"majestically" poems
Growth prevaded by a soil of emotions, rain of memories engraving the seed for a flower awaiting to bloom, the gift of life in a moving motion of time, forming and structuring the inner beauty of one,
Over years the spring of this beauty blossoms depending on the deeds, deepest wishes such as kindness and intuitions majestically,
A righteous soul will truly stand proud in the sun, alike a helianthus,
A trecious persons flower will be dead, as if it was drought, burnt in the heat of summer, the sweet aroma of life will still fill the air,
Caught in endless change of a devils distorted, desperate working,
The servants have the chance to either change for the better or to be ruined in their transient existence, fading into the dust they came of,
Beauty cast in the heart remains forever with enough care and work,
So this flower shall never rot, as long as it is protected with a desire and will to do good, to be gentle and truthful, thoughtful and wise,
Compassion, greatness and deep loving concern are a fertilizer,
Spread this kindness and you may have planted the seed for another beautiful child of the earth; A precious flower
~ Umi
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
Do you remember how you stood there ?
When the sun had set and the afterglow started to fade, you stood proud, slightly upon the dusk, brilliantly, majestically yet so tiny,
You looked so lonely and helpless, as light faded into darkness,
Covering the world; a sweet blanket filled with many twinkling stars,
How impossible it seems to turn back, have you realized how you changed so drastically, my little sparkling friend over such little time?
Irrational the things hidden away by the night, no moon comes to rise
If you would realise, how this world really is, or the place you are being led, softly, gently, elegantly to stand would be like, what then ?
Have you changed because, you calmly, without having any knowledge fear the night and it's lingering, loitering darkness ?
The night is stained with illusions, keep your gaze up to the sky and follow another star, then surely you would be able to reach your goal,
When you engage in pure furies, the whereabouts of the heart remain undetermined, you just lose yourself within its wandering fragrance,
Because the world you had taken for granted collapsed into somber,
Collapsed into a dimmer more frightening state of undefined beauty,
Everything is far too late, impossible to return now, it has been decided that it maybe should have been so, a loitering darkness to be,
You are part of this world now, standing where you are don't you think that this sky, slumbering earth is as allure as nothing else ?
If it awakens your wish will become true and you will disappear by the sight of the daybreak, the sun takes over with her golden light,
The world you have forgotten will reappear then everything starts a new and maybe one day you too will understand, my dearest,
That the night is something very beautiful.
~ Umi
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
The deepest understanding between lovers
stands majestically above the deepest abyss
as if, unbreakable and pure in its unreachable,
unbreakable bond.
Whatever melts this emotion together
was forged in a hotter furnace than ever found
that only two people can understand.
Rising above the highest tide
soaring above tornadoes and typhoons
and cruising along points of paradise
available only to the two of them.
How serene it feels to know
that your own reflection mirrors
in the other person and their every nuance
is written into your own poems
adding the rhyme and rhythm
for your own journey together.
Author Notes
Feel like this at times?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Dear America,
Do not call my generation stupid.
We were the first group of kids to learn a computer.
Think about that society: A group of kids learned this intricate machine. Yes, I'm talking about the O.G. Apples with the green type where you had to save with a floppy disk and if you put a magnet to the screen it went purple forever.
Yes those, same kids grew up and created everything you see before you now.
Everyday.
Do not call my generation ignorant.
In a short time span of years, as children, we learned about oral relations with interns and terrorist attacks.
From Clinton's impeachment to the World Trade Centers/Pentagon/Flight93 Somerset.
As children we learned; emphasis on the children part.
Our minds grew knowledgeable of a world at hand long before society gave us credit.
We grew up.
Do not call my generation lazy.
When we were sixteen and just received our license, gas rose to the highest it had ever been in our country's history.
We got underpaid and disrespected jobs:
cleaning up bathrooms and serving your foot-longs.
The ability to travel on our own, it was our new found freedom.
Like the early travelers roaming new found lands:
Our wings were spread.
Do not call my generation weak.
We are the same group of people who entered college or the workforce with the worst economic fall since the Great Depression.
You ask, "What did it do to you?"
Buried us in more and more debt until it consumed our life.
But, we became enlightened.
We majestically thrived in the chaotic times by finding out who we are, what we are capable of and that life will take us our journeys before we even see it coming.
The light still shines even when you are buried the deepest.
It does not matter what you throw at us next.
We will rise and conquer. It's the world's hidden secret.
I'm proud to live in this time.
I hope you are too.
Never giving up is our morale.
Respectfully,
THE PERENNIAL MILLENNIALS.
cc: (No HashTag Necessary)
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Clouds don't lie. They tell the truth
wherever they may go.
Their shadows give relief
to creatures down below.
They change their forms and colors
the chameleons of the air.
Majestically, they soar above
to play with angels there.
They weep to nourish growing crops
and bring the snow and hail.
A crown of lightning lights their heads
before the coming gale.
Clouds can ride the jet stream
like a wrangler on his steed,
Then float serenely on the breeze
and other cloudlings breed.
They soak up sunset, changing hue,
vermilion, saffron, gold...
Then soar to higher atmospheres
to frolic in the cold.
Free to roam the open sky,
they mock the earth-bound horde
And blithely glide upon the wind,
no passengers aboard.
Oh, how I'd like to take a ride
upon a breaking dawn.
But clouds don't lie, and so deny,
a chance of getting on.
Unpretentious are the clouds.
They care not for our awe.
They graze upon their crystals
and are quite above the law.
The mysteries the clouds have kept
since Mother Earth began...
Are kept behind the truth they tell,
as part of heaven's plan.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
A delicate sillhouette, agile and elegant, sweet and unique.
Almost playful, she slides over the water so majestically,
Even if the whole world were to drown in the deep blue sea, all her hope would gather into the motivation to move forward, burst forth.
Oh wind, carry me out of this sea of tears, of bottomless sadness.
Sail towards the coming future, sealed doors can be broken open,
What hope does the future hold for one who survived but couldn't protect her friends, going down alike the sun, slowly slipping away,
Even the azure beauty beyond us is filled with danger and misery,
But I will stay positive, for it is you my little breeze who is gently holding me, letting me sail with you through thick and thin.
Leave the waves behind you, swiftly like a shooting star but proud like an eagle in flight, but warm alike the ray of sunlight.
As the sun rises, the clouds have drawn a picture in the sky over us,
Quietly, serenely, you live with determination in your heart, when all freedom and light, ego and deception have become lost in this world.
Trailing over and over, with irrigular gaps I caught a smile in this clear water for the first time of our long journey.
It is for you, my dear Shimakaze.
~ Umi
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Hurry now, it’s leaving soon
Car door slams, gravel underfoot
And from the boot
Grandmas lil helper is lifted
Oh! Where did it go?
Wind twists scarf to snake
Released from frames captivity
I stoop and tug
Under your foot, Gran
She shuffles,
Ties it firmly around tiny shoulders
Bright colour against delicate skin
Paper thin, both,
One for beauty, one to hold the blood in
And may it hold the blood in,
Just a little longer...
The train awaits,
Monstrous,
Steele stark against surrounding bush.
Matt has a sausage,
Mum bothers about tickets,
Both fuss and fizzle,
I press lips firmly together
Deciding then and there
Never to let entertainment turn to stress;
It’s more than it’s worth.
We’re to be in the engine room,
The rest will be left behind -
As something faulty.
Matt lifts Gran up;
She’s tiny,
She’s flying,
She’s in.
And then we’re all in.
Crammed.
We stare longingly through grimy glass
At empty carriages
Can’t we be in there? It’s all a bit stuffy.
There’s a fire along the track
But we don’t go any further.
The smoke streams out over forest.
And jerking and bumping,
Dipping along,
We reverse back to whence we started.
Petrol fumes and smoke fill our tiny cocoon
Here, let me help you
Passenger to passenger,
Fellow human,
Compassionate eyes.
Gran has a seat;
She sways while we lurch.
Deep within
Railroad country
I make believe
I know something
Of the girl
Of the Plannies;
That sacred connection
To land and sky,
To Native country,
To Golden Macrocarpa
I stare over hills of tree ferns,
Kawakawa, Wheki, Punga
And, knowing no other,
I feel this land
Majestically
My own.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Farewell, to my voice wich vanished beneath the echo of those mountains, disappearing in the far distant, out of reach
The summer sun burns through my skin, lightens up this cold heart of mine for the first ime in a very long time, but even this won't last,
Yet I have no reason to be sad, this agony is bittersweet you see,
Constant change around me, without me changing one bit, it is as if I have become stuck in some kind of loop, unable to ever advance,
What does the future hold for one who has given in to this madness?
Farewell, to all the flowers which were blooming majestically this summer, now withering over to the merciless, drought like heat,
The greensleeves of nature are to already become colourful,
Farewell to all the warmth you have given me before you slipped away into the sea of time, moving on without thinking twice,
When the lullaby of a vampire is sung it'll be time to shut my eyes,
Because then I can be sure that I don't want tomorrow to come,
Farewell to the times we were friends conveying about silly things,
Now everyone can rejoice, once my voice is gone,
Farewell, left behind, I can no longer even cry
~Umi
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Flag on the hilltop
Waving in the breeze majestically equal to the mountain it is built on
Soldier in the war
Standing heavy and direful, facing evil with brothers and valour
Heart in the chest
Lead the way, fight the war
Be open and keep the sword at the readiest
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Swings majestically
Round my neck,
Wavering my thoughts
Of what to be
And what not to be.
I look around
Viewing people fight
Misogyny and sexism.
For I try to do that too,
Until I fall once again into a muck,
Watching **** crimes
On a daily basis
Watching acid attack victims
On a daily basis.
For, some
Are too illiterate to know the meaning
Of the word, no.
For their egos are so small,
That they can’t handle rejection.
The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Hangs majestically
Round my whole body,
Begging me to tame it,
Oh dear lord,
There is ****** of womanhood
happening all around,
With people pointing to the length of our clothes,
To the pitch of our voices.
-
@enchantingnachokitten
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
Creature of myth, you have to be real
I know you're there, I know you exist
Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel
That should suffice to say the least
No one I know has seen this mythical creature
I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do...
This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures
Allow me to document, I'll keep it true
*"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head
Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown
Azurite for eyes like many have said
A golden mane majestically cascading down
Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled
In the centre were dimple-like nostrils
From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail
Speaks in verses from a time frozen still
Within the cage right under its chest
I know that calmly there lay beating
A huge, magnanimous heart does rest
Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling
Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould
Limbs are long, but with gait so light
Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold
Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"*
That is all I have got to offer so far
Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage
No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar
In my head will forever be etched the image
Creature of myth... Please be real
Know that I am blinded, I just want to see
Not for the others, you don't reveal
I do believe... I just need to convince me...
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
*I sat under a paper umbrella of the reddest hue autumn
and like an apple
I waited for you to pick me ripe
bite, smell my neck
and remember.
I sat on bench of grey weather boards
waiting to be thrown down upon them-
wanting to be pinned down upon them.
Feet on a rug of discarded
leaves, just like me.
discarded but beautiful.
still just a season long
season woman,
can you love me winter long?
Ill meet you on the snowy bench.
white puffs of apologises will float from my mouth.
my toes will shake and the fence we loved for being red
we'll love for being white.
Red will now slither to my ears and you will say things I can't hear.
And the stars will paint the sky too dark so we
can see that winter sparkles.
Spring is full of other lovers, this bench-
lovers that are not you and I.
And the playground is full of candy wrappers and mothers sneakers.
The trees are majestically green stretching and yawning and showing off.
The children bouncing, whining, crying, finding.
Spring is full of lovers but not us
so she gives my heart to summer
and glass doesn't melt so the places where I like to feel your sweat
are the places where they like to touch my body.
summer makes us reckless and the bench, our bench is being held together by the squirrels claws and the sparrows talons... they wait for us to scatter.
hot you kiss my dampness, damper.
hot you kiss my pain and sorrow. boiling all the past good voyage.
our fence has lost some posts as,
the children love to climb and kick
it will hold on, still.
but it won't hold-out and won't hold-in which is what fences are meant to do.
at least they should... they should choose.
Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were.
Smelling like the fresh cut wood, ready to have her rings counted
Autumn lover, hold my hand and tell me you are afraid.
Autumn lover, holding color golden like a circle round.
Hurry, before she blows me past the red fence,
Hurry before our secrets get caught by the wind and dance around the playground.
Hurry Autumn lover,
Hurry to remember that you loved me, once.*
Shannon April Alice
11/2/14
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
Although the skies appear blue,
Blueish white, with cottony hue.
Coloured orange, with fainted red
Dazzles bright at each sunset.
Evening sky, intensely blue,
Fainted is the sunset hue.
Glowworms dance, adorn the hue
Happiness spreads in the world anew
Into this landscapic purplish blue.
Juggling, days
Klucking nights
Lying stunned in this hue so right
Man, the creature, so curiously few.
No matter it's a day or two,
some hues amaze like a landscapic view!
Orange red, with deep yellow in blue,
Pearly stars, adorn the view.
Quilty cold, in the days with dew
Rosemary looks majestically new!
Sun, the ball of fire for few
Teaches, turns a page each new,
Unknown, interesting, perceivable to few
Vanity is so pale, to take,
Wander, wither, breath well each day.
Xmas may not come each day,
Yawn, smile, admire all days, as uncertain are night somedays
Zenith meets only the braves, let zephyrs cuddle, embrace your zealousy face.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
When the incendiaries lit the sky
A face smiled its divine calligraphy:
It was Helen crowned with Troy's debris.
Her unmatchable mouth in the roof
Of blood moved in speech like the home of love,
Hanging its moon of reproof:
'My kiss blots history out.
My landslide legend has forgotten
A thousand thousand bones rotting;
'Under the guilty sea
The ships lie; but accuracy
Has been seduced by me.'
Her smile sailed indiscriminately
Among the squadrons of death majestically
And was reflected on the sea.
'The armless Venus carried Pompei's tears
Better than the raided years
Or the cold dances of chameleon stars.'
Then faded. But the rain
Like lovers' seeds that fall in vain,
Warned me of my sin.
3.6k
Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud stern and mast
Sailing victorious and proud - her billowing white sails were cast
The calm, liquid waters of the sea flowed quietly purple for now-
Unaware of the coming storm that would beat furious against her bow
Her alabaster sails whipped violent and furious in the oncoming storm
Impending doom was yelling its cries while the ****** went unwarned
Down below, inside their cabins the ****** peacefully slept
Wrapped in the secure watch that their gallant captain kept
The oceans black, boiling waves beat savage against starboard and port
As Captain Noe standing fearless - at first quake, did not the storm report
The old wooden beams of the Mary Rose began to restlessly moan and creak
While the blackened roaring, rolling waves beat furious against her feet
Her alabaster sails rose proud- beating mighty against wailing squalls and gusts
While deep inside the bow in bunks, the sleeping ****** ******
Suddenly...they heard the captain's distraught voice cry out
When the ****** heard his voice -they heard fear without doubt
“Awake, all of ye’ ”, Captain Noe forcefully roared
“Alive! Awake… all ye’ ****** come quickly up on board”!
The savage spirit of the sea reigned fierce with rage and fear
While the brave captain fought - loyal ****** brought up the rear
They courageously fought together - not silenced by the eye of death
As the sea raged violently against them with its brutal, menacing breath
To save their mighty Mary Rose, they’d dip their very souls in blood
Leaving themselves merciless against this drunken, mighty flood
With plank and bow standing fierce between them and their fate
The raging ocean’s fierce, blackened waves - the sea they could not hate
The morning brought the warming sun which rose broad above the waves
The winds had tamed their violent voice against captain and ****** brave
With unshakable courage and seaman’s wit not once were spirits broke
Each cheered his mate and captain strong as they fought with steady stroke
Their peril fought in days of danger and night filled with pain
Their manly courage did not wane - their fight was not in vain
For all the courageous ****** and their brave Captain Noe
Joined together in hand and spirit to save...their proud Mary Rose
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
I woke up and the sun is shining,
majestically emitting its golden glow.
In spite of this, it's a cold Scandinavian morning
and boy, the sun is putting up a real show.
So what's really going on here I asked,
why am I not yet sweating profusely?
Why am I not yet drenched in sweat and sunbaked,
Or is the arid heat being turned on slowly?
By birth, I was born a Liberian, a true African,
my umbilical cord was buried near the Equator.
My nationality is Norwegian, a Scandinavian
By virtue of the winter, I always feel like a visitor.
The African sun would shine until we hide or run
just to avoid the scorching heat and humidity.
The Scandinavian sun I feel shines and people have fun,
A factor to make me question the sun's true nationality.
So is it the same sun that rises at about 5 am in Ghana,
The one that shines brightly on the vaults of the Ashanti gold?
If it's the sun worshiped by Ancient Egypt, of the sun god Akana,
So why doesn't it burn away the snow and the extreme cold?
©️IB-Poetry
2/20/2018
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
i disembody you in poetry:
thin scabs film over your bones,
i pick them until i find new skin to lay my kisses on —
a new land to baptize
with my own heathen hands,
i disembody you with them:
chest spread open like that of a dressed foul.
my body is too corrupted but it knows of intense longing,
piercing live-coal eyes, it burns
my neck like a crucifix,
like flames on a burning metal —
it heals, almost cleanses like holy fire
and with new bones,
i disembody you in poetry:
an attempt to see you, hold you, love you whole
without it consuming me:
a sight of pink lips, pink tongue,
pink columbines on your wrist;
i take apart your entirety,
press it, piece by piece on my fragile nail bed — hidden away
somewhere the world loses its sight.
and maybe now after all the cycles, it is the world's turn
to fumble far and wide, to despair in search for your hands —
your eyes
that unsettle and leave the cosmos
collapsing majestically
in its own harshest daylight
leaving us all disembodied
in blinding, vivid, solar colors.
forgive my compulsions to love you like this.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 12:15 AM UTC
The legere sacristy of pure love blazing
Feline confluence across ethereal plains
Arched angelic collusion of things sepulchral
The arcane occidere travisty of
Transmogrification canonized
Darkling eminence ordained;
The verity aura of radiance
Twilights tidal blood- dye magenta,
Germane sleek meagre wealth chiming lo!.
Finitudes golden prayer draping flounded
Brutality tithing the zenith with mealy
Doer aptitude majestically turbulent
Sacrificing thoriums weld feudal
Of heavens deceitful soothsayers,
Fellow djinn of Gotterdammerung
Soli of vilest stoic jingoism.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
I now realize that I am not a mule.
I do not have to carry people and their burdens on my back.
I do not have to be slowed down or held back by the weight of others.
I will no longer be controlled by others.
I am a stallion.
Free to roam wherever,
Moving fast and majestically,
I carry my own weight.
And when I am with a group of my kind,
We will not hold back or let anyone take a ride.
I am a stallion ,
and stallions do not carry people.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Torrents of vapor ridden wind, snatched at her hair.
Below, rattled the rapid, riotous and vast, rippling sea.
Churning, like a chewing, charming serpent's lair.
Once long ago I knew her; with time she left me be.
On the edge she was, with will to leap t'wards the horizons.
The brittle cliff would not give way, for even it was curious.
Dare say all of nature reacted for the most prurient reasons.
Even the sky descended to watch, with a lightning so furious.
She beheld no fear and the sky wept with thunderous applause.
Her bare marble-like features glistened in the gleaning of the gloom.
Why she stood there, triumphantly, tempting, terror, for what cause?
It will never be known, for she never was, in a time before this doom.
The earth shook like the hands of a beleaguered, berated old man.
It erected monoliths. Volcanoes, pluming molten magma skyward.
The red glow brought heat; earth thought to please her, or so was its plan.
The elements wrestled for the better view of that beauty stalwart.
Never had a sight been so majestically violent, so mightily tame.
Where she stood, should and would forever more be a sacred place.
The tempest of the elements raged on, though none would win the game.
A silence, softly, settled the rambunctiousness, and halted their race.
The skies parted with a sad and lowly somberness.
Every elated, embittered, element safely put to rest.
As the sun swept aside all their postulated, pettiness.
Rays of the sun showered her with bright white zest.
The lady, she moved with unfathomable grace.
She tilted her perfect head up to the skies.
With the slightest of a smile shook her face.
Like all before, she left them there surprised... and forever, there she stood.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
In Nineva, in melted days of yore,
In a very distant verdant realm
Of a shadowy enchanted Moor,
There rolled a nectar stream.
And whoever ever drunk from it
Whilst the sun rained her golden light,
Craved nevermore to drink nor eat
But perpetually dwelt in delight.
Once, upon her banks strolled a couple
Majestically holding each other's hand.
Golden robbed with plush ribbons purple,
All the way from a very far away land
Where dwelleth many a mandrill,
A realm of many a precious stone
And many a verdant rolling hill,
Though creatures there all but forlorn.
King and queen of Merindrill they were,
On a golden quest for perpetual youth
Akin to the luster of many a fiery star
Whose mystery none knows the truth.
Though the stream galloped in gladness,
Though meadow larks chirped in ecstasy,
A roving wind eerily rustled in sadness
As it danced about aspen leaves all sassy.
All birds of evil omen graced the heaven
Whilst darkling clouds blotted heavens' bed
But unto none did it seem a bad omen.
Dyadic ravens perched upon their head.
"Quaff, quaff, oh quaff not from the river,"
Unto the king quoth the first raven.
"In that river deep thou shalt dwell forever,"
Unto the queen quoth the second raven.
"Quaff, quaff, oh quaff not," they didst spoof
At the ravens whilst as quick as drops of rain
Plummeting from earths' eternal dewy roof,
In such haste, they quaffed again, and again.
And 'tis for that reason that all men know
From the ***** of that sweet rollin' river
Did the fanciful couple now as cold as snow
Ever leave, but there dost live forever.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California, USA.
06/Nov/2018.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Hello old friend,
With your tall sweeping evergreens
Towering almost endlessly
Into a blue clear sky
The endless swell of traffic
Cars peeling down the street
The smell of roasted coffee beans
From some hole-in-the-wall cafe
The obvious transplant donning an umbrella in the Autumnal warm rain
The light sprinkling of water enough
To nurture the verdant green
Hello old friend,
Mt. Rainier, she greets me,
Looming ever majestically
Over expanses of tree and road
Her white peaks cresting over
Fields of blossoming flowers
The tulip fields scattered across the sloping
Skagit Valley, her vineyards spanning for miles and miles
Hello old friend,
Seattle's grungy nature
Masked by her streets of trendy
Cafes and farm-to-table restaurants
Her mom and pop cafes
Her canvas gray dress marred by graffiti
And street tags
The busker on the street corner panhandling for change
The homeless sheltering under a cardboard blanket outside of a Starbuck's
The transplant with the umbrella stopping down to drop change in their jar
The crumpled dollar
The locals who pointedly ignore him on their way to work, to school, back home, to somewhere...anywhere...
The constant dazed bustle
The stench and pungent odor of ****
Curling around every seedy corner and
Affluent street crossing
Hello old friend,
It's been a while
Let me nestle into your newness
A new coast greets me across the horizon
Replaced by homespun everything
Pastoral fields where the bovine and equine reside
Hello old friend,
I suppose you're home now
I suppose you're home...
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 10:46 PM UTC
1
If unicorns were real
I can’t imagine much would change
I might own one
Get high on the finely chopped fibers of fur
Collected from his grooming
And when girls ask me how I came to be so sweet
I’d tell them how I was ***** once by my unicorn
How some sorts of sticky sweetness haunt your soul forever
2
In the second grade
I swore I had dinosaurs living in my backyard
This is after I swore that I actually had a backyard
Never mind the hand-me-down t-shirts
So big I often exposed a boney shoulder
I had the strangest tan lines then
3
Under my bed was a cave
Where the boogeyman taught me
I should be more afraid of my father’s feet at the entrance
And less afraid of things I could not see
In the shifting dark I could have been anywhere
Anywhere was somewhere
My father’s claws could still not get me
4
For the longest time I thought my grandmother’s ghost
Haunted me
I’d often wake to the smell of her musty home
Mixed with her perfume
and the sweet scent of the soft earth she often tended
Until one day I didn’t notice her anymore
Ghosts are the parts of the people we miss
When our stupid brains are still learning how to deal with loss
I’d like to say that once I finally stopped missing her
She was free to leave earth for heaven
I don’t believe in heaven
5
If god were real
And I could live forever by his side
I would still break everything
From bones to hearts
Because I can’t live for tomorrow
I need to live for today
6
As a man
I still tell stories in order to get people to like me
So
When my unicorn finally dies
Or majestically sacrifices himself
For my sake
I will grind him down to glitter
And unicorn glue
(Which is very strong)
I’ll make a sign so big you can see it sparkle from space
*I was here ************
And this is how I will live forever
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 5:39 AM UTC
I reached the summit in time to see,
the grey of dawn just leaving,
The new sunrise begin to ascend.
The breeze, reborn, fresh as the day.
An Eagle soaring high over head,
spiraling on updrafts, master of the sky,
not hunting, just testing his wings,
apparently enjoying a little joy ride.
Oh what freedom that must be,
to fly like that as you please,
so completely released from gravity.
I watched him play, 'till out of sight.
Below me, on a slope stood a
sure footed Male Mountain Goat,
Warming himself in morning sun.
Head held high, proud and alert,
eyes searching for opportunity.
Mountain Jays squawk and play
among the sparse trees below
my lofty perch, as if they too frolic,
in new day celebration.
A day ago I saw the sun rise from
the fourteenth floor window,
of my office building.
That same sun, I now see,
from the top, of this mountain peek.
But it was very different.
Rather than fresh air laced,
with the scent of Fir and Pine,
It was the stale stink,
of cigarettes and dust,
Air pushed through a vent,
Resuscitated, recirculated
and processed, dead air resurrected.
My view East slightly obscured, by ***** glass.
A picture window that can not even be opened.
The Cascades majestically blue on the horizon,
The new days sun, resting on Mount Hood's shoulder.
A bright light inviting, Big and yellow, calling.
And but a day later,
here I stand, on Three Finger Jack,
Looking further East,
Breathing in this new clean day,
Taking memory pictures with my eyes,
Alone, but never completely.
Next time I will not wait so long.
Oh, if I could only live right here forever.
On further thought, after I'm dead,
haul my ashes up here, and leave 'em,
Sunrises and sunsets for all eternity.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC