"shoring" poems
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
********* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky
Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography
Good man
Soft man
Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.
No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--
A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze
Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?
He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth
Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.
God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit . He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete , bi-polar disorder and Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
An Infinite number of Monkeys,
furiously typing away,
provided with paper and ribbon
would, in time,write Shakespeare's plays.
Off-shoring and Corporate mergers,
Massive layoffs, death and disease,
plus the lack of typewriter repairmen
Decimated those bard-chimpanzees.
Instead of that infinite number
these days I'm afraid it's just me
churning out corrupt Shakespeare Quartos
titled "Piglet, the Prince of Belize"
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 9:11 AM UTC
...Here a man stands accused--the pellucid jury
of his peers come to themselves in their life's arms
through him.
He wails upright...a shadow continent wedging
The Flood.
Timekeeping horseflies besmirch his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consume
time till the singular advocacy of he withstood.
The imperturbable essence captured itself, as so
at the height of its powers there's interplay.
Ease culled from tribulation...countenance slackened
by degrees...overwhelmed by awareness.
Kingdom come Kingdom--shoring space of grace
that is freedom.
As if Everything centering of itself, fawning over itself...
polar opposites in conjugal bliss.
Here a man stands accused...of being--fit for steely
juxtaposition...the murderous implement of will, or
salvation.
Envision him post-Flood, waist-deep, the living Face
of the Deep...look upon him!
Timekeeping horseflies besmirching his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consuming
time till the Singular advocacy of thee...look upon
him!
An encounter of pitless ramification: fear or love...be
it the last man upon the earth.
Look upon him--O jury of his peers boasting billions...
pellucid unto one another...look...The Hour is radiant!
Won't thee come to thine life's arms through him?
For he is Everyman.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
There lived, amid the common folk
A seamstress of renown
Tucked away most smartly
In a quiet sort of town
So perfect was her needlework
And delicate her hand
That all and sundry sought her out
Her skills were in demand
To gain a moment here and there
She took a silver thread
She deftly put a stitch in time
And curled up in her bed
For she was such a busy girl
Deserving of a nap
But as she slept one evening
The stitch in time went 'snap!'
Time unravelled rapidly
From 'will be' to 'before'
And coils of causality
Were all over the floor
But fortune is a canny dame
For a needle was at hand
Still threaded up with silver
At an artisan's command
She bustled in a flurry
And rummaged through the ages
She sorted out the centuries
With diligence, by stages
While shoring up the borderlines
And patching up the wars
She darned the holes in spider silk
And trimmed the dinosaurs
She hemmed the mighty oceans
To snuggly fit the sand
Then zipped up the horizon
So the sky adjoined the land
The night was stitched in situ
In between adjacent days
And time was mended seamlessly
And better in some ways
She locked away her needle
And her strand of silver thread
Her work would wait 'til morning
And with that, she went to bed
So next time life is hectic
And leaves you in a flap
Allow yourself an hour
For a cheeky little nap
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
As the never ending sunset scorched the sky.
The ever-shoring ship circles around aimlesly through the sea.
I gaze through this lighthouse of mine, basking upon the perpetual beauty of the world.
I feel locked away in this tiny lighthouse, yet i have never felt so free in the open sky.
Thats what love is i guess.
A perpetually enigmatic feeling.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
A pick-up case sits in the dirt, a face like muddy children, hence,
All it needs is a pick-me-up; I’m sure you’ve been around and out
Have a cup of coffee and tell me of the times, mutter out and dispense
Of those all miseries; there’s another watching clouds break about
And solitude unmake itself. But I leave it with twigs, quiet and devout
Because this old-soul dispels of clarity without youth or commonsense.
Even if I could, neither of us could say what rises Easter morning
Or to what sun gods, of praise, are most deserving. But, just this one time
Dewy sunlight parched the bold-faced shadows came without much warning,
On warm breezes at our necks was something akin a wish of mine.
We know not where we are and we do not wish to leave behind
This time to count our blessings in the contrails in the sky
For the shoring up of bleak tomorrows can’t demystify a trance
We glimpse and fall to wobbly knees might stay on the off chance.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Is there space in this system for new rules
Can we find them hiding behind old books
Some dusty office at the top of a pole
Bleak ivory with a view well known
to all of us, who have got what we want
Whose privileged breath breathes deep of high times
stuffed with all those norms and expectations
litigating obligations ignored,
ignored; yet enforced by free tyranny
of the individual, of ones rights
without the weight of responsible
judgement. NO, there is no space up here, NO
not for straighter rules or greater fools
though latter too many, former too few;
These old rules are crooked, like hind quarters
dragged up the long torrid stair to the top
held up by lofty ideals, righteous… no
We seem in these high places to have forgot
whyfore we came to be here or how rotten
we are, that rot set into the books, the rules
the shelves, the pages, the walls, the food
Into the words, the system, the wages
paid to those shoring up this modern day
Babel. No well-intentioned roads lead here
No one will choose to walk these ugly stairs
No one will come, those lonely inventions
Freedom, liberty, the individual
Let them gather and groan in old walls
Mildewed bricks and misted rattling bones
Left here forgotten by those living below
Seen from on high in this ivory tower
This pale tower where no one lives, no one.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
So many years and tears.
So many ways to fool ourselves that
somehow there will be a miracle;
we'll wake one morning and things will change.
We gaze at grey and tell ourselves
that we see pink.
Convince ourselves that today
a sign of improvement exists.
Shoring up against despair;
salt water seeping between cracks.
Hope and sand eroding
until there is nowhere left to stand.
No more shore - just a line
that cuts
and lets the saline drip
into the wounds
we feel
as our world ends.
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 11:59 AM UTC
The terms (bridge, shoring, wall, critical flow, centrifugal pump, lintels and neutral axis ) used in this poem are some basic terms that every civil engineering student should know. Be creative while you study!
Inspired from a civil engineering book.
—————————————————
“Here I write
From the core of my heart
For no other than but you my love.
Like a bridge,
You're carrying my paths over every obstacle,
You're the one you've made my life stable.
Like a shoring,
You've strengthened me when I was shattered
You've done so well to me and that mattered.
Like a wall,
You've been so defensive.
You've offered me the best of the best relationships.
Like a critical flow,
My love for you is deepened,
You've left an impression which is permanent.
Like a centrifugal pump,
You've allowed my feelings to gel up perfectly in me,
You've made me feel beautiful and free.
Like lintels,
You've provided me with the required way
You've shown me the places where I can grow and play.
Over and above,
You've become the critical neutral axis of my life,
Let's stay together and celebrate life."
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:48 AM UTC
Spanish spells of spiral rainbows,
Ringing reels of never ending wheels,
Streaming thoughts these and those,
A faint memory lingers up so close,
Crashin', hoppin' and crossin' strange souls,
Drawing loops around eleven blue moons,
Isolating strands from a wizard's brown brooms,
This world we walk in a tunnel within a tunnel,
To a white light that coils into a top selling gospel,
Euphoria, like blood rushing through star links,
Monks walking walks, rebels of insane sanity,
Cellular beings conversing cosmic ideas,
In this mindless, lunatic transmosphere,
Whom we call almighty, i call cosmos,
Painting his masterpiece, grandest of all,
Overlapping hearts of belated despair,
And hormonal tricks of magic lust,
Waking me up from half forgotten dreams,
Why did the summer go so quickly?
Was it something that i said?
Lovers shoring along, the shores of your cavern,
Like autumn turnin winter, images they unwind,
Drifting past memories, in the Canvas of your mind!!
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 9:24 PM UTC
I’ve burnt my tongue
On the ashen words
forgotten past
Forgotten year
the bitter-sweet
Destroying
the dark past
Up in flames
I see the writing in the sky
I see the writing on the wall
Social graces social falls
White noise
Amber hate
Static whispers crawling deep
Keep the dream slow and sweet
Nine fathoms deep
a buzz and rush
I feel the situation hopeless.
You claim ‘Love’ but what is That really?
my fingers are numb
Love is no reason or excuse.
One must feel love to accept love-
and I do not feel or believe in it.
Everything is shutdown. Out of order
Come back tomorrow.
Try again. No pass no admittance.
No crime or punishment.
No smiles or tears with me.
A blank wall. Cold brick.
Cracks shored up again and again.
A full time job shoring up these cracks
Crumbling cave ins
I think of you everyday & often still.
I cry when I see love stories & heartbreak.
I cry when I hear 'there is always hope.'
I had so little faith & was so afraid.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I hope you can forgive me giving up
losing hope.
I am still in love with you.
I pray now those feelings fade.
Love doesnt thrive in the dark
gathering dust
but set free a proclamation a declaration
a truth shone in light
. No shame.
No closet feelings buried ;
No whispered desires and intentions
Faith?
The illusion crumbled in my hands
and faded from my eyes.
I could not SEE
how we were supposed to BE
Too many lies weakened the line.
So weak ripping easily this love line
no longer yours or mine sayonara
love mine
love line
Its all Hay wire
a fine Tangle and bind
Be so kind & hang up
your hang ups clashed with mine
no nurture no teddy bear cuddle
But sharp cuts
a twisting jumble of words lost in the rumble
Lost in rhyme
delete unfollow block mute ban hide
I still know your alive.
© Lesley Wood
https://soundcloud.com/royalejelly/haywire-ft-lescelin
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
(A Shepherding Psalm: caring for the sheep.)
Unto green pastures and meadows he leads—
Safely through danger, beneath shady trees.
Shoring up brooks so the waters run smooth,
That his sheep safely drink from a calm, gentle pool.
They do not worry, but rest in his care—
Knowing the Good Shepherd is always there.
He keeps the enemy at distant bay.
And keeps his sheep out of harm's way.
Although in error, one might stray,
He tenderly rescues it right away.
All those in his care, he safely keeps.
He is the Good Shepherd that cares for his sheep.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
A harsh Winter day , sweating copper , shoring ditches , sporting long johns and ***** coveralls , thankfully returning home to hot coffee and a chair in the kitchen ! Glance at a seashell on the window sill from Daytona Beach , recalling beautiful blue Summer days with Brown Pelicans , white seagulls and salt water taffy ! Ships on her horizon , children laughing with frisbees and sweet Summer memories ! What beautiful token from that magnificent coastland tempers a thick skinned , calloused workers train of thought such as mine this very evening ?
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
.
Shadows preach unending nightmares,
bent fingers probe the minds of the innocent
Scratching beneath surface rust, corroded meanings
Torches burn long faded eyes staring
into an inferno of expected fears
As I crawl, slowly, silently
along a night shrouded path
of sharp pebble and dried blood
caked existences snuffed out
ash and dew mix, a’stew in deep dish demons
My silhouette, outlined grey thread weavings
trap the fumes and stench
of last night’s vanity in pockets
filled with good versus evil
and tiny lint fragments of hope
The horned one, painted in crimson glare
Standing tall, this breathless beast
jagged teeth, rotted flesh clings
like goat cloth on twisted branch,
thorns gouge, children weep endless
I raise my bow, shoring my aim
Straight this arrow of my lone chance
To quell this deadly dreamscape,
slay the evil that forces men to their knees,
women to pieces of discarded disgrace
With one closed eye, I find the heart,
if blackened charred remains can be a heart
My hand trembles slight, release, flight – hit
The creature wails an unholy noise, echoing despair
through countryside canyons ablaze, collected back to hell
And clouds part, clear skies appear
Grimaced faces re-gather smiles
warmed by sun beams dancing on daisy fields once more
Stealthily I take my leave, due west
My task has only just begun
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
We enslaved by the mind why you think they called brain cells,yea it's eight planets so I'm guessing that it's more hells,they aiming for me wit slow bullets call em turtle shells,yea I got a quarter so I'm looking for the wishing wells,say Ima die early man I'm calling that them fairy tales,rapping like I'm casting spells,only taking W's ion really take no L's,and if I did it's a lesson,if I learned it's a blessing,living life like I'm just testing,my opponents they just guessing,changing things like I'm the setting,on the path like I'm just destined,out the box I'm never checking,gods gift I come from heaven,starting things like Armageddon,yea my voice a deadly weapon,asking me a who you threating,officer like why sweating,I want the top like I'm the heading,no conclusion,I do this for my brothers the ones that's on the street and sometimes don't even got they mothers,using drugs as they covers,bussing guns with no rubbers,killing each other like wild lovers life is like a war x2 so what you stand for,is it them Jordan's on your feet,or that song that's on the radio and you only like the beat,this worlds a trick and not a treat,we don't live by they rules so they trying say we cheat,then they **** us with that heat,give our movas the receipt,and it's going stop we just gotta see,you don't gotta be foreign,washing up on the shoring,when I see make up on women ,catch Z's like I'm snoring,expand the mind like we touring,clean up our mess like we choring,treat ignorance like it's boring
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
I do not understand
Why he sabotaged me so consummately,
And made me look like
Such a pathetic old patsy,
Could he not discern the misery
He was shoring up by degrees,
Over the course of the years
For the self he would ultimately be?
It was perforce a former version of me,
Who led me to this place
Of near-incessant mourning,
A narcissistic anomaly,
Who never wanted the precious gifts
Of peace and domesticity,
The little ones that might have been,
He spirited them all away from me.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
If Trump is elected President I'm going to get up at six and feed the hens , plant a row of okra come Springtime and grease the tractor that same evening .. Should it be Sanders I'll build cages for Big Boys , go to the lake for a stringer of bluegills and walk barefooted the whole time I'm doing it .. In case it's Clinton I'll be plowing from morning to Noon , stopping for a few figs and a cherry tomato or two ...
If it's Cruz you'll find me picking the blues on a brown guitar , eating Spanish olives like their going out of style , shoring up chicken wire to fend off 'critters' , nipping on Wild Turkey to ease my blisters ....
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
As a string
bound by
musical ends...
left to peak
its sound.
Stilled,
unbound by
musical ends...
sound struck
silence, silence
struck sound.
Shoring beatitude
to shoreless, shores.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
What happens when
the DNA talks
I wondered
as if a molecule
could come alive
and talk it's way
to the safety of the stars
It's not as if
we're walking
hunks of DNA
Sharpening ourselves
on, well
Everything
It's not as if
we have a lot of fun
mixing the stuff
or even tryin'
to get that right
thru practice
You know
that expression
right
It's not as if
it hasn't lost patience
with time
and tissue's
slow perambulation
forward
And is now
off shoring sense
to silicon
It's not as if
What climbs
this ladder in us
thru us
to us
is writing this
is a hound scenting
the opposite
of decay
Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:18 AM UTC