"maddeningly" poems
*
~for Bill T. Jones~
two poets, laureates both,
on the nature of hunger, they discourse,
in temple, where sacrificing is to living arts
I was there, hungry in every aspect,
seeking wisdom of the hungering nature of human.
examine the word, hunger,
hardly a rolling off the tongue mellifluous.
you growl it from the gut, in gowned resplendent ugliness,
go ahead, try it, it’s coarse and powerful insistent.
awoken empty but for the hunger, hungover from
dancing words and imagery not mine, now mine,
maddeningly demanding my dutiful attentions,
as if hunger was the master, me, obedient pupil.
the clean white slate the IPad re-presents repeatedly,
insulted that I have yet to crayon color it with the coherence
of hunger-exhaled words, dismissive that I am but an also-ran,
my village of lexical too unsophisticated,
the page addressed yet unplanned,
Apple white
is the color of the
starving artist.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:44 PM UTC
In the long nothings of blackest night
Owl whispers. Hair of mouse stands,
As only an under sieged without spear
Can and grave vole, simply wide open
On his mat of dead leaves, drying time
And even the hare, without hope, hops
Maddeningly caught in dark labyrinths
Without sight, dear is the silent scream
Of all that was mere, so slim after light,
Night scurry, dash, curled fingers, prey.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
I am not old, yet.
My skin is not powdery and white, see-through like a paper lantern.
But there is a part of me which
When I dare to reach for someone I love
Reaches with brittle ***** fingers, soft and cold and fluttering like white moths
That edge closer to a flame until they catch.
There is a part of me that feels old, and fragile.
And already even in the crest of my youth I’ve cursed this body
For its frailty, its needs.
It suffers and complains, always crying out for something,
Never sated, never still.
I’ve said it feels like living inside a porcelain doll
A look, and cracks can spider out along an arm,
A word and blood can bloom beneath the surface, seeping up into
Bruised pictures and symbols.
I must always be gentle,
I must always be
Watching.
Too passionate, and fissures form, marring the cheek, spreading like shadows thrown by a lace curtain.
I stare out, burning to touch everything,
And yet I pull back:
To dare is to risk, and I’ve seen
Both reward and loss.
I have seen a thousand shining colors spread across me like sunrise,
Warming my skin,
Calling to me like prayer until a bit of light escaped through the spaces between my atoms and reached another person’s palms,
But I have also seen the pale, flat shards of myself,
Sifted through white dust in dismay
For a salvageable portion.
Indeed, there are rooms in this world where sharp edges of me still linger
Waiting in obstructed corners and beneath heavy refrigerators
To gouge a foot or snag a hem,
Interred
In the dark and hollow places where they flew when I shattered and could not gather them all.
I have known
Intimately
My own fragility,
How maddeningly breakable I am
And how difficult to mend.
And there is a part of me now, always,
Which whispers to me when I would be bold,
“You are not old, yet.
But wouldn’t you just love
To live that long?”
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC
We grow in a ragged garden
whose caretaker no longer cares
for himself except to prune back
only the most strangling branches
of his mind's miseries.
Effectively, we are left to
our own wild ways.
In all directions,
time's vine sprawls unnoticeably
slow in its natural haste
to overtake every creature.
We are the berries
strewn along this vine.
Our thin skins stretched and aching
around poisonous pools of bitter juices,
desperate for a touch,
a cause to burst,
a moment in which our existence is fulfilled.
To die in defense of the vine
is why we are here.
Most of us will never do but rot;
stuck to a stem that roots us in
idle uselessness.
It is my brightest & deepest, berry blue hope
not to rot here with the lot of you.
So, with great want I watch the passing birds
fly in the sky and seethe in need for the
little hoppers who come so near
just to tilt their tiny heads
and maddeningly flutter off.
There must be one who makes the mistake
of choosing me.
One who plucks me right off with its beak
and bolts to dine in some high, safe place.
It will die for its hunger,
and so too will I for satisfying it.
But, for a moment between boredom's end
and attaining purpose,
I'll see the garden from a different view;
a bird's eye.
I'll see the entire vine for what it is,
and hopefully; finally, know why
it's worth protecting at all.
BURST
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
‘Are you all cured now?’
Oh, darling, if only you knew.
(But I’m a monument of
Self-restraint, whittled from
Rotting wood. Ragged shards
Chip off, jagged splints.
The eyes deep wells - an imperfect
Effigy, of sorts. Even now
I’m burning up, and awfully so.
Thick and stifling, the air bates
And provokes me. As the season turns,
I’m patched with canvas sacks -
For a time my steely gaze
Kept the birds away, but now
I’ve gone to seed, flaking
Dry brushwood and sown with doubt.
I grow strangely bulbous
At the centre, starlings nesting
And feeding near my abdomen).
I have questions of my own,
You know, and they all beg answers.
But yours, well, it came to me
Innocently, cut clean and smooth
Like a butter knife. A token
Offering, an afterthought.
I’ve preserved one half our
Peace of mind. My satisfaction,
You see, is a solitary one:
It tastes pungent, sweet, and
Maddeningly powerful.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 9:55 PM UTC
Unpolished weathered wood plays on my palms,
I pull and reach and pull an even beat
Attending algae'd oars aqueous psalm
Altered by the tangled grass I meet,
in counterpoint small waves percuss the prow
Accentuating the pause before I cull,
Mellifluous zephyrs bowing across my brow
Enhance the exposition of the gulls,
Above the hem of heaven's dress the bright
Cerulean bodice trilled with Cirrus lace
Beguiles regard, but maddeningly polite
She smooths her skirt across the score of space
Eclipsing a poet's want to read the ruse,
This lady only lingers to amuse.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
In the long nothings of blackest night
Owl whispers. Hair of mouse stands,
As only an under sieged without spear
Can and grave vole, simply wide open
On his mat of dead leaves, drying time
And even the hare, without hope, hops
Maddeningly caught in dark labyrinths
Without sight, dear is the silent scream
Of all that was mere, so slim after light,
Night scurry, dash, curled fingers, prey.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Windows show only crowded darkness.
Face lit with artificial light.
Keyboard clicks maddeningly in time.
A million thoughts
A thousand reasons
A hundred unanswered questions.
Who to blame for this night?
Was it me?
Was it you?
I don't really know,
I only know that I can't sleep
And I don't know where you are.
It's another late night.
Another hour passed, a minute gone, a day lost.
Without ever knowing why.
And in the Darkened window mirror, I see your face
next to mine.
And I wonder why.
Forever, asking why.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
still swollen:
moon in eye
lips murdered red
with the crimson of
maddeningly furious bites
the crunch of bone
turning in bed - air and moment
stopped and in between
the hounds spread
darkening rumors,
dropping once again are
eyelids from too much
heaviness of unuttered
words, unperformed verbs
seething in between teeth,
cheek pressed onto crumpled
******* from groping in
the dark knowing only its
frail rescue
these tiny fingers still
ache from touching anthropomorphic fires,
the ears still swollen
from distinct susurrations like
o's and h's and their
sweet campaigns
my heart's well engorged
with a whelm of promises
in the morning there
will be i and you,
our love still throbbing
in the loom of it,
as we go on leaving -
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
you are
maddeningly sweet
infinitely kind
shockingly ****
nauseatingly cute
surprisingly stylish
and i am
hopelessly romantic
for you
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
'Are you okay now?'
Oh, darling, if only you knew,
Only if you could see the light, I see in you with my eyes,
If only you could hear the music that weaves itself,
When you open your lovely mouth.
(But if anything,
I am adept at cowardly self restraint,
Whitled from rotting words and empty dreams,
Chipped and jagged, broken shards.
Yet your eyes, those deep wells,
Brimming with happiness,
With sorrow stifled within smiles,
If only you knew,
If only you could see.
I'm burning up, my defenses breaking,
With every moment the two of us share.
This provokes me, this change of season in the depths of my mind,
Replacing feral winter with lovely spring,
Peace of mind. My satisfaction,
Albeit a solitary one has been ravaged apart.
It tasted pungent, sweet, and
Maddeningly powerful,
Yet the smell of your words is far intoxicating,
Letting loose all my inhibitions.
If only you could see what you meant to me,
Would you be as scared as I am now?)
Shaking my head, dispelling this hasty afterthought,
Of course I am, I reply, With you here, what else could I be?
And you cover it with an immaculate laugh, chiding me on my flirtatiousness,
If only you could see, what you meant to me.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
some days, i feel sick with loving you,
body tense & aching.
why does everyone associate love with the heart
when i feel it deep in the recesses of my stomach,
the gory bits inside me twisting with a hunger
nothing else can soothe.
wanting breaks over me in waves,
the crushing knowledge that i crave you
maddeningly, the rush of your fingers tripping down
my spine, your listless, brimming
heat, those indefinite
probing
eyes.
would you hold me like it hurts
not to?
would you sit with me until our minds coalesce
with the passing of time & certainty?
tell me, how does it feel to be the focus of my
desperate tunnel vision?
you have left every cell of my body intoxicated
with longing,
touched the scars of my skin as if
they are the most beautiful marks
i posses,
loved me with all your fervor & complexity.
the manic nights mean lying terribly awake in sweat-soaked sheets,
sleep evades & the only racing thought that pervades is
i need you
which scares me to breaking,
to think that i am only whole
in having you,
but there is a space within me
& you are the missing piece.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
When I dream of my father
I see only a glimpse of him
His glancing blue eyes and small overflowing smile.
But he catches my gaze and we see each other
And something snaps in the air
Static and grief and love.
I awake from screaming his name, DAD,
My mind calm and my heart soft and confused.
It is a strange and beautiful thing
To be seen.
I stumble sleepily out onto the sidewalk
Slapped by the maddeningly brisk and groggy morning air
Knowing we saw each other.
I think of home
And how it is slowly dissipating like a small sugar cube
Into the dark smokey coffee of momentum
Of my life.
One stir and it will be gone forever
Leaving a lingering sweetness somewhere deep inside me.
How strangely we've scattered in your wake, Dad.
I feel a wind shift ever so slightly
The same wind that carried and bullied me all the way to New York City
And I know that things will never, ever be the same.
It is so hard to be afraid
With this wind at my back
With the man I love most in this world
Holding my hand and holding my heart.
I miss because I love.
I fail because I try.
I succeed because I am willing to fail.
I fear because I want.
I want because I need.
I fall because the world will catch me.
I love
And I will not be afraid.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
I fell in love with a pretty blue eyed boy
He had pretty words and pretty eyes
He saw right through my disguise
I fell in love with this boy
Who said I was his soulmate and his safe place
But he belonged to another and it was a disgrace
So I fell in love with this little boy
Against my better judgement, I knew I shouldnt
I tried to stop my silly heart from falling but I couldnt
I fell maddeningly hopelessly in love with a boy
I was happy and it was perfect for a little while
But he left as silently as he came and stole my smile
Still I fell for this silly boy
I fell for his empty words and pretty lies
The discovery that he didn't share the emotions came as a surprise
I stupidly fell in love with a boy
A boy who lied and pretended and never really cared
For all his intentions all he left was despair
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Sometimes, I hate
That I love him.
He is maddening.
His eyes remind me
Of caramel.
But that’s not the point.
He’s maddeningly
Arrogant.
And suave.
He doesn’t speak to me.
Just stands
And smirks
And stares.
He’s profoundly…
Irritating.
Yes. That’s it;
Irritating.
His eyes remind me
Of caramel.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
In the long nothings of blackest night
Owl whispers. Hair of mouse stands,
As only an under sieged without spear
Can and grave vole, simply wide open
On his mat of dead leaves, drying time
And even the hare, without hope, hops
Maddeningly caught in dark labyrinths
Without sight, dear is the silent scream
Of all that was mere, so slim after light,
Night scurry, dash, curled fingers, prey.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
.
In the long nothings of blackest night
Owl whispers. Hair of mouse stands,
As only an under sieged without spear
Can and grave vole, simply wide open
On his mat of dead leaves, drying time
And even the hare, without hope, hops
Maddeningly caught in dark labyrinths
Without sight, dear is the silent scream
Of all that was mere, so slim after light,
Night scurry, dash, curled fingers, prey.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
The corpse will swing
The noose will hang and drift
Me crying oh so sadly
Me sad called maddeningly
Slip the noose over
Run me over in a rover
The knife in my chest
I was called a pest
I have failed the test
I will have eternal rest
Weep
Me you could not keep
My hill of problems too steep
Prepare the gun
For my last fun
2 bullets in the magazines
Why 2 why it seems
As if you want to give a thrill
As you and I.
I ****
The brains on the wall.
They flee into the hall.
I've given up on you all
No its not alright
I can no longer put up a fight
I want to see the light
I want to feel the fire
'Cause well
I'm doomed to hell
Until I hear the bell
To release me from my chains
Nothing more I wish to gain
My life I do not wish to re-obtain
The gun
The fun
The knife
To end my life
The cyanide
For when I can no longer confide
The noose
For my feelings I call obtuse
I'm dead
And way ahead.
I'm gonna burn in HELL
Never to see the light
Cause I didn't put up a fight.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
Was it Kruschev who said,
"We will spoon feed you socialism
a bit at a time," or
something like that?
Turns out whoever said it
was a prophet (one of many).
We are Americans. We love
free stuff, and a sale, and
convenience. We want to
germinate a seed and then
reap the harvest the
same day. One spoon at
a time was maddeningly
too slow for us.
Margaret Thatcher said, "The
problem with socialism is that
you eventually run out of other
peoples' money," or something
like that.
Just not in her lifetime.
Or mine, i guess, since we
just print whatever we need.
What could possibly go wrong
with that strategy?
My ancestors fought in the
American Revolutionary War.
I can even prove it on
paper. Violence and dissent
are my birthright as a
Son of Liberty.
Which, of course, means i
must fight in the next
revolution. With words
and ideas, or actions
or a gun, with
conviction and apathy of self,
with my bare hands even,
to the death.
It won't end well for any of us,
no doubt. A day will
come when we must take
our hearts and minds to
the fields, and possibly
leave our ***** there.
For someone.
For Something.
To be true Americans.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
.
In the long nothings of blackest night
Owl whispers. Hair of mouse stands,
As only an under sieged without spear
Can and grave vole, simply wide open
On his mat of dead leaves, drying time
And even the hare, without hope, hops
Maddeningly caught in dark labyrinths
Without sight, dear is the silent scream
Of all that was mere, so slim after light,
Night scurry, dash, curled fingers, prey.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
for ringing
division bells
hearing them ring too
soon, threatened by shadows
of random precision cast
by the
Dark sides of the Moon,
comfortably numb
Time maddeningly
clocking ,
the loonies in the hall,
hey you, out there getting
old fading smiles
easing all your pain
show me where it hurts
my hands two balloons
now i have the fever again
so, I think can you tell
tell if I can feel
smiles from what I might trade
cold comfort for change
a lost soul
a look in the eye
caught in the stutter of a cold breeze
blowing shining
on misty reaching for a secret
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
'Are you okay now?'
Oh, darling, if only you knew,
Only if you could see the light, I see in you with my eyes,
If only you could hear the music that weaves itself,
When you open your lovely mouth.
(But if anything,
I am adept at cowardly self restraint,
Whitled from rotting words and empty dreams,
Chipped and jagged, broken shards.
Yet your eyes, those deep wells,
Brimming with happiness,
With sorrow stifled within smiles,
If only you knew,
If only you could see.
I'm burning up, my defenses breaking,
With every moment the two of us share.
This provokes me, this change of season in the depths of my mind,
Replacing feral winter with lovely spring,
Peace of mind. My satisfaction,
Albeit a solitary one has been ravaged apart.
It tasted pungent, sweet, and
Maddeningly powerful,
Yet the smell of your words is far intoxicating,
Letting loose all my inhibitions.
If only you could see what you meant to me,
Would you be as scared as I am now?)
Shaking my head, dispelling this hasty afterthought,
Of course I am, I reply, With you here, what else could I be?
And you cover it with an immaculate laugh, chiding me on my flirtatiousness,
If only you could see, what you meant to me.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
Love is patient, Love is kind
Love is maddeningly blind.
Love is stupid, Love is moot
Love is terrible to boot.
Love can heal, Love can ****
Love can make you take a pill.
Aphrodite: What a gal
Lamentation is her pal.
Oh Venus, shining bright
Please don't make me go and fight.
Like a ****** you'll be true
You'll be sniff-sniffing that glue.
Oh so fair, without a care
Strip my heart and leave it bare.
Love is rude, Love won't wait
Love will leave you at the gate.
The Clock of Passion tick-tick-ticks
What is Love's number?
Six-Six-Six.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 3:47 PM UTC
the Madness reverberating
the Sadness settling in-
to
the Eyes and Minds
of
All the Children of the World
Dying Dreams
shake the Sleepy Heart unto
a Wakened Sense
of
the Agony
that is here
but,
still
We
deny so Maddeningly
that
WE
are Mad
as our Madness
reverberates
and
Destroys
All the Children of the World
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 9:58 AM UTC
When we're naked, lying in bed
with our bodies pressed together
When we are how I imagined,
pretended with my pillow,
when we were apart
When I keep squirming closer and
we keep giggling
it still isn't enough
Now that we're enacting all I imagined
it still isn't enough
we're restrained
separated
I just want to be as close to you as possible and I'm trying and we're
close,
so maddeningly close but
it still isn't enough
Because we can't escape from this cage,
this cage of our bodies.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 12:00 AM UTC