"safekeeping" poems
the extermination of the straight white male
soon we will be gone and the remainder carried over into zoos for
“safekeeping,” our DNA and ***** harvested for science purposes
you will be pitched advertisements
send $ to San Diego Zoo so they can save the few remaining
white rhinos (which they neglect to mention are in preserves in Kenya and the Sudan, but send $$ a way)
and the last three straight white guys
(surfer, techie, and an aborigine)
to preserve the species so the world can modify their cells
to stop sexism, racism and other male diseases
gonna maybe mate them with the rhinos,
which will be expensive cause of all the rhinoplasty,
so send me some
money, money, money
yup
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
a wacko version of hamlet
the patient came up to us raving
GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT
a naked swollen giant
his basketball ***** his endless belly
every system failing
we prepared to put him out
so we could stick a tube down his throat
plug him on a ventilator
and insert lines for safekeeping
GOODNIGHT, I LOVE YOU
he tried to lean off the bed
take it easy man, i said, restraining him
SUSAN
who’s susan? asked the nurse
GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT
good night, sweet prince, i said as we gave him the drugs
GOODNIGHT, I LOVE YOU, GOODNIGHT
we intubated him and took him down to the OR
where he passed twenty minutes later
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 6:08 AM UTC
My Prize for Waiting
~
*tucked in all by myself,
resting dark and quiet
in the thin place^
where the distance between
this world and the next,
is no distance at all,
but a few inches separating,
easily fordable, back and forth-able
my palms, hands down,
come to rest on my *******
and the two thumbs in unison,
begin to sweep the streaming space of their in-between,
conducting a radar sweep-search for the precise point
passageway to poetic mystical places,
hoping to snag any residuals for safekeeping
no hurry to either arrive or depart,
in patient attendance for
rhythms of woven word arrivistes,
coming in no particular order,
asking to be seized, greedy to be
nominated and recognized, immortalized,
as great poetry, prize worthy,
kept for all time inside others poetry chests
but in the thin place,
dream records are not kept,
hazy scraps at best retained,
a recipe for a witnessed totality,
is only a soupy reduction of a
few seconds of hazed video,
that can neither give nor get
no satisfaction
the plastic surgeons attempt to reconstruct
the body of the meal, the real deal,
alas, there are no prizes either
for botched surgeries and pretty but meaningless
poetry scraps
the only evidence of my travels,
a flushing, blushing residual flow,
slow to dissipate, a hangover makers mark
of a sojourn best described as unsatisfying,
my blush, a prize for waiting but failing,
“the most peculiar and most human of all expressions”^^
woe to me when returned in ignominy,
medaled in only base irony,
me and philosopher Pliny,^^^
both dying while recording our own private Vesuvius,
our bodies preserved by voluminous volcanic ash,
but alas, you cannot recite the ash of poetry
so one waits, cut and pasting brown edged
burnt photographs epistles,
that are clinging and clung to the distaff spindle,
insufficient to weave a flax complete
and yet we return perforce twenty four hours from now,
to snag another prized piece of meaningless,
my prize for waiting
in the solitude of the thin place*
3:35am Saturday April 6th, 2019
~
last nights scrap
***cease your whining,
seize your waiting,
therein is your own paid price
for the prize of inspiration***
inspired by Jean Fisher,
a real prize winning poet
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 4:26 AM UTC
*You speak to my soul and make my eyes smile
warm as sunny days, enchanting as moonbeams
your thoughtful words permeate my very being
I carry your friendship as a precious locket
always available to hold dear and admire
safekeeping next to my heartbeat's ardor
scripted designedly in golden stanzas
pendant's everlasting imprinted verse*
For my sweet friend, you know who you are. xo
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
A hollow vase forged and crafted to function as a keeper
God only knows what was to be placed in the vessel
Made from dust and was molded by love
A perfect container to be filled with knowledge
At first a perfect family was imbued inside the vessel
Followed by lessons only a prodigy could handle
Slowly it was infused by different lessons from diverse people
The vessel was happy it was being filled finally fulfilling its purpose
Up until it was filled with waste and trash
The perfect family was emptied and was replaced by a broken one
Lessons from diverse people was slowly thrown away
The vessel that was once filled happiness was replaced by sadness
Continuously shattered throughout the years
now full of cuts on his wrists and a barely functioning heart
It could only imagine what he had once
a perfect idea of what he could've been if he only was a tad bit stronger
what was once promised to be kept on the top shelf
for safekeeping as he was the most valuable
was now hidden for it had become
a broken and shattered vessel hidden from everyone
It yearns for a purpose everyday, watching other vessels be filled up
with knowledge he dreamed for while he laid there being filled with trauma
the now cuts on the vessel were displayed as it was full of them
the owner could barely keep it intact but the vessel knew otherwise
It was close to breaking it was filled with knowledge and lessons from its past
memories that were supposed to be happy were replaced by haunting experiences
It could barely hang on it was filled to the brim by waste but it felt empty
a new line was made on the shattered vessel everyday as if it was a cut to display its pain
being filled was its purpose
but was the haunting memories enough for him
the horrible wisdom it has learn throughout the years
it all built up until he couldn't take it and he shattered
everyone was heartbroken about the vessel
full of what-ifs and promises they made to the vessel
regret filled the cabinet where it was once stored
everyone mourned at the finale but no one helped during the ******
Jun 26, 2022
Jun 26, 2022 at 2:31 PM UTC
A midnight poet,
she calls herself.
Because the cascading words,
come to her
wrapped up in shiny moonlight,
served on blankets of darkness,
stars dusted lightly on top.
Her inspiration
rides the midnight breeze
swiftly and gently
to her window,
waiting patiently for her
to lift the glass up
and greet them warmly.
So there she sits,
next to the open window
waiting for the perfect moment
to say hello.
To invite her loyal inspiration in
for some midnight tea,
and although she says
she’s not fond of midnight snacks
She pours herself
a steaming mug of metaphors
and serves couplets
with the drink.
After a comfortable chat,
Inspiration takes its leave
out the window
on the breeze in which it came.
And so the girl
is left lonely once more,
but not truly alone.
She has her words,
her rhymes,
her metaphors,
and her couplets
to keep her company
as she forms it all
into beautiful verses
that capture the heart.
As she sits by her window,
the midnight poet
notices how soft the sky looks,
dark and freckled with stars.
The sweet sky comforts her
as she mourns her bitter loneliness into verses,
or envelops her in maddening, exciting emptiness
as she writes
or simply sleeps
by her window.
The midnight poet
sighs gently
catching the wily night’s attention
And draws poetry from its
calming,
yet sly,
grin.
The girl catches falling stars
made of verses
from her pretty window seat.
She finds lines tucked behind faraway planets,
makes metaphors from the moonlight,
comfortable in the darkness’s embrace.
The midnight poet
coaxes poetry from the freckled night sky
And tucks it into her pocket
For safekeeping.
To keep
as an ever loyal
companion.
A reminder
of her home.
A poem of the night.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC
Don't worry, I'll keep you right here in my little box for safekeeping.
I'll stow you away in my secret hiding place deep in my mind and never take you out until I know it's safe.
You are my little marionette, your strings taught and wary from overuse.
The wood you are made from chipped and abused.
Don't worry, I'll keep you right here in my little box for safekeeping.
You are afraid of the monsters outside, creeping, but I will protect you.
I am brave.
I will defend you from the evil that surrounds everyone and everything and I will keep you safe.
Your little marionette arms hanging by your sides, already prepared for the heartbreak of rejection.
Don't worry, I'll keep you right here in my little box for safekeeping.
You'll never be able to run away because I control your strings.
The strings you could never use to walk on your own.
The strings, only I know how to employ. My fingers toiling with the knots. You are bruised.
Don't worry, I'll keep you right here in my little box for safekeeping.
I swear I will never stray.
This promise will be engrained on my mind, sewn on my heart and tattooed on my fingertips.
You are mine and I will never let you go. Never.
You are mine and I will never let you go. Never.
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 2:42 PM UTC
Put a child lock
on the liquor cabinets,
and fasten me
to your kitchen sink.
Watch me drift slowly down the drain.
Watch shattered wine glass
stick between fragments of me
in the garbage disposal blades.
Watch broken sentences
arch over our faulty plumbing lines.
Watch pieces of you stick strictly to silver spoons.
Take the skin of your Cuban
and roll a noose around my neck
to yank the blaze from my throat
into the bile of my slip-ups
that pool on the kitchen floor
from an unattached pipe
that just can’t seem to keep
her pretty little mouth shut.
Penetrate my thoughts from behind
and throw plates at the walls
of my shoulder blades
when you need to hear the question again
because it doesn’t matter what she thinks
if her face is nothing but
a cracked serving platter.
Force your hands
onto the authority of my hipbones.
Pierce your wedding ring
through my belly button for safekeeping.
Decorate my body
with super glue
so your words can stick to me.
Sort me in
with the pots and pans
so your voice
doesn’t have to clang against
my eardrums anymore.
Reorganize me
again and again
until you can’t wash the stain
out of my bottom lip anymore.
Pour me a drink
while I drip Taps into the sink
because when I realize
water isn’t strong enough
to make me forget how blood
runs so much thicker over my skin,
tears begin to slip so easily off my eyelashes.
Let my death
be a pail
brimmed with ex-lovers’
cries for attention.
Let me kick the bucket
this time
when they begin to drown out
the sound of my own.
Let me be a reminder
that not all channels
you lose yourself down
have to be man made.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
Waiting for that phone call
Gets you. Bill’s used to waiting;
Spent best part of his life in
Waiting for phone calls. Any
Time of day or night, the night
Ones have that haunting feel.
His mother rang one night,
Your father’s dying, she said.
Just that and a little piece of
Weeping. Bill knew the agency
Was due. Ok, Mother I’ll get
Back to you on that. Waiting
For an important call. Mother
Rang off, her weeping still there.
He kept it in his memory for
Safekeeping. It’s on, is all he
Got sometimes from some stiff
Lipped **** on the line. Waiting
Was the worst part. Never the
Details; that he got earlier in
The drop, behind the brick. All
There: the who, where, when.
Just waiting for the all go. Bill
Sits still in the chair, having a
Cigarette, smoke in the air, mind
On the father who’s died; a mother
Who cried; the young guy he’d
******* some hours ago in some
Rented room; the phone call due.
Bill remembers his father’s weak
Attempt at fatherhood; all strictness,
Harsh words, staring eyes, business
Talks over dinner, Bill on the limb,
In the cold, not listened to. He waits
Coldly now for the phone call due.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
I swear, goblins must have created you.
Made so pure, honest, stable, delicate.
Like a blanket you can cover what I’m
Ashamed to show, and provide to me an
Inner warmth otherwise unnatural.
You puzzle me yet piece me together.
The hem of your being gently caresses
my skin beneath. I'll be your comforter
and sooth you of all your worries, darling.
Don’t fret, for a new beginning rises.
Secrets whisper to each other, exchanging
in an ear -- a tavern of safekeeping.
Friendly benefits, beneficial friends
I’m glad “we” exists even though you do
remind me of her – wish I could hate her...
She is a mold of who I had become --
Shattered -- but now I can rebuild my world,
like a child playing with his new Legos.
I’d give you the world if I loved you enough.
This is just affection, care-free addiction.
Perhaps in a different place or time.
A bed would be nice, or even a couch,
but for now I’ll make due with this kitchen,
asking to borrow one of your kisses.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
what do you do when you have placed your heart in the hands
of who you have come to know as your home for safekeeping,
but those hands that lead butterflies to your stomach when placed against yours,
have left fingerprints on your heart so deep
there are more craters than there is left of you,
to love
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 7:22 PM UTC
Cause love is long , love is strong
Cause love is strong , love is long
Come with me , we'll catch the ship of fools
and fly to the moon .
Give your heart to somebody then fly away
with their love in a special box for safekeeping .
Call it a heart deposit box .
If your heart's box has been broken we'll
change the locks .
Don't get left behind .
We're going moonberry picking in the
eclipse of dreams past , present , and the
unequivocal future .
Hurry !
Last one there is a pixie from France
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
over the years,
i've collected images
of various escapades
all thrown away
when they thought
no one was looking.
i've listened to cries
hiding beneath their
ringing laughters
and tucked those tears
away in clear bottles
for safekeeping.
i've helped mend
battered hearts
& fractured souls,
then whispered comforts
about dreams & hopes.
i have done all those and more.
and now,
i want to know
if a song can rise from
the ashes of a broken life.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 5:50 AM UTC
The Gods have forgotten how to die,
in the Serengeti the Lion fills his cup.
Gerrymander those dreams furnished as overkill,
for safekeeping store them in a crucible so that,
Warriors pledge wherewithal returns,
a monstrous bounty to wrench
the loadstone enduring.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
I am clinging tight on this superficial feeling.
I caught a butterfly and I am keeping it for safekeeping.
It doesn't guarantee an eternal life,
of bliss,
of fruitfulness.
It doesn't even guarantee a year of existence.
But it gives me hope,
of joy, to welcome the day,
It gave me a reason for today.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
I am a stranger
To a lover
I cannot encounter
Glamorous is her beauty
She smiles in a special way
Holding back true feelings
Whom I must not tell
Falling so shameless
This woman of mercy
Giving all I have present
For one night with her
Is a chance
Which is mine for safekeeping
I am a stranger
I stand alone
To a love relinquishing my soul
Nov 17, 2009
Nov 17, 2009 at 5:28 PM UTC
Surveying the large and burdensome
Masonic Holy Bible
Given to you decades ago
As a Brother of the Fraternity,
Left behind upon your death,
Amazed at the excellent condition
Of the text; the presentation
And family record pages blank...
One would think this a token volume
Meant only for in-home display
Until finding, scattered throughout
And clinging near the spine,
Dried and preserved clovers from
Distant summer days.
Four-leaf clovers, a couple hundred or more,
Gathered over the years from fields,
Hillsides numberless, and pressed
Into the arms of kings David and Solomon,
Mingled with Isaiah's prophecies and
Seeded about the Sermon on the Mount -
The great tome laced with leaves
Of discovery, welcome surprise, safekeeping.
Some may believe this a misuse
Of a sacred text, but perhaps
It is a testament to your disposition
That an oversized and weighty Holy Bible
Was made a repository of so many
Little verdant flags of good fortune.
- fr
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
There's a point when it all becomes okay,
a sense of divine clarity,
when you know for certain that no one wins,
the rules are always bent,
the good ones get away,
and summer is always spent.
There's a sound finer than your favorite music,
a voice begging for your safekeeping,
when you know for certain that at least one person,
for one spell, wants yourself, your health,
the gifts turn old,
beauty levitated by introspective wealth.
There's always a trail, there's always four walls, never an escape,
a broken heart crying for your broken neck,
when compliments wash ashore against a sea of catastrophe,
their hate proves your worth, your weight, your sting,
a perpetual feast of old, distasteful words,
your frightened mouth fired in haste.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 11:51 AM UTC
1. Words were left behind
on top of the soil
where they buried
yesterday's bones
2. suddenly, this cold chill
that has befriended my spine
is now a sense of comfort
that I am still alive
3. Grief, it is love, it is every form of love
From every story I have ever read
it is hope and despair
it is the shadow
of this rain
that follows me
home
4. I hope you see
that this running clock
moves in circles
just like we do
the beginning of your journey
is closer to the end
than you could ever imagine
5. If you are looking for me
I am searching for that old shadow
we left with the sun for safekeeping
thinking about burying old love
Oct 22, 2022
Oct 22, 2022 at 11:18 AM UTC
Bleeding inside
Like a clock, each tick
A silent sob, converted to noise
Noise that isn’t sound
Isn’t important
All it is
Is relief from the silence.
We want to be loved
We want to be found.
Each of us, alone as we are,
Unique, longing to be the same,
Longing to be together.
We love each other,
Give all we have away
Fall in love with everything
We lay our desperate eyes on --
The hills, the sky, the sea
We forget the spin of the earth
And the scythe of the end
And the burning words has been
For a little while
Consumed in the beauty
Of a soft summer evening
Glowing in the palace of memory,
Locked away for safekeeping.
We are misers of happiness
We bargain for empty joy
All we are, fleeting
Hollow.
Echoing in the winds of time,
Singing and laughing
Silently.
We are unique.
We want to fit in.
To be inside, to be known.
And so we act like we are.
Like everything’s okay.
Like a little girl dresses up like a princess,
Because that’s what she wants to be.
And for a little while, we’re happy.
But then we have to grow up,
Then we have to change, and find
Something different.
But we want something that lasts
Through the years
Through the centuries and eons,
Because our immortal souls
Long for the solid horizon
Of this storm-tossed sea.
What keeps you here?
Why do you keep treading water,
Keep looking around,
Like a ship will come soaring out of the fog
To rescue you?
Do you want to be rescued?
Or is the silence of the summer day
Locked away inside you
Good enough?
Are you good enough?
Is that all you want to be?
I want to be known.
Knowing is not enough anymore
Anyone can know something, can look in.
I want to be inside
Accepted, held
To know what I’ve never known
To walk along a glassy shore
With one who loves me.
To be forgiven, always and completely
Forgiven what I am.
But I don’t know how to say it
It feels heavy and immaterial
Like the silence in between the words
When the words don’t say anything
But suddenly they have meaning.
Between the moments you’re
Totally immersed in the living world
With all those people
Suddenly you stop
Suddenly you’re alive
You breathe
And see
You’re not alone.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
Broken smiles, broken hearts
Broken dreams and broken jars.
All shattered into a million pieces,
Cut you with their jagged edges.
Smiles to show your beauty and glee,
Hearts given for safekeeping,
Dreams to keep you shooting out for,
And Jars to keep your cookies in.
Knowing it's wrong we fall again and again,
Tormenting ourselves with so much pain.
But with that same pain comes the happiness,
Just hard to forget at the end, when there's nothing else left.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
My heart has never been one piece;
I’ve left bits in places and people
for safekeeping or declaration.
So you didn’t break it.
You never even had the chance.
But don’t think for once second —
it didn’t hurt when you tore
a piece too big for yourself
and left my ****** heart half out my chest
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
i. I can no longer tell if your bright eyes are reflecting the sky or just hiding your sadness
ii. the rest of the world still believes you are strong
but I cannot shake the sound of you crying on my voicemail
the night you tore down the last remaining wall between us
and now I know why you prefer to travel the forest by night, running aimlessly to find a place called home
for they cannot hurt you again if they cannot find you
iii. they keep saying that the darkness is your fault
and it breaks my heart to know that you have started to believe them.
look in the mirror, angel
you have only ever been the light in these shadows,
and you wear galaxies as a crown, with comets weaved through your hair like silver braids
iv. there will be evenings when you can't help but howl with the wolves
and send out every arrow you have, hoping they will find the broken dreams you lost so many years ago
but remember, if all that comes back is the echo of your voice and an empty bow,
it just means that you have the universe and a lifetime of days to make new ones
v. I don't know why peter pan tried so hard to catch his shadow
because even the moon hides its own like a well-kept secret
and yours is the heaviest, my dear
vi. but when the yelling never seems to stop and all you can hear is
worthlessuselessworthlessuselessworthlessuseless
when your hands close involuntarily into fists,
and the skin on your wrists start to look too white
when your voice gets stuck in your throat because the anger chokes you
I hope you force yourself to exhale
I hope you continue to hold your breath in freeway tunnels and wish on the first star you see
I hope you still find hope
because you are the one who gave it back to me almost seven years ago
vii. and if nothing else, I want you to know:
I think I've figured out why there is a sun in the middle of your name,
because I can count on one hand the number of happy memories I have tucked away for safekeeping
and in my nineteen and a half years of living,
you have been the star of all of them
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC