"panoramas" poems
six-inch heels abandoned
in lampless corner grimy pennies embedded in carpet
rent's due
wedding band girl "fab polka dot frocks"
waterfalling past knees outta place
on casino bus destined for rest under Ft. Worth stars
now, now ********* borealis speckled dice
true love waits
socialite lip balm and bourgeoisie hips compete
in bidding war over which black face triggerpulls
which black face eyes the ground
passerby the red light the green light
all night diner egg on chin coffee-stained porcelain teeth
"I forgave, I think. I forget."
crowded and paranoid in the left lane the right lane
empty and weak and surrender and soiled underwear in ammonia nursing home
children is a word time is a lie the polka dot and the interstate ain't selling
divorce the consequence of acoustic shadows
reblog undo #sotrue reblog
living through x-ray radiotherapy the dotted gown
never the veiny calves or the blush or the eyeliner
somewhere in North Texas shawtys are in the club
shawtys are backin' it up shawtys are dropin' it down
hit me+hit me+hit me=blackjack mishap
the marvel of the wind and of wind turbines
cognac decade brides the epitome of class and natural elegance
standing like oil derricks and treated like oil wells
so secretive and philanthropic
this taxon remains nameless
casino turned dance hall dance hall skinny ties still a thing
this wine is good. is it a merlot? no. this is purely recreational
for birthdays for weddings and Ft. Worth missionaries
10-50 passengers we've got 53, no 54 #hahahaha #whoops #party
who needs unprescribed drugs? me, me (!)
decomposing mascara sweat on brow the interstate no longer lit
polka dots has got the suicide by Manet pulled up
on her iPhone the financial stress which shudders warm-blooded moms
on her lips every mother a librarian every mother a swing-pusher
but digression next to bitterness the lowest sin
edging the cultural gateway of the old west
miracles in and miracles out of tradition following
the slender bends of middle ancient Trinity River
children a word pattycake a game
and time time a lie we left to museum panoramas
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
My vast heart views panoramas,
Of wide depths, open to oceans,
Sorrow has broke no thing alone,
A pink starfish legs under waters,
Arms ever sinking into wet sands.
*As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.*
My soul, washes up, for granted,
Untook leftovers of the beached,
Endlessly salt dry things all alone,
Holey shells, driftwood, seaweed
And half buried, one pink starfish.
*As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.*
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
My vast heart views panoramas,
Of wide depths, open to oceans,
Sorrow has broke no thing alone,
A pink starfish legs under waters,
Arms ever sinking into wet sands.
*As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.*
My soul, washes up, for granted,
Untook leftovers of the beached,
Endlessly salt dry things all alone,
Holey shells, driftwood, seaweed
And half buried, one pink starfish.
*As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.*
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
another construction friday:
smash, lift, grunt, clean, sweep, collect, empty . . . (grind)
lift up (hup!) doors, hang 'em, nail 'em in.
rap up the stairs, feet heavy in big old boots
thighs aflame --- heavy--fuck
clomp
clomp--stomp. swish.
stop for lunch: sandwich/grapes/arizona
sandwich only cheese so not satisfied full..
dusts in the mouth
(and nostrils) so i sneeze & sneeze
raw-nosed in the attic cleaning
---brooms and dust dust dust.
good view to the bay up second level tho:
autumn vistas and panoramas and waves on white shorelines
giant's tomb in the deep, breast heaving
big wide windows w/wasps buzzing eternal
buzz
whack each with rolled window installation guide
grind with the heel
grsch
each one dead is replaced with one more
crawling from odd upstairs nest
---from rest.
feel guilty & awful killing them but
so aggressive in their slowness (compensating) this time of year that
moving material presents good risk of sting.
---zing.
hope they will forgive me.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC
The monkeys chatter in the trees
And peel their big bananas
The Caribbean evening brings
Delightful panoramas
The jungle birds all sing their songs
As sunlight heads due west
The girls in string bikinis
Make all the men feel blessed
I love the plump and ripened fruits
Where conchitas drive me nuts
It’s fun to kiss the maidens
So friendly with their b..er..hugs
I do thank these island people
For the *** that they distill
I was meant to flip the bottoms up
In Pina Coladaville
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 8:11 AM UTC
I sit here again, my laptop on my knee,
Or rather, lay back in my armchair
Next to the lounge window.
Before me lies the clutter that is
My man cave.
If I just stare I see every little item
In glorious detail.
Yet even when asleep
I swear to you
I sometimes dream of scenes
Images of tables, cities or skies
Every bit as detailed as real life.
Which begs the question:
Where exactly IS this wonderful “Mind” of mine,
That can so accurately record and reproduce
Such multi-coloured panoramas?
Is it just “in my head”
As scientists assert,
Or is it located “somewhere out there”,
Even beyond the stars?
Am I merely squatting
In this body of mine
Until the day that I pass on?
And when I do pass over
Will my soul go whizzing down
Some spiritual “connection”
Back to where my mind is based?
I say again, we may all be but cameras,
Recording films and “programmes”
For other minds
Beyond this realm.
Even for Angels.
For it’s only through US
That this marvellous universe
Is brought to life.
Paul Butters
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Mt. Rose rises
10 thousand feet
Of treachery, deceit and defeat.
Every storm
Every wind
Every drop of flooding rain
Every blowing snow
Converges on this terrain
Until no visibility remains
The glistening diamond asphalt promises riches
But that doesn't remain.
That son of a ***** has tried to **** us many times.
Its serene moments
And panoramic views are a lie
For its treachery
Resides in the one false
Move when you can't hide
And you are sliding
Side to side.
Twerling
Wherling
Spinning
The landscape flying by
The blowing snow
Blinds your eyes
It comes at you
Horizontal
Lateral
It comes from below.
Doing 360's
The back becomes the front
The front becomes the back
The blizzard sweeps you up
And all your doing
Is going along
For the ride
Wondering
If
You are going to
Survive.
A magic finger
Stopped
Us there
The cliffs and the air
And we hang suspended
With the panoramas and vistas
Right there
A foot or two
A foot or two away.
All in all
That son of a ***** has tried to **** us many times.
It's become a symbol and a sign
Of knowing we're okay
Because unless
I'm sliding sideways
Down
Mt. Rose
Everything is nothing
But my mind imagining
Treachery, deceit and defeat...
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
My Darker Side of Writing! (Not Nice!)
Writing skids down razor wires,
Screaming,
Too close to the edge!
At times,
Taut wire bites,
She's cutting!
Blood spurts stemmed,
Quelled by wires, diathermy's hot,
Sanctified by lovers art,
Sanitised inside a heart,
Words never massacred,
As lambs present for slaughter,
Squealing in the field,
When their days are nearly done,
Writing dark on tissue shreds has only just begun!
Heart's contorted,
In ivory, as dry crumbled bone dust,
Revealed by dissection!
Revered resurrection,
Savour not badness,
Created in my mind,
Love my joy,
Not my darkness,
Take the alabaster view,
Panoramas visualised in forthright fortitude!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
Driving here
riding bikes
pumping tires
faulty breaks
Whiskey Creek
future home
sparks fly
on the road
20 miles
grass shots
downtown
organic gelato
under bridge
panoramas
tan lines
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
how often I wish for 91 Brunswick Ave
compressed together in a claw foot,
your flesh my home
cakes baked in too shallow pans
I forget what song was playing when
you told me you loved me.
how often I wish for the freeway between
Cocoa Beach and Orlando,
a friendly chaperone asleep in the back
hands knotted thinking:
“this is ours”
how often I think of August bonfires
the terror of an international move
“you would be a day ahead of me for ten weeks”
I felt stronger than the 100-year-old ruins we were
standing in
how often I wish for The Standards,
High Line and East Village,
bacon cocktails and antiquated photobooths and
windswept harbour panoramas
my insubstantial voice begging
“don’t turn the red light off,
I need you to see where my bones shattered
and pierced my skin”
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
if i were a bird
i would follow you
in-tune your rhythm
with my vibrations
as one, we climb
the rocks of high places
our perceptions
our panoramas
entwined
rising suns and rising moons
whooshing wings and winded breath
sweet communion
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
is going to put us in a trance
a little somethin' somethin'
is gonna to make us wanna dance.
a little somethin' somethin'
is going to bring a girl
a girl with a curl,
is going to bring a guy,
a guy that doesn't lie.
a little somethin' somethin'
is going to open our eyes
show us what we can find.
with a little somethin' somethin'
our hearts are gonna fly
heading to the blue panoramas of open skies.
a little somethin' somethin'
gonna dissolve all we disguise
a little somethin' somethin'
is going to bring peace to our minds.
a little somethin' somethin'
we just gotta find,
it happens all of the time,
gratitude and blessings
for everything we can describe,
for every tune we hum
for every time
time is on our side.
A night bird is singing,
his call calls out,
he sounds just about right
singing about
a little somethin' somethin',
we hear it in our dreams
when our eyes awaken
sometimes, not always
we remember
a little bit of everything -
a little somethin' somethin'
it's right there,
a little somethin' somethin'
we can grab it if we dare.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
…the dream sequence
plays like vaudeville
in the peephole
of a kinetoscope
my drunken subconscious thoughts
undulate in murky waters
and slurin the visions of specters past
infrastructures and pylons
formed from childhood homes schools
skate parks friend’s houssand churches
faces familiar unfamiliar
mold and mend in wicked contortions
and diaphanous ambiguity
what obfuscates me from the truths
of my mind
I stumble through the chambers
haunted by childhood nightmares
and tickled by ancient fantasies
my arms
and legs
are like
rubber
I
feel
torpidity
overcome
and the words
are like alphabet soup
in the director’s commentary
splashing around aimlessly mingling
in the waves of broth
what will be revealed
in this phantasmagoric phenomena
wax figures coming to life
and panoramas dancing on the walls
my body somewhere in time
waits with pen and paper in hand
eager to counter the façade
with the utmost coherence
just you wait til I wake up
and reveal all your secrets
oh wondrous mind…
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
if she submits just so
if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
her breathing becomes quick
and her hands silhouettes
mimicry of ritualistic love
if she submits just so
the world will see
and snow will fall warm as summers day
quick will be slow
hurt will be healed
and the difficult will be easy
as easy as his smile back when he loved her
and things will be the way they were
before
her thin fingers
on the window panes frost
etch panoramas fine line drawings of loves triumphs
a garden where hope blooms
where beauty and happiness are one in the same
in the smile he shared with her back before
before...
washed and trimmed to measurable perfections
she kneels in the strange halflight of the worlds eye
and waits for the settling dust to speak
for the haze on the window to illustrate
for the clocks silent mechanical action to cease
waits for the world to change her
her breathing quick and measured as she leans with perceptions
to any sound of approaching footfall
but the only sound that pierced the thick darkness
was that of the worlds slow decay
if she could only
but hes been gone for so long
that smile
his sweet smile while he loved her
if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
if she submits just so
the world will see
shes a good girl
and snow will fall warm as summers day
it will be as it was before
before
he will come back
and snow will fall warm as summers day
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
My Darker Side of Writing! (Not Nice!)
Writing skids down razor wires,
Screaming,
Too close to the edge!
At times,
Taut wire bites,
She's cutting!
Blood spurts stemmed,
Quelled by wires, diathermy's hot,
Sanctified by lovers art,
Sanitised inside a heart,
Words never massacred,
As lambs present for slaughter,
Squealing in the field,
When their days are nearly done,
Writing dark on tissue shreds has only just begun!
Heart's contorted,
In ivory, as dry crumbled bone dust,
Revealed by dissection!
Revered resurrection,
Savour not badness,
Created in my mind,
Love my joy,
Not my darkness,
Take the alabaster view,
Panoramas visualised in forthright fortitude!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
Don't do those little things
You always do to me; you know
That look, that half-smile, with the closing eyelids
The hint of a smirk, the tilt of the head.
It's unfair, I've got only eyes and ears
Full of you, and you have the whole universe
Of well conceived temptations, to lure me in,
Open-mouthed fish that I am, to be baited by your sly styles.
You offer all the desirable things a woman could lust for,
Lust and never be satisfied, forever in the understanding
That you surely have other smiles and other poses, for other women
In unknown eras, different climates and panoramas.
I can only try to hold onto the parts of you I know,
Recognize it is futile trying to capture all the invisible things
Though doubtless they are all there,
Just beneath your fleeting expressions.
And you are all sophisticate
And I am all trembling schoolgirl
Having forgotten the things I once took for granted.
Now look at me again, this time with a blank look
And let me see it slowly fill in, with the essence of you,
So slowly that I can see every year, wrinkle of growth,
Every change and sign of maturing, like a tree's rings.
I want to know all your weathers,
Want to let the rainbow fill up with your humors;
The world swell shut or empty out on your whim.
I want to be made pregnant
Entirely with the incredible idea of you're existing;
Because the real ecstasy of knowing you, is one that I can almost-
But not quite- touch.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
Timeless caresses
etched in my soul
beatific panoramas
all of a whole
music notes carved in clouds
angel fountains way up high
soul schools to learn from
between slices of time
No need to really talk
its all done silently
crystal buildings, halls of light
all is done mystically
planning trips to Earth
to learn lessons slow
purpose of the universe
for our souls to grow
It may take many trips
to get it just right
to finally be what we are
all our knowings, our birthright
so narry a tear
when things are a painful song
its just another step
the road slow and long
we will reach our destiny
where we started from
knowing pur love and joy
our reward when we are done
Nov 16, 2009
Nov 16, 2009 at 3:51 AM UTC
Loving as an art form,
Brushes briskly bold and brash,
Transforms a blank canvas.
Its palette paints passion:
gleaming pinks, reds, then purples,
busily spilling onto the work of art.
From a hint of ****** flush
Follows a touch of blush
Leads into a flaunting of flesh
making nerve endings bristle.
While brushing aside dissimilarities
the imagery develops and disseminates.
As every dab and pat matters
Each patterns into something more than before
Strokes stoke the hues of emergence
Always colorful; never dull
Some shades of black and blues
Yet nothing's black and white
Turning some effects into silver
Others into golden memories
If open to influence beyond our minds,
Unhampered by concern or lacking confidence,
Each wave of the wand
Becomes uninhibited love energy.
While not always spotting the depth and the dimensions,
Our personalities coat our panoramas;
Our characters create our landscapes;
Our creations captivate our souls.
As child-like freedom promises,
A natural state of love and joy emerges.
Loving as an art forms
our dynamic duo.
Whether using oils or watercolors,
It manifests into wanting words.
It’s marked into body lanquaging,
Revealing tears and smiles,
Pleasures and plea-sings,
Triggers and treats,
Revelations and reveal-ations,
Understandings and underlyings
Fostering flow and creative sap
Loving becomes poetic portraits.
Breathing and exhaling
Expanding and exploring
Stimulating and stirring
Romancing the stone
Reflecting the pool
Remembering the rules
Two souls singing their tunes
Harmonizing
Mostly action and reaction
Give and take
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
What if, my love, we were born
in an altered world
with your watercolors
and my panoramas
on the wall---
we can become the people
you never painted
and eat wedding breakfast on the table.
What if, my love, I can declare
that I'm the flower you picked
in the garden
and the only star you gazed
at night---
Perhaps, love could be
a sweet sweet thing
if only.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
I take pictures, but own no cameras
I view the world through these brown eyes
And it comes out of my mouth like Polaroids
At first glance it might not seem like much
But give it a few seconds, it'll come with time
I look back and I see a road paved with memories
The bad images were captured in each river that flowed down the salt-built irrigation system on my cheek, click
In each broken promise and empty lie that I thought was full of meaning, click
I lived in the past so often I confuse it with right now
Dwelling in the way I felt when I took those pictures
Like that girl, her sun kissed skin so hot it still burns me, click
Like in school when my grades dropped so low my heart is still sinking, click
Like my thoughts how sometimes they still haunt me it's overwhelming
And when I felt I couldn't take it I wanted to stop thinking, click
There's some good images too
I just can't remember them
They were lost in the endless pile of pain, regret, and disappointment
That's when I realized how all those pictures were just duplicates
So I looked forward and I saw my visions and dreams
I started looking at the world in 35 millimeters because those Polaroids took long to develop
Before I could see they just weren't good quality
I need to see the beauty of life through negatives first
Because then I can choose the images that get printed
Like the image of my bride as she comes down dressed in white, click
Or the image of my degree as I wear my cap and gown, click
Or just the image of my smile that I wear for no reason at all, click
I finally had control of how those images were recorded
But I don't see in panoramas so it's easy to see how I missed the big picture
There's a reason it's called the past
Because it passed my present to my future to be presented as a gift
And help me learn to cherish right now
I was lost down memory lane refusing to let go as each new moment passed that I kept forgetting to capture
You see, life is full of moments
Will you capture it, or just let it slip?
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Missing the drive to Truckee,
Graegeagle/ Almanor fantasies
Missing the front deck
Bears & squirrels
Jim and Marylee
So happy
Missing Jim & Marylee
Packing up the old VW
Take you anywhere
Missing Eric & Anne
Missing Eric & ?
Katie Doug and Cheyene
James & Amanda
Sarah & Hannah
Emily too
Frank and Susan
What are we going to do?
No fish to be caught
They rarely were,
No smokes in the morning with the lake out there
Missing the view of the lake
Being out on the water
The music always playing
Missing the dogs in the water
The colors of the afternoon
Changing into the night clothes
While the camp fire begins to go
And later, 1950's radio shows
After several days the mind begins to change
Panoramas and vistas
Restore perspective
Missing Cheese Camp
Yearly healing
The lost year when there is
just a covid snow and no where to go
goes and goes...
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 1:03 AM UTC
Come my dear, let me take you among the stars
Let your heart sway in this enchanting breeze
Through these mystical fragrant flower gardens
Along, into the cold night, where the dews freeze
You are my co-dreamer, my co-thinker, my fantasy
If you become my co-traveler, lifes journey will be easy
Walking together, enjoying natures panoramas
Your soothing slow love is now making me crazy
Ink these emotions on a chapter of your heart
The sweet memories that lay among the skies
Hand in hand, once again headed to a start
But this dreamers fantasy, got lost among the stars.
©sim
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
Dancing
Dancing with legendary devil,
Friday afternoon,
Only on Friday,
Thursday,
Ran along too soon,
All consuming,
Tension relief,
Captures all remaining grief!
Strips me bare without a care,
Peace together in piece,
Sorts everything,
Tries to make it right!
As strutting fellow pranced,
In rays of sunlight draped,
Protected,
You and I in one,
Our Pas De Deux delight,
Whirls on,
In panoramas bright,
Found myself in cupid's light,
A scope of vision unexpected!
Enthroned as poets lady wise,
Bathing in his darkness!
Encountering my white!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
*Tempestuous , random loveliness stands -
Lady October clothed in 'Sky Red gown' , Raven haired recital from
Persimmon , Mimosa rafters sketched in verglas night fallen cover
Autumnal ****** kiss of Winter and brown valley panoramas
The wind driven pang of chill
Golden blades skip , funnel , mask
Moist , visible breath
Live Oak naked lecterns with Mistletoe
Mittens , sock caps , scarves
Hot Sassafras Tea , oatmeal cookies
Barren groves
Wood stoves
Hardwood smoke clinging to the arctic day
Window views , red faces , maplewood fires* ...
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC