"ibis" poems
Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms (weathered)
I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination
Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)
They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
(there is no hyperbole which lacks within
Nature's haunted heavens)
My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword
What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -
- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun
..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
Aquiver mellifluous ineffable hiraeth nefarious somnambulist epoch sonorous serendipitous limerence bombinate luminescence ethereal illicit petrichor iridescent supine aurora solitude syzygy phosphenes oblivion ephemeral incandescence denouement vellichor eloquence defenestration Sondra effervescence cromulent cellar-door debridement
Illustrator icon verdant cerulean aeneous albicant amaranthine azuline argent chartreuse damask ferruginous haematic hyacinthine ibis ochre primrose russet sanguineous virescent mystborn transcendence
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
*"To the East, to the East"
Cry the Ibis and the Locust Beast
"To the East and the Sycamore Feast!"*
The call of the Firebird
crackles in mid-air,
The Ash of the Sycamore
blowing in the wind
echoes of tomorrow
As silent slave bells bear
creaks at the gateway
Sing:
"Catch-ink; catch-ink!"
*"To the East, to the East"
Cry the Ibis and the Locust Beast
"To the East and the Sycamore Feast!"*
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 6:46 AM UTC
In a hammock
On the eve of final exams
There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing
the distances of Starbucks and the library,
an unusual sight at eleven at night
There is peace
In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma-
running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag
Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious
There is heat condensed around the height of brains
Struggling to realize dreams that require
Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work
The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves
There is energy in the fractal jungle above
The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering
I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt.
The light pollution overpowers his body but
he reminds me that there is more in the astral world
Ibis scour the ground
Some would read the tea leaves
that bravest of birds has crossed my path
And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life
There is closure to my left
Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell
Only they know what goes on inside,
and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
it's inherent ontology, it's not even necessary to process inherited ontology; inherited ontology can be riddled and lost to abstraction like the invention of crosswords as antidote to the drilling-in of the Bible... but inherent ontology? inherent is a tautological invitation to italicise the word ontology - tautology anti synonym - the doubly stressed, point origin secured, but from two adjacent / adjective angles - well, might as well be a compound, the adjacent-adjective, when language meets math and math meets.... d'uh... or simply arithmetic, because that's how it's easily translated, arithmetic is grey people and math the rich... language the poets and grammar the farts.
a shortened critique of pure reason -
a) based on phenomena
(things most likely talked about)
and
b) based of noumenna
(things least likely talked about)....
i.e. a) and the ego implant,
and b) the god implant -
likewise the zealots on either side,
bleep bleep beep r r e r s.... and muslims...
i forgot to mention that Kant forgot
to mention the trigonometric foundations
as justifying owning a villa or whatnot,
the same foundations of having
the implant ego secured and willed
are the same parameters of the
implant god secured and thought
the point being dynamic parallelism,
mid-way between cosine and sine
rigid fluctuation tangents occur,
the ridiculous abbreviations, the p.s., and ibis.;
you're basically born with ego
or you're born with god -
there's no woof woof Pavlov chime chime in between -
ring-a-ding-ding-surprise?
there's no side-winding to create cinema -
being born with ego is explained clearly, coerced
with monetary affairs;
being born with god is explained "clearly", coerced
with murderers, lastly -
no psychological theory will box-me-in
given the lost tribalism and the usage of
the trans-valuation of the synonym of thing -
with money came slang - and all thorough evils,
with slang, synonyms, antonyms, critique of vocab.,
Arizona in the ******* Amazon -
i'm basically saying what Kant said:
god isn't uncool or whatever atheism tends to forget,
it's an implant of functioning, we can't rid it
by argument, and we certainly can't accept it
by prayer - unless we're dumb enough to do either
for worth of understanding tornadoes;
because that's were Seymour Hoffman started for me,
filming Twister.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
The willow tree was huge as I sat under it. Morning doves were skittering across the water.
Big willow trees hung over the water like a plump elderly lady bent over a beloved cat. The Sun was just starting to come up.
My brother looked beautiful under the willow tree, I wished I could be more like him. He stared at me; I noticed the perfect way his lips were shaped. My lips are nowhere near that pretty.
I knew how lucky I was to have him.
I secretly called him my goddess because he was so beautiful.
Wet hot tears ran down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it, everything was so overwhelming. This is the best feeling in the world.
Being in the most wonderful place, the wind blowing through my hair, with the most wonderful brother in the world.
“For heavens sake what’s the matter!”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
“It’s so pretty” I finally told him. “So pretty, pretty, pretty” I muttered to myself.
He would never understand.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 12:57 AM UTC
It's funny how many people
will gather around
just to see one man on a building.
They don’t even know me
I barely even know me.
I’ve seen the gate but I've
never entered it;
never could find the **** key.
It's sick really,
they’re not here
because they care
they don’t even know who I am.
They just want to
partake in ritual sacrifice.
I’ll die like a Viking
a heroic death in combat.
I’ll be caught by Valkyries.
My body will be
of fire
and I will steal their children’s innocence.
They can shield their eyes,
but I’ll
scar the Earth,
I’ll
paint her red.
A mural with my brain.
And they can see everything that’s inside.
I’ll break the **** door
right off its hinges.
You can’t make people care,
but you can force them to see.
It's cold up here,
and the city is beautiful:
constructs of man
breaking the sky.
And me, in her.
At least the wind
is on my side,
the defiled king left to die
in a labyrinth of stone.
The sewers as my
burial crypt,
rats and snakes
******* my blood.
But the remnants of a soul
long forgot
still feeds the mouths that
rely on the few with food.
Their stomachs ache and
their hearts pound to
the beat of one drum.
A drum that beckons me to the edge.
Who am I to starve the hungry?
They don’t need a break,
they need to push harder.
I planted the trees.
I planted the oak
and I killed the yew.
I’ve tasted its arils
and made peace with the Ibis
that guided me here.
And as it watches me
with craned neck,
and bent beak
I leave my throne
and descend to water those
whose shade I will never sit beneath.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 7:37 PM UTC
I have entered the house of water six legions deep. Once a canopy of creativity held me. The crown I wore was a set of stars unseen. The fragmented emotions have crystallized upon the tabernacle of David's house.
I look deeply to see the snow capped mountains of attainment are behind me. I have placed the world at my feet as the ibis called to the water. The stars glisten with secrets held quietly waiting for man to explore. The wind blows and the bell tolls for those with supreme spinning joy which is the life of us all.
Deep from memory and heaven smiles across the miles from those who have gone before? I know the nurturer of me was the greatest gift received deep within the focused dreams.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:05 AM UTC
The colors of late September
talking and falling again
announcing each other like
gulls for bread
remind me that I've listened
yet every day is black and black
the mask's unsettling sweat builds and
underneaths a frowning girl
settling into it
yes darling, I see the blue
I see the coins stored under my lips
haven't paid off and
you've painted nothing to hide the holes
i'd ask for your hand in this and squint
but you, you must not have heard it
and here i've been
as cooperative as ants /
as sad as fate
with hands as red as the ibis
falling tired and certainly
tired of falling
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Static enough to wane,
my iotas oscillate out
as the last
eye
shuts to dusk.
Dew through a pellucid mind
collected in what was my body's basin;
This whispering pool
contriving my new face.
Where countenance radiates concentrically
Up, up into the Ibis' spacial noise
coalescing Tefnut's will and mine
to ecstasy
as rain.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Trace my love in the half-shell curve of a woman’s back,
Like the naked wetland of Egypt, ibis-nest of the Nile delta.
Lovely woman, throw your arm back like a tethered cord,
To this sledge-mason for your pyramids, this falcon-doting ward
Of your gold capstones, all-seeing eyes over the west-bank shore.
Love, our days of polished limestone are wind-scoured,
Left like a pile of petrified fruit from figs and bottle gourds.
Love, always forget, now the sand has filtered into my pores
And cascades into the empty shell of my quarried heart.
Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
When I awaken
When I hear the weave
Of Egyptian cotton
Rise and fall
Around your torso
When you wrap yourself
As an Ibis
Offer yourself
Become eternal
Whilst we worship each other
As Pharaohs
The sun will continue to burn
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 9:21 AM UTC
Shall I paint you a picture through words
Your heart the canvas, my pen the brush
Can you see the Buffalo herds
The wide fields and foliage lush
Trees full of scarlet ibis birds
Mangrove roots drinking water
A portrait made from so few words
Poetry my true alma mater
Watercolor verse stain the page
As landscapes take shape and form
This style of art all the rage
Where wanderlust is born
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 11:26 AM UTC
My love must be a kite run
Tight wrung ribbons
Separate the knots in my knees
Knots from wine
She moves about the kitchen flicking flames off candles
That wine at the table at which I sit is a good wine
I think of the troubles of writing at a screen
I'll consider the problem of writing in a notebook
When I find that **** notebook.
Speaking honestly to a tray of napkins
They can't help the Merlot that's polishing the table
Dark wood is well stained. She asks if I
Remember the small room wine fests in my dorm
My sheets came home from college dotted purple
I remember.
Lurking in the shadows
These thoughts free themselves
Releasing the inescapable passion of a zealot unheard for centuries
Now, in this miniature pressing of keys a wire company will see every idea that spills out of me
The pigs
I hope they come to my door wearing black.
Honey, your hot, don't get mad,
She appears out of the smells
I'm drunk, not mad, I'm spilling the Merlot
We have more, dear.
I love that woman right there and none other
Lets jump out the window and roll through the grass
Come on child, cant you see we got cliffs to catch.
**** on up your hind legs and lets get to moving.
Don't you know its half past seven and the turn tables grooving
I like that, she says, reminds me of the pictures of you as a boy
I turn to thank her but I can't find her
She dissolves into the smells of the kitchen
And plus, I'm gone.
What is human nature unless covered by an aesthetic, who am I, if not an imposer?
What poet is this, if not the first?
A line of a poem is a poem in itself
I'll regret this next week
But, sand over rock will polish something smooth
In a thousand years, no regret
A mesa stands grounded
In an ocean of wind
Herring cries
Through the morning leaves
What makes them mourning?
They're just a different shade green.
I like that too, she says to me
An Ibis will wind through a pond
But is it just his wake we see, or can
We really spot that bird?
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
water flows & flows & splutters
through a weir & a pipe on the sand
with rampant ibis & seagulls with
chips from the hands of children
an iconic beach disappoints in the flesh
the south end where nobody covers
that much skin as there's not lots
to hide while they flaunt & smoke & blister
under sun & ice-cream melts
as the waves roll & roll
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
Speak slow
with savoured words
these soft yearnings.
Speak soft
of things never spoken.
For words scare
the ibis and carrion crow
which circle and caw
above this simple bed.
Where we lie simply, and roll simply
amongst the long curling legs
that rise above like ivory eyed pedestals
of things beautiful and true.
And yet, this simple bed
will not hold these simple bodies-
beautiful and broken.
And the sanctity of words unspoken
held us by it's token
as we passed into the night
with all we left unspoken.
So speak slow
As we pass into the night.
So speak soft
Under moon burnt light-
But speak! Ye poets,
Ye swine, Ye ****
Speak and be heard
before the burning sun
with voice, and pen
and scorching scent!
Or suffer the sleep
and endless repent.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 1:01 PM UTC
glossy black feather,
lost in the human shadow
ibis fades from sight.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
pearl ibis
cloistered wings
withdrawn
in elegant embrace
pearl ibis
in my heart
chiffon
refined in lace
pearl ibis
stately
in the dawn
elemental grace
pearl ibis
bristle whiskers
painted in wavy sun
softly singing swan
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 1:03 AM UTC
tripping in a cemetary
having almost conversations
with ducks.
these ducks are somethin else
i tell you what.
all i have is water.
and here comes mr.iguana.
OH NO!!
ibis dont mind,
and i might be getting carried away by ants right now.
gotta go.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
I used to play hide and seek in your trunk
and watch as the wind makes your leaves jump
You always gave me air to breathe
Always been my place of peace
You always gave animals warm shelter
And gave bees your flower's sweet nectar
But alas, people did not see your gifts
For they cut you down and throw you over death's cliffs
As more and more of you disappear
the warming of the earth is getting more severe
What once was green is now all brown
There is no more fresh air, all life is starting to drown
Fire engulfs and takes your life
As politicians continue to speak words of strife
What once was green is now all black and red
Where there was once life, now everything is dead
No more deer, foxes, lizards, or birds moving
Scientists continue to keep proving
that this issue is real and it is serious
But everyone continues to be actless
In the ocean's forest, the green is turning brown as well
As acid in the water reduces the shells
Animals now eat plastic
instead of what is supposed to be their diet
Species of animals are disappearing one by one
As we pick them off with spears, traps, and guns
Now look what we have done to our only home
Now our children have nowhere else to roam
The ocean now is filled with plastic
The air they breathe will make them sick
They will never know what an elephant is
Or ever see the beautiful bird called the crested ibis
They will never see the rhino with its beautiful horn
because they have all died off, and none could be born
Now children who play hide and seek no longer have a place to hide
If we don't do something soon,
to the earth we can only say goodbye
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
a flight of ibis
landed on the river's edge
to forage for frogs
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
Long time ago
A single sin rotted her karma
She had stolen her sister's most loveable item
A long angelic white dress.
In the silverness of moonlight
One dress would become scarlet red
She walked steadily towards her
With only anger shining through her michievious eyes
Now humming like a scarlet ibis
she weaping hapilly
walks towards her pray
knowing that the dress will always be scarlet
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
He has cerulean eyes that I despise
And Martin Senour Paints' white ibis hair.
He is a skyscrappppeerrrr.
But God ****** I like looking up at that body over there.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
Outside, cars drive by
Revving their engines
Tyres heaving and sighing
Cicadas chirping a rhythmic tick in the park
Crickets nearby, abuzz, filling the sound
The Botanical Gardens lures the suntanned and glistened
It is humid! So I’m told
I sit at my desk. The helm of this wonderful building
Residents drift in and out past me
Offering sweet smiles and gestures
Ibis visit, picking out the bugs of the terracotta façade
Two Indian Myna Birds build a nest in the canopy
I am mesmerised
A rainbow light streams in across a beautiful artwork
Did Mr Piano know that that this light beam would cut across the lobby for me to see?
The keys are in order and checks done. Mr Reed got his paper.
The building sits solid as the seasons pass.
Breathing calmly as it’s heart beats for a very long time.
May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 11:59 PM UTC