"monotone" poems
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from overthinking and blocks out my stress
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i’m never alone
And it's always there to support me
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
I hesitate to show him the truth.
The words I write may never reach his eyes
I am afraid of the torture after rejection.
These feelings cannot be denied,
my poems will never cease to exist
even if i erased these heavy thoughts I typed
burned them alive
the memories of us will float around endlessly
somewhere, out of my reach.
If he sees himself in mirrors
in a monotone and meaningless way
he will not anymore
because reflections of him
lie not only visually in images,
such as projections on clear glass
but in others who admire him too.
We become who we love eventually
Admiration for someone else
makes us melt
covering past pages of who were before.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Sad because you feel too much
Or mad because you can't feel a thing.
Greener grass beckons,
And you wave to it longingly.
Love the rise,
Hate the fall.
Melodramatic monotone of monotony.
Perishable Plateau.
Whisk me away into infinity.
Dead on arrival.
Dead to the world.
Dead as a doornail.
Stuff me back inside my body
Like clothes in a suitcase.
I fit. I promise.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
I.
Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ****** ****** ******
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.5k
it was on a hill of a clever neighborhood
the errant flow well guised beneath the clay
upon reach of the summit
she is all that can be held
her pull far too magnetic
her skin, akin to milk poured by Luna
her hair is the black of midnight
on the eve of the new moon
she sits facing inquiry with her injured one facing her
on a rounded copper colored chair
placed curbside
Sophia speaks then
a monotone misgiving
that pours out
as a sly pompous
indifference
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
The
thought, of your
Monotone
Tone
On
The
Phone
Makes
Me
Moan
When
I'm
Alone.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
6.4k
"Remember in summer when we used to listen to the smiths and make out in that little hidden park?" He said with a little smirk.
"Tragically, yes." She didn't even look at him. She didn't laugh with him. She didn't smirk back. She looked ahead, stared at the open road, like it was a possible escape plan.
"I miss you." He didn't think. Its funny, the things you regret immediately, the things you regret as they're happening.
"No, you don't." The same monotone voice.
"Why cant we get over this?" Hes not angry, or pleading, or sad. Hes just asking. He doesn't expect an answer.
"Because I hate you." She said. This time she looked away from the road, she looked at him, dead in the eye. Her eyes were welled with tears, they did not steam down her face or smear her make up, they were just there. Like they weren't for anyone but her. And he didn't want to take that away from her.
"You're my best friend."
"I don't care. I hate you, with every fiber of my being, I hate you. I hate you like the sun hates the moon, I hate you." She said it matter of factly, trying to be hurtful. She didn't want him to think she was weak. That she would just give up on this.
"I cant loose you." His voice broke half way though, snapped under the pressure, hiccuped like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush.
She turned to him, lent forward and whispered in his ear.
"Too late." She turned on the ***** of her feet and melted away into the cool winters day, like she used to on those summer ones, where they would listen to the smiths, in that little hidden field, and make out. When they were best friends. When they both knew they could never be just best friends. When they both tasted like the american dream and homemade cooking. When the sun loved the moon.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
Is there a place that one can go
to truly be alone
to escape the hustle of our lives
and traffics monotone
Is there a place where I can sit
notepad and pen in hand
And capture the true nature
of this majestic land.
My needs are very simple
just somewhere to rest my head
with a simple little woodstove
and a comfortable bed
I have no need of music
for nature plays my song
I will fall asleep to crickets
and awake to sparrows throng
I will read alone by candlelight
the poems of the day
And think of friends I left behind
who would love to live this way
But for now all this is just a dream
that one day may come true
And it seems a little closer
no that its been shared with you
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 7:31 AM UTC
These are the hard times,
the long stretch of coal-shed days,
the corrugated nights of the antinomian.
I retch at the old doubts and the panoply
of dustbins clattering bright,
their watchers simian in the morning ****
I dress as though dredging up greys,
monotone deep in the GB tradition:
now sandpit tea with oil stain floats
silt dreads the mass of a seven year clay.
Four weeks of shadows drown wind in a storm.
And dreams of my cottage
in days of such calm and late summer happiness
as brought cut corn and strawbs
and horse manure in hugs
until like Zulu tribesmen the birds appeared.
Hunched with expectation
Spears smiling like baddies they rushed me.
I woke pouring sweat like a workhorse
the weakest of defences laid up
my face pulling cellophane over French windows.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
We were born into a world of shallow minds and deep disturbances of young millennials mimicking mindless mimes because we were told to stay in line but be yourself but follow me but think "originality."
A generation full of copycatting individuals with monotone mindsets mulling over social ladders and trends dictated by invisible monarchs of industry inviting and spoon feeding insecurities masked as improvements.
A generation spending more time pretending not to care than on passions stifled by our peer pressuring playmates who are all prescribed Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin for their incurable imaginations deemed "learning disabilities."
A generation of temporary friendships because no one can connect with each other but we can connect to the internet and chat with strangers and share thoughts, photos, and secrets to a virtual audience that loses interest in an entanglement of wires forming a noose around our sincerity.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
Purple Cow
I've never seen a purple cow
though I have been inside a purple haze
things are different between then and now
when I stumbled around for many dayz
standing in corners watching the crowd
yellow barrels of sunshine enlightened view
Mr Hendrix's Watchtower 90 decibels loud
smiling faces thinking that we really knew
it seemed so simple peace and love
not very real but I so miss those times
burn the bra olive branch and dove
now I just sit and think up rhymes
Dylan's monotone with catchy words
Gracie had her rabbit of white
he was a friend of mine sang out the Byrds
another hit of fresh air tonite
Vietnam changed things so much
yet still again the money rules
you would have thought we had the touch
but once again we are the fools
so maybe it is time once again
to raise up our voices and show them how
we will not just stand around and grin
maybe it's time to see that purple cow
Gomer LePoet ....
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 11:48 AM UTC
Neat orderly lines of chairs,
Rattling biro pens in sweaty palms,
An echoing hall of icy airs.
Exhaling teens failing to stay calm,
A balding figure pouting sternly,
Glares over nervous beings.
Announcing the rules that concern me,
Gulping down that sinking feeling.
A monotone drill bellows out,
I open my paper to 1A.
Oh Christ, what is this all about.
Questions so vague, I don’t know what to say.
This theme remains to continue,
Frying my brain, gnawing at my wit.
A piercing doubt seeps through,
for the rest of the exam I sit.
Seconds to minutes, minutes to hours,
Developing the skill needed to cope.
But my heart persists to cower
Falling lower, as if on a slope.
A bell calls out to signal the end,
I place down my pen somehow.
“How’d it go” asks my friend,
“Alright, double maths now!”.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
as clear as ice, in night or day
reflecting faintly, a soulful reverie
reminding its presence subtly
dewdrops dripping rhythmically
standing in the way, an invisible wall
trying to reach the distant horizon
of which, birds appear and disappear
like speckles of black in orange canvas
eyes—blank and expressionless
mournfully staring in quietude
of the distant mountains and hills
and clouds floating idly
in monotone silence,
a hand reaches out only to be impeded by a cold caress
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
A monotone voice says no school today
Followed by a hazy sleepy stumble,
Back to sleep right away
Warm sheets embrace me and
Lull back the dreams,
I get comfortable
Allowing for blankets to surround my form
Hold me close,
As no one else can...
No longer the frigged winter but on a beach far far away
The day comes to its end and the sky begins to blush
As the sun kisses her cheek, goodnight
Sand in my toes a lofty breeze in my hair
What more perfect a moment than being free in the summer air?
My subconscious ponders
My heart begins to sting
I am alone.
And so I emerge from my slumber,
For the boy of my dreams cannot be found when I'm asleep.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
The spider Queen, aloofly vain!
She rules a silent ruthless reign,
with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain
that damp the depths of her demesne.
.
.
.
A spider spins, with nimble feet,
a sticky web of grim deceit
that drapes the corners, dark, discreet,
in catacombs of her retreat.
Her jointed legs (in number, eight)
traverse the threads with stilted gait,
but often more she'll lie in wait
within the hub of her estate.
Shy spiders live their lives alone
ensconced within a silky throne;
unless a transient guest comes flown,
their lives bide empty, monotone.
.
.
Well, now and then, a sullen breeze
may twitch the toils, begin to tease –
yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas,
so patience's bid at times like these.
But then again, when stars ignite,
may maunder by a gnat, by night,
be taught a dance, a writhing rite,
within a lace of death, wrapped tight.
Sometimes a spider's in the mood
and waits awhile, whilst being wooed –
and then, to later feed her brood,
the widow slays her mate for food.
In time a spider dies, 'tis true,
bequeathing but a residue
entwined, devoid of retinue,
in fibers decked in silver dew.
.
.
.
One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT –
to feed and make the spider fat?
Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that
within a mindless habitat.
.
.
"Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire,
“at the heart of MAN's desire.
To which goals should WE aspire
reaching high and reaching higher?"
We've, through the ages, left the mire,
trundling wheels and taming fire,
doing deeds that must inspire,
nursing needy, calming crier, …
Such things as these, most may admire:
- placid dove and war defier
(some are bolder, some are shyer)
- patience (mess-up mollifier);
- humankind (Life's justifier)
- charity (charmed self-denier)
- tolerance (proud pacifier )
- love of Life (folk unifier).
What more could we, as flesh, require?
Needless kneeling neath the spire?
Childish chanting in the choir?
Preaching hell's impending pyre?
No, Death's the only rectifier,
comes the instant we expire,
nothing after, sentience prior.
So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
you wedge your pointer finger between your canines-
in an attempt to appear sublime- or nervous- or seductive
either way it doesn't succeed.
your tooth, teeth
speck of blood, bleed
emerging as you pierce your calloused
yellow patch of skin
(layers & layers of the girls you've touched before)
but you crave one more-
for in every sleepless night
there's a quote to be fill- a new slit to drill-
you're a man.
i can sense it-
throbbing and shaking beneath your olive exterior
how you long to drag
your now bloodied, prior prettied
finger up an off white thigh-
to disregard the things obliged-
to forge the paradigm
from faulty tools,
splintered and battered in a worn down knapsack
duct taped to a hunching back,
you're a man.
thoughts of droning monotone
quiet your hungry bones
(i can hear them)
rattling as you ****
your head and lift that heavy glance up to me.
i can see you,
flopping and thrusting and sweating, which
after years of curiosity has handed me
nothing,
but sweaty sheets and burning ***
i lay beneath you, silent
i'm a woman.
avert your eyes ( i am tempted to plead)
from the onset of premature varicose veins
(i am pale, glasslike, arched & stained)
allow me to suffocate the already immune-
girls born into the world with big black brandings
stamped onto their lightly acne ridden foreheads.
(SMALL, MEDIUM, LARGE)
trim your ribs, shave off the cellulite-
turning a blind eye to accessible insight..
a salad for lunch, make it dinner too.
finger down your throat, orange acid hurling,
stick like dancers twirling,
they bring tears to your eyes,
if only {you} possessed the grace-
but there are pounds to erase.
i'm a woman.
thirteen years of advertisements stapled to your eyes
standing barefoot in a bath tub with chunks of blood
running down shaking legs
kicking off a now crimson pair of old underwear-
stuck & tangled on trembling feet
[ silence your voice and push up your *******
til they're touching your neck.
get a nose job
get a blow job
you're a woman ]
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
pastel monotone thoughts paint
an image of me in her mind
complete with shrinkwrap
and a bright smiley face sticker
her eager hand sweats the dealt moment
she awaits with impatience for
her daily christmas time package
her daily reprise of her happy moment
she remembers it with fondness
her pastel colours spread slowly
like an intellectual STD
a malfunction of the common man
she is a true modern miscreant
she wants a pretty girl lover
that comes complete with emo look a like
laptop gamer girl
attached the hip down to matchin **** selfies
a hundred smooth moves and cheat codes
she wants the complete package at the discount rate
shes a card carrying member of
some fan girl fandango
she calls me captain saveahoe
street nasty superhero with kung-fu grip
trailing through the dank alleys
in search of the legendary ultimate dumpster
the prize of every divers wet dreams
wandering all night with a few vampire hangers on
looking for a fashionable means to a glorious end
meanwhile the corner girl is waiting on me
thinking i'm just trying to find her a safe place to be
she is my safe place and i'm hers
the few of us that survive the moment
stroll on through the rain
to the dairy queen
to see and be seen
dont cha' hate that whole show up
to show off
she lives to die for it
but thats ok
cause i love her just the same
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
I once found my heart in Catawaba
Where the blue cornflowers flourish between
Arabesque petals floating from the snowy dogwood trees
Encasing the air with the thick fragrance of innocence
You took from me beneath the dying maple tree.
The monotone cubicle in which you thrived
Wouldn't suffice for the rose petals lingering
Between your flushed lips drenched pale in the moonlight
Breathing "You are beautiful"
Smoking cigarettes with your mind.
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
I
How should I seek to make a song for thee
When all my music is to moan thy name?
That long sad monotone - the same - the same -
Matching the mute insatiable sea
That throbs with life's bewitching agony,
Too long to measure and too fierce to tame!
An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame
Is this great ache that grips the heart of me.
Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws
Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws
Till I am dead. Then let me die! Who knows
But that this corpse committed to the earth
May be the occasion of some happier birth?
Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose?
II
Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth
In the white breast that trembled like a flower
At thy name whispered. thou hast marked how hour
By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth,
Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe
This passion ineluctable, this power
Slave to its single end, to storm the tower
That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth.
O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold
How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold!
Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep
Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep -
And the unutterable word by spoken.
3.9k
Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz
Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!
Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city
Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my *******
Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin
Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token
My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
This monochrome life is nothing without your light.
The colors pour from your finger tips as you frolic about.
The carelessness of your touch creates new brilliance.
To tame you would be detrimental, but to free you would be exquisite.
They try to hide you away and hinder the beauty
you could create with their monochrome ideals.
Monotone voices and monochrome people,
surrounding and clustered
to catch a glimpse of such a sight is like
watching the soft sun light trickle through the tree tops.
The beauty you are able to expel is like no other you love in spite of everything else.
You shed your light on the cruelest of nights.
Paint the colors of life into everything you see,
and strip away the melancholy of everyday routines.
So happy so lovely so free.
It's time to color our lives withe the beauty of of our imagination...
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
I do not love the touch of your skin.
It no longer feels like silk.
I don't want to lie to you.
I don't want to hurt you.
But I don't think I can longer love you.
Your voice is monotone.
I can no longer hear the summer warmth in it.
When I'm with you I feel lonely.
I don't want to hold your hand.
I don't want you to see me this way,
so why am I still with you?
I no longer look at you the way you still look at me.
I don't want to break your heart,
but I don't think I can longer love you.
You were once the light in my eyes,
but I always feel a sliver of ice keeping me cold.
You see I found this other
who makes me feel warm
even when I'm frozen to my very core.
You were kind and you are beautiful,
but you deserve someone who will call you lover
and every time greet you with a kiss.
A kiss that'll make your head spin,
but trust me, darling I am not that kiss.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
daily grind
sleep of mine
five hours small
so short so tall.
monotone, polite,
bubbly, smite.
"you always give him crap"
redhead hiatus.
Charlotte?
"What the hell?"
******** try to steal your show.
Jesus Christ;
these are the days I cherish
Feb 2, 2011
Feb 2, 2011 at 12:36 PM UTC
Just in case you didn’t know
My mind is low,
You’re reading these scribbles now
This boring man, talks and talks
About government
It’s really not a godsend
This boring man gives his back
And too much slack
This country is on ******* crack
I’m done takinf pointless notes
That I won’t look at
This boring man is very fat
I want to leave and **** ****
A lovely deed,
This boring man; monotone
Boring man is trying to be cool
He’s a ******* fool
He needs to be in a box, he’s a tool
This boring man, always boring
To my left I hear snoring
Boring man, walk out the door!
Time as of now is molasses
Minutes are hours
**** government and their powers
Democrat, republican, libertarian
You’re all wrong
Hey, pass me that ****
Boring man cannot teach
I just wish,
I was at the sunny beach
Hell, I’d be anywhere
Not here but there
I don’t care, this guy has no flare
25 minutes, oh my lord,
I’m so bored
Not as much as the boring man
This is getting out of hand
Against government
Let’s all get up and stand!
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC