"fishtails" poems
She laughs, he smiles.
The black forest taste he could only taste at the peak of light beams
Her laugh seems similar, quite similar.
Her haha's outcasted the glooms and dooms
Just as the black forest melted on his taste buds when sun rays streaked upon his shoulder blades.
She cracked a joke, he laughs and nods
Intellectual is what they might say
A brainy maniac she is, who could co-host a sitcom
His Friday nights would now only be filled with her wits
Replacing all the beers and stouts for a while
His once bumpy and rocky throat is nil compared to the highly raised cheekbones visible during a good laugh
But one day she cried.
The guilt he carries overshadowed his sympathy.
Her big swollen eyes
Her pinkish and warm face which was covered in dribble
Hadn't he known?
All those time he made somersaults, he was drown deep below
He could breakthrough,
but was too mesmerized by the mermaid's blinking fishtail and scaly skin.
And she saved him
From being turned into a merman
Only then he was back to square one
Where her laughters, her jokes and her sobs are actually his sugar crush, his Gatsby gold
As always, she was after all, his soul saver.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
Walking through the market,
fishtails hanging sluttishly over the edge,
scales glinting
the smell is vaguely familiar,
I try to place it.
You wink across the crowd of people
as you weigh a bag of squid, your hands dripping dank water
and my cheeks redden--
I’m shy as the memories of my striped underwear on your stained carpet
and your mouth on my ******* rise unbidden.
You are nameless, but now at least,
I recognize the smell.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
It's been one boring, restless, ***** of a drive through this sunken state. I click the windshield wipers off as they smear verdigris across my polarized vision, the FM stereo crackles and hisses in dissonance
with moaning, squealing brakes. My four cylinder fishtails ever so slightly as tattered tires nick and skid through puddles of *** the cumulus left behind after ******* the sun, which is crying now as it falls to sleep. Driving mechanically, I let my thoughts wander as I meander along I-4.
*You and I, we've never known what it means to perfect our chapters, to get into each little cavity, or between two immaculate ribs. We'd like to simplify all of that to one line, to reduce the dimensions rather than revel in their story. To see with six eyes or live as a termite within the wood grain is really all the same. But you know, we haven't finished yet simply because we are not finished yet. Some of us yet insist they hold on to the rotting shreds of a dying breed, a generation gone gangrene, their fingers in their feces.
But we know how we want it to be. Humanity will be different for you kids, we promise.*
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
Empty cars drive down
the roads of my soul.
While rain falls and collects into pools
of lost memories.
That sing in a half remembered language,
images that flow into forms,
as strange lizards crawl out from under
their polished runes at the curbs.
To swim down the lanes of the road
cuneiform between phantasmal tires and chimerical highways.
As the fishtails of the jalopies,
wiggle as they echo down the byways.
Past luminous sunflowers the size of small cities.
While beautiful women with long damp hair,
weave wild flowers from the empty fields,
and place them on their brows and between the shells of their ears,
and ignore my phantom passing with their mysterious labors.
My teeth morph into typewriter keys
i slowly pull a sheet of simple paper
across my cold metal spindle
and with my dreaming eyes:
watch the chrome unicorn on the front of my automobile,
strain the sky tears as the raindrops loft down,
like liquid diamonds,
and splash against the glass panes of the wind shield.
This silent single horned hood ornament
is like a weather vane pointing
to otherworldly horizons
hope shimmers in the liquid deluge.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
the wishing wells eating up their spells, the mystery tour catching an early flight to greeece and ending up broke with no fishing tail to catch onto, mystery wheels of which way and rhyme a quick way to pass the time working on fishnet and fishtails to bring into a *** of good luck that can either be lousy or unimpressive and stupid the lovers cast their first spell and fear is driving them but its heading up to good luck, and the clouds are permissive, and they understand what they need to understand, and I’m not doing this for anyone but myself from now on, I guess thats just a decision that you have to make, and the precious fools who make an irony out of their vanity will be great too, and we will do a dance together, yes we do a dance together
I am a man that wants to do his best to preserve what is coming, to grant solitude and goodness to those that were good to me, I believe in a God moving through things, controlling things that I cannot understand, because things are just too **** complex, working way soldiers on a ride to vacancy, vacancy, vacancy, oh just scribbles and random dots showing on either side of reading lot and loving the poetry and the history of it, and sometimes there is a movie, oh sometimes a classroom is a place to dream, to dream rather than to actually focus on the lesson, a random destruction of beauty, a random destruction of beauty, lovely forces making on a take out transition into fuller notions of equality, and loving their morality, and just making their decisions good enough to foster an excelllece, of equal stature of equal pride, moving through the ride, moving through the ride, and they all excel at what they can and cannot do, and he kept them still cool, and he could have taken the ride, but he chose not to, what of a hero? what of a savior? what of a pastor attempting to take down everything that he has already established and coming up with nuclear error, pasting out the tangible worst of makeshift cranny acid truculent succulent brandy candy plans to see me jammy
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC