"shanked" poems
Walls of silence,
Of guarded wariness.
Walls of hesitation,
Of experienced caution.
Walls of distrust,
Of practiced isolation.
Walls I put up intentionally.
Walls you tore down unknowingly.
Walls I found crumbled,
The door of my heart opened.
Walls I found breached,
And you were just sitting there.
Walls I had never lived without,
Suddenly seemingly unneeded.
Walls I was glad to let down,
Until you shanked my heart.
Walls I should have fortified
With anger and hate and experience.
Walls of "I know better."
Of "There are NO exceptions to the pattern."
Walls of protection,
Of much needed security.
Walls of insulation,
Of broken-heart bandaging.
Walls I won't let down again.
Thanks to you, I've learned my lesson.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Alright fella, how’s you mate?
Just heard back from the hospital innit.
They got you that liver now?
Yeah man, sorted. Ahh yeah-
did I tell you ‘bout the other day?
There was this ******* mug
by the chippy and he mugged
me off. And I was like mate,
don’t mess - you’ve picked the wrong day
to be a ******** innit.
And he was all like, “Yeah?
**** off, mate.” And right, now,
well, I’d had enough by now;
I wanted to teach this mug
a Life-Long Lesson, yeah?
So I said, “I’m not your mate,
and I will end you if you don’t **** off, innit.”
Ah man – this was not his day.
You remember back on Tuesday,
when I got that knife that I still use now?
I had it on me, and I shanked him, innit!
Serves him right for being a mug;
*sounds like one less ***** on the estate, mate.*
Too right blud. Was well funny too, yeah –
cause he was just round the corner, yeah,
I just walked into the chippy like any normal day!
Just like, “Nah, no vinegar please mate.”
There’s never any filth around here now
so we can just shank mug after mug;
and we’ll make it a better place to live, innit.
Oh yeah, and I can get smashed now, innit!
We’ll get some pills and that, yeah?
Have us a party, but don’t invite Gaz, you mug –
he shagged Tracey the other day,
so it is gonna be well awkward now.
*Ahh **** I am well excited, mate.*
And mate, make sure you bring some fit girls, innit.
You wanna come round now? Nah, got a check-up. Yeah,
but it’s not gonna take all day! Shut up, you mug.
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 3:07 PM UTC
Cold the day begins in earnest
Gathering the mist at sunrise
Magpie screams as thin beam strikes him
Keen of eye and black of feather
Crow in thicket calls his brethren
Mist arises deep in valley
Fallen petals lie in tumult
Beaten down by squall that shook them
Bramble, precious jewels wearing
Berries black that shine like glory
Blowing over endless hillsides
None may tell the north wind’s story
Dancing in the sighing branches
Casting leaves of oak and willow
Ash and beech and long-shanked rowan
Bough and twig and fallen acorn
Squirrel hoards for bitter future
Whispers tales of coming Winter
Green is now a fading memory
Leaves lie crimson, brown and golden
Ripe and awful apples moulder
Boar lies sleeping fat and sated
Mushroom blooms on rotting deadwood
Nightshade sways on tumbled walling
Fern grows dense by water running
Down by where the gravestones standing
Tell of those whose lives are ended
Clad in moss and superstition
Watching over generations
Bends the old and twisted yew tree
Shakes and laughs with storm-wracked holly
Waiting for the day of reckoning
Biding time through mankind’s folly
Hears All Hallows Eve a-beckoning
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
You know, there are so many definitions of the word love out there. You’re mine, I’m theirs, stuff like that is pretty common. I don’t consider that the love I feel right now. Considering you know, I don’t exactly have someone that I can call “mine”. Even if I was technically in a relationship, I don’t think I’d ever use that term. I don’t think love should be this possessive thing. The way that I feel when I’m in love is sort of an off the ground, light and airy sensation. I don’t want someone to be keeping my feet on the Earth telling me that I’m “theirs” when I want to be in the air. I want the person I love to take my hand and just fly with me so we can both be free and airy together. Hell, I’m not even that worried if that person is going to actually hold my hand or not or be with me that way in general. Just being around them is enough to get me floating. The love I feel isn’t one of those you see in a romance book. I’m not getting swept off of my feet by a perfect prince charming. In fact, there really isn’t anything romantic about this at all. It isn’t a sudden spark of chemistry that got me to feel this way, its years of friendship and little things done for each other. And maybe because he is so NOT a prince charming, that I savor those little moments of kindness I get from him. No, he’s not totally rude and mean but he is one of those guys that you couldn’t get to tell you how he felt if you shanked him. Some of my favorite memories include him. Like when we got drunk off of whiskey in his basement at his sister’s party and he danced with me. He’s such a bad dancer… Then we crashed on chairs and sofas around two in the morning and it was the first time I slept over his house and I just felt so happy. But my favorite time of all was when he asked me out of the blue if I wanted to go to a concert with him to see a local band. Not only was the band incredible, but that whole night was. He was flirting with me the entire time and being touchy-feely. I’m pretty sure he even gave me that “I want to kiss you" stare but I didn’t realize that until it was too late. Afterwards he wouldn’t even let me go home, he wanted me to sleep over. We were gonna sleep in the same bed, the other two friends that went got to sleep on the floor. It was me and him. I felt his hand on my thigh, and I then gave in. God it was the greatest feeling to feel loved back. I’m not sure if he really loves me that way. I don’t need him to. I just wanna keep feeling this warm fuzzy feeling for a long time.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Tired and twisted
broken and listless
another day in prison ****** me off.
Last night was Christmas, and I
miss my kids so much,
it feels like I've been shanked.
I sell my desserts for coffee;
my one luxury in the joint.
The complexion of my day is
gray, and lonely as a
tea bag in the ocean.
Everything is gray:
The sky
the weights
the walls
the blood
the food
the fence
The mood, the soul, the yard, the heart
and the beat of the false dawn.
It's all tombstone gray.
Hate thickens the air.
And the light on the
horizon is a lie--razor wire sharp.
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 9:12 AM UTC
The poster read:
“Gone Missing”
The come-back-kid
has failed to show.
The Old Man saw him,
******* by the Rainbow Factory
wall, against the wind,
like a prayer no longer given
to the prism-surfing life.
He said,
“The come-back-kid, might
Not come back”..
He wrung his
swindled heathen, left
with haversack and Macintosh,
hummed ballad in a Sea-King crown,
the colloquy of shepherd lore.
head far too full to sing,
Caught riding
in a burnt out car of
rude December archetypes,
an engine feathered Westerling,
to think.
He went
to where they bury boats,
Where mud larks perk
for potsherd farthings,
red-shanked in the gallon slob
oblivious...
Far off the Ness
He’ll watch them go..
... on meteoric dawn patrols,
a contrast to his built-in
obsolescence.
In provinces
of platitude
He’ll form no evanescent tie,
invoke his tattooed waxwing
back against their lactic
saccharine, to beg
the notion die...
But leavened light may carry,
A bold ceramic dialect
that skitters off
the short-sun marsh
dissipates in linnet banter
winnowed from the winter barley
crossing out the county lines..
The come-back-kid
will not return,
a blue-eyed, fell, Promethean.
Disfigured by the absolute
He’ll beat his way
unrecognised.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
I wouldn't write
Not a word, Nay one
Until she caught me in the corridor
A dark hallway for sure
And put her blade to me
Sharp and cold
To the hilt
One push
One twist
To make me feel the pain
So now
And only now
Do I sing
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
I came to see an alligator, lizard or a toad,
Drove along the waters to the Tamiami Road.
We took our time to see the myths all about the park,
But still I wanted desperately,
To hear the gators bark.
Watched the dawning day arrive
Above the mossy trees,
Watched the night herald morn,
Tasted the salty breeze.
We lived a captive life
Along the shell shod shores;
Traded time for trinkets,
Shopped the main street stores.
We oiled our bodies near
The alligator swamp;
Waited bated near
The large tortoise hole;
We didn't see the turtle,
Didn't see the shell;
So looking for the gators,
Remained our only goal.
We heard one lived in the lake,
Invisible in his lair;
Eating shanked golf *****
Go on look, if you so dare.
We watched from a distant bank,
With each kerplunk,
Our odyssey sunk.
We searched further down
The TamiamiTrail;
Studied bees in their hives,
Awed by the order we saw there,
Made us more alive.
We wandered lost in orange groves
Perfuming winding trails;
But we never saw a gator,
We never saw a tail.
So, if you want to see some gators,
Skip the Tamiami Trail.
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 10:56 AM UTC