"galapagos" poems
I rose with chilled air of dawn.
Holding the baby sun on my palm
I ponder at his mystery of liquefaction,
That spreads the hidden gold of Eldorado
Over my shivering shoulders.
I wish if I were a flamingo
Waiting on one leg
For the perfect moment of sunrise,
To dissolve all of my tints of pink
With his melted gold
On the blue lagoon of Galapagos.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
the barker in charge
is sniffing markers
& the dog's the one
in the shock collar.
good god.
I'll come back
tomorrow.
galapagos, I'm sorry.
rocketship jalopy
wrote a handbook on
banana boat cutthroat
reconnaissance exotica,
abominable
beast of tropic atrophy
broke folk casualty engulfed
in telescopes & TV shows
being monitored thru a monocle
the theatrical apathy & topical misanthropy
can anybody understand me?
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
i do a really good imitation of a woodpecker with my hand clenched into a fist, knocking on my forehead, as if knocking on the forehead of others - i admit, i'm searching for an echo of the rat-tat-tat thumping drill for the cure of headaches.
when i inherit what i might inherit
i'll book a ticket to switzerland's auschwitz,
but drinking a bottle of whiskey
and a few beers each day... i'm praying to the gods:
gods! a heart attack! gods! a second haemorrhage!
gods! a heart attack! darwinism taught me
insignificance... so i countered...
well... an insignificant theory and practice...
like nietzsche said about the darwinists:
'imagine speaking for the entire human race!'
well, english journalists already do...
and i'm like hey hey hooray for iraq!
get blown up by a bomb i'd like my limbs back,
or at least the idea of having them once...
shiny happy people holding hands!
**** old age and grandchildren, there's no
accomplishment in that... fake teeth like
no teeth at all... apple goo pulp and then porridge...
what a great reward! ooh! ah! i'm all geared up
for that fear of death... no... i'm scared of being 100 years old;
i wouldn't be, had i been born a Galapagos turtle.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:34 PM UTC
I was snorkeling in the Galapagos
surrounded by diving *******
when some fun friendly angels
visited, they had flippers not wings
and flapped and glided
streamlined through the ocean
on their backs, sides and fronts
They were curious
about me, this goggled wide-eyed beast
and would come so close
I could see their bright eyes and whiskers
I thought they would collide
but at the last second they would downwards swoop
I was in heaven at this communion
Suddenly I saw from the corner of my eye
a massive grey giant crash into the water
I front crawled away like a man possessed
The bull was probably jealous of my dalliance
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
i'm just bored of having to feel what other people
feel, limiting the realism of things,
a woman with a child's severed head in moscow is
sensationalism to them, but when they get a mild
reality, Kashmir chilly on the palette, they make
cheap Monty Python jokes to scare the facts away...
the so-called satire that requires canned laughter;
was given a library of 25 philosophy books,
not one of them by an englishman,
went as far back as the greeks,
i guess the version of english egalitarian
was not worth a communism,
somehow the two synonyms became
antonyms... 25 volumes of philosophy,
not one english philosopher...
the english intellectualise: i.e.:
regurgitate facts....
the english do not philosophise,
i.e. instead they cite facts... they're intellectuals by rite
of citation, the citation of facts,
they can't philosophise i.e. not cite (facts)...
they intellectualise, they cite and recite
facts with a dogmatism that fears a demolition
and no rekindling of interest...
to philosophise is to avoid citation:
to work from nothing,
the english cannot philosophise because
they intellectualise and by intellectualism
they cite and recite facts like an ave maria
pi = 3.14... Galileo's spectacles...
etc. the english cannot philosophise, they're
just intellectuals, they cite and recite facts,
they cannot engage from non-citation or non-recitation
of a fact, like a greek might ignore a stone
and fool himself claiming it's nothing,
the english cannot allow a confiscation of
a subject and treat it as nothing,
it would not make sense as to why charles i
was the precursor of the french aristocratic en masse
meeting with the guillotine if darwinism wasn't
discovered on the islands of Galapagos...
although i beg to differ with a thought on Gauguin
and the islands of Tahiti: make a turtle yawn
and you'll jinx yourself a blessing to live to be one hundred years old.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
The sunset sparkles on the seas here
And the wildlife is lush and diverse
The origin of species lies here
Encoded in the smallest of birds
The tortoise knows where he is going
He knows his place among the island
I have found true peace in these beaches
And my history amongst the bright sand
I can feel the entire world here
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
“These birds are the most singular of any in the Galapagos.”
Charles Darwin.
Volcanic up swell,
tick mark,
tiny dot in the middle
of a blue map.
Stationary ship,
belly of the earth
like a backstroke swimmer
in a blue-black sea,
where erratic rains run away
while a Cactus Finch (Scandens) has gone
black to mate, so black that shadows cast
blushes back. So black,
more silhouette
than a black beaked bird
Daphne,
on your barred black belly,
this fine breath’d bird, this
penumbra of feathers and flight;
demonstrating divergence and drift,
so proud he sings aloud
the song of the Ground Finch (Fortis).
O befuddled bird
bereft an opera coach,
sans score of Scandens, the bird song
bindery gone bankrupt, loose leaf
scores littered, learning a neighbor’s
second hand sheet music.
Amid the volcanic dreams
of Finches, and bird shaped voids,
singing atop cacti, amid these small
dark commas set against a bluer
than blue sky, he sings the wrong song
but it's been a good year and she comes,
the star crossed lover, Lady Fortis.
And before the rains return, and they will return,
a small clutch of stars.
And when the rains return,
they will return
with long lost letters from London.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
my heart needs magic,
healing, birdseeds and birdsong.
girl with garden hair.
monet's garden or
galapagos islands.
green swamp, barefoot wild.
heart open to winter,
frostbitten hands and open fields,
yellow butterflies and someone to dance with
i think. i
want to walk barefoot in the grass,
not like monet's garden,
not like a stroll through the flowerbeds
but at home, at peace, with my hands full of song.
Hope. a thing that never stops singing,
i want to spin magic out like thread. I want to walk in the sun,
I want to be soft and pure and free, and only be afraid
of too much rain and holes in the leaves.
i want to feel safe in my bed.
i want to kiss a girl with her hair up
and see someone dance.
but i feel like a plant without roots,
disoriented, cast out, careening free
like stumbling barefoot out the front door
with your body aching and heart in your fist.
and birds don't want my seeds.
i don't want to be a girl, a woman, a person
anymore, i don't want to strive
except in the way a wave pushes out,
or water runs down, i want to be a crane, a bell, a tree
a worm chewing through the leaves
a steady lull of waves, a fish that knows its school
or a bird at the beginning of spring.
as steady as the outpush of spring.
i want to flee at winter.
o! they talk about mangoes,
about trees dripping with mangoes
i want to be sweet
and empty of expectations,
no history.
i want to be eve
and only think of love and naming trees.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
At Singing Hills
Down upon the earth, boy,
brushing dirt from broken flints.
The woman, tall, in khaki pants,
slowly stands and squints.
Down upon the earth with
pockets full of stones.
A hundred yards across the land
where knife-grass spears the sand
a bullsnake sleeps in sunlight.
Speak of arrowheads and Utah,
you,
with dignified excitement;
speak of ostrich eggs!
You and I, she'd say,
Galapagos!
Where armored turtles
heave their bulks across the land.
Here Mother Earth lies naked
to her bones.
Flint bones,
in sun as white as lamplight.
With your Thermos cup in hand
talk of arrowheads again—
or Galapagos—
Where giant turtles rule the land!
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
watch'ah watch'ah want? giggles?
you got them... trans-gender males allowing
civil partnerships and all the loss of a taboo prodigy...
the other side of the spectrum you have feminism gorging
on the catwalk motto of 0... yep, with trans-gender males
getting licorice stuffed pillows you deem to call *******
funny thing... those exfoliating breathing apparatus items ****
i forgot the plural, and yes, correct, ascribing
a quality to the **** word, moor adjectives with a sunset)
pairs... now you have feminism on steroids
with girl bodies too taboo for ******
and too into-it with muscular ***** wanks
when fat was **** in painting and
breast-feeding... so one spectrum-end (dual zenith-nadir,
you choose) gets implants...
the other works out with Arnie for a flat
muscular chest that could breast-feed
a tapeworm... but hey! our politics is
a solid ace in poker... we better export this
**** to the middle east and laugh about it...
but i tell you... too prolonged the pyramids'
influence on this region,
had god interfered in the Aztec geography
we'd see no dodo right now
(inclusive of memory and memorable recounts
of the Galapagos shortcrust debriefing
in historical terminology suddenly
inspected suddenly lost
for want of cure so that history isn't
just a deja vu - hubris Gemini hatching
in a tetragrammaton)...
buggers are really keen on proving the sudden
eclipse... that's the global aspect of the plague...
everyone cared for what happened with the sudden
churn of wanting sleep...
and the greatest modern pathos? insomnia...
it's the great utopian counter -
or a lack of interpreting dreams, equating to
"life is meaningless".
lack of freud to be exact, as in:
the only hierarchy in theory is a hierarchic
stance on applicability being vogue -
everything else is hushed or broomed or ushered
into Hades so that utopia is a sinking ship
like Pompeii or Atlantis (Thomas Moore -
or should i write Thomas Morse? cradle for the
blind, a book of Braille for the sight-able
hell-bent to make bureaucracy of obstructions
in a game of noughts and crosses in the playground).
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
not as old
as the mountains
or the trees
in the redwood forest
He’s moving slower
not as slow
as the Galapagos tortoise
he moves with purpose
His body’s softer
not as soft
as goose down
but soft enough
to wrap my arms around
and feel protected
He's lighter colored
not as light
as an albino
or a ball of floured
pizza dough
the darker hairs
have turned gray
the blush of crimson
on his face
has melted into butter
but I could love no other
May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 11:08 AM UTC
Alfred Edward Housman wrote about this county from London,
we smoke pipes and drink pints to honour the scholar's story,
which can be checked out the library, former learning quarters
of an explorer named Charles Darwin, who sits in grey outside,
despite leaving town in adolescence, returning from Galapagos
to The Mount, where my parents met in mental health sickness,
gave life to an original species that theories would have hated,
like Robert Clive, who earned his knighthood by looting India,
cried in parliament, now we want his stage ousted, his house is
next to the cottage where I sleep restless because myself and
a few other Shropshire lads failed to escape, even after studying
centurion debates, athletic form and getting serenaded by greats,
where are the names of those who rose from minimum wage?
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 12:30 PM UTC
Half our bodies oxygen,
by mass.
Transfermium Wars- who knew?
elemental naming controversy,
my new favorite war.
Americium-241 in your smoke detector,
alpha emitter, ionizing ****
Dual atomic clocks- Ytterbium lattice-
understanding would taint this fun.
(Apparently there is a Time and Frequency
Division somewhere).
Solid to vapor- if only we sublimed
our way home, though maybe better
suited for air signs. An earth sign, myself,
sticking to terra dirtus.
2, 8, 20, 28, 50, 82, 126- the Magic
Numbers in physics- full nuclei,
like full bellies- maybe our magic years too...
'cept for 126- unless you're a Galapagos tortoise.
Manganese blackening bulls in Lascaux.
Plumbum latin for lead, ala plumbers and their pipes
of yesteryear.
Fire and brimestone actually fire and sulfur,
still wrathful, though I always
imagined brimstone as being a
damning brick falling.
You won't be synthesized, maybe never discovered,
yet we sense you near, proposed metal,
silvery white and ghosting....
119.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
*we just provide the bang, you provide the number of bangs as necessary to craft an execution of poetic extinction via ideology of supposed "survival" with executing the myth of Dr. Faust, because too ridiculous, which begs the question: so Darwin and the Galapagos turtles isn't a good joke akin to some pervert inspecting butterflies who turned out to be a ********** - because of that cherry skin buttocks?*
all this LGBT thing going on
doesn't appeal to me to
reproduce, i just can't be bothered to get married,
i can't be bothered feeding
heterosexual labour
with the end product being higher prostitution
of surrogate mothers,
you have the power to grow ***** into
foetuses and designer babies, i'm not
necessary given this passive-peace;
i'm liberal up to a point,
after that something horrid takes over...
leave me alone, get the ***** bank to be completely activated
and surrogate mothers the new prostitutes accomplish
a new stratum of earning and spending:
heterosexuality is dead...
or if alive it's what enslaves...
i'm no longer the necessary the body to provide
choice, science over-powered man,
not unlike man over-powering nature
akin to china and india,
but over-powering nature unable
to out-number nature's example of ant of termite;
oh indeed the power, and family as pathological...
enslaving nature limits our growth,
liberating nature dis-inhibits a care to gain power over
when still the earthquake and tornado and hurricane...
science is merely millimetre and a gram!
why take faith in itemisation of such nature
when satiated with dinner you take the dog for a walk
and still look into the distance without clear
dissection - because you do not dissect a living thing,
and when science dissects, it presuppose the thing
to be dead, whether dead or alive, but in chemistry
and physics the thing is either too ridiculous to be alive '
or too grand to be alive -
yet the popularisation of a biological theory
is like the birds & the bees, and the hives, and the candlestick
wax made from pollen of what could have been honey...
biologists are the nazis among scientists,
because, i mean, they're not exactly surgeons,
or medical students, are they? they're about as useful
as psychologists when you have historians
and literature students to make the healthier point of huh?
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
this species
that has done so much for itself,
has done so much to itself
and offered so little
is it worth this all?
the planet and it's treasures
galapagos and great reefs
swamps, bulging with reeds
the birds, the trees, the bees
african sahara,
the amazon's green green leaves
would you believe it
that it is?
we will pay tenfold
with hindsight 20^∞
looking back in regret
but with a bittersweet affinity
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 10:52 PM UTC
once i was a turtle in Galapagos
didn't go very far with that
i turned around and life was done
so i became a cat
the lives were very many then
i had around, well, nine
and once i climbed into a tree
and scampered down just fine
and after that i was a bat
and then became a 'roo
i didn't last too long again
because of lion in the zoo
along the way i had much fun
i scarcely can recall
up and down and up and down
the leap before the fall
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
Just bland insipid opaque walling
uninspiring without toned definitions
soft spongy frothy carrying anemic lustre
layers easily bruised and prone to blemishes and sagging
glassed visors in various hues incisively ablaze with wants
and inside its not much different from external
furnishings spare and mostly structurally unsound
temperamental ambiance cold-cool yet warm to touch
craving notoriety and attention, loudly challenging in compensation
as foundations are inherently weak yet stands in malleable grandiosity
adverse to too much heat yet resplendent in enough sunshine
vacuous and airy with amplified audio and echoing facilities
though content and range always lacking in real truth substance
Bungalows short of a brick, built on mud, foundation not strong
Readily prone to quakes, husky, hollow, flaky, generally unsound
homogenized, common, unsubstantiated and extremely deceiving
Never good investments, these properties will rob you and ruin you
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Can you have big mind?
Can you encompass
All things
At once?
I can't imagine
All times
And places
At once
Because I don't know
What they look like
Still I would enjoy
Being able to see
The whole world
At one time
To see all the beautiful
Countries
To see dolphins
Swimming in the Amazon
To see a French man
Sitting down to his roasted veal
To see an Aborignal tribe
Perform a native dance in Australia
To witness the turtles
Sunning themselves
On the Galapagos Islands
I can see all these places
I can watch the people
As they laugh
And hug
Across the world
BUT I AM ALONE
ALONE IN AMERICA
I am a Protestant
Here we value individualism
I want to exchange ideas
Share laughter
With a few people
For hours on end
No group of friends
No native culture
It's just me
Just me me me
Alone, alone, alone
Much of the time
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC