"ble" poems
Fiat lux and
Then I stand and see how it looks out on
Gnothi seauton psychologies of a naughty automaton he is
Out speeding on the autobahn while she is
Now sleeping on futons in peace it's
Not pieces that need to be re-ordered yet
Since he's reckless but wrecks less when he's courting it's
A sport, you see a ticket's his master trophy in-
Deed endorsing his Porsche-speed matrimony down master row and she's
Driven to this racer who makes her en-
Force things, they later make her take her lead like lead's erasing then vanishing
Banished from whatever it is they're drinking and it's cleaned
Running from the pitcher as if it's her fantasy
Love who's the catcher who has her and
Now you see
It's not lack-lusting but luck-lasting because lastly
Down the street
Is where I swear we're running faster from crashing, finally
Into this dreamcatcher's hazard
Our dreamcatcher's hazard
Oh have you heard
It's absurd that the whip cracked
Yeah the Porsche was hacked baby transformed back in two and back into a nat-
Ural rural state where the horse power level was more morally sta-
Ble biblically faith-
Ful foolishly a-
Ble but yeah we take over whatever we face-off and baby we're faster so we'll have to chase after our
Dreamcatcher's hazard and
That dreamcatcher's hazard's a
A madness that is learned
And it's absurd
So say the mattress is glowing it's holy
Matrimony, so don't look lonely it's only
Master Roshi, to say to chase your dreams
It's you and me be-
Cause for you my blood is flowing
For you my blood is glowing
For you this blood is flowing
And too the flood is blowing
It's true our love is growing
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Norwegian:
”Og kjærligheten ble verdens opphav og verdens hersker; men alle dens veier er fulle av blomster og blod, blomster og blod.”
TRANSLATED BY ME:
English:
"And love turned out to be the origin of the world and its master; but all of its roads are filled with flowers and blood, flowers and blood."
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry
To you, my aunt, who would explore
The literary Chankley Bore,
The paths are hard, for you are not
A literary Hottentot
But just a kind and cultured dame
Who knows not Eliot (to her shame).
Fie on you, aunt, that you should see
No genius in David G.,
No elemental form and sound
In T.S.E. and Ezra Pound.
Fie on you, aunt! I'll show you how
To elevate your middle brow,
And how to scale and see the sights
From modernist Parnassian heights.
First buy a hat, no Paris model
But one the Swiss wear when they yodel,
A bowler thing with one or two
Feathers to conceal the view;
And then in sandals walk the street
(All modern painters use their feet
For painting, on their canvas strips,
Their wives or mothers, minus hips).
Perhaps it would be best if you
Created something very new,
A ***** novel done in Erse
Or written backwards in Welsh verse,
Or paintings on the backs of vests,
Or Sanskrit psalms on lepers' chests.
But if this proved imposs-i-ble
Perhaps it would be just as well,
For you could then write what you please,
And modern verse is done with ease.
Do not forget that 'limpet' rhymes
With 'strumpet' in these troubled times,
And commas are the worst of crimes;
Few understand the works of Cummings,
And few James Joyce's mental slummings,
And few young Auden's coded chatter;
But then it is the few that matter.
Never be lucid, never state,
If you would be regarded great,
The simplest thought or sentiment,
(For thought, we know, is decadent);
Never omit such vital words
As belly, genitals and -----,
For these are things that play a part
(And what a part) in all good art.
Remember this: each rose is wormy,
And every lovely woman's germy;
Remember this: that love depends
On how the Gallic letter bends;
Remember, too, that life is hell
And even heaven has a smell
Of putrefying angels who
Make deadly whoopee in the blue.
These things remembered, what can stop
A poet going to the top?
A final word: before you start
The convulsions of your art,
Remove your brains, take out your heart;
Minus these curses, you can be
A genius like David G.
Take courage, aunt, and send your stuff
To Geoffrey Grigson with my luff,
And may I yet live to admire
How well your poems light the fire.
6.5k
Such a fool for you,
she once said
I believe so I am what a
fool for you
my thoughts t
u
m
b
ble
tumble and fall
how I lost my mind thinking
of you
Your touch, your love, such lust
Look at me,
such a fool, such a fool for you
but yet I do not trust you
with thy heart but how not
when you give so much lust?
Tell me, am I your baby
or one of your little ******
I hope not,
as you put your head between thighs
"more, more, more!"
You're disgusting, I hate you
such a fool, a fool for you.
You walk around with your
head held high
think you are grand
some kind of god
I've got news sweetheart
your nothing but a poor boy
& such a ******* bore.
....
I'm sorry, I've gone mad
you make me mental loving you
your soft words,
such lies but I am
such a fool, a fool for you
You love me,
you love me not
what do you want?
You're making me insane
and I think its time to walk,
walk out your door
I am nothing to you,
but a Friday night tour
I'm done, I'm gone
but forever will I be a fool,
such a fool for you.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
.
/ / / / / / /
/ / // / / / /
/ / / / / / / / /
// / / •• / / / /
/ / / ••• / / /
/ / •lift me up over- / /
/ / head•for i only seek to shelter / //
you•from the sun who'd scorch you red /
**•from monsoon rains that'll chill you blue•you
may at times think i'm cumbersome to carry•when
the winds of change put you in all kinds of weather•
but i can collapse and fold... i stow away easy•keep me
close and i will spring to your aid... whenever, wherever•
such is my pro- •• mise to... you•
• • • •• • • •
for
yo-
ur
lif-
e's
un-
pr-
edi-
••• cta-
••• ble
journey•**
soon you'll find my words to be true•
that i'd forever be your brolly•
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
.
**( | • || )
( •| | )
( ||| • | )
\\ | | //
\\ || • | //
• •• ••
•like clockwork,
her day would begin
•pressures of life like no
one could imagine•toting the
crushing weight upon her tiny shou-
lders•responsibilities and expectations that
would overwhelm before she falters•she'd ***
ble as she groans her duress•her skin would crack
to release pent up stress•then there would come a day
•her exhausted veins would rupture and then give way
•she has the most terrible temper•but we would still flock
to her•why?........when time and again she offers us strife•
simply because she provides,
she gives us life•**
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
.
•come with me on a
special trip•hop aboard my big ball-
oon • hot air from flame, the canvas would
sip•higher and higher, we won't be back too soon
•the clouds would gently kiss our cheeks • the sun
would bathe our skins with gold• mountains below
seem minute pointing up with snow covered peaks
•turning oceans into lakes...the world seems to fold
•offering myriad picturesque views from up ab-
ove•from any angle none would lack•lastly
we'll drift...along the currents of air and
love•you could then finally say that
i've brought you on a memora-
ble trip to the moon...
and safely back•
**\ | /
\ | /**
•••••••••••
**I+++++++++I
I+++++++++I**
•••••••••••
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
be au tifu lu ng ra teful talente
dd iff icult lo vi ng messy suppo
rti ve spitef ul w arm jealous caring
cr az ychar m in gs martd epress
ing br av et ** ug htle ss ge ne
ro us inc on sid er ate ad ap ta
ble m oo dy co m pass io na te
stub bo rn af fe ctio na te cr
itica lp ra ct ic al ar gu m en
tati ve w itt y un pr ed ict ablec
our ag eo us to uc hy friendl yrese
ntf ul he lp fu li m patien tflirty
sa rc as tic in te re sting boastf
ul cu rio us in fle xi bl er el
ia bl e cl in gy cre at ive ta
ct les s ** ne st emo tio na ld
isc ipl ine d fo rcefulsex yse ns iti
ve su lle n m od es tf ru st
ra tin ge n thus ia st ic hy po
cr iticalp lucky cl um sy am usingp
os essiv ecalm in g sn ide friendl
y pom pous ad ve nt ur ousch
ar ism atic br ok en and perfect
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
.
"That there Is'belle's house stinks wunderful turr'ble,"croaked Emma Beiler at their quilting bee.
"Jah...vell," sighed Rosanna Yoder. "All them there katzes , ain't so?"
Accordingly the two ladies set out to pay Travis and Isabella Salter a visit, only to be politely told that they had were in the process of taking some cats to a local shelter.
Two weeks passed and to the Amish folks' disgust the odour had merely intensified.
"Them there Englisch are chust liars!" Potato Sam spat the words out along with a *** of chewing tobacco.
" Ach, vell," sighed his wife Rosanna, unaware of her heavily sweating underarms. The Ordnung strictly forbade deodorant as well as perfume. "Reckon I best mosey over and see fur myself."
Travis opened the door with a tired sigh.
'Chust thought I'de ask vhat fur stinks yer house up so vonderful tur'ble...Izzy tells us youse gettin' rid of them but-"
A puzzled look crossed Travis weary face as he glanced toward the kitchen. Irritation gripped him, not lessened as Rosanna glowered at Tabby washing her face on the couch. Then a waft of a familiar scent, overpowering, drifted toward him from the kitchen. Brussel sprouts enhanced by -.
With all the stress, Isabelle was increasing her calming herbs, mixing the powders.... Valerian?
"Good evening, Mrs. Yoder." He motioned her toward the door, locking it firmly behind her. For a long time after she was gone he stood staring out the window.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
i don't want to live in the
s p a c e s
between your words, i
want to be found in every
syl-
la-
ble
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
I am
Casting down imaginations
To the pulling down of., strong-holds
Gearing up for the.. long term
But from the outside looking in?
May seem bold
or quite
MAD*
[ Well ]
Just referring to the thoughts
that I have
that are really not that far- off
while dreaming of., REVELATION
No.. fabrication on my part
As I try to separate the Light
from the Dark
with high hopes and
Aspirations
Which is.. a sen-sational sensation of flying high
as I'm being
vated
ele-
Elevelation
High on
Or something like a planned
Evo-lu-tion that is so
True
[while]
Staying true to my elevation in 2020
leading into 2020 one
[while seeing] Dou-ble
Vision
( Although )
Some might try to fix it?
[ Yeah ]
But I would beg to differ
Cause it would take [twice] the listen
Care to listen?
Just to see things
Different
And at the same time?
Shuning the carnal mind's version
of seeing Dou-ble
Vision
May call it [ Twinning ]
Which is.. the true definition
of being Dou-ble
Minded
So.. to combat this?
I would just
never
Mind [It] ( meaning )
There's no rules or
bars of
Confinement
For no 20 or Eye is missing
from my
INTUITION
Raised suspicions?
Well., Just hoping that you will
tread.. carefully
And stay
Centered
As you enter my center of words
and.. penning
As I write the vision
I'll make it plain and simple
No Subliminals
Or either I'll keep it at minimal
While maintaining the
Visuals
As usual
As I keep on gaining in
WISDOM
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 11:47 AM UTC
**Bumblebee buzzing
From flower to my shoulder
Don’t pollinate me**
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 7:05 PM UTC
Crackling. Rocking. Crackling. Creaking and oscillating, a century old Mahogany Wood seceded to the paSsage of time.
Particles of sand, confounded by the Peninsula’s chaotic, blasting breeze now revealed a shade of burnt tar.
Outside of the second floor Maissonette, sways the rocking chair once warmed by Grandpa.
A Tactless, impatient, rhythmic Requiem Bashes near the wiNdow pane as the sunset falls Under the frame.
Empty Folklore presides like the Residue of a once lambent effigy… SwOosh. Hush!
Cocktails were a Preamble to lunch like diabetes to Nephropathy.
Corrosive Rhetoric seeped in to expose the ego of a Sommelier.
A smile would Parachute down when you needed it like Nicotine to remind that no Precedent had been set, just an Anomaly.
Cutthroat beginnings, this was no Analog man.
In grade school his Cosmos found Zion and “The world to come”.
This baby’s Cradle, abandoned High atop a mountain was blown by a Chinook towards the Atlantic.
“I was found swallowed in a stained Table cloth by Balkan children on a treasure hunt, with no Guarantee and no resignatIon. "
The boTtle narrates these chronicles and a smile parachutes down when you need it like nicotine.
Dionysus Crafted his accounts while most Garnered his spiels with Snide. As they witnessed dream remembrance; he thought his memory was Presumably accurate, and although his tales were triFling to the gathering audience, they became his Heliocentric history.
Calling me a young Galleon and handing me a map, Grandpa scanned his hand across the vast land
guaranteeing trEasure would be found if I had no resignation.
This Asinine assertion to my teenage sister Symbolized the Barring of her unheeding imagination by time and then a smile parachuted down just when she needed it like nicotine.
_TRF
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
the feeling when you
s
t
u
m
ble
somewhere
you
shouldn't, sweet-gum
letters
gathered for a solitary
rendezvous
then casual
destruction
glimpsed from afar
everyone wants the shoes to
fit, but
I've worn those and
many others in my time
and the heels always
blister
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
The walks of life I see;
such little hope
I have for hum- anity
stum ble blind alone
never able to see reality.
Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
1-english
I gargled solids much like boulders of the throat.
Upon a dreadful goat,
the lamb was slain in name of said reign.
To diminish the waters
drenching fields of green and brown,
rugged earth, and jagged cliff.
Up nor down no liquids found.
I am placed to flummox the hard matter
of dirt and swallow whilst hurt.
2-norwegian
Jeg gurglet tørrstoff mye som blokker i halsen.
Etter en forferdeliggeit,
ble sauene drept i navn sa regjeringstid.
For å minske vannetgjennomvåt felt av grønne og brune,
robuste jorden, og rufsete stup.
Opp eller ned væske ikke funnet.
Jeg er plassert for å flummox denharde spørsmål
om skitt og svelge mens vondt.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 10:47 PM UTC
When nothing else
inside you
matters except
getting him
that’s passion in a bub-
ble:lust. blushed.
And all he wants to do is bust
a bubble.,; ******
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
Newspaper to news channel
Headline to breaking news
Gangrape or molestation
Foeticide or honour killing
Dowry ****** or eve-teasing
We're uninterrupted
" restless
As well in daylight
Or in the dark of midnight
We're the winners
" " topper
To achieve our goal
We're reckless
Proud men of shameless nation
We're Hon'ble Indian Men-Written on 26.07.2012,Thursday
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Laughter reaches new bounds
When you ask/ax me
" do I have pasketti on my face?"
Like a wild aminal you crawl
Over and smear that pasketti
On my cheeks
Like 60's rouge
Never meant to leave the Avon catalog.
cute comf-ta-ble sweaters
Swath lithe body like soft down
Byrds outside singing
Dancing in green foil-age.
Go join them,
Eyes chatoyant and comely.
With pasketti still on your face
You chirp like them byrds,
Such ebullience fits in with the robins.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Weaving words,
so carefully. Every
syl
la
ble, crafted.
Spectacularly
laced, though the
unforgiving blue lines.
Wonderfully
chased by the
deadly silent black pen.
These words,
meaning or no?
Mischievous and
deceiving. Or
hopeful and
believing?
Where do they go?
Where do they lead?
Follow them, yet
could they be
seen?
Fortitude and fragility.
Miles apart, yet
undeniably the same.
In the world of words,
it's all just a game.
Coincidental rhymes, and
sentimental times, or
simplistic virtuosity, and
complicated philosophy?
These worlds in words,
are never as they seem.
But who are we to judge,
when the words in the world
are never what we mean?
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
This is the part
where everything
changes.
This is the part
like an orchid
requires patience.
This is the part
where the universe
bends
¬ and you fold
the paper
into
flowers.
Cover me in chrysanthemums.
This is the part
where our knees become inch worms
under the table.
Cover me in dirt.
This is the part
that comes on slow at first
then
heavy
urgent
pulses
rush
through
us
adding
impulse
to
injury
manipulating
our insides
twisting
folding
contorting
every nerve
until they
RIP.
But the pieces don’t get rest.
This is the part
where the lions roar
like violets showing their teeth
at the sun.
They nibble the flesh
without breaking
the skin.
It’s paper thin.
This is the part
where I ball up my paper fists
and wrestle with the tiger lilies
while you remain at war with my tulips.
This is the part
where we dig up the dirt
and we ruin us.
This is the part
where the dandelions B U R S T
like supernovas
and suddenly
ev-er-y
syll-a-ble
counts.
You said
Everyone's b/ r/ o/ k/ e/ n in some way.
You said
when you were young
you saw the miracle of birth for the first time
and you've been turned on
ever since.
You saw life spring from the womb.
I think I saw you mesmerized by the way things bloom.
You tell me
about your birds and bees
like how getting your head rubbed
at the hair salon
turns you on.
Well, this is the part
where I rub your head
and turn you on.
This is the part
where I see your dark side
and learn the true meaning
of the blue in your eyes.
This is the part
where you flip me over
and tell me
"Don't stop."
I don't stop.
Why would I stop?
I can't
stop.
And
this
is
the
part
where
we
fall
A
p
a
r
t.
Tell me you don't want this.
Tell me you don't want this
and I'll leave this bed of marigold
and
change
my
form.
Tell me you don't want this
and I'll never hold your gaze
to¬o l o n g
again.
Tell me you don't want this
and I'll unfold myself from your side
along with the paper flowers.
You can take back the roses
**** the daises
but leave me the daffodils.
Tell me you don’t want this
and our forget-me-nots
will forget us
and our bleeding hearts
will bleed us dry.
Tell me you don't want this
and I'll rewind the movie
play it BACK
from the beginning
only this time
we'll pay
attention.
I'll silence the lions
and put them BACK in their cages.
I'll bend
the universe
BACK into
shape.
But tell me you want this
and this will be the part
where we pick the paper petals
off the
stem and
watch them
fall like
cherry blossoms.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Forget me.
Forget me not.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
in·ef·fa·ble
adjective
too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words
"the ineffable beauty of her freedom"
freedom to speak, to sing, to love
"the ineffable beauty of her freedom"
freedom to live, to laugh, to fight
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 10:01 PM UTC
Alas! At the dawn time,
Pinky sees Doe and Buck,
Stiff on a gummy fold’ble pad:
And each roll to 'scape each made,
Stripped their skin so callous.
Shortly, a bigger mice arrived,
Not nosy, taily and clawly,
Threaded fearsomely and made’way
Dear Doe and Buck for life.
(Flashback)
Pinky: Oh Precious Father
Why oust you and Doe alone,
Long during dusk decend,
Yet make us hide astaya’day?
Buck: Curious and cutie Pinky,
The world a’day; nice and bright,
Is but an awaiting dreary ambush.
And a’night: a bit dreary ambush.
Doe and I: nosy, taily and clawly,
Will make something in your belly stay.
Pinky: Oh! Precious Mother,
I’m nosy, taily and clawly.
I can raid with you a’night,
And swift through ambush a’day.
Doe: Anxious and eager Pinky,
A full fall from far a sky,
Is as the voyage a’day.
And a breath once expelled
Is as the raid at night.
You WILL a’day get crashed,
And MAY a’night **** breath expelled.
Buck: Curious and Anxious Pinky,
The raid a’day and a’night,
Is as the sides of fate coin:
A home-hole return, Or a home-hole no return.
Ding **** Oh Pinky,
It’s time for our raid.
More shall I learn you,
If my side is home-hole return.
(Off Flashback)
Then whispered and cowered the other Watching mice:“The coin’s ‘no home-hole return."
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 5:06 PM UTC
Why do I do this?
To both you and myself?
Why do I crave your approval?
Why do I need your respect?
Can't I just be strong?
And move on?
Nope. I still need someone to tell me I have potential.
I still need someone to let me know i'll make it big one day.
I still need someone to give me that little but of encouragement when I'm too hard on myself.
I still need someone to sit me down and say, "I believe in you".
I still need someone to give me advice.
I still need someone to look up to.
I respect you so much.
We had our differences but all in all, you're still my role model.
But to you, I'm nothing.
Hurtful words roll off your tongue so beautifully.
I don't understand!
One day you think I'm amazing
The next, you're telling me im just mediocre
I may say your words are empty to me
....But I hang on to every last
Sy-lla-ble
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
~
her coach, like Cinderella’s,
was what brought her to his side.
but what she'd failed to see,
is that a good man may not be,
quite exciting as the bad boys way back home,
so she packs up all her shoes n’make up,
headed home where she can wake up.
now its coach that takes her,
and all he sees are fading lights;
as that red-eye in his mirror is roaring,
down the runway then is soaring,
off into a stormy night.
he used to think that
fairy tales were promised,
that all a woman really wanted,
was a knight in armor shining.
but now he knows that love can't grow,
when all its seeds are tumble weeds,
that roll on down the open road;
just looking for a good time man,
a handsome cowboy and another rodeo.
now all he’s left with is,
trying to make some sense of this;
all her lying to him,
why she left him crying for,
all the good he thought she’d brought.
but sometimes it takes
some time in silence
to see what damage has been done,
to see the cold side of a woman,
that all her prettiness and fun,
is a terr’ble substitute for love.
he used to think that
fairy tales were promised,
that all a woman really wanted,
was a knight in armor shining.
but now he knows that love can't grow,
when all its seeds are tumble weeds,
that roll on down the open road;
just looking for a good time man,
a handsome cowboy and another rodeo.
this i promise, know it well;
good-time girls can’t cast a spell,
that lasts a lifetime, when a fellow
needs a love line, nor can they
ever heave a lifeline, when
all the chips are down. 'cause,
when someone else is drowning,
and everybody's yelling ’bout
a fire the house is burning down.
that’s when she does
what she’s best at...
running out of town.
no, a good man needs a woman,
who will always be around.
~
*post script.
please don’t ask where this one came from... he does love country music and it may just be one too many catastrophes he’s had to watch; it’s certainly not about his own woman, for she has been his privilege to love and care for now just shy of forty years. no, maybe it's so many lives exploding, love imploding... sometimes it feels like so few know what love really looks like anymore!*
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC