"nettled" poems
there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
& ready.
there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
seedling.
sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
yolk.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is ours.
is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
good dreams.
meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we begin.
we end.
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.
thus
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
we daydream.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
Enticing us in, sugar coated doors
for sticky fingers,
Doors of mystery, keep out, staff only
nettled in barbed wire.
Half open doors full of promise,
chocolate soft centred
Exciting doors, silk covered
in lace suspenders
Inspiring doors, Leonardo bold italic,
uppercase only
Lonely doors all shuttered in silence,
cobweb covered
Sad doors, tear stained
and umbrella wet
Happy doors,
candy striped in laughter
Forbidden doors, Pandora boxed,
best kept locked
Revolving doors covered
with the same sticky mistakes
Trap doors crocodile sprung
to catch you out
Doors that slide on tram like runners,
buffered into walls with imprint of face
Secret doors of camouflaged chameleon
Troubled doors
thunder clapped in turmoil
Doors enticing us.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
I
I am in Cardiff,
Where waves pummel the jetty
I am in Cardiff,
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
I am nowhere
II
Where the sun severs the street and
Slowly, methodically,
They come, they come.
Electrifyingly stupefied in the dawn,
Tenantry not bound to cause and
Helpless as marred lead in the wind,
Stuck to strata and
Battered under **** pale-green
Thinned on spread fingers.
III
There is intent when the addict mutters ---
Alienated in his nettled gutters ---
"Life is cheap and love is free."
Hopelessness's epitome
Sits naked beyond the wall.
IV
And I am in Cardiff,
Where waves pummel the jetty
And I am in Cardiff,
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
And I am nowhere
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
I was flying in the air,
I was walking on the water,
I had overwhelming power,
I couldn't get any better.
All of a sudden I heard uncanny voice,
It looked like it was dragon,
It was burning down the city,
I couldn't leave him slacken.
I asked him to leave in peace,
He said "kid just stop the prattle",
I didn't really meant to hurt him,
But it was time for us to battle.
We used all of our powers,
And exchanged some 100 blows,
I was losing my conciousness,
As I felt my heart beat slows.
Suddenly it got lil weird,
Dragon pushed me to and fro,
He started yelling in a woman's voice,
I felt someone tickling my toe.
The voice got much more louder,
I saw my mom and brother,
With a frown I soon realised,
That it was all my dream none other.
I requested my mom,
I was feeling kinda nettled,
"Wake me up a bit later
I must go back to sleep",
Coz I had left a battle unsettled !
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
Bone tired, petal and stem
still crave the light.
The fug has muted us
putting aches where shines were
but the yearning for the thorn and burr
of every normal day persists
My skin is ready to be kissed
with burn and nettled rash again
to give me pause for actual thought
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 9:31 AM UTC
Motion sway in deep devotion pounding scheme of hearts true drum
Violet sky moves through moment purple
Past great mountains trail
Following desires of uncrossed river
Endangered eagle in fly
Leaving this side guided by earth beam
Light of a love
A warmth within steed
Heavy wing gust to play
Laughing with leaves of amber maroon without grey
Sunbeam whispers forever in sky
Shielded only darkened vortex
Lost in third eye
The glass of clear
Blurred paralyzed nettled disguise
Mingled in fear willow
Fallen to pass
Unto this path followed
By ray
Walked in sun
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
They say that they wish they were as
D
E
E
P
But knowledge is a heavy
Burden that I sometimes
Wish I did not keep…
I dream of peace, of calm
Thoughtless thoughts…..
Of sweet contradictions
That do not hurt me so…
A mere contradiction
Itself hurts more than
Just the weight of
The words…
It hurts the mind with
The blatant lie…
It hurts the heart with
The hard edges…
It hurts the soul with
Its nettled truth…
Contradictions are
Their own truth
And the truth hurts
Because common truth
Is a lie…
So am I deep or am i
Just floating on
The top of
A sea
Of
Lies we claim
As truths?
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:22 AM UTC
I cracked my sister's door once,
saw her paint curled fingers
nettled into the floorboards,
shoulders sunken, cramped wings
beating at the edge of the whiter parts.
She never found room to fly
on that easel. Thinking back,
I should have stripped her walls bare
and shattered the windows.
mzf
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
With the silent fragments dusted off
Spraying your memory with images of the past
Traces of a life lived without you
Shaking and sweating and wriggling
With the hope for forgiveness
These were the ways things were done
These were the routes men and women
Had to take
And I tell myself this is the time they dreamt of
Passing the dream onto the next
Penetrating the forefront of embryos embraced
White lies that eventually turned to truths
A whisper of love in the dark
Faith that time will be fair and just
And discovering
That it knows not how to perform that
And with the money on the table
A grin on your face
The girl that said she'd love you
Gone and without a trace
Recall the Fall we met in the hall
Your hair in your eyes as you cried and cried
I tell the way I want to see things
The branches burning and Ma' over there making stew
I went down the road and saw a toad
He told me a secret and my soul began to crawl
I jumped to the sky as a bird called out
"Each hour wasted is an hour of power!"
After that I mentioned it to a friend of mine
He whined as he pined through nettled bread
And left me with questions alone instead
Now through this I ask the claims of power
And ye' broken hearted string artists
Who climb on high walls bricks and all
Could it be thy' love is old ancient and worn
That the waters are boiling as angels stand toiling
Over whose wings are more majestic and crescent
God through the eyes a work worn child
Ash in their hair and living without a care
Stairs that line up like the hairs on your neck
Spectacles are broken your eyes fixed on the fair
Normal in the way that blankets fall from their sheets
A repetitious trance where ambition is the obsession
That death is the only guarantee in life
We are meant to live in the places we know not of
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 7:21 AM UTC
A generation of pinched
Fruit we
Lay still in a wickerbasket
& the childless theatre
Remains grim and nettled with
Unfamiliar voices
You stray from ample forgiveness
With waxen fugues
The martyr of unrest
Keeps to the typewriter
Imagining dramatics and
Flowery dust accumulates
over
Musings of herself
And the city that has devoured her
Beached priests who
Hear the seagull candor
Kiss windchimes idly,
Staying on a thought of expansive
Clouds with rings delicate around their patient fingers. The brass clamor of the ocean (assisted by Erroll Garner)
Creates beams of carpeted
Fantasy to the Priest. The wind tugs at his robes like an eager lover
Dementia
Of the coming Night
Makes senseless the mortal line
Of sand and branded stone
(the perpetual *** of land/
The curving sea) creates a poet
And kills a priest
Do not ease that Nordic instrument into its casing/velvet Absolutely
Conifer perfume/
quarell of the shaken gulls observed thru
A car window
& lamps cosy our continentless
Home where
Conjurations exhibit themselves
Without expectation or
Pride
(a hairnet trapped in the shower
Your sheltered ribbon hung from a treebranch)
A spherical whisper with crimson properties
Buried in the parking lot
To be experienced in Stoneness by someone else
& the dying
Retreat back to an overwhelming
Burden of self
....Crayons lacking regal touch to eroticize them!
Do wait with optimism within the jar of
A kitchenette
For you and your unmeditated softness to return here to me
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
My love came to you accidentally.
**** you for those bottomless
blue eyes that ****** me in.
**** me for believing that
you could ever be loved by
only one man.
I never saw that you came
to me, Pandora boxed
all nettled in barbed wire.
So **** me for unleashing
those first kisses, of your ruby
red lips, that tasted of wine.
**** this love; the cost of it
you will never know!
You sail on through life, forget me,
I'm just another man overboard
whose love came to you accidentally.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
open the windows
open the doors
let the storm rage within this house
lift its belly to the quiet still of the center
keep it in the tornado eye
while it does the damage
works swiftly on the wreckage
tears away at totality
leaving nothing left to depend upon
set it down on foreign shores
where it is bloodless and placid
before the pact that was made
the deal was drawn
from the combined rage
of a nettled cumulonimbus
and oppressed earth
with marked indignation
is settled
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
sleep this most and Spring to lie
with tired tress and awkward thigh
apart that bit where winter slept
but now where stock and petals kept
a garden small and fragile sleeps
a'tween the hull and meadows deep
tha' bumbles bri' wi' nettled buzz
an' blooms with light an' shocks o' fuzz
a little rill there constant speaks
of need to want for constant peaks
(as like the bee that tends to pistil
the water feels to drink of thistle)
and feel the full when sharply stuck
by root and stem of urgent pluck
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Discordant leaf chatter
argues over the path,
dispersed by a nettled wind
This is the Fall of my life.
Every breath shivered
and twirled on the air,
Fogging a glass piece
Through which I stare.
At lions at play
in the depths of my soul,
fierce and gentle
On ethereal fields.
Moon rays softened
on the curves of your hair.
now stars on their nightly procession
clatter like ignited leaves
Across my path,
where all will join the Fall.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
in shades and hues
they come,
from the horizon,
before the sun rises
they run,
in a frenzied fashion,
after the sun set
they settle,
with no remorse
as if the day wasn't
as nettled,
as the night before.
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC