"downbeat" poems
Stiletto heels and a push-up bra,
Hair piled high, bleached and toned and all…
That’s the way you used to shuffle around,
But you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
Who’s that a’ worrin’ bout them wrinkles and lines?
Is that the same broad who fell for all his lines?
Well, since he left you all you do is frown.
No, you ain’t done much since your man went to town.
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t known much since your man went to town.
(Interlude)
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
What’cha gotta to do to make it right
Is take your piece out of your purse, it’s a Saturday night.
What’cha gotta do is shoot him down,
‘Cause you cry too much since your man went to town.
(I'm still tweaking the arrangement. It should have an upbeat Little Richard or Ray Charles rock-n-roll mid-upbeat tempo with possibly hand claps on the downbeat like a spiritual chorus... since most early rock and r&b; musicians got their starts in small black southern Baptist churches. Let me know what you think. If it ***** tell me.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
**Scattered Thunderstorms
The radar shows a band of multi-green storms,
Parallel running to the East Coast,
Stretching from So. Florida to Falmouth, Rhode Island.
Path-dependent, the edges skirt my present location,
Instrumented, but not weather resistant,
Water teases, invites me to a head clearing session.
Breezy gusts of overcast, caramel salty bay waters,
(weirdly calm),
Spray sprites whisper, scattered thunderstorms, starboard side
I am the only boat out, especially,
The only one going for sure aimlessly,
Radar non-discriminatory, stupidity legal,
So fools like me go out alone.
Scattered Thunderstorms,
Unavoidable, summer's favored annoyance of choice.
The melancholic platelets budding off my bone's marrow,
Forming wondrous clots of sadness,
Running strong in the currents of my veins,
Downtempo'd, there is no relief for
Inside of my radar scanned brain, the scattered thunderstorms,
Have arrived much earlier today.
What sourced this elegiac distich,
Too many poets, fully disclosing their downbeat, aroma of defeat?
The world is in a **** mood, not one of us, got nothing
Good to say, seems that love storms ripping hearts
With no trace of mercy, the radio has elected nonstop
Taylor Swift and Jonas Bro's
Just to make the point!
It is so easy to feel ******
When the sun is unshining, elegant distich, **** me.
Thinking back, getting a good idea,
Found some long necked Corona overlooked,
Turn on the tv, pretend I'm a real cowboy,
And for god's sake, shut down poetry,
Good Bye Poetry, for the rest of the day
Value you more than me, but you've worn me down
My blood streams your anguished distress,
I cannot survive these scattered revolver-repeating
Anguish-Cries-For-Relief from the Thunderstorms,
That now having reached, breached,
That now, having infected my heart which started
This day brow beaten,
First poem of the day, already shell-shellacked,
Now, I must shut me, batten me, down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The average lifespan of a platelet is normally just 5 to 9 days. Platelets are a natural source of growth factors. They circulate in the blood of mammals and are involved in hemostasis, leading to the formation of blood clots.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Studying the wrinkled lines
of elder poems
on the topic of
the Four Directions;
however;
the poetics of
haunting bards
and mossy sage
always
spiral
back
to the
acorn of the heart
In this infinity;
a piney cabin
resides
inside a bamboo
forest
and Wonder,
She
sits cross-legged
below the
river rock hearth;
warming her palms
against the
irregular downbeat
of snapping flames
“North, South, West and East;
Trust the Wise Arrows
Aiming True
from Your Heart's
Quiver.”
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
in my mind, i counted down
the breaths until i was almost
gasping, reaching out to exhale
just in time to stay alive, and i am
conscious enough to close my eyes
and describe this feeling as
breathless
short words in each pause, and i am
only listening with half of my heart
but the meanings are not lost on me, no
i am aware of the definition of this feeling
short words joined spell
breathless
call me drunk, call me unsteady, call
the emergency line just in time
to lift me off the floor
but in reality, the more i sink down
the less i need saving, so just
take this as a sign that we should
fall together, call me by anything
other than my name, call me
breathless
breathless as i breathe in, breathless
as my lungs are filled between the words
that form my ribs and crack my skull
and bend my spine, and as our fingers intertwine
the oxygen spills forth from skin to skin
and even my hands are having trouble
staying steady, as life rushes in
while the world disappears
and it all falls apart while we fall in time
with the rise of your chest and the downbeat of mine
and the constant press of carbon dioxide
against my cheek begins to lessen, and i am blessed
with keening, sweet silence
and through the clouds my mind is clear
with the knowledge that there's nothing wrong
with being breathless
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
"The best memories are like overplayed mixtapes: they lose clarity and detail over time, yet they seem to sound better the older they get."
We listen to the fourth round of Trois Gymnopedies
on our break from the second round of **********
Our limbs entwined, in part because we like it
partly because we're stuck together by sweat and--
The air is thick with scents foul and fragrant
as furniture music fills the gaps in between
Every breath stalls to anticipate the notes
fingers twitch slightly on the downbeat
Ten minutes ago, we made our own music
Ten minutes ago, we were in perfect harmony
She stares at the ceiling as I stare on her lips
I watch her mumble the lyrics Satie never wrote:
*A pack of cigarettes,
a pack of cigarettes
Could you please buy from the store?*
We're taken over by uncontrollable laughter
as uncontrollable as the trembling when we came
She shifts to her side, and my arms are freed
I stand and pick my jeans from the floor
I take my time buttoning up my shirt,
soaking in the view before I run the errand
She lies naked still, as I put a jacket on
I leave on the fifth round of the Gymnopedie
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
forgotten are
those bright
autumnal colours
of the freshly fallen
no longer able
to offer
a crisp rustling
with each step
a whisper that
invites child
and adult alike
to kick
and shuffle
playfully
ignoring the bite
of frost
unwelcomed
by noses
and fingertips
those downbeat leaves
lately of such
seasonal delight
have been rejected
by bough
and branch
drifting meekly
without protest
or wrenched
from arboreal familiarity
by gusting wind
or gloved hand
turned to mulch
by constant downpours
muddily trodden upon
without second thought
clinging to any
passing boot
trainer or shoe
only to be scraped
and scuffed
on pavement
or curb
stomped in a puddle
left behind
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 7:37 AM UTC
The hollow of the cheek, rosy yet
Maplewood, quiet, yet stirring
breathless against the pale of the thigh
Eyes flicker in eighths upward touch secret blue
Hers is the downbeat of his coronary bolero
He, the maestro for her skyward glissando-
the unspoken, unbroken fermata
in the dying wash of sound
in the instant before the applause.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
I am 'cause of what I'm not
and I want love, y'know, a bit of
everything and nothing at all
and, well, I want myself back.
I want to want myself.
I want to be myself.
I want to connect.
I want to LISTEN, but
why do I have to be so ******* deaf?
I'm in the backseat now,
behind the wheel, but I can't
hear where we're going
Could you turn it down?
I don't think they heard me.
Nice clouds, pretty trees,
I like the gradient of the sky.
Up and up the elevator and
I'm so tired of your words falling
shattered on my ear drums
as they translate into
polyrhythmic fuckery
and I'm left struck dumb
and scrambling for the downbeat
buzzing lights and whirring wires
humming fans and the squealing
of brakes from 16 floors down
sirens blind my mind's eye and
down on the streets I'm losing your words
like a fat pig chasing an anarchist
black mask, no idea
out of breath
Gah! Whisper in my ear, please.
I just want to climb all the hills and
valleys of your words and swim in
every nuance of their inflection
I just want to be a gift
Present, and able to
unwrap your song
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
I joke I make a great punch,
but if you knew me you'd have a hunch
something is very wrong,
when I am very gone.
I begin sinking in my chair
my emotions are very bare
I feel my heartbeat.
This liquid courage is a cheat
the after taste is not very sweet,
I drank a glass, or two
it's all gone a bit askew.
This liquid courage is a cheat
I still don't feel complete
I drank a glass, or two
maybe I don't have a clue.
I just wanted to talk without thinking
I didn't want to feel like I was sinking
everyone else in the room seems fine
maybe I should just grow a spine
but it's not even nine and my blood is half wine.
I think I'm drowning,
why is everyone around me frowning?
This liquid courage is a cheat
I just wanted to feel upbeat
maybe if I reapply my lipstick- wait, I'm going to be sick
This liquid courage is a cheat
it leaves you downbeat,
you need to find your own two feet
Get up the chair, brush your hair
and then everyone there will become aware.
Don't worry about what to wear,
because they'll all stare.
Be bare and share, you don't need this much liquid courage
but one small glass I won't discourage.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
waiting weightless
waitless
1/18/15
8:43am
' hand rest chest
thumpthump
thump ''
' that heartbeat is a
metronome of waxing and waning
rhythmic tides and it's an '
everchanging time signature
to my overture overture and '
hand off and unsettle and '
thrown into uncontrolled rubato~ ''
' fizzy brain
spinnin dizzy
spinnin circles
spiral spiral ''
' life over my shoulder
strapped to my back and
I'm flowing like a river
down the elevator ''
' opening down
the seam and out ''
I step and roll heel toe
heel toe '
eyes flick side and side
glass door push open and
box and glass door push open and
push open push open and
open... ''
' cold streets are
the downbeat to sleet '' — '
it's frozen roads going backwards
and I'm going backwards with all my lackwords ''
...slushroadslick. '
I'm returning and leaving
like a medicine wheel spinning
and there's a dead grackle soaking
next to the curb slippery
with toxic runoff... '
...crystal water
melting '
my shoes slide from left
to left and I've up and left and
I'm climbing down the
right side of a staircase
and it's a case and it's a way
that stairway
and that last step
is 9:13am last step flat
and platform dead and
sleepy benches waiting for
the listless waiting
for the waitless ''
' waiting , waiting ''
I hop on and hide... '
the silence is sacred ''
the eyes are averted
and it's one of the
thousand different silences '
it's one of the rumbling ones
but then it's broken and
it's broken by an angry one '
and we're all alone in a railcar
with seven others, we're all alone
and she breaks it, ' she breaks it by
spilling angry nothings into the phone
that she pushes tightly to her skull '
and she grips it and she breaks it and '
and she breaks it and '
I hop off and run...
and once again I'm a
thousand different faces waiting '
but right now we're two
watching watching the
hopping sparrow ' and
it is so alive with it's
warm fluffy feathers
soaked with life ''
'
and everyone is shuffle shuffle pacing ''
' but every body stands still with eyes saccading...
sweep sweep, '
stay where you are,
in your lateness ''
and your action
is in your inaction
weightless... '
waiting to
hop on
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Handclaps, trapped, you are another clapped out hasbeen fading on the subtle regret of a haunted dancefloor,that echoes to a trapdoor of your reflection ,deep on a stained echo of a fatigued stand up romance fall at the feet of saints part time actors on shadows of downbeat sadness ,that chance meeting fall out from insight to quicksand that pours on a sinking fragrence of pitiful sadness and tide tiredness of desert slipstream and fragile happiness to upturned madness ,undressed to a ****** round of applause that maps teach us to follow to a statue frozen and silent .
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
Treading along the avenues of iniquity
The downbeat of mollifying choruses alleviate my ears
Ambivalent logic scours my cerebellum
A frown composed of disdain surfaces
Whilst I seek a hero amongst such strange clouds
I covet to taste of the superlative pleasures ‘tis Mother Earth
Though I am left to contemplate when next my happenings
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
Dim, the stagnant booze-air clears;
thick velvety curtain lifts,
reveals
a not-so-grand
piano, scarred and dilapidated
under a single, cutting beam.
On the bench, the wrung-out crust
of a moth-eaten man
slumps habitually, his spine in a “C”
from the shouldered shackles
of negative meaning. Void.
He weighs the crackled keys
with weathered fingers; arthritically
knobbled notes float into the open air
hung with single malt fumes,
contained in vacuous walls.
Each hobbled finger-stroke and hammer-fall
morphs
melts
molds into agonizing chords, aching arpeggios.
Audible heaviness.
His oddly-angled fingers
abstain from all accountability
for the throb in his injured melody,
punctuated now and again by a dead note
on that neglect-yellow keyboard.
Longing plunks minored
on a downbeat, a song woven with
losing the blue of cloudless mornings
in her velvet passions. The her that’s missing,
that’s gone and packed the dog
and any solace against the pervasive storms
graying his vision, his beard, his hand—
mangled with grief and apologies—his hand
ever grasping for that lost shade
and the irony of intonating the only hue
his notes will ever know.
.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 2:23 AM UTC
I was 18 and surrendered to a Van Gogh sunset,
The Aegean Sea a calm mirror,
Plato’s sun, rose-red and dying,
A shift from wind to breeze,
Each night negotiates a calm.
There were eight of us
Inside the cave,
A cathedral inside a mountain,
Our home, high upside a cliff,
The mountain shepherds unhappy
With our stake,
Until we saved the lamb.
We’d found each other,
An octad to a family formed,
Wandering, drinking, annoying the Swiss,
Our freedom dangerous,
Beyond control,
Our odd desire to just be.
Hell, we were reading Hesse,
One of their own,
Our Swiss welcome spent,
They’d had enough,
And so we left for Athens,
To dance and sing,
And tender the sad patience of the Greeks.
Eighteen hours on the ferry to Eos,
People barfed huge arcs over the railing,
Then sat down to reread the headlines for the hundredth time,
Eos was an island of no cars, sparse electricity,
An abundance of religion
And a constant flow and cask of wine.
Retsina, the barrel sealing resin of the Aleppo pine,
An odd and unmistakable taste,
It left a hangover like a warning shot,
The only cure to drink again.
We spent Easter high on acid,
In the back pews of a church,
A thousand years of candles
White walls black with carbon,
A priest, a chalice, the smoking thurible,
A pendulum of incense and pure thought,
The ancients practiced faith with all their senses.
On cloudy moonless nights,
We walked the miles home,
Sandals slap on a sugar sand,
The beach ours, all of it
So dark we could only hear the sea,
The rhythm of the waves like the downbeat of the earth,
We plodded to its dark measure in a line,
On return, from village, church,
Or a lover’s walk through miles of wild daisies,
Until the rediscovered goat path up to our cave,
A Sisyphean task, a find each time,
Drunk, ****** alive, young, nuclear with hope and desire,
We would change the world,
We would mend kind all the broken parts.
And in our cave,
The sounds of others making love,
Rough grunts and soft sighs, whisper kisses,
I would think and dream,
And ride the silver of those waves
Our lives like skipping stones,
Brief, beautiful, and bound.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC
twelve and im still standing
24 too
were lost
lost in solid black
find me bellied up
ive been taking time to describe
in shapes what our space is
doodle your visage twice
right on the back of the coaster
napkin too
arm
face of the bartender
im no longer afraid of those
who espouse depth and hooves
darkness
surely if we are between the attraction of love
then our souls touch
so close that they fuse
and i can pour you from within myself
into a cup which both bites and charms
you run from through my veins
the people that i meet like you disappoint
they tell me youre nice
but i should hate you
no repair necessary
gulp
downbeat
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
I can feel soulless dimensions seeping inside the inner depths of my veins
A flaming lyricism splintering my skin into dripping dreams
Flawed creations lost in timeless escapes
A downbeat hanging in insane extremes
All twisting and cracking
Shattering in stained surfaces
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
up times up
Is synonymous to up
harmful times harmful
It will be helpful
But helpful times downbeat
Dominates downbeat
Because people could be either
POSITIVE or
NEGATIVE.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
In my mind, I counted down the breaths until I was almost gasping, reaching out to exhale just in time to stay alive, and I am conscious enough to close my eyes and describe this feeling as breathless.
Short words in each pause, and I am only listening with half of my heart but the meanings are not lost on me, no I am aware of the definition of this feeling.
Short words joined spell
Breathless
The more I sink down
The less I need saving
Call me breathless
Breathless as I breathe in
Breathless as my lungs are filled between the words that form my ribs and crack my skull and bend my spine, and as our fingers intertwine, the oxygen spills forth from skin to skin and even my hands are having trouble staying study.
As life rushes in while, the world disappears and it all falls apart, while we fall in time with the rise of your chest and the downbeat of mine.
I am blessed with keening, sweet silence and through the clouds my mind is clear with the knowledge that there is nothing wrong with being breathless.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Empower me
With the keen edge
Of cathartic sagacity
And I will dance
In exalted tribute
To daybreaks invincibility
Double time
While quoting rhyme
To the downbeat slash
Of the scarecrows scepter
While compatable
Emulation
Exposed to rarefied
Imagination
As the keep of the keys
Pounds out
The scathing expose
That dredges up
Those
Benumbed and bewildered
Riders
Who have been
Constantly
Overexposed to the negatives
Developed
In those darkrooms
WHERE
Expedited promises
Secretly enacted
Enabling
Blankcheck *******
Of any and all
Faithful believers
Of our beloved Carrousel
That we have
Always insisted
Is the keepsake
Bequeathed
To all the concerned
Caretakers--once empowered
With the keen edge
Of cathartic sagacity
Now just
Trying to keep dancing
To the fading calliope music
As too many
Once - synchronised
Elements
Of our revolving
Carrousel
Are going wrong
Breaking down
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Ebon gold dust on the meek city sky
Night calls again, another day to die
Agents in the field,
serving the shield
Ours is not to ask the question why
But to serve the master of the all seeing eye
Hazy laced days, pacing beat street
Casual demeanor, keeps me discreet
On a mission
of sedition
Characters in a play, live in conceit
Serving their secret masters of the downbeat
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Tap, tap, tap on the tray
I take another long drag and exhale slowly,
filling my lungs with noxious pleasure
as I stare out the window
legs akimbo
looking at the poisoned sky.
What a life I've made
with the downbeat rhythm
of something exquisite
that's too far gone to name
Hip, hip, hop, hop
Hip sterrr
hip ster
my breath catches; on
a weird phenomenon
and I have gone
to reclaim it.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
the keystone walls melting on on its of gold, taking their glistening edges, spreading all over, the foxes dipping in their hands in the outrage chase, dodging the bulders, putting down the poison that looks like the puddy, passing on the next seed, ears perked up, hunger and pity in the eyes, jesus I speak then I speak too quickly then I don’t speak quickly enough, wanting a few words to help me get through, but find that the words fall then the predictable precedents I’ve set for myself come back in a rush, and those who I at once thought were on my side have been injested, and I have become bigger, and even more confused. The swag is definite, and I have a few directions, then I pull ojn the tabs and suddenly I’m back with some of my pals, hey arnold preaching his word, his riches heir, poetry and padding patty and curly, punching me in the gut, great little suite in a little niche, its the life, what do I compare the next thing to, the abstract seems even more real than any joke falling on an audience, with a dead face that gets a chuckle and the band falls on the downbeat, a dance to distract from the lack of content
where am I coming from? Complete utter confusion, questions upon questions, leading me with no prejudice, missing the sweetness of pre-judgment, how it helped me get through days and dismiss, where is jesus? I’m lucifer, pesticide and bourbon and swanky classes sketching hateful remarks into the desk ******* off professor clawson, sent to the office of vice principal dawson, not the alpha but the cronie who worships, trouble with no proper attention, tar with no high, get used to the asphalt,
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
I joke I make a great punch,
but if you knew me you'd have a hunch
something is very wrong,
when I am very gone.
I begin sinking in my chair
my emotions are very bare
I feel my heartbeat.
This liquid courage is a cheat
the after taste is not very sweet,
I drank a glass, or two
it's all gone a bit askew.
This liquid courage is a cheat
I still don't feel complete
I drank a glass, or two
maybe I don't have a clue.
I just wanted to talk without thinking
I didn't want to feel like I was sinking
everyone else in the room seems fine
maybe I should just grow a spine
but it's not even nine and my blood is half wine.
I think I'm drowning,
why is everyone around me frowning?
This liquid courage is a cheat
I just wanted to feel upbeat
maybe if I reapply my lipstick- wait, I'm going to be sick
This liquid courage is a cheat
it leaves you downbeat,
you need to find your own two feet
Get up the chair, brush your hair
and then everyone there will become aware.
Don't worry about what to wear,
because they'll all stare.
Be bare and share, you don't need this much liquid courage
but one small glass I won't discourage.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
Pervasive night fills these dreams,
Floods these eyes,
Unsaid and unseen.
No day escapes this lurking shadow.
No phrase can change its somber tune.
Though bright the morning sun she rises,
Night follows far too soon.
Record playing on repeat.
In my mind,
Begin the downbeat.
Beyond the depths there wait tomorrows.
Behind deception bides the truth.
Among the stars we hang our wishes,
The crossroads they’ll illume.
Thorny pathways find my feet,
Heartbeat rise,
Excite my defeat
Abandoned and alone I wander
Can’t face to be irresolute.
The bitter boils up inside me
To squelch the hopeful few.
Trusting, fall into myself.
Hold this time.
Can’t say all I’ve felt.
Can longing raise a soul lain fallow?
A life that suddenly rings true.
Are dusks not meant to paint horizons,
And souls to sing the blues?
“Enough” could finish or begin
To my core
Let all of it in
Long shadows fill the paths behind me
The light ahead prepares their doom
I rise to meet my own reflection
And face the world, full bloom
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 8:10 PM UTC