"jettisoned" poems
My legs are shaking as I step
Onto a frozen lake
In skates that are not my own.
He grabs my hands
and whirls me in a wide circle
I scream and beg for him to stop.
He leaves me for a while
to wobble slowly
on my own.
Then he returns with a shopping cart
And dumps me in it
To push me across the lake
At an alarming rate.
With tears in my eyes
I beg him to stop.
I know I am being jettisoned
Towards my death.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC
I remember the bed just floating there.
Apart, apart, apart, apart.
If you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning
For example:
Homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework
See, nothing
Our existence?
It's the same way.
You watch the sun set too often, it just becomes 6 PM
You make the same mistake over and over
you'll stop calling it a mistake
If you just
wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,
one day you'll forget why
Nothing is forever
I last saw my mom when I was four years old
Before the last argument they sent me off to the neighbor's house,
like some astronaut jettisoned from the shuttle.
When I came back there was no gravity in our home, beds floating
I imagined it as an accident, that when I left
We whispered to each other "I love you" so many times over
that they forgot what it meant
Family, family, family, family, family, family
If you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning
This became my favorite game
It made the sting of words evaporate.
Separation, separation, separation;
see, nothing
Apart, apart, apart;
see, nothing
I am an injured person now
I work with words all day
Shut up, I know the irony
When I was young, I was taught that the trick to dominating language
was breaking it down
Convincing it that it was worthless
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..
...See, nothing
Soon after I left I developed a stutter
Fate is a cruel and efficient tutor
There is no escape in stutter
You feel the meaning of every word drag itself up your throat
S-s-s-separation
Stutter is a cage made of mirrors
Every "Are you ok?"
Every "What'd you say?"
Every "Come on kid, spit it out"
Is a glaring reflection you cannot escape
Every terrible moment skips upon its own announcement
Over and over until it just hangs there,
floating in the middle of the room
Mom, ........
....Dad?
I am not wasteful with my words anymore.
Even now after hundreds of hours of practicing away my stutter,
I still feel the claw of meaning in the bottom of my throat.
I have heard that even in space;
You can hear the scratching of a
I-I-I-I love you.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
We have ventured from the start
and lost sight and broken apart, but
there is a way to live without
hearing heartbeats as ticking clocks
shouting of times past;
we sat side by side through every class
and we’re not done learning. Our
gravestones are jettisoned from the shuttle,
floating there goes gravity but
even shadowed from the sun by so much,
we clutch at moons to make our own light
on our own planet. We
could keep going now,
could stop each other from falling
and keep marking our heights
against the wall even though
they stopped changing long ago
because we didn’t
and instead of accumulating
the weight of years and days
we could find a way to keep getting lighter
the farther we get from the beginning
we are finite
but there went gravity
cause of death: life
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
cast out
chucked away
deep-sixed
discarded
discharged
disposed of
expelled
flung aside
thrown down
jettisoned
deserted
jilted
vacated
left in abdication
aggravated
outcast
rejected
eliminated
forgotten
given up
godforsaken
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 11:02 AM UTC
by guess and by god, headstrong,
a recklessly charted course.
ruled by intuition and ammunition
we were captains together--but then the weather!
clouded our stars, washed away our vision, tore our sails.
my captain! i was desperate!
for you: i jettisoned my heart, threw overboard my sensibility,
let out all my rope until the Bitter End.
but you mean to abandon ship!
after all we've sailed through, and you mean to abandon ship.
you've left me with the devil to pay,
but instead i'll swallow the anchor, i'll swallow it whole.
forgive my mutiny,
but a dead captain is no captain, and the sea does own my soul.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
your heart will not fail in space
it will be an object of its own mass
and gravity
no longer will there be a throttle in its vessels
and asynchronicity in its rhythms—
the beats, oh, the beats
your heart, when it is in space, will only wait
for an entity
to be jettisoned from a shuttle
my oxygen is running low
i love you to your heart and never back
Jan 17, 2022
Jan 17, 2022 at 12:01 AM UTC
-
Greetings,
I am the empty chair you just recently
pushed into the carport like some unruly
child made to stand in a corner.
Not a new chair for sure,
but you made me _Your_ chair
by the force of gravity,
transforming my cushion into
perfect contours in the image
of your ***
Though you were always careful
if crumbs fell into me to get up
and brush them away,
and instead of just plopping down
hard on me, you sat gentle and easy,
even if only doing so to soften the
shock for yourself,
there were moments as you sipped beer
you let it slip through your bottom lip,
dripping on me with bitter aftertaste.
Still, I was forgiving of that, and even
to those numerous occasions of you
venting your evening meals.
But the one event that forever sullied our
personal relationship was the morning you
woke on me soaked in most of the past
evening's
~~brew
Though you tried to patch things up
with towels and scented sprays,
we were never to look upon
one another with the
same recognition
again.
I know now the days for me here number
far less than the buttons of the controller
you so frequently lost between my cushions,
giggling me in your efforts to retrieved it.
Although our separation will mean for me a
transformation into a twisted pile of springs,
stuffing, splinters and ripped cloth within the
bucket jaws of a front end loader in the snow,
I can take some comfort with me to the
resting pits of jettisoned human folly that
our severance was of no fault of my own.
yours truly,
Chair...
s jones
2007-2020
.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
The paratrooper
clad in chlorophyllic green
stoic in resolve he leaps
jettisoned from lofty perch
spiraling in space
tumbling through time.
Airborne
born into the air
delivered to the dirt
he dies, decomposes
a casualty of consequence
body brown and rotting in the rain.
Wars are waged and seasons change
and the world spins on in spite of all.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Tales told to me by my grandmother of the Duende.
as the campfires danced . The black leopard
stood far back in the trees
A ghost in the machine as we describe it today.
Jettisoned by the sun gods
for knowledge of self one little elf.
Now Boogeyman
Hobgoblin.
Troll. A manifestation of all men fear.
To walkabout and scurry in the pale moonlight.
The Duende awaits the ship in the night sky
lift him up away to the
end of time.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
When people ask what I do for a living,
I respond
“*Listening to my heart ******
as my mind garden blossoms
incandescent indigo constellations
humming the songs of nature’s entirety.
I sensually embrace the entirety’s
divine lips kissing my spirit
with sacred words
merging into me—
a blissful osmosis of neurotransmitters
waltzing with my consciousness
flowing liquid electricity
and molten rhythms of oxygen
in kinetic unison through moments
of subjective apocalypses
slowly returning to yugen.*”
When asked where I see myself in ten years,
I respond
“*Copacetic contentment—
having surrendered my life
to more than just the digital currency
of likes and retweets
and the constantly dissolving paper coins
because I chose to see people
as breathing pieces of naked art,
in progress,
stripped down to their thoughts
jettisoned through this spherical time
of infinite space and possibility
slowly accepting there is more out there
beyond traditional political religical flimflam,
beyond abnormal logicality,
beyond nirvana.*”
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
In a blanket of breath now pleasantly swathed
Our bodies made broken; prostrate in the fog
Exhumed from the boughs of tree-tops so balmy
On alabaster bones that tremble quite calmly
With thoughts of tomorrow, our miasmic today
That in wistful contemplation is thoroughly dismayed
Like the sullen, windy chimes of a church bell that rings
In the hardened heart of winter, on frost-bitten strings
Which frail, arboreal appendages, with nimble purposes pluck
To indulge the dulcet beds, in which our thoughts are tucked
In a licentious yawn that drifts, from scentless, sleepy shrouds
Like azure ships now sailing, through lofty, lilting clouds
Our pendulous hands still pawning these passionate decrees
With fervent fears to consummate your swiftly slumbered vestige
Atop my flesh, all slick with sweat, and in shadows sorely rapt
The mellifluous hum of reverent sight, through keyholes quickened pass
My heart is estranged from the banal constraint of this stagnant mortal coil
Held aloft in the piercing plea of love’s unbidden toil
All visions captive to the subtle sway of your chest now undulating
Like waves that crash, in rhythms vast; my thoughts, they are invading
Urgency deemed, from unconscious form, in sharp pangs of desire
The crease between your lips, the hand heavy on my hip: the nuances in which I am mired
The idiosyncrasies of you like a poem that is repeatedly folded
And jettisoned into my open mind, where these precious admissions molded
Taking form in tangible caress, to envelop with silken shivers
On the sill of windows wide where lonesome flowers withered
Thus proffered throat, in porcelain quiver, where stilted lungs concealed
In tear-wrought arrows, tempered and true, fly with errant zeal
To pin my ruminant heart upon this ragged, beggar’s sleeve
And chain my weightless body, from where it floats among the eaves
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 8:29 PM UTC
Somebody
had thrown a cassette
of Therapy?'s "Troublegum"
its nicotine-hued tape
mangled like the innards of
a gutted fish, or
so many sprayed limbs
in a crowded car pile-up
-decorating the bare branches
of the winter-stricken trees
which lay beyond the barbed wire fence
that separated the state-supported
and architecturally sound
playground facade of the solitary concrete grounds
-with empty swings-
of our mixed gender primary school
of 200 plus students (whom were
referred to as "pupils"-which reminded me
too much of eyes, but children are all eyes, aren't they?
With golden-hued irises, who seem to remember
everything).
Who had thrown it there?
Smashing all the angst-sodden, ripped guitar reverberations
-the fruits of a few individuals hard grasp and compromise, toiled out through a probable number of significant years-
that had lurked inside?
Why that gesture and why in that place?
Perhaps it had been the jettisoned request
of some clandestine love affair
(ephemerality also lays claims to gifts, to its plural gesture)
or, maybe in a more obviously classical mode,
it was only the result
of a bored friend who cared little for the music
or the efforts behind its delivery?
Whatever the reason,
its one of a handful of memories
that have stayed with me
when my thoughts strayed back to that school
(mostly without an intended purpose).
Also, across the same wasteland
there were assembled corrugated shacks
lined in front of back-garden walls
strewn with illegible graffiti
anticipating the waning rave culture
where we supposed-and were frightened by the thought-
that were the hang-outs of Drug users (AIDS was still a topic then)
and Pedophiles.
But then again,
we never tried to find out.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
Lulaby in D minor. Random cadence.
Radiant. Pill passing as placebo. But deaadly as stricnine.
Spider hiding on the leaf. Baited breath.
taut with anticipation..dance mephisto..
Fittest surviving by vibing on feedback.
Floating on experiences expediences. Called intuition ?
Seen it before, another stitch
For the quilt.
Mental flotsam. Jettisoned jetsum.
Protesteth greatly. Knows inately. ... the. Exception or rule.
Cumbaya. My lord. Cumbaya.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
Sling grease into pitch
of doggerel vowel
I'm looking for an "aooga"
sound that diminishes
as if jettisoned by speed of light
whipping sugar cane plantation
slave ghosts' utterances
paean screams doused
How I wish to be one of the first
followers of Obama to Havana
footfall through tic of time
slow gaits toc of eon
a Cold War's metrical decomposition
Aooga Aooga
Rumpapa Rumpapa
Shucka Shucka Shucka
Everyone is free
and so many of us swim
an opposite direction
Gyrate feet, hips, Cuba's beaches
smile, gaze upon maracas
Shucka Shucka Shucka
**** on raw sugar cane
Freely
with great abandonment
and greater ability
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
Born
The 7th son
I steer
Ever
Toward
The deep
Yet
Jagged rocks
Splinter
All thought
What bliss
This loneliness
Compels
An old way
Yet untamed
By and by
A thousand
Meters
Of coast
Encompasses my
Throat
Leveled
By the drink
I Await
My body
Human flotsam
Jettisoned
O'r starboard
Eons ago
Swallowed salt water
Ever hotter
Listening to waves
And gulls spell my name
Young ensign of fate
Breathing
Cyclic and finite
A novel storm
Looms
On the horn
On the cliffs
adrift
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
The sound of a car alarm,
"Detonating" might not sound inappropriate
Like waking into a fight that's
kicking off-
on Sunday mornings.
This is the realisation
Of how the world intrudes
Of how the the inner sanctum
is detached from the private self.
Car alarms -the drones of greater Western suburbia.
How are we expected to be overwhelmed by life
When we desire all the apps and whistles
Of electronic distraction
to keep our heart rates
Steadily rising?
Seeing a jettisoned supermarket trolley
Abandoned in a riverbed
Close to a church whose peak attendance
Occurs at summer weddings
Explains more about the human capacity for tragedy
Than most schloarly texts on Greek Drama
Surely this the curse of socities who best express sentiments through images?
The ability to make exhibitions out of emotions, of replaying journeys
Without speaking words
Somewhere a girl runs away from home
Somewhere else a boys runs to his bedroom
And even the streetlights betrayed with shattered glass
Make the sound of thunderstorms
on warm evenings.
The moon too bright to decipher as a circle
with unshielded eyes.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
The manner of her tongue was a bit antiquated, yet her personality was heretical, rejecting traditions.
She is an ingenious paradox and I'm a little abashed to say that I'm in a state of extol.
However I came to the consensus that I will safeguard her inaudible heart, scorn every hint of dismay, and feed it to the vultures.
I have jettisoned my own grotesque nature, for she is my alleviation.
It might sound querulous, but she is the pinnacle of my languished existence.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Wearing a drab dress, all white,
I see a girl child of about eight
seemingly lost, perhaps left alone to fight
her continuing wars with a callous world,
walking hurriedly all by herself along
a desolate street, that to me seems familiar
yes, it's in the part of the city, once I lived
which always was seen teeming with life
except perhaps in such mystery dreams.
Think of this, don't you in spirit live in many
different places, like hearts of lovers one cherishes
though now one hardly remembers, how
it happened and where it was or how many
different persona constitute, the 'You, you think are You'
Like a somnambulist she walks along the tree lined street,
I was watching her through a window set high,
as she passed a young palm laden with coconuts,
and then a strange feeling gripped me and said
"It must be she, standing in this cozy room's warmth
and isn't that I, taking faltering steps along the street,
where she has been never before and don't know
what awaits her or any other beyond that corner"
Is she a refugee from somewhere, an orphan whom
the world has jettisoned, with nothing to look forward?
An improbable adventurer aged just eight, still
ready to stare a dark, overcast day, on it's face fearless?
I just flew out of the window and was astonished at that feat
and the speed; who would think I could pull it off?
I flew following her as if fearing for my dear life,
as if she and I have a cryptic connection I forgot,somehow
Where is she?my heart in palpitation,I flow with the wind.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
the first day of the New Year
has got off to a bad start
the resolution I made was
jettisoned off my cart
when another New Year swings
around again
I'll put that one on
my must do freight train
over the past decade
I've had several broken intentions
which have resulted in
not sticking to conventions
those who can oversight
an annual oath well
might just like sharing
their keeper's spell
here I sit eating what
I vowed I wouldn't eat
but gee I am enjoying
that sugary treacle treat
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
It always makes me wake up when it hits;
When a rivulet of sweat runs between my ****
I wake up thinking some bug is walking there
Because it tickles my manly bit of chest hair.
Guys are built much different than the rest.
We are not supposed to have issues with our chest.
But here I am trying to get some sleep
Suddenly aware my cleavage is too deep.
Stuff is happening backwards that should not
What we supposed to do with this mess we’ve got?
Something’s got the world all upside down.
God must be a freaky circus clown.
Regardless of some nasty radio rants
I have no problem with women wearing pants.
And in life today as I have always seen
The woman is often the boss, big and mean.
And I have heard, in current affairs and state
That men can even, in time, learn to lactate.
But this one situation in which I have *******
Threatens to unhinge and drive me a bit loopy.
I guess, with time, I will someday get accustomed.
And I know some old ideas need to be jettisoned.
But I never expected that this would be a year
For me to go get fitted for an absorbent brassiere.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 9:42 PM UTC
The retired vaudevillian engraves his love's epitaph while eating caramelized clusters
The local sodomites huddle around and mourn outside the morgue
Waiting for the body of their **** to be handed over
They've given her body an overhaul
She looks more alive than when she was living
Hobnobbing with the well-to-do
The retired vaudevillian comes to collect the body of his deceased wife
He looks down at the sodomites
For their outlandish appearance and choice of employment has resulted in mistrust
"Oh my love, why couldn't you have been the driver instead of the passenger whose body was jettisoned into the air and smashed upon the asphalt?"
"She could do ten thousand breast strokes, paint masterpieces with one brush stroke"
The sodomites began to taunt the vaudevillian
Calling him washed up
He retorted back calling them toothless heathen ******
A mercenary was called to end the dispute outside of the morgue
He killed half of the sodomites and tasered the vaudevillian
The undertaker wheeled out the body bag on dolly
But he lost control, and the body went careening down the hill into a cloudy bay
The party of mourners grouped around the bay and watched the body float on to the afterlife
She left behind her has-been husband and her **** ******* cohorts
I bet she would have appreciated this little organized dime store wake
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
My lone, disheveled skiff is flooded
With moonlight. I am a real-life sea captain,
Wading off the shore of Life.
I have jettisoned my mighty oar,
I now lie on the hull, drowning
In a Champion's brew.
I miss my mates.
I'm sick of reminiscing w/ the stars
Of my friends, my crew,
Our complacency,
And the Great War.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
Spring spent
as a sprout
bedridden
in sediment
then edifice jettisoned.
By summer
roots ready,
tendons threaded,
a frenzy of
appendages,
extremities extended.
In autumn
stem shedding feathers,
fallen flower petal treasures,
emerald essence surrendered;
amber bled,
blood letting red,
settling
in ephemeral orange embers.
But winter
December veteran
still remembers
fledgling seeds spreading
instead of this,
condemned
to frigid tether
then again severed
and unfettered;
sun's warmth,
tender benevolence and pleasures
if ever through
the coldest weather
and snow yet treaded together.
Dec 24, 2023
Dec 24, 2023 at 7:07 PM UTC