"brotherless" poems - Hello Poetry

If Tuesdays are bad news days Fridays are always sideways Struggling Hustling Fumbling Tumbling Trembling stuttering Impolite utterances Brotherless Misguided mothering Distant cousins Conditioned lovers Struck by thunder No structure to govern... Monday is gonna come... No matter what goes on in your life Monday is going to come Give me one time that Monday have not approached? Hold your head You'll be alright If not Monday is still on it's way If you stay stuck in muck The world isn't It will move onto a new week

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Oct 4, 2013

Oct 4, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC

DamareMcElmore

This Monday

If Tuesdays are bad news days Fridays are always sideways Struggling Hustling Fumbling Tumbling Trembling stuttering Impolite utterances Brotherless Misguided mothering Distant cousins Conditioned lovers Struck by thunder No structure to govern... Monday is gonna come... No matter what goes on in your life Monday is going to come Give me one time that Monday have not approached? Hold your head You'll be alright If not Monday is still on it's way If you stay stuck in muck The world isn't It will move onto a new week

24

Now Say nay, Man dry man, Dry lover mine The deadrock base and blow the flowered anchor, Should he, for centre sake, hop in the dust, Forsake, the fool, the hardiness of anger. Now Say nay, Sir no say, Death to the yes, the yes to death, the yesman and the answer, Should he who split his children with a cure Have brotherless his sister on the handsaw. Now Say nay, No say sir Yea the dead stir, And this, nor this, is shade, the landed crow, He lying low with ruin in his ear, The cockrel's tide upcasting from the fire. Now Say nay, So star fall, So the ball fail, So solve the mystic sun, the wife of light, The sun that leaps on petals through a nought, the come-a-cropper rider of the flower. Now Say nay A fig for The seal of fire, Death hairy-heeled and the tapped ghost in wood, We make me mystic as the arm of air, The two-a-vein, the ******** and the cloud.

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2.3k

Dylan Thomas

Now

Now Say nay, Man dry man, Dry lover mine The deadrock base and blow the flowered anchor, Should he, for centre sake, hop in the dust, Forsake, the fool, the hardiness of anger. Now Say nay, Sir no say, Death to the yes, the yes to death, the yesman and the answer, Should he who split his children with a cure Have brotherless his sister on the handsaw. Now Say nay, No say sir Yea the dead stir, And this, nor this, is shade, the landed crow, He lying low with ruin in his ear, The cockrel's tide upcasting from the fire. Now Say nay, So star fall, So the ball fail, So solve the mystic sun, the wife of light, The sun that leaps on petals through a nought, the come-a-cropper rider of the flower. Now Say nay A fig for The seal of fire, Death hairy-heeled and the tapped ghost in wood, We make me mystic as the arm of air, The two-a-vein, the ******** and the cloud.

35

Late morning after dreaming of these hand-written Alaskan three-dollar bills Polaroid photographs of empty silver screens hidden elevator button escape routes mid-performance ****** reconstructions I half-wake from my half-sleep and in seventy-five-cent consciousness beg the man of my waking misconceptions to meet for one more one more double latte Marlboro 27 kiss behind the parking lot than we’d ever had before we part again and he will reunite with his lunchmeat of holiday hopes and aspirations And I will return to the land of brotherless love and flaming heterosexuals the land of ugly **** and self-righteous queers the land where there is no God because I chased him from the West before he could do me harm the land filled with my pity and inebriated mindless self-perpetuation the land consumed with no passion because the Yukon’s landscape eyes are bleak and empty the land where the only direction is floating down-river to the blood-stained rocks of our maturity still within my mental prison with my other mental inmates and mental shanks and ***** I dream again with my eyes wide open and lips drawn in two-tier lonely grimace dream of the blue green red-eyed beauty that I have never known

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Mar 5, 2010

Mar 5, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC

harry-gross

To the New Year

Late morning after dreaming of these hand-written Alaskan three-dollar bills Polaroid photographs of empty silver screens hidden elevator button escape routes mid-performance ****** reconstructions I half-wake from my half-sleep and in seventy-five-cent consciousness beg the man of my waking misconceptions to meet for one more one more double latte Marlboro 27 kiss behind the parking lot than we’d ever had before we part again and he will reunite with his lunchmeat of holiday hopes and aspirations And I will return to the land of brotherless love and flaming heterosexuals the land of ugly **** and self-righteous queers the land where there is no God because I chased him from the West before he could do me harm the land filled with my pity and inebriated mindless self-perpetuation the land consumed with no passion because the Yukon’s landscape eyes are bleak and empty the land where the only direction is floating down-river to the blood-stained rocks of our maturity still within my mental prison with my other mental inmates and mental shanks and ***** I dream again with my eyes wide open and lips drawn in two-tier lonely grimace dream of the blue green red-eyed beauty that I have never known

19

_/There is no fellow in the firmament._ but only fire can cast down raging blood, running through the city, flagrant smoke on a collonade of scepters, raised — line by line: note the conspirator in the masses _Doth not Brutus brotherless kneel?/_ traitorous hands, leaking red _/Speak hands, for me!_ — from a dagger plunged deep through the heart of eruption it spills chaotical, arterial, sinful down and down ribbons of life crown in rotation: halted on tumbling tyrrant, passes guiltless largesse from hand sought to hands yet seeking, searching [whisperings] "but on what grounds is usurpation justified?"/ "what cavity yet persists in the dawn of these reds rising?" kneeling king, sodden with loss bend for me — _Et tu, Bruté?/_ screamitbloodymurdersingitholydivination _Then fall, Caesar._

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Mar 9, 2019

Mar 9, 2019 at 10:34 PM UTC

anarchist

"ambition's debt is paid."

_/There is no fellow in the firmament._ but only fire can cast down raging blood, running through the city, flagrant smoke on a collonade of scepters, raised — line by line: note the conspirator in the masses _Doth not Brutus brotherless kneel?/_ traitorous hands, leaking red _/Speak hands, for me!_ — from a dagger plunged deep through the heart of eruption it spills chaotical, arterial, sinful down and down ribbons of life crown in rotation: halted on tumbling tyrrant, passes guiltless largesse from hand sought to hands yet seeking, searching [whisperings] "but on what grounds is usurpation justified?"/ "what cavity yet persists in the dawn of these reds rising?" kneeling king, sodden with loss bend for me — _Et tu, Bruté?/_ screamitbloodymurdersingitholydivination _Then fall, Caesar._

22

I was a thousands of kilometers away from you, And too many feet above you for you to even sense my presence. And now I'm a few kilometers closer to you, And too little feet from you that you can reach up and grab me. I'm seated next to a strange man, minding his own business Yet, all I can think about are his curious fingers lingering over the partition and dancing on my thighs, Retracing your steps, Completing your task. Tears conceived in my eye ducts by my pain and fear urge to be birthed from my eyes at my happiest or calmest moments. Sometimes I want to see you slowly and accurately tortured, Every slice, stab, hit, pull, push, and burn calculated Then again, I'm a forgiving person and I don't want to be the one to leave your sister brotherless, and your parents with the burden of having to bury their child. I hate the fact that you made me so afraid, I hate the fact that I feel so silenced I hate the fact that justice couldn't be served I hate the fact that you could be committing worse crimes unto other girls I hate the fact that I need to cry right now But most of all, I hate the fact that you showed me how alone I am and that a terrible person like you is the only person present.

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Dec 31, 2014

Dec 31, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC

nolithando

alone in the sky.

I was a thousands of kilometers away from you, And too many feet above you for you to even sense my presence. And now I'm a few kilometers closer to you, And too little feet from you that you can reach up and grab me. I'm seated next to a strange man, minding his own business Yet, all I can think about are his curious fingers lingering over the partition and dancing on my thighs, Retracing your steps, Completing your task. Tears conceived in my eye ducts by my pain and fear urge to be birthed from my eyes at my happiest or calmest moments. Sometimes I want to see you slowly and accurately tortured, Every slice, stab, hit, pull, push, and burn calculated Then again, I'm a forgiving person and I don't want to be the one to leave your sister brotherless, and your parents with the burden of having to bury their child. I hate the fact that you made me so afraid, I hate the fact that I feel so silenced I hate the fact that justice couldn't be served I hate the fact that you could be committing worse crimes unto other girls I hate the fact that I need to cry right now But most of all, I hate the fact that you showed me how alone I am and that a terrible person like you is the only person present.

24

A void. With no visible end. No edge. Boundaries not tangible. Just as you were. A professional at leaving holes. A crater of a footstep. No positive impressions. Lessons. Yes. Stories to unfold. Many untold. For the scars they would behold. The tears. No control. This is why I to this day try. To bury what was. To leave it behind. Let it be a shadow. No disguise. I will not let it catch me by surprise. I wait. For the call one night. For the hole to sink further. I will miss you my brother. No amends. Just emptiness. No forgiveness. No open space left. No wrongs to right. Nor a new page to start. No end in sight. Perpetual pain. Whole lot of open space. Endless. But a pressure neither of us can fix. Heavy weight. Blame fate. Blame our past. All but ourselves. No chance. Too late. No light. We will not open our eyes. Refuse. Too much dirt to fill back in. Too much time. What an excuse. I wait for the call. You pretend it was all, nothing. We bore swords in our words. Bullets in our actions. One day we shall rest on mattresses closed. In a place we cannot escape. Forced to repent. Accept our mistakes. Our souls to take. A will. No fight. Brothers by blood. Enemies by treason. With no secure reason. A lesion. A missing piece. A unfillable space. Brotherless. Still.

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Sep 18, 2016

Sep 18, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC

NickatNight

Brotherless... Still.

A void. With no visible end. No edge. Boundaries not tangible. Just as you were. A professional at leaving holes. A crater of a footstep. No positive impressions. Lessons. Yes. Stories to unfold. Many untold. For the scars they would behold. The tears. No control. This is why I to this day try. To bury what was. To leave it behind. Let it be a shadow. No disguise. I will not let it catch me by surprise. I wait. For the call one night. For the hole to sink further. I will miss you my brother. No amends. Just emptiness. No forgiveness. No open space left. No wrongs to right. Nor a new page to start. No end in sight. Perpetual pain. Whole lot of open space. Endless. But a pressure neither of us can fix. Heavy weight. Blame fate. Blame our past. All but ourselves. No chance. Too late. No light. We will not open our eyes. Refuse. Too much dirt to fill back in. Too much time. What an excuse. I wait for the call. You pretend it was all, nothing. We bore swords in our words. Bullets in our actions. One day we shall rest on mattresses closed. In a place we cannot escape. Forced to repent. Accept our mistakes. Our souls to take. A will. No fight. Brothers by blood. Enemies by treason. With no secure reason. A lesion. A missing piece. A unfillable space. Brotherless. Still.

40