"interweave" poems
*We all learned,
the grass is as green as the sky is blue,
but the sunset and sunrise seems to make this untrue.
Now I ask you,
have you heard the tale of the sky?
I can tell you for I have seen it with my eyes,
one day,
there comes a time,
where each of us begin to die,
and where does your spirit flow,
into the wind,
into the skies,
like how your blood is blue until it touches the outside,
the sky is as blue,
as the blood that swims through,
when the sun begins to leave,
the sky becomes purple to grieve ,
this is where the blue and red blood interweave,
eventually the sky goes a rosey pink
and then when the sun has left in a blink,
it gets too dark to even think,
in the night it is blackened blue,
and in the morning it becomes new,
while new souls pass back and forth,
the sky you see is our life force,
transferring lost souls,
and filling the found ones with life,
the sky has many purposes,
besides holding the sun moon and stars,
the sky lives to serve us,
the sky is full of scars,
why on tragic days the sky shines beautifully,
to show us hope is not something to of forgotten,
so now you know the story of the sky,
and you will meet with it the day you die,
and the ones you love will watch you fly.*
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
The flags interweave in a synchronous pace.
A pattern is formed and dissolves into space.
Kaleidoscope movement and the swish of a sabre.
What flows like dance is a pain and hard labor.
Glitter and make-up fluff and curls for the show.
But there's nothing soft about the rifles they throw.
The best part of the guard is not seen by the eye.
It's teamwork and sharing and daring to try.
When the show's over and the props put away.
There's always more practice and some time to play.
So just when you think the guard is all done.
Somewhere in a gym, they're still having fun.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
*common chilling sights--
i see humanity
ungranted
ice nucleators--
mutual lives underground
buffered dots of heat
Jupiter winds glow
revivals there and then --
red swirls of lust
twelve conquests past
all creatures skyclad
in that loose zodiac belt
unconditional
dark solstice
deepest love
festive thanks
at dread allayed--
more roasted birds
.
the same sun,
snowflake years
uniquely melt
.
still Fall-ripe,
matunda ya Kwanza
nourish unity
.
only a nick,
the green knight forgives
saint sir Gawain
.
winter thin
Shakyamuni trees
entangle star rays
.
Dōngzhì recurs--
tangyuan and dumpling soup
warm ears and hearts
.
Lucy brightens
Advent's tidal frost
sugar powder blind
.
strong eyelids--
holy corpses
smile again
.
endyear eyelids pull
open --
Summer's chain emails
.
i nightgaze here too--
Yalda Shab brightens birth night
vermillion sweet eve
.
gelt to gifts--
sacred lights remembrance
wonders burning yet
.
obstacles embraced
powdered elephant dance
ancient clouds of lore
.
of country dwellers
gifted greatest gifts--
pentacles outshine
.
hot planets glint
subtle light unseen and far --
night sky snow
transaeonic squint
textured sense illumes vast space
light trails interweave
evergreen bird womb
coos beyond my porch--
fireplace ignites
Februa nears--
thermals gather itch for
one last indulgence
Hubble vision melds
an interspecies lens--
"home" descends anew
integral trust--
grapes freeze by vintner's paths
of future sweetness
moss between toes
Spring ooze effluvia
giddy spine sky high*
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
Step inside the refuge of my disillusionment,
you will find a blood red sun bursting in the eyes of
a man that never harnessed an even temperament.
A cresting wave crashes on the beaches along
these rusted railways that interweave these broken skies,
a road paved in regret, spilled from my minds eye.
Obscure sounds, and muted lights diffuse from
the gutters lined with my inner child’s blood. We shiver
coldly, a voiceless wind passes misunderstood.
Tragedy unfolds before our eyes, the luster has
given way to rust due to an underlying apathy. Without
affection, resolute urgency is beyond our capacity.
A cursed fate we are resigned to hate, a blessing
we’ve dusted over in a fools gold asylum. A serious man,
with serious lusts, still a bitter ghost of mistrust.
Wash your ****** hands in the morning sun,
remove your emerald isle from the barrel of my gun,
hearts bleed ruby red, a vascular fire in the sky.
Fate will fall about the movements upon your ethereal
skin, neurotic waterfalls rush through the nightmares you’re
living in. Bid to create a dream… where we… are clean.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
Rich crimson leaves cascade from trees
Embers of fire in the breeze
Luna sails the black sea unseen
Autumnal spell of Halloween
We carve a brood of sculpted gourds
Bake apple pie for all adored
While trick-or-treaters come and leave
Phantasmal dream of Hallows' Eve
Candles burn bright in our window
Ancestors led home by the glow
Our bonfires flames swell with sheen
As shadows dance on Halloween
Let the feast for the dead begin
This spirit night, the veil is thin
Humans and ghosts interweave
The magic realm of Hallows Eve
The clock strikes the Witching Hour
Loved ones graves we bloom in flowers
This spooky Eve of in betweens
The time of rebirth, Halloween
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
a pretty face and she’s little waisted
a pretty place and a little wasted
tumble and tip into submission
stumble and slip into position
set all sweating systems to go
as emotions among other things grow
I’ll love you like you won’t believe
you’re the merchant and I’m the thieve
I’ve got a trick slid up inside this sleeve
trust me darling, I will not deceive
that’s just the way the story goes
when we remove our whorey clothes
and get right down unto the bone
the nitty gritty, the solid as stone
I want to get down to the heart of you
I want to feel every last part of you
I’ll love you like you won’t believe
you’re the merchant and I’m the thieve
I’ve got a trick slid up inside this sleeve
trust me darling, I will not deceive
I will not deceive, please believe
I will not deceive, you best believe
as long as we can receive and relieve
as long as we interweave every eve
darling I would never, could never leave
I will not deceive, I will not deceive
I’ll love you like you won’t believe
you’re the merchant and I’m the thieve
I’ve got a trick slid up inside this sleeve
trust me darling, I will not deceive
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
Spider
Walking into a corridor of neatly aligned cobwebs,
that have your history strewn across, like telephone wires
intertwining and intersecting,
Making all the conversations and voices interweave,
crossing paths - causing a disruption in the line,
the static disturbances echoing through the dark corridor
embellished with these cobwebs that have been lost in your mind.
The cobwebs speak like conversations
from broken telephone poles
that are overlapping and confusing the mind,
muddled and disarrayed, lacking any sense.
time has consumed these thoughts,
leaving bits and pieces,
that only mislead you
You swing across paving new paths with silken threads,
crisp and new, like adhesive,
glistening with prosperity.
Yet you keep these deep rooted cobwebbed memories
locked in your mind,
like Pandora’s box ready to unravel.
So just let them retire,
they have fallen and become undone,
and now they just collect
dust from your memories
Reminding you of thoughts,
that are specked and flecked
with dusty recollections.
Those worn out thoughts can no longer collect,
they only eject,
tangled stories confusing you
and bemusing you
So don’t collect
your abandoned webs,
like a memory book - they are no longer relevant,
they were just webs you wove to learn
how to weave the web you now conceive,
strong and secure,
fully capable to endure.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
Came to me in a dream,
The internet of the unconscious
the place
where dreamers flee.
As I lay down,
Eyelids shutter's close
deep dark night falls,
Into the interweave
we are delivered,
Into the collective unconscious
we go
coast to coast,
In synchronicity's archtype's flow
where all the
heroic demons and fears
dwell and go.
Awake? A dream?
A Balinese on LSD.
The boundaries fall
as the currents of the interweave
take us all.
When we hear a voice
we look around
to
see if anyone hears it too
otherwise how are we
to know
if it's a dream or if it's true.
The interweave a current,
We only enter unconscious
or
is it
when we are fully being?
We don't know.
We are swept along
on the night riding songs,
Our voices sing in
colors vivid, strong,
Sparkling in the black sky
lightning of consciousness crackling
the thunder of life
echoes in our ears
ripping us asunder,
To emerge
on another side
in another way,
Not too different,
Not too the same,
Irreversibly changed.
Our hands we hold
as we plunge, plummet
into the white current in
the dark sky
broadcasted to
the tumbling
rotating
universe
the interweave
a transit to
anywhere
you might imagine,
Don't fear,
Courage is here.
The imagination
runs so wild
call it what we will,
When we make our return
from the interweave's
milky way,
All we will
really know
is
that
for those
deep dark nights
when the eyelids shutters' close
after connecting
to the interweave
I
with each other was
free.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Soothing as the wind can be,
Embracing calmly trees of change,
Blowing through their leaves of tea
It bends the branches rather strange,
Flying birds shoot to the sky,
Aiming for the gentle clouds
To be smothered way up high
Far away from vile grounds,
Bathed within the warmth of days,
All that blossoms in the sun
Goes to sleep as darkness lays
A pitch veil you can't outrun,
Waves of foamy salty oceans,
Kiss the shores of golden sand,
Mighty currents are in motion,
Spreading life across the land,
Snowy peaks of rocky mountains,
Stand immortal in cold winds,
Icy rivers blast like fountains
Flowing down the forest's wings,
Fiery lakes of molten rocks,
Hidden from the naked eye,
Rise above like building blocks,
Gravity they must defy,
Rain starts falling from the skies,
Hurtling down towards the ground,
Soil and the clouds it ties
With loose threads that float around,
Stand outside and interweave
With the strings of liquid cloud,
Feel the rain drops and believe
In love and life, and have no doubt.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 8:46 AM UTC
i know nothing of you
but that you are anthropological
when you are inside unexplored diversities
that are not plums or peaches,
that you are a white siren with red nails
and that you want my knickers
sent enveloped, and sealed with
plastic cobalt kisses.
i know nothing of you
but that when they say poets are not in season;
you pluck me out lime-coloured and prematured
and tell me to ripen beside your afternoon tea
because you demand embryonic words
and pretty phrases that will keep you
animated and high.
you make me know not-
ions are unmarried clouds pregnant with ink;
yours are metabolic and invisible,
injecting sugar into my fallopian tubes.
you press your mouth against my sternum
and interweave your tongue with my heart,
we mould into a double helix.
you make us into nothing
but a genetically mutated flower
with two vulvas, collapsed between two pages
of a book that a ***** slapper would read
in the rain at two ams in between
****** acts and neon sunsets.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 5:00 AM UTC
Were they not reliable, the winds when they came
Was it not sadness they felt, when the tribes lost a name
(Amidst the rubble and ash,
he vivaciously spills his cash)
Was it not atonement swept across the crowd
Were their heads not solemn when they bowed
(A city in mourning,
strategic forewarning)
Did the music not play at low volumes in the eve
Did the stories of the past not eventually interweave
(He stands atop an empire so vast
realising now that his time has passed)
Do you not feel great elation that the town now lays dead
Do you not thank them kindly that you were allowed to be mislead
(Ah, but a story never ends with the champion
merely fertilised soil for the blooming rampion)
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
In the changing fortune of time,
heartbeats expand and wisdom follows.
Spiraling sweet air
becomes infused with song.
Deep inhale circulates
Eyes become fixated on light.
Energies interweave with moments
golden platter of food placed before awaken one.
And faith carries
as to move forward inside love
and compassion.
Time awakens the sleeping souls,
as sands of hour glass drift
upon oceans beach.
Now mind becomes reborn in thoughts
releasing dark rubble to make expansive pathways
filled with miracles and harmony in new day.
With wealth of time
clouds dissipate
gifting the walker who stands grounded
in steps.
Aho to gift of life.
Aho to those who led the way.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 8:19 AM UTC
Impulsive drones, these machos you have flimflammed,
Wolfing your proportionality like a **** brewed nectar of grapes,
When flimsy limb frills no more interweave, expertise reprogrammed,
Are you the lone from infinite frames murmuring, “once more, he escapes”?
Indignation ******* broadcasted, ferocity wrought into the fiber,
Prior, where narcissistic pathway architecture once lodged aloft,
Calloused acknowledgement of her duffel, abrupt pang, necessity for a prescriber,
My mettle is feeble of the soap opera, hanging one’s topper in my breath, I coughed,
The cauldron perpetually gurgling with spume, mingling itself,
Gyrating with giddiness as if my noggin was a top trinket,
No dust crumbs in any bustle ever jubilated atop my pit-a-patting instrument’s
Masses are anticipating for my enveloping blanket,
I perhaps beam till the cattle wham the timepiece, though seldom do I chuckle,
Shall journey with the ensuing waft, no comma for a buckle.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
To render strings of scenes from your head
into words on paper
that another person could read in order
to recreate the voice of someone unmet,
and at the same time be presented beautifully and clearly;
to choose the right words making the right phrases
making the right sentences making the right paragraphs
making the right chapters, and to have these chapters
interweave into a cohesive story that manages to
fulfil the reader and make him feel
joy, sorrow, despair, or hope;
is insanely meticulous,
and inanely ridiculous.
And to come up with characters
that need to feel alive:
to have to be so many people at once,
each with their own dreams, wants,
thoughts, feelings, identities,
and treasured memories,
how can one not explode?
How can a mind not erode?
And of all the hobbies, passions or pastimes
a human being can engage in—
from juggling chainsaws on a tightrope
to playing the piano while painting yourself playing the piano
to sculpting a hypercubic klein bottle,
nothing is as delicately difficult
as juggling a thousand possibilities of plot
on a swinging tightrope of self-doubt
while playing the instrument of your vocabulary
to paint a scene revealing itself magically
all the while sculpting an entire universe(!)
piece by piece from the flesh and bone of your own
pregnant imagination.
Who, then, but only the most idiotic,
brave, ambitious, and diabolic self-haters and self-lovers
would write a book?
It's a noble task, to be sure,
for without its fair dose of literature,
mankind would crumble and un-create
back to the unthinking, unfeeling dirt from which it is made.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
My alliteration is alienating my appetite and i just might atrophy on sight if my rhymes cant interweave to achieve some insight as to why the **** i even try every night.
Such is the life of a write.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
The Moon is bright tonight,
I have a thousand sheep to count
You're on my mind, you're in my head
The last thought that lingers above my bed
As I breathe, as I pray, as I sleep, as I dream
With gentle steps, you'll interweave
your being into my subconscious
You've been here for a while
a few years you've claimed your place
The lines around your mouth when there's a smile upon your face
Can we dance beneath the stars tonight
and whisper of the Divine?
And when you've left, I'll write poems of how you were once mine
When I walk I'll remember, the silences, the glances
secret clasped fingers held beneath tabletops and hours hours hours
those long dark days of discovery and shared moments were ours
These days are ours for the taking.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 1:25 PM UTC
we as poets,
are like birds....
in the sky.
soaring against,
the backdrop of
nature's grandeur
while aloft, we espy,
beauty and sorrow
and all the stuff....
that living life makes,
and falls forgotten,
in-between the cracks,
of just.... being.
from which,
we as poets,
glean .....
words and phrases,
that cause us to,
ponder, wonder
and cogitate.
those whispers of love.
sighing, breaths and sorrows
thoughts of futures blest,
of now, i am impressed
and yester's hollow,
and yet to be put to rest.
and bring them home,
with loving care,
to nidificate....
to interweave what we
see, hear and feel... & know
into the nesting chamber
for our wordlove....
for our poem
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
My lover’s hair is caught up in the wind’s path
And begins to interweave.
The breeze is caught up in each strand
And begs desperately not to leave.
Sep 30, 2023
Sep 30, 2023 at 8:13 PM UTC
Oh, I love you, honey,
your sweet nectar voice.
The way you ensnare me
with empty words,
and interweave me,
with warm suffocation.
You are venomous,
and I am dying,
but why does it feel
so much like paradise?
— Y.H.
Moribund,
gentle fervor.
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Wires criss cross,
electricity enclosed,
never touch, fencing in,
the sky, the clouds, and where birds alight and touch,
Branches interweave and lace, oxygenation exposed,
roots bury deep,
as the shallow earth is
a deep canvas,
always waiting on the painter of the Light.
From the sky to the dirt tinted ground,
winged fowl to the rodents who bound,
or scurry, as coyotes celebrate a **** calling
the moon to break the clouds like bread,
with two unseen hands that reach down.
The oceans sounds are the cars that roll
by and the air crests and curls landing
against the beaches made of trees and
hedges, and sitting listening still is the wind
wanting a turn to play coyote and howl, showing teeth
wanting a turn to play rodent tossing bushes about,
wanting to play birds that dance and dance aloft below the clouds while diving to feed off of the heat of the Day, to rise way above to see the pastoral patchwork, Earth below.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
What exactly is the sound of a heart breaking?
Is it the careless mention of a name in casual conversation?
Is it the way little moments of agony interweave in to the day?
Moments that really only last a few sudden seconds
but feel like little pin ****** in a soul.
Is it the way a smile will never quite reach the eyes again?
Is it the way seeing a couple laugh and embrace
only further illuminates the loneliness carried inside.
Or is it the sweet sound of someone's first kiss
That makes a chest tighten and a pulse race.
Because sometimes love witnessed is love remembered.
And sometimes remembering is too much.
What is the sound of a heart trying to feel again?
Is it the desperate craving for the softest touch?
Or rapid hot electric rush when deep inside someone?
Is it embracing the pain each and every night?
Waiting for the day where the numbness wins out.
Is it burning the mind with every single sad melody made?
Like a poisoned man searching frantically for a cure.
Or is it the slow realization this is never really over.
It never really goes away.
Hiding all this hurt just gets a little easier.
Until it just doesn't get mentioned.
Just a dark corner in a darker heart.
The emptiness just becomes a little less...empty.
The days become lighter and longer.
The nights not quite as crushing and ceaseless.
Almost like it never even happened at all.
Then the cracks give way and scar over.
What then, is the sound of a heart falling in love?
Is it letting the color seep back in to the world?
Is it the slow deep breaths shared in the night?
Or the feeling thrumming in every cell of the skin?
Is it the crash of a kiss?
The pressure of arms around arms?
Or is it the miracle of everything being new again?
The sound of a heart breaking is simple.
It's the sound of a heart learning to live again.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Crazy moments
Forgotten within the fabric
We interweave stars into our dreamtime
Just so we know the truth
That lies beyond our disguise
We never know
which way
and how
But we know
We must
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 2:20 PM UTC