"lairs" poems
Lairs twist life so it's tasty to the lazy
Powerful to the weak and crazy
Brilliant and seductive to the
ignorant youth
But even in pain, there is beauty in the truth
Even a tiny bit of deceit is dishonorable
For only cowards lie selfishly without preamble
As lies only strengthen a liar's defects
A liar's character, mind, & spirit gains no positive affects
The abuser of the truth paints with disappearing colors
Valuing the canvass at worthless dollars
For once the veil of the facade is lifted
Honesty, integrity and trust can never be re-gifted.
Unhappy are the takers
Or why else be fakers?
But to devastate the essence of the believer
Measures the cruelty of the deceiver
Inner peace with self deception
Is the doing of one's own soul's destruction
However if truth be told
When lies gradually unfold,
Is it better to be the believer
Or the deceiver?
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
The woods around it have it—it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.
And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less—
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars—on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.
3.4k
And what about the lairs
Who whisper in our ears
Shadows in the corridors
Envy in their stare's
Evil eyes awatching
Wishing wicked things
I can feel them
Crawling across
The dirt of all our
Graves
An exercise in creativity....
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
There is something in the air
no more ice nor vampire lairs
The sun rules over night
and brings forth all things bright
And the flowers greet him with glee
all shining and rising among the ****
As the maiden smiles to her tummy
her child smiles back in the shape of a bunny
It's the breath of spring,
balance and growth with it brings
So let us blossom my dear
make our intention and power clear
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 6:10 AM UTC
There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.
There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.
Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,
For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.
2.6k
she lay next to him at night
dreaming of a ghostly icon, gold
little-headed monkey god on an island nigh the cape of bone marrow.
& now
she bounds into humble years, house cat, domesticated
little smiles, little daughters, little
flowers at the supermarket.
good morning.
pull her hair, as if to tree
& family. seed shoved down her throat
& diamonds.
she remembers the jewel runners, their chunks of wet rock.
& birds
slipstreaming away their days above africa.
slug to the chest &
she awakens in a hyundai
under the beaming heat of a vacant strip-mall sun.
gravity feels soft
in this lesser pungent life.
dreamt only, of choking temp and humid archipelago nights,
the gibbons & the thieves.
the treasure chest lairs of chieftains and tribal nobodies.
war profiteers.
men of fang island fantasy.
fake it.
p.t.a. and butter spread it, to toast and/or corn.
the sun is rising
& falling
& truly just travelling ‘round.
marinated artichoke hearts.
[baby dreams] of waves
on shore and handshake, of altered mother moons, she
is hidden in reflection
& time.
happy with the furniture.
plentiful on extra lunch meat.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
it feels innate never relating
I follow you up the stairs
but we arrive at alternate lairs
your inner child throws tantrums
while mine cries in hiding places
that no one's ever destined to find
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
Wake to sad mornings,
Sleep to sad nights,
View sad people,
See sad movies,
Kiss sad women,
Raise sad children,
Pass sad madmen,
Buy sad pets,
Watch sad films,
Hear sad music,
Cry sad tears,
Live sad years,
Pick sad flowers,
Write sad poems,
Keep sad tomes,
Hold sad woes,
Ache sad blows,
Justify sad truths,
Accept sad falsities,
Break sad objects,
Use sad drugs,
***** sad rugs,
Choose sad battles,
Swig sad bottles,
Play sad instruments,
Pray for sad religions,
Spark sad fires,
Keep sad lairs,
Attend sad funerals,
Notice sad cemeteries,
Die a sad death,
Fulfill sad fates.
Do all this, and you'll still be infinitely happier than some.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
If knowledge is power
The power is gone
Things we knew are now proven wrong
Surprises have come and surprises have passed
Without emotion for this I lack
I dream of on day seeing the ships in the far
White sails full of hope and yet unmarred
The world we know is not the world that's real
Covered with lairs and beggars who steal
So come with me and drift away
Over the white caps to a place we can stay.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
The afternoon was excessively humid
The earth seemed a seething hot furnace
Dark clouds were gathering overhead
Lightning drew florescent patterns in the sky
Thunder boomed and rumbled
A few sparse drops of water hit the window pane
The air grew dark, leaves shivered
Soon the rain pelted down in torrents
Drumming on the corrugated tin roofs
Spreading a dark curtain between the eye and the sky
It poured down in full fury for about an hour
In no time it flooded the ditches and hollows
But its might slackened and it vanished as quickly
As it had come, like a messenger on an urgent errand
The day was dying and I witnessed another rain
The rain of insects into the sequestered freedom of the night
Termites and white ants, sleeping in the hollows
Suddenly emerged from their lairs in thousands
Out of every crack and cranny, every fissure and hole
From under every boulder and brick
Winged termites emerged, fluttering about dreamily
Never knowing they were on their first and last flight
They all flew towards the bright light in the porch
But striking against the concrete ceiling
They fell down one by one, some losing their wings
And creeping on the floor, like wounded warriors
A quivering swarm of insects, a clumsily moving mass
This was the harvesting time for the geckos
In one and two, the lizards emerged from their hide
Flicking their tail, they stood ready for the catch
With their darting sticky tongue, they began
Devouring the insects, hastily cramming their stomachs
Until they could hold no more
When the insects began invading the inner space
I switched off all the lights and went to bed
The cool air and the sonorous but rhythmic chants of the frogs
Put my sleepy eyes into sound slumber
Early morning as I woke up
I saw the porch strewn with filmy wings of the termites
They lay like scattered chaff after the corn has been stored
Also some weak survivors, staggering to their end
I thought, to what bleak fate, the exodus of insects
Had taken off on their wings for their maiden flight!
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
the ring that ruled
before dawn and day,
o'er summer & an old sun
with its shafts of remebrance;
shall it remain in middle-earth
and the Dark Lord will feed upon all that is green;
shall it become fire from the mountain
and fair lairs will tremble with the wind of age.
but what is to be must be;
all we have left is what we always had:
the power of a single day that is given to us -
one road to fulfill, to live, and to love.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
“My Hero, Shes The Last Real Dreamer I Know”
She Taught Me How To Live, With Outstretched Palms Reaching Toward The Sky Like Branches On Trees. She Sought Sunlight Like A Love Drug, And Fought Disaster With A Unknown Word In My Vocabulary.
It Was Something Called Hope.
She Smiled, Only When She Meant It, And Told Me That Happiness Is Beautiful. Taught Me That Its Easy To Find, Exchanged On Street Corners And Sold In Candy Stores. She Taught Me To Give It Away Too, To Hand It Out Like Heirlooms To Memory.
She Told Me To Give It To People Who Needed It, Like Cancer Patients And Babies With Broken Families.
Devastation Followed Her Like A Storm, And I Always Stayed Ten Paces Behind. I Could Feel The Rain Before She Ever Could.
But She Told Me To Tape My Eyes Open, And Wait For The Oncoming Storm. It Was Like Lightening Inside The Contours Of My Skull, And My Hand Would Reach For Her's, Beauty Fighting With Perfection.
And Our Hands Would Meet, Fingers Threading Together Like A Zipper Of Prayer.
She Had Wounds. Ones We'd Learn To Heal Together, And The Renaissance Of Reality Was An Eternity Spent Being Left To Our Own Devices, Turned Deity Upon Ourselves.
She Also Taught Me To Not Be Afraid, When She Had Betrayal Written On Her Skin, And Words Like “Back Stabbed” Rung In That Air, She Knew It Had Happened So Many Times, A Transformation Had Begun. No Longer Human, But Something Else Entirely.
Her Children Taking Root In Soil, She Knew The Empty And Aching Wounds Were Like Holes In A Watering Can. She Was Meant To Be Who She Was, From Where She Had Been, And Going Only Where She Chose To Go. She Is Beautiful But Vices Hold Grips On The Insides Of Her Ribs, As If She Is Too Afraid To Inhale.
But She Is Beautiful.
Fear Takes Solstice In The Weak And The Wounded, And She Has No Stock In Fear. Love
Is Like Blossoms On Roses, But Thorns Draw Blood Just As Quick As Needles Do, And We Learned That A Long Time Ago.
She Taught Me That Devastation Is Beautiful, That Hope Can Not Be Fished Out Of Wishing Wells, And That When Hour Glasses Get Glued To Table Tops, Time Is Not Measured By The Breaths We Take, But By The Moments That Take Our Breath Away.
She Tells Me Shes Proud Of Me, But I Want To Her To Know I'm Proud Of Her, And Distance Stretches Between Us, A Distance The Size Of Bravery.
So To The Woman Who Told Me That Dragons Do Not Exist, And Then Led Me To Their Lairs, I Love You.
I Always Have. And Always Will.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
I am an onion.
Peel me.
Cry, too, through the smiles and grief and tight resistance to vulnerability that are held out to you.
Wonder at the resilient fragility of each syn-propanethial-S-oxide drowning layer.
Let me **** forward and grab you, in my death.
Hold our faces close, inhale your breath and roughly slip back.
Gently husk away the dull layers of dermis and cradle the papery lairs that fall faster and faster as I relax
rigor-less, into your arm,
and fall
and fall
and fall
apart.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
she drives through mile high air
top down on her convertible
there’s nothing to see at 2:00 AM
except cautious flashing lights, at vacant crossroads
and a neon sign or two
ready to fade for the night
after the lounge lizards
crawl away, to their lairs
I envy her, awake in the dark
the cold wind in her hair
going nowhere, while I sit
on the flat oatmeal plains,
calculating losses and gains
like I can place her
in one column or the other
would that put me at ease?
knowing she was more red ink than black
knowing she was a lover of cats
and caffeinated chats
and bedding me was
a horizontal distraction
in her vertical ascent
she was not meant, to walk
on level ground,
or sleep after our mazy mating
she had to see the climb in front of her
press the pedal forward,
and keep her eyes from closing
where sleep would morph into dreams
and she too would have to wake
to another disappointing day
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
cobalt rain
rides the foothills
mountains conspire
in malevolent
cloud lairs
beneath gray waters
she treads
the warming sea
in constant current
scaled desire
burnished crimson
silver sleek
with ripened need
she lives to die
upstream
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
The clouds of the skies
ripped open her agonies
today,
As I patiently observed
her tremendous thunders go unheard
to all.
As she poured her tears
all into the soil's lairs,
once parched.
As the winds blew to soothe
her swollen eyes, in her blues
he stayed.
While she broke down binds
each thunder, the winds
blew through
Her hair as her tears dried
up and sunshine gleamed through
her smile.
He gleamed.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 2:30 PM UTC
How tacky.
Tacky.
Tacky.
Tacky.
*****
I'm flattered
that you find my words worth stealing.
But I hate you.
And think you're
Tacky.
Pathetic.
Taking credit
for something that belonged to me.
I hate lairs.
So I hate you.
I'd say it wasn't personal,
but then I'd be a liar.
Like you.
You'll never be a poet.
"Thief"
Is a name far better suited for you.
*****
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
I was in the dorm
During a very bad storm
As I sat on my chair
I gave my friend a dare
He walked out with one final glare
Out of my window I saw two bears
With alarm I ran down the stairs
I opened the door and what I saw was not fair
Blood dripped from the bears
My friend’s father would have no heirs
I followed the bears
Back to their lairs
When they went to sleep
I would leap
When I was done there was nothing but a heap
Of bodies in the keep
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
We are
the creatures
of the night
no tears for us
as we soar
taking on
such glorious
heights
up through
trees, up
through the
invisible threads
between stars
in silvery wefts
I will bring home
the nourishment
to my little ones
nestled in their
warm nesty twiggy
holes safe curled
in lairs
we are
the protectors
of the light
that starts
in darkness
and arcs
like a flare
we ride alone
but when we give
we yield
completely in
full thrusts and
curlicues,
glow-in-the
dark patterns
as leaves
cascade and
comets fall
around
the shadows
then, in the
morning's first
sun peeking
I land and find
that peace
a kind of
proximity to
that love
I'm
seeking
'
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
Close every door
to the waist of space that I am,
Push my plight from you mind
And take all that you can
I won't miss you
But I'm certain you'll see
That once I am gone
You will really miss me.
Drill out the poisons
And shave of the trees
Smoother the meadows
and empty the seas.
I'm not sticking around
For the next act of man
My ecosystems are bust
I've done all that I can.
I'll take the birds
and the bats and the bees,
I'll keep the bugs
the shrubs and the trees,
I'll unravel the wind
from the rustling leaves
It may seem worthless to you
But it's priceless to me.
I'll unstitch the patchwork
off the rolling hillsides,
the grass can be folded
and the tree roots untied.
You can pull out the flowers
and plants crops in rows
But don't come crying to me
When nothing good grows.
I'll pick out all the fish
The flies and the frog
I'll unpeeled the rivers
and collect up the logs.
The atmospheres filthy
I'll just chuck it away
There's no fixing that
No matter how much you pay.
I've salvaged what i can
Of the soil and peat,
Some has been scorched
by the increasing heat,
I'm taking the Beavers
The wolves and the Bears
I've pack up their lodges,
their dens and their lairs.
I've had enough
of been trampled and torn
My airs all populated
And my earth is all worn.
You can keep all your money
Good look on your own
Let's see how you get on
without your ozone.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
D A Y L I G H T:
⠀
In my premature years, black licorice had always been my favorite treat, as it evoked memories of my favorite bird: the crow. It was something like a token of my admiration. Laid in a brittle bed of crisp-like-fall leaves, eyes that were once much bigger would gaze at the sky and see it as a continuation of the ocean. I assumed there was more distance, more leaves, more crows; because the ocean was never just the boats that wavered on the surface.
⠀
I never apprehended that throughout the day is when crows are most distinguishable. Their ebony cutouts, nefarious eyes, and visibly oily obsidian tones contrasted greatly against my favorite element of day – they rode through clouds like mere puddles of fog. Their squawking did not reverberate as boundlessly, nor did it ricochet against the buildings and quivering pine trees. The morning time is when the crows divulge in their breakfast meal, sipping dew from the tallest blades of grass while dressed all in black. It is never the question of, “did you hear that?” or “what was it?”. The crow is the crow as the pigeon is the pigeon.
⠀
⠀
N I G H T F A L L:
⠀
When the world is cloaked with its darkest twinges of night is when the crows become the /crows/, disappearing into their forest lairs. There, they resemble storm clouds that crackle with an aloof thunder regardless of hovering just overhead like a guilty conscience. At night, their hell reigns on a foreshadowed sanctuary – a repetitive funeral, Satan himself occupying a casket made from twigs, the flesh of mice, and children’s shoelaces. Your mind morphs into an unhinged vault, where they prowl and feed on your visions, and devour your common sense. They dilute your integrity with ingenuity. The crow is no longer something vexatious, but rather you are - an intruder - and he, above you in every sense of the word.
⠀
I lie here now, patient as the sun’s shift ends and a somber veil falls over relative land. I no longer face the obligation of licorice, and instead between my teeth resides the root of a sleek, onyx feather. “Sono vivo gui.”
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC
"Leave me be."
Scrawled in blood these words,
Red Blood, now brown,
How long ago has he occupied these stone walls?
Tearing at his veins to form three words.
Three mysterious words,
That hath grappled my heart,
'O the unspeakable thing!
This hill taken over by crows,
A dreary place that held my love.
I ran as fast as I can.
This place, envisioned by me, as a clasp over my heart,
*Land I can see for miles,
With only the wind whispering*
A barrier to strangle all light.
Unbidden tears fell now.
Fear I, that I've come too late.
"Leave me be." Reverberating echoes.
I am daydreaming
"Beware the air"
So clear!
Fell to my knees,
My tears grew towards the mud-caked ground
Five Days
Hallowed his eyes,
He walks in the woods,
Blind but feeling.
Then on rock and sand he stood.
Encased in dementia.....fear,
So lovely his mask,
Blue-black with tears.
On the verge of corrupted task.
Moonlight whipping his silver hair.
Blood playing on the waves,
He heard wind echoing through crabs' lairs,
Rocky beach, site of death's crave
She hurried past trees,
Making her way by moonlight,
Hellfire at her heels.
Images clouding her mind, the dark closing in on him,
Lo thick night!
Bound by his clasp on her heart,
Making her melt, out of breath.
Eve of his death pushing tears,
Blinding and hot,
Conceiving fears.
She saw him,
Taking a step unto empty air,
A daydreamer, never here.
She pulled him back.
Embracing lips, spell-broken,
Once whole,
The darkness rolled away,
Like a wagon over a bridge.
-Firefly
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
I've seen tulip fields, daffodils and
mountain meadow's spring blaze
Of bloom
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've floated the wow, in sea life filled,
surreal turquoise lagoon's sparkling
Drifting waters
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've dined with Mickey, at his home
but too late for a quick visit with his
Given grace
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've laid still with friends, from a long ago
through both through and in
Thick and lean
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've heard the oh so quiet winds blow
into one ear, and inside, out into the
Other inside
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've crawled into sticky lairs of trouble
more times than I can again sort of
Totally remember
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've jumped into the frypan much
too friggin hot for a figure of speech and
Of mind
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've gone into, over, through and
on top of, all the way in, then out and
Down under
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've slipped the earth's surly bonds
more than one time, possibly a one
Hundred thrice
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've watched stars and planets pass
me on by in parched, black filled
Desert skies
Still, I looked for a place to dream
I've traveled the whole world around
not once, but close to once, or at
Least twice
Still, I looked for a place to dream
Funny, I finally found the only place
that I need to dream right there in
My mirror
Staring at me from my mind within
© 2017 Jim Davis
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
It's in these silent moments
That what's pent up
Gets released
Like tears on your pillow
Words flow from
Somewhere deep
Emotions flit
Right through you
Not stopping on their way
And you're left gazing
At beauty
As you flip from page to page
Decisions and deep burdens
Lazy thoughts in their own lairs
Truth shining on the places
Where you realize
That you erred
It wasn't the intention
It wasn't what you planned
It's just you missed the signals
And you didn't understand
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 5:45 PM UTC