"evasions" poems
*A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty
Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy,
Faster than hare from a cold standing start
Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part.
Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes
With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise,
Explosively quick with an elegant gait
And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait
For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed
Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed.
Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride
That would tax any racehorse an envious ride,
Snapping manouvers to left and to right
That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight.
A blur in a frantic explosion of dust
Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust.
Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase
Wide open muzzle and gore on the face,
Guarding the game till the kittens locate
Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.*
Marshalg
Serengetti Plain
Central Africa
30 November 2012
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
Disturbing Behavior
disturbing behavior, is what you'll see from me,
disturbing behavior, is what you'll get from me,
I have only one thing, on this troubled mind,
what next disturbing thing, can this freak show find
obnoxious revealing, of my inner faults and fears,
gentle concealing, of my blow gun darts and spears,
telling you one thing, when I'm meaning something else,
hoping I conceal the truth, releasing my magic spells
cause I am so caught up in me, its all about my wants,
hiding behind my fears, showing artificial fronts
revolting persuasions, is what I try to employ,
persistent evasions, from the truths my ploy,
never giving straight answers, to any questions asked,
have to keep my feelings, yes my fears stay masked
disturbing behavior, is what I'm all about you see,
disturbing behavior, is what you'll always get from me,
there's just one thing, on this troubled mind,
calculating the next disturbing thing in this hollow mind
cause I am so caught up in me, its all about my wants,
hiding behind my fears, showing artificial fronts
David Nelson aka Gomer Lepoet
New song lyrics, get me to the recording booth quickly
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 10:00 PM UTC
John's morning are failed evasions
Life busted him again, shortened vacation
Nights are for him the perfect occasions
To hide from life for a certain duration
John plays hide and seek with people
So their happiness does not find his pain
Because negatives are not good multiples
His sufferance is permanent, any help is in vain
John likes to eat when he remembers
That a full stomach enjoys cigarettes better
He is one of lung cancer's club members
The mailman recently handed him the letter
John brings cigarette butts in contact with his skin
And presses them to feel, a verb he is usually lacking
He has no fear but the fear of happiness
It is a ghost of very persuasive nastiness
John counts days, sees them running and wishes they flew
Death is imminent, death is around the corner, death is at his pursue
Death, for john is the clue
Does John need rescue?
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Just like ceaseless
Drops of water, that
Over time, wear down the sturdiest of rocks,
So can little lies,
Those clever evasions and half-truths,
Erode the most stalwart of hearts.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
My poems, where are they from?
Westerner.
An appellation, of the 'hood of my nation,
Customary identity association,
But not one that springs to mind,
When they inquire, as they do,
Hey man, tell us about your "self."
But there is no deniability,
At least three hundred years,
That my father was aware,
Europe to America,
Westward ** the seeds sown.
From the banks of the Lippe,
Ocean crossing to NYC,
From the Krakow Ghetto
To the shores of the
Manhattan Indian Reservation,
By the banks of the grandest river Hudson,
They journeyed, they sojourned,
Staying for awhile, scattering across the Midwest,
"Coming to America."
Yet out West,
I am an Easterner,
My hometown teams,
In the East Division,
And this schizophrenia
Is non-problematical.
But where are my poems from?
I have studied the time zones,.
The AM's and the PM's.
I know when I deliver this to you,
If the sun is rising or setting,
Whether to greet you with
नमस्कार or magandang umaga,
Greet you with a "Good Sabbath!"
Or an Insh'Allah...
But where are my poems from?
Bog of technical definitions,
Matters not, my poems have no
Passport to be stamped,
The Customs lines they cross are the
Customs of mine and yours.
The are both immigrant and emigre,
Experienced, well travelled, they familiar
With the right satellites to
Grace thy welcoming space.
Tap dance, recitations of evasions,
Answer the question man,
But where are my poems from?
You tell the when, the how but not the
Where.
We can't wait much longer,
The inbox heavy with homework,
Your poems to love, like and take.
Don't you see?
They, born in the West,
For lack of a better answer,
Clock and setting sun racers,
Surfing the Atlantic, Indian,
Circumnavigating the Pacific Isles,
Is just the course they take
When out my window sent.
But is that your answer,
Their path, to the single quest,
From the West, is that the best
Answer you can equivocate,
Where do they come from?
**No.
Obviously,
They come from you...**
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 6:42 AM UTC
I reject pride, for I favor disruption
I have become one with momentary obstructions,
Those that dissolve all our mental constructions
For the righteous most often fall prey to corruption.
A flame dies faster when it burns most bright,
Preconceived honor is the ugliest vice,
Empires fall, no matter the height
I saw disciples of Jesus rip the heart out of Christ.
I have not found knowledge in my excavations,
A ********** of ethics has given rise to mutations
If only we could perform the art of levitation,
Darkness might not reach us from the earth's vibrations.
Judge how you will, I seek no exemptions
I have travelled too far from the hands of redemption
Those that reach out, and offer ascension
I prefer to savor my eternal damnation.
Truth is just a simple matter of persuasion
Beliefs stay valid through clever evasions
We cannot endure Godless deprivation
Though the mind of God is a mere quantum equation
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:30 AM UTC
MY OWN PRIVATE PRESIDENT TRUMP
Oh the lies lies and ****
statistics of you!
You tell a better lie
than I can tell the honest truth.
"I didn't say that...I never
said that!"
The Trump...the whole Trump and
nothing but the Trump.
So - help me God!
The outright lies of you
the half-truths...evasions...obfuscations
the lie so
see-through
the Russians have a word
for it - VRANYO.
That is to tell a lie that you do not
expect anyone to believe
the totally transparent
told purely to save face.
Although you do do - LOZH
the straightforward lie.
Or MASKIROVKA
the "little masquerade."
The Salisbury Cathedral
Spire of you.
The fake news
of you.
Well listen Buddy
I can't spare a mind.
And I've just quit
this friendship.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
A solitary solecism
An evaporating vision
Premonitions and superstitions
Withered hopes
Amorphous, insubstantial
Episodic swings
Digressions and detours
Evasions, deviations
Changing lanes
Accelerating and overtaking
Swerving
Inhibitions colliding.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
And all I can think about is how close I've gotten to you
never thought it'd happen...I never thought you'd choose
me, to open your heart to...to share your dreams and desires,
explain your fears to me...let me quell those raging fires.
Sweet words, you surround me with your love and gratitude.
And I'm simply intoxicated because I never thought I'd be,
the one to listen, the one who can brighten your day.
The one who'd clear up any misunderstandings,
the one who'll promise to stay.
Trusting was never my strength, but I'm ready to give in to you.
Getting this close was a risk, but given any other option I'll still choose,
You. The chance to share my heart...bare my soul and mind
allow myself to relish in a relationship I never thought I'd find.
And I long for the moment I can say without any evasions,
just how much you mean to me...
That everything we are, far surpasses everything I've ever imagined.
That opening up to someone is far greater than I ever thought it'd be.
Becoming closer...
I've finally found my release.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Being frank here,
I think a lot
And I think about
my thinking
And I have a unique way of thinking
as do most people
But I combine my thoughts
with analogies
I conceive through
my creativity
And weave them
into words
Which I have learned to love
through my obsessive reading
in my elementary
school
days
...
That's it
I haven't read
enough official
published
poetry
I don't really
edit my
poetry
much
I don't overthink
it
too much
either
Just my thoughts,
on a lonely page
...
...
...
I've wondered time
and time again,
is this even
poetry?
My thoughts
carved with
a
choppy
cleaver
Rough on the edges
with spots of
honesty
As well as
parts,
as smooth and cold
as marble
The honesty hidden
beneath
eloquence
analogies
other distractions
evasions
...
when the truth
is too much
But it's still me on the page
...
...
But what I can't figure out
is,
do I do it
for social approval?
To be heard?
To spill out my emotions?
To make something beautiful?
...
Just cause?
A wintry night
the wind swirls around
...
...
...
blowing my questions
away with a chill...
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
Deception
written July 17th, 2021
I write deception
fabricating fictions
layer after layer of
perverse prevarications
surrounding my subject
with inventions and evasions
so that the truth
can be revealed
in the serpentine curves
of these words.
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC
What drives people crazy is trying to live outside reality. Reality is terrible. It can **** you. Given time, it certainly will **** you. Reality is pain. Reality is suffering. It is the condition in which we live. And when reality arrives, you know it. You know it as the truth. But it's the lies, the evasions of reality, that drive you crazy. It's the lies that make you want to **** yourself. If you evade the pain and suffering of reality, you also evade the chance of joy. Pleasure you may get, or pleasures, but you will not be fulfilled. You will never know what it means to come home to yourself. ~ from The Dispossessed."
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
It is becoming more and more difficult to desecrate and die; Every roast pigeon word adopted for the Word can only be left on cracked lips! A meaningful conversation is interrupted and an embarrassing silence begins with a raging one! He forces himself into evasions as if he were being ***** by Honesty! - In well-washed Pilate hands, they land like cheap glue banknotes; bribery rates! The Truth itself became a nailed, leaking wound; bleeding constantly on its own! Confession, because you are forced to betray yourself more and more often!
As a god, the conscience is shattered from within: "Why did you have to choose an easier, served path ?!" "Incomprehensible will binds you and shackles your mind so that you can act!" Silent wounds and yawning cries can remain just instead of selfless help! In tumbling bodies, the watch clings to the dull beat of drums; as a sign of attention, everyone nods, though they may not know what Promised? In the cavity of black holes, how should we listen to horns? - Rolling Mirror-How to look back from Time so that the personality can no longer be distorted!
Arrivals should be received with crowded Judas pockets; dried meat sticks to the resurrected skeleton until eventually the disintegrating viscera of the naked body can remain! - The sly shape can still only flatten out; like a fleeing seal on a melting ice floe who drowns in life-giving water in atonement; the cat is always the one who plays with the mouse and never the other way around! As a killer, the Sun also distributes its nuclear fragments to the earth - yet it warms
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
These excuses are venom that poison my mind
Evasions to conceal what I cannot fathom to find
They spew like ***** tasting bitter like rind
But they adorn me with comfort that I cannot unbind
So I sit with a smile and a face awry yet kind
Only to mask that I loathe what's behind
Not me, not you, but really the demons inside
That I've let bury deep and try faithfully to hide
But truth knows it's way past the words that i lied
And it will burn the shards that I've left on this ride
To scorn me of the errors in all that I've put on my side
I'll run from the confusion through this high tide
And stand alone as the mournful abandoned bride
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
You "adults," you exasperate me
with your evasions and delays.
You're going to have to change
some of the ways that you behave.
You aren't doing your homework,
you haven't cleaned the planet,
You aren't standing up to bullies,
you haven't been sharing your things,
and you're even playing with guns.
And you're pretending everything's ok.
You were taught better than this.
Sorry, but.. You're all grounded people.
And hand over those phones!
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 7:05 AM UTC
There's red on Nandina,
berries blazing among
morning's mist
Years ago you were
a sprig, shiny green
hiding below the white spruce
Once, nearly
pulled along with other
less worthy underbrush
Like the car that braked on
time, like the strike of lightening
that missed the cabin
Survival can show
bright, radiant
veil of flaws
Gone, times of trial
evasions of destruction
hidden behind the glare
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, happy endings do not exist seems such':"
MOON
living am I ?
dreaming am I ?
those eternal flowers I sang for
not sure that once they became a past before
gave me the numb
but that's a feel try the empty sum
ride the winds surf the waves
survive a disbelief a miracle save
edge of persuasion for the night scene
selling a mirror some cheap steam
when did lasts come with no strive ???
like marine revolting on a tepid dive
a million burdens in hindsight say
yet awoken useless hells of away
is bliss the calm pre sin ???
a keep or a prize to pass by a temporary win
harder evasions into moments of surreal
now bribe me some moon to sign a deaf deal
------ravenfeels
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 4:13 PM UTC
All of us hide
Behind smiles that tell everyone,
I’m fine
So they don’t even have to ask
If they did ask,
How are you?
The reply is the same, monotone,
Programmed into us
Just like our niceties,
Our polite evasions.
Our quiet defenses distract,
Destroy
They push others away,
Before they’ve even had a chance
To try.
How are you?
I’m struggling, drowning,
Help me, please -
Listen to me, even though I don’t
Have the courage to speak.
Jan 1, 2025
Jan 1, 2025 at 10:55 PM UTC
It is becoming more and more difficult to desecrate and die; Every roast pigeon word adopted for the Word can only be left on cracked lips! A meaningful conversation is interrupted and an embarrassing silence begins with a raging one! He forces himself into evasions as if he were being ***** by Honesty! - In well-washed Pilate hands, they land like cheap glue banknotes; bribery rates! The Truth itself became a nailed, leaking wound; bleeding constantly on its own! Confession, because you are forced to betray yourself more and more often!
As a god, the conscience is shattered from within: "Why did you have to choose an easier, served path ?!" "Incomprehensible will binds you and shackles your mind so that you can act!" Silent wounds and yawning cries can remain just instead of selfless help! In tumbling bodies, the watch clings to the dull beat of drums; as a sign of attention, everyone nods, though they may not know what Promised? In the cavity of black holes, how should we listen to horns? - Rolling Mirror-How to look back from Time so that the personality can no longer be distorted!
Arrivals should be received with crowded Judas pockets; dried meat sticks to the resurrected skeleton until eventually the disintegrating viscera of the naked body can remain! - The sly shape can still only flatten out; like a fleeing seal on a melting ice floe who drowns in life-giving water in atonement; the cat is always the one who plays with the mouse and never the other way around! As a killer, the Sun also distributes its nuclear fragments to the earth - yet it warms
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 2:38 AM UTC
I have just one request
To see the green
And feel the cool
To smell the clean
And hear the rule
To taste the dream
And be the fool
The multi-colored mask
creates a scene of social shadings
All the senses mocked
by simple, slight evasions
I have just one demand
To see the light
And feel the sun
To smell the night
And hear the fun
To taste the right
And be the one
I'll place you on the pedestal
and surround you with the gold
But I am only human
with a heart that beats grey cold
I have just one day
To see
And to feel
To smell, hear and taste
And to be
Just to be
Real.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
( After the Easter Bombing, 2019)
To daily travelers like me,
Mr. Aziz was a common sight on the train.
Small and bearded, clean and bright
He was the perfect train companion.
Newspaper in hand, brief case clutched tight
He would smartly stand up for the ladies,
book tickets and hold parcels
For the less fortunate.
An old hand in the Kandy line
His neat little person ideal
For walking between temperamental
Carriages, rubbing intimately
Against ill-fitted hinges,
Despite creaking bolts
And rusty fringes.
When the trains started again, mid-May
He was a changed man.
Suddenly his clothes hung on him loosely
And people looked at him askance.
They slithered further from him
In the ticketing queue-
And no ladies wished to hold his parcels.
There were subtle evasions
And cruel barbs-
And one day he comes, his beard gone
The valleys and shadows of his face open to
Our stripping gaze.
He settles himself awkwardly in a corner-seat
Wishing himself invisible
And somehow, I know,
That this is the beginning of an end,
He will perhaps retire a few months in advance,
Sit on his porch in glum silence-
Recalling the magical sway of old carriages,
Rubbing with familiarity through tunnels and lanes-
Like old lovers, though ill-matched,
arrange creaking limbs on creaking beds.
Despite creaking bolts
and corroded chains.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 9:47 PM UTC
You did not sing to me
in the cool of the evening
nor plant a lyric in my slumber at noon.
I did not breathe in the your joy
as I freely swung in the blue sky
peered upward in the pail of the balloon.
You were gone when my stomach tensed
scanning the spread sheet
my stocks trending downward.
Hammering on my patio project
sweat spilled from my brow.
You, absent from my now.
I blamed you for leaving me,
for my edgy mood and emptiness.
But it was I who slammed the door to the sweet vapors
of your spirit as I absorbed myself
in the foggy persuasions of my evasions.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 2:30 AM UTC