"caretakers" poems
eye did. As my prejudices expected, the odd assortment of "characters"were all present and not to be unaccounted for...a romantic comedy on a good Friday, attracts the believers, the well wishers, the ones who think if only the world was.. and I was not re or so tired of life, unemployed, lonely, damaged in some manner of being...
not too many young, just a few... theater darkness is a masque, with a risqué chance of oh no, I've been witnessed by the non-believers.
the infirm with their mobile caretakers and paraphernalia were there. Odd couples, were there. If there was one unifying common characteristic, I selected this one. We all needed haircuts. eye don't know why but it made me think about going to get one's haircut, and the rituals that requires....and it is and is not a bit like being in a almost totally private world inpublic, where you, the individual and some outside force majeure, hairdresser, movie screen engages and temporarily transforms you. That is why, I, went to the movies on a Friday afternoon, to be transformed and not reformed, in public, in private...
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
We are afraid of tying knots.
Now, my brothers weren't fond of Boy Scouts, but those aren't the kinds of knots I'm talking about.
Our parents got us velcro shoes growing up (something about not wanting us to be overwhelmed with tennis shoes)
And that, perhaps, was the moment that started everything.
We could no longer trip on loose laces as we ran our races,
Our parents couldn't see our disappointed faces as we fumbled getting ready for school.
It was the perfect contribution to the flawed illusion that the human institution should be prevented from failing.
Oh, yes.
In my lifetime, cordless telephones were placed in every house because we did not want to untangle our own messes anymore.
Failure doesn't hurt as much when it is invisible.
We wanted wireless, no-strings-attached luxuries with no side effects.
But there were effects that couldn't be seen
(how could they until we were older than teens)
Because the end effect was this:
a generation that shirks responsibility
we have anxiety
because our parents didn't let us face our fears when we were young
we are jobless, loveless, purposeless
because we still haven't realized that everything has its opposite
love - lust
success - failure
happiness - sadness
peace - anger and commotion
you see?
there are full-grown adults living in the basements of their parents
watching **** from an illuminated screen
a no-strings-attached commitment to a video that will never require a vow or a promise;
so many see the term "settling down" as "kicking up dust" of a dull life "confined to a four-inch screen."
we've seen our own parents cut the ties
now living separate lives
better that way, but millennials can't fight
for love or for kids or for dreams
because their caretakers' examples couldn't teach
the right way to do a marriage
the right way to commit
we are shirking responsibility--
because we don't want to fail.
still as afraid of tying knots
as we were in kindergarten.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
One day Death came knocking on my door
But I was not ready for death
Please go knock on someone else’s door I yelled
As I struggled to take another breath
It was then that I had made up my mind,
fight like hell
Because I was not ready to leave everything behind
As I eventually pulled myself from the smoky car
Strangers quickly became caretakers that caught my fall
And I was not afraid anymore
Because Death had simply checked in on me then moved along
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
How wonderful it would be
to be a cat
just lay in the sun
on your comfy pedestal
looking down at your caretakers
not having to worry
about college
relationships
money
cars
christmas
birthdays
world hunger
war
government policies
healthcare
jobs
sounds like perfection
unless you're a stray
*that **** would ****
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Finger tips gained much weight,
As it slumbers in stagnant pulse.
Eyes no longer can blink to close the sorrow of empty solace,
While caretakers play the same video for the last decade of existences.
Like an empty glass of wine,
Does he reflect nothing to anyone.
Just a lifeless shell,
They do not see him!
A void without a soul,
and living without a life.
Don't give up on him,
He is aware of people's view of the vegetation.
Consciousness still lurk around the body,
He is not a vegetable!
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
You gotta stay alive
You gotta find balance
You.gotta get control
You gotta create beauty
And
You gotta know,
I'm here.
When you're free, when you're locked up, when your confused
I know that you want a different life
and I want you to know
That I know the darkness of the caretakers
I know the pain that was inflicted
Everyone may pretend it never happened
but
be assured
I know about the salt
the emotional abuse
The dark nights and the burning days
The hate and the love
Do not be ashamed.
Seek the truth
For the truth shall set you free.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Take my hand to continents only known in the books,
the blue maps on tiny tables sat in stacks
ready for the lesson on Mexico, or thereabouts- third this week because
the timetable is weak, poorly thought through and cobbled
together out of half-dressed evenings in the lounges of
teachers; ones once loved by the master and mistresses, leaders
of the well dressed and caretakers.
Take my feet and walk with them, balancing
on borders separating language and currency,
the gymnast's beam looking out over the forestry,
its taller trees than you and me standing upon toes tipping
down towards the urgent ground, urgently warning to stay
upright and stick around, with her holding your hand.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
i couldn't stand the heat,
spent most of the time in the shade,
everyone made fun
of the guy standing by the pool
reading a book, pretending to
be a sundial;
i was called the whiskey-man;
one night i slept outside
and by the time i woke up my glass
of brandy disappeared;
mingled with the "auctioneers"
of a good time; boy one of those
kenyan girls was hot... oomph,
she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits
and raw ***
i know i was a tourist...
played a stupid drinking game with
two english girls, snogged one
at the end of the game, wasn't invited
back to the room for a *********
spent hours at night looking at the tide
splashing the shore, cried at the painting
so alive all the museums and galleries
became graveyards of appreciation;
it was a holiday resort, i admit,
although one bartender asked me to do
a local tour of the place, go clubbing,
supposedly a colonial ******* i was
upon first reading;
but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't
stand the temperature,
i was literally an ice-cream cone most
of the time, took to the shades,
wrote a short story for my grandfather
about an elephant dunking his trunk into
a bottle of brandy...
one day got chatting to a scottish pair
and a russian couple,
told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories
album,
i was originally asking for a cigarette,
so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse
politics of america...
the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped
into the kids' shallow pool veering
on blind-drunk-happy...
another time i too jumped into a pool
with my clothes on...
******* this heat...
ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny
esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony...
but boy that baboon was a menace,
a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey
with meningitis and stole food...
although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids...
and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch.
oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted
to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his...
i sort of refused the invitation,
and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade
of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen...
just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul
to one of the caretakers of the resort.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
Be Not Bitter in Thine Writings,
for They Be Most Wondrous Things;
Catacombious Monstrocities,
Though You May'st Conceive Them.
Words Stray'd and Pluck'd into Near-Woven Dressings,
Gone Fade with Thine Temperament—
These Things that You Shrug and Forget!—
Shall ****** Adventures unto the Intrepid,
Kind Caretakers as yet Unknown to These Days.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 2:20 AM UTC
"The Gathering Storm"
Shifting, churning, swirling, .... the breeze comes spritely
from the slate colored billows of the thunderclouds.
A gentle whisper at first,..... then building to a crescendo,
tickling the underbellies of leaves..... and rolling them over.
Bending the supple tips of branches to a rythmn
unknown to any author of music.
A rythmn of nature following no rules.......
and knowing no bounds.
What reason shall it follow,....
when the flapping of a sparrows wings,
And brief stirring of the air by a single bird,
......a half continent away
Shall have a cause and effect on what...
we feel pulsing against our exposed skin.
Is it not so with us,.... each one of us as a single sparrow,
flitting about and mingling with other creatures
Shall we not have an effect on that,.... that we touch
with our alterations of what is... and what was
We can only have hope,.. to manage the chaos
of the seeds that we sow... and the sprouts of our intellect.
Not knowing what will grow from our aspirations of changing that
that is .... to that,... that we dream it to be.
Shall we dare to become the God that we have worshipped .....
Shall we dare become the ... Sheperd's of the universe.
Perhaps, !! ..... but we must lay down the rules and know the bounds.
Let us not forget,..... we are but caretakers
for the creations of a greater spirit.
"The Gathering Storm"
Written By Dennis Gilchrist
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 30, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel ancient.
As if I have witnessed the birth
of our galaxy.
Sometimes I feel as if
I'm playing Hide and Seek
with myself.
The present me
hides from my ancient self.
Because when my ancient self
finds me
and turns her wise eye
in the direction of humanity
she is saddened by the state of herself.
How did we get so disillusioned?
How did we become so selfish and
glutinous?
When did we appoint ourselves Kings and Queens
of the Earth
which cries beneath our feet?
I remember a time
when I moved freely with my fellow man.
When we knew that We were the gift
Given to the Earth.
The gardeners.
The caretakers.
Only taking what we need and nothing more.
Freeing up our time
in order to truly expand our minds.
Our evolution has been stunted.
And I feel ancient.
I found you.
And I must say,
I'm a little disappointed.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
Help
Ive let myself slip
Living in this asylum
Im losing my mind over myself
Caretakers
Accuse themselves of being careful
All i could hope for as they held
My heart in their hands
But nailclippers are not allowed here
Of course I know im insane
Becuase those caretakers
And anxiety
Are the same
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
before~after / conception~completion (my coordinates)
<•>
for the caretakers of the next generation
<•>
comes the everyday, the mundane,
the profane, meeting at
the X,Y ordinates of
ordinary sweat and struggling tears
oh! this stuff of life,
makes me groan and wonder out load,
what is the purpose beyond the
existence of being a
constantly in need of maintenance,
sustenance machine
then I hear but do not see
the hallway pitter patter,
the thrumming of purposed
direction certain,
four little feet
who between them don't posses
even a decade yet
on their way to the
sunroom, now renamed,
the playroom,
expropriated by their toys of eminent domain,
on their way to the life between the
before~after / conception~completion
and this point,
of a single moment,
an invisible sound,
of this particular life,
this extraordinary ordinate,
this X,Y locus,
this precision perceived location of something real,
it is a realized abstraction,
the exact point,
where my coordinates are
harmonized
9/2/17
5:11am
SI
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
Vivid images
In the still of the night,
I saw vivid images of the strong
man I once love,
his emerald eyes, his
unshaven face prickly as the weeds
on my lawn,
I sigh!
Who’s this broken man?
Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like smoke rising in the open pasture
his broken portrait lean
against the dresser mirror
Love, hate, betrayals
I detest!
Confusion of a delusional stalker
Tomorrow when I am awake,
What would I remember?
Being his stalker or his lover?
Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like a two way mirrors,
however, only one view showing the
Shady side of the real him;
I detest.
his caretakers declared him as
fragile and unbalanced frame of a man
who was sadly tossed into the ocean of black tears
An wasted love affair ends
My heart is broken once again
a rainbow appears
I lost a good friend.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
The monsoon moon hung close between,
Bog's abode now and his abode to be.
As all anchor's were lost in the waves,
he asked me to dig both our graves.
I told him of the signs that be,
'the signs don't care for you and me'
he said as he took me by my mind,
'symbols are ruthless, unkind!
the symbols speak of the amusement park,
and the roller coasters with caretakers dark,
and a little baby that was put upon,
that fateful ride, shall soon be gone.
The failing serpent has all venom lost,
you think you have won, but with a cost.
The serpent was to give you force,
now you sit, with knowledge coarse,
of all that the serpent can choose to do,
but you chased it away, your serpent, has left you.
But I will you, a new serpent build,
fresh from the furnace, by the light man's guild,
It needn't be strong, it needn't be sure,
but it will be an honest serpent,
that is the cure!
This blind serpent, it will help you see,
beyond this vibration you choose to be,
The symbols then would be of use,
now, till then, they will confuse,
So leave the signs alone for now,
let's build you a serpent, with the temperament of a cow.'
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
.
“The lunatic is on the grass”
Signs don’t really matter
Spelling corrects the mood
Dancing on the scattered blades
My word, he’s such a crazy dude
“The lunatic is on the grass”
Park place settings filter
In silverware and dreams
Sidewalks offer no relief
That’s when the pain excites the screams
“Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs”
Memories grow within the weeds
Flowers cast in sad defeat
Caretakers watch as footprints carve
Barking out orders, then repeat
“Got to keep the loonies on the path”
Herding shadows singular
Days to nights of gloom
Read the writing on the wall
This is the dark side of the moon
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Crimes of humanity, we'd be here all day
how can I be considered a part of a race that
Kills
Tortures
Hurts others
how can I in good consciousness say I am part of the Human Race
How can a species have achieved so much
how can a species with so much potential
how can we sit ideally by while someones life falls apart
how can we stand tall when we belittle so many
how can we accept acts of violence
We're the caretakers of this Earth
the caretakers of this life
How can we destroy everything that makes us special
I am not part of the Human Race
I can not be part of a species that causes so much pain
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
The mailman dropped a letter in our box
for Mrs. Tovia Durkan who has not lived
at our address for forty four years
and is now buried in a small cemetery
surrounded by a black wrought
iron fence and glorious mums,
we are now the caretakers of
a letter sent to a Jewish widow
leaving us to feel responsible
to attend the Bat Mitzvah of
12-year-old Sophie Bravermann;
do we bring a gift?
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
In- transit housekeeper with a-
beautiful name
Suspicious College Park subway-
people , waking replays
Telltale inhabitants , blustery November-
commuter stations , screaming trains
Lawyers carpool south , caretakers charge-
north in ***** rain
Kinetic Georgia peonage channeled-
through a "City too busy to Hate" ..
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
[Bilex]
Giovanni on the edge of the window,
have a bad fall; Glory for children; Most violence
is from the love of reading in the Senate;
This is the best partner. you are the one who came
to help; guard, I did not want to burn with joy;
This is my first time around the world and Sports -
Sky Box and Albatross Compatibility,
cups of wine and cognac. or; Radio Wedding
But the wedding. Some of my assignments. All words
Why it is not. and find out how; Read a book on
Wall Street where you can buy a product. other
Restart the application, restart it, in addition.
The radio will be here. take care of it.
And the best way to do that is to Rest. More points
on my own. It is a. Memorial 1, like John Rose;
Perhaps Pavol was the author of radio waves. radio
Wedding Vincebus Water. if you are forbidden
I do not think why - love. I do not know thousands
of people; But it's ready for the winter
temperature of the whole affiliate business
bridge. Alcohol and cups in boxes. or; wedding
ceremony on the radio; Is that so
It seems like it's time for seniors.
If the caretakers have eyes, you will know
all the words. Where education is; New Wall Street
Dutch artist - rich fish - the best house;
even a black ball. Which is the best way
to get more and more of the other
does not. own materials - and Eli stepped
out of the radio. Where iam I n one place about myself?
color; Let's look in the mirror
left, 4 g 2; Female artist and John Rose
in a dark spot in England,
San Pablo-Fb. With radio waves. Radio.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
It appears that I am now
At that age…
The age at which
The older folks of my youth
Shook their heads and talked softly together and
Pat-hugged each other and held hands with sad eyes... and
From the corner of my young ear
Without full comprehension or understanding~
“If there is anything I can do…”
Or
“I’m so sorry for your loss…”
Or
“Bless your heart…”
Then time got away … and
Here we are… and
Somehow surprised to be…
At the age at which
Every other body’s
Mom or Dad or Parents
Are merely needful
Or dying
Or dead… and
We are now the
Caregivers… or
Caretakers… whether
Primary or In Addition To…
Enthusiastically or Reluctantly… it is now
Our turn…
With
Every other body
To shake our heads and talk softly together and
Pat-hug each other and hold hands with sad direct eyes and
Complete and Profound understanding~
“If there is anything I can do…”
Or
“I’m so sorry for your loss…”
Or
“Bless your heart…”
For sadly
We are now
At
That Age
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
i don't know
gleaming like an apology
what i want
your scraped pomegranate summerteeth
these winter days, i used to
a pointillist sunset,
wish i could inhale
don't tell me that muscle
the wide wide world
is made whole by breaking,
just to breath it out
back bent toward abstention
into your mouth, once,
none so present as yours
i never really knew
(and cracked holy monuments,
strength
vines their unlaced exoskeletons)
just that i wanted to be strong
atlas was no gardener
for a nebulous reason i cannot
to hold up is not to tend.
remember
where could it be written
i'm leaving for
why would anyone say, why would
a very long time,
a poet teach the heart survives by breaking?
but you have to go
that in black ink my love may still shine bright
away
to come back
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
Taking your life was the most selfish and selfless thing I have ever done and will ever do. Oliver and I, we shared the mutual consensus that no one in the world had ever loved us as much as we loved each other. Moreover, we understood one another; we shared the commonalty of unstable upbringings, of neglect, and most pertinently, of loneliness.
We’d dually been abused, rejected, and abandoned by those who were supposed to be our caretakers and guardians and parents. Perhaps, that in itself was how we’d grown such an indestructible bond.
And yet.
I saw a glint of a monster inside of you. The previous night. A manifestation of the horrors you’d faced, suddenly channeled through you. From that moment onward, I began to understand the truth. All of the anguish you’d survived may one day define you. One day, the innocence would be gone and in its place, the product of your childhood would be born.
On the last morning of your life, who you were, was living proof of good. Proof that a person could exist so pure, and kind to the very core. The best and most honorable person in my life. The only friend I’d ever known. I wanted to preserve your memory; a perfect relic, never to be tainted by the evil which would one day consume you.
I knew that as you lived, you were the only entity I’d felt genuine compassion for. The only human I’d ever loved. The only person in the whole world who could ever hurt me. That vulnerability ran like
poison through my logic.
And so, I resolved.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
her parents would have nothing to do with the z,
naming her Elisa Beth
which few got right in her 65 seasons, for their habit
molded an EliZabeth every time
we presume it mattered not to Elisa, Elisa Beth, because she was
born blind and deaf
her record of birth got it right, but her social
security card did not,
the checks were cashed by caretakers, who cared not
whether the letter snaked or zagged
her parents' obits also claimed they were survived by
an only daughter, EliZabeth
when she "met her reward," some two years past
there was no legacy in print
save a death certificate, which again blasphemed
her appellation with the alphabet's final figure
but on her gravestone, curiously, she was Elisabeth once more,
though what flat, mute slab could even such a score?
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
and it isn’t so odd that
we become each other’s
caretakers, as like
children, we reach for love,
as if we’ve never endured
a long winter’s night alone,
hope the last matchstick
lit in our hand.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC