"frazzle" poems
We are bigger than our surrounding
Or that is what we like to think
We tend to think that
Nothing can put us down
No matter how strong the wind may blow
We will not go down
We walk around everyday
With a gait that says, “Big man on campus”
Nothing can frazzle us
Nothing can confuse us
Nothing can get in our way
Or that’s what we like to think
That is our lives in our dreams
We are really elephants amongst mice
The little things rattle us
We freak out when the smallest thing
Gets in our way
And ruins our daily routines
We are elephants amongst mice
And we get shaken up
From the microscopic thing
We cannot continue living our lives
Because what if we see that mouse again?
We are elephants amongst mice
And these mice may look cute
They may look innocent
They may look like nothing
But up close they are life changing
And they are life threatening
We get so paranoid
When the littlest thing happen
To anyone around the world
We are elephants amongst mice
We want to live our lives
The way we want to live them
But thus far these mice are winning
And we sink deeper into paranoia
As we continue to be elephants amongst mice
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 1:55 PM UTC
Its totally deceiving,
the tales of the meaning of life.
Grow up,
go to school,
get a job,
work hard,
play hard,
pay your taxes,
and especially die hard.
But still my brain is running slower
than my online connection speeds.
So slow.
I ended the day spent and tired,
and filled with wasted deeds.
Bitter?
Maybe.
But who faults a man
for defining himself through his actions.
Ogling at the universe,
and simply breathing.
Meditation keeps me sane.
As you can probably tell,
my strife continues effortlessly.
Sliding down an icy road
with no chains
and my brakes at full.
When the tree comes to slam me,
I'll be ready.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle.
Hair big enough to reach
The clouds,
Ambition strong enough
To sail through the
Massive, roaring crowds.
The lights - they feel
good.
The adrenaline - heart's pumping
The way it should.
Sing, dream - the way
You please.
Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle
To-night.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
princess blood cult
throne of tethers
rumor's of frazzle drip murders
and blood spatters
on a bed of grinning hooks
X
marks the *******
she bled they fed
in love in bed
torn dress and flutter ******
form her squandered torso
as bare feet dangled
while skies shrieked knotted eyes
watching her get it hard
wet **** drunk
she tumbled
in this little black house of madness
****** her in a sack of sins
while **** buckarooed
in a wood shed paradise
welcoming death by sexicide
she backstroked head over heels
exposed
flirting in the graveyard hacked and black
beckoning orchards that
caressed her by squirming *****
she adored the mole that snuggled her
while thighs shuddered with anticipation
hurricane tongued
she licked grinning *****
for pudenda's pillow
shimmed black light disco daggers
down her lips
to ****
to thighs
to drooling
raw lips
her ****
like a shucked oyster
whimpering disciple
of enticing wounds
bloom in gloom
she tasted like taffy panicked *******
erotomaniac
from head
to lips
to feet
chanting squeals
of infernal opera
in the throws of blood *******
and weeping barbarous
stammer
beezel blaba blaba
Beelzebub
her body stained labyrinth floors
in soiled cathedrals of desire
while growing phantasm babies
he whispered death music
in grottos of legs over head
that made her hotter than
boiled fish eyes
chopped her in two
she squirmed
shivering inkblots of madness
cu cu cu cu cu cu
*******
swing the scythe
and
get the knife
she shrilled
pump the ****
split the bone
smudge the lips
spit and blood
moon eyes turn blood gauze
and heads swivels hula
the **** yields
a spooled mouth contortion
her *** crack
a smile of accomplishment
and tormented ballet feet
stretched tickle toes
for heavens edge
she panted rolling away dark air
in an uneasy creeping
and widened thighs
she lost her head
like a chopped carrot
for the miracle of oblivion
you could hear the last thump
falling as silence falls
she spread like bat a wing umbrella
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
I give you a word
And press it to your ear like kisses.
This is the nature of poems
That they tremble in the flesh
Like fireflies fading too soon.
I give you a word
And press it to your eyes like laughter
After the nature of sun-glow
Dazzling Damascus wonders
Like the meridian at noon
I give you a word
And press it to your heart like honey
Funny the nature of speaking
That can frazzle the nerves and sparkle
Like skyrockets chasing the Moon.
I will give you a word
And press it to your tongue like thunder
Under the nature of breathing
That flutters in your registers
Like an old song without a tune
I give you these words
Will you give me your ears
And your eyes
And your heart
And your voice
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
when you realise
why you have to go
you feel a rapid constant
pulling you close
just as you fiddle and frazzle
lose hope lose sight lose all
but the big ol' sun will never die
stay by the light
you'd be fine
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Or? Go figure.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXIII)
What? as night's blackness is passe in frail
Excuse, the hours now merely for good sense
Um, stacking up whiles I close down from hence
This slim machine for lack of aught else' tale,
And this where Twitter promised to avail
Itself of all my minutes--all's fr'intents
Too dead, dull, boring--I've moved on, pretense
Worn to a frazzle in aught that I'd hail.
Remember: "I should write more--" to bestir
Me, yet ideas have flown off unto
Is't nether regions? cuz I "watched in tour"
Who cares who? Fashions. "Follow her--what you
Should wear is...THIS." I've MY own style, in poor
'Scuse, am ergo at odds with all, cool too?
25Mar19b
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC
Sizzle, sizzle, frazzle, froom
I sweep you away with my broom
Out of this house you no longer welcome
Shed not a tear, you don't deserve to
You torturer,
you leave me emotionally maimed
and bleeding on the floor.
I close my eyes, I close my door.
To look upon you never more.
Rash decisions of the past poison you now.
I am merely a temporary escape,
Or the freedom you seek perhaps?
Now look on me no more
For I havent the strength to help you soar.
I'm left bleeding on the floor
Are you sorry? Want me to stay?
I can not, for I've found my way.
Finally I am free to be me
Whatever that is
Will part of me remain, bleeding on the floor?
Time will tell,
I leave you with your thoughts to dwell.
© Crystal Erickson 12/03/07
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
_At this time of year,
it seems that everyone
is looking for a piece of blue sky
with a little bit of green;
Among the frazzle and the dazzle,
the trash and the tinsel,
a piece of themselves
that they misplaced;
Down the back of the sofa,
back in the day
when blue sky grew on trees
and green summers were forever._
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC
You know the one,
One who blathers on... and on;
The one we'd rather not.
One prattles like a rattle,
Tattles and gabbles,
Babbles and jabbers,
Chatters til we frazzle,
Twaddles til we drop.
One never seems to stop.
One brags
One talks
Bark off trees,
One argues
With a knot.
One can't stop.
One drops names
Like cloud bursts;
One day
One will
Be caught.
One has diarrhetic run-on.
One's opinion's seldom sought.
Finally, at the end of bray,
One has only nought to say.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Passionately dancing on a burning blazing pit
Kissing the lips of an unmarked slit
Blood being dazzled across your finger tips
Hearts in a frazzle jumping to find a quit
Sleep dancing nightmares dreaming of monsters
Ripping at the brain you, are ashamed to have
Refraining the truth from the lies being stabbed
Tossing & turning reluctant in the past
Tripping over faith with death in your hands
Running in circles from the beast you create
Sipping the blood of those with your fate
Learning the jokers ways
Killing the innocent for the sake of your brain
Madness in nightmares fears in dreams
Never awaken a beast you can't tame
Sleep dancing sleep dancing the horrid dreams away
Feet not burning on the fiery flames.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Walking down
Second Avenue
inside trips of
electric pulse
my eyes peeled back
to take it all in
my senses full
of whizzing
action as I
hold your hand
in innocent wonder
I still take a stand
asking questions,
sometimes shyly
observing how I might
want to be
or not
colorful people
some with kids
some with spiky hair
clothes of all kinds
progressive air
we turn the corners
(Dad, are those
two women kissing?)
my eyes wide
yes I must
must keep them open
to access what I'm missing
punk queens and their friends
people of every culture
faces of every shade
some friendly some bitter
from dark onyx
to cool jade
then sophisticated
streets with window
jewel-toned
dazzle
to contrast the
nitty-grit
of Lower East Side
street art
rough-edged
frazzle
West Side laid back
in its pre-hipster scene
now I am a soul-searching
adolescent, my hair dyed
a minty hue of green
vintage skirts and short-spiked hair
feeling anonymous and happy
loving the looks as I
kept my gaze steady
inside feeling my
budding womanhood
at work, making
me heady
and how I remember
as a kid
going to visit my grandpa
at work
way up high
amazed by those Twin buildings
slicing clear blue sky
in an elevator that moved
from winds side to side
seeing the whole world
from the top
what a trip, what pride
Flashback to later
in a far-away land
all pregnant
my mouth dropping open
I watched them be ravaged
cityscape landmarks
sawed off in the middle
like a King Kong movie,
our eyes disbelieving
fire and brimstone
so much grieving
Trying to call dad and panicking
*** is he supposed
go to the WTC branch today??)
Not believing how our
belief in people
turned us into prey
My city I no longer live in your ribs
But you beat inside me
today everyday
all months not only September
yet today tears do flow
as I vow
to remember
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
I lost the rhythm, dropped the beat, choked the chords.
I think I'm slipping through,
cemented feet, on the corner, of responsibility street,
and romance avenue.
A famine of feats, a loss of belief, what else have you?
never a clue,
what not to do.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
Some songs do not truly end,
they only change with time.
It seems are song follows this trend,
and I am forced to revert to rhyme.
The broken dance of silent dreams
was meant to be the close.
But there's a remix of our song it seems,
and I'm forced to think with prose.
Do you remember what I set out to do,
a year from this very day?
It seems my words of passion were true
and the dance is having its way.
There is a twist to our broken song,
and it has lead me straight back to you.
and now this is a place we both truly belong,
but I am hampered on what to do.
Ad Finem,
It rose tonight with no warning and came,
and over and over it spoke your name.
It's neck was red where my hands beheld it,
and scorched my brow with its scorching breath.
I thought it was dead, but with no warning
It told me a love like this can know no death.
It was enough to wake me at the hour of three,
and to frazzle my sense of verse.
And it won't let me stop thinking of you and me,
and the eternal circle curse.
My thoughts shall not turn to action,
they will not interfere.
For the negative reaction,
means no more than means a tear.
I must think to a hundred years from now dear heart,
when the grief will be o'er.
I must accept the absence of the kiss through the rose leaf rain,
and mask this dreadful secret pain.
I now know that it knows no death,
and so for that I will save my breath.
It's something that goes beyond the laws of verse and rhyme,
It is something withstanding the test of time.
The structured chaos of our sinking house of dreams
is where this all must stay.
For I just want to see you happy it seems,
and I could not stand to push you away.
I would love to put away our past,
and start something fresh anew.
For a friendship is something that can last,
and I would like to have that with you.
I love when we are together,
but I can't help how I feel.
I shall mask it altogether,
despite it being real.
I just do not understand my heart,
Though I know it true.
We had such a brief start,
yet it has lasted through.
I have never been like this,
my lingering feelings make no sense.
Something about our kiss
made this all intense.
So for now I will sit here thinking
of the meaning of this poem.
Why I was awakened to write this,
and why to you I roam.
So number six of this story,
of how a broken man gleams,
searching for our glory,
sinking in our house of dreams.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
my thoughts are frazzle
that dance in the light
an untamed wildfire
that burns through the night
a stick of blue incense
a coil of sweet smoke
a sickening scent
the words that weren't spoke
the letters i wrote
i never did send
and still i have hope
and still i pretend
why am i this way
why, tell me why
help me betray
the people that lied
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
a frazzle
was cold
pepper in
the cloud
that hydroponic
filament but
sink with
compost may
revere lent
with ammonia
as this
Evangelical was
the entitlement
of American
in Waterloo
with corporate
rain there
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 12:51 PM UTC
Multitude of days has fallen by,
The travellers have returned in numbers,
The pictures are painted.
Dreamers have woken up
Where have you hidden your face?
The time is set,the hour is come,
My heart is ready,
My kingdom is built in total completion,
Will i be of no queen host?
Where have you hidden your face?!!
My heart is melted,I've waited to frazzle
I've waited with longing eyes,
with burning passion!
The sun is set and the night is dark
Solitude tales are told of me.
Where have you hidden your face?
Where have you been?
Will i with eyes behold not your reflections again?
Until the night turns day
I'll wait,I'll wait with hope!
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
It will get dark soon.
The white, yellow, and pink
houses will turn grey,
then black. The cacophony
of car horns will turn into
the chorus of locusts.
Summer's night will lay
a sheet of tranquility over
a city harassed by exigent
matters that matter not.
Soporific silhouettes will
soften the cityscape,
allowing us to escape
the frazzle of the hot day,
exchanging the frenetic
for the peaceful, the welter
for a sense of the well being.
The susurrus of the evening
breeze blows the exhaust
of our polluted lives into
a distant day. Children play
in yards back and front and
laughter wafts through
neighborhoods like the sweet
smell of barbeque, not the
fetid odor of finance and
foreclosures. There is a
sense of closure to this day.
As the sun sets, our eyelids
close, and we pray for the
soft rain of forgiveness.
Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 11:17 PM UTC
I wish I could kiss the memory of you,
and travel back just once
to when I was naive enough
to hold you close
and feel my anxiety burn and frazzle out
in your arms;
when I was meek enough to nuzzle in
to your soft neck, your lying throat,
and whisper that I loved you
with warm breath I wasted
for two years,
or to finally remember
how unfit our bodies were
pressed together in the dark,
despite our cheery smiles
hidden in hot sheets,
because I want to kiss
something too good to be true
and pretend I don't know it.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
Think of it:
grey Kansas with its headlong wind
broken once by barn doors laying on their side and then
unbroken for miles and free riding through frozen, standing
grass. A cathedral with purple walls— somehow subterranean
though above the ground— where men cage-dance to each
other’s angles but do not glance the paid for swells they make
in mirrors, glasses, countertops; in eyes and brainstems like a burn
and something scopophilic in the soul gears in to what is seen
but not to what exists; how actors in even outstanding erotica report
the lack of desire they feel while watching their own play reel back; how they
are not the moans or counter-moans; the sounds of kissing or the glinting
looks that pass between performers as a cue or like those cubic lanterns master
calligraphers spend a month adorning with a dozen of their favourite poems
only to set a light inside them; to watch them rise with heat and frazzle
to trails of ember in the air.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC