"carped" poems
some dogs who sleep ay night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coimng down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you've been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial segments,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here's a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.
12.8k
I kiss the rain and recall thy blame, of the one I cannot name who is in pain and is insane.
Allow me not to sour over you no more or linger in vain, as I cannot account for what you’ve done it was painfully disdain.
So far away I leap from you,
I let go and I grow.
Cower was your power over me, bunted by your insufficient explanation of your aleck that kept me caged, carped and frugal.
With your haste I bare you not our child but that of a black blade that I craned, and I killed. I killed you.
You scraped me of my honor and took away my aim to stay high and live a life.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 10:52 AM UTC
twirl ballroom spritz
'cross abandoned parking lots
weave your lamentations
out in umber mist
gin and panadol
white arsenic cordial
death drive in moderation
bushy dough
down your gumboot towers
yyo faggg
fark your sign'a'lings
carped up in the haddock pouch
in maudlin dreams
swirl your phone sleeve
round your wristflick
nah
you blooster mate
right cranberry
*where the **** is it? where the **** did you put it? it's not funny, hahaha, oh god, hahaa…..*
but later,
radio incinerator
nightcap in sodium cloud
beached tire tree
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:44 AM UTC
Your lips linger on my cheek for just a
little
longer
until you whispered,
*"Please, let us not haste
for this time with each other
is a terrible thing to waste."*
His smooth, velvety lips touched mine
and in an instant,
my brain erupted into a chemical storm
which devoured my body, mind and soul.
I cherished that day.
Never have we carped so much diem.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
if you can try
to cast your mind
to times gone by
left far behind
those days of yore,
aeons ago,
long before
men kneaded dough
before time begins,
before internet,
when man wore skins,
and a woman, corset,
those days when Luddites
meant English weavers,
'n churches were tight
with avid believers
when a Yankee still dreamt
his country was golden,
a queen, monarch meant,
if quaint and olden,
when people still dialled
to each other on phones,
implied lazybones [that idled]
when they carped on about drones,
when block was an obstacle
placed in a road,
canoe, pointed vehicle
by one paddler rowed
when catfish a marine creature
dwelling in sea
and cloud a sky-vapour
that veiled clarity
when tweet was sound chirped
oft by a bird
and old text was a script
inscribed on a sherd,
when RED was a colour,
as indeed was blue,
e'en then, my dear fella,
we still knew a thing or two.
Aug 3, 2022
Aug 3, 2022 at 6:13 AM UTC