"cautions" poems
The mason trudges on
night and day to finish
his masterpiece. Clockwork,
he waits like a prisoner
yearning
for the jurisdiction to
fall in his favor. Each
opportunity: he will steal it.
Adhesive to stone and
metal support:
This wall will not
fall. No, this one he will not
let dissemble. Opposing the
prior ruin, plagued
with age and abuse,
the once damaging blows
instead drive this puzzle together.
Attend carefully.
Every door slammed behind
to shut me out,
Each painful stab in your glace
lancing through my chest, into
the black cavity life has consumed
into me.
He will work
to layer his project, this
projection of my cautions, until
the last glimmer of light disappears
behind the last stone in the
last wall. Now a true prisoner,
my mind lies
in contentment.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
“and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Walt Whitman
<>
having recently been on standby for a permanent-entry residency visa
to over & just beyond death’s door, Walt’s prescient prescription strikes my broken breastbone even harder much, than the persistent
periodic pains confirming the breaking and the healing
of this man’s mending of the human centric poetic *****
for this warped heart mine, now rejoicingly rejiggered with some threads and wires to deliver a new but fresh bloodied wisdom,
begs me, eggs me to torrent word streams, but Whitman’s wisdom cautions a new slowness, the wisdom of mortality’s hot breath urges careful consideration of every letter that my second chance, consignment shop flesh, eagerly embraces, to both prescribe and proscribe inside-insights tween the deafening sounds of eyelashes beating synchronized to the revived heart rates rapid renewal and
last second-chances….
torn tween minute torso sensations and the running silence of
a new battery’s internal rapid intervals, the silent timing gaps tween beats leaves-just-enough-space to ask over and over again,
from whence will come my richest fluency? (1)
at 300am, I lay carefully caressing and chewing well each transitory
thought, absent the former energetic ability to just spill,
though highly desired,
now requires, like me,
steady re-piecing together
the steady drumbeat of now-nearer-my-god-than-thee Titanic reflections
demands a slowing rapidity
this I thought before and now ken, even and ever better, that our primary endeavor shall always be the giving, the disbursement of the act of love…for therein lies the healing of each, and wet eyes,
make necessarily concluding this poem about nothing and everything
and I comprehend Walt’s dictum:
my very flesh is a poem,
every sensation a lyric,
every breath taken and returned to the atmosphere
so unconsciously
are my oldest
and newest
3:00 AM poetry companions
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 4:41 PM UTC
I found myself wanting to get you a necklace
you know
to replace that one with the silver heart you wore before
the chains got all tangled
I even picked it out, a light blue teardrop of glass to
match mine
no symbolism gets by you, and I wanted to get for you a
tangible reminder that sadness is always there but
safely contained in a beautiful teardrop from
me to you if that makes any sense whatsoever
to lift up the latches and feel our breeze come
through the glass
there is a sense of fragility in tangible things
a sense that cautions me from investing any power in one
if only there were a way
I hope you never forget
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 11:11 PM UTC
Will you conquer my heart with your beauty; my sould going out from afar?
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautions shikar?
Have I met you and passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind?
Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O sweetest and best of your kind?
Does the P. and O. bear you to meward, or, clad in short frocks in the West,
Are you growing the charms that shall capture and torture the heart in my breast?
Will you stay in the Plains till September—my passion as warm as the day?
Will you bring me to book on the Mountains, or where the thermantidotes play?
When the light of your eyes shall make pallid the mean lesser lights I pursue,
And the charm of your presence shall lure me from love of the gay “thirteen-two”;
When the peg and the pig-skin shall please not; when I buy me Calcutta-build clothes;
When I quit the Delight of Wild ***** foreswearing the swearing of oaths ;
As a deer to the hand of the hunter when I turn ’mid the gibes of my friends;
When the days of my freedom are numbered, and the life of the bachelor ends.
Ah, Goddess! child, spinster, or widow—as of old on Mars Hill whey they raised
To the God that they knew not an altar—so I, a young Pagan, have praised
The Goddess I know not nor worship; yet, if half that men tell me be true,
You will come in the future, and therefore these verses are written to you.
2.5k
She said she'd pinprick your watershed
Leave alone , it must be bled
A cold and somewhat silent shiver went through you
She tossed your hair with fingers flared
Before she rapes your lips she says she cares
And cautions ,"I am no where near through with you ."
She rips your shirt , rakes your skin
Over and over again
Till blood trickles down upon you
She licks you dry
And praises the sky
saying, "God is jealous of you guy ."
Then she sits upon your lap
Knocking off your tip top hat
And throws a ****** to you
The first and third lines rhyme
She takes away your time
Makes you scream in agony and ecstacy
All of mercy . , .
More on mercy . , .
Tasting pain . . .coated in pleasure
The memory lingers
Burning like a scorpions stinger
And now your mallingered aren't you
The second and fourth are lines of choice
Developed rhythm for the course
And you grade your decisions running through you
She left you dead , hurt your head
And then she fled
Tossing your heart into the river
Your grateful that you live
but still you go on and grieve
Or at least wished you did
As you are trying to relate
All you do is quake
And start to uttering
"All on mercy . . .
More on mercy . . .
Have mercy . . .on me ."
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
An elk ran through the open field of snow,
She tired of lending time to shade
And yearned for the heat of a seductive glistening clearing,
To glide above the sparkling diamond sheets,
To cut through the crisp winter air.
Her cautions lingered in shade,
Too quiet for deserving notice,
As no mountain lion or wolf could take down this great best
Regardless, all the forested animals, large and small, watched this elk
Defy whatever instincts or rules nature upheld against the open.
As the elk reached full pace,
Her strides were so long but one thing stopped her
From taking flight was the powdered ground below,
She defied the familiar surface mid-step and began to climb,
But the sky and valley boomed with revolt,
Echoing thunder without lightning,
And the great elk collapsed to the cold snow below
With a ****** hole in her tender side,
Coated in specks of stinging white crystals.
In the elk’s last moments,
She noticed 3 men appear from the trees
Behind her foggy breath,
Boomsticks slung over their shoulders,
But without hate or anger or malice for the hunting men of sport,
The elk died, comfortable that air,
Floating above all she knew, embraced her.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Let's offer up our prayers to a finicky Father
who sits in his segregated heaven, rocking
away senility on that rickety chair
with a spare, tall back wrapped in striped wool blankets.
Who sits in his segregated heaven, rocking?
Our Father, keeping his heart warm against the gusts.
With a spare, tall back wrapped in striped wool blankets
perfectly square (but too small to share with others),
our Father's keeping his heart warm. Against the gusts
and idling time, again he stays busy carving figures
perfectly square but too small to share. With others,
these tokens will help the faithful remain fertile
and idling. Time again, he keeps busy carving figures
on the edges of a pesky map. Mad for expansion,
these tokens will help the faithful. "Remain fertile!"
Father cautions, as he watches a big screen TV.
On the edges of a pesky map mad for expansion,
many errant souls who wander are unable to hear
Father's cautions. As he watches a big screen TV,
the devil's slipping him a low-ball offer to buy
many errant souls. Who wander are unable to hear
news heaven's economy is still struggling, and
the devil's slipping him. A low-ball offer to buy,
our aging Father mulls over hot oatmeal and tea.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
I miss the misery,
Now its all empty
I want the pain to forgive me
And the numbness to forget me.
I miss the irony
Now its all dread
I had sunlight in mind
Now there's darkness in my head.
I miss the sorrow
Waking up to love tomorrow-
Seeing the sunshine shining dull light through my window.
I miss the anger
The cautions and the dangers
My life is like a thrown around wager-
Like a victim with no angel.
I miss the bright side-
Now dark night,
Suffocating in a blanket of black hide.
I used to have pride.
There is no pride.
I miss the jealousy,
The nervousness,
The grief,
I wish it could all just walk back to me.
I miss the misery
Now its all empty
I wish my feelings would forgive me,
And the numbness would forget me.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
My sandwich sits in cellophaned silence.
A caged morsel:
Man’s inhumanity to ham.
Its window displays a lip-smack
of full filling fat.
A ‘snack’ –
so dismissive a word:
I’ve shared smaller portions.
Then the cautions:
SELL BY:
DISPLAY BY:
EAT BY:
(DIGEST BY?)
I think I
will have a beer instead.
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 1:34 PM UTC
Be not deceived,
Words are known devils,
But sometimes even actions lie
Be not deceived,
When your intellect cautions,
Against what your heart tends to hide
Be not deceived,
**What appears to be your salvation,
May well be your damnation in disguise**
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
With the way you smile when you see me near,
the way you stare when I am here,
the way you feel my greatest fears,
the way you see my invisible tears.
The way you make me feel I'm wanted,
the way you understand my deep hatred,
the way you carry that smile of content,
the way you plan out your very intent.
The way you accept me at my own flaws,
the way you notice me on a sudden pause,
the way you laugh out when I go crazy,
the way you don't care if I am lazy.
The way you keep your silence at times,
the way you hide and present your lies,
the way you accept all hurt from me,
the way you let me just be me.
The way you comfort me in distress,
the way you care when I'm drowned in loneliness,
the way you caution me when I'm not alright,
the way you support me in my every fight.
The way you just know what I am feeling,
the way you speak for me when I'm not speaking,
the way you show that someone's behind me,
the way you come just when I needed somebody.
The way you light your own hopes up,
the way you continue and never stop,
the way you feel the pain alone,
the way you've waited, now it has grown.
Every moment has never been this significant
I never expected a feeling so instant,
You started it all, now I'm feeling alright
A dull, empty world, now a paradise so bright.
But love won't allow an overload in my heart
I'm clearing it up to make another start,
And I can't be so swift in diverting my emotions
I've known all these before, I know the cautions.
Time, that's all I have to be enough with
To offer a better and more enlightened lead,
If I am to push through or just be fair
Preserve the friendship or make a new affair?
I can't stand to witness myself wither
Frustrations caused by hearts so bitter,
Trust breaks so easily when badly stained
Hearts wound so deeply when unexpectedly pained.
In this new course, I see no certainty
I may be happy, or be hurt so unluckily,
But one thing I know, we cannot both feel
What our eyes speak if it's never real.
Chances are presented, though not that right
Waiting for the moment when I already need to fight,
For now, I can't give it a straighter view
But all I know now is it's just about me and you.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
You remind me what it is like to smile again,
to pick up a pen that sends a positive message,
you salvage the wreckage that is my life
my light seems to flicker on and off
but I scoff at those who say I'm living in darkness.
I fall apart often trying not to get lost in
the crosshairs of two shooters crossing pistols,
I fall apart often believing in false prophets
that gives me warning and false cautions.
But I have you to pick me up every time
every line I write is a appreciation of you
of how you made the blue in my life vanish
and banished the negative emotions
that drizzles into an ocean drowning everything.
You are the sun when there is darkness,
you are the mountains and the harness
that keeps me safe and happy.
You are everything beautiful in my life
remind me one more time that tonight-
you still love me.
My heart beats for you, the familiar door knock
it's not chained up or locked so enter at your will,
come live inside my heart for free, it is always open
for a golden sunshine like you.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 5:07 PM UTC
Go back to sleep
It whispers to me
With my head in my hands
While my body and all I am
Fall deeper in uncertainty
Go back to sleep
It whispers softly
Doing so delicately
Cautions as to not make me
Feel guilty
Go back to bed
We'll watch out for danger
And have an ear for strangers
So you could sleep instead
Go back to bed
You need your rest
We understand your reasoning
But right now its not what's best
Please,
Go back to sleep
Listen to our expertise
Before you find yourself too deep
Lay down to sleep
Our dearest lamb
We know it's hard
We understand
We've felt the burden on your soul
And while we'd help you out of any hole
Before we must
Could we first try what we've discussed
Please,
Go back to sleep
You can trust
We're proud of you just for trying
But you have done enough
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 5:32 PM UTC
"let's do it." says i one night
"no no i daren't." (pronounced "durn't") says she *"m'father would be
so angry.."*
the next tuesday i say:
"hey we should get together go wild and get into some shit--you might really like it!"
she says "noo.. well, maybe sometime. b-but you can't let on to my sister! oh would she be jealous of it all."
"mum's th'word" i says.
"and you can't get her to do it instead!" she cautions.
"s'alright. i like those mirrored freckles on your lip. she doesn't have those."
"okay well i daren't do it now tho."
a month later i say *"well do
you wanna, donna?"*
a sly smile then "how about a drink first?"
so i buy us hennessy and we drink
**** near the whole bottle
and she, real drunk now says only
"noo noo i daren't do it!!" (here bad timing chortles leerily at me with that
"oh ohh ha ha ha ... ooops!!" shit-eating grin)
while the bottle rolls round under the table.
so i pass the year away
with a few casual encounters
and
then she turns up some tuesday night on my porch with a moan sayin'
"oh i wanna!"
so of course i
did it, twice,
and she, while rubbing my belly after said:
*"ohh. that really is nice!"*
& so i did it once more for kicks ...
holdin' her down on that big king bed.
th'next week she comes in wearing
new leather boots/hair curled/breasts overspilling
she asks
"have you ever seen la dolce vita?"
while we're sweating away
"yes."
so she gushed *"oh but doesn't it show
how beautiful it really is?
the joining of two people so hot
& sacred?"*
"geez." says i, "so become a catholic already."
she giggled ("you comedian!") and wanted to keep doing it again
a few times
but you know, i was quite serious.
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
I’m on a road trip to a place called crazy
but my tank is empty and my windshield’s got a crack.
The lane’s are foggy and my vision’s hazy,
but I don’t give a single **** ‘cause I’m not coming back.
And the streets are dark and my headlight’s are broken,
My seatbelt’s fastened so tight that I am chokin’.
My tires are popped and my engine is burning
at the green I stopped but kept on learning.
I could never drive fast enough
to escape what’s left behind.
Admiring skid marks and envying every scuff
I’ll keep going even when I’m deaf and blind.
I’m on a road trip to a place called crazy
it’s settled in between “grief” and “regret.”
I’m sure a bus runs there, although I’m lazy,
and timing’s the only thing I forget.
And the streets are dark and my headlight’s are broken,
my speakers blew out, but there’s words to be spoken.
My brakes are shot and my signals are mixed,
it’s the only ride I’ve got, but it can’t be fixed.
And I’ll pass by landmarks on the side of the road,
but won’t stop for a picture, don’t want to waste a smile.
I’ve been riding the back of a trailer that cautions a heavy load,
I could pass it but I’ll stay behind for one more mile.
I could never drive fast enough
to escape what’s left behind.
I’ll keep going even though the road is rough,
I’ll keep travelling until I find my mind.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
Emotional scars, not wounds, document
the totality of my Life experiences;
even though my spirit hasn’t yet shed
its temporary, earthly encasement,
this fleshly clay of human brokenness
cautions me to always be ever mindful
of my blessed Lord and His sacrifice.
Pretending to overlook the preciousness
of this gift of Life, that was bestowed
to me, was an act of absolute foolishness
that kept me apart from Him; ignorance
on my part, insured that Grace flowed…
until my insight was lovingly obtained!
Being honest, with myself, allowed me
to be humbled and bowed before my Lord.
Through genuine vulnerability, I gained
my connection me to a God of redemption.
Though I have suffered, like many others,
I’m not alone; a pained confession of my
brokenness led me towards… His Salvation!
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
I am tired of the tears when I should be over you
Dealing with the things you said and tasks you didn't do
And you owe me for the millions of tears you made me cry
But you in all your heartlessness will keep me where I lie
I am sick of the touch that whispered sweeter lies to me
Bu I can't say it's all your fault since I chose to fall so eagerly
I would say some wise thing of love and loss but this, dear, was not love at all
And oh how I despise myself for wanting to answer when you call
I am weary of the faults which you showed my naked eyes
The worthlessness you showed to someone who once shared your bluest skies
Do you fail to see the venom in the lips with which you kiss my skin
The deceit needed for you to find your temporary win
I will dread any love that comes to me this day forth
Wondering and questioning the heavens of my worth
Wretching instead of reaching for the silver lining of the clouds
Knowing the loser's price when they sets their wages down
Now I know the warnings, the hints, the cautions my mind gave
The reluctance in my mind that inevitably would have saved
The mirror that I chose not to look in simply out of stubbornness
And all the issues that we both had which I chose not to address
And I am tired of the tears when I should be over you
The love that will come once again every time you're passing through
The aching for the nicotine-like feeling that only you can quench
And the tissues scattered on the floor with which my tears do drench
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
Within
A realm of fantasy
My mind it takes control
Painting pictures
Photographs
Prepared within the soul
Imagination
Plays its hand
Cautions cast the style
What I see
Is what I am
And will be for a while
Perception
Leads a blinded eye
To where the path begins
For the moment
I shall wait
Right here so deep within
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
her right handed face reclines
and peers at me from the shadowy
recesses of her distressed mind
wrapped now in the silken leisures of
forgetfulness and surrounded
by the christmas thin dream illusion
purchased at great price to define yourself by
mere reflections of a perceived past
like living today through a photograph of childhood
mold your nature to the template but its plastic features
are brittle with the cautions your heart throws and
reproachs seen in all avenues of egress
her leashed thoughts are chained to the premise
that she cannot overcome the troubles that shadow her life
so that she move in concentric circles around my last dealt words
she peers from behind this set of thoughts and
with all that inner noise clouding her vision i must navigate
the perilous waters uncharted
she means much to me so i step with mindful care
lest her defensive pattern flee with her like
a bundled child up a dark road with fearful glances
for the great unknown some rough beast in rabid pursuit
that is in reality's harsh light nothing more than
shadow of childhood trauma
i sit at the emergence of her thoughts and wait for her to follow
spoken is trailed by felt
spoken can be constrained and recanted
but what is felt is a woman's temple and that
should not be breached with a light foot
she appears from underneath her veil of tears
and my hand clasping hers reaches her need
where no words to say would suffice
i am yours and yours alone
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Let determination drive you to your destinations. Let knowledge be the vehicle and wisdom be the key that ignite the spark.
Let your heart,body and soul harness the power that drives and steer you along life roads.
Pay attention to signs they exploit cautions ahead.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
Beings without wings, flying free. Vision misty unchartered or long forgotten terrain. Somewhere the old soul cautions "tarry, Child, there's reason in limbs...one step a time".
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
If you annoy a Sicilian woman
She will fling herself at you shrieking,
Her hair and eyes wild with rage; she’ll plunge a dagger
Into your heart three times before you fall
And then she’ll spit on your corpse and curse your memory
If you annoy a French woman
She will fling at you a stiletto heel
Or a saucepan (with sauce veloute’, oui!)
Either one will take you down, mon ami
And then she’ll dial a friend for company
If you annoy a Russian woman
She will make a discreet telephone call
And when in spring the ice of the Neva thaws
Your frozen body will at last pop up
And then she’ll write a poem in your memory
If you annoy an English woman
She will smile sweetly, and poison your tea
And as you collapse, gasping desperately for breath
She will smile again, and ask if anything’s wrong
And then she’ll ring for Jeeves to tidy up
Finally:
A Canadian woman (I’m telling no tales) -
You mess with her, and you’re bait for the whales!
-fin- (so to speak)
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC