"relayed" poems
I usually begin these rants with a question.
But i find myself lacking in just this instance.
For whom can say.
Anything more
When ash refuses to respond.
No message can be relayed.
Just more things that i silently promise.
As i figuratively toast to a memory that will never do you justice.
Is it disrespectful to take words so literal.
To the point.
That looking down gun barrels and beer bottles.
Turned into a ****** routine that pride would boast.
Only there was no smile in my smile.
Inhaling disappointment.
As the years of missed visits and substance abuse.
Led me here.
At your deathbed.
wishing my words could reach beyond.
Without worry of a certain spectres blade in my shadow.
Then somehow.
I made my word.
The only thing worth asking about.
Because allowing the past to weave around the last routine we shared.
Would force everything that i have come to embody.
To null
Et fin.
But no.
Your gift was ever changing.
Trading a jack for skills.
While masking scars that only those with them would know of.
And in the darkest moments did i find a crystal.
Clear.
Resolve.
To struggle onward.
Tears wont spell the revisions we seek.
and i was taught to always look my best, no matter the destination.
Everything that i am.
Came from you.
It didn't come from a book nor a Professor.
I can only hope to pass on your wisdom.
Although cryptic at times.
Will remain in my heart.
So even though I will forever be thinking of a new metaphor.
A penny will sit in my pocket.
Until the day that I can place it in your palm.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
I looked into my grandpa's eyes
In my daughter's face disguised
My son's hands now strong indeed
Just like my dad's I see.
Temperament like calm currents flow
From generations long ago
Eyes hazel gold so beautiful
Passed to me ... ages old
Grandma gave her that tenacity
And there's Meema's willful personality
My son took Peepa's tender heart
That feels the pain of another's lot
High cheekbones a dead give away
Of Comanche heritage displayed
Blonde hair like one we never knew
His life cut off way too soon
Deep poetic waters flow
Music locked inside us rose
From history past revealed today
Sweet sung lullabies relayed.
Unknown tears that flowed from souls
Pain and hardship we'll never know
What did it take to bring us here
What suffering did they volunteer
Archives of history living in me
Within me the keys to great mysteries
Treasures buried deep inside my soul
Tapestries of lives sewn together as a whole
Fragments of you, pieces of me
Weaving together delicate filigrees
Illustrious building rise from the grave
Living forever through endless age
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
I'm starting to dream in color
swimming in Silvia red night gowns
and dancing into silhouettes of purple and crimson.
psychedelic actually,
if you take the time to think within that perspective.
it's like a toned-down rave set in slow motion by overdose.
and where are you?
are you passed out on the lawn in front of some closed down swapmeet?
did the flicker of insomnia turn you off like a light switch you hadn't paid the bill for?
who now, will answer your phone or pay homage to your quips
or late night phone calls to God?
I wish I could say that I relayed the message
but my nerves never were enough.
I wonder if the angels ever picked up on the twisted games you played on their names.
Many people never bothered to decipher it all.
But on occasion I did.
When the time was convenient,
when the moments were dull.
I delved into it.
I tried anyhow.
Forgive me for never letting you pass.
For standing arms and legs wide apart to halt the inevitable.
I wish for so many seconds
that I was there to do something,
to show something,
some inkling of understanding through sarcastic grimaces.
To you, who will read this and play dead for flair,
may you call upon me from the imaginary casket when you get this.
Fore I do see that you could never leave like that.
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 9:56 PM UTC
Pawpaw would rock by the fireplace in his favorite rocker ! The occasional whiff of Oak firewood and Borkum Riff pipe tobacco , I was hanging on to every word ! A narrative about a little boy in 1925 . Standing by his chair , as proud as I could be ! He'd look straight into your eyes without even flinching , the smell of Old Spice aftershave and Kentucky Bourbon . A shot glass with a gold rim ..A pocket watch his Father passed on to him ..Stories of a little fella from the south side of Atlanta relayed to a captive audience of one ! A starstruck grandson with a cup of hot chocolate , cap pistol , belt , holster , pajamas and house shoes ! Astonished with tales of Buffalo Bill ! Sergeant York and Wild Bill Hickok !
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
Spoke to a near and dear friend today who relayed a story to me, asked me to write something about it, then requested I shared it. Thanks to all of you who do what you must.
I was feeling most light
To start this day
But now I confess
That has gone away
I will reveal things
Some consider dark
And be very frank
Though you may find it stark
I have hunted and killed
The most elusive of prey
Hoping to never re-visit
That final day
And though I bury the memory
It seems to rise from the dead
Once again though as yesterday
Living in my head
The last look on his face
The last living soul to see
The confusion and surrender
His life showed unto me
Not like I had a choice
It was his life or mine
Only one of us would ever see
Once again the sunshine
One of us or another
Would ever again know life
That's how it is
At the point of a knife
One life is ended
Another goes on
Only one of us would see
Another dawn
You call it PTSD
I call it life
Living to tell the story
At the tip of the knife.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
to-day I sat in a slim line chair
in which I was made aware
of the size of my posterior's pear
it drooped over the sides of the seat
and it didn't look orderly or neat
a not so subtle message
my buns have relayed to me
they've said that they are
a little too hefty
I'm making a belated
New Years resolution
which is to seek an answer
to my tails expansive evolution
being unable to place
my posterior in a chair
is truly a most
wretched affair
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
The Art of Subconscious Illusion is an elusive tendency towards the averse,
or rather,
the act of lying to oneself
Oft times you’ll find yourself wondering how...
…how you lost her…how you lost love…
how you lost yourself
Your mind a jumble of
spiral static,
coils of confusion, twisting malevolently,
failing and falling,
flawed and faulty,
feeble and fading,
you slowly begin to yearn for a second chance,
wish that you had performed more charmingly in the blistering tragedy of feelings lost...
but there are few second chances in the misfortunes of life.
the damage is done, and now you must live with the consequences
of a dying will to persist in this journey,
the ups
the downs
the laughter
the pain
after endless days of convincing yourself you’re not to blame you finally see it for what it is...
You made the choice
you made your bed, and now you must lie in it…
and as you slowly make your way towards the reclining slope of the soft satin covers you’ll begin to see….
it was not a bed your actions relayed....
....it was a coffin
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
Almost made it to the state line.
I was headed your way
To give you a piece of my mind
Because I've got a whole hell of a lot to say.
I wanted to tell you
How much it hurt
When I finally knew
That all my hopes were shattered.
I wanted to scream
So very many things
About the pain I've endured
And the losses incurred.
I wanted you to feel
The shame and loss and guilt
I think should be forcing you to kneel
And beg for forgiveness.
But then I passed the sign
That changed Central to Mountain time,
And I realized I can't change your mind,
And the words on my lips died.
So turned my car around
And drove the 6 hours back to town
And home.
And when I'd relayed
What I had attempted today
To a couple of friends
I knew this was the start of the end
Of me giving you
Another thought,
Another chance,
Another moment of my time,
Another place in my life.
Do you know what they said
When I finished my story?
"Thank you for turning around.
Thank you for coming home."
And they're right, you know.
I am finally home.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
I wonder if my late night plays
Will ever be relayed
To a generation that is slayed
In my play every black home
Has two stories, a fence
and a dad that won’t roam
Their cars ain’t all chrome
No bars on the windows
No grandmas saying lord knows
When cops shows
There are more colors than grey
No dope boys on the corner cliche
Or dogs on chains barking to get away
The colors blue and red stand for a flag
The black youth aren’t in a body bag
And pants never sag
Black men aren’t scary and mean
The system isn’t their adversary or
The silver screen
They don’t fill cemeteries nor chase
The color green
Black women have a name
Not ***** or **** used as shame
No fakes buts for their fame
The son has more hope
Then shooting a ball and ****** bout dope
He aspires to use a stethoscope
The daughter is strong and free
She can either write a song or get a PhD
Her future is whatever she wants it to be
Their ain’t thugs on tv our color
Not every sitcom has one strong black single mother
Or get drunk and fight one another
Gun violence is a joke
the police don’t chock our folk
Our music don’t promote drug use
And Gucci don’t ******
Drivebys are now hi’s
Every family is woke and wise
It’s sad to know
That this world won’t ever exist
Because the world outside
Is to nightmarish
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
Through many nights of unsound sleep
I've heard you say my name
You held your hand out through the haze
And whispered
"Come and find me..."
Your invitation woke in me
The hurt to hold out hope
You've ruined me,
Stole all from me,
And I have always loved you.
If I could take away the nights
I longed to touch your hands
Or smell your hair
Or hear your laugh
Or know you missed me too
I would.
You took my very confidence,
Walked away with all my pride
Doused my trust and struck a match
Reduced my faith to cinders.
Your love was never really mine,
Those sparks alive inside your eyes
Told me I was not enough
Impressions all re-told, relayed
And carved into the hands I hold
Fists I clench ask I stay brave
Despite the truth I thought I'd stayed
Bid farewell and walked away
I've hated every single day
I thought your eyes were mine
But found out later lied at times
And left me in a state of stupor
Stayed up late refreshing thoughts
In hopes I'd see you one life sooner
Not have to wait another chapter
You spin your story, yet another,
I'd found all endings through my lovers
The ones I've loved in living matter
In skin and bone and days forever,
Not dreams that lived through dying embers,
Fantasies of youthful slumbers
Our dreams were worthy of remembering
Days spent in September, singing,
Laughing like our youths together
Holding hands, through frightened fetters
Hearts and promises were breaking
As I recall, the air was heavy
Thick with quaint and distant longing
Brought my blood to painful burning,
Exalted fears to basic yearning,
Turned away, last second learning,
Tears in eyes tore me asunder
Brought me to my lowest standing
I can't afford to be so petty
Perdition's path turned me astray
That road was ours to walk together
But we got lost along the way
Our paths will cross again, I wager
But not the way we walked before
I've learned to trust my loss and anger
The pain is weakness leaving me
Reminders grief was all worth feeling
Wisdom that to life there's more
I have mine and you have yours
Your boy, my words, these bonds are precious
Like soothing rain that stops the storm
Like distant clouds on the horizon
Like winds that settle change's roar
I left our memories on the shore
I've walked away, I'm hurt no more
I've left your memories on the shore
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
I tried telling her
Of my life's wisdom and notions of fetters.
She relayed to me
Visions of nothing less than ecstasy.
I bemoaned where I went wrong
She said I'd been ******* a loser ****
She seemed so happy
I shrugged and agreed
If they weren't ******* me
I must be ******* them.
I lost track of that *****
But words register a score
And the more I seem to ****
The more I seem to score.
It's a cocksucker's life
Even if you just do it with your wife
She gets her way
Day after day
Until you may decide
Just to chop it.
Emasculation redirects
Power to new ducts
And the hammer rises
And the hammer falls.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Winter's edge flurries -
snowflakes converge,
a carpet of fox scavenged litter
re-emerging like
iced puddles of hubris.
Whilst The Christmas message is relayed
Rebecca erects a humming line
to keep away the crows and parquets
from her prized cabbage and kale.
but the threadbare sound is
reminiscent of cymbals,
carrying thoughts of a lost carnival.
She journeyed to the coast
and caught an amateur performance of the
"Seven Deadly Sins", in and out of situ.
The deserted beach, ghostly
yet littered with wicker creels
the fisherman their whispers silenced,
better console with tomorrow's wise
in hope of an epiphany.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
You can see it in their breath
Thumos
Persuade words
Relayed souls
Believe inside
Faith does reside
Whose ears to hear
Let listen let learn
Burden again
Salvation will win
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
The serpent speaks words which are undeserving fables of hurtful intentions raging within her
I took a deep breath in an instead of a push back, my kindness was sweetness aching her teeth
Her sugar rush of confusion relayed a headache and her fangs and her poison took a step back
I gleamed with a smile of trust and amazement
As pure kindness does **** an old heated heart
I can't blame her or shun her for her bitter ways
I can only lead in example in style with grace
Because a serpent is tantrum of an entitled stranger
Or maybe a wounded solider battling herself yet to heal from a dysfunctional heart
And I am a lady regardless of such things I've done in my past or can't admit to the world
A master of disguise with innocence behind me
A pyramid that stands after storms and abuse
I've known no avalanche to strike or defeat me
Only negatives that lingered to help me develop
I've known no artist to win in an instance
Or a luck so clever to keep running back to
I've only known that terror and darkness and hatred are cured by the kindness from the wise ones
And coincidence is more than some kind of echo
It is purpose we seek and sometimes we question
But the truth is our purpose is to blossom like wildflowers
And even flowers need help from rain drops to flourish
And sunshine to liven that inconsistent rain
So be the sunshine or you might end u a serpent
Praying on kindness only to **** you in the end
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
A voice came in from
The deep blue sea
From a ghostly old
Sea dog lost at sea
I was to carry his voice
I was to be thee host
To find his lady who
Lived once on the rugged coast
Many cliffs I willingly climbed
With a wide smile on my face
Till I came to graveyard
A sweet quaint old quiet place
There was once his widow
His wonderful beautiful bride
I relayed his voice to her
Now alongside her,he now lies
When I visit the seaside
And look pleasingly out to sea
The voice of thee old sea dog
Says thank you to me.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 7:44 AM UTC
A crying clown on the boardwalk smiled
to melt away his fears.
The humming of the passing world
could not prevent his tears.
Once an introverted extrovert
that liked to talk out loud.
Is sitting with a sullen head
now hiding from the crowd.
There were messages,
that once seemed, like fine ropes made of sand,
but the messages were something,
he was to late to understand.
Sometimes it might be easier
to fall before you rise,
but in the end, it always hits you
right before you die.
As he sat there with expressions
he'd perfected through the years,
there were voices, that relayed to him
the passing of the years.
All the desperation
that would always leave him cold,
was the type of desperation, that watched him now grow old.
And as the situation, now revealed itself in turns,
he wondered in his crippled mind,
is there anything I've learned.
And despite the sinking feeling,
that engulfed his shipwrecked mind,
a silent voice would whisper that...
"there's something left behind".
Its that silent voice that whispers,
makes him reflect and rewind.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
This morning is bleak and dreary,
The lake is frozen and cold;
The prince is making me weary
Of all of the stories he's told.
I've seen all his quests for vengeance,
I've counted his spoils of war,
I've relayed all of his messages,
And now I'm quite terribly bored.
He's crude, he's foul,
He never says thank you or please;
He never stays quiet, he always yells,
And his britches smell of old cheese.
I cannot bear to be near
A man so lacking in refinement;
He's got not an ounce of respect,
And should be in solitary confinement.
He's repulsive, repugnent,
A blight on the land;
Why, the very birds won't eat
From his murderous hands.
Oh! If only I could escape
This horrid, ***** man!
If only I could save myself...
Oh wait! I can!
So, I think I'll go find a dragon,
And strike up a bargain for gold;
Because princes are tasty with ketchup-
Or, at least, so I'm told.
;)
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
over and far away
across the sea
the ghosts i see
they see through me
silent mockery casts
around my steel composure
decays my hope by
truth's overexposure
i seek shelter
in my contradictions
i seek power
in my prided perceptions
raindrops on starboard recall
beat me to mud
i am blinded by
what is misunderstood
they hold me to every word relayed
always remind me with a nod
that i'm always searching
for those lost at sea
always returning
to my journey
to the dead
they're comprehendible
never moving
never touching
just between
real love
and imperfection
i coast these waters
at my own self speed
i long for something
which doesn't exist
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 7:50 PM UTC
*He found a boundless sea inside a diamond,
she keeps close to her soul, love pulsates in that ruby precious.
She wears an all -knowing smile, so ravishing,
when he gazes in to it, through her clear blue eyes.
He has seen memories that quietly rest in her hive,
come searching for him, honeybees seeking the drops,
sweetness of the past inebriating at any time later.
We are wishes perennial of the people of yore,
who never ceased to love us
even after leaving the earth, for realms higher
echoes we are, from labyrinths of time
relayed from the timeless realm,
that appears after counting every universe existing there.*
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
i woke up with his arm around me
his heavy arm keeping me still
i saw the anchor on his skin
like he could nail me to the water
and i didn't even know how to swim
i was trapped under my drunken sailor
aboard his flaming cruise
his eyes that once loved me
relayed empty words that bruised
they filled my lungs with every breath
there's no room for me on his life boat
i'm just breathing in the water
as if suddenly i'd float
i don't even know if i made it
but if you're wondering, i probably didn't
you'll find my bones on the bottom of the ocean
next to the remnants of his ship
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
I've helped you help me process my addiction
your conviction to your faith
or lack
my conviction with the law
the smack
the tall walls fall around
I have found myself on many grounds
your voice rang no sound
all the evil within
cut away without forsaking your skin
sin in complex ****** addiction
in addition additional additions conveyed
swept away
easy
not ******
saves my day
I speak with nothing in the way
convey my wish for more has been gone or delayed
relayed admissions of guilt
of the many tables I have tilted
still I have my bouts
doubts
God?
Can you help this mother ****** out?
hurdling hurdles under me feet
can He feel this beat?
Stumbling upon piles and lost at the four way
...street...
un-ended
my God is not offended.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
He undertook
Such a jolly folly
To search for his heart's twin
O'er plain, and peak
Never sparing daring
Mad quest he did begin
He careless spent
All his funny money
For he spared no expense
Heard of a man
said to uncover lovers
Without a recompense
"He's only known
as the Giant Bryant"
For there were none bigger
So off he went
For how dare-he tarry
With the greatest vigor
Within one moon
He did righted sighted
The giant's stone castle
And cautious stepped
Midst the towers flowers
For he was quite facile
With guarded prose
Lest he adverse converse
Relayed his quest of years
And though none be
A more mighter blighter
Tall Bryant shed six tears
"Your search for love"
Reflects gallant talent
And will surely quench thirst
In yonder vale
In a deeping sleeping
A daughter who's born first
A true love's heart
And hair flaxen waxen
Braids tressed with a blue fleur
She longs for love
To keep-her deeper
Hope steels her to endure
It was just so
For he found-her sounder
In the vale with fields green
Her braided hair
In breeze saving waving
With the suns golden sheen
As he held her
In their blissing kissing
Knew he'd ne'er search again
For in her eyes
Shown a growing knowing
Reflecting his hearts twin
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
It was spring time after a long hard winter in Idaho and my family and I went to Nebraska to visit my folks. This was more than 20 years ago but in my memory is as if it were yesterday. I remember this time because when we arrived the weather was warm and my dad was still wearing his long underwear. He had not been taking very good care of himself and I offered to give him a bath. The long underwear came off leaving patterns on his skin where the underwear had pressed against his skin for a long time.
While the rest of the family and visiting family were talking in the living room, Dad spent some time soaking and getting the winter’s accumulation off. He was rather pink when we were all done. I noticed that his toe nails had grown long and down under, it could not have been very comfortable. After getting him dressed in clean cloths we went into the living room. I prepared a wash basin of water to soak dad’s feet some more and got out my trusty nail clippers.
At some point in the 30 - 45 minute process all the conversation going on around me disappeared in the background and I was left with the feeling of being at the feet of Jesus and washing His feet. It was one of those moments in life that defines something in your life that you haven’t noticed before. Even now, I can sit and reflect on this moment, which happens many times throughout a year, and imagine Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. It is difficult to describe in words the emotions of this brief time in my life. It had a profound effect on how I looked at those around me. The opportunities were there all along. I just had to open my eyes and “see” what God placed before me. We see what we want to see most of the time. Some place along the line, life changed from being “about me” to being “about Him”. It was so liberating and freeing in my spirit.
Did anyone in the room realize what I was experiencing? No. This was something that was between my Lord and I and for a long time I kept it to myself. If I remember right, the day I relayed this moment to my wife, she had tears in her eyes. Maybe you have experienced moments that could inspire someone to be open in their walk with God. Tell them. You will be glad you did.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC