"incommunicado" poems
Head hunched forward,
Brain plugged in,
Cyberspace awaits.
Fingers clicking,
Eyes scanning,
Detached from reality,
My hourly fix.
Oblivious to the world,
Incommunicado
From flesh and bone.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC
shirtless screaming through
the heartland and I used
to smoke cigarettes
too.
she never wanted
to stay: the youth
she had
left demanded it.
now, I'll wager
she's somewhere
in an apartment with
some dandy that
wears sweater vests
to Thanksgiving dinner.
maybe she thinks
about me and my little
twisted heart every
now and again:
like when she's away
from the sweater vest
on the toilet
behind a locked door,
"be right out, babe!"
or toting groceries
through a parking lot
to her car,
or signaling a
left turn before
changing her mind
and deciding to
go straight instead.
and
maybe I need to
stop thinking
about her
especially after
three years
incommunicado
but what can I say?
I've never slept on
a bed of nails
I couldn't
dream on.
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 9:34 AM UTC
A very firm intention
To tell it as it is
Has the audience attention
On its toes and all afizz,
Though channelled to the circumspect,
With a patterned thought awry
It chaotically cascades
Across the prism of the eye.
It chaotically discharges
In a scattergun array
Of verbal innuendoes
Through a thin, saliva spray,
And all the passion spent in telling,
All the effort of the tale,
Sends a barrage of confusion
To occipital portrayal.
Where the tiny bones of balance
All atremble with the sound
Have discharged interpretation
Through a penny to a pound.
There’s a lost extrapolation,
There’s a blank look on the face
Where the balance of exchange
Has frittered nimbly from this place.
A calmness in both parties
As a sad pretence prevails,
Where communication nexus
Is ignored to save the whales.
Marshalg
Incommunicado
30 May 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
You obviously don't speak silence
or you would have heard me say
Stay.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
Incommunicado?
I can't tell of what
I know.
Padlocks on my tongue
to stop it running loose,
a noose around my neck
just in case.
Silence is tarnished by
oxidisation.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
I think what’s happened here is miscommunication
Or something of the sort
A failure to compromise, or a lit fuse too short
Some simple, unavoidable misunderstanding
Of something hardly usable
That can’t be super-glued or monkey glued
Or any type of glued
Just listen: I’m not supposed to be here
I left so long ago
That place where what you think matters
That place where I listen for your words
We’re non-incommunicado, just in the reverse
Sure I could have said it clearer
But the phrase “it’s over” is overused and terse
I prefer my way, my place
Where I whisper “I forgive you”
Even though neither one of us is hurt
Except me
Where I’m hurt, and it matters
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 11:21 AM UTC
there's no couching this effort...
celluloid film jitteriness of memory...
akin to a centipede thrumming
about a dank cellar.
i can not vacuum this stead...
with mind over matter...you
are It...the holy of holies afforded me.
noteworthy, and uncelebrated...we are--
as far's love's itemized.
incommunicado, and legendary--
our poetic licenses bestowed upon
one another...years would go where they
go...and concerned parties would head-butt
the genesis/apocalypse of our Go...minus been.
my love's no recourse to lovelessness...
(for you...that is) for...i'm drawn to a
picture, picturing overexposure.
Hardening, hard, and harder times felled
atop us...now help me lift.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
As the days go by without a word from you,
I'm left here wondering what is really true.
My mind counts all the possibilities
So here's a poll--won't you answer please?
There's no need to be cruel or unkind,
Just pick the choice that best bespeaks your mind.
And if somehow I missed your favored choice,
Use Other then to give yourself a voice.
Now if you're very brave, and Other's what you've checked,
You know how to find me: please connect!
I haven't written you because:
a. You scare me!
b. I'm waiting for you to get the hint: go away!
c. My computer crashed so I lost your email. Thank God you wrote!
d. You're divorced? I can't even talk with you.
e. I thought you wanted *** now--I don't want to be friends first!
f. I got kidnapped by terrorists and have been held incommunicado!
g. I got in a car wreck and I'm in the ICU.
h. I met someone 'way cooler than you. Drop dead!
i. Other
We here at Gallup thank you for taking the time to respond to our questionnaire. You may have been selected to participate in additional polls.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC
That river runs most of the year, through
Wickenburg, Arizona,
phonic resonance, wiccan, twisted wick
dipped in golden oil to write the vision,
seen from the copper kettle coffee shop
on the banks of the shallow Hasayampa
I formed a story from a glimpse, an instance
made plain for me, I see, seeming
to think we know I mean you see, we know.
We know the way oaths work, we comprehend
open source, may we all say we know and know,
nothing said to have been done by truth,
as all things worked together,
is intentionally keeping
our interpretations of story smeared history,
from just yesterday, as true, first impression
as ever began,
I wrote. And I write, and as I write, I think,
I pray, instants passed in the process give
momentary pause
ele-ment-al
all ment ends are mental acts done thought,
deed done, as when in his heart a man does,
be it he or she, wombed or un, mirror neurons
do not discern thought and deed, indeed,
we all have been beguiled, but never forever.
We die to know, but we then do, as far as you
may know, until we go incommunicado.
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 3:43 PM UTC
*my silence means naught
please don't interpret my heart
it has its own voice*
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
We haven't talked in weeks
Which doesn't mean we're broken up, because you have to be going out with somebody
Before they can break up with you, but I still have the taste of your lips on mine
So what does that mean?
3 weeks ago, when I began this hiatus incommunicado
I told myself I would talk to you again when it wouldn't be about making myself bleed
And I waited for my scars to fade enough to hold a ****** normal conversation
I’m still waiting
I once told you how bad I can make myself
How I can get trapped in that train of thought that leads to razors and scars
I was shaking because I was so far into it
Losing feeling, warmth, and control over my limbs far too rapidly
I always get cold when it hurts like this
I'm so cold I can see my breath on an 80 degree perfect day
But I refuse to find warmth in other people again
See I do this thing, and I know I do
Where I find somebody with such good inside them
Find somebody whose soul is somehow just so ******* beautiful
And then I destroy that
Don't believe me?
Look at each of my ex-boyfriends and my far-too-close friends
Observe that haunted look in their eyes
I've ruined them
You don't see it but you are so good
And I refuse to destroy that
I'm ****** up
There are days when each breath feels like a car crash
Which is ironic because the last time I was in a car crash
I couldn't really breathe for a week
I am crushed metal and crushed lungs
And you should know enough to run
So we haven't talked in weeks
Let’s hope it lasts
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
Call me lunatic if you must , the Moon if you will ! I , Randolph L Wilson , crazy as a June bug , most assuredly chemically depressed , a studious satellite that ponders the Earth ! With keen knowledge of the dominant species , their transgressions and capabilities . 'Tis with complete faculty of mind that I continue to remain in complete physical apogee from my kind the remainder of my days !
Political persuasion whispered in passing shall render the wise man incommunicado , deaf to much speaks , tongue nailed to the upper palate of thy mouth !
I would sooner wrestle a ravenous Grizzly Bear than assume the mechanisms of the female mind , walk barefooted over hot coals before allowing a publican one minute of my precious time !
Would gladly face the unquenchable fire than deal with the most "respectable Attorney" available !
Look as though I've witnessed a ghost when questioned as to my religious persuasion !
Fifty years bankrupt to the true wealth of the world , my soul at rest this very hour , held within my hands , the jewels of insight and enlightenment !
Metta morning , metta Noon , metta late in the afternoon , count thy blessings at the foot of the bed , extol loves many rewards with every breath , walk with eyes affixed to their destination , looking right nor left , freeing the mind of numerous trepidation .!
The Moon
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Around the corner, carefully
spread under the weight of
an artificial skeleton
partially collapsed like light
bent in a glass; displaced.
I spit static at her feet
like a broken tv threat
in the middle of a storm
while times face spins
and gives away pieces of
itself, generously, hand over hand
slowly becoming expended.
We've become victimized
by spacial distortion, left
with no options. Standing
as question marks with
long shadows as dusk dies
making gestures with mouths
that build dust on bedsheets.
I tell her that I love her like
liferafts and that in the ocean
of days she is keeping me afloat.
The words break the ground into
uneven sections, missing all fault
lines and creating walls of syllables,
tall like trees that flower and cut off
all lines, leaving us momentarily
incommunicado.
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 8:32 PM UTC
along the lace-edged surf
I walk looking for message bottles
but today the sea is silent
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
Alacrity bespeaks entangled, entombed,
and entrapped Thai soccer team
diminishing strength barely allows,
but a whispered scream,
which rescue against all odds
(plucked out cavernous catacomb),
fast becoming a fading dream
vicariously agonizing to see
desperation and lads bravely brace,
helplessness predominating over initial
found alive break thru gain
promising grim destiny slowly doth erase
yet resignation impossible
to ignore written on every face
despite faux (cracking)
courageous front,
now severely testing grace
under underground solid state
rock geomorphology
necessitating stepped up pace
to rescue, sans race
against time encroaching threatened space
with predicted mon
soon meteorologists trace
with laser pointer predict
ominous incursion cave
at mercy of vulnerable flooding
worst case scenario, grave
nightmare predicament
in an attempt to save
youths with barely enough
strength to smile or wave
downgrading my own fear
being emotionally incommunicado
during prepubescence
pretending not to hear
clapping skeletal hands over each ear
to blot out hyper consciousness of glare
ring existence squelching
feeble effing dare
sputtering Nietzscheism at every turn
of the (ripped torn) page
airtight barricade against transformation
into manhood stage
fighting to the death
foaming at mouth dagger like
canine teeth savagely
evincing snarling rage,
no match for reinforced
rebar invisible cage
holding self hostage,
not enough money
to pay hefty ransom,
thus thine mental health
compromised, which
to this day still pay steep wage.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
*Writing my diary in the church
of the forest
In deep cover , incommunicado ,
unnoticed , a heretic of mans oppressive
religions , a worshipper of bird and tree
A prayer for each grain of sand along
the field road
Receiving tranquility then releasing my burden
into windsongs* ...
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A demeanour equable to viridity,
The nascence of a lamb.
The supposed handsel from the welkin!
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A swaying of a quixotic mind,
The dance from the societal crwth;
The derogation of the lamb via gibes.
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A continual lampoon –
The spawn of a chapfallen eagle.
The brainchild of a timorous creature.
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A diagnosis of a bird in incommunicado with flight;
A late palpation, albeit.
The societal routine…
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
*Blue cover , incommunicado
Wiregrass incense , cool shadow
Nibbling a long bit of **** fescue
No fires that need tending , no friends to "rescue*"
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC