"grand" poems
They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.
Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.
But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.
Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.
But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.
But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.
Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
Be kind to yourself,
as you are with others
You have these
grand expectations
of yourself
and at times,
those around you
It's good to have goals
and a hunger for
betterment,
but you must also be
vigilant
to keep them realistic
Because, while you are indeed
fierce & strong-willed,
you are also soft
& at times
fragile
You are human.
But that doesn't mean
you are without
superpowers
Your sensitivity is your greatest gift,
but without care,
can also be your greatest
downfall
You must learn to master your craft.
This means to be
patient with yourself
as you would with others,
to show compassion
as you would with others,
to show love,
grace,
& humility,
to yourself
This in practice,
is to truly understand,
& epitomise,
that self-care
is not
selfish
That it is okay to say no,
or to ask for help,
or to be truly
vulnerable
To acknowledge
that fear is
the root cause
of bitterness
& resentment
To embrace the lows,
for making the highs even
sweeter
To let the good wash
over you
the same as
the bad,
& embrace the micro changes,
as the meta
stays the same
To believe you are worthy,
of a great love,
the same as you believe
another's
worthy of
yours
To embody the idiom
that one can
only
truly love another,
after
they learn to love
themself,
& thus allowing
the hard-earned
victory
of grounded, stable
communion
To know the difference between
support
& advice,
love
& lust,
friendships
& partnerships
To have
faith
that you will find your way,
because you will;
because you live your life
with generosity
& authenticity
This is my vision for you,
that you will
make this your reality.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories ****** but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
43.4k
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay
there are swings now
and empty barns
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak of the past
...and little dogs
not big ones
the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say
and flanders
(the holder of those pigs)
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun
i can still hear the screams
of river shore dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees
think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane
they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
Delilah baby I can feel the weight of you in my arms.
I can feel my k to z love for you and see how that laugh of yours makes people cry
and how that smile pierces my heart because it looks just like his did.
I can feel the sun kissing each one of our toes as we sit overlooking the grand canyon in the kaleidoscope sunset.
your spider fingers are wrapped in my hair like a plea to never be left alone
your spindle legs are all knobby kneed and pale entwined with mine.
baby he left me not you.
I was a hurricane and he loved you too much to look
afraid that one glance and he'd be head over heels reeling out of control
like you were the drug and he was the addict.
they say everything happens for a reason and you are my reason.
Delilah baby you are the here and the now of forever.
the stop sign on the corner is an obstacle for street racers but its a godsend because its just enough of a pause for me to kiss you between the eyes.
and I can't ever finish anything so this story isn't complete
and at the top of the pass where the air is clear enough if we sing loud enough maybe he will hear us and remember who he left behind.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
through the streets and column cracks
culture weaves and summer smacks
sacred figures, holy shrine
monastery in grand design
cathedrals, convents, heaven’s stars
god of neptune, god of mars
doge’s palace, alley ways
gondolier on full display
winged lions on pastel breeze
cicada singing from the trees
pillar walk of saint mark's square
basilica in all its flare
crosses shade the carousel
a bridge of sigh that leads to hell
golden stairs on placid ridge
arches of rialto bridge
torcello! murano! grigio!
the countess rides the river poe!
sins of seven, fiery hides
poplars bank the levee side
black plague, attila the ***
eden formed before the sun
paradise above the marsh
high alter, gothic arch
middle age, religious wars
celestial fountains, marble floors
sculpted peacock, catholic faith
all is true the great god saith
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Three Minute Warning
A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).
Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.
No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.
Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?
Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth every day!
Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'
Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.
Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.
Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.
My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.
Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!
Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
A glazed fire falls to earth.
A blaze so grand it will destroy your only exterior world.
A spread of rubies is covering the horizon,
so close you could fly to it
so far you can only fly to it.
This fire is our only day
he climbs high for his eternity
and falls
only for a minute
To have a fresh faced man take its place
for he spends brief moments in glory
and the rest in the ground.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.
Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Sweet Wolf
Your art is grand
But your blood
Is far away
On the Hemospectrum chart
You a peasant
Me a half Royal
We don't mix
Indigo and Rust
You're a free wolf
I'm a high-blood
Go do your art
Make the world a better place
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Earned under great spell of segregation,
With luster grand and blinding glimmers of false hope,
Standing like Trajan over his land, twice the spoils of war.
We must now thwart the hatred,
We must now look our brothers in the skin and decide if we can shoot them in the mouth.
Where lies the liberty in mysticism?
Why is this culture facilitating our schism,
And how now will we draw our party lines, or be done with them for a line in the sand?
Let us not fold in the face of dictatorship.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
Rise & shine,
I'm online...kisses good morning
...you look so fine!
(Loving you is grand it seems,
I love you more than cheesy
poetry.)
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 12:58 AM UTC
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on
Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth
His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars
His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
**** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me
As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do
Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver
His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Glide your fingers down the railing
As you make your grand ingression
Meeting the faces you are destined to meet
As they fasten their first impressions
You are one to worry what they think
And wonder how or why
But, know that they have trained themselves
To create facades and alibis
They would be just as scared as you
If they were the ones walking down that stair
So hold your head up high, my dear
As if you did not care
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
She thinks you light up the sun.
You think she turned on the stars.
She adds beauty to life already grand.
You make her happy in a way she hasn’t been.
She’ll be loyal.
She’ll be loving.
She is broken.
She is learning.
You’ll be funny.
You’ll be musical.
You are different.
You are needed.
She is…
You are…
In love.
May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 10:56 PM UTC
Technology has been essential for ages
From the wheel to the computer
Now instead of writing pages
I will type essays for the future of my career
Technology, however, has gotten out of hand
We use it to cover up for laziness.
The television is turned on with speed so grand.
Yet you could’ve gotten up and it would’ve been considered craziness.
Technology has turned us mad
We can’t seem to live without our technology
Day by day we may look glad,
But in the end it will take over angrily.
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
Friendship
Friendship is not a jewel or a coin or a gift
Jewels and coins and gifts don’t die
Friendship is not a flower or blown glass;
Friendship is not fragile
Friendship is not a poem or a melody
Because friendship cannot be forgotten
Friendship is a symphony
With grand overtures
Melodic harmonies
and unforgettable phrases
punctuated
by
Attacking staccatos
Vibrant arpeggios
then peaceful interludes
And sometimes
rests
Followed by thoughtful segues
All held together by a coherent structure
called
Respect
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:55 PM UTC
I feel like I am neurologically deficient
That a lot of my brain cells are missing
Like a punch drunk doped up punk boxer
A pimply muscle bound ***** on steroids
Hanging out at my old high school locker
No shocker that I am no medical doctor
But I always thought I’d be just a bit better
I guess on average I am a little bit smarter
But the bar is set so low that it requires
Very little to grow and go over it, you know
In comparison to the other young men
I may be grandstanding and one upping them
But when it comes to grand scheme of things
When compared to past people
Who shared my glorious dreams
Like Percy Shelley and John Keats
Like Ginsburg and the other Beats
I think I am drifting of course just a bit
Lest we all forget the **** cut the crap to fit in it
Maybe I’m okay few travel this way anyways
So who’s to say if I’m doing it the wrong or the right way
But I still feel like my brain needs a chemical treatment
A diet with more nutrients and sufficient Supplements
Because I’m feeling neurologically deficient
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I was little my mother put me in several ballet classes in hopes to bring some grace to my stumbling gait.
I grew up walking on eggshells, wobbling to keep my balance on a tightrope that never really ended.
My instructor pinched my thighs and shook her bony finger at me every tuesday and thursday for three and a half years.
4 am, I'm still tiptoeing around the creaks in the stairs as if anyone would notice an empty bed.
This Christmas I came across the broken reminents of the ballerina ornaments my younger sister used to play with.
I never did master the delicate posture I was expected to adopt. My feet fell a bit too heavy, I suppose, on the ice tonight.
I'm not cold anymore, just exhausted from attempting to balance the wrong things for too long.
My life is flashing before my eyes, but all I see is a younger version of myself practicing Grand Battements on thin ice while everyone slept.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
when the clock ticks at 12,
another minute has passed and another day has been renewed.
it replenishes an entire moment that separates yesterday from today.
when the clock ticks at 12,
a part of me has left something for good.
something that could only be retrieved by the nostalgia
of the passing hours that gives a pang of discomfort and dismay.
when the clock ticks at 12,
a fairy godmother is there waiting for me to move past everything and start fresh,
like nothing has ever happened from yesterday
but when the clock ticks at 3,
my emotions are scattered,
eating me alive.
it kicks me out of the zone - exposing me to a world of nothing but things to hide.
it haunts my core, dwells with my demons,
building up emotions that don't seem to collide
and at 3, I find you - once again with all the sublime images we’ve captured
and grand words we’ve uttered.
i find you, drowning from the roots
of my memoirs... and there I see how midnights took parts of me
because at 3, I’ll always remember how I grew with thee
a.t.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
I want to let out
a scream so loud
the Grand Canyon will shake
Mount Everest will crumble,
and the whole world will kneel down.
I want to scream so my voice
could finally be heard
after all this while
hiding behind curtains,
sleeping in the shadows,
travelling by rooftops
during the night.
I want to confess,
to profess,
to be honest.
I want to rid of my brain
and its logic
who says not to;
Dig 10 layers
of six feet of dirt
and bury it deep underground
lost and forgotten
like the planes and ships over the Bermuda Triangle.
I want to leave and forget,
cast away the fibers and threads
that hold on to my
morality and affection ,
but only you
can hold me down.
I want you to
hold me down;
Hidden between the gaps of pain
is my heart.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
Can I be graced by a kiss from your aura,
Does the same feeling reside deep down inside,
We’ve been separated for so long my friend,
It scares me to see you like this,
Abrupt erections long gone,
The insecurity of prolonged exposure,
Sequences of nausea,
Seek and destroy,
The sickening of the tunnel vision,
How strange it seems now,
To look back at you,
How amazing it is,
To be myself again,
Made different by time,
The same ****** hole,
The singular aspect of oneness,
The grand expanse seemed so small,
Ironically,
Now seems to drag on with the whistles and clangs,
The bangs the song the spiral never ends.
Somewhere a part of my innocence was left behind,
Left to wither in the shared tunnel,
The smell of the air expelled made the hairs
In my nostrils stand on end and dissolve.
Now that I think about where I came from,
What happened to me to this point,
I’m happy it didn’t end so soon,
That I’ve been reunited,
Drawing a conclusion doesn’t seem so difficult,
When the beginning is just around the corner.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:31 PM UTC
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Human life is like a book...
The middle being birth.
The end death.
And the middle
a souls adventure of expansion.
Human life is like a book.
A grand story
unwinding with feelings as words
and moments as footmarks.
Once concluded it’s bond
in spirits core memory
to take one then
to a new book-cover of spirit.
A new beginning of
chapters where a sequel begins
with a beginning, middle, and end.
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
With all of the grand adventure awaiting you,
I wish you could just pack me up in your suitcase too.
That way, wherever you go,
You'd have me and I'd have you.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC