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"corrugated" poems
And it is braided with silk, but woven of plastic- -materialistic; corrugated ridges on burnt iron legs. But to the streets of suburban deforestation, Her influential deciphering - infatuated - purged Of seamless equations and reincarnated followers, Abides by the diamond-bleach, the sultry circuits, Poised in the foetal position for the last - yet first - Time.
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
Materialistic
pageants of pageants fractals and hype of faceless terrors and faceless inside when rain on corrugated iron when rain and the kettle boiling i know i have taken too much time i have taken time from time to decide to realise i was only wiser before trying. Patterns of paradox haunt the terms of all desire tussock grass on paths that cuts the thin skin and sticks and a view to nowhere some leaf in autumn the hope of finding
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Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
4am when the moonlight broke through
These are the hard times, the long stretch of coal-shed days, the corrugated nights of the antinomian. I retch at the old doubts and the panoply of dustbins clattering bright, their watchers simian in the morning **** I dress as though dredging up greys, monotone deep in the GB tradition: now sandpit tea with oil stain floats silt dreads the mass of a seven year clay. Four weeks of shadows drown wind in a storm. And dreams of my cottage in days of such calm and late summer happiness as brought cut corn and strawbs and horse manure in hugs until like Zulu tribesmen the birds appeared. Hunched with expectation Spears smiling like baddies they rushed me. I woke pouring sweat like a workhorse the weakest of defences laid up my face pulling cellophane over French windows.
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Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
February, from which there is no escape
TO AFRIKA, THE POWERFUL GIANT WHO IS BOUND, TEARS AT HER OWN FLESH AND CAN NOT SEE HER OWN BEAUTY How long shall we grind our teeth? As old man's bones crack to the beat Of their picks digging white man gold in black man land Afrika mama, you soul is sold Vuka Afrika Mama Ikati lilele eziko As vultures tap dance on your corrugated iron roof Hyenas point and cackle baring sharpened tooth All the while you slumbered They shackled you and tore your treasure asunder Now is the time to break free Clear those scales from your eyes so you can see How long shall we cry these crocodile tears? As the swollen belly babies, eyes filled with fear Watch the queen who bore them, cowered in the corner, face to the ground Battered by the head of the household, asserting his authority No mercy to be found Zijonge Afrika mama Ubone ubuhle bakho They lied and said your ebony skin wasn't beautiful At all cost remain dutiful Head bowed, queen uncrowned All the while  you doubt yourself There are those who eye and pillage your riches May our united voice bring you to your senses Lest you find yourself stripped naked, while balancing on fences
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
Afrika Mama
The shrill wake-up call of a rooster Even before the crack of dawn. The faint cawing of crows to let the world know it’s time to leave Slumber land. The flapping of wings in unison before flying away early to catch a worm. The desperate call of a baby squirrel lost somewhere and seeking its mother. The cooing of pigeons on the roof reminding you to pause and listen to the Sounds of Nature. The rumbling sound of thunder in the distance heralding a heavy downpour or two soon to be followed by the fierce rain giving respite to the parched earth. The rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops falling on the corrugated tin roof. The whistling of the wild wind on a cold, stormy day. The first cry of a new-born announcing its sojourn from the womb to the world outside. The gurgling of the waterfall rushing to mingle with the river. The rustling of colorful autumn leaves in the park trampled upon by children running around. Then the sounds of silence at night interspersed with the sounds of crickets and frogs and the sound of barking dogs at a distance coaxing you to retire and wake up to yet another beautiful dawn to listen to the Sounds of Nature. Gita Ashok 9/10/2010,  11 am ________________________________________
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Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:41 PM UTC
The Sounds of Nature
Let’s take a silver train underground to the back streets of Atlantis thru the corrugated iron roots & then to the peak itself, to the saddle of the last ridge past strewn boulders, finally meandering thru cascading snow wearing miner’s hats on the perpendicular dark night & going up to the edge of the Southern Cross where we reach at last the pure white glistening glaciers & begin to chant over bones in rags of Scorpio Armless in the sticky substance how could they ever have had a chance? Permission will not be required only poems of blood offered to the memory of TREE It is not ice which is eternal but the fury of the absolute separating the void from the spirit of man, uplifting like life when it is used against itself, that is, Radical Love -- & again, we are reduced to living beings Caught by the instant we are taken away We live in the imprint of the flame & we are helmeted within the internal blackness where the ray begins its passage across the indignant sky Vain clouds uncaring in a tangle of crossbeams culminate in the hermaphroditic mirror of the epileptic dancer asleep And during sleep the light is joined to the light It is all a matter of getting up and then to abandon the pain It is there that the journey beings in the self generated flame of Spontaneous Combustion (Swayambhunath) The main line running counter to the triangle comprising the MAELSTROM, the DOLDROMS & the SARGASSO SEA where sleeping Atlanteans dream forever, this line, this battlefield of the ages, crosses the divide of my most wandering backdoor heart. We will all have to go if we want to reappear in the rhythm of the ritual It’s the wheel of fools spinning over my bed If I put my left foot first they will find a way to call me by that name tracking tremors like glyphs on drunken walls in the negative palace just before taking eave of my senses the white powder dissolves in the sunlight & making noise like a peacock he hops on one foot up the mountain.
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Atlantis Express by Ira Cohen
Let’s take a silver train underground to the back streets of Atlantis thru the corrugated iron roots & then to the peak itself, to the saddle of the last ridge past strewn boulders, finally meandering thru cascading snow wearing miner’s hats on the perpendicular dark night & going up to the edge of the Southern Cross where we reach at last the pure white glistening glaciers & begin to chant over bones in rags of Scorpio Armless in the sticky substance how could they ever have had a chance? Permission will not be required only poems of blood offered to the memory of TREE It is not ice which is eternal but the fury of the absolute separating the void from the spirit of man, uplifting like life when it is used against itself, that is, Radical Love -- & again, we are reduced to living beings Caught by the instant we are taken away We live in the imprint of the flame & we are helmeted within the internal blackness where the ray begins its passage across the indignant sky Vain clouds uncaring in a tangle of crossbeams culminate in the hermaphroditic mirror of the epileptic dancer asleep And during sleep the light is joined to the light It is all a matter of getting up and then to abandon the pain It is there that the journey beings in the self generated flame of Spontaneous Combustion (Swayambhunath) The main line running counter to the triangle comprising the MAELSTROM, the DOLDROMS & the SARGASSO SEA where sleeping Atlanteans dream forever, this line, this battlefield of the ages, crosses the divide of my most wandering backdoor heart. We will all have to go if we want to reappear in the rhythm of the ritual It’s the wheel of fools spinning over my bed If I put my left foot first they will find a way to call me by that name tracking tremors like glyphs on drunken walls in the negative palace just before taking eave of my senses the white powder dissolves in the sunlight & making noise like a peacock he hops on one foot up the mountain.
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74
*Weathered oak of ancient age Sandblasted by Sirocco storm Ribbed and dry and redly sage Deep corrugated graining, worn. Grown on hillside far away Far, in England’s verdant land, Hewn by artisan of old Hewn by axe and sinewed hand. Hauled across a raging sea By barque of seaman’s sail and hope, Washed by salted wave and gale Lashed to deck by weathered rope. Dragged across hot dunes of sand To a land called Galilee, Hauled by He, betrayed by man, Upon the hill of Calvary. Hoisted high by Roman hand Stark against a leaden sky, Red blood stains on oaken cross On which His Crown of Thorns shall cry.* M. Easter Sunday 2014
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Tears for an Oaken Cross.
A flamingo in a bright back garden is grooming it’s feathers. What it sees from the shade cast by the statues of ancient Gods and facing an incarnation of the Buddha is a mystery. Balanced on one foot in a corner pond covered in dark green pads and innocent opulent white lilies it peers down towards the warm tiled floor. The limestone slabs are etched with chalk hearts like fortune cookies next to hopscotch and drawings of monsters and men. I am a scatter-brain, but I cannot feign an understanding of what this bird is looking at, and so fondly. Parched dead leaves not cleared from autumns past dwell below a dusty circular patio table mixed with used cat litter and fallen grapefruit that have dropped from the tree above. Though most of the colour is muted or bland there are infusions of vibrancy from the vermillion bed sheet to the violet bloom of clusters of flowers that pierce through the vines and corrugated iron. My garden at Giverney without a bridge in the centre of the picture, there are instead are two chairs. Comfortable chairs whose metallic legs and arms glisten in the light and whose black pleather fabric absorbs the heat of another wild day. The flamingo is a strange visitor to this garden that is mostly derelict and sparse, It’s gangly frame leaps out of the water ***** it’s wings and departs.
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Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:49 PM UTC
A Curious Visitor
*the lotus floats on waters silhouettes dance in spastic-joints a sombre-figure with a spiky do cavorts behind invisible-mirrors which reflect the lost motions of unchaperoned-pedestal in corrugated-shadows* don’t forget to lift that hem a little higher, lady and give over to the pulsing rhythm undo your leather-strap, it’s enough to whip out some frenzy do what you want: you’re not awake, anyway what have gone and done, dear girl? is true-love to be found in the arms of a bearded Japanese? yes, open that white blouse of yours with the silky-buttons on while your eyes pearl-glaze over attending-cliffs hold that slow-unfolding palm over your breast and let busy aglet-fingers shake loose some nuciferous-reward stems hold up sweet-flora and its waiting-petals the gyrations match the ripped-space in your ceilinged-heart slow-motion coy-boy on stand-by in heated-debate             where stickety-words carry the burden                            of                                        knock-out honeyed-pleasure high-pitched comes and you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than to fit your explosive jigsaw-piece up my nostrils so that I can finally breathe lithe and limber *later, when you nod off your dreams’ll take care of lost-thread and thorough-floss your mind yank off the binding-straps take it down muddy-banks into pools of upside-down sky and the only light will be the reflected-glint of moon as it winks its very firm OK* S T – 21 nov 13
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
lotus-gift
*the lotus floats on waters silhouettes dance in spastic-joints a sombre-figure with a spiky do cavorts behind invisible-mirrors which reflect the lost motions of unchaperoned-pedestal in corrugated-shadows* don’t forget to lift that hem a little higher, lady and give over to the pulsing rhythm undo your leather-strap, it’s enough to whip out some frenzy do what you want: you’re not awake, anyway what have gone and done, dear girl? is true-love to be found in the arms of a bearded Japanese? yes, open that white blouse of yours with the silky-buttons on while your eyes pearl-glaze over attending-cliffs hold that slow-unfolding palm over your breast and let busy aglet-fingers shake loose some nuciferous-reward stems hold up sweet-flora and its waiting-petals the gyrations match the ripped-space in your ceilinged-heart slow-motion coy-boy on stand-by in heated-debate             where stickety-words carry the burden                            of                                        knock-out honeyed-pleasure high-pitched comes and you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than to fit your explosive jigsaw-piece up my nostrils so that I can finally breathe lithe and limber *later, when you nod off your dreams’ll take care of lost-thread and thorough-floss your mind yank off the binding-straps take it down muddy-banks into pools of upside-down sky and the only light will be the reflected-glint of moon as it winks its very firm OK* S T – 21 nov 13
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33
I'm disowning my name. In America, my name is cumbersome and clumsy and confusing so I'm leaving it behind. See, my name starts with an S and ends with a Z and one's a mirror of the other so they're like bookends for a collection of letters that spell a name that I never really felt belonged to me. Every morning, when I wake up, I wriggle into my name but it doesn't feel quite right. It's like borrowing your best friend's jeans even though she's tall and skinny and you've got a hundred generations of Puertoriqueña swirling around the blood in your hips. I don't like my name cause it doesn't diffuse across your lips. It bursts through your teeth. It's got a weight on your tongue that brings down the sound with the weight of a thousand sinking ships. I've got a Hispanic Titanic of a name but my skin's so white it seems impolite to claim an ethnicity that only lends its elasticity because of my father and the people that brought him here. My name is not me. It never was. It is an anchor that keeps me on the island of what my family used to be. I am not a race. I am not a category next to a box on a sheet of paper. I am the syncopated heartbeat of a tribal drum. I am the ****** whisper of water on the sand. I am the sunburn on the corrugated tin. I am the hunger in the stomachs of the working poor. So when I die let me not be remembered by fifteen letters I did not choose seven syllables I did not select three titles I did not ask for. Let them tell stories of what I did where I went what I saw who I loved the words I spoke the thoughts I formulated, ignorant of my race free of bias and prejudice and preconceived notions of what I should have been because in the end none of this will matter I'll have no strength for words but with a penultimate breath I'll still be able to smile.
