"seamed" poems
With white frost gone
And all green dreams not worth much,
After a lean day's work
Time comes round for that foul ****
Mere bruit of her takes our street
Until every man,
Red, pale or dark,
Veers to her slouch.
Mark, I cry, that mouth
Made to do violence on,
That seamed face
Askew with blotch, dint, scar
Struck by each dour year.
Walks there not some such one man
As can spare breath
To patch with brand of love this rank grimace
Which out from black tarn, ditch and cup
Into my most chaste own eyes
Looks up.
8.2k
Braided brushed tied up
the princess and her jewels
hair fair platted with history
servants standing by swords ready
gold hats seamed silver pulled tight
with silk ribbons and scarfs full beaded
this is a Viking girl astride her war horse
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
Sultry sleep, augmenting realty
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Flashes of translucent, magnified beams,
Lighting lingers in treacherous tonality
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
The water flows in upside-down streams,
Rivers rage in confused commonalities
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
The mechanic roar of howling screams,
Shrapnel shrieking in utter infinities.
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
Pulleys construct convoluted schemes
While pollution parades in notorious normality
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Awake. I go forth, my mind again seamed.
Awake. I go back, into a world of formality.
Near, near are my lucid dreams
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Crystal White Pearl paint,
red racing stripes,
MX-5 traced
on the side
Lightweight aluminum
alloy, seventeen inch
wheels wrapped in
205/45 summer
performance tires,
Limited-
Slip Differential,
rear wheel drive,
Six-speed manual
transmission, weighted
shift **** perfectly
palm-sized
Black sport clutch
bucket seats, seamed
racing red stitching, a clutch
worked with a snap
of the heel, a flick
of the wrist.
Crystal White dash panel,
red racing stripe
MX-5 traced lines
match the stripes outside.
Piano Black
mirrors match
bucket seats
and the cloth
soft top
unfolds on summer days,
spring nights, fall
mornings.
Heaven/
Nirvana/
Happiness
found
now
with a snap of the heel
& flick of the wrist.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
Hey king
Just wanna ask you a few things
Because I noticed lately that vibe between us has been changing.
My first question is, To you does my love still mean anything?
Like , I use to be able to feel you in my being....
And you were the man that my subconscious created in my dreams brought to reality
But that feeling has faded and I feel quite jaded.
I mean I been patient with you I have waited
Does our human hearts no longer connect one to another feeling related?
Are you not pleased with my soul being naked?
Things haven't been as good as it once seamed
I mean, Have you lost interest?
Does the soothing sound of my voice no longer put the stress of your mind at rest?
Are you not impressed by the offerings of my very Best?
Cause I'm in a place of loneliness.
And You were once My sunshine but now that you are gone I'm the forced to shine my moonlight on Painted sky of my own darkness.
I'm sitting here with only memories of you and I as I reminisce
While missing our hour long conversations filled with love and tenderness that ignited a fire burning with bliss.
And with your deep, smooth, and sensual voice you caressed my heart until my mind relentlessly undressed.
And at the thought of you my love ticker rapidly beats outside the ***** of chest.
Just to know A man like you I was sincerely blessed.
but now I must Confess that Me being without you I have turned into a mess.
What happened?
I thought what we felt was beyond the physical attraction.
Because of the way you had my all of me reactin
as if I were the ship amongst the sea And you were my captain.
Maybe I'm just overeactin
Or maybe I just Didn't met the standards of your satisfaction.
So can you please tell me did our seed of affection not sprout?
Have we reached a love drought?
Can you sense my fears and doubts?
What is this silent treatment about?
Like can you help a sista out?
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
Anna entered the room like a butterfly, gossamer to all.
Her face told a different story. One of sadness and hurt.
She wore only the finest silks and seamed cuban stockings.
All eyes latched upon her and followed every step. But no real man ever approached her.
No saviour could get near.
She wore none of her finery, the choice all his.
A trophy bride,
sold like raw meat in her childhood.
It was normal in her village, her adolescence stolen from her.
Anna's delicate neck held an overbearing sapphire necklace. It was overkill in every way.
All for show, all chosen by him, all for him.
He entered with his cronies as though owning the club.
The way he thought he owned her.
Thought indeed, for there is always a price in ownership.
Hours past champagne and fake laughter abounded.
Then she stood up.
Immediately challenged!
She wished to go and powder her nose.
Naturally escorted, god forbid she made outside contact.
But she was not watched within. Minutes passed then... The scream.
She had left, Anna had escaped him.
The anger on his face !
He had no control, lost face in front of them all.
For Anna, oh beautiful Anna lay sylph like wrapped like a cloud in her white dress, its silk floating in a pool of her life blood.
She had left, she was free.
Now her face was different, white, ashen but at peace.
Free..
Anna had left.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
The girl’s corneas expand over the small black abyss of pupil
Tides of blue and hazel rising over onyx isles
An unhinged eyelash balances precariously on its neighbor
It evaporates with her quick blink
Directly beneath her right eye
Below the mottled eggplant shadows
The corpse of a capillary drains among the freckles
Subterranean rivers of vein
Pulse under thin skin
Her nose is spherical
Etched by soft papery scars
Pores round and gazing
Culminating in a uniform valley
Lips are soft and pink and unkissed
A source for a small steady trickle of pride
Her mother’s lips
But behind the outer façade
The seamed surface is rough with nervous nibbles
Ribboned with scars of worries and troubles
She lacks fourteen teeth
Absent since the womb
Those she has are either sickly infants or filled with grainy mystery metallics
Some entirely fabricated with spatulas of amalgam
Yellowed and cracking
Rough and worn
Spongy inner marrow screaming with pain
She hides the stony incisors from view
The hair
Curling and waving
Kissing with reptilian tongues at her cheeks
Neck
Forehead
Framing her face in brambles and cowlicks
Indecisive of its true form
Fuzzy with moisture
Unwilling to obey
The strands of a gorgon
A monstrous tangle of personality
Instantly recognizable
Her hands attempt to soothe the undulating tendrils
But they anger
As stubborn as her
Refuse treatment
She gives up
Rinses her hands
And turns away from the mirror
Sighing
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
*Inspiration pretty much finds you
even when you walk outside
to await the newspaper.*
A summer poem for a winter's day.
___
morning slow sleep walking,
reviewing my
evening sleep attire,
am I appropriately dressed,
to publicly receive
the somber weekend
Wall Street Journal?
which is hopefully waiting for
my rational embrace
where
the driveway meets the road.
as I walk, I note the:
seamed stitching
on my shirt,
a series of
crisscrossed stitches,
pattern of acute angles
stitched in Thailand,
or perhaps Bangladesh,
and when machined,
did the seamstress dream that
with a single blink,
dream metamorphosis
stitches become
crisscrossed out entries
in the diary,
that I don't keep,
the notations naked and rendered,
I don't want you
to know about,
so scratched into oblivion
but in a orderly fashion
before spilling them freely
to any misfortunate innocent Joe,
nice enough to ask me,
how ya doing...
impatiently waiting on a country road
for recycled newsprint
impressed into the service of the
Canadian Pulp Navy
a paper mache arrival overdue
via a technology of delivery
some what quaint, a photo dated
impish young boy
upon bicycle,
with angel wings
who when he passes,
winks at me, seeing my impatience,
(his cheek delighting my cheeks!)
and with robust throw, salutes,
Mission Accomplished.
as I wait
the muses attack,
a formation of
no-see-ums insects bite
ruminations brain-inserted
war correspondents now embedded,
a fifth column
to betray me
and I wonder about:
newspaper printed words
stale seconds before
they are writ,
which makes think
about time,
about making plans,
to do lists,
about how fast my coffee cools,
about how slow my skin colors,
About the first time I put words
about doubt & certainty
on paper
summoning up the courage
to look foolish and
how great it felt,
at the time.
**I fresh slap realize
these "poems"
are my diary,**
so for the record,
let it be duly recorded,
the paperboy delivers to me
the New York Times,
in error,
a cosmic sign
that this is where this
deuce minute walk
into the mind of a gnat,
should randomly end,
and be
crisscrossed into
oblivion.
summer 2012
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
If you knew I love you, would your heart change its beat?
If you knew how many nights I have stayed awake thinking of you, would you think of me too?
If you knew how many times I reread the words "I will always hold you close to my heart, no matter what.", would you reread mine too?
If you knew I cry over the fact that you're gone, would you come back?
If you knew that I put you up on one of my highest pedestals, would you rethink yours?
If you knew I hear those five words in my head constantly, would you hear them too?
If you knew how many times I have longed for your embrace, would you say you long for mine too?
Our last days with each other were magical and filled with love for me, were they for you too?
That move star hug, oh you know which one. The one where you were strutting down the senior walk out line filled with people and you just stopped about 6 yards away from me. Looked me straight in the eyes and opened your loving arms, not caring about your long time buddies on the side screaming your name. I booked it down that line of loud, sweaty, standing in shock teenagers and collapsed in your arms. You picked me up, spun me around, and with tears in your eyes you whispered those five words that changed my life forever... "I will always love you.". Do you remember now?
At your graduation party I was a goner. My mother came and talked to yours while I went down and said my final goodbyes. "It's never goodbye Big Sean." You whispered in my ear as I gave you a final hug. My mother was behind me when you said that. And when we got back in the car the first thing she said was "That boy loves you, I can see it in his eyes." finally it seamed like I wasn't dreaming and someone else noticed it too. They way you look at me rather than everyone else, even your girlfriend.
So do you see why my heart aches for you to come back, to love me?
If you knew I love you, would your heart change its beat?
If you knew how many nights I have stayed awake thinking of you, would you think of me too?
If you knew how many times I reread the words "I will always hold you close to my heart, no matter what.", would you reread mine too?
If you knew I cry over the fact that you're gone, would you come back?
If you knew that I put you up on one of my highest pedestals, would you rethink yours?
If you knew I hear those five words in my head constantly, would you hear them too?
If you knew how many times I have longed for your embrace, would you say you long for mine too?
Please say you'll do...
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Someone's knocking at my door
In the middle of the night
From a warm be into the cold
I think I got my first frostbite
As I opened up my door
I saw a ghostly figure on my porch
A lady all dressed in white
With an unlit torch as her light
Her jet black hair was flying wide
She looked so feeble, oh so mild
Her dress was dancing everywhere
And on her face showed fright
She had such a perfect face
And she came from a mixed race
She said,"Please help me,
I'm being followed by a plight."
I led her into my home
She ran away from my statue gnomes
And when I held her hand
It was so cold and tight
Her lips were bleeding, so was her head
On her dress was drops of red
I let her sleep on my bed
And slept on the couch that night
We danced and we pranced
In my dreams
I was awoken
By the sunbeams
I ran to her
For I heard screams
And at her foot
I saw blood and shaving cream
She said that is wasn't what it seamed
It's cherry syrup and whip cream
I thought that she cut herself while taking a shave
I felt so ashamed and naive
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
Once there was a little bird
With nothing left at all
All alone stuck on the ground
The bird just felt...so small
So the bird began to walk
Till the old nest was out of sight
It didn't have the strength anymore
To stand up for itself and fight
After walking for forever
It found another nest
But decided to keep walking
It didn't want to be a pest
But there was someone in the nest
That kindly invited the bird to stay
And though the bird was cynical
It thought "well maybe just today"
The day turned into a week
That week turned into two
And before the bird realized it
All its problems slowly withdrew
Its feathers gradually grew back
And its wing slowly began to heal
The more time it spent in this new nest
The more living here seamed ideal.
The bird got its confidence back
And once again it could soar
It flew around with its new friends
And sang louder than before
Once there was a little bird
As happy as could be
It soared up in the sky all day
Home at last...and free
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
If I had a time machine, there is only one place I would go. To the meadow, where we would launch dirt clods, back at the boys. Then climb and hide in our woodland suite, where no boys could annoy us. I would like to see our fortress again, and pretend, that we were still friends.
If I had a time machine, I would try to go back to when you cried. Because your bearer was more of a bear than a mother. She didn't understand, but I took up the stance, and we marched our way through the madness. I would like to smoke a cigarette on the rooftop again, and pretend, that we are still close friends.
Goodbye my sister, my childhood friend. We have ended the games we pretended. We both have homes now, lovers now, bills now. Our barbie village blown up into living breathing reality.
And we,
Incapable of seeing each other old, In the new mold. Everything that I'm told makes me so proud of you.
And I'll wait, while we migrate, through different schedules and rituals. I'll be at the front gate. Once I have my Tony we dreamed of and you have your fashion line we seamed up, in every major cotour city.
It will be then, that we'll emerge back together again. Helping each other through hospital corridors in replace of wadding through muddy shores.
There will be two glasses of wine, one with your name, one with mine, where we can rewind, and reminice about time.
If I had a time machine, I would quickly jump to the future and sneak a peak at us. Just as we imagined it long ago. Both sitting in our rocking chairs, just above the front stairs. As the porch wraps around both us and the house. A glass of whisky in one hand and a shot gun in the other, prosting to the old ways and the new days
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 12:33 PM UTC
The sun is out, and England is reborn, as are we.
The grass is singing,
as it pushes through the ground,
Daffodils are dancing in a frenzy, all around.
Let's pack a picnic,
Take a walk in the park.
I'll wear my vintage dress, with flouncy petticoat, seamed stockings
And cherry earrings, you'll make me your dessert
under the willow trees down by the lake.
No-one can see us, lose yourself in all my layers,
Find the seams, follow them up,
And tug at my tight little belt.
Yes, I am edible, do I taste sweet?
Let's make the most
Of this unseasonal heat.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Gripping dripping smearing love.
Over your eyes!!!
Over your ovaries, where babies, your clutch.
There's no time to nest,
Resist!
Resist
,
be the diode, resistor to heart plunge.
Plug up the sewer.
(more like a catacomb)
My heart's in the ****** cake.
The smell, Cytotoxic invades chemical response conformation.
We; bitten, by fangs of silicon,
the world takes us away from ivy
grown homes,
torn then seamed up jack o' lanterns always smiling orange.
Have you ever grown up from being 11?
It's the saddest thing you've seen.
You see a fledgling,
altricial,
awkward,
gawk/cock,
turn from a boy
to a lady.
Plump. Or . Musculate.
Slowly they regenerate their lady parts.
Regardless of gender.
Have you seen them bleed?
Some bleed white tears that burn the urethra.
Some, never grow up.
Transmogrified they call it.
Never to be beautiful again.
Angst entangles, ensues, makes doubt
pubescence is for flowers and hairs.
Namesake.
5th Grade.
Curious formation, curious nature
It's as if we are stalagmites of the future,
We decorate walls or cave ceilings to perform our correct action.
Too bad our self image is always garbled, confused by our refraction.
NEVER GRADUATE COLLEGE.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
The night smells of popcorn, spilled wine and beach *****
Plastic sugar sweet.
As Baby and Johnny start to dance,
So do a few thousand beauties
In cut off shorts, white pumps and tied up tops
Or flouncy dresses, and seamed stockings
Dancing, dancing, with abandon and wistful delight,
Remembering the first time they ever saw this film
And had their hearts broken by the now dead actor
And his shy (but sassy) girl.
As the credits roll ***** bounce across the fields
And we all keep dancing
Desperate to remain
In the moment
Dreaming 'til dawn.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
The pond of blooming lotus was waiting for someone to cherish there beauty. There we were as the shinning city we cherish beneight the credent moon. Such perfect moment seamed as if a message was being delivered to us as we walked. We drifted away in beautiful wavy lights. We were in a moment where nothing existed except you and I.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 7:08 AM UTC
Alone in the darkness, I carefully tread
Gazing at the leafy roof blossoming
Pearly flickering snowdrops overhead
A lone orchestra that she is forming
Hushed. I stand motionless, tranquil, silent
Glittering petals floating all around
Hear the eloquent song; dusky, violent
Twirling whilst dances to the velvet sound
In the midst of our homely wilderness
Reaching out to this enchanting spirit
I watch her, Illuminating blackness
My tortured soul I again revisit
Chasing is useless. I don't have her heart
We are seamed together and ripped apart.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
You gave me the child
that seamed my belly
& stitched up my life.
You gave me: one book of love poems,
five years of peace
& two of pain.
You gave me darkness, light, laughter
& the certain knowledge
that we someday die.
You gave me seven years
during which the cells of my body
died & were reborn.
Now we have died
into the limbo of lost loves,
that wreckage of memories
tarnishing with time,
that litany of losses
which grows longer with the years,
as more of our friends
descend underground
& the list of our loved dead
outstrips the list of the living.
Knowing as we do
our certain doom,
knowing as we do
the rarity of the gifts we gave
& received,
can we redeem
our love from the limbo,
dust it off like a fine sea trunk
found in an attic
& now more valuable
for its age & rarity
than a shining new one?
Probably not.
This page is spattered
with tears that streak the words
lose, losses, limbo.
I stand on a ledge in hell
still howling for our love
1.8k
While cooking this week end
I tried to cut the end of my finger off
For some reason my unconscious mind
seamed to think that was maybe
what i want
how wrong it could be
now my unconscious mind
leave all the cooking to me.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
Fire burning, logs marching
A path daunting, ranting taunts
Chanting seamed Arabic hymns
Chargrilled silky toned offerings
The exquisite yurt tent warm
Enclosed in ethnic kaleidoscope
Bedouin tribal pneuma radiates
Tensed and cordially punted
Feral wild ones sociably awake
Reticent,drained in frail noises
Fainting in lapses, trailed to fail
Tidal noises permeates above all
Waved and enveloped in beats
A drummed goblet, strummed oud
Announcement of the lived life force
The tidal rhythmic music timed
All clapping and mesmerised
Drawn in dangerous curves
A continuum of introversion sorted
The ever censored extroversion summed
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
I was once a faceless doll,
clean and concealed.
I remained that way for a time
'til curiosity caused my new form to be revealed.
At first my face was plain.
I was content and free,
but curiosity was not the only artist,
you see.
They seamed in their stitches
and drew upon my face.
I was new yet again,
changing with an unbelievable pace.
They said I was no longer just a copy
but unique and enviable.
But was I not formed from their desires,
an image which their liking could resemble?
Were these thoughts even mine to own?
I wish I could be that faceless doll once more,
but I am ragged and marked now,
though their drawings have not soiled my core.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
I laugh, I cry, I even cuss
I throw the words out in the lust.
you have to stay, don't go away.
Embrace me like in the first day.
I am not lost,
Remember that...
I've found you out in the dust
You're hurting and seamed lost.
I care, I kiss, I even love.
But in the end
You choose to die.
You choose to go away
'cuz you don't have for what to stay.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
Two strangers walking in the knight.
One glance that seamed to last a life time.
Her smile as bright as the sun.
Her cheeks as red as blood.
The wind seemed to wait for that moment in time to blow
as her long dark Red hair dances with the wind in the night sky.
His eyes so full of life as they hypnotize you.
With a smile that makes you smile and tingle inside.
The seconds past, they wondering if they would ever see each other again.
Running from the rain. The same two strangers find shelter under a cherry blossom tree.
As they look up at each other there hearts skip at the same time.
So cold from the rain he can see her breath as it gets faster and faster.
As he takes a step towards her the rain stops.
The moon seemed to smile for them and lights up the night sky so they can see each other.
The moon light rays touch on her face.
His breathing is getting faster.
They move in closer so close they can feel the heat from there body's.
She feels as tho she will melt.
Her body shaking as he moves his hand to her face.
They stand there just staring into each others eyes.
As he moves closer to her his tall broad body blocks out the light from the moon.
She moves to him. She pulls her hands up as she puts one arm around his neck and the other on his side.
She realizes just how Safe and strong he feels.
He pulls her closer with one hand that wraps all the way around her.
His other hand slides from her face through her hair around to the back of her neck.
So big and strong so many feelings she begins to cry
Her legs give way as he pulls her into him so much that her feet don't touch the ground anymore.
Finally there lips meet so soft his tong so gentle and passionately
dancing with hers.
Her body trammeling feeling as if there were thousands of butterfly's fluttering inside her body.
He pulls back a little this sensation runs through his body.
His heart skips then he jerks her back into him.
There lips never come apart as he picks her up into his arms and takes her into the house.
As they fall onto the bed cherry blossom petals glide over them.
Kissing as he lays her back softly on the bed
He starts to kiss down the side of her neck,
moving across to the front.
He raises up and unbuttons her shirt half way.
He sees how fast and deep her breathing has become,
as he kisses her now naked chest.
She stopped breathing for a seasoned with a gasp
He looks at her with those deep hypnotizing eyes and said
cloudy with rain showers all day.
As she jumps up in bed her alarm is going off with the news man talking about the weather. 6-20-13
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
Pain , sorrow , flame , and passion said her rainbow in my ears ; like an echo from the past with no love for living here ; so I tried to light a candle for her golden woman's tears . But like the cool of a blown out candle for the thunder in my mind I watched a young girl try forever just to burn a million times , and we were leaving in the summer with no sympathy for wines ; it was violence , stones ,and hatred , love for pain was left behind .
She never stopped to think for her patterns seamed complete as her golden sun came rising and her colors met with mine , and from a simple warriors passion what shall we leave behind in a world where color is not but need , and death the woman's wine .
He couldn't stop to play or light the shadows of her mind , and like the golden light of misery she spiraled through his time , and who is to say there is more to her as she burned slowly in her dying , and fell into the gravity of her northern lights so blind , and listened to the howling wolves as she weaved for better times .
Thoughtless killing , thoughtful tool , I love you said her tune ; and yet as summer turned to fall the leaves upon her loom sang of spring's new hope again in a land of westering sun , "For in dying I will rise again to greet tomorrow's rain with no thought of bringing back your killing , no screaming from your pain ."
The ice it slowly covered me as I sank into her womb , and the myriad stars of children's dreams echoed softly from her rock ; like the endless ripples of her final chords and the broken glass of dreams , and said to me a man is never truly what he seems , but only just his moment , and how I build tomorrow's dreams .
I stood upon tomorrow's shores a witness to her schemes , and watched my mother burning , saw my father's broken dreams ; to chew upon coca leaves and watch as mother weaned . I must learn to grow old again for she died from all our pains , and yet continued weaving as her winter brought the rains ; for children must learn to live in the golden honey of her pain , with time her only company , and her rhythm father's game .
Like a child on the edge of night I stopped to sing my song of a thousand lonely burials and I must carry on , and yet I too must learn to live on the fragments of wind's sails , or try to build a better ship as her dawn comes on so pale , and the cold light of our father's eyes an icy wind in hell .
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC