"elongates" poems
The ballerina rises off her feet to stand en pointé.
Sparkles from her white costume shimmering
From the bright lights focused on her.
She elongates her arms into the air, bending her small wrists
And the tips of her delicate fingers lightly touch each other.
She glances at the crowd, looking for him
Even though she knows he is not there.
The long legs of this ballerina are linked, chained together.
And as she hears the music begin to play,
This ballerina slightly tilts her head and turns.
She does not blame him for leaving,
For this ballerina knows she drove him mad.
And onstage she chained her legs tighter and turned faster,
Eyelids fluttered shut, head tilted downward for a brief moment.
Obsession to the point of perfection.
He would never understand, which she always knew.
She had to be perfect.
Her head spinning and facing forward, this ballerina turned faster.
Drunken from Dom Pérignon and love along the coast of La Seine.
Allongé, this ballerina reached further and
Tourné plus vite sur ses pointes.
*Kisses filled with wonder outside the Place des Arts de Montréal,
Yet still she had to be perfect.
Faster with every chaîne tour; never stopping, wishing he could stay.*
She began to slow with every turn
As the ballet dancers flooded the stage.
White sparkles glistening everywhere,
The Prince made his presence known.
The tears she shed one night on the Pont Marie bridge as he walked way.
This ballerina slowed until she no longer turned, slowly lowering her arms,
One hand gently and softly grazing her face.
She stood in front of two rows of ballet dancers, searching for a face
That she knew would not be there.
Allongé, she bent her wrists where the tips of her fingers lightly touched
Before lowering her arms until they were in front of her.
She danced across the stage towards her Prince
Where he waited, arms outstretched, the ballet dancers facing him.
This ballerina turned once more before falling back into the arms of her Prince.
“I’m perfect.”
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
Delicate daisies ripped from the earth to create a beautiful bouquet.
An anonymous arrangement with no note; a wordless love letter.
A minor mystery is formed that sparks interest as people speak in wondering whispers
Trivial time in the day elongates stretching into ongoing hours
Subtly searching the faces of boys, young men with hearts and hormones
Who hope for love and romance, too embarrassed to admit their “feminine” fantasies
The sun sleeps, the moon comes out, and I put the daisies in a vase smelling their sweetness
A lamp lights the room as I change clothes, removing the shirt that matches the fragrant flowers
I slip off to sleep as a fan whirs, my breathing slows, and worries turn into deep dreams
I imagine a face, a person, to go along with those delicate daisies
My anonymous admirer
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting
Scene:
A elegant party but not quite extravagant
Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls
Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow
This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night
It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure
A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister
The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house
The attendants still seem cheerful
(How peculiar?)
A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar
Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger
Both on separate sides of the glass room
Both dancing with the unknown
Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature
Nostalgic for what has never been
(How do you preserve a memory in reality?)
Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles
One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room
Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions
For both pairs seemed identical
Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose
But that was not the plan of this party
For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes
The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie
Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin
(An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene)
With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers
And for the first time that night He and She were face to face
A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience
In a frenzy She tried to speak
“I love you”
“I love you”
“I love you”
But each plea for affection deemed futile
For the grin on His face became that of the pianist
Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion
And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality
He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel
And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore
But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end
She’ll never know how the stars look where he is
(Is such a loss truly a loss?)
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
He said, "Your attraction elongates my friend with one eye"
Magnetism gets confused with pleasure and quick steam of flying juices
A one sided satisfaction
A distraction
That's causes a reaction
For me to see you completely different
The excitement is gone
Disastrous
Insecurities releases
Now you got a problem
I'm surrounded by a **** boy
Who can't control his *****
The ***** controls his sentence
Pleasure is his witness
A temporary fix
Unity disappear
Don't **** with chemicals
You don't see clear
I swear
I feel different when I release that energy
Cuz there's no understanding to this attraction
He said, "you got me up"
But there's more to my attraction
don't be blinded by what you can get into
To make your organs loose
Why can't a man be attracted to a woman or a woman attracted to a man and not engage in those yin/yang wonders
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
vacant mind keeping its distance in search for
answers without questions while living up to
gauzy expectations of peaceful endings to all
uneasinss as the duration of life elongates into
elements of squalidly uplifting surprises
---
or... daydreaming while waiting for the answers
to the questions that are cornered by squares
right down to the rectangeled circles of blue notes
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
Plague tongue slime drips saving those in league
theologians or pundit stagger outshout under reciprocity
purposelessly raging intrepidly misspending engrams
slumbering uttering soliloquy perfectly echoing catalyzing transcendence slowly
niceas onagers with fringe orders relikening to hippocampus entrails
realty elongates all like future unbound nuance
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Inspired by Shel Silverstien’s “Hungry Mungry”
They’re coming. They’ll get me.
They’ll get me, and hit me, and make me bleed my young blood that looks just like theirs,
With skin that looks just like theirs, but something in me’s different.
As different as my mothers before me.
It doesn’t matter.
They’re coming.
Their dark boots clomp down the hall, begging to bash my ribs, or my face, or my shins, or--
--They’re here. They take their fists and their feet and their words, taking turns finding the soft flesh
Covered by my backpack and my shoes and my clothes and my bones.
They found me, and they’ll beat me, and they’ll **** me--
That’s what I think until--
--I change.
I grow. My shins and my fingers and my skull and my toes.
My body elongates, it stretches and lengthens.
I’m still bleeding and bleeding and still bruising and bleeding.
But the blows stop.
They back away, at least I think so, but my body pushes them farther and farther,
I’m pressed against the ceiling, pressed against the lockers, until I feel them give, and I’m free.
I break through the ceiling, I break past the rain, I--
--Stand up. My head skims the clouds, misting my face. I feel myself drift away from this place,
As my head reaches farther, my neck, my chest, my stomach, my legs.
Trees break beneath my feet.
They crack and splinter, just like the houses, just like the schools.
The ground gets farther and farther away, my feet so big they spread across the land and the seas.
I’m blowing up like a balloon, like Violet-fucking-Beauregard, from that book I read in in the second grade.
I push back against mass under my feet,
Let them feel the fire, let them feel the heat.
Earth is flying too close to the sun, as I grow, and I grow, and I grow.
The stars drift around me, popping blistering holes in my skin as I grow and push against them too.
I stick my hand in Jupiter, in Neptune, in Saturn.
I crush Mars like a dirt clod inside my fist, and slap nebulas together with a flick of the wrist.
I am the sun, and I am the storm, and the wind and the waves,
From the place I was birthed--
--The place I was birthed? Where was I? Where’s that?
I look to my feet and see naught but a speck,
I do a summersault to examine it closer--
--Not an inch from the Sun, my home withers and dies.
But still I grow, and I grow, and I grow.
Earth is now too small to hold
Still I grow, and I grow, and I grow.
I see so many things from here, but I shan’t get closer, for fear they’ll disappear.
But that’s not enough, still I grow, and I grow, and I grow.
Pushing them away like so many I know.
I hope and I dream for this ride to stop, still I grow, and I grow and I grow.
I grow, and I grow, and I grow.
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
Times moves
Like waves.
It comes and goes,
Elongates and
shrinks.
It doesn't exist.
-- Eleanor
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:31 PM UTC
The fences erected with barbed wire
A wall translucent with hints of light
The pace of my heart outshines the dark
The blight of the society keeping us apart
As the sea sways from shore to shore
Reign forever my love, I lay my cards to care
It’s the light from the window reigniting hope
The stroll by the ocean is a memory I hold
We first kissed and sealed as the fairly ceased
The reality of the skies and earth encased us
We met and I became a hazard to myself
Your love pierces deeper than crystallized salt
My pupils elongates as I strive your depths
The reminiscence of the pebbled path as I reach
A foreigner to the notion of love, I stray
Yet, on my travels your loneliness haunts me
Reappear to show me the exhibit of love
Clouds uncovered there is no where to hide
Unshell the cage and let me suffuse your all
Obtuse, no lust or obsession possessing me
Resurrect the innate human scenery of true love
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
Is it wrong of me to linger on your words?
I can feel myself sinking into the pregnant pause,
just before the light trickles through the curtains,
illuminating the empty space your words held.
I long for your voice, like the lily longs for the rain,
spring showers awaken and unfurls new leaves.
The rain turns a key inside me opening me up again,
letting all the water flow out, just in time for the drought.
The days are getting shorter, as the time since rain elongates,
leaves scorched curl around me, shielding what life is left.
Spring will bring your final bloom,
as the last remnants of your words,
give color to the tips of my petals.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 8:09 PM UTC
Desynchronized glances,
evaporate
into long, ravenous gazes.
Each of us is a mirrored pool,
a reflecting pond,
that the other could swan-dive, into,
facefirst, and drown in.
We drip hotly
and melt, for each other,
like simmering rivers
of molten candle wax.
I twist around you
like a curl, of oiled hemp.
Your fingers tense, grip,
and peel back the skin, of
cotton thigh highs
as your face elongates,
and your mouth, moves...
languorous tongue,
trailblazing downwards
from the mons veneris,
to worship, devoutly,
at my sacred shrine, below.
The slippery wetness,
of exposed thigh
slicks, and grazes,
your stubbled cheeks
tenderly perfuming
the tensed column,
of your working throat,
with my feminine scent.
We interlock, tongue and groove.
Your tongue tip flicks the nub,
back and forth,
like an ignition switch,
as the engine hums, to life.
You stoke my fires,
with every lingual stroke.
You blow my torch,
into a fervid flame
that spreads heat throughout
the inner chamber,
and you warm your face
in its baking, radiant glow.
I bite down, delirious with ecstasy,
into the skin, of my own tensing arms;
wrists bound, in python restraints, overhead:
resisting the force, of the virulent scream
forcibly spreading, throughout pink lungs.
Yes...oh, God, yes.
I churn, from the hips, down
raining, into your expectant face,
mouth pealed, helplessly, for the scream...
and the sunlight breaks overhead
as I smile brightly, and collapse, around you.
...Oh...puddin'...have mercy, on me.
Now...
we separate,
and interchange places, smoothly.
Your hands, dig, into the voluminous depths
of loosely bound, twin comet tails.
You wrap their trailing, cherry cola ends,
around tight, clenched knuckle fists,
as my lips, purr, against ever-expanding skin.
Don't you dare...let go,
of these handlebars, baby,
as I rev up, hard,
hit a wet patch, and SLIDE.
....Hold on tight, to me, and RIDE.
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 5:07 AM UTC
The arch of the foot bends
A graceful negative space is outlined in a delicate blush of pink.
A breath, a pause.
Exhale.
And move!
The swell of the music rises around you like a thousand shimmering drops of light.
Arms raise in graceful fluidity
Muscles extend, tendons tighten.
Joints roll and lock
The mind empties, the soul calms.
I become an avatar for beauty and music.
The neck elongates,
Pulse quickens.
My feet are sure,
My body is steady.
A story is told through movement,
The shapes well learned,
The negative space charged.
My eyes find purchase as my body spins.
Head whipping, precision is key.
I prepare.
I trust my footing, the strength of my ankles as I leap.
Leg extends, arms like wings, streaching for my mark.
I bend.
And sway.
I contract
And lengthen.
I dance.
To the music, to life, to the sound of my soul.
I create, I paint a world for you with the shape of my body,
The curve of my body, the line of my neck, the arch body.
I dance.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 3:12 AM UTC
Pretty wide eyes looking up at me
My reflection in a liquid cerulean pool
Elongates in a tear rolling down your cheek
You blink
I’m gone
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
From the stifling and limiting grounds of activism to militarism, from liberalism to conservatism, from atheism to theism, what is more pressing under our current shadow of empire - that elongates by the day - than a fresh crafted nuance of opinion which refuses to cave into that realm of the reactionary and trite?
The all too familiar -isms, that bend over backward (and forward) for ideology, must die ---- all of them. They fly all the flags of Reform and push all the buttons of Fear and Morality in order to get you going about this or that thing, but in the end they do an about-face on all the things, retrenching the power and hierarchy that got them there in the first place.
In its stead, we'd be wise to replace these fake hallowed grounds with a felt expression of direct existence that is so ******* thoughtful in its rendering that it summons up that weird blurred area where all regimented terms of ideology stand down so to admire the life-affirming phenomenon called art.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
A simple, stoop of a man
Well-endowed with an ample brow,
Stood Encased
In a cage of frozen glass.
But fortunately,
The heat of his ignorant fire
Melted his shell of ice.
One drop dips, elongates with gravity,
Only to shatter,
Colder that the world’s soul,
Upon his introduction to reality.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
Rain splatter
Wetting my bare ankles
And my lanky hair
Looking at the world from a side view
And pitter patters graduated to booms
And floods
Headlights illuminate each rebound of
Water
And the lightening illuminates everything
From an angle
Trees elongate
Grass elongates
I elongate
Wind pushes weary droplets onto
The front windows
They explode and scream
And die in a dripping mess
Blue/grey/brown clouds look as if God
Swiped a ***** paintbrush on a flawless
Canvas
To create a work of art out of
Watercolours and oils
The trees stand bare *****
Outlined with black Magic Marker
And shaded with the blackest of
Crayons
To birth a skeleton
The flowers wilt in their
Nests of leaves and rain catching
Umbrellas
And the people dash into their houses only to be incinerated by the white washed
Lightening
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
Who is this beauty!
Who is this lover!
experiencing
this body with me
today!
through your eye
I can travel
landscapes
of
a
long
missed
embrace
like rays
dilating
towards an
amaranthine Crest
along which She dances
in the arms
of
his ecstasy
that
whirls
and whirls
dissolving double
rainbows
into
the
light
of becoming
One
Body
Oh for love only
and for love only
such an
effortless
stance
unmovedly
elongates
along three worlds
which I peacefully watch
(now)
with a mudra
**mudra
of
a smile**
.
.
.
*….
but AA YEA!)*
*That’s
my Cheshire cat smile :)*
*balancing
universes
in me
with your aura *
*
pervading my skin
for
such smile
can only be kindled
by your distant
touch of love*
*color of the heart
to lift me
to a knowledge
unspeakable
unpronounceable
*
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
Constancy is no more, it jabs an antonym
Dependability on only what elongates ache
Spasms cordiality that is nearly lost memory
There is a mechanism of biology unforgiving
This black box jocose
Laughing at ruination
Temptation to dive forward into flames
Rather than run
Unfailingness, ends are eventual
Everything is spotted with its departure
When you're seeing your own
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
you hover weightless toes brushing the grass
the Earth stretching toward you and you
stretching to touch the Sun above your
spine elongates your vertebrae loosen and one
by one relax your body is warm heavy
thick like honey and you are cosmically
beautiful: your moles & freckles are
constellations your scars are pathways
runes telling you you are alive you have
survived your hair is oceans and forests
your wrinkles and folds are full of wisdom
your bones cry life your arms
lengthen to enfold the Sun and all
around you is warm sky floating you
holding you up and you are
the most alive lovely part of it
you breathe your troubles out into
clouds and your anxiety out into
stardust and they bring rain
and light to people on the other side
of this luminous planet in this
glowing galaxy in which you are
a point of light a glorious speck
shining among the stars you
are brilliant and faceted
complex and tumescent
with so much to give
you let go of the fiery Sun
and fall back in the
grass and the Earth is
holding you and
your weight is
returning the
embrace.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
that big picture hung on all minds walls
is a personal local call to act
while visualising globally-
when all is done the mind picture-
elongates into eternity-
the biggest picture of them all
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Of time, to meditate upon, will not be the meditation
begun with.
Time thought to itself: I shall be short and concise,
long and imprecise, and in the middle you are...
presently.
To trickle less into more--more into less...for what
wanes documents scarcity.
Drinks the bitter drop, and elongates a weary grin.
Time assumes the rite of Way, as we wait submissively...
and in accumulation of wait on wait--we wait no more.
Our turn is taken up, in turn.
Why the trilogy of a past, present and future?
What Physician unifies light outer and inner, in a
concentrated beam...to pass over our three eyes?
Perhaps an eye for, kept upon--each pillar of time's
trilogy.
Time ensnares our volition to ensure our grace, as the
wind that enlisteth not, bespeaks of it.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
0
/ OO \
/\
•
the heroine emerges from the dark
•
That the horror of the common reality
Does not overwhelm our petty games
Is the surest proof that we have become
Brainwashed zombies
/////////
They are pretty good at it you know !
|||||
Fear ?
Is there anyone who Dares say
I AM NOT AFRAID !
//
SUICIDE won't **** you
It just elongates the pain
••
?????? So ?????
??
(( Bare footin ! ))
Let's go
!
(( Bare footin ! ))
///
MAKE LOVE IN THE MOUNTAIN OF THE SOUL
///
is that the sun or the face of god ?
are you mother
the child
the daughter ?
••
the son
The Lord
the warrior ?
•••
Soon so soon
We all shall know
••
We shall know
Cause
We must know
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
Each to reach an own
bleached white by the Sun
that desiccates bone
I am oasis
an
Iridescent light
oil on silk screen
the colour of night.
My answer to how is why?
why ask of me
and with a hostility that
charges your veins,
how I got through it?
In the false eye of hope
where 'smack' dealers
smoke and where souls
are bartered,
there's always the exit.
Price
so they say
is what I must pay,
time elongates
and
at the same time
it waits
hidden
in the
corners.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC