"maltese" poems
I reached up into the top of the closet
and took out a pair of blue *******
and showed them to her and
asked "are these yours?"
and she looked and said,
"no, those belong to a dog."
she left after that and I haven't seen
her since. she's not at her place.
I keep going there, leaving notes stuck
into the door. I go back and the notes
are still there. I take the Maltese cross
cut it down from my car mirror, tie it
to her doorknob with a shoelace, leave
a book of poems.
when I go back the next night everything
is still there.
I keep searching the streets for that
blood-wine battleship she drives
with a weak battery, and the doors
hanging from broken hinges.
I drive around the streets
an inch away from weeping,
ashamed of my sentimentality and
possible love.
a confused old man driving in the rain
wondering where the good luck
went.
16.2k
(Dad returned this to me tonight, apparently I wrote it in the 90s and he found it and saved it for almost 20 years)
Love hides in the moon,
Where lies and deceit hide too.
But you don't want what you got,
'Cause I'm just an astronaut.
God hides in the manic eyes
Of the maniacs you despise.
And if I'm just a man on the moon
Well then I'm still part of you.
If it will take a tragedy,
For you to see the truth,
Then I just hope I'm still here for you.
All things are fleeting,
And soon I'll be gone.
Gone sailing on ethereal seas
Of forgotten songs.
Joking 'bout my wrongs
With time's tides of traitorous throngs.
Laughing while the ones I love
Chase Maltese Falcons,
And society sinks shaking in withdrawal
From the loss of knowledge
That god is eminent
Throughout the body of existence.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
Gazing down from my hotel balcony, a beautiful breath taking view, acres of landscaped gardens, flowers, trees of every colour and hue
My eyes travel over an azure blue bay. To a thousand coloured sunshades assaulting my mind
An ants nest of seething half naked humanity, burnt red and covered in oil. Surrounded by discarded bottles and cans and wrappers of ice cream stained foil
For a week they're going to lie there, bodies burned raw by the sun. Their idea of enjoyment, their idea of holiday fun
I have walked the length of those bright golden sands, smelt the stench of the stale cooking oil. It gives me no pleasure to linger here while I have the real Malta to enjoy
Beyond the human pollution the sand dwellers love a burnt barren ridge gainst the sky. And yet from this red brown earth an existence bis clawed by the strength of a strong Maltese hand
My gaze travels left to the beautiful church and the cream coloured town just beyond. The old and the new joined hand in hand where concrete marries natural stone
How many of the sand dwellers have enjoyed what this beautiful land can provide? Have they truly experienced this island, seen life on the other side?
In a few days they'll be up there flying back to the place they call home, but from what they experienced of Malta they might just have well been to the moon
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
*the feminine powerlessness of art, and the then again strict rubric of Darwinism's dictatorial regime to talk cool - sieg heil throughout, as a running honk! honk! (joke) on the sly.*
a testimony to high school:
don't ever listen to The Smiths
or The Cure, or Depeche Mode....
or any of my uncle's **** list...
the point being,
you can swagger among
Eucalyptus trees and feed the frenzy
like any Ibiza patron might;
cos' there's a koala rummaging
your drawers so to speak:
due to an episode of king's testicles
in the attic - hey presto!
a grand piano! hey presto! coronation's
fireproof underwear!
lovey dubby dub dub, and a coercive
test for nibbling on a Maltese ginger...
dabbling the fearsome offence...
the only school Morrissey attended was nostalgia.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
*they are my famiglia
they are italian, polish and maltese,
probably a lot of other things too
we're basically mutts
there are five of us, if you include the dog
they are the best
there's my mom;
i call her "ma" or "woman" or "mom" or "mama" or "rochelle", if i want to irritate her
she's the best cook in the world
she always calls me her "bambina"
and sings me songs and writes me cute notes
she's my best friend and biggest fan (sorry dad)
i'm convinced she can read my mind,
even when i'm 2 1/2 hours away, she can tell when something's wrong
she's the best mom in the world
and then, there's my dad;
i call him "dad" or "daddy" or "bob" because he doesn't seem to care
he's hilarious and actually tells good dad jokes
he loves talking about
government conspiracies and
new health trends he's trying
he calls my mom just to say "i love you" and buys me flowers on valentine's day because "i want you to know what a man should do for you one day"
he's so great, i hope i marry a man like bob one day
and there's my brother;
i call him "bro" or "broski" or usually just, "bobby"
he loves me with all his heart
but cannot hug me
because his ocd clouds his mind
he's funny and loves the oldies
he also loves trips to chipotle with me
he won't tell me about girls
because "you'll tell mom," but will talk to me about everything else
gosh i love him with all my heart too
and there's my dog;
who we all call "boo" and sometimes i call him some random nickname
he's so cute, but super vicious
one minute he'll be curled up in-between your legs and the next?
he's attacking you and biting you in the lip
he's scared of thunderstorms and fireworks and people, really he's scared of everything
he's not perfect, but he loves me and i love him
and then, there's me;
they call me "dee-dee" or "aubs" or plain old, "aubrey"
i'm the first born pain in the ****
who's dream is to marry a nice christian man, own a cafe, adopt children, have children, and just have a great family
currently, i'm in college, missing my great family
my current dream would be, sitting on the couch with my dog on my lap, my mom cooking in the kitchen, my dad hanging out in the garage building something cool, and my brother playing video games and complaining about me taking over the bathroom we share.
can you tell i miss them?
can you tell i love them?*
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
Starting is hard
Growth maltese candles
The painted board next to me
Where i sleep
Cars, unrelenting bring an incessant drone
That lulls
Exstasis
Mechanised intrusion grants
The brevity of randomized input
The aversion of direction
This isn't a poem
Nor is it not a poem
This is a home
This is a home
Shampoo crease salt licks
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Not that but there was something else.
Not what just happened but something else
I remember when i try not to.
I always forget when i try.
I can feel it
It's not suppose to be remembered
It's there to be felt
Something like that
Something similar
Im not going to just say 'something' on a single line
Nope no.
Nothing
That was ordained
Now this is nonsensical
As if any of it was.
Reading
Nothing yet
Nothing worth saying
Yet
Yet.
Yes
Ending is hard
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
In the library where Jaggers throws looks like daggers at Dickens for the invasion of his privacy,
for mentioning legality, I see
another story coming on.
The Maltese Falcon flies to me in pages where a mystery unfolds.
Holding breath, the long slow death of a twenty-something,
comes sliding in, Harry Potter, Slytherin.
All in books and in the looks of characters imagined by the author, chapter by chapter and at the end the wish to meet the one who penned such a magic on the pages of my mind.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
in history, when hen and then again, east and west become alike, the h and h of what's current, and when science encompasses trigonometry of the threes, with waving doubles of the u, and the chance graphic of x, y, z expansion; sometimes it's not what's about to be lived, but rather what's to be understood.
i'm alluding to, i'm not deluded by,
but then what's sanity
if a haystack rather than a pitchfork is,
with the concept of reincarnation appropriated
for educational purposes?
don't look at me to manage the immortals'
puppet strings; if his highness would
kindly like to stop hanging
on the four winds
and re-enter the tetragrammaton
from his holy tetracursus
ambitions - another day
brought into night with a flick of the hand -
yes, down from the cross;
expanding as he has no wonder
the Indians and the Chinese
are unconvinced crafting a likeness not akin
to lions but to ants - thus they number
happily without existential concerns -
not a single number partaking in ambivalent
sales of a hundred years like it was eternity;
it's just a t-shirt, i was just
a ****** tourist, look,
i'm wearing umbro jogging trousers,
a dressing-gown, and a t-shirt
with a Maltese cross of the Hospitallers
on it... that's all;
and if the Eiffel tower was the first
structure to topple the height of the pyramids
of Giza... i'm not surprised by the dark ages...
imagine building a skyscraper with
only two rooms in it... i've stood under
the Eiffel tower... it's scary to think
of the pyramids and the glorification of
man about to be buried
with a reverse anatomy of
being ****** out dry and not become
an ***** donor, when a simple engraving would
suffice - you know, the more human
you become (i.e. age), the more bewildered
you become by the body you're stored in
rather than the things outside of you
in what's called the universe paradoxically
to no known unity among man.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
krzyżaka krucjata wedle pruß, co to znaczy krzyż północy! a las matematyką niby skąpy, lecz nawet hojny wyryć las draculii: szereg turka dekapitacji ciał jak niby pod wienną naiwnie ciepłe... laaah, smak ozora mlask! blah! bo ja na krew zgodą pić... pić! gniew w wino a prawda w krew!
we chose the Maltese
cross as our binding
chastity, as our binding to
chastity, we that persian
girls might giggle /
and the whiskey bottle
might remain full:
for among women we found disharmony
and no foetus, let alone the desired harem
of our enemy.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
If, in fragrant gardens blooms
the maltese rose
reminds us the shade of
Your Lovely Face
O Mary,
looking up to the twinkle of smiles
in the midnight skies
we see Your Eyes
O Merciful One
You're the Wonder of Heaven
Light of Creation
Mother of the One Who Shapes
Time. With You. Complete
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
American girls
Japanese girls
Brazilian girls
Maltese girls
Russian girls
Swedish girls
German girls
What's not to like? Races are like ice cream flavors, we all got different shades but we're on the same cone.
All of us have Sins we must atone
For our ancestors and are earlier lives
I just want to spread peace and pretend like our countries didn't fight wars in the past
Don't get me wrong, i won't forget history
But i don't plan on repeating it
Unity is like cotton candy, and i'm going to eat all of it. Everyone deserves that soft feeling inside their bones.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
i was growing younger day by day
there was love and it was all arranged
and I held you with the wandering eye
now I know the man I shoulda known
now I feel the love I should've shown
and I pull you in but you push me out
and I know you don't love me so
but please say it once before I go
i know that you can feel me
tell me that you don't love me
but say it one more time
i'm going darling, i'll step lightly
live on as if you still love me
just say it one more time
even if it's a lie, even if it's a lie
colors in the shirts you used to wear
the way that you would fix your brown hair
but I'll turn the lights down and leave
all the ways that I could say it now
you're the man to push away my doubt
but it's too late and were too young to know
and I know you don't love me so
but please say it once before I go
i know that you can feel me
tell me that you don't love me
but say it one more time
i'm going darling, i'll step lightly
live on as if you still love me
just say it one more time
even if it's a lie, even if it's a lie
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
A Maltese cross encircles our necks
Like a mother’s embrace
An armor of protection
This talisman
Our symbol of camaraderie
Declares our bond, our glue
Knits us together
A quilt sewn into squares
Each depicting a shared memory
This cross represents our circle of trust
Where one arm ends another begins
Chain linked
Unspoken loyalty
A wedding band of sorts
Promise to each other
That whatever we encounter
We do it as one entity
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
You know I got back from my beautiful Maltese holiday about 3 am yesterday
Today I sat and looked at my beautiful garden for the first time in a week
Tiny pastel flowers peer like little faces from dark green foliage
Lavenders vie for space with vibrant California poppies
Hollyhock ready to burst into summer colour
Stand next to shrubs of Rosemary
While sweet peas grow in wild abandon
Through the khaki green yellow branches and twigs
Of my twisted willow trees
The rose bush I planted over the grave of my old cat
Stands in her full glory of weeping red blooms
There is a magical perfume from French and English lavender
Offering their fragrance to bees
Who provide their own unique music to this wondrous panorama
Of wild and cultivated beauty
Yes, there are weeds as you might call them
But they also have there place here and so will be left to grow in peace
To live in harmony with other life
I see my garden as an ever changing work of art
Art that I will never tire of looking at
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
you know it needed something
but you don't realize it
until months later...
if it had
had a dog and a child
it would be perfect...
"I picked up Bella
our Maltese
and took little Johnny
by his tiny hand
as the ambulance drove off."
Mar 17, 2024
Mar 17, 2024 at 9:07 PM UTC
When Star Wars came to film in Ireland (in County Kerry the Blasket islands)
I wanted a part
I wanted to be like Darth (Vader)
I told them I knew the whole Star Wars Universe off by heart
From Ken Kenobi's desert hideout to Hans Solo's Big Bird, the Maltese Falcon
And the big chewy chap Wuzzy Bear
And the lovely Princess Leah with her lovely bunned up hair
I told them I could be Bard the wise old Shaman poet
At least I'd be better than that old **** Yoda
Well they looked at me a bit awry
I thought to myself "I got a bad feeling about this"
They turned me down, said maybe another time
I warned them "I might turn to the Dark Side"
I would have reached for a Blaster only I was already fairly plastered
They started to bundle me out the door
I was strugglin' and shouting "Yea Yoda Old Toadface
Get your hands off me, I'm talkin' Toad here man.... I'm talkin' Toad..."
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 10:27 AM UTC
To be in school is to have a duel of renewal,
of the things we have learned
whether we should burn the past or be stubborn and hang on
denying the new as if we had any clue
on how to make this stew of life brew
we grew and we grew
some have beards, some have *******
but some of us stayed the same as the rest
our brains put to the test
we are still stuck in our nest
where we find comfort.
Im like a bald eagle ready to get its prey,
Like a pitbull off his leash ready to eat a maltese
The cure that frees us of the disease
And get you off your knees
The bee that protects his queen
By giving my life away in one sting
The genius who thinks
The elephant that drinks at the water hole
Surrounded by lions
The third king that roams the desert
Let us not pretend to be experts
because we tend to lose
on lifes greatest news
whether we know how to make the stew or not
let us not be fake and appreciate
the things that have brought us here to this day
your fate is not to educate your thought
because like fruit is comes to rot
I know because I sought and fought
to be like Isaac Newton
I've been wanting to make inventions
but in a different dimension
although this pressure and tension
is making me less than the great depression
I guess I haven't learned a lesson from all this oppression.
My math class,
is tougher than catching a 100 pound bass,
my muscle mass decreasing
just like my reasoning
I want to be logical like whats the meaning
of me thinking so much it's demeaning
like an old man singing while drinking
stinging to the minds eye it's way too bright
my sight has gone blind
I wish I could rewind
to 1859 when the world was different
and we were all able to be kind
that's just a guess my minds a mess
full of pests and stresses and guesses
with unimportant messages.
Relentless that's me,
An A is okay but no less than a B.
If I get a C im not trying and a D
man I got to stop being such a G.
This is all Bolognee I want to go *****
im getting lonely
but I am surrounded
my mind is quiet but outside it's violent I am astounded
I guess im well rounded
like the blue berry girl in ***** wonka
they call me wacka flocka of the new york times
I shine through my grind
just kidding im lying,
im lazy as can be because that's how school made me.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
A devil of a song
That swirling Russian rubakha
Under Norwegian Angels in chains
Tick tocking Croatian beat
Mocking that emotional Maltese break up
Romania finally not forgotten
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC