"inspection" poems
Perfection
The subjection of one’s interjections
Based on the world
The world of today
Can you change what you think
What others have to say
Were interconnected but not in connection
With a convection of perfection that inhibits rejection
Or constant correction of certain parts or sections
That people fail to mention for their own protection
Believing a misconception to gain desired affection
Wasting their discretion for a false obsession
Thoughts of concession and encouraging suppression
This is just one dissection of perfection
It is but one path, one direction
But this should lead to many other questions
What about succession from the term perfection?
Is it needed to drive people to higher ascension?
Maybe one day society can undergo a social resurrection
Where creed, religion, race, freedom are not held in contention
No more crimes, no need for detention
Everyone is happy, no more thoughts of depression
Everyone can be comfortable with their own reflection
Hopefully this dissection can leave a lasting impression
And drive home the need for a universal intervention
To stop and think what it means strive for perfection
For you may have it wrong upon further inspection
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
You do the math and I'll provide the irrationals,
as I tend to cling to panic in the asymmetry of life.
In this Twenty-First century women still suffer
from laws streaming out of councils of men.
These are not self-stabbing heroines,
they do not ask the heavy deluge of derision.
They are faced with laws stemming from an abbatoir,
from men who wish to usurp the birthright.
Men who have become strangers to their own mothers,
men whose ***** dispense a fouled milk,
men who deserve an **** ultrasound colonoscopy.
So, I beg you to balance the inequality of the equation,
gather our sisters in this non-Euclidean space:
this is one we solve by inspection!
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
A scarlet confection
Made to tasty perfection
For your mouth’s inspection
The tip of the toppings
The vanilla flavored frosting
Is so tempting to you
The taste bud’s elation
In what you are facing
Is something like devil’s food cake
The tiled floor kitchen
In the hours bewitching
Leaves your pulse a twitching
From the caloric intake
And the hours you shorten
By licking the shortening
They are a mistake
But they are your poisonous pleasure
Made to bake and yours’ to take
It’s a sweet treat we call cake
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
being a poet is not planned
**~for Gabriella Garcia~
~~
*a sixteen old soul says she understands,
being a poet is not planned,
forcing an old mans re-collection of the first time,
he made love to a virginal white
papyrus with muscles trembling,
body bent, chest bursting a rockets red glaring,
eyes marking the sheets with salty drip spots
what possessed the wrist veins
to wrest a cheap ballpoint pen to transfuse pain,
in a semaphore of uncoded ink blotches,
what was he thinking
was he thinking?
that it was an ejection
that it was an ***********
that it was a tribulation expiation
that it was a tribute explanation?
that it was an injection
that it was a circumspection inspection
that it was a circumscision surgery of emotional complexion
excising an infection with a written genuflection?
try, but no might, the first is subsumed
by the thousands that followed dutifully
though his one poem flawless, expertly recalled,
it will always be the next,
and unplanned just like this one too
who anointed his brow, the hair and forehead,
with oil pure, dripping down onto, into his cut cain marker,
who is not answering a query relentless
is this his plan, his appointment,
is this his flawed excellence,
is this his imperfect penance perpetual?
knowing well and full
now
the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloraturas*
~~
upon this he reflects,
praying that
god protect the
young poets
from planning
______________
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2893127/unplanned
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
I was raised in the wild
With all the defiled
So my mood was mild
While bodies were piled
I was a lonely coyote
The other creatures didn't know me
Because I slinked in the shade
To avoid their detection
Loneliness is what I had to trade
To pass their inspection
Other animals couldn't brave the weather
Or their fragile arteries were severed
They laid there dead
I wondered if they ever lived
It went to my head
What this world can give
I saw the buzzards
Ring their buzzers
Then the maggots fed on their brain
While not understanding their pain
These images did me no good
While I was stuck in the woods
And I couldn't see the forest through the trees
I was lost
If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze
In the frost
I tried to find a home in hollowed trees
But I was chased out by a bunch of bees
And the darkened caves
Seemed like shallow graves
When that's where bats play
But peaceful open meadows
Left me susceptible to attack
Everything seemed mellow
So I had to watch my back
Winter was approaching
And I saw no solutions
The cold air encroaching
Like frigid pollution
But my shady luck shifted
Once I was graciously gifted
A powerful and majestic horse
That put me on a better course
I ride the steed with a leather saddle
Made of skin stripped off simple cattle
It took the strength of an ox
To hold down this fox
Yet my domestication
Calls for celebration
Because now I live in a house
Without having to hide like a mouse
I can strut like a peacock
With a bird of my flock
It's a form of animal husbandry
Because you're in love with me
I'm the insistent critter
From a different litter
That saw life wither
From damage inner
I was a raccoon digging through the trash
Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash
You're an agricultural guy
So vultures circle the sky
Looking to harvest your bountiful crop
They must smell death underneath it
Their presence makes my heart drop
And all I want to do is defeat it
But even as they get near
You remain here
We stand together as scarecrows
In a defensively unified paired row
This is the delightful day
You end all my wild ways
And eliminate my suffering
With your animal husbandry
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Unmotivated by society,
Bored of this sobriety.
Let's go eye to eye and see,
Every single side of me.
Because without some thorough inspection,
Emotion goes by
without detection.
Forgive and forget,
All that you can.
For without you,
I feel like I'm ******
A forgotten man,
In a desolate land.
Has only one want
And that's to be yours,
Sometime
Within this life span.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.
My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I **** where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -
The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:
The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.
5.4k
Offshore Oil Exploration
Months of preparatory work,
Permits obtained.
Maps explored, sited,
Ground and beneath scanned,
Each contour drawn, plotted, named.
Equipment assemblage.
Platform designed and towed,
Pre-commencement government inspection
Constant.
We test. Slowly, the loose, easy dirt,
Gives in. No rejoicing yet, premature.
The diverter in place, functions well.
The deeper the bit, the harder the resistance.
The camera's eyes monitor until
We reach depths too deep for their functioning.
The derrickhands order about the junior roustabouts,
Check the mud pumps, check the pH levels,
Do this, do that. The pecking order on board clear.
The kings of the rig, the drillers, in charge.
Then, disaster.
Oil spill.
Worse.
Not only smiling,
She has
Opened her eyes and
Ceased purring.
P.S. This would as is my custom be,
Re-entitled properly:
First Poem of the Day: Offshore Oil Exploration
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
The river flows over empty promises
depositing sediment
in the form of confusion and stagnation
leaving a bad taste in one's mouth.
I hang on your every word.
Grainy is the trail
of crumbs left for inspection:
affectation over articulation;
all the better to hear you.
Skim a stone across the surface
leaving ripples of insecurities
and questions past.
The message is clear.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 7:51 PM UTC
I looked at myself in the mirror
Not myself, but a stranger to me,
And upon a closer inspection
I saw what others must see.
In a second I saw both youth and age
Beauty and beauty skin deep;
And I stared at the stranger in me
And suddenly I wanted to weep.
I went through life with blinders on
I saw what I wanted to see;
But for one moment, one second in time
I saw for once, the real me.
And as I look back I'm sorry to say
If the truth of the matter be known;
I might take back that second in time
When I saw without blinders on.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Sunday's newspapers
come on Saturday,
coupons spill out
torrentially.
weekend manna
from
publisher's hell.
makes my breathing heavy,
from studious inspection,
so many needs unmet.
I fall to pieces
every weekend,
securely knowing,
I'm lacking in
so many things,
feeling my
insecure neediness
keenly.
my Target is
feverishly simple,
solution oriented.
no can find any discounts for
new rhythms,
new rhymes,
life high fivers
to satisfy,
adhere,
and revere,
that would be my
Best Buy.
but I'm clipped,
the coupons, not.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
The Physics of Love: The Equivalency Fallacy
the poet places his Sunday porcelain coffee mug
upon his bare chest, purposed to heat the heart to a
higher degree, equal to hers, next door, three feet away,
in their communal bed
two identical alarm clocks, one on each nightstand,
confirms the degree differential, for far beyond time-telling,
it informs on me, providing the room temperature,
and her side of the bed, 5 degrees warmer
the collegial scientists posit theoretical excuses,
the rooms wind currents, proximity to the A/C, body mass,
all refuted after visual and mechanical inspection,
all indelible proofs of the Equivalency Fallacy
despite the visual evidence abounding all around,
despite the surrounding starlike quantity of busted,
love songs, poems and the other artistic churn,
depicting the principle, one requires love physics to validate the
living principle for the living, that love is rarely identical
in quantitative quality, typology, representation and
manifestations measurable
each greets the other with morning declarations of
mutuality, trying to find those hundred different ways
to love her/him today, employing imaginative artifice to proof
the impossibility, that in every aspect your living love ability
is precious capital precision equal
and ha! each love is the greater...
you knew this?
then you knew, his coffee spills (intentionally?) and the
Fighting Fallacy rules,
every thing is fair in love and war, for they too, are
identical and equal, in so many ways,
but never quantifiable exactly
8:33am, 73 degrees, on my side
11/12/17
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking. Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.
Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta). Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.
Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue. Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.
Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all. I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.
Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an ***** I love you so much I could eat you up!
Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way. I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?
Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
See ya, Creepy Ray Ray
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
A fear of rejection
Because you believe during further inspection
That there is nothing more
In you just a shallow shore
You pass by everyday
With a swirling heap of gray
Hoping, praying that you’ll find
A person similar to your peace of mind
And you think
Every time you go to your shrink
With 7 billion souls
Your chances have some type of control
And that leaves you
Into a state askew
Just standing back
Looking through a mirror what you lack
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
Would you?
Would you report this poem if I made a connection?
With a foul mouth rough inspection.
Cause we all got that person we would fuck'in connect with!
Then that person we would **** and connect with!
Then if they break the connection,
we take our fist or the nearest object to break their neck with.
****
Curse words that's got so many uses.
You can say **** and mean so much.
To come out in anger or love once you got that passion.
What about when you get hurt?
Ass'ed out?
Then yuh like "dam I'm ******
I just waned to let out a little, not trying to be belittled,
but I know there's someone out there to connect with
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
I change my shoes and attitude
Some say I hate surprises
Desiring things to stay the same
Anxiety arises
Change a job, a change in age
Change your view or change your tone
The Age of Aquarius turned the page
To change your tune-you’re not alone
Do I fight the change, ignite the change
The change I fear, so hard so cruel
You can win a war yet take the blame
When Yin and Yang begin to duel
Like loose change dropped in a jar
Changing partners, changing clothes
Change my house and buy that car
Bless the highs but curse the lows
Pain and Joy, so intertwined
A change of heart, a change of flight
Accepting wisdom, change my mind
A shift to the left, the change feels right
The change I see, or don’t see comin’
I move in a different direction
Confidently whistling and hummin’
Too late upon closer inspection
Change for the better or change can ****
Lead in the water has been unfurled
Change means growth-you cannot stand still
Change your position and change the world
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
In a different world,
A different mind a different body
Perhaps I'd be inclined to try and find the facts behind her fiction
But for now I'll buy in
Because this is too sweet to be reality and that's not what I need
I need a sign from up high before I'll jot my name on the dotted line
I don't need to know every little detail that lies behind her eyes
So tonight I'll take it slow I'll take it steady
We can share a drink and a long and contemplative passing of eyes, sharing of the deep thoughts inside our minds
If we find what we see to be of the proper tone, the proper texture
Perhaps into the wild blue yonder I'll venture...
I'll tell her what goes on inside the deep recesses of my mind
And in those dark spots she may decide my conclusions are nothing but pure conjecture
If she can find some inner part of her that longs for adventure than maybe I'll tell her
I think she's beautiful and she makes me weak in places I wish I was strong to begin with
But she makes me think that maybe I can flip this, fix this.
Put that part of me back together again
Just enough to pass close inspection
I'm this strange mix of a anti social quiet type of romantic who can't seem to find the courage he deserves
So I'll stick my chin up and tell her "Nothing" and something like, "Everything's fine"
Because a mind is a terrible thing to lose and I can't seem to find mine when I look into her eyes
She's got every color of the rainbow and at least fifty shades more
I'm torn
I know that I'm not the best for her, and she deserves that
I know that in my head but my heart can't seem to conserve that, steady flutter it means to burst out of my chest and fly
and I can't for the life of me figure out why
In a different time
I could just bring you flower and announce that you could be mine
And that would fine
But now days we have to dance around the issue because that's the socially correct thing to do
I can't help but feel cheated
I'm an old soul inside a young mind
I feel this way about eighty-five percent of the time
On a different day
In a different way
perhaps I'd say something that could make you stay
But your future awaits
So I'll surrender the very idea of us to the fates
And hope that one day
Things will be different
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
One clove a day
health eternal I pray
that it is not true,
for I am well short
of the twenty two thousand
to have been eaten
by this date
one plant if it were new to enter
anywhere, would not pass inspection
as a common garden vegetable,
it would take decades and investigation,
to give the nod to forty garlic chicken
or even to transport one clove.
some say it is the taste,
to others it is the waft,
of air in advance of the consumer,
knowing it does the body good,
but if one eats garlic and your mate
must too, or there may be a break in that allure
each cluster
is a toxin buster,
if you can muster
the appetite.
each group
can raise a whoop,
from a troop
of the healthy.
eat it raw to digest
your will to resist,
that all will cease
and desist, to disagree.
eat it cooked,
make it good,
that it would
deliver
all the benefits
your friends
will understand
even
from
across
the room
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
I'm a prisoner of love, in this unguarded cell,
The warden whistles my name you'd think it hell,
but she knows my case all too well,
Her piercing eyes as resolute as the Bastille,
Dodging Cupids arrows at will,
Across this broom is forever, I'm gone for a life long spell,
With Joy as my bars and happiness the rubber shower mats,
Blissful ecstasy is its escape deterrent traps,
I pass the time a whittling hearts and sharpening this rap.
See those chalk lines on the wall of my heart?
They record the memories of my days since the start,
Her smiles are more prized than jailhouse art.
At inspection and roll call in the morning,
The smirk under the cap then a whispering,
Keep careful watch on our "Prisoner Prince Charming",
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
The loneliest librarian is in the
heart of darkness
I saw him, old, bearded
on three sides book cases
on the open side, a desk
he faces outward into the darkness
drawing notes at their best.
Look away! in the distance
an army and her generals gather
Up ahead, a conqueror
metal jangles, saddles horse
Cries the pony boy:
I miss my mother
let me go back
what does this all mean?
Studying now, the librarian,
notes in check, own pen
scratching, no metals
only and only
his mind and an ink-filled well
Spearhead, arrowhead formation
a king and his khanate lean forward
into the permafrost, snow lashing
wind blows against but cannot stop
fierce wild will
and only the willows weep
Cries the pony boy:
Radically, may I be afraid
of the dead, arms asunder
so much love! so much love!
what does this all mean?
And far, far ahead of this army
librarian sits, silently
loving nothing, everything beside him
he scribbles notes
A love letter? tiresome if so
upon closer inspection...
At the center of the dark dark forest
where a lonely man rides in his kayak
lantern fixed upon a frame, making his boat top-heavy
he bobs back and forth across his body of water
he is haunted
he is lonely
he is a skeleton
Now grand general crosses the Styx
Ice clumps brushing gently against his ships
cold enough to **** a horse, set blood aglow
with blue, so cold it could not rot.
To valley forge!
to valley forge
to forge a future.
And pony boy cries:
What does it mean?
my father is gone, gone before this war,
he once said, it must be, be,
Did he mean...
Finally, up ahead, the librarian draws
untraceable lines, he knows the army is at his door
lonely, shaking, only the conqueror made it
and he is almost dead too.
Scared, sacredly, he finally hands the librarian his match
and sobs, softly, under breath
"Time, time is, time without,
time too
starts anew."
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Trains at the bottom of the garden
metal dragons breathing out smoke and steam
huffing and puffing, waiting for the signal
some compact with tanks affixed
others larger, more grand
pulling colour matched tenders
sometimes bearing shields and names
beginning with 'Duchess' or 'City'
mostly black, some rusty
deep reds or greens
with contrasting lines edged in gold
Once one came in matt pink
and I wondered why it didn't gleam
like the others, perhaps pink
was a colour not to be given
it's equal due with other
less feminine shades
it had to be denied vibrancy
yet I loved the pink one best
later I learned somehow
that the colour was that
of the primer used
to inhibit the rust
and my pink engine
was just an unfinished paint job
pressed into service
prematurely to give cover
for another that was broken
I wrote down the numbers regardless
it was a ritual that one performed
though I didn't understand why
yet it was exciting
to record a new one
that hadn't passed before
Behind the business end
came carriages laden heavy
with the visitors of summer
come to fill our beaches
and our town with their loudness
their raucous laughter
with strange accents
brummie, scouse, mancunian
faces pressed against glass
expectant, excited, impatient
almost there now
anxious that this last delay
pass quickly and the half mile
remaining be completed
We would lurk beneath the bridge
like adopted troll children
it was cool there in the summer heat
darting out from behind pillars
or in my case watchfully, cautiously
edging my way forward
to place pennies on the track
or sometimes nails
then to retrieve them
flattened, thinned, squashed
once the train had passed
sometimes we'd wait hours
or so it seemed
sometimes no train would come
and we would trail home
for tea and bath and bed
leaving our offerings
to the gods of the rail
for rediscovery and inspection
the following day.
Cynthia Pauline Jones 17/10/13
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
552
An ignorance a Sunset
Confer upon the Eye—
Of Territory—Color—
Circumference—Decay—
Its Amber Revelation
Exhilirate—Debase—
Omnipotence’ inspection
Of Our inferior face—
And when the solemn features
Confirm—in Victory—
We start—as if detected
In Immortality—
2.8k
Upon the arboreal dozed and limb,
Extended coccyx serpentine loose,
Throne of inspection, tenet and dumb
Stillness hunts akin stealthy Mongoose;
Except for the natal locomotive
Soft deep sufficiently immense purr
Emanating from some industry; effective
In the cover of the thick supple fur.
The lord of his unconquered empire,
Thrives on flesh and quenches on milk,
Wintering unperturbed reading the fire
That flickers, gleaming his bed of silk.
Ever landing on appendage quadruple
Acrobatic athlete not soiling once his back
Consummating in strict concealment marble
Couch of perpetual indulgence buried black.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC
**** These...
... Liars And LIARS... !!!
Aren’t These Folks TIRED... ?!?
of ALL of Their Lies...
Deceit And YES Crimes... !!!
Cos’ It’s A CRIME To DENY...
The Truth From The Minds...
of Those Who SUPPORT...
What Comes From Their Jaws... !!!
These Days There’s A WAR...
On The TRUTH Now For Sure... !!!
From Rooms of BIG Boards...
To Those Filled With LORDS...
And This Year's ENSURED...
That Corona Has FORCED... !!!
MANY To... QUESTION... ?!?
If LIES Have Been Spreading...
MORE Than The Infection... !?!
And This... U.S. Election...
Has POOR Vote Collections... !!!
That Has Donald Trump...
And His People Flummoxed... ?!?
Because They’ve Been STUNNED...
By The Votes For... Biden... !!!
Having Claimed That He’d Won...
BEFORE... Postal Ballots...
Started To Cause DAMAGE...
To His Hopes To Inhabit...
The Whitehouse And Manage...
Like Some New Age Fascist... !!!
Or... Is THAT A LIE... ?!?
When He Could Be The Guy...
To Set The World Right... ?
And To Stop Paedophiles...
Who Are From Wealthy Tribes... !!!
Or... Is THAT FAKE News... ?
And Simply... UNTRUE... ?!?
Now I DON'T Have A Clue...
Unlike... Q'ANON Crews... !!!!
Whose Theories Are Deemed...
To Now Be... FALLACIES...
By These Media Teams...
Who Of Course NEVER LIE... !!!
Because Their Talk Is PURE...
And Don’t Meddle With Child... !?!
I Think There Are LIARS...
Whose Pants Are On FIRE...
Who... Should Be Retired... !!!
From Feeding Us News...
With Their Bias In View... !!!
As If It Is... " COOL "...
To Keep The Truth Skewed... !?!
When … Many of Them...
MAY BE Paedophiles Too... ?!?
When They’re In The Blend...
And Clearly Have Spent...
Time With Names … ALLEGED...
To Have Messed With Children... !!!
Something’s INCORRECT...
When Those That PRESENT...
Are QUICK To Suggest...
That They And Their Friends...
Are Cleaner Than Sheen... !!!
... NOT Charlie... !!!
... The CLEANER...
That Keeps Surfaces Clean... !!!
Well To Me Their Demeanour...
Needs A Bit More Inspection...
Just Like This Election...
of... TWENTY TWENTY... !!!
Where It Seems That...
... Court Scenes...
Will Define Who Will Be...
In The Presidents Seat...
America’s Shrouded...
In Much That Is Clouded...
And May Well Reveal...
A World of FALLACIES... !!!
Where LIARS Are PLACED...
In A Place Where They Make...
Decisions For MASSES...
Where Lies Become Standard...
And Be Things That RAVAGE...
Through CORPORATE SAVAGE...
And Liars Who Package...
New Falsehoods To DAMAGE...
A Future Where Freedoms...
And Lives Keep COLLAPSING...
Because of These Leaders...
Who’ll Leave The Truth CRASHING... !!!
The Future Looks TRAGIC...
When Elections Cause PANIC... !!!
PROTESTS And … Madness...
That Leave Things Unbalanced... !!!
Where Newsrooms Conspire...
... To Be FALSIFIERS...
of What... SHOULD Be Desired...
Reports That Speak TRUTH...
Instead of... FAKE News... !!!
That Clearly Requires...
An ABUNDANCE of...
...... “ LIARS “...... !!!
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
I pluck you a crocus
and all life becomes
a legend of the body
a torch-whipped storm
pastel in its fire
buries me in you
when I hand you the stem
a shake
and the yellow stamen
loses its dust
lady lady
forgets its bug
when I place the flower
in your vase
spots wiped black-less
insect no more
lady lady
the inspection of autumn
bulb-less growth
and a string of red
***** and betting its stripes
a tiny mound of dirt
obscured by rotting leaves
the last of you reaching for my hand
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC