"gesticulated" poems
*A dense black rock
in deep meditation for ever
gesticulated to him in the dark
as if they have met at the appointed hour.
He could feel the warmth
of love in its inner core
never ever given a chance to express
for long, long millenniums.
"Open your heart" he commanded
in a voice, that triggers miracles,
thunder roared, lightning flashed
goosebumps did quickly spread
in the center of the dense granite block
speaking a cryptic code,
cleaving it in to two, what a brilliance!
this moment was kept hidden by circumstances;
a diamond filled the darkness
with such radiance, that has no measure.*
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Third Date
She talked and talked and talked,
an East Coast, cultured accent;
"So what are you anyway,
half-German? *** really?
But you look so......British, I guess..."
He stroked her knee.
She gesticulated loudly,
and talked.
"So you were at Princeton,
WOW, that's impressive."
He squeezed her knee.
"I baked cupcakes on Friday night,
my Mom's recipe.
I don't even eat cupcakes,
what's that all about?!?!
He squeezed her other knee.
She wore a mid-thigh,
black and white dress,
swirls, that sort of thing,
interesting cleavage.
He was back on the first knee.
She looked Italian
(it was 'Ristorante Acqua al Duo' after all),
Amy Winehouse eye flares,
head swaying,
resting on her palms,
swaying again.
He had his back to me.
She fingered the wine glass,
tall and generous,
devoured
the last inch,
came up for air and talked again.
He wore a blazer
and cavalry twill pants,
loafers and no socks.
She was hot,
really hot,
fanned her brow with the dessert menu
"Tiramisu was so deeeelicious".
75 degrees on the Prudential window.
He perspired,
fidgeted,
loosened his collar,
looked for the waitress.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
The year following
Jimmy's death
(my first encounter,
and my little brother),
I smothered myself
In every read on
Parapsychology,
Astral beings,
OBE's, NDE's,
And plasma projections,
Reincarnation and all
Aberations.
I awarded myself
An Honorary Doctorate
In ******** (Ph. D.B.S.).
Then I met ****** Mary,
As the police called her.
Her keen abilities
Recovered bodies
And the snatchers.
She had a dead-on reputation.
She spoke German and gesticulated
Wildly while she oracled.
Her husband translated simultaneously.
Her sun-room shone,
There were plants on
Every table. No candles.
Perhaps I was mesmerized.
She had one message for me
From the other side:
Tell Francie to leave me alone.
Marlene
(my darling little sister,
And my next encounter),
Had a dream the very same
Day I saw my seer.
She dreamt Jimmy
Was alone,
Crying at home,
And through his tears
She clearly hears:
Tell Francie to leave me alone.
****** Mary was free,
That's right... no fee.
She said her gift
Was for sharing,
And she shared
Her gift with me.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
After the argument
all he could do
was slump down
in the old chair
near the window
that looks out
onto the wide garden
beside the lake.
He yelled louder
as usual
dominated and gesticulated
but has paid
the same dear price
as she trembles
hidden behind
the soft pillows
she hoped
would cradle
words of love.
Every time she asks
please love me
a little slower
this time
he hears criticism
flying into a rage
panicking to realize
he does not know how
to do anything
but clutch at her
with the harsh hands
of a frightened man
who cannot hear
cannot see
and cannot believe
she loves him
at all.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
are some dreams real?
dogs in the alleyways
stopped at the robot by a slavic cop lady
but she lets others pass
dragged to a restaurant
interrogated by a mafia owner demanding money I don't owe
they say I've eaten there with a pregnant lady last week
dunno what they mean
Alan smiles but conspiratorially with them
how can he be a friend?
I sob that I don't get their drift
too late..
I need to a safe room to tell a story
whisper your name in the night
dream you lodge nearby
I jump up to do midnight chores
i pack out glassware from closets and you're there
ostensibly to help
the helpful lodger gesticulated that he's leaving
while I make the right noises of working
so, after upturning the table to work on its insides
you leave it on the floor
upside down
it will stand that way till you return
you get so irked at my queries
I'm half afraid to talk
I get a quick kiss pressed onto me face
I didn't brush my teeth
my tongue feels thick and gritty
you rush off into the night
I'm in an alley with a tape-recorder
hearing a deal go down
I call to the fat son of the owner
they're all slobs
with underwear down their knees
and *** on their shoes
I drive down the highway with half attention
and think how we could have met
yet that thought drifts far away now
as my story waits in line
on a conveyer belt the public never sees
stepping out this time line
to lance ahead single entity
for when the other catches up
there just ain't enough temporal cloth
to be clad in unity cloaks
some dreams are maybe then just dreams
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
He immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit by the way she talked and gesticulated
She was putting careful consideration into what she said and how she said it in an effort to break through her troublesome existential isolation and to bridge those gaps in perception
He found her so intriguing
And compelling
She was someone who seemed to have a great deal of distress when it came to trying to differentiate her imagination from reality
She looked sad
She looked angry
She looked cool and collected
She looked different from everyone else he knew
She could not put on that happy face others wear when they know they are being watched
She never put on a face for him
Which made him trust her somehow
There was something about her that tugged at his heart from the first moment his eyes met hers
She immediately recognized him as a kindred spirit by the way he talked and gesticulated
He was putting careful consideration into what he said and how he said it
And he was doing it quite well
Her eyes locked to his so easily, she almost felt frightened upon meeting him
But it was exhilarating
He was someone who seemed to hold a great deal of passion within him
Especially when it came to doing what he loved and his life and the people in it
She looked into his eyes and seemed to feel within her own self what he felt within his self
He looked mystical
He looked bright
He looked intense and riveting
He looked different from everyone else she knew
He did not look at her with the same face as everyone else
He looked at her like she was actually there
Which made her trust him somehow
The moment their eyes first met was the moment their souls first touched
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
I attended a poetry session today,
Enacted by poets through their
Onomatopoeic, gesticulated gestures,
Clenched ****** strained or wide-eyed,
Shifting their weight from one foot to another,
Like dodging their public speaking fears,
To the other leg,
As they tried to build
A rapport with the audience,
Through their words as they (the words) sifted
Through the folds of the air
To make a silent thud against
An attentive soul's solid, soiled exterior.
While reciting, looking into lit screens,
Scrolling up and down,
And trying to look for that line,
That trail of thought which was (most) perfect
Only in its untimely, chaotic, vague birth in that mind.
As the poets tried to familiarise
Themselves with their feelings
Presented on a fresh paper in
A font different from how
It had felt in that first gush of thoughts,
When they had probably first thought of
Penning down their thoughts,
Wise as they were to realise how
Precious they were.
Maybe they wanted to
Articulate their thoughts in written,
But ended up pinning them down.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
"Let us rock" said the man in a frock.
"Let us pray" said another man in a frock.
The congregation replied **** YEAH!" and gesticulated like they did not care.
The other congregation bowed their heads to show their reverence and care.
"MOTHER ******* was the first man in a frock's opening line.
"Our Father" was the other man in a frock's first whispered words.
The congregation went wild and they pogoed out of sheer joy.
The other congregation remained fixed in their seats, staring at feet.
Four hours passed until the man in the frock finished his slot.
The other man in the frock was done within the hour.
The man in the frock went backstage and partied with his flock.
The other man in the frock went home to **** his socks.
The man in the frock woke up the next afternoon no longer wearing his frock.
The other man in the frock had been up since six o'clock but had nowhere to go.
The man no longer wearing the frock picked up his phone and made a call.
The other man in the frock rushed to his phone for it rarely rang.
"Hello dad" said the man who had worn the frock.
"Hello son" said the man still wearing the frock.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
You're long gone.
I doubt you'll even hear this.
I never got to tell you how I feel.
And that's pretty lame.
I guess I'll start from the top
I really miss your hands
Specifically the way you
Gesticulated
When you were ******* lying
I miss the sound of your voice
Specifically the way it sounded
When you were screaming in my face
I guess I don't miss you at all
You really ****** me up.
Don't get me wrong
We had some good times too
Remember the time you told me you loved me and then you got pregnant with a crack head's kid and married him?
Oh yeah and he's fifty something and owns snakes too.
That was just the bees knees.
I really miss your brain
Remember the time you conditioned me
And got an A+ in psychology?
I really miss some of my old friends
But you ****** them too so
You can ******* keep em
I don't miss you at all
You really ****** me up
I really hate your mood swings
There's no sugar coating it.
They really ******* ******
I really hate your sense of entitlement
But you're on a website called homewrecker.com
And I'm living in California so **** you I win
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
“Thou art forbidden,”
He said, pointing to
The ominous, looming giant of a Tree
So frightening, yet we feel hints of intrigue.
But no, no we are prohibited,
Fenced in by paradise,
Fenced out by fear.
So, in our young life,
We averted our eyes.
We hurried past the Tree,
Anxious to please,
Walking briskly to the Trees of Faith, Belief, and Fate,
Brittle and weak of trunk, but of pleasant leaves
That produces such a pleasant shade
From the glaring heat of the high sun
You and I gestured and gesticulated,
Attempting to justify which tree of the three
We should use as a home.
We grunted and groaned, shrieked and moaned our dispute
And, I, in a primal huff, stomped away
Eyes blinded by frustration.
I was wholly incapable
Of reason, of sight, of sound.
In a whirling state, I stumbled.
On a root of the magnificent
Forbidden Tree.
I gasped.
There.
The source of rebellion against
Everything He taught me.
Jaw set firm, fists clenched,
I marched up to the nearest offering
Defying condition, against instinct,
I lifted my hands.
I reached for the Forewarned Curse.
I bit into sin.
Its juice burst onto my tongue
I desperately and eagerly
****** the newly revealed flesh and
Realized bliss,
Passion, tragedy, and fury,
Oasis out of chaos.
How could I have thought that this was paradise?
What vice ignorance holds!
What horror forbiddance harbors!
Oh, oh, I can Feel
My hands,
I can Feel,
Think, and
See.
I can finally Be!
What exuberant joy!
I must share, share these astounding epiphanies!
The branch that saved me still bounces and shakes,
Deceivingly resembling a sort of snake.
Oh, my love, my universe,
I will save you, I will uproot you from stagnation.
For I am now
The Venue of Truth.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:52 PM UTC
today while waiting for the train a woman with a voice so immaculate it sounded like a recording sang "at last" and i felt the final slivers of disillusionment scatter,
i felt love the way carrie bradshaw would type fervently about it late at night in bed,
i felt renewed faith in love surge through me.
though the tunnel i then walked through reeked of incense, i marveled at my own rebirth of innocence. wide-eyed once more.
today while on the train a girl in maroon pants tippy-toed and kissed her boyfriend and he sat next to me and she sat across from him. a couple of people stood in front of me, bustling along, but i shifted positions to meet the girl's gaze and gesticulated, "do you wanna switch seats with me?"
the look on her face said it all.
do unto others, right?
when we met it felt like he was speaking to a corner bookshelf of my heart that needed a little bit of dusting. he swiftly picked up one of those books and read from it and it made me feel good.
or at least that's what it says, according to my new journal.
i hope a fellow starry-eyed soul switches seats with you on the train so you can laugh at inside jokes with him,
i hope you can hold hands and marvel at the street performer
i hope you call your best friend and tell her about it while you're walking home,
i hope this happens to you, over and over and over,
repetitive but you're so happy you shed the cocoon of routine and burst out: untethered, fearless, maybe even into song.
cheer up, don't give up.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
All night it beat upon the pane
the cold staccato clamour of the rain;
trickling footsteps pattered on the slates
chimneys shuddered soot into the grates.
Banshee winds about the gutters howled
that grinning orb the moon was cowled
by clashing clouds that fused and broke
with every clashing thunder stroke.
Flickering fingers flashing doom
outlined and probed each object in my room;
frail curtains writhed and frantic flapped
tossing over objects - tempest trapped.
Morning came, rain rinsed smelling sweet,
pavements glinted, drains laughed in the street;
trees gesticulated flinging off their jewels
pigeons sipped the sun from sky-paved pools.
TOBIAS
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC