"galavanting" poems
Ahh-he-che'em ack-ahem. Sorry, let me clear my throat.
One day I set out galavanting, looking for a high.
I meandered to the ocean shore and set a lively stride.
My eyes were wet, my heart was light as I looked out at the splendor,
About that time I heard a rumble, a sudden yearning for a chicken tender.
I galloped to an eatery in hopes of a hearty meal,
But had a measly handful of coins, so I opted for a deal.
The only place I found tat would accept my sum of coins
For anything sufficient enough to satisfy my *****
Was a gritty place called Taco Bell, but it was my only choice.
The cashier was a voluptuous dame and my trousers became quite moist.
She said to me, "what will you have?", in a shockingly low-pitched voice.
I was taken aback for a moment, but stuttered, "a number six, I think".
"Comin' right up honey", he or she said with a wink.
I just smiled shyly and went to go fill up my drink.
My food was finally ready, but I was a bit wary,
I could't tell what was in my taco - squirrel, beef or canary.
My hunger pushed me through my fear and I finally took a bite,
Although skeptical at first, my taste buds did delight!
I had finally finished with my meal and was satisfied and full,
But down below my abdomen I felt a mighty pull.
I had no time I knew at once and dashed to find relief.
The single men's room was in sight, but who should be a thief?!
The cashier with the arousing bosoms had stolen my salvation...
As I stood there in that Taco Bell I felt a curious sensation.
When normally I could have held it, a complete bowel prostration.
While the **** was pouring out like a broken sink,
My mind started to wander and I couldn't help but think,
*If the women's room is out of order, I wonder which she/he has,
A set of both, a meat-locker or a **** and nads?*
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
My mind dismantled
decaying in cynic pride
silly fools galavanting
as I watch in bitter taste with darting eyes
wilting in devine nothings
plotting like a theif in the night
working my magic out of spite
only looking for a fight
trying to hate and fuel a rage
Banging in a rusty cage
while spitting on the notion of love
undone lying naked laughing alone
as all of my nightmares begin to unfold
Dancing demons caressing my weakened soul
Darkness surrounds my brittle bones
so far from the point of console
as I tare out my eyes and spit out my tongue
with ears only tuned for the devils song
Slowly dragged to the gates of hell
beyond redemption and cast out
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
when for what
have you
stare
in
to
eyes
that are
what for when
ewe took my hand along yore swollen perambulations into nights devoid of air
ewe have never swallowed a trace of light that ewe cannot reflect upon as dust
entombed in heavens disassembled from unleavened brethren
there was always
a core to yore
whimsical strut
as if an avenue
could hold yore
internals eternal
those mettling metals we unleash upon with our ****** toes
galavanting
pearls asunder thunder’s weeping reigns of unsubstantiated all
never there was
a timid breath
ewe did not urn
as if spells of broken gesticulations could volley
a scant clue of what it was to become nothing
that type that trite time follows as we sear
magic into our concrete organs
as if all concrete weren’t asphalt awaiting coal
i succumbed upon your neck
and caught sinewy glimpses of your entanglements as if driven into shock
ewe never stopped smiling
and
in
me
ewe
never
will
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
Yearning for some order I notice patterns in the pavement
Racing lines, creating ties, crossing T's and dotting I's
Grainy memories collide with one another as I wonder
Pondering the source of my observant sense leaving life in sunder
Beautifully benign to me, remembering the sea of color
Yellow, red, green, purple, blue
Reeling up and down and out and through
Galavanting as I grinned, lost in patterns I felt within
Perhaps I long for those times of innocent whim
But now all I see in the patterns are flaws
Yelling their inconsistencies
Rendering my blissful thoughts impossibly apart from me
Pacing mind leaving grooves behind my eyes
Partially lost in myself, watching a slow unwind
Beckoning me closer, one step at a time
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
"two birthday presents are better than one"
sayings of the wise men
*"and what an honor it is, and how could we be anything greater
(than all too human)?"
R.A.*
~
for Rebecca, a birthday gift
~
a message of notification,
comes early one evening, an agent provocateur,
a paparazzi peeping tom,
a cat burglar presuming the poet-receiver nat is
a rat-man out and about, galavanting around town,
dancing perhaps, seeing a Pinter play, a movie,
a lecture on string theory, an underground railroad rock concert,
reading a book of priestly poetry, or himself,
lost in a mesmerizing revery of poetic composition
her question, a statement of fact, a reflection,
one or all, all for one, this pronunciation,
a witness deposition re the human condition
the man is knocked askew in about
an instantly,
sitting before the voluptuous fireplace's crackling complications,
fire sensing the multiples of implications,
contemplating the failing honor of human limitations,
sensing the uniqueness of our successes,
a claiming race prize
for all of we humans
in her words
now how great is this knowledge that we,
all to human,
all too human,
need let this then be the first
thought/ message/ notification -
meditation of our every day
that we honor ourselves first,
our upstart blessing,
in order to honor our world
and its bedazzling human creativity
~
We find our poems in many different ways. Of late,
I keep finding inspiration from the messages that many of you send to me, re the poems I choose to publish here. So I repeat my disclaimer, "any message you send can and will be used as a poem."
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 7:28 PM UTC
Whilst these icy warm chills,
Bring in the new spring,
The leaves flutter in breeze
Over the tallest of pine,
That has turned to steel
During the winter months.
Dew falls in between piled leaves
That have sat all year round
Harbouring all kinds of critters,
Thick mulch they call home
Is kicked around as we play.
Picking brambles as we go,
Trying to avoid the thorns
Like cuts to containers,
As we rummage we find,
Mushrooms of colour
Red and poker dot white.
Frantically lowering myself
To see the magical wonders,
I pick it, holding it in my palm,
Without hesitation,
I chewed it down like a Labrador
Missing several meals.
Holding onto a tree like a squirrel,
I see elephants galavanting
Pink and colourful as they dance,
In between pine and spilt wine,
Pixies leave fairy trails as they fly,
Gnomes emerge from doors in trees
Whilst I'm floating, talking to bees.
Birds are gathering all kinds of fruits,
Whilst ants are performing opera
In little tiny ant suits,
Beetles are rolling on dung *****
Whilst juggling fire,
Bugs are crawling, cricket calls,
This is the last time I pick
Mushrooms in spring.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
nostalgic rants? oh, how original.
- i miss baths. my playground.
- not having a single trace of nicotine in my body.
- being tucked in at night.
- You. fuckerrreinogtgjnfjk
i miss you. drinking and galavanting through the city.
following you blindly from bus to bus in a rum-induced happiness.
trust. i miss being close enough to feel your heart beat.
why are you so far away?
i need you.
you feel so close on the phone.
**** distance. take a **** flight from seattle.
i need you here.
where are my cuddles??
dancing. i had such a purpose with each sway of my hips.
remember? my hips could move mountains.
make your mouth drop.
"god, you are so cute."
pavement kisses.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
From the first breath I’ve drawn,
I’ve sought for mountains to climb,
Oceans to swim.
Digging through patches of dirt,
without an end in sight.
An endless persecution for breathing.
Lingering, coasting, and wasting away.
Galavanting with thoughts of an end,
Lost in the forest of trees.
Sinking deep in the ocean of blues.
Strolling beneath a sunless sky.
I was convinced this lifetime was meant to be brief-
Filled with agonizing adventures made to be savored.
Bound to happiness that was evanescent,
slipping away before I could ever fully grasp it.
A future deprived of certainty,
Where nothing awaits.
A garden where nothing grew,
Empty of yearning.
My end awaited me,
and the sentiment was mutual.
Tears blurred my vision as I bowed to defeat;
Whispers of the first ripple of conflict.
Perhaps if my mind were sharper,
they’d see worth in my words.
If I bent to serve the world,
maybe I’d earn a place.
If beauty clung to me like air,
they might drown just to feel me.
But as I am-
a shadow with a pulse-
I am seen, but never held.
If I were anyone but me-
maybe then, I’d matter.
Glimpses of light at the very end of a never ending tunnel,
It beams of longing-
shining with promises of a future never meant to be mine to hold.
But even shadows stretch toward the sun,
and somewhere beneath the ache,
a pulse still fights to be felt.
Maybe-
just maybe-
I am not made to be vanished.
This breath is not the end,
but the beginning of becoming.
I can still burn.
Still become.
Not despite the chaos,
But because of it.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 12:55 PM UTC
We are the wild ones, so curious and superb. Hyper-expectations, mainly magic and its' feral treasures, we all welcome aboard. We are the technicians of the sky, messengers of the infinite moons. Inside the scythes and harpsichords, explosive reiterations of gravity and inner body magnetic yearnings.
We are stacked and galavanting in stockyards, whips at our sides, leather roughening its unstitched oiled calf hides up the hands onto these ethereal imaginings of utopian unicorn, walrus, and seahorse.
We represent the catalog of diversity. You are not as hidden as you think and you must not be. We of the wise wrestling candles off of our staffs, we count the mountain rich mountainside. Red, clay-capped, snow and hidden saplings adjusted against the rows of the peaks and plateaus.
We are named for our perversions of nature, our tolerances towards myriad injustices spanning our existence's time-sensitive minutia. We may be the kings and queens of Lollibellum, our flights have landed, our hands filled with duct-taped newspaper wrapped packaging and knock-off designer bags, a cardboard box with a few books that survived the burn.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
'Oh deary me!' I recently rusted my dang of a thang
So now I can’t even amuse myself, by golly
Even been trying da one, my cousin rented to me
Never got the yearly service, due to the high costs, kerching
Just a toppin’ up with the essential oils, for a nominal fee
Just so busy, with a plantin’ it, smokin’ it, a bit like a rolly
While galavanting about, this country’s dry and sunburnt soil
Okay then, serve myself right, I shouldn’t second guess
Should’ve just lubricated, after such a hard and grinding toil
That dang of a thang, now take a look at the **** mess
After every ounce of sweat and auto correct tweets
After weird Tinder meets and almost all the surprise greets
I can’t wait to play with again, my Chinese made, Yin & Yang
My most pleasurable and double ended, dang of a thang.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 5:01 AM UTC
Later
She said she'd get it later ,
when she saw that he had called
So many things she had to do tend ,
to on her few days off
While she's out and galavanting
His thoughts would cross her mind
Even though it would take a few seconds
She just didn't have the time
Serenades had all but dried up
She no longer heard him sing
He doesn't text her half as much
Cuz she's so busy with everything.
***** dishes , and running errands
For those who don't put her first
And then free time to Netflix
She had no idea how much it hurt
Before she knew it another day gone
Another handful of moments missed
Although her day was full of things done
None if him to reminisce
She ignored his texts till later
She decided not to answer her phone
She didn't realize he was calling
Because something was feeling wrong
When she finally decided to call him
He wasn't waiting anymore
He was calling to say goodbye
Because he'd been called home to the Lord .
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
please allow arability of friendship
and hoop fully this acquiescence
can render an accord shared
via exchanging calumet peace pipe
initially invoked qua
piercing, gouging, digging...from hooked aquilinity
upon awareness miss applying the squaw aridity
mine swallowing capacity as pins pricking
a voodoo likeness doll (of me),
though this claim could steeped
in utter contrived artificiality
fusing flagrant faulty aromaticity
asininity admitting absent attentiveness
as ska walking a fine line
betwixt asexuality behooves
rectification allowing solution Wiccan agree
upon linking assimilability, assignability, assiduity
implicating with asperity ***** err roan
nee huss rubble word choice prompting asperity
inducing me to cast the first stone
of apology, and self awareness
totally tubularly offer thyself as human sacrifice
redeeming conceding unalterable venal tone
role of squawking chief fowl ling at the end zone
regarding, where associatively properly went
assumability, anonymity of the internet vent
ting modality adopting immunity,
viz virtual community tent
revival meeting adumbrating atypicality, attainability
avoidance of audiological atrocity, sans atonality sent
to ear rate, the autoimmunity authority,
authenticity, austerity, audacity, co rent
ting availability, automaticity, accessibility
asper automobility to scale tenement, pent
house, or pre faux ying bing avascularity,
avidity, avuncularity avers automatically tall lent
aim to amble along xy feigning tubby
with minimal audibility clark kent
information superhighway
axiality grid via galavanting gent
can be activated swimmingly
with less overt axe said dent.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
I always believed
little fairies
rode snowflakes white
Galavanting the winter air.
That beyond the stars
were places grand
and beautiful
To take breath away.
I aways believed
the voices heard
from trees were real
as they shared wisdom.
That dreams
were as real
anything inside
earths reality.
I always believed
that I am more than
the human form I inhabit.
Then one day
I woke up and realized,
I am a fairy divine,
here to expand
and
fly with wings inside heart.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
Choice, there is so much choice
But there are hidden traps.
Say the wrong thing on any shape or form
Then it is back to the drawing board.
There are no maps
to guide you,
To special flags along your way
Mistakes you can ill afford
just watch what you say.
"Hello dear, had a nice day"
Her husband red faced pushes his way into the door.
"Oh dear, I say!"
He promptly slumps to the floor.
She is thinking about sending for the doctor
as she rushes to the telephone.
Perhaps he had taken ill suddenly
when he was coming home.
Perhaps the stress at work has got to him
She hunts for the right words to say.
She puts her hand on his heart for rhythm
She knew this was the right way.
She'd seen it on the telly a thousand times
But then something struck her eye.
The shape of pink perfect lips on his neck
and now she realised why.
He'd been up to no good
flirting with the women at length.
She smelt his shirt for evidence
and in a rage she picked up strength.
"What have you been doing, you stupid man,
Your place is here at home with me
Not galavanting around with other women"
She'd seen it all before on the TV.
She became hot under her collar
and went to fetch her bag to leave.
He muttered something, she couldn't quite hear
How could he after all these years deceive.
She thought he said the word daughter
She of course had got the wrong end of the stick.
Too many incorrect words had been spoken
She went out the door all too quick.
The man died on the floor, heartbroken
Their daughter laid a rose on his grave.
The relationship she had with her mother shattered
and one she didn't want to save.
Jumping to conclusions, well is all too easy
Harder to find the right words to say
We all make mistakes, we are all human
Pressure, is tricky at the end of the day.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Galavanting through the day
Rolling our eyes along the way
Walk away to compose yourself
Take a deep breath in and out
At the end of the day
Go home relax and pray
For a better day
Then the one today
For my hardships I have
Are nothing compared to others
At least Im here
To see another day...
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC