"foggiest" poems
/ as i am pretty sure all americana
feels about "us":
oh 'ook, 'ere comes old man
europe,
no hemmingway,
and no so: as the casual english
expression solidifies exchanges:
just across the atlantic:
the, pond...
haven't the foggiest...
i'm "new" here,
and even i find these english prims
& pomps and idiosyncracies
a bit debilitating...
today i walked from my home
with a knife in my pocket...
why... why?!
apparently it's worse
than new york,
a belt as a qusimodo boxing
glove won't cut it,
given that that:
requires a formal introduction,
prior to a fight...
guns guns guns...
over 'ere we 'ave knives knives knives...
and politicians can't exactly
ban them... no, not really...
ban knives, soon you'll be banning
forks, then spoons...
and then...
the whole ******* kitchen...
we'll all be eating out,
in public, cheap cheap cheap,
cheap restaurants
like the slovakians eat in...
can you even imagine that while
in st. petersburg i didn't see,
not one mcdonalds...
same so in moscow:
not a single mcdonalds...
it was like a: relief...
a bit like only seeing africanos
only, but not elsewhere other than warsaw;
erm: afro-saxons?
sure! we have them in england,
plenty of afro-saxons...
so now afro(x)
is not pop-up frizzy hair,
bundled into a french bun...
type of... "thing"?
**** yeah!
hit the spot!
oh old man europe...
tired and yet, and yet tired
of his riches,
how craving the old trenches
of Ypres...
the belgian mud, the rain,
the rats and crows...
europe: lament over libya...
or even pseudo-neo-rome
lamenting over carthage being destroyed...
in reverse -
abbrv. into - orior carthago!
was it cato the elder
who persisted counter to this?
as heidegger would have put it:
that's not even question-worthy.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
my eyes cry a million tears
my heart feels many fears
my mind feels so alone
my life feels like there's nothing left
but im still going
im far from dead
no feelings left to feel
few experiences left to have
i can only think of one more thing
one that isnt so bad
you are my final experience left to be had
you make me happy
you make me sad
you make me feel everything
good and bad
you make me love you!
and its so sad
because you have no idea
and some would walk away
and just say
thats too bad
but ill stay here with you
ill pay my debt to you
and this i will never do
ill never leave you
because nothing can separate me from you
ive got one last thing to do
and that is to fufill my love to you
let the rain drip down your face
let the tears drain all of your fears
let the darkness fall to the floor
and i will make sure that nothing will hurt you anymore
let the wind brush through your hair
let me show you i will always be there
tell me what i must do
to forever be with you
if your friends leave you
and if mine do to
that doesn't mean we cant be true
beyond the end of time
your family might disapprove
and mine might too
this is gonna be difficult for me and you
but ill stay here with you
ill pay my debt to you
and this i will never do
ill never leave you
and on the foggiest days
ill make the skies look blue
and on the darkest nights
ill show you the sunlight
with one wing black
and one wing white
we will live between the dark
and the light
we will live our life
with strength and might
and be in our love
with passion and flight
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
Corruption
is an overflowing
abundance of inadequate language.
As few will fathom
the misleading of those in lead,
and those who think they see
may be mislead;
even more than those who don't.
Our ends
are never the beginning
madmen are not our conquerors
but instead the folly of commoners.
It was our lack of a auspicious aptitude
that begets us to lament
even the foggiest of concepts
beyond our notion to conceive even simplicity.
It was only eager creatures
that yearned for the world to be theirs
so instead of uniting the kingdom;
we were segregated into classes
and left without language to communicate.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
The world stands
At a time still
Today
Driving away
Walking away
Won't
Just sit and
Stay
So I sit alone
Just how I was
Before you
Took the
Throne
The sun still
Lay as warm
As when I slept
Inside your
Arms
Now I long
For brighter days
With festivals and
Carnivals to play
People joining
Together at the edge
Of the world
Being alive is the
Pledge
But the foggiest tunnel
Lay ahead
Paradise
Falling away
Pushing device
Don't take me under
Through the devil's bed
Let me rest in a graveyard
While I lay down my
Head
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
I know I'm nothing, to you and to me
In fact if you did an X-ray you'd probably find a tombstone in my cold and dead chest cavity
I have tried resting but I can't do that reliably
Because my brain, while my most valuable ***** is sometimes, if not almost all the time
My biggest liability
My inability to remember is very hard to forget
Forged in foggiest messes is maybe where my head is currently set
I'd go to my own world but I'd be driven mad by being alone
I don't know what to do and what to look for in my own zone...
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
*concerning anti-kantian lexicon completion to understand the notion of a priori (it's a niche interest... c. bukowski explains it better in the book tales of ordinary madness in the chapter titled **** and kant and a happy home... well, not really, if he knew german i’d say that he was truly defining a priori, learning a language rather than unconsciously acquiring one from the first word mama or whatever toddlers say first when they mastered the bladder and **** muscles, which are oddly designed to be consciously / forcefully trained because they're crafted as slacked... weird), let’s say that’s about as much relevant to me as is this scenario:*
an actress about to perform the monologue script
of not i, prior to performance and at the stage
of memorisation asks samuel (beckett): ‘what does this mean?
this one line? it’s bothersome for my conscience,
my sense of meaning and direction, what does it mean?’
then ol’ samuel tells her: ‘back up, bets and back up,
it’s the most self-conscious eventuality of all vague attempts
to stand outside of oneself within the scaffold of using
language - this dismemberment beginning with extracting
thought for the senses to see hear and feel, writing...
this morphing of the substance we consider thought without ethos, ethics,
choices, looking at the zeitgeist... but honestly?
i haven’t got the foggiest idea... i wrote it because i wrote it,
the desired intentions are reserved for those desiring to read it
and leave it.’
like the famous p.s. of human history written by moses on sinai,
the melting of ice enveloping britain and elsewhere up north,
formerly known as the ice age causing flooding elsewhere...
and that metaphor of: lions gazelles... two-by-two, two-by-two
being a metaphor for monogamy... whereas the harems of other
animals like walruses was obviously avoided
and gave us islamic polygamy (added to the fact
that people refer to themselves via the zodiac...
taurus... scorpio... capricorn... or the chinese calendar...
dragons tigers pigs rats and monkeys etc.);
otherwise known as hermeneutics - extraction of meaning
from very concise texts... very very concise texts
which, if taken literally... leave you as quickly as they came,
and make you specialise in geology or biology instead.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Progress leaps, amid lulls, for three wed muses:
Innovation, imitation, contest
Imagine, visitor, a vast room full of bits of straight string—
People stand all around, some scratch their heads, none moves,
Until our brave hero approaches slowly one little length,
Gives her a twist, and voila!
A circle.
A room full of straight strings, and one circle.
Seeing, some other soul thinks, *aye! Crass,
Wrong, how unperfect!*
Makes a circle too, from another pair of ends—
Look, look! He cries, much better!
On and on likewise, go men and strings,
Til not a single straight string remains,
Only circles, and men
Scratching heads, in none the foggiest idea
What’s to be done with a room full of circles.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
if the past haunts you, then exorcise yourself
bathe yourself in the sunlight
and bid goodnight to Mother Moon
lay down in fields of daisies and lavender
take in their scent, as they will take in you, as one of them
hug the trees, feel their bark beneath your hands
tend to their needs, love them as you will learn to love yourself
let the stars of the night sky, guide you to a better life
as you relearn your ways.
Feel the grass and the mud
and the dirt of the Earth between your toes
it may feel unusual to begin with, but let it be
you will grow accustomed to the way that nature infiltrates you
you will learn to love it, as it loves you
and then, you will learn to love yourself, soon
this is where you allow the past to be left where it belongs
as a place in the foggiest realms of your mind
not to be forgotten, but just left untouched
you are here, now
you are a living being full of might and beauty
with potential explosive enough
to brighten the dusky night skies
you are free to live with the Earth
and you are free to live in this moment
do not let the more dismal times
that left you in dismay
stunt the being you are growing to be
now you've left behind those days
the future is calling and it is not to be ignored
nor is to be feared, or delayed
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
The whole world was gray
November’s first snowy day
Not a single winter racquet
And in the midst of the white
And the foggiest sight
I saw a man in a dark blue jacket.
I’d seen him before
And that I swore
As he was a classmate of mine
In past Fall’s red hue
I remember seeing the blue
Of the man’s dark jacket’s shine
i always saw him in the hall
he wasn’t particularly tall
but wherever i was, he was too
and when i saw him at lunch
my friend told me his hunch:
“i think that blue jacket man might like you”
i admired the admiration
but felt no butterfly-in-stomach sensation
so maybe i had to go and pack it
then the following saturday
when from my classes i was away
i saw the man in the dark blue jacket
he had tried to sit next to me in class
and i told my friends to ask
if i could sit further away from the bloke
in the corners of my eye he was there
How much longer could I bear?
the bare blue of his deep colored coat
so when i was walking home one afternoon
i hadn’t tried to get home too soon
The days only becoming hazier
The winds were speeding fast
A man behind me tried to walk past
I saw the dark blue of his blazer.
he turned to look at me
stopped, starred to see
and began to walk slowly behind
i started sprinting to my abode
snow now down rode
the blue jacket man on my mind
his pace sped up too
and if only i knew
how no one would believe me
was he stalking?
should i start talking?
the blue jacket man’s spree
So I didn’t tell them the truth
I knew their words wouldn’t soothe
His eyes always on me
In the park he was there
Lurking like a ******* nightmare
His aura seemed aquamarine-y
I see him in my room
I know I shouldn’t assume
That that blue jacket is his
How is he everywhere?
You gave me a scare
Now go back to your biz !
He is in my screams.
He is in my dreams.
Blue jacket man, get out!
He is in my eyes
He is in my lies
Flow out with the water spout
He is in my lungs
I’m speaking in tongues
And as my eyes begin to fade
I see a smearing blue
Across my vacant view
That jacket of his facade
That dark blue.
Blue.
blue.
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 12:53 AM UTC
Suffering on the foggiest level. Buffering to ward off the devil. Privately articulating the indelicate erosion of a china doll face. Unveiling the haste of hustle from her face where grace might have been before she fell... apart... from being wrapped in the race too long. Manufactured for success we digress under pressure. We try to be greater and find ourselves lesser, confronted by an anxiety fueled by society. Can't say I know anyone who isn't stressed... Meanwhile the china doll is made of powder and glue so when the rain comes she doesn't know what to do but cry off her own face and die. The china doll face that we doubt ever possessed any grace at all. She dilapidates. Depressed. Sunken eyes, damp dress. We say goodbye to her fragile frame and forget so fast...
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
The love of a mother starts with a tiny flutter in her heart.
Then it starts to grow, even before she meets you.
She loves you with out boundaries.
She held your hand when you were scared.
Wiped your tears when you cried.
She stands with you during your proudest moments
and holds you during your lowest.
She gives without asking and sacrifices without fear.
The love of a mother is endless and timeless.
The love of a mother shines through the foggiest of days.
The love of a mother is a piece of your soul.
Her love never ends.
Her love lives on, long after she is gone.
Although it's hard to tell her goodbye, don't be sad
she is with you no matter what. In your heart. Where she will stay
Forever...
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:10 AM UTC
Have you ever wondered where the stars go
On the nights when they don't shine?
Well if there is one thing I know,
It's where those stars go.
They glide down to Earth from the sky
Although I haven't the foggiest idea why
And they sing and dance and play
Just like us during the day
Those two white figures dancing a tango
While another one views some Van Gogh
And more still sing a song
'Till all the songs have been sung
And the morning sun arises from her bed
And calls the stars back home once more.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
On the rainest day
You’re the ray shining through
On the darkest night
You’re the sparkle in the sky
On the foggiest day
Your face clears my mind
On my weakest day
You’re strength takes my side
On my strongest days
You’re my biggest fan
On my days of doubt
You always remind me
On my saddest days
You hold my heart
On my happiest days
You are always with me
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 2:58 PM UTC
a glimpse of a sketch
of an outline of an idea
glittered with the crust
of cobalt wrists
new emotions piano’d
against the tin roof of my memory
analogous to my god
complex
a possessive clutching
at your budding wings
shear them from you
before you can fly
trap you under me
my goading grimace
i feel regret
but i cant let you go
you are my umbra
please stay under me
a two dimensioned demigod
silhouette
how id feel without
my shadow
i havent the foggiest
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Why do people stay silent
When they have so much to say?
Why do people assume
That they know what you’re thinking?
When you haven’t the foggiest idea yourself!
But then I stop and catch myself
Caus I do the same……
Words hurt, truth hurts better left unsaid
Thoughts flying around the brain,
Which one do I catch first?
What the hell am I thinking?
But then I stop and catch myself
Caus I’m not going to do the same
I’m not going to stay silent
I’m going to speak my mind
I have so much to say
No more assumptions
From you or me
Its about time we let our thoughts fly free……
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC
And so the Eighth of November
Has come dusting off our shoulders
High-chested, heart's crossed:
America's judgement day.
And it came, like a sudden halt of a
Cliff hanger
Or a pause to an unfinished sentence,
The irony of the aftertaste -
His old man broken-hearted
Slumped anxiously in his chair
As the screen bluntly illuminates
Our long awaited nightmare.
My heart wrenched at the sight
Of his shattered face
As though hope itself became
A hopeless, endless chase.
Our path is at its foggiest
Almost unseen with naked eyes
And we had drained all our energy
To try and make things right.
But as the former says:
No matter what happens,
"The sun will rise again in the morning."
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:54 AM UTC
My heart sings a song that is oh so profound.
Shouting colorful beams of energies that sweeten my soul
They are added to my coffee cup after I brew the grounds.
A few sips... after the creams of accomplishment are added
Signals power up my once slow and foggy mind.
Leaving me open to bigger and more complex of delightful moments...
Contents
Ingredients in my life's java
hype my rhythm and add dance steps to the foggiest of moments in my life.
Such brew of Coffee I savoir every morning.
Which brand I drink never costs me a cent.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
Sometimes I think of her
as I am pursued by him.
When do you know to ask a woman out?
When is the line from friendly chat to potential dating material
moved?
I'd have liked to think my past could clarify situations like this-
but I am oblivious, haven't the foggiest.
The testosterone has provided a thick mist of confusion, a smog, its flooded my brain, nothing will ever be the same.
A barrier between myself and my most protected feelings.
Sure, I'd kiss him, it'd probably feel nice,
but I'd like to spend more time talking to her,
really talking.
If *** was an experience in making love
if we ran out of conversation
and wanted our bodies to fill in the rest.
If it just felt good to be close to somebody.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
It might delight me to have you,
if we weren’t damaged goods,
but I know I haven’t the foggiest
how two broken people are meant
to mend together;
we haven’t the hands to glue.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC
I never got addicted to the drugs
Every time I snorted it
And felt the burn
the foggiest that over took my mind
It wasn't the drugs
It was the boy that introduced me
That was my addiction
My downward spiral
That's where I lost myself
In his arms
I craved his lips
Not his pills
I wanted his love
Not his drugs
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
We walked past
the water tower
hand in hand
then Jane stopped and said
my parents are concerned
that you may expect things
expect things?
what things?
I said
she gazed at me
beyond kissing
she said
I looked at her
at her dark longish hair
her dark eyes
peering into mine
your mum said something
about limitations and rules
but I hadn't the foggiest
what she was talking about
I said
Jane tightened her hold
of my hands
I am not like that girl Lizbeth
I don't believe in ***
before marriage
Jane said shyly
staring at me
I thought we were
not going to talk about her
I said
just an example
about where I am not going
Jane said
o
I said understanding at last
the whole penny dropping
with a loud clang
did your mum think
we might do that?
I added
Jane nodded her head
well she was frightened
we might go beyond kissing
in a passion one day
and well you know
what adults are like
Jane said blushing
I thought she
trusted me or us?
Jane let go of my hands
human nature
my dad said
is not automatically bound
by human rules
it takes intelligence
and a willingness
to not go beyond
those rules and limits
I nodded my head
but we can kiss still
she said
and hold and be close
but not go where
Lizabeth would go
if you let her
Jane said going red
and looking away
across at the Downs
let's not talk of her anymore
I said
I haven't and won't do that
a tractor moved over
a far field
cows mooed in a nearby field
she took my hand
and we walked on
along the lane
I told Mum that
Jane said
not about Elizabeth
but about us and that
we would not
the sun was out
blue skies
and I was hot.
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC