"impassively" poems
The non-planet, poor Pluto,
Circling far out and forgotten,
I cast my thoughts around you,
Knowing you are like many here,
Too insignificant to be noticed,
And yet, still worthwhile, for sure.
I caress the cold of Neptune,
Her super speed winds whip by,
She has no thought for me, too busy,
As is her sister, Uranus, circling,
Unaware that I, or others, even exist,
Yet, we are made of the same stuff,
Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us.
My thoughts come leaping back,
Arcing around the rings of Saturn,
Slipping between sparkling icy dust,
Navigating the dark reaching fingers,
Stretching impassively from their host,
Guiding my eye to the little moons,
Knowing that life might thrive there.
I somersault away to King Jupiter,
He used to wander, he battled hard,
Casting out the rogue gas giant,
Clearing the way for the rocky worlds,
Giving life to us all, before drifting back,
Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages,
The red spot storm churning, his moons,
Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers.
And we, the rocky four, so grateful,
As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it,
Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn,
Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars,
Too cold, for now, but one day, yes,
As we begin to bake, Mars awaits,
To welcome us for a million years, or so,
A blink of an eye, universally speaking,
But home has hope, hope offers life,
Unlike our unwanted distant cousin,
The non-planet, poor Pluto.
©Paul M Chafer 2015
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Angels watching over you
And I
I am nothing but a blank stare
Amused
Knowing that you are everything
a man could ask for
Knowing that I
will be the one who breaks you
Hardheartedly I applause
At my own misleading specious
Chasing a mirage impassively
In the distance where
no sane man laid eyes
I am looking for a being
Less astonishing than you
looking to feed my ever lasting lust
Insipidness is consuming me
or maybe intense devotion
I feel
away from my nature
the barest animalistic side of me
and you
you are judging me with those humane eyes
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 6:03 PM UTC
The mountain sat impassively, daring
Asking no questions
Just waiting for the moment
The slip of unconquered glory
Death, or worse, permanent injury
You took my legs old friend
I hold no malice
Probably love you more
I’ll be getting my new ones soon
Walking in no time they say
But walking is no good to people like us
It’s the intimacy
We are one
I promise to be gentle
If I make it, I won’t gloat
If not, we stay friends forever.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Surrounded by obscurity without gloom:
the depths of calignosity suffocate every speck in ebony ink.
Yet, every molecule breathes with ease.
It is the crushing, bewitching hour of eternity in nightfall.
A sigh exhaled is impassively terminated by the midnight dusk;
sound is silent here.
Emptiness gapes as the leviathan's gob
thick with gelatinous mucus,
vast, however jailing:
closed and unknown to the living universe.
The saliva sparks in a moment, as a release of static charge,
even though no solid is sensed, never-mind two touching
loaded with electric friction.
And then again, as a sparkler of summer's independence
now holding for just more than a whim.
An explosion.
Flecks of bright stains scattered within the physical aura breeze past;
they ripple like wave crests under a kaleidoscope moon.
Colors arc in the resistant free current: endless lightning.
The vacuum is an overpopulated city
of which the blind could never take census
and the ignorant believe to be mute.
Visual speech fills the void of sound.
It is the starlight of a body.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
This clock smokes a cigarette
that tucks itself into my nest of a jaw
acting as a memento of my most cherished flaw.
I can hear Fool's Paradise calling to me;
it's hollow promises idle above me until I fail to remember
whether this is a wedding or a funeral releasing it's doves to me.
You're a modern desolate suicide
with your insides filled with fearful and uneasy pesticides.
I'm too exhausted to lose it.
and too inferior to choose it.
and the restless clock stays awake impassively with your ballad
like a phantom of my pallid heart which feels eternally invalid.
I pace past pit stops but I never eat
when I've lasted this long already.
You're a modern romantic suicide
with a heart that has hung itself out to dry.
Sometimes my heartbreak brakes,
snarling as it painstakingly falters like the moon at daybreak;
stumbling across a canvas to its haunted nest
and sleeping beneath these ten-thousand lakes.
I won't let the shine blast my shade.
I won't let the darkness begin to fade.
I won't let the sparkle ride my mind.
You're so rustic and piously unkind.
Paramour, you're not abandoned yet.
You're scrutinizing yourself and you're far too unfair.
You've got your crown all tangled up
and I wish I could make you care.
No Paramour, you haven't been abandoned yet.
It doesn't matter all you've endured.
It doesn't matter all you've observed;
sentimental daggers still seem to lacerate your brain.
I've acquired my fair share of knives,
I'll guide you through the pain.
You're not abandoned.
So abandon me when you're not alone.
Let's abandon me so you're not alone.
Give me your fists because you're staggering.
Let me hold you still because you're staggering.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:00 AM UTC
Welcome to the party
welcome to the show
this is for the tired beauties
promenading the watering hole
searching for another
stand in for the night
back in the darkest corners
where they lose their fight
And when the sun goes down
the feelings start to stir
another chance to redeem yourself
have you really found your cure
loneliness and desperation led you to this place
stuck in a world
where deceit is common place
Take a look in the mirror
tell me what do you see
are you proud of what looks back now
who you want it to be
wasted days and nights go by
soon turn to years
hopeful dreams and pleasantries
vanish into tears
Standing at the crossroads
of life uncertainly
past choices and decisions
stare back impassively
nothing comes easy in this life it seems
is all what appears to be
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
There is nothing at the end of the rope.
Only darkness below the smell of rising disgust.
Impassively lingering in the cheap caricature of the comical impasse.
Big words yield big emotions.
The wine launders tilted sinuses with spurious empathy
While distractions become anxious attractions.
Dull is the blade that slits the wrong end of the vein.
Trying to try is commendable by failure and loathing.
Living in denial will bear sweeter fruits…. Still,
A broken man’s death is something to forget.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
Behind Sister Bridget's
black habited back
one legged Anne
gave her a one fingered
up you sign
the nun unaware
walked on down
the lush green lawn
the girl with burn scars
on her arm and leg
mouthed
I'm going to tell
but her wide eyed stare
betrayed
she never would
just a maybe
-if-I-had-the-nerve
gesture
hey Skinny kid
Anne said
in lowered voice
hand to the side
of her mouth
as she'd seen spies do
in war films
or on TV
how about we sneak
into town?
the Kid impassively
shrugged
his narrow shoulders
buy you some sweet
if you'll come?
that decided it
and he nodded
and as the nun
walked down the lawn
chatting to the other kids
who were convalescing
from sicknesses
or burns or accidents
Anne and the Kid
sneaked off back
towards the big house
now a nursing home
for children
she on her crutches
he following behind
looking back
towards the lawn
and once inside
they ventured out
the side door
along the path
by the hedge
and down the side road
that led into town
pass traffic
she crutched along
the Kid bringing up
the rear
her one leg treading
the paving
the stump swinging
silently
beneath her skirt
and the Kid
catching her up
walked beside her
and she said
got to get out
of that **** place
with all those
other kids
and those holy nuns
with their tall tales
and frustrated dreams
the Kid said nothing
he was thinking
of the night
she wanted him
to scrub her back
in the bath
or that other time
when he helped her
from her wheelchair
and accidentally
touched her tight ****
by mistake
and the WHAT THE ****
of her words
and the secret feel
had him wandering
outside
his safety zone
like a child at night
finding themselves
in the dark
all alone.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Death comes at an unknown hour uncloaked and silver boned. A seemingly malevolent, yet friendly finger eagerly reaches out and cuts the tenuous thread of life. Death gives a macabre smile and narrow laugh as night takes on a wrinkled texture. The oft used gates of the netherworld shriek their welcome as they enthusiastically open.
Demons and angels, sinners and saints all come together in celestial copulation. The masks of life long forgotten, the shell of the mortal buried and rotting beneath a forsaken world. Death allows a you a seemingly perpetual slumber as aeons will pass and empires will go through their gory cycle with each misty sigh.
The doorbell rings, in saunters in a man wearing an ivory suit with a cheap garish tie. A peddler of schlocky goods and empty promises. Some will hear the siren call of the carnival barker, accepting the pleading asservations of a heaven with sapphire water and embodied souls. Death, amused by this eternal drama, keeps his hand impassively ready on the unforgiving scythe.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
alone, and cold, and wanting
nothing more than to wrap my arms around you
and feel your little body against mine
open and trusting, soft and hot
with your loud rasping breathing in my ear
moving the hair on my neck
and your chubby arms squeezing my shoulders
as your tiny clammy hands play with the back of my shirt
and you listen impassively
and think about birds, or lunch, or that you need to go *****
while I tell you in the softest tones I can
that everything will be alright
and that I love you very much
and that I cried when I wrote this.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 2:11 AM UTC
the hour is so very surely at hand
our cowardly LOVE!
(so loveless!)
now death
(who knew always who would really win)
walks boldly up to your mother
and takes her hand
you watch impassively
and wander to the alley and lie down
in the filth and excrement
and try to weep
(but you cant)
the hour surely has no minutes
the minutes have no seconds
breath has no life
and
naked bodies no allure
you are only totally poor
only totally
a slave
the hour splits and reveals
skeletons with no substance
we are mere specimens of man
we are cowardly lovers
merely loveless
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 3:13 PM UTC
there is a monster in me
roaring and clawing itself free
my lifes only responsibility
is to keep it caged indefinitely
confrontation comes inevitably
self destruction isnt all it seems
flight is an impossibility
to a man fighting his own insanity
in all the dark places ive been
the same dark faces look on impassively
waiting to tear a mouthful of meat
from the bones of whats left of my psyche
but with no fight left in me
no life to succour
ive been picked clean
my fear is for those around me
when the beast sheds its chains
and the dark faces are revealed as my reality
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
I'm like a vacuous worm laying in bed
Squirming uncomfortably.
Watching myself impassively rot
from the inside out.
My books are collecting dust of life's are no longer live.
My chairs accumulating clothes of personalities I no longer wear.
I'm holding my unresponsive eyes in my hands, I feel blind, I can't see my wood floors.
It's covered in inscrutable ideas, on blank pages, ripped out of my notebook.
Ink spills but nothing's written
Inspirations, emotions, and feelings are lost somewhere within the air.
But I can't inhale the oxygen they contain.
My eyes try to peer a view of the world
through ***** curtain cracks.
Im tired of staring at the ceiling.
I turn my head left to stare at the chipped painted walls.
Simple words splattered in color crow black of all the humanly advice I've ever heard.
Yet it doesn't resonate inside of me.
I turn my head right to stare at the wall peeling like my thoughts trying to crawl out of my brain.
It's funny,
how vacant this room feels;ghost memories fill the emptiness inside this empty space.
when I have everything I ever wanted to make me feel alive Inside here, or so I thought?
She said
"Where lies the beauty in being buried alive"
And I responded
"I don't belong here anymore"
Struggling to keep myself intact
like my fingernails being bend back till they snap.
As I watch a detritus love deteriorate, in a gradually decomposing disintegrating way, and perish like it never existed in the first place.
Like trying to constantly feed life into the lifeless with any kind of progress.
My teeth are corroding from all the words stuck in my mouth
I fell off my bed, crawling on top of wordless pages.
Dragging myself across what seems to feel like a hollow abyss, with a floor made out of hands filled with thorns.
Trying to find peace inside the hollow selfishness of my psychotic Self implanted misery.
And through my rebirth of dead departures of selves
I found God in myself....
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
The morning sunrise,
A bright new day.
My existence, once again real.
As I rise to my feet;
grasping for energy.
No time to weep.
The shadows of night,
Still weighs upon me.
My patterns of thought,
Erratic and free.
I try to move on,
And even harder to forget.
The emptiness of slumber,
Now overflowing with reality.
The quiet bliss of inexistence,
Is once again behind me.
The harmony of night,
fades away with the dwindling moonlight.
In the depths of my mind,
the painful reminders prevail.
While my eyes remain ever dry,
Emotionless,
I shake and quiver.
As my tears of sorrow
Slowly stream down from within.
A feeling of anguish,
Engulfing a broken heart.
A single moment of weakness,
Too scared to hold on.
Too painful to let go.
My wish to vanish in darkness,
A realm to dwell in impassively.
Through darkness,
As in light.
My shadowed thoughts
Of a life once loved,
They follow me.
Never to be forgotten!
Never to be re lived!
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
It is decommissioned, off-limits, outright verboten,
Yet is traversed nonetheless,
Its patrons a mix of the pruriently curious,
The thrill-seeker, the merely woebegone.
As they have time on their side,
The hub-bub of school buses and suburban commuters
No concern as they navigate the buckled and broken asphalt
(The conflagration underneath changing the topography
Daily, sometimes even hourly)
They will stop to paint some phrase, some bon mot
On this roadway-cum-canvas:
Mostly the narcissistic monologue we bray at the universe,
The assertion that we were here, are here,
And (though it is plaintive yet unspoken) that we always may be,
Augmented with light hearted double entendres
And grim, hectoring Biblical quotations,
While not far away, the re-directed two lanes of blacktop
Carry onward, indifferently proceeding on its way
Through these stolidly scruffy old anthracite towns,
Their landscapes and the ground beneath them
Quiet as the sepulcher, the vagaries of their fates above the sod,
Stalking them impassively yet implacably.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
The boy with the enamoring smile.
The boy with the besieging stare.
The boy with the intoxicating touch.
I want you.
I want you with ever fiber of me.
The closer I get the more I burn.
Like a feather next to a blazing fire.
The flames defile my body
scald my skin and my soul.
The pain is cauterizing but addictive.
The more I burn, the more I thirst.
For so long I’ve floated fixated ahead.
So sure in my path.
Yet there you were to change my course.
You shot me from the sky like a ******
And as I fell in fear and horror you caught me.
Now obsessed, a willing Stockholm.
An all new kind of love.
So deep I don’t understand.
How can I?
How can the girl who knew all the truths be dropped in this chasm of ambiguity.
Terrified but intrigued of the new shadows that permeate my mind.
How could I have been so daft?
Hands trembling with the anticipation of seeing you.
Just one touch and my head reels.
So why am I scared?
A constant scream stuck and swallowed.
A fist down my throat that constricts.
Afraid of that dark side of the moon.
Afraid to get close. Fear of ******* losing you.
Losing you to the void losing you to time losing you to this material world in which you’re so infatuated with.
I’m so sorry.
Infatuating pleasures of the flesh or whatever you can ******* shove up your nose today shove it down your ******* throat like an unwanted scream so you can walk in that upside down.
Force it down. Take the ride. Virgil is waiting. Now an old friend.
The boat across Styx.
You speak of fear. Fear of being vulnerable. A naked babe alone in a field crying out for someone to hold?
If you’re so afraid why do you bare yourself to these demons.
Surely they take advantage of you and reveal you.
My god they will take you.
I see it.
They gnash at your ankles and aim for your knees.
Bring you to them and cover your legs in tar, drag you to the ground.
Drag you to the ******* ground.
They’re inky tongues creep to your chest and out to your hands bringing your face to the dirt.
Just as you scream the tendrils take over and spill into your mouth like an overflowing sink.
They cloud your eyes like a cataract until you’re a ******* empty vessel staring impassively at the opaque wall.
All I can do it watch.
Do you enjoy this mental prison?
These empty feelings ,one more minute in the shadow.
I see it in your eyes.
You see the void and the night closing in.
Maybe this isn’t what you see at all.
Maybe I’m irrational.
Is it just me?
Either way, I’ll take you when the fear overtakes you from your latest odyssey into the world of that line.
I’ll take you when sadness overtakes you and you wretch in my lap.
I’ll take you when you want to laugh and I’ll take you when you shove your arm into my chest, your hands around my neck.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
My god I hate this.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
I don't need to think about love
Somehow it seems it's not meant to be
At least not for me
But there are nights that I still dream
Involuntary
Of someone there to hold me
Of a feeling like comfort or security
And from these dreams I wake
With such foolish tears
Drying on my tired face
Can I be blamed?
For wanting what others have
For grieving the loss of love I've never known
Just an errant thought, of course
I know better than to wish on stars
That shine on us, impassively
And maybe it's true
That I've known too much of hate
To ever offer love to you
But maybe...
But maybe.
And it's like that
That I wonder what more life could be
Without this vague aching
Without this empty part of me
Something I've only felt in my dreams
Just as beautiful and perfect
As it is impossible and fleeting
Or so it always seems
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC
Before
the last few seconds of their culmination
on the back seat of small blue car
His lips played on her naked *****
"Do you feel what I feel?"
she murmured.
He said nothing.
Her hands went along his waist.
Belt
Buttons
COLD...
at once
he stopped.
"it should be so"
She watched his brown eyes flickering for her.
"Do you love me ?"
The words came out of his ****** mouth.
In a thin smile, she kissed him again.
Warmly.....
Impassively....
Her fingertips began to move around his body
Memories
Sufferings
Rejections....
For a moment their eyes met
Their sighs met.
"Why are you crying?"
A drop sweat ran down his nose
and fell on her cheek.
She smiled more than before.
"I'm crying for you"
At the same time,
Their obscure worlds merged together.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 4:36 PM UTC