"settler" poems
564
My period had come for Prayer—
No other Art—would do—
My Tactics missed a rudiment—
Creator—Was it you?
God grows above—so those who pray
Horizons—must ascend—
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend—
His House was not—no sign had He—
By Chimney—nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence—
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a Settler—
Were all that I could see—
Infinitude—Had’st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended—
Creation stopped—for Me—
But awed beyond my errand—
I worshipped—did not “pray”—
5.7k
832
Soto! Explore thyself!
Therein thyself shalt find
The “Undiscovered Continent”—
No Settler had the Mind.
2.6k
Expand your mind frame
Enhance your paradigm
Let thoughts flow through
Like a coursing stream
New aspects and ideas
Pouring over you every second
Washing you in innovation
Occasionally pebbles get smoothed over in your mind
And become coherent
Round, unmoving thoughts
Ideas that have been polished,
Perfected,
Until they are nothing, if not monumental
Don't ever, ever let these ideas go
Away from your body, your body of water
No matter how hard the wind blows them
Keep those close.
Because one day, they'll be flawless
Stones, completely and utterly
Breathtaking,
Something that children marvel at
And adults search for
Adults that ignored their own gems,
The diamonds in the rough that their mind created
So they scavenge,
They sift through the lost rubble and soul of others like them
Hoping to one day find
Something that ignites that spark again
That sets ablaze that fire,
Blows that wind,
Wets that river,
The one they neglected and let dry up
So all those priceless stones they created
Were left to bake in the sun
To become warped
By the same horizons they ignored expanding
The sunsets leaving those gems for the moon to watch over
With wind moving then farther,
And farther,
Until they're completely disappeared
Out of sight
And out of mind
Tossed aside for another lonely,
Stagnant settler to come across
While trying to regain
The paradise they took for granted,
The utopia they threw away,
And the diamonds they tossed aside
They'd give anything to be where you are
To have the opportunities you have
Don't let yourself go,
Never ignore your own soul and being
And tend to that river, let it keep going
So that your mind isn't afflicted with a permanent drought
And you're stuck,
Wading through filth that's not even your own
Just to find the beauty you already have inside
Just let those thoughts rain down on you
And I can guarantee
You'll create something worth looking at
Just you wade and sea
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
I'm that friend
Who you ask to the mall
On those weekends
Where it's so nice
And sunny
That everyone's at the beach.
I'm that friend
That you walk home
With
On days
Where everyone else
Has mountains of
Homework.
I'm the friend
That you ignore
When they text you
Because they're so
THICK
That they're
Too stupid
And
Desperate
To take the hint.
I will never be your first choice.
But I can settle for last.
If it means
Going to the mall
With you
On those weekends
Where it's so nice
And sunny
That everyone's at the beach.
If it means
Walking home
With you
On days
Where everyone else
Has mountains of
Homework.
And if it means
Getting that one text
Saying that
You
"Have to go"
And you'll
"Ttyl."
I'll settle for that.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Fifteen uniform clouds
Roll across the prairie
In a neat little line on the horizon
Kicking up dust storms as they go
Hurrying along
Silently
The settlers driving their wagons
Keeping their lips tight
And their eyes sharp
Because there are Indians
Lurking behind every rock
Bandits and thieves
Waiting in the hills
Snakes
Scorpions
Buffalo
Guns
Disease
Separation
Heartache
Might surprise them at any moment
Might make them victims and this moment their last
The settler’s hearts are racing
At 120 beats per minute
Pounding out a rhythm
Unlike anything they’ve ever known
Their hands are working at nothing
In the thin dry air
Twirling, twisting, pirouetting frantically
Their jaws are clenching tightly
Spasming, biting, drawing blood from their tongues
Their eyes are wide, unblinking, terrified
Seeing it all as it really is,
Really should be
And secretly, perhaps subconsciously,
Unrealizing,
They hope life will always feel this alive
But then,
In a few weeks
When they’ve made it to the city
To the town
To the shelter and comfort of ease
Civilization opens up her greedy maw
Swallows them whole
And licks her ****** fingers clean
So as not to stain her tidy white frock
And the settlers do nothing
Complacently allowing themselves to be digested
But they are thinking
“This is what I wanted?”
The voices in their heads have reached fever pitch, disgusted, screaming,
“This is what I wanted??”
And still they do nothing
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Animistic, not reminiscent
or exotic but disgustingly ignorant
of the ******* space in the present
A poem that doesn’t have to do with emotion?
Who let him in the building, oh, the same ******* who put 85
Security cameras and the same ******* who believes
Visible shoulders will create testosterone molded boulders
In the crotches of every boy’s too low jeans
I haven’t thought schoolwork was important
Since I knew what passion meant, and I’m no different
Than any boy or girl around but I know I am not anything near lost or found
Pertaining to a missing student.
Do you ever consider the other option?
That contumacious behavior is nothing to fear
Because although the misunderstood is misunderstood
Think of who told you should
Now what if they opted for could?
Or will you settle for chopping the wood for your fireplace
settling for our settler’s stolen goods
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
Traveling (with Frost) down the lightly trodden path,
with shoed soles sauntering over thawed earth,
twisting down the narrow trail,
away from the prying eyes of tour guides—
Encompassed by flowery heads who mirror the sun,
who burst forth with fluorescent green necks
craning from the dirt,
delineating our path in cascades of springing splendor.
Sensing the ostinato of ambulant waters crescendo,
we soon break from the budding foliage—
To be greeted by gentle winds
and the lapping of placid waves
who break onto the languid shore
onto shoed and socked feet,
who sense holy ground and immediately
kick off their bindings—
To sink into the earth,
and gritty sand reaching up between toes;
the water deceptively inviting,
is greeted with delightful shrieks in its refreshing chill.
Secluded in our cove,
we gaze over the waters where to our right
rests a breathing reconstruction of the Dove;
we stand awed before these waters
both the settler and the native.
What gods were praised on these lands,
and in these woods,
and in these skies,
and in these waters?
And on March 25, 1634,
in the promising onset of spring,
what had they to sing in the calm airs
as the settlers crossed the threshold of the Potomac?
She whispers,
“Funny how the water appears green on the shore,
and clear on the river.”
--St. Mary's City, March 10, 2016.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
Dear Mr. Television,
There are poor air quality in national parks.
Californians are painting their lawns green.
A ****** Galactic pilot survived failed space mission for billionaire.
Santa Cruz lost an 8 year old and found her dead in a recycle bin.
Berkeley police in riot gear hunted a man with silver teeth for robbing laundromat.
Jamestown archaeologists found first American settler remains.
LA mayor second guessed Olympic games.
SF sign said "hold it!" to keep urination off public domains.
LA police handed out "quality of life" citations to homeless people.
Opinions urged citation clinics for the "service resistant".
Others said it's all in vain without any housing.
Mexico made Presidential candidate Donald Trump into piñata,
but the people have taken enough swing at him already.
Your pal,
Newspaper
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
the chicken walks in the
back door with
all the brashness of
christopher columbus and
makes straight for the dog's
bowl as if nothing can stop her
getting what she wants. and her pecks
are noisy shouts through the house of
beak on tin clang, clang, clang,
she is full of confidence and even when the
dogs chase her out she goes struttingly,
back within minutes-
i think that maybe i should take notes
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Dog days fly dust to dust over a hick
pit sardined between corona bikinis that house
the unmistakable stench of lukewarm apple
sauce in the c-cup padding and toothless
******** sitting indian style. Graveled friction
fading the back pockets of their overall
dungarees. Amongst them a settler on their native
turf accepting a Jim Beam peace pipe while above
the influence commercials march in protest claiming fried
egg consequences from engaging in the act. The culture
shock is worth the weekly once-in-a-lifetime chance
to sip the tabasco-glazed opening of my chemistry
teacher’s flask while he schools me in perfecting
the cotton eyed joe. A muffler spontaneously
combusts, melting the raybans off the face of a tragically
hip spectator taunted with “that’s why dad named you Joe Dirt.”
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 11:44 PM UTC
Across expanses far and flat
The freezing wind doth howl,
Through desolation cold and harsh
No sign of beast nor fowl.
No feet have trod these arid lands
No eyes have sought a path,
No heart has longed to venture here
No settler built a hearth.
Far horizons curve the flatness
Cold stars spray the sky,
Freezing diamonds in the blackness
Crescent moon hangs high.
Sleet and snow and driving rain
Assault in winter’s bleak,
Whilst blazing sun and baking wind
Prevail in summers fleet.
Grasses blow in rolling waves
As far as sight can see,
And cobalt skies of burnished blue
Are cloud and eagle free.
Sand grains blowing, heaping, rolling
Dusty dunes do form,
Moving west in steady flow
Sand waves without a storm.
Silent, silent, shrill and silent
Wind’s persistant howl
Shreiking in the rolling grass
No trace of beast nor fowl.
Far horizons defy logic
Something in the dark,
Huge and vague a shadowed something
Ghosts from Ancients hark.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
4 May 2009
Jan 8, 2010
Jan 8, 2010 at 12:13 PM UTC
You asked me once, jokingly
Which one of us was the reacher
And which was the settler
Well baby, you’re a reach like luna
Before America and space sixty nined
Or Arm was strong
The Harvard to my underachiever
You’re the explorer staking a claim
I’m the protagonist
In a Lee Child novel
I reach and I love you for it because
You were Midas to my life
And if I could bottle and sell what you do to me
I would be fat and rich
Something in your gorgeous double helix
Makes me walk a little straighter
And speak a little louder
They say darkness is the
Absence, not the opposite of light
And you noon my shadow like none other
The heavens to a dreamer
You’re unattainable but that’s the point
I could reach for you
For the rest of my life
And I believe
I will
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 2:25 AM UTC
I am not murdered, and I am not missing, but parts of me have been disappeared.
— Leanne Simpson
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
I feel like a sick lady waiting for well wishes from my sisses and mates. I’ve been a giver and a settler and in three weeks, I found myself hanging in between. And now here I am, in my sickbed crying for attention— living in this pocket-sized, time-filler, slick box for most of my days just prying on everybody else’s lives to check how incomparable it is to live a life less like mine.
Everyday at five, the sun sets, overshadowing the blue sky with soft transitions of reds and oranges. And just right before I knew it days, weeks have already gone by. I found myself with nothing but dull empathy and collective misery. I re-spiraled down to the mantle of my being until it hit me— attention is cheap, but intention is gold. And I have wasted so much time, so much time, chasing the idea of perfect romance from the most impossible people. It made me worry, too, on how bad I have been in making decisions just to curtly satisfy my longing for any human who can provide even the slightest damp on my cold skin.
I’m not trying to compose a self-help quotable narrative nor shit-shit essay about self-love. I have stripped off the idea of 1-2-3s, of healthy coping mechanisms, of capturing perfect moments from the most mediocre, mundane fragments of life during my trying times. These past few encounters have been merely playdates and guessing games where I’ve lost sight of innocence and sincerity, making it hard for me to differentiate temporariness with permanence. And knowing kindness with or without an agenda is like a cloud in my head. Therefore, throughout these years, the flowers I planted have slowly wilted under the shade of infinite uncertainties. I have lost the love I was willing to give, and I can’t help but think that romance is not for me. I’m tired of giving and losing; I have given up moving mountains and breaking walls just to find myself being stabbed for being too much. From this day on, I am going to be me, with me. A bloke. A woman—alone in a swarm of parasites and flock of birds. A strong, pragmatic, detached woman in this horrifying epic journey of self-salvation.
—Advent
3:27am
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
She settles
as I never will
for safety over passion.
Curious this upsets me so
but look it's me in blithe disguise
the settler cringing from my gaze
my wrath a hammer on her
wherever I pretend I'm small
and can't I need a rescue
There dreams reduced to smoldering ash
it's me so sorry sorry
my righteousness a clueless clue
to what I dare not dare to do
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
but when he lost heart,
a girl
uncensured desperation,
insane he chose
******
thirty years
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
I wandered through an empty village
Or amid the litter of a debauched celebration (for a triumph that was only poses)
And then (as a parenthesis between my lonely stumblings) before my visage
Was a mother cultivating three children as a gardener tends his roses
She spotted me, stopped me, and said,
“Stranger, all I ask is that if you find the home of a kindly settler
Who offers you a bed
Or find a summit that shows all the land’s dangers and comforts like a peddler,
Please make a sign or some kind of mark to indicate so,
For one day my children will be walking your lonely trail.”
I told her that if I was lucky enough to find such I would somehow let them know
“I wish you Godspeed in the hope you will not fail.”
“And for showing such kindness to a homeless wanderer I thank you.”
I walked on and she did not watch after me as I disappeared into the new
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
the city of lost gold
some settler found it
iron in a bouquet
suffrage wants no magnification
did we separate them long enough
lust and la la la love
they make an iffy couple
let alone combo
nitro
glycerine
cheap
risk
and pink cement
babe dont mean anything
different
to me
here i am with envy
I'm cheap cigars
youreover there
sta sta staring again
at me- throwing questions
with grins
no i dont want a negation
british accents or something
weak
i just want to talk
and keep our services out of the back
youre just my customer now
in this 5
Man
Town
I want nothing more than to take
both of the kids and leave
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
halfway between sleep and the beach,
thoughts drift to needs unfulfilled
made greater by perfect words and better timing.
nontraditional in the conventional way,
confusion raging through my veins faster than white cells multiply.
the space between the stone and the setting, cage.
the space between the canal and the mountains, distance.
bruised and beaten, no beauty on the outside.
mirrors **** the soul out so they've been covered and crossed.
taped the stories together like a storybook from another life.
watch death come to me with the first bit of scotch.
Greendale wasn't perfect but the steps up don't equate to those that we take
down that self-destructive path that leads home.
rumors from a past, littered with truth. scared of mixing that with this, oil and water.
a child's tornado, just add food coloring to match the mood.
eternal corruption may be the curse of this path i've chosen
no time to look back, no reason to question.
paths crossed like oregon trail.
only i'm the indian and you're the settler -
small pox is coming to wipe me out.
spineless because i can't do this on my own.
tried too much,
can't do it all anymore,
done it all before.
stand tall on my own, crumbling, because these bones are old.
a ghost dance with the past, no desire to two-step.
need to go west, start afresh, fall for something new.
cold feet, wrapped in layers. intimidated by possibilities.
hope for the future in strange ways, engulfed by rancid news.
curious of the other side; how about them apples.
eyes waiting, legit heart hurt, unreasonable.
muttering words you'll never hear for my own well being.
twenty-two legs, twelve eyes, pulsating like a flame.
separation of heart and mind because there's no other way.
in over mind control, never had control over the yellows and red,
seeping in between the blinds.
this is paradise.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
I am Woman that is certain
But what makes me unique
Join me on this journey as I peel away the layers and look further than skin deep
I AM Wife and Lover
I AM Mother and Grandmother
I AM Daughter and Sister
I AM Aunty and Niece
I AM Goddaughter and Godmother
I AM Runner and Walker
I AM Listener and Talker
I AM Reader and Writer
I AM Settler and Traveller
I AM Serious and Funny
I AM Sociable and Discreet
I AM Reliable and Dependable
I AM Cold and Heat
I AM Fun and Loving
I AM Kind and Giving
I AM Generous and Mean
I AM Nervous and Calm
I AM Supportive and Demanding
I AM Giver and Taker
I AM Lover and Fighter
I AM Adventurous and Squeamish
I AM Slow and Fast
I AM the Future and the Past
I AM Classless and Class
I AM Familiar and Unique
I AM **** and Desirable
I AM Small and Curvy
I AM Smart and Sassy
I AM Happy and Sad
I AM Rich and Poor
I AM Foolish and Wise
I AM Lucky and UnLucky
I AM Courageous and Weak
I AM the sum of all my parts, I AM ME from my skin to my heart.
Who are you?
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
From place to place i go
always moving
coming and going
never stopping
in time and space
i have been
both past and future
i have seen
but present
i am not here
for i have no place
i call my own
for i do wander
from time to time
around i go
here and there
from the past to the present
i will move about
never in one place
to call my own
for as i move
i do see
many things
come and go
few see
what i have
few felt
what has been
some see
but never realise
what is there
for eyes are closed
to what should be
as i wander
from here to there
i move about
now and then
time to move on
once again
for i am here
and you are there
for if i be
then im no longer here
for i have moved already
so see it as it should be
wandering
from place
within time
in space
never where i should be
for i am have come and gone
been there
seen what i should
now moved on
so see what you want
from whence i was
to where i go
see what you shall
for wander i do
in time
in space
in mind
for none to see
so i do carry on
moving around
until the day
when i do meet
myself where i should be
until that time comes
i will carry on
wandering where i am
where should i be
what have i been
why have i been there
for everything
comes and goes
a time and place
so ive been there
for a reason
but still i wander
i do come
and go
in the present
is my time now
for past and future
have become one
so all thats left is present
to live in
wandering about in time
is not where i should be
for once youve been there
is hard to see
what everyone sees
for so much more are you
that none do feel
like you
so wander you must do
in time
you may find
the place
you can call
your own
until that time
does come for me
i am here
but not in being
perhaps not in mind
for i wander
have been there
have been here
is all the same
no where is mine
to say it is
so travel i must
until one day
i can lay down
n pass away
in a place
where time and space
have stopped for me
that day is there
for me to see
but time is not
n space is hidden
so wander i will go
for where i stop
i dont know
for i am not there yet
here i am
ready
waiting
sitting
beating
just knowing that
for now i go
to join the queue
wandering
never settling
till i do find
my time in space
for me to rest
and say this is mine
where i do stay
with you i go
for now i am
no longer a wander
but a settler i be
until my days
i am here
with you i am
when one day
will come
for me to start
to go again
as i once did
my journey begins
for it happened once
so it will again
for me to pick up and go
never settle
to become part of time
within space i am
no longer anymore
just fade away
a wanderer i was
wandering in time
through space i went
but return i do
as that is all i am
a wanderer
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
AFRICA
A land so rich
A land where a settler settled
I call you by name ooh Africa
A land that is so sumptuous and ample
A continent of trait that not only I construe
A land so modest yet cumulate all nations wide
A continent where neighbors endlessly come to go
AFRICA
What do you do when I do?
I have been and still the culprit of your misfortune
I cloak in bargain muteness to clutch your fortune
I depicted that you can’t be on your own for me to smugly
I dish only for myself and replicate to my safe home
I rejoice whilst you last in your decayed land
I scale the degree of my home’s fortune
That definitive its own range whilst you remain wretched
AFRICA
What do you do when I do?
You spectate all my moves without evolvement
You call me master whilst you remain impoverished
You are suppressed by mentally inferior
You dictate your move on my command
Africa awake……Africa awake
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
I yearn for it to control my heart
I thirst for it like I do water
It's the one thing I can't seem to find
If I do I'll pour it out like a shower
And free us all from this monster.
My mind is an instigator
It always remembers what they did to me
And I wonder how many of us are actually prisoners
To the brain's manipulative power and ability
To forget that love conquers all.
I pray forgiveness invades my heart like a settler
And makes resentment forget it ever owned me.
I pray for hate to be purged out of my system
Because all I want to be is a true witness
To beauty and love in the form of human beings
So hateful but so loved
So underserving yet so forgiven.
Replace rain with forgiveness
So I can grow my garden of love
In gorgeous hues only you can create
White, black, brown and yellow.
I want to love them all.
I yearn for forgiveness to control my heart
I thirst for forgiveness like I do water.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
Chivalry dances
around its neighbor’s
fresh new grave.
Integrity sits in silence.
He has nothing more
to stand up for.
Empathy brings flowers
but she can no longer feel.
And Hope’s cries fill the yard,
as she was the last one
keeping the new settler
from his grave.
Today, the whole yard mourns,
for everything is doomed
once humanity is dead.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 7:10 AM UTC