"ketch" poems
Ever had that feeling that no one cares even the people who constantly say things like am here for you but is never around the ones who say just call me and when you do they don't answer , people who make promises and never commit but isn't a promise a comfort to a fool , then call me stupid cause I fell for it several times am way pass the stage of a fool .
I got trust issues!! and its way pass crazy when you find that you don't even trust your mother when you can't look at her and crack a smile for a few seconds because in the blink of an eye she takes it away.
I had a nightmare last night and I wake up trying to ketch my breathe but the truth is it was my reality standing in front of everyone and no one can see me dying .
My alarm went off and this time I didn't even know what for, screaming and beating ,cursing and scowling my mother went off from 6 -8 in the morning, lord know this my favorite way to wake up giving me enough energy to go through my day all gloomy and **** but he always seem to cheer me up with the sound of his voice cause its a Cole world and all I gotta do is CHEER UP .
cause even through the joy i feel the pain even when it sun i feel the rain even when am high i feel the low likes that's all I know and lord knows i can't complain cause even when i do it feels the same getting high just to fight the lows cause that all i know .....
So cheer up
#NanaJustice
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
These words are a sock, soft and warm from the dryer
butterknife
palpable
lullabye
maroon
These words are bits of glass, attacking my ears:
Yaw
Ketch
Blurt
Epizeuxis
Jactation and
Mauve
These words are brass-knuckled fists to the face
Mogadishu
Rwanda
Desert One
My Lai
And
Nine One One
These words are a sneaky cat, slithering here and there
Mystery
Secretive
Lurking
Sly
Shadowy
These words are unknown to everyone but me. Private words for private thoughts.
Uiyak
Jackassdom
Nothingofanyvalue
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Picasso reported a theft
By art thieves who barely had left.
"Did you see them?" cops prodded.
"I think so." He nodded.
"Perhaps you could sketch them
To help us to ketch them."
So he sat down to draw
And they watched him with awe.
After they knew
What Pablo drew,
Arrests swiftly came.
I cite them by name:
Mandolin, guitar, and horse.
But do I jest? Of course.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
Dear porcelain, would I were perfect as you art,
Not in dull translucence do you shine,
Gleaming brilliance cloaked yet unmarred,
Mirror mirror of conscious dreams of mine.
The distant chime, chime of deathly knells,
Of shattered pebbles down scented lunar peaks,
Of soft crystal frost into the veil they fell,
Let my masks abscond, leaving eyelids weak.
Such sweet ache plagues my nightly mares,
Loveless lone splendor beneath blacken skies,
Nap 'tween the orchards ripe with pears,
Awakenings torn asunder the happy lies.
Sail-less ketch off candle-lit cavern shores,
Colossal etched symbols of Hecate's spells,
Till desire and woe to oblivion they soar,
Will gladly blunder through all seven Hells.
Absent from day's eye are the auric beams,
Silent be the hymn from above, off-tune flutes,
In motion I stand in fear of reluctant dreams,
Wounded peregrine looking at the open blues.
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
poetry composed in perfect silence
doesn't exist...
for there is no such thing,
perfect silence
there are no
noise canceling headphones,
a coachable prevent defense,
protecting my inner ears from
hearing words forced to the surface,
loudly spoken, up floating
unto the mind's constancy of enraging waters,
the highest definition of
mental disquiet,
the imperfect silence
frag grenades, IED's detonate,
all nicknames for the brain's multi-voices,
all argue raucous,
unafraid of exposure,
over~shouting to be heard,
freely secure in the
seeming silent privacy
of my brain,
mine owned
internecine mental slaughterhouse
and yet,
what I write down,
mine to keep...
my home,
and my mind,
an isle,
an atom of Earth
and flesh cells,
split surrounded by a
broad freshwater river
*the isle of the mind
spits fingers of land and voices,
injecting themselves into
the two~sided, belly~soft riversides,
forming bays and coves,
hiding places for
crafty human devices*
my poor mind,
mind it well,
as this sailing craft called poetry,
now, but a tiny ketch
to keep me afloat upon the
river surround,
while avoiding the backwash wakes
of larger enemy ships of state,
those who gladly drown me
for pleasure,
enjoying the pretending-to-be-quiet
internal screams denouncing
the myth of perfect silence
but the imperfect
poetry
born amidst
imperfect sleep,
the residual,
mine to keep...
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
as we're planting the seeds of love
we'll harvest a bounty
ah how rich it will be
reaping love's field of plenty
our seeds will be
in a well furrowed patch
so our juices of love
will finely hatch
sowing the seeds of love
a surplus we'll fetch
there will be a booming bonus
in our love ketch
the time is ripe
for our sowing
to begin
our seeds of love
are in the touch
of our skin
seeds
of
love
prospering
seeds
of
love
we'll
be
fostering
in our bed
a harvest
shall grow
as we plant
the seeds of love
in a fruitful row
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
Rasta seh **** gone. Rat tek im place.Or when power leaves, the scavenger succeeds.
Roots man seh blood follow vein. Or blood is thicker than ****
Greedy choke puppy. Or greed ultimately ends in tragedy
Man walk. Dead watch Or death comes at unexpected times.
As close as *** and commode.Or a close friendship.
*** done.Fun done Or goes a fair weather friend.
Old firewood easy fi ketch. Or old wood lights easily (Pertains to old ex lovers who still have feelings toward each other).
Day brok one, one. Or, One day then the next (Time changes all things).
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Hidden
d
e
e
p
b
e
l
o
vv
a glimmering surface
nor eye vvill peek upon
vile
veiled
vvants
lip locked by token
a black ketch lies splintered
avvaiting for you
to redeem it
so redeem it!
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
When I was little my aunt told me a story about this little girl who was just like me. Heart so pure, smile so bright . In the end she would always call me her little time bomb.
see am a contradicting ticking time bomb , I could make my enter surrounding change with my next move . with that known I did me, not caring about who's around or who will get hurt as long as am happy my timer will never stop.I had no emotion towards anything or anyone for I knew if I stop my time will run out and everything around me will have to bear that pain ,so I made it my responsibility to reduce that pain reduce the amount that surrounds me so when that day comes when I explode and no longer breathe it's OK, for I will be remembered and not only for what I had but for what I gave and the way I did.
My biggest fear is oblivion but am inevitable! I must end and to know there was a time before me and there will be a time after me scares the crap out of me cause people will not exists and no one will be left to remember me .
That day , that cold winter day you passed me and smile barely even noticing me but my timer went 0-100 and I could not ketch my breathe and as you come out of sight it stop . I realized that day you where my time keeper .
Then came spring when we shared our first hello and for the first time my bomb stop ticking and I had feelings , my emotions ring, my heart beat normal for a change at first I loved it , but then I started to break for I started to lose you and even dough I knew, my heart would not let me forgot you, you stored away my timer some where I could not even see .
Am a bomb without a timer am child without a soul, am a tree without leaves , am and ocean without water .
am a child and your my womb am asking to please let me go let me explode and cease to exist , I will no longer be a pain in your *** no longer be that guilt in your heart I will no longer hold you back please just set me off my timer is in your hand , any minute now am ready to go.
I no longer live with the fear of oblivion for the timer who keeps me and the lover who lost me , the boy friend who never knew me, and the friend that saw right through me , will be the ones who will remember me for now I cease to exist
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
*Life is an ever ending mystery
Life is cruel and will kick you when your down
Life doesn't care who you are or who you know
Life doesn't stop and wait for you to ketch up
Life will speed right past you if you waste it
Life will make you wish you never had it to begin with
Life can scar you deeper than any knife can
Life can make you want to give up
But Life can also bring joy
Life is what you fight to keep
Life is the greatest gift you can give
Life is always worth keeping
Don't ever give up on Life* -Jeffrey Sutter
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
poetry composed in perfect silence
for which
there are no noise canceling headphones,
a coachable prevent defense,
protecting my inner ears from hearing
words forced to the surface,
loudly spoken, up floating
to the mind's enraging waters admixed
in the high definition
disquiet of imperfect silence
frag grenades, IED's detonate,
nicknames for the brain's multi-voices,
all argue raucous, unafraid of exposure,
over~shouting to be heard,
freely secure in the silent privacy
of mine owned
internecine slaughterhouse
but what I write down,
is mine to keep...
*my home is an isle,
an atom of Earth
split by a broad freshwater river
land spits on Google earth
can be witnessed, seen plotting,
injecting themselves into
my two~sided, belly~soft
unprotected riversides,
forming bays and coves,
hiding places for
crafty
human devices*
my poor mind is my river,
mind the sailing craft called poetry,
a ketch to keep afloat,
while avoiding the backwash wakes
of larger enemy ships of state,
those who gladly drown me
for pleasure
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
.
mustard
ketchup relish
mustard ketchup
relish mustard ket
chip relish mustard
ketchup relish
mustard ketch
up relish must
ard ketchup re
list mustard ke
tchup relish m
ustard ketchup
relish mustard
ketchup relish
Mustard ketch
up relish must
mustard relish mustard ketchup
Relish mustard ket chup relish mustard
ketchup relish must ard ketchup relish m
mustard ketchup relish mustard
Ketchup relish
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
In a pure world
music and birdsong
spinning
the lingering
melancholy
no more sadness
only memories
and longings
prostrating on the trails
of yellow leaves
counting the rhythms
of loneliness
the handsomeness of the island
the dreaminess of
the susurration of the beach
the elegance of the sails
the water as always
beating the stippled quietness
awaiting the next dawn
a ketch drifting on the ocean
shining a turquoise light
portraying the poetry
of the predawn
or the predawn hilarity of
the fish and shrimps
in the ocean
this is a pure world
and there is music
and running water in it
and the samisen of moods
and the psaltery
of the nature
whats more
the happy pixies shuttling
in the forest
of purity.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Irregular Irregular just an irregular emotion it comes every month I'll call it my period.
Some times it change some times it stays the same but must of the time it has me feeling so much pain; pain killers are my drugs and in this case *** is my love to get it off my mind I politely take my time and choice my next line to ****** you to come over cause baby its prime time.
Irregular Irregular just an irregular emotion it plays with the mind and most of the time it have me feeling drake with you on my mind past event that I can erase!! first two days are the worst cause it has me all upset thinking thing that god himself will not approve , but baby some times I wish you die so I wouldn't have to encounter another you in my life .
I wish you would get sick but not just sick; sick that you cant do nothing just a dead weight .I wish so bad that as you walk on the street someone will just come take your life in a blink of an eye I'll be the first to cry cause then I would wish I hadn't wish all the bad things I did when I was upset
Irregular Irregular just an irregular emotion thank you god am on my last day the final days to ketch my step and realize am finally courageous enough to say I had enough and I thank her for taking you off my hands. It may sound like my period but its not its the three days out of every month I sit back and think about
the first guy I loved
glad to say that's in the pass here is your application am looking for a new man!!!!
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
I grew up by the beach
Air salt and sunscreen
Houses squat on dunes
Calendar in scratchy sand
All yellows and brindle
Winter scored in cactus ketch-groans
Summer seagull soundtrack
Snake sunbakes
Kikuyu crunches
Now home is hillside
Rosemary jasmine breeze
Every pane a picture
Year parades in colour
All purples and greens
Spring exits in lily lavender
Soft sepia summer
Auburn autumn
Jade July
And in unison agave flower
Invisible itinerary
Monocarpic masts
Noble nativity
Curtains to overture
In purples and greens
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 12:50 AM UTC
You know so little of me,
so now advise and consent,
your knowing in advance,
a midfielder from another century,
closer to my end,
nearer my god,
than thee
simple ridiculous
being (n)at this point,
last few chapters,
on the human dual continuums^
*of lost and found,
junctured, forked,
needy of deciding,
but that ******* fate
won't let you off the hook,
ever*
~
once, a pumping artery
became but modest vein,
now reductio ad absurdum
to a tiny capillary,
to do the work
of two grown man
~
once again,
found myself reincarnated,
as a work in progress,
without the necessary and the insufficient
time to make real headway,
no time left for true progression,
hoping to squeeze one more solution
from this man's equation
~
*my poor mind
is my river,
so mind
the sailing craft called poetry,
a small ketch to keep moi afloat,
desperate avoiding the backwash wakes
of larger enemy ships of state,
who gladly try to drown me
for pleasure*
~
poetry keeps me afloat,
like me, part of me, all of me,
always a work in progress
until not
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Staring at him whom i love
like staring into one's soul;
Taking aback by those amazing gaze
Oh what grace.
Confessing, though he's saturn
with it's ring:
Trying to catch a flower owned by a bee
No honey left for me.
He replied forthwith to my kind gesture
Flustered and red
Looked at me with those eyes,
peicing like a poisoned arrow
"It is not only the moon that loved the sun
The sun longed for the moon the most
But the sun can only give it's warm light
Not it's whole embrace
For it already had earth in place"
Heartbroken is she,
She who knows 'tis right to leave
She, however, is only a leaf;
A leaf to a flower in a bouquet of roses,
No wonder rejection is only a trivial thing.
But love doesn't seem right
If you don't go back;
But love, he's not mine to fight.
May pa toh ngayon ko lang narevise.
Freestyle ketch.
Staring at him whom i love
like staring into one's soul;
Taking aback by those amazing gaze
Oh what grace.
Confessing, though he's saturn
with it's ring:
Trying to catch a flower owned by a bee
No honey left for me.
He replied forthwith to my kind gesture
Flustered and red
Looked at me with those eyes,
peicing like a poisoned arrow
"It is not only the moon that loved the sun
The sun longed for the moon the most
But the sun can only give it's warm light
Not it's whole embrace
For it already had earth in place"
Heartbroken is she,
She who knows 'tis right to leave
She, however, is only a leaf;
A leaf to a flower in a bouquet of roses,
No wonder rejection is only a trivial thing.
But love doesn't seem right
If you don't go back;
But love, he's not mine to fight.
Dec 1, 2022
Dec 1, 2022 at 8:33 PM UTC
I felt you in a space that no one else can find,
Expressed things that weigh beautifully upon my mind,
Touched by your thoughts I can barely comprehend,
I find myself exposed to a brand new kind of friend,
My mind silenced by the sound of my heart beginning to beat,
I felt lost and yet found while attempting to find my feet,
And as you revived the parts of me I never knew,
Or maybe even forgotten waiting on something true,
How can I express what I've never known,
Or begin in what I've never been shown?
Without question the answers sought never to be found,
Without words you gave me something more profound,
Wonderfully written upon my heart I find them everyday,
Yet still I search for the right words to say,
Now I reflect in the wonder of how I could be so small,
Realizing you showed me how I need not words at all,
Without question... One day I opened my eyes and began to see,
Your heart was beautiful enough to finally find me.....
For the love of my life ... Feb. 2 2017
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 7:12 PM UTC
Tlazokamtli Ometeotl, for this beautiful day and life.
The gift of breath, knowledge, wisdom and humility.
Thank you for the elements, and for the sacred ways of my people.
The teachings and knowledge, and our Mother; Tonanzin.
The heart beat of all living creations.. Inla'ketch.
Thank you Creator for patience, for the light you give me in darkness.
Tlazokamatli for my spirit, my family and your teachings.
Soy hija de miaz,l my people are people of the son!
Tiauhi!
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
I keep falling
Hitting the ground
The wings given to me
By ancient gods
Torn from my body
My spirit losing its will
All my will being drained from me
Everything fading and being starved
Feeding the wars of aggression
Unable to ketch my breath
Seeing for the first time
A world around me
A chance to know what emotions are
Can one like myself find love?
Can an angel love a mortal?
Is a mortal’s heart strong enough?
To hold onto the light of
an angel who’s fallen
Hearing a voice constant
In my mind
Leading me to him
A heart so warm
To hold me
Can give me a dream
To believe in
By scarlet rose
Date: 7-17-2015
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
When the bong's
not the sound from a dinner gong
where
did I go wrong?
kitsch on a ketch in Marrakech
fetch me a spyglass
pass me the chain
let's hear the sound from the
dinner gong
again.
There's a fissure
the missionary's fishing for me
I fall where all the fallen go
don't know where that is
but
I'm going to find out.
Not well today
so
blaming it on decimalisation
the falling pound
(must be where the fallen go)
the state of the nation
David Cameron
anything else I can get
my hands on
even
Lonnie Donegan,
well
skiffle rhymes with sniffle.
and vanishing cream does not do the trick
doesn't advertising
make you sick?
I never once bounced with health
after eating that dog food I
bought off the shelf.
Everything's different
nothing's the same
no ****** bongs
electronic gongs
microwaved meals
it all feels so
wrong.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Ye have writen to mine heart
a memorandum in gold and blood
ancient revered venerable Angel beloved.
These withered red roses
bloom again E.T. divine.
Gold hearted Thermo King
wing mine
Revolving door fly by
patient ancient Lancelot
Knight commenting;
acertaining
Ye shifted to one better human by mine story poems
consigned to thee and the four wise winds.
Myself regaining sanity
yet sighing madness despair
revealing mine heart to thee
Ye agreed I've got more than wisdom owning truth in mine ink revealed
Ye've delighted reading mine scribble as thine beloved pet
to run hands on mine kitty fur
all as truth in thine mind's eye,
and yeah ye're dearly aroused
as ye cry me a river.
Privileged is thine life partner!
relished recipient of thine better change.
While still mine vessel soul is unresolved shunned
destitute forlorned bleeding
crying thee an ocean for thine river wept hush-hush.
I sigh all night til morn,
Mine nucleous inner core pains for thee waiting too long to offer small charity shielding
before mine bereavement
quietus curtains end.
Even dogs eating of thine table's crumbs lived, thus surely can "i."
I adolize delighting in thee taking heed thine steps quickening
fast lifting wing and landing
onto mine heart's chambers
longing to see thine will
break free rescuing me-cpr
mine wrecked ketch cursed existence empty forsake me not
and shelter me please.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Copy Rights- 5-19-20- revised
06-22-20.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 12:39 AM UTC
*Poor Miss Ramona seen the devil and ran out of breath , she screamed in confusion as she fell to her death , she'll be looking in your window come cool weather if you fail to get to sleep , you'll get a maniacal , glaring image the likes you've ne'er ever dreamed
The wise-man shan't be cracking a window in the month of November
Nor leaving lit candle for it'll only tempt her
Best be preparing for sleep at sundown , paying the constable to keep a lookout
Dousin' yer fire , addin' extra quilt , stuffin' ears with cotton with a second shot o' sleeping cider
Latchin' ones door smart 'n ketch'n up on yer Bible* ...
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
A ketch or a sloop to drop me out of the loop and I will sail far away, it may be day, but it's night and the wind wraps me tight, there's no light and the tunnel can't be found.
The only sound that I hear is the creep creeping of fear and the rustling of things in the dark.
I could be, but I'm not the white spot on the Sun or the unspendable cartridge in the barrel of a gun,
so scoop me up, loop me out, scout out a space where the day's in a place where I know it will stay, in this challenge I face where the case is unsolved I resolve to uncover the truth and yet the lies fly in flocks which block the sight in my eyes and prise the light from my day, a ketch or a sloop, drop me out of the loop and let me sail off to sea.
I could be, but I'm not the distant spot that you scratch on the charts that you keep in the cupboard by your bed or the lead that's unspent, the bullet never sent,
I could be, but never went there, only walked planks on building sites where dreams are built from days to nights and the promises of a completion are deleted in the draft.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC