"cavalier" poems
Alien among aliens,
Fanning delicate fins to promenade
A prim coquette and starchy cavalier
Trimmed and tined in ossein finery,
Sipping shrimp cocktails, dancing demure
Circles before blushing coral courts,
Holding hinds in groves of turtle grass
Until the paisley bodies
Bump bellies, and she imbues his pocket
With inklings marooned in dreaming Pegasus.
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 11:10 AM UTC
“A real man,”
She said,
“Must not be afraid to show his sensitive side,
But he better swing his *****
When he needs to.
He must be strong
But his strength must not make him weak.
He must be smooth,
But he must not slip or slide away.
He must be refined
Not ground thin.
He must be proud
But not haughty.
And then she smiled
Her cavalier smile.
And I said
“Let me show you.
Let me show you what a real man looks like.”
So I showed her.
I showed her my death
And rebirth,
I showed her my missing rib
And broken teeth,
I showed her my lying mouth
And my truthful eyes,
I showed her my deific wrath
And I showed her
The book I wrote
In ancient tongues
A thousand years ago
I showed her that holy book,
My seditious tyrannical spirit,
My unconquerable will to dominate
Then I showed her my hand,
Its fine lines,
And the diacritic print of each finger.
Then she showed me,
Purpose.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC
If I told you to go ****
You'd just snort
And take my last beer.
You're a best friend and quite cavalier
You know me like nobody
But you're still a queer.
I just want the best for you
And I know you reverse the same
But if we ever get outta this mess
I probably shouldn't know your name.
You're used to it
But I ain't gonna do it
I know you now
You're my best friend anyhow.
So tuck and ****
Fists all battering
Smash 'em good
I wanna see blood splattering.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green,
And an off-white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams,
Like leather, like elderly skin, like a crossword puzzle with half the letters filled in,
She sat by me and spilt her sentences and her tea:
She claimed her husband had been killed by a cabal of spiritualists,
Killed by a bull elephant in the streets of Nepal,
Killed by the seven plagues,
And never killed at all,
That he was once a number
Somehow both perfect and prime,
That he was Prime minister of the sea,
And independent of time,
That his bones were cracked marbles
Bought from a widow in Tennessee,
That his name continued to escape her,
But that he looked something like me,
Leaving I saw her wings drag her heavenward,
I saw her terrible wings,
As I stumbled and veered from concrete to tarmac
I heard the pavements start to sing:
“I was once a flowerbed,
My father was a field,
My mother was a source of light,
Before which all the people kneeled.”
Then lost in the eye of daytime and night,
Drawn to the moustache of a Spanish racketeer,
He was once abandoned by his books and his babies
In the boot of a broke-down cavalier,
His pasts and ideas caught up to him,
And gripped him by his belt and his teeth,
His pasts gripped him in quiet of his nightmares,
And slashed his arms in the street,
Visions shook me by the bleeding palm,
Her terrible wings now pinpricks for the moon,
Visions shook me as deities died,
With eyes like a card-trick and fingers like doom,
Then stuck in the endless space between words;
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green;
Stuck in the endless space between words;
And an off white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams...
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
Gates climb
News and paraphernalia
Modern communication
Internet on vacation
Today, rural Australia
Goes awol in valleys, hills
As seeking when hiding
Frustration biding
Trees, various pitfalls
An Insufficient population
Say Cannot build towers
Excuses bely hours
Trying, for connection
Work with what's known
Try cavalier solutions
It's the execution
When, creativity shown
First try computer waving
Above head I'm shaking
Signal not taking
Despite, the swaying
Next option lying on floor
Hint of access, fleeting
Patchy greeting
So slow, won't store
Then stand on top of bed
Try to reach high ceiling
Wobbly feeling
Response, still lead
Despite heat, go outside
The temperature violent
Connection silent
If Home far, just beside
Time past, similarly stung
Found access best rate
The paddock gate
Balancing, top rung
Troop to gate hopes keen
As Searing heat, metal
Stand and settle
Tightly, cradle machine
Process long, time lost
A Connection success
Finally access
But who, counts cost?
Eventually, its loaded mail
As Balancing hold keen
Humorous scene
As Sway, in light pale
Internet access by Gates
Not Bill, Steve, Microsoft
Hung steel aloft
So basic, surely debates
Climbing for a signal now
Is the practical response
Sadly ensconced
As Rural, area know how
But surely it must be time
When access essential
Internet critical
Yet today, gates climb
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
From beyond the clouds,
cavalier and unattached,
sneaking past the yawn of temple bell
woken up from sleep,
trespasses a doomed note
pitched like flight of a falcon
fresh from its swoop on prey,
strumming on the discord in a lonely heart,
stoking once more
the hunger and anger of
an eternal yearning...
...Ah! My ears. They pick up the cruel flute. Here it comes, to ladle my pain. Not again. Not again.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 11:08 PM UTC
redefining awkward definiens
endorsing victorious evening
clamoring hawk-like intonations
conjecturing additional goals
optimizing ambient network
winning illinoisan night
trapping hacked-up events
warping æsthetic remnants
resuming inaudible overture
rallying auric-state net-work
defying anti-punk technophobia
eliminating cavalier homies!
minding icelandic anniversary
winging ersatz excuses
kicking ecstatic nerves
denying lackadaisical event
questioning upper echelons
brûlant en calice
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Hey you there
It's not just me in here
Oh how I wish you could hear the coconspirator
Or see in a single tear how loud the fear of fear truly can be
And how I'm so rarely allowed to steer
I AM a dark passenger, MY dark passenger
A near prison like constricting atmosphere with no breathing apparatus gear
Life can be so impossibly cavalier
Death is always closer than it should ever appear, regardless of the mirror
In my story I have the glory of a lone fourth musketeer
With a crowded asylum between each ear
So many questions but not a single agreed upon answer will appear
And I've yet to meet this so called infallible puppeteer
Though the hierarchy is clear, it passes through an auctioneer
"Punish thee if thy finds I should ever veer from thy holy 'engineer'"
Hell, they can stay put like a headlight frozen deer
I'd rather be allowed to be the one to disappear
I did not ask to be here
©2025
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 7:13 PM UTC
Bright and cavalier
You wring out your neck
With heavy hands
Show me a tongue without an anchor
Glistening eyes without glamour
Are you filled empty
With crowd mentality?
Your swell of bitter laughter
Is cruelty incandescent as fire
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
The earth was sown with early flowers,
The heavens were blue and bright--
I met a youthful cavalier
As lovely as the light.
I knew him not--but in my heart
His graceful image lies,
And well I marked his open brow,
His sweet and tender eyes,
His ruddy lips that ever smiled,
His glittering teeth betwixt,
And flowing robe embroidered o'er,
With leaves and blossoms mixed.
He wore a chaplet of the rose;
His palfrey, white and sleek,
Was marked with many an ebon spot,
And many a purple streak;
Of jasper was his saddle-bow,
His housings sapphire stone,
And brightly in his stirrup glanced
The purple calcedon.
Fast rode the gallant cavalier,
As youthful horsemen ride;
"Peyre Vidal! know that I am Love,"
The blooming stranger cried;
"And this is Mercy by my side,
A dame of high degree;
This maid is Chastity," he said,
"This squire is Loyalty."
2.3k
You cannot oppose decadency then tell me nothing is sacred
You cannot tell me I'm too sensitive then barrage me with hatred
You cannot preach guidance if your moral compass is latent
And act so cavalier while advocating patience
You cannot tell me you love Jesus and throw his teachings in a forge
Recast them in the flames to a weapon for your scourge
You cannot read me scripture and cast the exile aside
For the blessed are the weak but not the weak of mind
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
anxious
surgery
waiting room
tic tac toe
winning
losing
waiting
can't
help
but
notice
not one
but
two
"Top Rated Doctor"
magazine covers
hanging
right
in
front
of
my face
waiting
still
…
called
back
disinterested
nurse
*****
-yet brisk-
cavalier
surgeon
cutting
sewing
apologizing
plainly
unempathetic
couldn't
help
the
tears
that
followed
and
for
taking
the
*********
time
to write
about
this
****
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
Cady crushed
Soulful sunbeam
Modelling moonlight
Bright red scream.
Makeshift Marilyn
Winter wanders
Cavalier cowboys
Don't slow down.
****** valleys
Lightening laser
Taunting temptation
She'll be watching.
Dusted dimes
Matriarchy mothers
Electric evolution
At least pretend.
Sleeping sisters
Brutal brothers
Scoring shots
Smells like you.
Snakes stifled
River rapids
Drowning diseases
Love songs sung.
Their souls;
corrupt.
Unarticulated answers;
lost.
Paradise alley;
forgotten.
Ungrazed lips;
innocence.
© Sia Jane
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
I want to fold up Constantinople
And tuck it in the crease of my pocket
With a rock and a harlequin opal,
Nestled against your map of Nantucket —
A keepsake framed by a tired locket.
Sunlight pours past panes like gold tapestries,
Blue-sky-checkmates belonging to Vermeer
And his Woman with a Balance — trophies:
A man crowned a chivalrous cavalier,
A gentleman of this tremendous sphere
Misunderstood by societal norms,
And expectations set by precedent.
All while a bird coos cucurucu, warmed
By yellow light, freed from discontented
Murmurs with song. I want to read segments
Of the map on the curved back of your hand,
Knuckle-mounds like the knees of a woman
You once said you loved between shorthanded
Compliments and the words of Walt Whitman —
Blanketed by a bible and a man.
Maybe our web-tangled thoughts coexist
With the sky, place our feet firm on the ground.
Or maybe they’re a window that insists
On temptations, the mind, rewritten sounds,
Coming alive, and wanting to be found.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
Sobriety,
with regards to me,
who would've thought I'd've thunk it.
Cavalier,
*** wine or beer,
if you gave me a drink I'd've drunk it.
Alternatively,
a biscuit with tea,
and I'll contemplate life while I dunk it.
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 7:25 AM UTC
1579
It would not know if it were spurned,
This gallant little flower—
How therefore safe to be a flower
If one would tamper there.
To enter, it would not aspire—
But may it not despair
That it is not a Cavalier,
To dare and perish there?
1.4k
margins are|______________________________________________________
home |______________________________________________________
to day- |______________________________________________________
dreamy |______________________________________________________
doodles |______________________________________________________
and |______________________________________________________
cavalier |______________________________________________________
corrections|______________________________________________________
or some |______________________________________________________
times |______________________________________________________
home |______________________________________________________
to my |_______________________________________________________
empty |______________________________________________________
words |______________________________________________________
and |_______________________________________________________
prettily |_______________________________________________________
penned |______________________________________________________
lies. |_______________________________________________________
Can they read my margins,
see between
the lines
and cut into the edges of
my
conflicted
pages?
{I'll never know}
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Many
foreign tourists
simply mistook you
for the
laughing Cavalier
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
I love the smell of gasoline
Blue flowers, and green neon lettering
Embarrassing-honest people
The words nocturnal, cavalier, and arable
Reading, reading is my second-best to humans,
Greek mythology, all mythology
Solving math equations, being surprised
The soft waves of my mother’s hair
All kinds of clouds and rain
Smooth fabrics, sharpened-pointy pencil-tips
Gravelly voices
and exploring
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
Round and round in circles
Trapped within our vibe
Never knowing what is real
I need to unsubscribe
But … how to go about it?
De-tangle from our mess
Eradicate The Cavalier … swamped in our sweet caress?
I don’t think that that’s the answer
I want the onus just on me
Otherwise …
I won’t progress … to a functional degree
That old fickle finger of fate
Ensnared me in its womb
Life passed by
Clipped wings did sigh
I never stopped to question
“WHY?”
Now my pain is open wide
I need to lay me down to die
*Softly
Softly
Softly*
Teeth clench around our cord
Extraction of my sanity
Will be my just reward
And
As I watch you whither
Stumble
Blinded in the dark
I’ll know the futures rosy
Because …
**I stepped up
I
Disembarked**
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 1:12 AM UTC
This is a story from the Army Apprentices School, Arborfield, which was not far from Wokingham in Berkshire. I started my soldiering there on 15 January, 1959. It was a memorable first day because on the way there, through a window of the London to Wokingham train I saw a real, live cow and that evening, in the cookhouse, I had a pint *** smashed over my head. Anyway, this poem relates to the passage of information and the dangers of misinformation, and in a way is relative to my first day.
(While waiting for a train)
A bombardier and corporal were arguing the toss
About a job they had to do, about who should be boss.
The corporal said 'it should be me. You know the way we train.
My being in the Infantry means that I have the brain
To make sure job gets properly done, and doing it is really fun.
That being said - this job, you know, we really ought to flick it.
Would you believe they have us down to run a fire-piquet?
Replied his mate, the bombardier, 'even if it's cavalier,
I'm the one that fires off gun so I should get to have the fun.
And working the Apprentice School appears to me to be quite cool.
These AT's., they know their stuff, and work they'd never think to cuff.
Why, one even told my daughter, ‘on fire you never use hot water.'
Perplexed, his mate then asked 'why not, use h2o when it is hot?'
'Stands to reason' said his mate (they stood at Railway Station),
'Hot water on a burning fire just ups the conflagration'.
The two both spent that weekend off at home and in the yard.
Concluding individually the task was just too hard.
And so, selectively, they chose (so soon as they got back)
To do the work at Arborfield a smartly dressed lance-jack.
A Fusileer with bright cockade, four GEC's and bright
(though he said he'd had to give up two for getting in a fight).
He drilled the boys of Arborfield exactly as he orter
Whilst urging them to 'never, ever, ever use hot water'.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
Oh where, oh where is the puppeteer?
Surely he's moved on to another career
Up and left a lot of us just hanging here
Swung gently by a lonely gust of meandering air
As we masquerade as some fleshy chandelier
What could've happened to cause a reaction so severe?
No surprise to the wise that a why has never been made clear
Knowing nothing but to my right is doubt, to my left is fear
Needless to say, that's all I'm privy to hear
Day in and day out, long enough that it's easier to tally by the year
I was unaware that a situation could even be cavalier
I've held onto memories that now serve as an unwanted souvenir
And no one can know for sure, but I believe I just shed my last tear
But that doesn't mean the emotions disappear, no, they just blur and cohere
With a jump scare they premiere as unfamiliar in a mirror
But I have no desire, I don't have the will to explore a new frontier
Hey, look here, is that salvation or an end that draws near?
I'm going to stick around just to be clear on who's here
Cause I've been fool before by an imposter Paul Revere
©2024
Jan 28, 2024
Jan 28, 2024 at 1:58 AM UTC
I used to wait for the days when I’d get a free moment from you.
I used to hate the majority of things you did.
I used to feel like a piece of **** because of things you’d say.
And I used to hate your cavalier attitude.
But in the last month or so,
You’ve become one of – if not the only – person I trust.
And I’m just waiting for the day when it all goes back to how it used to be.
I’m happy for you. I truly am – from the bottom of my heart.
And I’m trying my best to give you space.
But I’ve become a terrible *****
Because I’m unbelievably jealous.
When I see how happy you are,
I’m ashamed to admit more often than not do the words
“What the hell did you do to deserve that?”
Run through my mind.
Because from what I recall,
One of the lowest years of my life has been because of you.
And despite everything that’s happened recently,
You will always be the person who stole my innocence without my desire to.
And you will always be the one who cheated on me.
And you will always be the one who made me feel more used
Than anyone should ever know.
I was your toy practically every day of my life
While you still used others.
And then,
When someone finally came along and saved me from you,
You tried to take it away from me.
Not to mention the fact that you have tried to cheat on multiple girlfriends with me.
And I get it… you’ve come a long way since then.
That’s why I forgave you.
But why the hell do you get to have what you have?
When all I’ve done is choose to love unconditionally,
Forgive over
And over
And over again,
Accept the people I love for all of their messed up flaws,
And be willing to do anything to make their dreams come true.
What did I ever do to any of you to deserve all that you’ve put me through?
You and all of the others have done nothing but lie, cheat, and womanize.
Yet, I’m the one who spends every night
Struggling with a decision that would make the pain go away.
I guess no one ever said life would be fair.
But they did say it would be worth living.
This, however, is certainly not worth it.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
My eyes so weary were blessed by the sight of you one day.
But you did me not see, and you seemed so far away.
Silver sheen hair, and a face revealing signs of long years,
Yet your smile, your laugh, could still banish all my fears.
I closed my eyes and saw;
A girl in her finest summer dress,
A thousand suns shining upon her head,
While dancing into my dreams so sweet.
I walked on that day, but if my courage was to decide,
I would serve you a smile, then say what my mind has denied:
*”Though time has been ungentle, and I will remain an old cavalier,
Please know that my thoughts sometimes to you wander, dear”*.
Now I close my eyes and see;
A woman in shiny lace so lovely,
A thousand golden roses leading her way,
While floating down the aisle by his side.
Yes, my aged, crooked heart felt its rebirth by this sight of you.
The future never to us belonged, but I believe you once felt it too.
Yet we had our shores just left, setting sail for the sea.
How I wish I knew, that only you could bring me to my knees.
At times I close my eyes and see:
A couple old in their sunday best,
A thousand angles their wings unfolding,
While drifting away, hand in hand.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC