"cleo" poems
How this **** fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
And put on bark's nun-black
Habit which deflects
All amorous arrows. For to sheathe the ****** shape
In a scabbard of wood baffles pursuers,
Whether goat-thighed or god-haloed. Ever since that first Daphne
Switched her incomparable back
For a bay-tree hide, respect's
Twined to her hard limbs like ivy: the puritan lip
Cries: 'Celebrate Syrinx whose demurs
Won her the frog-colored skin, pale pith and watery
Bed of a reed. Look:
Pine-needle armor protects
Pitys from Pan's assault! And though age drop
Their leafy crowns, their fame soars,
Eclipsing Eva, Cleo and Helen of Troy:
For which of those would speak
For a fashion that constricts
White bodies in a wooden girdle, root to top
Unfaced, unformed, the nipple-flowers
Shrouded to suckle darkness? Only they
Who keep cool and holy make
A sanctum to attract
Green virgins, consecrating limb and lip
To chastity's service: like prophets, like preachers,
They descant on the serene and seraphic beauty
Of virgins for virginity's sake.'
Be certain some such pact's
Been struck to keep all glory in the grip
Of ugly spinsters and barren sirs
As you etch on the inner window of your eye
This ****** on her rack:
She, ripe and unplucked, 's
Lain splayed too long in the tortuous boughs: overripe
Now, dour-faced, her fingers
Stiff as twigs, her body woodenly
Askew, she'll ache and wake
Though doomsday bud. Neglect's
Given her lips that lemon-tasting droop:
Untongued, all beauty's bright juice sours.
Tree-twist will ape this gross anatomy
Till irony's bough break.
8.6k
Akoy naglalakad sa pulang tela,
May naka palibot na bulakalak,
Sa gilid ay may kandila,
May mga upuan na kulay pula,
May mga batanng naglalakad na sa akiy nangunguna,
Isang batang lalaki ang aking nakita,
May dalang singsing ang aking hinala,
Akoy maraming kasama at silay nakaayos na,
May lalaking nakabarong na tila may hinihintay pa.
Teka ako ata'y nahuli na sa byahe nila "bakit ako nalang magisa?",
Akoy namangha silay nakatitig na,
Mga mata'y nanghihila ,
Kayat paa ko'y humakbang na.
Tila nakaramdam ako na di makahinga,
Ako'y nakaputi at may mahabang tela,
May hawak na bulaklak,
May nakatabon sa mukha.
Ayan na ako'y malapit na sa altar na aking pinipilit makuha,
Natigil ang mundo ko ng may magsalita "You may now kiss the bride" daw ang aking hinala.
Akoy nagulat pagkat ako'y may kaharap,
Papalapit ang mga labi na sa aki'y nangungusap,
Ngunit may biglang tumawag "Cleo, ika'y gumising na't mag almusal,
Buti nalang at ako'y nagising at natigil ang KASAL.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
I want to have
lunch
of all meats and veggies –
can someone cook
and put them all
on the table for me?
I want to eat fine
at a table of ebony
with silverware
in King Louis XIV style –
can somebody procure them for me?
I want to dine
in a Hall of Fame
Queen Cleo style
with singers and slaves
and manacled leopards
at my feet –
Hey, who’s there!
get them all ready for me
I want them all in a
Grand Palace like Versailles
not in some petty lowbrow
Château de Malmaison -
so can someone get it ready
by today eve, precisely 5?
I want to eat in peace
with no noise
and braying donkeys
so - Hey! can someone
shoot that rabble outside
unkempt, untidy
and always wanting free meals off me!
Aug 26, 2011
Aug 26, 2011 at 3:07 AM UTC
These pictures trouble sense: the abject walk,
A frontispiece of misery and dejection.
Just chintz and prints, my buddy Ray says.
We are supposed to be in Egypt, I guess.
But this Pharaoh, he’s, like, the king of all
The known world? I don’t think so. It’s beyond fake,
The faux Pharaoh, the ersatz Dynasty,
Put together in Las Vegas or something.
Then a picture of the Nile comes up:
Bulrushes, a felucca…could
That be Baby Moses floating down steam,
His head up, smiling at the camera,
A big toothy grin? Giving us the thumbs
Up sign? Well…
The last picture is a hollowed out log,
A ghost emerging from the stump, a fog
That is about to flow and coat the known world:
It seems to smell, foul and bog-like, like it
Would smell outside the frame, spilling off
The trompe-l’oeil, to fool the eye. And nose?
And stink up Pharaoh’s Pizza Emporium?
‘The World’s Best Pizza. This side of De-Nile.’
A groan from Ray, as he gets change for music.
And when the pie finally does show up…
After like 40 minutes of jukebox
—Wooly Bully and 96 Tears—
…my God, ambrosia, thin, crisp crust,
Just the right cheese…and real tomato paste…
Hey, no denial here. Pharaoh, my man,
This is great stuff, I say. Great pie. A pause.
Why, I could write a poem about this, I say.
You know, pyramid pies and Cleo’s calzones…
Naw, says Ray, don’t do that…
Besides, it’s late.
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
Jukebox rocks, two dozen hard working dusty men,
Bent elbows lean, Gold liquid flows
Glass rises, lit cigarettes talk.
She poses on a white piano bar,
******** clad; slow moving, bending,
grinding, shaking, gyrating.
She blows kisses
to admiring eyes
with lustful wishes.
Cleo's little girl dream
of being rescued
fades with each midnight hour.
She spins around, steel scissors held high.
Scissors reflect mirrored walls;
penetrates smoky beer air.
The scissor flashes down
cutting a hole above her heart.
Cleo offers the red satin circle,
Keepsake for the trucker who watches.
He believes, "She dances for me."
He offers up a dead President.
She cuts a hole here
cuts a hole there.
Soon she can start her own government.
It's hard to know where
first hole began or
last hole ends.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Soft spoken useless friend I am
Stupid quiet bird
Hot and hardened as
Near Summer heat
The coroner is coming
Poor dead boy, She had never loved him
She had never loved him
Poor dead boy, Her love a whim
Her love went on as a whim
Soft subtle licking lips, she is
Stupid pause and funny woes
Cleo Patra sporting shoes
Cellophane hearts bring *******
Lust of laughter to forge
Whistlebees dance around an answer
Like follicles on molding porridge
Like on sex-slave rabbits
Drinking powdered juice
And those two **** the poor boy
A second time where he can no longer
Take pretty pictures of where he had wandered
Eaten by the photographer's endeavour
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Darling let's have a scandal
Won't you do it with me?
It may be hard to handle,
But I swear no one will see.
And if you like it, let's have fun
I'll give it, I promise.
I know you ain't a rich one
But love isn't pompous.
A little bit dangerous,
A little bit adventurous,
We won't have a huge show,
Just love me right Romeo.
Carry me gently
Like I'm a candle
And let's have a scandal
Scandal
Little scandal
Seeing you
And your hands in my hair
Makes me feel this's true
And happy ending's near.
But the sun is coming
And our time is ending
So you want this forbidden fruit
Go ahead and bite it
Since this meet-cute's
Time will meet its limit.
A little bit dangerous,
A little bit adventurous,
We won't have a huge show,
Just love me right Romeo.
Carry me gently
Like I'm a candle
And let's have a scandal
Scandal
Little scandal
A little bit dangerous,
A little bit adventurous,
We won't have a huge show,
Just love me right Romeo.
Carry me gently
Like I'm a candle
And let's have a scandal
Scandal
Little scandal
You can be my Antony
And I'll be your Cleo.
Our affair's ending
But memories don't have to though-
A little controversy
A little tale that's messy
Another Reynolds Pamphlet
That'll make me a reject
Still let's kiss tonight
Tomorrow will be our fight,
And let's have a scandal
Scandal
Little scandal
A little bit dangerous,
A little bit adventurous,
We won't have a huge show,
Just love me right Romeo.
Carry me gently
Like I'm a candle
And let's have a scandal
Scandal
Little scandal
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
I lost my little girl today.
I held her in my arms and felt
her slipping away.
As the end came sneaking in
I gave her up to medicine.
And, in my selfish way,
I prayed for even one more day.
Hurry, fill the forms in and
hurry up to wait.
Knowing in the heart of me
that already I'm too late.
Then they come and take her
from my loving arms.
To poke, to **** and draw blood.
And again I wait as
they try to resuscitate.
My prayer was not heard today.
My little girl died
when her heart gave way.
Just a dog, so many say.
Yet in my eyes
my child died today.
Now there's an empty
space inside that no
thing can fill. . .
except the warm memories
of my loving little girl.
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
Eyes like Medusa
Heart like Cassius
Strength like Hercules
Power like Zeus
Soul like Cleo
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
We've all heard the story about Bonnie and Clyde
How they met, eloped and died.
And we're tired of hearing
About Henry and Ann,
And their shameless lives
Back in Tudor England.
When their marriage broke,
Ann lost her head,
With one stroke.
I won't bother you with the story
Of Napoleon and Josephine,
And that messy business
With the guilotine.
You know Caesar and Cleo
Put on quite a show,
They had a long distance relationship
From Rome to Egypt.
But it ended badly.
She by a snake bite,
Him by Marc Antony.
These famous couples didn't tarry;
They were harried
Before they married;
They met and wed,
But were too soon dead.
Now Byron and Colleen
Met when teens,
Byron was sixteen,
Colleen just fifteen.
They lived together,
To begin,
He loved her,
She loved him.
This wasn't living
As they say, “In sin.”
No rings lingered
On wedding fingers:
No bands of gold
To wear 'til old.
No license, no Registrar,
No vows were spoken,
But their silent vows
Were never broken.
They didn't need
A wedding token.
The cost was never the issue here,
Although Byron always claims he's poor.
And thus they carried on.
Boy, did they carry on.
In a romantic spree.
First came Jordan,
Then Jamie.
And thus they passed
Their years together,
In seeming status quo;
A happy well-matched couple,
For all intents, and show.
They lived well,
Ate well too,
Dressed and drove,
Worked and strove
For friends and family.
And all along,
The two of them
Have been our pleasure
To know.
After all, they're behind
Their doors,
That's all we we need to know.
And thus, they carried on.
Boy, they carried on.
Years down the road
They honey-mooned,
And after this, they married;
Like Benjamin Button
All seems reversed.
Should they continue
This backward style,
Then in awhile,
Following this reception,
They'll probably meet
At their conception.
Should they continue
In this fashion,
Their marriage should end
With their parents' ******
This is
The Ballad of Byron nd Colleen,
and if truth be told,
You're still just teens.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
I wasn't there when you died.
Though its clear now that it was your time
You were 14 and had dementia, half deaf, and half blind.
Not to mention the arthritis.
Still doesn't hurt any less
I still feel your soft black and white fur
The feeling when you blessed us with a kiss
Your chocolate brown eyes
When you were a puppy
I remember you losing your teeth
Except you didn't have a tooth fairy
I remember you climbing onto the widow seat
I still have that picture.
No idea how you even got up there.
One week before Fudge died,
It was a normal friday for me
I went to work, had a great day.
I came home and wondered where you were.
My mom had put you down and taken Fudge to the vet hospital
December 9th, 2016
I didn't realize that morning was the last time I would see you.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
It's been a decade since i’ve seen my beloved… the last time was bittersweet. You left me blue like clouds ******* the hue out of the sky, and releasing warm rain that purifies the unclean. I smelled the rain. I bathed in the burning cleanse that gave me life. My life.. like a blanket of recycled cloths, patched together with fraying threads.
I was Cleo, and you were Osiris… I broke the bulb and bursted the light, and awoke in your darkness. Your darkness that I could taste like **** sweet,somber lollipops from the waiting room of your fortress.
I can still feel the crevices of your patterned finger tips grazing the edges of my blue aura… I vibrated in your presence and just like that, we were one, together at last without life to tell us how to live… We didn’t need to live. When our lips fell dry of all conflict, you used to say to me… “There is no hell… but the afterlife is blue”
Sometimes now i float through time as if it’s a shopping outlet invaded by stores I have no interest in, striding down the pavement with no intention of absorbing my surroundings… no intention of acknowledging this measurement that tells me the answer of “when”.
You were just a color to me… Once I was a yellow daisy and you were a green machine that kicked and screamed… But once we danced together… we turned blue.
I am not blue because I am depressed, foreboding, or desperate… I’m blue because all I embody is myself, as this colorful existence. You were you, too.. and you were so blue. Your palace was nothing but a blue dream in a blue burst of my thoughts… and your memory was nothing but the smell of blue… then some day suddenly, I smelled nothing at all.
© 2016 D.M.V
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
devoted cleo
ensared when her roman falls
death by asp hurts less
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
I am the original renegade,
was crazy before I was born.
I never play the status quo game,
it was I who invented
the tune of a different drummer,
even the Marlboro Man
took cues from me.
There's no reason for me
to write with any encryption,
'cause I have no superstitions,
I just wanna tell it,
give to you straight,
harden your resolve.
Some might call that ego,
but whenever I've fallen,
I've gotten back up.
Once I ran with the bulls
& they have bigger ***** than me,
I won the race.
Like you 'lil darling,
I'm the dangerous type,
you can ask Cleo,
she sings the words.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
The Good Fairy was wondering by
She saw lonely Alex who was a good guy
She thought she knew a perfect match
Cleo was lonely and in a rough patch
So in her head,a plan started to hatch
Cleo's very old ad, put by the fairy
In front of Alex like a tasty cherry
She knew they'd click and so they did
They found harmony that they never did
They would always talk & always share
At one another's words they would always stare
Million miles stood in between
But their thoughts as close as it had never been
They wanted a song that suited them perfectly
They found the one, Truly Madly Deeply
He was her King and she was his Queen
A kingdom they built and together they reign
But all of a sudden things changed
Their world turned upside down unexplained
An evil laugh was heard by the fairy
She turned around & saw in wary
Wicked witch was in high mood
For she had managed to undo the good
She cast a curse on the King & Queen
And in their Kingdom planted a devilish seed
That grew into thorns of negative creed
And the spell blinded them from seeing the truth
They wouldn't talk, they wouldn't share
Each alone was living in despair
Fairy thought of what to do
To help bring back together the two
She sprinkled fairy dust everywhere
The curse was lifted up in the air
The thorns vanished into eau-claire
The King & Queen felt a high
Said we were jinxed by an evil eye
Their world was back in order
And they felt that together, they were stronger
Little did they know it was all because
A fairy was always working for a good cause
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
My dream was to ship my relation to the mark on the map.
Unimaginable when my treasure; Cleo, marked our love as Anthony.
A relationship of lush, love and power.
Heavy drinkers just for fun, we called ourselves "livers".
Your liver collapsed by the poison caused by our lavish lifestyle.
Our power together was unbeatable but failed miserable when you made my heart stop beating.
But our love was forever so you decided to meet me in the life hereon after.
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 5:56 AM UTC
]This jive
You call
Jazz and my
Mama use to say,
It sounds
Like pots
And pans banging together
Just ripping and
Running down
These narrow streets
Boy, you better
Learn how to read
Dat music and tell
People somethin’ ‘bout us colored folks
Cleo, dat Banjo and dem bongo drums
Come straight out of mother Africa
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
When the night silently whooshes
Over the sky,
It becomes that time of day,
The time to recline
And watch Dwayne Chapman and friends
Apprehend the wanted and charged
In the Hawaiian splotches of land.
Every cut to commercial
Happens at the ****** of each episode,
Starving the soul for what might happen...
When really the cut-scene continues
With less action than Beth, Dwayne,
Leland, Sonny, Cleo,
And Baby Lyssa may stir before a break.
Cars, cameras, and people
Move in hot-pursuit.
And thus the setting of the TV series
Isn't the only dimension
Captured.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
The stars shone bright
I searched for Leo
It didn't rain last night
So easily located my cleo
The sparkles up so high
I am down here watching
My throats running dry
Some drinks I am fetching
Smiling with a roaring pride
I kept my eyes upon the sign
A shooting star took a ride
Seemed right in my glass of wine
The beautiful beast rests in the sky
I am getting up to say goodnight
Before I become a twinkle in its eye
I need to switch off this light
But my life isn't near to expire
As I have plans to settle
No time to give up and retire
Until I combat each of my battle...
©sim
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
It’s time. I’ve stared in your eyes
And I’ve seen the hurt, the pain
The sorrow. Can I borrow your spare
Time? This is real, girl, no game.
The windows to your soul show how
Silly young boys think girls are toys
I’ve seen the hurt, the pain the
Sorrow. Now I want to see the joy
That smile from inside, that I
Love you when u stride, body slang
You sweet ebony thang. But your eyes
Are diamonds exposed pieces of your brain
Poetic lies and prophetic ties got me
Calling Miss Cleo to see if you in my cards
But only the Good Lord sees what’s in
Store for beautiful Allison and Sherard
How shall we start? First let me kiss
Your soul. Take away the pain I’ve caused
I once was that silly, young boy thought
You was a toy. But yo, we all got flaws.
Let’s move to a higher level of life
Beyond the meager strifes of job stress
And thoughtless actions. A level of
Satisfaction no more questions am I askin
Besides, your eyes say yes.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Look of pure deception never able to appease
Cleo Patra drop a man down to his knees
Hand on hand let the feelings rush
A secret desire an temptation keep it on the hush
A vicious cycle no more like history
You to me to you to me
Write it in the books to commemorate your wasted time and effort look at the mess you made
Now watch as you relapse till the memories fade
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Ive been meaning to write,
Ive been meaning to write.
But then again there's always someone ive been meaning to write. Theres always someone its about. I open my gmail but most days I dont know where to begin. The card I left you in august just before the leaves turn is still word.
Ive been meaning to write you,
to tell you life after you has been like a bull and some times it is calm, other days it is dragging me in the mud.
When I open my laptop to write, it feels like maybe im running back into a burning house.
You know me darling ive never been good at knowing when to let go.
you know me darling im an open book with a padlock.
What would you think of me. Would you still think me great if I told you that sometimes I held my tongue, that sometimes I held sharp objects alittle too close for comfort.
"It was a long time ago im not that person any more"
"Ok its just I know cleo used to... so if you need..."
"No I could never be that person again"
But sometimes life is a bull that drags you in the mud.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
(a piece from high school (I’ve been reorganizing))
I am simply at my worst these days.
Wild and unpredictable emotions rush on me - it's a place where the layer of control and composure are very thin.
This school year has been an endless working, always desperate, collection of days.
Each passing week seemed to unmask some flaw in me.. Like peeling a rotten onion.
Emotionally, spiritually, I’m drubbed—I droop like a hanged man.
It's not the work—I survive (piano) competitions and academic battles as if by some brand of magic..
No, it's more.
I have lost my goal. Like biblical engineers raising the tower of Babel on the plain of Sennaar, I am struck by a lack of focus. My direction, my original plans, seem shallow—I stand purposefully gelded.
It's worse because I'm somehow so much less who I want to be.
Like an asymptotic curve I constantly miss my ideal. I am hunted, internally, by my own inner voice, that ruthless, pittyless, seeker of perfection.. it lurks like the prowling wolf, stalk bent walk.. sifting my every thought, my every action for flaws.. until like the wing weary hunted pray I could almost welcome the killers warmth for sweet silence
In a mood somewhere between cowardly and courageous I finally approached my mom..
In a speech from the scaffold, I told her of my black, tight, treacherous spiral.. of my doubts about everything.
I expected the worst.. a disappointment, in less than cryptic, ciphered messages, a slow sharpening of her claws on me for endless shortcomings..
Instead, I got miracles..
as if rigid constellations had shifted.. an atmosphere of freedom earned.. and at least for that moment, the mom who used to sing me awake in the mornings as a girl.. and a delicious summer of rest.
.
.
A song for this:
Everyday Is A Winding Road by Sheryl Crow
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_02.mp3
Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 2:11 PM UTC
Call me Miss Cleo
I’ll read your cards
Over the phone
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC