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"clacks" poems
my fingers have become bored with the quicksand of routine they prefer to dance erotically over my typewriter frolicking like naked ballerinas over an ancient stage spilling their secret thoughts onto blank page, after their day job threaded together over my lap, or bending over to reveal the contents of my burlap sack they have taken instead to jumping over cracks in the nothing of night stifling the sound of silence with assortments of clicks and clacks punching in the perfect pitch of keys to leave Beethoven blind from this symphony of notes combined and just like that at last they have unfolded some rhyme unachievable with ink and pencil, without the stencil of time dictating to work inside the lines
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
typewriter
Lush is the quietude of the late Saturday afternoon, rich are the silencing sounds, as variegated as the shades of greens of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn rays reveal some bright, some yellowed spots, all a potent color palette resting worry wearied eyes, untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination, that soon will disappear and seal officially, another week gone by the lawn, acting as an ceiling acoustic tile, absorbing and reflecting the varied din of disharmonious natural sounds orchestrated, an ever present reminder      that true quiet is not the absence of noise I hear the chill in the air, insects debating vociferously their Saturday evening plans, the waves broom-swishing beach debris, pretending to be young parents putting away the children's toys for the eve the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues, chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks, then going strangely silent as if all were praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service, with an intensity of the silent devotion this moment, i cannot well enough communicate, this trump of light absolutes, and animal maybes, that are visually and aurally presented  in a living surround sound screen, Dolby, of course, all a plot of ease and gentility, in toto, sweet serenity here to cease, no more tinkering, leave well enough, plenty well enough
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Lush is the quietude of the late Saturday afternoon
P-Postponing all those things until another time R-Rostering them for attention down the track O-Offering all sorts of excuses stalls one's climb C-Constantly one defers the mounting job stack R-Repeatedly ignoring their pealing bell chimes A-Acting upon them requires an assertive knack S-Still one avers in responding to their rhymes T-Taking not a step forward nor any back I-Initiative and get in and do it isn't one's paradigm N-Never does one heed their ever tolling clacks A-Always sitting in an idle non moving show time T-The day shall arrive with a great waking whack I-Into motion one shall soon be called to climb O-On one's toes the chores are waiting in the rack N-No more disregarding the many sounding chimes
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
Procrastination (Acrostic Poem)
Who’s to say how He might come back for a second inhumanely heaped-up helping, if we grant that immensity of our assumption He did come kingly first into this inside- out size from a do-you-miss-me- yet’s mirthfully mythical realm I have seen Him lurking in a particle-board fine finish on the thin outer membranes of our estranged and better faces; He’s Higgs-boson omnipresent, but far too theoretical for our broadly practical, turned- away gazes to rediscover There He is now rising in the favela’s gap- toothed grins with fabulously naughty corners this glee-pawed grandpa twists using cur jests his ***** charges imagine as flightless quarrels grey-hooded pigeons would gaggle were they over-stuffed on golden grain And there again on a Calcutta mound’s cluttered conic end, smog-like He slowly lifts with the crust-gnawed, razor-wire crimps of a soup-can’s unconsummated lid as dainty fingers crawl in toward a gelatinous glob still clinging to the powerful pretense it’s meat And there once more, conceding oms, He restless flickers at the margins of blocky beige Beijing screens as crisply clicked clacks circumnavigate the darkling smooth patches and spit-spark a few conscious drips to squiggle out from the babble of noxious red seas Emerged, this welp won’t toddle off to dribble-stain the dressy linens of a made-up nanny’s well-mannered and ornate evil; it will curl up instead, a swaddled yawn with no yearn to suckle under His real mother’s gaping wide and grungy bloused best
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Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 11:04 AM UTC
In the minute coming of His second, all hours turn to dusk
Who’s to say how He might come back for a second inhumanely heaped-up helping, if we grant that immensity of our assumption He did come kingly first into this inside- out size from a do-you-miss-me- yet’s mirthfully mythical realm I have seen Him lurking in a particle-board fine finish on the thin outer membranes of our estranged and better faces; He’s Higgs-boson omnipresent, but far too theoretical for our broadly practical, turned- away gazes to rediscover There He is now rising in the favela’s gap- toothed grins with fabulously naughty corners this glee-pawed grandpa twists using cur jests his ***** charges imagine as flightless quarrels grey-hooded pigeons would gaggle were they over-stuffed on golden grain And there again on a Calcutta mound’s cluttered conic end, smog-like He slowly lifts with the crust-gnawed, razor-wire crimps of a soup-can’s unconsummated lid as dainty fingers crawl in toward a gelatinous glob still clinging to the powerful pretense it’s meat And there once more, conceding oms, He restless flickers at the margins of blocky beige Beijing screens as crisply clicked clacks circumnavigate the darkling smooth patches and spit-spark a few conscious drips to squiggle out from the babble of noxious red seas Emerged, this welp won’t toddle off to dribble-stain the dressy linens of a made-up nanny’s well-mannered and ornate evil; it will curl up instead, a swaddled yawn with no yearn to suckle under His real mother’s gaping wide and grungy bloused best
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48
*creating something in silence (save for keyboard clacks) is a practice in subliminal listening. Thought is like air and you can hear it whispering through the trees of your foresty dendrites. Misery mixes with ecstasy and love mixes with confused dislike-- for 11 days straight, I've been losing myself in the phosphene glare of love for a girl named Sasha. She insists she's not a Xanax ****** but by my standards I'm still not sure if I'm convinced altho this seems like an unfair snap-judgement that still hurts her feelings. Perhaps she needs it, and I'm just blanked as the next heretic to go on trial in the pharmacratic inquisition. For the first time the other night I experimented (incorrectly) with DMT. Sprinkling it over a packed bowl of tea (marijuana), I drew back a breath and felt nothing more than life as a conceited dream with a strange alchemical hangover-fear of psychosis.*
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
gazzius
the man nearby on the train clacks his laptop offensively like the annoyance of noisy writers in school exams when I was stultified by writers block I wonder what the black girl would taste like passengers feed their fatness with crinkly cellephane food substitutes did you have a good weekend? conversation openers start to chorus corporate cockwombles talk in jargon tongues as they sell their souls to white shirt organisational ambition common sense takes a back seat in the street car of Progress there's talk of profit and effiencies from men who never made their wives moan there's talk of scalability and security from those who know nothing of flexibility and risk there's talk of innovation from those whose personal best is a smart phone have you seen the latest? what do you think? hey, that's what I think! we must be brothers! in a cozy co-ordinated mediocrity.
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Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
much ado about nuthin ...
Hidden stigmatas fall from your heaven Solidly landing as a pathway to your righteousness Running from your broken land Broken lamp To provide you with silver thread no more Centuries of torment squeal under burnt rubber And mudslides turn to avalanches Room for the becoming Pens leak ink over new white blouses Draped over chairs like makeshift tents Next to fireplaces to read Seclusion from enormous intruders like yourself Dusty pills litter the night table Subtle reminders of doom once left Left to chance Echoing clacks as ***** scatter everywhere Across the green felt next to the portrait Covered by the heavy burgundy velvet drape Whose eyes are blind to your savage beauty You put the bell in the jar and cried out lonesome Too many times before You tried to pick some mushrooms But it’s harder than you thought.
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Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 4:00 PM UTC
unforgettable
Alex 2 breathes, stacks and unstacks papers, distantly Alex 1, front cubicle, coughs, clicks his mouse Eddie pulls out his drawer, pushes it back in, clicks his mouse Alex 2, yes two Alex's, saunters up to the coffee machine Alex 1, head down, clacking his keyboard Mouse clicks, keyboard clicks, electricity Monitors glow, fluorescents never flicker Alex 1 opens a new file, two clicks of the mouse Eddie sips his coffee, puts it down, clicks New folder, new file, new data Data entry, spreadsheets Alex 1 asks did you get the email Alex 2 has his coffee, his white shirt, under the fluorescents Statics noise, static, mouse clicks, keyboard Every new click, new file, new data, new folder Data in, data out, file, click, the static electronics Alex 2 clicks, files, new folder, new deal, new data Eddie clears his throat, softly, the static noise, flickers, Every new love story is a tragedy Alex 2 opens a new folder, inputs data, spreadsheets Numbers in, Eddie clicks his mouse twice rapidly Stale effluvia coffee, static noise, electric light Alex 1 sniffles, clears his throat, the clock ticks softly Eddie opens a new file, the electric screen reflects his fixed eyes Alex 2 sips his coffee, opens a file, clicks, keyboard clacks Stasis, complete stasis, electricity, nodes, linear graphs Numbers input, data, new file, file transfer Every old tragedy is a ghost story Alex 2 sips his coffee, breathes, clears his throat, data Spreadsheets, monitors, electricity, static, data input, output Every ghost story is infinite Alex 1 gets up for a new coffee Eddie inputs data, spreadsheet, file, new folder Electric lights, stasis, data, file, click, file, input exp..
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 10:21 PM UTC
Subtexts of Monday
Alex 2 breathes, stacks and unstacks papers, distantly Alex 1, front cubicle, coughs, clicks his mouse Eddie pulls out his drawer, pushes it back in, clicks his mouse Alex 2, yes two Alex's, saunters up to the coffee machine Alex 1, head down, clacking his keyboard Mouse clicks, keyboard clicks, electricity Monitors glow, fluorescents never flicker Alex 1 opens a new file, two clicks of the mouse Eddie sips his coffee, puts it down, clicks New folder, new file, new data Data entry, spreadsheets Alex 1 asks did you get the email Alex 2 has his coffee, his white shirt, under the fluorescents Statics noise, static, mouse clicks, keyboard Every new click, new file, new data, new folder Data in, data out, file, click, the static electronics Alex 2 clicks, files, new folder, new deal, new data Eddie clears his throat, softly, the static noise, flickers, Every new love story is a tragedy Alex 2 opens a new folder, inputs data, spreadsheets Numbers in, Eddie clicks his mouse twice rapidly Stale effluvia coffee, static noise, electric light Alex 1 sniffles, clears his throat, the clock ticks softly Eddie opens a new file, the electric screen reflects his fixed eyes Alex 2 sips his coffee, opens a file, clicks, keyboard clacks Stasis, complete stasis, electricity, nodes, linear graphs Numbers input, data, new file, file transfer Every old tragedy is a ghost story Alex 2 sips his coffee, breathes, clears his throat, data Spreadsheets, monitors, electricity, static, data input, output Every ghost story is infinite Alex 1 gets up for a new coffee Eddie inputs data, spreadsheet, file, new folder Electric lights, stasis, data, file, click, file, input exp..
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34
wind was sweeping darkness clouds cluttered the horizon in all directions encircling clear, midnight sky foreshadowing the full moon shiny, twinkly things beamed brightly in pollution’s absence mulberry, guava and palm swayed in silhouette dancing to wind chime songs soft clacks, tinkles and bongs fragrant breezes carried ocean like a sweet smelling memory gently stirring the stillness
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
LATE LAST NIGHT
My mother likes to hang bells On the front door, And I always wondered What they were for. They would jingle Whenever someone made entry, and glitter With the light from the lamppost On the street. But they became dull Hanging all day, And the giggling clatter Mulled and dulled to a brassy bray. Mom has a small wedding bell Of a silver boy Holding flowers With a smiling grin. He’s asking her to ring him And bring back memories. But father’s guitar glistens Whilst the sun lays low. With one pluck The vibration hums Smooth and mellow. But can you hear it Sitting on the steps? This house is so large But there still lays unrest. And through The corridor Clacks the patter Of greyed canine feet. But some of us Lay silent And reap the past From the sounds That do dare speak. the living room clock Drones with That of a distant chime, Because the living arrangements Have changed overtime.
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Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Doorbells
I. I want to walk out into the ocean’s gentle swells, and feel God’s palm cupped around me. II. I want to step, over the smooth, fluted stones, and the whorled shells of bright abalone, to sink down onto sundrenched sea-ground and close my eyes to see my blood-red sun-lit lids flicker and flash, as shuddering net-designs dance, threaded and lacy; as they curl, tangling across me. I want to slide my fingers through the slithering white sand-- the grains carved into ivory ripples by the currents’ deft hands. III. oh, I want to lie and close my eyes and feel the soft lurch of each wave jerking overhead, its strong tug like a kite, watch the shining fish scything past above, and let each dancing point of light reflected from their scales scar my pale face. IV. Oh, there is a howling, starving dog that circles on the shore, alone. he’s keened his frantic misery to the deadpan moon for so so long that no one listens anymore-- they gave it up long ago and just sprawl, licking the dunes; they lie and swear the grit quenches their aching thirst until they choke on their sand-covered tongues and die. V. You see, I want to see the moon rise, quivering through deep-water blackness; listen to the dolphins’ ghostly shrieks and clacks, and the whales’ deep, grieved noises. I want to forget the sound of human voices. I long to close my eyes, sink, and never rise. VI. bright, irregular globes flutter from my mouth quick, coruscating orbs of prayer, they shudder and dart upwards VII. saltwater, salt tears, ask Him if He hears you gasping.
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Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
a 7-part Requiem for the Sea
I. I want to walk out into the ocean’s gentle swells, and feel God’s palm cupped around me. II. I want to step, over the smooth, fluted stones, and the whorled shells of bright abalone, to sink down onto sundrenched sea-ground and close my eyes to see my blood-red sun-lit lids flicker and flash, as shuddering net-designs dance, threaded and lacy; as they curl, tangling across me. I want to slide my fingers through the slithering white sand-- the grains carved into ivory ripples by the currents’ deft hands. III. oh, I want to lie and close my eyes and feel the soft lurch of each wave jerking overhead, its strong tug like a kite, watch the shining fish scything past above, and let each dancing point of light reflected from their scales scar my pale face. IV. Oh, there is a howling, starving dog that circles on the shore, alone. he’s keened his frantic misery to the deadpan moon for so so long that no one listens anymore-- they gave it up long ago and just sprawl, licking the dunes; they lie and swear the grit quenches their aching thirst until they choke on their sand-covered tongues and die. V. You see, I want to see the moon rise, quivering through deep-water blackness; listen to the dolphins’ ghostly shrieks and clacks, and the whales’ deep, grieved noises. I want to forget the sound of human voices. I long to close my eyes, sink, and never rise. VI. bright, irregular globes flutter from my mouth quick, coruscating orbs of prayer, they shudder and dart upwards VII. saltwater, salt tears, ask Him if He hears you gasping.
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76
We drink wine As the weary wings of the dove Labor over restless graves Weaving between the carnival cruises Drifting along the red canal Three hundred cubits long, Fifty wide and thirty tall Rivers red overflow The cypress whip cracks Licking the ****** hide With a serrated tongue Ripped from gnawed ******* Raw From the desperate lips of brothers and sisters. Rivers red overflow With the whimpers of last breaths Muted by the blade of violent delight And teeth grinding machines We sit in our squeaking rubber boots Cutlery clinks and clacks, saws, severs, slice. Rivers red overflow With an anguished unholy Screeching sound Deaf are our saintly ears We drink wine As the weary dove Returns empty beaked Once more to his perch And preens his scarlet feathers
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Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
There Will Be No Olive Branch
It was the darkest hour of night With deadly silence and full of fright My body was hurting And in pain, my soul was writhing Under the bare sky I was lying Knowing that I'm dying Was getting echoes of flashbacks Was hearing horrific and dreadful clacks Sensing seizer of souls howling around Ways to escape I knew I wouldn't found Was thinking about the days, I used to spend How I forgot, everything 'll be questioned at the end I begged, O God, please one more chance My life, my deeds, I'll enhance But it was too late to pray I must had to pay ~Dreamchaser~
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
One Last Chance
Once in a while when the city lights are cotton candy and the phone poles are licorice wires against melon skies the chatter fades to clacks like drum beats with the wind inside my lungs all the cheeks are red bowled Okinawa sunsets beneath mocha stained tips of fingers and we are all humbly aware of the way our feet scuff against the pavement on our way past the 5th Avenue Theater.
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Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sore Organs.
The rattling door as the wind whistles the calls of the crows amongst the fields shuffling feet that stirs the dirt you can't imagine the power it yields The grunts, the sighs from every mouth the clicks, the clacks on the keyboard the whine of a lonely pup I've never heard that kind of cord When the music dips and climbs and we feel the pounding bass as it stalls before the drop then, we're locked in a quiet place Then waves in the air and the quivering ground are drowned to death by shrieking sounds But what you hear comes nowhere near to the Song of Thumps that guides my world So don't pretend you feel the pounding floor the way that I do
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Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
the Song of Thumps
Clacks the train on pre-made track Taps she on and on all day Wheel on rail, turns wheel on rail Never wavering from laid out trail. Clacks the train on pre-made track Oft taking souls both to and fro Alas unseen goes the weary rail As metal cuts through the nestled nail. Clacks the train on pre-made track The unjoining joint harked too late Souls on board feel blinding pain As loco veers off its destined lane. Clacks she no more on pre-made track Unhinged, undone, has no path, no role Bent beyond all blacksmith skill Now left soulless, without way or will.
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 7:26 AM UTC
Train tracks
Words were never spoken or exchanged. "The GO Train is here." The only five words anyone there ever thought they needed to hear besides they weren't words they were mentality the briefcases purses newspapers click-a-clacks of heels rustling of zippers and keys scrapings of sandals rollings of bags sharp noses blank eyes all pointed at their exact target click clack click clack a steady stream of everyone and anyone men with full black business suits girls in Gouci and jeans ladies in Reitmans men in checkered shirts and khaki shorts like ants they piled into the green and white snake dreading the fatal announcement "last call! Last call!" they accelerated full grown men and women whipping and thudding and click-a-clacking the wind pushed them back to their cars the ground screamed "Stop!" but they didn't listen a woman all in blue who could raise the dead with her clacking daintily ran as fast as she could "DOORS SHUT!" the conductor's voice was muffled and he followed through in a spurt of perseverance soundlessly the doors closed At least the adults knew one thing no amount of noise could open them so they didn't try the blue-clad woman slowed to a stop the GO train had gone she slumped in the middle of the station the wind urged her but suddenly the train came again always there always gone CLICK CLACK the heels revived click clack click clack clack
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Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
The Green and White Snake
Furnished rooms, refined cooling An angry Sun, a helpless ozone layer Lavish resorts, palatial homes The Ents are silent in their prayers Roaring turbines, whirring motors ****** waters, crying to be set free Clicks and clacks, a touch and a swipe Birds fall to the alien magnetic field Travel the world, not fast enough Dig and mine, crashing harbour wave Fossils spent, air wears the smoke Dinner is served on the tectonic plates Every day the water becomes a little fuller to the brim Every day the air becomes a little less thin Every day the world becomes a little too big Every day the land becomes a little less green
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Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 2:11 PM UTC
Green
Too long has it been since ink has flowed from my veins, seeped out of my pores, and bled from my heart. Too long has it been since pencils have hastily scribbled down words on the lines of my numerous notebooks and fingers have raced across key after key; the cacophony of clacks is like music in my ears as I listen to each stroke of a new letter, a new word, a new experience. I want to write about you. The way you can talk for hours on end about your passions and your fears and all else in between. I want to write about the way your eyebrows raise in the middle of a sentence and I don't even think you realize it. Or the way your hands move as you gesture around you for emphasis and intensity and you look like you could be standing on stage presenting a speech for millions of people. But oh god, I wish I could tell you how ******* cute you look when you speak. I don't know what you see when you look into my murky brown eyes but I can tell you that I could stare at your face forever without feeling bored because you are the pearl trapped inside of an oyster. You're the luminous moon and the burning sun and the stars and the diamonds and the treasures you find under your mattress. I want to write about your smile and your laugh and your bony kneecaps, and I know I'm only sixteen but is it really that ludicrous of me to say that I want love? I want to love your complicatedness, your deep thoughts and your V-neck shirts. I want to love the way you look at me as if I'm more than just a scared little girl and the way you laugh at me sometimes for no justifiable reason but it's okay because I'd do something ridiculous everyday just to see you look so happy. I want to love you. But how can you leave so easily? I know that it causes you no pain to just walk away when all I ever want is for you to stay; to forget about sleeping and everything else in the world except you and me. But I know that good things come in small doses so I'll pick up the notebook beside my bed, and I'll write about you instead.
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
You
Too long has it been since ink has flowed from my veins, seeped out of my pores, and bled from my heart. Too long has it been since pencils have hastily scribbled down words on the lines of my numerous notebooks and fingers have raced across key after key; the cacophony of clacks is like music in my ears as I listen to each stroke of a new letter, a new word, a new experience. I want to write about you. The way you can talk for hours on end about your passions and your fears and all else in between. I want to write about the way your eyebrows raise in the middle of a sentence and I don't even think you realize it. Or the way your hands move as you gesture around you for emphasis and intensity and you look like you could be standing on stage presenting a speech for millions of people. But oh god, I wish I could tell you how ******* cute you look when you speak. I don't know what you see when you look into my murky brown eyes but I can tell you that I could stare at your face forever without feeling bored because you are the pearl trapped inside of an oyster. You're the luminous moon and the burning sun and the stars and the diamonds and the treasures you find under your mattress. I want to write about your smile and your laugh and your bony kneecaps, and I know I'm only sixteen but is it really that ludicrous of me to say that I want love? I want to love your complicatedness, your deep thoughts and your V-neck shirts. I want to love the way you look at me as if I'm more than just a scared little girl and the way you laugh at me sometimes for no justifiable reason but it's okay because I'd do something ridiculous everyday just to see you look so happy. I want to love you. But how can you leave so easily? I know that it causes you no pain to just walk away when all I ever want is for you to stay; to forget about sleeping and everything else in the world except you and me. But I know that good things come in small doses so I'll pick up the notebook beside my bed, and I'll write about you instead.
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90
Alone at home The house is a symphony of day-sounds, And wants me gone. Scattered toys express sullen resentment at my pyjama'd presence, The cats just stare. I force my working self upon this world, With keyboard clacks, The kettle, And boiling pasta. I try a hum, then Spotify, But it all feels alien, too forced. The house wants the others; Shrieking, laughing, conversation, Clashing plates, A Disney movie The warmth of family. This house wants to be a home.
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
Working From Home
Going through my very own time portal Watching my life through my head And I'm sitting wondering how I got here again Singing a new song with clicks and clacks Knowing it will soon get stale Sipping on my brandy and ginger ale You might understand a different plight But this one is all I know Sometimes I wish I had somewhere else to go Remedies are all anyone can say I know that they never help A person's got to learn to save their own self And all it takes is some will power To keep myself away from this But I can only ever stand to do Whatever I wish And all I have is all I've ever had before Sprawled out on the ceiling of my own room I think I'll spend tonight on this bathroom floor
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Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
Horse's Neck
in the twilight of dawn I can already hear the shower. quietly I wonder where the time went. I turn over and face the peeling paint on the wall, trying to grasp those vestiges of a dream which faded to air motes and half-light. okay, I'll make breakfast today, and I hope you like oranges. no, I never bothered to memorize which fruits you like in the morning. I know it's been years, but I'm not superman and you knew that when you said I do. don't tell me not to grumble quietly to myself; I need this bubble of relative sanity if I am to survive 5 am showers for nobody. you are fresh and clean, an angel, and your blowdried hair frizzes out like a halo. not a hint of gray. must be a new color you're using. all right, fine, I won't light a cigarette, but I also won't change my shirt. I like the sweat stains. they make my profession seem like work and not like poetry. I retreat to the backroom where my typewriter sits upon its unholy altar. the radio beside it stands presently silent amidst the ashes and crumpled pages. I would sigh as I sat down on my sagging chair, but I am not a sighing man. instead, I groan slightly as my joints protest in their groggy morning voices and rest my *** upon the threadbare cusion of my favorite wooden chair. I find a station on the radio; something Haydn composed is floating through, and I talk to my secretary. her voice clicks and clacks and rings when she breathes. she's speaking in stanzas and only I can silence her. but this ***** ain't done confessing just yet.
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Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 10:51 PM UTC
wrath and orange peels
in the twilight of dawn I can already hear the shower. quietly I wonder where the time went. I turn over and face the peeling paint on the wall, trying to grasp those vestiges of a dream which faded to air motes and half-light. okay, I'll make breakfast today, and I hope you like oranges. no, I never bothered to memorize which fruits you like in the morning. I know it's been years, but I'm not superman and you knew that when you said I do. don't tell me not to grumble quietly to myself; I need this bubble of relative sanity if I am to survive 5 am showers for nobody. you are fresh and clean, an angel, and your blowdried hair frizzes out like a halo. not a hint of gray. must be a new color you're using. all right, fine, I won't light a cigarette, but I also won't change my shirt. I like the sweat stains. they make my profession seem like work and not like poetry. I retreat to the backroom where my typewriter sits upon its unholy altar. the radio beside it stands presently silent amidst the ashes and crumpled pages. I would sigh as I sat down on my sagging chair, but I am not a sighing man. instead, I groan slightly as my joints protest in their groggy morning voices and rest my *** upon the threadbare cusion of my favorite wooden chair. I find a station on the radio; something Haydn composed is floating through, and I talk to my secretary. her voice clicks and clacks and rings when she breathes. she's speaking in stanzas and only I can silence her. but this ***** ain't done confessing just yet.
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71
cold autumn waters rushing its way underneath my feet weaving through              toe to toe      slicing           hacking its way                    through the legs of my seat-- so naturally shining the reflected beams of sunlight           knew how to pick                 which stream         of which inch                       of which hairline                of the river                             to show oh so clearly             straight into my eyes-- this was exactly how                                     i remembered     the words flowing                 singing and dancing          all so merrily in my mind.                       and yet                     --silence--    i sit and stew               in the comfort of my room--           the fan spews nonesense        whispering frigid sweet nothings                       it distracts me                   so i turn it off.                       the light shone too brightly                 showing me far far too much          it annoys me                          so i turned it down.                    the natural sounds                the allure of the wild                         the little chirps and peeps                       and the babble of the brooks i remember none of them sounding like the clicks and clacks         that i hear with every press of my finger                              and every character i delete                 it discomforts me                         i took a deep breath.              and another.                              closing my eyes        i still saw a faint red through it's thin lid                    i tried to picture     the same magical world                              i used to write in                back when i was a bard                      and everything          the light touches                                        would be my kingdom                             my muse.                and i smiled...                      all my vivid recollections        the people and worlds i breathed life to                   the words that used to be so so alive              it all felt empty                     so i opened my eyes     and tried to write again--
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Jan 14, 2022
Jan 14, 2022 at 7:56 PM UTC
babbling brooks.
cold autumn waters rushing its way underneath my feet weaving through              toe to toe      slicing           hacking its way                    through the legs of my seat-- so naturally shining the reflected beams of sunlight           knew how to pick                 which stream         of which inch                       of which hairline                of the river                             to show oh so clearly             straight into my eyes-- this was exactly how                                     i remembered     the words flowing                 singing and dancing          all so merrily in my mind.                       and yet                     --silence--    i sit and stew               in the comfort of my room--           the fan spews nonesense        whispering frigid sweet nothings                       it distracts me                   so i turn it off.                       the light shone too brightly                 showing me far far too much          it annoys me                          so i turned it down.                    the natural sounds                the allure of the wild                         the little chirps and peeps                       and the babble of the brooks i remember none of them sounding like the clicks and clacks         that i hear with every press of my finger                              and every character i delete                 it discomforts me                         i took a deep breath.              and another.                              closing my eyes        i still saw a faint red through it's thin lid                    i tried to picture     the same magical world                              i used to write in                back when i was a bard                      and everything          the light touches                                        would be my kingdom                             my muse.                and i smiled...                      all my vivid recollections        the people and worlds i breathed life to                   the words that used to be so so alive              it all felt empty                     so i opened my eyes     and tried to write again--
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A cardiac flush paints just respiratory via ivory of ribs name to launch, bear, ovulate, an explicit painter your mother would never count acceptable like a feather's charcoal flight a whitened bow of silk for your neck to gush with, in a mess adorn, Pueyo's nomad or form turned poem I take greater than any body's gifted ******* but enamel of guitar's caramel my bonfire took for granted chips. Let's imagine we identify ****** for David's curls on doe eyes for a woman in return. Let's imagine we identify peach marble ways of men tinting what as agender stars in ashes lie. Let's imagine we identify *** at last as nameless liberty for home. Wounds, impeccable fire platter, a night holds. Once in her time a nightingale nurse held lone for corridors light, might my clacks and nervous chirps on a lantern in a tea for someone rushed my fingers bless just like her alone... An empty gaze. A late clock. And I and Christ perched with a washing bowl at someone's feet, we meek but at praise, unattainable, And I a statue with silk black at my end of curves' robe. I might wish to serve one of those corridor nights without a cover tugging at my edges yet a hopefully audacious male David gaze in intent, for a wayfaring soul on my couch, for glorious shame their touch would put on my ways of the acrylic of *** for brightening bland stars agender into honey, and my work for bare choices errands picked. Gasp.
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Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 10:50 AM UTC
Michelangelo Hospital a New Sappho