"berths" poems
The platforms are full of passengers
The fruits, coffees and tea stalls
The train runs on the track with heels
Like the whops of horses
Passengers enter the train in a hurry
And leave without any worry
Someone sleeps in the berth and snores
Some other sits and reads the news
The gluttonous eater eats the eats
The vendor sells nuts and peas
and cries like the buzzing bees
the T.C comes, wakes up and asks
for the ticket and bribes for berths
the beggar begs for alms singing hymns
some play cards making unbearable noises
the child weeps ,cries and moans
the thief enters the coaches
and tries to steal the bags
the passengers make friends with ease
but it will very soon cease
life like railway travel is a passing shower
it doesn’t last forever
It lasts only till the destination comes
The passenger takes the bag and leaves
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 6:16 AM UTC
the world is flown
and i sleep beside you wed
our mossy appetite has become cleaved
a sleeve running between us on this bed
a warm hum the pores pipe open
intimacy issues forth traversing the gap
intelligence sliding slack and froth
like moist candy-floss icking and tearing
our shared dream
our powerful phantom
gussy travellers
ravelling in sheets of smoky sea
grey/green misting of the memory gland
gathering up dead celebrity
tuning structures to our jubilee
re-creation in a vibe theatre
we're partners conducting our behaviour
for a grand flotsam revelry
dizzed up and narcotic
no doubt ; we are unreal
it is the neon hour...
i flicker
feeling the rushing of your warm system
i feel weather speed over our bodies
striping and refreshing the energy
in the oil light blinking i see you
scar beauty over the berths' landscape
you turn the body over and illuminate the eyes
you are if to say "plug back in to our shared motion"
"we could be imperishable"
"i cannot return without my inconsiderate spouse"
you brush my hand which fizzes
and i clothe my eyes
re-enter our developing potion
within our great mouths feed alike
our dual nature is a shared gratification within
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
No:8
7th-AUG-2018
Believe it or not, even the strong need support
even the strong need reassurance.
I need support
I need reassurance
It’s not enough to say you love me
How do you show it!?
It’s not enough to say you want me
How do you prove it!?
I will go to the moon and back for you!!
I’ve heard that before and in the same breath you spoke these words you refuse me a glass of water;
The moon is quite far away
I love you to the moon and back, I’ve also heard but the sourest touch of my hand sends you into unexplainable rage. Love as fickle as the wind
Support me so we may ascend and be reborn anew into something greater than we once had.
Reassure me so I have a reason to keep my eyes on you and you alone.
Feed me energy that berths success
Feed me.
Rex Verum Regem
TFK
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
I watch the harbor through the falling snow
the sky and sea form one vast, gray tableau
the sun is nothing but a weak, background glow
the scene draws me, as if hypnotically.
Five mile’s lighthouse warnings go unvoiced
its strobes not lashing out, so what’s its point
it stands majestically but disappoints
replaced electronically
A tiny lobster boat makes its landward way
towards the inlet from the wider channel bay
a powdery blizzard is underway
which melts into the mirror sea.
Ospreys still hunt round the lobsterman's pride
snowflakes stain them as they soar and glide
other seabirds huddle side by side
shivering and crowing lividly.
Through the narrows the lonely boat steams
past icy Luddington Rock and East Breakwater's breech
its berths and moorings, within minutes reach
and sadly, it’s time for me to leave.
.
.
Songs for this:
Far Far Away (Charles Tone Mix) [feat. Brenda Boykin] by Tape Five
Nobody by Mitski
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 1:42 PM UTC
I used to climb Trees
Out in broad daylight,
where we used to ride bikes,
My home time was defined by streetlights,
fistfights and first times.
I used to play kick stone.
outside on the roads of my home.
Scared of the dark when I was home alone.
A sombre tone in those days.
My cul-de-sac was a continent,
you couldn’t count the times
we jumped hedges and jumped the brooks,
wider berths as we grew and beamed with confidence.
He grew up on the other side of the brook to me!
Exploration into dilapidated buildings,
to seek out lost felines for the £10 reward.
One guy got stung by a bee nine times,
he lived to tell the tale of course.
Thinking back sometimes,
It was us who had nine lives,
playing on the tramlines and and swimming in high tides.
colliding with live wires and life lessons,
We built sandcastles and burnt them down,
in spaces of seconds.
Lost in imagination.
I stayed in the sea until my fingers wrinkled,
but this happened more often in the bath if i’m honest.
It seemed so simple,
within the borders of our town, in those days.
The good old days,
or so they say -
but i don’t disagree with the sentiment of it all, if i’m honest.
It’s a ghost town now,
Treehouse's and broken fences,
Sweet shops and trips to the dentist.
A playground apprentice,
like Dennis the menace,
Ernie and Bertie,
maybe.
The bell rang more times than I care to remember.
It symbolised the beginning of the next class rather than the end.
To some at least, i’m not quite sure precisely who.
But it always started in September.
Those were the days,
Kiss chase and roller skates
missed chances and romances.
First dances and your first falls.
The sycamore tree got smaller,
but remains the exact same size.
The boys got a little bit taller,
some of us guys even became wise.
Life is full of surprises.
We flew apart.
The sun went down and we grew up.
And now I don't climb Trees anymore.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
There is he, who cannot rest,
In clover, nor in wisps of clouds;
Churning, malaise of soul’s request,
Until such soul has spoken loud.
In voices, tongues of foreign feature,
Ones he cannot hope to reign;
Accepts, within, this lonesome creature,
Such dormancy had lain.
Whet upon his palate clean,
The tastes of time surrendered,
In nibbles, wincing, soured preen,
His anguish berths distended.
Whether love or longing pine,
The sweet of either remarks,
Plain of wrapper, tan-hemp twine,
Arrive in light or dark.
Sequestered to his inner mind,
As permeating thoughts infuse
Lessons, mem’ries—some unkind,
Too precious then, to lose.
Coffers rich in frames of past,
Display, enigmatic posing;
A filling reference of faces dashed,
Betrayal: scant exposing.
Inhaling then, the moment caustic,
With innocence feigned, unguarded,
Ingesting free the poison’s lick,
For peace he will then barter.
Release in silent ecstasy,
As his soul retracts to heal,
Birthing words refractory,
In life, such visions feel.
Remorse breeds times exhumed,
As contentment lapses hinder;
Chants thwart the breaths consumed,
Residual morsels linger.
The cryptic frets the untouched stone,
Before the sense dissolves,
In corners, there, he weeps alone,
And clings to his resolve.
There is he, who cannot rest,
In clover, nor in wisps of clouds;
Churning, malaise of soul’s request,
Until such soul has spoken loud.
In voices, tongues of foreign feature,
Ones he cannot hope to reign;
Accepts, within, this lonesome creature,
Such dormancy had lain.
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
...1
Oh Middle Kingdom! Forbidden kingdom! Middle Earth!
The In-between
and Afterward, Within and Outside
this world's physical berths
Spirit realm and beyond the Further
Oh Heavenly and Cosmic
Mother/Father,
Imperial ruler of All creation
All us living,
Oh where are you?!
Ohm
Middle Kingdom, Forbidden Kingdom,
Goddess Love / God my King?
I am your word your fire your son
Awaiting for kingdom come
Our Universe of infinite Light
and Peace
not yet begun,
Oh kingdom! All that is One!
Life is yours and all below the stars
belongs to none and only you and yours!
Oh middle kingdom, oh middle earth!
Reclaim what was, is and further more
all of time, all of Truth
upon this shore and beneath this sky
we belong within your Light!
Oh Kingdom! Oh Heaven!
OHM Shambala Oh!
Ohm Valhalla Oh!
Ohm Forever Oh!
___________________________________
...2
Ohm Shambala!
in shambles
Shangri La contained
conquered by fists
ample weight
of walls of stones
another wonder
on hill of bone
Tourists and their Sherpas
'Tch 'Tch lost histories
when once
cloud city and magic
was laughter on the chicory
and wind
Oh peaceful wisdoms
my middle kingdom hence
rescinds to lifeless
beige and damning Greys
it appears it feels
like Hell ever since
The halls are unremembered ways
empty of God's good love
or wonder light of Day...
Oh Middle Kingdom!
Ohm Shambala!
Xin Nian Quai Le!
(You're a beautiful day!)
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
I am somewhere between the nadir and the zenith with the wind that blows behind me and who will find me now?
or do I bow before the circumstance,or take a chance,step out from the twilight,two steps out to the dark night,slight chance that there just might be ,somewhere other than this place that seems to fit this soul so tightly.
Down there,
the air became pollute,resolution has dissolved into the swamp like stew we once emerged from, crawl and sprawl our signature as if our nature was the hunting man,
neanderthal.
And Cro-Magnon thought he had the lot,he had not and never did.
The times are dreary,weary men walk home from work,exerting pressures on their tired bones and California was a dream they had in famine fare when food was scarce as were the ferry berths.
Up there,
the air gets clearer,smelling sweeter but palisades are built and pirates sell it by the litre to the thirsty,nothing beats a bit of commerce,it could be worse
I don't know how
I think I'll bow to circumstance.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
We metaphor rivers
as the flow of life,
mindful of willows who
cast shadows on furlong banks.
Riverboats with tilting berths
temporarily knock stability.
But focus strengthens the steadfast.
Bulrushes hide the deeper pain
from our eyes
dark algae de-oygenates currents,
and as a metaphor again
I begin to feel
the up wind carrying
us to our rightful destiny
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
Before that Final day
dictates the Sounds & Furies
as All as eye
for you by you
the minutia dress of un-success
dross and bullets
butterfly wings beautiful
garbage
gots to sho-fo...
Before the infinite space eyes
scrutinize
on that final day
beyond spatial searching
for good graces
like light being recognized
love on all faces
on that last day having failed
our Mother's womb
this fine fine fortress of a home
evergreen--sea--sky--blue
if Absolute were upon us
curtains and swan songs
for Georges and Gorgeous dreams
this beautiful jetsam
garbage heap
from Rosetta ashes
with form from crushed cosmic soups
a stone
spinning kaleidoscope
at most, spheres
with tearful fears
bewilderment cheers
heavenly lungs vying
all of us here impatiently dying
everyday with the sun
Wait for the Father's love
to once again save us
before the infinite
upheaval...
Upon piles and piles of off-putting
garbage heaps
a child is picking up things
anything of value
something of sustenance
lessons of happenstance
And Low! It is not good...
All are our children - being denied food & mirth
But what is a song to a diminished bird?
no cage more cruel than loss of life's worth
the tossed away
little tiny
shavings from the noble
mettle from Excalibur's dross
diamonds glittering nightime gowns
picking up trash in prestine dresses?
babies precious lumps of coal
with little value
but our future blessed...
In the heart's sacred berths
Love upholds
Life more than gold...
*Because... Day oh! Mi za Day - oh!
Daylight has come..."*
(Home = Priceless)
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 4:26 AM UTC
*Racing thoughts along the Atlantic alabaster , sea green -connection , sundown obscuring the curve of the earth
Wondering why gulls prefer the shore as Ghost ***** -
scurry for their awaiting sandy berths
Seaweed filled foam reaching the end of its destination ,
driftwood skeletons shadow white sand westerly creation
Venus sits alone in 'Sailor delight red sky' , North Star forever bright
Tonight a beacon light pans the open waters ,
A peculiar turquoise , emerald summer night collage*
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
Dust berths from the depths of my lungs
And with it, the serum of my being
I am a metal machine whose cogs have rusted
And once doused in water wishes never to have trusted
I now see the light which melts the shame away
Misery and angst heed my love another day
Although the blood is fresh at the tip of the *****
My heart beats again, I am no longer dismayed
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
Before we take on our foot,
we are treated like cotton rags
a rattle in one hand, and a bottle in the other,
yet we **** up our salivating tongue
using our tiny limbs and pebble-sized fingers,
we are shown as dolls in museums
dolls who collapse, yet their struggle
is shown as lightweight and fed to the vultures,
—
Our ankles press against the sand grains
under the sweltering of the sun
and the rising of the moon,
we rise from our berths undead
to haunt our freedom and rights given in books,
—
I start the Mandela effect in 1800’s
manufacturing slaves as robots,
still our mascara hides underneath
and our stick is glued to our hand,
a hand of slavery.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
respiring corridors
interior hospital night
outside
silenced
the winter
away facing
patient pacing
in palliative care
for the age-ed out expiring
iterations of ejecting death
darkly dressed haggy wet breaths
beds engaged
berths of great ferment
corridor ; raked in
corridor ; ridden out squalling
a patient who has yet to reach
the concluding condition of his fellows
bellows
'Shut The **** Up'
mad for sleep
he's lost compassion
The corridor labours on
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 7:13 PM UTC
What if;
Colors were flowers
And flowers were men
And men could swim to the sun?
Would it
Then be
Any different, would we
Still have,
Bombs and guns?
What if;
We were
The winds and waters
That cover this illuminant earth?
Would it
Then be
That we
Would fall
To berths that haven’t taken birth?
What if;
Tears
Had meanings and wisdom
And lips that spoke the truth absolute?
Would it
Then happen
That wars
And darkness
We spread for glory, we would mute?
What if;
The stars were hungry
And extraterrestrials
Our friends, and met us one day?
Would it
Then matter
What race
Or creed,
Or random colors our shadows went astray?
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
Absurd loneliness hangs in the air
The faded blue of the berths, and washed out sheets
Sputtering silver paint peels off the overhead lamp
Signs like desperate pleas
Of a train making the same journey between two cities
We're suspended in time, we strangers
who share only a night and a destination
The wheels threaten to stop, leave us here forever
But it picks up speed: a weary mask of courage,
and goes on
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
Little shadow
harked madam
a bird who wears her wings
only as wardrobe
(though she dreams
in fits
of infantasy)
dusty in her bedroom
in trust to her headspace
an attic dweller
home school tutored
a burden to her wellspring
and buried to her title
averted
feet behind the curtain
little shadow
with the unclaimed
the name of
Elizabeth
**
A foe in the night
an aviary of the berserk :
vocal nicker
and disputes at high frenzy
lend from her garret
uneasy on the household
coughing up all of the family
cussing from their berths
the awoken
shamble and mumble in the hallway
move in a broken thread up to her attic
they’ll crack open her privacy
and find her fast out on the bedding
you can’t spell that to her ghost
in Elizabeth’s sleep
it’s sprung from its host
a living haunting
a messed up devotion
expresses itself on the family
enforces itself emotionally
the hallways are trailed
with dried flowers
and stinging nettles
don’t tread the halls at night
without a pair of slippers
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC
A poet loves to question
love and praise the beauty of anguish,
he drinks the strength
of justice
like Mr. Hyde to Jekyll's buried famished
thirst
a poet needs hidden
Treasures true in the pond, the search,
the meanings, symbols and riddled
rambling - man of petals of roses
he angers at stoics
and weeps when he sees love between
enemies - finding peace
in rhetoric
the harmony of overwhelming feelings
he is privy to the silence, congealing, and understands
why and how
the ways of things, work,
the violence of truth, berths
moving revelations in compromising
and yet the importance of
where and when
the sun is surely rising
a poet may love to hurt at times
the moon waxes full and blue with brine,
but it is the passion a poet finds
when he stays true
The
Rhyme’s own journals /written
Days,
nights.
pain. songs.
sublime.
rain, love, or come shine.
deign to cry.
dream.
breathe.
die.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
It’s Pretty Clear That I’m LETHAL... !!!
When It Comes To My CEREBRAL.... !!!
And How Its Applied...
When I’m Now Inclined...
To Sit Down And Write...
Rhymes Built For The WISE... !!!
My Cerebral... FLIES...
And Reaches Great Heights...
WITHOUT The Need...
For ******* Supplies... !!!
I Deal With The Green...
That's Grown NATURALLY... !?!
That Supplies Me With HIGHS...
That Then HEIGHTEN My Mind...
... Know What I Mean... ?!?
It Then... INSPIRES Me...
To Be Expressive On Themes...
That Poetically Deal...
With Our REALITY... !!!!!!!
So Indeed My Cerebral...
Flies High Like An Eagle... !!!
So Thats Right CLEARY Sees...
What We Call FALLACIES... !!!
Because of Glands PINEAL...
That See Right Through...
The Eye of A... NEEDLE... !!!
So That’s Right My Cerebral...
Is FAR From........ Feeble... !!!!!
REFUSES EVIL...
And IGNORANT People... !!!
It’s Looking For Partners...
Like Those From Wakanda’...
With Names Like T’Challa...
Panthers Much SMARTER...
Than CERTAIN Forefathers...
Who Dealt With Slave Masters...
And Made Black Lives HARDER...
Than ANY White Charter...
Could Ever NOW DO...
And That Is THE TRUTH... !!!
If You Don’t Believe Me...
Check The History...
of The FIRST African Dude...
To Learn In ETON School... !!!
See My Cerebral Goes Farther...
Than... Marathon Markers...
It Goes WAY BEYOND Miles... !!!
And Rappers Whose Styles...
Profile What Is WILD... !!!
Because of Weak Minds...
That Are FAR From Refined...
And What Some Call... WISE...
These Days I Now Find...
My Cerebral’s Inclined...
To Give Berths...... EXTRA WIDE... !!!
To The The Type of Black Guys...
Who Are TOO FULL of PRIDE And Attitudes Like...
Supremacist Types Whose Skin Tone Is Light... !!!
That’s Right I Mean... WHITE... !!!
Because... Only A SUCKER... !!!
BelIeves That EVERY Brother...
SEES THEM As THEIR Brother... ?!?
And Those Words APPLY...
To ALL Creeds And Colours...
Within... Human Kind... !!!
It’s FOOLISH To THINK...
That You Know EVERYTHING... !?!
But EVEN MORE Foolish...
To Let Your Mind SINK...
Into... DAMAGING Links...
Because They DON’T Think...
In The Way That YOU Think... ?!?
ESPECIALLY IF... !!!
The Way That YOU Think...
And INDEED How You Live...
DEFINES Words Like THIS...
That’s Right HYPOCRITE... !!!
It’s Lyrics Like THIS...
That Prove That My Skin...
Is NOT What Defines...
The Depth of My Mind...
Because Like E Said...
The Rhymes That I Kick...
Come From MY CEREBELLUM... !!!
So Are Balanced And Levelled...
That’s Right... Like My Head...
And... Are Indeed LETHAL... !!!
Because They’re NOT Feeble... !!!
ILLEGAL... Deceitful...
Or Infected By EVIL...
Because They Are.....
........ “ CEREBRAL “........ !!!
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 2:35 AM UTC
I struck you sometime after midnight
Mid ship
Gashed
Your seas pouring into my cabin
Berths
Icy
Green
Fervent
To my neck
And I submit
Drowning with your lips upon mine
Till we hit the sea floor
Carpathian
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC