"lagged" poems
Calamitous collapse of structure forged
With steel and concrete built for time,
Since Roman times a formula endured
With engineers additional design.
Why, then, did this structure fail,
Did mortar crack, did reinforcing strong,
Shear and plummet in an instants time
To crush and doom this bridges song.
In teeming rain a silence hung
Where watchers gaped in stunned awe,
A magnitude of devastation lay
Pulverized in valley floor.
Astonishing this expanse of space
Where seconds past, huge edifice,
Imbued with its’ charge of lives
Unknowingly to meet abyss.
Innocence has lost its’ life
Blame resounds around the room
Someone shall pay the price
For negligence in causing doom.
Truth be told it’s shared by all
For Italy has lagged behind
Cost cutting infrastructures’ purse
Because of economic bind.
Time to reassess the plan
Time to weep and bury dead,
Clear the rubble from the land
Rebuild well then forge ahead.
Blame not the engineer
Nor the man who drew design,
Blame not the hardhat
Who poured the concrete in the line.
Reassign the budget spend
To infrastructure, pay its share
For sentiment is running hot
To axe the fool who pares the fare.
M.
Storeman
Civil Infrastructure
Hamilton, NEW ZEALAND
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
How long will our bewildered heirs
marooned in possessions not theirs
puzzle at disposing of these three
cunning feignings of hard candy in glass-
the striped little pillowlike mock-sweets,
the flared end-twists as of transparent paper?
No clue will be attached, no trace
of the sunny day of their purchase,
at a glittering shop a few doors
up from Harry's Bar, a disappointing place
for all its testaments from Hemingway.
The Grand Canal was also aglitter
while the lesser canals lay in the shade
like snakes, flicking wet tongues
and gliding to green rendezvous.
The immaculate salesgirl, in her aloof
Italian succulence, sized us up,
a middle-aged American couple,
as unserious shoppers who,
still half jet-lagged, would cling to their lire
in the face of any enchanted vase
or ethereal wineglass that might shatter
in the luggage going home.
Yet we wanted something, something small ....
This? No ... How much is ten thousand? Dizzy,
at last we decided. She wrapped
the three glass candies, the cheapest
items in the shop, with a showy care
worthy of crown jewels-tissue,
tape, and tissue again sprang up
beneath her blood-red fingernails,
plus a jack-in-the-box-shaped paper bag
adorned with harlequin lozenges, sad
though she surely was, on her feet waiting
all day for a wild rich Arab, a compulsive Japanese.
Grazie, signor ... grazie, signora ... ciao.
Nor will our thing-weary heirs decipher
the little repair, the reattached triangle
of glass from the paper-imitating end-twist,
its mending a labor of love in the cellar,
by winter light, by the man of the house,
mixing transparent epoxy and rigging
a clever small clamp as if to keep
intact the time that we, alive,
had spent in the feathery bed
at the Europa e Regina.
4.5k
when I fell in love I pressed my heels against the sky
as if in a bread oven
sitting with my forehead on the warm ground
and the wind and the butterflies and the clouds like smoke
were hard to be spoken they stuck inside my chest
without even knowing
I invented God in a new season of the year
believing it was the same
through days with sun and moon both white
because of heavy blessing it rained with sweet incense
clocks lagged behind from their minute hands
gooseberries and red currants popped between my nails
milk teeth grew in my ****** *****
with the name sculpted by man lips
I slept another one’s dream in a stranger’s bed
he looked at me on Sundays through the train window
he saw through me
from our century of loneliness only dust flew over
like from an old Bible leaves
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
A tale,
Of two pals,
Ego possessed the former,
Self-respect imbibed the latter.
The former faced problems, complained;
The latter solved problems, smiled.
One, choosy and demanding;
Other, suitable and acceptable.
Fortunately,
Acquiring jobs,
In a corporation,
Standing at the threshold
Of promising careers,
Days rolled on
And the day arrived
For promotion.
Self-respect surpassed,
Ego lagged behind.
Thoughts converted into self-realization,
Truth revealed.
Ego satisfied merely the senses
"I want this" and "I want that"
Self-respect implied acceptance
"I respect this and I accept that."
To further proceed,
To reach the summit,
'I' and 'my' be discarded,
'We' and 'ours' be adopted.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
I have fought hard with Anxiety
Having been swung between
Two spheres of moods
One of melancholy and the other
Of excited elated optimism
Between the two
I would exhaust myself
Day and Night
And to deal with my emotions
Was no easy task
I would cry and weep
I would feel down
And blame myself
I would apologize
For being thus
I was not in my element
I tell
When I am fresh
I feel I have lagged behind
Due to missing things while at low
It has been one sad plight
For me to have come thus far
I am still hopeful of a day
When I have overcome
These swinging moods
I hope to keep a positive
Spirit that enables me
To act constructively
When I can't be constructive
I would just start affirm
That I am more
Than I think I am
Then I start
To work like I have been
Able bodied and able minded
Sitting here
jotting down makes it all come
to view. Affirm and believe
that is what i do now
to be better each day
I am responsible
I am reliable
I ma resourceful
I am resilient
i am healthy; i am lucky ; i am virtuous; i am organized
I feel the energy when I say these
I act different when I say these
I have faith surging into my veins
From somewhere or nowhere
I create, I cook, I clean, I write,
I eat, I make tea, I feed my family
I pray, I meditate, I am not overwhelmed
i am a wonderful person
When I affirm
I can live with this person
She is good to me
She thinks highly of me
She attracts nice friends to her
She is just pleasant to be around
She is someone I could love forever
She is my friend and hero
She is my superstar and confidant
She is all I need to keep me
Close to the Creator
I love her
I love me
I love the positive me
I love the quiet me
I love the peaceful me
I love the loving me
I love the lovable me
i love all that she could be
I love all that she gave up for me
I love her day and night
I love being with her all my life
I need noone but her
I need nothing but her love
I need nothing but her assurance
I need only her
She and I
We are one and the same
We play and plan together
We are best friends
We create our good times
We are the joy of the world
We are the gift to the world
Together we conquer
Together we let go
Together we enjoy the ocean
Together we go places
Together we are I and myself
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
S3
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
Somewhere in my body,
A bifurcated clock ticks,
Two clock faces,
White on black,
Vice versa.
Mixed media messages,
Crazy train station internal,
Brain activity fevered,
Arrive/depart according to
Somebody else's schedule,
Somebody else occupying,
Every street of my body
Lying asleep,
Typing these words,
It is the middle of the night,
Bright daylight suffuses the room
What part of my metaphysical schema,
Ain't jet lagged legally,
And poetically entitled to be
Stockholm Syndrome Confused?
Times have really changed,
Oh my, when you propose,
Let's go to Stockholm,
Anything goes!
So my schedule reordered
In the land of either all
Light or Dark, twenty hours four,
I turn to my boon companion,
Who soothes at any hour,
My music, my Nano,
And I find myself, musically,
Shuffling in Stockholm.
Meatloaf and Piazzolla,
Muddy Waters and Purple Rain,
Marvin Gaye and Pink Martini,
Beethoven, Straight No Chaser,
Beatles, Stones, Bennett vs. Buble,
The lack of sleep a permanent fixture,
Courtesy of this Bach-us admixture,
So should you see a gappy, khaki, clad tourist,
Meandering o'er the islands of this charming city,
In Ingmar Bergman fashion,
Black and white erratic,
Alternating, swaying and shuffling,
No tongue clucking,
Nah, he's not drunken,
Just dancing while sight seeing,
In a sleep deprived manner,
Someday a movie to be,
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
A/K/A
S3
June 30 ~ July 2, 2012
Stockholm, Sweden
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
Now I lay me down to sleep. It is near 2:00 P.M,Pacific time.
I pray the Lord my sleep to keep. Been tossing and turning a lot lately.
If I should Dream before I wake. No March Hares if you please.
I pray the lord my twitch to take. Restless leg syndrome.
Goodnight Insomniacs.
Late night surfers.
Medicated Jitterbugs.
Jet-lagged Travelers.
Partners of snoring bed mates. With or without earplugs.
Late night ruminators.
Wanna be fornicators.
See ya later Nocturnal alligators.
Inspiration is but a breath away.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
Now, here's the story of Rip Van Winkle
The true story, not the lie
They always want to hide the truth
I'll just never understand why
You see, Rip Van Winkle was married
To a woman, who always nagged
And that poor dude was bored all the time
Cause his internet always lagged
So, he climbed up in his recliner
And decided to take a little nap
When, out of the blue, the Sleeping Spider
Went and crawled up in his lap
Now, Rip knew about that spider
But still, he just couldn't resist
For if he let that spider bite him
They'd be no "honey do" list
Well, that spider sunk his fangs in
Then jumped back on the floor
It wasn't long, Rip closed his eyes
And man, that guy could snore
Now, a wicked smile even crossed his face
As he leaned back in his chair
For, when he awoke, she'd would be gone
But Rip, just simply didn't care
Well a hundred years just flew by
And his wife was surely dead
But when he finally opened his eyes
She lay beside him in the bed
She awoke while still clutching
"The list" for a hundred years
For the spider had bitten her also
And it brought the man to tears
But this story has a happy ending
Cause dial-up was a thing of the past
They decided to finally get broadband
And his internet was fast at last
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
My jet-lagged self sleeps early,
wakes early, sleeps again, reads.
Having watched one movie too many over summer
I relish the sounds designed above- a click
of a door handle, bare warm socks gliding
across wooden floor, the scrunch of toothbrush
against the rusting metal straightening yellowing teeth,
the few lone cars across the street, that hazy
early sound that only light can make as it
becomes aware of itself in my dorm room. What
kind of camera lens would make this moment more
livable and is it already dead?
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
Dear R,
I hope you are doing well. I hope you are safe and happy and find all of the best things in life (i'd name them, but I haven't yet found them myself). I hope german life is treating you better than ever. I hope you make a million more friends there, though i don't really need to hope for, as you're sure to do it anyway. I hope you don't get too cold in winter. Make sure you have thick warm socks and sturdy boots. Sometimes it's best to walk on untrampled snow as it's less icy. I hope when you return here, or to Aus, you have a safe flight and get plenty of sleep. And that you don't get very jet lagged once you're home. I hope you read this. I hope you have a long happy and healthy life and you never want to die. I hope you wake up every morning smiling and go to sleep contented every night. I hope you feel full and content with everything you have in your life, and everything that is yet to come. I hope you stop feeling anxious. I hope you begin to understand how loved you are, by every person that has come in contact with your soul. I hope you realise how special you are, how unique, how kind and how loving. I hope you see how much you have to offer the world, and how happy you are able to make others. I hope every venture you undertake in life is successful. I hope i can visit your bakery one day. I hope you meet the most lovely girl, just like you, with an open heart and mind. I hope you fall deeply in love and reach a new level of happiness. I hope you spend many happy years together, perhaps marry, raise children and love them more than yourselves. I hope she is stable and has a good mind. I hope she is able to let herself be happy. I hope she doesn't doubt herself, hate anything or ever want to die. I hope you two never cry again. I hope she understands herself and her desires and her emotions. I hope she has feelings that never waver and are rational and make sense. I hope she is beautiful. I hope she never does anything to hurt or upset you, nothing silly or rash or unthoughtful. I hope she can plan a future with you that you both believe in, and that comes true. I hope she loves you unconditionally. I hope she holds your hand in public, and likes to play with your hair and that she's really good at video games. I hope you are happy. I hope she never lets you down. All my love.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
By the old garages near the railway sidings
slipping or sliding, through the tiding hiding
away, or near to the solemn aspects of ******
with ease, she can tease the eve of your heave-
** or go, no, stay, she says, just today, or all
of your tomorrows shall be forgotten
Lonely was the name on a tag, lagged, left
forgotten at the bottom of the river, where
she lay, today, floating away-
But he stays, the way his spirit lays, let( )down
or all around this town, how it lingers;
the memory of love or lust on drunken Friday
nights by the fright of old Frank Alight, setting
alight the houses in furor, or moor the more
he bores by the moored shore of that amour
armoured, charmed, alarmed at the speech
patterns in the night sky, as she lay down
to die, or to cry, questioning why, Frank
could try and do this, Brutus, brutally
mutually assured destruction, social construction
or constriction, the friction of hands
around the throat, she never floats, just sinks
corpses stink, porous ink stained every lane
leading to the place where in disgrace, he beat
her face, and replaced the lace, in the place
leading to the lake
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
I mutter stuttered syllables
into shut ears,
so I'm not heard very often.
I'm not good with words,
not when
my mouth staggers, lagged behind my thoughts.
But give me time to reflect,
and I expect I could make something
worth hearing,
with your eyes.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
We will stand side by side, shore to shore.
At the ready to protect our Nations flag.
Until we need sacrifice no more.
We have been, at times, shaken to our core.
Yet, in courage, we have never lagged.
We will stand side by side, shore to shore
as long as terrorists knock at our door.
We will scour every crevice and crag,
until we need sacrifice no more.
From every civilian, pride does pour,
for those in uniform and dog tags.
We will stand side by side, shore to shore,
Remembering it was our Fore Fathers that swore,
tyranny from its pedestal we would drag.
Until we need sacrifice no more.
Rattle our cage, hear the Eagle roar.
We will not be anyones punching bag
We will stand side by side, shore to shore,
Untill we need sacrifice no more.
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 6:55 PM UTC
I miss the honey that dripped from the words you spoke
so few they were
all different tastes of raspberry and lavender
Each kiss was like an array of samples from a farmer's market
Although you were as graceful as a goose on rollerskates
you were a place that I could let my feelings loose
Homebase in a giant game of tag
You were wi-fi that never once lagged
I'd lay down and call you boring
shape my nails using the skin from your back
Waste time in a digital daze
while you'd spark up that pipe and get blazed
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
In our back yard stood a brick Netty.
Paper on a nail and it is not confetti.
With a concrete roof and concrete floor,
To keep it private a big wooden door.
Cold and damp the outside loo,
Shared by the flat upstairs to.
This was our toilet on a cold winter day,
A paraffin lamp to light our way.
Cast iron cistern placed up high,
Iron chain you pulled with a sigh.
Pipes lagged with old carpet or sack,
In severe winters they freeze and crack.
Sometimes while sitting in the dim light,
A silver trail would catch you eye,
It was the sign of a snail passing bye.
Follow this line along the wall,
There you find one not always small.
Pick it up from where it lay,
Drop in to the *** and flush away.
Winter fades into spring,
Warmer day’s new problems bring.
Dad.
He would sit reading the paper,
While having a smoke.
We waited outside it was no joke.
Then out he came smiling,
As he passed our way.
Leaving his paper on the floor,
We go in and close the door.
The smell of smoke made us wail,
While tearing up the paper,
To put on the nail.
Sep 8, 2011
Sep 8, 2011 at 12:44 PM UTC
Internet used to be really fast.
Messages to each other were sent and received right away.
But slowly, four bars turned to 3, then 2.
Every word lagged a little,
and every response started to come late.
Now theres just one bar.
And there's hardly any connection
for any length of time...
soon there will be none
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
...
So, how's it going?
Did you end up in those arms you kept talking about?
Did she see you on the airport all jet-lagged,
all baffled, standing in the passenger area, jam-packed.
...
So, you didn't know?
She was lying on the runway, waiting for you.
Her heart pre-packed,
ready to get hijacked.
...
The differences between you and her,
7 hours to **** the time,
5092 miles away, still committed a crime.
...
June 3rd marks the day,
on which the newspaper says nothing,
cause nothing ever happened, you just went away.
...
So, what about your dreams?
She kept them for you, tucked away in a suitcase,
ready to run off with you in plain sight,
but your plane never reached this side.
...
You never even took off to be exact,
guess your bag wasn't intact,
and matter of fact,
I think honest will is what it lacked.
...
So, whatever, right?
It's not like,
it's all pointless anyway.
That's what you'd say.
...
Doesn't matter that it meant a whole lot,
she might spend 7 hours more to untangle the knot,
and has to walk 5092 miles to get back the full heart she got,
before she met a stranger who spoke of her arms,
and made her built an airport inside of her palms.
...
So, how's it going?...
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
You're lifting me up to the stars.
we're sitting cross-lagged on the moon.
Drinking coffee in the clouds.
Your eyes are as deep as ever;
I'm tripping over your laughter;
Ringing inside me;
Falling into your eyes.
I'm trailing off mid-sentence,
"cause you're smiling and I can't get past it.
Never thought I'd stop being broken;
Like a bone taken under a train.
Something about the way you talk.
The way you don't talk.
Makes me stop.
Just to mess up your hair.
And stop the world for a second.
Skip over the reality.
Just for a minute.
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
Even if my memory
Has lagged from inactivity,
I never let my entrails free
To dwale about their cavity,
So what must this contrition be,
If not a lack of gravity?
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Today is a beautiful poem
Yesterday was a drag
Jet lagged from the bad
Sad and mad at this and that
But right now is good
There is no should of
Would of or if I could of
Not wearing a leather jackets
With pockets full of regret
I bet we never met
But today is a beautiful poem
Somewhere greed bleeds horror
Plants seeds of deceit in the streets
Were strangers meet violently
Were sorrows spill silently
Still to spite that or despite that
I cite facts or perhaps lies that
Support this poetic decree from me
That today is a beautiful poem
Flowers bloom in sweet perfume
While children die in locked rooms
From mothers who beat them with
Broken brooms
But the moon is a glorious sphere
That shines here and there
Cause today is still a beautiful poem
So I use the first line
One to a hundred times
A simple ruse to lose
Those heavy handed blues
And say that
Today is a beautiful poem
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
the utter exhaustion at the end of a book
after not being about to put it down all afternoon
those 5 hours spent out of my world
feeling another person
feeling so much more than I have ever felt as me
my mind so darkened from this overwhelming feeling
the feeling that my life has just ended
or that part of it has
that part that was so much greater than reality
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC