"skiving" poems
H-Helping himself to my pieces of treasure
E-Escaping with them at his very own leisure
P-Proper conduct he didn't see fit to follow
I-Instantly skiving off with my creative property
L-Largesse he stowed in his own log hollow
F-Fruits of my mind purloined with impropriety
E-Effectively his action's I now do swallow
R-Round my territory he has a deal of notoriety
S-Sound the bell his track I'll surely follow
M-Mustn't let the old fellow espy my gold mine
Y-Yonder he'll flee with its bright heaps of shine
I-Ill gotten gains he has in his possession
D-Down with the judge's gavel so says the law
E-End his days of taking any possession
A-Astute laws have sentenced his tut tut paws
S-Shine from my work back in my possession
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
Confusing messages of misadventured youths
"The best mistake ever made" to her
A carefully played plan to another her
Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty.
A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree
And in turn took from that tree its very leaves,
But only through inquistiveness,
No malice, despite the lies.
Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought.
Renegaded, so rebelled,
Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance.
Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes.
Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much.
First love,
LOOK LOVE!
Next love,
**** LOVE!
**** love hard in the *** **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass
**** FOREVER!
Stop.
Breathe.
Explore.
Open your mind and look inside.
Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you,
Be You!
Try to understand you!
Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in.
Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'.
Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families,
Lest we forget the lies,
Ducking,
Diving,
More *******
Skiving,
Writhing,
Without Guilt,
Much to everyone else's dismay!
He loves you, they'll say
But it didn't work out that way.
That one, he wasn't strong
And when things went wrong, he'd hit a ****
And I'd disappear with the smoke
A nice bloke, just not for me.
And so, love number three
A write, a poet,
Inner turmoil, didn't show it.
Left home and ran but this one he took my hand,
And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed.
Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt.
And that inner-turmoil?
I think it came out.
The story doesn't end there,
But right now that's all I'm willing to share!
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:33 AM UTC
Talk to me about flowers and fires.
The orchids
of our collected youths
are bleeding into rose water
and being smashed into books.
For a little look
like a picture stretched under a slide
hiding, elfin to run back away from us.
In the hearth of us we wonder
what the charcoal will draw next.
Sticks on the banks of the styx
In it’s flicking midst
I can almost see
the little beat-less heart
in the center of the cherry.
It’s like it’s still held still in pursed lips.
In a falling little flame
accidently spilling it.
Out in Saturday mornings.
Out of school
so sliding in our nose rings.
Skiving by lying
with fist rubbed eyeballs.
The swell,
Then the classic sweetness
of the re-sleep.
Marker pen graffiti.
Feeling like elitists
because we don’t like elitists.
Defeatist is in right now, love's yet a fable.
(Planets are ***** on physics tables,
and writings on my hands,
but **** it man,
I won’t remember them, anyway.
Blurry nameless kisses
tasting like French lager,
or is that me?
Bellybutton shots.
Love at a coin toss
or against a brick wall was at it's best.
But there’s room for two
in this tent full of burn-holes.
Iron maiden.
never paid but
in microphone coldness
on the lips.
Lifted on the fix.
Giving the week in a night
and taking the night for a week,
with velocity.
Headbanger’s neck on
the pen-bottle **** being used,
being used up.
Swimming against the river.
Golden Virginia,
Sobranies in the bus shelter.
And as the day's screen goes over
we still kept the bonfire
running in the rain.
That's what talks to me.
I'm laying back,
but moving forwards,
involuntarily.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
i govern an idling heart
doomingly glazey
won't lift a care but won't swat no fly either
maintains functional with the safety hitched on
observes the public goings and fro-ings
without discrimination
but offers no service
no aid
and no addition
docile and folded and dormant of view
in a world-scape kniving to be brighter
more memorable and avidly self dominant
i am a skiving witness
the older i get the more this approach
is not an easy one
i observe a neighbour bully about his kids
using jest rewards between shouting them to heel
and cuffing them violent
i observe a lady place her friend
with a simple remark
('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child
it's nice to remember that')
i observe war retread on the screen
i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.
human spoil seen now ;
it draws pity, pain and longing
i am not devoid
despite much practice
some involvement on my part
may be due
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 6:10 PM UTC
most nights
you decant into my head wounds
you suggest my makeup
orchestrate my being
and sometimes
for fun
prank me with ridiculous ideas
that inspire some absurd social pratfall
lure
you make me warm and sure of myself
struck and sense numbed
but
floss in the memory
tide
i am a Diving Suit
but in misuse
i am a suit
the pressure
the deep ocean
filled from the inside
cold
darkness
and nutrients
but
i am filled from the inside
pipette
you tap drops
into special valves
along the sides of the aquarium helmet
you decorate my inner-scape
with harvesting monsters
and phosphorescence
you deteriorate the textile of my sadness
a thorough jettison
lull
via your Vegas
your adolescence
i follow your string of lights
deep sea
skiving mortality
embracing your malady
with no ill effects ?
sink deeper still
i am leadened
to your charge
and plumb to your will
deeper
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
The tenderness of a reddened cheek;
The softness of puffy eyes.
The bitterness of a mind bereft of sleep;
The emptiness of forlorn skies.
A caress, gentle and sweet;
A teardrop, as it slides.
Kneeling at love’s feet,
Even though love lies.
Honest, to the point of self-sabotage.
The protégé of wild predecessors,
Those who see through the mirage.
Emotionally combustible;
Violently vulnerable.
The beautiful, passionate side of humanity -
The irrational point past this side of sanity.
The raw, tearful embrace;
The clenched jaw as voices shake.
Getting kissed all over your face.
Goodbyes, like falls from grace.
Fragile, scared, and susceptible to feelings.
Strike me with arduous candor,
Raise wolfish cries to the ceiling.
Whenever I feel like this,
I feel like I fully understand the idiom:
‘Deer in headlights.’
And yet, paradoxically, the moth flies towards the flame!
Quizzically, we reach into the fire,
And expect the heat to take the blame.
I’ve been taught that emotions are by-products;
Excessive excrement of the soul,
Ill-fitting of those of sober and good conduct.
Sometimes, I feel like I can’t cry anymore.
I feel like looking to the sky for answers means nothing,
Like God’s skiving off his chores,
Like he ran to his room, and just slammed the door.
You reminded me it’s okay to cry;
To run tear ducts dry first,
And then later figure out why.
I will always owe you a debt of gratitude;
I wish I could bestow you with love of a fitting magnitude.
In the mean time,
I’ll relish your inquisitive eyes,
I’ll crave hearing your ‘what’s wrong?’
Like a golden-era relic from better times,
Like one of those eternal songs -
You are divinity,
And you don’t even know it.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
that man is a underhanded thief
a thief he is
nicking off with stuff
that wasn't his
when I catch up with him
he'll get a piece of my mind
which wont be of a nice kind
he thought he'd get away
with touting my stuff as his own
but he must realize
that my stuff is mine and mine alone
he'll get a reprimand from me
for skiving off with stuff that belongs to me
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC