"ofthe" poems
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit-
man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees
with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images,
I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of
your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole fam-
ilies shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives
in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you,
Garcнa Lorca, what were you doing down by the
watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old
grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator
and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed
the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my
Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of
cans following you, and followed in my imagination
by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in
our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every
frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors
close in an hour. Which way does your beard point
tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets?
The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses,
we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming ofthe lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent
cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-
teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit
poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black
waters of Lethe?
Berkeley 1955
8.4k
If drinking were a sport.
I think Id take the gold.
Even without your support.
But if it there were such a whiskey laced dream.
I think id have to start my own drinking team.
You know in wine.
We could clean house.
With Baths everytime.
For the wild turkey relay yours truley Gary and Jack
would hold it down.
Make the whole team hello including Elliot frown.
Chris can drink his weight in Guinness.
and so easily win us a god medal for sure.
Who need rehab were in trainning no problem to cure.
All the rest of the HP family will hang there head in
shame.
Cause when it cause when it comes to beer pong
weve never lost a single game.
Thank God for Paula. and Kerry cause sombobodys
gotta stay sober to remember the story.
And we always got Golden to write about are glory.
And amoungst are group Danny is the youngest in
are humble dive.
Even if he doesnt have a license .
Id rather let him than my drunk *** drive.
In the showcase are medals shall gleam.
Do you think your liver could handle.
Being part ofthe pubs drinking team
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 5:50 PM UTC
So i finished moving my feet now i can start losing my mind.
I crossed paths with the unevil devil;
Soothing the mind of the velvet road laying ahead
You are my connection to the universe and all that time,
Time and you never worked.
You seem to make everything else rhyme
So lead me to the velvet road of the mind;
The path runs up to the purple skies above
making nothing out of my half finished gloves
Up and about no one can be lead out ofthe thought
To be crossed with the mind of the velvet road that can never be walked;
Who understands the mind of the velvet road
Leading you to something
Working out to be nothing
We wanted something
To be on the velvet road of the unconscious mind.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
The rush of it allYou know the sensation of being lateThe rush to be on timeThe anxiety theThe frustrationWhy couldn’t it be more like the days of oldThe days I dream ofThe calmness and serenityWhere all is in rhythm with the heartbeat of lifeWhere time passes carelesslyWhen will there be only one goalOne preoccupation2006-
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 10:20 AM UTC
Cursive consiergePeace & Love Reign from above, wehave inspired a revolutionhaven’t we. They are just waitingfor the words and me to saywhen. Well pen it looks like we have done it again.Inspired the masses that theycan fill their glasses. Justdon’t give in become one ofthe masses. The life has alwaysbeen here we just too eassilyfear the truth of righteousness.Our eyes are now opened repentfrom sin fall to your knees.As you sneeze and all his children in fear oflife after death repeat after me and say GOD BLESS.. You
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 9:57 AM UTC
I once met me a woman, she put me in my place
She said I was a chauvinist, an absolute disgrace
I'm one hundred percent male, I readily admit
But just because it's true you shouldn't throw a fit
She reached into her purse, pulled out a can of mace
She put her finger on the trigger and shoved it in my face
My reflexes got the best of her, her aim was high and wide
She scared the hell right out of me to that I will confide
I love the female intellect to that I won't deny
I love the female form in every shape and size
If that makes me a pervert I'll wear the badge with pride
We'll leave it to the jury, it's their case to decide
You see them all around you, there's wackos everywhere
The madness on the street is way beyond compare
The inmates run the asylum, I'm really not amused
Must be the golden age of the utterly confused.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC
.Asleep and unknown,fat brushed ash adheres toblind, bleating teeth;as the hovering world hangs-the mighty boats rise and fallwith the longing tide.Mountains rise with the respectto music, while electrical nightmarescelebrate light stained forgiveness,where hard, heavy tongues bindan entire generation. The tappingsoul forest's eternal beat, heavilywooded with pine and cedar,chips away at the teenager's stonedeyes. Bus stops stand like tombstonesfor those standing alone, runs its' icy fingersup and down the neck of perfect strangers;sending one long chilllike the spines of a sea urchin.Now! Psychotherapy is the new world's one hour sport.So, there's a broken creation of transparent things,plastic things, opaque things; and your precious Xanax tabs. My blackened bus lungs long to sing sailor songs of skyscrapers and simple melodies of old. With your rolled-up sleeves burning, you take note of the poor antstender feet as they carry their own dead off ofthe blistered path, where your neighbors perfectthe art of growing appleswithout trees, which has nothing to do with dying.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 9:33 PM UTC
Time is like a river
Endlessly flowing
a relentless current
draws us ever closer
to the unknown sea
As effortless as diamonds
scoring glass,
the flow of it etches
an age old story,
Through layers of Earth,
Through the bedrock of human existence
The landscape laid before us
The ley lines of fate
Long drawn...
THe ancient song
Calls them into being,
Shifting and changing them beneath its will
New pathways formed
Emerging from an unsuspecting force
We are captured in its fluid surface,
... Where life's thin reflections dance like ghosts.
The hypnotic, tireless pulsing
of its Rhythmic beat
Polishes even the most rugged stones
A crystal garden sparkles in the moonlight
Beneath those deep and troubled waters,
her lucid channels glisten in
the reflection of mother Moon...
The Sun's beloved mirror,
Softly whispering to the waiting tides
She smiles down gently on the rippling waters below
So full,
Wide-eyed and gracious,
She keeps watch over the river of time...
And we, too, are in her favor,
For it is her soft light
Reaching out to us
Illuminating the spark in our hearts
While we trudge the wary, winding road
On this dark night of our soul
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
This country of mine
Cries out for salvation
All directions point inward
And the rain comes ever too often
-
This country of mine
She is an empty well seductress
Preying on the thirst of the wanting
-
This country of mine
Is the silent orchestra
The songs ofthe jail yard
The cries from the underbelly
-
This country of mine
Is the most sorrowful of graves
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 2:43 AM UTC
I’ve
seen love
In movies, viewed parting
lips, glances
through a glass—
To know:
I’ve never felt
the heartbeat of another
sync alongside
mine
But my
mind, it holds
Skin, salt, of sea
waves who may feel the scratch
ofthe sand for-half
A second, to then
be dragged
away,
how many,
I ponder, are alike? It must
be an ocean wide,
those
For whom this
ache is commodified. I fear—I am
A blossom, bearing
fruit, which knows
it will fall
soon;
It is but a
matter of time before
I am crushed
underfoot... .
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
It's as if I was floating along a trickle of water like a leaf
Meandering
Quite happily
Through my life
Happy that I was going where I wanted to go
That I was going where my plans intended for me to go
But then I hit a rock and by some magical combination ofthe wwater's flow and balance
I stayed pushed against that rock
And I stayed there for four hours
For four glorious hours
But then the trickle swept me away
But I should have taken maybe one extra minute
Just to feel your lips pressed onto mine
Just to feel your body pressed against mine
And I know that my plans
And my life
Will not allow for another second of me being pushed against that rock
But I regret that I didn't make my perfect memory better
So that when the incense that bursts alight when I think of you
Would smell
Even better
**** I want to kiss you....
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Lady take his hand.
Only when invited.
He carries a cargo full up with magnificence.
A lifetime of integrity.
That man will guide you.
And you will guide him too
He knows not what you look like.
Nor ever will he see your tears fall.
He can feel you near him.
He can sense your precious seconds,
as they drift by on your breath.
He can identify your failings at the touch of his hand and in the tone of your voice.
Shadows and lights are all that he sees.
Can you see his white stick?
It's warning of his coming venture.
(C) Livvi
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC