"docked" poems
I went fishing with two witches
Out in my new boat
There was me, the witches
Two black cats, and a little pygmy goat
We sat out on the water
The small odd group and me
And in the first few hours
Not one fish did we see
The witches looked on skyward
Grabbed hands to cast a spell
They said that this worked wonders
And then they both did yell
Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew
Suddenly the water around the boat
Started to steam, and then it did boil
The sun disappeared, the sky went all black
And the clouds went the colour of oil
The witches both gathered the nets on the boat
As the fish came on up from the deep
They were out of the water and up in the air
And through this the goat went to sleep
Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew
Fish were around us, high in the air
The witches waved nets as if mad
The cats didn't move nor did the goat
It was the best catch that I'd ever had
After a while the sky turned to blue
The witches sat back with a look
We'd netted hundred of fish from the lake
Now, they would have to be cooked
Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew
I took the boat in, and docked on the shore
With our fish all strung up just for show
Everyone there asked what bait did we use?
I just smiled, for they weren't set to know
I go fishing with witches at least once a week
My freezer is full and then some
Their spell is amazing, it works every time
They say it loud, and fish come
Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Cleanliness and ******
The ship was old once it had been a big ship now it was small
it had been overtaking by time, its shower system had sea water
which was nice enough to cool off when it was hot.
After having a shower, you needed a bucket of fresh water to rinse
the salt away if not you would scratch all night have irritated skin
For month we did not have a proper wash when our ship docked in
Bremerhaven for repairs and we got fresh water found I had
an extra pair of socks I didn’t know about
it was wonderful having a hot shower I stayed under it til someone
complained I was using all the warm water, even today the sense
of cleanliness makes me shudder with delight.
Whatever I had done in my youth the night before it helped
to have a shower and wash the sin away the smell of “life buoy.”
the only soap we knew about, made the difference the ******
loved it they knew you were clean ******
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
The creek out to our cottage
was right out our front door...
The boats were docked on down the line
with fishermen galore...
Motor boat, motor boat
putt, putting down the line...
I know you thought you were quiet
but I could hear you just fine...
I'd lay in bed and listen,
to the fishermen in the boat...
They would talk and laugh
and sometimes tell a joke...
I was just a little girl
wishing I was going with them...
But dad was at work, so there was no way
I'd just have to wait for that special day...
So I'd dream of the time
when I could jump in that boat.
with my fishing pole always ready
had a bobber ready to float...
by ~ judy
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
It's a new day.
She's standing by her lighthouse.
Waiting for the day, her ship will arrive.
She had a ship docked her port once.
Oh, the memories they shared.
Oh, the places they traveled.
Oh, the love they had for one another.
But suddenly,
His ship sailed without her.
He docked at a new port,
Leaving her alone at her lighthouse.
She's stuck.
She still thinks of the Captain of the ship.
Wondering if he thinks of her as he sails the seas.
Wondering if they still have a fighting chance against the seas.
She's sees a ship coming closer to her lighthouse!
Could it be the ship that she gave everything for?
The ship that left her at her lighthouse?
The ship that has haunted her dreams?
The ship that broke her in more ways than one?
No, it's not...
It's a new ship that she hasn't seen before.
Who is this Captain?
He's docking at her port and staring at her.
He approaches her and smiles a friendly smile.
She's hesitant and slowly backs away.
Should she trust this new Captain that has entered her dock?
He could be like the last Captain that left her at the lighthouse.
Or he could be the Captain that takes her on a journey around the world.
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC
Air is perfume-light
Elbows sank in my pillow
I wake from slumber
Chamber door opens
Handmaiden brings good tidings
from outer Kingdoms
Holds a silver tray
With scones, jam and honey for
some chamomile tea
Steaming hot china
which I blow and gently sip
I hum in delight
Come, some scrambled eggs
With toast and ice-cold fresh fruits
Lemon slice in tea
The handmaiden speaks
As she opens the curtains
The sun shines brightly
Many ships have docked
My kingdom grows in strength
and in its beauty
Another handmaid
Holding a tray of pure gold
I see its contents
White and gold letters
Written by your regal hands
Kingdoms near and wide
Handmaids open them
So many sweet messages
Blessings and congrats
While sipping my tea
I ask for my page and quill
Write with golden ink
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
A rotating wheel. Turning an axle. Grinding. Bolthead. Linear gearbox. Falling sky. Seven holy stakes. A docked ship. A portal to another world. A thin rope tied to a thick rope. A torn harness. Parabolic gearbox. Expanding universe. Time controlled by slipping cogwheels. Existence of God. Swimming with open water in all directions. Drowning. A prayer written in blood. A prayer written in time-devouring snakes with human eyes. A thread connecting all living human eyes. A kaleidoscope of holy stakes. Exponential gearbox. A sky of exploding stars. God disproving the existence of God. A wheel rotating in six dimensions. Forty gears and a ticking clock. A clock that ticks one second for every rotation of the planet. A clock that ticks forty times every time it ticks every second time. A bolthead of holy stakes tied to the existence of a docked ship to another world. A kaleidoscope of blood written in clocks. A time-devouring prayer connecting a sky of forty gears and open human eyes in all directions. Breathing gearbox. Breathing bolthead. Breathing ship. Breathing portal. Breathing snakes. Breathing God. Breathing blood. Breathing holy stakes. Breathing human eyes. Breathing time. Breathing prayer. Breathing sky. Breathing wheel.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 8:43 PM UTC
Marooned
Vapid beauty of this room
Frothing carpet, ocean blue
One wall me, the other you
What lies between is residue
Scribed on soggy, shipwrecked parchment
Questions asked, time forgotten
Who are we?
What do we know?
Into these questions Summer flows
And thrashes at your Autumn’s brinks
Yearlong they torment my brain
Infringing on every season
If not for the manic scheme
To love and having loved be loved
This correspondence to a distant land
With stars, more numerous and brightly lit
Than my burgeoning highway exit
Would by no means have left my hand
But if, against all odds, it will prevail
Extolling truth’s folly, my sorrowful tale
Quells with reason my groundless pride
At having docked on your passionless harbor
Unloading platonic cargo during our youth’s ebbing tide
Must not create union of body or mind
You swallow my horizon, like the sun twilight
Though, one need not chase that orange orb for tomorrow
In this night without fortitude, lewd humor consumes me
Singing with the mouth on my head and your voice inside
I plunge into darkness
Skimming its silky surface
Before zipping it behind me
Shall I drown, as I have lived?
In vain, my dreams your subjects
Taken for ransom in your heart’s Tripoli
Not surmising recompense, I forfeit this
A note belying resonance
Of my heart’s last echoed throe
One desperate effort, giving up
Feed every vestige to the void
Wading, torso encumbered
Each sullen relic of your memory
Falls to the deep’s frigid ebony
Then, only too late am I cognizant
That my own breath is tribute yet spent
Therefore if I were to float or swim
I’d give you every ounce of who I am
Convince you to relinquish me
From your tepid, spurning sea
Then lying beneath moist underbrush
Slowly, breathe no more
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
the morning sky
performs a hot dance of rain.
ever-growing lime washes away,
white and sour mistaken
by some noses as
aromatics.
a season
of ever-ending frost
absent from windows
and misty
misty
journey
through the rain
without an umbrella.
rain jilts
its luscious sun-lover
behind clouds.
it beheads drops into
the thin morning air
only to be crushed
by the sidewalk.
this excites the worms
who unearth themselves
like fishing-bait zombies.
the worms are then eaten
by the birds who brave
the rain and the slick
sidewalk, once baptized,
now eats their ****
I step in a puddle
with my rain boots.
there are holes in their
heels, and I feel
my skin start to crinkle.
I think of you
for the first time in sky water
unsubmerged
docked
landed
and lean in
to the liquid veil.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
A little bird found a boat
A little knot held it docked
A little bird found out that
the boat was soon heading out
The sea is calm and the sun
looks so far from the shore
“Where are you headed?” asked the bird
“Straight towards the sun,” the boat replied
“You’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”
The little bird’s eyes lit up.
“Yes,” she said.
“I’ve been waiting to sail
toward that light for my entire life.”
Anchor’s up, they headed out that night.
The beginning was calm
The sea was peaceful
The moon was a kind and encouraging satellite
They left all of the world’s crossed wires behind
The sun was bright
and the fresh salt water
made them both feel alive.
A couple months went by
The boat noticed that every once in a while
the little bird would fly off for some time
I guess the little bird is just like myself,
the boat thought.
The little bird knew that the boat
was heading to the same destination,
however she wanted to fly there herself.
Determined to find…
Determined to find…
Someone, somewhere that could give her wings a break.
The boat looked up at its mast
and wondered why the bird flies so many miles
when the wind is willing to take us both in real time?
I wonder why the bird works so hard to let go
when there was never anything to hold
The boat started to worry that the bird
would leave home when she started to feel alone
I wonder where that poor little bird keeps going?
The boat kept sailing.
The sun kept shining
The wind kept blowing
The water kept flowing…
The little bird was off a few nautical miles on her own
Wings working tirelessly
The bird doesn’t like the salt, the heat,
and the fact that she doesn’t know where she is going
“I’m going to find that light,” the bird cried.
And she kept flying in circles
She could barely see the boat
Exhausted she mumbles,
“Where is that **** boat?
I need to go home.
I’m so tired.
I’m so hot.
I’m so lost.
For the last few months I’ve just wanted to be home.”
About to lose the energy to fly
About to lose the energy to see the light
About to lose all hope
The bird started back in the direction
of where she thought she’d last seen the boat
“I want to go home!”
“I need to go home!”
Anxious but brave she tuned into herself, her heart, her intuition…
Will it be enough to get her within reach of the boat…
I’m not sure
if we’ll ever know
the ending
to the story
of
The Bird & the Boat.
But we can have hope.
Or just please God
let me know
if I need
to give up hope.
Not on myself, just on us.
Once again, I let go.
Joseph S. Fusaro
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 10:03 PM UTC
A place to spend your holiday
A place of peace and getaway
Pack your bags and grab a flight
For Fiji is awaiting your atmost sight
Early sunrise, cool sea breeze
Waterfall wonders, you'll surely freeze
Hikes like no other, activities you'll enjoy
No dangers, no creatures no forest toy
No roaring lions, no slithering snakes
No bears of any kind that awakes
Just wild birds chattering their plea
"Come on humans, why do you flee"
People friendly of all races
Sometimes its hard to tell their origin by faces
Food of great delicacy on a bed of island chill
You'll not be disappointed when you'll get your bill
White sandy beaches open to all
Bonfire activities often on a roll
Special island dances and firewalking by natives
So much to do, plan your island motives
Just now I see a big cruise ship docked at sea
Why not come down and enjoy
A small piece of heaven, my Fiji can be...
©sim
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
This ship docked in my lonely harbour
It was the prettiest catamaran I'd ever seen
Delighted the captain shouted it's name
"The EDB" his hazel eyes beamed
He was filled with beauty inside and out
And with his withdrawal came pain, no doubt
After him came the figure that was the real mystery
With charm and charisma he came to me
"Hey my name is Jay, okay if I docked at your bay"
Flashing an award winning smile
I couldn't resist
"Ofcourse! ofcourse!" I instantly hissed
However it was the storm that he brought along I wish I had missed
I couldn't bare another heartbreak
No more vessels I'd tell the rest to skate
But then M/V Drew came through and blew me away
With a saddened heart I knew I could not allow him to stay
My dock just suffered two terrible shocks
No more, no more I want off these rocks
Today was it my day to be free
To embrace the ocean, find a ship that loves me
Beyond the horizon floated my chance at more
It was finally my time to leave Heartbreak Shore
- (jrew)
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Thus on my genesis Love's fought Regret
My Ardent Sire whose Merits installed
These English Gifts whom I have thanked just yet
Carried Misconstruction; And docked the Fine Toll
This that Penance be my Honest Attempt
Yet still besieged in case of Bad Timing
The Gold I carry an Issue I Contempt
Will try once more to Win his Best Blessing
My how the Fortunes some drive the Mind mad
And took my Heart back to a Wildman's State
This cannot continue; Much have I had
Sponge this Circled Self back to my Constraint.
The Human in me, the Cause of my Lone
And Sister's Reason I banged on the Phone.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
a nacreous tossing around at
the sides, a dappled silver
sunlight if looked one way, an
apocalyptic gloam if another,
exhaled from a seeming
mouth, feeding on what has
already eviscerated an unfelt
***** a predator certainly its
own prey, a heat certainly
poison-breath on a cheek
falling when a meretricious
lover spouts that spurious
hypocorism, and also just a
wavering, iridescent puddle—
cornered, soft as a liquid steel
echo of a futile struggle
rolling around, bouncing off
a wine glass, and a porcelain
table edge, while a listening
head shakes, looks down
despondently, gloom glowing
out the hair, a voice jaded
since birth saying some
thing about differences, or a
helpless slender strap of hope
hanging itself on the way two
other eyes look at it across
checkered watered wings, two
swirling god whorls, two
effulgent galaxies the color of
melting pine bole circling
around in living umber striae,
pulling its gaze, raising it, as if
they, they were blazing truth
cased behind lithophane, and it,
only an aporetic puddle now
of tepid ocher, a mild earth
stone placed in a hand, asked
what is thought of it and the
response: yes, yes of course,
before foreign distance splutters
its face, and it retreats from
its meaning imparted to every
thing (with the vulnerable
precision of a swaying finger
tip) to the baby lanugo of a
delicate floating, through
human rills, of what is horizon
docked, dead, not merely
deciduous—forever jilted with
breath bulging as when beating
a flopping eyeless fish to
half-dead, head tilted up a
throat trying to pry itself
free, trying to live by
streaming snagless, airful,
without spirant sound of going
lost straight from the hands—
then a short chop of fullness
finally expunged and sputtering
like an escaped tuft of
shackled wonder soaring up
the sky in a puff and soul ring.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:43 PM UTC
I sent a message out to sea, through
wasted words it begs for your return.
If the nautical clamor delivers it to you,
we will be reunited soon.
For weeks I wandered this lonely harbor
sunset after sunset and hoped that the coastal breeze
wouldn't bring with it your scent.
I saw your face in my dreams, and
that was almost too much...
I sent out a message in a bottle,
if it should reach your salted hideout, you'll soon
find that your vessel is calling my soul to your sea...
Sunrise after sunrise I wander this dewey harbor
and search the docked ships for something familiar.
And at night I'll sit out on the jetties, my eyes follow the
guiding light out to sea and I'll think of you,
and wish that when the coastal breeze blows east,
you will accompany it back to me.
So I wrote a message, addressed to my love out at sea,
telling of my desires to join you.
I'll leave this port behind and
the sea will be our home.
I sent out the message in a corked bottle,
and hoped the waves will carry it your direction,
and that you'll allow my love to be your beacon
through the rough seas and guide you to shore.
And night after night, I will sit and await
the arrival of my craved mariner.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 7:08 AM UTC
Two inches was the measure, of young Stevies blunder,
Digging out concrete, not knowing whats under.
He felt a nugget, that wouldn't yield to the Pick,
So he used the Jack-Hammer, until he got that "kick".
Caught fire on the spot, looked at me, shocked,
Died in flames, got a days pay docked.
Cut the main cable, Fifty millimetres, metric,
I know you hate to ask, but Friends aren't Electric.
Dennis stepped back, pleased with his graft,
Fell two hundred foot, down an unguarded shaft.
Been on the Grinder, cutting out steels,
So the Elevator boys could fix , their cogs and their wheels.
Never said a word, no shout or no fuss,
Dennis died like he lived, just one of us.
Me and Baz on a roof, we knew was asbestos,
Brittle like toffee, temperamental as Kate Moss,
Had no crawling boards, so we tip-toed like burglars,
Clinging on tightly, think Ivy on Pergola's.
I heard the crack, leapt to the hip-tile,
Baz clawed and scraped, resistance was futile.
They spread out the sand, where Baz hit the deck,
To mop up the blood, from a broken neck.
Health and safety, if's and but's,
Shoddy workmanship, taking short-cuts.
We have no say, we try our best,
Hard hats, harder boots and high-visibility vests,
Are all that we leave, not Time-Shares or Merc's,
Just daughters in tears, Dads not home from work.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
The smoke stacks that line the waterfront be like giant joints puffing thoughts of her into air embalmed by hundreds of rainy days
That slow burn, against the icy bay and the barges that carry their loads through them
This corner of the world gets six hours of daylight, tops
Greys seared by neon, smoke and clouds and fog produced as one
continuous substance
There's a pleasant blurryness here
floating amid the buoys and the docked ferryboats,
In the way the monorails glide above toward a 1960s dream of the space age through an Amazonian jungle of glass and cranes
in harmony with the clouds sailing overhead
Here is where you go to let off steam deferred, where you ride trains through a kind of dark that arrives early, stays up late
as shadows wander across the gum covered walls of Post Alley
like ghosts made of espresso mist
freed from lit joints protruding from the skyline
to a high beneath starless heaven
Resting into the glow of that harbor
against thoughts of her that cloud the view of the sea.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC
Garden Parkway YMCA
Dallas, Texas
22 November 1963
Darling Sophie,
Could it be only two months since I let your fingers slip from my hand as that train departed Voronezh station? I fear that this trip was a great mistake. . . .
The boat sailed from Sevastopol as scheduled. Just two days and we were through the Bosporus/Dardanelles and into the incredibly blue Aegean and the Mediterranean. On September 27 we passed Gibraltar and started the long haul across the Atlantic. The work was not demanding though the ship was quite ***** and not really very pleasant.
We docked at Houston in the state of Texas on October 9. Defecting was surprisingly easy. There was supposed to be work in Dallas so I walked/hitch-hiked here last month. But I have not been able to find any work.
The people here, though friendly, are coarse and brash. The stores overflow with televisions, record players, mink coats, but there are many very poor people here too...
The great American leader, Kennedy, was shot and killed today, driving in his open-topped car along the streets of this very city.
My money is gone; my strength, exhausted. How blithely I left you and Russia behind! I feel my lips brushing the tiny hairs on the back of your neck, your ******* swelling. . . . Sophie! May you know great happiness and love! I only ask that in the spring when you visit Krymskaya Pond, that you remember how we knelt there, how I whispered in your ear there, when the air is filled with the scent of its cherry trees that you remember what we felt there. . . .
Yours, always, Nickolay
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
~~~
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
~~~
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my merry mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
~~~
used to drink inspiration
from Manhattan sidewalk rain riveted cracks,
turn half overheard street conversation snatches
into half decent poems by Nat(chez),
professors turning phrases, upbringing a brain ratcheting,
choreographers, dancing in body and spirit and word,
in summation, a thief of opportunity...
these days, the pattern prevailing,
the El Niño de Natalino,
is drawing up works
from the wealth of messages and comments,
my troubadours, my y'all youse guys, share,
so as I compose,
not knowing where this goes,
I'm just simple knowing,
that a heartfelt reach out,
addressed as
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
deserves the recognition of its sweet intent,
in a lyric all its own,
like a traditional festival
Hanukkah jelly donut (true1)
t'is the seasonal affectation of salutations
all commencing with happy,
never struck me as anything deeper
than surficial superficial,
but this time its textual emendation -
the inclusion of genuine brotherly love,
loops, Humpty Dumpty cracks and swoops,
and here I am fastening word combos,
when the clickty clack of the clock
says uh-uh, poem in the making,
natural verbal child birthing, sleep hours docked,
and here I am,
begetting instead of shushing
a day-older brain to get-thee-to-a-hideaway...
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
sooner than later it will be the Fourth,
and in my eyes a day-deserving of a fireworks spectacular,
though the month matters not,
the sentiments of brotherhood and live love,
independent and freely given,
deserves enhanced ignition recognition
and herein supplied...
you had me at the greeting so fleeting,
then ask my advice,
is there to be had a greater compliment,
so my mien and demeanor are now modified
an oath sworn, till the infamous 31st,
every passerby and child
will be bequeathed a shockingly rowdy,
Happy and Merry,
sincerity coated
and tinged with you know what...
~~~
Dec. 3, 2015
nyc
11:12 pm
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Ive become haunted by a Demon
Who’s making me question my mind
At first I thought he was an Angel
Cuz at first he seemed so kind
He helped me to unwind
And offered me support
When I was able to breathe him in
I felt like I was finally docked at port
I found his presence intoxicating
I always wanted him around
The insight he brought to my life
Was really quite profound
But those good feelings didn’t last forever
And I decided to take some time away
But he refused to leave my side
And I began to feel like prey
I can’t ever seem to escape from him
Hes mastered manipulation and seduction
My inability to walk away
Will be the cause of my destruction
I look into the mirror each day
And am frightened by what I see
Dark circles and red eyes
Is that the demon or is that me?
Every time I think I’ve escaped
He pulls me right back in
“You can’t survive without me
You just have to let me in.”
His voice echos through my head
His thoughts replace my own
….I love him...I need him...I crave him
And I’m afraid to be alone
I fear that I am not strong enough
And I want to let the demon win
Let go of loneliness-- embrace corruption.
I submit to my addiction again
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
You sit now
stranded,
moored to nothing,
going nowhere,
your bilges dry,
your engines shut
down
and
up
inside the salt-rusted
skin, pocked with rot,
where once you
sliced across
the water's top,
a vessel full
of
life,
bow and stern,
prop and anchor,
never
ever
in your mindless
dreams believing
you would stop,
and
no one
would even care-
no sailors,
no cargo,
no sunrises,
sunsets,
waves and beasts of the
deep
to sound their fare-thee-wells,
no more those chimed
8 bells,
you,
now stopped,
docked
and
alas,
forgot.
_______
Derelict:
http://beautyineverything.com/5096209757
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 4:42 AM UTC
My shaft-craft docked I with hers
As in orbit the space shuttle Atlantis,
Before it was by NASA rested:
So up she swallowed of for three
Inexpressible minutes, my darling dilly, --
Just like a shark swallowed up stiff Jonah
For three days in her belly, --in Havana,
Where I was locked in tween her hot thighs,
Heaving out we both extraterrestrial sighs
Upon the green with amours encrusted.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Your moldable heart
So many times over
Lit up and torn apart
Like a mined diamond
Dug up and brushed off
So quit your whinin'
You're just lucky
Someone like me came along
I'm way ahead of you
Mentally, emotionally and physically
You're a pretty sad excuse
For a person in such a situation
And there's nothing you can do
But listen and soak up information
Keep playing the sponge
And someday you might get the correct formation
I hold the strings
Don't you see or are you that blind?
There are so many things
To be done, to be had
But you just hold on and take to the clings
And I can't say I'm appreciative
Of the fact that you can't seem
To be anything but argumentative
I'm a fuckin' gift
Something shiny in the fog
That comes to give you a lift
You're nothing but the bump on that log
Who goes and makes a shift
When she hears a little something questionable
Through your heart I will sift
And by the end your arteries will be bendable
Your heart of clay
Lays lazy and easily excitable
When I docked in your bay
It looked like saving you was viable
But I refuse to stay
I regret to inform of the incoming storm
But I must decline your invitation to play
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
You are like a sailor
who wants to forget the sea.
And I am not the shore
you cling to
or the lighthouse
that guided you home;
I am the boat,
left docked and
forgotten,
and the waves
that call you back
to the life
you were born
to live.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Wine and cigarettes all i have in vain
But nothing comes close to ease my pain
Winter has frozen my pale fingers
As i walk and linger
My father's last words flew through my heart
As he touched my face and i cried to never part
The wood floor creaked as i walked
The walls shattered as i talked
He said the old house is alive
I knew it when it was so quiet at night
Whenever i said my flat prayers to Christ
I did not come back for melancholy of my boyhood friends
As memories have always been in the right places to suspend
Like cold brief kisses shared before goodbyes
Struggling for never ending happines to come by
Autumn came when i was still deep in slumber
Tucked up innocent in his warm chamber
Whenever i opened my eyes again he was there
Watching out the window, looking so fair
There were nights when the ferry docked
And those distinct shapes in the mist outside i could not make out
There he went away
Ferried over so far away
As i did to him likewise now
Aug 23, 2011
Aug 23, 2011 at 10:57 AM UTC