"doornail" poems
Sad because you feel too much
Or mad because you can't feel a thing.
Greener grass beckons,
And you wave to it longingly.
Love the rise,
Hate the fall.
Melodramatic monotone of monotony.
Perishable Plateau.
Whisk me away into infinity.
Dead on arrival.
Dead to the world.
Dead as a doornail.
Stuff me back inside my body
Like clothes in a suitcase.
I fit. I promise.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
It takes one to know one swift fell swoop
like a bat out of hell and certainly the belfry.
If you've something to prove to the birds and the bees,
I won't bat an eye at your rhinoplasty.
I'll take two hoots, 'cause I sure won't give them.
Find somebody else to get up and go;
I cry like I fly like a carrion crow
and I've two left feet and no time to tango.
It takes three strikes 'til it's not just company
any more — it's a crowd and my agoraphobia
is making this worse, so I might disperse.
If you don't quite care, let's put two and two together;
playing pretend we're birds of a feather.
I could commend, but that's such a no-no;
you're more like a doornail to me, less like a dodo.
And if you don't much mind, I might just take five.
I'm chicken-livered, but at least alive
though I feel like a dead duck, dusted and done.
I won't be there, I'll stay fair and square,
right back at square one.
Now can you see how this is cyclic?
Makes me feel one sandwich short of a picnic,
up the wall, and driving me sick.
Apologies, I don't mean to nitpick,
and I know I've a number of bees in my bonnet,
but I've zero interest in your haiku and sonnets.
So here's one for the road,
turn by the way the devil drives you home,
and one good turn deserves
another.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:58 AM UTC
my inner demons are awaiting to shatter your anima with
cacophonous whispers and shrieks from their bad foul maws
they are lurking into the shrubs as its branches creeps onto the
ground anticipating your arrival on the crepuscular side of the train track
they are lingering into the dark as they rub their hands together,
formulating the perfect crime scheme to strangle your throat with words you've left unspoken
so be aware, my darling, for they are biding their time for your arrival
be careful yourself out there, for they want you to be as dead as a doornail
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Apartment recommendations for a city I’ve never smelled
in my mailbox. Empty wine glasses and static electricity
the air, the dust, the heart, the tip, the flotilla----------------
mercy.
me.
mercenary. bible camp.
jacket, jacket, hobble; ****** keys.
You’re a smudge, you doornail, tack.
Tack-- tack, tack. Honey, a floating bungalow========)
Pull off the danger, rose, it’s a time for campaigning.
Awash in grassy knolls, you hidden scavenger.
Grassing, grassing with watering hide, you scrivener!
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
it seems to me
that everything is corrupt,
& that a bird with only one wing (rightorleft)
is crippled to flight
democracy is doornail dead,
but was it ever really alive?
maybe if fat old men weren't running this place
wars over carefully constructed lies
wouldn't exist
and safe places would be safe,
not threatened to be stripped of funding
(hey, it's cool, who needs testing or birth control anyway?)
truth is becoming a word that is thrown around
a frisbee game
with luck it might end up at your feet.
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 12:35 PM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
Egotistic *****
You're that and nothing more
Malice towards other
Fondness for you
and your little friends
Let this end
Be known to all
Ill-bred
Ill-fed
Ill-read
Dumb as a doornail
All hail
To the witless
******
Insolet
Teenage Queen
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
Homefield advantage
When we were together
I took you to all of my favorite spots
They became our favorote spots
Then as summer burned
Straight yellow afternoon suns
Began to fade
Until night was quick
And mornings only came after long
Hours of television
And burnt coffee
Until I realized that
"Stepping headlong into oblivion is the only way to burn the past
From your skin"
I went to our favorite spot on the beach
Where we had our first date first kiss first and third and fifth anniversaries
Not to mention random nights we exhausted young lust right on this spot
I think I asked you to marry me here
Oddly enough I remember you said yes
It hurt so bad to come back right to the heart of things
I could feel the heartbeat on the sand
The pulse of the ocean on my skin
The drift of the sea breeze
I closed my eyes and listened to the call of gulls
As night fell
Ten bottles of red stripe
I only needed six
My dads most expensive bottle of gin
And two marijuana cigarettes
I remember
Screaming at the moon
And running headlong into the black sea
I rembember the sand
Scraping my skin
Stealing my cells
Pushing them softly out to sea
I woke up alone
Lying in the sand
A dog licking my face
My eyes hurt into my head
My mouth was frozen
Swelling and thickening next to the sea
I read the dogs collar
His name was Biscuit
And a telephone number
My phone was in the car
As dead as a doornail
So I walked barefoot and asphalt
To the jetty
and found a payphone
It rang once
And she answered
Ten minutes later me and Biscuit were on your doorstep
"You look like you could use some coffee"
"You look like a towheaded red lipped angel of light"
You think it would have been strange
To let a ***** stranger like me in but I think you understood when I said
I had stepped headlong into oblivion to burn the past from my skin
from your. Skin
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
raining, gloomy streets
all alone in a thin road
storm wants my soul
not easy to forget
this glorious jail
why always in the dark
dead as a doornail
thus memories can ****
faithless, arrogant but virtuous
a lightning against me
you tell me Mephistopheles
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Now I will be ******
If I ***** this up again
I like your pretty words
You ignore it like you havent heard
You've got to know what you're doing
But you like to play the dumb doornail
Coming over to me, your voice washes up
Always, never, your plastic words can't fail
I don't know if we're meant for this
But I think I'm ready to try it
Sorry I got so ******
Over such trivial ****
I'll keep my head on straight
If you promise not to be late
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:28 AM UTC
I can only hope that (my) life
doesn't wind out of control
or wind up killing me dead
(er) than a doornail to a door
to someplace better than anyplace
but here.
I have to keep the faith.
(in myself and my fellow humans)
We don't know any better
so we judge those
who don't know
any better.
(Anyone can do better.)
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
III
A Wizard stumbled on a sea
a sea froze by Winter's lung,
blowing all Winter long.
Beneath the ice, decayed
it was a great giant Whale,
as dead as a giant doornail.
The Wizard swallowed him whole
and coughed him up into a bowl
of warm creamy oatmeal.
Inside he writhed, simply alive,
revived, he was, of all his death
the whole oats returned life's breath.
"The sea is not your home, Whale"
The Wizard then kindly said:
"A giant tank was where you were bred."
Looking the Whale in the eye, he continued:
"I will place you here, my friend, instead..."
and he stuffed him into his library head.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 12:37 AM UTC