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Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
An Introduction
I'm disowning my name. In America, my name is cumbersome and clumsy and confusing so I'm leaving it behind. See, my name starts with an S and ends with a Z and one's a mirror of the other so they're like bookends for a collection of letters that spell a name that I never really felt belonged to me. Every morning, when I wake up, I wriggle into my name but it doesn't feel quite right. It's like borrowing your best friend's jeans even though she's tall and skinny and you've got a hundred generations of Puertoriqueña swirling around the blood in your hips. I don't like my name cause it doesn't diffuse across your lips. It bursts through your teeth. It's got a weight on your tongue that brings down the sound with the weight of a thousand sinking ships. I've got a Hispanic Titanic of a name but my skin's so white it seems impolite to claim an ethnicity that only lends its elasticity because of my father and the people that brought him here. My name is not me. It never was. It is an anchor that keeps me on the island of what my family used to be. I am not a race. I am not a category next to a box on a sheet of paper. I am the syncopated heartbeat of a tribal drum. I am the ****** whisper of water on the sand. I am the sunburn on the corrugated tin. I am the hunger in the stomachs of the working poor. So when I die let me not be remembered by fifteen letters I did not choose seven syllables I did not select three titles I did not ask for. Let them tell stories of what I did where I went what I saw who I loved the words I spoke the thoughts I formulated, ignorant of my race free of bias and prejudice and preconceived notions of what I should have been because in the end none of this will matter I'll have no strength for words but with a penultimate breath I'll still be able to smile.
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61
steel is what controls me, steel emotions wrapped in spikes, steel skin holding you back steel eye hiding my vision but  I'm growing tired of steel I'm angry at its coldness, the grey flesh and cold heart the agony of never being warm, my friends are the same, we draw our time from the fix, lets melt ourselves down I'm braking free me and my barbed wire birds I'm done sitting on the fence of angst but not being sure if I can climb over I'm done being a nothing following the crowd between rows of steel and barbed wire I'm done dancing between laser beams and nightmare filled dreams I'm taking my heart in my hands and running , Ill treat it like water slipping through my fingers and the only way to survive is by running faster. so much faster. Ill not let my heart slip through my fingers as my wings begin to spread me and my pack of barbed wire birds, our wings are made of corrugated iron folded to points and the motion of flying stings my soul but ill fly you'll watch me glide we will dive of the edge our hearts in hands god you'll see me fly, broken bleats from broken wings bound together with the lust for more then to feel steel against my skin because I'm flying northbound for warmer skies lets glide past the the equator and through the tropics I want to feel the heat that would melt a man we are the hearts we are the gods the deity's of my minds ill build shrines to myself just to scream WE ARE THE HEARTS my soul beats free as my barbed wire wings no longer am i wrapped  in steel Ill take you with me, swap your heart for mine scream like banshees a technicolor passion drives me forwards we will lay down ourselves to show you as you sit waltzing through your strip wire fences Ill turn them to wings ill float so high above you.. Ill scream at the 5 am light and bring up the sun the world is yours I am no longer a sheep guided by lack of sleep we are a pack guided by our hearts by our love powered by our bleeding battered damaged broken barbed wire wings L.G
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
barbed wire birds
steel is what controls me, steel emotions wrapped in spikes, steel skin holding you back steel eye hiding my vision but  I'm growing tired of steel I'm angry at its coldness, the grey flesh and cold heart the agony of never being warm, my friends are the same, we draw our time from the fix, lets melt ourselves down I'm braking free me and my barbed wire birds I'm done sitting on the fence of angst but not being sure if I can climb over I'm done being a nothing following the crowd between rows of steel and barbed wire I'm done dancing between laser beams and nightmare filled dreams I'm taking my heart in my hands and running , Ill treat it like water slipping through my fingers and the only way to survive is by running faster. so much faster. Ill not let my heart slip through my fingers as my wings begin to spread me and my pack of barbed wire birds, our wings are made of corrugated iron folded to points and the motion of flying stings my soul but ill fly you'll watch me glide we will dive of the edge our hearts in hands god you'll see me fly, broken bleats from broken wings bound together with the lust for more then to feel steel against my skin because I'm flying northbound for warmer skies lets glide past the the equator and through the tropics I want to feel the heat that would melt a man we are the hearts we are the gods the deity's of my minds ill build shrines to myself just to scream WE ARE THE HEARTS my soul beats free as my barbed wire wings no longer am i wrapped  in steel Ill take you with me, swap your heart for mine scream like banshees a technicolor passion drives me forwards we will lay down ourselves to show you as you sit waltzing through your strip wire fences Ill turn them to wings ill float so high above you.. Ill scream at the 5 am light and bring up the sun the world is yours I am no longer a sheep guided by lack of sleep we are a pack guided by our hearts by our love powered by our bleeding battered damaged broken barbed wire wings L.G
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60
Foster child of silence What did you say? You were always instructed to smile It was a woman’s way Your smile is corrugated You eyes sheathed in despair You yearn for a rush of happiness You wear your masks expertly Until your hidden emotions bleed You pace and pray to make them go away But you cannot stay sane in this facade White padded walls embrace you Until your soul is cut in two You finally speak But no one listens to you No light on the horizon Only darkness that ties you down You don nakedness You plant your feet in a potted tree Hoping to go back to a place,  safe and serene Instead on the cusp of losing your mind You hear voices calling out Telling you that they love you You look all around for them But remain alone in the padded room Your mental illness you cannot control It is the monster in your heart that wants to let go You gather your strength above no other To put another mask of sanity on your face You play your facade expertly And you are released for a time Until you become a danger to yourself or others again Where is your gratitude? Just for today You have been given multiple chances Of a second chance at life Remove the lock and key from your soul Seek help and slowly let the pain come Don’t let it drown you Some memories have been taken away by God Other’s  have endured with his assistance But what is wisdom and life without trial Begin to forgive and begin to heal Let the dragons come head on With your family by your side You are not alone Speak your voice or ink your pen But do not be a victim To the demons inside Take off your running shoes Go barefoot in earth’s paradise Walk to the ends of the Earth And God will kiss your blisters away You will no longer be despondent No longer suffocating in your silence You will remain on the path to freedom Break from the constant Begin to live again Free yourself Find the courage and the voice To say goodbye to the old demons The harmony in your heart is your life giving force
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Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 7:51 AM UTC
Foster Child
Foster child of silence What did you say? You were always instructed to smile It was a woman’s way Your smile is corrugated You eyes sheathed in despair You yearn for a rush of happiness You wear your masks expertly Until your hidden emotions bleed You pace and pray to make them go away But you cannot stay sane in this facade White padded walls embrace you Until your soul is cut in two You finally speak But no one listens to you No light on the horizon Only darkness that ties you down You don nakedness You plant your feet in a potted tree Hoping to go back to a place,  safe and serene Instead on the cusp of losing your mind You hear voices calling out Telling you that they love you You look all around for them But remain alone in the padded room Your mental illness you cannot control It is the monster in your heart that wants to let go You gather your strength above no other To put another mask of sanity on your face You play your facade expertly And you are released for a time Until you become a danger to yourself or others again Where is your gratitude? Just for today You have been given multiple chances Of a second chance at life Remove the lock and key from your soul Seek help and slowly let the pain come Don’t let it drown you Some memories have been taken away by God Other’s  have endured with his assistance But what is wisdom and life without trial Begin to forgive and begin to heal Let the dragons come head on With your family by your side You are not alone Speak your voice or ink your pen But do not be a victim To the demons inside Take off your running shoes Go barefoot in earth’s paradise Walk to the ends of the Earth And God will kiss your blisters away You will no longer be despondent No longer suffocating in your silence You will remain on the path to freedom Break from the constant Begin to live again Free yourself Find the courage and the voice To say goodbye to the old demons The harmony in your heart is your life giving force
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62
And these men that made the land, That wove their dreams with dust and dirt, That needed death to know the flower, Men of the corrugated country. Men of bones, Propped in the rusted windy ruins, Who watched the movement of the birds And bartered life with sky and earth. Men of the drought's bare-cupboard cradle, Biblical through plague and famine, Who struck the water in the stone And fought with flesh to swell the soil. Time's weathered toys, Who sought a garden in the sand, Where the withered streams of the dry season Flowed with flooding summer rains. Men of the dark deserted spaces, That masked their ruined stars with drink, That fed the shadows with strange desires And drowned the broken plough with tears.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
And These Men
His nose was Cairo’s Bent Pyramid or a pair of ergonomic pliers And his loyalty was a slumped tower of Jenga pieces And his skin was a film of thick oatmeal or cream of mushroom soup, coating the bottom of an untouched *** His teeth, little tombstones sinking into the earth. His logic was a pair of safety scissors chewing through corrugated fiberboard And his insults were sharp staccatos And his humor was a steeped tea bag or curdled milk And his laughter was a Singer sewing machine choking on tangled thread. His eyebrows were gargoyle wings And his hair, a bushel of dry bear grass He sang, and it was cough syrup And his beard was a soiled litter box. His fingers, dried seaweed And the palms of his hands were month old dish sponges. His spine was a curved dipper gourd rotting in the sun His grin was a snagged zipper And his temperament pad-less brakes or a wasp in September And his kisses were apple cider vinegar and radishes And his eyes were two bottomless stone wells, foaming with moss. His gait was a vulture scrutinizing its prey. His chest was the backside of a dung beetle. His insight was a cataract ridden car headlight lost in a curtain of fog And his knees were skulls And his touch was a snug pressure cuff And his compassion was a guillotine And the last time we spoke, it was crucifixion.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Dodgeball: The Resurrection
Dear Angela, When was the last time the wind blew threw your hair or did it go through your body too? I didn’t know the last time we saw each other, the cat would stain on the wall with its **** and then you would miss your date. Your hair looked like a crown in the sun. Did you ever get the energy to come out of bed? Dear Angela, Soot collects in the hollows your cheekbones, the eyeliner you have rubbed off in your sleep. The last time I saw you, you were cleaning the cat’s **** from the walls and missed your date and we laughed it off and had pizza instead. Angela, I know you are exhausted from simply opening your eyes. Angela, do you still hold your body at night like it is something holy? Dear Angela, Do you remember when we had tea in the August heat in clear plastic cups with our pinkies up and your mother showed us her corrugated cucumbers? Angela do you remember when you were swimming in the Y with the ladies whose bodies could hold your body and mine and still have room for more. Dear Angela, Do you remember when we walked out of class during your first panic attack and how I told you to lay down on the plastic benches that littered the hallway and you said you suddenly felt calm again? Angela do you still lie down on your side sometimes and think about going back to your prime days? Did you know then? Dear Angela, I can tell you to stay strong but I don’t know what that means either. I can tell you that it is winter now and it is cold and campus is a dead white man’s tomb but there are still flowers that stay in the winter time. They call it a winter garden. Angela, maybe you are a winter garden, maybe you are the softest footprint in the snow.
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Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
Dear Angela
Dear Angela, When was the last time the wind blew threw your hair or did it go through your body too? I didn’t know the last time we saw each other, the cat would stain on the wall with its **** and then you would miss your date. Your hair looked like a crown in the sun. Did you ever get the energy to come out of bed? Dear Angela, Soot collects in the hollows your cheekbones, the eyeliner you have rubbed off in your sleep. The last time I saw you, you were cleaning the cat’s **** from the walls and missed your date and we laughed it off and had pizza instead. Angela, I know you are exhausted from simply opening your eyes. Angela, do you still hold your body at night like it is something holy? Dear Angela, Do you remember when we had tea in the August heat in clear plastic cups with our pinkies up and your mother showed us her corrugated cucumbers? Angela do you remember when you were swimming in the Y with the ladies whose bodies could hold your body and mine and still have room for more. Dear Angela, Do you remember when we walked out of class during your first panic attack and how I told you to lay down on the plastic benches that littered the hallway and you said you suddenly felt calm again? Angela do you still lie down on your side sometimes and think about going back to your prime days? Did you know then? Dear Angela, I can tell you to stay strong but I don’t know what that means either. I can tell you that it is winter now and it is cold and campus is a dead white man’s tomb but there are still flowers that stay in the winter time. They call it a winter garden. Angela, maybe you are a winter garden, maybe you are the softest footprint in the snow.
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10
In a shoe box he sits Quietly watching the darkness Sitting forlorned He's a sneaker A loafer Tied in laces And hidden in shine Alone As his eyelets sag With hopes the light peeks in An envelope Finding his leather If only he could feel a touch A foot Feet Interaction A women's toes that wiggle On those cold and lonely nights Where inhabitation brings comfort If only He His shoes It could be fitted and fulfilled Tailored and shined And not be a beaten path With wishful thinking Of a women's toes that wiggle For now though A shoe horn would be the panacea His hope From being shelved Hidden In a shoebox he sits Looking at the darkness At the four walls corrugated In lost time Oblivious Of walking Logan Robertson 11/24/2018
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Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
In a Shoe Box He Sits
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
The Continued Suggestion (Subterrain)
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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20
We found a new world,                           yesterday. Ordained with holy numbers and d-a-s-h-e-s- by modern priests in blanket white cloth. Pious, singularly unromantic men. Reaching for this sphere it is into an unnamed sea amid unmounted peaks                             I shall fall, a willfully disobedient boy who drowned with a hunger that surpassed                 all worldly sustenance. Though perhaps it’s for the best I’ll never walk its corrugated G a s e o u s                 surface, for an epoch of chastity would be corrupt by my abrasive soles, my cutting words, my fallible conscience and mortal skin. 600 light-years? I’ll save us both the effort. ©Thomas Gabriel
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Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 12:43 PM UTC
Icarus revisited.
The displays Half-a-commode.... salvaged from construction-site debris, in an enclosure; Corrugated tin... inverted containers, shop-floor seats, hollow from the inside; Squashed up... aluminium coke-cans and bottle-lids, stashed by the dozens; Rusting old pair... of dented batteries - A-class, from discarded torch lights; Mounted rectangle... sketch-canvas half-a-diagonal triangle coloured black; Foreground Expanse of water... mirage lit by a deceptive lamp playing evening sun.
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Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
Modern Art | The Earth Chronicles
The afternoon was excessively humid The earth seemed a seething hot furnace Dark clouds were gathering overhead Lightning drew florescent patterns in the sky Thunder boomed and rumbled A few sparse drops of water hit the window pane The air grew dark, leaves shivered Soon the rain pelted down in torrents Drumming on the corrugated tin roofs Spreading a dark curtain between the eye and the sky It poured down in full fury for about an hour In no time it flooded the ditches and hollows But its might slackened and it vanished as quickly As it had come, like a messenger on an urgent errand The day was dying and I witnessed another rain The rain of insects into the sequestered freedom of the night Termites and white ants, sleeping in the hollows Suddenly emerged from their lairs in thousands Out of every crack and cranny, every fissure and hole From under every boulder and brick Winged termites emerged, fluttering about dreamily Never knowing they were on their first and last flight They all flew towards the bright light in the porch But striking against the concrete ceiling They fell down one by one, some losing their wings And creeping on the floor, like wounded warriors A quivering swarm of insects, a clumsily moving mass This was the harvesting time for the geckos In one and two, the lizards emerged from their hide Flicking their tail, they stood ready for the catch With their darting sticky tongue, they began Devouring the insects, hastily cramming their stomachs Until they could hold no more When the insects began invading the inner space I switched off all the lights and went to bed The cool air and the sonorous but rhythmic chants of the frogs Put my sleepy eyes into sound slumber Early morning as I woke up I saw the porch strewn with filmy wings of the termites They lay like scattered chaff after the corn has been stored Also some weak survivors, staggering to their end I thought, to what bleak fate, the exodus of insects Had taken off on their wings for their maiden flight!
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Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
The Rain and the Exodus
The afternoon was excessively humid The earth seemed a seething hot furnace Dark clouds were gathering overhead Lightning drew florescent patterns in the sky Thunder boomed and rumbled A few sparse drops of water hit the window pane The air grew dark, leaves shivered Soon the rain pelted down in torrents Drumming on the corrugated tin roofs Spreading a dark curtain between the eye and the sky It poured down in full fury for about an hour In no time it flooded the ditches and hollows But its might slackened and it vanished as quickly As it had come, like a messenger on an urgent errand The day was dying and I witnessed another rain The rain of insects into the sequestered freedom of the night Termites and white ants, sleeping in the hollows Suddenly emerged from their lairs in thousands Out of every crack and cranny, every fissure and hole From under every boulder and brick Winged termites emerged, fluttering about dreamily Never knowing they were on their first and last flight They all flew towards the bright light in the porch But striking against the concrete ceiling They fell down one by one, some losing their wings And creeping on the floor, like wounded warriors A quivering swarm of insects, a clumsily moving mass This was the harvesting time for the geckos In one and two, the lizards emerged from their hide Flicking their tail, they stood ready for the catch With their darting sticky tongue, they began Devouring the insects, hastily cramming their stomachs Until they could hold no more When the insects began invading the inner space I switched off all the lights and went to bed The cool air and the sonorous but rhythmic chants of the frogs Put my sleepy eyes into sound slumber Early morning as I woke up I saw the porch strewn with filmy wings of the termites They lay like scattered chaff after the corn has been stored Also some weak survivors, staggering to their end I thought, to what bleak fate, the exodus of insects Had taken off on their wings for their maiden flight!
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43
The Munster Blackwater had a steely, corrugated, cloud reflected look about it today, sooty, in fact. Paisley said he would never give up the blue skies of Ulster for the grey skies of the Republic. But The Ulster Blackwater has the same hue as ours, so tell me then, what is the cause of that Mr. Paisley?
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Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 5:39 AM UTC
Comparison
During his afternoon break and her half day from work they met at the back of his house by the woods where the corrugated iron garage stood she in her grey skirt and white blouse and summer jacket and he in blue top and jeans and hair combed in the Elvis style slightly greased she talked of the store she worked the customers the manager's moans the poor pay and he listening as they walked through the woods hand in hand she animated her voice clear as dawn's light he liking to hear sensing her mood thinking of the school days the year before how easier it was back then to meet that time in the gym at school in lunch hour and later that hay barn adventure and that time they got caught out in the rain and were drenched and how his mother let her dry and wear other clothes she'd saved they reached the edge of the pond and stared out and over the watery skin the ducks the swan who'd settled there and they lay on the grass dry as hay flowers weary from the afternoon heat birds singing from branches over head and she lay back taking in the sky hands behind her head and he lay beside her commenting on passing clouds the shapes and what they were he sensing her there her hand her body close to his her raised leg the way her thigh was the eyes of her gazing upwards the blue gazing at blueness and he thinking of that time by this pond they last came and she kissed him until his lips were sore but now she lay and talked of clouds and what the shapes may be or of work and how it tired her no kissing of lips or caressing hands on flesh just the lying the idle talk the sky above the slow seeping away of a former love.
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
A FORMER LOVE.
During his afternoon break and her half day from work they met at the back of his house by the woods where the corrugated iron garage stood she in her grey skirt and white blouse and summer jacket and he in blue top and jeans and hair combed in the Elvis style slightly greased she talked of the store she worked the customers the manager's moans the poor pay and he listening as they walked through the woods hand in hand she animated her voice clear as dawn's light he liking to hear sensing her mood thinking of the school days the year before how easier it was back then to meet that time in the gym at school in lunch hour and later that hay barn adventure and that time they got caught out in the rain and were drenched and how his mother let her dry and wear other clothes she'd saved they reached the edge of the pond and stared out and over the watery skin the ducks the swan who'd settled there and they lay on the grass dry as hay flowers weary from the afternoon heat birds singing from branches over head and she lay back taking in the sky hands behind her head and he lay beside her commenting on passing clouds the shapes and what they were he sensing her there her hand her body close to his her raised leg the way her thigh was the eyes of her gazing upwards the blue gazing at blueness and he thinking of that time by this pond they last came and she kissed him until his lips were sore but now she lay and talked of clouds and what the shapes may be or of work and how it tired her no kissing of lips or caressing hands on flesh just the lying the idle talk the sky above the slow seeping away of a former love.
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96
In God’s mind, there was infinity. a slowly whirling, glittering, eternity of terrifying bright night, full of flames that sprinted in ellipses, and marbled floating globes with golden belts of grit and sand all this, tethering His earth with their gravities. In God’s mind, there was a glassy-toothed plesiosaurus, smooth-skinned, dark-eyed, soaring through the airy green deeps. In God’s mind, there was a rumply, wrinkly boulder of an elephant, curling his corrugated trunk shaking his curving tusks. And in God’s mind there was His Child. In God’s mind there were His children: heads, feet, hearts, muscles, nerves, veins, eyes, and hands and mouths. all these. And once upon a time, in God’s mind, there was a small, feathered thing. light-boned and fragile, with a pert, sassy **** to its head-- a daring rascal of a bird! It had a thin, flat tail like a paintbrush, that flicked and bobbed as though held loose in an artist’s indecisive fingers-- As for the feet, their scales were like a lizard’s gray, scalloped ones, fringing eight skinny claws-- such a small bird! And the wings --He smiled-- the wings were the best part, those bronzy-edged feathers, as neatly lapping over each other as shingles on a roof. Ah, yes, in God’s mind there was a sparrow.
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
In God's Mind
Becoming something of a legend cast out from far away alone in a castle upon the darkened hill lives the person of today. Trapped. Long ago you vowed to become something grand one day you shall release slip out without a sound. Cursed forever loner you live within these walls invisibly Confined and break away you shall. The corrugated gates of your own sharp sexuality awaiting the clerical moment when the barren gates break open by kiss you shall be free. And spill forth forbidden riches whatever they may be. But you are a vastly legend alone kingdom come is your only home. Blackened night is your frame of mind color buried iced sublime. A ghostly haunting in tight black leather clasps in cold clipped metal chains you snip your way you slice your path though through the peril grace is slain. Past the autumn winds winter seeks its call. You are a complex monster who loves it most of all. Confined inside your castle you might hear the call. Collecting cobwebs Collecting dust Collecting heartache Collecting rust So the edges start to fray and in each corner that you find lives a hope that soon one day you’ll have some piece of mind. To be loved beyond what mortal words can say.
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Sharp Scissors
Corrugated tesseracts Are enlivened under blood gorged membranes The barrier to a cool coral maze Of still shoals, the palest pink Permanent waves folded Into a frozen tidal sea And here is the world of worlds That makes of us, ourselves A dimension that can't be trespassed against Where we are always home Inside spider woven neurons That talk only to each other Or to god They relay their subsonic messages In penumbral patterns Translated into dismembered tongues And ancient relays of concordance Telegraphing farthest emotion Into clairvoyant flesh.
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Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
Telegraphy