of anything specific
that made you a ****
not something you did,
not really,
and my mind, for a second,
defends you.
But then it all comes back.
The hurtful words.
The all-caps that would have been
shouting.
The exasperation you treated me with
when I just wanted
a hug.
We were so lonely
but we were not alone
and it made it worse
that we were not together.
Crowds are more than I ever thought
they would be.
It hurts remembering things you said
about me
about us
about how we were lying to ourselves
from the beginning
and that what had seemed so pure and beautiful
was soiled and ruined.
Nothing was physically wrong.
We broke no laws.
But I gave you my heart
more than I should have
and no contract kept you from throwing it
away.
It stings when I recall it.
So whoever you catch in your net,
whoever you drag down the hallways
of your house,
I hope they give you more than you bargained for
I hope you feel the hurt I felt
that you never sensed
because you were over me before I even knew we were over
I hope the next girl you meet doesn't need you
like I did
like I still feel like I do.
I hope you know that you are dangerous
and that you need to be careful
because you're a bomb
that looks so harmless
you're poison
that looks like fruit
you're the death that no one should ever have to feel
when they're alive
You're not what any longing girl needs.
So be careful.
Guard your heart.
Or you'll wish you'd learned the first time
when I find out
what you've done.
I will leave you alone
because my only words to you are bitter
from long hours spent in regret
bitter from days spent in depression
bitter from months of wishing you weren't there
that you were someone else
in someone else's life
and that I'd never known you.
But I never would have learned so many valuable lessons
that I've learned such a hard way.
"Leave Me Alone" is about the most-used phrase in my head
these days.
I sing it when I am alone
I whisper it under my breath as I walk from one crowded room to the next
I mutter it as I sink into my seat
So.
Leave me alone.
You've done your damage
you don't want to stick around to see how much you've messed me up
so don't.
Just go.
You're better off anywhere else
besides listening to me
rambling here
about things you will never read
and feelings I will never share
with you.
We are worse than strangers, for we shall never be friends.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC