"brinks" poems
Marooned
Vapid beauty of this room
Frothing carpet, ocean blue
One wall me, the other you
What lies between is residue
Scribed on soggy, shipwrecked parchment
Questions asked, time forgotten
Who are we?
What do we know?
Into these questions Summer flows
And thrashes at your Autumn’s brinks
Yearlong they torment my brain
Infringing on every season
If not for the manic scheme
To love and having loved be loved
This correspondence to a distant land
With stars, more numerous and brightly lit
Than my burgeoning highway exit
Would by no means have left my hand
But if, against all odds, it will prevail
Extolling truth’s folly, my sorrowful tale
Quells with reason my groundless pride
At having docked on your passionless harbor
Unloading platonic cargo during our youth’s ebbing tide
Must not create union of body or mind
You swallow my horizon, like the sun twilight
Though, one need not chase that orange orb for tomorrow
In this night without fortitude, lewd humor consumes me
Singing with the mouth on my head and your voice inside
I plunge into darkness
Skimming its silky surface
Before zipping it behind me
Shall I drown, as I have lived?
In vain, my dreams your subjects
Taken for ransom in your heart’s Tripoli
Not surmising recompense, I forfeit this
A note belying resonance
Of my heart’s last echoed throe
One desperate effort, giving up
Feed every vestige to the void
Wading, torso encumbered
Each sullen relic of your memory
Falls to the deep’s frigid ebony
Then, only too late am I cognizant
That my own breath is tribute yet spent
Therefore if I were to float or swim
I’d give you every ounce of who I am
Convince you to relinquish me
From your tepid, spurning sea
Then lying beneath moist underbrush
Slowly, breathe no more
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Wastelands of dry parched nothingness
Forced pursuit of pale mirages filled with life
Wavering brinks of relief in the scorching heat
Washed away life of golden liquid
Dehydrated stumbles in the dreaming darkness
Faded taste of malicious lies
Water in feverous dreams
Dried up mouth in waking sleep
cc071211
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
Cold stoles the coast in geisha voiles
of pawned Atlantic mourning, where
The plangent skirl of larids
carry through the vast exquisite
plains of February emptiness.
Aloft on coronal ruin, she flew
in free form falling, between the spheres
she grew in brightness, and by her stroke,
the moping shale, appeared , as if transformed.
She blessed the face of stained glass saints
hung loud on hallowed walls, From a
palisade of glinting brinks, she
hauled deserted chapels into
parishes of lambent wake
their majesties , reborn.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:47 AM UTC
I got a lil buzzed a lil ****** but not enough and not in time I’m covered in oceans of emotion I can’t keep up with these tides anymore pulling me out to the brinks in my mind I’ve never been afraid of drowning but it’s the lifeguards putting my head under why did I think I could swim I never should have trusted the ones who taught me should have learned how to breather underwater but I’m no mermaid I’m no better I’m not equipped for this please just let me burn burn burn
I don’t want my turn to win top trophies I never even wanted in the game who told you to put me in I cannot out play you cannot withstand this heat I talk like I like it I don’t mind it I just don’t want to be the center of the roasting *** I’m blocking kicks and getting punched I’m throwing fists they hit the heavens fall back on me liken frozen fury a storm I’ve been living in a game so sick you never make it out alive I try to die don’t choo know the rules I try to die who put you here don’t choo know I’m the underdog that hasn’t won yet
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
i am of the light
despite
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams
i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
lost
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
spiritual
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
grooving
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run
learned nothing in victory
learned nothing in simplicity
complacently
snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs
just relax
mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.
mistakes make us
deliberate chaos
tossed
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
secreting
frivolously
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings
hellaciously
i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
outlooks
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
Conglomerate softness
Plying blissfully the scars off my wounds
An addictive activity with bleak endings
Leaving a small dent on my skin soon
A memento of this visit
Comforting words and faces explain greatly
The niceness in which days daze away sadness,
So I savour this.
A kiss of kindness disguises itself in the random acts of allegiance
Only friendship commits
On the edges of wit,
And the brinks of sanity
I treat my own mind with such levity that fails to address the subject topic.
One day I’ll get past this
Like the seasons which pass by the skies like temporary trips
Staying long enough to make you feel sad when it’s gone
But hopeful that it’s not lasting
Bombastically feeling nostalgia for everything.
The world makes me happy
In the way that happiness only exists within this realm
The only one we know
And for every day that I grow I show the fruits of my labour
Flavouring the air with words that fall out my mouth like crisp apples
Perishable but delicious and nurturing,
Though this apple tree can’t really fend for itself
It has gardeners who defend its’ health,
And I am so grateful
For this help to grow,
Hopefully through these fruits
I can show you
as well.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
gazing blankly, but thoughtfully
toward the rising sun
with tired eyes, empty pockets, hearts sick with denial
he never thought it would turn out this way
she did and
so it went
skimming the brinks of sanity
while skimming the crystal water
with shimmering stones and
damaged dreams
glaring at the sun glinting off the water
you think of how far you've come
and how much further you must go
and you think to yourself
life and death are one in the same
black holes never existed, he says
event horizon, that from which
nothing can break free
would be
an anomaly
the cosmic visionary says so
we adhere to all he alleges
no questions asked
she smiles and replies,
ask no questions and
get no answers
in that case, he says
will you be my antidote?
I'll keep you free from malady
as long as you
keep questioning
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Tired yellows on infant flowers
Are like resignation on new lovers.
Rains drop, when the sky blinks;
Fetching tears on abandoned brinks.
The sweaty smell of gestation,
Signifies the mangoes’ manifestation.
I close my eyes and hear
The inevitable drum roll caving near.
Spring reclines under the parapets of roofs,
Crushed like a migrant under our carriage hoofs.
Summer.
The Harbinger of Life.
Possess these seeds and fertilize
Their voluble dormancy
In the flames of insurgency.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
Our universe is like a bolt of lightning
Suspended between
A negative and positive force
The past that connects the future
The conductor is intelligence
Conscious energy
Ever flowing
Unfortunately faster than we can think
So it appears our world is on the brinks
Yet beyond all worry and fear
Our energy is pure
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 8:29 AM UTC
I am a Heart Breaker superimposed upon this soul a spiritless spec of a man a melody story written from me to thee a hopeless dream of what i mean A man, A legend, This legacy is simple lyricy and artistry My mind is gone my words remain I’d travel across all seven seas to see eyes that loved me yet some divine comedy has mocked me this lion of god has torn me her words stain my consciousness her devotion leaves me motionless & hopeless I stand here superimposed Circe is having her way with me my mind resembles Heisenberg's uncertainty its the cat in the box the apathetic emotion not progress but congress If it’s my state coup d'etat it this is a war against myself and everyone else
a broken boy with a bright mind a thousand familiars hold me down my eyes see something that doesn't drown alive & asleep the lion of god toys with me my love & sanity toils on the brinks of the blind a forgotten repression moves to take from me my essence a sweet blessing a devil that used to run me a god that only i can see or only i thought to believe a stupid soul that gives me immortality yet is stuck in the world of the ****** superimposed
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
At the will of my wants, I grab at the bag my city has to offer, and coffer up the cash in my crash of a party that never started in the alarmingly empty vessels, settled under the rain, and below the fog in a swamp of frogs, and snakes, where i stake my claims, and state my name at the door.
Its darker here, but there is something more, hiding in the mud, the trees, and under the floor, rising up in waves in a haze of euphoria.
You just know it, it just is, just this feeling of forgotten forests rotting through the ages, of ageless storms that sweltered its soil through the toil of horned beasts, preying on predators creeping through the sleet, reeking of meat that melted in the summer heat.
Now its just a bar where i drink and type into this thing, completely unaware of the people staring at my cheeks flexing as i think, and i think, the sun will rise this time, but i still sink a bit deeper each day, and sign my life to work, in the murky smog where im begotten of beguiled planks that i march right off of.
Smiling, and inspired by the brinks i keep to my chest for the best of dreams to be achieved in the melancholy belief, that it matters to see the light in darker things that often freeze in the shadowy breeze of intellect, but once in, it is infectious, a pleasurable sedative to align my derivatives prism-ed from my vision to the sprawl of letters on the screen.
I pluck and pick what goes into it, and tune out the ridiculous ******** spread all over the dim-lit dimwits dozing in the smokers pit, reciting lines in inadequate rhymes of how they aligned their life's away, with babies and wives, equipped with knives that still hang from their backs.
The solo drunk drools the best, as he laughs.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about two things
One was lust and one was living
Both contained thoughts of you
But when I realized again it was all in my head
Then my thoughts again became of dying
I want it painful
I want to enjoy it
I want to feel something worse than what I've felt
The constant rejection of everyone I've ever loved
Has pushed me to the brinks
Its why I gave in to the devil I think
If I'm not good enough for anyone
If I'm not even close to something you would want
Then why am I even trying because all I want is the love I give out
If I'm meant to be alone I gotta know
If I'm meant for no one I won't mind
I'm not sure my place in the world but I hope to always be by someone's side
If not I gotta figure it out soon
Start a new spiritual journey
To the depths of my soul's existence
Figure out where I'm called and what I'm supposed to do
Will it even really matter?
Will I be able to make a change?
I must stop the Devil's work against us
Add some love to the world before I hit the grave
I hope it's not all for nothing
And I hope I find my mate
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
The State is stitched into itself, crocheted
by two hooks of its own creation
into a multiform mirage; man obeyed
his design --- he flirts with devastation.
Despite the deathly brinks, he continues on,
blinded by an insatiable desire.
In West California, sprawled on a lawn,
a boy laughs at his power over fire;
cross-legged monks in Sansara's clasp
sit in bare caves while snows rage outside:
they boy's enamored with all he can clasp,
the monks yawn, meditate: endlessly they've died.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
entertain the knowing of a term
amid how many names to paint that known
--depends on
termless origins
rising co-become
conditional a part for one unknown
~ wholly always ever-new produced in co-consuming-birthing all
~ intertracing weaves of what was thought was thought
connective tissue waves to render
individual arrays of signing signlessness,
precise obliques, pretend unends
all captured all undone and finally
defined
in seamless positings of word
yet freely boundless
always having ever been alive in proto-symbols
wet then dry of life
beyond the ken of humankindly limits
seen at brinks of sight
.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Winter blasts,shrieking as pierced crystal in moonlight,
her figure trembles by the brinks edge.
Striking the center of her mind was a lost knight,
grabbing her sobs with tears frozen midcheek, before free falling from the ledge.
Spring, she wished to forget, when maid and man met,
stolen glances,verbal advances, a skins breach of indecency.
A single solitary evening was set, a tryst between Lachlan and Lizbet,
a tangled two caught in treasonous secrecy.
Blistering and bold, the summer, unforgiving,
imprisoned Lizbets' waist increases.
Lachlans' fate--no longer with the living,
a Lord may punish adultery as he pleases.
Fall, where all surrender to die,
a babe forced out silent, the demise of labors hope.
Barely clad the woman lingered, as did her lie,
the sentence one of repugnance and a length of hanging rope.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
We triumph for those who have known us in glory
And in utter ruin remember the story
Acknowledge our valor, our power to keep
Braving all odds unheeded, march into the deep
Preserving a legacy not quite our own
Be of foes we have bested to reclaim the throne
Or of people we’ve wrested from brinks of despair
Abject in their poverty, dreamless nightmare
As we serve higher causes of righteous assurance
Our quest ever dauntless against the abhorrence
An amoral mass of the impure intent
In our ascent raise them from endless lament
To depart from a world to for years we have been
But as shadows to those of us living in sin
For it is but of ours time itself meets its fate
And begins to devour us all in its gape
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
it felt good to leave the tourists behind
---with their cast-iron grated stairs
and photo-flashing-falls,
question-comments cookie-cut---
embrace the woods:
soaking wet approach,
brinks of shivers in the dripping wind,
an old, broken filter
slurping bubbles from a cardboard tired puddle;
whisperlite stove finally working,
the first cous-cous dinner warms our little white dog
dreaming on my rising falling chest
pressed by sleeping bag and snort and sigh;
we sleep our psoas sore--
unknowing we have just begun...
haven't yet begun!
yet bodied abject pain to shock our senseless raw
with scoured glimmer-vasts of love beneath
a frozen fly on Frosty Mountain
zippered hail in midnight breath,
i *** in numbness gusts--
i bite my smile ice,
whoop the sleeting world for we are here at last.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
The city streets call me by my name and I feel myself transforming
The summers sweat and beasts regret, I taste my blood is warming
Ghost of past and wicked outcasts, like locusts they come swarming
Shrieking winds rest, in clouds possessed keep winters tears from balling
These city streets know my name, I show no shame and I can hear them calling
The wolf is preying, sneaky shadows conveying from depths of the city’s bowels
The angels fleeing, to avoid seeing the stench of wolf’s breath as he growls
Beneath your skin he slithers, the sun it slowly withers, closer now he howls
Virus catches the lowly, disease creeps so slowly across the urban sprawling
These city streets know me by my name, I like this game, I can hear them calling
Death is on madness brinks, the psychosis it stinks and night is now unveiling
The angel’s morn while bodies torn and I can hear their blaring sirens wailing
Casualty in scales bring sin’s costly sales and the blinded fatality is unfailing
Rumors of sinister presence known, the evil grown into darkness’ eyes entailing
Immortal screams and failed daylight dreams, the devoured come a crawling
The city knows me by name we are one in the same and I can hear her calling
With my control now at bay, I can hear her say; your strength in my grasp is declining
I overlook restless streets, my heart lifts as it beats and in this moment time defining
Pavement becomes crowded ominous thoughts shrouded; captured by the golden lining
Promise of my own demise, lost in heathen’s rise and her blood soaked teeth are shining
She calls to me like a lover’s touch, entwined in lust, so much in love and I am now falling
These city streets know me by name, we are one in the same and I run to her when she comes calling
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 3:43 PM UTC
All or nothing
Brick by brick, please don’t slip
Fingers grasping tighter now
Harsh gasp as the stones cut deep
Look down between your feet
Why do all those people staring look like sheep?
Heads turned up and mouths agape
Silent cheers and little sneers, tearing eyes
Fall, fall there all waiting for it
Another step upwards
You’re on your way, hold tight now don’t forget
This moment there can be no regret
Teeth grit hard as the blood runs down your wrist
It feels good doesn’t it, hot and slick
Just of bit more of this messed up ****
The brinks in sight fingers grasp tight
Another step onwards upwards
Brick by brick as stones cut deep
Look at all those people like mulling sheep
Sharp laugh pulled up and over, other hands are grasping tight
Over the wall you tumble free at last
The sheep have passed
Eyes no longer cheering, calling, tearing in those silent voices
Fall... fall... fall
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
We’re all looking to do something real
And the words, you’ve got time
Are the biggest lie ever uttered out of the human mouth
What that really means is that we don’t know what to tell you, we can’t, first of all, the realness is too personal, everyone has their own version of what is real, time and space are relative to the observer after all, Einstein proved that, but only if all natural laws hold constant, and theoretically those probably break down somewhere after the age of 22,
No, you haven’t got time, time is an illusion, just like the trophy award ceremony where everyone wins and gets patted on the back for trying,
No, stop telling us we’ve got time, we’ve got time to flail in the wind, we’ve got time to do work, but finding the realness is beyond time, it’s the kernel stuck in the teeth of our soul, we need to water this kernel, and philosophically, everything we do may be watering this kernel, but in practicality, it feels like we’ve been going nowhere with all this time we’ve got, stop telling us we’ve got time and tell us to travel, to explore, to roam and push our consciousness to the brinks of the universe, tell us to be unafraid, not of the fact that there is still this thing called time ticking away minutes before we die, but tell us to be unafraid of what we might find when we come face to face with the realness, tell us to be uncompromising in our search, tell us to stay away from any who would tie us to the ground and care about anything other than the realness
Because we’ve all got time, until we don’t, then what are you going to say to reassure the disaffected grown youth? Sorry, but you had time, and now you don’t, we can’t coddle you anymore with stories about time and how not to worry about it, time to join the ranks of the real world. Make some money, stop wasting time.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
I never thought that I could live this long.
I never would have thought that I could stay alive.
From the brinks of death, I never would have thought of living a broken life,
And stand up to this day in my family world's full of lies.
How long has it been since I was cured?
How long has it been since they damaged my heart?
How long has it been since I continued living this kind of life?
Or how long has it been since the scars continue growing inside my heart?
If I am going to take a chance of stepping, will it be okay If I do that?
If I am going to risk the chance of moving on, will it healed my heart?
If I am going to turn a blind eye of what's happening into my life, will it be enough to erase the scars?
If I am going to take a chance of believing, will I be able find happiness of following what my heart desires?
I never would have thought of this growing up;
Of living with your stepmother, stepbrothers, and your own biological father.
I never would have thought of sticking to them for too long!
If I have all the means to live alone, it will only caused them to be puzzled with my existence.
Chances are there for my life to go on living.
Chances are there for me to have faith and go on believing.
Chances are there for me to find the happiness that my heart keeps on seeking.
But, I don't have the chance to wipe out all the scars inside my heart including painful memories even if I forgive everything.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Their song
Tells of ages great and long
Warriors found and forged
Along the beaten path
Souls deeply bound
Great foes emerged
Faced with mighty wrath
Drinks all shared
Stories of deeds dared
Battles to the very brinks
Of what sanity each knows
Upon steeds of white they rode
Bringing but death and remaining humanity
No matter how ill the journey may indeed bode
Not every battle
Was fought riding in the saddle
With sharpest sword or strongest ax
Nor concealed dagger or fearsome fist
But in walls of roaring metal
With sharpest words and strongest facts
Concealed stagger and fearsome twist
Leaving wounds to bleed
Perhaps more than a visible ****
Fuel to deed great or foul
Perhaps to lash and scowl
To yearn and to feel
To learn and to heal
- Jay M
January 21st, 2021
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 1:52 PM UTC
time shrinks
she thinks
like ice in rinks
and overflows the sinks
she blinks
seeing shades of pinks
they're links
living on the brinks
a jinx
[she] turns into a minx
and drinks
unlinks
empties out the sinks
and shrinks
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
I wrote poetry tonight of sunsets and ponds,
worthless topics in light of the state of the world.
Just ended a hospital stay...needed to be mellow.
But this godawful earth gives me the heebie jeebies.
Forced confinement that came with cable t.v.
I wallowed in insanity and stupidity that seemed
to have no freakin end
We are teetering on so many brinks, but what was on?
A series about a guy makes a chain of hamburgers
on the family name...
Watched them play on a lawn big enough to choke a goat,
swim in their waterfall pool and frolic in designer clothes.
A series about mansions that cost millions of dollars
and could each house the homeless population of this town.
Freaking carbon combat boot prints.
Worked all my life.
Me and my three cats struggle - disability does not
buy mansions!
The world in on a precipice so **** scary
God himself can’t tip it back.
Korea, Iran and all those Isis ******** that put
bullets in the heads of six year-old boys.
And they show wanton consumption - reckless regard
for the land - don’t tell me they earned their money
and deserve to have obscene disregard for others.
When the rich have to pay their fair share...
when life is equitable and no one goes hungry
or sick
or without education...
Then maybe it won’t be so sickening.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC