"rustiest" poems
it was a dry winter
he sang *** and candy" as i braided my hair
we'd never dwelt so far apart
oceans between us while sharing a bed
he bought me rain-boots for christmas
desert dwellers have little use for rain-boots at the end of december
but i smiled because it didn't matter
he could never see me
only aknowledged the static space i inhabit
his empty eyes sang symphonies in the silence
we were young
and the world refused to cease it's spinning
despite our sea-sick cries while faking love
even the rustiest carousels chase their tails long after the waiting line is rendered empty after dusk
the secret to life inside our discarded cigarette cartons
the history at the bottom of the beer pitcher
it was our hell
our own private galaxy doing pirouettes on the sidelines of time
we aged like newspapers hidden in the hedges
but we meant it
or at least we thought we did
whatever it was
we meant it
the way that one means it when they say they wished they'd died the morning after dollar beer night
it felt right
no matter how bad it always hurt
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
you found the rustiest steak knife in the silverware drawer and gashed it through my heart
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
short is the most delicious look
silence is the loudest book
with lips the hungriest food
and night the darkest wildest mood
breathing is the deepest ****
giving in the hottest ****
love is a bittersweet borrowed lie
time is a slowly emptied sigh
deception is the sharpest yet rustiest lance
and rage the slowest, saddest dance
while truth's just polished-up confusion
with words - the slipperiest illusion
- - - - -
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
I am no judge of good character
(think I am the greatest poet-cum-bf ever)
I used to be a sharp dresser,
(then to the time twisted testing,
t'is of tiny import sense succumbed)
I used to love woman by the score
(Ha! fooled ya, still do, will dying do so,
but caught in a single spider's heartweb,
I read, and I love, and cheat only nowadays
with weak eyes and strong words)
I used to be young in heart,
(self impressed at my talented prose,
but then my eyes grew keener,
the more I read, the older I got,
the more others led me faster,
sweeter to the promised land)
so I trip 'n skip in the waterfall pool,
that forms where the poems cascading
are laid down to peaceful repose to keep,
and too oft, sad uneyed loneliness
yet, I see a graffiti on the clear bottom,
white paint upon an earthen rock,
wipe away the eddys, put aside the ego,
lift it, lift me up, that stone,
with caressing care to read:
So Jo Was Here
oh indeed indeed in deed another poet,
who blues my heart with words modest,
in combinations that say to me
you knew that, but not till now!
how did she know that
*words and words and -
ironies usurp courage
adventure scowls unsated
Times New Roman ****
pixels unconsummated
similes sin-taxed for hits
stale nefarious negging
all heros on the page
reality waits begging*
I read and I think
did I not write these words?
*love is a bittersweet borrowed lie
time is a slowly emptied sigh
deception is the sharpest yet rustiest lance
and rage the slowest, saddest dance
while truth's just polished-up confusion
with words - the slipperiest illusion*
But I did not!
nope but I read them cause
So Jo Was Here
stoked and croaking,
addicted, I read on
only to find my mirror image
once again, one mo' time crime
*But I was held unknotted only,
oblivion teetering on the pinch
of a thumb and forefinger.
Until slowly but cynically,
gasp by gasp,
all was forced out, and when
the moment came to go,
there was nothing left to go on*
so it is written, so it will be read
then you can say too,
as I did, as I here confess,
in my recesses unexplored,
trembled to find,
overjoyed to be
me revealed
cause:
So Jo Was Here
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Waves crashing and smashing into the rickety boat
Hardly staying afloat it cracks and snaps under the pressure that wraps around it
Spinning swirling and twirling the water fills every crevice and nook
From the most overt cabinet down to the rustiest hook
The stormy outlook brings dread
And in his head he thinks of the waves that could leave him dead
Losing all control he can’t grab a hold of the wheel or the rope that could keep him remotely safe or help him cope with the lack of balance
It’s all done
As the sea swallows him like it does the morning sun
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
the world broke my body in half
opened stitches with the rustiest of needles
drowned me in seas of my own water
spat at me with words from the worst of speakers
killed me until i was nothing
so
i walked away ****** and bent.
sewed the wounds again with my hands
breathed wisps of air when i made it back to shore
crushed the last syllables into the pavement
revived the last of my soul
i survived on my own
the world can take some
but it can't t a k e i t a l l
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
To us as gifts were
given 12 metal keys
the rustiest
is forgiveness
it's grace got blessed
by the giver of life.
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 3:41 PM UTC
Scars Are Beauty Marks
By Steven L Herring
Hush and be still
It's a quiet fight
On a cloudy day
or in the dark of night
Dust from a moon boot
Cunningly clean
close up
to a motor boat
or bleeding bright red blood
from a fresh cut throat
Roses
Bunched on a bed
with sanded sheets
hand in hand
on a distant beach
I tasted the salt on her lips
contemplating the possibility
of my fingertips
discreetly brushing her hips
Ever so lightly
Slightly sliding through belt loops
Never let me go
I let her go
She told me to go
she
told
me
to
go
I cut the deepest
with the rustiest
of razors
She put the brakes on
with the freshest
of erasers
and when I think of her
she's faceless
But the saltiness is all gone
and I'm tasteless
but my scars aren't
baseless
Bandaged up
Boots on
Get back in the game
We got guys on bases
and you're up to bat son
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC