"silhouttes" poems
and there i was.
all of 3 and a half,
draped in hopping silhouettes;
neck deep in swaying hips
and blaring tunes
tied to kick drums.
dramatic rim taps
and wingtips cluttered
cross the wooden floor.
surrounded by tall men with
tall women whose heels
unforgivingly grazed
the groaning floor boards.
their gowns thick
as kitchen curtains
that seemed to flutter
like butterflies in hurricanes.
i heard the summer whisper;
her hums sweetly floating
through grand windows
tall as ten of me;
tasting the rhythm
with her tongue,
she blew a cool sigh;
flooding the steaming stew
of old souls with young bones.
sunk real deep between
4 counts and hi hats
to twirl her way
into their step;
a type of swing
'cept it had a bounce to it
like steeple chasers.
those ladies with copper faces
and stone seasoned roots
with joints as old as time
played tag with the down beat.
those daddys dodging
in their tailoreds
like taxis in traffic;
toxic with a plague of ghouls
like the Count, King Cole
and Billie, Fitzgerald, Gillespie.
Then,
just as the summer silenced her hiss,
just as the sun
dug its heels into the dirt,
making its last ditch efforts
to remain present,
dusk untied its bows;
unwrapping a gift like glory.
and we were bathed in glory
that laughed like lovers
and kissed like dogs.
it drenched us in sloppy showers
glistening gold like sweat.
yet still,
we emerged refreshed.
so as the night
began its usual
chocking down of day
and good afternoons
cacooned into goodevenings,
i stood there;
all of 3 years old.
surrounded by silhouttes
that could only belong
to old souls with young bones
who belittled big bands
with their own vibrations;
those copper ladies
and skyscraper sized fathers
in tailored suits
who two stepped
to both sunsets and groove
grew into shadows.
and i stood in the midst of
those dimmed stars;
stamina riddled.
knowing that as
a summer day died,
a summer night
had only just begun.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
Glistening sea **** eye contact - infinite intensity
Filling the gap in between our fingers, stuck in millenial concordants
Taking photos on your polaroid of ravens and maple leaves
and black and white silhouttes of you.
Not, Clicheing//Different Socks on each foot
Watering Daisies on the pavement where we brushed past each other
Criss crossing parallel rail lines paved across the universe
Lost Stars.
Biting our lips to the blistering cold weather,
gloved* hands *stitched together.
Me loving you,
You loving me,
in naturale.
as of now, as of forever.
I'm the ragged, plain white canvas and
you're the most supercalifragilisticexpialidocious painting.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
Shedding tears and laughing in her memories is a movie watched on loop by me.
Story of granny about the deceased shining as a star is the force driving me into asking all stars the reason for her deviation from the path of her promise of never leaving me alone.
Silences are her replies if she really exists in any of the stars.
Silhouttes of dark circles under my eyes is the waiting for her reply.
Her betrayal is a fire and I'm its victim.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 1:12 PM UTC
Dark Silhouttes are filled with billions of stories to tell about the righteous
A tragedy that truth had to die in the first century; buried by false statements that carry no debates
Still we search for something to believe in
Only to fatten ourselves with excess demons
Righteous men learn by themselves but in this generation the righteous men are the wolves
And they taught me that Jesus is lord, that Jesus is king of kings and that he will save us all
But deep down I know
THAT JESUS WAS NOTHING BUT A SCARECROW
for that remark, they will all mark me as a demned sinful human,
Only last week did i see-: mocking birds in the sky hymning a melody to the forsaken men who among themselves joined the wolves
"I am the sheep that the wolves will never eat" I said
And then christmas finally came and darkness crept in the room that I lay
As i was awaiting the Death of Death and the birth of Eternity
I am sorry, but the darkness was too much for me to handle when christmas came, Lest! a Mystery a werewolf I became!
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
A long
and winding umbilical cord
That melts into the distant
Disturbing
sparkling fantasy of a mirage.
A snaking dusty trail hemmed
With rosemaries, pansies,
fennels and violets
Fading like a refrain of a lullaby.
A sad mourning song
Of a windy August night
Voices of homeless times
Joys
and tears waiting to be discovered.
Dancing
images of light and shade
Merging heart-shaped silhouttes
Against the glow of hope and fate
Frail dreams
walking on a dusty trail.
Sometimes I struggle alone
Toil, ***** fall and
cry alone
When you fail to understand
me.
And I trudge on
in the windy night
Toward the holy grail, heaven's ecstacy
To voices in the dark
calling my name.
-dougwa-
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
...I lost
God
beneath six feet of collapsed
core belief
and mysteries faded to black
as raging fires of
corrupted reasons and logic
fed the insecurites
of the dawn of defiance
Foaming at the mouth
while embracing the
manifesto of the black sun
under the heavens of sins
and the dying
Remnants of a miracle
silhouttes of faith
tomorrow will be dark
But
somehow
for some reason
I know that I
will believe once
again...
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
...The heart speaks
even black clouds spread
You know it's right
and the words are
not silhouttes
facing the shadow
Never live to dream
they will drive you
slowly
into madness
Miracles don't happen by
shaking the tree
You have to have fire
for things to burn and
you'll see how easy it is to
ride the tides
Masks are useful to hide the blush
but don't wear them too often
You don't want people to
forget your face
And for every tear is
a cry
Let it happen and
it will be
alright...
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
evil wine speak
you look so pretty in every color
god you're so old
and i so young
empty bottle basement
child's home, fate
is tiny hands
bodies blend
to time and
silhouttes
let me lead you home
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
One step front, three steps back
Breaking this wall of fire
is not worth scorching their knuckles
Closer they get, more timber you pick
All they ever saw were silhouttes
And all they ever tasted were smoke
And they never got to feel your heat
And they never heard you call their names again
Everyone gets tired of your antics
So why would they cross the bridge you burn?
They left
And they gave up on you.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
In a universe of sunsets
we linger on the fading
of luminosity not realizing.
Nothing sets, we just move
from the view of another...
Our tears evaporating in to
metaphors, voices of emotion
speaking silently as tears smudge
lingering meanings.
Are these the words of love or of
emotions fleeting like summer showers.
We are silhouettes dancing upon
the remainders of what lingered.
Coffins of hearts buried within us.
a eulogy of what was and past.
From ashes does a single flower grow,
reborn are petals not as before.
We gaze in opposite directions,
wondering if the other looks behind.
I stand there my palms waiting,
will we hold on to another, or forever let go.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
I (August)
By way of magic theaters
& Volumes of intellectual glitter
& Tragedy in the form of escalator dramas
Replaced with alcoholism and the tile floor in need of cleaning
Bulbs green and vibrant
In accompaniment of nearby mechanical ships/
I'm too spoken and the traffic has been melting against itself for the last three weeks
Doorhandles left empty of the
Torch of lost odors
& Bouquet smiles
& Petrichor thru the window facing the street
A shouting sort
And 25 cents in my back pocket
The dream I had yesterday of Bank Robbery
Solipsism
Also sexuality revealed as
The Camel's endurance
For kind people
Everyone around me in the bookshop starts vocalizing my internal scatterings
& The whole thing becomes surreal
Corso waves as I walk by
I'm afraid if what might happen on acknowledging it
Lamppost summoned and
Violent
Carpet is stained with the footsteps of people you don't want around anymore
Your gigantic ego had a hard time fitting thru the doorframe on exit
II (September)
A woman is reading a japanese book on
Windmills
Cradled by a sweater the tone of
Sunsets
The hour has devolved into silhouttes
An internal voice peaceully sings its way higher into the skull to be remembered/
The melody of September
On the verge of permanence at all times
& feeling it now!
You will never be this shy around
Orchards again,
Once the Hotels quiet down &
Autumn laurel replaces the crow of
Current conciousness
Ur journal is a series of wet shapes
Lucidly mixed with Candlewax air
Have fun transcribing Burmese papers
Or attempting Monkhood in Vermont!
III
It has been easy attending
All these social Funerals
And watching the Hospitals keep busy
As water is drained from countless fountains
Meanwhile a dog with a crooked lung is manufacturing a vivid sense of
Totality with the garden
Tongue out
Unaware of the Sun
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
Is see their ghost again
Silhouttes of past love lost
They are my floating sins
A reminder that I once wore a grin
The smile I wear now is truly paper thin
A forced happiness
Equivalent to a faked second skin
The light in my heart is set to dim
It's sizzling cinders
My future look burned, to ash it has turned
This undead feeling singed to my soul within
Do i sink or swim
Questions refuse to be answered
It's got my tail in a spin
Why can't I just live on a whim
Forget all these toxic feelings
Just pack up and run
Start a new life
Holding hands with the sun
That future seem bright
The truth is, I'm build never to give in
So I'll fight till the death
Till I have life pinned to the floor
Ready to rip of a limb
Looking into my determined eyes, no matter which ghost you throw at me
You will realize that I win.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 4:35 PM UTC
Enter the void...let'it drip like rubees from your lips,
succulent and'rich but WITHOUT joy....for in this place of flesh and bone...
we wait to be destroyed,
a realm of cold desolate depths and catacombs of stone carved steps...leading to'an ancient cavern..they call the void,
the sands of time are running wild, and'it seems that ive misplaced my mind,
I desperately try to remain a child, I keep dreaming ill awake and be fine,
sleep away and leave behind, this world and all it's hurt,
i hear it's pain PULSE and POUND in'a tumultuous sounding BURST,
I hunger and thirst for MORE reguardless of what it is,
its not enough if its not too much, indulge in every moment you live,
counting the days that ive wandered this maze in search of something to give,
just another night inside the void...fading faces of the evening whisper gently into my ear,
im filled with fright but ive got no choice,
aging traces of me leaving LIFT to the sky and disappear,
showers of sorrow and stinging silhouttes of fear, linger here...
inside the void.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
Voiceless whispers yearning to be normal
shops staring back at you in thoughtful mood
a desperate jogger who can't be informal
in case, into his private space you intrude
distrustful of every other single person
living in dread that you're going to break the law
fearing that conditions are going to worsen
like a wave of the sea that daren't land on the shore
gusts of bygone days calmly sweep on by
while happiness was left on a razor's edge
with a booming stock market and more pie in the sky
and promises that could not renew their pledge
in bars and cafès hang painted silhouttes
a deserted High Street that was once the fast lane
seeing your hopes dashed again as another sun sets
but how long before the bridge breaks under the strain?
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 2:56 PM UTC