"phish" poems
the moving shadows of
the men gathering
flicker in my vision
cause me to ponder the moment
in a way i had not seen before
cause me to fracture the vision
to decode the meanings in
each mans motion
each mans meaning
her long black hair entangles my head
as dose her deep long looking
her neat clean eyes frighten me
with their possibilitys
with their depth
with their hot beauty
it is not my place to find
a place in this womans life
i am but a distraction to her
somthing to occupy the moment
to phish for lost keys
in sections of some dreadlock music
she erased poems to fit onto the kindle
she removes her shirt
to rinse out the sweat
in the tidal pool
a young woman nearby stops
and stares
smiles when they meet eyes
and i am surfing my beach bike alone
walking it
home?
where am I
where am i going?
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
i reach in and silently grasp
the motionless windsong
the captured bird
and with deft fingers release its bindings
with a phrase give tender to its
timid fire
with intent i set in motion the
captivation by slow roses
the freedom by the scarce better graces
of humanity's collective soul
the thoughts are sticky
engraved with each meaning softly embedded
into its thick skin
the carefully crafted box
of her smile
each detail lovingly attended
each lined honed with precision
she fine tunes her perfect form
and spray bottles the scents
one for public consumption
the other for me alone
enthrones her earrings in edible lobes
and with zealous care places a bead necklace
in the sweating sweet expanse of naked skin
of her open polo shirt collar
shakes out her hair
with a little version of dancing sitting down
while singing along with phish
and then she catches me open lustful staring
and laughs
'want some...come get it babe'
her tennis outfit
misplaced on the shopping center floor
is neatly wrapped around her in a mixture
of loose and tight
devious adventure for the eyes
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
Coffee
Heath
Bar
Crunch
Will sabotage those taste buds,
Like Dublin and its Mudslides.
So blast off with that,
Fossil Fuel,
And don’t let me
Catch you.
‘Cause I’ll keep you,
My Maple Blondie.
I’ll capture you,
And hold onto,
Those Cinnamon Buns.
You’re the Crème Brulee,
Of Chocolate Macadamia,
And the Cherry Garcia,
In my every breath.
You’re the Chunky Monkey,
To this Chubby Hubby;
The Dulce Delish,
for this Americone Dream.
Can’t you see I’ve just got,
A sweet tooth for you,
And your Phish Food?
Your Chocolate hair,
Key Lime Pie eyes,
Strawberry Cheesecake lips,
And your skin is a delight,
Much like Vanilla Caramel Fudge.
Did Ben and Jerry create you?
Please tell me they did!
So I can eat you,
With my cup of Boston Cream Pie,
And I’d eat you all up, Well,
Everything but the…
Half Baked, Karmel Sutra,
Which I’d lick,
Like a cone of Cake Batter,
And then dip into,
Like Cookies and Milk.
Imagine Whirled Peace,
On top of this Mudpie,
And then Split,
Like a Banana.
That’s the kind of Brownie Batter,
I’d stir with you,
And then add a scoop,
Or two,
Of Turtle Soup.
And you would yell,
PISTACHIO PISTACHIO!
Where for art thou pistachio?
And with a bowl of Peach Cobbler,
And a spoon of Vanilla,
I’d look at you,
wink,
and offer you a pint,
of my Mint Chocolate Chunk.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
You're like a phosphorescent phish,
swimming quickly through my brain
Leaving trails of glitter to slowly filter through my veins
I'd rather dream in black and white
But you prefer the color blue
So I'm stuck with aqua daydreams
'Cause all I dream about is you.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 7:07 PM UTC
They ain't got *****
They can't have *****
Ugh they always go to Starbucks and order a frappuccino **** them rich uppity white ******* get on my nerves."
They all listen to One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer,
"I really wish I had white girl hair."
All white girls have to be this, have to do that,
This is my average day at school.
It's not true.
I know because I am a white girl
But I'm not your "typical" one,
I listen to Pantera and Phish,
I don't "always" go to Starbucks.
And I have an *** thank you very much,
I'm not rich,
I'm not poor,
I have the same anatomic structure as everybody else,
I don't need to be singled out for something that isn't true about me.
White people aren't the only that can have stereotypes made about them.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
I felt your breath and smoke like
adjacent trains.
------------
I lost my heart in the war between
what took place in normal Syrian towns
(just like the ones I learned how to read in
and the ones I danced through your hair like
asymmetrically curling waves in,
and the ones where
I saw love die like a
half-lit cigarette still burning)
and
what your skin looked like when the wind blew off the sheets so softly that mice could have ran marathons-
where shrouded shadows cleared vision like your cornfields of tightening nerves,
forever unwinding mine.
It was hiding in between your teeth and all of the other places that were too brightly shaded for me to sun-tan under,
where
you are sixteen acres of magnolia trees donning the darkest leaves that forests will ever see,
and we mirror each other's company so tragically.
----------
Inside,
your fireplace warmed our souls like
Phish Food
and whatever chemical reactions occur when love overpowers self-loathing.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
The beginning of this
Break.
–Down
At its foundation
Fulfilling and self-reflective, and
Rousing and neurotic and bright
And perilous
–a fever-dream
¬¬¬
Shadows that have stopped forming,
Dead
All
The mornings are dead
The passion is dead
The feeling of the back of my neck –tiny hairs
All
Dead
That human side has halted
The “I-feel-like-a-pussy-but-” thoughts, gone
All dreams
All barren, with less than profound meaning
******* dead, behind the wheel.
Car trapped
Inside of a sad self-absorption
A frozen-inlet, a fissure in the glass-jar
Road paved with the litter of the late
Night, bug-eyed witless carbon copy Phish fan
Grave yard shift –stick worn-down-brain
Lazily-littered, empty-shell of a
Bottle flung, down to the pavement
Down, into the gutter
Down, into sewer
Which sweeps, down into the **** Heavens
And sits
Down, endlessly
Dreaming only to return
Into life
The insanity
The heartbreak
The fears
The passions
The talent
The jokes
The sickness
The *******
Where it all starts
Where it all eventually sleeps
Where all of this **** came full circle
Where the mind can return
Where the body can lay,
Down
At the beginning of this.
Break.
–Down
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
This is the ice breaker.
I am always new to a conversation,
years gone by as days slow down.
You may relate to it like a fish out of water.
Breathing under earths clear-blue surface
its hesitation of a world spinning as words are spoken.
In need of a breath of fresh air,
comparing it as a gasp of an after thought.
A finger to the mouth, a cat caught the tounge.
Separation can be too much too scorn.
This irrelevance in term we call chemistry.
The deep secrets we hunt,
for an open country we live without.
Should we walk the talk?
We swim a mile in short term.
The distance a man can take to dive
gives this enough to cancel past premonitions.
An eye length away
we go where the bible parts the seas...
This long trail for a short cut we gut from the book of trust.
We take the scenic route
like riding a bike till it ends with a flat,
making us take a bus,
till it cost too much.
An arm and a leg we kick to swim.
One or the other as we struggle,
we use a foam vest astride by a whim.
This maze with secret illusions,
a movie The Laberenth comes to mind.
Make belive...made up dreams.
Morals of fairy tales.
Stroies told.
Or this fable to tuck you into.
Where there is no grandmother to look forward too.
Who says I love you?
A goodnight that can't live within you.
Nothing but a monster that we hide from under our sheets.
We stress to the progress of nothing but a scary cry of, what if's?
For a wolf like me faking it's false teeth
turns out to be a deciving catastrophy.
Made up and unforgiving.
Living my escape.
It's the farthest away from my problems.
The least of my worries.
If you must try to unpuzzle my riddle.
It comes naturally.
You have it or you don't.
It's easy if you know me...
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 4:09 PM UTC
I’d like to start
By saying that I have had
So many great memories
(Mornings of Phish shows,
before skiing, going to college,
high school lunch with friends)
Standing in front of your counter
As I eagerly watch you
Flip my sizzling eggs,
My succulent bacon.
Is there any spirit, Jim,
More jolly than yours?
Any soul more deeply content
To engage in pleasant small talk
With the local old ladies,
To put stickers
On their macaroni salad containers
And smile,
To tell them, “Thanks for shopping here,”
As you wipe your hands
Off on your white apron,
Tied off just beneath your proud belly,
And really mean
Every word?
Jim, you have touched the food
Of many, the lives
Of many.
Your store has survived
Well into the age of the supermart
And still the people come back.
They come back for
Your fresh eggs,
For your incredible meats,
Your perfectly baked goods.
But Jim,
Sometimes,
They come back
For you.
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
his leisure suit is neatly folded
benith his sweating palms
each exact line per-measured and tailored
to demonstrate to all who gaze on his corrupt face
that he is a man in need of a beach
a little drink with an umbrella and
a dusky girl named Lola
she walks the fenceline
she mends the gaps with patchs from
the pants of this girl from phish tour
and peices of the tye-dye tapestry she uses as a blanket
we mend our lives with the things we have at hand
we see our lives in the slow motion
of each days new reality
regardless of its bearing on what reality really is
its a painting of a man painting a smile on a sad womans face
sitting on hasting's whisper wall
the corporate man
with his far eastern flavors
tends to exaggerate his bent frame
over people sitting at the whisper wall
his face sings a sweet song
but his fingers set fires in the pockets of passerby's
stealing the coins of the relm
but only the ones with a stuttering king
gone down this road many a time
seen this same company of rabble-rousers
dressed in folds of scented linen
walking along the river road
disscussing in mid-evil painters and poets
but they never resolve the questions of the universe
they never even agree what topping to get on the pizza
so much for the rule of wisdom
been many years since i sat at
hastings-on-the-hudson's whisper wall
with that girl
but i still cherish the conversations we had
and time i spent there with her
i have a new whisper wall
on a beach facing the setting sun
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
In class I’m learning all about
How all these great people
Explained the world,
How their models accounted
For the inexplicable magic
That somehow floats around
The earth.
Emerson had these circles,
He saw them in everything.
The Puritans saw God,
Everywhere,
Joy Harjo had horses.
Oh and Clapton played the blues,
And how can I forget
About Phish and their IT?
Me,
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,
Looking at really hard at fields.
I’m staring at their imperfections,
I’ve been getting down to eye level
With the grass,
Thinking about all of the life,
Right there,
That just grew,
And keeps living,
Just like that.
Those wavering little blades.
I think my meaning of life
Is
You.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 11:40 PM UTC
Pine cones adorn the treetops
And-
An errant breeze plucks one off, tumbling
Down, down, down
Landing with a soft phish in the grass
Finding company once more among its kin down below
me.gs
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
Sat down with
My date Ben
It was the full moon
We ate with
His friend Jerry
I brought along
My spoon
They were both
So engaging
They really brought
A smile
I had the
Americone Dream!
We chatted for a while
We'd gone out for
Sea food...
But the place was closed
So we had some
Phish food
Ben nearly proposed!
We got back to
My apartment
To watch some late TV
I put on
The Tonight Dough
We were happy
As can be!
Upon finding out
Ben & Jerry
Liked "The Dead"
I put on Cherry Garcia
That tune stuck
In my head!
Yup! It was a hot date!
I loosened up my belt
After a few minutes
I could see
Both of those guys melt!
But they were just
Half Baked
They ran out on me!
Now I'm just a
Chunky Monkey
As lonely as can be!
SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/7/2017
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
Phish Food
If time travel was possible, you say you’re sure you wouldn’t change a thing,
but I would.
I’m not mad, but I just think that I’m worthy of better times in my life
than what I’ve had.
This just isn’t what they mention when they mention being my age-
And I have my issues separate of you, and that separation might have been
what drew us together.
I recently compared my love life to Rose and Jack from the titanic,
except I’m the one in the water, grasping and freezing.
I’m not trying to be dramatic, I swear-
I just mean:
thanks for letting me hold on for a while.
I hope I was a turning point in your journey to
psychedelic self-discovery,
or whatever.
You were not a turning point in mine.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
None for one,
A fun dance for many.
I´ve always been different,
Abundance more than plenty.
But for this, I´d been shunned,
And this stayed true.
Rambled on alone
Until I had found you.
A fine florida boy-
Who understood why
I prefer shellfish to selfish.
One fish,
Two fish,
Red fish,
No Phish.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC