"ream" poems
Out here in the fields of the distance
whither the wind blows the silence further afield;
roughhewn footprints show a windswept pathway
from whence feral feet lightly trod
Only the passing whispers chase after the gypsy wind:
that the silence be in quire, placed aloft like a sigh,
pealing through the gentle sway of sweet grass' hush
There are no walls need echo an evanescent wind-song
as each breath of earthen psalm vanishes
lilting into the crystalline quietude colour;
The callused patience still held in these hands
is frayed and tattered, but hope heals stronger
than a ream of paper wings to fly away
And I'm mindful I'm not alone again, lost in
a lingering silent storm — pensively listening —
enraptured aneath all the big skies hold
Jesse Stillwater
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
nearer:breath of my breath:take not they tingling
limbs from me:make my pain their crazy meal
letting they tigers of smooth sweetness steal
slowly in dumb blossoms of new mingling:
deeper:blood of my blood:with upwardcringing
swiftness plunge these leopards of white ream
this pith of darkness:carve an evilfringing
flower of madness on gritted lips
and on sprawled eyes squirming with light insane
chisel the killing flame that dizzily grips.
Querying greys between mouthed houses curl
thirstily. Dead stars stink. dawn. Inane,
the poetic carcass of a girl
10k
i am the hookah queen
and drifting in my hookah dream, i find
that i have no one else
to care for.
i know nothing of their bitterness,
their wantonness, their greed,
i know nothing of that world,
only me.
and sifting through my hookah dream,
colored with a hookah ream,
and pulled apart with all the careless shadows,
i smile, (i the hookah queen) and contentedly i drift,
i am going, i am going, i am gone.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
Two Sport-Souls in an Olive's Mood bereft,
The Dove surrenders my Hard-Painted Brush
It was once a Quill; Yet due out of Theft
Lost to my Abuse of that Season's Lush
I guess this is a Bite to Understand
More so from the Pool you Both were long Raised
Twice you, Madam, the Lion you took Hand,
Netting his Tender and stamped it in Praise
So just as I Advised your Prince since told
When Gummi Worms evolve into Sweet Snakes
Twisted, though no such Deed I did that bold
And asked the Bobbie to investigate.
On this Last Page turned, I sealed the Ream with Tape,
Checking out my Card your Library gave.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
let's trade places you and I
and see what it like from the other side
would I want you as much if you were me
and if I were you would I yearn to be free
would you tread time like water waiting for me
would I rush through my day so your words I could see
would I check my phone the way that you do
to see if a text or an email came through
and would you sit at a screen and search for the words
that scatter like seeds left out for the birds
and try to pick out the ones that are real
the ones when combined that show how I feel
and would you start over and over again
giving thanks for a keyboard instead of a pen
thinking how trees must be glad that I write on a screen
and not on scrap paper tossed out by the ream
at the end of the day when we came face to face
would I be just like you with your poise and your grace
and would you be sat there trying for cool
while feeling inside like a kid still in school
I'm assuming of course that were different inside
yet both going about working out how to hide
the truth of the feelings we're longing to share
the breadth and the depth of just how much we care
so if we traded places and I became you
could I do the things that I ask you to do
and if you became me could you easily wait
or would you, like me, be afraid of "too late"
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
Johnny and Mary
Now Johnny knew Mary since they were little tykes,
Running in the field, riding their bikes,
Like other little kids, they stayed out all day,
Doing their chores, later they'll play,
Johnny and Mary went to school,
Tried real hard, act real cool,
Johnny noticed Mary started to grow real fine,
Nice firm ******* big behin',
Johnny thought he'd take him a chance,
He asked Mary to the high shool dance,
Mary said fine, pick me up at eight,
Dress real sharp, now don't be late,
Johnny started thinkin' this could be his night,
Throw her a line, maybe she'll bite,
Johnny and Mary started to dance real slow,
Something in Johnny's pants, startin' to grow,
Johnny asked Mary to spend some time,
Back at my place, we can sit and unwind,
Johnny took Mary straight back to his pad,
This will be the best night, he's ever had,
Poured a little wine and dimmed the light,
Made sure everything, looked just right,
Went over to the stereo and put on a song,
Then he gave her a kiss, slow and long,
Their lips met and their tongues did a dance,
As Johnny reached down and undid his pants,
He removed hers too and went to town,
Got on his knees, he was going down,
Mary started to wiggle, moan and squirm,
As Johnny's tool got nice and firm,
A few more licks, a feel and a pet,
Mary's hole was nice and wet,
Stuck in the tip, a little poke,
Then all the way, he was startin' to stroke,
As Johnny got busy and started to ream,
All the neighbors could hear Mary scream,
Johnny got tense and was about to explode,
Into Mary he shot his load,
A few days later Mary felt real ill,
Then she remembered, she forgot her pill,
Mary gave birth to a fine looking son,
Mary's father started to clean his gun,
Johnny married Mary at City Hall,
He didn't want her dad to cut off his *****
Johnny got a job so he could provide support,
He didn't want Mary draggin' him to court,
A few years down the road things didn't seem right,
Johnny and Mary were starting to fight,
There was a whole lotta fussin' and they began to shout,
Mary told Johnny she wanted him out,
Mary got a lawyer, just passed the bar,
Now Mary's driving Johnny's brand new car.
That is the story of Johnny and Mary...Later...
07-03-09.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
(I) decided to visit you
(W)anting to say i miss you
(A)nd to finally try and kiss you
(N)ever knew it could be real
(T)he 2 of us was just a dream
(T)onight will pass through
(O)ur fantasy will become true
(F)ree of what they'll think
(U)niting in your bed we'll link
(C)ream, oils and sweat, i'll be
(K)illing it all night till the end
(Y)ou above me
(O)r me above you
(U)nified under one moon
Words Of Harfouchism
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
NEW YEAR INTROSPECTION PART THREE
*first read "Audition" by Lauren Rogers:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/audition/*
far too often,
audition i,
my self i daily
place on parade,
call it a model’s runway
or an actor’s stage,
all the while forgetting
already i’ve been given
the part of "me",
having already been deemed
most uniquely
and completely
qualified to play
and having already been voted
most likely to succeed
as an actor of me!
and most of all
having already been handed
the writer’s script,
a whole ream, all blank page
for me to write
and then perform
for each of you
on life’s beautiful stage;
which, begs the question...
who called the audition?
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
It is the brush
that still grows
and slowly dies
from the hazel
string of fire.
Like a violin,
it fills the entire room
with electrity
red-hot, oxygen
making it grow
stronger and stronger.
Until a burst of thunder
claps for an encore.
It must seem to not seem
like that ream
of paper, lying
on the carpet, blank
and waiting for a soul
to touch it with
his fingers
and poke it
with a pencil, and
then, again and
again.
Until he meets
himself in the middle,
and cries out
Halleluia!
It's over,
the flames
disappearing
behind the curtain.
Oct 13, 2009
Oct 13, 2009 at 12:17 PM UTC
It were perhaps too good to preen,
This thing, this much elided stream,
To rest therewith, tremulous ream
Of thoughts forthwith from misery.
Let not the beggar hear my words:
There is no hope in timely dress;
World it cares not for men deferred
From caring press and relatives.
Too much it cares for common things,
A word said soft, need not for pain,
Yet broken in its gleaning thoughts,
Suff’ring not well deserved stains.
These things, I say, they cast a sea
Before dim eyes, make blind men cry,
Rob their sight, ev’n in sight’s drought;
This I say, casts little more t’me.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
I finger the edge on a dull knife and don't cry over white hearts of onions
as I cut them silently, and more easily than I can cut through the white fog
that has maintained permanence in my head, daily-daily (maybe-always).
in the slow tempered, pull of a dry heave and tugging
slackened lines of sail being held up by beams of brown,
a ream of paper is spread, out, like a sheet over the cities
and the needle pulls through with thread, between beats
scratching my scalp
itching my shoulder
all for the meat underneath,
covered in barbecue sauce
come to me, so sticky, sweet
my words are hollow (a promise cannot be kept). my ears are muffled (this beer is warm).
my head is dead (I abstain from meat). don't come for me strangers (quickly, pulled pork).
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
My skin is worn and torn
like a coniferous seed
waiting to grow
into
a towering pine
and then into
a ream of paper
that mostly just
becomes crumpled
individually
and thrown out
like a heart
bleeding far too frequently,
forcefully gushing itself
onto innocent polypropylene
white as purgatory.
My new soft shell
is slowly reborn.
I can't provide comfort
with bulging ****** knuckles
and fingertips burnt,
scarred,
and eyesight that
is mediocre at best.
My hands have seen enough days
to bandage abrasion
and let go of hate.
My detachment never ceases;
but to pick up the slack
of a nervous system gone bad
is to live a deciduous life
perpetually changing seasons.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
In the
Middle of the
Night, in the darkest hour,
Outside in the streets; you'll find
The ghosts all around.
Are you afraid? Don't run
From them, they feed on fear.
Ready to fight the fight, I scream "I'm Not
Afraid!! of no ghosts!"
In the middle of the night I wake up from a
Dream--a crazy, weird, wild dream. :)
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
In any mirrored face
the homeless sees nothing shuffling
from his favorite stores
At night they feel their wild
canine teeth
Words surfacing
uncollected in fragments and scratches
besde underdeveloped manors
in the city's growing mold
and buildings separated by dust like a ream of books
on the trail to the open west
Noise clock, sharp chiming
and unbearable
soot blackness of perpetual rain
pulsing faintly in a palsied
flow of the oppressive
heats and sounds
My sister is a forgotten composer of rebellion
given only the courage
to think her words will merely be
a droning
cello's moans
and preludes unsettled
and old
Without authority
someone might hear her
centuries too late
when few will give her a wait or wax cylinder
of words no better than it's tremorless
indentations unseen by the eyes and ears
The days of crystalized quartz
and effeminate handshakes and kisses
vacant gestures and the beautiful
view of the destitue on a warm
spring morning in the park
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 1:23 PM UTC
He was larger than life
even shriveled
even the size of a
septuagenarian
even at 85
even growing smaller in mind
and spirit
the last year I saw him
he was larger than life and
I still looked up . . . .
He was 59 and I
was a child with
arms and legs dangling
as though they were made of
purple and orange pipe cleaners
and when he said to hang on
I thought of Forefathers
of Revolutionaries
hanging on to their ideals
and my arms wrapped tight
like the rubber band on his bread . . . .
The long-ago far-away again and
again of the
Last Year I Saw Him
seems to come around
like Fruit Stripe on a bicycle wheel
seems to come around
like a broken holiday of
can/can't come because/without
and you drop
like a barbell weight
like a drop of blood
like a ream of cardstock printed with maps
to find you and
to find you and
to find you had just received a thick file from
the Feds.
Again.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
He walked full of class
Pinky never touched glass.
Sharp in the thread
Stiff lip and moustache.
When angry he turned red
His taunts filled clients with dread.
Even his wife wasn’t at ease
When Mr. Gada was raising dead.
His day started with grease
In his hair, and pressed every crease.
Next the pills glazed his eyes
And dampened his seize.
The cheat hid many lies
A past life was no surprise.
He told her he was focused
He talked with clever disguise.
He worked to fill his lust
But late nights made the Mrs. mistrust.
If she said a word his blood would steam
She lay silent, wishing to feel just.
But karma came to ream
His ugly and immoral scheme.
He let business mix with pleasure
Trips to Spain made his dream.
The mistresses husband saw her
And came charging in full measure.
Took a knife to the cheaters cheat
In a jab he lost his treasure.
Spain’s doctors laughed at his meat
Fixing would be too much a feat.
Mr. Gada sobbed and cried
When his wife threw him out on the street.
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 2:20 AM UTC
Baby you're my candy
my private tootsie roll,
cause I love to drive you crazy
as I tongue your little hole.
Baby you're my *******
so soft and full of cream,
pressed up hard against my lips dear
as my tongue your innards ream.
Baby you're my taffy
with teeth I love to pull,
just to taste your salty tang dear
when my mouth is oh so full.
Baby you're me sucker
don't give me any stick,
just hold it to my lips dear
and then watch this sucker lick.
Baby you're my candy
your sugar and your sweet,
and like this here collection
you're good enough to eat...
out.
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
What would it be to be a soldierTo seek the God of war,To make your mind a death machineTo long for peace no more.To make your sinew hard as ironYour muscle ripcord tough,To bend your thinking mercy freeYour soul enshrined in rough.Conformity in dress attireMeticulous black shine,The gun oil on your sidearmThat rigid stance in line.The taughtness when you march en massThe crunch of boots on stone,The flash of steel with bayonet thrustThat splash of blood on bone. Your hatred for the enemyA lust for ****** war,Abhorrence for a personal styleJust compliance with the corps.The stare that sees a thousand yardsThe spines are ramrod straight,The disciplined magnificenceThe Corps d’Esprit is great! Afghanistan & GazaMogadishu and TehranThe terror strips are globalAnd they’re hell for beast and man.To imagine you’ll enjoy yourselfIs madness to extreme.If you’ve seen a man's face liquefyIn a flailing shrapnel stream.If you’ve felt the fear of God nearbyWhen tribals mount a charge,With the shriek of “Allah Ahkbar”And the stench of death at large. “See The World”, the poster said“Free Training for a Trade”,Develop stiffness in your spineWith the army you’ll be made.Comradeship, companionshipIs the essence of the force,A fast, pack march of twenty clicksAnd chanting till you’re hoarse.The Sergeant kicks your backsideThe corporal licks your boots,Lieutenant has you dodging leadWhist digging trenching routes.The Major trims his moustacheThe General drives right past,Dismissing all the riffraffWho are well beneath his class. This-is-the-Army All khaki and brassy shine,You get to brandish riflesAnd wear berets when in line.So pull that chin in soldierKeep the thumbs straight when you march,Or we’ll have you peeling spuds or worse,...We’ll ream your young white **** You wanted to be manlyYou longed to make your mark,You signed up to be countedNow you're Army, hard and stark.So give it all you’ve got young manBend your back and be a knave,the alternative is purgatoryEngulfed, consumed, enslaved.Now you're in for the durationMake the most of what you’ve gotOr they’ll Court Marshal you tomorrowAnd with pageantry.. YOU'LL BE SHOT!MarshalgMangere Bridge27th April 2008
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 9:17 AM UTC
pretty crystals shone atop the stream
they so transfixed an observing eye
as the sun did reflect down its beam
was like being caught in a dream
beautiful shimmers of light seen to ply
pretty crystals shone atop the stream
jewels of nature above the water's ream
exhibiting such a captivating dye
as the sun did reflect down its beam
how lovely this bedazzling team
glistening with a bewitching spry
pretty crystals shone atop the stream
the play across the surface of a leam
which drew a mirroring focal spy
as the sun did reflect down its beam
to partake of an engaging gleam
bought wonder unto a viewer's nye
pretty crystals shone atop the stream
as the sun reflected down its beam
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
i can hear the misery
of the poets, artists, and kings
of the ages we wasn't born in,
screaming in agony
as they never had the chance
to love,
to encounter,
to witness,
to paint,
to write about,
the finest masterpiece
that is you,
my biggest dream,
my dead star wish,
you are the poison that intoxicates
my veins and i couldn't ask
for anything more.
•••
i have always told myself
not to fall in love with the moment,
moments will fade away
they will burn at the back of my head
but i saw him standing there
with his palm out
for me and only me
as the love-infused music about
fools falling in love
flowed flawlessly around us
that's where i did it.
i fell in love with not only the moment,
i fell in love with the flowers in his mouth
i fell in love with him.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
fight the need to pull the thorn, **** yourself to be reborn,
live your life in fear of death, clinging to your final breath
harm done even when you win, pride is such a deadly sin
count me out or count me in, til the day the world wont spin
fine me for my will to be, tax the squirrel the use the tree
sell my insides, scamming me, nothing in this world is free
shaping, taping back together, taking, raking all your splendor
faking, making us pretenders, facing, gaping black forever
bring me down and ream me out, fill me up with hate and doubt
tender fetal origins, generations' collagen
lets go out and hit the town, shoot one up and knock one down
binding, winding, finding sound, listening to my heart pound
bursting vessels 'round the socket, ball it up into my pocket
flyin higher than a rocket, once you've tried it, try and knock it
asking nice to get inside; soiled, rotten, blushing bride
with her hands between her thighs, only wishing for surprise
see our circle dissipate, seems i've found you just too late
all im left with is my hate, and the need to procreate
lose your temper, mind and soul, listen to the blackness roll
deaths compile and raise the toll, what secrets does the future hold?
wretched roaches writhe and run, while rancid tyrants toll the sun
leeches, peaches, pears and plums, **** me when my birthday comes
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
Victories and losses faded under a light so dim,
Trophies and certificates stacked a ream.
Fame and pride cling on to an empty name,
Fear and worry fuel a meaningless dream.
Greed, hatred and delusion cloud the mind,
A blur and foggy vision satisfy the eyes.
Mundane happiness is built on illusion and lies,
Leading to pain and sorrow ready to thrive.
The paths of extremes that have been tread,
Relating to the stories that have been read.
Supreme path of all is to be found in the middle,
Demolishing the renowned Cartesian theatre.
An enlightened mind transcends the web of lies,
Realising the laws of the universe that created life,
Compassionate, kind and fearless one becomes,
Shedding false belief that is preparing to come.
Oh, what a beautiful path to Enlightenment lies ahead,
Which is open to all who possess faith and courage!
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 10:14 AM UTC
Time journeyed through the seasons sublime
Brokered days the trellis of life did climb
Tendered hours but grainy shards without rhyme
Token minutes spindled through the hour glass of time
Each tenuous second garnering only a passing stime
Bartered moments the continuum of existence did wantonly prime
Availing sky's porous rotunda filtered each, ageless ream through spectrum so fine
The hoary sun spilled it's vision into each, vacuous line
Gilded moon, celestial mariner did shadowy expanse twine
Bended stars, twinkling sprites from stealthy perch did antediluvian streams re-align
Primeval planets in their sanctioned orbits perpetuity did assign
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 11:29 AM UTC
two men who i used
to know but who i
never knew knew each
other were sitting at
a window table as the
sky lightened to barely gray
both making a yearly pilgrimage
to the mountaintop stomping
grounds of when they were young
when they believed in revolutions
two ships momentarily run
a coffee ground on cold
october air and a well
buttered chance to catch up
"there's no replacement for family"
said the tall and pompous
actor with the demeanor of
a shark in a hawaiian shirt
"you can say that again"
replied the wiry bible
toting snowbird who used to
scramble around on roofs
somewhere through the
seven a.m. haze over my
conscious and the
florescent lampposts
the toaster popped up
two sesame bagels
*("yes there is"
i wanted to sc
ream "maybe
nobody's fou
nd it yet but t
here has got t
o be some kind
of substitute to
people who w
ill only cause
you pain for
your entire l
ife longer th
an anyone e
lse you'll e
ver know")*
let the doorbell
hurried goodbyes
of two rekindled
acquaintances
passing in the
morning fog
bring me back
to life
*(nothing's real anyway
surrounded by how
alone i really am in this
big world small cafe)*
let the rising smell
of espresso and the
bubbly hiss of 140
degree steamed milk
wake me up to something
i still can't put into words
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Lady karma
shine your light on me
here I am
down here
way down here
robed in tattered clothes
bleeding hands
a broken nose
stumbling
stuttering
muttering
mumbling
shine your light on me
Lady karma
shine your light on me
Near to bursting
seam-less
ream-less
close to losing everything
my job
my friends
my mind as yet
radically
un-cleansed
just a step away
from the edge
balancing
on the precipice
of the wedge
lost in the darkest recess
the corridors of the mind
drunk on thorns
the horns of plenty
that you find
left empty
and bereft
I failed the test
lady karma
shine your light
Lady karma
shine your light on me
I was re-assessed
more likely
just depressed
than a danger
to any stranger
and the homelessness I faced
with quickening pace
seemed at the time
like ill gotten gain
and luckless fate
combined
and yet it faded gracefully
in the shadow cast
by the midday sun
it would have to wait
and I go back
to where
this all began
I felt your warmth
around me
wrap around me
shine your light on me
lady karma
shine your light
on me.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC