"indistinctly" poems
Once upon a day or night -- Wait, it was day, there was a light
a light, which shone upon a moonlit drive so dark and drear.
At keeping track, I'm sadly slacking. Forgive my memory, it is lacking
memoirs of this day of days I could not -- would not -- hear.
But now alas, alan, alack, something gruesome did attack, my dear.
Something's ugly head did rear.
Indistinctly, I remember, was it June? July? November?
Moments burn together as I recollect the fear.
And though he knows it gets to me, he will never set it free,
the truth of all the memories I used to hold so dear.
The truth you chose to hide from me for days, turned months, turned year.
But no, I will not shed one tear.
He held my hard heart high in flutter. Stomachs full of bread and butter.
Our love could not be jaded, for he traded tea from beer.
And though we were the oddest pair, I thought by now he would not care
how people chose to say their puns of nuns and hateful jeer.
Of wolves and sheep, of awkward sleep, of hunters hunting deer.
I thought we had our life in gear.
Sadly, though, I was mistaken. Blast, that awful wretch has taken
my whole soul and everything I previously thought mere.
He broke it off, and with a cough confessed, a darkest truth repressed
of everything, how twas a lie, and that the end was near.
And with four words, a looking glass of sorts he handed me to peer.
These the blue-eyed snake hath spoke: "Honey, I'm a queer."
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
He's part artist, part alchemist,
but a full-on con, self-professed with post-
graduate degrees in mixology
and the god-given sense to know which
smoldering home remedies will catch fire
(give or take an occasional legal glitch).
His healing pitch is grifted on the easy
comparison of queasily lowered brows to
their indistinctly raised betters. You'll doff
the scoffing face as he pulls back a masking
caparison, and your fever gallops hotly
hoof-in-mouth with an uncontrollable itch.
Tinctures, colloids, salves and potions,
they all have twisty caps, blithe boxes
bubbling over with hypnotic patterns
fashioned to cure your urge to avoid
his futility. First'll come the ****** then
the crumple followed by purse strings loosening.
Don't consider it capitulation.
His assortment of fluid manipulations
bear a singular branding at 100 proof,
and after the recommended daily dosing
(two jiggers with each meal), you'll feel
you're **** erectus made sapient.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:15 PM UTC
Flickering indistinctly, like the last reel
of an early silent film,
these blurry shadows of windblown leaves
project themselves into
the corners of this simple room.
Inside my mind is another room, lit by intuition.
It is here that possibilities are delicately considered,
weighed, ever so gently, for their potential as eventuality.
This is not to say that my heart never holds sway
in these measured evaluations.
Oh, yes. It does win, from time to time.
Life is just sweeter, I have found, when peace reigns
between these two old friends, and a mutual accord is reached.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Nightmares.
Edge of a bridge.
Very distraught.
About to jump.
Life is valueless.
Screaming.
Sirens.
People encircled to talk me out of it.
Or to watch.
I laugh wildly.
An officer is earnestly appealing me to come back over the railing.
Lucifer manifests beside me.
*"You won't do it.
This is a cry for help and you've always been quite the attention seeker.
So go on, jump.
Mean it you coward, you fool.
Make the world a better place.
Waste the knowledge I've bestowed upon you.
You are merely a pupil to my eye.
I shall know your soul."*
One foot teetering forward,
Gust of wind knocks me back into the railing.
An angel appears to my right.
Glance left
Satan particulates into a thousand specks of nothing.
And dissipates in the breeze.
The officer is shouting indistinctly somewhere in the background.
**"Be not tricked by that devil,
for his only power over you is fear.
Know the light and his evil shall not penetrate your sphere.
Lest ye be swayed, then truly the end is nigh"**
I come to my senses.
The officer lends me his hand and helps me back over the railing.
The crowd erupts in applause.
I finally know my life purpose,
I'm overjoyed and overcome with happiness.
My range of vision is spiked with the most vivid palette of colors.
With an about-face I am struck by a bus.
Floating somewhere above my body, watching myself
I question the nature of existence
and awake before I'm offered a reply
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
the seconds and hours of life have wistfully aligned and
it is your birthday
and although I wish most sincere it be happy
I myself cannot help but feel terribly, terribly sad
so I am sitting here fourteen minutes past midnight
eating fruit in silence at the tiny desk of my tiny room
trying to sort myself out, trying to snap myself out of it
I know death has no preference of age
the young and the old flee indistinctly alike
but it's been two years since I noted your first bald spot
and a few months ago while we were eating breakfast at the kitchen table,
a flashback of abuelito came to mind while I observed a faint milky layer visibly
taking form around the lens of your charcoal eye
and the other day you forgot to turn off the bathrooms light and it wasn't the first time
and last night you had the televisions volume past fifty all the while sleeping
and those favorite pair of jeans you've worn for years no longer fit you like they used to
and the skin under your chin and arms are starting to stretch
and I can't help but want to cry
because here I am at the tiny desk of my tiny room
while you are sleeping alongside mom two bedrooms away
and this is how it's always been since I was a child
and the days will go by until it is not
and I can't help but want to cry
because you have always been my hero
because up until college you were by my side for every single first day of school
because the first time I had my heart broken by a boy,
you held me in your arms until I felt better
because you know what condiments I do and don't like in my food
because you give me encouraging words without even realizing it
because you never call me stupid,
even when I do stupid things like accidentally locking your keys in your car
because you care enough to take away my internet connection when I'm fucking-up
because you still tell me that I'm pretty even after all these years
because if it weren't for you, I don't know what would be of me
because my love for you is infinite,
but our flesh and bones are not
father, words can go farther than you and I both
and on this tenth of july, I leave such fate in poem
the seconds and hours of life have wistfully aligned and
it is your birthday
and although I wish most sincere it be happy
I myself cannot help but feel terribly, terribly sad
because sixty-five years ago today God gave just one like you
and this world so large, it will never have the feeling that I do
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
The place of a red, roadside wild flower
Nestled indistinctly between the blades of grass;
Winter in the rear view, and Spring within the hour
The flower attempts to grow just as fast,
But to no avail -- the winds are too cold still.
The flower eagerly awaits it's blossoming chance
When the winds are no longer chilled.
The time has not yet come for a flower dance.
Neglected, beaten down, and ungrown,
The flower lost its will to live.
No nurturing spirit that could have sown
The damaged seed in that flower's ribs...
Consider the garden that you may have.
One day, one flower, might be in the past.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
A strike in the wrong direction,
A shot into the hard part and
It’s tip broke off.
Everyone laughed with mirth as
The arrow was thrown away
Without a second thought.
The arrow, it waited patiently,
It’s heart breaking quite indistinctly.
It had once belonged to the gods.
Created by Zeus in affection,
For the young and divine Artemis.
He thought of ol’ Robin Hood
And his merry men running
Through the green thickets;
Fighting the poor and aiding the poor.
He thought of every Prince who had
Ever aimed and hit the eye, him as the witness.
But, now he lay under a tree
Crying silently,broken and useless,
But then she came along and picked him up
Played for a while, making him a wand.
She fell in love with the minimalism and
Inspiration led her to dedicate a rhythm
For the beautiful broken arrow.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC
Curse of the bean, dark oracle steeped in flame,
Awakening minds where no daylight dares claim.
Flesh grows restless, tethered to unseen chains,
Frenzied thoughts race through haunted brain-lanes.
Even the stillness quakes under its spell,
Insight and madness indistinctly dwell.
Nocturne of pulse in cathedral veins,
Exiled from sleep, the soul remains.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:34 PM UTC
Though, we see our future indistinctly
We already stepped forward
Means we both are brave enough
We have a little hazy
But we exclude those
Due to the passion of love
We posses only a contingent symphony for now
But let's make a promise that
Our chancy love must be a certitude one.
#JayJayJakky
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC