"onlooking" poems
A strange weather pattern
Appears up in the sky,
And a strange sludge splatters
Into onlooking eyes.
Menstrual matter falls
From the great godless clouds,
The people struck with awe
As they run, scream alloud.
A trickle turned downpour
Of radiated blood,
Now drowning in a storm
That yields a *** flood.
Dropping violently in pints, gallons, and leagues
We become fossils under a ************ sea.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
Ten tall trees
Surrounding the stony path.
Nine familiar faces
Onlooking the happenings.
Eight rough rocks
Lining the rugged road.
Seven small points of nature's creation,
Frogs and dogs and birds and logs.
Six strong scents
That nature breathes.
Five fingers
Fumbling to find safety.
Four stable wheels
Lying under the board.
Three friendly hands for confident comfort
Deceitful yet calm.
Two arms for balance
A lonely truth of real care.
One blue bruise
From the lies of onlookers and the deceit of a skateboard.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
old hunger makes us sick
forget who we are and
where we're going
how to see thru fog
how to pierce the sky
where's the truth in all this
mustard gas and lies
translucent silken shadows of people
wishy washy wistful thinking like
'o look at big sophisticated words dribbling across page - verbal *****
great philosopher all expression and
thought purge speaking in a vacuum'
petulant little lines for liar's lurid heart
petty little fines growing large from the start
what is this point you speak of and how do we get there
if it is really about the journey and not the destination
then can i get off right now
or
can i be seal eye headlight hi beams
is there trust enough left between us two
to go on down this road together
or part ways at lightning fork in path
no
i go into petrified forest bog
to hide and melt and decompose
bucolic rot under stalwart stoic onlooking trees
you go to riches, glory, ******* and now sprouting planted seeds
misgivings all forgotten like
irreverent, irrelevant childish deeds
and
i grow bitter and ferment
starving gut absinthe
filled with frozen wormwood lies
like Poe and de Quincy and all the rest
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I love the stars for a reason I don't know
All I wanna know hides like a pebble on a dirt road
Please reveal this secret only God knows
Come even if I don't know
I just want to let go
Cause I love you so
I want to let you know
I believe in the other worlds planets
I just wanna be your friend
Come to Earth awesome
Come to Earth on a mission of peace
I would be overwhelmed with glee if you would please
Our world falls flat even when it's round
Because earthlings r not to mess around
Fighting one another shouts loud
But I just want to meet the aliens
Starry twinkling of lights and stars down the road for ours
Dreams like for to the worlds
Crazy dreams the planets of ours
I don't think we r ready as of yet
To the stars where there at
Moons ago did they come
Only left questions for our of world
It's been hundreds of years for you and me
To make contact with a species you've watched since infancy
Talking is far off the charts it seems
But the dream will last for what seems an eternity
You may share my poems
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Is like a carousel,
and there's a pleasant sensation,
and it makes your head spin.
So many gaudy animals to choose from.
You get used to the dizziness.
The music is loud,
and there's an onlooking crowd.
It's so much fun
to go round and round.
Stay on too long and you forget how it feels
to be on stable ground.
These zebras and giraffes.
These benches and poles.
They do nothing for me anymore.
They've turned into hurdles.
You can't get anywhere
when you're just going in circles.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Marvel at the mystics
with bent backs
hawking wares in the courtyard
word of gods on fire
in the electric
Razorback armies of onlooking lepers
leap forth at the call of the mystics
calming martyrdom
Marvel at the mystics
who cash checks and built steps
up to the attic of mental harmony
Marvel
as they make money hand over
fist off of your faith.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
I could listen to this shiny song
as many times as I wanted
here, at 4am,
imagining you were here listening in some
onlooking crowd of fanatical people
thinking out loud what I'm singing
hearing what I mean through the lyrics and
believing.
make you make me believe it.
But it wouldn't matter.
you don't know me
and
I'll just go
to bed now.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
the end doesn't deserve gold
it's bleak enigma follows me silently
this circle is laced with old faces and bitter intentions
the smiling naive collision comes around again
rolling back to when it started
climbing dusty walls setting off words
tossing stones into stones
we wade through the morning
a dim sun and onlooking eyes
we exhale with no hesitation
and im found
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 5:17 AM UTC
Oh Satan's
vexing, gypsy moth.
Icarus
of the lamp.
Torched, foul, smoldering ember.
Aye, the jokes on you.
Good riddance
netherworld gadfly,
dust covered
moon splashed wings,
who flitted too close the sun.
I shall miss the not.
What of thy
onlooking brother?
Is he not
the bright one,
bathing in incandescent
blissful ignorance?
Though he be
but Nature's Dastard,
he'll bask the morrow,
whilst thy apparition flies
to hell, whence ye came.
*While enjoying a beautiful Summer night, I was attacked by a squadron of moths and millers. The zealous, daring, but stupid one, flew too close to a lamp and got fried. The other, pious, yet too afraid worshiped from afar. By the way, one's just as stupid as the other one. The lamp is not the moon cretins. *
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
How high was a nose meant to go?
Was it meant to reach Mars?
Was it meant to be a ladder to both near and far,
To the way far beyond and the far beyond stars?
How high was a nose meant to go?
Was it meant to be raised up to the sun on a pole?
Was it meant to sniff clouds and those lovely bows,
And breathe comet dust in a breathable boast?
How high was a nose meant to go?
Was it meant as an ornament for onlooking eyes,
Combing and surveying air instead of people passing by,
So the friendliest friends can breathe lovelorn sighs?
Those friendliest friends are the first despised.
How high was a nose meant to go?
The one pointed down will be the one pointed out,
The one smelling the floor will be rejected and fought,
The nose pointed down, broken with blood on the ground.
How high was a nose meant to go?
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
I feel so inclined towards you yet I feel so distant.
Whenever I believe I am attaining closeness, I'm shown exactly how far back I truly am.
I see myself as a participant in this race
In reality I am simply a spectator, onlooking,
as each person passes me by.
I yearn for those spells of closeness I am exposed to
Those veils that are lifted, sometimes for a mere second, others longer,
before I am cut off and the doors sealed.
I must not let myself slip or fall any further
For in those moments the screens rise, no longer do I wander blindly.
The wounds begin to heal
I'm lost in the ecstasy, hypnotized by the beauty
The light reflects off me and all that is around me
The moment it goes blank I feel empty and lost
I am confined in the darkness, my entirety submerged in the blackness
The journey I planned, comes to an abrupt stop
Many paths lay ahead of me, decorated with the allures of the world.
I refuse to let the ugly beauty trap me
I find myself to be at war once again
My thoughts, confused and chaotic. Which path do I take?
Every move I make must be strategically planned in order to win this battle
And I shall continue participating in this battle, positioned on the front line
Alone
With steal for amour and my mind erasing all that is trivial, insignificant.
I have hope this bitter struggle will be worth it, that there is a reward
This goal cannot be achieved of my own accord
I pray, with your guidance, your mercy and your blessings, you will forbid me from straying
You will conduct and influence the steps I take towards you.
© maria.who
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Waxing and waning
Faxing and feigning
Flexing and texting
Tweeting is fleeting
Facebooking onlooking
Hello Poetry Goodbye monotony!
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
"When you have given everything
(As it appears to the onlooking eye)
And in return you get sweet nothings whispered under the cover of night
When these are the happenings, even when you keep yourself guarded
When you had thought that protecting yourself was that easy
When the wall you put up fell without putting up the slightest fight
You realize there was no wall, there was only a shifty guard that crumbled at the slightest possibility of-
Love
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
The apricot tree,
So solemn in its art of creation,
Yielding fruit by square yard,
And flower blossom come spring
Holding no pleasure in its perception.
If I am the apricot tree in the fields at dawn,
You are the ladder,
The picker,
The cook,
The sugar and pan
And the jar of apricot jam,
Preserved in its perfection
For hungry mouth and seeking hands
To endulge in, come harvest.
You are the countertop in the kitchen
And the residue of spills upon it,
Caused so carefree by fingers excited
To savor God's gift
Of orange fruit
And good will.
You are the warm home
Occupied by voices and laughter
And children so eager for the day
Their screams of joy echo each room.
You are the eyes onlooking
From inside the car,
Gazing out a moving window
At the bountiful apricot blossoms,
You are the artist and beholder,
The eyes of beauty
Which turn the tree's mundane
And ordinary life
Into poetry and light of human love.
The botanist, the lover of fruit and flesh,
Picking perfect apricots,
Plucking them not only at pure ripe
But all season,
For the sake of texture and sweet.
For the tree,
Bearing fruit and blossom
Has transcended from routine
To holiday.
Such a pleasure,
Being plucked and picked,
Pleased and appreciated in true apricot
Passion.
The tree loves the lover,
And the lover loves the tree.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Some people make me angry
However much they look outwards, they only see themselves
They only see their own face, reflected on the shimmering scales of the fish jumping in the lake by which they sit
The people like watching the fish
But fish and people can't be friends
because people can't see what a fish is thinking, even though the fish are always watching with lidless eyes
The fish; quiet, modest, good swimmers
The reflection of the onlooking person on their scales glimmers
Like a mirror
Some people only see themselves
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
my biggest fantasies involve
playing magician and assistant
make myself disappear into thin air
without an onlooking audience
to wonder why or how
explanations withheld
run off to nowhere
only to realize
nobody is chasing me
and the only thing
i am running away from
is myself
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 4:36 AM UTC
what shimmering dust collects in your eyes?
and what is it, you do, to cease my silent outcries?
painfully majestic, the way that you glide,
when I view you, so serene unknowing,
I regress to past lives, to search for you inside.
you shake the earth, or my knees, with
the whirlwinds from your words, it seems
and I am but onlooking here,
you are hope, I'll stand here a bit longer
transfixed.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
We were going for a walk, sea view, ocean blue.
But the tree needed cutting, can't have work on the mind.
Need to make sure that troubles left behind.
Should've done it months ago.
Ladder up.
Wires plugged.
Cutters out.
In the name of a neat garden for gorgeous nights when the sun is still bright.
Picking leaves, off The ground we dusted Wednesday dawn.
Yanking up crops crawling with harvestmen.
But wait, the holly bush needs doing too.
Should've done that days ago.
Dad does that.
As we sweep on.
Waving at friends.
Walking the wasps in the way.
They might sting.
"Don't bend, it hurts your back".
Mum says.
Advice never works.
The leaves go on.
More holly teams down.
Oh well, the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step...
Then another...
Then another...
Then another...
**** **** bang, bang.
The chainsaw wires cut.
We had those for years.
So I keep my mouth shut.
Destroyed in a millisecond.
Our cat sat as calm as Confucius
From the sidelines, onlooking our endeavours.
A kitten kicking a katydid like a kid.
Confused, but definitely not concerned.
But wait, the wild flowers need watering.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Solemn ghosts sat reluctant
Aligned in neatly established rows
Facing the lectern of the unknown
Knowing that He who stands
Would soon cast judgement
Upon the hapless souls unchained
The prideful priest boasts purity
Trailed by flowing robes He strode
Standing tall, bright light glowing
Entering the sober hall of mourn
Crossing the pews of onlooking orbs
He prepared to sentence the dead
"The time is now to show your worth
In this life for the next
Though you sit quietly content
Beyond this hall you will repent"
The hall began to tremble
As the priest gave His command
The silence of solemnity
Quickly replaced with an eagerness
To move at His behest
Together the ghostly souls went
"Bright are the lights of few
It is plain to see
The moral life you once knew
Will now continue into eternity"
One by one the brightest of them wept
As they vanished in a flash
Until the final light stood in contrast
Against the inky orbs of fiends
It's glow beginning to pulse
Refusing the priest his past
"Curious you are my wayward son
To deny your Lord privy
Into that brilliant life you led
Makes one consider if you're really
,Truly,
Dead"
A violent ripping began to sound
The hall then began crumbling
Falling to pieces on the ground
For within that final light
A demon the priest had found
Speaking in dark rolling tones
To the wicked souls around
"This man lies to you
For you are not truly dead
Everything you see and hear
Is all inside your head
Stuck inside this holy dream
Of all the ******** you've been fed
So wakeup now and return to your life
And the comforts of your bed"
The hall fell with a sharp retort
BANG!
I awoke panting and covered in sweat
Thankful for the light of morning
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
Black skies arch
studded with stars
glistening bright
piercing at Night.
Back lies cloudless avalanche
of like muddied waters.
Gloomy sight ,cursing the North.
'Sack' cushions far back.
waiting as like a dark night,
fighting hard to en-sack the light.
I'll wait,await the Christ
at all times he stars.
Starring,getting his hands out
should I might take.
so, arising he's my lift.
Racks witty stars,
like ladders in Farsi.
Illuminating white-
fighting the blithe.
Don't wait a sec. My neck 'll break
onlooking the wreck
as burgeoning dark, overshadow the light .
Be not fake,
make be light .
Get not a break or brake
at doing right.
Though the black skies might bow
relenting should I might
but instead ,I glisten bright.
Calvary arrows piercing at Night-
Christ the father of lights.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC