"lifeboats" poems
abandon ship, this ***** sinking!
why? captain goes down too...
so man your stations at the lifeboats
its a long swim home
kiss those lips like you're new favorite drug
**** stick and party favors
take another hit babe...it doesn't matter
the world'll stop if only an hour
come back! quit shaking, oh GOD you're not dead!
come on baby wake up! please GOD! come back!
i know you're shaking babe please stop
you scare me
we'll get help baby i promise
i swear
i knew this would happen its always the same
i was there first; now we're both trapped in this hell
do you remember what it felt like to have to have it
that burn in your gut
hands shaking still?
its been years for me too...
we're all poisoned
we're all dead
we all sing
its all dread
you're so crazy
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
“Business as usual” prophesied
by sombre faces with panic stricken eyes
Whispers of crooked plans
cultivated behind closed doors
Loyalty called upon from the poor few
that know the muffled truths
while honey coated promises blinds the rest
The innocent to be sacrificed
to spare the tragedy from the rich
Who is safely nestled on their lifeboats
while watching the ship sink
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Golden sand tickling your toes
Pebbles gleaming, glistening, slushing
When the tide comes back to shore.
Sand dunes hiding wildlife,
Multitudes of migratory birds,
Safely returning every year to
This beautiful, marshy paradise.
Skies so orange, pink and red,
An artists palette of natural art
Greet you at sunrise and sunset.
***** kippers, cod and plaice
Shrimps, cockles and whelks,
Mushy, minty peas and chips,
The show at the end of the pier.
The lifeboats and their hardy crew
Risking their lives to save others,
When visitors run into trouble
At the mercy of the cold North Sea.
Crumbling coastlines, cliff walks
And nature reserves full of the
Scent of wild garlic and herbs,
Norfolk lavender. Steam engines,
Fishing boats, river boats,
Paddling boats and cycles
Take you on journeys
Around the Broads or
Past the famous Castles.
Tigers and leopards peer
Through the bars of their
Zoo homes by the sea.
Easterly winds that bite your
Fingers as they whistle and
Howl through the City.
Guest houses closed for
The winter as you stroll
The lonely promenades
Breathing in the air.
Queen Bodicea, Normans,
Vikings and Romans all
Marched through this
Historical landscape
And yet we remain
Stalwart and strong
Proud of our heritage,
Our roots, our birthplace
There's only one place
Better than Norfolk,
And that's the
Beautiful Ozarks.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
My world changed.
Now. I. am.
Dis- inherit.
More like the unwanted
guest,
in
a party for yourself.
That un wanted
is always
you.
Banners can say your name.
One thousand times.
Screaming.
Out of skyscrapers, bungee jumping
from space shuttles.
Saltating, from your inner
lung meat.
Banners, with names, can only spittle lies.
Now unwanted I wanna leave,
get out,
only 3 more miserly months
of a kingdom of intellectual
gods and tzars.
screaming my party name,
but I.
I.
gone.
I am sitting
While I'm grieving
and admitting in my seat
clenching to be let out
breaking cracking/gnashing teeth
left alone. all wanted
left to brain rot
but forced to sponge
learning what i want in
learning my ashcans full
i am done
I will. remain. despondent.
I wont apply my neurons
motor-sensory illusion
for math demagogues
what the ****
crust me over
cut my brain-case
destroy all brain
function and matter
grey dissolve to black
and white every *******
shade inside
cephalic
meat bowel
Lifeboats float back up to the top, after
re-inflated, I breathe air once again. My
retinas detect the light coming from
packets of waves emitting from the shore.
I float back up from the cold sea to the rock.
Alive.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
We would never work. I need stability and security. I need safety. But you, you're inherently unsafe. You seek out chaos and conflict intentionally because you think it's interesting. If you were on the Titanic,you'd be pouring champagne and singing while the ship went down. Everyone would be screaming, getting into lifeboats, and you'd be standing there on deck, with your glass of champagne, laughing, and you'd still find your way off the **** boat without even trying.
Are you familiar with the story , "The Monkey's Paw?" There's this magic monkey's paw, like a rabbit's foot kind of, and it grants any three wishes you want . The problem is, for every wish that comes true , there is a terrible, huge cost. Being with you would be my wish. You're everything I want, and everything I'm not, and you would ruin me. You don't consider consequences, and if we were to end, you would move on to the next experience that seems interesting. But I would never recover. Being with you and losing you would devastate me so much that I can't even consider taking that risk.
You're like a high -risk investment. You could make me extremely wealthy, or I'll end up on the street.
I've never known someone with so much anxiety and so little fear.
Face it, the reason you're into feminism isn't because you want to raise up other women-- it's because you want to be held to the same standard as men. You know you're not just better than most women you meet, but that you are smarter, fiercer and more ambitious than most men, too. You want to be recognized as the best PERSON in the room, not just the best woman.
Do you really want me to try and stop you? You don't , because no matter what I say, you're going to do it. If anything the best way to discourage you is to encourage you, but you'll still do what you want anyway.And if you choose not to do it, it won't be on moral grounds, but just because you want to deny yourself a passion to prove that you can say no to yourself, that you have control, and that's not much better than doing it anyway, isn't it?
You are the strongest woman I've ever met. You hardly ever know what you want, but when you think you want something, you go out and get it. You never hesitate, you ignore your fear, and you don't care about morality. Sometimes though, you feel ashamed of yourself , and hide in your charms. You do it for so long and try so hard that you forget yourself. Don't forget yourself. You seek out people who have the passion and motivation you think you lack, but you have these things more than anyone. And most of all, you are powerful. I can't explain the power that emanates from you, but it's like a force of nature. You can't hide it and you shouldn't. You need chaos and conflict and madness to keep going, because you ARE chaotic, conflicted and mad.You need to stop feeling guilty and afraid of yourself, and be the person you are, not the person you think you should be.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
Because,
He fell for the red on her cigarette,
Her breath on floating dandelions,
The eyelash on her cheek,
The stretchmarks on her thighs,
The little hairs on her belly,
The way her eyebrows don't perfectly match,
The way she loved dogs more than children,
The way she stares at tree leaves swaying.
He fell for her as a whole
Not the way others had before,
And she, did not care.
She constantly fell in the sea
Of arms, that has haunted
Since her eyes began to see lust.
Drowning endlessly,
Knowing he would send her a lifeboat.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Sitting in a chair counting spots that passed before my eyes.
The insect smiled and said "hold still" i missed one.
They swirl this way and that.
dont move Please. be still.
Not an easy task
a fever of 104.2
could you. I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
Sitting on my blanketed chest
The insect did his best to sing me a lullaby.
his breath was horrendous but he meant well.
He stroked my burning cheek and
changed the cool washcloth regularly
on my aching head.
Then turned my pillow to the cool side again.
There my friend.
He scuttled under with me and snuggled
his hairy legs were itchy and rough.
small price to pay.
eh wot.
Oh yes we have no bananas
We have no bananas today.
Captain if we keep pushing her like this
she's gonna blow.
We regret to inform you that
the price of tea in China is now
High as gas in California.
Chicken broth he brought
with a silver spoon to boot
The insect waited patiently
as I swallowed then spooned
the next load in.
"Here let me wipe you chin."
Ladies and gentlemen and all ships at see
The Hindenburg has landed
oh the humanity.
This is not the end
No not the beginning of the end.
But more, the end of the beginning.
Help me up Mr Checks. I think I gotta ***
Oops forgot to raise the lid.
Mr Checks. Can you have room service come up.
we need more Trowels. Uh towels.
Stop hogging the remote. Where's mom
Have you seen my Teddy with one eye missing.
To bed to bed
You sleepy head .
Tarry a while said slow.
Put the *** said greedy glut
Lets stuff before we go .
Mr Checks.
All hands on deck.
We dont have enough lifeboats sir.
The iceberg is sky blue and beautiful dont you agree.
What do you do with a drunken sailor
early in the morning.
Heave ** and up she rises
Early in the morning.
THIS FEVERISH DREAM TO BE CONTINUED.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
I walk along the endless shores,
trying to decide whether or not
I should plunge into the depths
of what this world has to offer.
As I step upon the grains of time,
one step more sure than the other,
I wonder what life will bring me
if I continue following this path.
The timeless beach takes me closer
to the next journey across time.
The water is calm and inviting, here,
and I’m curious to know what’s beyond.
The seas of the world are full,
filled with opportunities and chance.
I hesitate to take my lifeboat
to where Life is most unsure.
While the Seas of Life are disturbed
by storms of many lives competing,
I stay afloat closer to quiet shores
where life is still, in harmony with Nature.
Yet, when I meet another Life,
one who’ll guide me along, safely,
I know I’ll follow without a doubt,
as we’re stronger with the two of us.
Together, we’ll cross Life’s oceans
and journey with purpose to our goal.
We’ll share lifeboats and experience
until we reach the end, where we’ll grow old.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 4:41 AM UTC
My father
left my mother
waiting on a promise
but no more
pretty anniversary vacations
only divorce lawyers
and yelling
bitter compromises
drawing sobs from my mother
on the first Christmas Eve that you weren't here
I was eighteen when it happened
so It didn't hit me quite so hard
as my thirteen year old brother
but it did hit me
not a haymaker
but a series of sharp jabs
to the cerebellum
and it makes me mad
thinking back to all
the comparisons between us
and it makes me
absolutely ******* furious
that try as I might
I still love you
But don't call me son
because you divorced us
and I appreciate your monetary lifeboats
but I would make it without them
besides I think of it
as compensation for what you did to my head
Mother dearest's pain
flowing through open vessels
to the salt of lovers
and I've been falling in love ever since
every pretty faced girl
who ever looked as if she'd frowned
became angelic saviors
in my eyes
something to protect
and love forever
But I can't love every
cute girl I see
forever
I know that
and I love them too much to hurt them
to be honest I think you
stole the hope of me
ever understanding what real love is
I just want to save every girl
whose cheeks are scarred with forgotten tears
but I can't
so I revert to a one night stand
fueled by futility and whiskey and ****** beer
never allowing myself to give
that old poison that we like to call Love
I carry a cross
made of sins of the father
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
The ship is sinking
and the women and children
are still on board,
but the lifeboats have been taken
and the ******* Captain,
he ain't letting any more board.
One day soon
in this unknown country
where our dreams shout
and jump ship,
a train will come
and it will arrive full-steam
ahead, and full of resisters
looking to take the Captain's head.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
Miss Pinkie
(she dropped the Mrs
when the divorce
came through)
liked to put on
Mahler’s 1st symphony
when he came around
and he brought
the bottle of scotch
and when she let him in
she said
ah Professor
you have brought
the *****
I shall slip into something
more comfortable later
and she closed the door
behind him
and followed him
up the passage
her flip-flops
flapping behind him
like some penguin
and already he could hear
the opening bars
of the Mahler
as he entered the lounge
and smelt her perfume
and she took the bottle
and he said
I’ve selected the poems
for my first book
and she said
from the kitchen
o good
you’ll have to let me
read them before you
send them off
sure
he replied
sitting on her sofa
remembering where
he’d made love last time
and how he almost
fell off the sofa
but clung onto
her ample flesh in time
and how she laughed
and said
man overboard
throw him a lifebuoy
and as she came
with two glasses of the *****
and set them down
on the table
she sat down next to him
and kissed his cheek
and said
thanks for the *****
and for coming
and hey loosen that collar
this is no funeral
and her fingers undid
his shirt collar
down half way
and she rubbed his chest
and hairs
isn’t that better?
sure
he said
and leaned forward
and sipped the *****
already Pete in the pants
was stirring
and she said
I like this Mahler piece
it does things to me
and he listened
to the trumpets
and violins and those cellos
and sipped again
and her eyes widened
and her lips
came down on him
and he lay back
on the sofa overwhelmed
and like a drowning man
opened wide his arms
and waved
but none came
to rescue
no lifeboats set out
no one in sight
just him and Miss Pinkie
and Mahler
and the long hot night.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Thus world is too cold
and painful to be alone in.
its a deep loneliness, something draws
my soul at, chewing me up.
I fear to wonder how the other must feel
Lest I sink down too deep in the dark
And am eaten whole.
This world is too cold
and painful to be alone in.
You need a light to guide your way,
humans weren't meant
to be self reliant.
That's why its a virtue.
Doing things you don't want to do
is considered...
What am I saying?
This world is too cold
and painful to be alone in.
Lost, seeking what can't be found
A ship with broken sail sinking
in a freak storm.
The captain got drunk and caused it
Albatross around his neck
Stuck to his flesh like a trophy
of his misery
The sailors consider hanging him
from the bow
But instead clamor into lifeboats
and leave him to drown.
He waves them off
And in the cloud and steel rain, that lashes against
Their arms and faces stinging,
The first mate turns back and looks
A peel of lightning strikes the
broken mast,
Splinters explode out from the wood,
Shredding the captain, still waving,
Still with that dead albatross
on his neck,
His words ringing through the
din and shouting men.
"With fate we part ways,
Yet in death I'll see ye all to safety.
I failed my crew twice,
And in once
Never again."
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:17 PM UTC
i. The calm of the sea calls out to me like a sweet bitter song written on vengeful manuscripts left in a barren recording studio. I lay on the vessel, listening as the sea faeries whisper my name from the sea foam, asking me to stop the vessel I am on. I ignored them, for they are faeries which are clearly a figment of my imagination. The waves grew angry, and the sky overcast. Grey clouds surrounded us and lightning started to strike. A deep hollow sound erupted from somewhere above, and I knew that the faeries were infuriated. I rushed to the captain, a handsome, clean shaven man and begged him to stop the Costa Victoria. At seeing my pathetic self, he agreed to stop it and shut down all engines. The sea grew calm again, but we were stuck in the sea, the captain and I. The crew members were virtually nonexistent, as were the other passengers on board. They, of course, were merely evidence of an earthen world, and with the faeries’ storm, they had ceased to continue existing. I set off for the lifeboats with the captain in hand, a smile plastered on my usually dead face.
ii. Treacherous were the waves that stared back at me when my eyes took a detour out of the balcony. They were harsh and unforgiving, roaring and rumbling beneath me. They didn’t disappear, but instead swallowed the night whole with an unprecedented strength.
iii. The sea was an endless expanse of black and white anguish, and in the horizon, an unknowing danger loomed, threatening to swallow us up whole if we didn’t continue our speed of 22 knots.
(lunarlullubies)
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
|PART THREE|
**THE EMPTY SECOND
BECOMES AN
EMPTY SPACE**
*When it’s all over
forget about courtesy,
grab hold off a shooting star
and ride it all the way
until the photons say the
last word with a pulse of light*
The man is no longer doubled over and
Observable from the window
As a result of his fifty-eight years
the equation of his life
All comes to zero
Whilst the mocking ticking and tocking
Of an old clock knocking minutes like
Nails into the wall—
He disappeared in a puff of smoke,
The ice in his glass melted and the woman picked it up,
Drinking it in a single gulp, the glass comes down as if
Magnetically drawn to the floor, the floor,
Where she lies silently and stretches her body
To get some release, she rubs her face against
The carpet, nothing matters except the next second,
Eyes, behind a blink or two, dart to another part of the empty room
She couldn’t think any further ahead than a second at all
And the zodiac crashed open
the ram sent stars flying
the crab snipped the string that suspended the stars
mars took some flak
and finally the sun was burst
by the horned goat
and aquarius held it
like the final fluid sphere
Stars, burning across the sky like the striking of a match
Those wishing on shooting stars
couldn’t decide what they wanted
many of them flying as there were
As well-known monsters
Weighed down by human hope,
clear out our night sky,
Leaving not a freckle to observe
Telescopes now point into bedroom windows
Shadows portray a sort of life,
Shadow puppets depict death through
Tragedy and lapses in timekeeping and
Obsessions with vanity
Life spends some empty second
Inside your lungs,
Continues on it’s way
To resuscitate a slowly fading knife attack victim
Or shake the hand of a minute,
Time is ticking laboriously by
The light, motherless and lost,
Spat out at as the sun was burst,
It looks up to see
the unveiling of the universe,
Finally,
the oyster swallowed the sea.
—I didn’t want to be a poet by any means. After what happened working on the lifeboats I couldn’t go near the sea, so in a way I chose which parts of it I wanted and wrote about them. It terrifies me and fascinates me at the same time. I fully believe I will return to it only as ash...
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
At seven bells came seven knells,
Something was wrong
Seven short blasts and one long,
A mermaid song
Their shrill voices sang, you belong
You belong to the sea
Come swim with us, let us bring
Let us bring you below
At seven bells came seven knells
And the ship was aglow
~
At seven bells came seven hells,
Each worse than the last
Flames spread fast like fear and dread,
At each short blast
Slippery shoes began to slide,
As the deck listed port-side
Lifeboats tumbled over the brink
And were lost into the drink
At seven bells came seven hells
And the ship began to sink
~
At eight bells, the mournful knells
Had ceased to be
The ship was gone beneath the waves,
Taken by the sea
How calm the night, how still the wind,
How silent was the sea
Beneath the waves, a watery grave
And sunken ship debris
At eight bells, the mournful knells,
They tolled for me
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
there was a ocean liner sailing out to sea it would it never make its maiden destinythe sea was getting rough and icebergs all aroundthen suddenly you heard big loud scraping soundthe ship it had been hit. damaged beyond on comparepassengers in a panic as they began to scarejumping on to lifeboats as they began to flee for those who where on board escape just wouldnt bethe ship it starting sinking and slowly it went downas the passengers watched and knew some of them would drownnow the ship has gone to the graveyard in the seaa another ship like her there could never be
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 6:56 AM UTC
Wallace Hartley nodded
and the band played on.
The lifeboats and collapsibles
by then were launched and gone.
Futile flares lit up the sky
A chill borne of despair.
What was the last song that you played ?
A waltz? a Hymn? a prayer?
The violin I hold in my hand
was Wallace's all right.
What will be bid for this memento
of that remembered night?
Some survivors after claimed
you played a hymn of praise.
The wireless man McBride recalled
a mournful waltz was played.
You were the gift of Wallace's love
A girl who never wed.
The last memento of these Lovers
who rest now with the dead.
Now all Titanic's complement
are muted dead and gone.
Yet all survivors testified
that the band, indeed, played on.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
Like strangers Uninvited
Into each others domain
I crept a little closer to u
That first night on the cabin porch
Your song sang out to me
I made excuses just to get near you
That hookah would travel farther with us
Every conception is so symbolic
Off the bat, don’t deny he was right there, the demon at my shoulder, ashamed of him, I encouraged the demon at yours,
Your river of wine.
You saw him, never knowing how long it would take me to slay it,
And I watched yours never knowing how much you had to drink.
With both our arms caressing our poisons, we reached out the other
Save me you cried
Save me first I beseeched you
So we played doctor and bandaged each other
Til our wounds screeched out in protest
Then the dragon engulfed me and sat on my wings,
You returned to your drinking A sea of red
When the sun came out again, and illuminated our detours
The tides pushed us close, we ran out unclothed into the ocean,
our bodies clung to one another as
Drowners to lifeboats
I limped away from the dragons lair, attempting to unfurl my wings, nursing scars
Crawled into your bed
With your demons tossed aside,
You couldn’t bear the sight of the wounds mine inflicted.
You tried to draw close
I tried to be yours
We flew on a magic Carpet, it was
A Whole New World
I never discarded any part of us, maybe that’s why you never let go
So with one finger wound tightly to your heart in bronze metal,
With the other hand I reached for my sword
And with the courage I never had before, I hunted down my demon.
His head came off swiftly and cleanly
I sidestepped the blood
I carried it by its hairs to your doorstep
And fell into your embrace.
Now we drink from the same river, we share a glass of wine
Our summer fling is over
You are the best thing that’s ever been mine
Its a whole New World
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we’re only dreaming….
Don’t you dare close your eyes
Hold your breathe it gets better
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
Tum Tum Tum!
“Ladies and Gentlemen,
We welcome you aboard to take flight
and soar in a melting *** of degradation.
Where we file you by nation and
take elation in your degrees,
specifically those on bended knee.
Your angry plees will reach deaf ears,
and no amount of tears
can move
the System.
So sit back and listen to safety procedures:
The seat belt is fastened such,
in order to crush
against dignity.
The overhead oxygen mask will drop
if engines stop
and we need to crash,
the freshest air always comes last.
Lifeboats offer the final cruise
until red sharks *****
on your blood.
And turn cell phones off
so we don’t flood
the System.
We’re not done, so kindly shut up and listen:
The ability to lunch is an epitome,
simply a costly accessory,
just hold your gut,
and allow us to degrade
some more.
We implore you to understand,
for we do not.
In the System you’ll find
no heart,
simply an enigma,
no end
no start.
All lights will be turned off
for the duration of the flight.
Tough.
The enlightened can switch
the overhead lamp,
if you can reach
as far as that.
To encounter turbulence is a must.
For those who do not trust
in us
must be shaken
and rattled.
After all,
eliminate the fight
by eliminating the battle.
We hope you enjoy the flight,
and know you will soar again soon,
from noon to noon
we move in unison,
frequent fliers of
the System.”
Tum Tum Tum.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
Synchronic simple step
be
yonder, yo, go, no
go, si, go
on and on and on
… so yust so
yust to be we once went
we split, full moiety,
each
ac-
act-
act-ion -jello-timed- lobes
blobs plasmoieted mind
parabolic, by yah,
Arching fly call it, I got it,
call his name, yah who done
did done GOT
caught
the funny parts. Read the books.
Now. At this point, cognitive native
child formed in my mortal moment
per-ifery-wasery rules
secret se- per seance
sacred made knowledge,
state of knowing entered, left
ab-rupturously, grief, lief
left easy, re lief, sigh
good
grief. We were all
we- are Charlie Brown, forever
interrupted, as if once, however long ago,
we knew we were one thing,
then we knew we were merely
words between things you knew
and did not do.
and you know you imagined this is that.
The novel experience, this side.
Post-done and paid off.
Precautionary. Click.
Why not,
who is asking, hangs, as pregnant pause
über Þe olde excessive easing hook,
who are we, and what are we doing,
we who were to survive receiving
asked knowledge, the easy-does-it tree,
shows us the easy way, this way dis-eased.
The lie and the profundus is merely piercing.
Flatten the spikes, be atop the bed of nails.
Wait. Funda-mental, bottom mind, first
id-ego otherwise mind,
frame a being, be a
one, and not the other,
here, there, there, it's okeh, eh, ok?
E-see easing easy living, being been done,
doing all that old trees do, after all,
we wait to feel the fire beetles,
land and lay their eggs among our ash,
and swollen-cracked nuts,
fire calls them into heat, in season.
Such things we learned
from the ant people who saved us in reeds,
thatching from roofs floating, maybe,
really, lifeboats, but
think a tsunami through,
rush
incursive and excursive.
Lay down a layer of plausibility, evoke applause
clap each hand once.
Curtain.
Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 2:01 AM UTC
Holding onto reality with both hands
His social life in a cup of coffee as he waits
Swamped sinking lifeboats
No longer accepting applications
For jobs that have sailed away
Buried alive, a napkin waiting its turn
To be plucked out and used
Then thrown out
Lucky if recycled and repurposed
To a younger man’s vision
Torn apart, his skills repackaged, Frankensteined for each resume
The boring job of cutting checks means he was
A bookkeeper, an accountant, detail oriented,
Friendly to external and internal users or customer service driven
Or any combination of above.
Leaving his car at home, he walks,
Afraid of running out of money for gas and repairs
Wondering what pieces he will put together today
Reducing his years of experience to a tweet
Comprehensible to the child in charge of his future.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Your bow is all elbow,
a flank of forearm that is
supporting and simply cradling
my imagination
where a dozen or so
lifeboats hang off starboard
in case things get too much
I, captained by your sturdy arms,
nip up to the crow’s nest
for a sip of spiced ***
for a bit of warmth and
perhaps more—
a full beard that reminds
me so much of Darwin
I feel certain I am on the Beagle
and hungry to shoot some
lame birds one by one!
Your shoulder
where I can sleep forever—
come sharks and eat my catch
while I whisper poetry,
summon ghosts and
**** off Hemingway,
whose macho act was betrayed
by his pain-filled eyes
and sensitively painted
one-word skies
You, my aching hull
in human form,
rocking gently as the sea
slows our progress
knowing we are
wishing away time too often
the working of the gyro
prevents my seasick blushes
we do not yet know each other
that well but all is fine as I see it,
your arms really are made of
shipworthy wood and
beneath deck, where I will sleep
tonight above Atlantis’s cesspit,
we just bounce off each wave,
getting closer and closer to the moon
but not yet arrived,
has sleep come too soon for me tonight?
I’ll rest and stretch and groan
like weary ****** do
once Surya helps me turn out the light
—Yes, once my ship did start to sink. I called until my throat was gone and ended up swimming a good distance until crucially a boat came by and pulled me out of the sea. I remember thinking: I should feel more grateful to be alive. I went back to where it sank and retrieved a few personal items, then I sat on the beach a wept as if the whole thing had just hit me.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
Maybe it wasn't sporadic,
but I saw the outbreak coming nonetheless
and this complication isn't remedied painlessly
Until I finally fell and landed perilously where I'm not even wanted
but feel somehow that the pain belongs to me
and I belong to it
Its mine and I'll keep it; oceans could be deeper.
You can't float lifeboats on land
But when the wind becomes black ink,
and I can't lean against the running trees;
I block my face and chase after them
and while I know I think in metaphors and not similes,
I like to think I lie
and I'm only myself,
darkly and simply realistic
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
i often feel like hollow light. If you
were to touch me, there would be
nothing but a hand passing through
a few swirling luminescent particles—
i am a ghost pretending to be human.
i admit that this is hard for me to say–
writing without wrapping words
in warmth is unsafe, risk-laden; my
fingers freeze up, unmoving,
suddenly unknowing. there are
a few moments each day when i lose
all my speech, and five, ten, fifteen
years of learning how to hold myself
together with shaky hands vanish,
swallowed like lifeboats sinking. i
would like to tell the truths buried in
my stomach—like cutting open the sky
and watching all the stars fall through
torn fabric—but each time my
words fail me, and so I will never call
myself a poet. perhaps one of the
most difficult things is writing
without metaphors—i can’t make
fear or pain or the shaky breaths
that happen after you’ve cried for too
long sound soft or lovely or like deep
ocean tremors, and now i am no longer
an artist, i am just the raw, bare soul
of a person who never quite got the
hang of stability. still i am attempting
to decipher how all these people
keep their feet on the ground, so if
you find anything for me to saw the
wings growing from my ankles off with,
let me know.
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC