"majesties" poems
looking at
sedona red
rock layered majesties
against bright, cerulean sky
and marshmallow clouds
droplets dripping, pecking our cheeks
sitting on
the balcony of a casita
holding hands with my peace
surrounded by forest green
and buzzing honey bees
they mingle with the flowers
and i mingle with my peace
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
Cold stoles the coast in geisha voiles
of pawned Atlantic mourning, where
The plangent skirl of larids
carry through the vast exquisite
plains of February emptiness.
Aloft on coronal ruin, she flew
in free form falling, between the spheres
she grew in brightness, and by her stroke,
the moping shale, appeared , as if transformed.
She blessed the face of stained glass saints
hung loud on hallowed walls, From a
palisade of glinting brinks, she
hauled deserted chapels into
parishes of lambent wake
their majesties , reborn.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:47 AM UTC
The falling stars in this ironic night
make majesties
out of those cubicle-ridden New Yorkers'
routine Tuesday night daydreams,
where they make macabre escape routes
out of every perfectly-placed window
piercing the concrete sentences
that escalate from Ground Zero.
Your law offices,
corporate ******* headquarters,
are all bursting at the seams
with these drones,
the falling stars of the human race,
all composed of 14 different shades
of grayscale;
could've been
should've been
could've been shootin' stars
that year they were promised
lives of upper middle class incomes
and Lexus dealerships
bought to dent their status
on the neighborhood,
but that sparkle's been emaciated
by the truth,
the underwhelming spectacle of realization
accentuated by the clicking
and the clacking of company keyboards,
each little click
gnawing more at their patience
than the next;
the faceless brush strokes
gawk through that window,
their plans less hypothetical
over the calendar years.
"I can hear it calling me
from miles away,"
says Copy #90045280,
"see, they
SPEAK
to me, man,
tell me to transcend
the hurdle of the windowsill
and make my rendezvous
with an asphalt avenue,
to join the other casualties
of this rut-infested nation
in a life with the real stars,
falling and shooting
and jettisoning alike,
throbbing lights through dark sky silk
and into the hearts of even the most
robotic of this catalog culture,
and I frightfully,
excitedly,
must listen."
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
not since nor silk.
Mother's milk for the generations.. yes she was .
Greeted Lindbergh on touchdown.
Society clone. Rich ************* could not leave her alone. Tall tale teller.Paperback
construct. Stepping into the ball with no invitation and stopped the music and conversation.
Pale skinned poser.
Gettin over.
Her daddy was a man of means.
Hired by the Majesties to count jellybeans.
He loved the local **** to the tune of
Poppa was a rollin stone.
The magistrates and potentates in the republic of bananas. Pinkys up tea sippers .
Could not get hold of collective zippers.
Faded portrait. long dead poser.ball buster. Pretty as crystal.Tough as pig iron.
She was high flying flapper. Cutting a rug. Charleston,Jitterbug. Short skirt flirt. Grandma ?
Smokin hot and smokin when women did not dare. C.O.P.D. and a hacking cough came the pipers toll. The Wages.
Just keeping it real.
Slip sliding away.
Drove a Jalopy.
Aiee Pahpi chulo. Bestin May West with a smaller life jacket.
Turn the century.
Trench warfare.
Over the top.The war to end all ? shiiiit. Great Grandma
was a show stopper. To the very end.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
1691
The overtakelessness of those
Who have accomplished Death
Majestic is to me beyond
The majesties of Earth.
The soul her “Not at Home”
Inscribes upon the flesh—
And takes her fair aerial gait
Beyond the hope of touch.
2.9k
Pokemon was a way to train warriors, worried about their tribal spells, being ready for the action, and the mother is okay with him taking a long time to get to bed at night before his big match, and it's all set and ready, and its all set and ready, and the interpol weaves the majestic time tables to rotate into another direction, because they are full of perfection, the pokemon, presenting itself in the highest of fashions, in a beautiful red and white ball that reflects the sunshine always, yes.
The different characters follow along their path, and they love to make their crazy sounds, and the brightest creature of all the creatures is a cat with thunderbolts! A CAT WITH THUNDERBOLTS
shooting the lightning
shooting the lighting
shooting the majesties
shooting the lightning
shooting the lightning
shooting the majesties
OUT OF CONTROL
AND FULLL OF SPLENDOR AND MADNESS AND SWINE AROUND THE CORDIAL MEASURE OF SPENDITUDE ALONG A SACRED LINE
ALONG A SACRED LINE
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
He saw a beautiful world.
He saw the world’s grace.
Saw the world’s seemingly infinite majesties,
the magnificent magnanimity of it all.
He saw the smile of people, the perfect pigment of plants
He experienced a beautiful world.
Yet he was unsatisfied with what he saw.
Unsatisfied with the beautiful world he had.
He looked past the beauties, the elegance, and the gems
And focused on the ephemeral troubles that polluted his lens.
He couldn't handle the new deformities of the world he once saw
He couldn't handle himself at all.
Finger to the trigger and trigger to the gun
at once he knew he would regret.
Gun to the bullet and bullet to the brain.
at once he knew this was kismet.
He hid himself under the sullen pall
Entangled himself in the chaparral
For him there was no escape.
For he was doomed for fate.
If only he had opened his eyes
And realized.
He was satisfied.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
1615
Oh what a Grace is this,
What Majesties of Peace,
That having breathed
The fine—ensuing Right
Without Diminuet Proceed!
2k
If there stood a single flower in the center
of a wasteland expanding eternally outwards,
more readily would i pluck it from its wary essence
than i would surrender my memories of you.
If death stood before me,
and i had yet one word of plea to continue my existence,
a proclamation of my love for you would grace the reapers ears.
If our world were plagued by a cancer,
and the stars fell from the sky i would not care.
I see more stars in your eyes than could ever exist.
I have heard poets proclaim their loves before.
In them they see the majesties and wonders
of our universe reflected in their ladies.
I walk the roads of earth, witnessing miracles
and spectacular beauties and every time
i am only reminded of you.
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
Pale kings and warriors
Play part in castles
Named life and death and creed,
Hailing servant majesties
Upon slaves and heretics
Adverse in competence.
A jester speaks up,
Detesting comic duties
Implored by tyrant rulers
Of life and death and creed,
Requesting majesties
Implored by slaves and heretics.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 4:29 AM UTC
I remember my place,
the one you promised me
You were going to shower me with jewels and royalty. While I danced for you in that throne room.
My kingdom has gone dark, somehow you left me,
yet we are still the king and queen of a miraculous tragedy.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
The smoothness of your brown skin
captivates my soul, hazel eyes so bold
and beautiful, a palace of romance and
sensual dreams, shimmering beams and
nightlife gleams.
His sweet lips touch my skin so
peacefully, melodic vowels and
fascinating sounds, deep channeling
languages of sheer temptations,
harmonic creations.
I can feel the music inside his chests,
the dynamic beats drumming endlessly
around Neptune and Jupiter, explosive
Mars, spinning dynasties over magical
majesties.
To run my fingers through his dashing
dreads, wavy locks upon my heart,
an aura of celestial instruments
intensifying my flow.
To inhale the lucid lyrics all over
his body, taking in his world of
magnificent nations – the upbeat
rhythms traveling through the
cityscape, the flashing light
posts standing in glorious delight,
the midnight skies of love over
divine cuddling.
The phenomenal poetry gliding
on top of the balcony. The
shimmering syllables sparkling
in the air. The brilliant metaphors
bursting in celebration. The
vibrating alliteration pounding the
pavement. The swagging similes
dancing in the night.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
Before we read or speak or rest further,
you owe promise to a favor–
I want you to walk directly out of your door
during the most lucid scene of day,
or the most haunting moment of inner-night
Walk until your feet come to a
sudden
instinctive
halt
Listen to clamor, or
whatever surrounds you
Lift all volumes of your
puja
quietude
as a psalm
Focus on humanities scrapings
or the long graceful stroke of
matriarchal firman in her most
peculiar
stage
of cankered innocence
Lecture the calamity of her fictionless plot and
digest what the spiritually deaf cannot, and allow it to
find what triggers you the hardest
what
gouges
the prompts threadbare
It may be the indifferent hiss of cars passing
and it may be the expression plastering the jaw
of all of that unprocessed energy
ambling
on
by
It may even be the weather spilt
from her majesties
archaic entrails
Something will eventually do you in
but it ultimately
takes practice at varying degrees
I've done it when I was awake
I've done it in dreams
Either way
there's more mirrored in fragmented cohesion
than it
quite often
seems
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Phantom butterflies attempt to defile metal
Pour gasoline on the cultures masquerade
Eat the remains of a tainted youth’s rebellion
While their wings collapse and rip the law
Of reason apart
Mocking their majesties’ and burning their silk
Letting the pillars crash to the sand
Leaving only the exiled to pick up the ruminants of a
Flourished dream
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
He is the morning and I have turned into a walking cliché machine.
The sun could sap the day out of my skin and I wouldn’t feel it,
wouldn’t mind if I did.
I want to crack him open and curl up in his chest cavity,
exploring the dark corners with my headlamp and uncovering hidden majesties in geodes, making road maps.
~
Sometimes, I look at their hands,
moving in time to the beat or
engaging in some twisted alchemy,
making circles out of straight lines, or
coaxing the music out of guitar strings, or
painting the unknown like clockwork in due time,
and I wonder what they could do to me in bed.
~
And I still let him touch me when I'm drunk and he's drunk or when I'm sober and he's drunk-he doesn't want to touch me when he's not drinking-because he's like a cigarette and I've made a habit of inhaling deeply, to remind me that he’s cancer in my bones and I’m getting too old for this.
He treats me like the used tissues I crumple in my purse and pull out when my nose gets runny, there when he needs me, stroking my rib cage and covering me in a viscous slime.
He feels like a stubbed toe or a paper cut and mostly I'm a mouth to *** into.
His hands find the parts of my body that people have always told me to keep secret, but it's been a while since I started sending them out on postcards to strangers.
He can grab me with his eyes like a hand grabs the nape of a kittens neck, and I falter.
~
How can I unlove someone I used to love so much?
Mother may I-help me-stop loving all of them at once.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
Across the purple mountain majesties,
flowing fields, and amber waves of grain.
The eagle flaunts wings of liberty,
she is focused, gazing without refrain.
Even intrusive when one is snowed in,
the eagle watches and "protects" us all,
but the masses refuse to be smitten.
The once omnipresent eye exists galled.
Indecision, haunting the eagle's eye
whilst law favors liberty's wing - A moot
adjourns amongst her eye and our disguise.
Expanding wisdom laments her eye - left shrewd.
But now, why at all be concerned?
Now, the eye's chances fall under one-third.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
soAndso with yesterday went
down to Emerald and spit
went down to see the particular
jeer of howsome comely girl
things parading elephantine
the promise of whose wet
unwinter's courser hairless
majesties
in february even
call stupider the boy war
cringing aggressive sound
i thoughtlessly and also
going weren't less than
a toy but to their agreeable
*** flung shivers and
dainty pinks atoped
with tighter neon growling
articles
(so i've felt like (with full and engorged membranous) never less a fool
than when a shortly cropped fairy haired tousled perfectly bob
slipping me her number snugly in my hands i called her 3 times
without an answer)
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 4:41 AM UTC
The buttons
Popped
As she pressed
Her lavender lips
Against those velvet
Diamond dogs,
Her swearing that
They were mine and
Mine only
Midnight - Once it
Passes through the cold -
Shows a color that
Only true men and
Women know
Ones wishing
To see
Their best
And their worst
Rightfulness
Royalty
Righteousness
These are
The things
The mighty forget
And the low
Crave
We billion new
**** on the dew
Of singing nightingales
Dressed all in blue
Each note of truth
Held
In Her song
Where all along
We thought we
Actually belonged
Son's being
Son's and father's
Holding the secret,
"There never
Was one," he moans.
Tears sink in
Sand scorched lands
By no hand
But man
All these
Unnumbered graveyards
Sphinxes whose
Riddles break
Your favorite cookie jar
Seeing
That all this is,
Is a thing - in our end - You
Grip with fear unlimited
The old
Say that
The Majesties hold
The ear of
One billion writhing
The writhing, as well,
Hold the minds
Of the Majesties
One and the same
None with no name
Some forgotten
All remembered
Where all and
One
Are the
Same
Miserable
Same.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:30 PM UTC
Contrary to your belief instilled by your evidently crippling lack of discipline , no one owes you anything
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
The King of Shards and Metal Shaving,
His consort; Queen of Flaking Rust,
and the Prince of Powdered Pulverized Stone
reign over nothing but dust.
All they fear is a sudden gust
- a brazen wind or rebel breeze
that dares expose landscapes of chalky bone:
skeleton-subjects who once bent knees,
millions who bowed to their Majesties
proclaiming idiot-edicts, raving,
"This is Holy War!" "Righteous!" "Just!"
Now they are bleached remains past saving.
Blood was the wasted acid engraving
tributes in sand to names-unknown.
And none now hear the royal decrees
from each clown on each crumbling tin-foil throne.
The King of Gasping, Dying Moan,
The Queen of Last Convulsive Breath,
and the Prince of the Final Beat of the Heart
rule in their realm of death.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Does she look out to sky at night,
whilst i'm a world away,
that we might see cosmic light,
not so far from the blindness of day
For when she sees the majesties,
that i might look upon,
our distance, not so great as galaxies
ever moving, on and on.
I look into the depths
of waves, and space, and thought
every view beheld sharing breaths
in hopes our time apart will fade to but a fraught.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC
My Life is the Road
the freedom of the open
the outside
the smell
of rubber, and asphalt.
My Life is the Mountains
the booming silence
of those enormous Majesties.
My Life is the Desert
the painted rocks
the aroma of Life
in an alien landscape
that I call Home.
My Life is the Winter,
the coldest,
deepest, snow-filled Winter;
Yet my Life is the Summer,
full of vivacity and adventure.
My Life is the Spring,
just beginning to bloom
and blossom
into something
amazing;
Yet my Life
is the Autumn,
a part of it ending,
but soon to bring something
even more amazing.
My Life is Fleeting Permanence,
gone in the blink of an eye,
but always present
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
Crew Quarters...
(When I was a-serving of their majesties Brown and Root)
Rows of racks under aquarium lights
And scattered paperbacks: Louis L’Amour
Bravo Company battlefield yarns, (love)-books
About blonde hot rod babes with really big (pretties)
The crew, all older than I, were better books:
Mechanics, enginemen, crane operators
Welders, riggers, radiomen, divers
Draftsmen for the “as built” modifications
The cook was a nervous man from New Jersey
He looked over his shoulder and dropped things
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC