"gallivant" poems
One of my favorite animals is a giraffe.
They're so awkward and lanky,
yet despite their strange appearance
there is a a grace in there gallivant;
there is a beauty to their mien.
They don't flaunt their attributes
or covet the patterns of their wildlife peers
because they have been graced with the privilege
to indulge in the secrets whispered by the leaves
amongst the tree tops.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
We'll drive
Stare out the window
And sing
to each other
Eat terrible food
and laugh
with one another
Gallivant around antique shops
and dream
of life together.
We'll reach the final destination
throw our suitcases
on the bed of our
cheap motel
and kiss passionately
wherever.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Step right up
Step right up
Step right up
We have a fabulous show awaiting you!
Full of secrets only women can show
Full of marvelous creatures hidden
inside the human psyche.
What are these you may ask.
Step inside and for the low
low
low price of your first born daughter
all secrets will be open to you.
dietary tips of the highest quality
how to keep a girlfriend for longer than
3 weeks
and even
whether a female ****** is actually
a myth!
because lets face it,
thats all women are good for.
****** object to meet the desires of
any man who asks
jokes about belonging in the kitchen?
here is the place to tell them
for the low
low
low price of your first born daughter
we will frolic in the land of
misogyny with you
and gallivant in your
precious simplistic
brain stem
that begs the question
“with all these women,
will *** be included in this package deal”
of course the answer is yes!
here thats all women are good for anyways!
why not pry precious
gifts from our fingers
and violate the precious
sanctity that you, yourself
yes you too!
hold so dear.
why not allow the basic *********** of
the privacy bubble to those
weaker than you.
its okay.
we don’t even feel offended
when you cat call us anymore.
we take it as compliments and
persistance.
and say to ourselves in confidence
that our bodies are worth looking
at for the day.
We boast about it to friends and think
that someone finally sees us
as being good enough.
so step right up
step right up
step right up.
for the low
low
low
low price
of your first born daughter
we are yours to take advantage of.
Welcome.
We were expecting you anyways.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
We'd bound around
For golf downtown
Frisbees always in hand
"The students are coming!!”
Was a seasonal refrain
As we’d goofily gallivant
Mother’s Day shows
We‘re free, mother-suckers
For your kids, a show we grant
A CLOWN SHOW!
A DOWNTOWN SHOW!
THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN’T!
Rock their world with juggling
See the Doctor for what ails
Rudi and O in laundromat land
Jeanie, Splash, Allison, Donna,
Silly girls astonishing with
Leaps, jokes and handstands
Chewey, Steamboat and Grog
"Yeah-yeah! Yeah-yeah!”
Silly boys grandstanding
All hail Papa Gale! We
Funned with Cpt. Plunge
Leader of the band!
Sweet Georgia!
**** croquet!*
It was grand!
**** croquet was the official lawn game of the Sweet Georgia Brown Clowns during the summer 198x Trinity Country tour [wherein we masqueraded as a Norwegian Salmon Kissing team at a Moose Lodge Talent Show in Lewiston, CA* {true!}]: “Don’t forget your hat!”)
*(we won)
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
Atomic energy is a good thing contemplated the good scientist
But only for us good people to forget
Lincoln's, Hemingway's and Madame Curie's silent voices echoes from the sidewalk
Where people idly passes by; lost in tall low fat Frappuccino’s
Looking and hoping then ultimately wishing for a visit from Benjamin Franklin
Unwittingly employed by all the dead presidents
These days’ people know the price of everything
But the value of nothing
Makes me gallivant; my own memory warehouse
As I pose this question towards my own psyche;
What is the worst thing I have ever done?
In the name of personal achievement career elevation and prosperity
All everyone ever wants to be is successful rich and richer
Oppenheimer colleague put our modern society in to perfect perspective
Post detonation of the Trinity project - after the first nuclear test
When he gracefully quoted
"Now we are all son of *******
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
Roar Bean Got
Chosen
Sipping on taste
never forgotten
So miraculous power
rising.
Been told so
Boldly,
her uniqueness
Only it's mode of
attachment
Sips up on you like a
Goddess
in fragments
Her spell of the blend,
Coffee lips he was sold
kissed her hand
Mystical bow
Thought's love-arrowed
Through "Hearts" Wowed
All her poem's
Quick thinking
The (Quickie) hour?
Coffee lips ******* the
tower money showered
Home-body
Coffee__steamy
he raided my book
Crystal ball showed me,
"Everyone"
Oh! my he dated
(Holy-Coffee)
My Ego got inflated
Digging gold dreamily
Flower Lily mated and
seeded
Please "Lips" dream on
Opening up the invitation
Coffee? Me or You
Masquerade flower's brocade
Spellbound red poppy I fooled you
Coffee says cheesecake
Mystical play awake
Chosen One Bean
Clean Godly-scent
Cat nine rumor years.
coffee live's pretend
Million in one tear's
gallivant super stirred
Small World Cafe
Big University Princeton NJ.
Mister Mystical laptop taking
a sip New Jersey
The kaleidoscope Blueberry
Go Girl Godiva-raspberry
Coffee lip me
Not over my lip's
He takes another sip
Carmello, He's the
good fellow
Italian mob cappuccino
Leave the Cannoli
Take the gun movie set
"Tarantino"
Here's his handle I'm his
Secret Gun-it lips
I told you
my secret Streaming
play scout
The smell of his aura cup
In his eye's only James
No games just coffee?
Bonds
What about me?
Her chosen bean
Luna blue blueberry
His sugar flight
"Shimmering Chandeliers"
Hello musketeer's fight
Mystical Coffee well suited
BMW car's
Wedding Bellringer
We are destined to star is born
Judy my Mom the singer.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
We can run together in a reality of our own,
Built upon the notion that such one can exist,
Chasing white rabbits with golden pocket chained watches,
We can see were the wild things are
And ask all the questions we’ve hidden sheepishly under our beds.
We can open closet doors and discover new adventures,
Greeted by a lamppost which we can light by hand,
Matches burning to reflect what we see,
As we peer in awe into the looking glass.
We exist together, forever and always,
Finding out who’s on top of that small speck of dust,
Confronting him with a “Why hello there young mister!”
And then bid him a polite adieu.
Tip our top hats to mystery men in monocles,
Slow dance in the rain as if not a drop will strike us,
As devious cats watch gleefully with sly smiles,
We turn gracefully in time to the cadence of the storm.
This place is one we can escape to,
The ladder into the land of many,
Somewhere we can call our own,
And exist as if this can mean to be,
Where men hide behind their mustaches
And children gallivant in their sand castle worlds,
But we can simply stay here, my dear,
Among what can be perceived as basic and unforgiving,
But that’s the way the cards are dealt to us,
And we make do.
Here we can exist as we are meant to be.
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 10:19 AM UTC
we used to gallivant around cities
with light feet and empty wallets
and you were infinitely cool
skipping from streetlight to streetlight
in colorful skirts and tank tops
and quoting Bob Marley lyrics
to tell me you love me.
these times were mindless
of all the tomorrows
that would eventually find us.
you would give me a certain look
with eyes colored a certain blue
and i was chivalrous
taking you by the hand
and scurrying through the crowd
our hands clenched with balmy anticipation
and we would find a restroom
or a rooftop or an alley
where I’d lift your skirt
scoot your ******* to the side
and howl at the moon.
we would return to the bar
just-sexed and wonderfully disheveled
with spirits galvanized
by the hubris of youth
and the shellac of *****
your blushed cheeks told the story
as friends pretended not to notice
and overworked squares
drowned their envy
with shots of cheap whiskey.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 2:50 AM UTC
crusaders
christianized, zealous warmongers with ****** stains on stainless steel blades
hauling with them the great flapping insignias of royalty, emblems of their special heritage
disregarding the fact blood flows warm and fast all the same, nobody spared
familiar ties shattered over petty disputes of land and territory in the name of a great purpose
a great purpose disguising glory-seekers and painters whose favorite color is red
led by a massive snowy warhorse with crimson hooves and jet black beady eyes
old, worn, and of a raggedy golden mane forever worshipped
it is my fate to follow
(that’s what they tell me)
crusaders
biblical storytales springing to life as they gallivant across the country singing do-goods
while their actions connotate some great demon lurking about behind their holy words
valiant warriors in service to a mighty omnipresent deity watching woefully from above
as they unnecessarily **** innocents that they knew it was wrong to ******
blind belief is as alive as bloodlust to them, screaming their lungs out for the almighty
they are the salvation and the scourge, leeches of the land and lordly leaders for long
fearful eyes of aliens stare to the sky and grovel in a piteous attempt for mercy
he cannot condone this
(and that’s what they don’t)
crusaders
knights of cardboard armor and ironclad skulls falling by the thousands
yet they relentlessly hunt the enemy like predatory raptors of the past, voracious
not yet declawed or defanged as they are before the plastic wisdom of man claiming to be
the god of glory, gold, and gore; suddenly he is a savage ravager and avenger of the undead
men swear themselves to a cloaked idol in order to become accusers of the guilty
when the openness of perception may be all that is truly necessary
even kings are defenseless against the all-consuming force of religious blessing
how is it just?
crusaders
god’s greatest success
crusaders
god’s greatest regret
(am i both or neither?)
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
My words are all forced and my heart is all scrunched, and I find myself resisting the urge to steal phrases from writers who are far better than I ever was.
Times change so rapidly, I could’ve sworn it was just winter. Now the leaves are falling again and it’s starting to get bitter.
I don’t have a coat warm enough to catch me up to the change in temperature.
How our minds change so slowly to concepts we should’ve grasped so long ago. We hold onto familiarity and watch the roots slow, until we are all so lukewarm, and our attitudes so cold.
I peel apart each layer just to watch the bark grow.
Our imaginations never stop and the possibilities are endless, but we find ourselves infinitely alone when there’s no present body to remedy this.
Hours feel like days, and months are like years, just longing for a soul to listen in on our fears.
There’s nowhere we’d rather be than in the arms of a requited unending love: we say we don’t believe in fairytales but we’re all praying for our own version of one.
What is life without dreams, what are dreams without scars?
Who will be there to let me know the tears weren’t wasted at large?
Where does the road of curiosity end and the path of the contempt complete;
Do we ever get a hint in on God’s work or is our wondering obsolete?
I’m just resting on Your calls for my wandering, wandering feet.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
Did You ever dream you were telekinetic?
Did you ever dream you could juggle the moon?
Did you ever dream you were in Royal India but woke up too soon?
Did you ever dream you were physically in a dream?
Making friends and conquering enemies
Did you ever dream your future self was giving you advice for a bright tomorrow?
Did you ever dream you could gallivant in space?
Did you ever dream you were multiple selves?
Existing in varying realms
Living different lives simultaneously
And when one self loses the other wins
One self a noble another a king
A king with several queens
A noble who courts well but to have a fairlady can only dream and swell
Did you ever dream a dream within a dream? making love and having soul ballad *******
Have you ever dove into the thick streams of puddles?
Have you ever smoked the steam of vendors' cooking in winter?
Have you ever danced at the seam where world elements meet?
Did you ever? If infinity wasn't it would be nothing, and eternity not then never!
Would you ever try to endeavour?
If there be perfect weather and a present to treasure,
Then you'd have a past of adventures
a future to measure
and a life of never-ending-ever's.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Under a light Juniper mist,
I walked through the fields along a dusty road-
The sweet smell of colitas floating through the night air,
and the the trees sway without a care.
By the power of an ethereal potion,
I dreamed in perfect solitude
to a symphony of stars!
Running through lush fields
with periwinkle in my ear,
I listened to the night's nocturne.
Opening with a bellow from the carillons,
its sound danced about the sky in mystical bright dips and dives,
and birds of the twilight sing their arias in the day's last light,
while the wind whistles through the tall grasses.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
A fine day,
A sunny day.
Fair skin,
thrilled from within.
Long ride,
a happy ride
who knows whats waiting along side.
Tall trees, sea air, birds chirping,
waves splashing!
Can you guess how giddy am I in?
GallivantERS on the way!
Ready to conquer an adventurous DAY!
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
I shall gallivant after dark
when droves of waves depart at dusk
to point a gun at Mortimer here
still swears allegiance to France
but bid my bride on coach farewell
only to surmise inheritance again
how treacherous the streets lurk
there's upheaval in every crypt
so peruse if your dreams scheme with mine tonight
with a legion in silhouette
as her benevolent shall copulate
even corporeal lie mosey and
to pretend such revolution here
only justice might enhance constitution
on the road with sound
where golem ampleness in sweat
still sings a melody this ritual part in excellent lore
that would succumb world in the dark
if gander again jog along memory lane
while seance must intrigue each tog
that Nottingham's still absorption and namely a craft
in situ just to incept a suffragette abdication abound
this an extant with luxury again
and forthwith evermore.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
I live in a place where folks sling drugs to pay for Mormon missions.
I live in a place where one day it’s snowing, the next it’s 60 degrees out.
I live in a place where such little change forces one to live vicariously through their hair and clothing.
I live in a place where every face is familiar.
I am the gal who gives her phone number to gentlemen on a coffee filter, and labels herself “Disco-babe Darby”
I am a gal who is not even remotely human without her caffeine/nicotine fix.
I am a gal who cries loneliness only to push everyone away.
I am a gal who is trying too hard in this headache of a city, waiting only to be wished Godspeed as I gallivant back roads the hell out of here.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
I like the way Peter is sitting,
his eyes are very expansive
he reminds me of a solo climber
effervescent with pride
joyous on his return
His gist is simple Buster Keaton
with a straw hat
and there is always Sunday theatre
to gallivant to
with my earnest Friend.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
I am lost in my own thoughts
Lost in my own imagination
Lost in my world
Life seems to pass me by
for I gallivant in the bushes, searching
soul searching
I fail to find the I in me
There are many I's in me that I can not recognise the real I
Rituals ,customs,ceremonies
I still can not find myself
I think I forgot myself when I was adopting
the I's I met along the way
It was so easy to pick up them
Was it because I never knew the real I in me ?
Was it because I detested the I, I saw in the mirror ?
Was it because I never had the I in me ?
I am a lot of people in me
Every mirror shows a different reflection of me
I feel clouded
Who am I?
I am in danger of not knowing which I in me is me
Who am I?
I am lost in my own territory
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
If he really loved you...
If he really loved me, what?
I suffer from Fernweh constantly,
Which horribly translates to wanderlust in English
Read the irony;
Still, I am traveling.
His blue eyes gallivant for a split second,
Sensible to where his mind escapes to,
I let him.
I go fetch him water
He sneaks up from behind
Never turning around,
He sees my soul full frontal.
If he really loved you...
If I really loved him, I know
What works
He is foreign land,
And I do not own a map.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
as dyne
packed parch
and hard
in pettifog
with hopes
of his
fine lore
would evoke
lavender oil
then exhume
reed with
desire there
longing Rembrandt
but with
gallivant now
ripe with
more gestalt
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 1:19 PM UTC
Over the hill they say
When it comes to my age,
I miss the golden years
But now my fears
Have arrested me in worry caves
And as a young man
I could count the cars
Passing by dads house.
But now I'm older
A geezer, a loaner
To those I want to help.
Like dad did with
All his friends
Loaned out wanting nothing back
These are the morals
Dad taught me
As I remember
Dad had my back.
reminiscence was pop's speciality
Now I have reminiscence
Of things that used to be,
An elder now
With his stringed guitar
I sing dad's words
In my concerts
And bars.
And wherever I go to
His words are stuck in my head
Son, don't die young
When your older
"Your already dead".
Those talks will not leave me
My golden years actually just begun.
Dad was right
In my restless nights
I'd find a wife
For me to love.
I'm glad that pop had met her
She was a daughter to his last wishes
On his bed
I kissed his head
Goodbye dad.
To the azure
You will gallivant
With your banjo, and string with me.
While I'm jamming down in dads rock and rolling dimension.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Sometimes this corrupt world
Makes me feel silly
For loving words
While they gallivant off
Into the world
Doing whatever they do
I write my words
Heart aching with every word
For I am released
And they give me a wide eyed look
When I say I love reading
And that I can finish a book
In a matter of hours
But I don't care
Because to me
Words can be beautiful
Words can set you free
Whether your writing or read
Words are just wonderful.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Floppy ears, cotton tail and whiskers. Eating Carrots out of the garden and lettuce heads out of the patched rows. Oh brown bunny hiding among the leaves, how you annoy me in the summer heat. I labor and sweat over the broken earth only to lose my toil to you as you wait for my seeds to be given birth. What a sight you must see from your lowly position, hunched in the thick briars waiting for buds to shoot forth. A feast for a vegetarian king, succulent morsels to be sampled. A head of lettuce here a few carrots there, leaving a patch work of ruined vegetables and the loss of my sweat and toil. I clean my gun with ill intent for you, my disdained foe. Oh how I long for your demise. Then at the moment I intend to bring you down, I am thwarted to my surprise. No longer do you nibble at my carrots or dig through my rows, I see a truth that brings me low. For you oh brown woodland hare you are not my enemy, but tis only a part you play. For my granddaughter has adopted you and brings you to feast in her play. So I must let you live in a fashion, for while you may sample my succulent delights in passing, the truth be told your freedom has been taken from you. Now you are a child's plaything and thus in a form you have experienced death, as you will no longer gallivant freely through my garden, but are at the pleasure of my granddaughter as her pet.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
a riff
with a
spill on
a painted
horse gallivant
with claim's
stake that
Republican dynamite
narrowed a
night of
campaigns here
with Labor
Day fueled
virtues of
the chief
and cheers
of Thor
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 5:39 PM UTC
Watching your mind work is enough,
Seeing you stop and stare in wonder as we gallivant through the city, makes me want to jump out of my skin with admiration for you.
Some mornings I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sight of you reading in the sunlight and I know I’ve truly made it in life, this is my destination, or at least the beginning of my road there.
I’ve noticed I’ve begun sounding like a greeting card lately and maybe that’s what you do to me, but I wouldn’t trade a single second with you, not even for a million epic pieces of writing.
You just make me feel light, like I’m floating, even though I’ve stopped caring about how much I weigh. Don’t laugh. You know it’s true.
The point is, I’ve never known a love like this before, but I wonder, why is it that when life hands me pie instead of lemons, I all of a sudden can’t write anymore?
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC