"markedly" poems
I am the first born millennial grown in the digital garden from transplantation.
The data stream flows along with my bloodlines,
Divided, interspersed, like a lava lamp of my own identification.
A bloodline that once worked the fields, and now works the fields of existence,
A bloodline that made its pilgrimage to new land in order to satiate the body,
has now grown to satiate inquiries within the self.
I reflect upon those occasions where I have been told:
“why do you care about the state of affairs for them, you are not of them, you do not act like them
so
you can’t be one of them”
and I clench my tongue, forgive them father, they know not of what they speak”
“Perdonalos padre, no saben nada de que dicen”
The climate of academia is both inviting and yet marking, I feel connected to both intertwined
bloodlines, and markedly separate in a way neither will ever know
“mijo, él esta ****** no dice nada que él no entiende”
But I understand, my name, my appearance, my lineage, they all mark a separation of that cultural
heritage, a combination, a divider,
that lava lamp burns hot from the up down theatrics of where identity will lie
I am the new millennial
Expect us.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 3:01 AM UTC
"O son, hark ye to the rainbird's call." Said father to son as the golden light spilled out the fireplace, casting their backs into darkness. "O son, hark ye to the rainbird's call, for when the rainbirds are a-comin' the times are a-changin."
Son's wide eyes soaked in the golden fireplace light and the sound of father's voice.
"O the rainbirds, they's a-comin'. They's call ain't like the call of no other bird. Yer a familiar with the warblings and the cawings and the baying's and the singing's of other birds. The rainbird, he don't sound like that. When the rainbird a comes a callin', you best be knowin' his sound. For he don't warble or caw or bay or sing, on no, he don't warble or caw or bay or sing. He's a makin' a different sound all together. O the rainbird, when he comes a callin' you'll a-know its him."
Father puffed long on a clay pipe, his voice accompanied by the sounds of a thousand night critters a-haunting the outside world with their chitin wings and nightmare fur and ebony eyes, shining through the night. O yes, father puffed long on a clay pipe.
"Son, when the rainbird calls. He drowns out the other birds, ya wont be hearin' no warbling or cawin' or bayin' or singing. When the rainbird a-opens his beak, all ye hear is a marked silence from the other birds. O they is still singing, mind you they is still singing, but that ******* the rainbird, he dun drown them out with his silent call. Son. That is how you know the rainbird's callin'."
The golden light kept a-burning, and the fire was a-crackling as the night was a runnin' over the valleys skies. And father kept a-talkin' and his pipe; he kept a-lightin'.
"Son, that is the sound of the rainbird's call. He don't call much round here in the valley, but when he does, you hear the times are a-changin'. And when the rainbird sings, o son! When the rainbird sings! He BELLOWS! And he SINGS! And the valley will shudder with his song. When he sings, the valley will shudder and the darkness will come, for he be callin' on all dem other rainbird's. And they be comin' and the sky will darken like night and they'll a come, like a cloud, they'll a come. And they's flappin' wings will a-shake and a shudder the valley, and they'll a **** lightning and his brethren, his brothers will a-light down and they be filling the valley with their rain and their **** and the times will be a changin. Oh they be a changing."
Son's ears heard the tale of the rainbird that father told him, son believed the tale father told him. He believed, for the night birds did suddenly fall silent all through the velvet darkness outside the shack, and the air was a markedly different thing from what it was before, and the fire sputtered as the rainbird called. It sputtered…it sputtered…it sputtered.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
a soothing constant rush
of rain falling undiminished
without break from before
the new year dawned
comforting yet unease lurks
uncommon for years and then
unexpectedly markedly today
thoughts compelled to wonder
you cannot learn from history
habits persist even in futility
mindless virus greater than
resolutions and national budgets
man plan and vow to change
enslaved to happiness and fear
his hope in his little money
adorned in cheap empty wishes
I shall be still and imbibe the peace
cloaked in the gloom's cool assurance
all the world may flood or be scorched
I'm unmoved for my flight constant
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 6:21 AM UTC
At A Red Light
it was a beautiful sunny summers day
cruising down Beachview Boulevard
the sun beating down straining my sunglasses
listening to some David Nail feeling the breeze
when I came to a red light
there she was in the convertible next to me
long blond hair big sunglasses red ruby lips
she turned my direction and smiled
I think I fell in love at that very moment
you would have to see that smile to understand
I was headed for the Wet Lizard beach bar
but I temporarily forgot my plan
until the horn blasted behind me slapping me
the light had changed but I didn't notice
I drove onward wishing I could find a reason
a reason to pull up next to this beautiful lady
and invite her to join me for some fun and sun
I reached the driveway and reluctantly slowed
and made the turn as I watched her drive on
I entered the tavern greeted by several regulars
ordered a cool gin and tonic and slapped some hands
2 minutes later standing in the beaded doorway
shrouded in the sunlight stood this gorgeous woman
the woman I had just seen and still on my mind
she smiled when she spotted me why I don't know
I was sitting at the bar with my mouth dropped wide
we spent the rest of the day getting to know each other
Brigette was from southern California
we spent the next seven months
really getting to know each other
thoughts of settling down
thoughts of children in our future
I was the only one thinking this though
the last week or two a little tense
Brigette seemed a bit preoccupied
returning from dinner Brigette seemed markedly quiet
she finally asked me to drop her at her apartment
I asked her to tell me what was wrong
ironically David Nail was in the background again
she was sorry but it was over she said
she was going back to California
to be with a former boyfriend
I noticed the traffic light was changing
as I pulled the car to a stop
she opened the door
saying I think I'll walk from here
she turned and gave a weak smile
so this is the way it ends
no longer lovers no longer friends
so this is what goodbye feels like
at a red light
Gomer LePoet...
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
Given: you and me, represented by the variables Y and M. Y is subject to change, and M is a constant. We are equal to the sum of Y and M.
Given: our lips, represented by the variables L sub yours and L sub mine. Electricity is equal to the sum of L sub y and L sub m. Electricity is equal to euphoria. By the transitive property, the sum of our lips is happiness. Kissing you is happiness.
How much I am attached to you is represented by the variable A. A is equal to the quantity of all the times you make me laugh, plus how many songs are on the playlist you made me, multiplied by how many times I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you in public.
My paranoia that you will leave, represented by P, steadily increases at the same rate as my attachment to you. The volume of the box I isolate myself within is equal to l times w times h. If my anxiety fills my body at the rate of 3 m2/second, how long will it take for me to have an emotional breakdown?
Heartache is equal to the difference of Y and M, and it is represented by H. H increases when it is multiplied by how many days we spent together, multiplied by how many of my friends approved of you, multiplied by how many of your sweatshirts are still in my bedroom, multiplied by how many “text me when you get home safely”s we sent, multiplied by how many times you called me beautiful.
In conclusion, nostalgia markedly increases H.
H reduces when it is divided by the elapsed time in days since H occurred. At some point, the total H reaches zero. A new Y may take its predecessor’s place, and, the algorithm may be used again. But maybe that’s too much math. After all, M is a constant. M is the only thing I need to exist. After all the relentless calculation, maybe a Y doesn’t belong in the equation after all.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 11:45 AM UTC
Playing a harp
with no strings
I swear I hear beautiful music
it seems derivative
unconscious tussle-trap
you sit
reclined at 75 degrees
in a chair made from
the most bleached bones
they were promised earnestly
you seem to love me
you do.
I always tell too much,
I am very good at poker, but
I cannot lie about things
when they tend to matter,
the cards are pretty with
rounded corners and
red shapes (not like the actual
Heart I keep muffled under
my shirt, overwrought metaphor
that it is)
I've learned to
hold them flat
against my chest breathe
slowly
not like the ocean
I have swallowed my eagerness
tasted chalky salve
hoped it was medicine
weathered electricstorms
conjoined love and self
(which was the point, once,
and i think will be the takeaway
when this is all over)
lost poetry lost you
become stoic but warm
a man
instead of
wounded still I fear
I always smile a beat
too short
lately,
you always know,
It's not fair,
and we could talk later
I could see you around
but neutered love
still is Love.
Unforgivably so.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
In rows they stand,
Locked in patterns, one after the other.
In the field they are one mass of land,
Stalwart in their stance, as similar to their neighbor as to their mother.
Within the fiery skies above their planted heads,
In lanes unmarred by planned similarity, flies a beast cast of a different die.
Black as night, with wings of smoke; within those fiery skies they fly.
There you will find me.
In lines one by one,
Single file on either side of tamed nature,
Grazing along black river avenues, stand carefully planned hovels beneath the sun.
They are faceless, markedly lacking the unique touch of artistry to mature.
While crowded entities parade upon the market,
Great amphibious royalty croon ancient songs to the land around,
Gifting the night with the grand chaos of their sound.
There you will find me.
Not content to face bitter winds upon modern lanes,
A dweller of the urban landscape seeks out that which most abstain.
Deep in the dark hollows, where the gods of yesterday lie within still,
A fool seeks sanity amongst the ancestral beings who, within these spaces fill.
In the shadows of the great old ones,
Reveling in the divine lost amidst human progress,
There you will find me.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
The day greeted me with a sharp vision,
Piercing me from in between,
The mingled branches by my window,
With aim, so markedly keen.
And it beckoned me to that window,
To behold the drops of dew,
Like diamonds, sparkling everywhere,
No matter what the view.
And at once I wanted a wider scope,
And ventured out the door.
And I saw my familiar surroundings,
In a way I not had before.
My breath must have escaped me,
And yet I was just unaware,
Til my lungs filled again so fully; quickly
And I was renewed right there.
I soaked in all of the elegance,
Until the moment had passed.
Taking mental snapshots, aware
Such beauty would not last.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
It begins on those humble mornings,
Where wispy clouds linger in the sky
the color of white oak.
When the leaves collect in the gutters
and are soggy like corn flakes
and their color is markedly indistinct.
A morning for the birds to make
their shrill calls
And enhance the feeling that
you are at a low, cold altitude.
If the coffee is hot, burnt, and stale,
then it is a coronation of this morning.
On the highways
People listen to news radio with the windows cracked
and a ribbon of cold air and sweat on their faces
and know that soon
They will be home.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
Vast dynamic catalysts
inaugurated biochemical
(biological), geological,
and/or meteorological
processes, that didst
wax and wane
since time immemorial
before this "FAKE"
pencil neck geek NOT vain
poet law re:hot bubbled
outa (Compton)
primordial ah stew,
(ward) uber urbane,
sans global Pangea some
bajillion years presaging Ukraine
chiseled terra firmae didst reign
from hydrosphere,
(setting the stage
for Matthew Scott
Harris to markedly twain (train)
his thoughts), wrought variable dramatic,
epochal geographic upheavals
(recorded palimpsest like)
across global terrain
catastrophic, dramatic, epic forces
rendered prehistoric creatures slain
extinction, though billions of years
survived Prince sip
pull purple rain
skill little till lee (skeletally),
within said dam hint
(sediment) permanently preserving
an impress'n quatrain
jam packed with species, some
of which flew like a
donny soaring plane
signaled onset and demise
of supposed pseudonymous
terrible lizards with bulging eyes
"NON FAKE" special effects,
but actual - no lies
wooly alive paw lick
tickly incorrect, tough,
winning ignoble dangerous prize
huge, out of control, trumpeting,
who eve vent chilly gave rise
to Adam Abel bodied
**** sitter ably reduced
cane raising,
(yet most fearsome) size
a totally tubularly err wrecked
primate nada so wise.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
They come in waves
Each one receding
And a fresh breaker each meeting
To lap against the seaboard
Phases, individually different
Like seasons changing
They bring me reasons
To wish for steadier climates
Markedly too many cloudy days
And frosty iced beaches
Frigid and barren sand dunes
Glossy with the sheen of nothingness
Phases, always redundantly taunting
It cycles with the moon
As the tide rises
Deluge swelling to a riptide
A clumsy waltz, gravity and satellite
Fuller and more violent
With each movement
Threatens to deepen any second
The further it pulls
The farther the tendency creeps in
Shoreline expanding, threshold capsizing
Each pulse a tender beat
I walk barefeet in the shallows
Timid to dare to wade too deep
Past the places I'm comfortable enough
With the feeling water against my exposed skin
And from here I can find stones to skip
Why would I trade leisure for treading
The sunset on the horizon
looks far more beautiful when
You can stand to see it
Phases, they help me remember I'm breathing
Because how can you bear to be alive
If you're not feeling
You're not truly living
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
Dictionary in hand Bobbies
manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
a comma dated,
(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati
creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
Enterprise surprise rated,
as an unbelievable well Spock kin
Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
where elderly residents waited
this other worldly architectural phenomenon
didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
of the world prominant
as a buck toothed over bite
yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
Thence trumpeting amidst
nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
some flying unseen
as period size drones taking flight
other more sophisticated
electronic accouterments
dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
shaped flower buds scaling height
of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during
feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
ribbon cutting ceremony,
and after words right
ting up citations slyly
slipped under windshield wipers
as the madding massed crowdsource,
would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
English figures of speech
uttering unstinting (quote unquote)
premature ejaculations,
eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited
by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle
during the split infinitive Sumer season
(exclamation point) no more to write!
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 2:15 AM UTC
All they have is silence
An appearance of kindness to share
They haven't any charm
They are the undocumented
As nomadic shadows
A differing markedly
From the usual, ordinary, or unaccepted
With a lack of knowledge
Others only see a cold soul
With a sad face
You hum your song
And daydream all day
But there is no way
To ever return from past days
No one has ever given
A shadow, breeze, nor
Whisper anything
There isn't anything to give
You were very wise
To just pass us by
We were only
Dreamily cold souls
With no stories to tell
If they would only smile
They have no charm
You all were so wise
And never the foolish
To just pass us by
Were we ever temporary
Such people full of passion?
They, the park bench people
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eyeopening ex post facto
fractiousgovernmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
Reduction asper daylight hours to worship
will immediately arise after
2018 North American orbital trip,
viz zits summer solstice (human primal
solar deification) riding astride spaceship
Earth, albeit 6:07 Ante Meridiem
Thursday June 21st noticeably slip
ping thru space beginning to harvest
incremental darkness as Gaia rip
pulls across wrinkle in time
daylight will undermine a loss,
and over the next month approximately jip
ping United States kinsfolk, who revere El Sol
quotidian solar rays, by one hour
and eight minutes (i.e. 4080 seconds),
thence trumpeting seriously
moonlighting re:
getting down to brass tacks business - grip
ping a markedly steadfast advancement,
whence August arrives (watch out),
cuz cutthroat prime rate (zero APR) doth clip,
and clock about two minutes per diem,
quite a substantial blip.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
It’s hardly a flicker,
A flash in the dark -
But it’s markedly something
Perhaps a new start
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
seems like ole man winter
aint finished doing business
whereat get dem self up
in fine fetters and cuss
madly jabbing, gesticulating,
and damning e pluribus
conveniently, deliberately,
and selectively forgetting about unum
until...cupboards bare wren,
emergency food stash
mice eaten, and refrigerator empty
and there you stand with a growling tum
hmm...perhaps hastening to the wine cellar
scrambling for a jug of ***
which ample downing might be
a panacea to hibernate,
and deeply slum
burr until dawg days of summer,
when fruit trees bursting,
and being alive feels plum
ripe with nary a worry in the world,
oh...mebbe best to telephone mum
(real name Chrys Anthem),
and share cornucopia
as life for thee goes hum
ming along swimmingly
and haint nuttin tuff heal glum
about, now take another sip
and breathe in from
smorgasbord mother nature didst spread
vibrant flora and fauna
sights and sounds rhythmically,
poetically, and hypnotically drum,
where the prevailing mood
finds one markedly chum
me scales fall from ones's eyes,
a former ***
er, and skool of hard knocks alum,
now just kick back
and become seduced
while listening
to the chick hens roost
scampering, grunting,
and buzzing capers moost
pleasant since renaissance
of spring loosed.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
Messianic Don found tarnished appeal
trumpeted bluster thwarted
with muted (hip hip hooray) Democratic zeal
played (on microscale) like quashed
ill fated braggadocio big deal
bombast, sans General George Armstrong
Custer's last stand,
viz Little Bighorn, achilles heel,
where Native Americans
showed deadly steel
against cocksure doodling
haughtiness didst conceal
Yankee sited in cross hairs,
who got comeuppance,
whence his notorious
reputation did never heal,
thus markedly high light
ting (albeit in deadly fashion) might
whooped, undermined, and
served just desserts,
when forces of the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne,
and Arapaho tribes did unite
defending their turf against
7th Cavalry Regiment of the
United States, mauled as ****** sight,
which justified comeuppance,
and whipped up white
settlers fury like an inferno doth ignite
combustible material showing
no mercy toward "red men"
unleashing brutal, short
and nasty genocidal spite
long a tragic footnote in history
proves tummy at hefty price
that present swaggering presidential chieftain
more'n halfway thru administration thrice
occasions brought third "shut down"
(the first time in more than 40 years)
during his opprobrious term,
now got meted "no dice"
cuz commander in chief usurped, provoked,
and kickstarted retaliatory actions, I.C.E.
suspect, where staunch stonewalling tactics
unexpectedly found paunchy big boy lice
sensed to shame, name and blame Congress
i.e. as he ****** forward power,
and hood did launch
bully tactics doth evince,
how he does not play "nice"
demanding five billion dollars for
pet project wall barring Mexicans
(and other asylum seekers south
of the border) did not entice
unanimous concurrence thus sets device
sieve ness roundly shows
Trump doth need strong cussed hard advice!
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC