"fumble" poems
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green
field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs
creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent
through a failed ground rock)
brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
crack their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail
12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)
lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 12:18 AM UTC
nights take passion forth
into an abyss
of hundreds of arms
swirling under the weight of
bodies yearning
to connect
your destruction came
in moments, you fell beneath them
and growled, you were
the rabid beast
hiding in my closet
or behind my bathroom door
waiting to spring,
and you and i,
we fell for each other
like children, we fumble in the dark
like teenagers, we talk through every movement
like we've known this dance for years, years, years;
my hands, they're too small
to spread over your heart
like i want them to.
your hands, far too big
to cradle my face between them
like you meant them to.
we make it work
in the darkest of ways,
the black hole in the floor
of our bedroom
opening up
to swallow us
whole.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:15 AM UTC
The residue of ***** lined the empty bottle.
A deep inhale of smoke,
an exhale of problems.
Lightheaded I fumble,
clasping a cold lifeless piece of metal.
I cried "save me"
release all my demons.
I am safe for now,
drowning in a sea of crimson security.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
Today at the train station
A stranger came up to me
And asked for directions.
I had the sudden urge to give him the wrong ones
Or take him behind the stairwell and
Gut him
And let his family watch as stomach and liver
Flobber out over slipping intestines, or simply
Grab him and throw him onto the train tracks
As the half five train approaches.
It would give people a reason to
Remove their sunglasses,
And possibly even their iPods,
Headphones dangling uncomfortably
As they fumble to save a pointless
(As well as futile) situation.
Maybe they would film it with their phones.
Maybe I'd be famous.
Instead I just sigh and give him the right directions,
Tell him the correct train to travel on,
And slowly smile as he waddles off
And doesn't believe me.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
What reason do we have to be angry.
What reason do we have to curse the stars
and all the threads that bind them.
Who's fault apart from ours is it,
that this is the hell that we have placed ourselves amidst.
Every point in our lives,
lying like a checkpoint,
glowing like a streetlamp in the dead of night.
At the feet of these golden warm, welcoming lights there lay a crossroad.
And we foolish children feeble in heart and mind fumble without a further thought.
We follow our hearts and we follow them into deep into the disguising dark.
-
Adventure was the death of us, antagonizing.
Adventure was heartache,
agony as evil wizards warped our worlds until we were weaning.
It wasn't too late before the brazen beasts had burdened our lives with ever more brutality.
Wolves hungry for the hearts of men, walking on hind legs to better hinder us with horrors.
This world is beautiful with wonder,
but it's wonders are like lights
upon the Lophiiformes head.
Bright, beautiful and inviting
But lead with haste into the jaws of oblivion,
well hidden amongst the dark.
N.H.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
The fault of our reality is not written in our stars
And it will not dance across unfavorable constellations,
Or dissolve into inconsolable fragments.
The fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
But how fortunate would it be?
To cast the providence of our unlucky affairs
Into the gloomy twilight,
Where the sky is so unilluminated
That we could close our restful eyes
And fathom a world where it does not exist?
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
We are heavily folded sheets of stationary:
A collection of utterances
Bound into melancholy novels
By our mangled hearts,
And though spoken words
Still fall onto my turning pages
As tears do fall from my reddened cheeks,
I have yet to forget
The chapter you have left unwritten,
Because an unwritten chapter is one to be adorned:
It cannot end
For it does not exist.
And so we fumble through an amorous affliction,
Fabricated into a bittersweet infinity.
And at midnight,
When my restless fingers
***** the empty air for you,
And the reality of our desolate fault
Seeps into my hands,
I wish you were here.
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
j.s.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Stumble in at 3AM
I'm drunk again
Kick shoes off at the door
Drop my keys on the floor
Fumble for the lights
Man I miss Friday nights
Crashing on the couch in my clothes
Being somebody that no one knows
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Rusty nail by rusty nail the floors come down. Floor by floor
the old men of the old town slip away, and leave old shells
like the stone bread of Pompey. We board these windows
and bolt these doors and slate them in the young sun
for the hungry cranes, but I return in the twilight
of going home traffic when five o'clock lets loose blue collars
to fumble through the ruined rooms of time gone by,
I kick through our broken bricks. Their red dust stains
my shoes and wears on my cuffs. A hopeless hearth,
discarded news, a crippled doll with matted hair
and I all share the crumbling of the day, but only I
shall not remain come compline. Neither can I
pack these walls with me. So this is adieu
to former strongholds. To our old fidelity, adieu.
It is not fit to go forth less than brave, for
they built seven cities over Troy, seven worlds
not knowing where they stood so long the first
could not be said to be. The docks of Caesarea sleep
in the sea, and tourists sit for lunch
on the prone pillars
of Jaffa.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 9:09 PM UTC
Whisper, wolf
Cry as you first open your eyes
As you see the world for the very first time
The world breathes to you
It welcomes you in
Whisper, baby wolf
Whisper, wolf
Fumble and fall through your youth
Shoot for the stars with your eyes
Energy as of the stars
A soul made of sunlight
Whisper, young wolf
Whisper, wolf
Changes are coming for your world
Feel your paws start to ache and grow
Confusion of the world around you
It seems to breathe a different way
Whisper, growing wolf
Whisper, wolf
You've grown through your troubles
Though their echoes torment you so
She looks at you differently now
And you are so misunderstood
Whisper, adolescent wolf
Whisper, wolf
Walk through the chapters
Howl softly to the night
Lay your head beside her
As you dream and wander ever still
Whisper, lost wolf
Whisper, wolf
Trust was not always there
Some wolves were made to run
More beautiful things await you
Though the pain blinds you so
Whisper, heartbroken wolf
Whisper, wolf
Speak softly to the world
You see a familiar face today
Though it is not your own
You look to their soul
Whisper, father wolf
Whisper, wolf
They grow as they follow
As they are led through the night
Guidance is provided where it once was empty
The pack is stronger now
Whisper, proud wolf
Whisper, wolf
For today is the day of farewells
You wonder if your efforts were enough
The moon seems to look to you
And it looks to say that it loves you
Whisper, sad, sad wolf
Whisper, wolf
That old pain comes back again
She's in a better place now
You feel lost in the woods again
Though you know you are not alone
Whisper, crying wolf
Whisper, wolf
Your pack gathers around you
For today is the day of your final goodbye
Though it is not you crying this day
You rejoice for the opportunity
Whisper, dying wolf
Whisper, wolf
For you are home now
Your troubles are finally behind you
You are with her again
The cubs grow in the steps of your paws
Whisper, sleeping wolf
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
I tore the fabric of space
Interrupting my affectionate stalking
Spurts of longing, interspersed
with spasms of premature *****
In vain, hankering to attain that next level rush
*Oh you're a ***** girl aren't you*
That's when I was discovered...
Her shrieks royally flushing my cheeks with shock
-Superseded by pallid chagrin
I fumble to bail,
Pants entrenched around my ankles
Premeditative,
Of absent-mind, in haste
Prime directive a method of escape
Evasion failing
Detection:
Imminent
Reflecting a grim lack of circumspection,
accursed **********
Trying to conceal my turgid ********
Her father particularly beyond reason
And not fond of my indecency for his daughter
Proceeds pummeling me to death with my beloved binoculars
Devoid of clairvoyance;
I am coincidentally sent
outward toward oblivion
Bon voyage through the portal
Falling facefirst into an abysmal wormhole
Its then I voyaged backward through time
To the moment of Creation
And witnessed the universe
**** itself from naught to existence
Spewing forth such cataclysmic splendor
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
I feel like I'm fighting against my soul
slowly losing control
as if I'm trapped in a bubble, to keep me out of trouble
no chance to fumble or even a stumble but my words that
I will speak won't be in a mumble
Just when I think I may lose this fight & that whatever I try won't make
things alright
I remember something that just might
How could I forget I practiced all night
A conversation with my mirror face, so my soul understands
its place
that we're in this together it's not a competition or race
it is simply just knowing what is right & what is wrong
helping your life easily flow along
You're my voice of reason
the one I believe in
from this I've learned what is in my chest, always knows
what's for my best
from time to time my brain will try to protest
just remind it your heart feels more then all the rest...
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
When he says he doesn't love you anymore don't look around like you're waiting for the sky to fall. Take a deep breath and keep your eyes steady. Whatever you do, don't look down. Stare at a spot on the wall if you can't bear to look at him without losing your composure. Don't let your hands fumble for something to hold onto. Ball them into fists and ignore the urge to cover your face. Don't hide yourself from him while he breaks your heart. Turn your expression to stone and listen silently while he makes empty apologies. Don't scream, don't ask why, and please darling, don't ask him to change his mind. If he ever really loved you he wouldn't be doing this. He doesn't deserve you. Restrain the angry, betrayed side of yourself. Let it tire inside your head, don't let it out, it will only make things worse. Hold your tongue when it begins to plead "don't leave me alone", don't give him any more power over you. I know all you want to do is wrap yourself around him and hold on for dear life, but you can't do that. His arms will no longer hold your broken pieces together so you better start to learn how to do it yourself. When he gets up to leave ignore the empty feeling in your chest and the knots in your stomach. Don't chase after him, not even to lock the door. When you hear him drive away shut off your phone and take a deep breath. Turn on the shower and get in. Wash your hair and cry a little bit, then have some soup and go to bed. When you wake up the next morning don't call him. Go to the mirror, look yourself in the eyes, and understand that you are enough. Take a break from dating when you realize you look for parts of him in everyone you see. Don't kiss another boy until you know you won't picture his face when you close your eyes. Maybe in time the two of you will find each other again, but for now you need to take care of yourself.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Folder: Soul mates
I have nothing
but the look in your eyes
To remind me
and these whisky tears
won't dry like they should
I can't hold you
except in a memory
I can't feel you
Except in my heart
I can't love you
Except with my soul
You're that piece
That's missing
A perfect fit
Only you puttied up
my space with creeps
And still I watch you fumble
Afraid you will fall again
Only not for me
As soon as I empty
This cup the whisky
Tears keep filling up.
They don't evaporate
Like they should.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
grinding myself hard onto your unzipped pants
i imagine clipping into your body and
shattering your programming
our lips meander into each other breaking
california law,
and simultaneously
finding anatomical peace
your **** thrusts through slacks an angry fist
and I wonder how eager my mouth looks on you
******* the decade between us
bridging the age gap with a rope of *****
lip to ***** in awe that I am
capable of making you ***
silly and heavy with excited hands
i fumble with my pants,
tucking my knees into my chest to slide them off my feet
my stomach disobeys me, spilling out
holding onto something desirable of mine so tight
you crush my fleeting abstinence
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Mockingbird, mockingbird
Singing all night
How clever
You imitate me.
Your search
For the truth
Of your own song
Seems fruitless
When the phrases of others
Chime loud in your head.
Mockingbird, mockingbird
Silence is loud
And the night
Without music is long.
So we fumble
For voice
In the dark
That surrounds us
Find song of our hearts
In the light of our dreams.
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
no slavering kisses
like a dog on heat
no schoolboy fumble
wanting you to beat his meat.
no ***** in the dark
or a letch to grab your ****
no rancid breath,nor sweaty skin
to grasp you in his mits.
just you and your fingers
and your own ***** vices
pure ecstacy of loving yourself
with your battery op devices.
it is all in the touch
the rhythm of your wrist
the way your body squirms
giving a wriggle to your hips.
a gasp n moan
************ brings you pleasure
frustrated tensions fade away
as you fiddle at your leisure.
reaching your crescendo
a throb a pant a sigh
eyes slightly misted
youre at your dizzying high.
copyright gothicmistress 2010
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 6:02 AM UTC
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.
Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gale outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.
The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.
Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.
Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.
Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.
The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal
sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.
Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I want to tell her
But i can't.
I watch the spring rain fall.
A gentle tapping,
Sort of rapping
On the window's pane.
I focus on the sound until it fades.
I close my eyes and remember the day,
The scene is painted in a greyscale haze.
There stands you
Across the room
Enveloped in blue.
Your favorite colour.
It's late on that late winter's night,
And we're with our group.
If I said I knew who was there
I would be lying
Because it was you I was eyeing.
I'll skip the cliches, like
Butterflies
Or, better yet,
"Love at first sight"
Be as they may,
They all came true that night.
A casual glance became
A gaze became
A smile.
Once,
Twice,
Thrice,
Then Five,
We held it for a while.
I take a drink and pause the haze.
Minutes become hours that drag on for miles
We found ourselves in that grassy field
Dotted with trees,
And rabbits,
And owls.
A hot summer day-
The south suffers waves.
Hand in hand we make our way
Through the trail.
We fall behind our friends,
There's something I have to tell.
I stumble and fumble
Through letters to string,
I can't think of what to say.
And you say it's okay.
I smile and hold you close,
A mixed sense of pleasure morose.
Your lips touch mine,
And my heart explodes.
I can't believe we let each other go
We became 'twixt,
Ivy to our bones.
Again
Time lapses
There I am standing
There you are
Hanging
On him.
My rage demanding
His end.
But you come between
Deny instead.
Say I'm not right in the head,
Well, baby,
Love killed me dead.
I turn to walk away
And in turn you turn to
Return to he
Who shook your leaves.
So we've parted ways
And all was well
Until recently.
When I examined
A mural
And saw I missed a shard.
A blue tile
The final part
To my stain-glassed heart.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Darkness seeps between my fingertips
Even when my hands are clutched to my face as tightly as I can when I am crying alone
Fingernails digging into my skin
To remind myself that it is real
Sleeves pulled over my fingertips
So no one is forced to see the hideous things
Especially me
The way a murderer's mother shuts her son's old bedroom door at night when he has been jailed
To shut out the memories
Concealing what is unpleasant
At night I don't wear makeup
So when I wake up at 2AM to use the washroom
I keep the lights off
And fumble blindly through the black air to find the door handle
So I don't have to look at myself
It's getting worse everyday
A new kind of pain
And I don't understand
Why it hurts so much
But I think I'm going to stop telling people about it
I'm going to stop mentioning it no matter how much it hurts
I'm going to stop being self-deprecating in public
Because it just comes across vain, self-pitying, annoying, attention-seeking and fake
I want people to stop telling me I'm pretty
I want them to stop lying to me
Even if it just to spare my feelings
So I will stop putting them in situations
Where they must lie to me to be polite
I'm just going to be silent now
They already have to know how ugly I am on the outside
No one needs to know
What an ugly mind I have
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Among the nights that came so slow
A murky silhouette is all I am doomed to know
This unknown world flowing through my fingers
Craving more as this wonder lingers
Undefinable by action
Yet definite in nature
Oh why do you haunt me
Beautiful creature
I reach for your thoughts
And fumble divinely
You've hidden them well
Ever so kindly
Fallen my palms
to the nape of your neck
Bringing you closer
Unable to see my curious wreck
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
You’re frightened but, there is no need for fear.
Your eyes are barely open.
Your vision is blurred beneath your thickened lashes.
Blinded, you are.
Hazed, you are.
Sick, you are.
Lying on the minted tile floor,
back arched and your cheek pressed to a faded rug,
you roll on your side.
Tilting your head up, you moan.
The vicious pulse begins pounding your wounded head.
You roll again on your shrunken stomach,
bubbling over with an ocean of alcohol.
You drag your eyes up to the piercing light above you.
Adjusting yourself slowly,
your hands fumble for the floor beneath you.
The muscles in your arm strain as you push yourself to sit.
No strength.
The stained bathtub provides something stable to grasp.
Smeared makeup.
Hair stuck to your hollow face.
Memories scattering in the wind outside.
More pounding, but this time it isn’t in your head.
It’s booming outside the door.
Screaming and movement is caving in on you,
suffocating you.
Who’s outside?
What’s outside?
"It's okay”, he says “You’re fine now.”
You turn and stare.
How long has he been here?
He’s been watching you the entire time.
He knows something.
He’s done something to you.
That’s why your in this frightening room below the ground.
He stands and walks towards you.
You must stay strong.
Don’t flinch.
No weakness.
A gentle arm glides just under your leg
and the other behind your waist.
He lifts you up and a small whimper escapes your lips.
There’s pain.
He carries you into a familiar room through another door.
The pounding from outside grows softer.
Shoulders relax.
Forehead cools.
Sleepiness comes.
He sits on the bed with you in his lap.
Suddenly your alertness fades and you feel comforted.
“How much did you drink?” He asks timidly.
You lean your head back.
Funny.
“Just a little”,
your words slur from your swollen tongue.
You start to giggle.
Arms begin to sweat.
Stomach tightens.
Puke.
Tears.
Hushed.
“Shh now. You’re fine. It’s alright. Breathe. Breathe.”, He coo's
and slowly strokes your spine.
Tensions released.
He stands and walks to the door.
“No! Come back!”, You cry.
He’s leaving.
Why?
You reach your hand out,
like a child,
but draw it back quickly.
“Haven’t I always come back? This time is no different.”
Only a second passes and you’re out.
Not all the way.
Eyes closed.
A window opens.
The fan goes on.
A blanket covers you.
He’s there.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
You were left behind
A victim of a mirage I’d stepped into
One yellow rain boot too deep.
You, slithering out of your cases
Scratched by the fading sunlight
Are my prized possession
For every moment you held inside
Was as carefree
As the words I spoke.
You were delicate artwork
not art as in paintings that were to be hung
carefully in the front of a museum
but the ones curling at the corners
slipping from underneath fridge magnets.
With my eyes pinned on the screen
seeping into my temples
Your naked feet fumbled with the sand
Fumbled with the hopping and twirling toes
of beach dancers
Fumble with the endless badges you have gained
over the ribbon on your chest
places you have gone
but, it is all as futile as it is alluring
sand is just tiny, little rocks
You will fade, these images
will fade from my memory
like the endless
titles in a bookstore
and I will return to my reflection
ingrained in silver circle.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
As i throw it, watch it shatter
Pick discretion-make them matter
As i fumble for the clock
And **** upon his lovely ****
Because my tongue is sharp and wicked
You taste of lemons when i lick it.
Remember when I'm going down
This queen wears a jaded crown.
And when your grip has found my hair
Pull it till the devil's there.
Sahn 4/16
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
i was reborn, like a phoenix
but without all the glory.
i didn't set the hospital on fire; i struggled
to pull myself from the ashes
of a former prodigy,
one entwined with madness
in all the right ways
laced with misery like a noir heroine,
so sexily depressing-
whereas now i am just empty
i did not emerge unscathed, no,
not like the fledgling, i
am covered in scars and faultlines from where
the sorrow tried rip itself
from my sorry body
and the crimson glue holding me together
replenishes itself more diluted each time
before i died
i swung through technicolor
episodes of scarlet, rose,
ecstatic white, and the
sapphire blue to haunt my dreams
waking and at night
but the color leached away,
the antiseptic began to pervade, refilled my veins
and purged me of everything but grey.
before my death,
i reigned over the darkness, banished it
when it did not suit me,
manipulated reason, lived in a waking dreamland,
in complete control of my life-
but now, when i am fragile as eggshell,
it's the only place i can hide,
a haven where i can act like the lack of light
masks an imagined vivacity and not a skeleton in flat black and white,
disguises and emboldens me,
allows me to be whole again,
to forget the borders, my limitations
indiscernable in dusk
i used to cast my own light-
now i am my own shadow
and in the dark i fumble for
what i used to be,
reconnect myself with the world
throw myself from the cliff
and hope to find my wings again
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Inside the bunny suit
my ears are still small
and round, and percussive
sounds come to visit me
costumed in white muffles.
Inside the bunny suit
a bead of sweat itches
my nose to rabbit fidget
and wiggle-twitch where
my fingers can’t reach it.
Inside the bunny suit
a thin layer of nylon dots
inserts its silky self
between me and everything
I fumble to touch.
Inside the bunny suit
the outside world’s broken
up by a half-dozen holes,
and green strands fuzz the focus
of each fragmented peep.
Inside the bunny suit
probing orange lights
make kaleidoscope shapes
through those same cut
openings. They distract me.
Inside the bunny suit
I can smile at and feel
closer to the fantastic
creatures who surround me
in their own decorous skins.
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 6:17 AM UTC