"geographically" poems
Home is not a proper place
has no address, no fixed abode
It may not lay along a certain path
or at the end of any road
For each of us its different
what makes it so we cannot see
For myself I know that I'm not there
whenever you are not with me
My home exists within your hand
when it is wrapped in mine
When our bodies come together
a warm embrace, legs intertwined
Geographically speaking
home can be here, it can be there
but there is no place' feels more like home
than the pillow that we share.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:58 AM UTC
(For context, I went to...)
British Kindergarten in England,
French Elementary in Switzerland,
International MS in England,
French HS, then Int'l HS in Korea,
(And then completed...)
Undergraduate studies in NJ, USA,
9-month gap year in Hong Kong,
Graduate studies in QC, Canada.
------------------------------------------------------------
I have shattered my identity.
Frequently. Involuntarily.
I have undergone assimilation.
Socially. Psychologically.
I have encountered discrimination.
Directly. Racially.
I have endured isolation.
Grievingly. Impotently.
I have ill-wished on others.
Subconsciously. Unintentionally.
HOWEVER –
I have learned to be human.
Individually. Collectively.
I have discovered empathy.
Emotionally. Compassionately.
I have gained knowledge.
Culturally. Geographically.
I have acquired expertise.
Intellectually. Linguistically.
I have become a citizen.
Locally. Globally.
Perhaps we who are born and meant to move,
Are intended to, and exist to locomote forever,
Walking lands, sailing oceans, mastering the world.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
The identity is not correct,
God’s people dishonored
and in a state of aggression,
Geographically topsy turvy,
the history is miseducation
Blasphemy spits in the
face of the Motherland
like mocking the wrath
of a silent Beast…
Like scorching the sky for Thunder…
We’re provoking Divine Intervention…
AND SO IT SHALL BE…!
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
I was daydreaming about the hoverboard that was promised to me
in the sequel to Back To The Future when you big-banged my mindset
with a universe of thought that I was not ready to comprehend.
All you said was, do you think koi fish were typecast?
As if some ancient Japanese fisherman noticed that that fish in particular
was more reserved than the others. I can picture him
paddling quietly across the Caspian Sea as he notices these fish,
looks down through his own reflection and says, you seem artfully shy.
You remind me that historically and geographically speaking,
my story makes no sense. And that the fisherman would not speak English.
I remind you that at the rate we're going, we'll probably die
before we find out how this life ends.
You remind me that we're all fossils in waiting.
This was on the back porch of the house you lived at in Santa Barbara.
There was a mountain to our right and an ocean to our left.
This was in between puffs of your cigarette.
I remind you that sometimes you throw yourself out there like propellers
so I threw myself down like a launch-pad-made-for-landing-
not knowing anything about trajectory- hoping to show you
that there are some people out here who know the importance of landing whole.
You retreat to your smart phone, search Google, load a satellite image,
point to the smallest blue pixel, See that? You say.
That's Earth. Everything we will ever know happened on that dot.
I thought about Newt's completely feasible moon colony and the first moon-born human.
I thought about illegal aliens and inalienable rights.
But I didn't say anything.
We just sat there in perfect silence
like two ukuleles wanting to be acoustic guitars,
perfectly tuned, painted in moon reflection, I said, what are we doing?
And you didn't have to ask.
You knew. When I said we, I meant the species.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
The Creator
The original
Aboriginal
Indigenous
Australians
In their Dreaming
Uncreated Baiame
The Sky Father
Creator of everything
But who created
This creator God
Mythological
Theological
Like everyones
Too similar and
Geographically
Universally spread
To be explained by
One Big Bang
But still I ask
Who created
The uncreated
Creator
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
Miles and
Miles and miles
Constant fake smiles
And so much small talk
When there's big talk to be had
Tired feet and sore driving hands
Hundreds of dollars on coffee
**** where are my smokes?
Lost under the seat
Most likely
Monty
In the car please
Need to leave this place
Moving on to the next state
Both geographically, and of mind
Leave these faded memories behind
And move on to the new chapter
Of my life's extremely cheap
And poorly constructed
Scrapbook
Map out
New territories
And fresh beginnings
To feel like I'm productive
Because normally, I sit in silence
I wonder what people with lives do
From one day to the next
Do they have fun with
Staying constant?
Stable?
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
A leitmotif of your average smug **** is a proverb here and there.
Spouting them off like the receptor has no care.
Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear.
As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare.
******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care.
You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to.
The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu.
The kind that does the Financial Times So-fucking-Do-Ku.
Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me.
I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me.
In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not.
Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective.
In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective.
In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes.
We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you.
Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick.
Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do…
The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.”
If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer.
If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her.
If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
There are people I know
Who will say that we are created in “God”s image
And who actually believe
That “God” has four limbs
And a head that grows hair
And finger-skins that peel
When performing demanding tasks
Such as creating worlds.
And though I think that’s kind of silly
And don’t use the term “God” like billions do
And don’t think of a body or gender
Geographically heaven-bound
Playing with pawns of people
And actually giving a ****
I think that maybe
There’s an element of truth in this.
That by mere existence
WE are this Force;
This omni-omni-thing.
WE have created “God”
In the image of ourselves.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 6:08 PM UTC
*maybe home isn't where the four walls are at
or where your family lives in
maybe it's somewhere you once stayed when the downpour was so hard
and you need to stop by for a while,
nowhere to be found
yet you unconsciously found a comfort instead
but little you did know
that it is geographically located
within you
in your chilling bones
and burning heart.
For now,
it's been waiting for you
to come home...*
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
it's strange
the way brain waves
can roll up
onto someone else's beaches
and still feel at home
like the tide-pool-rejects
were all they'd ever known
like the nervous tics beached on the sand
were once their own
as if we had shared roots
at some point but branched off
i see patterns in you
which i thought were mine alone
geographically isolated, we still situated
ourselves into the same niche
brought thought processes
up from where
they were etched into our bones
perhaps we're the same species-
mine a shade stranger than yours
but still with similar history
you said i'd been in your head
since that night we tried to talk
i stumbled over my words
and you said you thought better on paper
you said i knew your thought process
but how you phrased it made it
sound like i'd been on your mind
well, you've been on mine
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
Walking around amsterdam airport with a bag smelling like tea tree oil a flight, a bus , a coach and a 25 min walk to go ---
but for now,
I'm standing in the wrong line.
Twice.
He calls me out in 53 seconds bursts/
Stinging laughing tears trickle jump ooze --
It was only a matter of time until he would see this deeply,
only I didn't think it would feel so much like
questioning what it is I actually want from my actions and why I'm destroying so much to get there.
Or finally knowing that my self consciousness manifests as a narcissistic, heavy missile on the other side of existence.
Or that I'd be thanking him, even through this blurred pain in my chest.
That I would push away just to feel that tidal pull of love's metaphysical gravity spool and spin , turning vortexes, drawing me back to him as the worlds we built burn , rendered to fragrant ashes.
Some where else
it feels different,
lighter...
In the world behind my eyes
landscape weather systems....
swierall /
cloaouudss! We are playing
despite the uncertainty
still,
life lives her vibrant hues through me.
watchu playin at fool !!
Dance where the music is , let her 10pm sunset strokes caress you to sleep.
My centre's essence clear water sustenance
ready to flow through these charred veins,
giving myself over to mystery,
you are further away then you've been still
geographically I'm the closest I've been to you since last.
board the plane
love rushing forth for the angered tiredness from your voice runs rings round my mind,
prompts me
I'm praying now, in ernest, to Great Spirit that I may have the humility and strength, humor and vision in this becoming....
time is shushing me now,
give yourselves the healing space, she croons as I sleep sailing through the atmospheric ocean.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
Geographically speaking, we live very close to each other.
I was a dancer and then I got old.
I carried a muffin tin through curtains of rain and it drummed along with the rhythm of the weather, the atmosphere wrestling the ground.
Grinding sleep out of my eyes. It hurts.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 2:23 AM UTC
o·cean
ˈōSHən/Submit
noun
a very large expanse of sea, in particular, each of the main areas into which the sea is divided geographically.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
left with
deceit,
kisses,
longings,
experience
I man,
animal,
crude
of
flesh,
easily
offended,
aghast,
burnt,
bent
at such
teasing,
**********
frothing,
fluff,
nothing
gave in,
but
frozen
surrender,
as she
floated
through rings,
juggled orbits,
trajectories,
full to
the brim
now,
stagnant,
unwavering,
a silence
acrid,
algae,
repulsion,
alarm
how
geographically
one can be
aloof, as in
heart
oh, of such
mysteries
are men,
women
shaped
so
farewell,
my habit
leads me
by hand,
yes,
farewell,
how splendid
to blow
this apart,
oh,
farewell,
and thank
you for
thine sweet
heart,
but farewell,
it was a
beautiful time
how water
ebbs, cuts
at the banks..
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Today I began to hem,
rein in the threads that grow free
when left unstitched
I ticked a set of books
and, though I love my charges,
my heart hurt
My language is another,
my experience of this globe
unutterably different,
though geographically the same
And I want to help them play the game, I do,
but I don’t trust those
telling me how to
My instincts,
honed by humans I trust, unless
I’m lost in my own Truman Show,
show me the right way to go,
divergent from this current shitshow
The pedagogy of care
is somewhere way, way
over there
Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 11:39 AM UTC
Starting right here, I want to remember your smile
Your glistening teeth, full lips, and freckles
I want to remember the feeling of our fingers touching
The comfort that came with your presence
I want to remember the time we were partners
When we stayed up the entire night to perfect our work
I miss the feeling of being wanted by you
We’re so close geographically but it’s impossible to see each other
It’s my hope that one day, we will excel together
We will remember the days we spent together as children
We will remember growing through the hardest of times with each other by our side
We will continue to grow, and be, and stay
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
You should just say goodbye
Try to forget me instead of pretending to
Move on by walking away. Physically, geographically
Not just sexually I know that's easy for you
But it's impossible for me
We are meant to be
Our bodies perfectly fit together as our tree branches entwine
I found a triangle marking on my back just as on yours
It's as if we were created just for each other
And I'm reminded with every heart beat that calls your name
I love you
With the purest and truest love ever imaginable
You know that wont die
And I know you can feel it too, because you want me to stop
But you know I can't, and won't
I gave you my heart and my all
It's not meant for anyone else
I cannot take it back for it would just rot by my side as a corpse, unliving
One day becoming another ghost that kills me, when now it is the one thing that keeps me alive.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 6:28 AM UTC
dear next boyfriend-
you better hold her tighter than hands grip the wheel of a nascar vehicle as they approach the final turn and that checkered flag.
and hope that I'm not waiting for her at the finish line with a Sprint Cup trophy containing champagne that tastes like
a house,
4 kids,
and a life filled with a love that would make Shakespeare put his pen down.
it wouldn't fit on the page.
in a book.
in a library.
in a poem.
in a song.
in an album.
you need to hug her like you are trying to prevent her body from exploding into a vast constellation of a million stars.
Nova bright.
Nova? Right.
a light her bright can shine without it being night.
cherish her noise.
her laugh is an anthem.
her breath is enough music to lullaby you to sleep and get you through the night.
her cry..
her cry...
her cry.
watercolor tears, they will stain your soul.
pick your battles.
and remember that she is on your team and not your opponent.
her heartbeat sounds like thunder.
because it's ten sizes too big,
in a world that models their own after the Grinch.
she's Cindy Lou in her impact.
she will change you.
cherish her touch.
it's a gateway to a whole new world.
it's like meditation and the most violent storm happening all at once when she kisses.
I hope you like the rain.
her hands are long,
slender,
with fingers like piano keys.
I can still remember the songs she played on my skin.
Love is my most convincing proof of God,
and Dear Father;
you tell us not to covet thy neighbor.
but lord have you seen her smile?
Dear distant love,
geographically and chronologically.. distant.
if you ever find yourself alone at the Verizon center.
with sad eyes and a heavy heart.
and a craving for breakfast food for dinner.
whisper my name into the wind and know that a voice that sweet would never miss my ears.
not even from roughly 1,053 miles away.
not a chance.
send me a letter.
addressed to the boy with a love for panda bears and the way of the samurai.
and a you shaped space in his heart that is still waiting for you.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
(A bit of fun for Thomas W. Case - I think he lives in Iowa)
Hawkeye pride burns bright in Iowa City,
the place where Tennessee Williams learned to curse.
Iowa City hosts the 4th of July, Iowa speedway race, unique perhaps
because the cars have to stay behind a tractor for the first 199 laps.
How polite are the people in Iowa City? I saw a news report where a man was mugged,
traumatic? Sure, but the man still remembered to say “Thank you” before the perp bugged.
There are over twenty-six churches here, people can be a bit pious and obnoxiously reflective.
There’s a Hawkeye infestation in Iowa City because of the university, classified as ‘moderately selective.’
Geographically, Iowa’s where the rolling plains meet a limestone rise.(1)
Did I mention that the bars close at 2am? A travesty in any serious drinker’s eyes.
Some noted authors came from Iowa City, the locals are proud of that and own it.
Most were playwrights and novelists, luckily, few of them turned out to be poets.
(1) whatever that is
Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 9:34 PM UTC
I'm restless and ****** off
but ****** off isn't even really right
because I'm not angry,
I'm just not remotely content.
Frustrated, but it's more than that
and I'm unable to put into words
the inability to fake more
enthusiasm or happiness.
I'm not ok with where I'm at
not just in life, but literally,
geographically.
I want to pick up and run,
run far away, fill up the tank
and drive until I'm on empty,
and I'm not sure if I'm referring to gas.
Where would I end up
and could I find some semblance
of an adventure there,
something to kickstart
me back to life.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
I guess I’d say I’m lucky, it all comes down to luck,
Historically, I’m born to a time of not giving a ****
Geographically I’m free, in a nation filled with greed
But in the greater scheme of things,
I’ve never known hunger or planted a seed
Racially I’m privileged, or so that’s what they say,
Though my gripe with my lack of exotic is a vain and ignorant betray
I’ve never endured or felt insecure by the lack of melanin that came my way
Despite the socialistic statistics, I see realistic logistic
Surviving ballistics, Linguistically twisted,
Academically average, emotionally insecure, certainly unsure
What emotions are for
Yes my parents loved me and sure they also ******* up
However, I still had to make my choices
Of getting high in a garage block, or getting up
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Only twenty minutes earlier,
when the lights were out and I was dreaming
countrywide somewhere
deep in leaf-strewn south suburbia a
man appeared and seemed to me to be
another elfish, presently
and when gyrating as he sang, a
mobile West of Memphis rang, of
course I knew that these things
do occur, in dreams when I am
everywhere, but finding elfish in
my dream seemed to me to be
somewhat of a
mystery and then I
left the building.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
In the North we had the cold war. Sirens screamed; we crouched under desks, thin arms covering thinner heads. We were post Pompeii petrifies waiting for a future dig. We never left an atomic shadow.
This sums up all life-threatening fears of the Boomers, the Echoes, the A's through Z's. Of course, Boomers then were too young to worry.
We've never had planes or bombs fall from our skies (there was the Arrow disaster).
We've never had a crop blight, famine or drought.
Food has never been rationed.
Hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons or tornados don't happen here;
We get snowfalls we plow through till they melt.
We're non-tsunami. Flooding is seasonal, geographically isolated, and dealt with.
We've had no great fires or earthquakes like San Fran or London.
We've never been drafted, and only go to wars of our own choosing.
We have not been invaded or occupied;
P.E.I. has no extermination crematoriums.
We avoided Inquisitions, Salem witch hunts and Small Pox blankets.
We've had no Race Riots, but a few barricades have gone up and down.
Death comes to us as to all. Car accidents, ******* accidents, and even ****** Though never expected, always anticipated. We grieve, some longer than others. It's not easy, but we manage the shock.
When the glaciers glide past the coast of Nova Scotia, on the way to New York, my generation (and probably yours) will have been replaced.
But now! We're asked to Social Distance and wash with soap and water. In Canada we have plenty of both. I'll occupy my three square feet of space for several weeks (knowing there are only 52 in a year). No complaints. No asinine TP runs. Just behaving myself, HUMANELY.
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
it’s the old Schengen Theory in psychology,
casually utilise vowels as pronouns,
but then theorise ancient pronouns
as theory based non-vowels: the self (germanic / invading)
and the ego (latin / origins of still using a - z)...
then apply the ditto membrane concern for space,
which will provide you with all the time in the world
to go back from the practical into theoretical that’s
free from having empirical theory interacting with the empirical practice
known as the sedative of life: mistake: life: en route death: life: some
other mistake:
life: don’t know: life: maybe tomorrow: life: maybe never: life:
i wish: life: well at least my saturday is occupied with movies;
they did the trick of of theorising you wearing a suit and doing it
commando in the missing underwear by structuring
an impetus to pause with stating: i said
äußern sjalrf
id scribo;
it’s still a contest... heavyweight champ rom apex jr.
is fighting alarik orca schrei - with the former fighting to get rid
of ‘ from e, and the latter to attach : to u to make ü:
oddly enough the saracens in sicily were
slavs who wrote ę and ą... otherwise it's all geographically
adequate to push rome down from the top,
with the majority of accents coming above the a, b, c... zee...
although the western slavs were an oddity in that respect...
but then a part of my family is said to have been
hungarian or czech... with surnames like batuk and not
batóg... and the cousin of some cousin
marrying my great-grandfather's sister ending up
with the surname saracen... it's a shame i can't
join in the festivities of the 21st century humanity
because of jealousy that didn't mature to the extent
i wished it had... and the god that suddenly appeared
from the ashen tabernacle of the holocaust in the night:
antichrist to satan... guess what, milton was completely wrong...
i went in there to steal the blood of the messiah
signposted wine... and i came back with blackcurrant juice!
can you believe it?
satan to the antichrist: well thank **** that you didn't
choose the bread... i came back with the apple of eden
and it turned to ash... god knows what the bread of the
messiah would have turned into.
anti-buddha: hallucinogenic mushrooms...
(insert laughter among duck noises).
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC