"carousing" poems
Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep
In a similar way as his father of one
And actually, also my father did too
Of those bitter, big cancer scourges
Which always come in unexpected
In this short enough life, a bit early
I've known him ever since first, when
We were knee high to Dad's shotgun
Throughout our small neighborhood
We would all roam to see and look
For ***** toads and such other fun
Without any known end in our sights
We often, came all together, at once
In his parent's, little Clovis back yard
In the under ground, in our deep dug
Wild little clubhouse of our new pride
Approved by our jealous Dad's stare
Made all by ourselves, with great care
Eight by eight, with three feet of deep
Shagged carpet floors, walls around
And places to hide stuff with those
**** magazines we wished to remain
Unseen by our parents, although they
Surely lived through similar wild times
Black lights , fluorescent mod posters
Fans to cool, while there in the deep
Kept the place comfy, from several
Hot summers in New Mexico's heat
Staying nights over, in conspiracy we
Came colluding, while hoping no fame
This place was our place, of known
Refuge from all of the big crazy, with
Frightening world still yet to come
Giving us our youngest freedoms
And also so much being in trouble
As kinda neighborhood hoodlums
Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower
One of us in care would climb
With binoculars to see the dark night
With our pair of walkie talkies held
Warn the others, carousing around
Of any plight, in appearing headlights
Kevan's brother, still alive, Keith
My other brother by another, Buddy
Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris
One other member, as second cousin
Who actually, was my very first kiss
When it was hard to aim, lips to miss
All bound as one, by made up signs
And part of something called PSO
Which, if you don't know well, what it
Truly means, then you were definitely
Not a part of the so very high bliss
Which we suffered through so often
Kevan's true nature is clearly proven
Finally, most completely, at his end
In the nature of his wonderful loving
All his family, who also so loved him
And all those other parties to trouble
Who also so loved, really all of him
© 2017 Jim Davis
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
.
I keep an imp:
It dangles limp,
And sleeps away its time,
Only arousing
To go out carousing,
Painting the town with slime.
O.O
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Innocent Hyacinth tinted with mint
Tingèd grey hinged on stem singed
With chestnut leaves flowing, to me a fair hint
Of off-centred carousing, black eyes perusing
Wares of all sorts and stocks of all shares
The leading on of a pleasure most gracefully enthusing
Drops dews of all shades, of selfsame structure
And we full of rowdy Sedition;
But Wait! Recognition.
In my hopes and tired efforts, a puncture.
Music blaring loud, aftertaste of rejection
And full on full strand of all smoke addled people
Oh! How great Quasimodo I fell off my steeple
In the midst of the crowd, full dejection.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Many thousand glittering motes
Crowd forward greedily together
In trembling circles.
Extravagantly carousing away
For a whole hour rapidly vanishing,
They rave, delirious, a shrill whir,
Shivering with joy against death.
While kingdoms, sunk into ruin,
Whose thrones, heavy with gold, instantly scattered
Into night and legend, without leaving a trace,
Have never known so fierce a dancing.
3.3k
I found quiet reflection
in the city tonight,
quieter than any dirt road
we have back home.
Bus brakes squealed
over bar patrons carousing.
Life in a snapshot vacuum,
solitude in the sound.
I found myself on a
stone wall tonight,
I could see through
the years to the end.
Footsteps w/ghosts
mingled w/ those present.
Life in self-discovery,
comfort in realization.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
My mother washed potatoes
one by one while my father
went carousing with his
favorite gun; I dragged sticks
through dusty gravel while
I watched it all unravel,
wondering what to make of
such an ugly thing as love.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
i
now,whose
the ******
lily,this
confrontation
is such a bore..
there is no wine
as sweet as thirst
( to paraphrase
edna st.vincent millay)
little mr. thought for
the day-
a potato is a potato..
ii
well that was lunch
inspiration is rather
dry to some petulant
spring such is day three
of the fiesta..
iii
but here anyway..
iv
i would rather dig my own
grave with a numbered spoon
then go to a bbq..
v
sooner play the blues
than go on a cruise
vi
better loose both knees
then visit disney..
vii
lily leave me
stop this carousing
the love tree
has become winter then
our spring lost and gone
when blossom hung
sweet and glittering
in the free
summer found us
in sundry doldrums
pitched again to
the roots of done..
autumn now the golden
days lay like a stone
where we sought ourselves
anew..
toward the equinox of our
o and to no where
particular but love and now
we me yo..
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
in the rictus of an amethyst eve lays
the indomitable promise of cotton festering
under salient groves of hot fingers licking
the ridge of supple ******* in profusion dapple
crescent lips and sickle rivers running heavy
drunk limbic tickling breathes. so wet. the damp
ember carousing. in fragrant discord. all sensual
clamor violently. in verily know my limbs and every
atom of my dew
for i shall sprawl upon your effigy the clusters
of my heart
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
carousing with breeze,
scent of jasmine was my gift;
made me airborne quick!
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
The carousing carnival can never sleep
It bares and bewilders in the brain
Sunrise and sunset, season of sorcery,
Hell or heaven, havoc never happens.
The carousing Carnival cages ponderers
Under Ornate oaks too old
Dressing, dancing, dwelling in Graceland
Hula Hoops hover on hips
Fire fetched by fingers flared.
Lookers: love and lose the lot.
The crafty carnival's cunning tricks
Never need a nest to rest.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 1:08 AM UTC
Hanging in a leaden sky
Gulls, in tight formation, fly.
Heavy snow's cascading flare
Sodium sharpness filling air.
Heaving waves carousing fen
Ocean's scent, aloft.. .and then
The skiff with oarsman pulling tight
Materializing from the night
Braving, now, a heavy sea
Puffing pipe, irreverently.
Oblivious of mounting gale
Abandons oar to set a sail
Skimming sharp to gravel beach
Shrugs aside hazards reach.
Wading into pounding foam
Smiling thought of *** at home.
[email protected]
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 11:13 PM UTC
I dreamt I went to heaven;
(Or someplace, perhaps not there) ,
It surely was surreal.
I was somewhere in this vision,
For I certainly wasn't here.
In revelry I searched the crowd,
Saw countless faces shining.
Booth and Chapman smiled sublimely;
Oswald and Ruby discussed their crimes;
And Adolph and Idi were enjoying time..
Charlie and Earl began singing,
And Brutus danced out with his brothers.
And the legions were carousing,
I wept while browsing,
I didn't see her here.
Did I take the wrong path,
As dreamers often do;
And miss the gates of Paradise,
To go to Hell for you.
In the centre of this commotion,
Judas called me over
With his martyr's smile.
We joined with the others,
(Ones he knows as brothers) ,
And lead me to the One I sought.
I'm in heaven when I'm with her.
I roused myself,
Shook hard and long.
All the teachings we ingrained
On bent knees with hands inclined,
In prayer and subtle song,
Truly wronged us all along.
In death, I know, we leave behind
Our Hell-on-earth, and find,
Everlasting Peace-of-Mind.
.
Feb 13, 2023
Feb 13, 2023 at 7:22 AM UTC
There in the trenches
I've seen headless henchmen
Bending spoons
For hapless children
Cremated too soon
Demons croon
They zip
They zag
As the lower class picks their scabs
The gift of gab
Sent towards rips from packs
The rush alone could make one gag!
Have you been there?
Would you go back?
There in the trenches
I've met widows and wives
Carousing with voyeurs
Polishing pikes
Their best years behind
Spent on pyrite-
Euphoric alibis
Which eviscerate bright eyes
Will the Church draw nigh
Or watch the stranded die?
Into the trenches
Few do proudly go
Ash pollutes the snow
Falling like pyrex smoke
You might choke
When violence hits your nose
Deathblows
Thrown by the dead broke
Cross your eyes
And clog your throat
Check your pulse
As an ambulance clears the roads
Would you leave ivory thrones
To reach a people with no hope?
There in the trenches
Christ spent His time
Teaching the poor
Healing the blind
Who are we to stand aghast?
Shrugging our shoulders
Fine wine in antique glass?
When revival comes
Will it move your feet
With Gospel passion
Down the cracking streets?
Could you spare a dime
To prepare a meal
For a drooping reed
With snakebitten heals?
There in the trenches
Good News must flow
Will you remain aloof
Or be the one to boldly go?
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
Secretly sprinkle my dust over Newt Gingrich's high fiber breakfast cereal . Or placed in the air plenum of a ritzy hotel whereby the elite should get a minuscule whiff of hardscrabble living , thrown on the interstate so as not to feel out of place , run over repeatedly by people that were forever needy ..By all means please pour me liberally over the Baked Alaska at any tax payer funded high price , 'hob knobbing' government extravaganza ! Usher my remains across a green farm pond to be eaten by catfish and passed to the bottom , carousing with the snails and the worms forever seeking cover . Perfectly content , hiding in the mud hoping not to be discovered ..
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
I thought
the carbon monoxide detector
was malfunctioning,
her pulsed chirps
pierce so sharp
unlike any stray
songs of carousing
cat
Supposedly, she brings
good luck like rain
on your wedding
day
A dreambot cricket
more machine
in sound than any slumbering
Kafka insect
bed bug mate
I've every slept
with
She wakes me
in nightly false
alarms but when her short
life is done
maybe I'll miss
nocturnal jolts
like I miss
cold misty
rain
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
Howling Gale of Winter moment
Blossom pink from cherry tree,
Driving snow which blankets all
Hot Summer sunset glows for me.
Parched and hassled hens in shadow
Scratch the sand to find the cool,
Starkly solid ice in blueness
White and freezing skating pool.
Green and turquoise in the sunlight
Brilliant hills of verdant shawl,
Autumn tones cascade in colour
Silently the dry leaves fall.
Surging surf parades the beaches
Roiling up the shelly sands,
Lightning strike on green pine reaches
Baking sunshine warms and tans.
Windswept on the dry Sahara
Silently the tree ferns drip,
Alpine streamlets splash in torrent
Hot and parched dry grasses flick.
Honeyed scent in orange blossom
Fills the morning air with bees,
Pollen on the air carousing
Noses twitch and often sneeze.
Globally the seasons vary
Hemispheres of colour thrown,
Glorious in shade and texture
Flavoured by aroma’s own.
All enticing motes of pleasure
Each engaging jolts of joy,
Layerings of seasonal treasure
Mother earth’s artistic ploy.
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
13 April 2010
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Life ***** then you die; we all know, right?
Back in the day, that's what I’d tell myself,
Before a night of drinking and carousing.
Yup, women carouse just like men,
Only they're better at it, less obvious,
In their pursuit of understanding and/or love.
Back then, Something gnawed inside of me,
Told me to **** it up, get real for once,
Find yourself, within yourself, what the heck?
Ever watch a spider weave lace on a drainpipe,
And wonder why a daddy long legs knows,
Better than you do, what this life is all about?
And the humdrum becomes you and you it.
Tells you what you need but will never have,
Something missing, like smarts, or grace or wisdom.
Until your fragile faith awaits your next footfall,
On a worn-out rope bridge nearly rotted through,
Sending you straight into the arms of God.
And God mutters, it takes what it takes.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
Oak Tree, she loves Thunderstorm:
His booming voice ignites desire-
When he lightens the sky and pours down drink
This ancient mother dances like fire
Her bows she waves in gladness,
Her core shivers at his touch,
His winds and torrents she counts caresses
While flowers tremble: his love too much.
Moon winks through the tempest's mantle,
Spying curious revels in the wood,
She tucks herself back behind his shroud
Leaving the dancers to their own good.
*But carousing be it raucous raging as the sea,
Or gentle as the morning bells' lilting chimes
All must eventually cease to be*
Proud Sun calls out at dawn
To the wood on the edge of the glade.
At his voice Thunderstorm recoils
Sun's rays pierce with blazing blade.
Sun holds no reveler's understanding.
Perceiving Storm the usurper here,
He shines with mightiest will to drive
Away the love of sweet Oak Tree.
Sun turns back to comfort her, gleaming
But her arms show their age in his beams
while flowers rejoice at the dawning
Of him, the object of their dreams.
Now a sweet wind comes blowing
rustling the hair of Oak Tree's leaves,
sends tears showering: dew of last night's dance.
Oh to be a rainstorm! Oak Tree breathes.
The Sun is dazzled by the drops
Who never stood before his face.
Amidst her tears, the Oak Tree laughs
At this morning's strangest grace.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Unshaven, old, and nearly spent,
He slouched in his kitchen chair,
Lungs rattling each wheezing breath,
Radiation doing little then,
To control the mass within, or
To prevent the Mass he knew
Would soon begin.
Hard to believe a man
So tough as Rubin always was
Sat stubble-faced and wan
In that early morning sun.
Two years ago,
At 65,
He and his son
Put a ****** on,
Fought a cop,
Nearly won,
Stayed a week in jail,
Paid a $7000.00 fine,
Then bragged it all
Was worth the time
And memories.
I saw him jump,
At 66,
From a moving van,
Six feet up
Like a younger man,
Hell bent to take his fill,
Shovel hard, cursing still,
Cigarette hanging loose
Even with a rattling cough
(He shrugged it off),
And stop.
Always 67,
His last remains crave no nicotine,
No ***** wayward fights,
No carousing old man libertine
Out with his son at night,
And we who watched Old Rubin's days,
Paid our respects and went our ways.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
What is this?
What arrogance
to be dissatisfied with bliss
What am I?
That I find myself like a Danish price
contemplating molecular physics
If there could be but one thing through which I could reach
from the tips of my toes to the ends of my ariels
let it speak to me now or remain forever ephemeral
Tempt me not with silence nor sentient reflection
let me sit idle
while a host of doubts with carousing inflections
rend peace from the oath used to praise your perfection
the redoubt of certainty a false satisfaction
but I will seek it no less, lest my own moral code
on the floor lie here prone
Be still
Who are you to challenge me?
My own self?
HA! You are nothing
less than a vaporous belch,
repudiation of the shelf
from which this retched book of life was wrenched
No the end for you can come not too soon
unless it be for that which you are
A cankerous man ***** feeding on the life that was not given
but taken from others AND from yourself
I know not you
Unless I do
Unless I do
For all that was, is and was, was mirage
Smoke to the mirrors, dust in the sunshine
caught by the exhaled breath of nothingness
Cancer in the heart or lung make no difference to the boatman
BEGONE
Waste not my time with salutations
nor grave maunderings on that which could have been
nor with pleasantries and optimism
I have no use for these baubles of ego
BEGONE I SAID
What would you be without meat to shrine that temple of mind?
A magician?
A sorcerer?
Some glorified seamstress of witty offal
set to ram fill mouths of the bantering rabble
NO! I shall not cowtow to the nicetities of your excess, nor of mine
Our colours are grey NOT black and white
we shall drown beneath stone until resurrection day
and even then we shall rot in our graves for there IS NO GOAD
not to man, beast or rock NO GOAD that science shall not uncover, no lack
that in wondrous doubt we shall **** to deny the self-evident fact
that we are nothing and everything combined in one shell
decomposing rapidly, a death knell for the self
is the salutary cry for the immobile stone laid on my brow
for the rustling tree
for the wild fox and the mutated accessories to our loneliness
they shall be freed and they shall feast upon our corpses
and not a day too soon
and not a day too soon
so sayeth the bard from his everlasting gloom.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
Let us go you and I into a lovely scene.
And watch as we fill it up with laughter and dreams.
Never again shall we, you and I alone, enter into this lie that’s told.
Must we go, you ask?
Yes.
Ah…but wait!
You must never know you’ve turned me into ash.
Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
The sweet never grows old
Or so it has been said silently and fortold
But one never knows what fortune may hold
Fortune, the misguided traveler
Whom, winds wildy send
That,in dandy-lionic fashion is fortune's fend
All the troubles of tyrants have brought to bend
There you find him, dicingly deciding
Riguriously rolling away, not minding
This carousing of carelessness
Is what bought and sold him his business
And business is good
The lifestyle and the luxurious lude
All was pefect, even the mood
But that's the aroura allure
Falling into flooding failure
And business is too good
Lucious conditioning can have one fooled
Fortune is not to be mettled with or tooled
Now it is time for this traveler to be leaved
All the misspoiled one needs is his soul to be retrieved
Luckyliy the lucid fortune's duty has been relieved
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
I was breaking up with you
In my head
- tearing my soul from yours –
And I didn’t know why?
You had always been amazing to me
All of my life.
But I felt the need
To get out and be free,
To live the life I thought was expected of me.
At times you were crushing me,
So I decided
Just Let Me Be
And I drove to your house
I sat on your bed.
I had the nerve to wake you,
7am on a sunny day,
After a long night of the fraternity
- drinking and carousing with who-cares-what sorority –
In order to break the news.
And there you sat,
First angry, then shocked,
Then trembling
As the words, you lacked.
I was sober.
You were crying.
After long,
At last,
We had said all our words,
And I stood up and went out the door.
I walked around the corner and down the front steps,
And that’s where my resolve collapsed.
I dropped to the curb
Having been stabbed in the back;
Not by you, but me,
As I tried to keep my supposed path,
But to you, I could not turn my back.
So I sat there and watched
The world blur
As my tears dropped to the curb,
Eventually working up the nerve to give you a ring.
Thank god you picked up.
And I confessed to you
I had no idea what I was doing,
That I needed you for all the world.
So you came out and met
Me on that wet
Curb,
Picked me up and went inside.
Our lives not yet to divide.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
Normal names ,mediocre games many awaiting the evening to be untamed
Tantalized by trickery to be teased with the expectation of tasty treats
Carousing kiddies can't wait to click their heels but to stay away from home
Tall top hats tilted with final facials gilded ,laughing or trembling just for the sweets
Dedication by many overlooking a link with religion ,cut loose with no chaperone
Frightful or often funny ,individually punny ,some just trying to give others the creeps
Dancing damsels are distressed, Knights to guard them while monsters just groan
Freaks frolicking standing aside while the princesses make their leaps
Graveside now nice for a time,freaks from the shadows both smile & moan
All invited to the grand ball,party to remember for peeps & those that are tall
Uncage the animals,make up for others,imaginations rule, no excuse to sit like a stone
One night to recall came to play in fall,beautiful or bewildered came together to enthrall . R.C.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC