"lifeline" poems
In time you’ll recover and absolve
push those scorned impressions aside
hammer down the jaded edges
and sing
that delightful commoners song
the one you sang so well
in what seems a lifetime ago
You really had it you know
that fiery disposition and nimble cunning
those butter chords and derelict style
we could see it -- we could all see it
it was all it took to turn the evening tide
(and rile that buck fever)
heads bashing
tongues lambasting
middle fingers high
and raising Cain on those may fly statesmen
There were no rules
when it came to your survival
no textbook rally or common bond
no structured songbird or bravado stage
you either made it, or laid it
“life by the ***** Mr. Poppy would say
a kaleidoscope of dreams
with rich colored imagery
hardened artisan seams
in a carefully woven motif
But something got lost in the needle point
something sinister and distorted took hold
the quirks and street genius
that were your lifeline
gave way to grunts
and squeals
and chilling night crawlers
the colors faded quickly
to a cold confining grey
There was no grace in the new world
no retribution or switch back
no salvation or accorded finale
only edged platforms of blackened steel
that kept you cased
in a silent vanquished cell
shivering cold with fear
night without day
all in the shadow of death
But time heals all
and the polish sneakers
and open sores are long gone
(though the roman nose and shallow cleft remain)
indeed the falconer beat the widow maker
this go around
and I’m hopeful it won’t happen again
and if it does you’ll see me
standing hand on heart
with that old verse in hand:
he ain’t tainted
or silly,
and most certainly
not forgotten…
he ain’t loony
or fixed,
or a product of his self-doing…
he’s just a straight shootin’ guy,
who had the most of it
figured out
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
I think of him like
the desert thinks of rain
wondering if there's
much to gain
'cause when he comes
he leaves me flooding
an exposed surface
left with nothing
but he still runs deep
absorbed entirely
a lifeline till
our storm sparks lightning
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.
We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.
My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:
*We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.
In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.*
years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
often isn’t.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
you are my lifeline
in time with time
quickstep tango
Russian roulette
African mango
one will get you high
just one
thread
piece of string
hanging
just one
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
test me
my waters have remained constant
rippling, reaching
as far as the eye can see
into the horizon; the water surrounds me
my knowledge is useless
when drowning in these waters;
i can only flail desperately
as my movements create ripples
out into the open sea
all these efforts
all in vain
all in my vein
blood rushing out
like the sea, light then heavy
then strong
like the sea, with a strong smell of salt
this time, the waters are red
and they reek of iron
test my waters
they’ve been stained crimson
with my lifeline
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
There's air here, but I cannot breathe in
for fear of strangling myself with something that helps humanity to live and thrive
further down I dive, this seems almost like an enchanted abyss, I can see beauty ask around me even though I cannot speak to it
the cold is starting to affect my circulation,
it's harder to move my hands
I'm hanging onto my lifeline by a strand,
I tug twice and to the surface I quickly rise
the bubbles in my chest begin to collapse
I breach and breathe in deeply,
allowing the outside world back into my senses
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
We are a collection of our own experiences. A destruction of our own making, we undo ourselves with what we've learned, unlove ourselves with what we've learned.
I have looked in the mirror to a stranger too many times for my liking. The girl that I became mirrored back in agony to the girl she wanted to be. She wanted to be a poet, she wanted to be a portrait. She wanted to be stronger.
My experiences have become me. But I don't want to be defined by broken hearted and tormented by my dreams. I don't want to be defined by the dark circles under my eyes, the heart beat in my ears. I wanted to be stronger.
I have looked in the mirror too many times and seen stranger, seen liar, seen a girl who kept too much bottled up and my demons creep behind me like the horror movies I'm so akin to watching. They wave hello like they belong and I have to break my stare.
The poet in me says this is another experience, another lifeline, another tether to the earth that I love so much. An earth that I love so much that it broke me.
The poet in me says this experience will make me stronger.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
Twist my gaze to the side
Through the copper-and chocolate curtain of my hair
Through the sea of faces
And one amongst hundreds
I could pluck you, like the ripest apple
From the lowest branch.
And in this ocean of bobbing heads
Of flapping lips and empty eyes
I'm just floating
Just alone, drifting
Hoping you'll throw me an emerald glance
A lingering lifeline
To reel me in from this
Crowded loneliness.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
When people tell me
That I'm strong
I'm beautiful
I'm amazing...
I don't feel anything.
Tell me these things
When I cry about the pain
That has lasted me years,
When I'm up at night
Even when I'm lacking sleep,
And
When I'm expected to smile
My whole life when I don't feel your warmth.
This ice palace I reside in,
Is it my lifeline?
Because if it is
Wouldn't it be better if
It melted?
All these moments
Have become entangled
And the momentary lapses
Irregular,
My world all
Grey
And
I just can't do this.
But my calls are stuck
In my throat.
I'm frozen.
I'm not resilient.
It's taking me so long
So long
To stand up.
And my heart is giving up
It's beat
Fading.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
And I remember thinking—
I wish someone would look at me that way.
As if they had battled it for a lifetime,
Through seasons and snow and sun -
Across cities and oceans and mountains
In innocent youth and wearied age,
As if they had finally surrendered and had no choice but to look.
In the way it takes all a person’s will and strength to look away
And they have been worn down, beaten, bruised
To the point of weakness, of giving up.
And now, all they are left with is their truest self, exposed down to the bone
& no strength to battle the inevitable
Draw of their eyes to mine.
I want someone to look at me as if I am their lifeline,
And their death-bringer.
Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 1:26 PM UTC
The man in the moon
has a big conundrum
cause he can't always talk
to his good friend the sun
for he is tucked away,
kept out of sight,
for when the suns out
the moon sees the night.
There once was a time
he was part of the earth,
till a comet collided
for all it was worth.
The earth was surprised
with the immediate shock
and the loss of a massive,
great big piece of rock.
That great piece of rock,
far off it did zoom
from big brother earth,
now the man in the moon.
Every time
the sun comes to play,
the moons bigger brother,
'the earth's,' in the way.
His brother of course,
will pass messages on
but it isn't the same
as a chat with the sun.
But once in a while
the moon he can mix
with his good friend the sun
in a total eclipse.
When part of the earth
he saw the sun once a day
till that comet then crashed
and sent him far away.
But somehow they managed
their friendship to fix
and all with the help
of the total eclipse.
They get to catch up,
but not for too long
for they soon take there places,
go home where they belong.
The total eclipse
is a lifeline that ends
but for a short time it helps
puts together two friends
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Devised by Cosmic Boss
Sourced by parents
Aided by obstetrician
Nursed by pediatrician
Nurtured by nutritionist
Counseled by sexologist
Treated by orthopedist
Stressed by physiotherapist
Directed by dietician
Nudged by nephrologist
Nerved by neurologist
Contained by cardiologist
Consoled by psychologist
Interspersed by dentist,
Sighted by ophthalmist
Conditioned by physiology
Terminated by mortuary
The inexorable Lifeline Express
Of hospitalized hospitality
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
there's a knot in the middle of my spine -
a knot made with flaming fuchsia rope -
that i have never been able to untangle.
my fingers aren't able to reach it quite right;
no matter how much i rub or how far i arch my back against the mattress,
the knot remains as taut as a lifeline.
and i can't cut it loose also,
i don't leave no scars on my back for i have promised myself the blade's lips can kiss my wrist and my wrist only.
there have been people who have encountered me in this life to whom i have mentioned the knot.
a couple of people only nodded and avoided my troubled eyes.
some people have had the pleasure of fastening it even tighter.
experienced sailors with impressive tying skills,
that can secure an entire ship of agony and relentless torture to a worn and raw anchor as heavy as my body,
with the vessel of malicious fingernails and empty words.
most people have only soothed my aching back with gentle fingers;
caressed and patted the knot with a tight lip drawn upon the face
and pitied my sorrow with forbearing eyes.
no one has ever cared to untie the unforgiving knot.
no one has reached out to pull the burning end of the rope and set it loose.
no one has carelessly ripped out of me the sigh i have been guarding in the hollow of my throat for so long.
no one has set me free.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Drove through snowstorms over icy roads
Warmed by the fire of my love for you
Following a lifeline of energy
Thought it led to your heart, warm and true
But there was only burning pain as you pushed me back
Erasing all the joy I ever knew
Signs were there that it was a trap
But the mine exploding in my face was my first clue
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
Inhale, feel, lets the flavors collide.
**** it down if you can
Every taste from your poisonous gauntlet
Reminds me of me your kiss.
Passionate, I keep sipping.
I love you more than I love myself.
You have become the reason I breathe,
And you will prove to be the reason I die.
My skin under my eyes loses color.
It is tired from the things you have thrown at it.
Trying to combat you is a lost cause.
In those moments,
I look into your brown eyes
And try to find something weak
Something human.
Your blank stare frightens me
As it is comparable to a demon, the devil
Devoid of remorse, or guilt, or sorrow.
Your words cut deeper.
They are the IV in my veins
They penetrate my skin
And invade my bloodstream
Yet, I continue to hook their machines
Up to my comatose body.
I have gone from having a bright smile
To wearing a perpetual look of anguish.
You have aged me ten years.
I stare down at my hands as they tremble.
My eyeballs have sunken into my head
I am a ruin of anything lifelike.
It is a defective disposition
But can it be cured?
An addiction is a pleasure is a curse
That grows as you feed it.
I must cut myself off from you, my lifeline,
Completely.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
i don't want to
have these
bipolar
conversations
where i threaten,
and apologize,
and demand,
and apologize
again
i don't mean to take you
through the ringer
to make you see violence
and mood swings
i don't mean to scare you
when i don't take
my medicine
i don't mean to scare you
when i cry
for hours
i don't mean to scare you
when i scream
and punch things
i never meant to
do those things
like keying your car
i never meant to
drop everything
and go across multiple state lines
with no plans
at all
i never meant to hurt myself
until my arms
were coated in scars
for all of the times
i self-medicated
poked myself with needles
and drank away my pain,
i'm sorry
i shouldn't have taken so many xanax
you're right
i was wrong
again
i never meant for you to be
my caretaker
i hate those words
caretaker
i should be able
to take care
of myself
i'm sorry i am not managing this illness
i am very
very
ill
i'm sorry for the times
i couldn't get out of bed
couldn't eat,
couldn't move
couldn't go to work
i'm sorry for the times
i made tons of post-it notes
filled journals with ideas
bought calendars
and organization tools
i'm sorry for getting your hopes up
i really thought i could do it this time
i'm sorry for my diagnosis
i'm sorry i didn't understand how serious this is
i didn't ask to be bipolar
i didn't ask to be born
i make cases for myself
in my head
but they're all filed as
crazy
i'm sorry i was delusional
paranoid
and afraid
i'm sorry for the drug binges
i'm sorry for melting
fading
burning
and still coming back
alive
these low lows
and high highs
you've been through the ringer
when you're only supposed to be
support, a resource of compassion...
you had to be a caretaker
you didn't ask for this
and neither did i
i sometimes questioned if it was harder on you
to live with someone with bipolar disorder
than it was for me
to live with bipolar disorder
you wanted to save me
but you realized
that i can only save myself
now i'm drowning
and my lifeline is gone
i'm trying to learn to swim
i just hope i do it
before i sink
i'm sorry for all of the ****** poetry
i made you read
i'm sorry
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
Dancing on the lifeline,
Flying through the dirt,
Mixing into puddles,
Resembling the sky...
Everything is nothing.
Nothing is everything.
The truth is but a lie
Not looked in the eye.
The spoiled goods we buy!
Dancing on the lifeline,
Spinning dervish, spin.
Aquire all the knowledge you seek,
Find it is within.
Poets are the prophets
To the souls of those that read.
The magick that is in the verses
Always plants a seed
To enlightenment, the need.
We are all
Dancing on the lineline,
Connected by the threads,
That comprise the ribbons
Of the thoughts within our heads.
Everything for which we thirst
Is already in our chalice.
We only need to drink of it,
But need to keep the balance...
Beware the one called valiant.
Never fear that victor,
Who has never seen a challange,
Who has been given everything
On a silver platter.
Listen to the hope inside.
Follow it, as you lead.
As you cast your spells
And spin your webs, take heed.
Dancing on your lifeline,
Holding onto what is true.
Only when you care for others,
Will you know they care for you.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
i feel like i’m made of glass
and last february,
you broke me.
i shattered.
you didn’t know
and you didn’t care
and you just. kept. pushing.
i broke into a million jagged pieces
and you
you took some of them with you.
i can’t get them back
and i’m not stupid enough to try.
you shattered me
and i was careless enough
to cut myself in the wreckage.
nothing was the same.
you broke me when i said no
and i thought
maybe
i could put myself back together
by saying yes--
again, and again, and again.
to strangers.
to friends.
to anyone who would listen,
and now all of my bridges are in flames
and i’m getting burned.
do you know what happens to burning glass?
i do.
it’s happening to me
and i’m starting to fly away in the wind,
slipping through my own fingers
like sand on the beach.
scattered so far
and so wide
that finding my way back together is like searching
for a single grain
on the ocean floor.
i'm drowning in my past
searching
for a lifeline
reaching for anything--
for anyone--
that will take me
that will tape me back together
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
Winters can be tedious.
Sun dips into early dusk.
A dead fire refuses to ignite.
There's a quick repetition
of opening and closing blinds
over a barred window.
In need of reflection
I search a familiar face
in an unfamiliar landscape.
I have her in my grasp,
half illusion, half real,
a symbolic mask denies
her true face,
her glittering crown
divides us by its radiance.
Groping in darkness,
I stumble over objects
of wood and stone,
my unsteady tread tripping
over their contours.
I light a candle.
Bathed in amber light,
our shadows merge.
A new door opens,
stretching the perspective.
No formal borders here,
they wouldn't survive
the present climate.
In their place,
intricately carved
figureheads and totems-
a vision of the past.
My eye is a camera,
retinas branded with imagery
for the photographer's delight-
coloured pebbles, carved wooden animals,
tin cans, bones.....
....A Glass Sentinel
(though she isn't visible)
I can see right through her-
a vision of smokescreens
and subterfuge.
Past stumps of driftwood,
past the uncut grass,
a few flowers...
...to the fabricated backdrop
of a burning house, black smoke
rising
in
a
thin
stream.
At the open door -
The Guardian,
(I know her inside out)
unmoved,
(she didn't bat an eye)
defiant in a new skin,
a softer version-
The Mother protecting her children,
arms splayed, prepared
for fight or flight.
A russet flame
Licking her spine exhales
'Get out of my way!'
but she wasn't listening.
Smile fixed,
eyes of a phoenix,
a lion,
a raptor,
protector.
We all need feeding,
but not this way!
Throw me a cloth,
a napkin,
a man-size tissue
a lifeline!
She wanted this,
no, wished it-
this symbolism,
this burning of ironic portraits,
to clear the deck,
make way for new.
It shook the house,
its fate sealed behind closed doors.
I compose myself,
pull her back from the perilous edge,
gather her in my arms.
Fragments of shattered words
flutter in the ether.
What is real?
What is fiction?
A carbon copy of thousands?
A charred corner?
A forgotten candle?
WARNING:
'Eating fire' is a risky business
but can attract a large audience.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
the grass, leaning in the south wind , seeming
as if emeralds, had sent tendrils up
to suckle at the yellow breast, now, high above inflamed....
over soft new
grass
like
strands of green gemstone,
as delicate as humming-bird tongues
teasing nectar
from a titan,
in the sky
triumphant in the void,
a golden bead in the baffling blue !
cattails, curling in sway...and two brown eyes bob upon the surface
of a myriad fertilities.
as if
nature itself had known, one day
a poet would come ~
to roam the rambling renascence of these remote ramparts
in awesome humility ~ and so prepared
a path afflux
that ambled near
and yes !
an
anonymous nomad
with nicotine skin and a scabbard of scandalous quills
would indeed
stumble in as if returning home
to a mansion restored to glory
and seraphic randomness....
a place
that in youth, sustained a quiet, soulful troubadour
by gospels of granite and grain, grass finch
and faun - ennobling an oracle ... but now
enticed a scholar from his cot
to jot ephemera
of outlasting spark
before dark-fall
and so... there
amid all allurement and soft machines
a word-smith gathered
poesy and prose.
muse-driven
this one served
an invisible
sovereign
one
of unsurpassed virility
who charms kaleidoscopes
with offhand sketches
rescued
from
a landfill
a basket weaver,
that unravels to
achieve pure
forms
a wineskin was decanted in dianthus and hollies -
as ampules of anagrams
were sold unscrambled, to dyslexics
without hope
a falcon frolicked above the lowborn lilies...
with eyes
too keen
to see a
blur
as the hand
of god
or a vole
as a lifeline
on his
palm.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
I fly through life on autopilot
Do you think they'd ever realize?
I arrive and depart on time
The ground greets me no differently
With no knowledge of my vacancy
Calculation is a constant and lifeline
To connect me with my kind
Kind only in anatomy, general size,
The way we obey parallel lines.
Ground control, do you read me?
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
o halogen light with CD
and cassette holder
how your ribs they envelop
a promise of symphony
as you stand tall and straight
like a guard at the gate
you relieve all my troubles
with your blinding light bubbles
you brighten my day
keep the shadows away
though your color is lightless
you make me so nightless
your a wiry lifeline
steals perception of time
how quick the hours fly by
i'll never know
top of your glow
to the tip of my toe
your electric insides
could frizzle the tides
and your mental effect...
well...
it gives me good rides
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
How can I unmake indignant hands,
rolled, into fists?
If I kiss the fingers, will they unfold,
like celestial doors,
and beckon me in?
If I traverse your lifeline,
with softened eyes, and lips,
will we time skip,
Into a time, and place,
that's better, than this?
Even in thunder,
you dwell
at the center, of me.
I wonder,
would you melt...
with my hand, on your cheek.
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
-is to feel the glow of light
even in darkness
is to want now to last forever
while still anticipating
tomorrow
is to draw a future
between the cracks of your smile
is to fill myself
in the lifeline of your palm
is to color cheeks into blush
at the sight of your gaze
is to stretch a smile
into a mountain range
is to pour myself
in the indents of your ribcage
is to hear a reminder of you
every time a love song plays
is to finally understand
why they were made
is to not have fully understood
a good night of sleep
until it is spent by your side
to be with you-
is to find god in our silence
to see the holy in our touching
to say grace for this feeling
and pray for it to stay.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC