"intercontinental" poems
C'mon out to the rattled caves
the deep-sea malaise
rested in the grey metamorphs
of an ancient coastal chain
Where Sisyphean slips of tectonic rifts
pull the molding clay
like play-dough
and old rock that turns anew
churned into
great catacomb stele
Babylonian towers far away
from the great
Mesopotamic
interstate
Surrounded by the immumerous trees
the military sharpness of their pine
quills writing their mark in the dirt
for a hundred turns or so
only to be rearranged
into the great intercontinental soil
Truly
multisolipsistual
And on the aggregate
held open the mists
of the vast expanse of ocean
beyond L.A
and stole the fruits of the tiny parceled condominium rainwater
from distance far away
angry men shouting--
"Give us back our life blood, GOD **** YOU!"
Filling the tanks of their fleshomobiles
running around and sweating it out
trading it for cloth and wiping their brow on
brown shirts
perturbed and disobeyed
But that great man with the chin muscatche
brought the rough riders out of their dome
into the frontier, riding trains
Off they go!
Seeking paradise in the sands
and the trees
and the coastal breeze
dreaming
of a world owned and seen
by the world
by man
and by all these things
It would be grand
But that rock has been seen before
in Luarentian islands long ago
or perhaps a great FUJI-SAN of the west coast
worshiped by critters and dinosaurs
You are late to the game, sweet dreamers, you!
These monuments give to honor due
not you,
no sir did you build these things?
did you mold these things
with the patience of a father
with the consequentiality
of the womb
and a motherly affection
for all things true?
the gift is for you,
remember your father's gifts
sweet princes of the earth
because they will outlive you.
And I walk along the stream
stepping upon these little bits of Yosemite
Pulverized mountain rocks
Renal Stones of the diseased
to which the water flushed out deeply
and cured the grey things from all that left them
displeased
hoping for more than just selfies
and sticking it to god's face
laughing at half-dome
climbing it and getting the better of ourselves
Believing we have achieved bliss
When in reality,
there is nothing to this which we can reach.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
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Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
...You, dearest vagary, aplomb--were
brought to bear.
Vicissitude of memory which is the
dispersion of identity.
Of a time, and of a place--you, a
mellifluous bronze dusk poured upon
a meadow, a solitary immersion, a
moment that harnesses the whole of
the earth, as you are...dearest vagary.
You were afforded as by the citizenry
of the air, lent by an intercontinental
wind.
An undying eloquence featured for all
time--the swaying bud blown to bloom.
You...the beautification of possibility,
its matrices never left in want.
As in withstanding place the round is
made, and remade about you, the whole
of the earth.
Thus, you've no confounding words...
have you?
Thus, this sidelong expenditure that you may--
shall breach the earth you shall.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
filed in
the most deviant chambers
of my memory bank
is a
summer of bliss
in a
breezy city
of blue lakes,
buxom blondes
and *****
near the baltic sea
eva's skin-tight
****** white jeans
were the envy
of my roving eye
"hi"
she replied
to my
transparent thought
and I
bought her
a screwdriver
with a twist
of jive
we sat poolside
chatting about this
and that
and after the
5th *****
driver that is,
we both knew
'twas time for
some intercontinental
**********
she was curious
and excited
to sample the coffee
in my african skin
and her talented
slavic tongue
stirred me gently
from
gdansk
all the way down
to krakow
I took eva
for a long
wild ride over
the serengeti
on my faithful thoroughbred
johnson
together
we climbed
the rugged hills of lust
to passion's prurient peak,
a blissful journey
that left us
gasping
breathlessly
we embraced
under a fountain of rapture
as words
hung dry
in our throats
we would wear them later...
~ P
(7/21/2013)
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
You know as well as I do
that internet dating can have its ups
and downs
and thus, after so many futile meetings
and tragic misadventures
in a domestic UK situation,
I decided to spread my wings
and so I logged on to an Australian website
for lonely kangaroo lovers
yes it was www.blackstump-legover.com.au
where no holes were barred.
And I soon struck up a promising friendship
with someone who sounded like
a real goer, a total slapper,
with no morals whatsover
judging from the photo she posted
taken with a mobile phone
up her skirt
which showed her **muffin *****
as well as what she had eaten
for breakfast yesterday,
poking its head out.
We finally agreed to meet
behind the old dunny
in the park where the abos go
to exchange their social security vouchers
for crack *******
or a bottle of Castlemain XXXX
or a quick one up each others' bots
in spite of the pong
on a sunny arvo.
You can imagine how effing disappointed
I was when she arrived
on a trailer attached to her grandson's ute
strapped to a battered gurney
(and almost insensate)
but still ready for a bit of backdoor action
but not from me, no sirree,
thank you very much mate:
I might be desperate, but
I would have had to have
clipped my nose shut with a clothes peg
to get anywhere near her
and my gag reflex simply couldn't cope.
So I bravely dragged the gurney
over to the convenient gap
in the fence overlooking the mighty ravine
and with a gentle shove
I sent her to that sweet place
where peace can be found
and I can still hear her scream
as she bounced off the rocks
accusing me of being illegitimate
before silence reigned
and I smiled in joy.
It only goes to show, O my friends,
that there are female dogs
of the most hideous kind
on every sodding continent
on this dear planet of ours;
and I may as well stick to
a handful of Nivea cream
and a Kleenex, at least the odour
is wholesome.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
I'm an intercontinental casanova
I drive the roads and highways
I'm a lover of the ladies
And I love to drive the bi-ways
In every town I seem to go
Theres a lady there for me
It's not a one night hook up thing
It's full of feeling, can't you see
From Florida to Baltimore
And all points in between
I have a woman there in waiting
To help me make the scene
I'm an inter-coastal lover
An inter-coastal driver too
For the time that I am with them
There is only me and you
From east coast to the west coast
From the midwest to the hills
I have women always waiting
To help me get my thrills
They know about each other
They don't mind, at least I think
They keep their secret thoughts so secret
If they didn't, I would drink
When I am with one in a city
I am theirs and theirs alone
They only know of my arrival
When I call them on the phone
If I get there and they're busy
Then I drop my load and go
There's no need to find another
Two in one town....no no no
I'm an inter-coastal casanova
I drive all round the place
I can't stay in just one city
I always need my space
If one girl gets possessive
And want to settle down
That's when the party's over
And I vacate from that town
I pick up loads at my request
Going where I've been before
And like I said if it gets dangerous
Then I don't go back no more
I'm an Intercontinental
Inter-coastal lover boy
I have women 'cross the country
And we bring each other joy
I love the life I'm living
No commitment no regret
and there's no one there complaining
of anything I might forget
You may frown upon my lifestyle
But it works ok for me
One day I may get married
But I don't know when that will be...
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
I do not stand alone,
Thinking that in this world,
There is something unknown.
Unknown is the reason for greed,
For wealth and harboring, A ******
A sickness untreated to allow innocence to bleed.
Unknown is the reason for racism,
Spoken slanders and propaganda's,
Media's misguided music to masses for totalitarianism.
Unknown is the need to be accepted,
A collection of emotions to be displayed,
Not being ourselves - The worst, portrayed.
I need not know a lot for I know this,
That love overcomes all and ties us together,
In an intercontinental consciousness.
I know this because walls have been brought down,
Children play where none were once found,
People still rejoice in helping, healing and sound.
I need not know a lot because this, I have found.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
The irresolvable contradiction, in whose subconscious formula this current absurd-impossible World is immersed, first it turns into non-existence, then it organically emerges into the stagnant Nothingness. The ostrich-faithful gangs of yampecs, like the circus associations of the self-deceivers, seem to even play together a little in the manner of accomplices in the intercontinental businesses of gamblers - because a restless, wandering Soul has long since become a cat and has been tempting the son of man, because there is no partiality, no special difference in a prolonged, incessant Sisyphusian fall. It feels the numbing cracks of the rotting decompositions, while those who remain on the surface are constantly eviscerating the last pennies and silver coins from the pockets of the simpler, working average; Even pitifully degrading bureaucratic wisdom cannot be quite adequate these days: dignity and existence exclude each other just as feudal lords exclude a compromising servant.
Free-thinking is not at all chic these days, they are quite calmly content with merely the illusion of truth as long as possible. Now imported idolatry is becoming more and more popular again, but very much so. Because in the guaranteed transitional age, no one and nothing can be themselves, or the same as they were as long as the laws of humanism were observed, the message of conscious blind indifference seems to have been deliberately transplanted into another blind world.
Like startled fish embryos, apocryphal passwords glide, wrinkles write the warning message on the secret prison walls of faces: "Pay attention, and rather hide in hiding!" - Every circle must organically close at some point. The wasted seasons are no longer waiting for a silver star ready to wander. It's time to ventilate the soul-crushing stuffiness that is welling up in man!
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 12:34 AM UTC
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Relate Articles:
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Incremental actions
Bring monumental
Changes.
With every added
Bitcoin block,
The ledger
Rearranges.
Tick and tock,
We add a block,
The chain is fundamental.
So many problems
Fixed and solved
By entries incremental.
More love and hope -
Connection too,
I’m getting sentimental.
About sound money,
Fixed supply
Spread intercontinental.
May 29, 2024
May 29, 2024 at 9:49 AM UTC
riches? what are those,
I am the owner of the ugly toes,
gain? what is that,
I have lost twenty five pounds,
mostly fat,
peace? of mind
I have turmoil that eats at me so,
to fill that void,
I drink tea,
after a day of coffee and H2O,
I DRINK TEA
so ...
join me in a intercontinental
tea break, everynight at this time,
we can be friends in the sublime
and the surreal,
TEA APPEAL.
©DWE022014
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Are you even real?
You see, I said “Love is disease,”
and you said “It doesn't exist,”
still, you make me believe.
Is all this arbitrary?
Are we just words,
written in tears by a madman
in books in library?
Who are you, girl?
I asked the sky, it whispered back to me
it spoke about alluring beauty,
that cannot be unseen.
So close and yet so far,
one must ask the God, why?
Maybe it's just a trick of mind,
maybe, but I have to find out.
Let me think and let me dream,
for the sweetest dream there have never been.
Let it linger for a while,
before you say your last goodbye.
And the jet planes,
angelical guardians of intercontinental love,
spread their wings to carry you once more
across the ocean of deepest blues.
Reaching for the stars so high,
that you will touch the heaven,
and gently fall asleep,
tell me, are you dreaming
a dream of us?
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
The Christmas tree being well lit
All the Christmas stockings on the mantle that fit
All the kids asleep in their beds
The Bethlehem star that shines as a beacon being the led
Santa Claus comes from the kitchen being well fed
Santa’s belly that blew up like a balloon
The hour of midnight that was a precise soon
Santa was starting to hum a little tune
A man who wears red and white
Too all the children he knows how to excite
A jolly old man who speaks a multitude of languages in being intercontinental polite
He laughs with a smile like falling snow
It’s the North Pole being the flow
Santa sits by the fireplace
He thinks on his journey being a trace
Santa puts the gifts all under a family Christmas tree
When Christmas morning comes, it will be gifts for all to see
It will be breakfast with the aroma of bacon
Christmas came and went in Santa’s reckon
Santa is on his way back to the North Pole
But he wants everyone to remember the term “Behold”
The birth of a little savior boy
This is a time of a bundle of joy
He will become a man who roams the earth
Through Jesus, the world will have a new birth
Santa says, “Happy Holiday cheer to all and Happy New Year for all too explore”.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
Who needs a preacher when 'jeez, it that the time' is the teacher?
There's a movement that follows through the tracks that time hollows and it's fast gaining fans.
A minuteman missile travels more miles in a minute than, 'jeez have you seen it' fly by?
If I'd ever played poker, I would have thrown in my hand, gone down for a few grand and let time take the *** but I've never played poker or gone wild with the joker and rushed in with a five card running flush.
If push comes to shove it, would you love it, would you pray for the time to come preach you a sermon in secret communion with the teacher who pretends not to notice that his church is the clock dial?
If the intercontinental goes mental and the silos fire hi-lo, would you turn up the trump cards, go the whole flaming nine yards.
Does it matter when you shatter glass ceilings or feel things so close to your heart?
I depart unconvinced.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
Being a poet
Was the finest gift
I could ever be blessed with
Even though I didn’t
Blend in with their world
I had my own clandestine
Dwelling place that could relate to me
More than society ever could
Within poetry
I could compose
The most memorable
And masterly poems
Formulating my unexpressed feelings
My secret crushes
Infatuations and loves
Into ample amounts
Of dream-filled, transparent
Work of creativity
They didn’t have
To comprehend my language
I was enough
To the poetic world
It received me delightedly
It opened me to a dimension
Of intercontinental discoveries
Allowing me to expand my terminology
Bringing illimitable insight
Ponderous imagination
More than my mind
Had ever ascertained before
Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 6:52 PM UTC
One minute to midnight
all the InterContinental's are fuelled
fingers hover over the switch
palms are sweating
all the safes are opened
the codes confirmed
But the only time we will know of it
is when death falls from the sky.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC