"retracted" poems
As the shape all sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.
Medjerda* froze
halfway
through the descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.
So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.
In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
In the rays of the nightlight
of the fluttering night
to watch her self
shoot
the scene
of representation.
The river, now swimming
in his own water,
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.
As the figure all sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
© LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
As the shape-all-sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.
Medjerda* froze
halfway
through his descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.
So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.
In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Through the flutter
of the midnight hour
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
to watch her self shooting
the act of representation.
Now swimming
in his own water,
th river
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.
As the figure-all-sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.
© LazharBouazzi
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
~
*She leans over the sink
weight on her toes
to applied lipstick
in quick certain strokes,
the way a man signs
his hundredth signature
of the morning.
With lips of convictionless curvature
as the lipstick retracted like a red eel
all day she left her mark
on everything she kissed.
Even the air remarks
like intoxicating news
whispered from ear to ear.*
~
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 9:48 AM UTC
Newton's Law
I put it in motion moving in space
the classic mechanics with egg on it's face
it is your basic movement of virtual action
every single cause has a reaction
if you push you get pull in the inverse
back and forth forward then reverse
too many challenges can burn itself out
momentum building creating the doubt
a message was sent could not be retracted
bodies in motion over reacted
gravitational pull increases acceleration
now sitting alone no participation
will the owner of the souls ever return
or am I left out here alone to burn
should have thought sooner before releasing the arrow
she has been injured clipped the wing of the sparrow
now searching for remedies everywhere rootin'
trying to reach Sir Isaac Newton
return the bodies to orbit each other
just like before like sister and brother
Gomer LePoet....
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
Skin. Teeth.
Pressure. Exerted.
Tense. Held.
Push. Downward. Sunken. Underneath.
Retracted. Released. Resurfaced. Regained
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 3:34 PM UTC
With fierce eyes turned towards the dawn
A tightly balled fist rose to the heavens
Parting smiles, carbon particles, and atoms
Collided and separated
And in the split of an atom second
The world caved into her mouth
Diffused with saliva-like opinions
And spit into the ocean fusion
A tear of wish amongst the sea foam rocks
Dashed by the sharp pangs of truth
Cutting deeper into her gaze
I fell out of expectation
Without a breath of hope under the torrent
Faltering a rescue of a retracted hand
Mirrored to the sky and sea
A lover gone to a memory
© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
I sit here
Trying to read meaning into every missing second
Every little blip that it took you to think about what you just said…
Doubt? Restraint? How best to lie?
What flies
Through your mind?
Does it have anything to do with the fact
That you told me that you loved me
And then apologized…
What of that?
I apologize for nothing
I regret not a single thing done
I take back not a smile, a laugh, a song sung
In joviality…
Somehow our love was just this odd joke
That we entertained off and on
We were thrown into chaos when it broke
Over reality…
Like an egg cracked on top of a globe
It encased our small, narrow-minded world
Made it slip out our fingers
Made it roll, made it whirl.
Now we sit here with this
Slimy, newborn thing
Not sure whether or not to laugh at such a preposterous idea
And fling
It from us…
Or to examine it, seriously and closely
Think about it for a while
Pick and choose what we want
Contemplate the weight of denial…
If you really just want someone to always be there
Someone to watch movies with
Someone to laugh with
Then I guess I don’t really care…
I just wish it hadn’t been said at all…
A ball
Will roll if you push it…
An object in motion will remain so
Until something stops it…
But really,
Your apology has gone and done what it ought…
It has successfully replaced and retracted
All that was thought…
I’m sure we’ll be great friends
Until you slip up…again.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
Wishing to rewrite history so for once I would live life without stressful seconds
Without worrying about tomorrows and if my borrowed time is up
Or if this should be my last cup off hazy weekends and hangover weekdays
For the routine is played as if the DJ only has one song
One CD and the mix is just for me
As though that one CD is the expression of caged songbirds like me
Like this is the person I am meant to see, the tortured soul that is me can only be freedom
when I **** the seed that was embedded into me.
Into the blood I bleed I feed the monster as I pass the **** and tell the bartender one more for me…
Why can’t you see that this is the death of people like me?
For when songbirds are gifted free rage to sing the songs come out like these.
The songs sing of life unlived of time retracted from clipped wings
Just so I could be programmed to do similar things
Building a time machine so when the next songbird sings
No one will be able to clip her wings
For familiar eyes will be hypnotized for uniform leaves no room for originality
Copycats killing the freedom of the minority
Exterminate the majority and give me life
Or if not pass the knife for this uniform life is whipping out the songbirds rights
To give the world a song to sing and melody to remember
A chorus to write
With fingers of talent controlled by minds that wonder with imaginations to explore
The songbirds cry a song I wish not to hear anymore.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:15 PM UTC
A platter of black plastic
Spinning circles at a speed
That fill the air with music
The inspiration that I need
I close my eyes and listen
To every hiss and pop
I keep the arm retracted
So the music doesn't stop
The little worn out player
With the sweet distorted sound
Takes me back to being younger
It's where memories are found
It's magic made of plastic
Spinning out musical streams
That box that pops and crackles
And fills my vinyl dreams
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
finite rapture
well defined. organized
organelles squirming. spurning
unnecessary imposition. repitition
severing me further.
it's still a bright fixture on the horizon
viewed at the far end of winding tunnel of mirrors.
captured in a jar. admired ideas
appreciated from afar.
trembling extended hand retracted.
strong stiches binding. scabs still crusty.
musty attics, shuffling feet.
melting.
swelltering in the possibility
of a potential interpreted properly.
I work better as an idea
than a human.
compose the tune and I'll be the words.
transpose your soul, I'll be the vibrations.
speak between the lines. I will be blinded.
Beyond thought.
we are aware that we're unaware.
Crystalize. Mezmerize.
It could be so simple.
To notice the cheeks, but not the dimples.
Four perfect points of light linger in the shadows
two by two
Ideals. a concrete truth.
Glaciers slowly crack foundations.
Pounding. Pouding.
Resounding. Cannot be ignored
before I am the boomerang
that cracks you on the head.
Blood pooling at the base of my skull
control watered down.
Concrete giving into stress
and a flower has room to bloom/
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
It sat there, as still as the dead, waiting. It had to keep very still; it was listening, waiting for the right feeling. It checked, cocking its head to the side. Nothing yet. If it could huff, it would have. It had been there all day yesterday and all night. Waiting. It shook its head; the sun would surely be out soon. It suddenly felt a bit insecure – would all this work, this art it had worked so hard to build, be for nothing? It shifted its spindly legs; it was getting uncomfortable just waiting. It stretched them out long, then retracted them once again. It was still listening; still waiting. How much time had passed? A minute? Two? An hour? It wished it could tell time. Yet, it acknowledged, it didn’t need to. It could make art, and it could eat and it could walk. That was enough it really needed, in the end. It admired its artwork this time – really admired it, with its sweeping symmetry and complex patterns. It had simply outdone itself. It felt quite proud, and might’ve rubbed its legs together for joy, if it had not been for the small vibration it felt. It paused. It titled its head left, maybe it could hear more that way. Nothing.
No; wait. There was something…yes! It licked its lips.
Quickly and with so much joy it could hardly contain itself, it scrambled up from its position between the apex of the leaning wooden shovel and the wooden wall of the little shack. It felt the vibrations more furtively now, and that just made it crawl all the faster. It scurried until it finally reached its prey.
Once, it almost felt sorry for the poor thing. But that once had been long ago, and now, it knew the wickedness of the world all too well. It had to take every chance it got when it came to spinning. It approached the buzzing creature with compassion. It spoke in hushed tones as it slowly wound the fly in its silk – a soft lullaby of peace and serenity. The fly seemed to like this, for it yawned and almost drifted asleep. Slowly, so very slowly, the fly’s multi-lensed eyes drifted closed, a calmness coursing through its body. Suddenly, the fly's eyes burst wide open.
Oh, the taste! What a delicacy this was, oh what wonderful juice! It lost itself in a haze of crimson. Nearly torn apart in ecstasy, it smiled, teeth glowing with what little moonlight there was. The fly stared back at it, aghast and eyes filled with cold, dead fear.
This was its favorite part.
Dinner.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
Push; Rid yourself
Shake away all that you believe
A rust colored wrench wrapped
By your stubborn breath
The fire fades away
And the warmth
Crimson falling, out of touch
Retracted limbs bring answers
Buried with an additional thought
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
You found me a shell of a girl,
all smiles and laughter.
You found me a gloomy girl,
who mastered her guise.
You found me an ambitious girl,
struggling to lift herself up.
You found me a fearful girl,
who trusted your intentions.
You found me a guarded girl,
who was letting down her walls.
You found me a happy girl,
who was finally feeling wanted.
You found me a mysterious girl,
retracted because your apparent disinterest.
You found me a tragic girl,
saddened by your withdrawal.
You lost me a fantasy girl,
hurt by your abandonment.
You almost had the girl,
you had her so close it hurt,
then you left her in pieces.
How poetic that the way you found her,
was the way you'd leave her.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
A sword can cut and slash and ****
A pen can spew an inken spill
You wield your sword
To win a war
My pen writes peace treaties
By the score
The sword and the pen
Met on the battlefield
The sword was so much stronger
But the pen just would not yield
The sword swung first
The pen retracted
The sword flew past the nib
The pen quickly counter acted
The pen drew a tree
The sword stuck in the bark
Then the pen drew a forge
And drew a flame and a spark
He popped the sword in
And melted it down
Then drew a Parker pen mould
and an army was found
An army of pens
To rule the land
To fit snugly
In a peacekeepers hand
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
if you try hard enough you will be able to taste the blood in my lungs
ashtrays bleeding liquor with every breath
don't ******* tell me you've forgotten me don't tell me that i'm worth it don't tell me
exactly what i want to hear
your voice pushes needles into my pincushion conscience,
skinned palms against a chalkboard don't ask me why i never loved you
you're just kidding yourself
i'm not a puzzle you can solve, i'm a ******* human being(i'm worse than that
better start to count your blessings)
don't dedicate your battlecries to me
i won't give you a token of my love i don't give thanks to people who want to skin me alive
if i try hard enough i wonder if i will be able to taste the blood on your gums
have your teeth retracted yet?are you safe?can i sneak out
the back door, maybe, and
hope that you won't sink your vampire smile into the nape of my neck?
don't **** around with me you know exactly who i am
i'm a ******* monster i'm in your nightmares, babe
(as a matter of fact, don't call me babe
it'll only make my skin crawl when i snap your neck)
your skin is a patchwork quilt
let me wear it for a while
let me breathe in when you tell me to, act like a lady
but i'm not a lady, baby i'm a scourge
i'll end you faster than you can blink my poems are dripping red
let me empty them into your throat
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
Animal Human
He creates
What he conceives
Once Created appears
Before him
He knows not where it came from
He believes it to be him
He who can witness
He who can reach the realm of the spirits,
Beyond all created,
Beyond all conceived,
Is not animal
But divine
Divine's realms only seen
When creation the illusion understood
The layer of color and caste must go
The layer of status must go
The layer of religion must go
The layer of riches must go
The layer of politics must go
For the All-encompassing Divine Needs None
All-encompassing Divine IS
Where all created a thin layer
Where color and caste thinner than thin layers
Where religion thinner than thin layer
Where riches thinner than thin layer
Where politics thinner than thin layer
Where Divine the Essence
Where Divine the Majesty
Where Divine the Immeasurable
Where Divine the Timeless
Where Divine the Stillness
Retracted Within
Rested Within
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
They say time heals all wounds and quite often I agree/ yet some can tanker ous uneven eternity/ The buffer of shock waves they ebb and rise unceasingly/ The sun rays wind rain earthquakes weather is me, uneasily.
Yay my legs have sea come custom to storm after storm/ I for one have grown weary of water tho running comes easily/
So I retracted an iron heart East seeking warm understanding.
Time is a healer but in a water world all wounds bleed into the ocean/ silence will keep salt off the tongue but will not spare the flesh/ Even with an iron heart held high and to the side we hobble and wobble none the less.
What is truly needed is a seamed shore line/ to rest towards the west, digest the sunsetty passing/ to release my cast iron heart into soft earth/ so that I remember from where I came and observe how much we have changed.
I have feared the setting sun long enough/I will build a bridge from sea solitude to land understanding. We have come a long way through a space time ether. All things are better together and time is a healer.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
I have always hoped that you wouldnt get close enough
To catch the sharp ends of my personality
But with each slice to your ego
And every tear to your flesh
You seemed to tear me too
And when we got close enough
To inspect each others wounds
I looked into your eyes and saw my whole life flash
And I retracted my claws and hugged you tight
I never wanna let go
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
did you ever see his face
as he took your innocence away
did you ever look into evil's eyes
did you play the devil's games
did you try to **** yourself
when it was all over
because the blood wouldn't wash from your thighs
did you scream into your pillow at night
so no one heard your cries
did you watch your world go up in fire that retracted your soul in smoke
did you mask the pain with the blade of change just so you could cope
did you feel like you just might not make it
did you wonder how much longer you could take it
did you wonder how people could say that you faked it
did you ever wonder why you
did it happen to you?
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
only the lonliest princess lived in the castle.
wandering,
from room to room....
but alas, no one else
lived there.
sometimes,
she thought she saw
someone in the garden
...but convinced herself
it was the wind...
and stayed indoors.
only the the lonliesst
gardener boy
was left,
to tend the gardens,
overgrown, as they were.
sometimes,
he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle
...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors
so the days passed....
and the lonliest people
in the world lived, unknowingly,
within reach of each other.
and where was the
fairy-godmother...
...the one, who was meant
to put these lonely souls together....
she had gone to barbados
on holiday....
been hit by a falling coconut...
gotten amnesia
and was now making a living as waitress
...and wondering why
her back was itchy all the. time...
from where her wings
had retracted....
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
A rupture in my heart,
The forever aching parts,
A colosal chain reaction,
Those aches cannot be retracted.
The cosmos, the stars, the sky,
Non of it meant anything when I was by your side
That ended when you died.
You couldn’t help but make me cry.
Trying to forget,
That you were the best,
I guess all is left,
Is for me to say goodbye.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
Sometimes the body is contagion
To the soul. Stars in their mission fall
To seed the fertile flesh, ignite
Blue waters of sulfureous hearts,
And so the flash is set to cancel
In the flood.
Sometimes the lip of soul onto seal
Will not hold, before he first knocked
And let flesh enter, thorny pegs
Pricked nerve and pierced bone on his climb
To the rose, yea, some stars odd as
Meteors crash.
In the swan-sea, song-sangy-frame of crib,
Rough hewn words bent mold to scrape, like
Blasted coral, stood half-submerged
Amid sea and sky, for between the leaves,
Behind the eye, there are little stars
Shining like existence.
In a circle world he fashioned green
Blazons about the darkling day,
Fostered by celestial navigation,
Wrote a language for music, on a map of love
And charted the force of green in a wind-
Rose of discovery.
Sometimes the soul is not contained, it
Bursts in silent sound like well water
From the source. And of men in streets
He saw the pennies in their grumble
Eyes, and of love and its course he rubbed,
Tickling dim stars.
It was his thirty ninth year in that fall
To heaven when the steeping cell,
Refused to push in its tide. Homeless
And free on scaffold of bone the middling
Man retracted from sun to sink
With the moon, turn-tiding-toward sea
Like a changeling.
And as ever, nor often, unwavering eyes
Sprout through shifting grains. And as he spoke
Quite rimless, Dylan Thomas was petrified
In undying light, and solid set within a rill
Of reef sparkling in concert betwixt gas
And sea, so becoming in purple sleeves,
This constellation of mute singers all,
Dried five-fingered-fish, bright embryos
Returned to the shell, they burn between the leaves,
Beset the grounded skies and show sprite flashes
In the dark where He has left his imprints, burning
Above and plastered below. The first rock stars!
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
I’ll meet the day with a smile on my face,
I’ll remember the things I forgot yesterday,
I won’t let anything stand in my way,
because I said
tomorrow,
I’ll make sure I begin with the right start,
I won’t let things in front of me get too hard,
even if I have to drive there
no distance is too far,
it’s too important to be put off till
tomorrow,
If I swore I’d do it I’ve taken my first steps,
action is easier than a life of regret,
which I know is bound to happen if I let
things pile up
tomorrow,
I’ll handle every detail with care,
I’m sorry I forgot, really, I swear
there were just a million things to do
building up there,
but my heart is in the right place,
and I’ll prove it when I face
tomorrow,
because you see tomorrow
is the tomorrow of today,
what difference does it make
when they meet midnight anyway?
It’s already
tomorrow,
Really you’re the top thought in my mind,
I’ve been meaning to show you
just haven’t had time,
would it be fine if we got back
to this sometime
tomorrow?
I meant to get back to you but got distracted,
I had nothing to do it with it,
just the circumstances,
my attention is yours and nothing
will be retracted
tomorrow,
or tomorrow or after tomorrow,
next week, in a month,
or sometime this year,
my intentions are heartfelt
and truly sincere,
just let me prove it
tomorrow.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
i have no name
i am a girl you once knew—
who stained white roses red with my blood,
the one who sang you silent songs
but even through desperate measures
you never seemed to want to respond at all
yet my heart refused to be daunted
(why did i let myself be taunted?)
you looked through me as if i don't exist
although then, i had a name
with the slightest touch of your skin on mine
or the shadow of a ghosting smile on your lips
you stole the breath straight from my lungs
and pumped your poison through my veins
but when you've had enough
you tossed me aside like crumpled pieces of paper
like endless drafts written before a poem is done
we forgot our parachutes before we jumped
now it's too late to do anything but
try reaching for each other as we fall;
but your eyes are closed as if you want to die,
so my fingers retracted and my heart
plummeted down even lower than the ground
you didn't even bother saying goodbye;
or apologize for killing me for the sake of yourself
so now i have no name
i am a girl you once knew—
the one who held your hand until the end,
the one who used to be someone but
threw her identity away for you,
you; who never bothered remembering her name
(no, you never knew me at all)
- - -
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC