"cufflinks" poems
Somewhere in this town there is man with his feet bare.
He has spent the last hour staring at his toothbrush and trying to remember how to leave this room.
His fists hold fingers that are twisted into paleness:
Like jaws too small for adult teeth.
The bathtub gapes up at him, yawning in his peripheral vision,
He remembers that two feet are just as good as six when it comes to sinking.
He never did learn how to swim, but
Like a fish out of water knows
The sea can make short work of accidental sailors
And the gurgle of a tap can sound like the tide coming in.
The bathroom mirror is not kind to him:
His imperfections make apologies he simply won’t accept.
Ribs forming corrugations on his t-shirt, as though his bones are trying to escape from the confines of his skin.
The porcelain lip of the sink continues to pout, its expression a perfect ‘O’.
The plughole is wearing lipstick today; blood red,
As it has been every day of this week.
Thoughts are like spiders webs, he thinks, constructed by moonlight then torn down in the morning
Occasionally he’ll still catch the dew.
In the sterile light of an eco friendly bulb, he holds the mirror back with both hands, one hinge broken.
He wears his heart on his sleeve, cufflinks cutting off his circulation.
In the shadow of the cabinet, are kept row after row of soldiers he uses to fight off his demons
And below that another regiment to handle the effects of the others.
He says, “All I am now is a synonym; and alternative to what I used to be.”
As alive is in likeness to living.
As the sun is, to the infertile glow of his grandfathers TV.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
"DO YOU HAVE A QUESTION?"
her heart was a red
fire alarm
going off
with nobody
paying it
any mind
her heart was
an evening hillside
as the sun went down
the light stealing
into the ground
her heart was a favourite
pair of cufflinks
with one link
missing
or an earring found far
too late many many
years later
her heart was a lute
that was mute
unplayed for
many many moons
her heart
was a house
burningburningburning down
razed to the ground
the sneer of her
pyromanic lover
lost in the shadows
her heart was
the junk mail
that came in one door &
out the other
instant *******
she felt as if someone
had pressed DELETE
her heart was
a crystal ball
that could foretell
nothing....nothing at all
her heart was
a knocked over cheap cocktail
that left a nasty stain
on the carpet...on the wall
her heart was
a tiny torn pink knapsack
that held all
she had known
her heart was
the forgotten iron
branding itself into
her nice new blouse
her heart was
a poppy seen
from a passing train
there&gone again
her heart
full of the perfume
of memories that refused
to ever
...go away.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
Here you are, all dressed up
To take me out to dinner, our first date
In your Armani pinstriped business suit
Silk tie, starched white shirt, cufflinks
Polished black leather Italian shoes
Your BMW waits outside
I changed my mind
You will cook dinner for me right here
No, don't complain
Take off those expensive shoes and socks
I want you barefoot in my kitchen
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
the clouds are breaking
slowly
and sweetly
and just enough to let ribbons of sunlight splash down on our faces
let's play today
let's fill the car with gas
and beer
and horseshoes
and disappear for a few hours on end
further south
on the lake shore
let's run rampant today
kick off our shoes and paddle over the cracking pavement barefoot
at full speed
and full of laughter
let's jump in the puddles
and build in the mud
and dance in the wild flowers like we used to
before we learned that others may be watching
let's fly a kite
unfathomably high
upwards enough to tap-dance through the rings of saturn
and scoop us up some treasures-
astrological costume jewelry just waiting to be adorned
let's sing like we aren't afraid
snap our way to center stage
and bathe in sweltering limelight for the world to hear
we'll sing away all our blues
and the rest of the world's blues too
let's jump off the high cliffs
in our steam pressed sunday best
to show at least ourselves
we're all we've got to impress
and as we're weightless and pressurized
beneath the surface of a glossy green lake
let the buttons
and cufflinks
and pearl earrings fall away
so we can see ourselves some clean way
again
let's forget
let us never remember being scared
and lonely
and lost
at cumbersome crossroads of the past
let's rebuild ourselves from scratch
press stardust and dirt
from the ground up
to make us new
and real
and something we can finally feel proud of
let's be magic
light in the dark
and love to the lost
we can heal hearts
we can hold hands
we can be friends
and be happy
let's play today
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
**Here you are, all dressed up
To take me out to dinner, our very first date
Even more handsome than in your corporate office
So dapper, dignified, distinguished,
so impeccably dressed and groomed
In your Armani pinstriped business suit
Silk tie, starched white shirt, cufflinks
Polished black leather Italian shoes
Your BMW waits outside
Well, I have news for you....
I changed my mind
Yes - changed my mind
We will stay home tonight
You will cook dinner for me right here
You are stunned
"ME?
I have a reservation at the finest restaurant
I know everyone there
And I don't know how to cook!
I know you're joking..
You must be."
No. No joke.
Give me those keys to your BMW.
Yes – the car keys
Take off your Rolex wristwatch
No need to look at the time.
Time to get cooking.
No, don't complain
You’re not in your office now
And one more thing.....
Take off those expensive shoes and socks
I want to see the cuffs of your
hand tailored navy blue pinstripes
brushing your
naked toes....
You are irritated, annoyed, frustrated
As you obey, resisting all the way
You give up your keys with the BMW symbol,
Your heavy masculine watch,
gleaming polished shoes,
still warm from your feet
thin black dress socks
I know it is frightening for a man
like you to surrender his shoes
and by the way
I do LOVE the shoes...
They just don't belong on your
feet right now
You call the restaurant and cancel
Shoeless and carless
Suddenly a servant
I’ll read the recipe.
While you peel the potatoes.....
I want you barefoot in my kitchen**
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
A shadow of a man ******* up space
Pressed suits & cufflinks without a face
No emotion just a ghost of a man
Hovering closer to an empty plan
A wife at home with a hot dinner
Ignorant she is feeding a sinner
She ignores the smell of perfume
For fidelity is what she’d rather assume
Stuck in this vacuum space
Tangled in work and ***** lace
He never looks up from his plate
So consumed in cold hate
A shadow of a man- what a pity
Washed down the gutter in the city
The only one who will miss
Is the daughter he forgot to kiss
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
Zoe hangs back,
My home-time mayhem
with half a head of hair,
pink neon flashing up her cherry studded arms.
My cufflinks snag and shake,
trying to make her see,
trying to make her see something.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Peel off those thin black dress socks
Walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
That full head of thick corporate hair
Now walk barefoot and bald in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
i want my life to open
i want my life to shut like a tired
ocean wave
i want to sleep and eat and
die, i want to die
and be reborn and
never have to look at any of this.
i want to drop this burden
i want to cry and cry and
i want someone
anyone
to understand this.
i want to feel a fire
i want to run outside and escape
escape escape escape
the word sounds like it wears
expensive cufflinks from a
boutique in downtown boston.
i want to ***** all over boston
i want to ***** all over myself
and then lick it back up,
lap it in, feel the chunks slide
softly down my pharynx.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
Your politeness
is a starched collar.
I itch
and fiddle with my cufflinks.
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
**Here you are, all dressed up
To take me out to dinner, our very first date
Even more handsome than in your corporate office
So dapper, dignified, distinguished,
so impeccably dressed and groomed
In your Armani pinstriped business suit
Silk tie, starched white shirt, cufflinks
Polished black leather Italian shoes
Your BMW waits outside
Well, I have news for you....
I changed my mind
Yes - changed my mind
We will stay home tonight
You will cook dinner for me right here
You are stunned
"ME?
I have a reservation at the finest restaurant
I know everyone there
And I don't know how to cook!
I know you're joking..
You must be."
No. No joke.
Give me those keys to your BMW.
Take off your Rolex wristwatch
No need to look at the time.
Time to get cooking.
No, don't complain
And one more thing.....
Take off those expensive shoes and socks
I want to see the cuffs of your
navy blue pinstripes
brushing the cuffs of your
naked toes....
Your smooth white soles
will feel the floor
While you peel the potatoes.....
I want you barefoot in my kitchen**
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
I always knew that lightning
could split the sky
as the world stared calmly
at all that lies inside distraction.
That just a touch from the strongest hands
takes the breath away
from all that has been written
on the edges
of thoughts of satisfaction.
I have always felt the shadows of the night
even though they were hidden
from the innocence of my caring view.
They are just as bold in the morning
like silvery crystals flying
by sweet lovers
as glints fading into a powerless time
we once pursued.
Constant tears
have been inches apart
from the concern felt for foolish reasons,
when what is unknown is revealed.
Moreover, I have always known
that anguish is felt by beating hearts
when everything carried on their cufflinks
silently cries not to be real.
However, I did not know
that lightning is arranged
in wild waves we feel in our sleep,
as it does not strike disturbingly.
Nor, that the shadows of the night
can come unmasked
to trace its fingers as an exhale
across hearts with destinations
unknown to me.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
Greet death
with your hands in your pockets,
slouched back, cool,
collected, and confident.
Wear a hint of a grin
and a dash of cologne.
Say What took you so long?
Say You're behind the times, man.
Say Dead is the new black.
Coffin is the new condo.
Pallor is the new tan.
La vida muerta.
Greet death
with a fistful of black-eyed susans,
butterflies in your stomach,
and two tickets to tomorrow's sunrise.
Wear your father's cufflinks
and your mother's wedding ring.
Say I brought these for you, babe.
Say Kiss me, kiss me.
Say But wait until the sun comes up.
Just until daybreak.
I want to show you something.
Hasta la muerte, te amo.
Greet death
with a knife at your own neck,
chin up, throat bared,
cardiac in overdrive.
Wear nothing.
Wear nothing.
Say Bring it on ************
Say Only on my terms.
Say nothing
and open your throat.
and bleed to completion.
El final, el final, el final.
This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published Oct 29, 2009
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
Mr. Wall Street,
Yes, YOU
You in the Perfect Suit
Here are your instructions:
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Don't ague with me!
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet
Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
and give them a very different life
Now walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
Yes - all of your hair
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter
Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Stolen warmth gone for now, followed by melancholic uneventful sounds. When I walk, I walk away from seeing. Everything I thought I might've been. This skin trying to fly away from me, like a misplaced shadow searching for a body to shrug off its grief. Bending, arcing, aching thumbs that have too much memory to allow them any fun. The old time might have agreed, with the girl lost for at least three weeks. Sugar and a can of milk condensed, heated up over campfire coals in the woods near Libereć.
Twice I'm too scared to talk. After a boxing match with a raging bull. Staleness lingers over these sweating hips, where half a moon quaffs down Verdi's Requiems. I told you I'm hiding in the jungle now. Through these cufflinks I speak through a startled jowl. First that dying tone, the startling sound of a fading D Minor song. The mines of the forest grieve, until the hours born sell the rights to sleep. Taken and away from grief, where wiggling children's fingers are seen. Only to find the child was not a realty.
Let your hands make amends to me, whether you're here for the pistachio ice cream or vanilla almond dream. Princess pleas for a pauper's being.
Looks like the child bit off half it's tongue, to ignore all inquiries into where its gone. Minute games and clauses of flesh, I tie her up using her own belt. Chasing The Rockies for a festive blue, then I gorge myself while she enrolled me too. Quiet bandits filled with starlight.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Sticking to what I know best,
I’m just a product of my generation,
****** up and full of ideals,
Thoughts that my parents think they can quell,
But they just help me to rise to my knees, speak, and breathe,
Sorry mom and dad but it is soon to be my world,
And I have time to recreate,
Already biting the bullet since I was an infant,
The hardest part seems to be, keeping me contained,
Since I was raised in such a connected age,
You know I believe gays can get married as long as I perceive,
We already did our adolescent time; let’s search for something divine,
Like tolerance of another,
Not simply because of their skin color,
But because they are a brother,
I think it’s alright not to look to the skies,
For answers Earth can derive,
Like how I evolved from an ape after others went extinct,
Realizing what is best,
Our children are the remedy to society’s unrest,
When you let them develop a tolerant cortex,
We already bit the bullet as we grew,
We already know what must become the norm,
To breed tolerance is to breed the cure,
How can we not embrace those that know better?
How can we not receive those that can remedy this place we call home?
May the racism rise from your veins,
May you realize that two guys loving one and another,
Is as lovely as the way I feel towards my girlfriend,
May you see that children with two mommies or daddies,
Are maybe as happy as I was with the heterosexuals that raised me,
Sticking to what I know best,
I think its right to tolerate,
The processes of humanity,
How precious is it when you can breed?
A tolerant being,
How wonderful when we better a place founded by thieves, slaveholders and maniacs with cufflinks.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
Hello, Mr Wall Street
Mr. Wall Street,
Yes, YOU
You in the Perfect Suit
Here are your instructions:
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Don't ague with me!
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet
Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
and give them a very different life
Now walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
Yes - all of your hair
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter
Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Mr. Wall Street,
Yes, YOU
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet
Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
Walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter
Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
Mr Wall Street
Yes, YOU
You in the Perfect Suit
Here are your instructions:
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Don't ague with me!
You submit and obey
Not knowing why
You are my slave
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet
Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
and give them a very different life
Now walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
Yes - all of your hair
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter
Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
When I wake up in the morning,
I have rocks in my eyes that'll put your rings to shame.
I'm not the daintiest of women
I square my shoulders up and try to brace myself for the fall whenever I wear four inch heels or higher
I like t-shirts and sweatshirts with sassy and cool logos
Comic strip socks and cufflinks catch my attention before any dress would
I'm not perfect.
My hair is not always combed and I've never heard of another woman who has intense OCD but is at the same time extremely unorganized.
I'm a walking contradiction, an enigma to say the least.
I can eat brownies but react to cake.
My breath doesn's smell like apple pie in the morning and my pajamas consist of boxers and shirts three times my size.
I have a slight lisp when I speak and a face that refuses to soften even when I'm happy.
No I'm not mad, I'm good..
Thats just how my face is.
I don't believe in promises made by people because i've witnessed more broken ones than those fulfilled.
I'd rather let my yes be my yes and my no, a solid no.
I have a soul so old I could've kept your greatgrandma company and yet a spirit so young you'd think I was five again.
I've yet to find the balance.
I don't catch people's eyes the first or second time but I heard third times the charm.
I'm simply Geraldine.
I snort when I laugh and **** in my sleep
And at times I burp out the alphabet.
I'm just me.
Some days I'm sweet and on other days insane.
I break my own heart at times before anyone else gets to it
But one thing's for sure is that I am fearfully and wonderfully made
And my flaws are a thing of beauty to the heart meant to love me...
for me
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Mr Wall Street
Yes, YOU
You in the Perfect Suit
Here are your instructions:
Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Don't ague with me!
You submit and obey
Not knowing why
You are my slave
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet
For the first time
Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
and give them a very different life
Now walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
Yes - all of your hair
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter
Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat
Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles
Destroy your privilege
Cut all ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider
Barefoot bald and humiliated
You can start again
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
Upon an island sits my soul.
Floating among the quivering
branches hidden with in the lull
I crouch, still and shivering.
Upon the waves turns my soul.
With cold waters dragging me deep
to a world through a rabbits hole
I flail, thrashing about and weep.
Upon those cufflinks wears my soul.
The jacket turned outward to face
the cold harsh winds taking their toll
I arch, pained and begin to brace.
Within the damp ground rest my soul.
With shelter against the raging
wind theres chance to warm by the coal
I lay, stretched no longer caging.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC