"expedition" poems
I'd like to think that she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
As she sits on the corner of her bed,
Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush.
I imagine her,
Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair.
Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails,
Then looking to her class ring,
Made entirely of imitation ingredients,
Wondering when is the proper time to trash it.
When she was still a friend of mine,
I never saw her wear make up,
I never saw her show off in tight jeans
or low-cut tees.
But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink,
Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor,
Next to the side door
that leads to his sister's side room.
The make up she wears
is from the night before.
It's skewed and shows evidence of running,
Like a wasted watercolor.
I'd like to think he isn't that handsome,
And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker.
I'd like to think when he re-enters the room,
He's in grey sweatpants,
He's wearing a black tank top,
With a Confederate flag backdrop,
With two barely dressed babes looking ******
in the foreground.
His hair, unwashed and greasy.
He rubs his belly,
And bears an idiot grin
on his face.
Looking like he just learned how to smile
at this pace.
"Did it feel good?"
feel good.
After he asks, he scans her body,
Beginning at those crimson toes,
And Ending at that clumsy hair.
Every second he scans,
He still wears that drawn-on
Idiot grin.
I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me.
Of my warnings and prophesy.
Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails,
Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs.
And finally reach the only thing she has on,
A t-shirt that belongs to his sister.
A t-shirt, when given by him,
It was mentioned, "thanks, mister".
Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions,
During last night's expedition.
He still paid her back with a morning
one-sided session.
"It felt good" she says.
In reference to the ten minute **********
When her body was strummed and plucked,
Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt.
As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout,
On a bed that is six days *****
While he is grinning,
Being everything but wordy.
I'd like to think she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
You are a sailor
Drift way from the harbor
Pull up the anchor
That binds you down
Set sail towards the horizon
Take off the blindfold
And hoist the sail
Let the wind be your guide
Sun and the Moon your compass
Steering through uncharted waters
Sometimes calm weather
Or, inclement weather, rocking your ship
Tackling the deep waters with alacrity
Unfathomable depths, yet the ship sails
Cutting through the waters
The saline water, which is a part of you
Seagulls guide you towards the shore
Anchoring at the preferred destination
Every grain of sand cushions your feet
Welcoming you to the island of bliss
Cut off from the mainland
Yet, helping you connect with yourself
Now it’s time to unwind
And join the party after a successful voyage
Ready to set sail for another expedition
As a sailor, cruise till the end
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
What's up is the sky
and I'm up for the stars
and down for a cave expedition.
I'm game for a used copy
since time is literally killing me
while I got pizza in one hand
and an energy drink in the other
so the tree that is my life goes
chop chop chop.
The only chip on my shoulder
is a potato chip
because I got a dozen for every dime I spent,
which is a drop in the bucket of change
I'm saving for Coinstar.
My son Jack has made many trades,
from CDs to movies to videogames to trading cards
and he just so happens to be a Pokemon master, thank you very much.
Resisting a piece of cake
is no piece of cake,
even when the recipe
--complete with a photogenic picture--
is comprised of over a thousand words.
Don't cheat on your diet,
the spinach is always watching
and that Rolex will feel so tight
you'll be praying for thousands
of slaps on both wrists.
When things get hot
you can bang against a clock
to see how long you last.
Just don't crack 'em up too much,
clocks are fragile devices.
My motor's a Cobia
yours is an Evinrude
but otherwise we're in the same boat.
Whenever I fail I don't go to the drawing board,
I get out my scrap book.
I prefer its texture and it is,
truly,
the first square.
When my frustration becomes too much
I might have to beat the bush instead,
after all
it can't be a sightseer forever.
Don't throw me a bone,
I'm not dog,
merely a curious cat
still on his seventh life.
I'd rather be close
than be stuck with a cigar--
smoking's bad and I hate the smells.
If I'm left with nothing, I'll cry like a wolf.
Wolves are hunters, wolves are survivors.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
*So numb I feel like chewed up gum.
Turning into the black blown out smoke from my lungs. Reduced life span, who knows when it could be done. So how much do you value life ? Will you leave the city's cage and go on the run, chasing the sunset, drunk of *** in search of love. Some choose money as the total sum of success. It is too easy of a hunt. I'm embarking on an expedition to uncover the mystery of total freedom. To put it bluntly, I will never slow down like a slug. You can't hold me down until I've found my treasure hidden somewhere on this globe. One day i'll disappear and become unknown. Because birds leave the nest and my turn is next.*
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
I want to crawl in your mind.
Find the real rythm behind the melody of your heartbeat.
Show you Gods given freedom out of verbal prison walls.
To make you fall in your spiritual calling.
Vision
Preaching your emotions by reaching the back of your tongue
You hide your insecurities among your heavenly eyes.
The heaviness of your tongue is beauty to me.
Let me set you free.
Freedom
Travel me to your secrets.
Let me loose between your memories.
I will not abuse your confidence but
regularly choose to unite us in consequences.
Let me visit your fears.
Explore
Let me dissolve your assumptions
and reason your doubts.
Evolve out of the abundance of my soul.
I will slowly, surely travel myself deeper, deeply
to discover the source of your sincere existence.
Promise
Patience
Love
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
I am a grounded explorer:
I dream of travelling the stars,
but alas there are few tickets to even Mars.
I romanticize the explorers of yor,
who roamed the oceans to explore.
Oh to be with Captains Lewis and Clark,
an expedition through the wilderness to embark!
The maps are made and the earth is mapped;
The Final Frontier is barely unwrapped.
It is not a do-it-yourself sort of thing,
I cannot just into space my body fling.
To explore the unknown would yield such glee,
But I console myself: at least the world's new to me.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
The tale was told of a place enveloped by insanity
of those who ventured the depths to find ivory
but discovered the zenith of seclusion
and enslaved by the epitome of delusion
It was a tale of the pilgrims from Europe
but pilgrims they were not
for only the materialistic they sought
they were poor of heart
The tale spoke of great wealth
but the strange tropical illness
had only impaired men's health
proving the expedition to be fruitless
The tale spoke of those who tamed the wild
but those who returned
saw no face of glory
the darkness is most definitely not friendly
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
The ants looked like a black pathway,
As they were climbing up the hay,
They were climbing up the hay to get to their house,
On the way they saw a mouse,
Then they saw a pigeon,
Who joined them on their expedition,
The pigeon was a nice fellow,
But then he sadly had to go,
The ants didn’t stop,
They even kept marching past the traffic cop,
Finally they got home,
And there they saw their friend the gnome.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
You feel you're invincible
being that your sanity is uncontrollable
strolling around with your shoulders past the birds
past the planes
your ignorance succeeds in innumerable ways
your sight is weak
your mind is enable to capture
it's buried under life's adversities and Earth's pleasure
you don't know when to stop so you flood yourself
until you're lame at your ankles
and paralyzed in your emotions
you wend through life this way
well you try
stuck in misery
with no lane to merge
frustration is your best friend
a human is impossible and
incapable of the acceptance
your belittlement draws mankind away
no one wants to attend a pity party
unless their accompanied to your VIP
and to reserve
you are the one to RSVP
Enlighten heads will stray away
pessimism is a curse
rapidly spread by the weak
you have distress and frustration
suppressed
strangled screams
holds your eyelids open at night
deliberations controls your emotions
controls your feet
throughout the day
you are terrified of tangibility
so you indulge yourself excessively
burying your true identity
becoming irritable when bearing your sober mind
if only you knew how divine you are
you would grow to love yourself
in ways incompetent of how you could love so hard
look yourself in your eyes
find who you are
even if you have to savagely search
you'll see the soul people has grown to
love so much
you'll notice your beauty
that covers endless realms
or your strength that could hurl a boulder
No one can help you discover
your destiny
it's your journey you'll have to make alone
but during the expedition and constant footsteps
the process of elimination could be your guide
find your inner child
it can help your prevail that's
where you once had happiness
your joy was established there
because if you continue the silencing
of your heart's cries and
your soul's screams
you'll live a life analogous to hell
and that is
a nightmare's worst dream
Copy Right 2014
©Patty Ann
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
she calls it
the BIG V
a ****** name
tasteless
but accurate
it is
BIG
very
B
I
G
stretched out
used
sold for such
a low price
*****
**********
*****
****
****** deviant
not exactly
a role
model
not some
saint
by any means.
I've seen it.
perhaps I will
never have
***
if other women
look like that
vaginas
like gaping holes
holes so large
it makes your
*****
seem superfluous
a thin branch
against a muggy
night sky
"did you bring
protection?"
she asks
I can only imagine
why she should
ask me that
am I in danger?
what monsters lurk
in that
bottomless cavern?
I want no part
in this expedition
I do not want to go
spelunking
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
A busy man, a real nice gent.
Its often said of me.
Hard working and of good intent.
I would not disagree.
My work is of such an importance.
Skilled beyond my years am I.
Requiring such diligence.
Without that, many poor could die.
Skill is gained by repetition.
Practice must be sought.
My weekend is an expedition.
Where ladies of the night are bought.
In the darkness no applause.
An operation I attend.
Lying here without her drawers.
Her life suddenly at end.
I only take the parts I need.
That’s all I ever do
I am not here to sow my seed.
To my wife I am true.
But dangers lurk round every bend.
They have it in for me.
And so this exercise must end.
So much for liberty.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
i.
Off to Fuga island
Next to the pamalican;
Then to Bucas grande
In the turquoise shallow end's.
ii.
Next, the Mactan
Wherein the grain's art caramel tan;
Then to the land of Coran
And Cebu, where the shore meet's the dawn.
iii.
Hiding safely, on Bohol isle
There art tarsier, and thing's of wild;
Diogo islet next, an uninhabitable place
Me and mine Reyna shalt explore it, with tribal paint on face.
iv.
Off, to the great Santa Cruz
Ourn feet, in the pink corraline sand;
Zamboanga City, the southern region
Of this Filipino relic strand..
v.
Whilst next the Sangat
The western part of this expedition;
Whilst doing all this sight-seeing
It shalt be with mine Jane nagley, in earth's natural kitchen.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
I want to understand the steep thing
that climbs ladders in your throat.
I can't make sense of you.
Everywhere I look you're there--
a vast landmark, a volcano
poking its head through the clouds,
Gulliver sprawled across Lilliput.
I climb into your eyes, looking.
The pupils are black painted stage flats.
They can be pulled down like window shades.
I switch on a light in your iris.
Your brain ticks like a bomb.
In your offhand, mocking way
you've invited me into your chest.
Inside: the blur that poses as your heart.
I'm supposed to go in with a torch
or maybe hot water bottles
& defrost it by hand
as one defrosts an old refrigerator.
It will shudder & sigh
(the icebox to the insomniac).
Oh there's nothing like love between us.
You're the mountain, I am climbing you.
If I fall, you won't be all to blame,
but you'll wait years maybe
for the next doomed expedition.
2.8k
Initially you were fragrance
Wind used to give me your address
Then you became a name
Streets were known by your footsteps
Then you became eyes
It penetrated my days so badly,
That I had to bury my time
Then…you became a face…and then *******
And this expedition cost me my innocence
And before I could have find a trail
A dense jungle swallowed me.
Now you become, home of a naked tribal man
And whenever people shout your name
I become aware of my nakedness.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC
When a mountain
I dare not climb
the ropes and tackles
are in abundance
In great shape
my body and mind
Not a weak link
in the expedition
But when a mountain
I dare to climb
the ropes and tackles
are often misplaced
Out of shape
my body and mind
Weakness as a
spell does bind
Hopes and dreams
of tireless youth can
be all but forgotten
in the spiritually aged
Strength the glittering
cloak of youth can
fade in weakening
jaded resolve
But in me common
traits dissolve
The bucking steed
will never be tamed
Pigeon-holed the
misfortune of other
souls has not been
allowed by my resolve
But this determination
is not without cost
The foothills of youth
are far removed
by erosion caused by
unstable belief systems
washed away into
the Sea of Ambiguity
A distant mountain
I often see
(distance the deceiver
of proportion)
Challenged at the foot
of the formidable sight
halfway climbing
only to slip and fall
Does this mountain
need to be climbed
Do youthful dreams
need to be fulfilled
When these dreams
are all you ever had
you wake up falling
or climbing higher
Driven by dreams
and gifts and talents
that rage like a river
in the driest desert
calling home what
must come home
holding on to what
must be fulfilled
Obstacles that have
become landmarks
seem to fade
into obscurity
like threats that
always remain empty
laughing at what
used to bring tears
I remain standing
through all these trials
not unscathed
and a bit weather beaten
halfway up another
formidable mountain
making up for lost time
from a major fall.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
how Eye make love,
this popped into my head
tho questioning this quest,
what purpose served, unknown...
lacking the infatuation to poetry write,
the mind retreats to the basics,
eye write with no destination,
wondering at the wonderment
of this basic actionable accolade...
sometimes,
be the
operative word,
sometimes
cooperative,
is the operative...
sometimes,
is but a
it just depends
who
is the initiate
and who possesses the initiative...
every story has a different
author, ending...
sometimes slow,
sometimes muy rapido
in foreign tongues
in foreign places,
the only commonality be that
wonderment
eye wish this not to be explanation,
eye wish this to be an explication
of the texts of sensual visionaries,
imagining the helping to happening,
the passageway to and from
where the mind begins,
the body completes its origination
oft I close my Eyes,
listening to hers,
her eye voices directing me,
what will be the course of our
course,
miss no Michelin starred landscapes,
through hers, mine Eyes triumphant...
tour guide excellente
cannot explain
why the temp sometimes
solar flares,
why the temp sometimes
is a glacial expedition,
tongue led,
from toes to eyelids...
always buy tickets for a
round trip flight...
how
is a titillation, begging you to read & expose,
there is no how, only sometimes better,
sometimes different...
why
is a question needs no asking...
when
when the shape of her profiled neck,
reflects shadows of further inquiry,
when her décolletage collects me
as she and her designer intended...
when
she laughs uproariously at my piquant,
suave and debonair one liners,
requiring kissing tickling calming
when
tears spill when reading
a new takeaway poem mine,
needy for a tongue to collect that spillway...
just being friendly appreciative and thanking
where
is when
the how and
the why
intersect
the intemperate weather of
being alone
subtle suggests
auto recollections
now know
the how, when, where and the
why,
my Eyes compose this elegy
of memories of past and present...
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Glorifying amidst the snowy mountains bestowing
rivers with a splendid shine searching a land
to shower its warmth in a dense grassland,
sun rises with the dawn
like the spring blooming life in the lawn.
Cold on the cemetery lay like the corpse,
the flower in concealed corner of the lawn.
Life rejuvenates it to exhibit its charisma.
With its exquisite grace,
life fills the daffodils
blooming merrily in the meadows
with the exotic flush of odor enchanting thee .
Life of seven ages leaps and exits slyly like a stranger.
Neither the witty nor the wisest nor do the philosophers
can bamboozle the fate, neither can they preconceive
the lot ,the fate has in store in each slot
hence live the life with fullest enthusiasm and zeal,
the chariots of life bridging
the expedition between birth and rebirth.
Struggle the chill like a gladiator
stand undeterred by the worldly woes.
Life is symbolization of bluebells,lavenders
hedychiums planted on a deserted road,
blend of happiness and agony .
Surrendering to agony is pure escapism.
Each has to surrender on the altar of death
a day or later ,
but till life why not worship the life
like an idol enshrined in the temple
so when thee are asked of
satisfaction in the heavens high
thou may not quote "alas it could have been a day later"
rather thou may be the most enlightened
devotee to stay in the state of bliss and utmost salvation.
Men say life is mortal
But life is eternal you see,
the life is like a divine cascade of holy waters,
one drop dies ,other rejuvenates to life.
Till the nature lives, shall live
the men and generations yet to come.
Life is pouring like the nectar from the heaven's brink,
quite insane it would be to not drink the summary of life.
BY CHANDAN SHARMA
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC
got so drunk at their little, ahem, initiation ceremony: drank a bottle of whiskey when i heard we were going clubbing wearing lycra shorts... the man with the biggest bulge and the biggest stick... never understood male group psychology... or any group psychology for that matter... it isn't exactly a throng of noblemen following Henry VIII.
i joined the lacrosse university team
for a bit,
left it when the time came to buy the
equipment - i didn't think getting
smacked by the defenders' longer sticks
was worth it, to be a striker with the shortest
stick - too physical - i thought i'd seek
some other physicality,
got stuck-up on rock climbing, and mountaineering
for a while, nothing serious,
a bit of easy bouldering on the edinbrugh crag,
the one lining the skyline at holyrood park,
the salisbury crag, just west of arthur's seat -
i'm not going to lie about clinging off the
matterhorn or something -
but i did an expedition with the mountaineering
club near Ben Nevis once...
Glen Coe / Coire nan Lochan...
and i figured, with all this talk of light pollution,
well, "pollution", to think that a bunch of
street lamps can blind away the stars of what
former poets spoke of: about the illumination
of the heavens for the blind eye to see...
we camped outside one bothy (basic shelter)
set off fireworks, drank whiskey, played music,
burnt a fire in the bothy...
but to be honest... i was not amused by this whole
theory of light pollution...
i looked up at the sky, and the number of stars
was no greater than the number seen in a bright
lit city... i know they say all those telescopes
amplify the chance of peering into the heavens
at night and see more stars...
but why cite light pollution, when, in a remote
highland hideout the number of stars didn't
increase in number... i've heard a girl from
australia cite that, in the outback she said
more stars could be seen... even without a telescope...
so the scottish highlands are unlike the australian
outback? is it just me... or is it simply ********
this whole light pollution argument?
it was dark out there like in an **** after black coffee
and charcoal tablets.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
No light or air touches this broad chasm
And few have been known to ascend from it
Reconciliations to phantasms
All sensation and love you will omit
Why try and claw your way to the surface?
The darkness embraces you like no other
You become addicted to the abyss
So you spiral down further and further
It is feasible for one to break through
To take that solitude expedition
I know the specifics of this deep blue
For I have risen to behold the sun
Keep kicking your feet and reach for above
Exhaling your gloom and inhaling love
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
I'm gonna follow my intuition
I don't need your permission
I'm the one for this position
I'm breaking free
Of common tradition
I can be who I am
I don't need to audition
I am who I am
The only edition
I used to be sick
In a dark addiction
But I broke free of that condition
My mind is clear
I know my ambition
No longer living
In fear of suspicion
There's not one definition
For the text editon
Heart driven
Proposition
For my expedition
Opposite of our traditional
I need abolition of competition
And prohibition of intermission
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
I've been trying to imagine what you'll feel like
Once you've hiked to the peak of my
Demureness.
Tell me how many times you've envisioned that expedition
-Dreams and Reality
Fantasies and Actuality-
Lets make the transition.
I want you to feel what I feel like.
I want you to feel me.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
Tears grow heavy as you watch all that you once were begin to rust away.
You do not feel sadness,
but nostalgia,
as clouds containing past lives and past loves circle the space around your head,
Screaming in your ears.
However, you know that becoming a new bundle of energy and knowledge is a great expedition you must embark on by your lonesome, without distraction of any sort.
Those dust-covered shoes struggle to comply at first,
But without any other hesitation,
you set off towards a door that has now made itself known.
With a hand pushing through,
you turn to look at the carcass of twisted memories and,
not knowing if this is directed towards yourself or maybe something bigger than that,
you ask aloud,
"please, tell me before I go, who was this one? This time around, who was I?"
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
I am a damsel and I don't need saving.
I am a damsel of my own who doesn't need a white horse with a perfectly straight silver hair. I won't be fooled by your beautiful facade.
I am a damsel, contented with my own set of spears and solitude it brings me. I got a better set of sword to fight for my own.
I am a damsel who doesn't need anyone to sweep me off my feet and carry me away from my own home. I don't need an empty castle to wallow my time away.
I am a damsel who doesn't need a prince to become a princess--I am already the queen of my own life.
I am damsel who doesn't need a hero to take her on adventures: I've got my own map for the expedition I planned on my own. I won't be taken into barren lands, I'll explore the depth of the oceans and wildness of the land.
I am a damsel who's in a tower, without a ladder. I don't need your ropes to help me down. Only to find out, it'd be the same rope that you'll tie around my body. No, I'll break every brick and torn the tower apart to grab my freedom. I won't be freed just to be caged again.
I am a damsel
And I can handle my distress.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
I notice it, I notice it's flaws. I see its texture, I witness the shapes and metamorphic coherency's. It's all aligned in a wild pattern. Like walking in a catastrophic maze and never finding the ending.
But to really observe profusely, the maze has its own pattern, agenda.
Screaming to myself, aloud, I express myself grandiosely.
It all makes perfect sense
The missing piece is not missing, it never was, it was merely detaching.
Detaching from all life forms itself, like a cell that does not belong to another.
The maze was juxtaposed in its own creation.
People were too simple to understand it.
The jagged puzzle doesn't need another piece, it just needs a new formula, a new path, a new perspective, it needs to stay jagged in order to create more purposeful moments and inventions.
Complexities reach a higher peak than ever before, if you try to straighten the puzzle and find a piece to fit in it, you destroying its true and only purpose.
You cannot mold or fix something, you cannot sand it down.
You just need to let it be.
It's shapeless, it doesn't need a form, or a label.
It just is what it is to be.
And that is the secret. The contradiction needs to stay as the contradiction in order to invent the expedition.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 3:34 PM UTC