"canvased" poems
Life and its shade
canvased by god
God made it beautiful
But we are
adding shades of greys and black
enveloping the sky
turning fog into smog
Putting solute
in water bodies
that are not dispersible
making it turbid
mislaying its transparency
water is not pure anymore
Deforestation
converting the forest
into the barren land
beautiful landscapes are mechanized
by man
buildings and more building
watching stars sounds bookish
nature is losing its charm
Emotions are blowing over
relationships changing
accepting changes
changing our own self
mirrors are showing
someone else image
and asking you
who you are?
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 12:50 AM UTC
it will just end up
being a tale of a drunk looking into a metre
as if it was a kaleidoscope mile
in an l.s.d. fuelled centimetre seance,
conjuring the dead, esp. sergei with his kijé,
and thinking about turning the zoo inside out,
with the birds as fish in the great aerorium
of the missing stars to cook up a fluster with broken beaks
nudging achilles to kneel using his heels.
i mean i’d cage those parrots to seal their colour
into stamps and dutiful ink of borrowed bureaucracy,
but i’d stink of oysters doing so and very little else.
so why did they decide upon petting fish in an aquarium
and said that birds were simply caged chickens easing out
an omelette? if i was keeping goldfish in aquariums
i’d be keeping budgies in aeroriums.
don’t tell me, the glass eases the process for disney's
talking blue fish? no wonder, a caged animal
is reminiscent of a caged man, but put man behind glass
and there's little chance of a narcissist conjured;
hence the necessity of slicing iron of the ribcage innuendo
within the framework of a niqab to peer through
on that whitewashed backdrop some call a canvased sigh of beginning.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
I want to watch all
The teeth fall out
Of my mouth
My eyes sink
Into my skull
Every hair
Fall out of my head
Brittle nails and blue fingertips
Yellowing patches
And skin
Clear enough to see rivers
Flowing beneath
Canvased tight,
as if my bones
Are just hoping to break free
To cut through
The canvas with
The knife my grandfather
Gave me
Spilling everything
Every word
I could never get out
Every time getting
Caught on
The tip of my tongue
No glass half full
Or half empty
I want to be as shallow
as it gets
When the waves
Crash against the shoreline
Making their way up
To meet your sand-covered toes,
That is as shallow as
The water gets
I could never
Be so versatile
As the ocean
I have to choose,
And what’s the point of
Such strong feelings
If they are always trapped
And writhing
On my inside
- S.G.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 4:55 AM UTC
Hello Pigment.
I missed your squish-
your fingers staining my favorite picture books.
I need your oily claws
your head-mashing whiff
the way you smile with toothy indifference
you climb over
all walls I orchestrate
and sit turgid
with bright Grandiose on my blanched skin.
my life is your palette,
you have moved in like a sloppy roommate
and your haphazard possessions drape the cabinets,
the chair,
the sink.
I love it.
you inhabit every vacancy
-a bulky mass of
magical “art”
and
no matter how much I mix your
complementary colors,
you appear
ever so bright.
please… don’t leave me open canvased.
splotch to me left and right
taint any negative space
barge in without
pusillanimous footsteps.
whip your camel hair bristles
all over my pages.
color me, pigment!
Splatter, Paint.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
I've been told; life is all about growth and maturity
Leaving the nest and learning to take on and embrace your surroundings
Then explain why I feel as though I'm shrinking, constantly fighting these ongoing insecurities?
People always preach about being true to who you are
The unknown galaxy of the delicate mind is somehow bigger than our own body
Exile the unworthy nightmares and follow the dreams that may appear bizzar
But what do you do when you're all alone in a crowded room?
And extraversion and introversion are the two demons playing tug of war?
I wish I were plain and simple like a white rose, just allowing myself to bloom
What do I do when the glorious stars lose their twinkle?
Once so bright and majestic, now blurry and incoherent
How should I uproot these sorrows, when they're so profound and as deep as wrinkles?
If the lies and confusion are steering clear of the shadows of hope
And these tears, sharp as daggers are supposed to seize to a stop
Then why does it seem as though everything is heading in a downward slope?
It reminds me of a beautiful bird trapped in an iron barred cage
Struggling, and flapping it's wings in deprivation of escaping
It could shrill and cry, but no one shows interest in it's excruciating rage
If razors weren't sharp and scissors had no blades
If skin were tougher than rubber
Would these unruly memories and tortured thoughts drift into the distance and fade?
I despise how the facts are too hard to handle and never good enough
No matter how much you strive for change, god's never on your side
And frankly, I'm exhausted from putting up walls and having to always be so tough
No matter how hard I try, I am still lost and weak
Searching for the true meaning in blank canvased skies
At a loss of how to correct a lack of color in this never ending streak
I know who Faith is, and hopefully she'll grace her presence upon me soon
Maybe she'll teach me how to expand my wings and soar into the horizon
Allowing sublimity to perfuse like a butterfly, rather than falling into the darkness of a constricted cocoon
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
I helped Jesus down off the cross
And apologized for his terrible loss.
All through the night we traveled at length,
And slept through the day to regain our strength.
Nights came and went, the stars at our backs,
Warding off evil and constant attacks.
Canvased the sky with our own selfish rain,
Filled in the holes to make sure we were sane.
Shed our skin, with no way to know,
Where it would end or how it would go.
I trusted him, and he trusted me,
I helped him hear, and he helped me see.
Reason and fear, pleasure and pain,
That which must go, and which could remain.
Darkness and time, purpose and need,
The life that flows through this blood that we bleed.
Somehow the masses had gotten it so wrong,
But we took it well, and we played along.
Once they had finally seen what we’d seen,
They carved out their eyes and washed themselves clean.
Then they hung Jesus back on the cross,
And wept without eyes for their terrible loss.
Safe from reason, no need to fear,
Pleasure and pain were no longer near.
Now came their purpose, they’d fulfilled their need.
Of course they asked Jesus, and Jesus agreed.
He’d hang around, they’d carve out his eyes,
Covered in blood is a clever disguise.
And what about the masses as they sleep through the lies?
Together, never lonely, ascend into the skies.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
Our fingers brushed in the gallery opening
not so long ago,
we were in a room full of art,
which only made me crave you more.
It reminded me of your hands,
finger-painting like a child using watercolors
onto my blank canvased soul filling in
every part of me that was missing colors.
Now, everything is in black and white.
When our fingers lightly brushed again,
I felt the flood of rainbows and stars rush back to me
before disappearing behind me, following you away.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Indigenous!
Belong, in place.
Eligible to be? (Unpaid)
Tracing comfort. (confronted)
Distribute all rawness.
Attribute all peace.
Abolish odd disturbances.
Against all odds, shadowing perspective.
Feeling at ease... Just ME! (Relieved)
Canvased in dirt immersed in blood. (Rituals)
Unleash the royal beast.
Reveal all - ME. (Lead)
Smudged, focused on the challenge.
Do you see?
ME?
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 7:08 PM UTC
there's a reason we don't look back
because we most definitely don't need that
there's a reason we haven't relaxed
under the weight of steel tracks atop an overpass
and we've yet to stop running
and we've yet to stop deconstructing
we've concluded we can conclude nothing
a trick so tragically cunning
we've been tending to processes of the heart
pretending and mending images in your yard
posted up against the brick wall behind K-mart
where graffiti fades from concrete canvased art
there's a reason we don't look back
there's a reason we haven't relaxed
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 9:51 PM UTC
It was sticky hot and humid in Ferguson that Saturday.
Just another weekend where the little leagues would play.
I was riding unit 25 looking out for petty crime.
My units' radio sputtered to life: "shots fired on Canfield drive."
" Officer in need of assistance"
We just didn't arrive in time.
I recognized the body, my colleague and close friend.
Darren Wilson was shot six times, the last time in the head.
His service piece was missing. The shooter had fled the scene.
I called for a bus and backup and radioed what I had seen.
We then secured the crime scene as it drew a silent crowd.
Detectives looked for any clues and canvased the homes around.
No witness would come forward, either out of fear or dread.
"His new wife is now a widow." my disgusted partner said.
Darren face was badly bruised as he lay there in the sun.
I surmised he'd been assaulted in the struggle for his gun.
The coroner sighed and shook his head at the body on the gurney.
He'd perform an autopsy on my friend before his final journey.
The score was one dead man in blue, his murderer still free.
The streets that night were quiet, as I suspected they would be.
There was no public outcry at the killing that was done.
Blue lives never matter to a town like Ferguson.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Blood red,falling against the shadowed sky.
Amid, the blackened light it fell.
Canvased in darkens, extinguished like a fire.
Its light gone,swallowed by the earth
A new shall come, in time.
Shall night fall, for morn I wait.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
There’s a raging storm inside my head:
An all too familiar home
For my mind is my grave and my bed
For the ruins of my Rome
As the tapestries of my sky
Obliterate the canvased sea
The wind howls in a fluent lie
“As you were, you shall never be”
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:59 PM UTC
Thoughts abound in the whirlmill that is my mind
Fear, regrets, despair, anguish dominate
Devoid of joy and happiness, love nothing but a nightmare
Lost to the past i find myself bound
Forsaking love, never loving, fearing love
Hiding from, wanting to feel, absent love lingers and hurts
Longing to mirror my soul's reflection in my lover's eye
Bereft my heart in never ending fear
Always yearning, finding love never enough
Returning , giving my soul back, paralyzed me
Fearing a simple kiss more than death itself
Love meant it all, drowning from it, only getting closer
Delusions and false remembrances canvased my pain
Rejecting love thought me free
Landscapes of lies paint dreams never dreamt
Quest for intimacy and eternal love befallen reality
Unrelenting denial brought me to love
My heart opened to my soulmate
But she was not there
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 1:41 PM UTC