"shushed" poems
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference
through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings
my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems
funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission
I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice
my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
We know desire is never just,
That thing which want which we discussed,
We would not want to destroy trust,
But what we feel is lust.
Pure lust.
Just lust.
Emotionally quite non-plussed,
We do the deeds that breed disgust,
When dreaming dreams that turn to dust,
On coming face to face with lust.
Pure lust.
Just lust.
We take deep breaths, try to adjust,
Resolve of iron turns to rust,
Although our heart strings are tight trussed,
We know that it is lust.
Pure lust.
Just lust.
Our feelings tell us that we must,
Accept this thing upon us ******
But deep inside we cannot trust,
This thing we know is lust.
Pure lust.
Just lust.
But we say we shall not be rushed,
Disclaim emotion, quite august,
And we have therefore’d, so’d and thus’d,
But honestly: we know it’s lust.
Pure lust.
Just lust
So, shall we take it all on trust?
Enjoy the deeply desired ******
Of pure emotion, warnings shushed,
And give our bodies up to lust?
Pure lust?
Just lust!
I lust!
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
You took it
and i thought it would be nice
but it hurt bad
like a knife.
I thought our lips would meet
but instead you shushed me.
You stopped
i asked why
you said "I cant"
and I secretly cried.
You took it and I'm glad
but it didn't happen the way I thought it should have
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
I hope you've ****** the blood
dry from your wounds
the fruit of a woman's
words
led their by the promise
of a future
there would be a silver
ring wrapped around a finger
and twenty pairs of eyes
crying
tears falling onto white cotton
lap
children being shushed
girls being pushed into lilac
dresses
old ladies pressing lavender
between liver spots
fearful thirty somethings
clutching at stems
I hope it doesn't look like this
when you look back
I hope the sun shone and your
father wept
his little girl learning how to be
a woman
from the back of a mans hand
fingers trying not to rub off the ink
a signature
as it sets
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
!TRIGGER WARNING!
(Mentions of suicide)
The wind caresses my skin.
One feeling to lead me in.
The tide
So wide,
I am feeling a rush.
Combined with hushed
Whispers of a spirit once crushed.
Though she thrived
In a landslide,
In the sea she is pushed.
To the deep waters,
She is finally shushed.
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 1:10 PM UTC
A kiss in the blue black dark
Inhibitions lost to drink
But slowly returning
Almost sober, but not quite
Forehead to forehead
Nose to nose
Chin to chin
Mouth to mouth
Resuscitation from this
Dream
Sparks fly between the two
But there are repercussions for that
Hands of another were held so tightly
Lips of another were made slightly wet
With a kiss unorthodox, taboo
Another's ******* pressed to his chest
While trying to make out another's eyes in the dark
A whispered goodnight
An event unregretted
A secret?
Lips that burned for more
But shushed
And feelings unrestrained.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
I let the sky be my tent tonight,
a sparkle-filled indigo field
like a Star Trek transporter.
I swirl the stars with my mind
as my body says, "Energize!".
My destination: points of light,
any one of which could be a hive
of beings living, working, playing
in a mirror of the musings originating
from the sleeping bag in which I lay.
Rolling over to feed my notebook,
a firefly insists on sharing my pen.
Among his friends gathered about my flashlight
is a dragonfly twisting and turning its head
in a display of 360 degree impossibility.
"Do it again!", say my wide eyes,
then I'm shushed by a distant Canis howl.
The trees carry its magic to me like
a powerful totem, making me wary,
reaffirming our instinctual similarities.
Relaxing, I smile goodnight to its echo,
shoo the Insecta from their little electric campfire,
and turn my face again to the Universe
while whispers from a nearby stream
provide a soundtrack to twinkling above.
Gentle air pulls its blanket over me,
while scent of earth and pine
send me dreaming of cosmic fireflies,
blinking their lullaby in rhythm
to the ecosystem powered by my heart.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Red.
Like parting lips,
Shushed kisses.
Like high school varsity jackets.
Orange.
Like the shirt you wore
The day we met.
Like my least favorite color.
Yellow.
Like the lemonade,
So sour we spit it out.
Like summers we spent together.
Green.
Like minty gum,
Newly freshened mouths.
Like the grass I lost my innocence on.
Blue.
Like the pen I used
To write your love letters.
Like all the times we've cried.
Indigo.
Like bruises, covered
By jeans high on hips.
Like the nights we stained with lust.
Violet.
Like every single thought
Led back to you.
Like even the spectrum had thoughts of you.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Waned and weary with only toil and trouble
my limbs could only travel this journey tired. .
In my head to in my mind
-which coincidentally were not the same thing-
thoughts seemed to expire from the zealous fear found in your gaping wide darkness of speech.
My serenely spiritual soul's mythical secret shadow sparkled as a jewel:
Boundlessly black but brazenly beauteous by day, but by night,
my mind mentioned masses of decoratively hung ghastly gossip,
secretively shushed into silence
never
ever
to be a quick quiet find for any of us.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
I awoke to screaming
Only it wasn't my own
This time, it appeared
Someone had invaded my home
I got up quickly
I reached for my bat
But knew that if anything would help
It probably wouldn't have been that
But still, quietly I crept down the stairwell
In the kitchen stood a man
Or what appeared to be
He gazed at me and raised his hand
One finger to his lips, "Shhh"
So I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth
To speak but he shushed me louder
This time and lowered himself into a crouch
And that's when I saw what he had done
Below his massive, crouched down frame
Was a shattered bottle of milk
He stared at it solemnly, knowing he was to blame
Then he looked back up at me
"Please don't tell my mother."
A single tear rolled down his big face
"She loves me like no other."
The tears were streaming now
I didn't know what to say
Here was a hulking man, in my kitchen
I suddenly felt I could no longer stay
If I go back up stairs will he leave? Or **** me in my sleep?
I backed up a little and said
*"If you just go now,
I'll just be getting back to bed."*
He smiled, his tears glinting off moonlight
"Thank you! But please! Turn around."
And for some reason I did
When I turned back, he was nowhere to be found
The milk was cleaned too, glass and all
I scratched my head in disbelief
I was still groggy from sleep
Anyone ever heard of a break, weep and clean?
I'd think not
I'd like to think not
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:43 PM UTC
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N
*** a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. *** the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this.
*** used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. *** a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong?
When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
I signed the DNR form
And steeled myself
As if this cancer were a battle I could fight with my fists
I felt like a man
Standing before the open mouth of a cave marked midnight
Like grimaced teeth and the desire for life were enough
To withstand the fire the chemo caused my skin
It made my skin crawl some nights
I was sure I would wake just bone
Until I looked just bone
Like an ill fitting skin sheet
Draped over a science project
And enough voice to remind whoever heard me
That I was somehow still human
I felt like a man
Who could do this alone or die trying
That if I were given a scalpel
I could cut this out of me
Pull out whatever caused this
It would look like a gnarled black ball
Humming contently
Like lip shushed fingertips
Begging for silence
I chewed on my pillow
Until my jaw taught me to sleep
I felt like a man
At the end of a road
Who finally realized
The difference between battles you fight with your fists
And battles you fight with caves marked midnight
And battles you fight in a sweat drenched hospital bed
That smells like bleach
And makes you miss home
Battles that remind you
No matter what sort of man you feel like
There is always something
That can make you feel like a child
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 7:44 AM UTC
I've fallen into a rosebush,
For I was in far too much of a rush,
Now I lay stuck, and fresh out of luck,
As I scramble in the bramble.
But this bush is not as it seems,
For there is movement at the seams.
The movement is hushed,
And my pleas it has shushed,
As it beams into my dreams.
It's too late,
I can't change my fate,
Give up on the fight,
And everything will be alright.
I scream and I shout,
But no one is willing to bring this change about.
Only too late do I see,
That there are hundreds of others just like me.
None of them thinking,
Their wills shrinking,
Lost to the rosebush,
Their voices a collective hush.
But not all is lost,
Because at a great cost,
I have written this warning:
Beware the rosebush if your individuality you will be mourning.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Silent Queen
You sit in your majestic tower
Of the tree house, your brown hair gleaming down
Your strength and integrity bound
So deeply within you
Never did I notice,
Apt to the silence of your manner,
How greatly you tried
Your effort denied
Silently.
It’s funny the way one can live
So within their own space
They forget
That interacting is also receiving
When we were young
I was the one to run
To climb the trees
Steal all the Popsicles from the freezer
Soil my hands and stain my shirts with blackberries
To be the teaser
And you would change my shirt, save me from a beating
Accept my ferocity
And wipe the blood from me
You weren’t the one
To fight away the demons
You were the one
To keep them at bay
With silent protests for a better day
When we got old
And wrinkled,
Just a little.
When I hid my face
And you did
Age with grace
I noticed then
How ample you were
How you held yourself
With a profound rooting
To the earth
How grounded
And stable you had been
And the regret washed through me of the times
I secretly was ashamed
Of the way you walked
And how dissonant I thought you were
And so at a party a group of us sat sipping wine
And mocking the time
Across the table I heard you laugh
And never did I notice your voice before
And I could see between the lines
You
As you
And me
As me
Afterwards I laughed
I cried
At my new realization
What a burden I was
To you
So wild
And carefree
But what struck me was
That you held me
Just Like I was still a little girl
And I was making a fool of myself
But Still
You shushed me to sleep
A grown woman
And right before I closed my eyes
a final tear
For good
You whispered
How jealous you were
Of my experimental whirl
Eating life in
Like sauce on my fingertips
And I told you how jealous I had been
Of the way you wore long skirts
And wrapped your arms to your chest
Always knowing what you wanted
No need to want more
To explore
And like two old witches
Or sisters
We laughed
Until the moon was gone
And the sunlight streamed through
Our cauldron
Bubbling to the brim
With the new strength found within
Rejoicing we found
We are each in the air
Yet solidly,
implanted on the ground.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
A sudden splash of misty whiteness
Where sterile outlines fill
With skin pink water colors,
Then the rainbows separate into distinct arcs,
Blending again at my supplication.
Shushed whispers turn my head.
I listened for whistles, songs, familiar voices;
Pleased to praise when requested, when warranted,
Advise when asked, offer silence when needed.
I felt skin on my skin,
Sunblock and creams,
Long before your hand in mine.
I have offered my hands too,
Palm to Palm.
Your scent is forever,
And can't be covered with perfumes or incense.
At the most unusual times, it hits me.
I'll turn in a line, or somewhere,
Expecting you right there.
I enter a room knowing you're near,
Here, within.
Part of my life I live in vain memory.
It's bitter sweet, this journey,
And we are the salt of the earth, our earth.
From deprivation to overload.
And I sense, with sound insight,
We can still get it right.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 11:13 AM UTC
Our relationship began from a simple Facebook message,
which led into weeks of looking forward to your messages
and catching any glimpse I could of you in the hall
You couldn't like me
You, like someone like me?
She was beautiful, that L girl,
and i had low self-esteem.
I had to get real.
Hours of confiding in my gay best friend for help,
Which didn’t help
“I can’t believe how much I like him, I don’t know what to do”
Was said to her on the fifth of December.
I’d only known you for a month then
But, I knew you were gonna be something
Maybe it was your wit, or your most perfect features
Perhaps your smile,
that smell of old spice,
which somehow spoke to your maturity.
In any event,
I had to look for someone I could actually get,
even when I didn't want anyone but you
fast forward
Laid there for twenty minutes that night you first touched me,
I was a scared little ******
or still considered myself one
Unaware of how emotional things of that nature would become for me
Or already were
but you shushed me and reassured me
"I never want to do anything like this with anyone else"
Is what you said to me
I'll never forget
I was thinking the same thing
Still am.
Can’t wait for the day you touch me again
In whatever way is most pleasing to you
I’ll do whatever you want
Anything feels good with you
Can’t wait to wake up and see that
grin on your face when I kiss your
Chapped lips before you’ve sipped your
morning coffee.
I’m completely in love with you and every second you ignore me is a different kind of hell.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Sorrow is a hot flush of prickle
salt filled pearls that spill over
the dry reds of your cheeks.
Sorrow is the swollen ache in your
throat that tugs down on the corners
of your mouth:
gravity that seeks to bring
nose to grass,
forehead to gravel:
the little razor
that dig into your blackened flesh.
Sorrow is the way your own arms
seize themselves:
freckle to freckle,
hand to hand,
all identical and opposite.
Sorrow is knowing that
all sounds coming out of your
own mouth and all self-caressing
comfort is utterly
and irrevocably
and inexplicably
vain.
Sorrow is the cool glass
you smash your brow against
in reflective attempts to cool
poundings in your temple
and calm the only constant of life:
drumming, hot-blood pumping
four-chambers that will one day
Fail You.
Sorrow is dirt you inhale
into your starved lungs when
it buries your head in
earthy embrace
awaiting your thrashing to grow still
as you’re shushed like an animal
before butcher until
your hair blows gently
in the wind.
Sorrow is the way pain like fire
licks every crevice of your sweet skin
until molted scars like old corpses
swallow you whole
making you utterly
and irrevocably
and inexplicably
unrecognizable.
Sorrow is the eyes of your friends
refusing to meet your own
until the flicking of blues and greens
and browns and blacks
to any place besides
the empty whites of your own
is dizzying
is numbing:
an electric buzzing of static
in grey matter.
Sorrow is an invisible hand
wrapping gently around your neck
pushing you under the oceans
of your own briny making
until your foam kissed lips
are blue and cold—
parted slightly in a dead hope
that someone will revive them.
Sorrow is the vice clenching
bloodied tissue of
your battered
and bruised heart
tightly
and tighter still.
Until it is stagnant.
Until it is inconstant.
Until it’s too late to tell anyone
what
sorrow
is.
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Miles past, on the road ahead,
I saw the man pause while on pace-4 speed,
And fall down,
Through my balcony.
He was not that far,
Just as I’d caught up with the twists and shrinks
On his face, cheeks and limbs on a bare whole.
He looked at me.
He told it all.
Yes. From miles past my window,
I could feel his gaze, no, the silver strands of his corny memories.
Coming to me,
Without a stamp, seal or crossed arms.
Searing through me.
Without an apology, fear or want, he fell with a shushed thud on the tar.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
I stepped out of the bathtub, slipped on my towel,
and ran down the stairs so I could grab us some drinks
out of the fridge in the garage,
a lager and a light.
It was cold, my tip toes were leaving imprints in the snow
my wet hair was freezing at the ends.
I tried to keep covered up while carrying things in my hands,
I got to the door and there you were
holding the **** with your steamy lips and boxers
I kept turning it, but it wouldn't budge
that's when you held up the key to the glass
waving it in my face like a sweet, sweet victory.
I gasped a little laugh that was half mad, half enticed-
you little ****
"How am I supposed to get in?"
I asked as quiet as I could in fear of waking the neighbors,
you just looked at me stupidly,
your mouth foaming something *****
"drop it"
you said with a hand gesture towards my body.
I bit my lip holding back my smile, shaking my head in
denied disapproval.
You started walking away from the door,
"Wait!"
I let it go,
dropped the towel down to my ankles
and let my hands glide effortlessly to my hips.
I cocked one out, pursed my lips as I looked at you
devilishly-
your eyes got wide.
"Can I come in now?"
I begged with a little lean forward.
You put your fingers up to your chin,
drinking up my beauty that was dripping
from the tip of my nose to end of my feet.
"One lap," you said holding up the number.
You pressed your hands up to the glass,
I lined mine up with yours
I could tell you wanted to kiss me.
"One lap?"
I questioned with a stupid smirk,
I'd do anything for you-
I just like putting up a fight.
You shook your head up and down,
"I'm not going alone,"
I said backing away, folding my arms across my chest
defiantly begging you to join me.
"Fine" you said with a wide smile.
You threw off your boxers and opened the door.
"It's freezing!"
You yelled as soon as you walked out.
I shushed you with my lips and whispered
"It's too late now."
We ran around my house in the snow,
naked
you chasing me.
I tried my best not to scream,
but my heart was begging me
to release some pressure from it
some relief
from all the love you were filling it with.
I burst through the door and you followed,
trying to wrap your arms around me
but I wouldn't let up.
I ran up the stairs,
peeking behind me
to see if you were there.
"You can't catch me"
I taunted from the bathroom,
turning on the shower as hot as it could go.
That's when you knocked into me from behind,
tight
"Got you"
you whispered and you were right,
you had me
a lager and a light.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
I've been fed up for so long
I had to write a proper breakup song
You've got your head in a hole
And your mind in the clouds
You have no earthly idea what your talkin' about
That's why I'm squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
Squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
I've been shushed up for so long
Think it's time I head to parts unknown
In the blink of a lie
I'll be movin' out
Somewhere clear out of sight of your mealy mouth
Yeah, I'm squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
Squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
I've been pent up for so long
Ain't nobody givin' this old dog a bone
Hey, little lady
Now, can't you see
That I'll never be your patsy or your property
I'm squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
Squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
I've been couched up for so long
Feel sorta like a stranger in my own home
What a sham, what a scam
What a full-blown farce
What a bottomless pit you call your heart
That's why I'm squared up, headlong and gettin' gone
Squared up, headlong, and gettin' gone
I've been fed up for so long
I had to write a proper breakup song
I'll tell ya, I ain't your subject
And you ain't my Queen
You can go back to your village finish livin' the dream...
Me, I'm squared up, I'm headlong, and I'm-a gettin' gone
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
I feel you slipping away
like your gaze cannot hold on much more,
but i feel you looking at me when i look away.
since that one night
where my trust was crushed
and you didn't even want to tell me
We have this unspoken border between us.
I fall asleep next to you each night,
But the amount we touch is not enough
I want to explore your dreams
and look into your thoughts
So i can know why we are behaving this way.
I want you to be mine, alone.
And i will be yours, strictly.
*** is not supposed to be just the pumping of hips and thighs,
It seems like it has simply become a thing.. we do...
Nothing passionate
Nothing romantic.
It feels good during
But not afterward.
You don't need to see me cry,
I would hide it from you anyway.
Just know that i still love you
And i hate myself for it
I realized just now that when
you bring him coffee in the morning,
and he says thank you,
but falls asleep again without a sip,
that when efforts fail,
and thoughts were wrong,
it's time to find if what he needs is me.
I once told him that i kept a blog.
He looked at it once when i was with him,
but it's clear he hasn't looked at it since.
If he knew the secrets i told my followers,
maybe he would keep up, too.
He became nocturnal while i kept a normal routine.
I tried sleeping earlier so i could wake with him.
I wanted to form myself to his schedule,
So i could see him once in a while.
But when he spoke, it was entirely of his day
and not ever asking about mine.
In the times i can find a space to tell him
he shushed me, and the silence continued.
He did not want to me wake up to be with him.
He would rather i stayed over there, and
not intruding his alone time.
So i went to bed at 8 in the evening
So i would get a nap in before he came home.
I ended up sleeping until 6:30 am
and he had not woken me up when he got home,
He woke me up when he finally went to bed.
So now i've been awake for seven hours,
and he is still sleeping.
I want to touch him, and feel him.
I want him to tell me how he feels.
I need him to show what i mean to him.
Instead of wondering aimlessly, crying.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
You like the hiding behind closed doors smile
Don’t you
You like the Shushed, Hushed hub bubs
Don’t you?
You like the long silences and awkward pauses
Don’t you
You like the “Shh, don’t tell anyone what. We. Did”
Don’t you?
You like keeping secrets and letting people say
Don’t you....
You like locking people like me in closets, knowing that my clothes will never be closed to people like you and your sick twisted...
Don’t you’s.
Well this virus isn’t going to go away, thats right I’m here to stay and nothing is going to get in my way so baby sit tight cuz it’s only going to get harder, better faster and finally stronger.
Don’t you
think that this is getting old, maybe we should try something else, maybe you should get over it and let me go, from this fun house mirrors
Don’t you
wonder if one day I’m going to realize that you are not.
Who you want me to be
Who they look up to
Don’t you
Know I’m going to take the edge and step from it
I’ve out grown all my briches and
Brunt all my bridges and
Cryed all my rivers
I’m trying to get over it but
You don’t know how hard it is to let it.
Go.
You like the “Quiet timing”
Don’t you?
You want me to stand back while you
Hurt me?
Here we lay,
broken at best
Shattered Pieces
Shattered Rest
Left alone
Dead beats in my chest
Cold and hard
lest we let go
Lest we rest
Lest we think over this terrible mess
Don’t you
Know about the ending the finish
Don’t you?
Think maybe we should give up
while we are ahead...
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
The children of liberty’s voice
has been but a mute ripple
on the drums in this march to war,
death
and
de
ca
y.
The voice of that capricious lady’s child could provoke the evolution
of the entire ethos and consciousness of mankind.
****
That baby can sing!
Probably can do all the above
because it never cared about
ruling the world.
It was just trying to walk.
Those impish,
little
monkeys
with hands over their senses,
to speak no
hear no
see no
evil,
were barred entry
to Club Oligarchy.
(They’d make a mess.)
No limb left
to bang
on the drum’s of
society’s rhythm.
So hush now child.
We’re fond of **********
It makes (each) one of us
feel in control.
You’ve never been in control.
In this causal verse
you’re meat in capitalism’s grinder
and we are voting on everything
(and we really mean everything ((but you don’t know it))
you live in.
We’re gonna sit real smooth
as the misers of oppurtunity and wealth,
until our outdated and stagnant values
die with us
and take with us,
more likely
than you’d
like to
be
liev
e
c
i
v
i
l
i
z
a
tion.
If you stay here and close your eyes,
you can work for a minimum wage
that couldn't help much with rent let alone a dream
But if you try really hard at a game of Simon says with ole Sam
you can carry this crippling debt around for a few decades
and get yourself learn’d
and we’ll even give you some ink
scribbled on some dead tree
to wear like a badge
of your pedigree training.
It may even get you that first option.
So you can pay what is owed
to your crippling
defeat.
I mean debt.
Sorry, we’ve rolled up the ladder for the rising tide.
But “social security”
TOTALLY
has your back when you want to die,
like us.
(Really, it will be the same and we’re good for it… promise.)
All of you
do not pass go….
Actually, stay in this square and try not to go to jail.
Oh and you owe us two hundred dollars this time round.
There are some circles to be shushed.
And Sammy means business,
really
that is what he’s all about.
When you go to ****** the free
make sure there is no way out.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
Here I lurk
Clutching my shadow
In my fists
It shivers, shrivels, sighs
A flame shushed to silence
On its ashen throne
Here I grasp
Grasp the oozing, burning night
That drips down my fingers
A palm beneath a palm I place
A palm beneath another
It the creamy tiles kisses
And will come to me no more
A rumble wobbles
around the room
Of laughs and talks
And talks
However do I mingle
In these faceless folks?
However do I fathom
All these massless worlds
Orbiting around ecstatic tongues
That birth them
Birth them on and on
Birth them meaningless, and birth them blind
I think,
Maybe when the flood dies out
I think,
Maybe then I will see
Pick up the shells this land could not drink
And read the tales preserved
In their wounds
Maybe the drunken ghosts
Serving all these brightly dressed drinks
Will approach me too—
Not yet though
Not yet
I pull little hymns out of my throat
Roll them around in my mouth
It is there they sway,
There they wilt
A gaze chained to my eyes
Wanders about
Like an injured fly
On one face it rests
On one chuckle stumbles,
A crack skipping down the wall
A high-pitched laugh blooming
In the corner
There is a bleakness, believe me
In this world
A bleakness so pitiless and rotten
Its stench covers all that is born
All that is not
All—
There is a bleakness
And I often mistake it for my own
But I do not now
It is there in every eye
In every corpse hanging between the ribs
It grows up like a sturdy ****
On arms and legs and
Bones
Up and down the aisle it flows
In this classroom twinkling
with childish mirth
Up and down
It pats heads and laughing cheeks
It is there
It is there
And will not still
Will not stir either
I think,
I must warn them
These energetic faces trying
to resurrect joy
From the flesh of stories all skinned alive
Warn them
I must, I must
But the words pile up
And floods pile up
One upon the other thousands
And I lose myself somewhere
The chatter blends in with the chortle
And I cannot tell
The shadows imagined
From cloaked figures swaying around
I would warn them, believe me
Warn them I would
If only
If only I could grasp hold
Of this darkness
That mimics me everywhere I go
Ghost of a black lamb
I once sacrificed for
A purity I loved to violence
And longing never became
A shackle so well
I think,
maybe when the flood dies down
I will breathe,
I will breathe maybe
Here we lurk
A slave upon a slave rests
A slave beneath still
Two ghosts I birthed,
Two lambs opened up,
One will not love me
And one will not not—
Jun 17, 2021
Jun 17, 2021 at 1:50 PM UTC