"foolhardiness" poems
The Little Black Dress
The concrete city summer-heat will beat
most men into a state of distraction,
confess their sins w/o waiting for Miranda,
to warn them of their foolhardiness,
to warn them that silence is golden.
Some men will torch, not touch,
themselves to gain relief from city street heat,
Their loosened ties look like used nooses,
that have done some good hanging.
but not you babe, not you.
Sleeveless,
your shape shifts
effortlessly within,
a cool container,
your black sheath,
and what's underneath,
a knife in the heart of
most mortal, immoral men.
Black is the color of choice,
of les femmes fatales,
in the summertime, when we drink,
on rooftops, in search of a breeze,
and the lassies order silly drinks
with silly names, looking refreshing and
fetching, in their little black dresses.
Manhattan, my beloved, misshapen,
fingerling of an island-city-fortress-playground,
named such by the Algonquins,
the original poets-in-residence.
In a city of stone and brick
gets so **** miserable hot,
Good Humor melts instantaneously,
and the toasted almonds taste fried,
the papers report of Poets suffocating,
unable to exhale their own fiery breath!
But not you babe, not you,
in your Little Black Dress,
you suggest all is well with world,
perhaps I should try one as well
We fight the temp rising with
white linen, white shoes,
straw and seersucker,
not you babe, not you.
Black silk that rustles,
Black silk that mocks the sun,
Stirring up rustling in faint-hearted men,
observing your languid promenade across 57th Street,
we the idiots, panting, tongues extended,
standing still like Frozfruit bars,
cry out in unison, I have been released!
Contradictory miracles still occur,
disbelieve me if you want,
from June to August,
this isle ruled, by tan goddesses
in a uniform of a Little Black Dress.
May 28, 2013
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:35 PM UTC
General time
To live the life, electric
In a count of fames, a name of trying
That will begin the heed, of reach, exact
Secrets, only a demon could see...
The tooth and the envoy of truth
That collected a shrewdness, in all anarchy?
The scope we adjust to a new light we Rueth
Spare demonstration, for decency to quiet
And hold for a sulking hour, houses of repute
Come to the fashion of seasons before twilight
Time is am's honored party, sat to describe its sordid worth?
But hate is such, a future foolhardiness...?
When we are, the culture of simplicity...
In the name of conscience lead, to a very different guest
My name is whole and clear, of what a soul was, intimacy
Clamor of a self-sufficient eye
Many more than out, to seek the world of else
Wealth in the spy of virtue, that can suspect a total, for a lie
That we have come to know, like the basis of what seems to be, hell's...
Night comes for a tired eye to complain:
Here in saving hindsight, I have learned with the coping hours of others
And their burden, sense set before me, in sate or plane
The voice of love, with eyes to follow and hide, ruin from the peace savored, together?
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 7:15 PM UTC
Walking the glade tonight nature first appears right
yet it is not, when mounds of grass convert to browns
too soon, and down by the stream massed butterflies
seem silently caught in fertilized grey shrouds, clouds
of pollution say they breed no more, too weak to flutter. .
War like this against earth's vale of favour brings claims
of sheer neglect which sees no further than dying bees
and will not question why, from earth, they get no reply.
A few years hence no wishing will recompense for this
for from foolhardiness gross greed created a fatal mess.
Seeing tonight this suffering glade makes me so afraid.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC
a throne..
iii
one of our favourite stories
was the emperors new clothes
the foolhardiness of adults
their vanity and pomposity
their gullibility o
look at me!
parading by
look at the emperor
his suit is so fine, see!?
i should say!
he was starkers?!
(the herd..)
it takes a child to
speak the truth
to say the blinding
obvious-
the emperor was
en deshabille..!!?
(meanwhile..on their
sunbeds
two swarthy tailors slept..)
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 5:37 AM UTC