"liferaft" poems
Am I wrong for dipping my toes into these
depths before I dive?
Don't you dare tell me to love him when
you are not the one still coughing up water from
that last time you went headfirst into dark waters.
Love is a life raft on an ocean but honey it's to dangerous to
be dangling when you don't know how to swim.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
I live in other people's cycles
my own too spasmodic & erratic
to seem rhythmic at first glance.
I keep rubbing my eyes
hoping to clear the fog
in my mind behind them.
pinch the bridge of my nose
til I focus
bring myself back to the moment
try not to let my Contemplative Life
drift me too far offshore
on this shaking liferaft.
Wipe the sweat from my brow
push myself further, onward
steady, Girl, you've got this.
wear myself out
photosynthesizing information
punch in punch out
exhaust myself
&collapse; in oblivion's
Forever Embrace.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
Out on a liferaft looking for low flying aircraft and the
sea shells that sound like the sea.
I see nothing but water and sailors that caught a rough wave
and paving the way for a saviour to appear is the
rear admiral asleep and the course that we keep is
quite random it seems, gleaned from the stars and
the dockside bars, distilled by the gums that supped many a *** and
smoked a canteen of navy cut cigarettes, where will it end?
The admiral wakes, takes a reading, 'land sakes', from the parrot that sits by his side and we glide on through the sea, what will be, what will be
but what is
is what worries me.
On the cockleshell shore where we floundered and wore out the heels of our boots, we set down some roots built huts from bamboo to save us from sunstroke and the Lloyds bell was rung for lost sailors and *** and the admiral asleep in the rear.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
The straw to bring a horrid fate
The last straw to be drawn
I always get the short one
It seems all hope is gone
The straw that broke the camel's back
The burdens are so great
It seems my weary struggling
Has no way to abate
Like a drowning woman
I grasp at straws that float
It seems that there's no liferaft
Let alone a boat
But as I reach for the flimsy reed
Of Faith on which to stand
Just as I'm about to sink
I'm holding a strong hand
The straw I thought so weak & frail
As it first appeared
Was the Hand of Jesus Christ
*My Savior & my LORD*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/21/2016
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Sometimes stargazing settles the mind; other times it's called destruction of intellectual property. Boundaries lightly treaded over are still overstepped, and left alone once again I am, missing you. And life, O life just passes me by, as I nurse a dark mixture of boredom and solitude alone in my room, working out new pathways to my own demise.
Hope stopped living here a long time ago. Happiness missed the boat by a smidgen and it's been off course ever since. The directives are the same: "Go forth into the Arctic of your own heart and melt it with the fires of passion". Instead I burned the temperate forests lying just eastward, toward foreign waters I have never seen.
And now here I sit, boat strategically positioned between my failed objective and the destruction I've wrought, and I ask: "Do I continue and complete my objective? Or do I go home, acknowledging my losses?" Torrid affairs of state are not my cup of icy, frothy tea, if you catch my continental drift.
Your tender kiss beseeched upon me a plush stranglehold of mixed forgiveness and alarm, almost like you immediately regretted saying sorry for marooning me with a gun, a bullet, and a dream. Unfortunately that gun got me a crab, which got me stones, which gave me the tools to build a liferaft back to home waters.
And yet again you sit on my vessel, offering me recompense or a boat, a gun, and a bullet. O, how I miss the days of toy ships and plastic sailors.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC