"cont" poems
Ignored by a thought
I thought if I ignored him and
his request for spare change
his plight would fade away
And his face would fail my memory
I thought the night was differently quiet
Interrupted by clench of teeth,
****** holes and malice of man
Gun shot, pain, and the victim of a plan
I thought if I ignored the wound
The dream would change moods
The blood drop would be love knots
And the victim would be you
I thought if I ignored the flash of life
Mine would be spared
That the death to come would flee me
And instead you would be here
I thought of ignoring my persistence
And give in to the dark void
But then I thought of loving you
And fought to stay relevant
I thought of a lot of things
But never to give him the change in my pockets
Now I'm a prayer and a fading thought
Ignored by the passing crowd
A layer on the cake walk
An after note on your brow.....(Cont.)
Xin
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:18 PM UTC
All I can see
is a wasteland of
stone, glass, metal,
and wooden rubble
in an open air prison
where children are living.
Six thousand bombs,
stirring up
thick clouds of grey dust,
obscuring the horrors
people are enduring.
The attackers are
barely even
warning people
to move on.
The exits are blocked.
The power and water is off.
The suffering doesn’t stop,
and these civilians
are unable to leave.
How are you unable to see
the hell spring of grief
that is burning human beings,
the furnace that still cooks
even when no one bothers to look
because all of the crooks
were just waiting
for the perfect excuse
to make the news
with a justified genocide.
Mass ****** and more oppression
with the weapons
America supplied,
and guess what,
another child just died,
more parents got radicalized,
and if they survive
will you be surprised
if hate is the new demoncont.
that wears their tired red eyes.
The rich guys lied and decided
that unequal retaliation
is perfectly justified,
so we are on a road
to the extinction of
human decency
as the world murders
our collective humanity.
Crack, boom,
the sound of thunder blooms
orange heated chaos,
breaking the foundation
an entire building.
A whole family line
gets an early burial,
as what’s left of my heart
gets carried inside,
popped in a box
to be buried alive,
because their beat
was the same as mine.
Nothing I write
will change the minds
of those unwilling to
listen and see people who
are close to total annihilation,
as deserving of love,
and compassion,
but even so
I am still asking.
Help, please, help!?!
Instead we get beheadings,
mass shootings,
****** assault,
retaliation,
and the expectation
of more tragedy to come.
I can easily condemn
violent actions taken,
but I need to understand
the origins of this rocky foundation,
and potential solutions,
because I can’t stand the
horrors I am facing
without eventually breaking.
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 8:46 AM UTC
Those bruises you once left on my hips
didn't look so good on my arms
I wonder how they look
Now that they're on my heart
*You would know since you're the one holding it.
How long did it continue to beat after it left my chest?*
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
I'm cupid wounded,
'Cause this love was misconstrued.
You stabbed an arrow through my heart,
I still can't remove it.
Love is small,
yet we all fall into it.
It shouldn't be a game,
Yet somehow I end up losin'.
And now I'm faded,
And it seems the scars are fadin'.
The time we spent in love,
Is replaced with this hatred.
Angels turn to pagans,
and these sins become sanctioned,
I've got demons on my shoulders,
The lips of Hades at my tragus.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Fire gave me life.
Out of the corners of my newborn eyes I could see him standing there.
My blacksmith.
My father.
My creator.
He was cloaked in black, but not with clothes, with paint.
He told me that i was equal to a beautiful saint.
Oh father, what do you mean by this? I'm merely a servant, made to represent your glory.He responds that I'm unique. Perfect, in fact. I'm privileged. Yet cursed...
He made me, He aids me, He gives me my breath.
He takes me. He breaks me. And thus comes my death.
*Good sir, thank you for giving me at least a glimpse at living.
Good sir, I'm sorry for sinning instead of giving.*
He has burned me down to make a new,
therefore fire took my life.
Though purposely, I am one of few,
Who has met an ending to strife.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
our part of Guintarcan
where family and relatives resided
was called, Li-og Li-og 1
a very large boulder at area’s end
resembled a disembodied head
lending the name, “small neck” 1
before the war
a peaceful private paradise
miles from town
beautiful birds
coconut trees
all sorts of seaside foliage
young married women
walked barefoot and *******
wearing only a sarong
wound at the waist
they carried round, flat baskets
atop their heads
full of food and other things
early morning, noon or just before dusk
men would be out fishing with nets
sometimes signaling each other
by blowing into conch shells
Father would come home with large conch
baby conch called bucawil
scallops and oysters in their season
he kept a jar of large black pearls
and small white ones
harvest time gathered us all together
Father would go fishing
to bring home a good catch
Mother, aunts and Grandmother
would prepare the treats
sweet potato, cassava and other goodies
men would bring chicken
and pigs to roast
and plenty of tuba to drink
they would build a big bonfire
by the shore
to light up the festivities
women would roast newly harvested palay 2
men would take turns pounding it
in a large mortar and pestal
starting slow then faster and faster
till they had to rest
and let someone else take over
onlookers cheered them
hooting and clapping
it would get so noisy
as the children watched in awe
after the pounding the women took over
shaking and shaking palay in flat oval baskets
tossing husks to wind with movements like artwork
what remained was placed in earthenware bowls
for all to enjoy this delicious 'pilipig'
singing and dancing into night
revelers went home drunk and happy
supporting each other as they staggered
waving goodbye to host and hostess
with a heartfelt and hardy
“Salamat!”
2 - rice with husks
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
i've never been in a burning building but standing in that room with you
sure did feel like it.
you’ve filled my fragile lungs
with ash and soot,
and my altered anatomy
has become a black abyss
you were the arsonist,
who intricately ignited
my bones through your false accusations:
and your lack to love,
executed criminally
you've ripped the stars
right out of my sky -
every single constellation
my wrecked heart radiates for yours,
while a Siberian iceberg
sits in your chest
the stinging of languish
spills from my pores
baby, why can't you see i'm the best?
so remember to forget me, fuel my fire:
let the flames flourish,
watch them grow higher
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
Barometrics (A ****** of Fates)
By Andrew Robinson
[Solo intro]
[Clean Phase I (instr.)]
[Clean Phase II, verse]
At the blistered contacts
At the suit of flies
Come to recover
Come bite to pry
Careful corrosion
Ornate rusts, they run
The rotten circumference
Expire in change
The fade verse subsides
As wounds bleed their age
Lacquer sick on the flesh
Drunken fathoms
Drink me!
[Clean Phase III]
[Distorted Phase I over distorted Phase III]
[Distorted Phase II, verse]
Seeped warp of walls
A sanguine distance
Steeped liquor, combine
An astral chance
With combustion and form
Fevers masked in blood
Calls dissonant pulse
Drag our sour roots
Throats of the rip tide
Choke lecherous grooves
Bore forty knots haste
Set bones with the mud
Come Skye!
[Distorted Phase IV, chorus]
Over the silence
Nerves contract
Over the sun
The waves sing back
From the rubble
I’ll come home, to you
[Distorted Phase II, verse]
Wet mottled and suture
Yet the coursing ache
Brims ******* flotsam
Pulls at our wake
My contour dissolve
Key strokes soak
Color!
Me a new world
[Distorted Phase I over distorted Phase III]
[Distorted Phase IV, chorus]
Over the silence
Nerves contract
Over the sun
The waves sing back
From the rubble
I’ll come home, to you
Cover the oceans
In ashen stars
Cover the night
Our tempest hearts
Somewhere I have a mind
To hold on to!
[Cesura]
[Distorted Phase V, bridge]
She wanes
Wading out the shallow
Of the lights, an engine of ink
‘hind my eye
Due depth
Shake horizon’s fray
Withered wind of the sea
My decay
[Clean Phase III, bridge cont.]
When hell wakes
And manifests the clasp
Of the calloused oil
In my hands
And the blade
I’ll send my pride and crass
Beside my crimes and guilt
Out to shore
With brittle oars
[Distorted Phase IV, chorus]
Over the silence
Nerves contract
Over the sun
The waves sing back
From the rubble
I’ll come home, to you
Cover the oceans
In ashen stars
Cover the night
Our tempest hearts
Somewhere I dream of you
In tides!
Oh, in tides!
[Clean Phase I over Distorted Phase III; slow and fade to end]
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 8:30 PM UTC
#(a travelogue cont...)
Waiting for summer
just outside the tallest
mountain’s door
Where the emerald vale
streams spring glacial-grey
river waters,
west into the setting
midnight sun
Another resplendent day’s
paling whisper set free
in an unseen blink
and an unheard sigh
In these unwonted moments
eyes rise up to touch
the beckoning sky
like a bug drawn
to the light
Upward over
highest mountain's skies
abides everything
worth rising for
It's so rare
in this fleeting life,
when a dream
for a moment
comes true ―
you come to understand
how deep is silence
and ...
it doesn’t really matter
when there’re no words
harlon rivers
June 9th. 2018
11:55 pm Denali sunset ...
"don't dream it's over"
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Compassion informs my outrage,
Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.
Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.
It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.
Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.
Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
Is it wrong to feel compassion,
for rebellion,
for upheaval,
for revolution,
protests and marches for causes;
gone to the psychedelic winds,
in place come capitalistic mentions,
nominations to the greater things.
Is it futile to believe,
in the triumphs of the few,
against the many,
having meaning,
mentality.
the art of living,
of flowing upstream,
against wishes of authority,
the understand,
but duty dictates,
otherwise.
The people have the right,
but not the motivation,
to enact and will,
through the teeth of,
the oppressors.
We all feel weak,
yet the power struggle cont.
(end of page. arrow)
Throughout time,
Proving ourselves,
Making it through the day,
Has amounted to the probability,
The chance we took,
Have we flopped?
Are we on the floor?
Are we able to recover?
Even fatalistically.
Has anything changed?
Since the works of the older
Generation?
Do we,
Does our are,
mean the same as,
Their output.
It sounds softer, more real,
Tangible and timeless.
Now our mentality has moved to
A lull
Our enlightenment has
darkented,
Our meaning has,
diluted,
And we feel the numbing venom,
of the very real dream,
of how the world ought to be.
10/23/13
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
Reincarnated into something with feathers//
A hummingbird in the valley of Mexico..//
Resuscitated to be the warrior of the south//
Was the warrior of the south..//
Now with these wind bestowed upon me//
I stretch veins plague length throughout the winds territory//
Where the free horse springs on top of the loose rock//
Where the wolf sacrifices the blood for young// in order to keep order//
In order to move forward...//
The moon shines brighter than the sun, you're just asleep to never see it//
Too blind to feel it//
Too low to feel the height of the feather//
Earth goddess approaches..//
She's draped in light..//
Even air moves out of her way// (cont.)
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
she exhaled the smokes of her cigarettes,
along with her dreams that she always kept;
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
i hope the ed sheeran playlist that i showed you makes you think of me, i hope you read your stupid dystopia books and remember me reading aloud the back covers, i hope you remember which one was my favorite, i hope you ******* loved it and remember that i always had good taste, i hope your cruise was awful, i hope you know i bought you christmas presents and had to take them back, i hope you know that i was glad for the returned cash. i know that the girl that is all over you is annoying, i hope that makes you miss me because i wasn't, i hope your heart aches like mine does, i hope you're doing worse than i am, i hope you find the letter i wrote you for our six month anniversary and i hope you read it over and over again, i hope you cried this time, this isn't going to end with you making me dinner and us making out, this isn't going to end with me taking you back again, this isn't going to end with me getting hurt again; this is the end.
this is the end.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
You are loved
You are worthy
You deserve more
You’re are not to blame
You can do it
You are important
You are beautiful
You make a difference
You are valued
You matter
You are resilient
You are enough
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC
i know how many smiles
must be shining over at that house
(good god, yours better be one of them. it's a perfect smile.)
while i sit here singing pop punk and indie songs
to myself, wrapped up in a blanket that still has your scent to it, and imagining
that you would harmonize these words with me
and you'd sit on my floor
churning out random chords on my guitar that you said was
"perfect for indie music."
i haven't eaten a ******* thing in six hours
or so and i don't intend to
because i'm getting that rush again and my brain might be
rolling to a stop on the treacherous slopes of my anxiety and
the silence of my house that is its breeding ground.
i believe that we are something astounding
and inside these rewired bones of mine, i feel
that you and i could do anything
so long as we had one another
but you're five minutes north of here
as you should be, giving thanks with a family that loves you
(i know they're overbearing, darling, but they only care for you and want the best for you.)
(and i love them too)
and isn't broken apart,
forgetting about the sad 18-year old's existence,
or dead and gone,
like mine.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
i dreamed about death last night
not heaven or hell
or whatever afterlife you believe in
but the actual act of dying
i laid there
body paralyzed
feeling the warm blood leave my body
feeling my chest collapsing
but still trying to breath
opened my mouth
but there was no sound
no mumble
or moan
screech
nor scream
only death and i was scared
where was the light they foretold
or the out of body experience
because i never separated from the pain
i thought and fought to breath until my very last
then there was nothing
to be cont....
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 11:14 AM UTC
Leaving the camp behind, we sped along the road, in a cloud of choking red dust, proceeding towards an area known as The South Australian Dessert. Barren, almost featureless country where the daytime heat was almost unbearable and night time temperatures were close to freezing.
During the journey, my thoughts drifted back to the time of my call up.
I was one of the last to be drafted into The Royal Air Force
My dad needed me desperately in the shop, he was working too hard. I resented the fact that a certain second rate comedian was excused because he claimed it would damage his career, what about my career, and my family? I was chosen-along with six hundred plus airmen, to be a part of Task Force Antler, of which you will hear later, In the mean time, we were waiting in transit in a camp in Glostershire, ROYAL AIR FORCE INNSWORTH. There was nothing to do on camp really, except clean latrines that had been cleaned thoroughly already, I was bored, and my dad needed me. I soon discovered a gap in the system, which allowed me to go home every Wednesday afternoon, and return on Sunday evening. My dad was very pleased with my help, and it became a regular routine, until one Wednesday evening. I had just walked into the shop when the phone rang. It was my friend Harry who had been covering for me. "Bernard, get back to camp, we are being kitted out in the morning! I was very tired, after spending the afternoon hitch hiking approximately one hundred miles, much of which I had covered on foot! I had a quick cup of tea, kissed my mum goodbye, and left holding a sandwich in one hand and my holdall in the other. I was going to need a miracle to get me back on time, it was a notoriously bad route for hitch hiking! more to come.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
He sits at his desk
Contemplating his unfulfilled destiny.
His bulky form shadows old letters.
Thick fingers linger and ****** photos
And dusty promises,
His "Awakening"
Turned into a funeral
Of ideals and love.
Oh yes . . .
His integrity is in tact.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
i was at the my mom and
dad's gravesite
trying to do some soul searching and
really and
deeply missing them and
i will never get used to being an orphan and
life has been so difficult since they left me and
i took for granted how much love support and
an ever ready hand to move heaven and
earth to help me and
i didnt even appreciate it much less utter very many thank you's and
i would give almost anything, the rest of my life to have had just one more time of sitting at the kitchen table and
i would actually this time drink her nasty Folger's instant coffee and
when she died she left a jar of it and
although it only contains a hard inch layered congealed ball it is so comforting to open the cabinet and
see it still up there and
you want to try to judge me when instead i was sitting there on the ledge of their headstone watching the beautiful and
powerful electrical dry lightning and
feeling the wind hit my face and
i cried out to a god that i no longer even believe in to please have my mom cont to keep looking after her grandson the one she never admitted to, but over time it just became apparent of that she was most partial to Colton, the one that she had the special soup and
salad dates on special occasions and
i find myself agonizing about how whether my son is here on earth in the physical form or his physical blood skin organs and
bones have decayed into apparent nothingness but either way i want to feel that my mommy is looking out for him and
that i can have answers and
can at the worst case scenario be granted just a tiny piece of real estate to go and
release my grief and
have 1 place where i can finally have just a piece of peace and
know that he is with his grandparents and
i can visit and
memorialize him in the usual manner rather than having moments that can last for months of something that is truly a most insidious form of torture that i can't even grasp words to express and
i have been so blessed to be able to have you want to play martyr with that last comment?
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:53 AM UTC
I spent hours walking, trying to thumb a lift, no one stopped. Near Slough, I caught the last bus going in my direction- at least it gave my feet a break- but not for long. In the early hours, near Marlborough I saw a car approaching, it's headlights cutting through the darkness along the otherwise unlit road.
It was two o 'clock in the morning and my weary spirits rose as the car came to a halt beside me. It was a Police car! The two policemen questioned me, checked my twelve fifty, (identity card) rummaged through my belongings and then drove off, leaving me to continue alone in total darkness.
At six thirty in the morning a motor cycle roared up and stopped beside me. He wore an airman's greatcoat! "Where are you heading for mate."
"Innsworth I replied hopefully. "Me too, jump on if you want!" I did want, desperately! I arrived on camp twenty minutes late at eight twenty, They were nearly finished kitting out, I just made it in time. "Where were you when I called the C's.?" The sergeant asked. " I could have been in the loo"
I didn't sound too convincing but he let it go. "Take off your blue uniform and put this on, then bring your blues back here." I was looking at tropical kit. "There must be some mistake. I am going to the second TAF in Germany." (The Second Tactical Air force.)
The sergeant grinned. "You and six hundred others, you can get sorted out when you get there." I did what I was told and changed my clothes, and handed in my blues. There was quite a buzz in the accommodation block, Harry came to meet me. "What a monumental cockup! Harry said grinning. It must be ****** hot in Germany, that's all I can say! I spent the rest of the day resting my blistered feet, we were flying out tomorrow. I expected to fly from RAF Lyneham, in a Dehavilland Comet but I should have known better, life was never that simple! To be continued.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
We live in a world filled with endless need,
And the moral theory of gold and greed.
It's cause for anger, but none will ignite,
Since we've raised our nation to give up the fight.
We hear threats of bombs from distant lands,
While lovers are hanged for holding hands.
Our perceptions are altered, our ethics are skewed,
We've been fed a diet of lies for food.
Our time is coming, but it's not the end:
It's our oppourtunity to fight and defend
Our freedoms, our rights, our country, our lives;
Resurrect the goals for which we strive.
We've fought their battles, we've worked for their pay,
We build their cities: we slave night and day.
They've owned our bodies, our souls, and our minds,
And in return they have stricken us blind.
We've heard their stories, now let's tell ours
Before they've turned our country to cowards.
We lay down our lives while they reap the rewards.
Is this the democracy we're working towards?
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
There’s a dry voice that chokes;
a sandy tongue that grates dust-vowels over chipped-blue lips,
explosive puffs that cause the heart to race,
from somewhere behind the cherry wood bookcase.
Let the flames do the talking – keep that fire stoked.
Hold your breath and pray he won’t come stalking,
for his teeth are geared with gold-sneer,
and they rip through bone to the beat of tortured soul-fear.
Never make eye-cont—
In his left hand a discarded, crumpled page – the letters broken and twisted,
his name rearranged to spell out the victim’s, yours;
the author who thought it ‘wise’ to exclude him from the last ‘bestseller’ –
King’s had a run-in, and so, maybe, has Heller.
act! Your feet are frozen to t—
An utterance of disapproval as he drags himself across the floor planks,
a crust of dust where his nostrils should be flaring,
a gob of phlegm on the chin as he turns
and slaps himself on a limp leg that drags behind like a heavy shadow.
he spotted you! Grab—
The harsh noise of nails scraping over the floor’s drawing closer,
as is the groaning of painful sighs with each heave –
splinters in open sores on a right hand that’s swollen green,
yet strong enough to clutch tight
the letter opener!
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 3:03 PM UTC
We enjoyed two days of rest and good food and discussed between ourselves all the possible reasons why we had been shipped out to OZ, instead of The Second Tactical Air Force in Germany! Neither of us had a clue, and try as we might we could get no explanation from any source.
Towards the evening of the second day, we received instructions to wait by the admin office at nine thirty the following morning, with our belongings. "What next," Gordon asked. I could only shrug my shoulders,
"After what we have been through, anything is possible." An orderly was waiting for us, to check our twelve fifties. "Come with me please."
He escorted us out to where our aircraft was waiting, Our Pilot and the two fitters were busy loading equipment on board. "Climb aboard guys, we won't be long!" "Can you tell us where wer'e going?" He grinned, "Yes, of course, but not just yet, let's get airborne first, shall we."
He changed the subject abruptly. "You will be glad to know that our friends have fixed the problem with the reduction gears, and have replaced the seals on the fuel tanks, fingers crossed, we should be ok."
We were ok, the aircraft lifted off and we gained altitude quickly. The pilot drew our attention to something below. "Do you see that road? "
We could see a black ribbon stretching away in front of us. "We follow that for about six hundred miles, that's the end of the line for you!"
I looked at Gordon, our eyes met, he nodded. "But what are we doing there?" The pilot's grin widened grin widened. "You will join the rest of your friends on Task Force Antler, you will be testing Atomic weapons, and good luck to you."
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC