"fleets" poems
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
happiness is fleeting
obsolete
cold like the sleet
it gets
when it wets
and success
comes in a disguise
wearing a dress
dreaming
of happiness
realizing
what it means
to be
not to be brought
or bought
or taken
with a restless mind
it's an image of time
in which relaxation
happens
without the need
of a glass of wine
or a drop of this
hit of that
the happiness to be had
do you think
you deserve all of that
to feel good again
to do something
that makes you feel guilt
something you feel
to be a rude awakening
that keeps you waking
in your sleep
your dream
you thought you had
could come true
unruly
attributes
begin to penetrate
what you had in place
what you wanted
thought you needed
a happy place
you built in your mind
gets crushed
by reality
now you're blind
to what happiness is
but you continue to live
and redefine
shape it
make it
and see
what you can find
is it happiness?
sadness
and gladness
and manics
panics
attacks
angry outbursts
not being able
to relax
has its way
into your life
how do you make
happiness
the number one
most felt
feelings
that you normally
feel
how do you make that real
that happiness
how do you not conceal
your happiness
without letting
the people around you
clown you
down you
try to put you in a place
where they are
which isn't at
the same spot
you're trying to be
the happiness
as it fleets
and you grasp
at your bed sheets
satin
slips away
through your fingers
give it time and let linger
feel breathe
get happiness
and when you see someone who needs it
and you still have some that lasts
go from within
and give it right back
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Here he comes the big bad monkey banana ****** wit the jungle as his flunky,
Fully equipped with his hundred yard stare and a streak of silver in his hair,
Animals of the jungle kneel to his feets,
Cause he pocesses the strength and swag of 50 fleets,
Not blood thirsty but his thirst varries from figs to berries, here he comes king of the Congo beating his chest like a bongo,
Doughter don't laugh clear his path or feel his raph,
Prime mate top of the food chain when it comes to terror they are one in the same
When it comes to terror he'll make it rain and when terror is spoken bout remember the name GORILLA
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Sometimes the sway feels like marching
Marching like I’m dreaming
While sleeping with the wind
Upon a sailing, swaying sea.
These dreams carried me here
Fleets of souls past
Lost in my sail boats
These dreams become my home
Because the horizon is gone
And the sun is night,
The moon and stars my life, my love.
I may not know where I’m going
But I feel this forward rise and fall
And the march in my heart
Drums with a knowing beat, beat, beat.
Success swims beneath these bodies of water
The air stirs my hair and soul
Lifting me above unknowns
To a place, I’m taking myself, really slowly.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
4.3k
Life does not walk these streets.
It rolls by in tin foil fleets.
Love does not fill the air.
It gazes from windows with forlorn stares
Liberty is merely bought.
Dollar bills and silver change give amount to the thought.
Dreams are what happens when you sleep.
A lie.
There are lessons to learn and rules to abide.
I
will not adhere to the word of the day.
My path deserves to be walked,
my dreams are not fall
acy.
My love is louder than the trains and sirens that permeate this city.
I will show liberty to all who seek.
Life is beautiful.
Even if the earth is bleak.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:09 PM UTC
The old order changeth, yielding place to new
-Tennyson, Idylls of the King
Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there
If you vote they give you a sticker
The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees
If you vote they give you a sticker
The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.
If you vote they give you a sticker
Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps
If you vote they give you a sticker
Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math
If you vote they give you a sticker
An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather
If you vote they give you a sticker
And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence
If you vote they give you a sticker
While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world
If you vote they give you a sticker
And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists
(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)
But if you vote they give you a sticker
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
With a breath of life
We used all our might
To travel the skies
In our great disguise.
To the Outer Rim
And then the Deep Core.
Coruscant beware
*** ***** going down
Worst than Alderaan.
Upon fleets of ships.
In the snow and sand.
We can see it all.
But there is one thing
Something to mention.
The Force may be strong
But not for too long
So quit wasting time
Be my valentine
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Mercies at juxtapositional refinement
Abandoned constitutional confinement
Handshakes on the bridged ligaments
The sweet melodious serene dreams fleets
One after the other like peculiar inventions
The mellow scenes of frames realignments
Wonderful crafted words verses paradigm
Harmonic jazz awesomeness, decode freeness
Orchestral spontaneity drills pragmatic energy
Yet, as the gingered steams rise from the hot brew
The scented breeze of life vaticinates with a smile afar
Whispers of "no obligation, no expectations" reverbs..... on and on....on and on
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
One glance started it all.
Everything faded in the background.
You stood out amongst all souls
I think I have finally been found.
The next day you said hello
I was speechless. I just smiled.
I walk past you with a skip on my toes
My heart just soared a thousand miles.
The next week we were going out
Two souls dancing in the crowd
It was almost, almost a fairy tale
Oh! My heart was beating so loud.
The next month I finally said yes
When you asked if I could be your girl
I was wearing this pretty red dress
Under the night sky, we kissed and twirled.
The months to follow were eternal bliss
Every single moment I wouldn't miss
You are a knight that swept me off my feet
For me, you'll launch a thousand fleets.
A year and two, time just flew.
To jump a cliff, I'll do it for you
But then I saw with my own eyes you kissing another
and finally, I knew.
Hurt and betrayed, I couldn't grasp
How my love could shatter my everything
Swollen eyes, red nose, voice so rasp
I was left empty. It hurts! It stings!
An eternity went by and still helplessly trapped
A lost soul that has met it downfall
Yearning to turn back time and stop
the one glance that started it all.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Soft and silky you cross round my neck
You smell like tinted ***
your color makes me worried
for I cannot run
You encircle
hold me down
Yet your warmth is
so confound
you bring color from my cheeks
a tribe of specks and fleets
your spindled gentle down
easily sets me down
As I slowly die
Tears rundown and fly
for the scarlet brings me to defeat
my throat scattered with ribbons
as a Red Scarf flows down
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
I live in Kerala, South India
Where it's usually unbearably humid and hot.
But it’s been rather different lately,
Cool gusts of wind have been brought,
Along with some rains that have turned into floods
Poisoning even fresh water with mud
And so the people, just like the fish our local fishermen catch,
In a net they have been caught,
Leaving friends and family distraught,
Coz trapped by water, a symbol of life,
People have suffered death
And been left to rot
In the houses where water breathes in human space;
Imprinting in our minds a memory we would like to erase.
Everywhere I look I see prayers, with help sought,
But people are just having their hopes shot.
The only grace is that atleast those who have their heads above water
Are having their prayers slowly answered.
I thank God for the army,
Who for the safety of our lives have fought
Pushing through broken homes with everything they’ve got.
I thank God for the navy,
Who have sent men in fleets
Just to save our countrymen off the flooded streets.
I thank God for doing everything to keep us safe and alive,
All so that we would not have to make that final dive.
Quite literally.
Right now, we may mourn this disaster that has led to our demise,
But I promise you, our beautiful state will rise,
And when I say this, I assure you, I speak no lies.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
A con artist scurries
In white shadows
Fickle grooves she casts
In sequences
Imprinted by vainglory
Swift she fleets
Veiled with scars that
Were sequin rich
She spoke of ideologies
Subdued by violet myths
Exuding colorful flavors
Of classic deception
Her tattoos spelled
the wistful vowels of sin
Vexed by the onslaught
Of egregious inceptions
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
Bazooka that veruka
Wage war on your warts
Charge the canons against corns
And ills of other sorts
Conscript regiments of Rennies
Antacid to supress indigestion
Establish naval fleets
Of fisherman friends sweets
To banish nasal congestion
smear your chest with Vick
To ensure victory is quick
And if headaches ensue
Aspirin will win and subdue
If your enemy is constipation
Let senna be your friend
And if your throat is sore
Let strepsils make swift amends
Show viruses they're not welcome
Fight back with all your might
Give germs no easy terms
And soon you'll feel alright!
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
In the year 3131
They come to devour our suns
Terrible, godlike, interstellar giants
Inconceivable beyond all reason and science.
Humanity and all her colonies,
Divided amongst the galaxies,
Finally united once and for all
For our race dare not fall!
To eliminate the threat of annihilation
We constructed planet-sized stations
That house massive and powerful guns
To protect and defend our vulnerable suns.
As our fears vanished behind us
Those in control sought to rebind us
For systems of authority never change,
Not even with pervasive freedom in range.
With the powerful distracted by their lust,
For control over every speck of dust,
There emerged a demented cult
That believes our race is at fault,
And beings that come from above
Do so out of divine, parental love.
These naive and delusional zealots,
Inspired by avarice long embellished,
By a ruthless society lacking empathy,
Have developed an ever enduring apathy.
Seeking to destroy our only defenses,
They mount violent and ****** offensives,
Their rugged, disorderly fleets crucify
As humanity is unable to reunify.
However, there is another cooperative effort,
A last stand, self-organized endeavor,
This vigilante group battles cultist detestables
They call themselves The Solar Sentinels.
Bound by a principled, passionate collaboration,
The Solar Sentinels defend all people and nations,
Engineers and military minds come together
To ensure our survival and prosper, whatsoever.
Now, one existential question remains:
Will humanity break free of its chains,
Awaken, realize that we are all one,
Disregard old orders and save our suns?
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
The slant-eyed
giant hunter
people of Tsul Kalu
came in peace
To become
the central universe
Cherokee white elders
hereditary priests
teaching peace
Winged rattlesnake
constellation
of time untime
Singing the death song
Sacred spirits
animal, plant, herb and tree
The wheel
what is, will be
(*The ancient Chinese were
the greatest astronomers.
Later in the 1400's their
massive treasure fleets
mapped the World
The Yuki, Navajo, Apache,
Yuchis, Ming ** Melungeons,
Shawnee (Oceanye ** Sioux,
Cree Ojibuwa and Moskoke
have Chinese ancestors
some claimed to be Chinese
European explorers told of
elders speaking Chinese
ancient Chinese artefacts
and wrecked junks seen
History as taught might
be but a fairytale*)
Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 5:07 AM UTC
A beloved friend enticed my senses
Appeasing whines with tasteful tunes
Awakening amour at heights of suspense
To serenade me as spry I shall swoon
Euphonies swallowed my bones
Delighted be I to ever have found
Divine obscure ways to atone
Ghastly memories quite profound
Triumph has monopolized tribulation
Along hollow skylines nimble she fleets
Colloquies spewing frost shan't stand elite
Taunted be grief by elimination
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
I would like to be the girl in white,
with rosy cheeks, and porcelain skin.
Plump and pale-freckled like a hen’s egg,
with a laugh like peals of golden bells,
and a jar of lavender on my windowsill.
~
In the dark and silent night,
I’d shine a lamp over the water
so fleets of sailors long starved of beauty
could glimpse the outline of my chest,
Hugged tight by ghostly silk, and flushed with warmth.
~
To wander along the sand dunes, barefoot with basket in arm,
To sing a long-lost melody so pure that cherubs think me their mother.
Meanwhile, greyish waves idly lull the townsfolk to bed.
In their sugared, posied dreams,
An angel walks quietly along a shore,
The girl that lives in the lighthouse on a hill.
~
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
Running the gauntlet down Midchester Road,
A veritable suburb of Gleethorpes City,
You pass a line of house-castles
Of the well to do.
But don’t be fooled
By what you see,
For I know someone
Who lives there.
And he will tell you,
Of bountiful gardens
Stripped bare
And concreted over
So that families can park their fleets
Of expensive cars.
See those conservatory extensions
And widened pavements.
A lady poses,
Doing her best
To emulate the Kardashians.
Money attracts
No end of thugs
And dodgy dealers:
Swarming parasitic wasps
Around the honey ***
Nights of drunken revellers
From the local pub:
Swaying from trees
And kicking cans about.
Boy racers tearing down the road,
Music systems booming
With a mindless
Moronic drumming.
“Where has reality gone?” asks
My despairing friend.
They have their money
Their riches,
Expensive toys
But few of them are Happy.
What happened to “Goodness” and virtue
And dreams of Utopia?
Where are the heroes
Inventors and creators?
Instead we have a world of celebrity,
In which true talent – even genius
Is ignored and undervalued.
“Where are we going?” my friend exclaims.
Things get worse and worse,
The world all in reverse.
For it’s “Unreal City”,
Far from pretty.
So have a think,
Don’t let yourself sink
Even further into the mire.
Just get real,
You know the deal,
It’s you I’m trying to inspire.
Paul Butters
© PB 2\8\2019
(with help from a bloke who lives in such a place. Same town as me).
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
658
Whole Gulfs—of Red, and Fleets—of Red—
And Crews—of solid Blood—
Did place upon the West—Tonight—
As ’twere specific Ground—
And They—appointed Creatures—
In Authorized Arrays—
Due—promptly—as a Drama—
That bows—and disappears—
1.9k
Here I am again,
watching the scenery loop
on the carousel's third lap.
I'd rather not have paid the fair
but to have observed the hellish chaos
from outside this whirlwind of horses.
The eye of the storm doesn't exist here
when the stationary cavalry doesn't stop,
but I chose to enlist in your war.
My last tour ended with a bang,
body intact, but inside was torn,
and I said I'd "never fight the good fight again."
But here I am
caught in the searing winds,
scars refreshed, sobering and familiar.
How did I let this happen?
The Siren's song was so alluring,
with promises strewn on shores' crags.
Oh Helen, you made me face a thousand ships,
but when my eyes returned
you were merely a new mare on the merry-go-round.
I knew what to expect
when I chose to turn on the fleets,
but my childish dreams convinced me you were different.
Advisors had warned,
and instinct agreed,
but my trust has become my enemy.
So here I am again,
surrounded, not yet able to retreat,
but the battle is almost over.
This time I swear I'll never fight again.
You don't recognize peace until it returns,
and isolationism is the key to keeping it.
I promise I won't,
but first I must wait
for the looped music to cease.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
Golden halo, crown of gold- rings as you call,
Golden halo, heart so bold- yes and yes to all-
yet all the time that falls off the leaves after rain,
dry up too soon in the mid-morning sun’s heat
Golden halo, not of gold- just as ever blinding,
Golden halo, made of light- slowly ever fading-
the sky is clear, buts its clouds uncertain to cry,
Sit and wait, sit and wait and talk- golden halo
I hear your whispers, golden halo- loud and soft
echoing from the fleets of galleon clouds
and crashing nimbus waves
blaring through soft torrents of gale and gusts,
dodging the lighthouse of heavenly fire
I hear your secrets, golden halo- safe and sound
safe in me, golden halo, deep in locked chains
safe in me, high above the clouds,
the key, broken- its pieces, heavens apart
the lock molten shut
golden halo, golden light
golden secret, lips sealed tight
Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 6:49 AM UTC
Something would come of it yet
The last cocaine-wild, cosmic amphetamine eyes
Howled down the eastern hills
To the city’s beckoning lights
Tramps and harlots light fire from their palms
Blown pupils dark in love sick, longing eyes
Growing with the wild, restless wind
In lustful, glamorous disguise
And there the angel of the evening
Sat upon the sultry heat
As troubadours gaze into the mirror
She pours them pills in restless fleets
And as the city settles
And the western wind starts to blow
The dizzy euphoria sinks away
As their vision starts to close
So dawn breaks the singing night
The buzzing high leaves the blood
The poets and painters
Let their stream of consciousness flood
Torn rhymes cover the wall
Where artists and addicts have met
Where splattered tunes had brayed
Something came of it yet.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
Your soft caress still haunts me night and day,
Like morning dew escapes a sleepy leaf...
Each time it fleets all reason goes astray,
And all the senses powerlessly heave
A sigh that brings about a torment sweet
And eases but in conversation when we meet...
(c)kRu, 13.12.2005 - 17.01.2006
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 12:38 AM UTC
I am a blue bird exploding in a million bright beautiful colors and shades,
smooth spinning shapes.
Father always told me I was meant to take breeze beneath my wings and fly, But all I want to do is roll around in the dirt;
***** dirt and I. and I. || the dirt, ***** dirt and I. and I.
Soothing bird songs, winds whisper along In harmony you and I. you and I.
I am a blue bird exploding not just in color, but in figure and scope.
On the next full moon I will pluck out of the sky and own
Every shimmering star, dreary dream, and hopeless hope.
I refuse to flap my wings like a feathery fool,
I'll keep my feet on the ground and my tail on a barstool.
Tapping talons to some beat, snapping and squawking at every fair fowl I meet.
Soothing bird songs, winds whistle along
To every fair fowl face I greet, my hollow heart flutters, it fleets.
I am a blue bird eroding at all angles and ascensions;
savoring such subtle and slithering sensations.
Wait for whipping winds to walk tenderly up my spine;
smelling the flowers, taking
its time
Pedals explode to expose
Ivy Iced Irises in fold
Within each bursting blossom I am swallowed
to sink in sublime.
Soothing bird songs, winds whirling strong
I am a blue bird eroding from outside and In.
The spectrum slid away--in this heavy blue I've hidden.
Praying for the pull of a pulsing red wind.
Please fill the hollow bones holding up my skin.
To lift my wings at long last and rescind.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 3:49 PM UTC