"cricks" poems
Unapologetically Human
I am **** on the mezzanine
facing the darkened wet road
illuminated with acrid yellow tube light
better reds and blues surround towering palm trees
wooden fingers of ancient giant hands buried below
growing leafy green nails stretching skyward
little things, orange ribbons, endless cricks and dollops
bobbles and winches
Spirits
Play among the windmills
climb to the top of trees and sing into the warm wind songs of *** and heartache
as the universe ruffles along
Dive head first into the opponents forehead
grind the sand into his flesh with ram like resolve until the skin is red,
determine to die
This life is worth proving,
the stars are worth gazing,
and this body is worth bathing in the Maui air with naked delight
The ocean calls to my heart
water is a true lover whispering, kissing
inescapably feminine
I submerge my soul in joyful waves
always the tides follow the moon
like my silly heart, eclipsing
both light both night both day
simultaneously cycling
fully the light shines and our eyes perceive shadow faces in the dark blanketed clouds
the mountain gargoyles stand as titans, forgotten creatures
shoulders and heads, waiting for the moon ball
the ocean moon, tranquil bays
the air is sweeter with you near, a distant thought
cast about the horizon, the sun melting easy golden into my dreamy eye,
bless my drunken lips
dripping doltish songs into the friendly night
Wrestling with bulls of men
we kept our shirts on this time, yet blood was drawn in the sand
we madly danced in the moonlight to clapping hands,
kicking feet and knees
the ceremonial struggle toasting the stars
bottles were shared, some puffed on cigars
Come surf with me in the morning
or anytime the sun shines
even under moonlight would I meet you and we could paddle
come fill your heart with life and lust and romantic passions idyllic as freshly fallen snow undisturbed by worldly concerns
be not abashed for this embrace is a natural wonder of the soul,
join me,
forget what words of yesterday the prophets of doom chant,
we make our own tomorrow
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
it's not about the color of their eyes
the tone of their skin
it's the glow from within
what they emanate
who they are
what makes them tick
guilty pleasures
nervous ticks
necks and cricks
where their pleasure spot is
what makes them give in
submit to sin
what they stand for
how they carry themselves
if they are put together well
like spices on the shelf
if their smile never fades
and you remember it for days
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
5/7/5/7/5/7/7
How can I trust you -
Flickering flame in storm-wind
That I don't lose light!
In this dark, cold, barren night
Where crickets crave sleep -
In cricks, in my chest, Thy song
Long forgotten - Now haunts me!
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
Staring out the window
I think to myself
is this how life looks
from the top shelf?
Never had I thought
I'd be sitting here with him
one hand holding his
and the other wiping our baby's snot.
"I want to be big" I'd said
Life was all rainbows in my head
With rainbows came rain
And with rain, more pain.
But as our fingertips touched,
through the cricks of my brain
the memories gushed
"We'll get through it all" he said
"As long as you never let go"
But let go I did, of all my big dreams
and so life turned out - as perfect as it seems.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
im scared of dying
although everyone has done it
and we all have it in common
one day you and i
will be the dirt
and whats etched onto our stones
wont matter to our cold-to-touch hearts
our lungs wont puff cigarettes or posioned air
in fact we wont breathe at all
just the abyss of our memories swelling nothingness
all of the world left behind
yet you're buried into it
with everyone else that has ever lived
if there is an after life
i hope to see gogh and plath
because i belong with people like them
and my whole life i'll be searching
for souls like mine
i know i am hopeless yet hopeful at the same messy, indecisive time
the fear of death
is not only the fear of pain
and the road less traveled afterwards
it's the fear of dying not knowing myself
and being trapped forever inside
the box i always contained myself in
and still feeling cricks in my neck
from not loving myself enough
when people tell you
that it's inevitable and you should "just get over it"
do they realise how impossible that is
for a broken heart like me?
i am a derailed train and a puzzle piece no one understands
and i am a writer who suffers for art and because i am this....
this mess of a person
not even living
i just walk
and talk
and breathe
sometimes exhaling with a sigh
it pains me to think that by the time
death is knocking on my door
i still will not have lived
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
My birth was christened with a curse
but every year those parties were flurries
of bon fires and candle sparklers.
My feet didn't touch the dance floor
it seemed, not once, while
the orchestra was playing
a whirling dervish of a waltz
bangs cropped carefree
across the plains of my tanned face,
swishing and twirling the knee length
pink gown,
kicking off pinching white flats to steal
across the June-hot grounds
only to drift back to father’s feet
for another dance.
The orchestra packs up,
the courtly ladies yawn behind trailing sleeves
as I am tucked in
my bed of feathered down, only to wake up
thirteen years later, with cricks
nestled in the tendons of my neck
and rickety cramps twitching like
the seizure flickering of lightning bugs
through my thighs, as dust billows and rises
with my shifting in the strange light.
Sleeping Beauty wakes up
eighty-seven years ahead of schedule
in the suburbs, the curse a dud
with no prince to sweep her into syrupy swoons
with no words to name this coiling, clammy heat,
this suffocating musk.
I drag my weight
through the two-story house, teaching myself
a new vocabulary
so I can learn to breathe
through the ugly fits of orange tinted panic
at the spider webbed frailty of magic
the kismet pinprick of a spinning wheel
and the helpless sighs of my parents,
a King and Queen dethroned, overthrown
from their untouchable, eternal pedestal.
I couldn't dance
at my next birthday celebration,
when the orchestra was playing
a rollicking rondeau,
mostly because
my hair was too slicked and curled,
framing my fickle new skin,
sitting and twisting a silk napkin in my lap,
ribs locked in the powder blue grip of a whale,
resting poised to turn my toes into graceful
creatures, ten crippled wood nymphs.
To run I would have stumbled,
and it was impossible not to notice that
while we stood, my eyes grazed the top
of father’s thinning, speckled head.
I would break his feet with one more dance.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
did you forget
holding me.
did you forget
the storm inside and the leaking windows;
i wasn't waterproof anymore.
did you forget the burn of fire in our throats
and the smoke we breathed.
did you forget the earthquake sending tremors through me.
did you forget how much it hurts
to have each nerve snipped
so you can hollow out some space for someone else
in your already packed-full chest.
did you forget
the hot summer sun and first love
and vomit-stained dresses smeared with dirt.
did you forget the hard floor and the cricks
in our necks.
mine still hurts
it still hurts
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
Cool morning blues
break warmer
as the sun floats gently
over the horizon.
Eyes flutter open,
the creases and cricks are
pushed out into a polite yawn...
A new day dawned,
lost hopes replaced with a new desire,
freedom whispers you can do it!
And I for once,
believe I can!
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Parallel parking and green from my rings,
these are a few of my least favorite things.
Crumbs in the bed and the toilet seat up,
coffee grounds left at the end of my cup.
Crinks in my socks and cricks in my neck,
not enough funds to cover the check.
Old wilting flowers and ***** brown snow,
roaches and rats and the ugly black crow.
Ranting and raving because I feel ******
sitting alone at my party of pity.
Wasting good time when there's not much to spare,
kidding myself that I don't really care.
Doing such damage is useless and crude,
and it all boils down to my own attitude.
One things for sure and it's perfectly clear,
if I end the party they all disappear.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
now i know why
i couldn't understand you
takes more work
to understand what you are
less to understand what isn't
hello again
undeniable failure
we meet again to carry on
fix the cricks and cracks and make something out of it
this is what the helix looks like in motion
personification they call it i call it incarnation
always the same old loop
only up and up into higher dimensions
wheel of samsara
we will ever get out
forever
and we never stay still
something to be said here
i knew it would all come together
it always does
<<<(((>>>))) vector valued functions
and cosine waves and choreography
representation of me in dimension 1
here you go
you get what you came for
you get what you paid for
circular motion
we ride the waves over and over and over again
most everyone i know is stuck in some kind of frozen time clock
~sometimes it's easier to let it all run together~
sometimes you see them and they see you but you can't ever reach across
i want to give you this, give you that but the great divide is too large i've found
you've got to jump on your own
then the moving ones are either moving too fast or too slow and so you ride along alone on your little boat and take it all in
at the finish line none of it matters anyways
but if you insist on being first, be my guest
have all the blue ribbons
i'll take the red
can you ever really stop once the motion starts?
i don't want to anyway
sometimes i feel like i'm never going anywhere then i check
woah - way down stream
an object in motion:
where you're going
every action:
where you end up
i am not combustible
i am combustion
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
Forever young
Never grow old
A muse forever sung
Only a few skin folds
Having heart and soul
To play all day
Staying forever young is my goal
Enjoying life I shall stay
With a few cricks and cracks
I'll still tango all night
All the Knicks and knacks
Inside my head, a little out of sight
Forever young
Never grow old
My life I've won
My passion never sold
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
the body is flawed,
it breaks, it cricks,
and sometimes it even fizzles,
sometimes it ******
the arms grow tired,
the organs are not strong,
a small cut makes leaks all darkened and raw,
the tounge speaks lies,
commanded by the brain,
which is supposed to prevent them and make you feel sane,
the eyes follow suit under the brains iron will,
and within this will emotions rain strong,
they can make you feel weak,
or make you feel wrong,
but of these emotions one stands firm,
past all the heartbreak,
longing and even yearn,
love is the emotion that carries us forth,
puts us together and tells us our worth,
that we can be healthy and play without cares,
it comes from our heart and rests in our prayers,
but this emotion is fragile,
you must nurture with care,
because it can be broken,
learn how not to care,
so learn from my leasons,
my faults and mistakes,
and take my advice,
do whatever it takes,
to keep it from breaking,
feed it with love and with care,
because once you have it,
it'll always be there
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC