"dishevelled" poems
Escape pods
Ferried fears
Gaping heart
Falling tears
Dishevelled mind
Emotional unrest
Watered ground
Familiar guest
Questioned answers
Unanswered questions
Glassy eyes
Increased tension
Dissipating hope
Chewed confidence
Broken spirit
Unwelcomed sentence
Failing health
Unstable mind
Choked fingers
Flying blind
Pathetic plea
Stretched thin
Battered insides
Uncomfortable skin
Eventual stop
Frightful frights
Perceived freedom
Within sight
Bruised being
Absent gods
Relying upon
Escape pods
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
.
Seems much smaller than I had imagined.
It only stretches as far as my eyes could
see.
It reeks of the past, with no hints of the
future.
The present is here, the present is me.
My world tonight...
Sees me nestled,
watching silent but with mind
dishevelled...
Unnoticed on this kerb...
Unnamed and unlabelled.
My world tonight...
Is filled with familiar strangers,
ushering their lives along.
I know their faces but not their names.
I'd call this home but I don't belong.
My world tonight...
Is spinning regardless...
It stays on track.
Never waits for me.
Never looks back.
My world tonight...
Has no intention to soothe my thoughts.
It is baring its bite...
It's leaving me far behind...
But I'll catch up at the break of light.
As I always do...
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
.
*O beautiful sunshine, may you beam
On a dishevelled soul as it may seem
Reach for the deepened crevices
Let light illuminate the darkness
O beautiful sunshine, may you bathe
Upon a weepy morn that wished you’d save
Let no mossful stone be left unturned
Let there be hope to those left spurned*
.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 1:03 AM UTC
Oh beloved princess,
I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.
You are daughter of the king,
I lack any maids or servants,
You are protected by shawls,
I lack even a blanket or rug..
Get married to a moneylender,
Marry a lucky man...
I have pieces of purity,
But I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.
You live in the palaces,
I roam the wilderness,
You are not used to it,
I am used to roaming.
Get married to a rich man,
Marry a lucky man.
I just have purity in me,
Yes, I'm a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank is all I have.
I carry on my austerity in incense,
I drink a slurry of cinders,
I tame hundreds of snakes on my neck,
I will scare you off my saturnalia.
You need a man with wavy hair,
A man with wavy hair.
My hair is dishevelled,
I am a commoner,
And I drink cannabis,
All I have is a lime & shank.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
Lady night offers her generosity
as the stars twinkle in syncopation for me.
Shadow-clad silhouettes...
Their gaits mysterious.
The night lights trail into the depths of my eyes.
Burning away the seconds, so effortless.
The quietness...
Willing forth dishevelled reflections...
Of unkempt emotions.
Allowing a barrage...
Of thoughts and notions that span
over night and day.
So that they could...
Be conveyed through paper and screen.
So that I could...
Share with you what I intimately mean.
The unforgiving onslaught of ideas and feelings
I bravely conjured...
But too afraid to say.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
*Dust on the ledge, before me, magnified
Smell of gun oil in my nostrils and cramp in the calves
The boredom of the wait intensifies,
Stale air in my loft is full of must
With the failing light I’m grateful it is almost time to stand down.
Through the cross hair sprints a target
An ordinary, everyday, running target,
I know not who this target is,
I know not why it runs across my sights,
But because it is, where it is,
It becomes my enemy.
In a microcosm of time
the loud bang alters things forever.
The buck of the rifle’s recoil,
The immediate sour stench of the shot washes back across my face.
The intoxication felt, in being the one who caresses the trigger.
The satisfaction earned in deservedly making the ****
My target spirals in mid stride,
Contorts in agony
And collapses to the rough tarmac
To lie dishevelled, an insignificant, dishevelled item.
Checking the **** through the telescopic sight
I see the rough stubble of the chin,
The nicotine stain on the fingers,
I see the colour of the eyes are pale blue.
…I know well, it will breathe no more.
With descending twilight
I trudge from my tower perch
With the long ****** rifle slung across my weary shoulders
The crones in the street glare as I walk by
There is a loathing in their aged eyes, It is a tangible thing.
I know they have no knowledge of the target,
But they know, however, that there has been a killing made for the cause.
A cold beer would be nice.
God! how I hate these young punks with purple hair.*
Marshalg
Gaza, Palestine/Mogadishu, Somalia/Kabul, Afghanistan/Tehran, Iran/Cairo, Egypt/Islamabad, Pakistan/Soweto, South Africa/Dier El Zour Province, Syria/Beirut, Lebanon/Baghdad, Iraq/Tripoli, Libya/Pristina, Kosovo/Grozny,Chechen Republic/Veracruz, Mexico/Guatemala City, Guatemala/Sao Paulo, Brazil/Moscow, Russia.
27 November 2012
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
WHO will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet brow,
And lift your tender eyelids, maid,
And brood on hopes and fear no more.
And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love's bitter mystery;
For Fergus rules the brazen cars,
And rules the shadows of the wood,
And the white breast of the dim sea
And all dishevelled wandering stars.
3.4k
Dinner, Dafney hot, courtyard cool and civilized,
Fettuccini fabulous, guest glamorous and glowing,
Eyes starlike smiling, pulpo carpaccio savoured.
Reality will bite in next week’s jungle game.
Imagination runs riot, perfect picture of dinner
For ants, ambling in forbidden places, ouch.
Coiffeurless, bad-hair-day, dishevelled demon,
Boredom, book, arachnophobia perhaps, escape.
Red carpet missed, pampering needed, tranquilo.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
I saw you walking down the road
Yes you
with your crumpled shirt and your dishevelled hair
Hurrying scurrying wearing a blank look and vacant stare
Yes you
I saw you running then stop when you noticed me
You thought it was too early for anyone but the birds to see
Yes you
With the sleep in your red rimmed eyes
Checking your watch as the seconds fly by
Yes you
With the taste of yesterday still on your skin
Thinking just another few steps to sneak back in
I saw you walking down the road
Yes you
Head bowed with your fringe covering your face
A few more yards to turn the key to the safety of your own place
You didn't see me walking towards you
Yes me
You didn't expect to find me waiting so soon
You thought a little sleep then much later on this afternoon
Yes me
The one whose there waiting patiently
The one you know is there but you don't always see
Yes me
The one you ran into so early today
Perhaps now it's time for you to listen to what I have to say
Yes you
As you walk up the stairs to the stillness of your own bed
Yes me
If you listen to your heart as well as your head
A perfect peace you may find instead
Yes me
Next time you bump into me look me in the eye and smile
For I am your conscious...I'll be here for a while.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
He toils all day and all year.
He takes each misgiving
and gives them momentary life,
through one lamentable tear...
Before he carries on digging.
He gets his hands *****
as he digs through soil, earth and sweat.
No end in sight,
or he'd rather not see.
No solace he'd find,
no peace he'd let.
He only sees this expanse of land...
Of which he diligently keeps.
Tales told by dishevelled sand,
covering secrets
which he has been burying deep.
He has made this
his past, present and future.
He'd make sure that each would fit.
Tied to this grounds,
he is the worn-out keeper.
He never tells but he buries hatchets.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Under the grieving moon
we whispered secrets long kept.
Beneath the roaring waves
that drowned us as...
we quietly wept.
We spoke in hushed tones
of promises made to last.
Our cracked voices
melded with the echoes of a time...
of a fond memory in the past.
Water in our mouths
with words we jousted and lunged.
Heard only as hapless gurgles
and inaudible whimpers.
Unparried speculations
unsheathed and then plunged.
We cupped our wounds and retreated
knowing that we each drew blood.
We kissed with our eyes,
broke down walls
and welcomed the flood.
We wiped our cheeks
now smeared hot with tears.
Where did we err?
Who do we blame...
for dishevelled years?
We would never know...
but we must learn.
Time had shown us our mistakes
but our hearts had taught us
eternal love that burns.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
*Isabel sits on the rusted garden bench,
my heart misses a beat, yet again as I watch,
her eyes are downcast, it's late afternoon,
she looks **** tired, dishevelled, distraught.
The world is on a slide, going bad to worse,
believe me i could see premature grey in her coiffure,
she is fired from her job, I can guess,
it hits me hard to think she is inconsolable.
Then, we all are, who is secure these days!
Under a tree, with withered leaves, she sits,
climatic change, obviously is playing havoc with it,
the evening sun, just slanted westwards,
seems unusually cruel to this girl,
no cover of thick foliage, moreover.
I see children playing around Isabel,
even they are soon losing interest,
if mirthful they are, make some noise and
run around, she would have smiled,
I would have felt far better than this!
Well, I don't know Isabel, may be her name is different,
on evenings I used to watch her from afar,
with curious eyes, I admired her incomparable elan,
hoping to make friends with her,
such a gentle soul she looked.
We'd become friends, by and by, I had hope,
I saw her smile and loved her sunny side,
but before I could meet and ask her out,
it happened, even without a notice,
I am fired from my job, today.
They said the downturn affected us bad, it showed,
What can you possibly say,
other than, just accepting the pink slip*
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
The sandman eludes me...
The hours find me wakeful.
My lungs ingests fatuity
while my heart harbours entropy.
Sleep never comes soon
when thoughts dishevelled,
amass to engulf the twilight moon.
To a point where fatigue has taken me...
But still I lay wakeful.
Awaiting the sandman's return,
with the promise of sanctuary.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
A single sneeze
And the universe stumbles.
For a split second
Everything is real.
All the little people
Living inside my head
Scurry around hysterically,
In search of sanity again.
And I see nothing.
A sneeze comes bursting out.
My eyes shut tight,
And for a second
I am not there.
What if I resisted
And kept my eyes from closing?
I wonder what I’d see
In the chaos of a dishevelled mind.
If my eyes stayed open
And my skull
Burst at the seams,
Would my mind
Come tumbling out,
Shot from the barrel of a sneeze
Splatter over land and sea?
Would all the little people
Seize the chance
Come rushing out,
And then to run away?
Leave me empty
Of all thought,
And with nothing
Left to say?
Perhaps it would be nice
To lose them
All in one foul sneeze.
I could start my life again.
Like a butterfly
Chase new dreams,
Flitting somewhat recklessly
Upon a feisty, summer breeze.
(Gerry Aldridge © 2016)
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC
“Babe, why don’t you believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful?”
he asks, concern filling his expression.
“I don’t know”
I reply, eyes turned down attempting to mask my lie.
The truth?
Nobody has ever looked into my sleep deprived eyes at 2 am and told me they’re their favourite shade of blue. Nobody has ever held me with tears streaming down my face and said they’d do anything to see my smile again. Nobody has ever seen my naked face and dishevelled hair at the crack of dawn and said there’s no one they’d rather be with in that moment. The day I start believing I’m beautiful is the day someone tells me I am, in my most natural, most ugly moment. In the moment my face isn’t masked in makeup, hair done up and outfit put perfectly together. In the moments I’m not supposed to be beautiful.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
I watched you today;
I admired your strutting decadence
Unruly, dishevelled bird of jagged honesty
Ruffled, disrespectful feathers that shine
And reflect your begging, squawking call
You and four of your friends,
Dragged down a helpless potato I
Left out for you;
Pinioned it to the ground
With strutted abandon
Oh bird much maligned;
Bird of ungainly beauty
Hobo, derelict, winged, caller
When you murmur the
Shaking stirred skies
With your flocks,
The noise black swirled and reckless
Never fails to make us catch our breath
That such flock - formed beauty could come
From a ragged kingdom call
Makes my own wings;
Take Flight
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
I am so nasty
people stand aghast
I am so bad
you feel a draft
on a summers day
murderous glances pave the way
I am sick, I am ill
babe with every hero it’s a battle of wills
I am so abrasive
I am like invasive surgery
I am so evil I burn bibles and call it purgatory
the devil herself could learn from me
I want pounds of flesh so burn with me
I am deathly shade
stalking the sun
I am the nightmare
in the night you run
I am evil
I told you to die
but chances are you’re petrified
I am so dishevelled
I make Darth Sidious look sprightly
Sith Lords can’t fight me
With just one flick of my fingers
death lingers
I am psychologically deranged
so psychopathically strange
you wondered if I was ever sane
I just got back from Frankenstein’s lab
I killed the hulk yes I am that strong and bad
I framed Sherlock Holmes
and made him into an ****** addict
cause all my plays our that strategic
I even cheat death
in fact I own Azrael’s blade
I am villain the one you crave.
Dec 20, 2022
Dec 20, 2022 at 5:59 AM UTC
An ode to the raggedy starling
I watched you today;
I admired your strutting decadence
Unruly, dishevelled bird of jagged honesty
Ruffled, disrespectful feathers that shine
And reflect your begging, squawking call
You and four of your friends,
Dragged down a helpless potato I
Left out for you;
Pinioned it to the ground
With strutted abandon
Oh bird much maligned;
Bird of ungainly beauty
Hobo, derelict, winged, caller
When you murmur the
Shaking stirred skies
With your flocks,
The noise black swirled and reckless
Never fails to make us catch our breath
That such flock - formed beauty could come
From a ragged kingdom call
Makes my own wings;
Take Flight
Just written :-)
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 6:10 PM UTC
Sloshing round the bay road
through the foot-deep potholes,
glorying in the rain-lashed dark
as the wind made the phone-lines sing
I saw him. Brown, dishevelled, shivering -
a leveret, bamboozled by torchlight
diminished in his dripping fur,
wild eyes wide and startled.
Trying to leap aside, he caught the fence,
rebounded, tried again,
landing this time in a muddy sheuch,
a wired brown ball of panic.
"You'll not last long in this, wee man,"
I muttered, scooping him up,
dropping him into the deep dark pocket
of my raincoat.
Home we went, where two boys waited.
I quickened my pace, eager
to be the father bearing surprises,
to widen the cast-list of this adventure.
We dried him off, the boys enchanted.
He unfolded. He raised his head.
He bounded round the kitchen
on impossible elastic legs.
"Let's call him Charlie!" cried Robin,
and we did.
Charlie the Hare.
Alien, crazy, impatient.
When the rain eased
and Charlie was dry,
I put him back in my pocket
for the journey round the bay.
The last I saw of him
he was bounding out of sight
indifferent to the interlude
engaged in other things.
Those wild eyes that looked beyond
had no place in a cosy kitchen
this was no pet, no human companion
there was no understanding
But every time we see a hare,
the boys say, "I wonder if that's Charlie!"
and it glows against the backdrop
of nature's unfathomable canvas.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
White Man! White Man!
You dare come and conquer this country?
This corner of the continent
Construct your castles with crystal windows
Looking out on a foaming sea
Model your marble walls, polished and pristine
On your porcelain teeth: terrible and tough
Paint clouds on the ceiling with paper fingers
Papyrus skin crumpling with age
Your knights galloped in on young geldings
Castrated to keep them clean
Like the sterile white cloths draped across their clavicles
You’d scar this landscape
With a squat whitewashed town
Matt and peeling
Dishevelled and overgrown
Black Man! Black Man!
You dare come and claim this country?
My corner of the continent
Behind boulders and barren hills
Coalfires choke the burned sky
I’m breathing in your smoke but at night
Your bullet-holes in the firmament glint
As stars glimpse the belching flame
Of your volcanic pride
Your bearded bishops bludgeoning
The bloodied populace of pockets of resistance
Scorched brown eyes smouldering
From here to the horizon
Of mournful ashen mountains, blunt and black
You’d build your walls of black onyx
Cold, hard and brutal
So let the battle-lines be drawn
Let us duel to the death until we mix
Into that emotional grey area between man and man:
Peace
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
Like hunger I crave,
the inspiration i have lost.
The fast goes on, the famine eternal
Fading fast into the infernal
I sailed in my sanctuary
My spirit you could not apprehend
Outside and unarmed
I am captured and condemned
Not even a canvas blank
But a bludgeoned battlefield
Diseased and pest- ridden
The contamination distilled
The mundane it has become
The nightmare that breathes
It challenges sanity
Entices and deceives
The experience of existence
I shall not surrender
I'll take a large dose of dishevelled dreams
Help me to remember
Through the door for another excursion
Only to return and fight the distortion
The monotonous monotone fuels the rage
Creation the drive, the fresh ****** page
The words I seek, they seem to evade
But inside the visions are so easily played
So I seek to submerge the savage starvation
Reclaim and rejoice with innocent inspiration
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
A puff of cigar in, mist, out
on the street, shrouding the
tracks and missed heart aches;
this morning, time,
is not kept by the ticking clock.
Only one vehicle has crossed the road.
Mellow sun warming up the snow
forever burying the tracks out;
The stubble's scruffy, and heart,
as dishevelled as the sheets;
Empty cups, full of memories -
and stained of the night's wine;
In the corners the embers still crackle:
leaning back on ease chair,
wondering
who it was that left early
this misty morning;
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Sweet fragrant offbeat smells and sounds
accost us as we wake in the oversized bed.
Sheets have been crumpled and creased
thrown to floor in a white pure heap.
Your warmth next to me is almost too
much to endure, I can see the sheen of sweat
coming from your very pores.
Sweat created by the Spanish sun and our Spanish fun.
I look around the suite, and sweet memories flood
through me, the heat of the night as we arrived,
dishevelled yet ready to concede with our pleading
bodies. We cannot retreat just surrender to the crisp
white sheets, inviting us in.
How we tried to be discrete, but it was too sweet
we tried to contain our passion, but it was a lost cause.
This was a country used to the rhythm of repeated pleas.
I run my nails down your sweat covered torso
here we are complete, we are one in this, the Spanish sun.
You turn lazily to look at me,I see the fire is still burning
I know I'll get another treat, Latino fiery ness has emboldened us
In this anonymous suite we compete with each other's affections
Like a matador and a bull we display, and play with each other.
Broiling in the sweat covered sheets we concede defeat,
we fall asleep not by the moonlight, but by the blaze of the sun.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
I hate the way the wind steals centimeters of my cigarette,
hate the way it shares my moment of silence
without me even knowing. I hate how it just
comes, unbidden, & sets everything aflutter,
unsettling things that are easily shaken
(like leaves,
like trash,
like me)
& leaving in its wake a trail of overturned things,
messed-up things,
displaced things.
I hate the way it ruffles my hair,
blows in my ear, touches my face.
I hate how I can't see it even though it's there,
& I hate how I can't see it even though it's everywhere.
I hate how it just comes & goes,
without saying a word,
without making a sound.
I hate the way the wind's left me;
dishevelled, & caught unawares,
cigarette blown away.
I hate the wind for staying so, so silent.
I hate the wind for not staying.
I hate the wind just *so ******* much*
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC