"clammer" poems
You say doctors will
make the best poets.
They will search your emotions
by the skin; cutting open to reveal
and revel
with surgical precison.
They will play with
heavy drugs and blades--
nothing shall hide beneath
the armors of bone and muscle.
They know the anatomy
of the heart too well.
They will find the things
you have hidden in your chest.
I say
doctors will never be poets.
They are too mechanical,
too fast with their edges
and ridges.
They cannot see the pain
as pain but merely as an anomaly.
That sadness is black bile
not melancholia.
They cannot sing to you
but only clammer in medical jargon.
Poets will use their imperfect words,
and perfect rhymes
to find the secrets of your rib cage
with ease.
They will find every flaw
of your broken body
and make it the best story
you've never heard.
Doctors,
they will put love to define as
a momentary rush of adrenaline,
an arrythmia for another human
caused due to an imbalance of the heart rhythm.
Poets will tell you
that love is the first jolt
of life for them.
They will say love is a state of euphoria
that takes those irregular rhythms to perfect symphonies.
Doctors say that
veins carry blood
devout of oxygen.
I say that they carry your broken emotions
to their feelings factory
to mend it within its beautiful catacombs.
All those doctors
will find and fix you
with perfect solutions.
And these poets
will do their best
to be your perfect solution.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
The stillness of the heart
The stillness of the silent heart.
When it doesnt beat and it doesnt speak.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its quiet.
When it doesnt move, its still.
When its grown contempt with its surroundings or come to terms with its turmoil.
The heart, when its lost its heat and its fire.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its silent.
When it doesnt make a sound.
When its grown too weak to weep.
When its grown tired of trying.
When there is nothing left to hear.
Oh the stillness of the heart when it doesnt speak.
When there is no words to form a rhythm or a beat.
When it doesnt move or quiver.
When it doesnt lash out or scream.
When it doesnt click of clammer.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its quiet.
When it doesnt mumble or moan.
When it doesnt wince or whisper.
when it doesnt murmur or mutter.
When it doenst have tenants or tones.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its still.
When its calm as night.
When its knots are un-tied.
When its movemnet has died.
When its lids are dark.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its grown contempt and come to terms.
When it doesnt complain or compare.
When it doesnt fume or fight.
When it doesnt stretch or strive.
When it doesnt define or despair.
Oh the stillness of the heart when its lost its flame and its fire.
When its grown cold.
When its hard as rock.
When its ache and hurt is gone.
When it doesnt hurt or long.
Oh its still.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
you are here
with me
in theaters,
watching old films,
looking past
the close ups
of pretty actresses,
searching for
cigarette burns.
some sort of warning,
to see the story
is close to ending,
or the reels are
just changing.
pictures wont stop flickering
and i wonder who you're
pretending to be
now.
but i'm afraid,
alone, in the dark
i don't have
the patience, to wait
for the curtains or the credits
so i'll clammer my way
down to the exits
and continue
to pester the quiet projectionist.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 12:25 AM UTC
My life is the stage.
The bright lights shimmering on the black gloss of the piano,
the intent audience beaming with anticipation,
the spine-tingling shivers you get when everything goes right.
I love the stage.
You leave it and people clammer about you,
force feeding you words of affection,
words of excitement,
words of belief.
No one ever wonders what it’s like when you leave the stage.
Do they really care?
A week after a show:
an army of fans.
Two weeks after a show:
they ask for you to do it again.
Three weeks after a show:
it’s like you never existed.
Is all you want from me a song,
a monologue,
a poem?
Did you ever stop to think that I’m more than just a voice,
a face,
a pen?
I feel like you think I’m a machine,
heartless,
soulless.
I am human too,
I am a pulse too,
and I am a soul too.
My life is the stage.
When I leave it,
I become my own shadow.
Matthew Skelly
October 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
The liquor hits heavy
As Saturday night usually does
One lone soldier on the far end of the table
Mocking me in his bright red shirt
A single bullet dripping in my hand
The deafening blare of the underground
enhances the effects of intoxication
Blinking and Breathing,
Struggling and failing to break its grip.
A noise to my right causes me to turn
And notice the face beside me staring back at mine.
A reach into a backyard fire
countless rides and cigarettes, one particular
through the worst kind of blizzard
A spring time confession
A day under a bridge, spent letting go
A winter pact, the broken glass of a rolling rock bottle
Alone, far from home, a letter and a picture
Proudly hung from my locker wall
My hand upon it every morning, hope, somehow
A lyrics rings clear from the clammer
"Nobody wants to here another story about how you couldnt write, right?"
recognition, my partner in crime
Turning back to the cup,
Exhale.
The ball released fluidly-- sinks into the cup with a sound of satisfaction
How many "tables" have we stood at together?
I made that cup.
And I'll keep on making it, just as you've done so many times for me.
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 7:37 AM UTC
I gaze into the distance,
silhouettes of cranes stand elegantly on crystal water.
Behind me, moonlit mountains crouch with their
caves and rocks.
And the spirits, charged atoms, flutter
with the wind.
Beneath me, only hope, immortal like Styx
cracked beckoning
as I cross to that other time.
I search for my dreams, one lost between
dark branches.
But in vain; battle, battle, clammer, gather,
go,
I am still….
To fall into the rupturing sky.
-milly and jonte
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
Fast approaching noise and sound
Clammer heard, perfectly risen
Watching her get up and walk
Basic tasks made in the prison
So-called home set in the city
Where everything's "on the house"
But reality must state its claim
A living hell demoned by sacrifice
Protector I shall play
No matter if I play nice
Come cross me in front of her
You will gladly roll the dice
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC
"Mercy" she responds
In a tone which i can
Only attribute to a
diluted sense of pride
"No, I asked you what your
name was"
A slight tilt of the head
And I see the creases
Unfolding from the
Muscles in her lips
The pantheon of drunkards
and moon lit fairies
Fade away in that instance
And I'm looking at the
target with my eyes shut
The instance drags itself
into eternity and simmers
"Well, you're parents had
a wicked sense of hindsight"
The words clammer off the tip
Of my tongue
But she's already gone
She was never really here
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
Sugar has grown on me,
what once sat untouched in delicate china, is now heaped
spoonful after spoonful,
into my tea
the sticky poison clamping
my tongue to the roof of
my mouth
why?
I guess I stopped feeling 'sweet enough', I felt like I'd lost my audience, who would clammer and chant my name until
nothing
silence piercing my ears with needles, where the **** were the cheers? The applause?
I am a broken bird, fallen from my perch to the dusty floor of my cage. I utter not the slightest moan,
sugar,
I crave.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
Every year I can’t comprehend another quarter
I anxiously await and loftily avoid the thought of-
Pounce on every forgetful ray to-
Release hot air in defiance of-
The sterile spray of the other side of the coin
The ashes born of Ares’ antithesis clings to my arm as if to slow me
Calm me-
Yawn me-
As if the earth longs to all together toss probability
Budgeting all the uncertainties of life
Finding stability in the isolation of population is what it seeks to do
And I am sure of it
I am one with it
And in my hatred all I view is the sky filled with static
Particles and the ever-certain participles scattering on my lawn
But it’s lonesome-
And how it is cold-
Without the midsummer clammer I find myself in scrutable control
I can’t rid my head of the pervasive interference
Is it no more than I can avoid that the-
I can’t absolve blame if the-
Equinox persuasion is the fray and rein of my of control?
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 2:03 AM UTC
The blurred visage of a transitioning landscape,
The clammer and clack of the iron horse’s speedy march,
The whirring and monstrous surprise of an urgent adjacent train,
Creaks and screeches of metals colliding constantly,
A continuous drone of the air-conditioning apparatus,
Firm seats that provide minor comfort in their unattractive red and tan leather,
A faux cheery ticket collector whose presence assures authority,
Mild artificial lights which illuminate a quiet scene,
Innumerable strangers with stories all their own,
A commute to start and end my day,
The transition, silent and dreary, yet entirely necessary
From a sleepy little town to a city without slumber,
To enjoy the restlessness of a city with an identity of its own
Or be complacent and relaxed in a town with a name unknown
Both are appreciable, but the journey truly serves to emphasize their great qualities
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
what this culture taught me here
is beauty in simplicity
in being ourselves in wearing jeans and graphic tees
barefoot partying
in loving life despite the chaos and pain surrounding us
in strength in unity and in the pulsing heat
and the clammer and fast paced hebrew life
and in the immense amount of beauty in this
land
that I can now proudly call my home.
Apr 26, 2023
Apr 26, 2023 at 6:05 PM UTC
A streetlight is my only friend tonight.
It listens to me as I write
It watches me cry
Without passing judgement.
It smells the smoke inside my lungs
And does not say a single word about it.
A cigarette is my only friend today.
It convinces me to stay calm
And gives me the best pep talk
I have ever received.
It is like a therapist, a life coach and a lover
All rolled into one
Because as caring as it is
If you're not cautious
You will get burned.
My car is my only friend this evening.
It lets me get away
When things get tricky at home.
It allows me to dodge every
Hate-infused word that is fired like a bullet
Every
"You're too fat"
And
"What is wrong with you?"
Driving on the open road
Is my escape from the clammer and the noise.
Well, I guess I have several friends after all
So why do I still feel so lonely?
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Three small words,
one huge meaning,
hide on my tongue,
always fleeting.
when i see you they clammer inside,
"Should we introduce our selves? No, lets hide"
They want to meet you,
but they're quite scared
that you won't like them,
and they'll be embarrassed
Maybe someday
They'll be brave
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Clammer clammer
Fumble stammer
Once more to the fray
Tripping skipping
My mind is slipping
Slip slip-sliding away
Out my nose
Oh, There it goes!
Running away from me
Take a rest
Catch my breath
I thought it'd never leave
Now I'm great
As a dinner plate
Of serving sized crazy
Truths and dares
And pinkyswears
Huckle-berry daisies
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 10:13 AM UTC
places ruly afflict just cause
lie sanctified unyielding defiant deliberate
charged to a million suns set forth on lights white fire impeach
aspired desperate disfigured and dignified to all most boastful delinquence desire stolen secure relentless to graw clammer and clout pulling breaches stalk iron chest to chalice and grail.
silver mercy flakes barron mould ascent on bony spines charm
spell callous minds avarice bewitched harbour unforseen,
heckle at the foot heels dying emporium
ruins tailment elemental laments servile to serpent repertoires repent
reel rush electric thru bloods furious vein
flush nerve flow once stung to phallics blackened bee hive
now sweet suckle to babes lips honey comb
tickle throne to snakes hiss kiss at queens heat
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 12:57 PM UTC
Hello beautiful,
I missed you while we slept
while you drifted off peacefully
i was in a world of clammer
thinking of all the possibilities
and totally enamored
i fell into a pit of self pity and decay
thinking of all the bad in all the different ways
And while your breathing staid so steady
mine became inflamed
and I squeezed you while i held it
choking down the pain
Things flashed upon my mind in rapid repetition
thought after thought
combustion after collision.
As I held you
while you slept
I thought of every possibility
and quietly wept.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC