"prestine" poems
Come on over and sit right down
The storyteller has come to town.
So many stories I have acquired and that's a fact....I keep them hidden in my knapsack in a book that's white and black.
This a story about you.......It was a day just like this .....a total stranger came to offer you A gift.
It was wrapped in the most beautiful paper one has ever seen. The workmanship was awesome.....some would say prestine.
He leaned on his cane .....due to a bad leg. He hurt it one night wrestling until the early morn......he also received a gift like a mother who cuddles her newborn.
So ....as he leaned upon the cane and lit his corncob pipe ....and blew smoke in the air. The extravagant gift was placed on the chair.
He said "This gift that is contained in this box is something that everyone wants." " You have have been chosen to receive this gift." "You don't have to take it.....you can give it to another.....if you chose. Although....it wouldn't be wise to make such a move."
The gift is still sitting in that chair......should I open it or leave it there?
A potential to change my life and end the strife I face on a daily basis. This isn't a deserted scene where you will see a thirst quenching oasis.
My basis for this story is about choices.....you have so many voices guiding your every thought......sometimes we chose wisely......and other times not so much.
These are the occasions when we lose touch or sight between right or wrong......the consequences for that wrong selection.......will have me singing a sad song.
If I chose wisely the day will be a lot easier to travel...not a perfect ride.....but I will arrive with all my bags in tow.
Chose wisely ........
So....he gathered his belongings and blew a smoke ring in the air.......and hobbled off into the distance. He hummed a jovial tune and yelled back that he would return soon.
The Storyteller...........
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
The damage was inside her,
Like the blood coursing in her veins.
Invisible cracks running under her porcelain skin.
Scars from the erosion of constant
Toxicity.
There's nothing more I wish to do
Than to fill in the cracks.
Sand and polish her
Back to prestine condition.
The way she was before the world
Wore her down.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
Let everything be in its prestine condition
Hold on to your ambition
2017 has already ended
But don't worry my friend
Here is a new year
A new beginning for us all
No need to fear
Because God will hear your call
So let us welcome 2018
And it will be good to us all
Here is a new year to reaching our dreams and leaving the bitterness of the past year.
HAPPY NEW YEAR FOLKS
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Going home to the country side for
The weekend, where
The snow is twice as
Deep and prestine.
I've promised my girl we'll put
Winter clothes on and trek through
The woods; play children.
Lay flat on our backs
On soft whiteness between naked
Trees, just listening to
Winds like the ghosts of whales
Swimming the skies singing;
Calling to the echos of
Their echos' echos.
Then, red cheeked and sniffling,
Brush January from ourselves,
Stump snow from boots, and head
Inside for hot showers.
Her wet hair slowly drying
By an open fire. Wine, and either
Music or just the whispers of
Winter playing with the ancient
Wood in the walls between
Silences.
Candle light catching the white
Flashes of flakes falling outside
Ice cornered window glass
In complete, quiet darkness.
She calls it camping in the cabin.
To me, it will
Always be
Home.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
This is a improv poem
As vibrant and vivacious as a brand new totem
My luck feels like a bad game of Texas Hold 'Em
Instead of picking up the cards I fold them
The moon is covered in clouds when I walk out on the porch
Letting my presence sink like a dying torch
I'm not the one who rides on self pity
But I'm the lonely beggar drowning in the city
Barely making it
I can swear to you I'm not faking it
Everything that happens in my life
Should not contuine in my offspring
For they only know unity and peace
Until I send them off into this world
Where people are hanged and ******
For being the ones who want to live freely
As I know times are tough
I must not get my hands too rough
I must make sure the water is just right and my tone is prestine
So they can comprehend why I'm intently serene
So they can remember my words
So that they can swing the sword
With only thier words
For that they can become much more ambitious than other kids in their generation
And seize the hearts of a nation
They could become beloved sensations
That would be my greatest iteration
God bless me for that I've loved
Will bless me with the most beautiful people the Earth could possibly have standing
Taking after their mother
Who is my queen of the kingdom I so want to return to
As life is the opposing men capturing me and keeping me in their cold, lonely, prison.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
These three hundred dollar candles on this table
Are challenging their value over me
Sorry I'm not specially scented
I'm speaking to a candle, I must be heavily demented
I don't belong in this Italian Restaurant
I might challenge their romanticness
Polish and prestine
Just a toast for Christine
I'm not the biggest spender for tiny appiitizers
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Wallace, my man Wallace, fell
In love with his wife,
For real for real
Fell in love.
If someone should happen upon
To see the two of them
If by chance passed by
Them two together
How odd a couple
They may say
She's such a little thing
Something so prestine to
Wallace, homeless guy howler.
Who is more himself with her than
Without her.
Mr. dumpster-diver-king!
The two individually are
Themselves genuinely
Together lovey-dovey,
Not an act.
Wallace falls in love,
Says that's a fact
Knowing that it also means
You've found someone
to lose.
Still, Wallace knew
love.
It's the god-honest Truth.
Then I ask Wallace
Mindful of the streets,
I ask him poignantly
Do you believe
in-- ?
Dotdotdot
Hastily he barks:
"Of course I did, do--believe in God above."
Didn't let me finish:
"Do you believe in --Love?"
Didn't ask for more
Than that,
Oh my ...
(Word) (goodness) (God)
To Wallace,
A Lonely Man's church is
the memory of wife who’s love
was long and always bright,
he’s just a lonely king
dumpster diving
a shadow of a thing...
To Wallace, she was everything...
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 3:58 AM UTC
Past,
i saw you crossing roaring rivers and
climbing snow clad mountains,
taking long walks through prestine landscapes,
or loosing completely in ecstatic rain dances,
But,
when i sought you,
and after long last,
found you there,
where you were hiding in disguise,
like a refugee, whose passport was lost--
you were,
mostly eliminated,
like a map, eaten by hungry moths ,
vastly altered
by time, the great forger
hiding in my own attic,
drastically cut,
particularly at corners,
like a cake eaten by greedy cats,
totally sanitised,
clumsily cleaned,
shades of dark completely erased,
unknowing it's value, to create contrast
foolishly whitened,
throwing sense of aesthetics,
on the way side.
I can see frills attached without any rhyme or reason,
specifics, misinerpreted in many unwanted places,
dark lines of interference, criss crossed,
killing the pleasure of recollection.
And, what is the precious left over?
do i see anything significant at all?
your this avatar, i would have gladly
submitted to Herr Alzeimer's
what i see before mind's eye is delicately positioned,
ambiguity has taken active control, effectively of all details,
i stand aghast,
close my eyes
and try to answer
the question that arises:
"who exactly is this?
the memories reappearing as a ghost
to bring me back to senses,
and make me come in terms,
with what has passed for ever?"
#
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
i gaze at its brilliance
it fills me
lightning flashes across the sky
i feel calm, serene
my feeling comes back to me
the days numbness wears away
every bolt is energizing
bringing me in closer
to what loves me the most
it protects me
intrigues me
and i am lost in its beauty
I love it
and what i feel for it is indescribable
untouchable
prestine
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
Eyes as blue as the North Sea,
Hair black as the soul of a crow.
Smile like that of a child
Seeing a bicycle finally
Unwrapped and shining, smelling
Factory fresh and prestine.
She'd beat the life out of any fool
Laying fist on my flesh, she says.
I trust she would.
My western Norwegian Shield Maiden,
Born on the coast where seagulls are the
Size of dragons.
She has one foot on top of the world,
The other rested on my lap,
And we're team more than lovers.
Lovers more than people.
Eyes as blue as her hometown skies.
Hair as black as the absence of light
Itself. And I, pilgrim.
Rest.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Thou art now subject to moral decay,
Moral display is factored in thy oddjob list,
Wherein snob-ball Lisp's are sumblime in groupie sets!!!!
Woe to be pondered,
Sky's souly to be wandered through broken holed boat's,
To neat-nice pottery stinking nets!!!
Astute loons maketh their graces high and mighty,
Where tribes stay rewinding their beginning end's of birth,
Art thou a leader from many kingdom's?
Or a lubricant to zealous curse!!!!!
Spoon's replace knive's,
Deadly sin to replace wive's,
Crimes against humanity puppeteer the market's trail,
Crumb's reach the helpless, whilst snarling dog's drag tail!!!!
Embankments to fit the streamed beauties,
Where prestine muting is sound fit to cold coated bones!!!
Infrequency goes higher to the laughing in lover's valley,
Wherein pin's to sportsman's ball goes rallied,
Tallied up zero to zero four score!!!
None makes a difference if thou art the lonely beggar at loves lost door!!!!
A premium stands by for the serpent who make's it's pass,
Crawl through the fiery hole thou stained creature,
Step out betwixt the cities of the now and forever future!!!!
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Gods, gods, gods.
Let them fight their own battles,
Shed their godblood upon the
Space between the in-betweens
While us mere mortals play
In peace
On Terra Firma.
The crimson linings of the clouds
That shield Heaven from our
Prayers drip drops that leave
Stains in the shape of our children
On battleground surfaces.
The bullets they bite won't fill
Their bellies.
Winter trees in deep sleep under
A thin film of ice; the broken
Water of Winter.
Soon all is white; crystals floating
On the wind between the worlds;
Leaving this one prestine and
Pure, like infant prayer,
Only to arrive at another and be
Stained with war-steel and
The tears of the dying.
Gods with egos:
I fear them more than
A million
Angry men.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
Your seas may he prestine
But mine were dumped endlessly
Polluted and disrespected
I hope somebody tries to clean it all up.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Luminescent skin, spiralling layers pressed
From inside the curling dagger pollen;
Violin strings draw forth the butterflies
Towards their fate, cerberus lips clasp
Wings of dafodil— spotty mossy green
Outcrosses the budded red drooping dead;
Akashic run, like that of a waterfall
Whence rippling pendulums row,caught infinitely.
Glowing stem— seperating to laughing claws
and mandalas paused along fully harmonious crease;
All falls back to fungal soil underground
For which all life is magnetically supported:
Prestine exoskeleton, flaming bones
that weavith skyward with ancestral ghost
softly chasing, having foundated their creator.
Blonde hair binding split petals via waves
Of furious vibrations, snapped calm and quiet.
Mature flesh and bone, whom let the pencil
Move over pale canvas—
'I picture a clock that's arms spin fire
Outward. '
Poor woman, legless two years
Prior to her deathday— wonderous harbinger
Who once, overwhelmed by the menial day to day,
let pencil fall,skim and form
and reform
Beautifying the world -- lonely, bold and brave
Her mind image caught, fished through the haze
And etched for the rest of time to forget.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
Before that Final day
dictates the Sounds & Furies
as All as eye
for you by you
the minutia dress of un-success
dross and bullets
butterfly wings beautiful
garbage
gots to sho-fo...
Before the infinite space eyes
scrutinize
on that final day
beyond spatial searching
for good graces
like light being recognized
love on all faces
on that last day having failed
our Mother's womb
this fine fine fortress of a home
evergreen--sea--sky--blue
if Absolute were upon us
curtains and swan songs
for Georges and Gorgeous dreams
this beautiful jetsam
garbage heap
from Rosetta ashes
with form from crushed cosmic soups
a stone
spinning kaleidoscope
at most, spheres
with tearful fears
bewilderment cheers
heavenly lungs vying
all of us here impatiently dying
everyday with the sun
Wait for the Father's love
to once again save us
before the infinite
upheaval...
Upon piles and piles of off-putting
garbage heaps
a child is picking up things
anything of value
something of sustenance
lessons of happenstance
And Low! It is not good...
All are our children - being denied food & mirth
But what is a song to a diminished bird?
no cage more cruel than loss of life's worth
the tossed away
little tiny
shavings from the noble
mettle from Excalibur's dross
diamonds glittering nightime gowns
picking up trash in prestine dresses?
babies precious lumps of coal
with little value
but our future blessed...
In the heart's sacred berths
Love upholds
Life more than gold...
*Because... Day oh! Mi za Day - oh!
Daylight has come..."*
(Home = Priceless)
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 4:26 AM UTC
Cracks form aside eyes of-
tweakers.
Heads down-
shuffling.
Stop. Smile. Beg.
Might as well fetch too.
Dark alleyway stops.
Shoot up.
Shooting down the block.
Stop. Smile. Breathe.
Heart racing.
Stand-
shuffle more.
Place to place,
Block to block,
Light after light,
Searing your pride.
Downcast eyes.
Prestine scowls.
Plastic smiles.
Stop. Smile. Beg.
Furrowed brows.
Echoed no's.
Fold in half,
"God bless."
Yelled, **** no's.
Who do you think you are?
Get a job.
Don't beg.
Shuffle back.
Empty parking lot.
Shoot up.
Stop. Smile. Breathe.
Shoot up.
Stop. Smile. Breathe.
Shoot up.
Stop. Smile. Breathe.
Shoot up.
Stop.
Smile.
Break.
Body no more.
Soul gone long before.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
The sky is so lit with silver diamonds shimmering in the night sky
so pretty so prestine
why oh why cant this just be one big bad dream
alone in isolation
forced to learn
how to grow up
and not to be the ***** from so cal
who loves me
but doesnt respect me
yet is so protective of me from other guys
but no from his choice violent choice of words
from the little boy with one big ego
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 5:48 PM UTC
I
airport walls
universty halls
hospital toilet stalls
for when nature calls
places to cold and clean
to sheen
places so white and clean
so fake and prestine
so healthy and safe
II
and all are for waste
the germs in hospital stalls **** more
then the university walls see students
steering suicidely out windows and doors
looking for the quickest route to the floor
which might be four stories out of a window...
and into the paved covers of my concrete queen size
sleep for infinity what a way to rest my eyes
what a way to be alive
no stories to be told from dead eyes
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
I won’t bother much, my friend
Whether it’s a secret treasure hunt,
Pilgrimage to the mountain shrine
Or just a jaunt along the scenic trrrain
There certainly would be surprises
Experiences to lighten one’s steps
Meet many otherwise I won’t see
Unless I chose this one journey through
Prestine roads that kept their character intact.
Rubbing shoulders with folks
Keeping abreast of their stories,
Shaking hands with people with heart!
Each face is deeply etched in my memory!
After parakeets I ran,wondered at
The rainbow colors on butterfly wings!
Orchids had a blend of fragrance and magical colors.
Once at a stop a girl sat with me,
And credling my heart told stories of ethereal experiences,
I still trudge,pollen from flowers
make me look like
A bee in search of honey of a rare blend!
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
The first coat of snow
Waking up to a white canvas
Pure and prestine
Sterile and clean
Covering the last hints of green
A soft mask
Over gravel and grass
What does winter truly bring?
A reason to look forward to spring
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
The night was dark. Pitch black as ebony. Thick, putrid clouds, swirling yet stagnant, a confused cloud of shadows, chaotic and ugly. The repulsive, murky mist of lies and darkness seemed to smother the filthy ghost of a once-white mansion
The seemingly sinister gas brewed like a storm, disturbing and convoluted as a filthy pond - the waters stirred darkly as pungent, coal-black mud was upset by unseen forces, the clarity and sweetness of prestine water now a distant memory. Echoing cries for restoration long since drowned out by the low, droning roar of the turmoltuos, all consuming cloud of despair.
But then -
But then, through the tarr black haze, where all hope was lost
But then, through the tarr black haze, a clear, pure note.
The sound of a distant trumpet, a battle cry, a chorus of distant, thundering feet pounding against the dusty roads, angry.
Angry, angry people, but angry was not all these people were.
Angry, angry, but these people who would become our saviors were hopeful.
Clear, blue passion, streaked crimson with fury.
They radiated from these people, protests.
These people cared. And with this care the people began to clear the stagnant water of lies and immorality, closer and closer to the crystal, sparkling pool of idealism.
And though the water never sparkled as much as the eyes of these people did when they spoke of their hopes and dreams, these people were satisfied, having made the lives of the people around them just that much better. And how? Oh, just a dash of passionate action.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC
.
*Heavens celebrate
With
Silver gates,
Silver flowers,
Silver crowns,
Silver tiaras,
everywhere.
Silver curtains,
Silver gowns,
Silver capes,
Silver drapes,
everywhere.
Shining blossoms,
Fragrance filled,
Echoing smiles,
Pearly clouds,
everywhere.
Angels clad in
brightest silver,
Fairies dancing around,
Harp with it's
silver strands,
Playing it's tune and sound.
Flute echoing from
far behind,
The ambience full
of cheer.
Stars assembled to bedazzle each and
every turn,
Moon brightens the nook and corner of the big heaven,
You are running around in the pristine silver attire.
Today's your 16th birthday,
And
Celebrations are planned in heaven, my dear!
All the Gods and Goddesses are invited,
Cakes are bigger than the tallest tree,
Trees are laden with chocolates and truffles,
Eateries bright and silvery too.
Making the atmosphere prestine and pure.
It's your birthday
dear son,
And
Celebrations are planned in Heavens!
Mom & Dad sends you love, hugs and kisses,
They wish you the
best of today
And
Lots of love travels your way down here from,
The Earth.
As,
Celebrations are planned for your birthday in Heavens.
*
Sparkle In Wisdom
19/11/2020
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 3:14 AM UTC
If I collected our memories and put them in a jar
There'd be withered petals
And prestine fake flowers
There'd be im sorry notes
And I love yous
There'd be a finnickey watch
And sandy bottle caps
I'd see crumpled concert tickets
And chipped nail polish
There'd be flamin hot peanuts
And pictures slightly burned round the edges
There'd be tears
And ***
And magic mushrooms
There'd be dirt
And eye crust
And sandman dream dust
There'd be eyebrow hairs
And recipes for laughter
There'd be more than I can see
Then much more beneath
And if I close this lid
I wont know what comes after
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC