"jewelery" poems
A palpable discord keeps me
turning all through the night
until the late rays of Sun
shine by again
I want a dreamcatcher
Feathery-spider web-
To keep my hypnagogic rest
sacred to me
And then I can wish
him closer...
Without a separating sea
I reserved my sleep to calmer
nights where my dainty ribs
caressed an incense-ridden
wind
My dreams are a shade
happier than me
I found my wrists
bedecked in fine jewelery
There's no chiming of antique
clocks in my sleepy
subconscious knots.
My eyes were not
corrosed over
so when he spoke I
comprehended
with crystal orbs
I'd hoped I find him through
disheveled bedsheets under
the waxing moon...
It illuminated my skin and sent me
soundly reveling in the hazy countenance
To me he's Elvis' love child
He's a wish fulfilled to me
I discovered an idol
I write letters,
coveted, held close
I worship what I
know of him
My thoughts are almost this
tangible-thing like a rope
I could grab and
make a knoose out of
perhaps it's time to slay
the golden bull
I struck his wayward glance
by some silver spring of snow
He's travelled to the ruins
of cathedrals with
chipped limestone on
the doors arched-shape...
darkness on the otherside...
Mother Mary follows,
walking through some threshold
hallway
Crooked stem, bent leaves...
A pruned up crackled rose
for me to eat
Those eyes...
dark brown, almond-shaped
Squinty with sparrow-feet
I'm waiting in the mountains
Clouds covering my eyes
Ocean blue in the stark sunshine
blinding me and enveloping me
when the music dies
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC
Dear Ms. Di Prima,
I really,
Really,
Think that Alchemy—Alchemy--Al-Chem-EEEEE
Is a
Nifty
Topic.
But,
My mother has a ring
Of gold.
Standard Gold,
No lead. None.
Or had,
Until our house was
B-R-O / K-E / N
Into
By some lowlife scumbag with
Too much ability
And
Not enough intelligence.
With Alchemy
I could make a shitload
Of Gold (wasn't that the point?),
Provided I had the
Lead,
And not that
IMPOSTER
Crap in pencils (Graphite. My childhood was a shambles.).
But it's only valuable
Because
We're willing to pay so much.
Like with Diamonds.
Or Japanese Akita.
Or Wagyū.
It's not a lie.
Just a trick.
Making you think you want things that you don't need because it helps someone else who you've never met make more money than they'd ever be able to use in a legitimate way
(HOOKERS AND BLOW).
All of these things are synthetic.
With the exceptions of
Gold
And
Graphite.
So,
Maybe,
Alchemy did work out alright,
Just not in the anticipated way.
We can make all sorts of things.
But they become coveted only when they exist.
Just ask Swipey McStickyfingers.
It actually wasn't gold.
You just got a bunch of painted junk,
And passports.
No rubies.
We weren't international crooks,
Renowned and beloved
By jealous zealots.
It was purely sentimental.
But you can't understand.
You can't fondly look at the earrings as the last reminder of a deceased parent.
You can't flip through the identification booklet and be flooded with memories of your first trip out of the country.
You ****** You can't even cash the savings bonds that were bought to put someone through college.
No. He got a box of documents and some cheap jewelery.
But still. Probably called for celebration. A successful heist
Because his brain is still in his head.
We create people as well as objects.
Ms. Di Prima,
In the end,
Some people will always be
Clasping ********
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
velveteen ruins cluster hush the horizon
smearing dusk and warp across the frog croak fracas
of the outer wilderness, where the buildings disassemble
the domiciles of dank and drab. where no maidens
await rescue. just the desolate hub
of wilt and bane. towers felled by iron claws
and engines of rake and drain. our progressive diaspora
of un-living things. the faint jewelery of our banshee
before swine.
dead of night prone... while reading ' Confessions Of A Hope Fiend '
we are leery of our tiny Thames
but dredge our Vistas
for humming
bugs.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 12:31 PM UTC
They will speak of me in a downward tone
with a voice of mourning upon the funeral of dead soldiers
they will sing of me in avant garde with octaves hitting the lowest
pit in the fires where souls banish and come back for continuous agony
hands reaching out of a purgatory living in the walls of this asylum will
move in rhythmic patterns of a high fashion and a noble art
elegant and unwilling, shaking and drilling
breathing you will see the souls of these anarchists rise
from the stigmatic allure of their concentrated assets
reaching out as if to hold back shunning all the disbelief that pain is the
obscured enemy of this life, when all he teaches is the appreciation of happiness
violence and how it intricate's a human welt
barred in chains of a forsaken emotion
deeply rooted in the hearts of a barren people
I will speak these words forever as I walk through a muse of history
with each second that passes I will preach my sighs of a
hopeless pain
I will refuse to lock myself behind thick wooden doors inside
when it rains
my diary leaks with its tattered and frail pages symphonies of a deep
understanding on what is hidden in the eyes of those humans
who spark my deepest curiosity in the gazes of a mournful living
a light tap on the shoulder and I will drop and show you how these things bleed,
like animals spirits hunting and killing their unseeing prey
there is no survival here only a continuation of evanescence and death
and moments of a calming laughter in between
exposing myself to life's blood time and time again,
and a acquired taste for wisdom
and that deep pit that the miners of life dig through me to find my diamonds
and when they do, I am happy
but the hole goes in so deep that I am left with no breathe and I am drained of life
so that I may wake up in the morning anew and lively again
come into me and speak to my reaper
so that I may expose the divinity that I
hide away in my jewelery box of art and criminal behaviors
a Victorian and bizarre mistress
I have held the hearts of many in between my man like hands consumed by a womanly fragrance
my neck pulsates, and you can see my veins
I tear down these curtains
they will speak of me and how I have no shame
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
Mhmm...
Mhmm... yea!
Mhmm... ey-yeah-ey yeah yeah yeah mm... mhmm
Mhmm... mhmm...
Mhmm... yea! yeah
Mhmm... ey-yeah-ey yeah yeah mm mm, mhm
Hey, yea-yea, yeah-eh-yeah-eh, yeah-eh-yeah-eh
Hey hey-yea-eh yeah, mhmm
Professional or beginner doesnt matter
Every sinner is a prisoner in a body that is subject to time
Now my entwined mind tries to form a straight line
not like twised scoliosis of the spinal chord
Construct
Cross eyed carpenters are cuttin' crooked lines
Can't construct
man-made shrines when the winds and the water move sands of time
Many minds on a deadline, yet live life like a live wire
I'm not tired!
Of blood and fire
Spirit's moving higher than the green grass ever lifted me
Spirit's moving higher...
Than anything else ever lifted you
Mm, see
We got spirituality
It's living in us like one in three
Injustice is concerning me
in the non-linear eternity
I'm speaking paradoxically
but you can nod your head now when you understand me-e-e-ee...
This is for my free men
whose backs wont bend in the lions den
now with their eyes on the ending
This is for my free women!
They fight with their love
The bearers of our children
Free men whose backs wont bend in the lions den
now with their eyes on the ending
This is for my free women
They fight with their love
The bearers of our children
We shine like lights exposing
what lies underneath decomposing
Unearth those chains that are rusted
my sweet Lord, is that what i trusted in?
That sin? That tomfoolery? Ugh!
What it is is mental jewelery that I adorned myself with
The enemy's gifts, the man-made myths, the ignorant bliss
of marijuana spliffs and alchoholic fifths
I got so sick and tired of it
Delivered and redeemed
by christ i mean
It's time to start livin'
and get a reason for the rhyme
I dont wanna be dead-wrong on the deadline
Standing on the dark side and all out of time...
Like a blind pantomime's fantasize
climb up his own ladder to the sunshine
Nothin's mine
that hasn't been given
No one's alive here
that hasn't been risen
For 19 years i was trapped in a prison
Feeding my escape by means of derision
but every man-made attempt just failed
when trapped in a jail
of my own guilt, shame, and iniquity
I was looking for freedom
How'd I find freedom?
Oh! Oh, freedom...
from all of this
He said believe
He said believe
Who are you telling me to belei-e-eve... yea
'Said I'm the Christ
Oh!
...he said I'm the Christ
So I believed.
Freedom!
Mhmm... yea
Mhmm... ey!
Mhmm... ey-yeah-ey yeah yeah yeah eh, mhmm
Mhmm... Hey! No, no no
Mhmm... yea!
Mhmm... Yea ey-yeah-ey yeah yeah mhm,
Nah na-na-nah
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
I want to celebrate you
All through life,
I forgot the day until
I'm reminded by others
but now that you're gone
I remember the day each year
without any help
the day feels so empty
so meaningful yet
meaningless
I want to surprise you with
something special
some bright flowers
or a pretty piece of jewelery
to visit you, or at least
give you a call
and wish you a happy birthday
to hear your voice, and give you a hug
to tell you how wonderful you are
and just how great of a mother you are
to go back to all those years
that I forgot and let the day pass
without meaning
and to make sure that you knew
just how much I appreciate you
But now to go to your place of rest
to see your name written there
the words we picked
that doesn't even begin to describe
to sit on the dirt and weep
bring some flowers that you'll
never see or smell,
that someone will clean
up in a week or two
brings me to the thought
that, that might just bring some peace
some closure
some way to show you how much I care
but I can't even do that,
being miles and miles away
though even if I was closer
would I?
I can be close to you
as close as I can get now
anywhere I am
with but a thought
Happy Birthday Mother
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
✧
Everyone says that Diamonds are a girls best friend
Everyone says that jewelery are a girls best friend
Everyone says that make up is a girls best friend
✧
but they do not know the truth
i do not think they understand
✧
if she could she would be a shadow
which no one can see
away from society
✧
in the night she stays awake
because he is cold and unforgiving
✧
I don't think you understand
she'll never walk away
because she has no where to go
she is alone in this world so cold
✧
she puts up a mask to not answer the hurting questions
so she can go further on the hurting road full of diamonds
✧
if she had the choice between life and death
she would choose death
because she can't stand the pain anymore
the pain of diamonds cutting through her skin
✧
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Do you remember our bulletproof afternoons?
The ones downtown wandering the pawn shops, looking for nothing.
Remember the antique Coca-Cola bottles you loved?
Remember the good deals on the old Nintendos?
Remember kisses you gave me in the back of the store?
Remember pretending the cameras couldn't see me touch you?
Remember holding my hand outside?
Remember your hand on my waist?
Remember the rain on the sidewalk?
Remember me laughing?
Remember the old books on the shelves?
Remember me stroking their spines?
Remember me writing my own stories about how they got there?
Remember watching me and loving that?
Remember the jewelery?
Remember the bracelets and necklaces? The trinkets of broken loves?
Remember the rings?
Remember watching me sooth the lonely rings through the glass?
Remember what I said?
Remember how it broke our hearts, to see them broken beneath the glass?
Remember how the engravings broke our hearts?
Remember how you held my hand and kissed my shoulder?
Remember how you told me not to worry?
Do you remember pawning my ring?
Remember pocketing the cash?
Remember watching the pawn man place it beneath the glass?
Remember the couple holding hands, hearts breaking over my ring?
Do you remember breaking their hearts?
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
it’s a place
it’s a time
it’s a memory
it’s a smile
it’s the changing of leaves
it’s the scent of a wood-burning fireplace
it’s a moment
it’s a laugh
it’s a kiss
it’s that anxiety you get in your throat right before you’re going to cry
it’s a dog panting and wagging it’s tail
it’s a flash of colour through the black
it’s a pair of pants
it’s holding hands
it’s someone’s arm around you, pulling you closer as you fall asleep
it’s falling
it’s strength
it’s a river
it’s an ocean
it’s a waterfall
it’s rain
it’s dancing
it’s uninhibited
it’s passion
it’s an old, crackled picture
it’s a friend that you haven’t seen in three years
it’s a road, the yellow dividers ticking by
it’s a mountain
it’s a birch tree
it’s an aluminum boat
it’s a view
it’s a pitcher of beer
it’s a bottle of wine
it’s a drinking game in an old cement basement
it’s a rooftop
it’s a pair of sunglasses
it’s those old shoes that you wish you’d never donated
it’s grandma’s jewelery
it’s a cat’s tail disappearing behind a couch
it’s a song that your mom used to play on the piano
it’s grilled cheese and tomato soup
it’s a summer
it’s a season
it’s treading water
it’s christmas
it’s playing hookey
it’s a cup of tea on a foggy day
it’s freedom
it’s the windows rolled down
it’s humidity
it’s waking up under the sun
it’s waking up under the stars
it’s legs intertwined
it’s a flashlight in the forest
it’s ghost stories
it’s that concert, the one you swore changed your life
it’s running naked down an old wooden dock
it’s a song
it’s family
it’s then
it’s goodbye
it was.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Ochre scrubbed ebony skin
Wooden jewelery here and there
Picture perfect beauty in simplicity
She walked in moral fortification -
fashioned in decency
Hardwork and wisdom was her charm
Barefeet and weighted with firewood on her head
Pots and baskets she juggled in hands
and through scorching heat she focussed ahead
the dessert sand burning her feet
Not once did she say it was a plight
She was proud to be a woman
The keeper of men and children
Through rain through sunshine
cooperating with her man's other woman
She worked for survival of all
Getting up in the first light of day
Submitting and respecting
Raising her children in acceptable ways
She was the unglorified worrior
A war hero could not fit her shoe
But she didnt have that shoe
So she smiled and made her man happy,
and her children
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
And he killed him. And he killed him. And he killed him.
"I'm going to **** you." And he killed him. Here is the Ada fruit.
Nelson Mandela, Nelson Mandela, from New York
to the United States. U = United States,
Russian and Black Cabinet. 'K' and music, weather,
window, Ethiopia, prophet, women, black women,
black children, mothers, mothers, mothers, mothers,
mothers, mothers, mothers, mothers, voices beautiful and bright,
eyes, forehead, hair color without hair.
The story of Tama and Rehumanum is not so difficult,
but it has improved in the landscape, music and child labor.
He was born in Latin and Latin America, symbol of Alma Gold.
Well, I can hear more words than you, I listen more than words.
The story is a mistake, it is an improvement. Aristotle has a very important relationship with robotics: Cicero, A lot of Friendships,
Alison Krauss Music, Songs, Dance, Women are part of Pharaoh's fantasies about the well-being of women in the religious community.
... Chrétien c. Chatroulette is a smoke.
Marcus, in bed, you talk one day, the dog is like a chair
and a tradition, a professional Spanish lawyer
and a Geiger from Zaragoza. This has three mysterious powers.
What are the three marriages now?
You have to leave Bing Bing for Bing
Light and Bing Bing. Stay in the mental
park. Six tracks were borrowed from
the six wildflowers in modern sportswear
and softball clothing. The principle of
rewards and poisonings in Bulgaria,
Bulgarian jewelery, jewelery, lifestyle.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
Taking root inside hearts,
poisoning people, manipulating their pulse.
Time after time, their visions gets blur,
they don't know what they are doing
that all they do is not their own.
Hearts of gold, jewelery emblossoming their minds. Flowers made by money, adorning their heads, they'd do anything to get that extra cash.
When they lose everything they have,
they break, they wither, they melt down crying bitterly. They counted their lives on money, leaned on them,
made out of them, that when they lose it all, all they do is to break down and sob.
An ongoing murderer, not yet caught,
embraced even, they wear it like a gown. It will not be long till they fall
down, down, down.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
little billy badger adventure bound was he
decided he would sail far across the sea
he packed up his things built himself a boat
now billy he was ready to set himself afloat.
he headed out to sea ready to explore
looking for adventure on some exotic shore
after quite sometime billy saw some land
a great big desert island full of golden sand.
billy went ashore to see what he could see
for any signs of life that there just might be
suddenly he heard a parrot in a tree
he began to talk a friendly chap was he.
now billy had a friend now had company
in this far of land far across the sea
the strolled along together ready to explore
to see what they could find on this foriegn shore.
they searched along the island to see what they could find
maybe buried treasure that was left behind
they found a little cross marked out on the sand
billy started digging parrot gave an hand
suddenly they found a hidden treasure chest
then they got it open and took a little rest
it was full of gold. goblets coins and rings
jewelery galore and lots of other things.
billy he was happy so was parrot too
his dreams of finding treasure really had come true
he settled on the island decided he would stay
with his friend the parrot in a land so far away
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Look here,
I'm not trying to gain your trust,
I'm not trying to be your friend,
I'm not trying be someone that you could
Lean on and depend,
I'm not looking for this crowd,
I'm not looking for a gf,
I'm not searching for my soul, yet,
And it's not even p.m,
I'm not trying to be your son,
I'm not trying to be your comfort,
I'm not trying to be the one,
I'm like lightning, your like thunder,
And I clearly hate the rain,
And I clearly hate your face,
I don't care who you know,
They could even be in outer space,
I don't care about your jewelery,
I don't care about your clothes,
I don't care about your goals,
That you reached when I was alone,
I could care less if you hate me boy I'll fight you and your buddy,
All the people that has ever doubted me has gotten lucky.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
Where are you, when I need?
Always running from me, never to be found.
Taking my hand; always to lead-
never once do your footsteps make a sound.
Impossible to find, but secretly about...
why is it that you give me doubt?
The block forms in my mind; seems like I'm running out of time.
The pressure builds from my own self,
and I don't even write for the wealth.
Maybe if I had a million dollars, or some beautiful jewelery,
would you decide to come back to me.
Gift my mind with the reason to write,
because without you, I have no insight.
No insight to my reasons or why;
It's only without you my lungs release a sigh.
A sigh of doubt and annoyance.
The whiteness in my head is like quilt on a bed-
normal, but instead...
I refuse to give up; I will not stop searching,
for, you see, my mind is surging.
I never run out of words in thought,
and because of this my aspirations will never stop.
Halfway through a random poem,
with you by my side and pen in hand...
all of a sudden I am distracted by someone;
and now you've taken the chance and ran.
The misery forming in my heart;
god I just want to finish this last part.
Begging, pleading, I'm on my knees;
I look hopeful out the window through the trees,
and wish to see you running back to me-
but it's really never that easy.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 4:09 PM UTC
what do you look at whenever you see me for the first time, after a long time?
do you notice my dressing,
down until my shoes?
or do you look at my hair,
and observed how much of a mess it is?
do you see my jewelery,
and how i finally managed to wear them out?
or do you see my face,
the only one that tells it all?
because something tells me you don't notice anything,
and i rather excuse you with reasons in my thoughts.
maybe you were busy with your thoughts,
and you got tangled up real badly.
or maybe you were caught up with the conversations you had before,
regretting things you didn't say up until then.
or maybe you were lost in space,
having being ventured into it for a long time,
you forgot to come back.
but today for the first time,
i stopped making excuses for you.
because i thought,
just for once,
you would notice me.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They reported
On the brother
Said he’s broke
Ain’t that a mother
Guess someone had to
Pull his cover
Cuz broke is one thing
Ugly is another
It’s hard to feel sorry
For the brother’
Cuz broke is one thing
Ugly is another
They say he lived
A lavish lifestyle
Made it rain in clubs
That’s not the half child
Until his Chapter 11
Got filed
He was runnin’ round
Acting buck wild
It’s hard to feel sorry
For the brother’
Cuz broke is one thing
Ugly is another
It’s hard for me
To even pity him
Cuz chance are
None to slim
That he would ever
Pity me
In similar circumstances
Don’t cha see
Fancy cars
And big *** mansion
On top of that
A guest-house expansion
How ‘bout the jewelery
He would wear
Medallions gold chains watches
He didn’t care
It’s hard to feel sorry
For the brother’
Cuz broke is one thing
Ugly is another
They reported
On the brother
Said he’s broke
Ain’t that a mother
Guess someone had to
Pull his cover
Cuz broke is one thing
Ugly is another
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
When it all gone.
The money.
The houses.
The jewelery.
Will you see this love within me.
I don't want to be treated like a fake celebrity.
Who couldn't attract any interest?
If it wasn't for them being famous.
Not that I'm rich.
Although one day I hope to be.
I'm just wondering.
Would you see the real side of me?
So, when it's all gone.
And I don't have a single thing.
Will your love show?
I just need to know.
When it all gone.
Will your love come through?
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
I'm the jewelery behind the cage
That nobody wants to buy
But catches your eye for a minute.
Shining because I was shined
Until within goes dark again,
They pull me out to be cleaned and grin
Then everyone goes home
But in the cages they leave the lights on
So while the rest sleep, my head still spins.
I'm the mismatched socks you don't wear,
Can't throw them out, so they stay there.
Piled under everything new to come
I've got a hole in my sole, threads undone.
You pull to stop the little bleed.
More and more string starts coming free.
Until I'm tangled and you're entangled in me.
I'm the poet that doesn't get read
But continues to write so he might go to bed
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 4:19 PM UTC