"deposit" poems
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability
imagine that
where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain
imagine that
the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be
imagine that
a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free
imagine that
and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed
imagine that
you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret
I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when
we imagine that
for this how new healthy cells are born
quiet-now, go, imagine-that, now*
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
The feeling of not being good enough,
inadequacy,
pulses through my heart,
out both ventricles, through the arteries
to deposit the tingling sensation throughout my body like
a thousand red ants
crawling up and down limbs.
Trees have stronger roots than I.
It takes a mere sentence
to break my stance and split me
in two.
You don't notice me
stitching myself back together
piece by piece.
You never notice because I am simply
not good enough.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Time to be in Tune with my own Best Dad
Much would it take to cause Celebration
Sermons apart, yet Insights I just had
Took me some Yards taped for Inspiration
Rarely such Species can just Understand
The Skirted *** most Males eliminate
Still most Sires force their Sons on Demand
To spout their Seeds for Pride to propagate
If you can recall those Sales-Slips within
How Footed and Devote your Presence was
Tri-Dimed Corporate; Or Sea-Tigers therein
Is just the Greeting Card I'll Love at last.
Senior come hither; In Prime Deposit
Father my Mentor; In Wisdom ask it.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
These words just deposit
Like sand on the beach;
Remain on this tongue
As unspoken speech.
They stretch towards someone
Whose ears have gone deaf;
Unable to know
Their tones on my breath.
Their eyes will not see
All that has passed
Since the day that they ceased
And breathed out their last.
Their presence won't touch us
Like waves on the shore
Reaching for something
Not here anymore.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
In this space and time, that we call memories,
Eyes closed tight…we wince to recall special moments long gone.
Some, we merely exist to relive, and others are meant for painful lessons learned.
Strumming through the cobwebs, we coerce ourselves through this jaded door,
Only to find, this time, a feeling of sorrow followed by expressions of grief.
Like a bank account, we deposit memories daily,
Some are easily recalled and others are over and done.
It’s those memories that reside within our hearts that cause special remembrance,
And miraculously, we have the ability to morph these from anguish to memories of tranquil joy!
Sending a smile and all my love to you…….. I’ll be watching for you in the stars.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
Little bits of litter blowing everywhere,
Is it that we are carless? Or maybe we don’t care.
Bags and bottles ******* of every kind,
A simple picnic our ******* left behind.
Bottles of all sizes floating on the pond,
If left on the beach will travel far beyond.
Polystyrene boxes used for burgers or chips,
Are float on our ponds like little litter ships.
But worst of all the dreaded carrier bag,
Hang from wires and trees like a kind of flag.
Just to make sure we spread it far and wide,
Cars are used to carry debris to the countryside.
Now that we have spread it from coast to coast,
We are a famous nation because we litter most.
Fish and chips were sold wrapped in newspaper,
You could say part of a natural recycling scheme.
Pop was bought in bottles with a paid deposit,
Kiddies for pocket money collected to redeem.
Litter is not pretty it will not go away,
Soon we will have nowhere clean to play.
Maybe if we learn to take our litter home again,
We would see the trees and flowers,
Down our English country lane.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 12:25 AM UTC
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Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
blood red diamond
tops tender green emeralds,
rose quartz and morganite
in a feast of polished deposit.
teardrop laden,
glistening against the stirring sun,
the world waits in dew.
crystal drops wink,
the blood diamond contemplates emerald tightrope,
slick escape.
with a bubble here,
a drop there,
Little Lady Beetle
attempts to dry its wings.
the flower that rests beneath
bends low,
and too shimmers
like a July sparkler.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
Sprang forth with no branches or leaves. Small roots.
Bore mangoes, papayas,guava and bananas. Hybrid, mid limb grafting.
The trunk is a figment but it stands non less. You see
my family tree never was and always will be.
A roadside shade with low hanging fruit.
Was never planted.It was a deposit from the bowels of an exotic bird
of the jungles that sampled at leisure the offerings of the rain forests.
The Hardtack and marmalade came on ships with the kings business
Mixed with the Nigerian Fu-Fu ,the Aztec maize the Mayan legumes.
and all points of the compass.
Old Joe Denegri, The Blancaneaux , The Cattouse, The Melado, The Pinks
The Flowers,The Orozco and more. And boundless from the ***** of opportunity.
Piecemeal and untethered. But it is the tree that I must cling to.
However rough the bark.
The sap runs heavy and slow in the humid Belizean heat.To meet the earth.
Cool breezes blow a haunting disharmony. A sweet unity in chaos.
The soil is rich,pungent and forgiving. Soon, A bell tolls in the distance.
The Sea mists my dreams.
A stairway of coconut fronds to azure skies.
Nighttime smells like creation.
The still slackened pace.
The small rat race.
Tempest in a teapot.
Urban-rural.
Coolie gal.
Creole boy.
New Chinese.
Old African.
Ubiquitous Espania.
Garinagu. Mosquito coast.
Children of Mennon.
Old Basque faces.
Things we call races left with small traces
of what?
My tree, her tree, histree.
I am you and you are me.
I see me in your face and you see me.
We are and will continue to be.
Blended.
a hybrid. An orchid wild.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
In the morning her eyes paint the cities horizon.
Stretching and yawning.
Getting dressed; Her blue tapestry.
Opening the door to her apartment
She climbs down broken stairs.
It's payday Friday.
The mail man is late again.
Opening her box closing it right back.
She considers direct deposit,
Climbing back up those old creaks in the stairs.
To a notice on the door.
Excessive noise complaint
Rent past due
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
Mummy used to buy me hair grease,
for my hair was a seismic wave of crease.
The scalp crying sweat,
the tantrums were the onset.
Wide tooth comb have mercy on the nots,
nests of lies and cheeky clots.
The flurries of dandruff deposit,
the skeletons in the closet.
Mummy brought out the blue magic,
the long strands thirsty to become ethic.
Such a wave of moisture,
like the silkiness of an oyster.
A perfect layer of braided Cornrows,
blended amongst the tropical mangoes.
Mummy says to me you’re a woman now,
be prepared and ready to plough,
the knotty hairs of your little ones.
Go and buy the same hair grease,
to ensure their naughty traits mature into peace.
Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 1:38 AM UTC
Under attack once again
From those who make themselves available to him
By now one would think I'd be use to it
He knows my weakest link
How to distress me
He knows who to send to me and when
Who is vulnerable and who is not
Whoever allows themselves to be used as a pawn
Surely shall get used
No deposit required
While payback awaits
Most are used unknowingly
Driven to say and do as if instructed by an invisible force
Blinded not by the light
But rather by the darkness
However there is a weapon to be used
A weapon that will and can disarm
To master the art of knowing from whence it comes
Then to ignore it
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
Exes and Ohs
Litter the page
Sprinkled around in a random matter
Without age
Relative to time
Persecuted for that one word
That one crime
Exes and Ohs
Meaningless apart
Like a left ventricle
Without the right heart
Two halves
Of the same bilateral organism
An awkward moment
Nervous laughs
Eyes forward
Minds in each other's pants
Forget needless pleasantries
Deposit in wilting potted plants
Hugs and kisses
Sincerely yours
Tell me why
It's me you ignore
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Another Graceful Mentor guides my Side
To ensure my Skills fly in Good Respect
Those Rivered Words; Service and Satisfy,
Two Stone Codes to keep Clients out of Debt
And fortunate I was to keep this New
Thanks to your Report of Knots I un-weave
Press well on Speed; But keep Quality true
To hear Smiling Faces before they leave
I'll keep my Silence; And Pray all goes well
As the Bond between in Profession last
A Basket I learned from your Talents sell
With hope that Demotion will come to pass.
All which I gathered, I'll keep in my Bank,
The worthy Deposit your Aid I thank.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Come May. Come what may.
The most significant thing today
first Monday in May
my wife six months pregnant with twins
says she’s scared what we’re getting ourselves into.
Like the time I moved into an apartment uptown
I mean way uptown, Bronx uptown, uptown
where I’d never been
bomba echoing in the airshaft
painted the walls banana yellow and moved out the next day.
Lost the deposit.
A few months later moved back to the same neighborhood,
stayed a decade.
I’m not—scared, that is—but they’re not kicking my insides out, either.
Sep 13, 2022
Sep 13, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
If your muggy-grubby hands
Even rise to slap me again
I swear I'll chop them off with my axe.
If your fangly-boniony feet
Get within kicking distance of me,
I swear I'll tear your legs from your hips
And then admire my workmanship.
If your mangy-crazy mind
Tries to infiltrate mine
To deposit some lie
That would change the perception
Of me, myself, and i,
I swear I'll grab a spoon
And scrape, scrape, scrape
Out your brain.
If your hoity-toity attitude
Tries to usurp my solitude
To make me someone I'm not
I swear I'll be completely dispassionate
As I wipe your every iota from this
Particulate Universe.
If I so much as hear you breathe,
I swear I will squeeze
Every
Drop
Of
Air
Left in your lungs.
You think this is too violent even for me?
You'd better believe
I've been pushed to the edge
Of all logical reason
By your every act of treason
And I won't hesitate to
Incapacitate,
Excommunicate
Eradicate,
You from my life.
You'd better beware.
I'm angry and all this I'll do.
I swear.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
Alright, alright, alright... so yesterday my boss says, "Your hair's getting kinda long." Now, he's a very cool dude and it don't confront him at all but he said, "People are talking." Of course I go, "What are they saying?" He said oh you know, "Is Mark having a mid-life crisis? Stuff like that..." So I got ticked and said, "They WISH they were me...." Ha... cocky Mark. By the way I've posted a follow-up to this entitled "Don't Put That Sign On Me." Anyway here's the inevitable poem that always happens:
They say
There's a crisis
Really? Whose?
Mine?
Or yours?
Yeah my hair is longer
Yeah the girls seem younger
Yeah the words are stronger
Yeah the struts in my wander
Yeah... yeah
That's what they say
But... I hadn't noticed
Maybe... just maybe
That's because
It's not my crisis
Maybe
It's yours
But
Like I said
I hadn't noticed
But
You sure did
Why is that?
I'll tell you what
Yeah
I'll tell you
I'll tell you what I've noticed
I've noticed my honesty grow
To match your bank account
With every deposit
Your true self dies
They bought you
Your brain
Your personality
Your heart
Your soul
But I guess
You hadn't noticed
That's because
You are in a crisis
But it's normal for you
You see life from inside
The flames
It's as if everything
And everyone
Is on fire
But one who steps out
From the flames
Is not
In crisis
You locked yourself in
I freed myself
And in freedom
I live
In *******
You die
But you don't want to die
Alone
So you bring me down
Don't bring me down
Just because you locked the door
On your own
Don't bring me into it
That was your choice
Leave my choice to me
When did my choices become painful
To you?
You don't notice me
I won't notice you
Unless you need help
With your crisis
Then I'm here
Otherwise
Don't invent one
For me
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 10:32 AM UTC
A brightly lit room still holds darkness.
Look deeply,
Leopard like sharpness.
In a corner or behind the door.
Look closely,
Maybe under the floor.
Look high, look low.
Bring a friend,
Let the search grow.
Look to the wardrobe,
Maybe you see it.
Pressure building in your lobe.
Look under the bed,
Creepy crawlies,
Infecting your head.
Look in the closet,
Careful there I say,
Untold, unknown,
A ghoulish made deposit.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
She kissed your cheek and smiled widely,
the corners of her mouth almost touching her
impeccably tattooed eyebrows.
She was not what you had pictured
from the back and forth email conversations
on quotes and designs and sizes.
She asked you to take a seat as she went to
smoke a cigarette outside the shop with a coworker;
Anna was her name...with two jack russel terriers -
one of them is like a honey badger apparently.
It's funny how the mind remembers certain things...
the way the smoke on her tongue smelled as she leaned in
adding ink to her needle,
or the song she kept humming while you
bit your tongue and stared at the decorated ceiling.
But the pain of the needle depositing the
ink
into your skin was welcome...
It was nothing compared to the internal turmoil you were
experiencing the past seven days.
It almost felt good...
Not adrenaline good, but like good that you were capable of
feeling
something besides sadness and anger.
In the Barcelona airport two days earlier, you made your appointment.
One on your hip, one on your foot
100 pound deposit. No problem.
You needed something to occupy your
mind
from the pain it endured over your "holiday."
So much for a holiday...
Surprise! Your friend is a backstabbing *****
who "secretly" hates you and tried to
ditch you repeatedly.
The needle grazes your hipbone and you wince.
"You okay?" Tota coos in her Italian accent.
You nod, but you know you're not really okay...
You never were...probably never will be OKAY.
Your mind wanders...wishing you were home
and not in London, three thousand miles away from
the only people who seem to care.
"Done!" Tota exclaims.
You examine her work, smiling.
The first time you have smiled in days.
"Get ready...this one is gona hurt!" she says, half excited.
You don't care...nothing can hurt more than your heart...
Too bad that can't be tattooed...
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
shakin like a bacon eater
takin down a bird feeder
cedar creatures rollin up a doobie
they be suing me for truancy
I shoo a flea from chewin me
a wrap of lettuce fed us
said us fellas sellin head amounts of coke
we oughtta **** a bowl of hope
my soap and rope fill up my closet
I deposit positively. Stop to mop it
cropping photos,potting soil,oil spotting
wrapping lettuce wraps and leftovers in foil
I'm American and spoiled
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
The forest welcomed her
With myriad open trunks.
She swallowed
The deep sweet deposit
Of dew on the drowsy rose,
Then lay upon the lawn
Naked and profane,
A creased sheet in the eve
Soaked through with passion;
“Make no mistake
My dear,
You’ve lost your way,
I’m the guiding voice
And you’ve nothing but me
to fear.
Here.
Where the queer meets a quarry
and the Queen is questioned
by pests
I’ll never surrender my love
Until I’ve whet your slender breast
And taken your breath
Made into mysteries,
Silent as a changing season.
Lucid in all lingerie,
Elusive and eloquent;
A humming bird made
in Pity.”
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
I am a raging river fed by rain.
I flow hard against rocks and logs.
I flood my banks in the springtime
and I seep into valleys.
I catch leaves and seeds during the fall,
and I deposit them southward.
I drift along slowly in the winter.
I feed creeks and mountain streams
and greedy bears and hungry fisherman
and I brought the Grand Canyon down on it's knees.
I am the lifeblood of the mountain.
You can find me in the sweet nectar of the desert cactus.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
His hand twisted the two wires,
and the engine wondrously fired.
I yelled and cried when I broke my arm
he easily wrapped it without alarm.
Sorry son, I can’t come to your game,
the overtime list had my name.
Boy, there’s gonna be a delay,
my big project is due today.
Your dad went out of town to speak,
can’t play pitch and catch this week.
He picked up the phone and he heard me say:
“Daddy, the cops wanna take me away.”
Tonight your dad’ll deposit his check
then we can fix the car you wrecked.
---------------
Thank you Daddy for all you’ve done
“Don’t thank me, your mama raised you, son.“
I regularly tear up with both sadness and joy
seeing a daddy squatting, listening to his boy.
Father-son ties
mix long lows and splendid highs.
Yes, there are tears and yearning
for more than his earnings.
But now I see how my dad’s hand
protected and provided,
how he taught me to take a stand,
and showed me how to be a man.
Jun 19, 2022
Jun 19, 2022 at 10:54 PM UTC
Most of the southern portion
Of Argentina
I stand alone
Waiting
In Buenos Aires
For the elevation of my love
Entirely free of her stones
A statue shapely face
With granite and crystalline rock
Windy plateaus
Breezing along the Rio Colorado
Memories remain deep
While my heart ponders
I've so much blood in war
To a woman
Lady Eva
Is her name
Rings out in whispers
In my ear so ghostly
Our youth was so boldly
But beautiful
Her departure
Deposit streams of tears
That aches many nights
I screamed out in agony
And found myself in shame
Now, I'm left alone and lost
To a time
Of past history
How can an unsuccessful love
Prison a desire
That is worsen
Than a sharpen sword
A buried faith
I cannot bring back
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC
Willie sat by the side of
the river in a philosophical
mood under a weeping willow.
Midway, between the two
banks, was a small island
only paddling distance away.
Debris from a previous flood
had accumulated on the low
foliage of an uprooted tree.
A funnel of cold air from the
ten arch bridge made a wind
sock of a plastic net nitrate bag.
In all his time, Willie had never
ventured on to this little islet,
even wondered if he should flag it.
Off with the shoes, rolled up the
legs of his trousers and slowly he
negotiated his way over the stones.
On exploring the land mass, which
was an isthmus of a mere ten square
meters, he decided to return to land.
Just before his disembarkation, he
noticed a large denominational euro
note caught in the gills of a dead fish.
Eureka Eureka money and food all
in the one catch (was his thought as
he made his way back).
The sodden state of the 100 euro note
was what guided ******* wise decision
to take it, as was, to the local Credit Union.
In the queue whilst waiting for a vacant
teller, everyone was admiring *******
dead fish.
Eventually, at the desk, and known to
those working therein, a 100 euro note
was not his norm and created suspicion.
After tendering the note attached to the
Trout, that had apparently been fowl
hooked up the river by Johnny Logan,
The lady behind the desk called for the
manager, who immediately held the note
up to the halogen fraud lamp.
Willie had never encountered anything like
this when he made a 5 euro deposit once a
month to his savings account.
He enquired of the manager as to why he
was holding his fish and 100 euro note up
against the bright light.
The manager responded, “ It is the policy of
all banking systems to check high denominational
notes for visible water marks “ !!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC