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"halibut" poems
Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity, Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang headfirst and heartfelt, half-naked and handsome, hook, line and... halibut. All of this, every measurable moment, every particle, every object set forth in motion sprang from a void so harmoniously as if the absence of everything was kissed sudden by the presence of something. Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows, Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love, son of Mercury - god of trade, his story, almost identical in Greek and in Roman mythology, his story, about a couple of gods who seem so inherently human by nature, jolted by jealousy, dumbstruck by beauty, hellbent on immortality, his story has been hallmarked as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine and symmetrical hearts. Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons bitter-sweetly sugarcoated dipped in thin layer of chocolate taste-tested and lover approved. Remember that scene in Hook where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest, well that's you and that's me-- touch me where my heart beats because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy. I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story with morals and purpose, I wanna have meaning. You might say that Cupid found himself. You might say that Psyche found her soul. You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it-- with the clapping. Truth is, we can never know the whole story-- the complete truth. Problem is, we think we can and act like we do. So the only time we mean what we say is the first time we say it, every utterance thereafter is just an attempt at recreating a moment. I love you is a paraphrase that deserves three separate ellipses because there's a lot left unsaid. I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with) love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to) you (and your tidal waves). And that's where I fell headfirst and handsome. I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless that it spiked my dopamine to a volume that can only be described as) love (in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you (they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science). There was a moment in the absence of everything when I was kissed silent by the presence of something. Hold me to your breastplate. I don't ever wanna go back to the void. 02/09/2010
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Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
Hallmarked & Handsome
Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity, Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang headfirst and heartfelt, half-naked and handsome, hook, line and... halibut. All of this, every measurable moment, every particle, every object set forth in motion sprang from a void so harmoniously as if the absence of everything was kissed sudden by the presence of something. Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows, Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love, son of Mercury - god of trade, his story, almost identical in Greek and in Roman mythology, his story, about a couple of gods who seem so inherently human by nature, jolted by jealousy, dumbstruck by beauty, hellbent on immortality, his story has been hallmarked as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine and symmetrical hearts. Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons bitter-sweetly sugarcoated dipped in thin layer of chocolate taste-tested and lover approved. Remember that scene in Hook where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest, well that's you and that's me-- touch me where my heart beats because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy. I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story with morals and purpose, I wanna have meaning. You might say that Cupid found himself. You might say that Psyche found her soul. You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it-- with the clapping. Truth is, we can never know the whole story-- the complete truth. Problem is, we think we can and act like we do. So the only time we mean what we say is the first time we say it, every utterance thereafter is just an attempt at recreating a moment. I love you is a paraphrase that deserves three separate ellipses because there's a lot left unsaid. I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with) love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to) you (and your tidal waves). And that's where I fell headfirst and handsome. I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless that it spiked my dopamine to a volume that can only be described as) love (in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you (they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science). There was a moment in the absence of everything when I was kissed silent by the presence of something. Hold me to your breastplate. I don't ever wanna go back to the void. 02/09/2010
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Here are my eyes my fried eggs teal lily-pads floating on white albumen. Here are my elbows like deformed peaches my knuckles the peas wrist corn on the cob. Here are my teeth my frosty Stonehenge a ring of slabs solid halibut. Here are my ankles four gobstoppers cracking as rocks under her size-five feet. Here is my nose fastened to my face the garbage chute meets hoover hybrid. Here are my knees two wrinkled potatoes mashing in their sockets as waves crumble on me. Here is my hair my straw candyfloss unlike her buttered popcorn curly-wurly waterfall. Here are my tonsils squashy strawberries wedged at the back of the cave I once made. Here are my lips azalea-pink sweets flecked with salt from our slice of sea.
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
Anatomy
There’s a dark grotto Under the sea With shelves and shelves Of bottles Clear, glass bottles All of my secrets A carefully watched castle The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls Surrounded by a forest of kelp With razor-sharp teeth And then the narwhals The narwhal guards Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives Their three-meter horns Gleaming in the moonlight Guarding All of my secrets Skeletons, trespassers of yore, Strewn about the seafloor Bones picked clean By the scavenging ***** No one can enter No one can leave The grotto with the shelves Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles All of my secrets But as for the ***** For the first time in centuries The sunlight warms the waters Melts the kelp Kisses the narwhals Buries the bones and torments the scavengers Clearing away the darkness A nonstop route through the castle Protecting All of my secrets The tendrils of photons creep along Wary Ready for a fight The grotto growls menacingly Unguarded For the first time in centuries But upon the first touch - Light meets stone - The sea shudders Ecstasy And in repayment for salvation Out come the bottles Floating to the surface Bathing in the light All of my secrets
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May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
All of My Secrets
One Turbot says to the other "do you believe in Cod?" The other replies " I think we each know a Sole". "I believe one day when the chips are down and we are at our most battered we will each know a Plaice and we are destined to fillet". They exchanged a glance and swam away.... just for the Halibut. I hope my Whiting doesn't offend. Remember believers.... believe in Cod and one day you will be Prawn again.
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Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
Theology for Fish... not taught in schools
If I were a man I would ask out a girl just for the hell of it Because either way ive been waiting far too Long to try that restaurants grilled halibut I would sag my pants down low In any given social situation I would wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat Fearing that doctors castration And in the same situation I would burp real loud Because I drank too much beer Or ate too many chips And what is a man to do other than flip his own scripts and rip on other men’s trips and say, “dude you’re so gay” if I were a man I’d probably put bumpin’ speakers in My Honda civic And id bust out loud rap as I turned and whipped it In front of all the pretty girls The ones with hair curled and necklaces made of my pearls Ones I wouldn’t call back because I paid attention in math And knew the male to female ratio was 1 to 4 And that left me with 3 other girls to score But sense I am not a man And according to them I am some-what less than I’ll belt my pants suffer your ****** glance Deny you a dance and instead of implants I will wish for a transplant.
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Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Poetry Slam, Man.
Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursu'd Thy pastime? When wast thou an egg new spawn'd, Lost in the immensity of ocean's waste? Roar as they might, the overbearing winds That rock'd the deep, thy cradle, thou wast safe-- And in thy minikin and embryo state, Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt **** Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rack'd The joints of many a stout and gallant bark, And whelm'd them in the unexplor'd abyss. Indebted to no magnet and no chart, Nor under guidance of the polar fire, Thou wast a voyager on many coasts, Grazing at large in meadows submarine, Where flat Batavia just emerging peeps Above the brine,--where Caledonia's rocks Beat back the surge,--and where Hibernia shoots Her wondrous causeway far into the main. --Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st, And I not more, that I should feed on thee. Peace, therefore, and good health, and much good fish, To him who sent thee! and success, as oft As it descends into the billowy gulf, To the same drag that caught thee!--Fare thee well! Thy lot thy brethern of the slimy fin Would envy, could they know that thou wast doom'd To feed a bard, and to be prais'd in verse.
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1.5k
To The Immortal Memory of the Halibut, On Which I Dined This Day, Monday, April 26, 1784
Remember me? You once called me the apple of your eye And now you don't call at all. I can't say we both look upon the same set of stars because we don't. And I can't say we both look at the same moon when I see it from my bedroom window because I know it is daytime there. Remember when you taught me to love the ocean as we sat out together on the rocks while you caught fish and I caught ***** How we would fish until the sun sank into the water and the tides and the moon rose? Do you remember? All of those times you said "I love you" all the times you hugged me so tightly How if anyone would ask about me you'd hold me under your arm and say, "This is my daughter!" with the biggest grin on your face. Do you remember? All the stories you used to tell about the first scrambled egg or the higgledy-piggledy wangra Are they still there? Or has the heat of the Sri Lankan sun and the hum of the ceiling fan let these memories drift away? Have you forgotten me? I let you back into my heart just so you could break it again with silence. You told me how bad it felt To lose your dad. Why did you take away mine?
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
Halibut and Scrambled Eggs (10.27.12)
A lone paddler within rumoured holy waters, blessed by the touch of a vacant apathetic god, she gaped mutely like a halibut, lips parted comically in a silent wail, the clockwork functions of her jaw, forced teeth to reacquaint as sisters, grinding together in discomfort, as lukewarm fluids rippled around her thighs. In this silent act of cleansing, sin's hallmark should have faded from her skin, still her father believed 'her to be the devil's young' due to scientific witchcraft, her concoctions to lure demons to their dinner table. 'I'm doing this for you, darling.' her father reassured with an earnest glint in his eyes, madness paced hungrily, encircling pupils in a territorial manner, delusions of God himself watching over his daughter, with tears streaming down golden cheeks, repeated within his fragile mind. Unsure, the girl remained standing, the embodiment of Mary with her arms spread like angel wings, did she dare disobey her father's wishes, and feel the leather belt against her rear, or reject her own troubled heart, for her father's sake?
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May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
Defanatus Sacra Locus
The cafe tables are littered with left overs pigeons forever observant their regularity like faith. Meanwhile its halibut tonight Friday fish night, are we so different?
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 8:51 AM UTC
Fridays question
I once met a man made out of steel;- but he was too afraid To disclose all the hearts he stole, instead pointing out All the love he had bought, as one constantly waiting for What’s in store. The wise con artist selling out dreams Only to lonely fools, who buy into flightless ideas- Such tall ideas, with the promise of giving them wings And to those he came to meet;- his very eyes carved up Their bodies, to offer as fresh sushi; a bloodlust fishman, Holding a charm with such impeccable practice He spoke love’s language, with words sharp as knives Cutting all costs, to make any love feel exorbitantly priced; Alas I present myself to you- the author of such dreams I am a halibut; playacting to have tough flesh underneath, Drowning in the endless submerging feeling, of love Swimming an entire life; sinking deeper by a heart of steel, Still, anything that must breathe, must certainly bleed. As when I bought a taste of love, it indeed Tasted like my very own blood!
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Jul 11, 2024
Jul 11, 2024 at 9:47 AM UTC
Love 4 Sale
They come They leave They seek reprieve We need a sound and a light To keep us conscious Of whatever I am conscious of something There is a barrier Young girl in black jeans Glasses Apron And a fry cook Battering Nova Scotia Halibut on live television I send a message to Adonai Wyd? He asks me if I will agree To his new terms of service Which makes me uneasy He tells me Carl Jung Wears his glasses in the void He looks prophetic and exalted With some black folks Sitting at a corner table While being interviewed That’s amazing She says So cool She says That’s amazing And if our eyes meet For too long We might know some Secret truth Which we make No effort To conceal Are we already In perfection?
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Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
Texting the Lord
I was never insane except upon odds when my heater was touched. Believe nozzle you hear, and only one halibut that you see. Yobs of lumberjack have been forgotten in the hawthorn of a mischief-maker. Workmen have no prankster to inaccuracy the minimum without the exquisite hostage of their reassessment. Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. The best thoroughfares in light make you sweaty. Scoreboard has not yet taught us if madness is or not the sublimity of interest. I remained too much inside my headman and ended up losing my minimum.
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May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
I was never insane
I wish I was a kangaroo, I wish I was a clock, I wish I was the stripe in someone's sky blue sock. I wish I was a purple pig with a polka-dotted trimming, I wish I was a halibut, I wish I was in swimming. I wish I was a mutton leg or just a leg of lamb, I wish I was most anything than this dumb thing I am.
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Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
Unknown
Sabiki rig catch bait Bubbles in pail keep chove from fate. Bust the rod take the jetty. Nose hook toss Release the bail. Sink then taut Touch and go Feel, hook, bought. Halibut for Almondine is what I caught
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
Gone fishing