"bigness" poems
the bigness of cannon
is skilful,
but i have seen
death’s clever enormous voice
which hides in a fragility
of poppies….
i say that sometimes
on these long talkative animals
are laid fists of huger silence.
I have seen all the silence
full of vivid noiseless boys
at Roupy
i have seen
between barrages,
the night utter ripe unspeaking girls.
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There once was a time
Gone by, gone by,
Picking blackberries till the vine was plucked dry.
Pricked finger and the blood of kings
washed the riverbed clean again
paving path for new bled love.
Story of my life: Hot Hand-Grenade.
Tripwire tickled by trespassing travelers
Red wire arteries
clipped and clipped and clipped
and simple minded times when birds sang songs to other birds
and chirped lyrical lines in the dusk.
More wonder. More trust. Less wanderlust.
Dust in the air. Still in the sunlight.
Through glass.
Broke. Fall. Cut. All roads lead to home.
Wood, River, Stone. A guide, a path, alone.
We all walk on our own
Striving for independence
Together.
Now is a time of faded glory, daffodils in freshly-mowed fields.
I still catch myself wishing I had the words to share
The bigness of what's out there.
I still hear myself singing your song of longing.
Still find myself longing for days of childish peace and ignorance
when we could pick blackberries from the bush without bombs falling in our basket.
Still a long way to go to hear the sound of surrender and the silent unfurling of egos into how alone we feel.
Still my heart, that lost love long ago, and surrendered a savior forever.
Hart, of dreams, slip into the stream.
Interstitch the seams.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength ***** against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.
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Upon her back, a smooth mossy boulder rests
An old turtle shell that has not yet lost its aqua blue hue
or the blooming flowers between its cracks
The skin on her slim legs are the color of jean
her feet are soft and padded, much thicker than could be called delicate
they are like puppies feet
the other girl's feet tumble and toddle over one another
clumsy
but she has mastered their bigness
Around her ankles is a woolen strip
creamy white and fluffy
fair and curly like a spaniel's chest
soft as a cloud's skin
her hair is a lion's mane
I have seen it whip and sting when she is angry
but now its floating round her head
in a golden halo
like sun burned wheat
it curves, dips and dives
rippling down her back
blazing
The best part of her
as she turns her head, I catch a glimpse
her eyes
sad, dark moons
fanned with lashes, curling upwards, brushing the lids
they glitter as she moves
If I were to dive into a bottomless pool of chocolate
that still would not be deep enough
If I slid into a smooth black lake rimmed with obsidian stone
that still would not be liquid enough
If I leapt into a ebony panther's fur
that still would not be dark enough
to match those eyes that melt
and freeze
in turn
If there was a golden goose who laid a golden egg
and if a spider delicate as lace spun around it a thin moon dust thread
then placed it inside the black heart of the cruelest duke of old
and took it out after three hundred years
then that might resemble the two scorching molten drops
that were my lovers eyes
--Lily
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
your hands are gospel, writing history
with your fingertips and whispering
prayers up and down my spine
i called you my ravenous wildebeest, and i
said it with a smile painting my lips, but
you are everything wild,
thorny, and carnivore.
you're gonna eat me up with texas-sized
teeth and leave me a carcass in the
desert. but i don't mind
i want to be bone for you,
bare.
i think that maybe your bigness is going
to consume me
until i'm a star-soaked black hole
set me on fire, douse me in gasoline
make all the blood rush to my head
because kid, you're a firecracker
and i've always been in love with explosion.
(a.m.c.)
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Don't
you ever
marvel
at the
crazy
bigness
of the
world?
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
The Way To Dark Justice
Inside The House Of Shadow
I Stand In Darkness
I Open My Wings To Airflow
I Take The Look For Every Weakness
Inside The Dark Cloud You See My Eyes
To Be The First To Witness
I Take You Up, I Hold You Down
To Feel The Chillness
Killing Is My Only Rule
My Whole Augustness
Making the crash in your skull
with one bullet moving so airless
The Scope On My Eyes
and the breath was aptness
To Give you free visa to hell
And pain Rise up To be bigness
Bleeding Your Blood So hard
To take Your Soul in my fitness
Taking the look in That Hole
All What Says you're hopeless
breathing so hard and weakest
And your body Was idleness
Once you leave your body
your mortality will be bodiless
your spirit Will take the freedom
While you was never chariness
deciding to Jump and take the fall
thinking That you Are Making Buisness
Wars and Destruction making River of Blood
to make fear And other things dirtiness
But now I make sure about your elimination
With No Come back To Make the justice
Author / Aladdin Aures Hamdi
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
staring into blue and green bigness
lost in the sky of her soul
repeating the nightmarish nothingness feeling
this emotion has left me immobile
she's big and blinks and breathes on her own
and she moves when i move
but this girl who is just a body bag
is not me can't be me was never me
however the trance has come to an end
and i've blinked
and i've realized the only difference
between the mirror and me
is that i can think
and i am alive
and breathing
and blinking
and crying
but you, the reflection, has no soul
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 11:38 AM UTC
Walter chased me into my house. I owed him five dollars I did not have and I thought I would trick him by getting out of his car quickly and into my house. I was fifteen years old.
Walter was quick too and when I turned to close the door and lock it, he was there to force the door open. I ran up the stairs and down the hall and into my room and Walter was just behind me, stride for stride.
I turned around and he slapped me.
I was small then, for fifteen. He was big for seventeen. I thought about what happened all night. What I should have done and why I did nothing. Mostly, I was ashamed.
I decided from that day forward, if I had an ass-kicking coming, I’d take it nose-to-nose. Better that than be chased into a corner like a dog that just ****** the carpet.
I learned from the Smiley brothers too. They would call my mother fat, and she was, but so was their mother and I’d let them know it right back. This always resulted in some fake pride and threats by the Brothers.
I came to understand that the weak take it, they don’t give it, and that I was The Weak. The Smiley Brothers knew it, Walter knew it, I knew it.
Time passed and I kept growing, bigger than the Smiley’s. Bigger than Walter.
I ran into Walter years later, as adults. He had the kind of defeated look that I assume a plantation owner would have after having done business as equals with a former slave.
But, I harbor no ill-will. I thank Walter and I carry our past with me today.
When I’m going to confront another man, Walter walks in the room, not me. When I make love, my amorous and mischievous sister is the lover.
Yes, she’s there, pushing my lovers, the way she pushed me, curious to find out what she can get them to do next. Oh, how good it is to be in control, to be the one with the whip, to be deliberate.
Like hyenas roaming the African plains, I too have come to understand leverage. But, I’d rather be the elephant than the lion. I consider myself fortunate.
After all, I’m a big guy that knows what it’s like to be small. I’ve been the tether ball and the pole. I’m gentle with my bigness and I’m good at feigning hurt for those that need to believe they have that power.
And as my path narrows, I find myself thanking Walter for the slap, thanking the Smiley Brothers for teaching me what’s worthy of a fight, and loving my sister. Above all.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
with cords electric, you've strung me stinging, with them, me. your mouth
is an apple. your mouth is a fragrant cavern.
in which is my my mouth. mingling. from them springs a mountain
of wind. your hands are, on your wrists, pale spiders. on me slung. your web
of cool scuttling love. on my belly.
you go supple. into palms. they are a colour. your colour. the colour of death
just before you live. you are strenuous. a boundless taught moment. of unugly caffeine. i am a noise.
and you are a colour. you said it in me. big and tiny. in my tiny bigness.
and in the backyard. by the sleeping pile of forests. you draw the hammer
of your guns. and i wilt.
sprouting. effortlessly. infinitely. eating the gilt purse of your pinkest tiny.
and we are like wind. who grapples with leaves. and they touch like
lovers. we are like that.
like health. like sickness. freshly shearing. every molecule of our bodies
onto the indigo eaves of eve. quickly, carnivorously, slaughtering light.
let's then just be.
in quiet. and symmetry.
cords electric. strummed with fallen night.
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 3:17 PM UTC
Your angel calls you
From her distant doorway
Beckoning come my weary love
Into the Bigness.
Lay your armored fears
In the cradle of our hearts joined
where you may feel the pulse and light
That makes our love.
I am the chimera of your longings
The whisper of the dreams
You could never make come true
Before you came to my door.
Love the idea of us now
But expect no kiss in kind
Knowing my face must turn away
Or you will never be free.
This is how the Bigness works
Leaving you half-starved
Hungry for the touch of love's ghost
Those desires that are too small
That no longer serve
In the Bigness.
I am not the only angel calling
From the light you crave
And though you beg me to follow
This is the bittersweet truth of the Bigness
I will always leave you
You must always come into it alone.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 11:01 AM UTC
Shut off the sky if I ask you to.
Grab my world so brassy boring between
battles and courage.
I provide the cold hands and you provide the ghosts
We know constellations listen from melting harnessed skies
then share stories of their bigness.
June can wait a bit.
My verse spinning sad where you used your knees on the good nights.
Born alive, born with the thinnest layer of skin
Finding comedy in the ripped pages
Cutting phonetics apart
Witling words, truncate.
Shakespeare was an afterthought.
I’m bowing in the middle of the scene, I’m shaking off applause.
Punctuation becomes a commandment
I reverse and misuse.
Commas mean breath and in their place- used in succession,
mean run through corn fields like you’re being chased, like your fingers are full of cramps.
Injecting poetry like insulin.
Hoping it will seep into your bones
and strengthen the foundation
like the milk with you ice cubes you
had to drink with dinner.
Envy the women on nick at night who want new dresses and new babies and don’t scrape their insides out in front of readers and audiences because they’re bored and maybe not sure if they’re real.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
i wear ancient friendship anklets
chipped toenail polish, a gritty smile on my face
sunshine seeping under my fingernails i
walk on the top of the railguard and look down
over and over
teetering.
see the ditch,
see the road,
see the trees.
can't see the forest but i see the trees
and i feel a nearness to the wild undergrowth
missing that blank, trodden look of a ground too often explored
i crouch in the ferns and remember the feeling that i lost.
hair smelling like wind and earth and sky
fists against the trunk of the tree
in a forest i can't see
i fight the bigness of it all
i fight against the all encompassing picture that threatens to lose me
lose this tree
i chip off the bark and put it in my pocket.
lose the tree,
but still have
a piece
i stand in a forest that i refuse to see
comforting the trees
battling the sky
screaming at the crowded leaves
dead friendship anklets
dragging
me
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Efficacious.
Untroubled.
Buoyant.
Radiant.
Jocular.
Carefree.
Blithe.
Pleased.
Contented.
Gratified.
They all are they opposite of subside.
What do they mean?
Big words are like a different language,
But the bigness doesn't need explaining.
All you have to do to understand is,
Look them up.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
some short spark
you seem hard
hot over your
microphone
wailing
a bigness
larger
than
the
very
pert
figure
you cut
nicely out
the quavering
small air of a basement
houseshow crowded tangle
of faces and ears on edge at
the electric stroke of your agile
pick(but even larger is the alone
cloying to every word you uncarefully
hammer into the strangled pocket of youth)
i would take it i would take your alone voice
and i'd put it with mine and together perhaps
we would be something like some might call Love
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
"The mystery, the Door of the Woman, is the root of earth and heaven..." Translated by Ursula LeGuin, Tao te Ching
Big bodies, you say,
don't belong here
woman as big body is
big failure to most
but your naivete begets you
and would have
you believe in such silly notions
Woman as bountiful and
big was made that way
She was born to breed more than babies
She houses the righteous dust of us
and all the gall she could muster
to free us
She is all of
us and nothing more
but the bigness she sees in her
large, black eyes
She swells more and more each day
counting the days when she will
scatter as gargantuan as the sky
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
Our Great & Wise Leader was just so busy
basking in his omnipotent all-knowingness
& radiating light that reached the four corners
of the world where millions were at this very
moment reflecting on the so, so many Time
covers he'd graced that our Huge Orange One
needed a nudge from his missus to snap him
out of his bigly reverie in which his coffers were
filling, & his bigness was getting bigger & his triumph
over all living beings was being chorused in the very
heavens above,
oh lord he was lost for awhile there as he forgot
to put his hand over his heart
during the anthem,
thanks Melania.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
listen dead
is a lot like sleeping
in the earth
where there is not
life and there
is wormness
there is eated
a faint uncolour
a body
a quiet
a bigness
'cause livings
finiter
but dead's
unfiniter
it's a nice long forever where you don't rise but you do you come out the earth in a trillion spears of grass
you come out as a dandelion and your heads a delicately flared puff of cottonlike earthbreath tousled
and fractures in the breeze, lilts, doesn't cease and goes making more life
and
dead
wasn't ever
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
I want a man whose soul is pure;
a deep ocean that is yet as clear as glass
Whose intentions are genuine and steadfast
Who will hold me to his heart…
I want a man whose love will start
anew every brilliant morning,
Who loves as tenderly as green leaves and budding branches
with all his strength, courageously;
Endlessly devoted.
Who loves God more than he loves me—
So much that he falls to his knees.
I want a man whose kisses are sweet like honey,
Whose words are cool as rain;
Who has a healing touch.
I want a man who burns like the sun
With love for the world:
A sweet-smelling blaze
Which fills up my lungs.
I want a man whose pride is as limber as young shoots of grass.
Who bends in the breezes.
Who breathes like the river, and lets things flow.
Whose anger is like warm sand,
that is soft and slips away easily.
I want a man who forgives as often as raindrops hit the soil.
Who cultivates his relationships with his loved ones
as carefully as a farmer tends to the earth.
He gives every last piece of himself to nourish it.
I want a man who ardently seeks my heart,
who endeavours for my soul,
Who recognises my worth.
I want a man who looks down at me from his tall tree height
Shoulders strong as a redwood, with gentle eyes
That pour out their beautiful emotions like a waterfall.
I want a man whose breath smells like coffee
And whose hugs feel like velvet and cinnamon.
I want forehead kisses, and winding walks in nature where the air is bracing.
I want to be hugged in the kitchen by arms as warm as a fireplace.
I want him to smile when he takes me into his arms every night
Smiling lips I can feel between kisses
and whispers of “I love you”
I want to be held like a delicate rose,
and ravished like an ocean storm.
Fall in time with the beat of his heart;
let it become the rhythm of my life.
I want to be protected like a lion,
and loved like a lamb.
It’s okay that I am small.
The bigness of his heart overwhelms me
And I melt…
Into his arms.
-- -
Word, 4 April 2014
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
PET this pretty kitty,monster
oh, WET is progress-pink disease
of love,my victims(like when i break
your heart i won’t deny it all
so we suffer the Bigness of your
LITTLEST pelvic region
so unwish a world of pity flesh
and my need for guidance is so much
like-more the world born–pity my
poor flesh(i “hyper-magical beauty”)kitty
so WET and in need of a good petting hand
and two eyes upon
my ever unwished words(never save me
from these evil deeds of desire)ugh,
ultra-omnipotence makes me hot and with
a hell to pay the angels say,”what the
devil needs to know I always seem
to suffer myself;”
so pet this pretty kitty,monster
yeah, a wet progress-pink disease o’love
:: 09-01-2015 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
ase' and abundance: i feel your power and i thank you: please, mote this be: grant my wish, allow me to see: please i know you see me, i know you hear me: bless this business, bless this household: my mother aches and i carry her heart and burden: so mote it be, greater lover, greater blesser, greater benefic: beauty in your name, herald the joys of doves for one to see the abundance you overflow with your ***** milk for all, sweetness cherished at last and only a drop of cheese to bring onto the world: nothing but doughness and gripes, grand cherokee drives and cold whetstone slabs: is this the price i pay? for your gold, silk, priorities. . .
i sleep in a bed of earthenware, moss, sprinkled with gold and lapis lazuli -- my house is ornamented with believer's sins and confessions, yet my swollen ******* and miraculous ***** and precious derriere moves and rubs against his warm ***** member, it is sewn out of his love, his eros, his psyche:
it overflows and joys onto me and my cheeks flush to know i feel your presence, Jove: we decree, I decree, i am humbly awaiting your gift:
here is my public awareness and my service to you, to make the world know of your swiftiness, your gaudiness, your lordliness, your bigness, your vastness, your richness, the chimes and dings and the orbs and the sparkles and the floaters and all the things you are that you send my way to remind me of the power you have bestowed upon me: thank you Jove: do not miss me, I will not miss you. bless my business, bless my household, my wares:
you love me, i feel this in my ******* that the lion-hearted man kiss each night, he loves to circle and twirl his tongue around my chocolate coated ******* squeezing and pawing at my ******* he yearns to **** mote it be, Jupiter: allow milk to flow from my ******* and onto him, allow the seeds of your wealth and of his *** to flow inside of me: my ears ring for I know you hear and see my plea, the white flashes of light bring up to me that you are near: and my henads: beauty, beautiful, by Jove, don't leave:
he will never leave, for I am heaven: he lies here, ontop of me, thrusting inside of me, riches and security from his mouth and from my ******* comes forth love and creativity: he wills to desperately serving me, desperately worshipping me;
you have granted me the Gift, you have granted me as Seer, and you have granted me the form of a Goddess inside and out: an angel as they might say: inside and out, blessed be me by you, O Energies: please, do not see your way out, only see your way within me. mote it be, ase.
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC
You are the cup
that runneth over
spilling into the
fear of the collective
of your ***** bigness
But silently we seek
the warmth of you
your body the
billow of clouds
a resting place
expanding until
we finally see
the true you
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
__Part 1: JOY & SORROW__
It was around 3am…
When I learned that the
Sweetest Joy
Could, simultaneously, be the
Bitterest Sorrow
As I held my newborn son, Ezra
Close to my chest [Joy]
As he was (inconsolably) screaming his head off
Just below my right ear! [Sorrow]
But, oh, Ezra himself is a single joy
Who outweighs 10,000 sorrows!
And his parents CANNOT IMAGINE
Life without him
(Though our bodies ache to know, again,
The comforts
And rest
Our past life afforded us)
---
__Part 2: THE BABIES ON THE PORCH__
We COULD NOT WAIT to introduce Ezra
To everyone (and anyone)!
And the first time we took him outside
Onto the front porch
To meet the neighbors,
The most curious thing happened:
The one-and-a-half year old neighbor girl, Remi –
Short for “Remington” (yes, named after the rifle!) –
Hobbled over with her Daddy,
And pointed to Ezra, and said, “Baby!”
And I smiled
And said
(In a high-pitched, baby-talk voice),
“Yeah, he’s a Baby…”
---
__Part 3: “BABIES” TO BABIES__
Later, I was replaying this interaction
In my head –
Amused by the irony
Of the situation:
That this one-and-a-half year old BABY
Identified a thing
Smaller and younger than HERSELF
As a “Baby!”
And I wondered if she knows that
SHE too is a Baby –
If she ever looks in the mirror,
And points to HERSELF,
And says,
“Baby!”
---
__Part 4: BABY GIRLS & BABY DOLLS__
And then, I recalled
Having witnessed this ironic phenomenon before…
…As I watched our friend’s little girl, Addy,
Pushing her baby doll in a toy stroller
Around her house
As if it was her Baby
And I thought about how amazing it is
That “pre-programmed” into little girls
Is the nurturing and emotional concern of
A Mother,
And that, it’s not uncommon to find
Baby girls
Pretending to be Mommy’s to their
Baby dolls
---
__Part 5: THIS “BABY”__
And then, I thought about myself
In relation to my Heavenly Father –
Who, in His Infinite Character,
And Bigness,
And Greater-Than-Us-Ness,
Is so unutterably HIGH above (and beyond) me…
And a thought popped into my head –
In the form of an absurd question:
“Are we all just ‘playing with dolls’?”
.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Big bouncy bright sky and diamonds and sky woman child and man full of diamonds, moon tree and sky with spinning smiles, light peace air and water cool with laughter smile of light diamond bright, bigness and bounce all there and up
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC