"regrouping" poems
Never feel alone, my friend -
dormancy is also transient,
same as your winter depression...
Only yesterday I heard a flock of geese
overhead in the twilight
announce their return
while a heedless scampering squirrel
repeatedly circuited the trunk of an oak.
The Pervasion is always complete;
embrace it in your awareness
as the Sun's virility will soon
embrace the fields and countryside.
Regrouping the sacred elements
through delicate processes,
rugged mating rituals,
and rebirth -
Forming a symmetry
of vital love incarnate
dispelling all loneliness.
-fr
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
The weekend drips slowly
Regrouping, fixing her flowing blouse
Removing moments of stupidity
Told, goals will not wait upon the playing
The world doubts her abilities
She keeps a flower crown
A sip in her soul and a push beyond control
A gut on the verge of dying
She smiles introducing her cries to the world
If God could see, how proud would he be
Taking shots as they sing
Oh to have a presence built on a kingdom of storm clouds
A goddess with out an understanding
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
It's loud.
Violet, Blue, and Green lights
scatter across the floor,
across a canvas of house music,
echoing back into itself.
She crawls towards me,
wearing only poorly inked tattoos
and the lights that kiss us all.
I touch myself,
wishing it was her.
- I leave the room,
the music fading away,
like retreating from
sound-carrying-birds -
The smoke that comes from the cigarette
forms a skeletal web, reaching for the moon.
With rain slapping the dark brick walls,
hugging and creating an alley reminiscent
of a salivating, crooked-cement mouth,
I stand drenched in silver forgotten.
I drop the cigarette in a petrol-colored puddle,
watching it sink, become hard to distinguish,
and fade away.
- I reenter the room,
the song has changed
and is more mechanical. -
It's loud.
The lights are now
Bubblegum, Aqua, and Tangerine.
She lays supine, watching dollars
drift down, slowly, almost frozen.
Then the splitting of the air.
Fat-Man's body does a half-spin
as I lodge a bullet into his obese shoulder.
The music still blares, almost meaning more, now.
Regrouping himself, Fat-Man is weaponized,
drawing a greasy, inky blaster, desperate to spit.
A supernova erupts and quickly disappears--
like the aftermath of blowing birthday candles--
as his black speckled, crewcut scalp peels back,
letting fragments of chalky skull and pink penne
***** out of his square, boxed head.
Blood appears black under these lights
and instantly whips across
Samantha's still supine body.
The remaining people in the room
scatter like light exposed roaches.
Haunted, she is a toppled statue.
My steps move with the rhythm of the song.
Fat-Man's leather jacket
holds more meat than some mouths.
I plant my hand inside all pockets, find $6,480
in greasy, bloodier-than-usual presidents,
and move towards her, with the music.
Crouching beside her, I wipe the blood.
I clean her pale, tense torso
and help her up.
On two painted feet, she looks detached.
Silence exists, now, despite the music,
while she studies me with the same brown eyes.
Her lips quiver, she remembers
and wraps me with much thinner arms
that used to exist in nothing but memory.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC
Prefabricated thoughts,
They sudden come they sudden go.
They let me in a state of flow
expecting that the tide would soon be on the ebb.
Distorted feelings,
Images and memories appearing
surfacing from a distant past,
somehow making me feel caught in a timeless ball.
Mind games and hidden subtleties
transposed through different time realities.
Confused my deeper world accelerates
in trying to obey what has been missed, forgotten.
My endeavours to make it right
are ebbing now away. My inner world,
it suddenly dissolves in scattered thoughts
disbanding and regrouping the forgotten self deceased.
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
“I write blurt by blurt, edit once, then post and send it out like a puppy”
that is learning to walk, impossible to walk straightly,
thank gawd for walls and laundry baskets and single sneakers
that obstacle us into trouble, opportunities always a near
but never fatal crashing,
and our whisking swishing tail is an ever
countervailing, counterbalancing
waving gesture of
“oops,
there we one goes from nearly, nearer, almost another
nearest disaster
*that is the style of substance of how I write
headlong smashing, bouncing off walls,
regrouping spindly words into a balletic
clown show,
startling off in a new and unforeseen direction,
scrambling energy like three sunny side up eggs,
whistling and crackling and popping,
god, this writing stuff is **** tiring,
so much easier to respose,
chew there upon,
selectfully taste and spit~select
a single word,
picking the appropriate apropos,
taking a nap in between,
then
recommencing
blurting
blurts
of escapading words
that tumble out,
falling all around,
requiring reassembly like
an impossible-to-put-together
new toy,
anyway,
here for you to play with
for your sensory pleasure
is my latest greatest
blurt,
which rhymes with
dessert,
which I will imbibe
after eating all my*
vegetables.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 4:47 PM UTC
The animals are―
in solid fear,
of man.
Fauna was in distress,
delivering the offspring―
to unnamed creator.
Earthworms were
regrouping to start burrowing
under the mausoleums.
Stoicism would find
a new house. The mutiny had
collapsed in good weather.
Of winter and summer,
You know the discipline of
winds, when birds sing.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 7:42 PM UTC
I drowned, the sea was only regrouping
to return with an even bigger wave to
flush my mood, making tears invisible.
Soaked I will return, I'll hunt you down and
haunt you in your dreams, you'll think of me.
I just know you won't forget, I'm not crazy.
My last soldier ran to the battlefield, held up
against a massive army, he died, but not heroically.
A fractured spear pierced through his collarbone.
This final deed was one too much, of such I
may not overcome. I was allright, she rekindled,
I had to fight, lost, died, at least I tried, I'm done now
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
My heartland I travel to,
inside breath.
Inside wandering thoughts.
and moment
as I move closer and closer
to those cliffs overlooking sea.
Dolphins and mermaids gather,
gracefully dancing in surf.
Sun rises merging with emerald green sky,
and waves of clouds meet seas shore.
My heartland I go to regularly,
to fuel up with love,
aiding heart's song.
To expand regrouping with
energies of love in breeze.
Seagulls fly performing grand shows,
Shells swim with tide
longing to be savored by a hand.
The perfect place where time stops,
and worries cease.
A place I visit everyday
for serenity.
StarBG © 2017
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
al-Baghdadi dead
Donald Trump proudly boasting
ISIS regrouping
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 7:46 PM UTC
We miss take many steps, opportunities and decisions,
All throughout our day,
Shall we see them as demon disasters? Or hidden
Gems along the way?
Even today, mistakes were made,
And regrouping, re-evaluating and redirecting were essential, I’d say.
If I decide they were wrong and a waste,
I’d be in a spin, and Miss Perfectionist would get a wealthy pay.
But, if I choose, they could instead be wisdom pearls,
In which to collect and treasure where they lay.
Then I could re-take, learn and grow,
And I’d stay, not run away, enjoy and play.
Dec 4, 2024
Dec 4, 2024 at 8:21 PM UTC
My truth was very brief,
sitting at a long distance.
You were plucking words
at my lips.
The toxic path, I knew
the destiny. Not afraid to
catch the saboteurs.
Paper tigers bring
the spurious hemlock. You
drink from the eyes of bystanders.
Like the dropped
hot coal, you look the
perfect model. I was weary of
bald arguments.
Blood and beheading
will not separate. The babies
are locked in ice boxes.
A harem starts taking the
shape. The sociopath was in charge.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
Had it in my grasp,
Still feel the detailed texture in my hands,
The way I held it as if it was my own,
Thinking about the future than living in the present,
As it hits me,
I fumbled,
All I can do ask for forgiveness and work for it,
It was hurt on the way down,
Doubt it will be coming back,
Regrouping and preparing for it.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC