"erecting" poems
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous. Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.
I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt. Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out. Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
30.8k
*Let me be captured by the night.
Engrossed in the conversation
between the stars.
Syncopated twinkling like...
thousands of fireflies
trapped within sealed jars.
Let me be enslaved by the moon.
As I drink her glow in
greedy insatiable gulps.
Crestfallen...
Her beam with an agenda...
As the landscape she sculpts.
Let me be ensnared by my solitude.
But I hear crickets...
Chirping and chipping away at my
bastion of dreamstate.
Persistent calls
I try to shun
that never abates.
Let me be trapped in my thoughts.
So I could harness...
And immortalise them in
indelible careless scribbles.
Erecting and...
Rebuilding them from the
rubble of conflicting squabbles.
**Let me be overwhelmed
by the mess of my being...**
Let me wallow
Then emerge strong from this
decrepit state of mind.
Let me breathe heavy from my
punctured lungs.
So I could heal in time before
true solace
in this dark,
I would find.*
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Brothers,
let us stand together.
Sisters,
you can stay sitting.
Let us stand
united
by our inability
to stay out in the sun
too long.
In fact,
would someone mind
erecting a gazebo
for us to stand united
underneath?
Thank you.
Brothers,
having proven
that we cannot demonstrate
our superiority
through sport,
rhetoric,
mathematics,
music,
drama,
art,
science,
business acumen
or military might
Let us instead
prove it beyond all doubt
by gathering in groups
and chanting slogans.
Flags are good, too.
Dagnab it,
just look at the way
we can wave those flags.
If that
doesn't qualify us
as the Master Race,
then I don't know what will.
And thus anointed,
let us expunge the world
of miscegenation.
Let us cleanse public radio
of anything other
than Bavarian folk music.
Let us revel
in boiled beef
and wheat-based foods.
Let us return
the mineral wealth of the world
to the tarnished, coloured nations
from whence it came.
Let us reject
foreign mythologies
apart from that one
about Jesus
obviously.
Let us all return
to the country, town,
street
and house
of our birth.
History is with us, brothers.
If there's one thing
it teaches us
it's that nothing should ever change
and empires
never fall.
Sieg heil!
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
Oh, what I would give to be nine and benign
Because as I grow older the flow of concepts grows heavier
And swirls around me rapidly
Creating a whirlpool
I can feel the world pull
In the gravity of ideas
Given weight by words
That brings down birds
We look up only to see Jupiter
And we live on the Earth's back
Weighed down like mules by it's presence
Carrying conflicting considerations
Ideas inflicting incineration
The rain precipitating from the clouds in our minds
Develops a lofty humidity within humanity
And the leaves on the trees point downward
Erecting walls
To trap us in our gravity garrison
Plotting ways to crush each other
Time becomes the most effective method
As we wait to weigh down wanderers
With a point of view
In our gravitational pull
To make them our mule
Carrying our concepts
To strengthen our impact on the maelstrom
As our brain gets bolder
The water gets colder
But this ocean keeps spinning
Keeping the frigid water from freezing
And the gravity of what we think
Is the gravity that makes us sink
From concept cradle to gravity grave
Tranquil transcendence is what we crave
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
With my hands on the back of your neck
I see the crackling raising erecting
Of your swan skin
My thoughts are gasping for breath
Going upwards in the
Filling shame
War and city battles, apartment bullets
Motel room fiascos, jigsaw pounding passion
With my body cutting you down the center like a diamond
I’m breaking you into formlessness
Jagged like clean glass
I’ll pray to your white scars
I’ll reinvent myself
Come out of the still lake
Cleanse myself in black oil
Lips like razor blades, teeth like wet wings
Innards on the pillow case, on the
Boring walls, on the idols
With your hands around my neck, your fingers in my mouth
Cheating life out of life
Taking it out on one another
Bruised peaches bleeding on the ****** scene
Dead red balloons left over, molding cake
Boot marks on the white rug
I want you puritanical, *****
We’re finished
We’re glowing
Lifted up waiting
for the floor.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 10:45 AM UTC
the fabric of her dress
clinging to a garden
of flowers
holding the contours
of her landscape
with blends
around the corner bush
for his pleasing material eye
she spreads
tempestuous the vine
colors of the rainbow
arching
along
contemporaneous
as the wallflower awakens
to the erecting wall
and winding trellises
tasseled are the tongues
as the songbirds
come to coo
Logan Robertson
3/19/2019
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
Is it sounds
converging,
Sounds
nearing,
Infringement,
impingement,
Impact,
contact
With surfaces of the sounds
Or surfaces without the sounds:
Diagrams,
skeletal,
strange?
Is it winds
curling round invisible corners?
Polyphony of perfumes?
Antennae discovering an axis,
erecting the architecture of a world?
Is it
orchestration of the finger-tips,
graph of a fugue:
Scaffold for colours:
colour itself being god?
2.4k
I was born in grave clothes
Raised in grave clothes
Unaware I even bathed in grave clothes
I didn't know the extent of my decay
Like the bones were expose in my face but I didn't have reflective glass to see my flesh
I was on a rotten path
Death would have been the only prize at the end of my race
Strongholds wrestled my thoughts and subdued my brain
Bone marrow deep I was linked to Adam
Lord knows I wasn't Abel
Dna tied to blood imprinted on the ground I had more in common with Cain
It's true a heart beat of sin causes death to course through vains
I wondered how could I be treated
Something was missing something was needed
To my shock it was Jesus
Clear! He got my heart beat right
With that resurrection power
Made my heart see light
He changed my life
I started to realize that the same power that raised Christ from the dead
Was the same power that lived in me
That does more than allow me to breathe .
It brings life back to limbs riddle with rigor mortis
It's reverses decomposition brings back what death has stolen
It's uncontrollable like a lighting storm.
It's unadulterated
Once it hits
It's changes landscape like when a nuclear warhead is detonated
Hoover dam generated power
Turbine engine spending power
Lift the dead out of sin power
Tectonic plate shifting, erecting mountains from plains power
By one name only can we be saved power
Second coming cracking the sky power
All knees shall bow and all tongues shall comply power
Corruptible turned into incorruptible in a instant power
Rebirth repositioned repurposed repented power
Turn what seems to be a lost into a win power
It is finish the precursor to the release of infinite power
I could never be the same because the spirit lives in me gives me power
My arteries are laced with a burning flame
A roaring wind, a groaning earth, a raging sea crashing waves
The impact of several elements crush the chains of a slave
It's the same power that said come forth Christ friend walks out the grave
The same power that moved the stone a borrowed tomb turned to a cave
It's the power of the Resurrection
In a world full of aborted life
It breeds conception
In a world that attempts to abort Christ
The church still cries out in reverence
Changed death for us now it's portal
Changed lives of stop watches into immortal
Resurrection power a glimpse into the eternal
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
considering reflections!
spectacular expressions excited by vernacular action
spicy and exotic erecting complexity!
forgetting the selective dyslexia
mental anorexia like pecs flexing
lacking dialect donating directions!
elementary subtraction of expletives
what the heck do they expect!
exclusion unaccepted
best guess reckon you're a wreck
what the heck no explanation!
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Orchids bloom in unison, erecting from my brain.
Pounding impulses take hold that nothing could subdue.
In this life you've painted floral all boring and plain,
So I would like, in return, to paint you floral too.
Cryptic, like the night sky, are the bruises on your chest.
Burning galaxies of bites now light your new-found skies.
On the ground are teeth marks planted, bear traps set to rest.
Keeping guard of what is mine that hides between your thighs.
Red rose petals on your lips, romantic stains of blood,
Made more vibrant with each kiss that I'll force onto you.
On our tongues we taste and share in your ******** flood.
It fizzes in its ecstasy, mollitious honeydew.
But best of all, the syzygy when you and I are fused,
The two of us and love itself all where we need to be.
Now the impulses you've forced have left you worn and bruised,
Painting you in love and lust and ownership by me.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
The land was a body. Aching bones of mountains limned with boreal forest
veined with iron.
Men dwelt on the body. Erecting altars, howling and dancing round fires
their patriarchal beards knotted and waving
Men killed on the body. Waving crude axes like ancient trailblazers of war
Would wave mammoth club-like femurs
Bodies slay different bodies so they may die somewhere on this body
That heaves with the rock
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
You: have the wounds everyone wants to kiss and love
You: recognize you're only important if you're pretty, dead, and or just so happen to " beautifully " borderline either at any given time.
you :let people satiate their misplaced guilt and empathy.
let them coin you a case of charity,
a stigmata ***********
Is it building or belittling to be someones muse?...
If your only inspirational because you're looked upon as broken or used?
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
Jumping, bouncing and swinging from tree to tree
In a sparse forest just outside a village on the outskirts of Antananarivo
They adapt to the changes flung at them and strive to survive
On the ground a troop leaps sideways side by side in a straight line
What a comical spectacle
However solemn their purpose, they must find a home
The little one abaft of the line
Takes one last glimpse at the home he leaves behind
Oh it’s up in flames now and bulldozers knock down his trees
Beyond, just yonder
Over a hill further down south, the prospect is in sight
A new forest with new opportunities
It’s denser; it hasn't caught the eye of encroaching villagers
They forge on towards it in that spectacular procession
High up in the trees they mark their territory
Males call out to females and they howl in response
The young ones frolic in the underbrush
They mate, they eat, they thrive
Another forced migration
There they go again in that sideways march
More deforestation for infrastructure
There must be leeway for civilization one way or the other
One must wonder now
What future lies in store for these that have no place in government?
Their trails fade away from the Malagasy ecosystem
Their lives hang in a balance at the brink of extinction
Will our grandchildren ever get to appreciate
The extraordinary feats of agility they display
The gymnastics they perform from day to day
On the trees and on the ground in the jungle everyday
Ostentations of dramatic optical presentations
In their furry coats of monochromatic patterns
Perhaps they will disappear and my son’s sons may only get to
Read about them in the has been list of the annals of history
At this rate since erecting urban jungles
Of tar roads and skyscrapers is the order of the day
They might even be able to catch an obscure image of the lemur
In the form of a costumed trapezist mimicking one
Or a twisting contortionist in The Cirque Du Soleil
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
We're eating jellyfish
We're crashing oranges
We're bleeding evidence
We're smashing elements
We're erecting animals
We're subtracting syllables
We're electing cannibals
We're extracting visceral
We're worshipping magicians for a piece of the pie
We're recruiting musicians for a sound from on high
We're creating beauticians for a smack on the thigh
We're repeating contritions for an act un-divine
We're poking and prodding as we sing lullabies
We're rocking and rolling as she shifts to the side
We're planting and plowing as the baby lays quiet
We're twisting and shouting from the vat where we writhe
Rockabye baby, you've sure grown up fast
Let me embrace you, before I suffocate you
Rockabye baby, you've sure grown up fast
Let me cradle you, before I blast you away
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:50 PM UTC
do guilty flowers ever sin so savage
as the current elocution of cells
erecting a magic ***** on the saturday
saturated morning she drew
her
lacy clutch 'bout my sinew flecked
artifice
hips2hips
i
give her this: ME
May 14, 2010
May 14, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
*Her soft tenderness
Can be hard on a man
When he's used to bricks
Mortar and sand
It'll shake the foundation
Built with his hands
Leave a man aching
For all that she has
She can tear down the walls
Erecting his years
Where he once had a cause
Now tossing his cares
Knows that it's true
Without a word being said
Her soft tenderness
Can be hard on a man
She can catch him mid-stream
Have him change his mind
Make him want to leave
All he's built behind
Pulls him to shore
Beached in her warm sand
Her soft tenderness
Can be hard on a man*
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
These words you speak
These words you spin
Have infinite meaning
A definitive substance
Inject my mind
Flipping the norm
Unravel all the lies
They fed to us
Unlock my mind, unwind my eyes
Take me out of this boxes, boxes
Erecting all around me
Untwist my tongue, deject my terms
Pull me out of the sinking crane
Piloting all around me
Who gives the ****
Just give me a fact
All 7 billions souls unique
This linear life is meaningless
Fictions to act
One day I am frog the next a beauty
The mystery of the dark
All shrugged in blanks
They say its locked in your head
A crazy existence
Dehumanised to decay
The police can’t even help
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
A gangly youth with his dangling
Truths
Star Spangled
Flagpole
In the far corner
Summer nudists'
Cabins'
Cafeteria
Ladies not biting
Their webs
To his fly
Now noticing the nudist
Silver Theme
As daddy foxy
Ladies
are not goyles
Most nudists are old
And have let go
Fat shaming jokes
Turns into a game
Yo mama
so....
Cougar sells
Her Jaguar / Grand Prix
She so cougar
She's an expensive lease
For summer nights
Crap shot
Tossing
Fun
waste of time,
A gangly youth
Will spill
The truth
His danglings
Dip and spit
Viscous
Losing your ******
you
Star spangled
Flagpole
Can only tell
The honest erecting
The hard evidence
UFO sightings
Full
proof
It's in the pudding
Truth is ecstasy
Speaking deep inside
The gangly kid now
A wrangling man
Lassos a harem in his pants
His dangling truths did just fine
Gangly youth drunk off
Silken wines divine
Moist of kiss
Passion blooms
of touch
Honestly, the truth is
Quivering love
My Inner howl
Feel the earth move
Under my feet
Truth is
'will
always run to you...
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
i could not fall from my mind because it is uppermost
thought act as spine erecting me comes from innermost
i can see what is good or bad but when i see what i want to see
you can't call me judgmental because i know what is good for me
i can be swayed by my feelings but then i have a mind to decide
it can be coincidence of emotions and mind ultimately who knows who decides
yet i can think i am right and feel bad when told i am not right
it is me who is judgmental or they who say i am not right.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 7:47 AM UTC
i could not fall from my mind because it is uppermost
thought act as spine erecting me comes from innermost
i can see what is good or bad but when i see what i want to see
you can't call me judgmental because i know what is good for me
i can be swayed by my feelings but then i have a mind to decide
it can be coincidence of emotions and mind ultimately who knows who decides
yet i can think i am right and feel bad when told i am not right
it is me who is judgmental or they who say i am not right.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
Oh beloved Hyacinth, my sparkling youth so fine
More brilliant than all objects that shine
Fit for erecting a sacrificial shrine
Let my whole self be only thine
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh citizens of Sparta, offer me your finest *****
In my arms his amorous body will never shrink
Never will he be placed on peril’s brink
His glorious soul under my care will never stink
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh beloved Hyacinth, you will learn a lot in my guidance
For any man of the arts, this is the greatest chance
In music & sports, you’ll surely enhance
You can have the future the power to glance
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh gods & goddesses, behold Hyacinth evolve better
His charming countenance will turn brighter
His adorable assemblage will go stronger
If you give him to me and no other
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh beloved Hyacinth, in my lap you’ll have the greatest nourishment
I will keep you away from any predicament
My healing powers will safeguard you from ailment
Never will your body & soul be in torment
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh mortals & immortals, you will never regret
Hyacinth will flourish if you make me your bet
From me so many he’ll know & get
To you I’ll unveil his being’s greatest secret!
-02/12/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:54 PM UTC
There is a screaming silence on the
privatized public transportation of
Cleveland. A scream in the hearts and minds
of a people who live with less than zero.
Car fires in the streets.
Syringes next to the suburbs.
Nowhere is holy in this great city,
a veritable Gomorrah.
It's not a jungle,
it's a prison and a **** shame.
Ohio is for abandonment;
musicians, writers, astronauts,
pilots.
All desperate to leave a crater
where they used to stand,
to blast
a hole in the heart of this state.
A hole it already has.
They make it less than zero.
Plastering Chief Wahoo against
their foreheads, houses, cars,
lawns, chests, arms, bars, streets.
Saying it's not racism,
it's tradition.
Meanwhile, everyone else is
trying to explain that just because
it's old doesn't mean it isn't racist
to the idiots of Cleveland.
Cleveland is a city made of
stains, tarnish, rust and apathy.
Erecting a chandelier
instead of a dream,
a monument to desperation.
There is a scream in the back of the throat.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC