"pursing" poems
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Regardless of what the future holds, I know
that no feat of mathematical precision
no combination of zeroes and ones
no mechanical tool, no algorithm
can replicate your face.
In the rise and fall of your eyelids
and the pursing of your lips
there is a lawless radiance.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.
4.9k
Open your mouth dear,
Stop pursing your lips.
Trust has been earned:
I keep telling you this.
In silence you revel
As I speak my troubled mind.
And in reverence, your assertions,
Expire with time.
I thank you for listening,
And knowing this pain.
I hope it won't come to define me,
And that you'll help stay sane.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
⊙
*Luke 12:49
“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”*
This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden
No crops will grow, no sun will shine
No cool breeze to clean the air
of the smell of decomposition
Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope
Which my black boots stomp on
I walk the ruin in silence
I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree
Turning, frowning
The monster is me
Its eyes are as red as judgement day
As red as the faces of the condemed
Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy
As red as the blood ********** in this ancient garden
This is a battleground
Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery
Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red
Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot
Before they disappeared
But me
I stood here
Feeling all feeling being drained out
I walked past a monster weeping by a tree
“Everything good must come to an end,”
Mystery says
Pursing her lips
“And so must everything wicked
But the memories
Those which encircle their victim
And slowly tighten like great snakes
Suffocating their prey
Those last forever
And if those memories last forever
Then how can one remain pure in heaven
Without thinking about sin
Temptation must surely creep in
Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea
Who is pure anyway?”
I know she is lying
(Turning)
But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive
(Frowning)
I look inside my heart to reassure myself
(Turning)
There is hope
(Frowning)
But there’s nothing there
(And the monster is me)
In the vegetable garden
A ruin
A wasteland
I stand
Not really existing
⊥
⊣⊙⊢
⊤
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
Once we lied,
On wooden floors,
Shy as sun in the rains,
Blue as the skies to come,
After the soak and cleanse,
For we were so young, so alive,
Happy pursing sweetest nothings,
Laughs and smiles, tickles, noses
Together on the pines of the floors,
I felt weightless under you as I lost
Myself in the rushes of your night hair,
Dark and strange, musk and heather,
And the depths of your eyes. I bore
No name, my lit flesh was all for you,
My lips never so hungry, my breathing,
Never so short, my eyes never so held.
Lying on that floor, in my simple room,
All the earth unfolded, all the world
Unraveled, and then we awoke.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC
Since beauty is honoured all over the Empire,
How could Xi Shi remain humbly at home? --
Washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake --
And that evening a great lady in a palace of the north:
Lowly one day, no different from the others,
The next day exalted, everyone praising her.
No more would her own hands powder her face
Or arrange on her shoulders a silken robe.
And the more the King loved her, the lovelier she looked,
Blinding him away from wisdom.
...Girls who had once washed silk beside her
Were kept at a distance from her chariot.
And none of the girls in her neighbours' houses
By pursing their brows could copy her beauty.
3.6k
Sleepy daze
Lilac light
Bright
In Deaths Valley where purple petals and purple lips
Part at the touch of His skeleton key finger
That turn chests wide open
To release souls from their broken captors
Dissipate
Not even a firework show for good effort
Eyes wide open and I see everything you can’t seem to say with purple lips so cold and frightened
There’s a thousand white dots and a thousand sound layers beneath the color
Endless
The red veins floating amidst your token bad eye staring straight into the ceiling fan
As if it’s going to lift you up, spin your brain
And attempt to unjumble the jigsaw puzzle of different words and phrases and opinions
That pollute you
Uproot what you’ve known to be true
Since your slate was paved
Since your fingers touched the invisible air
Of unwritten possibility
The wall is grey
The lilac sits on your chest
Its purple and I’m as blue as the deepest corner of the skies rocket ship neck
That crevice fingers pet to coo goosebumps out from their nervous cells
Where I’m hidden
And quiet quiet quiet
Don’t part your purple lips
I’m hidden
Your fingers graze the bed
Like it’s planning on plotting seeds
That will hopefully grow
And I’m alive I’m a life I’m enlightened
I’m not growing you said
I’m crooked you said
I’m not well rested you said
And the lilac sits alone in your bedside garden
Where no other plants dare to sprout
And your hands turn into stray roots
That weigh heavy like limp corn stalks
Frayed at the edges as they approach your ghastly cemetery
And all I can say is I’m sorry
Futile words from purple lips that Death doesn’t silence but caresses
With his skeleton key finger
Pursing them into a tight grip
That lets you know but doesn’t let you go
I’m sorry
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Before I moved to New Mexico
I never thought that I deserved to be in college
Because In California I got bad grades, skipped classes,
Didn’t care about my life and played the victim in high school
Now I’m pursing an Associates and a Bachelor’s Degree
In Liberal art, education and creative writing
I wasn’t sure if I had what it takes to lean on God’s faith
To complete my classes and do well
In that secondary education knowledge
I but I passed my summer with a B+
In my life I’m known to be late for everything I attend
Yeah I was always on that black people time
Waking up at 4:00 am to get ready, eat
And also catch the bus to a summer class
That starts at 8:30am and ends 12:50pm
Every Friday for 3 months was difficult
But I learned to make sacrifices and
I never missed a day of class
I had a bad habit of being a procrastinating excuse maker
But I was tired of wasting time,
I hated proving people right about me
I was tired of my family treating me
Like I was a burden on them
And having haters trying to destroy my spirit
So I could do what they want me to do
So I pushed passed the negativity and I never fell behind
I’d never had a scholarship before
But my first year in Central New Mexico Community College
I received 2 scholarships and I’m going for another one
My mentor used to tell repeatedly
That anything in life that’s worthwhile takes hard work
So try, when it doesn’t work try again and
When you feel like giving up, try even harder
Because a man has no excuses, rich or poor
Now I know 100% that anything is possible with God
And a lot of effort on my part
So I won’t ever quit, I’ll stay motivated and hungry till I have nothing left
Because I’d rather die trying my best than live with regrets.
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2012
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
Life is unavoidably ecstatic,
at every scale, degree, level, dimension,
an oscillation,
season to season
day to night to day to night
cycle by cycle
wax by wane
feeling
by feeling
to feeling
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
crest, trough,
cresting-
falling,
lifting-crashing
riding, riding out
and in
and through
and by
and by,
bursting..
I could explode,
I might explode,
I did explode,
I do explode
though I'm contained,
boundary by boundary,
transcending,
including,
moving
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
rainbows weaving spectral waving,
rivers raging, bodies growing,
organismic, oceanic, orgiastic
in-ing, out-ing,
coming-going,
holding, letting go,
flowing, flowing, flows
surrendered, building,
pursing, pleasing,
pangs, paining,
ripping, breaking,
sorrows to joys to shade to shine,
as chasms to substantiation,
as abyssal to full,
as burn to burning,
to smoke etheric,
to ashes, to ground,
all passions
as passions
passion
pumping, filling, releasing
on-ing, off-ing,
alive-dying-birthing-living,
living as moving
always moving,
transforming
breath by breath
by breathing, being
this to that,
a changeling,
changing
always moving
always moving
both ways
all ways
always
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Ambition
without effort
is like blowing into a flute
without
pursing your lips.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
(AP) another tragic report today of snow mermaids resurfacing a phenomena of drastic blizzard conditions young men lost in blinding blowing winds that sends a person forging foreword then back a step are sightings of real or imagined snow nymphs naked gorgeous young women giggling frolicking through 8’ snow drifts arching limbs grinding hips twiddling fingers toes swaying long hair spreading thighs exposing privates pinching ******* pursing lips gesturing to be seduced beckoning into freezing snow entrapment eventually freezing victims into lifeless blue corpses only additional forensic evidence left behind are definite female snow angel signature tracks in surrounding snowfall areas since onslaught of February 1st storm strike 18 male bodies missing 13 bodies recovered all found grasping clutching clinging desirously to unknown source 5 men still missing if you suspect the whereabouts of any of these individuals please contact 911 authorities warn men of a certain age wear appropriate winter gear scarves raised hats lowered eyes squinting look away without delay if you think you are witness to one or more of these deadly snow mermaids GPS immediately to Police postscript in the several thousand years since these occurrences have been recorded not a single snow mermaid has ever been caught
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
uncertainty
insecure
falling for all the jerks
never wanting
to be wanted
here i lurk
waiting and wanting
wishing and pursing
to be a normal girl
to be me
to be perfectly
complete
to be
a rose of such standard
a spring is born
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
The frothy waves reflect everything
As they are kissed by the pale blue sky and the liquid gold that descends on the horizon
The waves start of as graygreen, then white as they crest
And as they extend for their five second lifespan on the dark sand
They turn a brilliant baby blue touched with a burning orange of the now fading sun.
I watched and waited
Anticipated what might happen when you pulled into the parking lot
Cold hands shoved deep into my pockets, feeling around for what I was supposed to say
Ideas ping-ponged back and forth but no poetry escaped my pursing lips
Even as you pulled into the parking lot,
Let your engine cough and sputter like all the things that I tried to say to you that night
Tried to hide inside myself as I sat in the passenger seat
Confused, conflicted, jaded, manipulated
I let my mouth run like the Nile,
But it didn’t matter a word I said…
You were beautiful like the ocean
But unlike the frothy waves that reflect the pale blue sky and liquid gold that they are kissed by
You reflected nothing as you pulled away from my lips
Your hands still wrapped around my waist
Tugging at my jacket’s zipper
Because I already bare my soul, so why not bare my body, too
For you…I wouldn’t have thought twice
Following the advice of my two best friends,
I was more naughty than nice for once in my life I went in for the **** and I got
Stabbed
Clearly it was a simple and sincere mistake to make
Out with your best friend
and into the pants of her closest classmate, mister I-don’t-date-friends:
I hope you’re happy how this ends.
The sea swallows the sun
Leaving only but a pale orange afterglow.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,
I can’t,
I can’t,
I,
I,
I remember,
once,
you told me to watch Memento,
that must of been over two decades ago,
it’s interesting how we remember little trivial things,
from years ago,
but somehow we sometimes forget important things,
that happen moments ago,
Selective memory is a thing,
and so is selective amnesia,
I suppose in some ways my memories of you,
are kept inside me as personal mementos,
I miss you,
I miss the life we never had together,
I miss you massive fridge,
I miss our days in Bali,
I miss making love,
with you like you were the only person in the world,
and I mean that honestly,
because in those moments you were the only person,
the only person,
that showed me hope,
the only person,
that showed me love,
when I met you I was a street kid,
I had no money and no class,
but you took me under your angel wings,
and I will always remember that,
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,
I can’t,
I can’t,
I,
I,
I know,
that you’re married now,
happily in fact,
and I’m not trying to mess with that,
please don’t take these words,
as an invitation of any sorts,
I wish you all the best this world has to offer,
because honestly that’s what you deserve,
sure,
I love you,
I can not deny that in any way,
but that love,
is so far beyond this physical plane,
I know how dysfunctional I am,
and I’ve given up all hopes in making a family,
so when I see that you are married,
I truly pray to God that that marriage for ever after progresses happily,
and actually,
I only wrote this to tell you that I finally saw Memento,
and I don’t even if you remember telling me to watch it,
I guess that’s part of what Selective Memory Loss is,
or rather selective amnesia,
anyways whatever I’ll just get back to what I was doing,
so that you can get back to what you were doing,
which is continuing to live this life and create this memories,
or erase these memories either way I hope you get whatever you’re pursing,
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
author of multiple best selling poetry books.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
Some types of blood arrest this mouth.
Yes, some types of lips breathe fire and shout.
Some types of women shuck men of their gain, then some women run hurriedly back to their beaches again.
Some people catch anons between their legs. Others swallow vespers BeSpoke by the lust that they crave. Then envelop Gonzo love on the tip of their quill, if only boiling themselves for five minutes to ensure themselves potable.
I live for the taste of rust. I sit in the second-to-last seat on the back-left side of the bus. And I greet her legs with my aching skin, touch my fingertips to my lips to prove that I’m alive to myself.
If her scent was obeyed by royalty. I’m traversing the world if only once more as I’m praying that she’ll see me. I’m praying for our faces to believe in we. And her taste is the bang that is big from the beginning of time, one twist of the fresh zest of a lime, while the years are turned back into the furnace of time. I’m craving faces and loves I once saw. I need to feel the skin tailored for the female gods. I’m certainly loud and catering forth, I turn up the pre, and force the gain and amp up. If only to be noted again, in a bed with my goddess together we’d spend, every moment together in eternity. Immortality conceived of the beasts we achieve. Trampled by the light and tortured by the sound of ourselves. Please won’t you help me to not be forgotten myself? I’m pursing my lips and shaking my hands, I’m jumping off rooftops and eating mouthfuls of sand. Is our hero here or has she she run? Help me find Britni West, my one true love. She’s in California last I had a taste. It’s only everyone else that I lay chaste. With her I’m on top of the world, I’d quaff her spit and champion her skin. There is nothing nor no one that could come between. She’s the only one that is for me, and I’m the only he she’s told me.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
Glad things have changed over coming the rage
Glad to let go turn the page drifting towards the future
Not always going to please everyone but I'll do what right
Earned a day off always working for change
Transition phase into my new position not setttling with a bad situation
Not stopping for haters or listening to their dictation
Seeking more not settling for less obsess others tell me no or its not my time
Burn those cuts like lime juice feel the sting I won't be denied mine
Trying to stay sane not lose my mind working to get what's mine
Pursing love over the lost past sometime it all happens so fast
Rebuild yourself change for the better not because your told to do so
I've given up on ppl but they gave up on thenselves
I don't expect much got use to neglect to assume the worse is perverse
Jump into risk while others play it safe take the time to live
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.
After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.
That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.
Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.
How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.
They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
Feelings of being ******* over
Thoughts of betrayal can't get over
Abandonment feels like punishment
Unworthy of these righteous emotions
Hard to get through
keep the lies from coming true
Stand up to the opposers who turned their back
Taken lightly over skills
Underrated for pursing a career
Overlooked success by underachiever
Slipped over for the next never given a chance
Promised but not given proper treatment
Lies and delays shutdown interest
Cold and dark till it's over
Not sure what to say the day is ruined
Can't compromise neglect
Dishonest words get no respect
But see as a waste of time
Never cross paths in the future
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
There's sadness welling up with water in my eyes.
There's embarrassment flushing to my cheeks.
There's fear twitching to run in my feet.
There's anger bunching up in my balled fists.
There's nausea accumulating in my stomach.
There's confusion pumping through my heart.
There's disapointment sighing in my rib cage.
There's regret pursing my lips.
And there's madness processing my brain.
I am a single being.
One small body, barely growing.
A structure of bones made up a human.
This being, this body, this human,
This single being
Is overwhelmed with emotions.
And I cannot contain these feelings.
I am one person.
Which makes it logical that all these feelings
Would overtake me.
(just like they always do)
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
This all becomes intriguing, as these things are.
Listening to couples speak in different languages—
which consonants are abundant, which sounds
I can’t recreate with my lazy American tongue.
But I try, bending it back further than I ever have,
folding it in half until it’s touching my tonsils.
I flip it over, loop it into a water slide,
let the new sounds tumble out in delight
kicking up waves and losing their swim trunks
along the way. They barrel out of my mouth
red-faced and quietly embarrassed. I learned
to whistle when I was seven, a whole week
of pursing my lips, rearranging the furniture
in my little mouth, hooting in frustration like a sham.
I was told to imagine my mouth was full
of peanut butter, the kind you had to mix yourself,
heavy and gritty. Or to actually eat peanut butter
and the crusts of all my sandwiches
which would be instrumental to my success.
Pretend you are kissing, wet your lips. Press
your tongue against the fence of your top teeth,
no the bottom, as if your tongue had
a bigger kid behind it, stealing everything from its pockets.
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
an open book on your lap,
hair a black jumble as you cross your legs.
i can hear the skin sliding over skin and the pursing of your lips,
like the sea chumming it up with the salt or some ships.
and of your tongue like a red oval sun
fighting against mine in the dark,
i lilt and drown in the dime of flesh above the ankle strap of your left shoe.
you uncross your legs and look at me, then dip your head toward the ground,
draw your hair out with your fingers, past your face, and let it fall
between your thighs.
skin brown as sand and as hot inside the living room,
beneath seventy watt bulb and lampshade.
you sit up, one mile into my mouth,
and cross your legs again, begin,
*“do you like the way that sounds, joshua?"
when my thighs brush against one another?”*
the moon gets caught
somewhere in a net as birds shut up
and cats uncurl.
unbuckle an ankle strap,
slip one foot barely out of your shoe. *“listen to that,
joshua, you can hear my foot
arching, my legs smearing into one another.”* sand glistens
with sweat
and trembles. uncross legs and gather your hair behind your neck,
slip off your other shoe and claim that you are “naked”.
i believe you
and blame my imagination on the book covered in the folds
of your dress.
***for my shortie
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
I scream for it to stop.
Everything. Anything.
Can't it all just stop?
The madness, the confusion,
the pursing of my already declining mental state,
which only makes me more irate.
I need the noise, the pain, the way the thought of you used to burn happily in my chest--
I need it to rest.
I'd rather be drowning in the feeling of emotionless internal bleeding than burning from the inside out on your account.
You hurt me once before, and it kills me to let you do it anymore.
Save me or slay me,
but don't just sit, savoring the torture I'm in currently.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
...
on the nights
the immortal girls
their
andromeda hips
are
blowing dusted sunlight out of
angelic *****
and pursing cherry red
****** vagrant lips
i want to be
the first and
the last
sealing the faultline
of devotion
with your
unrequited thoughts
said aloud from your cigarette mouth
while
all
the other lonely girls
at
the second chance ballet
dance inside the smokeclouds stack
share their lipstick
and
blush
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC