"rusk" poems
broken shards of glass and snow
pick up each one blow by blow
mix my blood into the earth
paper tigers have no worth
set my sails to open sea
unbind the knots and set me free
I elucubrate my feeble quarrel
composed of petals, orchids floral
taste the crumbs and rusk abound
ne'er again to hear the sound
longing sighs and an exhale
and all the night could entail
but you care for dim shadows not
and dawn becomes long forgot
my words spill on pages flat
each sheet falls through the slat
my thesis burns by candle light
every sentence shifts more trite
but you remain my constant spark
and for a moment, hope embarks
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
~dedicated to the heart fixers~
sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…
many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:
“remember to tell someone you love them”
the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7
the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional
now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved
the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “*over time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.*”
so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by
“remembering to tell someone you love them”
dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly
<•>
Apr 26, 2024
Apr 26, 2024 at 8:13 AM UTC
Darling I’m thinking of getting implants.
Right fine, I was going to the gardening centre today, we can go together
No silly, breast implants.
You already have two *******
I want bigger ones.
How much do they cost.
Eight thousand pounds.
What, four thousand a breast, are they gold.
It’ll be worth it, and you are a breast man.
For that price, I would expect a lifetime subscription for Farleys Rusks.
You wait till you take my bra off.
That’s another thing, a new wardrobe.
Think of it as a Valentines present.
Wouldn’t you like a ring instead.
No, I want bigger *******
I want a bigger **** but I can’t have one.
Well actually you can darling.
Not for those prices.
No, the surgeon says he can take a bit of fat off my ******* and insert it into your *****
What, you’ve been discussing me with the surgeon.
Yes, seemingly it’s the rage.
Oh I don’t know, seems a bit Frankenstein to me.
Just think, you could be walking about with me inside you.
That’s another thing, you’re always complaining about your *******
Only when you grab them like rugby *****
I get excited easily.
Why don’t we go to bed and discuss it.
Oh no you don’t, before I know it you’ll be getting a nose job.
Look at my ******* darling, now imagine them bigger, can you see it.
All I can see is pound signs.
Put that extra large ***** inside me, how are you feeling now.
I’m feeling poor.
You’re not looking properly, visualise me taking my bra off, you’re getting ***** you can’t take your eyes off them. What do you see now
My god it's amazing, I can see it now, do you think I can dip my rusk in your milk.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 6:48 AM UTC
et me speak for you, let me speak for myself
you may end up saying this once i finish this large straining rant,
so why dont we not wait and have what you wanted to say; said, have it engraved in the sand.
this kid is ungrateful, oh what the **** will satisfy him, i have given him enough to cloy.
stop ******* with my head, you are far from a sweet ******* toy,
you are no teddy bear, **** it you are a fiendish thorny porcupine
cactus could be sweet and so could you but hugging you makes me whine.
you make me bleed, i should have heeded before i let you come any close,
now look at me, look at what you have done, you are a pain, you are all the world's flaws.
**** you, what the **** are you, why cant you put a leash on your **** ******* avarice,
you make me scared, you might just **** life out of my lips, when all i want is a little kiss.
i dont think you are made to be owned, so go ahead and drown yourself in some random reverie
but better tell yourself, that is all you get, and when you're done dont reach out for recovery
because you are ungrateful, and nothing will ******* satisfy you, you heart vampire,
you can't be trusted, and that's why you are alone and busted,
what is it that you were trying to do, why would you make me feel so disgusted,
you bit through my soul and watched as it powdered away like a stale ***** rusk,
god you are so grotesque,
so why don't you go ahead and finish it with your tea, just how you love, from dawn to dusk.
now go ahead and have it said, your rant on my heart's sand,
and write with a blade until i bleed from every strand,
i will carry and scars like they are my armor,
i will carry them with great ardor.
like how i would every thought about you,
as you drift farther, further
i might want to say this but my tears could trickle down and wash it away,
so why wouldn't i just let it outnow, let it come and let it stray,
all i did was love and love i did, everything that you gave,
yes i am ******* grotesque, but you were no rusk, you were my reason to rave,
and i knew you would loathe me, i knew you would say, i am the worst, that i am diablo,
but i always told you, i told you all, i am no king midas, everything i touch is but fiasco.
i was never ungrateful, i wouldn't even excuse myself saying it was fateful,
i couldn't distinguish, i couldn't know what i was doing, i was true to you, every bit faithful
i spoke of the weight on my chest, for i didn't know i was just being untrue to myself,
because i am the stain, i am the pain, i am the burning, fuming, deadly cigar in the shelf.
i never wanted to **** you, i came with all the warning that i could **** you,
but the i know i am the one to ******* blame, because **** this poetry and **** my true hue,
it's all about what we feel, and when that's hurt we are no longer on a ******* even keel,
and that's the point, that's why i never detached where our hearts joined,
because even if I am falling off, breaking down, i don't want your joy and peace purloined.
now go ahead and have it said, your rant on my heart's sand,
and write with a blade until i bleed from every strand,
i will carry and scars like they are my armor,
i will carry them with great ardor.
like how i would every thought about you,
as you drift farther, further
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
it was in the late of the dusk
wear off the mask
I stopped the task
do you ask
I was in the bosk
find me in desk
I will make a rusk
for you, the brisk
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC
The birds get louder at dusk
each velvet turning in its purple rusk
young bison chase us to and fro, monsieur;
we never know where or when they stop-
some people say there is no smoke without a fire
I breathe in.
I breathe out smoke-
I breathe out smoke.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC