"locate" poems
*A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty
Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy,
Faster than hare from a cold standing start
Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part.
Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes
With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise,
Explosively quick with an elegant gait
And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait
For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed
Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed.
Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride
That would tax any racehorse an envious ride,
Snapping manouvers to left and to right
That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight.
A blur in a frantic explosion of dust
Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust.
Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase
Wide open muzzle and gore on the face,
Guarding the game till the kittens locate
Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.*
Marshalg
Serengetti Plain
Central Africa
30 November 2012
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
What poem will you wear, when first we meet?
How will I recognition-you,
when you transverse my land?
Unknown our faces, our voices,
Only silent words electronic exchanged
Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea?
Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state,
Your chest bear a witness-sign?
The Arrivals Board flashes:
une poétesse est arrivé
eine Dichterin ist angekomme
a poetess has arrived
una poetisa ha llegado
Will there be a haiku in your hair,
A limerick exposed by raucous grin,
Or just ten words
allotted for your entire visit?
**Desperate to locate
Urgent to sensate
Matters I take
Into two cupped hands,
On the shoeshine stand
Climb and recite-shout**
Know me by my words,
Know me by the lilt lyrical
Of my American accented,
Canadian Tongue of my mother
Know me by my words,
Carved by time on my forehead,
Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul,
Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming
Poems are the thorns in my palms,
See me crucified, bleeding stanzas
Upon my shoeshine stand cross
Recitation resuscitation welcoming:
Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria
But if this should fail your attention to secure,
Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming,
Look for the crowd gathered round,
A man of moderate height, in a tall hat,
Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful
Reciting the Gettysburg Address
Either way,
Should be easy peasy to find me,
Grab your bag, off to short-term parking
This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets
Arriving poetess from a foreign land
Is there any other way?
------------------------------
Postscipt
**Alas, five years on and I know in my heart
that you are not coming...**
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Ben Kowalewicz (spoken): Hi, my name is Ben Kowalewicz and this is Billy Talent.
Well I tripped, I fell down naked
I drank from a cup of lead
I hugged a skunk, it peed on me
Yesterday I joined Scientology
Steal a Camaro, then **** Jack Sparrow
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Jump in a dump truck, smell **** and get stuck
I cannot read, I cannot read
**** on computers, then drink some pewter
Die sanity, die sanity
Marry a cheapskate, gain ninety pounds weight
I'm really dumb, I'm really dumb
I'm stupid, it's my fault, so daft
I like to play in the garbage shaft
The best sport is Parkour, **** straight
I arrive at work five hours late
Drink a deep fryer, eat some barbed wire
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Sleep in a fireplace, burn your entire face
I cannot read, I cannot read
Cinnamon challenge, go on a chalk binge
Die sanity, Die sanity
Bike into traffic, pose pornographic
I'm a ******* I'm a *******
I ate some poo!
I'm stupid, it's my fault
Try
I'm stupid, it's my fault
Lie
This bad song don't make sense
Pie
Get a Prince Albert, snake blood for dessert now?
Drink some Everclear, cut off your own ear now?
Go back in time to, forties as a Jew
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Do *** and rip off your right knee
I cannot read, I cannot read
Find the KKK, put on some blackface
Die sanity, die sanity
Locate a pervert, then take off your shirt
I am a twit, I am a twit
I am a twit, I am a twit
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
I am a twit, I am a twit
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
When I see you
I tend to smile
Not all day
But for a while
I watch you as you turn around
I remember every single sound
I watch you as you look at me
That’s when I see your beauty
I start to frown when you look away
I guess away is where you’ll stay
I go into a dreamy gaze
In my dream I was in a maze
Having you would be my prize
If I get you is a surprise
Right, left, forward and back
Trying to trace my every track
Boundary here boundary there
Boundaries located everywhere!!!
I touch the side I touch the ground
I try to locate every sound
I hear the birds start to cheep
I only hear one other peep
“Help me, Help me” I hear ahead
“Help me, help me if you can.”
I knew it was her I could only tell
It wasn’t the place nor the smell
It was the sense of my crush in fear
It was a cry only my love can hear
I try my best I sprint ahead
If I was not with you I might as well be dead
I turn the corner and I see
The brightness of her beauty
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
So big this tiny hole opens up
And the sound blasts out so abrupt
The stench suffocates the breathing
Water comes to eyes everywhere
as **** methane fills the air
No one wants to be blamed for
the toxic air un-freshener
Everyone assumes its the ***
and moves away from her
I try to keep a straight face until
I get off the train
Then locate a rest room
and check for stains
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
*finding this morning
awareness of loss
the obituary entry
this physical sense..
those lesser deaths
portrayed as loss
fill electronic news..
Approaching loss
or loss Approaching..?
loss seems woven
into our fabric..
our morning Nutrition:
approaching is longing
to locate disclosures
of buried light
under the garments
we wear...*
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
The essence of patience
The patience of light
The travel it takes, knowing
It must last for eternity,
Beaming forward, granting anew.
Patience the virtue.
The status to achieve, allowing now
So that next can just be, as it will.
The patience to leap.
Courage carries patience clear,
Fears weight sinking below.
Patience for death, for one again.
The longing for You, to know us again.
Patience to see clearly, open my heart
To now.
Moments always planned out.
Patience for the ******
Patience for the touch of your skin,
The relation of kin, of natural senses.
Of the things that flow, easy.
Of titillating tickling of the, everything.
Your smell will bring me in.
I know it well… the musk of Earth
Wrapped in the forest, deep dug in my gut.
Dug down patiently to prepare my ground
To rise my crown, patient now
As maturation continues to take place.
Dug down, spine curled out
Back arched, heart opened…
Patient, awaiting your trail
My tribe hunts and gathers,
We know we need each other,
And so we hunt, and we create
And we locate…patience for
The revolution taking place…
Cyclical naturals, cycles of nature.
Back to the Earth we all go.
All things have a cycle.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
he emerges from the driver’s side of his stalled minivan as if you’ve been given too much information. he holds a hammer in the looseness of his stung left hand. for a moment it seems he’ll attack windows. instead, he cries. his shoulders give him away. not a car horn sounds. this is a kindness. someone has an egg timer. I locate the itch thrown off course by my lover’s legs and imagine her happy. across town a silent alarm is pressed by the anonymous smoker of wedding cigarettes. the bomb squad arrives before the bomb squad knows it and you join
this bomb squad.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Why is little Musa working in these diamond dirt pits,
Digging from sunset to sundown
Where are the laws that protect children 's rights,
Why is he left unsupervised working on his own?
Musa
Struggled from early childhood with all his strengths
Now he can hardly stand because of damaged vertebrates
To know the number of free hours he worked, do the maths
Yet some lucky girl somewhere celebrates.
So
How can he labor as a slave when he's just a boy?
How can Musa smile when he has no joy?
How can he run when he has no legs,
Who will speak for him knowing he has no voice?
so
How can the opportunity box be opened without the keys
How can the world do nothing about his demise,
Especially when to stay alive he has to work for food?
How can he locate hope if he can't see,
How can celebrities adorn diamonds with bad blood,
How can this possibly be?
So
If I can lend my pen to help every child slave working,
Then my life on earth is worth living.
✍️#IvanBrookspoetry©️✍️
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
I plugged my nose and went underwater.
I'm confusing life and death with a thin line.
I lose myself, and soon find another,
Out a sink drain with darkness in its spine.
The last one is more afraid of the next I own,
I can't tell who'll take my heart.
Make it or break it, and I certainly broke
Mine as it got harder to locate in the dark.
The water has bubbled up into my throat,
Its silky and warm and I cannot resist.
I thought I was better, but I hate to boast,
I had just hoped I'd never end up like this-
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 12:35 AM UTC
It's exhausting being us. Half-lidded
eyes that reflect the darkness
between stars, impedimented acceptance
of where you are in life. Our adventures
are painful pursuits to locate
authenticity in a filtered world that
seems ugly every other day.
We move through life like a slow exhale
of smoke, hurt gathering inside our chests
lasting for months and years. This bitterness,
it burns. But we don't stop because
watching ourselves bleed is just another form
of living.
Life can be so full that it almost
bursts, or it can be depleted as a
vacuum ******* your epiphanies and
inspiration out of your body until
you explode in
self-doubt. You and I, we don't have
time for false apologies
at the rate of our inconsequential
breathing. We are not red-flags
in our own eyes, we are just
impatient for self love
to finally have a meaning.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
The first in hale,
deep as the waters
that are now absorbing me.
Expanding my lungs
making room for the breeze
carrying with it opportunities.
Tingling my nostrils
that are like the canals
connecting to newborn perspectives.
A balloon ready to burst,
the clock stops ticking
I hold in this wave of awareness.
As still as the bridges I intend to cross
in that moment
I forget myself
and locate who I am,
simultaneously.
Exhaling all the storm clouds
that were filling my brain,
creating a galaxy of possibilities.
My shoulders releasing the tension
excited to take on new weights.
Repetitive in this breath
for the first time feeling
alive.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Plant a Woman
"When a woman plants a tree, she plants herself."
John Muir
See the photo, on a stone walkway in a park on an island, somewhere in New York State
*Years after first encountered,
Returned this day, purposely,
To trod this bricked-path
Where a solitary brick, these special words carved.
This brick, a patient lady-poem in waiting,
Required a search-and-locate mission,
To verify my memorized eyesight,
Freed to release these words,
Years in the forming, from whence first espied.*
**When a woman plants a tree, she plants herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Much less than obvious,
Import of said statement,
Complex, notes, scents, questions...
Perhaps this is the thus, the why,
Why this po-effort, somnolent, yet disquieted,
In recesses, drew lines on the wall, with one line
Slashed across, for every month,
It gestated, unborn, but not offering to die,
It did not come effortlessly.
I am seed of man,
Planted within woman.
I am a tree of iLife ,
My seed planted within
You, iReader.
I am as much woman as man,
Perhaps more so...
Wrote you, told you,
I Speak Woman^
Perhaps more so...
Even better than man.
No shame, I rise with the dawn,
To bake the bread,
Alongside her, her secrets, she has, need learning,
Her bread, raisins, cinnamon and secreted inside,
Wisdom of loving kindness.
She scatters seeds with recklessness,
Who can know where wheat will be needed,
Someday, her children exiled?
Forest investor, tree planter,
Futures she sees, where others see but wood,
I follow her lead, for I cannot but fail to
Prosper, when on paths tread,
Formed, excavated by her footfalls.
I give her rubies,
I give her gold,
When I ask where it be,
She laughs and says adorning the tongues
Of the hungry and in need.
So I give her more.
Indeed, I plant my seed inside her daily,
Let her plant trees as she desires,
Her forest, the refuge of my old age,
So she plants trees, as I
Plant a Woman.
Thanks be, that her trees,
Come from her *****
Now I understand Mr.Muir.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
I’m awfully homesick, but
people always ask me the wrong questions.
It’s always
“Where is home for you?
Where do you go?”
The thing is,
“home”
isn’t a “where” question to me.
There is no mere
longitude and latitude
that can locate home for me,
my home is not cemented into the earth.
Home is a “who” question.
Who is home for you?
Where there ought to be brick and mortar there are bones,
where there should be couches and beds to rest on
there are arms open to embrace me.
I find home in no establishment of carpets and china cabinets,
I find comfort and solace in a person.
So, my dear,
you
are home for me.
And I’m homesick.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
day 1 (uno) that we talked you tried to whisper the clothes off my body and told me you wanted to see the folds of your fingers inside of me (as if it was nothing) and while I rejected he formulated and cracked a new plan — to tell me thats all he wanted to hear, and demanded self respect while pushing for lack of self respect.
His eyes couldn’t lie but when I tried to locate them, he carried me away in his personal blue seas (this is a cliche) and made me taste the waters (I got addicted as a result) and I guess that even my logic obsessed self couldn’t make out what was right and wrong anymore, so I drowned myself and floated in his rivers
Proceed to day 34 (teintra y cuatro) where you admitted under a drunken spell that you loved me all along and wanted a future. Phase 1: Terrified. Phase 2: Relief. Relieved that my love was not only mine, but ours. Relieved that I could drink from those waters forever. But terrified, so, so terrified of the mess I made from the man who only wanted to have my naked body and infect it. I had only shown a glimpse of my skin around my lower back, and you could only demand more while judging my self respect (or lack thereof). My logical self had decided that this behavior was him at his finest he was just setting me up and wanted to invade my skin. My loving self was convinced that he was acting out on his newly found addiction. Since I had just fed him the same venom he poisoned my body with.
In the end, it was all just a test of my self respect.
Or lack thereof.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
hope
she said is
the thing with feathers
perched and singing
without words..
words must surely
be deeply hidden
within that song..
can we locate
another perch..?
and ask the feather
what are your words
and your song..?
the words we find
it's shape does bind..
here are the
sharp connectors and barbs..
barbules and hooklets
all of these
to hold a feather form..
and what of a song..?
a central shaft with ending quill
guides nutrition and light..
sacred texts penned
and that majestic flight..
hope extends...
(with appreciation for
Emily Dickinson's
poem)
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 5:21 PM UTC
Eyes open
Mild panic
Look around
(Quiet)
Realize
Pause
Process
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Glow-in-the-dark stars
None to speak of
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Conclude
Roll out of bed
Careful not to wake you
(Quiet)
Locate shirt
Pull on jeans
(Quiet)
Still dark
You like dark
(Quiet)
Phone
Keys
Wallet
Headphones
(Quiet)
Stand
Hand on door
Wait
Look
Still asleep
(Quiet)
Paper from your notebook
Pen from nightstand
Calligraphy pen
Didn't know that
(Quiet)
You wrote down a dream last night
"Dreamed I was safe, happy, in love"
Says sleepy cursive
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Write below
"So did I"
(Quiet)
Back to door
Don't look back
Don't look back
Don't look back
(Quiet)
Look back
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Open door
Escape
(Quiet)
Through your hall
(Quiet)
Messy kitchen
Don't remember seeing this
Must have been dark
(Quiet)
Shoes must have been kicked off
Found them
Close front door
Still dark outside
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Too early for train
Too far to walk
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
Smile guiltily
(Quiet)
(Quiet)
(Quiet).
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
sleeping tears awoke to crimson crust & apple red veins,
eyes peering through the dizzying fog to find a faucet
& drizzle rain like nectar down the peach pit's core,
along rugged edges & oval pores,
imperfect patterns & lightning blinks
remind the second sadness to cry once again.
My swipe of crust is rusting
like a smoker's yellowing finger tips gathering paint on callouses
& cracked lips
mirrored reflections shadow gaze,
squinting to locate bronze crow's feet of a man, mid thirties,
lying for what-to die
dying to wait-for what
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
For those fortunate hearts
Who ignore the feeling
And for those unfortunate ones
Who impose the feeling
You'll know.
It is like forgetting the lyrics
Of your favourite song.
It is like having a cough
That just won't give up.
It is like every punch in the face
You've ever had and will ever have.
It is like forgetting midsentence
The last line of your essence.
It is like not being able to draw
What seemed perfect in your mind.
It is like the feeling you get
When you are strucked by the wind.
It is like spilling something
In your favourite shirt.
It is like a deep ache
You can't locate.
It is like loosing the last piece
Of a 1000 pieces puzzle.
It feels like falling
Without an end nor beginning
If you love someone who won't love you back.
You'll know.
It feels like everything you can think of.
Except for being loved back.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 1:22 AM UTC
~~
**Dialogue and Oratory Between
SPT and Nat:**
~
***At the Intersection of
Perfection & Beauty,
By Blue Candlight***
~~~
come let us by and by,
soon meet,
under blue moon candle lit sky,
at this worthy intersection of
beauty and perfection,
be together,
contained,
yet unconstrained
let us speak of what
we see and sense,
come to come
to know,
of what does not appear
in this world easy readily,
what lies between
two points,
sharing,
needy of,
crossing destination revelations
*It's said of beauty,
once uncovered and
gazed upon whole,
be visible only at the
bottom of the bin of the
picked-threw,
it was here, where, perfection
once was lost
and may yet now be found,
where souls,
singled and singed,
seek to find of,
the perfection lost,
the untarnished beauty
within ones self
from the meadow can be seen
The Field Where Wonderment Grows,
wild is the bounty of colored beauty
then
and only there,
can oan one,
locate, judge and
accept
what never departs
a self*
at the road'meeting point,
at our time and place
appointed,
arrived but come
disappointed,
crossed and creased
by the journeys
travels and travails,
burnt blind,
eyes by life's headwinds,
singled and singed,
and the mind disbelieves, doubts,
the existence verily,
of the locale,
beauty & perfection
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
As I drag through life on my knees, bleeding
I try to unlock the chains that pin my body down
And while I cannot find every key to free me from the weight
I have learned strength and endurance
and other tricks to ease my journey
Though the years I have hashed my blood onto paper
Smiling as my emotions bled into clean sheets
Forcing the purity of the page to match my damaged and ***** soul
Yet I have never thought to cut out my darkest experience
Instead, it swims within my stomach's acidic pool
Remaining dormant until a thought or melody claws at its bones
Until it can no longer be contained
So I begin ripping through my lungs and intestines
Simply trying to locate the source of the misery
As it torments both my body and mind
And by my own hands,
The acid spills into the crevasses of my muscle and bone
Sizzling through the structures on contact
Until I no longer recognize the dead stare reflecting off of metal and glass
And so I destroy them by using them
To **** whatever shambles of my body remain
As I sit in a puddle of blood and feel the air ticking away like seconds on a clock
I smell the familiar perfume of death, nestled with regret
I promised myself that,
if I somehow survive another night,
I will try to face the thickest chains that bind me tighter than ever before
Those that continue to stain the ground with my past and
Refuse to let me stand without fear
And so I begin
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
Through the nature that i've travelled
There's so much to unravel
And the sea's that i've swum
Whether fishes are dumb
And the skies that are blue
Do they wear lace shoes?
Those dinosaurs which were ugly
Did they shave their legs regularly?
Do flying fishes even fly
Or its just a rumor spread by cats
So that it can eat every time a human has its catch
Did apes develop into humans
Or totally vice-versa
Before we know it we'll go extinct
And apes on trees will have sips of *****
Do kangaroos have pockets from birth
Or did they buy from Denims
Before i know it dogs will purr
And rocks will have feelings
Do owls sleep or act their way through the day
It will not be Meryl Streep but them, catching the oscar and walking away!
Do snakes hiss by nature or just be angry due to their body folds
Before i know it others will wear Jimmychoo's and all they'll do is catch a cold!
DO lions have smelling ability or they just put a tracking device
Playing billiards in 'Catsino' and using cell phones made of mice?!
Do eagles, the pilots of the sky have pretty air hostesses attend to
Or locate and make a buffet out of the, that's exactly what i'm referring to!
Its this jungle or paradise, or what a new age city?
Casino's of lions, oscars for owls, that's my LIFE'S EXPECTANCY !
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
I.
Sunday mornings in Vancouver
even pigeons sleep in till 10 A.M.
Undaunted, I walk down Granville shortly before 8
seeking lox bagels with capers, red onions and cream cheese,
two breve lattes, and a newspaper. In truth,
panhandlers on the corner of Robson
have far greater chance of scoring.
An unexpectedly sunny February morn
suffices to spur me on. I am attuned to all vibration.
Breath of the awakening city
exhales manna upon the shop awnings.
Bagels rendered superfluous,
I scarf images instead ---
trolley buses, an umbrella shop, falafel stands ---
delicious Canadian visual cuisine.
II.
Vancouver is a nymph. Of that I'm sure.
I hear flirtatious giggles trill
from darkened alleys between hotels.
Spotted her once across the street on Dunsmuir,
seated on a walk bench reading a Margaret Atwood novel.
Bus passed between us and she vanished.
Caught a later glimpse through the window
of a walk-up dim sum restaurant in Chinatown.
Flew the stairs, only to find an empty table and
discarded napkin smudged with candy pink lipstick.
She watches me.
III.
Turns out there are no Sunday morning papers in Vancouver,
but I locate the bagels and espresso backtracking on Helmcken.
The barista smiles as I approach, sets down her Atwood novel.
I leave a Toonie in gratuity.
B.C. wind pushes hard on my turned back,
as I rush our breakfast back to the Executive.
A nymph goes roller-blading by toward False Creek.
The Gastown Steam Clock whistles that it's 10 A.M.
A flock of pigeons lifts in flight.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
watch the starlings
synchronizing
their collective dance..
each bird deciding for the all
each on the edge of
chaos and fall..
local decisions on moving
coupling a mysterious
non-local intuition..
all spurring our wonder
our disbelief
are we forced to consider
our analogous place
each one of us poised
on a delicate line..
each needing to master
a courage to reach
transform near fear
take that one step our own
trust knowing all steps..
holographic truth at last
each differing step
stimulating
new wholeness and light
watch the starlings
once more..
locate where you now stand
my edge in my time
absorb the starling's miracle
murmuring our own
murmuration
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 11:50 PM UTC