"blamelessly" poems
I felt the touch of your mind within my thoughts
Softly mark my brow as I lay awake
With salt from the seas of your distraction
Painting a picture, blamelessly pure
With a voice only fresh fallen showers
Could ever make
I felt the touch of your hand each way I turned
Absorbing the scars of consequence
That embroidered my soul in scarlet red
With new letters that formed
Precious words of comfort and joy
To be read
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 9:28 AM UTC
The wind is curiously silent tonight.
Nothing disturbs the deep darkness,
but the wafting scent of madness.
In the desert, captive children
toss and turn, whimper and sleep,
the government their souls to keep.
They will wake to razor wire,
and the company of strangers,
caught in concentration camps
of unknown bureaucrats and guards
blamelessly following the orders
of distant, calculating masters
who play political chess
with the lives of the innocent.
The country that separates
mothers from their babies
will rise and ask no questions,
going about its business,
buying, selling, grasping at more,
untouched by this insanity,
kissing its own kids good morning,
unwilling or unable to feel or see
the malignant cancer eating its way
through the complacent, rotting soul
of what, once upon a time, used to be
the home of the brave,
the land of the free.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
On the stage
is the one
he is not
smiles shakes hands
holds close and tight
he is right on spot.
Hides the real face
speaks and shares
like he is a saint
blamelessly white
open in the light
without a taint.
Busy in the act
to keep away the fact
he is on guard
audience gloats
over crisp anecdotes
any dissent debarred.
From a distance
some in silence
read it in bold
the gore in the glory
the gaps in the story
and all that's untold.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
I heard the wild thunders as they approached my territory .
I felt your thirst for my blood in the air we call used to call home .
I listened out for your remorsefulness in the way you ran against peace.
Silently I stood there waiting for the tides to turn in my favor .
Silently I stood there with my mouth open waiting to join your pack.
Silently I stood there waiting for your voice to pull me into your winds .
Blamelessly I stood on the cliff holding on to my dying flowers .
Blamelessly I stood on the cliff holding on the roaring currents .
Blamelessly I stood on the cliff only to descend to grave sites that I know not of .
**But don't agonize over me because
I got used to the fall, to the cold, to the anguish.
Above everything else I bloomed before you even noticed.
So be sure you're not afraid when I rise above thunders and roaring currents .**
I AM A CLIFF SURVIVOR
I know how these things work ..........
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
I hope my body forgives me
For what I’ve put it through
I hope one day I see
The truths I heard from you
I promise I will try
Not to starve myself as often
But there will be hiccups and lies
As I chew and chew to soften
The food will make me sick
Though I may not mean physical
But still they call me “thick”
Thin is paradisiacal
I’m sorry some days I can’t keep down my food
Or I can’t even look at the label on that junk
I know it would taste good
But it would just add to me another flabby chunk
The number doesn’t matter
It’s arbitrary really
I’m stuck like the mad hatter
And the mirror floats about freely
Yes I’m scared to death
But the death is so enticing
I push and pull each breath
But the sharp oxygen is slicing
Tired and alone
I wander aimlessly
With no place to call home
I can’t say I do so blamelessly
It’s my fault I’m so messed up
But I want that skin and bones
I rinse my mouth with a cup
After throwing up dark tones
I hope my body forgives me
For hurting it so greatly
It’s not who I want to be
But I’ve gotten much worse lately
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
Perfect, white, and uniform
the snow that fell
the morning it fell on.
That isn’t accurate. It fell overnight.
It just belonged to the morning.
Blades of grass and shrubs reached up
and hauled it snug over their flanks -
covering themselves, not being covered.
Made the most of a single inch: a bare quilt
so when you woke in the morning
the even sky, with no sun, equal gray
shrugged blamelessly -
it wasn’t me! -
and the frost settling
on shorn lawns and dying ones
was nobody’s fault,
was even imaginary,
would be gone soon.
I drove through it listening
to the sound of wheels slipping,
the exhaust freezing out of the air
to fall again in glassy flakes behind.
Everything crunched like a tumbleweed
and white is not a Texas colour
but I remember snow is water - it soon reverts,
and sluices down curbs, ***** gray.
From this and other colours I made your youth,
put wallpaper never seen into your house,
like faces in a dream, and listened.
I was a smudge of teal lipstick on the mirror.
I was the steam behind the shower curtain,
the draft in the attic. I had no colour
and you looked right through me.
I remember by description only, but still I remember.
It all runs together, these strong colours,
like a fainting plaid, out of size.
I know the hot furrow in the clavicles of women,
but not of men. I dive into the known hollow, breathe the leavings
of the unknown. If you hold me firmly, perhaps,
I will know what it is like to be held firmly.
Curry simmers on the stove.
Lemongrass creeps along the floor, snakes beneath the doorjamb.
Behind it is frost, knocking, dragging its heels: heavy with winter.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
There’s a knocking that I hear each morning,
a knock both a visitor and warning,
mistakes that invite themselves to my door,
mistakes that are not welcome anymore.
It’s not fear that makes me keep them outside,
nor the fatigue of further wounded pride.
I’ve learned enough what lies beyond my door.
It’s those mistakes I don’t need anymore.
Although I still don’t live life blamelessly,
I prefer to make mistakes namelessly.
Don’t package them and send them to my door
with my name on the label anymore.
It’s not that I should err and let it slide,
but I’ll never be perfect, though I’ve tried.
I know the sin that coucheth at my door.
I don’t need to bear their mark anymore.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
Language of the night
Confined
You make me question my existence
A rare occasion
Cannot explain the unexplained
Forgot my name
Blamelessly drawn to your body
Taunted, your eyes jest and express cool intent softly
A wave rises; we are no longer bound as individuals.
Thoughts that might have mattered are just matter erased
Placed in places I thought only existed in dark space where skin speaks.
Lips linger longer than time breathed
Too lovely a mystery you are
My shadow and yours tangle in two, against walls written in distant dreams
Touch me and I’m free
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
I am human. A person.
That simple fact, a reason,
To be included in my inventory.
It’s a necessary part of my story.
I admit I childishly cheated as a kid
Of course, I lied about what I did.
I stole cigarettes from my aunts,
Smoked the instant I had the chance.
Naturally, there was *** to be had
And though called sinful, I was glad
To be among the very lucky few
Who didn’t wonder about it. We knew.
School over, I tried to avoid the draft
By enlisting in the air force. Daft.
That was in the days during the calm
When very few of us knew of Vietnam.
My feet were flat, somehow or another.
Asked if I'd drafted, “Maybe your mother!”
He said she would be called rather than I.
I’d never make a march fully packed, goodbye.
So, I started into living my life, aimlessly
Content to dodge the service blamelessly.
Rather than go to college, discouraged by Dad,
I made the best with the talents I already had.
I worked in clerical jobs, and organizing files
And grew bored with that after a long while.
I sang in nightclubs and in little theater
But never got my star ambitions together.
So, I learned to smoke *** and crash
In the pads of friends when out of cash.
I’d wash their dishes, and cook good food
And even sleep with them when in the mood.
I walked some picket lines and protested
And when evil laws got passed, contested.
I carried signs and worked odd jobs around;
Did casual income accrual that could be found.
I worked for years at a company for bucks,
Thinking permanent salary changes luck,
And it did because I finally bought a home
And stopped being a hippie on the roam.
I loved and lusted with the constant line
Of **** available hotties I could find
People who had time for a bit of fun.
And by then, I was the perfect one.
All this means, I had a normal acumen
For living life and being a human.
I make no apologies here, instead
Like a pony, I let myself have my head.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
So God took a rib from Adam
And thus woman was created.
Could this be actual datum,
Or myth, highly overrated?
Through life man flounders (blamelessly)
When there's no woman at his side;
And a woman walks aimlessly
Until her mate's identified
I don't care how I came to be --
By grand hoax, or just a small fib.
But I can say with certainty
Being alone's not my cup of tea;
Somewhere, someone's looking for me --
Some poor Adam's missing his rib!
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 4:33 PM UTC