"moly" poems
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
strangely, I think that this
ought be, must be, responsibly,
be the best poem I’ve ever writ,
(though unlikely, as the best will always be the next)
that mine own eyes commissioned,
better be,
just got to be,
this holy-moly notion jeepers weepers,
conceptual rocks me deepest,
an awesome responsibility
to find away of saying
that this beyond conceptual,
coring, especially special sample
If there was to be a but one,
a singularity, a distinguishing feature
of what the human definition
innate contains,
how choice that we animals,
elevate ourselves to being human beings,
the only ones capable of wonderfully weeping
the implications are an astounding!
what a glorious burden,
what a wonderful decision,
the designer slipped in this microscopic checkmark,
somewhere in our cellular DNA perma-dynasty,
runs a common thread, these saltwater fears,
a residual global amniotic fluid hint,
from where we humans out-of-crawled
that empathy,
the signal of an elongated journey of eons,
the marker that says
show the caring,
a trait-ed statement,
us, unique
so often do I weep,
sometimes visible - in my poems listed, oft indicated -
so you could know its sharing was an absolution
that I granted myself,
that that particular poem was a costly one,
womb bloomed, tongue taken, eye written
sometimes invisible - even more, do they,
(nobody knows, nobody sees)
just well up, eye cornered kept, secreted,
only skin-staining the underneath-my-eyes
one more shade darker,
a reminder to all, to mirrored me,
that to forgive myself doesn’t
forgive forgetting
is this then my best?
sufficient to breech your
reserves of pseudo-cool,
that correct boundary pretense that keeps us as
mismatched separates?
you be the judge, you be the jury,
you be the prosecutor and the defender,
for it is all of us
standing in the dock,
on trial,
for in our lifetime
guilty of the inhuman crime,
of not crying enough
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
Embodied in a perpetual persona of shitheaded seventeen
(Before you snuck out on a cold silver sheet)
You could measure your lifespan (or is it your wingspan, now? did you know it's the same as your height?) in late-night shenanigans topped with bacon-guaca-holy-moly burgers, tumbling in neon spandex and the raising of general hell, which you probably can't reach right now,
(And how many flaming bags of feces on why-not doorsteps, for me?)
Speaking of me,
Do you remember when I kissed your head beside a broken down photo machine? Do you remember when we ran away from your first girlfriend (her first kiss) and laughed because you had a current girlfriend? Do you remember when we tried out clouds in department store floor levels, like you were planning on getting one all along? Like you were my (first) and now my (late) husband? Three years doesn't seem very long ago, when placed in proportion with - what was that word again - eternity?
You were but a fleeting presence not only in my life, (in her life, his life, their lives now broken from a trio into a typical twosome) but in your very own - one blonde beach-bunny darting from top-hat to top-shelf
(Could you give up World of Warcraft for a World of pearly White?)
(Would you take me to my Senior Prom?)
We will float yellow rubber ducks down the water at your wake (one by one) and eat food-court teriyaki because no one is allowed to be sad (says you)
(Jesus, baby, what's your dang address?!)
In the end, you ride off into the sunset on your unicycle, like the bad movie that this is
(Screaming, "this thing's killer on the *****
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
(sonnet)
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 8:39 PM UTC
I do like him and that’s a fact. I like who he is and his looks are simply an additional thing that can be appreciated. He is kind and I like that. I like the way he walks, and talks, and does everything. His eyes. Holy moly. His eyes. I hate to be cliche and all, but sometimes that’s what the world needs to hear about, those utterly cliche moments. To be completely honest I’ve liked him since the moment I met him; the very moment I saw him. There was something about him that entranced me. I don’t know what that thing was, but it has haunted me. Now we are friends, but something deep down in me has always been drawn to him. I enjoy seeing him…when I do. I wish I could see him more. Truthfully though I denied my gut feeling about him because I thought it was too soon for me to start liking someone. I buried what I felt and I settled for simple friendship, but every time I speak to him or honestly got the chance to look into his beautifully blue eyes (oh that sounds so ooey gooey and girly, but I can’t help it!) I am reminded of that first feeling I got when I met him. I don’t know of a word that describes exactly what I felt, but hopefully someday I’ll come across it or make one. For now I’ll have to compensate by using way too many short and unspecific words that fail terribly. I like him. I even remember the moment when it was cemented into my being (the fact that I liked him). We were talking about words and I told him my new favorite word that I had just figured out existed, psithurism. He shard his with me, sonder. He pulled a youtube video up explaining, in black and white, what sonder is. It’s beautiful. The fact that that it is his favorite word is beautiful. There was something special in that moment and it hit me. I just can’t. I can’t believe I was waiting my whole entire life for that moment. And now it is today and I haven’t done anything about it. About him and me. And I hate that. I hate that I’m not doing anything about it. I want to hear him talk all hours of the day and give him a hug just because I can. I want to curl up next to him on a couch and listen to him tell me how his day was. I want my hand to be the hand he wants to hold when his own has no where to rest. I want the chance to look into those blue eyes every day of my life. I want to know all of his favorite things.
Sermonia (n), that’s the word, at least that’s what the feeling would sound like if I made it a one. Maybe someday I’ll admit to him that it is in fact my most favorite word. Psithurism, is great and all, but it fails in comparison to that feeling you get when you know you’ve met someone special.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
There once was a shadow who thought he was a man,
He made his empty bed in a shame of familiars,
For years if not an eternity he never did one single thing,
He contemplated creativity in all its smoke and mirrors,
His only credo was padding his unknowing, limp ego,
Got a gig, speaking before a throng of other shadows,
He rewrote the crook about his own insignificances, suddenly
Nothing's became every things, all was sorely well in the bleak
Under toes. Shadowman had found his stage, had rearranged
Chaos and insignificance to the point of no enlightenments,
No regrets. What a sage!
Shadowman aped, traced, spewed in studied literature,
Experienced, faith, trust, fidelity, danced numbers,
In a cellophane pack with all the added extras included,
Found that reflecting words only got in his narcissistic way,
Left the California sun for the New York lowlands
Of the east, that only shine after the hurricane's
Deluge. Shadowman has reams of flesh plastered
On a mall of wallowing sites only Shadowmen frequent,
Modern is the moly man who makes his own myth.
Shadowman has traveled to the great southern climes
Where hotels of shade tell tales of locals and enlightenment is in a drug
Called something South American or other? A drug so smug it is a plug
For his dun holy soul. Shadowman is only a silhouette of himself.
He freely gives seminars to the lame, chained to themselves freely,
Where all the vain echoes are chambered, embodied, entombed.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,
Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.
Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?
Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
.
There once was a shadow who thought he was a man,
He made his empty bed in a shame of familiars,
For years if not an eternity he never did one single thing,
He contemplated creativity in all its smoke and mirrors,
His only credo was padding his unknowing, limp ego,
Got a gig, speaking before a throng of other shadows,
He rewrote the crook about his own insignificances, suddenly
Nothing's became every things, all was sorely well in the bleak
Under toes. Shadowman had found his stage, had rearranged
Chaos and insignificance to the point of no enlightenments,
No regrets. What a sage!
Shadowman aped, traced, spewed in studied literature,
Experienced, faith, trust, fidelity, danced numbers,
In a cellophane pack with all the added extras included,
Found that reflecting words only got in his narcissistic way,
Left the California sun for the New York lowlands
Of the east, that only shine after the hurricane's
Deluge. Shadowman has reams of flesh plastered
On a mall of wallowing sites only Shadowmen frequent,
Modern is the moly man who makes his own myth.
Shadowman has traveled to the great southern climes
Where hotels of shade tell tales of locals and enlightenment is in a drug
Called something South American or other? A drug so smug it is a plug
For his dun holy soul. Shadowman is only a silhouette of himself.
He freely gives seminars to the lame, chained to themselves freely,
Where all the vain echoes are chambered, embodied, entombed.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
.
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
If I were to say
about my day
There need only three words
And three words only
Such an outburst of profanity,
but they keep me away from insanity
So if you ask me "How was your day?",
there'd only be three words for me to say;
Holy
Moly
Guacamole :D
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 6:14 AM UTC
Apple tree soft sun rise
Clean air fresh breath a test
Of love too fragile to
Touch. A careening love affair
That, in the end, will
Only seem
Unfair.
Beat drum count sums
Of money made before the flood.
Exit signs waitress binge
Translucent memories of
Forgetful melodies.
Strangers here, strangers there.
Glory moly upstairs we wait
The rain is setting while the moon is rising.
Radio plays soft against these
Moldy window panes. Car honk
Don't stop, perfect this abstract harmony.
Where did we go last night
My faithful hummingbird?
The city streets were alive with fire.
Metro stop bus aloft passing crops
Coins rattle in my pocket like children tattle.
Coffee shop cradle top forgotten luck.
Piercing moons old tunes old friends
Forget where they come from
Where they've been.
Shepard on the hillside, clothed in
Rags, carry high your flag.
The sea is churning for your fury.
Ring the sun the bell reflects the table stands still
River running through all of it
Fishes swimming upstream collecting
No bulletin alive could catch the man
In the worn duster, the undone impostor.
French dialects swirl in my ceramic cup.
Abraham sells me a nickel for a dime.
Flowers line the windowsills of Madame Bovary.
Touching my nose, I she where she goes.
To the toll booth, to the restaurant, to where she was forsook.
Concrete colors of vile and depraved.
His hand brushes through the feathers of a blue jay.
Mistake him not for a savior, a saint, a sacrifice.
Our sins are our own,
Until He takes them away.
Uprooted unattended
No wound this deep
Can be mended.
Most of the moneys gone away,
To where
I cannot say.
Siblings dead of life's misfortune.
No reason to mourn
Somethings thats never happened.
The ships pulling out of port,
But where is our faithful captain?
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
"Stop the car,"
I tell her
"I'll ******* walk home."
My hands find the dashboard to sturdy myself as she slams
on the brakes and starts screaming, but I'm gone already.
Tires shriek, gasoline burns, and exhaust fills my being as
she leaves, and I start off in the opposite direction.
Halfway through my trek I feel stones digging into my feet,
right at the spot where my souls meet body and I think:
I've got holes in my souls, hmm.
Then it gets stuck inside my mind like a chicken bone and
with each step I take I start chanting it, like a walking mantra.
*Holes in my souls, holes in my souls, holes in my souls,
hole sin my souls, holesin mysouls, holesinmysouls,
holes-souls, holy-in-my-souly, holy-moly soulies...*
...holes in my soul...
...my whole soul...
...holy souls...
...hmm...Ouch.
My concentration is then broken by a rock in my shoe and I think:
Wait...
*Where the **** am I going?*
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
All Dressed (.)
like a living doll
The poll percentages
Making a living
Do me proud
Mom of ruffles
And her
wrinkles
don't match
her smile dress
The spouse moved
out of his house
When will this be
the decent home?
All together now
bombarded the movie
Humphrey Bogart
The Bounty
Let's Be Casa Blanca
A kiss is not a
percentage
Like the add-ons
it's decent
Less drama timeshare
Hacienda ruffle
bottoms
sundress
Love to compare
County fair wonder___-
At home, windows
Tightly forgiven shut
raining mad
hallelujah
Don't think you
will Ruffle some
R-ob-in Birds
Be decent parent trap
Ruffles so flattering
she knows the best
She is wearing
the fringe peace
hippy vest
All Holy Moly
merchant
What will the
future present?
All fringe benefits
All feathered with
Tight latex things that
don't look decent
to fit
He bought her the most amazing Ruffle designer
long love skirt___________with a kiss to the stars*
Adding and calculating
up all the money
You felt all ruffled
by his words
Like a herd of
50 shades
Ratios keep
refreshing
her mouth
Clean mint mento
Looking higher than
her hem-line
The Cosmos pure number
Pure vanilla
extract
All critical
commercials
Business
transaction
I cant get no
satisfaction but I try
((Robin Fly))**
The Rolling Stones
band goes platinum
Why am I aging
Ruffle all the details
Fitting model dress
The news pages
Beneficial let's
be decent
With money_____$$$ potential
No big fat zero
The ground Zero
My Twin Towers**
Was built
with love
The most
decent
grounds
for families
and heroes
Wormhole or
the black hole
He's definitely inside
the Man-hole
Love and
marriage,
not ready for the
baby carriage
The decent guy in the
tool shed garage
the most grudges
like misery loves
Ruffles details of ridges
And please when
you love
somebody
Be decent well
mannered
Adding up all the
ruffles on her gown
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
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predicate broidered domine dismissal, does not prevent smatter, and boozed brought fools alongside. Murderers cremating vulgate rob black willow mosque. Dappled spent commands a beautiful that is no place. Squirming myrmidons march honey trail to the western sea. Disregard lack, loss, and overrule morose placental hayride. Mint golden sluggish essays. Snaring nearness generously urinate, anticipate licks of *****
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
I’m comin in like a tornado,
Eruptin like a volcano!
Yey kno!
Twistin ya mind like play-dough!
Hey though,
I’m knockin ya out tha park like Jose Conseco!
I see you walkin round here like you’re flossin’,
Actin like u straight bossin’!
In my mind you just lost then!
You’re mind’s just a straight Holocaust when,
You believe your own lies & you’re lost again!
Gangsta life is all pretend!
Really it’s all just one big illusion,
Stemin from greed,hate,delusion!
Drugs enhancing the contusions!
Love n’ Hate become a fusion,
Confusion!
In all reality u steady losin’…
Inside my hearts beatin’ like an earthquake,
Exposin what’s real n’ what’s really fake…
Gangsta rap spreads lies that’s what they really make!
Oh for Christ’s sake,
Dunno how much more I can take!
Roly-Poly,Holy Moly!
Don’t nobody really know me,
Thought True Love overflows me,
Gangsta rap can blow me!
If there’s any truth ta rap than show me!
Gangstaz claim REAL recognizes REAL,
And can’t even recognize how they feel…
So what’s the deal?
Coverin emotions like they weapon conceal!
While I reveal!
Heal!
And give the True Love I never thought was REAL!
Heart of a warrior very persistant,
Though u may be resistant…
True Love is our very existence!!!
Even hearing this u may be very distant…
Wipe away your fear and it’ll come an instant!
Hulk Smash!
/// Omni-Slash ///
True Love comes down with a crash!
I’m like a phoenix rising from the ash!
**** the fame, women, and the cash!
Whiplash!
Un-conditional Love is where it’s at!!!
- Ken Manuel aka <3 <3 <3 3ye Kvndy <3 <3 <3
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
and holy moly,
i don't like swearing,
but you've got me saying
fucckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
cause i like you.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC