"cauterizes" poems
in a dark of frenzy it boils up inside
until summarily and inexplicably
see the colour between brown and blue
more than see it, immerse myself in it
swimming slowly in its clouds
see the colour between brown and blue
everywhere votive candles light
the colour between brown and blue
with slender tapers that touch a life
any life, your life
casting strange shadows, loose shadows
between the colour of brown and blue
children swarm, children with bright white
starvation hair, children with hands
like small worn mittens
who raise red swarms in hot worn out
death laden dust
dust that cauterizes the nostrils
with the stench of penurious insanity
the colour between brown and blue
that inveigles a purchase of flies
bottle blue, black blue, green blue,
swarming blue, swirling whirling blue
a black and blue confetti of flies
then the sudden zero of the
colour between brown and blue
hair raising, command faith
willed, willing, mumbling, murmuring
the excitement of writing between
the colour of brown and blue
trees shake and tremble
words regurgitate themselves like hot
food, the bark, write
now fully electrically charged
seized by the colour between brown and blue
forget everything else, write, write more, more, write
trembling with sudden shudders of merciless
vowels, madness penurious pencil
moves across, demanding paper
pushing worn words, worthy words whittled by use
words not yet written, words of wonder
oh what words
beautiful, baffling,baleful, words
with beastly beatitudes, words that conjure the mind
words between brown and blue
that leave you skinny like a stray dog
words so demanding leave you shut up in an
airless abattoir of high energy and low residue
the colour between brown and blue
where everywhere is everywhere else
touched by the flames of the colour between brown and blue
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
I posted this poem a few days after I joined HP. As is oft the case, poems you are especially proud of, fall to the wayside, under the onslaught of the constant waterfall of new submissions. With the usual exception of Ms. Lori C., one of the two unofficial High Priestesses of HP, in my estimation, this one, was pretty much overlooked. Despite some comical jaunts of late re bras and beds, real inspiration has escaped me ever nice I penned "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns" last week. So, with your hoped for solicitude, I resubmit it, hoping it finds a wider audience and dedicate it to those of you who I number as friends (you know who you are!), despite the fact that our only shared embraces have been techno~electronic, and yet the quality of your kindness is beyond measure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Numerical Quality of Friendship
The quality of friendship is non-quantitative.
Yet, I ask you to number it, and me, this way.
With tape measure, determine that:
The length of my arm's embrace will always be
longer than long enough, and when distance magnifies sorrow's gains,
my shoulders measure wide enough to pillow your wearied head.
The depth of my pocket is finite for by definition,
a pocket is but an open doored, three walled shelter.
My pocket of shelter is forever open, forever deep,
and forever is infinite.
Trust that when bowed and bent,
upon my shoulders climb and together we will be tall enough
to touch the season's new fruit upon the tree of life,
and with one tongue, taste the unimaginable!
Do u think that mercury can measure
the warmth of my tears when love sears my heart,
or the heat of thy skin when it heals and cauterizes
wounds salted by the mistreatment, by the bitters of the weak ones,
who rejoice when they scald others?
Size me up.
What is my volume?
What are the boundaries that
length X depth X height
state must limit my capacity to cherish, to heal,
and even to forgive those who deserve no forgiveness?
If you measure me well and proper,
if I meet the standards that qualify me to be called friend,
then friend me here, friend me now,
friend me for the qualities I posses,
and number us a unity among the few
who are truly blessed
by a quality of friendship that cannot be measured,
for there is no scientific instrument that can quantify
limitless.
March 2012
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Numerical Quality of Friendship
The quality of friendship is non-quantitative.
Yet, I ask you to number me this way.
With tape measure, determine that:
The length of my arm's embrace will always be
longer than long enough, and when distance magnifies sorrow's gains,
my shoulders measure wide enough to pillow your wearied head.
The depth of my pocket is finite for by definition,
a pocket is but an open doored, three walled shelter.
My pocket of shelter is forever open, forever deep,
and forever is infinite.
Trust that when bowed and bent,
upon my shoulders climb and together we will be tall enough
to touch the season's new fruit upon the tree of life,
and with one tongue taste the unimaginable!
Do u think that mercury can measure
the warmth of my tears when love sears my heart,
or the heat of thy skin when it heals and cauterizes
wounds salted by the mistreatment, by the bitters of the weak ones,
who rejoice when they scald others?
Size me up.
What is my volume?
What are the boundaries that
length X depth X height
state must limit my capacity to cherish, to heal,
and even to forgive those who deserve no forgiveness?
If you measure me well and proper,
if I meet the standards that qualify me to be called friend,
then friend me here, friend me now,
friend me for the qualities I posses,
and number us a unity among the few
who are truly blessed
by a quality of friendship that cannot be measured,
for there is no scientific instrument that can quantify,
limitless.
March 2012
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
When you asked me to prove if you're safe with me:
You're asking me to be the airplane and the parachute, as well as your jump partner
You're asking me to dive down and explore your depths while I'm covered in waste and hoping I don't mess up the place
You're asking me to drive through lightning storms to Reno and be assured neither of us will lose on the poker table waiting at the end of the overpass
You're asking me to hold you so close the pressure cauterizes open wounds where our hearts keep falling out, and hoping I won't stain your clothes
You're asking a controlled fire not to burn too hot for fear of hurting your eyes
You're asking for poison and antidote to mix without either being diluted.
I'm going to need your help.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Your space is in the sky where there is no ground, angel.
You are the reason why earth revolves around sun.
You are the reason why all stars flicker delicately.
You are the reason why magnolia blooms.
You are the reason why my heart opens up like confessing man.
You are the reason why I'm standing repentant before God.
You are the reason why I paint reality with celestial watercolours.
You are the reason why breath makes port in my mouth.
You are the reason why vision of love is alive in my heart.
You are the reason why I open curious eyes in the morning.
You are the reason why flowers near extinction are worth saving.
You are the reason why my thoughts become crystalline.
You are the reason why torrential rain falls after airless weather.
You are the reason why I hear quietly sneaking answers to nagging questions.
You are the reason why opus of birth of love plays in my head.
Your sinister indifference cauterizes sore wounds in my heart.
I would give you my soul with everything I possess.
I have never even touched your fragile hands, your impatient lips.
Will you open like rose petals together with sun wandering horizon?
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Waters black; time
Leads to chaos.
Fallen soldiers and their
Rotten
Bullet wounds weep.
Salt cauterizes gouges in
The pretty skin of paper
Dolls trying desperately
To be strong.
Impossible dreams of returning
Scars
And keeping the glow.
Forgotten
The dye seeped through
The palms of everyone
Who touches me.
Nightmares drown
(The happiness)?
And fear is unfinished.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
A grizzly man just sunk a stripe in the corner pocket
Another bought himself company in a glass
One pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips
Soon a spark ignites and a spirit starts to rise
Over head the hum of jets fly by
Across the street sits an old rusty park
Two kids are there, who knows from where
They look happy to be free
A dog squatting just behind a tree
The flying angels left their halo
A block down the street
People gather to watch the lighting of the Christmas tree
Some in the coffee shop
Sipping on sugar and caffeine
The halo starts to whistle
The town is lit up as to say thanks to our lord
Instruments take the stage
Rock around the Christmas tree begins to play
Children yawn and parents laugh as it’s getting late
The whistle shows his face
The festivities stop
Screams of panic fill the night
Kisses and hugs, loved ones holding tight
The smoke in the bar has risen ceiling high
The face opens his mouth and laughs out loud
Silence overtakes the night
Just for a split second before a column of bright
Cauterizes the flesh and melts the bones
Once a joyful town, now is gone
This was the third one tonight
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
**A universe in smokey hues of hypnotic perfection
Each change in depth, each glance
a reinvention of self
of my perception of your self
See me naked
or see my skin as it protects my heart
Razor-wire glistens gray
as the blades of a gaze skin me alive
Shattered memories built a person
held together by the very skin
you are burning through
with the heat of the bare truth
I see your desire and it hurts
It hurts as my broken shards fall to the floor
It hurts as your laser vision cauterizes each piece back in place
burned together to heal in the strength of love
The love that is reflected in
smokey hues of hypnotic perfection**
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
Of a new white Chrysanthemum emerges
The Cyclamen accosts
As the Fir cauterizes the Fern
the Petunia is haunting them
-evenoer-
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
The cool, clear babbling brook of crystal water fed by childhood’s innocence easily reflected the soft light of simple joys
Neon lights
Blasting sound bites
Are you pretty enough
Lose weight now
Shimmering clothes
These toxic wastes of existential effluents
Entered my stream of consciousness
Until the channels into my self-worth thickened with mud and fed the reeking skunk’s bath of self-loathing
Racing thoughts
Prevent sentences from forming
Instead I chew
On my cheek
Until it bleeds
The metallic taste lingering on my tongue a refreshingly devastating reminder of my continued humanity
Each stumbfumbling of words causes my pelvic floor to sink
I have no support
I’m a mess
I’m a puddle
Where there’s a bright yellow sign reading, “Caution, Floor Wet”
There’s me
There’s the puddle
There’s the mess
You approach my soul
You ignore the sign
Your kindness mops up the puddle
Your respect cauterizes the gashing cut of self hatred
Where there was once a puddle, there’s an egg
There’s life
The sharp jowls of your fierce devotion act as ****** to my self esteem
Holding it up through the turbulence of biting thoughts
Before the everythingphobic
Now the noneedforanyphobics
Your hand embraces my face as the softness of your lips sinks sweetly into my forehead
A weight drops
What falls away are the snake skins tattooed in scars unveiling the porcelain glow of new beginnings.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
Lying next to one another.
Our secrets permeating the air around our bodies,
securing the formation of inseparable bonds.
With a taste of relief, your skin cauterizes my open wounds.
Pasts dwell into the periphery as the moment takes over.
Like providence, we were led to one another.
From our lowest points we rise, destined for a chance at stability.
An end marked with a beginning as we observe my past self escape in all directions.
Give me everything, and I'll give it back.
Be mine, and I'll be yours.
Pick me up from this hole, and I will offer a hand.
Endless stares complement grasped hands as we crawl towards the future.
Lying next to one another.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC
Today is a gorgeous day.
It's filled with words spoken passionately yesterday.
Boundaries laid that free my soul from the ugliness of servility.
Today is a day of light.
I shut my eyes to light when I'm in pain.
Maybe you do the same?
But when I exclaim my hurts with fervor,
Even when it means I ******
Connections that shall go no further,
Should abuses so continue.
My pupils shrink to dots like I'm focused on the sun.
Today is a day so good.
Swallowed blood from the bitten tongue cauterizes love,
A seal more like a rug than a scab,
And when I ripped it away to show the wound I harmonized with some
forgotten soul collective standing by to soothe begotten gashes.
And awoke to find divine all familiar acquaintance.
Today is now.
Some days are yesterday,
And others a distant tomorrow,
But momentous circulation is alive to perception always,
And when touch connects the true sum of all things,
And the levies lift allowing a super-fluid rush of sensation up into the perfect unknown,
Memory and foresight would classify as frivolity if the mind cared at all
to cast judgment on matters impertinent to rapture.
And today is rapturous.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC