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"silverback" poems
There’s a silverback haze on the shallow face of the Rockwell Ridge folded brow puzzled chin and dark hollow eyes keeping watch over the lilies and crane flies and will of the wisp Rust brown ravens and fisher kings delight in the reeds off north bend (chased by the terraced streams!) youth blades engrain on the favoured and historic Banka Memorial Mustard and pumpkin skies are clipped by a call from the resident loon the sounds of Buddha Bar piercing the silence and shaping the afternoon chord It’s a time to make way (stream side) seems the anuran are courting
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Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
Lost Lake
I stood and watched from a safe distance, A fabulous Silverback strides around, The strong body and rippling muscles, He dominates and leads his troop, He makes the decisions, He's old, mature and protective, He's the leader of the pack, He is respected.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:11 AM UTC
The Gorilla
ghosts of slumber parties past. just a haunted betamax & a stack of oreo sandwiches. sisters braiding eachother’s hair far past the witching hour, contemplating life without supervision. blue house. yellow lawn. silverback gorilla in one garage. two garage: empty. three garage: a woman entombed in exhaust. [her bloated tongue] a gang of bmx boys pizza-fed and friday-high, hopped up on mountain dew and trading card collectible rituals ‘n rhythmics. they conjure a demon just to **** and dismember it. for funsies. for keepsies. a fang for the shrine at the foot of the old oak tree. history on the skin, long history, long thoughts, long in the nod like a calm dead frog. bubbled, boiled, toiled, and troubled. the woods aren’t haunted. you are haunted. you are the conduit through which the darkness displays its vivid colors. [treefort aflame] the seasons furrow/ / the leaves fall. little plots of land etched out – subdivision and sprawl. on the avenue, heaven & hell made tame and tangible. built, re-built, and refurbished – a lawn and a lantern. a mortgaged glory of sparkle and decay. [dead cat is a new cat is the old cat ran away] pictograms of morning light display on mom’s face as she instructs us on the gusts of love [scrambed eggs] & teaches us the truth of nettles sprung from violent pine. [toast with raspberry jam] the television. the microwave. the blender beverages. hymnals of an electric kingdom. one mom dances, the other expires. [restless armless girls in orange sunsets] girl with a gun at the edge of her lawn and selling lemonade. girl in an old wicker chair. save her horror story for another day. boy with a bent frame bicycle limps his way home from one end of the avenue to the other. his pockets full of sparkly rocks found in the lime quarry pit. one boy in a long line of lost planets. the driveway. the refrigerator. the hum of a saturday night commercial-free cassette. where’s dad? the glow of an eerie crystal (continued…)
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
mercury ave.
ghosts of slumber parties past. just a haunted betamax & a stack of oreo sandwiches. sisters braiding eachother’s hair far past the witching hour, contemplating life without supervision. blue house. yellow lawn. silverback gorilla in one garage. two garage: empty. three garage: a woman entombed in exhaust. [her bloated tongue] a gang of bmx boys pizza-fed and friday-high, hopped up on mountain dew and trading card collectible rituals ‘n rhythmics. they conjure a demon just to **** and dismember it. for funsies. for keepsies. a fang for the shrine at the foot of the old oak tree. history on the skin, long history, long thoughts, long in the nod like a calm dead frog. bubbled, boiled, toiled, and troubled. the woods aren’t haunted. you are haunted. you are the conduit through which the darkness displays its vivid colors. [treefort aflame] the seasons furrow/ / the leaves fall. little plots of land etched out – subdivision and sprawl. on the avenue, heaven & hell made tame and tangible. built, re-built, and refurbished – a lawn and a lantern. a mortgaged glory of sparkle and decay. [dead cat is a new cat is the old cat ran away] pictograms of morning light display on mom’s face as she instructs us on the gusts of love [scrambed eggs] & teaches us the truth of nettles sprung from violent pine. [toast with raspberry jam] the television. the microwave. the blender beverages. hymnals of an electric kingdom. one mom dances, the other expires. [restless armless girls in orange sunsets] girl with a gun at the edge of her lawn and selling lemonade. girl in an old wicker chair. save her horror story for another day. boy with a bent frame bicycle limps his way home from one end of the avenue to the other. his pockets full of sparkly rocks found in the lime quarry pit. one boy in a long line of lost planets. the driveway. the refrigerator. the hum of a saturday night commercial-free cassette. where’s dad? the glow of an eerie crystal (continued…)
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53
A pretty blonde researcher was observing, from a “blind”, some Silverback Gorillas- among the final of their kind. The senior of the silverbacks, his back turned towards the” blind”, was communicating with his troop with gestures much like sign. “She who is observing us is a member of that tribe who fell from grace with Heaven and was banished far and wide.” “They were banished from this Eden, and confounded in their speech. They then made war upon each other and have never once known peace” “Observe, in them, their arrogance, they think themselves evolved, Yet they are apes that practice war and ****** their own kind” “A gorilla child knows not but love and tenderness in kind. Where there is many a human child left neglected on the vine.” From elsewhere in the Jungle came the shouts of evil men. Poachers of the coarsest sort with Silverbacks in mind. “Disperse my sons and daughters. It’s time to flee and hide from those who seek our hides and meat to sanctuary, hie.” The silverback then beat his chest and, to buy the others time, charged against those evil men and, for his children, died. Time passed before the searchers came upon the blind where the murdered Dian Fossey lay where the Silverback had died. Poachers want no witnesses to their theft of meat and hide They left with her the severed hands of one not kin but kind.
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Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Gorillas in the Myst
We still call the homeplace mom's Calendar in the kitchen unchanged Two years past The old clock ticking Branches tapping against a window Iron Mountain through frozen rain Like a silverback White along the spine Cold and silent Strong against another winter. r ~ 2/2/15
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Iron Mountain
I have yet to know a self I can call my own, wandering through these bodies the way one would try on clothes but far deeper than this analogy could ever dig, I live with these identities. I fall for them the way lovers do in autumn, keen that the coming winter will leave me yearning for the comfort of another, but no sooner do the bells of spring begin to ring in summer air does the necessity of this comfort fade. The temptation of sweeter fruit hangs above me in the orchard shade and an affluenza of potential almost coerces me to stay. Though no self have ever felt my own I know within my heart, within my blood and in my bones, more than anything I am compelled to grow towards entropy and complexity, ascending, never settling at any plateau a silverback drumming his barrel chest and roaring into the void of the valley below “What is next for me!” and the answer is silence (I should have known)
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May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
No Self
Perfectly Imperfect there are so few things that I do correct hell I'm still learning how to stand ***** with my ape like qualities making strange sounds the stupid words I utter could be measured in pounds you know deep down inside I really do care I have a ton of feelings that I will gladly share but sometimes my thoughts get caught up in the word I I won't stop talking until I make you cry I miss the banner T says at the bottom of the page I go from weeping chimp to a silverback in rage trying to get a grip on my now empty heart I wanna go back again go back to the start why is it that sometimes you find out too late that you should keep yourself in a cage or crate until you learn and understand what smart really is and no I'm not talking about a scientific wizz I guess I'll continue writing self deprecating lines until I learn more than just swinging on vines I don't know how else to explain how my heart burns hoping someday my sunflower returns Gomer LePoet ....
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Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 12:13 PM UTC
Perfectly Imperfect
you park with the windows rolled down for a kiss that doesn't come, and now you're pressed up against him with his chin on your shoulder. painfully hart crane knew what day it was, but I'll never look at the calendar. its better, the gulls would just get sick the old folks in power scooters cant handle much more than a jigsaw. if I were to choose how I die I'd want it to be hungover and by the hands of a silverback.
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
fawn
a basket full of tasty fruits and purple eggplants to calm down the aggressive mode of the silverback gorilla in the congo green forest
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Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
In The Congo Green Forest
When we were 25 all night was eight minutes Now that we're 55 he really means all night. Pass the **** baby I'm getting chafed.
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May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
My Silverback
​ They're on administrative leave like they asked us permission to leave our bodies... Lifeless Or They should have gotten permission to be dismissed BEFORE they left our bodies... Lifeless Land of the free....How about Land on our Knees Where we should be until we all can stand as tall as a tree.... Not hanging, from a tree The noose has been replaced by a shiny black casing, The broken neck has been replaced by blood freely flowing The tree has been used to make OUR encasing.... The result... [hashtag]this [hashtag]that [hashtag]blacklivesmatter but... [hashtag]itdoesntmatter because apparently we are not all made of equal matter Sterling Silver used to be considered quality , but apparently...that's dead. B stands for bold. Beautiful. Brave. Boisterious, without the B in black there consists just a Lack of color, creativity, attitude... Lying to us daily, telling us our skin color isn't a crime only that it cuts short our time to be Alive. Breathing, Heart beating, Lub Dub Lub Dub Lu....ve you are the two words that you may never hear. Are the two words that they don't get to hear because Crack. Pop pop pop Hands up Don't ..... Blood flowing on the streets, like road **** except I'd hoped by now evolution would have taken us to the top of the animal kingdom, but there's still more outrage over Harambi the silverback than Philando Castile, violently attacked... Pronunciation please: Blac (black) B-L-A-C is still the same pronouncement without the K.....K... K . Still afraid to wake up day after day after day... Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes our permanent surroundings Or Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes the ghost of Christmas future, the past and present left to rest in peace... We should be praising the Lord when we wake up on the land of living, breathing, heart beating, lub dub lub dub.... HANDS UP ..... But you asked for my license's I was already reaching... Don't shoot.... But I wasn't planning to, my four year old is in clear view.
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May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
BLACK
​ They're on administrative leave like they asked us permission to leave our bodies... Lifeless Or They should have gotten permission to be dismissed BEFORE they left our bodies... Lifeless Land of the free....How about Land on our Knees Where we should be until we all can stand as tall as a tree.... Not hanging, from a tree The noose has been replaced by a shiny black casing, The broken neck has been replaced by blood freely flowing The tree has been used to make OUR encasing.... The result... [hashtag]this [hashtag]that [hashtag]blacklivesmatter but... [hashtag]itdoesntmatter because apparently we are not all made of equal matter Sterling Silver used to be considered quality , but apparently...that's dead. B stands for bold. Beautiful. Brave. Boisterious, without the B in black there consists just a Lack of color, creativity, attitude... Lying to us daily, telling us our skin color isn't a crime only that it cuts short our time to be Alive. Breathing, Heart beating, Lub Dub Lub Dub Lu....ve you are the two words that you may never hear. Are the two words that they don't get to hear because Crack. Pop pop pop Hands up Don't ..... Blood flowing on the streets, like road **** except I'd hoped by now evolution would have taken us to the top of the animal kingdom, but there's still more outrage over Harambi the silverback than Philando Castile, violently attacked... Pronunciation please: Blac (black) B-L-A-C is still the same pronouncement without the K.....K... K . Still afraid to wake up day after day after day... Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes our permanent surroundings Or Not knowing if this could be our last where the blackness on our skin becomes the ghost of Christmas future, the past and present left to rest in peace... We should be praising the Lord when we wake up on the land of living, breathing, heart beating, lub dub lub dub.... HANDS UP ..... But you asked for my license's I was already reaching... Don't shoot.... But I wasn't planning to, my four year old is in clear view.
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20
as he sat soft beside me. “Sure,” I said, with ill feeling. My instinct was not to cross my friend, I had too few left. I nodded to the Ape behind the bar and he obliged with one lemon & ginger and one green tea. He knows his regulars well and we know we’d need to wait til later for anything stronger. “Look,” he said, and I turned to see a gap and I counted the two teeth that were missing - no, not missing - he opened his hand and there they were, both accounted for, safe and secure in his grey leathery palm. “Look,” he repeated, (a little slurred this time) and turned his fist so I could see the missing skin and the bruises that gave testimony to his amateur status.   His ****** grin and wet laughter shook the silverback back into action and we got a plate of malted milks. Like I say, he knows his regulars well and he’d listened when I told him where he could get a regular supply, direct from Staffordshire, in the UK. “Lo-ok,” he said (more hesitant this time) and lifted his shirt a little to reveal the knife wound, replete with knife, buried to the hilt. “Loo-,“ he started to say, as he slid off the bar stool taking his tea with him, the porcelain shattering on the stone floor. I winced – the cups had been a gift to the Ape from my mother. ‘Why should the chimps get all the best crockery?’ she’d explained. “I’ll pay for the breakage,” I said and the Ape nodded his furrowed brow as he swung round to grab the dustpan and mop. I drank my tea, counting off the friends that remained.
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Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 1:25 PM UTC
“Buy me a drink,” Gus said
as he sat soft beside me. “Sure,” I said, with ill feeling. My instinct was not to cross my friend, I had too few left. I nodded to the Ape behind the bar and he obliged with one lemon & ginger and one green tea. He knows his regulars well and we know we’d need to wait til later for anything stronger. “Look,” he said, and I turned to see a gap and I counted the two teeth that were missing - no, not missing - he opened his hand and there they were, both accounted for, safe and secure in his grey leathery palm. “Look,” he repeated, (a little slurred this time) and turned his fist so I could see the missing skin and the bruises that gave testimony to his amateur status.   His ****** grin and wet laughter shook the silverback back into action and we got a plate of malted milks. Like I say, he knows his regulars well and he’d listened when I told him where he could get a regular supply, direct from Staffordshire, in the UK. “Lo-ok,” he said (more hesitant this time) and lifted his shirt a little to reveal the knife wound, replete with knife, buried to the hilt. “Loo-,“ he started to say, as he slid off the bar stool taking his tea with him, the porcelain shattering on the stone floor. I winced – the cups had been a gift to the Ape from my mother. ‘Why should the chimps get all the best crockery?’ she’d explained. “I’ll pay for the breakage,” I said and the Ape nodded his furrowed brow as he swung round to grab the dustpan and mop. I drank my tea, counting off the friends that remained.
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37
Silver-tongued silverback acrobat, Sliver among passive track, those little tacks Swing up high, sweep on by The air is your medium, your cartilage courage I thought I was something highly, flying freely, sighing too. Cotton grass on trickling, bubbling, thinking brook Garfish thought twice and took to my hook Devour me I spoke to the placid sky Leave me here, in Schrödingers hour, If I reel in thine I may find the acrobat or an empty line.
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Career Path
You told everyone you were a care bear But you don’t know how to handle my heart You don’t know what it means to care Because otherwise my heart wouldn’t be ripped apart You told everyone you would fight for me and would go through fire like a bold beast You only fight for money and power, can’t you see? You toss me around like prey, celebrate it like a feast oh you, you beautiful bear, you stuffed with jealousy bear you use your claws on me, you show me you are the silverback And you hurt me so deeply, I don’t think that is care which is odd, because bears don’t like leaders of a pack I tried to stuff myself back together with needles and thread but my eyes are leaking and my mouth stays taped you want me to sit still and look like every other zombie-head Mary wrote a book about me, in which I was monster-shaped I wish you held me, consoled me, supported me and not like a ripped bear because that is what it actually means to care
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Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 8:07 PM UTC
Ripped bear
I only drink ferocious black coffee-- a silverback strong knuckle-sandwich to the chest because it screams at my throbbing heart like a drill sergeant. I drink whisky because because I enjoy the the burning taste of sandpaper raking against the back of my throat. And it gets me hammered the quickest. Pizza for breakfast, I'm eating champions of pineapple and bacon with four different cheeses because **** you. The words I write are contrived reflections trying to get by in a place I'm trying to convince myself I belong. Cynicism glares with tired sunken eyes at deja vu reiki songs, but my hymnal is the bottom of a moscato, and I sing louder when grey ghosts from the past whisper lonely nightmares.
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Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
10:25am Four Years Ago
hunters tattoos, boo-boo shortcake F-f-f-fuh-fake guys with real mistakes I'm just a ****** person that has to get ****** to feel
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
silverback
Maybe tomorrow we can talk But for tonight, just leave me alone Let me just go for that walk Right now I need to be on my own I know things have been hard for us Both for me and for you And I know, tomorrow will come And you will tell me the truth We used to spend hours here Breathing side by side And now the only thing I want Is to get you out of my sight Is this what they warned me about All those years ago How someone you could have loved Sometimes find somebody else to hold I don't think forgiveness is in the cards So I am leaving this scar open And I hope that when I tell you You will remember, my heart is broken Tonight while you're out with your friends I will silently be packing my things Living before the morning comes - Because, I refuse to be one of your regrets
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
The Truth in a Silverback Book
I was half boring, and never so innocent. Never before, and never since the day I felt you growing. But with each moment of gnawing pressure my ribs will quiver and ache. My skin feels ripped and with every kick I realize. I let you stay in here too long. The silverback beast can never be tamed in some tangled pink web of nerves and veins. The difference between a nest and a cage is Time. And thats why you will always prefer your father. Protect my spine and respect my pride, when you rattle my ribs, when you hear me cry. I know it will be different, if I only try. Another punishment unique to women.
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
Ribs
Mad archangel 2020 scam, dead weatherman noos report blam                                                be live-r to the umbrella storms; “Stiffen up, you needa chief more                                                                   kid, you’re riffin’ with a legend— as it is,          it’s a sewage drain,a bed                                                              Pan the pipes of dawn’s crack;at end of the tusk,                                      the silverback-gorilla camo on the lawn           kept the rusted metal on a locket-chain                                                          hanging off his pocket;pocket-watch                 hang from his eye-socket; .seed sewn, from the cornrows in his carriage-patch,      3-wheeled rig and [a battery-pack                                       lithium frame,        told him, ‘slow down black’          —ain’t no money in that”                                      magazine gass’ed up -let me hand em the curls; code to the Source,name the names, bigstick for walking a sideways polemic                                                                             fortyoz forecast for                   hisshadow stringed-up a harpwing tune                                                the maddog politick; Show ‘em on the map                                                                            -where it rain tonight?-                    (not that alley X the liquor store—sea the eagle          swim gelatinmass of marvelous cherrylime-green sky; posse told him to pass                                                his flying colors, vomitspittle—                                                Magnesium flare—was all his                                                                   day in the dunya,(we all got’em)                                                                   bent youngblood ear like a                                                                                                      bloodhound:                                                                   What’s the static charge? Smash!pumpkin brain s-p-l-a-t,  rush to eat the seeds?    all the sparrows scatter cuz the lights is red,white&Bluuuue on L juice           —Ah! Hell’s loose, call me a river and                                                                                                        press                                                                                               snooze.
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Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
Deadweather Report:
Mad archangel 2020 scam, dead weatherman noos report blam                                                be live-r to the umbrella storms; “Stiffen up, you needa chief more                                                                   kid, you’re riffin’ with a legend— as it is,          it’s a sewage drain,a bed                                                              Pan the pipes of dawn’s crack;at end of the tusk,                                      the silverback-gorilla camo on the lawn           kept the rusted metal on a locket-chain                                                          hanging off his pocket;pocket-watch                 hang from his eye-socket; .seed sewn, from the cornrows in his carriage-patch,      3-wheeled rig and [a battery-pack                                       lithium frame,        told him, ‘slow down black’          —ain’t no money in that”                                      magazine gass’ed up -let me hand em the curls; code to the Source,name the names, bigstick for walking a sideways polemic                                                                             fortyoz forecast for                   hisshadow stringed-up a harpwing tune                                                the maddog politick; Show ‘em on the map                                                                            -where it rain tonight?-                    (not that alley X the liquor store—sea the eagle          swim gelatinmass of marvelous cherrylime-green sky; posse told him to pass                                                his flying colors, vomitspittle—                                                Magnesium flare—was all his                                                                   day in the dunya,(we all got’em)                                                                   bent youngblood ear like a                                                                                                      bloodhound:                                                                   What’s the static charge? Smash!pumpkin brain s-p-l-a-t,  rush to eat the seeds?    all the sparrows scatter cuz the lights is red,white&Bluuuue on L juice           —Ah! Hell’s loose, call me a river and                                                                                                        press                                                                                               snooze.
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39
When you look at me I know all you see is an old man that has escaped from his room and I will hold my hands up to that for I want to be in the sun like you, feel those rase hit me and bring love, to my old heart and feel freedom. LOve from an old silverback, almost in his tomb.
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Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
Remember us, your old folk.