"chateau" poems
a piece of art you are
in your worn out sleeves
and heart shaped eyes
laid out in a bed of cherries
and a field of tulips to share with me
your ocean view windows
that streak the blue sea
and your sheer white pearls
that melt onto me
like chocolate fondue
warm and sweet;
you are the taste, the mouthful
of words that sit on my tongue
get along with your truffle kisses
and your red wine lips
begging for the chateau
to soak in the void
and with a mind shining thought
you traced my back
with the stem of a flower
that went on and on
for the next half hour
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach
You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much
You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip
When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
a taste of frozen snow
how about pistachio
chocolate fountain
or vanilla chateau
could be strawberry fields
maybe mixed
with honey and wine
or collected from
the lower slopes of
confection perfection
call it what you like:
Dondurma,
Kulfi,
Cornets with Cream,
perhaps like Agnes,
Queen of Ices,
wading deeper
into blissful sugar,
waffling
back and forth
in endless
flavored dreams
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 12:56 PM UTC
Sophisticated elegance
Pornographic decadence
Psychedelic trip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip
Hot spots undiscovered
History recovered
Dig in and take a dip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip
Darkness in the daytime
Sunlight cleans the slime
It's easier to grip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip
Tales of olden Hollywood
Hangers on and hoods
Changing what is hip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip
Sophisticated Decadence
Pornographic Elegance
The Chateau for a nip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip
Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 10:42 PM UTC
How can I fall out of favor
With your
Soulful need
For me
And my own selfish need for you
I mean
Tomorrow night
I may be with something more productive
(Like my thoughts and dreams)
But there is a destructive
Force inside of these
Pressuring this unforgivable union
Of sorts
I mean
Monogamy is ********
Right up there with altruism
Right?
But then there is you and I.
Is it just the two of us,
That can defy the laws of
Rational reason, logic aside?
yes, I feel as though it must…be
so here is my ode
to a bottle of ’03 Bordeaux.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
In every moon there is a man
And in every man there is a heart inside of which lives a woman
Who doesn't clean
Who doesn't cook
Who doesn't serve him
Only lives within the walls of his heart
And within every woman living in a man's heart
There is a desire to be free
It is not odd to imagine her leaving
Merely odd to see her go
Riding on the back of an elephant
In high heels
With a bottle of Chateau de Michelle
And weilding the sword of a swallowing minstrel
Drunkenly yelling songs of a time in which she never lived
And that will never leave a man
Whether the next woman comes in riding a golden chariot pulled by blazing reindeer
Or mounted on a shark wearing a cocktail dress
And while he laments her going
She regrets her ever having left
So she turns around
Looks into the vast nothing behind her
Trampled under the weight of the elephant
Cut down by her drunken fit of rage
Burned and eaten by the coming and going of others
And she sees
That beyond the husk of the home she once knew
Lay merely arteries and valves
And no soft place to lay her head
So she dismounts her companion
Lays down her sword
Crashes the bottle upon the rocks
Tears the heels from her shoes
And limps into the desert
Looking for that which she had already found
While he lie
Filling the emptiness of his ravaged heart
With the tender touch of fleeting acrobats
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 4:56 AM UTC
*He built me an empire
on a gargantuan chateau
There, you'll see me write
under the Northern lights
stars hover in sight
as the ghostly glow of
green in the east over
the peak of the mountain sky
began to dance this one winter night
The man of my history
is nowhere in sight
he could rule the earth
but I was left in a tower
of one window
with a candle lamp on my side
The blow of snow coming from
my window sends shiver
down my spine
It's cold and empty
there's no more guards
standing on the portcullis,
the drawbridge wasnt closed
for years
and the moat is starting to freeze
Everything is dead,
only my heart is alive
waiting for the king
to find his way back from
a journey that made him lost
his home, people
and once he called a queen*
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
[Life]
I
A man with no shoes
walks by with a limp.
His arms -
covered
in tattoos
and scars -
are lethargic
by choice.
The biting
winter sun
delivers respite
from late December
northerlies.
He reeks of Franzia.
Redolent, it shadows
him, haunts
him like what he drinks
to forget.
His unkempt white beard
is stained yellow
around the mouth
from years of cigarettes
and no-shave Novembers.
He dons a jacket
- faded glory -
that is two sizes too small
and his pants stay together
like a couple for their kids.
Too proud to join
the Salvation Army
on Christmas Eve,
he finds his bench,
lies down
and survives
one
more
night.
II
A man in a suit
drives home in an Audi.
His collar
is stained
with cheap lipstick
and Chateau Lagrange
from last night's
late night meetings.
Angie, his wife,
waits anxiously
at the door
of their four bedroom,
three and a half bath
Victorian.
Her eyes -
still puffy
and red -
fixated up Swann St.
She is not blinking
and barely breathing.
The kids
have been sent to Grandma's
for the night.
They watch TV -
SpongeBob SquarePants.
The Audi
drives by a man on a bench
He looks asleep -
possibly dead.
The suit inside thinks to himself:
“That poor man.”
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
wrapped up in caramel daydreams,
trying to resolve the screams,
down the windelstán, below,
is someone that he used to know,
one reached for a grip,
a one cold water sip,
but one could never hold,
as he was far too old,
nor old of age, nor old of gold,
but blood dripped down and it was cold,
thee chateau, a ****** mine,
crying crystals over wine,
given screams, now, louder tune,
mixing sugar with a spoon,
he can’t get them out his head,
wrapped, in bed he’s turning mad,
spiral staircase leads to cache,
he’s stabbed by guilt, gone in dash,
thee chateau still there remains,
screams still whisper, leaving stains.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:52 PM UTC
By this part of the century few are left who believe
in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
and there are pets for the children but the lives that followed
courses of their own other than ours and older
have been migrating before us some are already
far on the way and yet Peter with his gaunt cheeks
and point of white beard the face of an aged Lawrence
Peter who had lived on from another time and country
and who had seen so many things set out and vanish
still believed in heaven and said he had never once
doubted it since his childhood on the farm in the days
of the horses he had not doubted it in the worst
times of the Great War and afterward and he had come
to what he took to be a kind of earthly
model of it as he wandered south in his sixties
by that time speaking the language well enough
for them to make him out he took the smallest roads
into a world he thought was a thing of the past
with wildflowers he scarcely remembered and neighbors
working together scything the morning meadows
turning the hay before the noon meal bringing it in
by milking time husbandry and abundance
all the virtues he admired and their reward bounteous
in the eyes of a foreigner and there he remained
for the rest of his days seeing what he wanted to see
until the winter when he could no longer fork
the earth in his garden and then he gave away
his house land everything and committed himself
to a home to die in an old chateau where he lingered
for some time surrounded by those who had lost
the use of body or mind and as he lay there he told me
that the wall by his bed opened almost every day
and he saw what was really there and it was eternal life
as he recognized at once when he saw the gardens
he had made and the green fields where he had been
a child and his mother was standing there then the wall would close
and around him again were the last days of the world
2.2k
On a cold, grey Bronx September day, an old man stood on the Courthouse plaza.
His palsied hand reached out to touch the monument to his life’s sole drama.
He’d just turned nineteen when the A.E.F. had been ordered to assist the French.
Near Chateau-Thierry He helped hold the bridge without the safety of a trench.
“We Marines fought like devil Dogs” He whispered softly to the rain.
“The Germans came, wave after wave, but only the stars and stripes remained.”
“Paris was spared and the foe was impressed by our Marine’s defiant dogged defense.”
“My best friends died, but I survived to keep them in remembrance.”
“We stopped the Germans at the Marne.” He felt an old familiar pain.
Some might say that the old man cried, but he would say it was just the rain.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC
Solemn hour
Yonder year,
Take the latter second,
A car in the distance of the road,
Fertilized with the scent of life
A light reflecting him, and a crow
Perched atop his shoulder.
He ventured toward the chateau,
Cars passing him blanked by countless efforts
Tripped inside, a maid approaches the door
She appears to be one-hundred,
The crow fell off the shoulder and dust remained
Where the maid cleaned up and left.
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 3:52 PM UTC
El Nino El Nino El Nino
(Sung to "Let It Snow...")
Oh the weather outside's delightful,
Not a flake of snow, it's respiteful;
And what's to credit for this show,
El Nino El Nino El Nino
The southerlies aren't abating,
The greens they're still awaiting;
I'm happy not to have a chateau,
El Nino El Nino El Nino
When I'm out gawking at the night,
I don't see the clouds of snow;
There's the flicker of firefly lights,
Dancing over green meadows.
The days are slowly growing,
Warm winds caress as they're blowing;
It's fifteen above zero,
Thanks El Nino El Nino El Nino
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Don't forget that,
I whisper to
The pillow under
Your cool moonlight.
A sacrifice to
My God,
To your terra-cotta lips,
Warm and glimmering,
Like the tiles on a July day,
On that chateau we stayed at in Nice.
To your laugh,
Gaffawing at a viral sensation,
Bursting like the atomic bombs,
To me, it's a champagne cork,
That night in the balcony fountain.
To your eyelids closed,
The same ivory shade of your breast,
And our children's cheeks
As you held them, cuddle them,
Tickle them, sob with them,
So right in our roomy, rickety home.
To your breath,
Taken in like a quick pull of a line,
Your arching spine,
Parallels the bridge above our heads,
As we sail on
Catalina in the Sound.
To your hands,
Crinkled soft like paper,
Tears ran down those creases
As we passed through the shadows.
But don't cry, wherever you are,
For I am with you.
In the creaking of the pedals,
As you tumble off your bike.
The sheets pulled over your face,
Your body racked with sobs for
Some boy, a cosmic second.
I am with you in the bright gold of your cords,
As you cross the stage for your diploma.
I am with you on the dreary playground,
As children in puffer coats and hats pick fun at you.
I am with you in the collegiate cologne
of the moment you gave it all up,
Some boy, a cosmic second.
But I am with you most in
The moment you gained it all back,
That supernova, explosion
When we realized, like two old friends
We'd been there together all the long,
Birth to *** to birth to sick to death
And all the love between,
And then there was no part.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 12:57 AM UTC
Clinching to the one thing I know,
an elegance that was sewn,
with the other side now more unknown.
Bulging droplets of wealth drench us favored few,
our worry of adversity quickly evolves into voodoo.
Lessons can be taught to those who are ignorant,
but we can't be fair, or fix every situation.
Harsh times can be seen in advance,
but only by those who aren't caught in trance.
So I will let you know,
from the balcony of my chateau,
when the world will get rid of those below.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
The encompassing and deafening hum,
until Winter's grasp snuffs out the last one.
Malaise Summer fails rousing still Autumn,
by delaying the elliptical stone
Unawares, she slumbers in chaste chateau
Without prince Summer's kiss she won't be woke;
ode to sleeping beauty's enchanting thrall.
Though due time was granted, time now to stall
For he can't let go his cicada heart;
singing beau woes for Spring prior long gone
The pulsing winged drums maintains being sane
Yielding to Fall would at first worsen pain
The encompassing and deafening hum,
until Winter's grasp snuffs out the last one.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
Only in the coolness of the night,
You touch my skin,
Underneath the moonlight,
Causing me to grin.
Your sharp teeth give quick bites,
Causing me to breathe in sharply and shiver.
The flame between us ignites
And the world around us grows fainter.
Everything you do sets me on fire.
I may try to pull away, but don't let me go.
It's all just an act to cover up my desire.
Kiss me everywhere and be thorough.
My vision starts to blur.
Oh my Romeo,
All this pain is outweighed by pleasure
In our private chateau.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
Who wants to come and join me
on a poetry retreat
We'll get to hang out somewhere cool
while putting up our feet
Perhaps in an old hunting lodge
or cabins by the sea
or maybe a French Chateau
underneath the Fleur de Lys
There'll be no one there but poets
folks like you and me
Who come to share ideas
and practice poetry
Perhaps there'll be a workshop
a recital maybe two
Where we take turns reading our poems
one from me then one from you
And when the weekends over
we'll part from our new friends
full of inspiration
may our passion never end.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 5:03 PM UTC
My body becomes rather rigid when it’s time to follow instructions
“Keep out” nah lets go in
“No smoking allowed” hah but I’m the kingpin
Give me some orders so I have something to throw away
Don’t even think about reverse psychology
You’re the town’s local theater while I’m New York City’s Broadway
Rebel against rebellion
All the ends march in four directions
North to south to east to west
I’m busy digging up treasure chests
I fly while you’re motionless
You turn to cement while I flow
I am the sufferer’s bandage
You are the world’s chateau
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 2:49 PM UTC
My family
I no longer know
At self-destruction
I have become the pro
I am at the lowest of lows
I am the Farrow
The black crow
My phone does not ring with a hello
Never been invited to the summer chateau
That still exists from long ago
I have no mansion in escrow
I do not suffer from tennis elbow
The money I borrow
I owe
I am at my lowest of lows
I am alone
No one to call my own
So many I have known
But yet here I am alone
Many relationships I have blown
Weddings at the alter postponed
Maybe because of my tone
Which I do not condone
Now all I know
It is real
My fate
Is going to be to die
Alone
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
Both Freddy and Frieda Flea
Had an itch and felt the need
To leave their home on Beagle back
So they packed their bags while Fido napped
They'd heard magical tales of the Big Top
Since their larva days on top the pup
They weren't here this time to clown around
As they found themselves circus bound
They hitched a ride in a hobos beard
Too no telling who knows where
But one thing that is perfectly clear
Both those fleas are outta here
Along the way they purchased needs
In a market place made just for fleas
Like underwear and mint toothpaste
Soap on a Rope to wash their face
Plus deodorant, quite a bit
You need a lot of it when you've got 6 pits
The rumor mill can be very mean
Fleas after all are fairly clean
After a day of personal shopping
It was all aboard for more beard hopping
Riding that hobo from coast to coast
In this their new hairy chateau
As circuses go they started their own
Advertising on the hobos back cause he never turns around
Over time their acts they've modified
As the flaming hoops set the hobos beard on fire
Now with Freddy as Ring Master and Frieda on trapeze
They are the Greatest Show On Earth, at least among fleas
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 5:57 AM UTC
We loved you
Pumpkin pie
And you
Bahzie boy
My bridge to the
Equine kingdom
Mitten, you made
My wife like cats
Begins a tragedy of three
A tale of other kitties
Stanley wandered too far
A tragedy of traffic
Babad not as far…
Both waited for us
No one wants to die alone
But still, we’ve been blessed
Goldie, I’m glad
You loved me
Little dog with
A heart too big
Thank you, Sue
For trusting us with Trudy
What a lucky man I am
To garner such love and trust
And of course, biggie guy,
He who once was named Hunter:
Gunther.
(Inset sadness here)
Chessy taught responsibility
With insulin shots at 6 & 6
Tristan y Isolde
(Stanley and Zolda)
Operatic lives lived
As comedy/tragedy
And, et-hem; yes
Even you, Ms. Berry
Past denizens
Of Chateau Flobo
Let’s not not leave out
The current cohorts:
Free spirit, wild child
Lucky Ducky
Biggie boy found you
You adopted us
Ms. Black-in-the-box
Moved herself in
And Fred—well,
Fred is just being Fred
They all found us
Not the other way around
From a big family,
We’ve loved/love a big family
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 7:24 PM UTC
på fredag
tømmer vi endnu
en papvin
og fylder vores lunger
med nydelsens
affald
og snakker om
det andet køn
og hvordan vi fortjener
bedre end
drengen med krøllerne
og manden med slipset
vi burde
de voksne fortæller os
vi burde
udnytte tiden
ressourcerne
på at lære kvantefysik
andengradsligninger
franske adverbier
og vi burde
men drengen har fysik
i skolen
slipset er bøjet som en
p l
a e
r a b
og fransk er alligevel
ubrugeligt
jeg kender allerede chateau og bourgogne
så vi går på kompromis
kompromiser skal der til
hvis ikke man
vil
spilde det hele på jorden
og det vil jeg
ikke
rødvin pletter
efterlader pletter der ikke kan
fjernes
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC