"rename" poems
making love with no love
(kissed her with his freedom)
<•>
a new person in an overnight stay in a strange,
aptly named,
bed and breakfast
and
you do all the same things that just feel good, careless loving
that comes from practiced renewable remembering,
kiss her neck for hours, drink in her crescendoing cooing
rename her Appalachia, bemused, wondering why,
she gasp-asks, when your tongue traces her odyssey body
from her Georgia to her Maine, then no need to explain
it all feels familiarly strange, imbalanced, shaky, loving the thrill
of your first solo bike ride, an invisible hand letting go,
the wow of walking the line of new freedom and
old responsibility that you have walked on both coasts
carry on, love is coming to us all lyric, enacted-recalled,
loving yet another
long cool woman in a black dress with unquestioning
how to explain to her, how to yourself, loving with no loving,
and the best you can stammer is it is like writing a poem
with too many commas or none at all
she laughs you up with one mouth lingering,
then one amazing kiss on your heart
and nose,
grabs a piece of toast and gone girl,
then you are returned to alone, to the dreams that
may or may not have occurred and two hands overflowing with
too many commas
and none to keep
<•>
11-18–17 2:54am, somewhere
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
*This poem is dedicated to the memory of Admiral Albert ***** Potter who displayed amazing bravery by wearing full drag through several major sea battles. He was cashiered for insisting the Admiralty rename his ship HMS Butch instead of HMS Fearless. In fact the vessel was eventually renamed HMS Damp **** because it was full of ******
A life on the ocean wave, **
In the olden days of sail
When England's ships were proud and brave
And their crews were very male.
The Captain stood upon his bridge
Looking smart and flash;
But below the decks, the orders were
*** and *** and the lash.
The bosun went to the main gunroom,
**** Deadeye at the ready;
Initiation time had come
For little midshipman Freddy.
"Strap him o'er that cannon, lads!"
Roared the hirsute fellow,
"Gag his mouth securely, lads,
In case he tries to bellow!"
The sailors did as he had bid -
Refused and they'd be punished -
And they knew their turn would come
After the bosun had finished.
The bosun went up the poor young lad
And soon was going strong;
Midshipman Fred looked rather pained -
The Bosun was THICK and LONG.
Then came the turn of the other men
And they set to with a will;
Little Fred could not say no
Until they'd had their fill.
What a life our sailors had then,
Always singing shanties;
When men were men and big and butch
And cabin boys wore silk *******
A life on the ocean wave, **
With the rolling sea and the spray.
Sinking the Frogs and murdering Wogs
Kept England's sailors so gay.
OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ! OLÉ!
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
I am nothing beyond the starry sky
Just an atom in the fiery furnice
Smaller than a telescope can hit at
I once was a girl who moved in air
Kissed a boy and jumped for joy.
My days are gone for others to steal
Maybe someone with a face like me
To begin a story they nearly knew
And burst upon universe in flames
A daughter for someone to rename.
Love Mary x
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Monday
Why?
Can I rename you
You have lurked since Friday
Spoiling the fun
Friday!
Now there's a day
Not enough of them
Well bacon butty time
That will raise a smile
And my cholesterol
Sod my diet
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
Say thanks
Whatsoever the reason
Or its beyond
Never hesitate
To utter the gratitude.
For the inherent emotions
The invisible mirror's ever there.
I swear it happens
Call it a magic
Or rename a miracle.
But never rely upon
Might be the vice versa........!!!-26.08.2015
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Today I want to write about thinking about what it is I want to write about
Letting these ideas converge in my mind and fight it out
May the best one win
Today I want to type the first thing that pops up in my head
Today I want to square dance with a Martian… and rename the colour purple ‘red’
Today I want to break so far away from the ordinary man’s norm
Today I want to do something absolutely, totally random
Today I want to take a break from being amazingly **** to be superbly awesome
My mind is racing… full of excitement, like a ****** about to engage in a *********
Oh yes I said that!
Or typed it… whichever
Whatever idea I go with will definitely be the most rich… ever
But it’s tough to be at par... with poetry’s greats
When it is we that set the bar
Today I go for broke
Today I thought… I wrote… and my words spoke.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
~for Pradip~
*these words,
a blessing bestowed
upon me, by you,
about us
say kiss me write love me
for all the contextual hints that lie
within and between them ~
"gloriously adhesive"
a monument to our five years
of living together,
the friction of our grip upon each other,
under one roof, in a land of
no matter
what the language,
what the alphabet,
we are the prime,
a living example,
of the human~poem,**
our glorious adhesion!
<•>
from only love poetry,
I rename you here,
only love Pradip
8/25/17
6:40PM
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC
Everybody knows of Istanbul in Turkey,
This poem will only lay some light on it,
Through the history & mankind's irony.
Istanbul was settled as a Greek colonial city,
'Twas named Byzantium after a Greek king,
And the Old Greek king's name was Byzas.
The Romans under Constantine won over it,
Now it was their turn to rename the city,
After the emperor as Constantinople.
The great Turks captured it in 1453 AD lastly,
The fabulous fortress was renamed yet again,
The present name Istanbul descended in 1923.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
with all these Black Sheep
from the bottom end
of the top 1 percent
in the new government
spewing lies without shame
we will have to rename
the White House
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 3:27 AM UTC
I'm one of the owners of a trucking company that's called STD.
Nobody will hire us, even when we offered to work for free.
The STD stands for Simpson, Taylor and Drees.
But people think it stands for sexually transmitted disease.
My partners suggested that we rename our company to DTS or TDS.
But I'm Simpson and I founded the company, so I refused to say yes.
You don't see any of our trucks on the road because people are afraid of us.
They think we have Aids or ****** and it causes a lot of anger and disgust.
We don't have an STD, so please hire us, I'm so desperate that I'm willing to crawl.
If you don't hire us, I'll personally come to your house and kick you in the *****
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
I ask—I know,
but did I? pull you close only
only
to keep from flying away?
I once knew I cupped your head,
like water, to my lips.
I think I know now, hauntingly,
I might have wrenched your face to mine
like a ravenous and terrified animal
and kept on your lips but to seal my mouth,
a stormy vacuum,
that ****** ceaselessly the breath of too much
in the attempt to inhale one.
****** dry, it became nothing.
Still, it could not be helped.
Meaning would be given to the thoughtless
and its name—passion—would be answered,
its sweet breath ****** on.
But I
I never breathed anything.
And yet there was more sustaining my life.
What sweet did I taste? Its breath or
the more?
You would rename it—silly—to yourself.
You did not know you whispered it to me always.
I only heard it when our cover would
slit briefly open—painfully, and inevitably.
Your breath in these thin moments was bitter, bitter
to you too.
So we covered the slits and sealed the gape,
told ourselves we knew
all the clothes were off, together, for a reason.
Convinced ourselves we were really touching what was untouchable,
for a reason.
But, if since the very beginning
your mouth was to move that way,
was to say those words—and if your eyes were always
going to look like autumn trees and unsay them—
was it for one or wasn’t it?
Is there something at all to smile about
just passing through our geometry?
I ask this to myself—of course. But,
but
today’s sun blades the sky too much like yesterday’s!
So your eyes return! They return to reach! to pull me out to free fields
as they used to.
Your sundress still sparks an Aztec flame
as the colorless crowd ashes.
To me your scene is still an answer
and your breath can still warm truth
as sweet as tragedy on my skin.
The lining of homes around me
glints light red
and I stare at its light, after you,
your cutting rays,
because your thought of ending
now kisses mine
and so—still—I can answer
whether, as I am now— you were always
only a memory.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
-
-
-
hello
-
my name is unannounced
but i come hearing a sweet beat for you
and it flows like
-
Jell-O
-
specifically the green kind
but that’s too far off topic to matter
to us so
-
mellow
-
by sitting in an armchair
imagining the world to come
though it looks so
-
shallow
-
you'll be pleasantly surprised
to find the glass can never be too full
-
even though we settle too soon
-
love it for three weeks
and then rename it
to forget how
-
hollow
-
it really is inside
but the puppy’s made of painted glass
-
of life i’ve wondered
what we want
while it certainly is challenging
there must be more than what it seems
-
lets examine
our lives when we were kids
we find bruises scrapes and cuts
and your goldfish Tim
he likes to swim in circles cause the world's too big
but he only swims clockwise cause he’s missing a fin
-
now he
-
speeds up
-
grows legs
-
takes form
-
and he
-
gets lost
-
plays God
-
gets born
-
but he loses sight of clarity
and succumbs to the apathy
of time in all its brevity
at every opportunity to
-
return
-
to the Jell-O whose convictions seem far less firm
as they softly fall on flowers wearing f r e s h s n o w
-
goodbye
-
i’ll be missing you for years to come
on lets go fishing we might catch us something *******
about
why don’t we just pretend everything is fine
-
why don’t
we just take a number
get in line
-
why don’t
we search for truth inside our blackest lies
-
how else
to lend true purpose to these fading lives
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
I am an insomniac by association.
I associate with sleepless nights and mindsets that are too wobbly and shaky to be anything less than a tornado.
I want to rename my veins after hurricanes.
This one's Sandy because it washed away the girl I loved in New Jersey.
Because the ocean is never as salty as my cheeks after I kiss her through the miles.
Because I am not a boy, because my mother thinks I wear black because I used to slit my wrists.
Because of my tattoos that whisper of their memories while I lay in bed counting the stars I can't see.
So I start counting the stars I see in my head.
So I started taking drugs that made me see them instead.
I am an insomniac because I want to sleep but only when I remember the reasons why I can't.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
i can watch the
clock on your
dashboard
turning
backwards
the hands going
the wrong direction
it's rare to find a
analogue timepiece
in a car nowadays
even rarer to find one
that goes in retrograde.
and all i can think
about is that i'm not
happy but i'm more
settled inside
isn't it sad
to be living only
in hopes of your
expiration date?
yes
yes it is.
i'm missing last winter
just a little
how safe it felt to be
your shotgun rider
with that perfect and slightly
annoying thirty minute mashup
fifteen minutes there
fifteen minutes back
anxious to leave
anxious to get home
to get into another van
one that wasn't stifled
i was your
shotgun rider
for monday afternoons
and drives to craft fairs
the ball and our own
educational funeral.
*(can we petition
to rename
graduations to
educational funerals?)*
i miss the old days
when mondays were happy
not anxious
or empty
thinking back on it
we spent too much time
in the back corner booth
of the doughnut shop chain
up on the east hill outside of town
and the coffee wasn't even good
i wish we had just gone to the
grocery store and
got some of that perfect
creamline milk you never shake.
i don't remember
the day i looked
on the label of the
jug and read the date
and it very clearly
was stamped with an
expiration of next
september
but when i tasted it
it had all gone sour
and i wondered how
painful it could be
to throw milk
out early
so i'm leaving it
in the fridge
until autumn
rolls around
just thinking
about how sad
it is to be living
with the hope of dying
but don't people do
the exact same thing?
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
The duvet is disheveled—
hanging onto the mattress,
half draping the ebony stained
floor. Admiral Blue walls are illuminated
by two brass pendant lights
that have sprouted from the ceiling
and are growing off of
the bitter ends of
the anchor rode.
My attention is pulled down
by the locket
weighing from my neck
as the silver braid bites
with chill and I stay on the bed
and focus on that brightwork
laying on my chest and
I keep trying to ignore
the far corner of the room
by the vanity because
I keep trying to ignore
your blubber-skinned suitcase
painted in barnacles, sitting on the floor,
mouth wide open, like it is just there waiting
to swallow you whole and
spit you back out at the next harbor—
I swear, I think it is trying
to rename you Jonah.
Tonight, like every other night before
that you have stepped from my deck
to throw yourself into the sea,
I will find myself,
after the moon has risen,
after the tide has shifted,
and after the town has fallen asleep,
wandering aimlessly down the hand paved
roads that weave along the port to sit
with your life, your love, and your lady.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
News! News! in its surrealistic gear,
Charles Darwin of England has resurrected,
He is here in Africa, roaming the deserts
In the savannah belts of Turkana Land,
Looking for African skulls for a second living.
He is in the company of Richard Leakey,
Talking among themselves with air of comradeship,
Behaving wiseacre over the Africans there,
Looking from place to place to rename
The current African humans,
He has already named people of Kenya
And all the people in the subhara of Africa
With a new paradoxical evolutionary tag,
They are now homotribaliticus Africanus,
A tag reflecting African tribalism in politics,
He has met the Chinese and renamed them too,
They are now homo-pecunias asianicus
Or the money making Asians,
Darwin has freshly renamed Americans
This time round not as caucasoids,
But as homocapitalisticus putinis stupidous,
His shrewdness did not go with erstwhile death,
He also has s pecial evolutionary tag for Africans
Zinjipoliticus idioticus, or the fools who die politically.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
to be somewhere without a book on my person. hard word this, hard word that, for the never arriving marble of grief. to rename fish from the lobby window of a submerged hotel. to let the water from my mother’s body but not before telling her god lives in me as long as my son is outside. to have nothing but the mewing compositions of rooftop strays to keep me from becoming the devil your pen pal was fed to. to die well. die punctuated. by imagery the drowning cull from years on land spent openly preparing the eaten, subliminal beast.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Not even writing could pull this heart together again
This emptyness won´t allow me to see past this clouds of fear, of anger
Faith in hope is all lost, not belonging, there’s only rust.
Tired, vanishing within these walls hides the growing question of solitude
Rename, reappear, reset, another heart and it shall bring no regrets
I can feel it in my bones, this rusting heart that simply no longer grows
It’s stuck, poisoned in memories of what could have been, what he had seen
Fear to feel that for one fight, he faced his fragile fabric of fantasies fading from himself.
Madness muttering mostly merciful and painful memoirs of that month he met the perfect other for his match.
Trying to feel the true touch of her toxic naked body trying to tempt him, talking to him through the tameless tales in her skin.
Though not even writing could pull this heart together again.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
I got so much **** that I want to get done today.
My bodies so worn down that I cant come out and play.
My hips move so fast that I should be a stick shift, churning and turning every which way and I cant slow down.
Consequences of the rain.
Its raining so hard that i cant seem to see, but thats alright cus' then no one else can see me weep.
i scream so loud so crystal clear.
I tell my fears to sit down and grab a beer.
Chill for a second and make way for love.
Cus' I need to cut these strings attached to your hands above.
You make me go this way, near way, that way, here.
****** me all around and tear my cares out...
and rename them fear...
So every time I reach for em they'll burn and make me hurt.
Then I'll shoot em down and make another frown...
They're discomforted, disgusted at my lame disposition...
Of not shinning like a lion staring towards the sun...
In stead Im just ammunition without my gun...
Apart from all apart from the other halves that makes me a king...
The thing that sets me off and remove the problem...
I'm that dollar bill in the back pocket of my robber...
I'm bothered...
No way to get out...
I should be racing the wind and tearing wild in my dreams flesh...
Swallowing hard while others grunt....
Waiting for me to finish so they can eat away the scraps...
everything that is left over...even the crap...
Watch them eat it up and turn their smirk real sour...
and watch them fools devour the tired representations that aren't so true...
Instead I'm there bent over eating scraps for food,
I got so much beauty, intelligence, and truth..
I am the the god or goddess of our youth...
I will be king and shall rise again..
The dark night rises ready to tear out the flesh...
Prepare ye men and I will take them away...
Its time for the brave in me to come out and play.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Oh **** your heart!
It didn't care at all.
You left me in
The gutter
But couldn't stand to watch
me fall.
The words we shared
Were meaningless.
All truths
Are null and void.
I guess it didn't matter,
You weren't the one being destroyed.
So run!
And call it mercy
If it helps you sleep at night —
You can rename an atrocity
But it'll never make it right.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 5:35 PM UTC
still as cold chair,
the sound and the unsound.
the clearing
wanes.
i think of nameless streets
and pry their memories.
when a steady hand reaches
for air, it is an effort to rename things
their shabby selves. their yearnings
crumble underneath awnings of a new,
wounded moon.
the light through
the room, and the shadows it pours.
its working, a quiet punctuation
in mere sentences our own silence,
shattering at flight's first thought.
gravitations may be heavy.
the height verily not its measure.
transitions piled like old records;
trailing the monsoon on our backs,
the persistence of daylight and coffee,
plodding in heat, its vertical crawl -
this metastatic fall.
i dream of old structures. dreaming
is the product of stasis. a consequence
of movement.
dreams can only be too real. there is word
that it thrives where it is assailed.
an act of the body, conversing the limit.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
Your brain knows the 7 alarms will soon ring
But body wants every sleepy second reserved,
So I kiss your hair, de curled at my request,
And you compromise by head resting
On my abdomen, which makes me chuckle/write,
For my body parts I thus rename,
You rest you head currently
Uponyourman,
Unaware that I am penning this
Gift to our oneheart
6:53 am
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
As the sun sets, with it's fading glow; I cannot stop but think, Is this all there is to the life of a man; Or is it the dark that is truly the beginning. A dim flickering light Blinks it's last goodbye Not going out with a flash But instead slowly fading away Just like my passion For everything.
I once enjoyed And endless dark Covering my only love The art has disappeared And my heart has gone No passion flows No interest grows A sickening depression Takes away the passion Fading like a light.
I fear That it is gone forever not even writing could pull this heart together again This emptiness won´t allow me to see past this clouds of fear, of anger Faith in hope is all lost, not belonging, there’s only rust.
Tired, vanishing within these walls hides the growing question of solitude Rename, reappear, reset, another heart and it shall bring no regrets I can feel it in my bones, this rusting heart that simply no longer grows It’s stuck, poisoned in memories of what could have been, what he had seen Fear to feel that for one fight, he faced his fragile fabric of fantasies fading from himself.
Madness muttering mostly merciful and painful memoirs of that month he met the perfect other for his match. Trying to feel the true touch of her toxic naked body trying to tempt him, talking to him through the timeless tales in her skin. Though not even writing could pull this heart together again.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
They should rename Common Sense
Endangered Sense
Since it's becoming more endangered by the hour
Knowledge is power
Trying to retain more by the hour
Before your brain goes ineptly sour
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC