"shortsighted" poems
words drift away unfettered
from whence they came,
passing like undreamed clouds
– pragmatic eyes to the sky
in a searching stare –
unsought thoughts disappearing hence
a fog bow fading into sunlight
there are days when
it comes out in my silence
there are days when
it falls down in my tears:
muse – muted in poet's pause,
heart and soul whispers
laid bare unwritten
behind parsing eyes
disregarded words let loose,
ungarnered
the way low hanging fruit
falls benign — unharvested —
shortsighted insight
from a bird's eye view
silently fermenting traces
and unfiltered memories
come and go unheeded words,
discarded like the passing
time of our lives
at times it's ludicrous
to follow down
lingering footprints
left behind callous:
when the shoe won't fit;
slogging across eroding
time-worn stepping stones
scattered on this twisted line
these feet have been walking down,
trying to make a getaway
from myself
walking away from the memories
like so many indelible footprints to escape
– while dreaming stardust into stars
in nameless constellations –
reaching out from the inside,
site unseen,
trying to experience
the empirical shape
of stifling silence
in a theatre made by chance
distilling the gifts and burdens
of trying to live a worthy life
only I'll see...
harlon rivers ... September 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
You said you want a guy who loves to roll the dice
He might get a six, but mine has twenty sides.
Like Lucy in the Sky you won’t believe your eyes
Like Dory be surprised and forget the other guys
People aren’t something anybody can own but
I heard about a thing called inter-library loan
Run my fingers down your spine
and dog-ear the pages
Our story will be told for ages and ages
Just call me love,
‘cause all you need is me
Must be shortsighted ‘cause you are all I see.
I know no man’s an island,
But I’ve got a big peninsula
Step onto my deck
And maybe we can get molecular
I’m not part of your fandom
I just want to see the show
Got reasons to hold back
Let’s pretend we didn’t know
Call me fire, call me death
I’m a dragon named Smaug and this rap is my breath
I’m sweet and empty inside, if that’s what you’re after
I’ll open right up and you can call me candy rapper
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Blood on the street;
The man who cast the first stone
was discharged and acquainted
While passersby were jailed
Cabal in the chambers;
Making treacherous remarks
Lady Justitia is not only shortsighted
The silence of her treachery is deafening
Customise looting spree;
Men of means are pardon of their sins
While men of straw burn in hell
A cleansing ritual to appease angry gods
Two mad men fighting without cause
One is protected with immunity clause
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
"FIRST THERE IS A MOUNTAIN, THEN
THERE IS NO MOUNTAIN, THEN THERE IS."
she was Swedish
squeamish that a man could
still live at home with his "Mam"
she tried to get him
to...you know...think
about an "ecological self"
"You gotta think..."
she informed him
"...like a mountain!"
he looked like he had
just fallen off
a continental shelf
"Mannnn!" she thought
"He's just never grown up
a Mammy's boy...devoid of self."
he hadn't heard of Lovelock
or even Arne Naess
she spoke better English than he did
he blushed when asked
if he had read Luce Irigaray's
THIS *** WHICH IS NOT ONE
had never heard of Simone
de Beauvoir's THE SECOND ***
just the word made him blush
all he was intent on
was getting his hands on
her ample *******
so shortsighted to go on
a blind date...never again
he talked only to her cleavage
she gave him her number
a false one
the Well Woman's Centre
sang as she quickly
hurried away
Donovan's "First there is a Mountain..."
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
I saw five blackbirds perched on a telephone wire at six am
They were black as the blackest of nights and as big as Caterpillars
They were looking down on cars taped over with blowing plastic bags
Floating in the hot pink wind like tornadoes made from lipstick
Their talons were long daggers looking to pierce the deepest part of my heart
To open my eyes with their meandering meaningful meaningless
They had shipwrecks adorning each obsidian feather and crooked teeth
Capped the nightmares that lurked behind the glare of their eyes
They watched solemnly at the scene below of closing doors
Of rustling papers and stained tears tarring the summer ground
They had secrets cawed in a language of screeched whispers
Warning and educating ears that were too deaf or too self involved to listen
We’ve got no chance to escape this drudgery of modernity
We’re stuck in this self-built prison of black and white prisms
Of three dimensional reasoning and the attitude that follows
Never meant to be but it’s what it is when we think we’re free
How can the one blind bird perceive things differently
If our shortsighted near-death experiences have left us numb
Numbing us to the presence of the stars in the morning sky
Or the Sun exploding torrents of fire during the night
Wrapping us in a chilly warmth like blankets soaked with gasoline
We've left ourselves to wander the desolate land thinking of the obscene
I saw five blackbirds blacking out the sun as they took to the sky
Laughing their murderous laugh at the awkward bipeds down below
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
just wait one minute
the theory of art
can it be like VanGogh's
stars be monumental
for the sake of drama ,
is the winsome guitar in my favorite song
just a prop in this play
of a rock opera?
Can it be art is just a
short way of saying artificial?
Does my heart sing her song
play a song of ethereal longing just for a
effect?
And does art
in her theory stand for artificial , is my sight
so shortsighted?
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
NEVER MIND WHAT THE ****** SHEEP ARE SAYING!
First sheep to second sheep:
"Maaaa!"
which with
subtitles on
comes out as
"He just hasn't got his grandfather's legs!"
Second sheep to first sheep:
"Baaaa!"
Thank God for subtitles
"No...nor the Sheedy stamina!"
And indeed I have
inherited none of these famous attributes.
I, a shortsighted
puny bookworm
not taking to
this cross-country running lark.
The famous runner doesn't run
in my side of the family.
Early morning spiderwebs
bejewel the furze bushes.
A cuckoo calls.
Sheep bleat.
I recite poetry
to the yellow furze
passing slowly by me
I madly in love with Hopkins' words.
"I caught this morning(puff pantpANT!)
morning's(aghhhhh!)glory...!"
"Oh jaysus...he's off on the poetry again!"
first sheep moans to second sheep.
"Poetry at his age..I just don't get it!"
Second sheep bemoans the fact.
I pay no attention to this
sheep commentary.
Hurl Hopkins
at the world.
Slog through the pain
and mud.
"Nothing is so
(gaspgASP!)beautiful as Spring -" I yell!
I become a dot in the distance
of this misty Curragh morning.
Run on into the blue
of these my teenage times.
"The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness;"
"Bè bè" first sheep
to second sheep in Dutch.
"Meh meh!" second sheep
to first in Japanese.
So the sheep I see
are studying foreign languages.
But I don't hear them
and anyway
someone's turned
the subtitles off.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 4:37 PM UTC
Sounds swim constantly
Through the aches behind my unopened eyes.
The latest slumber trek is at an end.
The pace of my brain
Akin to a shortsighted grasshopper:
No focus,
Leaping all over the pace.
My inert body
Resolutely immoveable.
Just 5 more minutes.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
“there,
she lays still.
just as the sun sets and rises,
so does she;
her mind whispers “intertwined”
her emotions;
perplexed
she breathes.
with those big dreams,
she wonders and wanders.
shortsighted and obscured,
muddled thoughts.
selfish,
she was selfish.”
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
Hatred.
Is it what, all this while, we have learnt?
Love.
Is it what, to ashes, we have burnt?
Or.
Is it that we are misguided?
Maybe.
It's just that we are quite shortsighted.
Because.
If we would be aware,
Of the result caused by our ignorance,
Would not we have long changed,
From a foolish monster,
To an understanding human being?
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
I believe in miracles because i live them
so many happen in my life with me too blind to see them
but they say hindsight is 20/20 and as they pass me by
i wonder how i could have missed them, i mean i do have eyes
its so plain, so obvious that you my lord have been at work
but i have been so shortsighted, i guess drowning in my hurt
trying to tread water for three months just to breathe
took me far too long to realize it wasn't what i need
it took me far too long to realize that you make miracles from tattered pieces
a patchwork quilt, far too grand to see from two feet away
but i try to see it from here anyway
thinking that I've got it all figured out
that you've handed me every piece
i was never before so wrong in my life
..............so........................
Thank you Jesus
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
Often we have disagreed, but now I refuse to hold my tongue
and shall raise pen to meet pen, watch the words clash in the air,
for how could you grant such a way of living superiority?
When the sensual and the intellect can meet as one
in capturing a young man's beauty in such a way
that he leaps from the page,
causing the reader to sail away away too.
But even if we saw eye to eye, as shortsighted as each other,
lack of intellect be ******
I could not wish to travel there
to a place devoid of him, of all that encompasses him,
devoid of green eyes and jet hair,
a space within which his voice does not resonate
and participate in such an unequal trade
as to exchange immortality for a life without him.
Revered as you are, I do not agree.
I shall champion the dearth of intellect,
revere in all things sensual, as this is all I am fit for in your eyes,
but I shall be in love
and it is this I choose
over an infinite rhapsody of lifetimes.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Would you place my life in photographs on your mantlepieces
Show these pictures to your nephews and nieces?
I think not.
There are many amends to make..
..I have fallen into the fire..the grate is hot
The coals burn
The teacher of life and its lessons can be awfully stern.
As the smoke starts to rise..up the chimney and into the skies
As I meet my demise
I turn for one last loving look.
I should have shuffled the deck
Should have wound in my neck and not been so shortsighted
Would that these thoughts had alighted
When I was in the thick of the storm..
..these thoughts come fast
I am caught in the updraft and am swirling away.
This day would come..and for some sooner than that..
..now I chat to the birds
I am just..jest to their words..I am..
..Not quite sure now..I can't see myself..how could I tell?
I wonder if this is what people call hell.
Not seeing where you are..or where you've been..or is it in the unseeing..
..when you realise what kind of being..
..you were.
As I became once..or was I really there?
I share..but care not for this state..in the grate it's still hot
A little snapshot
Can you not
Spot
The loser.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
For once, for twice, I found my knife,
And drew across my tragic life
To paint it all a vivid, flowing red.
But mists will clear, you'll find me here,
with wounds and scars too faded to be seen.
I've fooled you once, I've fooled you twice,
I may have even fooled you thrice,
And all the while the pain you saw
Was tortured and ungodly raw,
I pulled it all from deep within my soul.
And as you saw the blood pour out,
My thoughts and senses drowned your doubt,
And though it all was fake, I felt it still.
Too bad, too late, I drew my fate,
With tales of knives and ****** damaged flesh.
My sore regret is all that's mine,
As all the others start to shine,
I had your gaze but now it's gone for good.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 8:27 AM UTC
Shortsighted
we have eyes to see
things in front of us
present tangible reality
worldly ideas and substances
superficial fear, worries, cares
what do we eat, drink, wear?
where do we go, what do we do next
where shall we see ourselves in five to ten years
so we make our schemes and plans
and we grasp for control
In trying to be king, we end up tyrants
enslaved to our own tyranny
Influenced by darkness
Shortsighted
Lord, have mercy
give us eyes to see
beyond ourselves
ever-present eternal realities
divine providence, contentment
In abundance or lack, we have everything we need
And that we are worth more
Than any temporal worry or care
Lord, give us eyes to see
our lives not as mere earthly things
but to build ourselves heavenward upon the steadfast Rock
that we may be humble, as a speck of dust in the grovel
under the sovereign kingship of a good and Holy God
that we may not waver at the tossings and turnings of this world
Lord, give us eyes to see Your light
That we may live with faith, hope, and love - that we may live with vision.
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
Recently i have been remembering my father. It is hard, but he is a man worth remembering. I do not know how everyone else saw him, but, despite his flaws, he was a great father and a great man. He was a man i was sure of the love of.. He showed me what that meant. I could see it in him. He had some out there thoughts, some strange views - maybe because he went through the 70s , maybe because that was just his head. But no matter that, he loved. The Lord, his wife, my wonderful mother, I , my brothers. I still find strands of his silver hair, even here, in toccoa, among my things. On his jacket. I am reminded of him by the things he left behind. and i remember the space he filled in my life. I never got the chance to right some of the things i regret- shrugging him off - arguing - avoiding him. But i know he forgives me. He is my father - that doesn't and has not changed. Through his passing i have learned that he truly was a great one, and i was sometimes shortsighted when he was still here. I have learned that where he fails - My father God will not. I have seen how he reflected God, and i have seen where he fell short in his humanity. He remains - not perfect - and i will not glorify him past what i believe he was - but an amazing picture of change and redemption through his life. He survived a lot that most men would have crumbled under. He did not run from things that many men would have shrank and hidden from. He made bad choices. But he did what he could to make them right. he lived fast sometimes, but he never forgot that slowing down is important to truly living as well. He may have screamed, yelled, or lost his temper, but at heart, he was a gentle man. He had the strength and the knowledge and the wit to cut people down, but he build them up, bridled his strength, was not a prideful man. He lost much, but he held on to what he still had. He was what a father should be. He was not a god, nor did he always lead with his values in a perfectly straight line. But he taught me to love my brothers. He taught me that blood was thicker. He taught me that God is always the one to go to when everything is wrecked - and you can always go to him even if it was you who wrecked those things. I wish we had seen more eye to eye. But i think, perhaps for our disagreements i found more of me. I think for his weakness, i was given strength. And i imagine i, through my stubbornness and temper similar to his own, challenged him to love daily. And he still did. I miss him.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
Let me love You like I do
with fragile heart and mind in blue,
with dewy dreams of me and You,
with my shortsighted view.
With awkward shyness,
that I woo
and all mistakes, that I do,
let me simply be true to You,
let me love You like I do.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
If the purpose of a song
is to make you feel
as if it were written about you,
then well done.
The melody dragged me down,
just as the words,
so finite and absurd,
in my muddled head spun.
Reiterate my helplessness.
There's no turning back,
fallen, broken, and right on track,
or so the band attests.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Nothing you can say
can make this pain dissipate
until I drain the last drop of blood from my veins.
All shriveled and pathetic,
dying for love unrequited,
how foolish and shortsighted.
How somewhat fitting. How poetic.
A handful of pills and a bottle of wine.
I'll leave the record spinning
so you'll know exactly what I was thinking
as I cried for the last time...
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 12:09 PM UTC
Soft, sweet and bright,
to the dark night of my soul,
she brought light,
she showed me love and care,
beyond what I had ever felt,
with that came a deep fear,
so used to the unrequited,
perhaps i was too shortsighted.
Maybe i lacked the faith to believe we could sustain a covenant commitment,
Maybe things moved too fast and we just needed an intermission,
So much laughter and vulnerability,
So much peace and joy,
How could i let that go,
some part of me will always wonder,
if i didn't believe in the power,
How did i let love leave at the 11th hour?
Sep 4, 2023
Sep 4, 2023 at 5:08 PM UTC
She looked at his hands. They were almost translucent, and his blue veins were prominent. It's not that they were grotesque - far from it, in fact. She found them aesthetically pleasing. She wanted to draw them. She wanted to touch them. But she knew she lacked the ability to paint him in all his beauty, protruding bones and all. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would never recreate the creases in his skin with the brush. Whichever paint she used, whether it be watercolour or acrylic, she could never do his limbs justice.
He was too far away. He sat on the other side of the maths classroom from her, and it didn't help that she was shortsighted. She could only imagine the details, and join the list of artists who cover white lies in coloured paint.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
With every intake of smoke,
My lungs are turning black,
So there goes ten minutes of my life,
That i'll never get back.
And the alcohol your drinking,
Isn't giving you a buzz,
But you just want to stop thinking,
Because you can't be in love.
They're settled and they're happy,
Do not start a war!
You're ruining your own life,
Do not ruin any more!
These feelings are unrequited,
You know that far too well,
You're becoming so shortsighted,
Burning in your own hell.
And your beautiful lungs,
Are now diseased and broken,
So you crumble under their gaze,
As those soft words are spoken.
You knew you couldn't handle it,
So why did you start?
Because as soon as that cigarette touched your lips,
Your world fell apart.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
The last measure of a man is his will,
And if he invests it beyond seeking worldly thrills,
A life alive shall be the prize,
For the voyager at the helm of his own mind.
What life is such which reeks of must,
An eternal struggle to get by.
Shortsighted thought fails to build trust,
And in the end the captain will cry.
A life of deprivation is no life to lead.
Wanting so much that you forget what you need,
Skipping over the present, while drowning in past deeds.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
the way it falls
collar bones cold
chills tearing at my spine
human necessity, memory
of touch long erased.
my mouth a portal,
sound only. lips,
retired rose petals
moments contracting
upon themselves
pointless gateway
rusted chains marking
an empty garden
ground turned and cursed
age rushing and darkening the permanence of regret.
hollow echos limbering up posts
legs shortened by time
expectation of movement between
shortsighted and extinct
wanderlust long extinguished
boggy eyes with water rims
too shallow to swim
far too empty to drown
salty bottomed and
largely misunderstood
curved ground between
here and there, and the earth
contracts. mind's eye drawing closed
and the rivulets pour, the faucet closed
only a dripping remains.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Committing suicide for someone you can't have,
I noticed the things you had,
Remembering the friendships and the kisses and the laughs,
Remember when you ran away from your dad,
Just to be with her she was 10 blocks from your house,
Backpack and a green bike,
Shortsighted from the words coming out of your mouth,
Getting there,
You always knew what she liked,
Throwing rocks at her window just to wake her,
Making all your worries go away,
Make her come down you wouldn't dare tell her,
Getting the ladder To climb up unless you got a better way,
So she did,
Climbing and falling through her window,
Gave her a long hug I bet you like the glances,
Staring in her face touching each others noses,
Kissed her lips and made her fall into a trance,
Making out on the bed,
Just have thought of how her parents will react,
Falling in love,
Telling her she has to go,
Test driving the illusion of realizing the fact,
That her parents don't know,
That their daughter is a born girl lover,
Telling dereck he's going to have to stop calling,
Love had an affair with ignorance,
So before you put that gun to your head,
Go back and be with her,
Otherwise stop stalling.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC