"enviously" poems
Compound eyes
Astonishing spectacles
Clairvoyant views from above
Wings glistening in the light of the sun
Buzzing long bodied mystical stories
Dragon's breath of spiritual eloquence
Releasing the bugs eating away at conscience
Skeletal spine of an egoless monk
whispering harmoniously the simple remedies
of cleansing thought
My snake doctor
Quick witted unmasker
your view 360 degrees
Focusing on the movement
and pesky mosquitos that feast
That leave us scratching our heads
I look on so enviously
at Lady Dragonfly
as she hovers angelically
In an eternal sky
It saddens me that the great one's lives are
always cut too short
but her legend lives on timelessly
Dating way back to Permian period
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
A selfish boy, a wise boy, a fearful boy once said...
"Love is a cruel chemical trick"
A hope filled girl, a foolish girl, a stubborn girl said back...
"You are clueless,
or selfish,
or immature.
Unaware of anything other than your own joys and struggles.
Never aware of the shirt from anothers back,
only aware of the poorly fitting nature of it on your body.
Accustomed to the graciousness of the naive and hopeful.
Bitter, sarcastic, reclused and estranged.
Innately, enviously attracted to light.
To those who ridiculously obsess over love,
who believe beyond reason
in the good in others,
in the good in you."
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
Lettuce is love, lettuce is life.
You walked up to McDonald's and ordered a mcdouble
I was behind you in line, looking for some trouble
I said, "excuse me sir, you know mcdoubles don't have lettuce, right?"
He said, "yes, but I can't eat lettuce at this time of night"
I was getting angry at this point, not gonna lie
I was like, "come on buddy give it a try"
He started backing away, a little intimidated
The farther away he went, the more I felt the hatred
How can he not want lettuce?
This dude's real close to getting fought
The cashier interrupted my thought
"I can get who's next in line"
I said, "cool, I'll take a McChicken, it's a bite of heaven
Actually I take that back, I want eleven"
You already know i didn't buy them for the chicken
I bought them for the lettuce, it's tasty finger lickin'
The cashier says "is that all I can get you tonight?"
I turned back to her said "naw, gimme a medium Sprite"
Got my drink and my McChickens, then tried find this guy to fight
He's at a table munching on his mcdouble by himself
I caught him looking enviously at my McChicken, lettuce spewing out health
I sat down at the booth beside him
Told him how I despise him
For not getting lettuce, how could one be so arrogant?
I threw a punch to his face hard enough to leave a dent
He yelled out in pain, tryna run away
The cashier notified me that the police were on their way
My fate was inevitable, but I did it for lettuce
It's been 3 years now, been locked up ever since
Lettuce makes me happier than ever, it's my only friend
My favorite thing in the world, nothing and no one can contend
Moral of this story: get lettuce on your sandwich,
Unless you wanna go to mcdonalds and end up with a bandage
I can finally conclude, after this long strife
Lettuce is love, lettuce is life.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
We ambled the streets of Harare
Meandering aimlessly
Fleeting past wide-eyes scanning us enviously
Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant
Leisurely on Second Street
Our hunger awakened
Our appetites heightened
At almost closing time
With no one in overtime mode
A signal that here we could only dine on another day
Joina City was our next stop
Up the lift right to the top
'Closed' it read at the coffee shop
Into the nearest chair I went flop!
Though hungry, we gabbed non-stop
By and by we regarded the clock
It chimed 8 o'clock
And sadly, it was time to go home
Busy and noisy
Were the streets of Harare
Jabbering crowds, kombis hooting
Hawkers, vendors or is it hustlers now -
Calling for buyers or just huddled to pass time
No chill in Harare
Picturesque like a dream
Surreal…
Hand in hand we dawdled
In despair for a hot meal
In the shimmering distance
Like a mirage in the desert
The neon lights read
'Creamy Inn'
Something to calm our rambling bellies
At last…
Nippy evening air hit our souls
'Ice-cream tastes better at night'
I said
'I can't believe I'm having ice-cream'
He said
We frolicked
Hand in hand we danced past faces painted with adoration
'What a handsome lover!'
They probably thought:
My delectable younger brother
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
I...
think...
I...
like...
crazily chasing concocted crushes
however hasty high hopes
earnestly entangled erstwhile enthusiasm
left languishing limp lethargic
suddenly soundless stupidly selfish
every emotion enviously expectant
an abject apology absent
purposeful pleasure purportedly posed
unearthed unhealthy ungainly uncertainties
devouring devotion disgracing dogma
an accident awaiting arrival
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
i am traces of my mother
i have the power
to move mountains
and create new life
with each kiss
she gave me
seeds were planted
she told me that
flowers go with green
for we both have
green eyes of envy
don't let it control you
my dear
for green eyes can be
filled with jealousy
and hate
alluring but dangerous
allow these flowers
to keep you humble
she says
remember who you are
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 4:04 AM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
I'm that pretty kitty
Sitting on your windowsill
Leaving dander on the glass
Looking more than my fill
My fur is brown and black
My claws are sharp as knives
My teeth are quite sinister
And I've still all nine lives
You've never paid me much attention
And I ceased attempts to receive it long ago
You go about your day ignoring me
And I stare covetously through the window
I know you can see me
Every blue moon, you'll wave
We actually get along in a way
But not enough to sate all I crave
I wonder if you'll ever notice
My stare is unadulterated jealousy
But you never seem to notice
I also envy that naivety
But I'm just the pretty kitty
Perched up on this windowsill
All I want is to be seen from inside
But no one ever will
I've only eyes for the inside though
I've got my friends on this side of the glass
And they look at me, bemused and disgusted
Because, in all ways and forms, I'm obsessed
But I'm different and I'm on the wrong side
And I'm just the pretty kitty on the windowsill
But I'm not comfortable with my own kind
And with yours, I'm just good for visual appeal
So I'll sit here on this windowsill
Gazing enviously
Because neither side fits me
But it fits them perfectly
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Got kicked out because I came later
Somehow I got a pen and a paper
Was feeling bored so thought I would write
The weather's so good; wish I could fly a kite
It's not quite often that I get kicked out
I'm always quiet in class, I seldom shout
Back in the days I loved to annoy my teachers
But that was years ago; now I've lost that feature
Getting kicked out of class is something students enjoy
Bunk class without detention. Oh Boy!
But if you're the only one it gets boring
You look enviously in and find the students happily snoring
You have to stand, it's a punishment after all
And you've had it if the Principal walks down the hall
"Come in and don't be late again or you see what I do!"
I'm probably curious because this is one promise I won't adhere too
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
today a dark
sky is
wrapping
itself around
my town,
squeezing
all that
surrounds
in its strong
muscular
hands, one
solitary crow
manages
to slip free,
flies over
highways,
streets
& trees,
I watch it
enviously as
it disappears
thinking
what I
would do
for a pair
of wings
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
Taking our place in the rainbow world
our wandering concern will fall on love
and with shaking hands we survey the prize
we hope that life will render.
The passionate kind
filled with pounding blood and sighing breath
tight and sharp and quick
caring not for time or place.
The cold kind
with eyes of white fire and lofty mien
protective, stern and strong
given freely and broken never.
The fierce, angry kind
glassy and bright
that breaks into beautiful shining pieces
and glories in the pain of its destruction.
The soft and yielding kind
brimming with warmth and constancy
giving comfort without cloy and light without glare
and asking nothing.
That we choose is ours and ours alone
and our fate we freely hold
until another's gift we enviously eye
and see that choice can have its edge.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 5:57 AM UTC
snappy synapses predict the end of the world
and i am growing tired of growing older
while the year without a summer continues plummeting
toward my house in time
and we bide our time on our backs
smearing the yellow pixie dust of sunflowers on our eyes
because at least the yellow makes us smile
asking can the moon tire of orbiting the earth
and break away like a rubber band on its last snap
triumphantly spitting into the windless night
until our lips are dry as oxygen-starved mountain air
but I know better now
than to judge a night by its morning
because the truest words have always been written
on the bitter parchment skin of almonds
masking the cherry-sweetness of the flesh
and the artist may be starving but she is never starved
if she can learn to feed on pits and branches
for the flesh of the fruit is never quite as sweet
and in a dewy stupor we raise our faces to a dawn
that shatters the illusion that we are encased in a racing darkness
that slides under our feet with the slippery stealth
of the thin layer of water evaporating off the top of the ocean
to join the ranks of droplets that gather in the sky
hanging enviously above the surface of the earth
but always in danger of slipping back down
and splashing into the great blue depths again
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
when she leaves for work,
i'm left in the absence of wonderful wild spirit.
i tidy up the covers we slept on together peacefully & arrange the stuffed animals.
they look happy that we no longer dominate the bed with our talking and laughter, they watched us enviously from the floor the night before.
i wipe down the counters lightly, coated with dust, & vaccum the floor. i assume my mother would be surprised at the sight of me after i proclaimed "i will never fall in love!" as a 10 yr old.
i go downstairs and wash our dishes from the dinner the night before, remembering how each cookware served us, & how goofily we waltzed in the kitchen ballroom.
the day is bright and sunny, even if it isn't.
as i take out the trash on my way out, i commute to my house
where she'll be for the rest of the week.
May 11, 2024
May 11, 2024 at 5:20 AM UTC
We are slaves to freedom
Captives who watch
The passing parade
Of life with wistful impotence
Clothed in the arrogance of ignorance
Shivering enviously in the shadow
Of other peoples flesh
Repenting other kinds of lives
Disguised and self conscious
Amidst the squalor of the living
And oh how we give thanks
For our Slavery
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC
You are the moon which looks enviously at each brighter star.
I would sacrifice the sea of falling stars for your love.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
we sit. weary pupils dilate as we watch
the dying day mourn lilac tears onto
rosy cloud-cheeks,
eyes widen like it's an action movie
and the night has begun to wake
its warriors - or worse,
it's a documentary, and
someone's burning van gogh's stars
back into oblivion. lord, we're watching
universes fall and bleed
-but the film stops there.
our sentiments are unscripted,
it's just that chill that creeps up our
collars and strokes our
amygdalae enviously-
and i daresay, to our sightcaptor
who begins to reach her way in
and withdraw, simultaneously,
i dare speak:
do
not
touch
me
but it's hard to stay cool
when you love the face of the sun
and must sing her to sleep.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
this girl asks me, "gotta minute to spare?"
chapped lips and misty-eyed
while i stare enviously at her thighs,
wishing i could taste that milky white,
sits down, touches my hand
and tells me,
"the moon is dying",
something i already knew
but i cry anyway
babbling incoherently into her hands,
brush a finger over her shoulder,
dotting freckles in constellations,
the speckled stars of her irises
combust into molecules
scatter, running freely away
oh girl, we could tread these muddy waters,
traverse the land on our bare feet
and wipe the filth off our skirts
but come sundown,
we'll still sleep alone.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
What kind of man is this
To report his mother for begging him
To abandon hateful folly?
What son is this, so depraved,
Would shoot her in the public square
With jeering blood-seekers cheering?
What kind of god must this man seek,
To end the life of the one who gave him life,
To what end would such a god demand obeisance?
Perhaps a god this is,
Whose thirst for blood would raise
The dripping flags of war
And bathe the world neck-deep,
Up to the horses' bridles in gore,
But he's no god of mine.
This god is not the One
Who sent His only Son
To give His Life in the name of peace,
To save His friends and love His enemies.
This god is in rebellion,
Denying his own creation,
Lying to himself,
Reviling peace
Because it bears the image of
The One True God.
Enviously manipulating,
Beguiling the children of Eve,
Desecrating the human form,
Dividing the human race,
Heaping doom upon doom,
Calling damnation on himself.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
the road gathers itself like a drained old woman,
hunched over rags, beneath the gloomy crag,
sintering as it nears the beach,
worn out through time, impoverished
it has become reflective in the chittering half-light.
Eviscerated by the pawing waves,
contradictory cracks like entrails, hanging out
crushed into solitude , it redefines its continuous retreat.
In the reductive shade
it circumvents the cove, its tarmac withered,
a battered host to foreign weeds.
Sunrise chides the posturing sky, the sulking universal remnants
vanishing in the fenestrated glare. In the near distance, air unravels,
the moving storm exhaling slips of cloud
rapidly swarming like furious flecks of phlegm-sneezed out in perpetuity
between heat and cold.
The road lies entombed beneath a scree, tumbledown stones and dust.
Ramblers and cars have sought and found
an alternative route. The moistened rubble creaks
as liquid gathers in its shifting heart, crawling out in rivulets-the rain
descending like spit,
emolliating the countryside, shifting dollops of fetid mud,
enveloping like a furious aneurysm.
Sea and land entrenched in conflict,
a war of attrition always won by seas, unleashing energy
of mindful apocalypse in the manner of a gentle sigh.
The gaping abscess of scarred promontories tottering
like feverish drunks. The mouthed obscenities of carnivorous
birds radiates throughout the cove pinpointing local
drownings encrusted with salt. Sea upon sea impose themselves
enviously on rampant shorelines feasting on sand and rock. Never ending!
Plunging ever forward like a barren plough, receding, only to
re-site its casual fury-implosion upon explosion.
The road in its sullen retreat
stumbles through narrow valleys speckled
with gloom; trees with yellow flowers
blooming in crinkled shadows,
deer leaping through high-standing grass, mincing
between tall thin trees. Loping down
into the cities, it becomes a tousled high street full
of immigrants, all yearning for the sea.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
I dreamt of big city lights and big city fights
and when I woke I stole away to catch the last bus
I dreamt of young love two young women kissing
smoking and snapping digital memories and
I began to wish the same for myself, enviously..
something special, something keen
But, was I still asleep?
[3.21.11]
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 12:20 PM UTC
I was born a hunter.
A rush of blood surging through my veins
with each poke and **** that might bring sustenance.
With trembling hands I returned to town
jowls heightened in satisfied grimace.
How the others glared enviously
when I returned over encumbered
with the weight of game upon my back.
In time I gave in to their requests
when they had contorted to desperate demands
and I shared the only truth I knew
“be patient and listen with intent”.
With age the encumbrance became too burdensome
but it was was not possible to hunt with less vigor
and still stave my insatiable hunger.
It was by chance that a merchant approached
with a cart full of seeds that are difficult to sell
in a village where every respectable man hunts.
I gave him every implement that I owned.
Every bow and spear and knife were taken away
and I was left with seeds and infertile soil.
How their envious glares so quickly shifted
to confused glances that carried pity with them.
As I toiled in the fields they became more adept
and day after day I watched them labor back to town
burdened by their accomplishments.
They gave little heed to the words of a man
whose surging pulse was made still,
so they developed ingenious traps and snares
that required neither patience nor effort.
I could not help but wonder
how much of what they attained was wasted,
when fresh meat spoils so quickly
for those that never had need to learn
how to preserve the unused amount.
I rested in the afternoons under the trees,
beneath the branches bowing with the burden
of sustenance I once had to carry on my back.
The insatiable hunger was never quelled,
nor was it ever for a single moment forgotten
when the creatures of the forest I used to hunt
came to consume the fruit I labored for.
At least now there is enough for us to share without the weight of burden.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Your timing is impeccable
ready when needed
but willing to wait
Your curves
are enviously symmetrical
How do you manage
to stay in shape?
You're too good for me,
I know
but I love you so
teeny tiny avocado
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
Mary Jane
Wrapped in cellophane
her body an empty cavern
an embodiment of losses
tastes of bitter Mary Jane
Holland.
Baby miracle of life
a stab in the dark
a twisted knife
to the heart, breathe
Me.
Life had stained her
a reflection upon,
a broken glass mirror
a blue mooned
Sky.
Tornado fires; paper dresses
deep volcanos filled to the brim
ashes & dust
tears bring pain
burns holes in
Skin.
Cleansing comes
blood oozing out
attacking this monster
living inside
python green eyes
Robotic.
Dancing with demons
poisonous addictions
hells aftermath
skulls, crossbones
signify splintered
Souls.
Yours for slaughter,
surrendered in this wasteland
my mind created
when you were first
Gone.
Butterflies cover *******
love hearts & roses,
form tattoos across,
my spine, enviously decorating
this bare form, one alive, one
Ghost.
Drink me up, make it quick,
**** me dry, dear Carmen
please don't cry
it's all an alibi, one that
Sings.
A lullaby; a secret way out
how tranquil it leaves me
a baby lulled to sleep, I
call you Mary Jane
Holland.
My lover, my life,
it's nothing more, I
am at one, with stars we name
in this infinite
Universe.
If I am a star above
& you are named as one too
we will never be lost
wrapped together, conceiving
Constellations.
That is why I want to sit
with you, on the roof
top of my car, out in the abyss
of my surroundings
&
Stare above, sing a lullaby
of my love, count those stars
until claimed & soothed we fall
into the slumber of love.
Only a cloud can carry
& awake anew to
the rising of the sun
an abstraction deferring
multifaceted realities.
© Sia Jane
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Pawns, expendable pawns
Black and white squares, we move upon
Dreams, lost in a garden of dreams
Invisible hands guide our teams
Heaven bound angels we turn
Fall to the ground we burn
Run, run to the mountain of lies
Our righteousness is our disguise
Devastation and heartache, our path
The unavoidable crash, karmic wrath
Yet somehow we find love in vain
In one brief moment we leave our stain
Truth revealed in fever dreams
Guilty feelings waking hours bring
What does it mean we ask ourselves
Storing hope upon dusty shelves
In the silence between our laughter
I have heard the voice of stars
Deities banished to wayward heavens
Sentenced to observe us from afar
Behold the whispers that makes us dream
Countless eyes that see everything
Forbidden to touch, to reach and feel
Enviously awaiting with intention revealed
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC