"pertinent" poems
We held hands as time's sand
passed between. Night chocked
the last sun beams. Our conversation
was pertinent to the dwindling
red wine bottle. As the moon glazed
shore began to roar, she whispered
"Let's cuddle." I dropped you, holding her,
and thought "Oh" and began to coddle.
I wrapped myself around her like a shell to a turtle
and she began to nestle on my chest. I guessed
the indigestion came from the Bordeaux bottom.
Boy, was I wrong. See, as I lay with her,
forgetting about you, I remembered
blood is thicker than water. The loves
we choose are stronger than ones
We've fallen into. I wasn't falling there,
underneath the stars, next to the parked car.
I was laying. I was contemplating
as the wind was spraying the lake
into the air.
I came to the conclusion
I was in an illusion of love.
Confounded by smoke and reflections
from movie magicians. She looked up
to me and I guess she could see
my reality crumbling in the breeze.
She asked if I was ok. My slight smile alluded
I was and we laid in love
until the sun's intrusion.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
Distance brings proportion. From here
the populated tiers
as much as players seem part of the show:
a constructed stage beast, three folds of Dante's rose,
or a Chinese military hat
cunningly chased with bodies.
"Falling from his chariot, a drunk man is unhurt
because his soul is intact. Not knowing his fall,
he is unastonished, he is invulnerable."
So, too, the "pure man"-"pure"
in the sense of undisturbed water.
"It is not necessary to seek out
a wasteland, swamp, or thicket."
The opposing pitcher's pertinent hesitations,
the sky, this meadow, Mantle's thick baked neck,
the old men who in the changing rosters see
a personal mutability,
green slats, wet stone are all to me
as when an emperor commands
a performance with a gesture of his eyes.
"No king on his throne has the joy of the dead,"
the skull told Chuang-tzu.
The thought of death is peppermint to you
when games begin with patriotic song
and a democratic sun beats broadly down.
The Inner Journey seems unjudgeably long
when small boys purchase cups of ice
and, distant as a paradise,
experts, passionate and deft,
hold motionless while Berra flies to left.
4.6k
You are going to die
before me.
I already know this.
You are going to get fat
and go completely blind
and probably,
eventually, they will
cut some parts off.
You are going to fall apart
in front of me.
I know this.
I still choose to stay.
I will be there
through all the appointments,
the stickings and pokings and cuttings and bleedings.
I have only wiped
a few *****
in my life.
Mine,
my son's,
a few babies
of friends.
I already plan on wiping yours
when you cannot.
I will draw
little sugar skulls
on your prosthetic feet.
I will make sure you always have enough medicine and it is always refrigerated.
I will help you
in and out
of the bathtub.
I will massage your legs
and arms
and back
and head
and neck,
every day.
I will make our boys breakfast
and walk the dogs
and make sure everything
goes back in the
same exact spot
and keep a file with all the pertinent medical information
so I can fill out all the paperwork.
I will take you to
all those folk rock shows you love so much
and describe the singers to you.
We will still garden together.
I can see you in a chair,
barking out questions
about our harvest and me,
going back and forth,
bringing you the biggest squash
to hold.
You see, I have given up thinking
I am ever going to
give myself to anyone else.
It is you and you alone.
So, when you start to fall apart,
and you will fall apart,
don't worry baby.
I am going to be there to wipe your ***
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
my father sat in a pool
of mid-morning sunshine
on the raised patio
overlooking the garden
an open book in his lap
the dog asleep at his side
the lightest of clouds
decorating the horizon
and a whisper of leaves
his only distraction
as i rushed to the kitchen
for a hastily made
better-than-nothing version
of a flat white
that i wouldn't even enjoy
only ten minutes to spare
before yet another meeting
i paused for a moment
to take in this scene
resplendent as he was
peacefully present
behind the radiance
of diaphanous lace
breeze-rippled curtains
suffused with sunlight
a pertinent reminder
of something which
i didn't have time
to consider
Aug 3, 2023
Aug 3, 2023 at 11:53 AM UTC
I require three pertinent elixir's inside my icebox ! Sweet tea to quench my thirst , cold beer to settle in for the evening and hard liquor to smooth out the past ....
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
not your body
not your skin
not the tips of your peachy fingers
not your passionate kiss
not your heart beat
not your breath hovering over my neck,
sending goosebumps and shivers down my spine
not your eyes sighting upon my beauty
or my loveliness or my seduction or my carefreeness
I want to feel you
move
inside
not inside of me
(though, that could be nice too)
inside of you
your own heart
your own echoing cage of ribs
that lock up even scarier skeletons
than the skeleton holding it all together
I want to feel you
without being with you
without holding you
without seeing you
without constantly thinking of you
without wanting you
I want to feel you
when I am miles away,
reading a book with a cup of tea in pyjamas
when you are in class and hear something brilliant
someone just said,
something that makes you stop and think of me
without resentment
without longing
without need
without hiding
something so simple, so clear and so pertinent
something that moves and removes the clutter
in you
I want to feel you love
yourself,
the world,
the trees, the scrapes on your heart’s knees
and me
with no want and no need
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
She calls is jesus,
I call it chemicals.
Her enlightenment
reached in a book
of unknown origin
Sunday rituals
that remind me of
a sinister cult-like
mindset.
She has faith
in something intangible,
unprovable,
full acceptance of not knowing
Her god is an excuse.
My enlightenment,
a yellow glass design
the science behind
a lighter,
and the earth in my bowl.
A tiny blue, orange, yellow
pill, whichever is
most pertinent.
A tab, a stem, a cap, a line,
close my eyes and see
my own god in the patterns
of my enlightenment.
She calls it jesus,
I call it chemicals.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
You are going to die
before me.
I already know this.
You are going to get fat
and go completely blind
and probably,
eventually, they will
cut some parts off.
You are going to fall apart
in front of me.
I know this.
I still choose to stay.
I will be there
through all the appointments,
the stickings and pokings and cuttings and bleedings.
I have only wiped
a few *****
in my life.
Mine,
my son's,
a few babies
of friends.
I already plan on wiping yours
when you cannot.
I will draw
little sugar skulls
on your prosthetic feet.
I will make sure you always have enough medicine and it is always refrigerated.
I will help you
in and out
of the bathtub.
I will massage your legs
and arms
and back
and head
and neck,
every day.
I will make our boys breakfast
and walk the dogs
and make sure everything
goes back in the
same exact spot
and keep a file with all the pertinent medical information
so I can fill out all the paperwork.
I will take you to
all those folk rock shows you love so much
and describe the singers to you.
We will still garden together.
I can see you in a chair,
barking out questions
about our harvest and me,
going back and forth,
bringing you the biggest squash
to hold.
You see, I have given up thinking
I am ever going to
give myself to anyone else.
It is you and you alone.
So, when you start to fall apart,
and you will fall apart,
don't worry baby.
I am going to be there to wipe your ***
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
Slashers Defined
In response to my piece, Slashers, it was requested that maybe I could
reveal at least which band or other info these great guitar players performed for to gain their claim to fame. I don't want to spend too much
time on this defintion, but will give what info I think is pertinent. If you do not know some of the names I have presented to you, and you are a blues,
rock, jazz, fusion guitar fan, I suggest you take the time to listen to some of their work. I have included some of my favorite incredible fusion players that do not have a super star following, but are renowned in their group of fans, probably mostly musicians to some degree.
If you are a frustrated guitar player like I am, do not listen to the likes of Holdsworth, Johnson, Gambale, or Morse unless you love being tortured.
Anyway on with the show.
Eric Clapton – Yardbirds, Cream, Blind Faith, Derek and the Dominos.
Jimmy Page – Yardbirds, Led Zeppe, The Honeydrippers, The Firm
Jimi Hendrix – not only what is, but, what could have been
Alan Holdsworth – Solo jazz fusion player – hot
Steve Howe – Yes, Asia - Progressive rock, jazz –
Bill Nelson – BeBop Deluxe, Solo
Terry Kath – Chicago (25 or 6 to 4) – another sad early departure
Ted Nugent – Amboy Dukes, **** Yankees – The madman
Jim Krueger – Dave Mason Band – solo progressive rock
Eddy Van Halen – Van Halen
Ritchie Blackmore – Deep Purple, Rainbow
Jerry Doucette – Doucette (Mama let him play)
Eric Johnson – Solo – New Age, jazz
Frank Gambale – Australian- Jazz, fusion, rock
Goerge Benson – Jazz
Larry Carlton – Jazz, new age rock
Marc Farner - Grand Funk Railroad
Peter Frampton – Humble Pie, solo
Joe Satriani - New age – solo
Johnny A. - jazz, new age – solo
Danny Gatton – jazz, rockabilly – solo
Chet Atkins – jazz, country
John Mayer – Pop, blues – solo
Neal Schon – Journey
Steve Lukather – Toto
Masyoshi Takanaka – New age, jazz – Japanese solo
Lee Ritnour – Jazz, new age – solo
Leslie West - Mountain, West Bruce & Laing
Monty Montgomery – jazz, blues (accoustic you have never heard)
Wes Montgomery – jazz 40's – 50's
Phil Keaggy – New age Christian
Robin Trower – Procul Harem
Brian May – Queen
Rick Derringer – Montrose, Edgar Winter Group, Steely Dan
Robin Ford – John Mayall, Chick Corea, solo jazz, fusion, blues
Carlos Santana – Santana
Ronnie Montrose – Montrose
Steve Morse – Dixie Dregs, Kansas, solo jazz, fusion
Trevor Rabin – Yes, solo new age
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
The king and queen cried
“Bless us! We cannot conceive!”
And “blessed” they were.
Their heir, a miracle, a vision of royalties.
And so a celebration was in order
(as is most pertinent in events such as princess births)
to adorn the little lamb with gifts.
“Gifts”.
Whether the blame lies here or there
our princess lamb heir stands the most to suffer
in cases such as forgotten friends.
Or unforgetful vengeance--
So spite screeched an everlasting “CURSE THEE TO DEATH ON THE ***** OF A SPINDLE!”
And with a turn of its heels shock
set in.
...shock
sinks
in.
The well-intentioned sprite attempts to soften the wolf’s blow on our little lamb heir--
Only a nap--
only it would seem such in the conjecture of events.
Now no longer is she princess baby heir then does a spindle come alive
X winters later!
(convenient, one might say--in all the land one’s but burned, temptingly locked away in the curious tower)
Insert fainting sounds.
Insert crowded gasps.
Insert “told you so!”
And the sheep follow our little lamb’s sleep.
One hundred year sleep.
Hair follicles sprout a slimy green, and not-so-royal fungi flourishes--
brash brambles tuck in the herd as if to say
“Sleep tight!
Don’t let the mites bite!”
But not our little lamb.
Reassuringly beautiful princess lamb heir keeps
like red wine.
She is only to be drank up from the
right cup--
a proper lamb.
Prince Lamb.
Whose worries consist of much different things than our lamb heir--
but for another ‘lore.
Our Prince Lamb dips, sips,
lips on lips
and she is awake!
Beautiful princess lamb knows exactly what to make
of all this?
The sheep herd rises,
and their “joyous” bleating reverberate
and penetrate
cold castle walls and break down the thorny cover.
And they lived happily
(and most originally)
ever after--
as sheep tend to do.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Another hollow night of meaningless time spent trying to accumulate hours of sleep...
The clock seems stagnant during those minutes when I close my brain to escape the world
articulated before my eyes -
A world written in such a manner...
that perfect poetry blemishes the manifestation I lay before thee...
This perfect beauty... relevant seemingly only in the realms of language...
Tainting something lost adrift -
Something so pertinent... so... potent... but lost... lost adrift somewhere...
Only to be confined by our fabricated gratification of the meaning amidst the letters b e a u t y... Still resolved extraneously somewhere...
Somewhere lost adrift...
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 9:16 PM UTC
Plenty of parking for people
to penatrate the park
with their paddles and packs
prepared to take prolonged trips
for picinics out of purple and pink
plaid biodegradable packets
presented perfectly perferated for pouring
packets can be used for proccessing your potent ***
for proper and pertinent disposal
lol
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
I look at her,
her sad eyes and juvenile wrinkles.
A face riddled with scars and red bumps,
interweaved with healed and unhealed flesh.
I wish I didn't care about what I see in the mirror.
I wish I didn't care about how my skin feels against my fingertips,
or what I see when I search for my reflection.
They talk about loving yourself
but how can I,
when all I see is a hideous monster?
I know,
I know.
There are sorrows much painful,
woes more pertinent than mine.
But how do I tell my mind to stop crucifying itself?
How do I diffuse these electrical impulses,
from my eyes to my brain,
carrying an image of my face and interpreting it as
unnatural,
ugly,
pitiful?
I wish I didn't spend so much time,
trying to wash this dirt off me,
trying to pick and probe at the scabs,
when I know it's a part of me,
arising from me.
How do I stop myself from judging my worth
as the sum of these scars
that lie skin deep?
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
My mother coloured your hair wet sand. My Nonno questioned me on your being, what colour your eyes are, your hair; he wants to meet you. One of the most important men in my life wants to sit with you and confound you with his Italian accent. He will likely offer you wine, ask you to come see the garden, take part in tasks my Oma has assigned, tell you about all the times we've broken his hammock, look at all the agates he and her have collected, he will tell you of me as a child, what I become in his embraces and through his songs. My Oma will talk to you sweetly, she will probably ask you about religion, I will not try to shield you of this, you could laugh, it would be alright. She will ask you about me, what are your favourite parts, what are your favourite parts. She will ask about what wonder you found in me; she will offer you blueberry pancakes, fried ham, maple syrup. You wonder so often why I told my parents, why my whole family knows of your existence. It is solely because you matter to me; because the more time I spend with you the more you become a part of me. And if I am to grow into another person, it is pertinent they see and know who it is I am growing to. Just as sitting with you and your brother in your basement is something to you as is my family seeing and knowing you. I want them to know that you are an ocean, wet sand and eyes like sea. There is nothing like you. The scent of you like sun and warmth and something drunken in. I wish I could swallow stacks of your picture just to keep you close to me only for a little while longer. There is so much of you that I want only for me.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
The woods have become denser
Where roots have gone deeper
Lost between the intricate mesh
Of the branches and that hold
Embracing each other in a synergy
Here the lost soul is looking for a way
To navigate between the labyrinth
Ideas and thoughts are not porous
Ground realities have become grim
Recoiled are the roots deep within
Looking to move away from the lacunae
As the woods come closer and grasp
This soul has no answer to the questions
Pertinent doubts are raised
No looking away from the harsh world
Feeling crushed between two realities
A hallucinatory phase feels so real
Nothing but prisoners we are
Caught between the woods of reality
Souls filtered us through travails
Here are the sediments seeping
Deep into the ground, where roots reclaim
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
Pausing briefly, gathering further instruction
The evil Eye of Baar reflects
Upon a memory, near complete conception.
With all hearing soul and forming sensors
The evil Eye of Baar absorbs
Only pertinent waves from its passive donors.
Passing shadows, focusing hard detail
The evil Eye of Baar perceives
Enough truth to know how not to fail.
Come the distant death and lengthening span
The evil Eye of Baar flaunts
Just future birth to compliment an evil plan.
Plans shaped, Spontaneity becoming colder
The evil Eye of Baar warms
To eventual visions and power growing bolder.
Sold on tyrannical tactics and plotted course
The evil Eye of Baar dims
To possible defeat and attack to its source.
Intuition dying, reflex receded by design
The evil Eye of Baar succumbs
Unlike mortals, helpless in death, forced to resign.
Sep 30, 2009
Sep 30, 2009 at 3:32 PM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TO SMILE BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE DOES :) IS:
- An act of anarchy, especially if you don't have any teeth :D
- Because all beings are blessed Bees
- Certain sign of cretenism or genuine Charm
- Denominative sense of digestion is Disturbing
- Ethically wrong Endeavor
- Fascinating and freeking fabulous if you intend to F. . .
- Gorgeous as Geometry
- Hot on Hotties
- Imature and implies lack of Integrity
- Jibberish
- Keen rediscovering so many Keens or Kens
- Lovely on Lovely ones (once)
- Magnificent Mimicry
- Negating the jokers(or your own) inteligence / numb is Numb
- Onthological urge to survive among jungle beasts - fangs are
quintessential urban asset. .or. . Smile-The-Power-Wilder-Open
- Pertinent in Parliament
- Quiet resistance behind a cold minded rebellions league - quitting in few minutes kicking some mthf harassing ****** pervert - to hard Quiver
- Real lovely strenght to feel and see each other happy
- Stupid on jokes = Joke Stupid
- Tactics to climb up the social ledder or/end further down the Thongs
- U can't admit you didn't get it; u2
- Violation of virtues as (in vino) Veritas
- Wonderful! To see people happy is healthy, positive and Wise!
- X times better than being in low energy
- You love your beloved and you are loved by your beloved love
- Zooming at the ' zoo' of human behaviour -
Amusing as Zorro-Art-Is-MusssssssssseumZ
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
You wear your black tie
like a felony.
You wear your dark sunglasses
like a criminal.
I'm your little wallflower;
hiding in your hideouts,
riding down your highways,
looking for escape and I
don't know where I'm going.
Don't mind where I am.
I suppose I don't know.
Grim Reaper! These pills make life seem sweeter!
Sin eater... could you make me clean again?
Am I still "pertinent" to your heart?
[Am I your little wallflower?]
Am I the one you love?
I don't know where I'm going,
but I don't mind where I am.
I suppose I don't know,
and these dark sunglasses
so I never have to look away;
today is such a perfect day.
Twenty one years and
it's always been the same.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Who the whole truth fails to reveal,
Who pertinent facts do conceal,
May not in truth a liar be
Though are truly untrustworthy;
Unscrupulous, devious, sly,
Dishonest, though they tell no lie.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 4:48 AM UTC
She chose him.
She chose him to be
A pertinent aspect
Of her forever
Full sum of forever.
He who had shown her
New songs to glitter her
Sweeping thoughts,
Green flowers to dust
Such thoughts.
So when she chose him,
really,
She chose herself
She who had become
Thought broom,
Greens,
Stony welcomer
Of new.
He'd changed her
In a manner
In which she liked,
The outcome
Worthy of self pride.
She chose
Songs
She chose
Leaves
She chose herself
Which
He'd made her become.
And why not stay with him-
The man who had
Coaxed out
Someone deeper, older within herself,
Someone who
She herself had been searching for.
This lazy thought
And that
Made her choose.
Him.
Because he was the leaves and
Nothing more.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Days like today bring me to reminisce,
of the life we shared, now an abyss.
Recent life has been testing,
this lonely Mother’s Day solidifies your resting.
Today it feels more like you were never here,
what type of life is it that I’m now investing?
Posed with the question of happiness.
what is this meaning without you?
living today admonishes the truth,
only former memories allow me your bliss.
Mixed feelings of love and hatred,
circumvent in this current conquest.
As I contemplate reaching out I'm reminded,
that your remains are all that is left.
Be at peace with the truth,
is the message you conveyed well.
I question God about this new reality,
a life filled with constant duality.
Your loss is permanent,
& recognizing this is pertinent.
This daily battle without you,
I cope because your gift of a DNA armament.
“Time brings perspective”,
were the words that escaped from your soul.
You are still my everything,
and today I escape into your memory.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
*More often than not
I allow myself to be persuaded by reason
Though I occasionally give it a wide berth
For the sake of preserving the “sanctity”
Of reason itself
Is logic Human friendly
Is the answer to the above pertinent question ‘No’…?*
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 5:19 AM UTC
First poem of the Day: Yes Ma'am!
The discussion that follows is pertinent,
If you are over a certain age limit,
Whereby, having survived, you are entitled
To certain discounts that shall remain nameless
(Still reading? cool)
Having recently entered said stratosphere,
I became painfully aware,
There is no precision tool created that
A man can call his woman in public
Without setting off fiery eyebrow raising
Let's state the facts:
She gorgeous, she's hot,
She goes tango dancing after 10 PM
With bad boys from Argentina and the Ukraine
But that is not the problem, for she loves
Her poet's nookery, like he adores her cookery
No, my issue is more conventional,
Indeed, not boundary breaking sensational,
It is ticklishly delicious,
I don't know how to introduce her in public,
Or in a quaint phrase, in polite company
She has rejected
Lover
GF
Mi amore
Woman,
Companion
Hardly indiscreet and something the world has quite accepted,
Tho she dances nightly, on this particular dilemma,
She provides no guidance, dancing here too,
All around the problem
One day she intro'd me as her fav poet,
To which I acknowledged by addressing her as
My number one fan,
Which seems to have stuck,
so I acknowledge her as such,
And always add a polite, respectful, winking,
Yes ma'am!
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 6:50 AM UTC
Towards
the end of his life
our protagonist
meticulously calculated
and found
(we should believe
without questioning,
as he was an ace accountant)
that he lived well
exactly ten days
of his long happy life !
please contemplate
this.
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 6:54 AM UTC
STOP!! I tell the Selfs;
The cacophony of voices.
Mine, Yours, His, Hers;
Who to obey & Who to deny?
Stop the Spirits of Past, Present, Future,
All accounted for, Loud and Clear!
Ironic lucidity amidst their discord;
Its subtly not lost in the Grand Scheme.
BREATHE!! I tell My Self;
Inhale the moment of truth,
Until the volume of Knowledge
All but bursts with its Clarity!
Breathe in the your lost Honesty,
Exhale pure veracity in the debut:
Awareness of Self, Soul, & Spirit;
Blunt in the Beauty and Brutality!
REMEMBER!! I remind My Self,
This very moment has Significance;
This very breath, this blink of an eye,
It’s Relevance to you is Now!
Remember the Person before you;
Your paths have crossed for a reason!
Their existence is pertinent to yours;
Only time revealing how and why.
BELIEVE!! I demand My Self,
In the inner girl, unsure of her worth,
Yet always full of unbound faith:
She would be Loved and Needed!
Believe in the inner woman, unsure of her worth,
With unconditional, genuine love to offer
At even the merest hint of sincere acceptance.
If only to forgive her awkward graciousness.
L. A. Armstrong-Houle
April 2nd, 2011
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 2:38 PM UTC