"insulating" poems
CRIMSON
Colors explode
As the sumac stands sentinel over the ebbing rays of the sun
Shepherding away Niibin to make room for Dagwaagin
Standing, alone, in a sea of green
Sumac heralds the changing season
And like an artistic wild fire
Is the first in what will become a palette of chromatic vibrancy
Sensing the subtle change
Mother deer, her two fawns and yearling
Meandering through the sumac grove
Make haste of the fading green buffet
Mother Bear and her cubs, now a year stronger and wiser
Gorge on honey and berries as they ready for their winter's sleep
Red-Winged Blackbirds, Robins and Sandhill Cranes congregate en masse
Hummingbird drinks the final drops of nectar
In anticipation of their journey south
In advance...of the returning white Biboon blanket
The clock of Mother Earth is precise
And the natural world follows her timely rhythms
As southerly and westerly winds shift to the north
Eagle soars high above...the yet unfrozen river
Vivid foliage slowly falls to the forest floor
Creating an intricate insulating tapestry for those below
In the meadow, swaying in the wind, stands a solitary Daisy
It's single yellow petal defying the departure of longer days
Harvest moon shimmers through bare branches
Dancing, tapping in rhythmic fashion, upon a quiet window
Stirring Misigami from her reverie
Outside her window, a lone black figure, a Lobo, like her
Acknowledges her presence, blurring the lines of consciousness
Signifying that dreams do come true
And that through the change of seasons
We grow
We become stronger
Wiser
And are given the true gift...of forever being...
...Hopeful
(c) 2013 Shawn White Eagle
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
With Ears to See & Eyes to Hear
"Lie! Lie! Liar! Liar you’ll pay for your sins."
How’d I allow it to happen?
How’d I allow myself to succumb?
Maybe they were chocolate covered
but I’m not really a chocolate lover;
but your voice could make me surmise anything;
like how they deceived my ears and heart
into believing what we had was real
and that what we had would last
and how they blinded me,
utilizing my cursed optimism .
I learned you can do the impossible;
you broke down all walls insulating my heart
promising sweets words dipped in honey;
little did I know,
honey does spoil.
"So tell me how does it feel;
how does it feel to be like you?
I think your mouth should be quiet
because it never tells the truth now.”
- d.b.d.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
“Cold snowflakes upon my arm
the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds
a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar
a land covered in a shiny white blanket.”
Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen.
Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere.
Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.
(lunarlullubies)
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
We can escape, now,
it's smoky with a chance of curtain drawn,
our minds won't tramsit light
from our empty, covered windo- the train is here.
I'm ready to go.
And though I'm leaving on a train
with room for only one,
I'm hoping you can catch a cheap ride
hidden in my pocket.
Nobody checks your person, anymore,
Nobody cares;
Homeland Security lovingly fed
us fattened falsities
As the fat cats in suburban alleyways
tore off the thickest
pieces of marrow from the national animal
of our Fiction States of America.
I have known this
because I have seen it from my seat
in coach,
thank god, too, because the train is packed.
So fill up
if you aren't going to hop in,
wishing to distort
your mind with all of their public drugs,
community opiates
transmitting across electrical wires hidden
in the ground,
the trees,
the air itself,
stitched into the layers of
dark matter and cosmic foam insulating
our fragile and overdone Universe.
I hear their static,
that pantomimed reality,
caught inside carbon fibers running through everything,
running through me,
running through you,
running into and out of your brain like
a thief without pause or moral.
We could run, too,
the heavy bass notes of the
nurturing ocean could shield the screech
of the battered train's wheels;
the wheels need a rest from screeching, anyway.
Quick!
While the conductor isn't looking!
The wires will tell him you're here
until you're gone,
hidden in my coat pocket
inside a layer of my inner smoke.
Well, if you insist,
I suppose you may leave,
but once the wound of knowledge opens,
just know it never closes.
It will fester and
prickle
with the fetid odor
of truths turned into lies.
I know I'm talking
to myself, now, but I don't
want to let you go,
though I'll stay here,
safe,
in the train carriage,
hidden in smoke.
Smoke,
smoke,
smoke,
the train heats up,
breaths out smoke from its burning
and throbbing pipe.
The engine has built up
an overdose of heat,
trying to throw off the weeds trying
to grow inside.
They tried to enter me,
and they will soon enter you,
now,
without my smoke to shroud you,
to leave your naked wound
easily hidden in
paranoid dreams.
Screeeeee,
screeeeeee,
screeeeeeee,
the wheels screech out,
ready to go,
ready to run,
to run down the track,
to run through all obstacles,
to run through everything,
to run through me,
to run through you,
to run in and out of your brain,
blown away in a puff of smoke,
my memory has burned away
and blows off as ash
and smoke.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
After the sunset I hide
Nothing can hurt me there
No tears to be shed
No flesh to be torn
The castle shields me from the war
Prevents me from hurting
Even if just for a little while
The castle is what I love most
Kissing the dark of the sky
Dancing in the moonlight
Even if just for a little while
Making me look up from my scars
Getting me to dwell on the little piece of life left in me
In the castle, I am alive, I am home
Even if just for a little while
When the sun goes up
I have to return
To the hell I was born in
Getting beaten to filaments
All the hate flows back in me
Insulating me
Dragging me down deeper and deeper
Burning me to ash
In the dark heat I long
To the cherry nights under the stars
And in the dark paradise I prance
Under the bright glazing sun
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
*i've been to kenya, all that these "charity" adverts are fuelling
is ignorance, they're presupposing
all the african nations are like kindergarten,
they're insulating them... it's like that:
give a man fish or give him a fishing rod,
i.e.: give a man money or give him a
method creating & subsequently circulating wealth:
these charitable companies are insulting
african nations to be at a loss,
they're only feeding european bureaucrats
who are really the only worthwhile
charitable pay-cheque givens, odds 4-5.*
a retired lady selling poppies
for a feeling
committed suicide
being hunted by ninety-nine
charity organisations...
charity organisations...
start-ups akin to apps of
cue: shaved face, young, eager
****** venom ****** statues
of jealousy...
all the bankers' wives have
a tier system, the origin of
charity companies
(surely a wife can't be as pristine
as her husband):
first two don't count,
third: modern art "collector",
fifth: philanthropist,
seventh: possessor of an O.B.E.
and as one bemused englishman said:
king arthur and the zimmerframe table
of knights with walking sticks rather than swords:
money made people lazy, less adventurous,
let alone less tribal and communist,
adventure just became predictable,
tourism...
the modern shopper is envious of
the hunter gatherer... so envious
he wants to look the part, but live as modern
lazy allows... after all... all the gym sessions
can't go to waste... got to run standing still:
hey! don quixote! leave the windmills!
check out the treadmills... you see a caveman
anywhere in the sweaty parlours?
i don't.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
arching my back
the sparks fly
like shaved metal
off of my sternum
as something
like happiness
flecks through
in metal firebuds
that screech coming
over me as a
wave washes
through my
molecular structure,
inside the libations
held up to the
small goddesses
running through
the rush of
the chainsaw shrieks
of bloodstream
now a fomenting river
of tiny waves
cresting made up
of my tears
shed all through
the mineral-encrusted
night
Now those tiny deities
with singing plumpness
of breast and thigh
indigo radiating
from their third eye
are dancing
inside my being
as I strive to catch
the shadows that
only just surrounded
me in that last hour
of plague
of chasm-patched torment
tears insulating me
until I could not see
for the steam
just on the edge
of inability to
contain my
filtered out
pre-injected rage
Here I now sit
a few inches above
the grasslands
lotus in each palm
pumped
with manifestation
in my very fingers
of life
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
The ghost from my lungs on the first cold step, the vapor that spirals out of my blood to dance as crystals on the cape of the dawn.
Her arms around my shoulders, pressing the blades, lamenting climbing in together when I would be the only one getting out.
Stepping in and dropping my bags in all directions, having none of them come running to investigate the invader of days.
Chill rolling on the inside of my skin and across the palms of my hands, only combated by the brush of your kiss.
A mistress of mistrust who sets lasers to **** just let you waltz in, even curling up behind your knees like you’ve been here forever.
Sweeping of lips on the line of my shoulder, a sweet settling of nerves so I won’t miss you too much on the far side of the bed.
When she lays on my bed with a gap in between, leaving just enough room from elbow to elbow for our souls to slide in and conspire.
The probing of the snowy wet nose of the gummy-eyed dog, bald but for patches of scratches and running zany with zest.
Swelling that builds up in my spine as you leave, filling and growing like insulating foam, an expanding despair.
Bristled fur and the slink in her walk when she’s asking for favors, a coyote stalking voles in the stems of dry grass.
Standing again as a phantom on the path, reading again the first tentative steps, still yet to find a single thing to regret.
The way the words just come pouring out like well water when she asks, running out the mud until it flows clear.
When the sun shivers and floats and then settles like dust on your eyelashes as you sleep.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
His body grounds me...
I was an alternating current
with a frayed wire
Sputtering... sparking...
Misfiring...
Alone and flickering in quiet desperation...
Then he drew me in with his hands
Held me tightly, pulling me close...
Inviting me into his Center
Insulating my circuits from the heat of their own charge,
Reigniting those cold, dead connections...
Redirecting, realigning
Aeons of my dissipated energies.
I become more, now, than some
Reckless, erratic sunburst...
Snapping and flaring on the mere surface of things...
A loving so strong it makes me re-enter the belly of the beast,
He and I, we become the pulse...
Folding ourselves into the warm, primitive heart of God...
Selflessness... Sacrifice...
Joy, Radiance... Gratitude...
I find all these things here.
And everything false just quietly disappears.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Fit to be tied to a ligand gated receptor,
mind you,
right there, in the area below our own aptness
to think and do at once, thus we think without
knowing we are
thinking
things,
new and old, linked by local nodes arranging ions,
in channels previously lacking bridged interchanges.
Instant one past then,
we re think,
if we remain, persisting at or on some certain point,
may we not, mainly almost completely, be self aware?
The gaps insulating our separate selves, as we imagine,
thoughts outside our heads do remain connected rectly
ortho dexterous… sinister off, right on. Switch,
transcendence, sit zazen intently making bits of this
peace.
Inner, breathing conscience, knowing used, to pay
yourself, first
love, neighborly behave, have love as for your self.
I, the boss mind, I, the chooser of destiny from now,
I, ego and id and all, me, you must acknowledge,
I was here when you arrived, in an acknowledged,
innocense, not ignoring a curio juxtaposed, sup-
posed to prompt a why from your own self, why
am I not kind to me.
I am no better than I can imagine proving, to myself.
I must convince me, you are merely watching me be,
in a mind state seeping from a spring I cleaned,
to channel a flow a bit thicker than a seeping…
Sit with me a minute,
measure the brevity,
leave be the reason, I wished to feel you there.
Knowing how I love you, determines the worth
of my own love.
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 12:54 PM UTC
Loving you is a choice made
And the only choice I have
There were no other boxes to tick
And I have let go of that pen
To replace it with your hand
I hold on, no matter what may come
Like thise magpies ever circling around my head
Beady eyed and adamant to steal it away
But I take it wherever I go
Unable to let go if I even desired
Your hand occupies mine completely
Leaving no space for anything else
I can't pick up sword or shield
To defend and scare away those who attack
But in truth, I don't care
Our contours merge into one never ending road
That only we can embark upon
And our fingers entwine, as vines climbing towards sky
So naturally they connect without force or direction
With your warmth insulating pores from easy entry
This jigsaw is no puzzle
Just two pieces
One solution
Placing your hand in mine completes me
And the picture we make is perfection.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Don't tell me about Long Distance.
I have known Long Distance
since the day I saw you waving out of the back window of that silver Prius.
The snow banks insulating my car
because i spent the last 47 hours with you
and held you while you cried
because you weren't ready to leave for the marines yet.
But your body said other wise,
your muscles sharp and deadly.
It's been a while since you've written,
and it's been 8 months since my blankets have stopped smelling like you.
I couldn't help but notice
the way my body drowns in these sheets
because you were my life vest
but you were not there when i jumped in.
I looked back at the dock before my head went under
and i saw you just sitting there,
watching me struggle.
I tore you apart in my head
every single strand of thread and love was separated
until every bit of silence that was woven in has been exposed.
But these strands don't hold any value when you're drowning,
what I have done is destroyed the only thing that could give me buoyancy.
Now I am left with extra weight on these shackles
i bear and water filling up my lungs
like a measuring cup to a recipe from Hell's kitchen.
In your last letter you asked
"Are we okay?"
but you don't just tell someone you love them then let them drown.
I have known Long Distance since you came back home today.
You are so close to me
but I still feel like you are not present.
There is something to be said
about missing someone who is right next to you.
Usually it is the person at home
who gives up on the one in the military,
but you found your home inside of those bunks and those guns.
You have only taught me to never make homes out of human beings.
I have to keep reminding myself
that you are a woman to never be slowed down
because you will leave everyone else behind
and I never wanted to come last to you
but i never wanted to beat you either.
I have known Long Distance
when I reach my hand out
and you've always been just slightly out of my grasp.
You were a goal to work towards,
a beautiful woman sitting on a pedestal waiting to be won
and I've always been too inadequate to be the one to have you.
You are the Epitome of Long Distance,
and I have known you for much longer than I would have liked.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Sugar, salt -
Decadent crystals are the mistresses to the tongue,
Seducing the mouth,
all the while trapped in the slave house of the body.
They take forms of warm and soft, frozen and slick
and in their sanguinity, they partner to become fuel,
insulating, warming the body.
Creating perspiration, spawning inevitable regret.
Drawing the body, the looking glass calls,
singing its poisonous Siren song
Luring it to the whirlpool that is the surely awaiting distended figure
There stands a sickening creature,
one the tides would not accept as bait
unless it can return to the sickly prey it was moments before.
And so this prey must slink away,
Bow down before its Goddess, its Queen
who declares it a “Disgusting fool”,
commands it to “rid yourself of this delicacy you live in,
this fantasy world
And relinquish your happiness.”
Because in order to be perfect,
bliss is not deserved,
not handed out,
not accepted.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
The world is speckled
pairs and pairs of soulmates
those torn from one another
even before they first encountered
Some are separated by a single step
others share daylight
only when the sun rise or set
yet each one calls the other
and their lament is carried on
a somber song
thickening the air
rising, falling, interfering
diluted and again reformed
into a cacophony of desperation
like Cicadas bustling at dusk
like flocks of birds that greet the dawn
Poor them
wondering to and fro
in this pining thicket
searching for a common song
blinded by longing
lying awake at night
aching the insulating gap
encompassed by the constant murmur
singing
singing
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 9:39 AM UTC
i am yours
and my thighs are yours to separate and
i want you to make a home between them,
breaking in the walls where you deem it necessary
and insulating cold rooms with your own self,
and i want to warm you, too but i don't know how and i fear failure,
I know I speak like a psychologist and that my glare draws crevices in your self-assurance,
but right now this isn't the Me you know
This is the truth that I will not state explicitly, but will imply through shaky exhales and involuntary lapses in vocal function, with my fingers limp yet imperceptibly begging for you, and my lack of defense when your authoritative hands do what they do.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
*Oh Beloved LOVE
What you brought for me?
a LOVER?
Will this lover hug me?
OR
Will this lover crucify me?
Will love rule the mind?
OR
Will machine rule the heart?
Will sun shine brightly like this everyday?
OR
Will industrious mind-smoke of pollute our lives?
Will I be able to breathe easily in LOVE?
OR
Will I be on oxygen for rest of my life?
Will my love flow for you forever?
OR
Will my love become a subject of psychological study?
Will my love suffice to fulfill your desires?
OR
Will you lynch me alive and devour me?
Whenever in discord will my love break the wall?
OR
Will new walls built insulating my LOVE from yours?
Will mine and your family get gather as one?
OR
Will our families too break up into nuclear ones?
Will my LOVE color your LIFE?
OR
Will my blood color my bed-sheets?
Will my LOVE messages reach you by technology?
OR
Will technology distort our relationship?
Will we merge into one-another?
OR
Will our union end our LOVE?
Will I still write LOVE poetry for you everyday?
OR
Will I desire you every night?*
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
Charity found in clarified thought.
Harlequins in dormitories quickly sought.
Indiscretions come with ease.
Liberated by a youthful ******
Dilation found in most pupils.
Birthed in the hell of forgotten scruples.
Irate over nature's gift.
Renounced parentage moves in swift.
Theologians they're not to be.
Heathens, they are, as it's clear to see.
Insurrection from a parents hope.
Secured through the first ****
Nodding off to dreams of bliss.
Organized by pots of ****
Tempting fate with a play on chance.
A child's born through horizontal dance.
Vindication came during a failure at grace.
A look of contempt etched across a father's face.
Composure slipped through the cracks.
Adolescents and their empty sacks.
Tying nots in a diluted fashion.
Insulating them from drifting passion.
On and off they float along.
Nullified in the end by unwanted spawn.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Mother
My son is late to night
A bit drunk
He may be staggering
In the dark.
God please return him back
Insulating him from thug's attack.
Wife
My husband is late to night
In a bar bewitched by enticing eyes
He may be inviting a **** for a dance!
Please devil throw him to hell
He is enjoying himself
Under a spell!
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
I dream of minds expanding
roads diverging
from learning
and growing
in a garden of
grand and changing ideas.
I dream of wonderlands
that consist of;
What if love
conquers hate?
What if curiosity
conquers ignorance?
What if technology
and language
conquers the distance
between what
you and
I understand?
I dream of new waves
traveling in space,
signals that remain
long after we pass
that continue to ask
all the questions we ask
and even the ones we have
yet to get to.
I dream of clarity
that clears the fog
then more insights
that expand our senses
with the consequences
of peace, love, and understanding
of people handling
hearts with care
so those who know despair
find that they don’t have to live there
that they can visit their pain,
learn from that ache,
and educate others
not insulating them from suffering
but offering well-informed solace
and a chance to make
everything better than it is.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
90 degrees
hot summer morning
8 am
same time every day
white shirt buttoned up
sweat insulating
his paper skin beneath
Hands firmly gripping the handles of his walker
with the same determination
that he has for life
not letting go
morning after morning
buttoning that shirt
tying those tarnished shoes
and down the hot and busy road
against the traffic and the rushing young
whose fleeting eyes somehow miss
this pure dart of life
Gaze fixed upon his target;
the next step.
He proceeds...
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 8:48 PM UTC
[January 30, 2017]
The thin crisp air suffocates their jagged pointed peaks
A slick coat of ice freezes the atmosphere where he sleeps
The frigid intensity thickens with each shallow rapid breath
Each step higher draws her closer to a hollow agonizing death
Fighting back cowardice and dread she trudges through the snow
The vicious unrelenting wind crushes her spirit with each blow
Pressing forward with frostbite eating away her form exposed
She collapses upon the summit, life draining away from her soul
The clouds shimmer a crimson hue, lightning dancing through the atmosphere
The light bursts, shattering apart the sky, enveloping the air in fear
Cloaked in ruby flames, descending with mighty gusts of channeled despair
He lands next to her, releasing a powerful cry for all the world to hear
He places a sharp beak upon her chest, presenting her with his fire
Warming her cold corpse, he breathes thoughts into selfish desires
Placing delicate wings over broken spirit, insulating her from the blizzard
Using his sheer will to protect her from the icy grasp of bitter winter
She opens her eyes, snowflakes falling upon her as she stares upon a snowy sky
Mind free of thoughts, she embraces her existence, the feeling of being alive
Upon a distant mountain peak, she sees the soft glow of brilliant ruby wings
She watches the light fade as he flies away, knowing they will meet again
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 1:04 AM UTC
I gaze around me, take it in
All beneath me,
visible yet distant
Close yet far
Tangible yet immaterial
The wind flows around my body
Cradling me in a way no arms ever could
Isolating me
Insulating me
Inundating me
I stretch my arms in every direction
Reaching out further than myself
Consistently unfolding
Continuously broadening
Constantly expanding
This is freedom
This is abandon
This is flying
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC