"daylights" poems
¤¤¤
I've had dreams by day
That brought the nightmares back.
In the daylights exposure it was dark
When the negative light was bright.
In the sea of people
I was the floating remains
Of a Great White's meal.
On the lonely roads of thought
My mind was in gridlock.
Comforting memories were suspended
Over a psychic black hole
By jagged and rusted
Medieval-type surgical tools.
My remaining senses
Were nailed to a cross-section
Of psychically atrophied grey matter
Along neural pathways
Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors.
Left with nothing
But the stinging desire to be freed
From a curse that had to be cured
And the hell of searching for a cure
When I was convinced there wasn’t one.
The powers that be come with force
To quell primal lusts & desires
Forbidding you of them
As they seductively
Dangle them before your eyes
Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled
That you no longer
Care for your world.
This cracked glass remains empty
Even though it is constantly being filled
Then spilled or leaked on the floor
Until you learn to lap it up
Like the lapdog that you have become
For their amusement.
You remain with a love for freedom
But your cage is so large
That you think you are free
Lost in societal fantasy.
You think for a while
That these fantasies are real
Until you come to your senses that aren’t
As you join other fools
In comfort that you're not the only
Broken-back pack-mule.
But in spite of it all
And in the face of them all
Don't let these birds of prey
And powers that be
Deprive you of what they
cannot see
In that hidden corner
Of what is still untouched--
The real you
Uninfected by the world.
Take care of your spiritual affairs.
Don't let the global beast
And your primal hissing forces
Make you be your own pallbearer.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
His:
My palms were sweaty
and heavy, but perhaps
the heaviest thing about them
were the two concert tickets
I was gripping tightly in my left hand.
Hers:
His smile was like a bonfire;
warm and you always wanted to bring your body closer
just to feel more of that warmth.
His palms were also sweaty.
Some of my friends say it was gross,
but I will always remember it
as one of the most charming things about him.
His:
I picked her up around 7.
Met her parents and said we'd be home by midnight.
Her father likes the Cardinals.
I'm a Cubs fan.
Yeah...
Hers:
My father is a Cardinals fan,
and he was a Cubs fan.
But, what I didn't tell him,
was that my mother was a Cubs fan too.
My father won't say it,
but he approved of him instantly.
Mom, if you can hear me up there,
thank you.
His:
Her father scared the living daylights out of me.
We came back at 12:06, and her father says
"You're six minutes late young man!
That's it! You're not allowed to..."
and as my heart is sinking he says
"I'm just kidding bud. Thanks for getting her home safe."
She still won't let me live that down.
Hers:
He was so sweet to my parents,
even after dad tried to scare him out of his wits,
he said, "Sir, with all do respect
that may have just been the most mortifying moment of my life."
I walked him out, still teasing him.
With this sassy looking face and a furrowed brow
he kissed me goodnight and said
"I only got scared because we've only just begun."
I think that's when I fell in love with him.
His:
Good God I must have looked like a *****
I ask her jokingly every now and again
"When did you fall in love with me?"
All she does is chuckle and say
"When dad scared the hell out of you."
I think what scares me more now,
is that I know there's a part of her that's serious,
and I like that. I don't really understand why,
I just do.
Hers:
I couldn't wait to see him again.
I asked mom and dad what they thought of him
and mom said "He's a keeper."
Dad said "He reminds me of your mother;
Clumsy, easy to tease, but you can't help but love the kid."
Mom punched him on the shoulder
and then gave dad a kiss.
They both agreed and said "We'll allow it."
I was so happy to hear that.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
A paintbrush on fire
it isn't yet done.
Paints in broad daylights
in cool cloudy darks
often relaxes down the line
when the rain pours down
and the flute is on play
it isn't yet done.
The sea at the clement eve
strives to splash over
this rainbow-kissed brush
the moon will thaw the billow
with moonlight
before the waking
sleeping beauty's eyes
and the night will pour over it,
it's full bowl eternally pitch black
only to see lighting up
zillions of stars
on the paintbrush
it isn't yet done!
Apparently that looks only kohl
the night eyes in within a colour
eternally weighed down
out of sight mass hues
looking to visualise a scoop
paints yet one more first light.
Full of colours the paintbrush
it isn’t yet done!
Aug 17, 2022
Aug 17, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC
to lie down next to you in all of the perpetuity,
moss will grow all over our skin —
as if mushrooms, feeding on
dying, young aspens
and maybe the forest will claim us for its own.
to lie down and watch light slowly go mad
at the sight of the fog that festers,
at the feel of the skin that rots:
a macabre sight to the outside world, yet —
a lively feast to a ****** of crows.
soon, sweet one, candles will die
and i'll be lying next to you —
the feel of daylights, forgotten.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 7:22 AM UTC
the promise that her tenderness has no fences
made her linger on my mind
like a rough bottle of fine wine
and as the evening rolled back daylights clutter of thoughts in my head
that smile she flashed me came back to kiss my heart
it came with such delight sparking in her sweet eyes
that i just felt myself drowning in the moment with such wanton joys
made me illustrious by her soft-spoken side
made me happy to be alive...
once the sullen girl in baggy sweat pants and pink slippers
dragging a bag full of noisesome beatnik romances
she has grown to love freedoms road
cast aside such tin-plated gods and rough-house boys
that a pretty boy isn't a man if he wont make a stand
found herself holding a wishing well coin
and a map showing paradises shores
and came down to find me again....
sitting in a coffee house full of lost voices
full of magazine honeys chilling before the big break finds em
listening to the sounds of heartbreak in glasses chatter
and waiting for a road that made sense to me
when she walked back into my life
like a rough bottle of fine wine
like a candlelight evening with true loves joys
i will be here forever know that now
florida moon-surfing
holding her in my arms
breathing the magic that is her
exploring her romances
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Tis the second
daylight of
the Seven
Crushed. Deplore
As I explore
The first
Daylight
and the last of the previous
Seven
That two daylights
…a plethora of speech and papers
A heart-wrenching chronicle.
‘Tis Monday
The Day of Side Effects.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
bottlerocket,
ski click &
shoot.
[empress impressed.]
petrol souls drift the skin & aetherous
of our holy mother lake midday.
by alpine,
lymph node,
spine of glimmering fish;
i never truly thought that love could destroy.
[to display the paradise boon and boom salute.]
her knife atop the stump.
*
yon machines construct art-form of reservoir (yon being short for yonder),
knee-boarder-boy wake to wake, he wags his tail when he dreams.
[lakeside.]
tribal the beach: a family drunk on juiceboxes.
rolling rocks. tall boys
& boulders/ bountiful canyon kids
with their beautiful gasping dogs.
****** knee **** and gallop at the foot of a mountain/mound &
sugar ants stomped, longing to empire.
mom bunches her fists into sand
of stolen crag, listening closely for her childhood in the whistle
of a casio conch.
margaritaville will do.
[to **** or kiss beetles.]
kiss;
the bitty prince.
maintain a steady alliance with all lifeforms and flora.
life is programmed as thus;
algorithm of love.
bright honeydew soaked slabs of wood,
or plank, tabletop treatise.
wet pile of seeds.
young small birds hoard seeds for winter;
teeter into spring;
& upon summer find solace in swift slip-n-slide daylights.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
Buttercups Diversify!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 19, 2013 at 11:46am
View Blog
Buttercups Diversify!
In peach tinted temple of time,
Painted in poetry's dreams,
We kiss, we talk, we ,
Writing leisure through pleasure and pain,
I laid on your bed,
You bathed my shoulders so sore,
Left me smouldering with desires for you,
You donated to me, while we played in daylights sweet kiss,
A sweet single bright buttercup,
Dressed in waxen yellow,
Precious petals sparkling, shining ,
Glowing in the afternoon, after laying on the the spiky dry grass,
After dancing had passed,
A garden full of dreamers dressed in pink and white, blessed with fragrance, pure.
Collected from a century of rose tree,
The tree had seen much over the years about a century I was told,
Witnessed bombings in the blitz,
Watched mother's father's children's kiss,
Flowers of such beauty, dressed with a drizzle of love's sensation tickles,
As the dance goes on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
i remember riding shotgun
between my ma and pa
mom had on the radio
dad chewed on his chaw
I always rode the middle
Every time in that old truck
I could feel each bounce and bump
Somtimes I had to duck
Ma would play the radio
Jesus music filled the air
Daddy, turned and looked away
Just like he didn't care
Daddy was in Vietnam
He met Ma when he got back
He lost two fingers in the war
From a sneak enemy attack
Ma grew up in Jamestown
A small town in Tennessee
Nothing there but the old mine
Nothing much for one to see
She went to church on Sundays
Listened to WCLC
Jesus music all the time
For the folks in Tennessee
Each Sunday after service
Pa would pick us up at church
He never went inside though
He didn't quite like Pastor Birch
Daddy only owned one suit
He'd had it since the war
He wore it to get married in
It didn't fit no more
The sleeves had gotten shorter
The chest was far too tight
But, since he didn't go to church
To pa....it fit just right
Ma would sit and listen
And I would watch my pa
He'd make faces out the window
Never ever to my ma
Pa had faith, but different
He believed in what he saw
And what struck his eyes in war time
He could never tell my Ma
So, we would go to market
After church, each Sunday morn
Ma would go in shopping
We rush her with the old truck horn
She'd cuss pa when she got back
He'd just smile, enough to say
Let's get home, daylights wasting
There's still chores to do today
When I was nine, well almost ten
Ma got sick, I mean, real bad
She was being called to heaven
And I remember that my Dad
Took me into town to shop
To get a suit and shoes
Before we went he sat me down
And told me the bad news
I cried, for near an hour
Funny thing, my pa did too
I'd never seen this happen
To me, well...this was new
He said, you're ma's a fine one
She's the best person that I know
Now, she's wanted up in heaven
That's all...we need to go
Ma died three days later
Pa phoned up Old Pastor Birch
He told him what had happened
And made plans to use the church
In all my life, I'd never seen
My pa dressed up so good
He said, I don't look perfect
But, I done the best I could
Pa's been gone for thirty years
And you know, I've got his suit
Not the new one that he bought that day
But, the one...he gave the boot
It reminds of the better times
When Ma and Pa and me
would ride out on a Sunday
I'd be shotgun, just to see
I remember riding shotgun
With Ma and Pa, and it was good
Jesus Music on the radio
As I think back...it was good
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!
O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.
O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
Tiny flame huddled close to fading wick,
A rag doll seized in the fist of a tempest.
Fading quick,
Wax molten in our grip.
Burning, viscous through trembling fingers it slips.
Knuckles crack like the fire in the hearth
Consuming logs uprooted from the earth
Giving birth to each ember on the mantle,
Dancing decay around subdued bowing candles.
Crying white tears upon the silent tables
The evening sneers at hush filled fables.
Horses bray in solemn stables
Dreaming of pastures new,
Wick snuffed out by daylights fingers
Flame made still by the morning dew.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
my eyes stay closed as i awake
darkness staring daylights grace
do I venture into daylight
eyes stay shut into the mist
I hear voices yet move aint there
talking at me still i stare
blackness looking out i see
wishing daylight i should be
doctors.. nurses say all this
yet the dark and blackness lives
wake me from this so called dream
bring me life ..reality
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 11:59 PM UTC
**There lay sadness so deep in
his hazelnut brown eyes. It
startled her. Could this be
because of a mother’s love
that chocked him deep down
to the bone. Drifting away
through the black and grey
trying to avoid everyone who
came into his way. He found a
girl who was sad and blue. “I
might as well follow you on
twitter too” he said to himself.
Exchanging thoughts and ideas
they decided to stay together.
Become better and walk out of
the misery they lived through.
A date and two he found himself
drenched in her love. “How
could you be prettier than emeralds
and all the stars. How could you
be prettier than the fresh blood
red roses people leave for their
loved ones over their grey silver
grave stones ?” You brought me
to life when all I wanted to do was
stay home till death comes and
picks me away to the heavens like
they say. “The sadness in your eyes
told me that you need someone to
love you and stay” was all she said
while she looked at him straight
ahead as he blushed and turned ruby
red. Take this feather and ink and
write me down into your story. Ink
my skin with words of love. But let
me tell you one thing first I see
dandelions and happy wishes too
behind the darkness you hold inside
of you. And gardens about to burst
with wild flowers , butterflies and
daylights sunshine. He held her tight
and poems began to roll down her
arms and thighs**
*They made vows to be together even
after fifty. Promises seem like sweet
nothings and cheesy, but what they felt
inside was real. "Exterior is only what
beauty defined. Interior is where your
heart refines" she said to him everytime.
Their 'ILoveyous' never been feigned to
just saying it. Everytime those three words
versed out loud, they can feel their hearts
glued together. Beating to the same nocturne
rhythm. Both beautifully in tune, in sync.
Both of them knew this is how they truly
feel. Heart's that were once armored with
steel. Stolen and found their nest where they
truly belong. Like a ship that needs its keel.
They sail through stormy oceans to finish their
last song* ~
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Down the hall, through the living room
and living daylights.
Through corner shops, spoon-eateries,
between rows of seats in adult theaters,
Beneath Roman spears
of crystal ice
ignoring the warning.
Same old, same old wicked agonizing cold. I freeze solid
and I escape once more.
Through Subways, through hotel lobbies.
Between invidious eyes, above the malady.
Down streets, down stairs, getting stuck, falling asleep, getting chased.
I refuse to affirm my negation with pity,
but rather with revolt and insurrection
I build this fortress not with iron and bricks, but with dust
and guilt
And off I go again...
An airport chapel is tonight's citadel.
From a hidden corner
a raspy cough emits from a familiar throat.
I sit down.
I sit like Plato's prisoner in my cave,
eyes fixed forward
on the wooden cross.
The familiar figure rises.
He walks through my vision,
but I refuse to see anything
but his silhouette
And off I go again...
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
trade insanity to the tailor for top hat coat and cane
to wear to the mausoleum ball, daylights bane
where Lilith masquerades as innocent love
and black bat wings spring forth from every dove
skeletons twist about the living wearing skulls as masks
the grave keeper rejoices in his gruesome tasks
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 8:06 PM UTC
Tie-dyed psychedelic swirling thoughts
Mid-day nightmares tied in knots
Jagged edges of broken minds
Untamed beauty so unkind
Honey sweet and sappy places
Charcoal eyes on empty faces
Inside ugly seeps through perfection
Blocking daylights warm reflection
Chasing nothing standing still
Raining brimstone breaks the will
Held fast in place by testimony
Indecipherable real or phony
Undependable instincts and cloudy vision
Inhibits any and all decisions
Hand-mixed daydreams light and creamy
Candy coated happiness, all is dreamy
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
Inside a damp turnip or pumpkin
carved with a smile on its face.
To scare the living daylights
and vanish without trace.
Glowing embers sparking madness
Toss a coin in its place.
Jack of the lantern to keep spirits away
carved with a smile on its face.
Happy Halloween to you all.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
There once was a lady,
(and there actually still is),
who clandestinely preferred
the growth about her garden gate.
The talk in the village square
these days was all about
pruning the living daylights
out of it, until it was a sad
but smooth barren surface.
Apparently visitors had weighed in
and made this some kind of rule.
Nonetheless, she liked how
the twisting leaves and ivy
created a picturesque latticework,
a natural tapestry,
evoking mystery and anticipation
for what lay beneath.
Oh, she trimmed her foliage
here and there,
keeping the overgrowth
from running wild,
but all things considered
she was not about to change.
Her garden was beautiful
just the way it was.
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 8:50 AM UTC
Forcibly removing wisps from fruit soaked heads.
Curling into melted breakfast.
Willing to line the lateral.
Cracked soup pouring, selfish.
Grinding halt in whole old text.
Pre-youth in use lost in chronos.
Trigger a lament looped put new, lude.
Masses of self-titled separation.
Entangled in sandstone, origin archaic.
Natural disaster of a birth-right in shards.
Trees growing limbs in lungs producing rust.
Forever dystopian dust in rungs of a ladder.
First hurt by ascending sequential first love.
Content with enough abrupt living daylights.
Apex green latex sunrise painting me from inside my blood.
Obtuse.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
Fantasy dream; caught in the between of reality
caught in these nets of generation’s imagination.
Desiring self *** appeal,—only the ones who’ve got
the guns for creation. Violence runs the streets;
a marathon of the fatherless kids brought into the world.
Tell them not to be bent out of shape if you dare, but
any blow of the wind causes them to fold.
Tender kisses of mama; spoiled a child:
Rotten as blackened teeth holes of the sweetest treats,
a long while since a tame domesticated the wild.
This child! Has only witnessed domestic violence all
of their life. Stepped on stepfather; beating the daylights
out of them every night.
Seeking approval; where the approved are only the kids
who break the rules. “There goes the youth,“
they’d often say. Unknowingly the same band of troubled
young mother’s go on their knees each night to pray.
But you’ll just bat an eye away from them;
ignore a present problem, still looking to a future’s gain.
Or take advantage of a youngster, then claim
their misconduct being only by an upbringing
as to blame. __Where are the men?__
_To show a son how to love and respect,_
_a daughter a hand of gentle protection,_
_Teaching lessons of wisdom never to forget,_
_not of their words becoming a weapon._
_To not settle for less when there’s always a best,_
_don’t let the shortest sad times become a deep long depression._
In the end what will our future be;
if we’re not being the future we’ll leave for
our young to follow,
Don’t glance at it with wallow,
build yourself strong,—build that strong
tomorrow.
Jun 9, 2022
Jun 9, 2022 at 9:15 AM UTC
The stars are now sleeping
Mother moon, at rest
Father sun, out with a smile
Shining at his best
The birds are all singing
In the brightness of day
Morning fog starts to clear
Swept with sun rays
No clouds to be seen
Skies are all blue
Father suns sweet rays
Drink the morning dew
Such a sight from the mountain top
A lovely winter tale
Nature's bounty all around
Daylights beauty, unveiled
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
This book is full
of my father's eye lashes
He treated the pages
rough like his sons
pinching the daylights
out of them, I remember
mud and grease
on calloused thumbs
and you can still smell
Four Roses bourbon
in the morning
through the onionskin
He would not weep
he knew most folks
never kept their word
Anyway, his death
came through
like a hitchhiker
You could see it coming
like the slow light
of a faraway dead star.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 7:50 PM UTC
The icy winds of dawn dig in their nails
Daylights first break tempered
For the light only scatters along the horizon
But does not yet kiss your skin
As her nails dig in, a familiar pain takes grip
Familiarity is a fickle friend
If progress is measured in wounds healed
Then taking shelter is Apollo
For you see what's in front of your eyes
It's beautiful, and it's coming to you
Nov 11, 2023
Nov 11, 2023 at 7:28 PM UTC
When my eyes befall the splendour of the land,
the softest touch of grey amongst the peridot grass,
timber browns stretch from left to right,
the amber touch of daylights beam,
the reflective wonder of the flowing stream.
Natures chorus and elegant noises,
harmonious beauty fill my ears,
beauteous avian warble,
the sensitive rivers trickle,
the beguiling Autumn leafs rustle,
the winds subtle whisper,
the orchestra is ready,
now it begins to play.
A beautifully fair day presents itself,
and I given just the chance
to gaze, hear, and feel the beauty,
might just indeed take it,
for this is natures Ode to life.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 10:05 AM UTC