"conspicuously" poems
.
I’m just a lonely traveler
on this earth
Sometimes it feels as if I'm
waiting for the sky to fall
with each passing breathe
of wind
Standing alone,
a windswept tree
leans downwind;
conspicuously wrought,
naked and bowed
by the grinding
silent forces
at nature's whim
Rootless tumbleweeds
roll by randomly:
broken off,
spinning clockwise,
never looking back,
timeworn and tired
of resisting the prevailing
high desert wind
and its unheld temper
Rattling the tinder
dry sagebrush
like songless wind-chimes;
voiceless fugitives
wreathing a bellowing silence
Jesse Stillwater
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
Proud little peacock
Plumage up for display
No need for repeated mocks
No need for you to say
I can clearly see
For we may be quiet but we have eyes
Strutting conspicuously
Showing off your prize
We already know you have it
We all do
On the sidelines we sit
Seeing you through
Tell me little bird
What do you get
When you say your words
Were your objectives met?
Everytime I hear them
Just makes me gag
I'd roll my eyes
Just hearing you brag
People'll give you
When accolades are deserving
But I suppose they're never enough
'Cause I still see you parading
Well I know I may be unpredictable
A tad bit capricious
To be honest, you...
You're simply being ostentatious
...and it's annoying the hell out of me...
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
They were hanging conspicuously held by the warmth of the sun,
refracted glimmer by each crystal, they shared their blissful fun.
As I walked underneath, they poured upon me the shadows of crystal slate
Lesser did I know, the scintillating chandelier reflected my own fate.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
There she stood
with wobbly knees,
arms limp as a dying flower,
shoulders set to kiss the earth,
hiding within her heart
this nerve-racking,
conspicuously slanderous self-awareness
of being unloved.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Stepping into the pristine, gentle atmosphere; truth hanging from the intricate crystal chandelier full of endless glow and luster - mischievously placed structure conspicuously elevating wonder
Full of flashing, coruscating shimmer enthusiastically engaging the convivial space; evoking a spontaneous internal unfolding mirroring the perpetual suffering connected to the chosen impeding of spirit’s copious interweaving.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
dinner Greenport-side, watching the shuffling ferries do
their sworn duty, a back ‘n forth wearisome toll,
while we sip a rose and a PBR, respectively and with respect
no enthusiasm afterward for anything but an early off to bed,
and slip into pj’s asap
me in my knackered wholly Hanes fundie knickers,
no thinking required
but she
retires, re-attires in a summery combo,
a gray sweat t-shirt and green and white
plaid pj pants
which she is unawares are my favorites
cause they lop off fifty years,
a teenage woman re-incarnate recreated
cause her figure now womanly full,
better than then
morning awake l, a disturbance of the peace,
recall a snuggling a wake up hug,
and her bottoms conspicuously
gone missing
over break fast I inquire
over yogurt and berries and a
smoked mozzarella omelette,
what happened to those plaid bottoms?
assuming I was innocent of any transgressions
as best I could recall
with a sheepish childlike grin,
that made look like she was twenty again,
to match the now yoga toned body,
she confesses:
forgot to tie the bowstrings
and they slipped down to my ankles
blessed and cursed I thought!
too much of a gentleman to take advantage,
AND my situational awareness was slipping badly,
but when a poem comes across,
ready and pre-writ,
I’m still young enough to grab aholt of it
and never let go
6/23/18
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Steam spilling, white froths licking
Marble mantle pieces, stone white
Opaque ghosts swirling conspicuously,
Silently naught with disturbance and gloat
Humble in nature, the steam spills
From the open pours,
Streaming running water
spring, a delightful swing
slight melodies of sulfuric and mountain
flirting lavishly , emitting heat
an early morning bathe,
bright sunshine invades
sleeping shadows tinted cold
a chilling sensation humming
with that of the pool’s lip
--fluttering autumn leaves—
--cascading crystal flakes—
--rustling green trees—
--tickling cool rain—
The surface of the spring’s pool remains
It stirs with the slightest breath
Occupying stark bodies
Gleaming baby red
Washing away, cleansing a new day
As sunlight sparkles on the
Mirror surface
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
Where the peacock paints the green into the gardens with her crown jewels of blue,
She stayed there longer to watch the plumage of hues.
A canvas full of colours that are very loud,
Is this is what makes you so proud?
Funny how you cannot see your own beauty in the colours that are true,
Instead you see them in ultraviolet, not your royal blue!
She can clearly see, she had eyes,
Strutting conspicuously, it walked away showing off it’s prize.
It thrived where others merely survived, and never ceased to leave them mystified.
She felt like a splash of brown and grey in a room full of vibrant peacocks,
Never realised how time flies with the ticking of the clocks.
For even though she couldn’t fly, at least she knew she had tried.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC
day 1: today i found out about the machines. sometimes i can feel your hand in mine. you used to grab it and pull, like you couldn't go as fast as you wanted to without taking me with you. war is never pretty, but you sure are. were. you were pretty. i still remember the last time i saw you.
day 2: do you remember when our names were joined together? people used to spit them out in one go, 'cause there wasn't a day either of us went somewhere without the other. they don't do that anymore. wish you were here.
day 3: i had a dream about you last night. i still can't feel my left arm. i miss you.
day 4: they're working on building machines that look and act like people. maybe i was a test drive. i still miss you.
day 5: i remembered something today (this is rare for me. if you were here i'd tell you why). you used to curve around your sketchpad, like it was a part of you. one night (june. i don't remember the year) i traced your spine and you shivered. i think about that a lot. i'm not sure why.
day 6: i miss you.
day 7: i love you.
day 8: remember our old bean plant we had growing in the windowsill? you used to fuss over it so much. (i used to fuss over you so much, too, but to be fair you're slightly more important than a bean plant. slightly.) you wasted a summer's worth of water on that **** thing, and never regretted it once.
day 9: we used to fold into each other during brooklyn winters, when the heat cut out and we had nothing but each other. now i just have nothing.
day 10: i can't get drunk now, either.
day 11: i saw my gravestone today. yours is right next to it, did you know that? they're both empty. they never found our bodies.
day 12: monochromia. that's what you had. i wonder if it went away after. you never saw colors and i saw too many.
day 13: i dreamt about you last night again. i've been remembering more. it's slow, but steady. fragments of memories every day. maybe one day i'll remember it all.
day 14: again. i think my subconscious is trying to punish me. i wish i could just forget again. maybe it would make everything easier.
day 15: again.
day 16: i haven't left my bed in twenty-one hours. this is the only way i can see you.
day 17: i wonder if you'd have married her if you hadn't died. a part of me (i'm sorry. all of me. every single ******* atom in my body) hopes you wouldn't have. it also knows that you would have. i miss you.
day 18: it's your birthday.
day 19: anachronism: a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned.
day 20: hello again. i missed you.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
The beauty of youth will forever belong at your side, and therefore it will stay
Even after the hairs upon each of our heads begin to glow like a white halo ray
After it has turned from the fairest of golds to whispy alabaster whites and greys
Never shall youthful beauty whisper farewell to us on any occuring days
Even after long are gone the glorious days in the past and time we have spent
Now filled with the sad longing, with hurting glances, in which is called resentement;
These are from the multitude of wrinkles; of which to gain we never meant
But still; the beauty of youth weeds out those feelings, helping us to repent
The thinning upon our heads? Remind us of the days we were conspicuously snooty
Because those were the fruitful times in which we were often called a "natural beauty"
Noses in the air because we thought being beautiful was our righteous duty
Only now the surface of our faces have been wrinkled and bleached like an old dried abalone
The bounties of our short timed youth, have long been washed away with the waves of time
But that allows us to remember; and rejoice at every steep mountainous climb
Through smiles and laughs; and the misshaps in which we were thoroughly covered in grime
The beauty of youth resonates through every memory even when it tries to be sublime
The richest of light is not from youthful beauty; but forever it will always be lit and cast
The light from the joyful sound of chirping birds; and the tirelessness of laughs,
Of the mindless days we spend vainly dreaming, stepping off our "to be discovered" paths
With the hopes of regaining our once beauty filled and profitable youthful pasts
(Those are the very brightest, of every youthful light)
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Out of fashion, out-dated
there's no help for it, so let me be
unattractive, rejected
because I show myself so conspicuously
and attract attention needlessly
That's how I'm seen. I am seen
and the whispering amuses me
although nobody talks to me
And you let me wait again
until the reception calls
that you are there
So I just sit here
looking out the window
I am used to it, there is nothing to see
at the back of the hotel
and it is getting dark
You always were impatient
My make-up took too long for you
and you sat angry in the car
but if I behaved exactly
the way you had conceived
you could really be sweet
Dec 8, 2022
Dec 8, 2022 at 3:38 AM UTC
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.
11/2/16 11:59 p
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Minuscule cockroaches creak
Conspicuously around the crude crumbs
On the dusty kitchen counter,
And tadpoles squirm in the cremated creek.
The porridge poured itself
For the poor stray kitten,
Who was too spritely
For eureka's euthanization,
Triumphant in trespassing
The proximity of the porch.
Meanwhile, the revolving rover
Imitated the raunchy rocket ships,
Launching like fervent fertility
Interceding September's secret,
Sacred admirers of ethereal pyres.
The sepulchre's soma
Spread from the peach's center
Like the terrific thighs of a virile *****
Jurassic travels ,
Machines running on ancient carcass,
Annulling the terra firma
Of its aloe vera-like virginity,
And courtesans adorned with jewels,
Pretending to be Aphrodite?
Just as Jupiter does,
Joy wears covetous rings..
Originally written 8/12/11
Revised 10/19/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
As I sat upon the dock’s edge, idly skimming the questionably clean water with my toes, I closed my eyes and opened my ears to eavesdrop on the birds chattering across the fen.
Were they conspicuously cawing the sought after secrets of the universe in a foreign tongue, swapping stories of the skyway, boasting of their knowledge as they choked down half-drowned worms, brooding over the offensive punch line we call truth?
Or were they casually chirping how healthy the sun is for their plumage, teasing the hen for her aerial shortcomings, sharing seeds of sesame, and politely asking the woodpecker to stop his work, if only for a moment?
In my stasis of thought, a leech writhed to the water’s surface with intention, and rudely hooked onto my big toe without even asking first.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
I know this girl.
It started off good. We were friends. I'd smile at her, and she'd smile back. It was simple. She would fascinate me. We'd touch fingertips, both having wide eyes and expressions of innocent amazement.
As I got older, I began to ignore her. I didn't seem to have time to see how she looked or what was going on. My life was busy, and I stopped caring.
But as I grew up, suddenly she was all that mattered. I'd seek her every chance I had. Before I went anywhere and after any adventure, I would always think of her, conspicuously glancing at the people around me to see if they had as well.
Time roughened and then came the crying. I couldn't bring myself to consider her. I'd turn her away. I couldn't bear to see her. When I was fine though, she was still all that mattered.
Sometime that year I began to insult her, calling her fat, and stupid, and many more maiming words. Most days the roles would slide between us. She would judge me as well, shaming my body and appearance, making sure I never felt comfortable in public. We hurt each other. We hurt ourselves.
I've always thought it would be simpler if she wasn't around. We have too much in common. I know how to perfectly shatter her. She points out all my flaws.
Sometime in my life though, I'm going to have to stop.
She shouldn't tell me that the outfits aren't acceptable. I shouldn't tell her that she won't ever be worth anything. We need to stop talking. We need to stop listening.
We need to be friends again.
Its hard having such a battle with your reflection. Mine is everywhere, haunting me. Sometimes she's beautiful. Sometimes I'd even say she's worth it. Sometimes I love her. Usually I don't. Usually all I see when I look at her is how much I've let myself down. Usually we aren't friends. Usually I don't even know this girl. Usually I hate her.
It's not good.
But I know this girl, and I know her strength. I know she how can overcome. I know someday it will all be good.
I know this girl.
And we can do it.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
A cursed affliction of the heart
A human condition that drives us hither
And thither chasing a ghostly calling
On a restless search for mirages
We are all actors
Playing our role
Said a great sonnet writer
We use to quote platitudes
But what of those who wander
A crossroad of diverging futures
Where one role does not satisfy
Their boundless hopes and desires
A poet one moment
A grave digger the next
Who shovels mud in the darkness
And finds meaning in the light
A role fit for a novel maybe
Or at least a bad play
Starring unknown faces
Gesticulating to an empty theatre
Some find solace behind the pages
Of a tattered copy of Crime and Punishment
Leading a vicarious life of alcoholics and whoremongers
And some become what they don’t read
Blessed is the mind whose devotion
Is pure, untainted by the spectre
Of what is and what could be
Charting a singleminded road that plods on
To heights heavenward
To places unexplored
In a narrow field of vision
Towards a sunlit horizon
And not be stuck in the bogs
Of indecisive action
Of halfhearted measures
In a dreary haze of possibilities
But it’s only a cosmic joke one would say
For why did the Almighty in his wisdom
Make a world so vast and beautiful
Our ambitions so conspicuously lofty
And our fleeting lives so very inadequate?
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
She and I together were never
the source of fireworks,
but of Landmines
Buried shallow in the Earth,
Never knowing what it's worth,
only showing each our dirt,
and telling each our hurt,
Yelling needless ****** words.
She and I together
wore always our clouds
at night
A wry smile and a drunken slight,
and a sallow bit of cold street light,
never trying to start a fight,
and with nothing
left to ignite,
Wondering if we're going to be
alright.
I know she probably will;
With that tough mind
of hers and her
inner fire bright,
an inferno of delight,
and her supernatural
sight,
always finding keys to
the doors locked
up most tight.
She and I today had one hell
of a trying time,
in the park where she dragged me along
by the unravelling thread
inside my mind.
I had to snip the thread
there,
and then,
She said "it's too nice a day
for us to say
'The End.'"
I said "it's not nice enough
for us to play
pretend."
I was split into tarnished silver
slivers for far too long,
After.
Exponential excruciation
A mind processing pain
that needs only be felt once
to be believed,
and I bled all those
who came close enough
to try and pick up the pieces.
I am welded back together now,
but there are smoking craters
I need to fill,
I think...
(therefore I will)
Though conspicuously tarnished,
even better still?
She and I together are now only
casual, cordial, and cool.
She and I together finally,
possibly,
learned the Golden Rule:
"Do unto others, as you would have done unto you"
It seemed cliche
until that day
When she and I together
Realized
we had nothing left
to say,
and with nothing left to do for
Her
But to give her heart away,
to the wild chaos freedom
she's always craved.
The chaotic wild freedom
of a world
that needs to be saved.
I craved it too,
back then,
the chaos, and the license to rave,
and I used to think it made
us strong, wise, and brave,
when all we really were,
were just
enthralled by shadows
On the walls of a cave.
It will help hearts
heal,
hers and mine together,
when we finally
walk away.
She and I still talk from time to time
When the wind is static
And the weather's fine,
When the moon is blue,
And the stars align.
When theres nothing to do
But to look back
and find,
She and I together, were never
very compatible,
in love,
yet far too compatible
in war.
Peace.
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 1:09 AM UTC
Captivating, conspicuously charming
A fragrance so enthralling
Bewitching the senses
Enticing the unfocused soul
Hypnotizing, hardly hypnagogic
Such unparalleled grace
A peculiar dancer
Coaxing the mind to perplexity
Anodyne, aberrant anesthesia
Resembling an ethereal angel
A touch appealing to tame flames
Surreptitiously gathering fuel
Sacrosanct, superficially sacred
Donned with deceptive modesty
An ambiguous spark
Threatening to begin a wildfire
Efflorescing, escaping encumbrance
Soon, a firm grasp on freedom
The freedom so prematurely served
Too early to be maximized
Incantations, whisper incantations
Silence the demented demons
An unconventional ritual
To fortify the continence
Ebbing continence
Another attempt made
Stall the impending debauchery
Enunciation is needed -
Esurience is never innate, but provoked
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
These Monsters try to get me
not before i get myself, i lock myself in this empty room
hoping for this ***** carpet to **** me through this false foundation,
**** me up right between my sheets.
I open my eyes just before my alarm beeps,
a step ahead of the time- all the time
I can see you back there two steps behind,
laggin behind the seconds- just like the big hand on the clock.
Like im moving ahead of everyone else-head of the curve,
as the Doctors like to call it-as im trying to explain my increasing condition.
Son this is straight ludic-ration, It might be a part of your toonish-addiction.
Boilin' up this sketches and pencils, Bottlin' these un-inked rations.
I could use these another day i think to myself conspicuously,
wondering if anybody overheard my thoughts
writing down my exact words-
to someday use them against me in this trial,
with the judge,
jury im pleading against denial
Sittin' there with my crooked grin, my vanishing eyes, and my grittin teeth.
The judge has it out for me i can tell,
by the way he made me stand up and sit down,
i cant take much more of this questioning-
My mind wandering loosely now, maybe its what they wanted
tryin to get all my thoughts, those greedy ********
My ideas, my brainchild's- there all worthless they'll see.
Nothing but a conspiracy against me,
But what they really dont know-there's a bomb under my seat.
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 9:10 AM UTC
Oh my sweet, sweet gentleman,
Who has taught me how to love.
I decided I will run away with you,
And share the stars above.
I thought so very long and hard,
Of the decision I should make.
And realized if I went to Sussex,
It would be a huge mistake.
So I waited until after dusk,
And packed a few small things.
And then I planned that I would leave,
When I heard the church bell rings.
And when they did I tiptoed,
Down the corridor and to the street.
Where there stood my trusted friend,
Who had arranged with me to meet.
We traveled East to the harbor,
The steamer was not hard to miss.
And anxiously I hurried along,
To greet you with a kiss.
Conspicuously I wandered about,
Until I found cabin two- eleven.
And then I pushed the door open a bit,
To steal a sight of heaven.
Instead I saw you lying there,
With a maiden much less fair,
I sauntered up, spit in your face,
And left your sorry *** there!
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
Leaden sky blanket of soaked thoughts
Adding wars back,
Giving the pale impression of illness,
Enthusiastic thunders,
Changing weather,
Swirl of birds
Darkness reflection of a world beyond
Imagination.
Changing weather,
Prosaic surfing, swivel,
Swirl of conspiracy
Theories
Conspicuously visible,
Relented turf
In a bout of self-pity.
Awake from this tragedy
Of disillusion
Finding the way to a clean resolution.
Enjoyment of theories
Opening,
Look for heaven.
Where is my perfect heaven?!
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 5:49 AM UTC
you are my booming clap of thunder during summer rain,
my inconvenient papercut placed conspicuously on a knuckle;
my stringent alcohol spilled into a pulsing, gaping wound,
and my burning bee sting on a painfully humid afternoon.
your ugly fangs spew venom more toxic than any poison,
and you hiss and growl and spit dauntingly.
with words so harsh and grating they are impossible to ignore,
you raise your head, poised for attack, and you shreik and wail
until the sound echoes throughout my whole being,
shaking me from the core and eliciting curious emotions.
my feeble defence is no match for your well-trained
and perfectly executed attack, and i crumble.
it's a poisonous cycle, inevitable and futil, that drains
every ounce of moral fiber and happiness from my soul.
suddenly, my fingers entrap your small little throat,
and they squeeze as hard as they possibly can,
until the blood bursts into your eyes.
it's only a dream, but my fingers can't help but remember...
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
Sometimes I miss it. But then all I can do is sit back and wonder why I do so in the first place.
There was once a little boy who wanted to hug the moon. Every day, the boy would patiently wait for the night to fall in despair of the moon’s eye on his own and wondered where he could go in order to sneak in and give the moon a hug.
He sat on this bench outside his house and stared for hours and hours on end after dinner- until mom said it was much too late and time to rest. He wondered.
A rope! A rope that’s long enough, that’s all! He smiled and smirked filled with the zest of that brilliant plan- he’d catch the moon to bring it closer and hug like he’s been yearning ever so after.
Where will I get a rope though? He asked himself.
I will connect many ropes! He answered.
And so he looked here and there. Up and down, east and west. He found some ropes and tied a knot so strong each time that his hands would turn bloodshot purple.
There stood the rope beside the boy one night after dinner and he said to himself -tonight is the night for she and I to meet at once and be together for a glistening second in human’s feeble time-
He closed his eyes and fetched the rope and held it tight and threw it as far as he could. In fact, he used so much force of power along with ****** strength that his feet were partially swept from the ground also- he floated for a few seconds as the rope flew into the air at an unbelievable speed. It hugged the moon like the boy wanted. Now he needed the strength to just bring it a bit closer to him by the bench so he could conspicuously give the moon a dear hug. He pulled and pulled and pulled until he thought his breath would die out- the moon is heavier than it seems! , he thought. But alas the moon came and beside him the moon sat, the moon not so bright stood. He looks at it and says:
“You’re not what I expected, all bright and soft and full of light like the way the stars envy you in the night sky. So deceiving you are, making me think this whole time you were exactly what I’ve wanted. Exactly what I’ve needed. How dare you give me false hope? No, you’re not what I expected. And I’m in fact so disappointed, I don’t even desire to put you back up there so you can lie to others too. You will stay here.”
And the moon there stood. Immobile. What can she possibly do? Its fine though, the world will move still. But the moon must remain still, until a hopeless leaves her to float too.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 10:04 PM UTC
I have fallen, I have crawled,
Through the darkest moment,
In the darkest hour as it drained my power,
I never gave up,
I kept on climbing the mountain of success,
Constantly been consumed by the pain of the rough edges,
Spontaneously been drown in my own, actions & reflection,
My heart cannot adequately express my feelings in this scripture,
which I have written in my leisure,
I asked the world what is the way through,
It said I'm at liberty to what I do,
In the restless & reckless moment,
I never gave up the momentum,
I was always driving & aspiring to be on top,
It is undoubtedly & conspicuously visible
It been a year of memories,breakdown,
But never the less,
I never melt down,
Thank you lord for a year well spent,
It sweets my spine,
And my eyes soaked in tears of joy,
Knowing you made me enjoy this year without fear,
I look forward to 2014,
For more blessings with no lessons to reap,
Alhamdhulillah
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
My soul becomes
conspicuously absent,
the day your ephemeral memories
sink into the deep waters of my solitude.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC