"confabulate" poems
to hold a photograph in my hand
and believe what is presented,
take is at it already is – why not?
if I close my mind’s shuttering eye,
will you be as candid as before?
unrestricted, unsorted from the hullaballoo,
you, freer than what is imagined, closing
in like a bullet from yesterday shot out
of the sky’s contrived clearing –
to hold a photograph in my hand
and tug closer by the mouth of the fringe
as if to pour water on a broken glass,
slithering now, a shadow of moon
at the very dull end of my cup;
you are closer than any rehearsed moment
ready to catch the inner canthus of the eye:
this relentless picture-passing, tense and
fervent, avid like bankiva to air,
water to chrysanthemum: behind thick shrub
of crepuscular, an arboreal locomotion
shatters loose, your frantic figure.
to hold a photograph in my hand
and size it down to the dimensions
of this home – there is potential in this
comparison: flaring out like smoke from
where it infinitely burns, I seek an ache
and hence place a finger to shush,
to hold this photograph in my hand
and confabulate a soft blow to the gut
and feel it realer than any dagger or berretta
held at one’s life-edge: this delusory intimation,
a slipshod work of feeling. to feel it rejoin
me somewhere I ought to be back again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
come, come with me
on this backward path
of shattered mirrors
and sidewalk cracks
walk, walk with me
and listen to the sounds
of the wondering birds
and things the wind found
dance, dance with me
at a bashment of bashful bows
wild twists, sylph-like twirls,
and elegant falls
lay, lay with me
in a passage of dreamt things.
i will place my heart
in your palm and try, try to breathe
breathe, breathe with me
can you not let me go?
melt away the malarkey with silence and
cure the angry thoughts with “i don’t know”
speak, speak with me
confabulate, but don’t ask what i feel
for i’d be reticent, or worse,
pre-occupied from thoughts by what’s real
meet, meet with me
can you find me halfway
in a field of resplendence
at the end of the day?
run, run with me
get you wild (like untamed flowers)
make you leave
(he’s a forest fire)
fall, fall with me
Wonderland doesn’t hurt if there’s two
when the Queen of Hearts sees ours
she won’t even conceptualize what to do
sink, sink with me
when i’m drifting, drowning, and there’s nothing left
but promise me you’d swim to shore
if it was between loss and loss of breath
leave, leave with me
and shall the world pull you away
in my heart, I’ll keep the pieces
of the promise that you would stay
scream, scream with me
tell the air and the dirt and the weeds
what is dry, what is broken, what is hurt
what you need
hold on, hold on with me
to memories and tales of the trees
of climbing limbs
and freedom in little things
stay, stay with me
in this bleeding, beating, of hearts
don’t get too close, but
don’t go too far
trust, trust with me
though it's complicated
and whims take the garden signs
and try to repaint them
pray, pray with me
see, the petals scattered to the breeze,
are not a concise coincidence
but the story of an averred belief
grow, grow with me
i hope that love will show us how
it starts as a seed, then a bud
then a vow
dream, dream with me
of crepuscular magic and roses in June
droplets are constellations
and irises the moon
feel, feel with me
in your embrace i seek shelter
hands like daisies in my hair
feet intertwined, we're ivy, but better
wonder, here with me
we don’t know what we’ll find
but if you keep me safe, dear one,
i’ll keep you wild.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Altered by the winds laced with a threnody tune,
life in the northern woods will never be the same without its bloom.
The deceased puppet master continues to pull the strings of the dehiscence heart,
one of this game is forced to take part.
The ears of an indecisive mind take in the plaintive sound,
which provides an ongoing reminder of how these feet are forever bound to this ground.
With the chances of escaping this monochromatic box slims,
one might begin to take a swim.
The ideal way of living becomes a compromise,
the old personality leaves only the eyes.
Shed away in a abscission fashion,
and along with that goes all the passion.
Sitting down to confabulate with a higher knowledge,
carry on the dreams of going to college.
Storybook barriers leave no saltant mood.
Being passed by society is quite rude.
A misnomer indeed,
being labeled wrong because of greed.
Hunger of such has taken a life,
of one upon a lake that was never a wife.
Letters that hold such wicked silence,
that can never be undone even with science.
This blue body surrounded by an invisible malediction,
or maybe that is all just fiction.
He has nothing left from his unmanly lies,
upon keeping secrets he thinks he is wise.
Knowing it all is never enough,
but with an abecedarian brain on might just call it a bluff.
Eventually farewells must be given without hate,
and one might hope to return as if all was in a somniferous state.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Oatmealed and omeletted, start to a dull grey Seattle day
Mutual “Good morning” yawns wait the elevator gruzz
Cheery maid vacumates my room in a swirl of efficiency
Brundling my notes and my PC together I walk to work
Strumphing along beside the fumes of the grundling traffic
Email mountains confabulate the uncoffeed hordes
Typed kerattle the calm before the budget storm
Subterranean stocks desphorror of legal gamblers
Bonehead logic meets dumbling marketing aspirations
Now silent nerbling excuses of cur-whipped executives
Micawber’s message crystal in strangression of promises
Fundamental economics the only possible bankerage
Blood will flow in abattoir of management incastrophies
Doe-like and frembling in the light of impending execration
The stapression painfully personal as reality bites as last
Beer time comfrunks gather early in a huddle of hope
Sheep-like they absorb the tendralations of others’ fears
Remonstressing their misfortune in a depression of dinner
Relaxed at last in a hopefindation of beer goggle logic
Sleepfully staring at the mortgage arreared ceiling
My thankful escape to the Murakamied Sputnik symphony
Harmony in the silence of solitaricious nightcap with Hilton Mark
Wishing I was home now with my cuddlicious girl again
Grateful for loving and living in this aventacular world
I quietly srift off to sleep in a snozzle of sweet dreams
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
I confabulate with thee,
Your words cut me so deep,
Leaving scars beneath the holes piercing in my heart,
Your voice so unreachable,
I try to connect with you,
But the feelings of complete and utter love, far gone.
Uncontrollable urges dwelling inside me,
My mouth so dry, out of words,
Trying to communicate in terms of getting thee,
Tranquility far from being found,
Loneliness scares me,
Your presence though, takes my breath away and calms me down,
My weak heart,
Wilts without you,
Defoliating internally and breaking me,
My nervous system,
Secreting enzymes from the pituitary gland,
Enzymes of hopelessness and heart break,
It feels like an ocean without water,
Incomplete and dry,
Waiting to fulfill that thirst of love,
A day without you,
Feels like an era passed,
Changing my surrounding and you on the way,
Devastated I am,
Deprived of that charismatic love we once shared,
Now bond-less, like oxygen being separated from hydrogen,
With ever drop of blood that falls,
Draining all my veins and arteries,
I can swear, I will always love you till the day my heart stops beating.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
You'd find me
By the riverside
Moving along with the moon
Staring at those
Celestial bodies
Which seem to
Deport me to
An unknown place
Where I belong
Where I should be
The Orion looking down upon me
While I travel
Back in time
And confabulate
With pagan
Question the existence of
Humans
And denounce the
World as a farce
Create a different place
With only those
Animals sacred to Apollo
Those swans and ravens
And Cicadas
And remain.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
would it be selfish of me
to ask for more
than sneaky glances here and there?
mouths desperate
to form sentences
to confabulate with you
but i rebel against my own body,
incorrigible mutters
bolting its way out of my lips.
would it be selfish of me
to ask for more
than an hour to spend with you?
eyebrows knitting together
in confusion
as you laugh
about matters of the heart,
looking through me
with perceptive eyes
and i try not to look away.
but fate
has a terrible affinity
for separating the two of us,
so i wish
we werent back to square one
but that would be wistful thinking.
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
The day we roared with infinite jest the
larder packed tight with provisions burst.
So much canned meats, tinned, pemmican
hardtack we had stored knowing our
journey north would be sufficiently trying
that sustenance would prove difficult.
The slog. The slacking day when you rolled
off the sled, creviced. Your voice booming blue
crystalline as we see, no escape. Trapped and
the cans I hurl into the hole.
Hours I read to you lipped, curled into a
snail, a shell, a crocus of yellow
a dread of
finishing the story and saying to you there is
no
more. So you cannot tell, when the pages have ended
I make up confabulate truth and fiction
embellish.
Pretend the story line marches
forward decades and we are in the Amazon;
You’ve discovered
that the water
that seemed
guileless is crocodile filled.
They bite hard and
you can imagine.
All primary colors on the
floes, all glacial movement, slow to melt, fast to burn through
the colors of our arctic rainbow.
I had primed the lamp the last night, before that dawn, before
the ride in which you fell.
The wick trimmed and each
consequential action of the day I placed
hanks of hair
neatly side by side into banks of snow.
Under my cracked tongue is
a bump that rolls
mole like cyst.
Partner of my travels to this cold realm, your self shelved.
Below: Did you hear me whisper? Asking why today
have I become.
The whispered promise of holding
upright against the dark. I thought.
It would be magnificent.
Not even fanfare. Or aurora borealis. Or flight.
Yes dreams of flying.
Yes dreams of ahah so it is after all.
I thought I would recognize the moment of unleashing.
What makes the special now?
If I whisper Abandon I might hear you echo in the ice. I might see your
boot, attached to. A glove alone, unpaired.
The story they lived, the story they tell is one of each husky,
one by one, no longer. Starvation and then there are none.
But we are in the Amazon, and it is a scorching hot day and there is
much to be explored until you fall into the river and get bit.
I take it all back.
You laugh because I add flying monkeys which is
us pretending that we’ve explored
this terrain which looks like a bed
in a room and a chart.
They cannot
stop your bleed, and so we begin again.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
I, drenched in pain and agony-
Journey in lonesome nights beyond vague,
Devastated and traumatized rage-
Awaken the sane and certain side of me,
Abolished and scarred once by thee,
A long time, though lucid and full of vain,
I was once covered of forced shame,
Slightly obscure and clueless about 'we',
I restricted my thoughts to excite,
To flourish or confabulate my brain,
Gloom, an ongoing swirl of senseless might,
Growing an onset of invading gain,
Shaken abhor but literal abyss glow bright,
An inviting yet ambiguous lane.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
The aching pain in my ligaments,
The harsh deprivation my heart fears,
Uplifted by this bizarre weight I vent-
What is it that your heart says, my dear ?
Through your conscience you confabulate me,
Fuming love, celeste touch, lingered plea,
Withered and scraped from the deep blue sea,
Waves flow in haste rapidly and free,
Sanity strikes me hard digging in,
Silent echoes trail and haunt me freely,
Pulchritude disguise shows all my sin,
Clarity beyond replete seen mildly,
Recalcitrant yet powerful eases dive-
Plunging downward and gliding to thrive.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
You love to be sesquipidilian,
As you lay your tiles on to my board,
With your totally sheer sciolism,
Is how all of your big points are scored
Your intricate skills of tmesis,
Laid horizontal and vertically on my squares,
As you use your well thought out accoutrements,
To cover me so I'm no longer bare.
You never confabulate with opponents
Your attention's always fixated on me,
That's why I'm ebullient and awaiting your prestidigitation,
Each and every time you decide to play me.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
twas stupid
Buck whom
stump this
cline and
ways are
clear then
to hear
horror stories
confabulate his
sign into
a marking
he'll soon
come to
like in
this mire
that love
will aspire
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
A gift wrapped prose
of undraped words
to confabulate or obfuscate
An incantation in every metre
It conjures a spell
on those that dwell
by their torpid state
in somnolent walls of each stanza
Never counts its lines
nor vocalize what rhymes, openly
'cause you won't ever tell
that you're in hell with the Devil's poetry.
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
Things have started to bug me
Conversations that were once vague
Now becoming understandable
Painful days are yet to come my way
For once again my depression will take over my emotions
My already poignant heart burdened
Why can't i remain exultant as i was before these hurtful days?
I confabulate with my brain
Trying to assemble the broken pieces
And containing my spilt tears
As these tears will forever shed
It is, but my lack of self esteem
My feeling of being sequestered that i fear
I can't lose more of my faith nor my sanity
Or I'll wither away with those who have already departed
Because frankly, from within I'm no more.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
Cantering to my prize with no time to devise I cater queerly to confabulate.
Courageous as concerning consonantly discerning the real cognitive carnation contrived by a nation- to cognitive dissociation freedom at the hands of
the behavioral disorder of cans.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
My poetic insights
Confabulate with my brain
Spilling words in a rhythm
A flow I write about my love,
My poetic conscience
Assimilates with my hand
Moving my pen hastily
In description I write about your touch,
My poetic gestures
Seen in my writing
My heart races as I write each word
With love and feeling I express and pour in my thirst for you.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
Through those elected
deceptive meets collective
tearing down monuments erected
to deny dominance projected
but the counterculture
hounds and vultures
shroud the souls hurt
with shouts of sulfur.
The goblin fray
waddling parade
ballista barricade
sends us on the path of the dodo
dipping cheese in the snow cone
as we freeze for our photo
of an apocalypse in slow-mo.
We break by blade
so we brake by day
they break like they're paid
to brake in the way
which adds thirty minutes to my drive
because two cars collide
on the median's other side.
Battling babble
rattling rattles
adding addles
to paddling paddles
fighting against the current
of the unobservant
dumb obscurants.
They only want to confabulate
to **********
the master state
and master race
obfuscating the rhetoric
using anger to redden it
once you get ahead of it
they ask you to take a sedative.
I'd like to live in a grassy township
instead of this trash heap brown ****
but I'm massively bounded
to the ones who found it
from the other side of the bath
they brought their wrath
to set our path.
The blasted puppeteers
laughed for ******* years
now collapse in sudden tears
projecting their own worst fears
on their imperiled peers
who are scared to steer
near the flying spears.
They want to annex the city
of the loving and living
for their own selfish bidding
using obstruction for corruption
like injunctions against inductions
for interruption dysfunction
at our most pivotal junction.
Assaulting offense
halting progress
absolving nonsense
as purely God sent
is fought with reason and logic
so we bring them their audit
but they use thick ink to blot it.
We found the virus
but we can't cure it
until we've silenced
the obscurants.
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 6:49 AM UTC