"glassed" poems
Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,
out of the confused hammering dark of the train
I looked and saw under the moon's cold sheet
your delicate dry ******* country that built my heart;
and the small trees on their uncoloured slope
like poetry moved, articulate and sharp
and purposeful under the great dry flight of air,
under the crosswise currents of wind and star.
Clench down your strength, box-tree and ironbark.
Break with your violent root the ****** rock.
Draw from the flying dark its breath of dew
till the unliving come to life in you.
Be over the blind rock a skin of sense,
under the barren height a slender dance...
I woke and saw the dark small trees that burn
suddenly into flowers more lovely that the white moon.
19.4k
What day is it where we at, where is
the **** were you trying to smoke
my cat??
I see things through glassed eyes,
my mouth has the hunger, but I'm
to ****** to drive, Whats in the fridge
in the cupboard, f*ck it i can make a
munchie feast out of that.
I smoke with friends or when alone, i,ll
smoke in the dark room the spliff my
only light I see "wow look at those trails...
I have speed dial on my phone 1 is my
frindly dealer who delivers to my home,
2,3,4 take away pardise they no what I
want when ever I phone.
I,m a stoner there is no mistake, I will
always be happy unless my **** does
get braked, and if my phone battery dies
no mucnchies, no smoke, I couldn't deal
with that, "wow look at the pretty lights,
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
at night
you seem to come
to me
through the warmth
& the quiet dark
between
the narrow slit
of the moon
& the cold champagne
that rests glassed within my
fingertips
I've seen you too often
in the day
& there aren't many words
as we burn
underneath our angry
sun
you look your most
handsome
when you dress in
black
& I would never dare
turn my back
upon you
even if I promised
my own heart
that
you weren't worth the
wait
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
I want to tell her
But i can't.
I watch the spring rain fall.
A gentle tapping,
Sort of rapping
On the window's pane.
I focus on the sound until it fades.
I close my eyes and remember the day,
The scene is painted in a greyscale haze.
There stands you
Across the room
Enveloped in blue.
Your favorite colour.
It's late on that late winter's night,
And we're with our group.
If I said I knew who was there
I would be lying
Because it was you I was eyeing.
I'll skip the cliches, like
Butterflies
Or, better yet,
"Love at first sight"
Be as they may,
They all came true that night.
A casual glance became
A gaze became
A smile.
Once,
Twice,
Thrice,
Then Five,
We held it for a while.
I take a drink and pause the haze.
Minutes become hours that drag on for miles
We found ourselves in that grassy field
Dotted with trees,
And rabbits,
And owls.
A hot summer day-
The south suffers waves.
Hand in hand we make our way
Through the trail.
We fall behind our friends,
There's something I have to tell.
I stumble and fumble
Through letters to string,
I can't think of what to say.
And you say it's okay.
I smile and hold you close,
A mixed sense of pleasure morose.
Your lips touch mine,
And my heart explodes.
I can't believe we let each other go
We became 'twixt,
Ivy to our bones.
Again
Time lapses
There I am standing
There you are
Hanging
On him.
My rage demanding
His end.
But you come between
Deny instead.
Say I'm not right in the head,
Well, baby,
Love killed me dead.
I turn to walk away
And in turn you turn to
Return to he
Who shook your leaves.
So we've parted ways
And all was well
Until recently.
When I examined
A mural
And saw I missed a shard.
A blue tile
The final part
To my stain-glassed heart.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
ᗩIᑎᕼᗩᖇᗩ
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Ainhara is standing in her Queen's room,
staring at the door that leads to
her chamber
'My Lady...' she thinks worried before
looking at her reflection. Her mistress had
surprised her a gift of a finely made dress
of rose-silk, making her a flowing vision
in blue.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The dress is suitable for the bright and
hot morning, light, airy and delicate
with one shoulder that is heavily beaded
with peacock feathers; the slit reveals
her slender legs, the hip appliqued with
the white lilies of her Queen's Kingdom,
and simple flat shoes.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Her fiery locks are pinned into her usual
bun. It is then that she hears a gentle
knock on the door which she approaches
and opens.
"Did you not hear the command of the
Queen Mother?" Ainhara gently hisses,
"Queen Lyn is not to be disturbe-"
"I know, Lady Ainhara, I apologise,"
a guard whispers as Ainhara stands in
the hallway.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"How is Queen Lyn?"
*'Drained and exhausted. She has not slept
well in three days...* "The Queen is very busy.
She is determined to complete the tasks set to
her." Ainhara sighs. "Esshi is overseeing her
meals currently. Did her mother not say all
matters of state should be brought to her?"
"Yes she did, but the shipments are set
to arrive today. And she said that once
they arrive, I am to notify you.
They have made way to the Western
Entrance."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"I see. Well, let us see to it."
"Yes," The guard bows and leads the
way with Ainhara at his heels.
As she passes the open stain-glassed
windows, the cool breeze hit her,
making her dress flutter behind her
and the beadery shine and glitter.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
She’s tense tight
Locked in place with Loctite
Immovable limbs of angular lines
Ripe curves stretched wrong
Tinkling shards of glassed ice
Drop shadowed hooded eyes
Kohl rimmed cries and sighing sobs
Tense tight locked down life
Soul gripping lies slid out to fly
She’s shut off and down
Tense tight unmoving cries
cc2011
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 8:48 PM UTC
Should
never have to
face the
thickened
sticky
white and
creamy
cheesy
cliched
wrath and
terror
of her
mother's smile.
Should
never have to
flinch
inside
behind walls
made of
bricks
behind
barricades
of
stone
wrapped
in
bubble-wrap
at her
mother's
glance.
Eyes
should
never
hold
so
much
power
within
the
flash
of
discontent.
She should not
live
on a boat
always
biding time
waiting for
storms to pass
for
waves to
curl
and crack down
upon her
head
down into
the sand
that
holds her
down into
the dark
that
kisses her
goodnight
down into
the brutal
flick
the tap on the
glass
clench
of
the fingers
twitch of
the jaw
should never
have to
wait
for the
mother's roar
to
echo
through the
chamber
of her heart
until
silence
envelopes
her soul
and she
can sleep
without
fear.
Should
never
fear
her
mother's
evening breath
the
gentle and
stilling
exhale
a sigh
a brittle
and
glassed sound
that shatters
against her
tightly
pursed
lips
locked
mouth.
Should never
tell the heart
to
quiet down
and let
her run
like a
good
child
ignoring
the warning
bells
which
everyone else
seems to ignore
the words
that leave
her
stubborn
lips
in the
joke she
tells
the story
she
preaches
the hesitated
eye
widening
limerick
the expected
story
to tell
her
friends
her
mother's
wrath
tastes like
fire in
her belly
sulphur in
her throat
and
metallic
lingerings
of
biting
her tongue
to
suppress
the
screams
'what can you expect'
'my mother gets like that'
'she attacked me'
'but its okay'
'I was stubborn'
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:19 AM UTC
California has two places we would escape the hectic bay area Central Coast and Disney land. We were staying at a smaller hotel right by Disney we got to know the owners they were very down to earth. We were setting in the glassed in game room by the pool well the husband came in with nine business men from Japan they were talking about buying his hotel. This was back when everyone bashed Japan. The next morning my wife went to the pool I was thinking about those men did I want to bash them or go a different way. God gave this to me it came in a rush it was written in fifteen minutes it is patriotic and it deals with our great blessing that is wrapped in diversity
Imposter
From where did the lie first spring
The face I show I don't even know
The truth does sting so to falsehood I cling.
Best to wear this disguise, continue with the faceless mass.
America proud land of liberty; too long it's been just a veneer.
Freedom you espouse, to have this you must clean prejudice from your house.
True greatness finally you will know, when it shines through all colors.
To do this you must rediscover the bedrock of your heritage.
Truly believe the words that say "We the people."
Words that shook the elements, only being surpassed at creations stage.
To long our apathy has been collaborating with our enemies no more.
This challenge is given to restore.
Opportunity's open door let us our energy out pour.
That freedoms passion soars, as in the past ******* it tore.
Land of light continue, Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,
He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!
The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,
Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"
Why that one there, that's from a Queen,
She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!
That one there, why that's from a Fairy,
It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!
Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,
It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
From my temporary calm
I hear the glass clink on granite counter top.
The drops of devil’s liquid
And the swish of gluttony
Around the glass carriage
Sounds like nails in my ears
The limits of consumption have long been passed
Her character is burned in my mind;
The same person every night,
Her drooping face, eyes glassed over
Hair misplaced by too many touches
And her clothes are dragging away from her body
Her eyes scream goodbye
Spoken words slip with devil’s tongue
They bounce back and forth
And swirl in circles with no conclusion.
She looks like a fool and she sounds so mean.
Addiction and sin
Have captured her soul
And I’m such a fool
To think I’d ever have a permanent calm.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
cross-legged on prickly cord,
picking frayed edges
that don’t quite meet the wall-
stealing pimply-glassed heat and
pretending to live
in a house, where warmth exists
beyond window-spills and
a broken gas oven.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 9:21 AM UTC
the ladies oh the ladies louder now
celebrate christmas with a almighty roul
you see christmas is the time of the year where we party right
like drinking alcohol and get ****** yeah that is quite great
you see kids see Santa and ask them what would they like
and the ladies buy the men a cordless drill
as well as the men giving a ladies a big diamond ring
yeah we will party with the song
we wish you a jetty christams we wish you a merry christmas
and a happy new year
christmas is the time of year to Party party party
and you get some eggnog and say come on ya ****** smarty
oh dudes we will lift up our glassed and sing
to the christ child the nirvanaly king
you see christmas is the happiest time
for a happy dude like me, to enjoy life too
silent night holy night all is calm all is bright
round yon ****** mother and child
once in royal davids city the party is on for young and old
as santa goes a travelling through the computer
giving presents to everyone there
and then on the first day of christmas my truelove gave to me
a dollar so i buy a homeless man his tea
if that isn’t enough, how about just leave it in his hat
so he could add it up and buy many more dinners from all the money he raised
away in a manger no crib for a bed
the little lord buddha laid down his sweet head
he would wake up and say, i control the 3 kings of orient are
i bare gifts as i travel afar
i am dreaming of a white christmas, well stop cause in Australia it’s too **** hot
for it’s the summer weather, the bbqs are lit together
as we are a walking around singing a song living in a summer wonderland
on the beach we can build a sandcastle and bury poor old patrick in the sand
and then he will jump and SHUT UP, why don’t you give your family a ****** woman a ****** hand
then we jump in the saddle nice and quick all in there with good saint nick
Feliz Navidad i want to wish a merry Christmas
i wish you a merry christmas form the bottom of my heart, i lost when my friends treat me like a criminal
six white boomers six white boomers racing good old Patrick through the blazing sun
then Patrick sent to santa what about the toys
aren’t you giving these to all the boys and girls
or are you saying that boys are better than girls like a cool kid that you are
a pair of hoppalong boots and pistol that shoots,is a gift for Patrick and Wayne
dolls that will talk and go for a walk a grift from Joanne and Paula
now dudes as i am prepared to party on dude till the break of dawn
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Oats, stay dry for fecunditys harvest, as Eostres' hares
bring pittu; Falling earthbound, in abundance.
Spring madness dawns;
Love, persists.
Once willowed, under Winter skies, **shed all
we've done before.**
Bringing warmth (sown a lifetime ago) to embrace
this thaw.
Watching our steps, across moss green floors; We dance
lingering in the sweetest meadows.Together,
under budding branches;
It's time...
Blossom, reflected upon dappled millpond;
Still.
- Dark glassed surface, gently rippling with undertone -
Can you hear the water paddles roar?
Will Springs' spirit guide you; With carnal lust abound,
trusting Her to save your oats from being;
Taken...turned out...
ground?
We,
with spare oats, heap
to powdered dust; Sifted, then refined...
Molded something beautiful, wholesome, yet devine!
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:40 AM UTC
**A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated**
Friday’s off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath. Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts, scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain. Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite. Then gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.
**Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower**
Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of child saddled exhaust roaring kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly. *Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge,
past a single inviting pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal
through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under
great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....*
**Pressured paced life -
impossible commitments,
Living organic**
.
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 9:37 AM UTC
We came upon slowing traffic.
Inside the bus
Standing passengers were thrown
and grips tightened
as we edged forward across
the unfinished road.
We passed the sun-glassed
occupants of cars and busses
and the rolled-up sleeves
of lorry drivers who's
tanned arms hung out
of every window, and
who's fingers tapped
an unheard tune.
I stooped to stare at the
dancing distance of
the baked tarmacked
highway.
Our eyes stung and wet
The metalled road blazed.
Our approaching gaze silent.
Gripped passports Identity papers
rosary- beads
-Letters of transit -
not needed;
The border did what most
borders do-
and shrugged us through.
Laughter becomes all languages.
Later that afternoon,
I sipped from the glass I held.
Jez turned to me and asked,
"Is this what it's like to be drunk?"
I smiled as I slid my wine towards her...
...
words and foto T Carroll..
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
*(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist.)*
intensely greased
plastic hair
secondhand green day
coldplay in the rain
i love the sound
that waxed paper
deli sheets make
and i could choke
on a glassed reflection
of celery salts and windex.
*(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist
because when i look into
my eyes i see someone else)*
i'm not catholic
and do not
understand who
st. peter is
but i wonder if he won't let
us into heaven because we're
failures or if we're failures
because he won't let us into heaven
*(i'm 42% sure
i don't exist
and questioning how
bad hell can really be.)*
too quiet for a saturday
i wrote the word
decaf so many times i
forgot how to spell it
decaf
decaf
decaf
decaf
*(does decaf
have two f's?
because i don't have
two f's to give anymore
i mean i would but
i can't even find
vowels much less
extra consonants)*
when i was a child
i always counted in
mississippis
now that i'm older i
find myself counting in
cappuccinos
i dreamed my
legs were bleeding
and i remembered
that they're not
i want so badly
just to sleep in
a bag of crystallized
ginger and swim
in a mixing bowl of
tasteless tea.
*(i can't tell what's
real anymore
but i'm 42%
sure that i am not.)*
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
Her smile lays upon my glassed eyes
The replaced I was, I cried
She smiles with an evil grin
The fate of my sister she did spin
Now I am the second choice
She’s left to rot, echoes her voice
The next best thing to come to her
Guess I am just here for a leftover
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 2:22 AM UTC
I remember the last time we talked
My voice trembled like a violin string
As always my mouth was numb and locked
And the phrases I couldn't utter seemed to boil and sting
I watched distraught words float by on the breeze
As I desperately tried explaining to you,
With embarrassment and unease
All we could and should be, all I dreamed and knew
Tried weaving a future from a tangled past.
I saw you through curtains of heavy fog
Your eyes bleary and glassed
I stuttered and muttered and wept and I couldn't
And I knew that I wouldn't
Give words to the ineffable mess in my brain.
I looked up, the mist breathed slowly
You walked away like a slow and silent midnight train
The sun was shining through the clouds, golden and holy
As the white haze of things unsaid weighed upon the rolling hills
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
**A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated
Friday’s off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath. Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts, scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain. Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite. Then gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.
Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower
Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of child saddled exhaust roaring kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly. Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge, past a single inviting pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....
Pressured paced life -
impossible commitments,
Living organic**
.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 12:54 AM UTC
In left footed underwear,
Left on the floor,
My legs can't find the way out, my palms hardened from the mans work;
Dark and ***** the floor is full of ash,
From a fire we had in front of a fight,
That was lit from the fire in your naked belly,
And the golden spark of guilt in your darkened eyes.
And there is a threadbare mattress that was once clothed,
By our bodies and our sweat, and sleep,
And on the wall in the night, as you vehemently slept,
A thousand decisions were written on the peeling paint,
In calligraphic cursive writing, 'A medieval love affair',
As the heart drew breath in doubting love across the air.
Bare legged jeans, double ending tshirt and a naked bra,
An imprint left on your floor; a lack of interest,
Makeup left in a leather bag,
primal ****** a primary requirement of admittance,
A threadbare rug holds the handprints of many girls before,
Raw knees scuffed the richly spiced darkened stained wool.
Walking away with a left footed boot and a right handed eye,
Casting a backwards look from behind a blue glassed veneer,
Left with a scuffed heel and Viennese waltz dancing in my ears,
The last doorknob I ever touched, wonderland being left to the Cheshire Cat.
Drink me.
Eat me.
Swallow me.
And as I fall he demands,
He said,
'Where are you going?'
'Down the rabbit hole"
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC