"bespeaks" poems
two women
a single
Gemini
of desire
the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable
swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis
inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore
T
the outer
R
the inner
T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity
bombastically
womanly
big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock
and those
lips
oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips
I’m puckered
up
begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips
press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face
wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug
shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang
you wow
the bow
out of this
dog
taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes
flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more
fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptured
with quixotic
hypnotics
I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire
R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place
she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart
she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue
limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations
the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement
her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze
her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests
I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat
my dear
celestial
twins
the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity
Dedicated to
T& R
Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women
Oakland
4/26/12
jbm
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
In 1963
Mahalia prodded
the good reverend...
“tell them
about the dream
Martin”
transfixed on
a yonder time
he recounted
prophecies of
a near future
from a mountaintop
he foretold a
history of a people
returned again to
gardens of paradise
thriving in friendly
democratic soils
overflowing with a
colorful biodiversity
governed and
nurtured with a
vibrant sunshine
of divine justice
welcoming all
weary sojourners...
from the
pinnacle of
a Birmingham
jail cell
Martin burst
the bars with
the clarion peel
of a golden trumpet
proclaiming the gospel
of liberation to
the wardens of
unholy gulags
“free yourselves”
the horn emblazoned
in streaking lightning
across the sky
cowed by
prophetic truths
of righteousness,
shamed by
lies the pride
of arrogance
bespeaks to
placate the
intransigence
of dominion,
we prayed the
the walls of racism,
bigotry, prejudice
would tumble down as
Martin lit the Battle
of Jericho
today our country’s
profit driven gulags
overflow with people
of color as justice
lingers on death row
begging for a plea bargain
of a life sentence in
solitary confinement...
from the
****** Sunday Bridge
in Selma, Martin
offered a prayer for
peace, rebuking
the dogs of war
admonishing
the tenders of
blood thirsty
machines to
beat the gears
of war into
pruning hooks
and plowshares
advocates of peace
hope to steer
the plow across
the battlefields of
acrimony to sow
rich seeds of
reconciliation, planting
new gardens where
the rich yields of peace
will be consumed
by all God's children
yet these gardens
remain unplanted,
untended and defiled
by the machinery
of war that churns
churns, churns...
Martin last
dream occurred
on a balcony
in Memphis
witnessing
to the divinity
of those considered
untouchable after
a hard days work
collecting a city’s
refuse
he insisted all labor
was worthy of dignity
and the economic
justice of a fair wage
Martin looked squarely
into the eye of the gun sights
of those who thought differently
he never blinked, he dreamed
Martin formed his last
testament to an angry nation
yearning for the reconciliation
of stability and peace,
unmoved that it’s violence,
exploitation and bigotry only
stoke bonfires of acrimony
and division, condemning
the reprobate principality
to the bleakness of a
smoldering discontent and
continued generations
of recurring nightmares…
Martin's dream continues
in awakened hearts
sojourning on
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho
MLK Day
2014
Oakland
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Graffiti is a beautiful thing
A splash of the soul
in an unlikely place
character and development
hardship and victory
every detail recorded
in ink
where mother big brother father of all
says should be bare
In the cover of my own
independence
I shadow in and shade
my very ****** skin
until I am a ****** no more
and I can see myself inside out
memorialized in permanence
that bespeaks adulthood
a grown up
graffiti
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
The first brave buds of spring burst forth
In shades of yellow and green.
They stand sentry at my door
Like fierce mujahedin.
They expel the bear of winter.
They sneer at frightful frost.
I wouldn’t want to be the snowflake
That they chance to come across.
In the seedbed things are stirring,
germinating beneath the sod.
There’s a riotous revolution
that bespeaks the touch of God.
Flowers are like people
They can be kept down just so long.
Then solar warmth will melt the snow
And birds break into song.
The garden trees are setting buds
That soon will dominate the scene.
It is Heaven enough for now
as things bloom and grow and preen.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
Percepts of enlightenment & civilization to encounter
The grim aftermath of tales unspoken from the galaxies afar
Betokening Indian tales of deeper truths than ever,
For the Great Spirit still swirls in gestures previously milder,
At a snail's pace and surely winning the pursuit among souls or
Is example better than pre-conceived precept?
or
“Is that a dog in the manger?”
Now cherishing the viper?
The human dilemma between liberty & authority?
“Has mythology now become psychology?”
A dingy white color in disguise of tranquility
To suit the blemished features of the 21st century
With fair women & brave men turning fables into verse,
Yet Socrates’ doctrine about death bespeaks a wafture so callous!
The new-age “iron claw” screams nastiness in time and space.
The pretences of mankind like the puritan;
Mars trapped in the net of Vulcan,
Jupiter is serene and above the conflict to win,
While Venus tries to fight upon the plains of troy
That the Greek gods of serenity may win at Tuscany.
“When do these sultry groans of mortal remorse cease?”
To calm the sordid uproar that Love may peruse
Through the scattered white aromatic rose petals
In search of the scintillating path back to the highland stables
Were snowflakes are an irresistible lure for the Arctic snowbirds!
Nature herself is proud of her designs
Yet!
There is nothing grating in mortal cosmoses but direct villainy.
Sinister fate climbs the lonesome banister faster
Before the “fanged dawn” descends nearer,
As stronger minds virtually become weaker;
These “shameless actors” are melted into “thin air”
“Must they cheat themselves with that same foolish vice of honesty?”
Mischievousnesses feed!
Like beasts till they be fat, and then they bleed
As they are led to bend the curve of “No return”
Since it is only rational that after the darkest of nights
There is a brighter day to reveal the true knights
Of the once gloomy age of Democritus.
Tis plain, from hence, that our vows
Request hurtful intense things,
or useless at the best.
Sep 17, 2009
Sep 17, 2009 at 5:16 AM UTC
I chased the first rays
of an autumn morning
but to my sorrow
when I arrived at
the urgent place
the sun had
already
risen
breathing a
crowning glory of a
seasons brilliant
splendor
alighting
the glowing amber
of golden woods
shining like gleaming
constellations of
dazzling morning
stars...
though I
desired to find
ascendent beauty
the ubiquitous glow of
transfigured leaves
immersed me in
a divine chrome...
as I traversed
the woods, my
solitary steps found
companionship
with a sullen
mistress singing
a sad rustle
of dry fallen leaves
and as the drone
of cars faded from the
receding road
I searched myself
for courage and
found resolve
I pondered truth
and discovered
the wisdom
of resolution...
yearning to
realize a
deeper faith
I hiked
further up
the wooded hill,
visiting the gay
playfields
of my youth
and received
an epiphany
of wholesome
closure
opening
new
timeless
doors...
still questing
for more light
a prophetic wren
whirred a pliant
secret into my ear
she bespoke
a symphony
of avian
improvisations
conversing in
a thousand
luminous tongues,
relating a sonorous
elegy teaming with
the brightest
joys of life
raising bold
proclamations
celebrating a
seasons radiance
imploring me
to join the chorus...
though the canopy
of the woods still
boasted boughs
of green
the
infant hues
of spring had
run its course
the glory of an
expiring season
strewn on the
forest floor
covering the
mouldering stags
inching back into
the compost of life
breeding blankets
of furry moss
feeding on the
primal organica
of seemingly
expired flora
here, in this
darkened moment
I realized
the transcendent
miracle
the loam of life
incubating
churning
in concert with
the turn of
seasons...
to my sorrow
I missed the first
rays of the morning
the first
peeks of light
a breaking day
gracefully bespeaks
upon a sleeping earth
awoken in new light
yet I am filled
I am transcendent
I am the first ray
of an eternal light
I am the first ray
of my earthen
gloaming...
on the morrow
the best of me
is in the marrow
of all who loved me
and all whom I loved
these rays of me
will forever rise
in an eternity
of dawnings
For Joey
Godspeed Beloved
Vaughan Williams:
Lark Ascending
Oakland
101313
jbm
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Curve of tangent brims on rune of cosmic quantum,
as sparkling rays reel through dew drops at dawn,
for green to enlighten creation by bounty of joy,
meadow grass seems to tumble drinking solace,
resonance of love sprees like beauty of blossom.
speckles of white crystal repose in home of blue,
eyes bespeaks of ethereal exist to seek beyond,
sun awakens earth to uplift from sheath of night,
as if hale of eternity expands to abound beyond ,
petal draws portrait of spark to inflame fragrance.
silence quells grief of soul to emblazon by the journey,
for each drop of tear to absolve guilt of own delusion,
light of love wakes heart to disown from quailing grace,
cry of call genuflects at foothill of warmth to yield unity,
synergy of art evolves to form by sanity of confluence.
Innocence blushes like cadence of hope to run a muck
quest still falters to know very principle of uncertainty
mystery baffles truth of reason to reason out belief
as tendered mellow soft weaves to gather web of love
yet don't we need to learn theory of quantum solace?.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
Totally like whatever, you know?
by Taylor Mali
In case you hadn’t noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you’re talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you’re saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)’s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren’t, like, questions? You know?
Declarative sentences—so-‐called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true, okay,
as opposed to other things are, like, totally, you know, not—
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don’t think I’m uncool just because I’ve noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It’s like what I’ve heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I’m just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?
What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally . . .
I mean absolutely . . . You know?
That we’ve just gotten to the point where it’s just, like . . .
whatever!
And so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is just a clever sort of . . . thing
to disguise the fact that we’ve become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since . . .
you know, a long, long time ago!
I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it, too.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
The sun, so lover-like, ran her fingers
Through the glistening leaves,
Movements soft, so full of intention
Their waxy dew, shuttered in response,
A low moan played in the breeze,
The light of sonority contrasts the electric
Disharmonies in the stormy afternoon.
Though I could feel a forest now eased
The river that runs through
Carried the blood of a plural heart
Beating with a passion akin in power, though enemy in fashion,
As its waves beat the banks
Eroding them into, eating up the aridness
As though slaking were its due, muddying the sky’s blue
From its surface, piercing the eyes from its reflection
Discouraging, this turbid froth, from worth of further inspection.
It rages and rages over rocks so violently
Picking at its slimming walls, making and claiming
Detritus along the path so that all the beauty a river is
Crashes, collides, and disfigures—a chaos growing
Bigger and bigger—the speed of its wrath
Bespeaks of its wake, blasting the earth (Watch it dissipate!)
Out of my sight it runs its due course south
Spitting the detritus that arrives
At the mouth.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Tempus Fugit:
Nought is eternal,
Nox is ephemeral,
And
The Charred Canvas
Of
The Night Sky
(Noctis Lucis Caelum,
Scala Ad Caelum)
Bedarkened & besmirched, bespeaks
A
Love-Worn Wayward, Wayworn.
In the
Citadel
Of mine
Temporal Heart
Time
Streams infinitely
As an
Exhalation of The Ethereal One.
The Chronology of
The Arbiter of Fates
Shalt Destine,
Herald Eternitas
Upon
The Phantasmagoric Horizon
Of
Mine Mind's Sky
Wondering
Upon
Days of Yore.
(The Hither,
The Thither,
And
The Morrow.)
These
Luminescent Children are
Are born
To wax Luminaries
Then,
Wax Nebulous
For all eternity.
O, Metempsychosis;
Born of
Edicts Unseen,
Of that
Which was,
Is,
&
Will Be.
(For
All things
Are
Circular & Cycling,
Existentially.)
We were conceived
Infinitely
To
Infinity
And beyond.
Let He, Let She
Whose
Ears & Eyes
Of
The Unuttered Anima
Be unstopped, unfurled
To resonations:
Deep within.
The Emerald Lifestream Anew
Dost begin.
The Sovereign of Songbirds sings
Esprit d' amour
To those who wait.
(Se' Lah.)
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
My dearest,
I will miss you
After the morning light takes you away.
But honesty bespeaks my boredom of
Nakedness on ******
Thrusting into you,
The screams of your pleasure-
It was satisfactory.
The soft scent of your spangled hair
As it ran playfully through my fingers
While I cradled your skull in my palm when
I caught the glitter of your smile as our bodies undulated
Through the oceans and across the galaxies
Where you dipped your toes into the cosmic pools
Before diving into the depths with me-
then,
I felt you quiver.
Of all the arrows in the world, yours only was
Precise and lethal to the bone;
Searing straight through my universe and
Pulling it apart
To reveal not darkness, but merely the absence of light.
In it, I was not afraid.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
joey
left today
the radiance of a
summer sunshine
gone dark
an icon
of jersey shore
memories
lost to the
rumbling
breakers
a joie de vivre
crested
ebbing waves
flow out
ushered off
by friendly
on-shore winds
the day bespeaks
a perfect symmetry
departing life's shores
on Sandy’s anniversary
marking momentous days
of passings and arrivals
may you safely arrive
on the seaside shores
in the place of eternal
summer sunshine
vaya con dios
mi hermano
for joey
Fleet Foxes:
Grown Ocean
10/29/30
oakland
jbm
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
The ocean's pulse, the ebb and flow
of constant waves' re-nourishment
bespeaks to me of life, although
an undercurrent message sent
in whispered sighs of Gaia's breath
upon the shoreline where I sit
relates a tale of bounteous wealth;
the wind, the rain - that we exist
at all is purely by the grace
of Nature's cycles. Also heard,
a gentle, soft, disturbing voice
reminding me without a word:
when we have come and we have gone
the ocean's pulse continues on
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
They were clouds but they formed the longest white feathers it wasn’t the noted war bonnet of the
Plains no this was a head dress for a maiden that could only be the glory of love embodied to look was
To stall and stop time your breath slows your eyes grow wide in the throes of elements started in loves
Dreams untamed without bounds or borders the cherished object grew it was everything man knew and
Then more was created as the heart dared explore all the possibilities love drew and did spew the
Tantalizing the finest detail from the long mist of islands truly cloaked in mystery she walked somber
Paths her silence and grace tripped the scale of wonder elegance it termed in language that only poets
Could write her soft touch was the trinity of sun light moon light as it practiced the art of creating
Earthen things by just a softening glow with at touch of waters mist to complete the total design of
Natural fabrication out of all that is natural and human it bespeaks of spiritual clandestine movements
That created life in the first place all this resides in her eyes and the starry crown she adorns in the night watch where she shares her magic to all who seek loves possessive hold on every fragment of thought
And being stir this scene with angelic fingers romance set adrift with the power to make emotions that
Last beyond life times the bedrock foundations of generations from thee eternal sky her forever
Dwelling place all lovers say thank you.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
The trembling thunder chains soul to awake.
Though depths be the bane of the weak,
To strike the divine is to drain the opaque.
What holds your reason, should judgment mistake?
Though the alternate prospects are bleak,
The trembling thunder chains soul to awake.
Were it be you, could comfort forsake?
No, unaware, your posture bespeaks.
To strike the divine is to drain the opaque
The valiant of will won’t welcome the quake
Empowered, the sordid, the broken, the meek,
The trembling thunder chains soul to awake
Ethereal dance, whose lost weavings partake
those apes, who stand tall, boasting technique.
To strike the divine is to drain the opaque.
Yet pardons, in diligence, to the transparent fake;
On fires dwell qualms of conceit.
The trembling thunder chains soul to awake.
To strike the divine is to drain the opaque.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 3:02 AM UTC
They were clouds but they formed the longest white feathers it wasn’t the noted war bonnet of the
Plains no this was a head dress for a maiden that could only be the glory of love embodied to look was
To stall and stop time your breath slows your eyes grow wide in the throes of elements started in loves
Dreams untamed without bounds or borders the cherished object grew it was everything man knew and
Then more was created as the heart dared explore all the possibilities love drew and did spew the
Tantalizing the finest detail from the long mist of islands truly cloaked in mystery she walked somber
Paths her silence and grace tripped the scale of wonder elegance it termed in language that only poets
Could write her soft touch was the trinity of sun light moon light as it practiced the art of creating
Earthen things by just a softening glow with at touch of waters mist to complete the total design of
Natural fabrication out of all that is natural and human it bespeaks of spiritual clandestine movements
That created life in the first place all this resides in her eyes and the starry crown she adorns in the night watch where she shares her magic to all who seek loves possessive hold on every fragment of thought
And being stir this scene with angelic fingers romance set adrift with the power to make emotions that
Last beyond life times the bedrock foundations of generations from thee eternal sky her forever
Dwelling place all lovers say thank you
Donna
If I ever become brave enough to suffer the amount that you have to get special answers from God I would make this request that Enchanted love’s dwelling place be taken from its written form and be tailor made to fit your life exclusively the sentiment the piece extols would go beyond a golden gown made from golden thread for you to wear but mix it with your sweet precious soul these beautiful thoughts be your adorning this is our wishes and prayers from all who know and love you from your writings that includes Joe Tim and Hal just to mention a few God bless you special one
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
They were clouds but they formed the longest white feathers it wasn’t the noted war bonnet of the
Plains no this was a head dress for a maiden that could only be the glory of love embodied to look was
To stall and stop time your breath slows your eyes grow wide in the throes of elements started in loves
Dreams untamed without bounds or borders the cherished object grew it was everything man knew and
Then more was created as the heart dared explore all the possibilities love drew and did spew the
Tantalizing the finest detail from the long mist of islands truly cloaked in mystery she walked somber
Paths her silence and grace tripped the scale of wonder elegance it termed in language that only poets
Could write her soft touch was the trinity of sun light moon light as it practiced the art of creating
Earthen things by just a softening glow with at touch of waters mist to complete the total design of
Natural fabrication out of all that is natural and human it bespeaks of spiritual clandestine movements
That created life in the first place all this resides in her eyes and the starry crown she adorns in the night watch where she shares her magic to all who seek loves possessive hold on every fragment of thought
And being stir this scene with angelic fingers romance set adrift with the power to make emotions that
Last beyond life times the bedrock foundations of generations from thee eternal sky her forever
Dwelling place all lovers say thank you.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
As the days go by without a word from you,
I'm left here wondering what is really true.
My mind counts all the possibilities
So here's a poll--won't you answer please?
There's no need to be cruel or unkind,
Just pick the choice that best bespeaks your mind.
And if somehow I missed your favored choice,
Use Other then to give yourself a voice.
Now if you're very brave, and Other's what you've checked,
You know how to find me: please connect!
I haven't written you because:
a. You scare me!
b. I'm waiting for you to get the hint: go away!
c. My computer crashed so I lost your email. Thank God you wrote!
d. You're divorced? I can't even talk with you.
e. I thought you wanted *** now--I don't want to be friends first!
f. I got kidnapped by terrorists and have been held incommunicado!
g. I got in a car wreck and I'm in the ICU.
h. I met someone 'way cooler than you. Drop dead!
i. Other
We here at Gallup thank you for taking the time to respond to our questionnaire. You may have been selected to participate in additional polls.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC
The ocean's pulse, the ebb and flow
of constant waves' re-nourishment
bespeaks to me of life, although
an undercurrent message sent
in whispered sighs of Gaia's breath
upon the shoreline where I sit
relates a tale of bounteous wealth;
the wind, the rain - that we exist
at all is purely by the grace
of Nature's cycles. Also heard,
a gentle, soft, disturbing voice
reminding me without a word:
when we have come and we have gone
the ocean's pulse continues on
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Loves Cost
When love’s promise spoke so deeply it was all consuming she was the streaming of love maybe
Some was because it was youthful and the first experience of losing your heart the hills breathed
The trees swayed as if joy was winging through the tree tops the thrill traveled the length of
Power through the wooded grain down all the way to the roots the color rose foot by foot into the
Canopy emerald’s richest tapestry it bespeaks all that is right and ever can be you are stunned
Captivated by this silence that runs deep she was the infilling the flourishing unrivaled beauty
The coming of newness in a ****** life that it was the first time that love burst forth in a growth
Pattern that had never been known before the luxury of thoughts completed in a soulful way
Through innocence she spoke and acted her expression was the planting of invigorating spells
She moved like light piercing every dark corner a tender harvest was beset in bareness prior to it
Days were washed away in pleasure coolest voice nothing to do but surrender wave after wave
She did render me speechless as one silently reaching for the way and then quietly to hear the
Voice that combines truth strength and softness a calling that is incomparable and strikes a note
That is other worldly and is weighted with gifts and the foremost is magic can shadows by will
Create and dictate outcomes that are spiritual that sends you into valleys of mystery that produce
Lyrical harmony yes without question defeat and loneliness forever banished on brush strokes
And enabling power as if an artist of great depth has created a world inside of the world that
Was broken and couldn’t be fixed the telling of loves flame igniting nobility the embers may
Wane to a softest glow but all that is needed is a heartfelt blow and the burning leaps into a full
Flame that consumes all and everything that is contrary this wealth is incalculable I found this
In those youthful heydays I will forever be thankful for the love we shared
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
the poetess
bespeaks unspeakable
beauty
raises eyes to
glimpse the unseen
opens the mind to
understand the unknowable
unites the horror of love
with the ecstasies
of sorrow
Happy Birthday Roberta
love, jimmy
Claude Debussy
Claire De Lune
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
One mustn't take what is beautiful and pure
And taint it with ugliness profane
From tarnishing its beauty
Can one not refrain?
You would think the eyes would see
The trueness of its state
And not place blemish on it one
And all of its innocence berate
I suppose one must hold in mind
That each one of us is unique
In how we interpret what we find
And how to others it bespeaks
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 4:14 AM UTC
Time aways I remember you tangled in the crook of my neck
Your half lidded eyes
such a gentle boy
Accursed it may seem
Agonized inside these walls
You were desperate for my touch
as I am for yours now
Cruelty bespeaks me
how many dead lay in your path
how many lay in mine
Exhausted I would feel
Your hand lazily cupped over my breast
Squeezed and pumped through
Even now my skin burns
this lust only awakes for you
How pathetic that must be
Wanting so desperately
I would tear my teeth out just for another taste
Instead I lay numb in my bed
Trying hard to forget
Trying hard not to care
Trying hard not to want
Failure creeps in on me
You pound through my head
In the most unexpected places I catch your glimpse
I wonder if I could turn back time
My salty tears dripping on your chest
Your arms reluctantly holding me
How could I forget?
I tainted what good came my way
Come to me again
Forgive me
I begged for you not to let me go
I turn to ash and crumble
My skin has already been picked at
I forgot how to breathe
The overwhelm has beaten me to a pulp
Do I breathe heavy
my limbs feel limp against my sides
Wave crash over my chest
My words fail me
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 2:21 PM UTC
Alacrity bespeaks entangled, entombed,
and entrapped Thai soccer team
diminishing strength barely allows,
but a whispered scream,
which rescue against all odds
(plucked out cavernous catacomb),
fast becoming a fading dream
vicariously agonizing to see
desperation and lads bravely brace,
helplessness predominating over initial
found alive break thru gain
promising grim destiny slowly doth erase
yet resignation impossible
to ignore written on every face
despite faux (cracking)
courageous front,
now severely testing grace
under underground solid state
rock geomorphology
necessitating stepped up pace
to rescue, sans race
against time encroaching threatened space
with predicted mon
soon meteorologists trace
with laser pointer predict
ominous incursion cave
at mercy of vulnerable flooding
worst case scenario, grave
nightmare predicament
in an attempt to save
youths with barely enough
strength to smile or wave
downgrading my own fear
being emotionally incommunicado
during prepubescence
pretending not to hear
clapping skeletal hands over each ear
to blot out hyper consciousness of glare
ring existence squelching
feeble effing dare
sputtering Nietzscheism at every turn
of the (ripped torn) page
airtight barricade against transformation
into manhood stage
fighting to the death
foaming at mouth dagger like
canine teeth savagely
evincing snarling rage,
no match for reinforced
rebar invisible cage
holding self hostage,
not enough money
to pay hefty ransom,
thus thine mental health
compromised, which
to this day still pay steep wage.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
Of time, to meditate upon, will not be the meditation
begun with.
Time thought to itself: I shall be short and concise,
long and imprecise, and in the middle you are...
presently.
To trickle less into more--more into less...for what
wanes documents scarcity.
Drinks the bitter drop, and elongates a weary grin.
Time assumes the rite of Way, as we wait submissively...
and in accumulation of wait on wait--we wait no more.
Our turn is taken up, in turn.
Why the trilogy of a past, present and future?
What Physician unifies light outer and inner, in a
concentrated beam...to pass over our three eyes?
Perhaps an eye for, kept upon--each pillar of time's
trilogy.
Time ensnares our volition to ensure our grace, as the
wind that enlisteth not, bespeaks of it.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC