"sidestepping" poems
The new day still saw the man
Whose livelihood was rubber.
He had worked really hard; earning his darkened tan,
He was the plantation's tapper.
The evening sun had long set
Leaving the plantation in a shroud of darkness.
Relying on what little light the moon would let.
He treaded carefully; sidestepping potholes and jutting buttress.
His sack slung over one shoulder,
He found his way to his trusty ride.
Nightly routine he would execute over and over
Mounted his bicycle and rode off with the moon as guide.
All day long, he had been thinking of the night before.
He had then learnt that he was the target of a ghostly trick.
As he cycled, he got worked up, more and more...
He cursed the spirit who had made him the fool so quick!
As he looked ahead, straining his eyes to discern the sandy track.
His eyes caught something that came within sight.
Standing by the side against a background of black.
There she was again...all garbed in white...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Anna's kiss hit harder,
than most ****** climaxes--
left me stuttering,
sidestepping, scared of the
what's next?
Anna's hair on fire,
billowing smoke and
beckoning me to come in--
left me boiling,
bracing, barely conscious
of what's left?
Anna's bed of nails,
bled out and breathing--
left me dangerously
dumb, deaf
of what's she saying?
Anna's sharpened heels,
daggered the docile beige carpet--
left me sweating,
sighing, searching for further savior
in what are we?
Anna's black fingernails,
sunk into my shoulder--
left me lonely,
lusting, lashing in empty parking lot
now knowing,
rebirth requires a death.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 10:18 AM UTC
Slipping your chains
dodging the demons and twits
chasing the river running the lane
losing your mind bit by bit
Glance over shoulder
checking the corner and street
fear in the eye dread turning colder
exhaling ragged in fits
Draw a deep breath
hold close your nerve and your wit
always to try and never say die
never give in or submit
Hell can't hold sway
if you won't dance and play
sidestepping the devil's own spawn
Clutching your will
your iron and your steel
and always too
carry on
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
She walks in the rain, annoyed
As the hair she combed so perfectly
Dances freely with the wind,
A tangled mess; wild and unruly
She zips her jacket till her chin
As she continues on her path
It's another feeble attempt to
Shield herself from the clouds wrath
She walks, sidestepping puddles
Her brand new boots caked with muck
She reaches the bus stop, cursing
The dreary weather in which she's stuck
She waits for the bus, impatient
As raindrops fall upon her face
Oh, how she hates the icy breeze
That knocks her hood out of its place!
She waits; half drenched, half frozen
As thunder roars from the skies
As though haughtily boasting about
All the umbrellas that it's destroyed
Finally, the bus arrives;
Her saviour, her salvation!!!
Now she braces herself for
The long long ride to her destination.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
i.
caren forgot about her morning. caren forgot it was wednesday. caren had an event and she was not there.
caren is a shadow. caren is an absence of space. caren is a gap that people shy away from, women in black dresses sidestepping past her memory.
caren is a woman with a streetcar. caren is a woman with an office job. caren is a woman with a social network. caren goes to functions. caren is no longer a function, but a product of her own actions.
caren forgot herself.
ii.
shattered windshields. broken glass like triangle teeth. more monsters lurk in mirrors than in the recesses of the closet. behemoths wait by water coolers, demons sit in sweaty three-by-fours. the devil wears a motorcycle helmet and caren hasn't learned from her mistakes.
iii.
run a red light. it's december and she's egging on the new year. frosted features and blinkers hide hot flashes. she's impatient for her age, a businesswoman at her best.
a shift in gear. a change in mood. road rage, road rash. a few words from a dark knight on a whinnying bike.
iv.
lane changes and unintentional nudges. motorcycle launches the devil like a dove to heaven. caren stays earthbound, blood spilled to nourish the ground. fertilizer runs through her veins, and vampire trees in city parks drink it up. bystanders drink it up.
v.
caren is a casualty. caren is the victim of her own habits.
caren is a corpse in a coffin. caren is an elephant in the viewing room.
caren is to blame in eyes and minds. caren is condemned in whispers, but caren is lamented out loud, so caren is proud.
caren got **** done.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
it gnaws at me,
an alien in my belly tugging
at my insides turning me inside out..
this palpable feeling of gravity
of my place on and in the earth,
sidestepping the grave
like a ballerina blindfolded
and dancing in the dark
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
Physical entropy
Degenerating mentally
Blistering coldness
Completely divided
Minute attentions
Diverse dreams
Of crowned suns
Sidestepping death
Reframing life
Unopened borders
Enclose the
Pedestrians within
Open minds
And closed mouths
Closed fists
And open eyes
Blindfolded
By an uneducated
Population
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
We don’t dance here anymore.
We balance on wobbly stools
and order PBRs with whiskey backs,
sidestepping the looks we tend to give
each other in the mirror behind the bar.
Tonight is Christmas Eve again.
Again, tonight is Christmas Eve.
Reflected in a frosted window
framed by multicolored lights,
our waitress wears a miniskirt
and candy cane-striped tights.
Her laugh rings like the silver
bell of tomorrow’s hangover.
We are not the ones racking
another game of eight-ball
or feeding the jukebox or
tossing darts at the wall.
That’s not us, the hipster couple
exchanging sardonic repartee,
clever tattoos comingling as
they trade kisses in the corner.
Could that ever have been us?
Here is where we *****
it up and tamp it down.
Here is where we wait
for our future to finish
its careful unwrapping.
Here is where we say
thank you and drown,
tangled together in
ribbons of twilight.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
sidestepping the eagerness
you seemed voracious, i seemed anxious
yet we both were capricious
conscious of the choices
like adding N.E.S.S. to a word
doesn’t make it a noun
meaninglessness is still just
meaningless
like adding you and me
doesn’t equal love
no, love
it’s just you
it’s just me
nothing in between
close like lotion and skin
close like coffee and cream
close like
nothing in between
not even
love.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 10:47 PM UTC
Sidestepping shadow-plays
boxed in bonus-sized portions
for garden-varietal religions,
I've had these scuzzy intimations
great big (voids) lie behind
most altruistic inclinations
and the biggest news is,
we're still expanding
with-in-exhaustible potentials
to be eternally filled greater.
Now I'll admit to being
hampered in my cognitive
capacity for meaningful
pattern recognition
by my debilitating
predisposition toward
concentrated forms of myopia,
ergo, I can't shape
a formless mess into anything
but incoherent flimflam.
I've tried alleviating this
condition with meditative
concoctions and palliatives
of sensory deprivation,
yet I fear I'll need
a silicon-chip-enhanced head
before I can glimpse
the cosmic legerdemain spinning
its paradoxes of endless
surfaces but no top.
If I finally do, I'll smile big
as a great-white gull winning
his first demonstration hand at
the three-card monte of not-to-be
reconciled contradictions.
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 9:41 AM UTC
*Is it really any wonder
That we court the God of war ?
When a man offends in innocence
With imprudent comments poor,
When the slightest altercation
Leads to seeking of red blood,
And grudges borne with vehemence
Paste protagonists with mud.
Why is it that we tip toe
Through the fragileness of life ?
How is it that you rage
When he glances at your wife ?
What generates the jealousy
Of competitive bright flame
And activates the trigger
In the deadly baiting game ?
Why should we seek redemption
When the way is set in stone,
When antagonistic temperament
Is the customary way home,
When the flare of angry attitude
Leads the bearer to abyss
And inevitable conflict
Throws all reasoned thought amiss ?.
Reflect on how protracted
Is the winding road to love,
How long to place the building blocks
Of friendships’ hand in glove,
How gradual the process
Of steady cultivating trust
To the wondrous actuality
Of a brother bond that must.
Why does the God of war surmount
Mans best and dearest quest
To find a peace and harmony
Despite discords’ very best,
To live his days in certitude
Sidestepping risk of harm
To work toward tomorrows’ dawn,
And evening’s soothing charm.
Shatter prides absurdity
To dare to breach the norm,
To reach aloft for courage
And scale the unknown’s form.
To rail against mans’ enmity
To flail against his foe
To conquer human natures‘ worst
This beast of war must go!
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2010*
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
Spinning in its apogee this world has lost its rhyme
It’s denizens deflecting and defacing precious time,
Sidestepping crucial issues and responsibilities
While elected fools to office flaunt abused integrities,
It’s all integral to disorder running rampant in the street
Where shades of retribution lead to fear of those we meet.
Where production slows to stoppage causing systems now to fail
And the single voice of sanity is the fool who yells "Curtail" !!
Gone to Hell the Good Old Days, gone the repartee
Lost communication in this world of misery.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all including you,
The sin of ******* conscience where we turn the other cheek
Where ignorance is innocence as kids die in the street.
Blame Syria and Moscow, Blame Isis and the Yanks,
Blame everyone who turns the other cheek …to mutter quietly, “no thanks”
Blame ignorance, intolerance, the hate and Jealousy,
Blame God for his indifference and mediocrity.
Aleppo lies in ruins and the world just doesn’t care
For as Christmas joy approaches, we switch our focus there.
Isis is the apogee, the focus and the fulcrum
Isis is the dark abyss that treads the path to Hell
A Caliphate catastrophe inherent in equation
A tipping point reaction as respondents toll the bell.
Where East and West throw shards of death to strut the stage of destiny,
Where man tip-toes the edge of an apocalyptic end,
The rest of us stroll corridors of detached halls of apathy
Intent upon a peaceful life where violence rarely rends.
Aleppo lies in ruins in a patina of concrete dust
Children die obscenely in the rubble of the street
Obsession paints the hatred bright, on faces of the warriors,
Oblivious to the carnage they cast at Allah’s feet.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all….including you!
M.
Hamilton NZ
9 December 2016
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
I drew pants out of my backpack
like a well bucket brimming pennies.
Legs upon legs tied together
in a campfire circle and sitting
on moss'd rocks, listening to rock
music, drinking Rolling Rock,
and nothing else. I pulled up
on inseams to a single black
pocket liner sixteen cents richer,
but the fire. Oh, that fire, flames whipping
weaker than slave drivers weaker
than the wind bailing low-lying
lake water to the faux Dover beach
mound of sand by the mud shore
like the crayfish were drowning.
The sand was like trampled
"welcome" mats worn-in by sidestepping
horseshoe players setting down
their tin cans by the mound.
A pitching machine on the pitcher's mound.
Machines have made the big leagues.
I quit baseball when Coach Seth castrated
my half-friends with a robot.
Some took red stitches to the face,
the lucky ones. But the fire—if you could consider
a Bunsen burner-esque flame a fire—turned
our burnt sienna bottles into burning-out beacons,
tiki torches between pine trees, street lamps
kicking off in four hours, a box of matches,
and a lightning bug's ***
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
Poetry….
The ambition
of lines—
Shouting
At one another—
And the hand,
Betrays previous musings
Sidestepping reality
By reflecting honesty.
Poetry….
The hope
of stanzas—
Tangling
Two-left-feet—
And the pattern,
Lingers on the rhyme
A minute too long…
A beat behind.
Poetry….
The voice
of words—
Whispering
The secret stories—
And the lies,
Decide the storyline
A certain turn…
Unforeseen negotiation.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
In early evening darkness, an endless entourage of engines sails streets exactly as Doppler predicted.
His trolley case traverses cracked concrete until her heels slow, halting to heed a busker's beat.
Polite soles approach the pair, sidestepping into loose layers of leaves - compacting gold and brown with a crunch.
Well-travelled tongues whisper foreign fears and wishes in a fog of white noise, fading to null as four eyes silently share three special words.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 5:33 PM UTC
We live in a society that treats us as Pawns.
I have no intentions in taking the bullet for the Kings of industry.
I take no comfort in the twisted words of the political Bishops sidestepping there way into power.
Noble Knights follow the corrupt Queen to protect the interest of enslavement.
The Castle walls are built by the Rooks from the bones of the defiant.
There is no where to move or breathe but on this board of hardship.
( 9-22-11 8:08pm )
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 9:06 PM UTC
Power flexes
downward:
a hulking, indifferent
appendage
obscene in its
obviousness,
but the obviousness is the
point,
you remind
me.
This latest one was only twenty-
six
and seemingly healthy, but no
matter—
in Hokkaido by now the
larches
have all dropped their
needles,
and the fumaroles of Mount
Asahidake
still hiss, even while
covered
in heaps of snow. I wish
that
you could take me there. I
wish
that we could set
off
into that pale oblivion and never
return,
immersed for the rest of our
days
in the frigid, accurate
waters
of Nature’s
reality.
But she has no dominion
here,
you remind
me,
and we are all just tourists in this place
anyhow,
sidling beneath cornices and sidestepping
crevasses
aslope an angry volcano in
winter,
that warm, glowing lodge at its
foot
seemingly never
drawing
any
closer.
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 11:51 AM UTC
Exchange between four eyes, four lips
two chest cavities containing two hearts and double that in lungs
apologies between bits of conversation
not taking the easy path in unsheathing the easy sorry in hand
trading glances spilling out love notes
like our lids protected emotional human oceans, open to the table
but never saying, "I want you back"
Sidestepping every memory left black
and as tires on the expanse with our knees tucked into our necks
excellent at simply skipping bad scenes
while we avoid recalling pieces of happy recall for which we met
our big successful forward movement
continues healthy momentum's slipstream of the highs we forget
We forget together how it was to vibrate
We forget together exactly how to speak
never saying "I want you back"
Pound pulse-like music where Logic never touched page
Revelation coil twisting where Sleep broke with the day
where
Human being water, spooned, was the shape and sum of its container
Still, silent, covered lightly under bed sheets in euphoria's sad recovery
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
where is the
self appointed king
courtiers have noticed
the absence
all subjects
of the realm
await his not so
fond return
a royal
proclamation
didn't reach
the town crier
which hasn't caused
any concern
to they who live
in the kingdom's shire
should
the regent
grace them
with his presence
they wont be
feasting on
the finest ducks
and pheasants
two days
spent away
from the crown's
summer lodge
could the
******* up one**
be doing
a sidestepping dodge
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
i can remember your hands on my body
and feel entirely on fire
and i can remember the softness
of lying in your arms
and my entire heart softens with sadness
i can miss you with such strength
i can miss you with such pain
i can acknowledge inside of me i love you
but i can remember two weeks
and when you didn't hold me
and your sidestepping my anger and me as well
i am in love with who was mine.
i did trust you not to make yourself
to me someone who i would not
think to be with.
(this is selfish i know. i expected to stay unhurt,
i expected to recognize you in all your forms;
you showed me one i did not know you occupied)
i stay with my thumb
running across the features of your face,
loving you as you were mine.
i love you goodbye and tell you
that i will try to understand,
now, when you are not mine.
sunday, november.16.2014, 6:03 P.M.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Do you want to learn to be evasive,
Obnoxious, cynical, and highly abrasive?
I have the perfect teacher for you
To help you blow up an interview:
Kellyanne CONjob is her name.
An expert at the sidestepping game,
She will teach you to twist and turn
Answers to questions with no concern
For facts and truth. What do they matter
When you've got the gift of empty chatter?
She'll show you with great perfection
How to master the art of deflection.
Being sweet is one of her acts.
She loves to refer to "alternative facts"
To prove her points to the unwary.
Veracity is unnecessary.
Lies can provide great vitality
When you live in an alternate reality.
She will teach you to trick and deceive
With countless gimmicks hidden up her sleeve.
Learn how to blame the media when they
Say things you don't want them to say.
Some of her strategies might give offense,
But mainly in an Orwellian sense.
If you maintain a certain hostility
And think, "To hell with credibility!"
You could work for the president as well
Among the White House personnel.
- by Bob B (1-23-17)
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
every1 wants to p[lay some game
so i say okay
less play
i love you
just need them too
its family
its the truth
i love you
but u dont need to know the truth
i dont really love you
i just think i can fix u
cant u tell by how there is nothing to talk about
when its just us two
cant u tell by how i dont give a **** about what your writing about
and youll never see my name on your dashboard u tooo slow
cant u tell by how i distrust u and sleep, soo much longer that i need too i know
**** you
pay me or pay u
gonna shut u off
cold isnt it
are u alone
**** you
know the world is drying
dying towel drying
no water left
**** you
feel sorry for your sins
**** no
**** you
repent
**** the smiling *****
straightoutof Magdalene
hey
SATA?N
hes not there
i been asking
god is here
but he doesnt ******* care
he doesnt ******* care
he doesnt ******* care
he doesnt ******* care
hedoesntfucking care
your love is here
ask god for a small place to stay
away from everyon and everything
that made u feel this way
he;llll!
hellsay hes working so hard
preparing a place
for your rotting creature pelt
to hang above his fireplace
u can trust with all the brids
that know seeing isnt believing
so fat with faith
sidestepping windows
like theieryer necks were made of
neckbraces
unable to kneel down
andpuke it out
fly with them
until they remember
somethings are invisible
and they matter just as well
im standing on the edge of the felt
the putting green orb u fell onto and melded
so u grab your blak crows
and fly fly fly
******* hard
******* full force
until you fly to ******* hard into it
and break your neck
and remember
before u die
that there is nothing to believe in
even when you are well
there is nothing to be decieved by
you were born worthless
branded with a dollar sign
and yyour holy ghost
wont pay the hospital life
ur dead
because u believed in life
birds are dumb+haldf blind
im blind
but i could see what you were doing
with empty sockets or backwards eyes
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
leapt into a silver lining
clouding intentions
voicing a disdain
for thunderstorms
when thunder
is quieter than a library
throwing every book
at the innocent
sidestepping downpours
while dampened pages
stick together
concealing proof
that false judgment reigns
and sunny days
are written in another chapter
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
in this plastic dormancy i’ve happened to slip into deeply (yet subjectively), i feel i can finally acknowledge, conceptually, anyway, that your incessant rambling about wrong turns and orange juice with pulp actually raise a convincing argument. of course, i don’t think i would ever openly admit to this in any sense of vocal resonance, but if you could read the inside of my head, unfiltered, you may be pleasantly surprised by the vagabond mentality that makes me tick. i have fallen under the same catastrophic spell that has consumed your golden years with the attempted emulation of summer scents and sundress hearts filled out by tattooed wrists, and chests that beat in tune with the pulsing beams humming their way through the thickness of the east coast heat. i agonize over the fact every single person i know is sidestepping sunsets, cursing the ambiguity of their own beguiling history, as if their new found (last resort) sincerity could somehow still turn “this” all around. i’m still wondering what “this” even is. maybe we secretly covet the allure of being the monster rather than ending up grey and beautiful. maybe we aren’t wicks sparking and knees buckling. maybe this is it
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
"Ah, grumpy thumb have you met------?"
He stood aside.
I saw a wave of hair so slight,
black as jet.
Shoulder length
faint apple scent.
Pale blue eyes,
button brows creased mild.
"Hi." A little shy.
Our hands touch.
Her's: soft, warm and dry.
"Hello."
A friendly shake then let go.
A smile, matt salmon-pink lips.
Fine laughter lines.
Genuine.
Host makes a beline.
Feeling a little uneasy, "I'm not good at these things....." indicate with a nod.
Her smile stretches.
Button brows an animated lift.
Stepping closer, "Me neither.
To be honest Grumpy, I'd prefer beer and pizza."
Tingle laughter.
"Me too, but when in Rome!"
I take two champagne flutes off a walking platter.
We clink.
"Shall we?" Slender arm snakes round mine unexpectantly.
Sidestepping the gathered bulk of people we find space.
My eyes trace the small dimples of her cheeks. Nostrils flare, better to remember the bloosm of her hair.
"With all the cackle, I didn't catch your name."
"Oh, it's---------"
The host returns again.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC