"misadventure" poems
back home in the dire hope where the lens is unclean
but the sky is **** where the numb trust is broken
mostly from the rainfall lately
and the meager tools
are as useless
as a wink.
there. there i toil in the afterbirth
of a previous misadventure. censored and reduced to a miracle
that has no reason. There i plod the chaste road to wanton Elsewhere
and arrive most gone
from my seldom
yes.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:12 AM UTC
I settle near the Camellia
as good fortune
surrounds me.
I wonder
how does luck grow
leisurely around me?
I can't recall pushing
a lucky seed into moist dirt
of a weathered slip ***
Many friends and siblings feel
battle fallout as Zeus and Hades
hurl bolts of catastrophe at them.
Life is unfair.
Meek brothers and sisters will you
inherit the earth or misfortune?
Mishap, misadventure and calamity
do you lurk around the next bend
of my fair weather journey?
.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Welcome to Misadventure, you're drawn to it in some berserk way, maybe due to it's atomic habits or technological urges,
sometimes there are cool, but irrational gun-totting robots who speak in foam, their presence detected by iron filings or teeth fillings or both or neither,
I just know there are tire tracks on your wife's new dress, the smell of gasoline coming from the guest bedroom, and a half-eaten Stouffers lasagna rotating on the record turntable,
and here a replicated version of your wife dances to the Italian Song, her ******* like lodestones, upturned and pressed together,
drawing you to them in some berserk way,
and they give such life and merriment to your brain's parcel of needles, that they prance and sway as if the devil were in them.
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 10:33 AM UTC
risque thoughts inhabit my mind
as she steps back and forth across the threshold
nubile twenty something hippy dreadlock girl
such a lovely persona
and moist inked beauty of form
she shouts my poem in the parking garage at four am
the echoes add integrity to it she laughs
my girl takes her in our bed
and shows her some integrity
i would so willfully indulge
but i know that such a creature is
the kind i could come to love with true deep feeling far too easily
and i dare not such misadventure
i am so drawn in by her golden patchouli locks
her fine line inked breast
her laughing gentle eyes
i tell my girl
this interloper of her treasures must depart
in the morning
she is unhappy but agrees
i sleep on the floor
waking to my happy home restored
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
“It happens like this.
"One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else--closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps this person carries within them an angel--one sent to you for some higher purpose; to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them--even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering--the reason for their presence will become clear in due time."
Though here is a word of warning--you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn't to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more.
-------------------------------------------------
It's so dark right now, I can't see any light around me.
That's because the light is coming from you. You can't see it but everyone else can.”
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
“You were you,
and I was I;
we were two
before our time.
I was yours
before I knew,
and you have always
been mine too.”
This poem is not my own, it was written by Lang Leav. You can find it at the beginning of her book: Love & Misadventure. I thought it was just too cute and pretty not to post
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
I'd heard horror stories in the playground, seen embarrassment and tears.
Shared in secrets that were passed around like candy.
Not for me.
All the messing about and the working it out. I didn't want Bad *** by misadventure.
Like you said.
I waited. Not as long as the good girls, but longer than my mates.
You were worth it.
I was a bundle of nerve endings and inexperience but it was perfect, you were brilliant.
Just the thought of you sends shivers down my spine.
My best kept secret.
I wonder about you, at times. About your life, what you do, if you're happy or feeling blue.
Your children - would I know them in the street? I guess now they're all grown up.
Just like me.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
He travels the sphere
As he sail across
the ocean of fear
He has thirst for experience
Just like hunters eye for a deer
He carries his knapsack
Ready to set off for a journey
With 2 years before his comeback
He leaves the land of brasa
Playin' his Red Hot Chili soundtrack
Enamored by her glance
He met this gal
He offers her to dance
Singing their hearts out
As if he was stuck in a trance
Little did he know she's a faker--
Alluring travellers with one deep gaze
Her ability to paralyse the sufferer
And words as sharp as knife
Makes her one hell of a lucifer
From a heartbreaker
He thought he had a chance
He swore to never wander
And to not set foot
In another land ever
again
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
dismay is felt when opening the newspaper
to read Athena's astral charts
on many occasions her predictions are well out
which tend to make the readers doubt
to-day she stated that all Geminis
were in for an adventure
but she failed to also mention
the possibility of a misadventure
Taurus individuals supposedly
are going to win a truck load of cash
they'll be disappointed
should they not collect a stash
she said all Virgos
would be bidding their time
but how would she know
as few of them can march to a rhyme
this pronouncement she had written large
which told of a Capricorn who'd fly to Mars
yet this person hasn't got a rocket
which can propel him to Mars
here was one that reeled me in
she spoke of a Pisces eating a dog
her info was well out of kilter
we all know that all fishes prefer a frog
Athena was glowing in her outlook
for those Cancer folk saying they'd find a bloke
though none of them are in the market
for finding a bloke
she put in a good line for Scorpios
to be careful whilst using the hose
as they might get the nozzle
stuck to their nose
Libras were given an Athena heads up
not to take their dreams too far
why would she say that
when we all know that a Libra dreamer always makes par
she stated that Sagittarius ladies
needed to buy a spring party dress
though they've all got wardrobes
full of lovely floral brightness
what do you think of her
Leo chart for November and December
during these months
will they have a holiday to remember
she made mention of Aquarius souls
by way of Rock and Roll
few of those sixties baby bombers
have the legs to now Rock and Roll
finally her is what she telegraphed
for our Aries cousins in Perth
they'd all be reborn on planet Earth
yet none are seeking a rebirth
Athena's predictive Astrology page
is one we'll all need to thoroughly gauge
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
*Mankind built vain dream
Vast cities at rising seas
Faces upon water*
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
The muck I made
stuck to me boots
water and soil, I grow roots,
enough to stay put in one place,
look me in the eye, and stare me in the face,
dare to go where your dare takes you, a disgrace,
the lies,
the gossip,
takes hyssop,
to cleanse this vessel soiled,
by those who toil,
with evil in their hearts,
sparks that start,
let them believe they are actually alive,
it is sad,
it is me that has to break it to them,
it is they who have died to the truth,
it is the circle they surround themselves
that has drowned them
it is the honest life that has left them behind;
bereft without hope...
they will fall away,
they have gone astray,
from what it is to be human.
Drama drama everywhere, only salty tears to drink.
Don't treat me like the animal, you have become.
It is a misadventure.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
Has unquenchable wanderlust taken you places
You had never intended to see
Down paths of misadventure apart from your nature
Which separated your honor from reality
Has this old world and all its material treasures
Called you away from your home
Seducing you with the idea of instant gratification
Until you left stability and comfort to roam
Do you now find the need to focus on practicality
Your world to better understand
As you no longer wish to chase unrealistic ideals
While building straw houses on sand
Then take this moment of stillness and quiet your soul
Embrace the melody of your song
Turn your eyes inward to seek your balance
Be still and you will find home
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 6:31 PM UTC
After, a long drawn out burning kiss
that opened a never healing wound
she leaves for the secret rendezvous
in a verdant oasis in a distant desert.
He didn't hear about her even after
light years, remembrance of that
kept on haunting him, for reasons
he wanted to find, he burned and burned.
On a full moon night after million years,
searching in the desert, long hours
sweating and tired like a haunted animal
he found a magnificent Spinx,felt connected
fell for that feminine allure, curved hips
hypnotic eyes of a hermaphrodite,swell of *******
that illogically prompted him to caress,
towering high at the end of an oasis,
wasn't it a construct of desire?
he stood, feverishly desiring those pouting lips,
the moment next, missed the one inflicted wound,
in a pit inside forbidden longings erupt
when speaking language of desire, poisoned fruits too
taste dark poetry, nature flows to symmetry
"No man or woman, loved me like that"
a whisper, then a hiss, in passion proclaims
there she was his one time lover, cheat, deserter
of his spirit's mating call, still he isn't free from delusions,
she abandoned him for another, in that too wasn't sure
yet another of her misadventure, does she repent?
"I didn't want to miss you like this" she says
"you mistook that I was in love with her, him or whatever"
entanglements, there were from the word go,
her eyes , he observed were sapphires,
her bleached white bones, were irresistible, totems
he wanted to preserve it in the museum in Cairo
her being grew in to him like an oasis
in a desert, a weary, insane, traveler reaches
just in time for the final peaceful hour before all resolve.
"Are you insane, what makes you do this again" a voice asked,
another million years would pass without any solace,
the sphinx, so magnificent then would be just a sand dune !
They hand in hand, would be walking over it,
that sweet oblivion would remain, birth after birth.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
When the pale Luna, goddess of the night,
Her silver blanket did upon the pond cast,
While gliding along the inky sky,
Near to the milky stretch-mark of stars
(Sign that the Universe is our mother)...
The air was thick with the violin symphony of crickets.
Beneath the knotted hair of a willow tree
A campfire, asked to dance by the breeze,
With sheer joy crackled and sparkled
At the sight of the petal-faced imps.
In a foolish manner, one prodded the other:
"Go you and kiss a frog on the nodding!"
Wanting to impress his comrade,
He sprung up like a grasshopper off the ground,
And like a fox pup disguised himself in the reeds.
There, his torch revealed two sinister gleams,
A low CROAK and RIBBIT RIBBIT came with them.
The boy jumped and caught the wet ball of slime,
It protested in his cherub hands and wriggled in vain.
He moved his puckers closer to the little being,
Nature is the one who likes a good teasing,
He kissed it on head,
Then froze with dread,
The frog was a toad and the taste was displeasing.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
The hardfaced queen of misadventure
Dressed in a robe of insecurity
Seated on a throne of infidels
Ornate with misled hearts of a thousand men.
The resenting mirror of insidious lies
Confessed all the ugly truth
Of all those swollen eyes and wrinkled cheeks
Concealed behind a facade of smiles.
The incongruous pair of unfortunate heels
Tells a thousand stories of her exploit
In worn out stilettoes of faded red
By the futile resistance of those frozen feet.
Playing god on the hellbound streets
Her thighs bewitching weak and drunken hearts
In a fiery throng of mutilation
For a decisive battle that shall claim no victor.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
I always told myself to not do something that ****** one’s conscience.
Don’t tear the leaves or flowers from their roots. Do you not hear their screams of white noise and agony? Do you not see their blood drip onto the forest floor as you cared not for them but for your own selfish pleasures, to have their beauty in your hand?
Don’t listen to the voices that resonate off the walls. Do you not understand how that will satiate the undying hunger in the voids of your mind? Do you not know how it will churn your insides and burn the base of your soul?
Don’t look for the things you have lost. Do you not wonder why they would go missing in the first place? Do you not know that the wolves in the base of your spine have been unleashed?
Don’t stare at the beings in the universe around you. Do you not realize the trouble that would put you in? Do you not know that a single misadventure of the eyes will often lead to shiny blades with long handles in your torso?
Don’t overthink at night. Do you not know that the spirits in your atmosphere will steal your thoughts and add nightmares to them so you’ll have bad dreams? Do you not keep your thoughts in golden cages under massive padlocks and curvy keys?
(lunarlullubies)
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
will you pass the shilling test?
your life is the slamming
of typewriter keys
to paint with crafted words the world you would dream
the world she would love you in
your life is the desperate holding at bay the hours evaporating
into a future you cannot
comprehend
into a land as foreign as another world
into a mist of unknowns
my leather bound case and trench coat
bible and cookware
a shilling for the ferryman
but fret over
like the wringing of sweaty hands
pacing the hall
small bald fat men
with neatly pressed brooks brothers suits
but fret over like the well greased
plans and carefully laid designs
of another mans futures past misgivings
will you pass the shilling test
another day and far away from such
musings i find myself at odds with
myself over the course i should follow
on this days misadventure
i have known deep seasons of love
and iv known vast feilds of emptyness and fear
these days are a mystry to me
i cannot see my way
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
*my house shoes shuffle my gait across linoleum earth
and a thin layer of bisquick and dander. last night's raid
on the larder and this morning's coffee quest, collide
in the long slant shadows of a slow moving star, on the rise
like a yellow souffle with a nuclear heart.
i imagine a vertical carousel, grinding 'round the house
of my muffins and octane. dragging pin lights and globes
over the horizon... marching an infinite parade of other worlds
above my crust of stone and blue oceans, crashing a thousand miles
from my domain... i envision the void on a string of pearls
and deep sea horses galloping 'cross the gap...
i toss sugar into a ceramic misadventure from the state fair
and sip remarkable from the lip
of space. and consume*.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:18 AM UTC
i used to think there would never be enough people like you and I,
we were singing together when i told you that you were the only friend i needed.
but now i only think of you in past tense.
what a shame,
what a misadventure it was to know you.
I've never seen a light more blinding than the one that was forced into my vision when i heard about you,
even in all those years that we spent in the sun.
i like to think that you're not as terrible as you've proved yourself to be,
but i don't know how not to confuse compassion with weakness,
or the distinction between forgiveness and forgetting.
so many of our secrets will forever remain in this small town,
memories of us live on every part of your street.
Christmas came back around all too fast this year and
i keep finding the pieces of myself that i gave away buried in the ornaments we hung together.
i don't have enough time to pretend i'm not hurting,
and i don't have enough heart to feel sorry for you.
more than the clouds want the dying grass to know that they will pour all they have to bring them life,
more than the moon wants to bring full light to our darkest nights,
i want you to know
that i am not sorry.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
You could tell
by Mamie’s face
she was sick
of shish kebabs
in fact it seemed
that the whole Moroccan holiday
was kind of getting
to her sensibilities
from the standing
on the two brick toilets
to the shish kebab
food misadventure
let’s go walk
on the beach
she said
before I throw up
with this crap
and so you walked
with her down through
the path to the beach
the moon and stars
above in a black
patchwork sky
the sound of the sea
rushing in and out
and the voices
of the others
getting less
and less
and she said
looking up at the sky
isn’t scary that sky
why is it scary?
you asked
it’s so vast
like it goes on forever
she said
I think Pascal found
the immensity
of the night sky
disturbing
you said
Pascal?
Is he on the coach?
Is he on the tour?
she asked
no he was a mathematician
and physicist and inventor
and Christian philosopher
in the 17th century
oh right
she said
boring ****
come on let’s get
on the beach
and lay down
and stare
at the sky
and stars
and that bright moon
and then we can snuggle
up close
and we’ll see
what comes
and she pulled you
onto the beach
and the damp sand
eased itself
between your toes
and the smell of the sea
hit you
and the sounds
and the wind
from off the sea’s shoulder
and she pulled you
down on the beach
beside her
and you lay back
and looked up
and the vast sky
seemed to press down
on you both
and she laughed
and said
it kind of makes
you seem small
and insignificant
doesn’t it
she said
you felt her hand
in yours
a soft pulse
of her being
right there
like a small beeping drum
and she turned
and looked at you
and smiled
and her smile was captured
by the moon’s glow
and you said
we need to remember
this moment
this being here
this newness of being
and she laughed
and said
don’t get too deep on me
and she leaned in
close to you
and kissed you
and her tongue
entered you
and the whole sky
seemed to witness
the moment
seemed to want
to embrace the kiss
the bright humanness
in her moonlit face.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:42 AM UTC
you kinda cute
just kinda?
she objects,
oops,
clearly, a misspoken misadventure,
a middling-compliment
only, kinda?
she kinda further harrumphs
and goes back to a game of solitaire
“oh yes, everyone has their own cute,
yours, is kinda yours,
in a kinda cutie way,
don’t ask me to kinda define it,
that!
would be kinda impossible”
she drops the sujet and I
pat nat on the back
for his slick escape,
not realizing that he been played,
when she, informed a poem been writ,
said, oh is the kinda poem done then?
kinda
****
1/17/19 900am
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 10:53 AM UTC
Life is not pre-destined
One path is not that's there
Life is misadventure
The end...you know not where
Sometimes people lead you
Other times you make your way
But, paths they are all changing
Where will you end up today
Roads are twisted and forbidden
Some are dry and some are wet
The road may be straight or be a forked one
If it's forked you best take it!!
Start a path, don't look behind you
Change the scene of your attack
Start your path and take on others
Move ahead and don't look back
Life is full of trips and stumbles
It's not just a rosy road
don't always take the road less travels
But always help to share a load
People come and join your journey
Some may stay and others leave
The one's who stay may be unwanted
The ones who don't you learn to grieve
Listen to the world around you
Listen to those from before
They know the roads that are the safest
These are the folks who know the score
If you travel on with no one
And a forked road you do get
If you see a forked road take it
advice from Yogi...your best bet!!!
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
I sit here and wonder
how does my good luck grow
soft and slowly around me?
I don't recall planting
a luck seed in the moist dirt
of a slip *** weathered with age.
My siblings feel battle fallout
from Zeus and Hades
hurling nearby bolts of catastrophe.
Mishap, misadventure, and calamity
do you lurk around the next bend
as I tread on a fair weather journey?
Life is unfair.
Brother and sister meek, what do you
inherit, the earth or misfortune?
I sit here and wonder
how does my good luck grow
soft and slowly around me?
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
we don’t need
to be fixed.
we need to be
aware. open. owning it.
embracing
our pain, our history
our patterns, our spasms.
confession:
I've been fantasizing…
that one day you'd roll up,
like Richard Pryor at the end of Moving,
sitting atop a semi-truck of your whatnots,
war paint smeared upon your dashing,
wearing a tie bandana and bullet sash,
carrying a semi-automatic weapon,
after stalking your **** cross-country,
to the front of our gutted dream house,
after this misadventure, arriving, finally,
at home imperfect, thankful just to be,
there with delirious, Cheshire cat grin,
like a lion dragging in a carcass,
bloodied, brave and proud,
eager to greet my eyes and say:
*Honey! Look what I found!
I found my ****
I brought my **** home...
This is my ****
and I would greet you,
with water-colored greys
inking down my dimpled peach,
in a black and white gingham apron,
heels, nylons and corseted vintage dress,
mirroring that ********* right back,
tray of warm hash brownies in hand,
that got nothing on my toasty sweet
lips dripping to say:
*Your **** is lovely, darling.
It'll go perfect with mine!
It's up in the attic - properly labeled,
arranged and categorized.*
and with that kind of
ownership, acceptance and bravery,
there is no way our stuff will ever be
more powerful than us, together,
merged and emerging,
by way of wings, soaring,
above our shit-spattered clouds.
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC