"kilometres" poems
I thought I understood distance
When I learned at school it is defined as
“The amount of space between two points.”
I learned distance can be measured in various units
As steps, kilometres and miles
or even intervals of time.
I thought I understood distance
When I counted 2362 steps walking to school
And noticed my dad’s car meter increasing two miles
In three minutes driving me back home.
But my understanding had changed when I started measuring longer distances.
And attempting to cross them.
I travelled a distance measured in kilometres and hours to see him.
Such distances can be easily crossed.
Either I took the next train, or drove my car
Distance as an amount of space was two thousand kilometres
And distance as an amount of time was only a few hours.
I thought I understood distance,
But never the amount of space between two specific points;
My lips and his lips.
I travelled a distance measured in bottles of wine and years to kiss him.
Such distances can’t be easily crossed.
I could walk miles of skin
And distance as an amount of space between us
Could extend tiresome.
But such distances aren’t necessarily a barrier.
I have crossed all the oceans we created
I counted all the bodies
And I have indulged in his lips.
It took me two bottles of wine and twenty years
To actually understand distance
But my understanding is obsolete
For him and I ,
Are still two distant entities.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering Electrical Rosary
*This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,
And heeld after the newe world the space.*
Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales
How out of date are simple wooden beads
An upgrade is what the Rosary needs!
Something to give your meditations spice
Connected to your electronic device
Beamed back and forth to The Cloud, you see
With mega-mega gigs of memory
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering
Electrical Rosary is just the thing!
The Ave Maria is so out of date
It’s Ave ME now, ‘cause we’re all so great!
Make your prayers less about God, more about you
Signal yourself through sacred Tooth of Blue
A camera hidden in the crucifix
Enables you to take your selfie-flicks
The Pater beads count each joggery mile
Or kilometres if those are your style
The Ave beads are recycled with care
To save the forests, the rivers, and air
Designed in Germany, made in China
High-definition beads; there’s nothing finer
Buy the first (as advertised on tv)
And we’ll send you a second all for free
Remember: for weddings, funerals, and daily devotions
Let RAM and ROM go through all the motions
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering
Electrical Rosary – O make it sing!
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
you are across the deep blue ocean,
over six thousand kilometres away,
waiting until we meet again,
eight hundred and thirty-six days.
will you wait?
i can only pray,
that when we unite,
you’ll want me to stay.
‘age’. okay.
does it truly matter to you?
don’t listen to their opinions,
you know we’ll get through.
ten lonesome days
since i last kissed your lips,
drooling and craving,
pulling me in by the hips.
the smell of sweet cigarettes,
placing my hair behind my ear,
soft kisses down the neck,
where do we go from here?
only in my dreams,
all of this is true,
eight hundred and thirty-six days,
until i can be with you.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
"Found poem", all the text lifted from a tourist pamphlet picked up in Crete, only very slightly edited.
There are daily buses starting from Chania
to the head of the gorge,
which is called Xyloskalo.
Buses say on the front "Omalos" and depart
from the central bus station.
By taking any of the morning buses you get to Xyloskalo
after one and a half hours.
At Xyloskalo there is a tourist pavilion
where you can get meals, drinks,
and which has only seven beds for staying overnight.
For those wishing to spend the night
on the Omalos plateau
there is another possibility, that of staying
at Omalos village itself, five kilometres before Xyloskalo,
where are two cafés providing several beds. From there
you get any of the morning buses starting from Chania
to the head of the gorge.
The length of the gorge is sixteen kilometres, and you need
five to six hours to walk through it. There is plenty
of drinking water all along the gorge. Tennis shoes
or walking boots are recommended. Camping,
overnight staying, smoking, hunting,
cutting and uprooting plants
are forbidden.
At the mouth of the gorge is Aghia Rouméli village,
which provides restaurants and accommodation.
From there you take boats
either to Sfakía (duration: one hour) or to Soughia
and Paleochora.
Remember that the last boat to Sfakía is at 17 hours,
which connects with the last bus to Chania at 18 hours.
Duration of the bus trip: two hours.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
Can we get much higher than this?
When all I can hear over the old dial up phone you use is the sound of nicotine exhales
and big sighs caused by silences I am too scared to fill.
Can we love any more than this?
I can hear you humming the song that's spinning and it makes me love you more.
You laugh at my nervousness, how I twitch when you say my name.
I always ignore you because I'm scared you'd say goodbye.
Can we get more tired than this?
Four am, your favorite albums crooning me to sleep.
Could you be more mistaken?
You thought I was scared of your darkness, of the shadows beckoning to you from every corner of
homes you did not own, and people you did not really know... yet.
I have a permanent dent in my ear from piercings that were too heavy for my fragile skin,
and everytime I run my fingertips over it, it reminds me of you.
You are bent but never broken, never broken.
Can we get more distant than this?
It's been months since I could honestly say that I thought you loved me.
So many miles, so many miles, so many
miles...
You're 874 kilometres away from me.
You are universes away from me.
And now everything tastes like goodbye.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
#
**Your door wasn’t locked
and I wasn’t going to wait
Not after I sprinted here,
that’s quite a long way
I’ve run 3 kilometres just to see you**
Kiss my shoe, be grateful.
Surely I am owed some compensation
For my extensive dedication
I’ll take advantage
the only time I know you’re weak
You can’t set boundaries
when you’re asleep
Your vulnerability makes me greedy
the thought of you subdued,
**** Debilitated and unconscious
Entitled, I claim that time with you
#
Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
••
•now-
here near,
you exist
so far•fur-
ther than
my vision
could ever
reach•many
kilometres away is wh-
ere you are•faraway land on a distant beach•let
foreign winds drench my senses•let the offshore sand greet
my feet • let us come to a consensus....• that soon our gazes
would me-
et•chance
might sur-
face by the
end of this
night•wi-
th the dawning of mo-
rrow's morn•grant me the wings
to take flight • put me on a plane
and render me airborne•
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
It has been raining incessantly
I need a tablet for my hyper tension
It is only 9 o clock at night
I have travelled by bike
for three kilometres
All the medical shops are closed
but all the liquor shops are wide open
liquor seems to be the best medicine
for all ailments
for all persons
at all places
a global phenomenon
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 2:50 AM UTC
Whisky in the bottle
County Donegal
The flowing river swilly
In the distance Errigal
I don't know how I made it
To the port of letterkenny
Nor where I'm going next
As my bottles almost empty
I am just a poor boy
Born in county Tipperary
I left my family farm
And the maiden I would marry
I made my way to Ulster
Searching for the town of Derry
I spend all my gold on whiskey
Now I cant afford the ferry
Met a man from cork
In a pub where I was drinking
Why come so far north
We were talking and were thinking
Kilometres from home
And from anyone we've known
County Donegal
And there's whisky in the bottle
Whack-fol de daddy-ol
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
1. The average human has over 1,460 dreams per year.
2. The giraffe can go for longer without water than the camel.
3. There are 5 capital cities in Europe with names beginning with the letter V.
4. For all the continents, in their names, the first and final letter is the same.
5. The lifespan of a dragonfly is 24 hours.
6. The earth's atmosphere is approximately 150 kilometres thick.
7. The cigarette lighter was invented prior to the invention of matches/
8. Peanuts are not a a part of the nut family.
9. Your heart beats more than 100,000 times every day.
10. You are not alone.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
Memories of the North Sea
sift in like sand kernels
on a fast, frigid tide:
events that transpired outside
the confines of rhyme,
unfolding exactly
as they were meant to.
Never before had I seen
so many shades of gray;
the overcast, monochromatic splendor
was awe-inspiring,
instead of being bleak and bleary.
___
The smell of salt and seaweed
awakes something dormant and eternal,
deep within me.
I have a surging desire
to flush stagnancy from my blood—
salty blood and water
come together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.
Beside me, a flash of bright red
digs in the sand; my child
is wearing the only vibrant colour
to be seen for many kilometres.
The colour matches her
enthusiasm and energy,
as she moves from one spot to the next
like a dancing flame;
reflected, a fire glows from my eyes.
Unknowingly, I had dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
like a chameleon:
an illusion thicker than the clouds;
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.
I watch my daughter
drink the seascape with a smile of wonder;
it's her first time visiting an ocean.
With our pants rolled up to the knee,
we wade through waves,
and collect stones and shells.
She knows the chameleon
who walks alongside her in the frothy surf.
Observing seabirds cover the steep cliffs
of the island located further out,
in a blanket of black and white feathers,
I wonder if people onshore
only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon
is more noticeable than I had thought.
2012 North Sea Remix
December 17th, 2012
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
Have you ever imagined the horrors of being driven in a sleek Land Cruiser that is the definition of 'noire'? When the car doors are locked, so is your mind and your eyes are as tinted ad the windows.
I gaze out at the beggars stretching their sun-dried palms to me asking for a minute portion of the price of my fountain pen. The stretch of desperate beggars go on for nearly ninety kilometres. I can see it in their shiny, burnt eyes that they pray for 'Goodluck.' I do not speak only of financial beggars but also of beggars of national progress. This includes me hidden behind the tinted windows.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
rewind; replay
we're standing in a canopy of sunlight
and laughing, constantly.
our faces are tired of moving up
but our eyes are used to crinkling;
they fold, and shut, and open like buds
with the spread and shrink of our grins, in
and out, with our lungs.
Pauze. Zoom.
Your nails are chipping now, but
You're really a halfwit,
So that doesn't deter you the least bit
From scratch-scratch-scratching at their shook ends:
They fall apart as we fall out.
We're spinning, we're dizzyingly quick,
Hurtling at the speed of 28,800 kilometres an hour; we're brisk
At best. (Inconceivable at worst.)
And I can feel, already, you slipping away.
You're outside of my grasp; you're far out.
rewind; replay.
We're ripping at the seams;
Our faces are like bad make-up
That doesn't move with our smiles;
Our eyes stay impassive,
Uninterested at best. Incensed at worst.
The crinkles in their corners are crusted
And new folds form on the frowns of our foreheads.
We're smothering each other in pillow talk and blankets.
Flash-forward, play.
We're bathed in rain, we're in a
Canyon, in a chasm.
We don't know salt from wound
Or snake from bite. We
Bring out the worst in our best selves.
We're drowning in suitcases and bedding.
We let it fill our lungs and we
Don't look back.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
The most beautiful smiles come sometimes with tears,
The deepest feelings can come with distance.
The distance between me and you
cannot be measured in miles, or kilometres, hours of travelling, nor in any other unit invented by mankind;
it is measured in feelings and thoughts,
in dreams and longings
in "wish you were here" messages sent at 2:32am from a drunk heart who has forgotten the touch of a kind warm hand
it's measured in unsaid words and unshared laughs ,
in skin that has not been touched and tears that have not been wiped
in mental blocks caused by a picture you can't stop staring at
in mad driven souls screaming the same name endlessly
in hearts beating fast at the sound of a ringing phone,
it is measured in empty arms
in lonely walks at night
in the morning coffee poured in only one cup and tables for one at the restaurant
in cold beds
sleepless nights
in eyes that don't meet
lips becoming dry because of the absence of that special kiss.
It is measured in never coming true wishes.
Such a long, painful, distance between me and you
I will always be able to reach you
only with the fingertips
of my mind.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
i do not love you because
of your strong shoulders to carry me
or the long-wracked intellectual faculties that desert me
or even your face – that launched the ship of my glass-bottle heart
and sent me crashing onto a burning shore camped by all my worst fears;
or because of the way my emptiness frames you
like the moon
on the blank pages of my frostbitten heart
(but as they say, what is a heart anyway?)
i do not love you because
you love me
besides,
– there is no evidence to support such an abstraction.
i do not even love you because
you bring me my tea, and tuck my feet under the blanket in the winter times
or because of that half-arsed smirk
– the one that makes me want to punch your mouth
or because i should love you because you are, i suppose, my lover.
But,
there are small things
the way your teeth show when you laugh
and your yellow tee-shirt – ugly sandals
and the way you sweat when i run from you on gritty sand beaches
12 (or so) kilometres from your white walls and
half-empty photo albums
that funny face you make
and your rough, hardened fingers from miles of copper guitar strings
over miles of long dusty roads
when we drive, minutes stuck between our polaroid past and
the wind-tossed hair at the end of the hot orange horizon
sun roof, sunglasses
not smiling because we are not obligated
how, when we lie together, your breaths rasping in the throat of your sleep
i steal your heat,
survive.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 12:38 AM UTC
the hi-fi plays solace to the
granular lobby upon the television screen;
as it flickers from camera angle to camera angle
(tech step moving company,
breaking down to
a white beat)
and i *****
as a panorama of ******* spasms
discharge throughout my entire skeleton
and my pulse beats lightly, kilometres
below a curtain of bloated flesh
tonguing lady lucky's aluminum lips, i'm
pickled in sea of apricot floral: meteor bursts
searing behind goo-goo eyes
and i *****
unwanted sentence structure, that gets
caught between the chesterfield and my square saturn venus
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
concrete canyons
threaded
with ribbons of sky
streams
of humanity
flowing between
multi-coloured
side-by-side
kilometres apart
lives touching
but not
connecting
an unsustainable journey
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
I hope you still remember me
in your new friends you seek for me
I hope I can't be compared
and that you miss me
'Cause I know all these inseparable vows mean nothing now
as you feel sad, glad and mad
kilometres away from our friendship
And I can say that because I'm the only one rarely invited
and always left behind
I hope I still mean to you
the way every hey fills me with joy
I hope I meant to you
and nothing hurts you like your goodbyes
'Cause I know all these unanswered messages mean nothing now
as you smile and joke and forget me
kilometres away from who we used to be
And I can say that because I'm the only one who's always asking
and you rarely reply
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
No one’s ever made me feel quite this way
You melted my heart from miles away,
The melodies my heartstrings now play
Just makes me sway night and day.
Your laugh, your energy, your smile
I wish it could be bottled in a vial.
Missing you and the next time we dial,
I’ve never felt this way, wild!
Though we’re kilometres apart my sweet girl
How I wish we could twist and twirl,
Not a single care in the whole wide world.
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 10:52 AM UTC
That hospital gown really
brings out your hazel eyes, baby
Your crippling self-loathing
Affinity for Alcohol abuse
And drug dependency
Make you so magnetic
Girls do love a troubled twenty-something
Those dilated pupils must really pull them into your merry go round of calamitous habit
Leading to nowhere at three hundred kilometres per hour.
The only grip you have is on that bottle of two dollar brandy
Desperately scratching away at your epidermis
Puffing cigarettes as though your sanity and life depend on it
Voluntary admission at the place of rehabilitation
The third attempt to mend your broken self
And purify your soul
Knocking at death's door
This time it will be different, you say
No one is holding their breath.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
647.086 kilometres apart
6ix all the way to you
6 days since you left
6 minutes to think everything through
6 seconds to let it all sink in
6 months all it took for me
All the time spent together
Blissful memories
Late night talks
Hours of phone calls
Venturing in the city
Experiencing new things
Our long walks
Getting lost in places
Acting like foreigners
That I'll all miss
You're telling me you'll be back in a year or two
You never asked me to wait for you
I was slightly disappointed
But you wanted me to live life
And didn't want to hold me back
We may be six hundred forty seven and eighty six kilometres apart
In my heart there's no distance
For you'll always stay there
This is not the end
I'll see you again
We didn't say goodbye
We'll see each other another time
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
The epicentre of my pain ,indeed
Lives kilometres apart ,in plains
While my energy does not coherent to his
He denies as well
I wonder if he needs much of it or lesser a bit
Do I love much fiercer
Forever he jilts
Until the day I would to him
For no more would I resonate
I promise still,
I am going to miss the bond ,saturated
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC
Come home,
my mother's voice suggests along 2,581 kilometres of phone cabling.
Come home to the hazy heat
that beats off melting pavement and wilting plants,
to the smell of exhaust
squeezing between buildings
and suburbs and rush hour and neon lights,
Come home to the aggravated traffic
wending its way through concrete landscapes
eight lane snakes placating
the clack and hum of underground trains
packed with people and briefcases and beers and graffiti
spilling out onto the streets like cough syrup glugging out of the bottle.
You sound like you need to come home.
Nah, I'm good Ma,
because I don't know how to tell you
the city makes me feel trapped
a little creature with an anxious heart
boxed in by the tarseal and the fumes and the noise.
I like knowing the borders of a town
that doesn't stretch to the horizon
driving quietly on sleeping streets in the night time
and tracing the coastline with my feet in the water
I need the sky to touch the ground, not the ragged edges of a skyline
to walk until there's nothing
but me and the bush and the birds,
and the smell of mud and dirt and rain.
I like it here, I suggest along 2,581 kilometres of phone cabling,
but I do miss you.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
she sat with her back to the brick column
holding up a vestibule, she found useful
as a public sorting place for the private
contents, of her camel coloured purse, remarkably ****
tered as her ****** life"*, her short term
fix, IT, took a carefully cared for, crack pipe.
Running late was I, and eye contact was made
and I quietly but firmly said to the seated glazed eyes look-
ing up at me, "might be best if you leave."
next day kilometres away, early morning bank
deposit, and a coffee run, me and the dog, out
for fun "car rides" bring her much delight, a voice
from behind said "mister, mister you gotta help me!,
I'm, not an addict, and last night I could not get home,
rode transit for free out to here from Kitsilano but,"
she breathed, "in the it cost me a ticket for one
hundred and seventy five dollars, when I got caught"
I looked at her, seeing her hair dishevelled and a face full
of what, despair...? "so what do you want from me?"
She
ran on with her mouth, playing with her top, the sentence was
run on and wouldn't stop. "*I made some bad choices, came here to meet my EX, found him with a girl having *** and I need ten or twenty,
bucks to get me home, the transit cop said he would not let me back on and would still be working until three A.M., stranding me, until this morning see?*!"
We
went back and forth, verbally,
"transit does not cost that
much, stop asking me for
money!", and she fired
back,
"my math is bad,
the money would be
nice and do your Karma
good, I am a big believer
in that", finally I left her
with a small handful of
small change and watched her walk
away, got in my car, got my coffee, got going home...
but as I drove by her, she was standing back to the hedge,
calm had returned as she waited, her hair was in place,
I saw something I failed to observe during our dialogue....
under her arm was
that camel coloured
purse...two women
suddenly became one
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC