"sledgehammers" poems
If I had last words they would be…
Well… I mean… I see in those streams of invectives
I see especially people who drink, eat, sleep,
who make all human functions
Which are quite rather ******
And I shall say that they’re heavy
It never stopped being heavy
I noticed
I’ve read so many verses and particularly
verses from the 17th century
Verses, so-called courteous verses
I found 3 or 4 good ones in thousands of them
There’s little lightness in man
He’s heavy... isn’t he
And nowadays he’s extraordinary in heaviness
Since automobiles, alcohol, ambition, politics make him heavy
Even heavier
It’s mostly like that, he’s extremely heavy
Maybe one day shall we see a mind rebellion against the weight
But it isn’t for tomorrow
For now... we’re heavy
So I’d say indeed
If I had to die
I’d say
Man is heavy
That’s all
Oh! They were mean but...
Because they were heavy
They were heavy
They were heavy… jealous of a certain lightness
Jealous... jealous like a woman who wears a clothing burlap
instead of another who wears lace
Like someone who owns a workhorse
instead of a thoroughbred
Jealous...
Jealous of being heavy... that’s all
Crippled...
They weigh... they're crippled
Heaviness makes them *******
Therefore we can beware of them
They’re ready to do anything
Oh sure
They’re ready to do anything
And to activate heaviness
They drink, aren’t they
So when they drink, they turn into sledgehammers
It’s frightening, isn’t it
Sledgehammers without control
Yes, they’re especially like this
They activate... increase their weight
Instead of making themselves lighter
Oh! They’re not in Ariel’s side
They’re more like Caliban
More and more
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
sledgehammers finish off the drudgery
some moments are pounding
others are cool like the crystal ocean
a depth of vision is necessary
if you wish to transcend
the edges of your inevitable vulnerability
i am in need of shelter from her fire
a muse that burns all that she inspires
a silent lover of beauty
furthering her art
between the spaces of dreams
our fingers slip into everything
and become entangled like twine
rest here and unwind your heart strings
the scintillating heat is blinding yet rejuvenating
if you are my love then uncover your soul
give naked silence a chance to grow
surround my faithless jungle
with your vines of hope
i am conscious of the lack of rope
this happiness is binding
like kindness climbing invisible ladders
you shatter the silhouette of my perfect idol
i sneak a peak at a photograph
that you have kept hidden
silver visions destined to uncover
the lust of beauty
smiled in my direction
if we wish to dance then circle around the fire
aspire for magic to abolish your name
switch places with your shadow
and feel the earth within your skin
give god a better reason than your sadness
and she may even begin to sing again
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
wreckers arrive, trucks & sledgehammers & ball
on chain, tumbling brick walls
glass cacophony
crystals of sand.
demolition early, everyday ruins, debris
piles hills, constant removal.
wheels shifting loads
burial journey.
gulls fossick mountains discarded, peck at
rocks & remnants. banister
shattered, chunks of steps, rungless ladder.
a park ascends
sarcophagus past. developer opportunity
real estate soars, minion mcmansions.
corner view of water & trees, haven of
light & ore
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
A little nonsense is good for the soul
But human emotions are hard to control
It's too easy to take a twisted thought and make a twisted mind
You ignore all the damaged spots
To convince yourself that you're fine
It seems like a lifetime of mental disease
You see yourself as helpless
Sledgehammers straight to the knees but
I guess theres always a rocky start
on the path to greatness
They say keep courage in your heart
And you will be most famous
To live a life devoid of love and passion is not to live at all
There are too many who stand so strong but still continue to fall
Pick yourself up off the ground
An earthly experience can be truly profound
Just be sure to take time to come to terms
with the darkness within us and the life beyond "our world"
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
These words break backs
(I love you no more)
Make bones shudder.
Marrow leaks from vertebrae to hearts
-bleeds-
Life leaves, fire-water draining,
Drains lava flows from mouths opened.
Whispers can sound off like shotgun blasts
(This is over, I’m leaving)
Splits ribs, peppers tendered tendons,
Rips muscle, tears tears
From sockets agape.
Wide eyes speak
Volumes of saline solution-
Downed flushed flesh cheeks.
Teeth grind dull chainsaw
Blades chew emotion to dust.
These words that hurt
(I’m seeing someone else)
Cut deeper than sticks or stones;
Some syllables cleave like sledgehammers
To kneecaps and elbows-
Usually land: right on the button.
When the smelling salt revives us
We lie,
We are still;
Never quite the same.
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
I never paid much attention to abandon buildings until I became one.
It was after I heard the words,
I heard you say the words,
"She's gone."
Two words that can make a fifty year old veteran feel empty inside the pit of his stomach that was just fed.
After all, no matter how many meals,
no matter how much liquor he drank,
It was never enough to make him feel full.
And no one ever tells you being so empty can be so ******* heavy.
And no one ever tells you a stranger's soft hands cannot hold you back together.
Because the truth is you can't always turn your sadness into a poem and sometimes it just sits in your chest and drains the life from you.
And you can run away,
as you will try,
but you can only go so far until noticing the sidewalks are only cracked to commiserate the broken hearts that have stood on them.
This is not about me.
This is about the human spirit.
The resilience we have installed within us to feel
Everything.
And when my best friend broke up with her boyfriend,
she told me he was OCD,
always doing everything in threes.
But he only said goodbye once,
And I don't think she realizes that it is killing him,
as much as it's killing her.
As humans,
we have the ability to create,
and destroy.
Love letters and suicide notes are just different combinations of the same 26 letters
remember that.
But love is a beautiful thing,
Our love was a beautiful thing,
A fragile thing,
A glass castle,
And we were both sledgehammers.
We created and destroyed and we did it beautifully.
Mr. Lunn said some people are already dead.
Walking around the halls in their own high school,
Waking up for work every single day at nine o clock only to start driving back home at five,
these people are already dead.
And it didn't hit me that he was right until I was lying with a friend,
his head on my chest,
admiring my heart beat in a way confirming he did not have his own to admire.
I asked him if he believed in God, if he believed in the universe, if he believed in the stars staring back at us, if he believed in the connection when you can look at another human being and feel
Thankful to all of those things,
thankful to every god in the world,
for the mere pleasure of knowing them.
And he said he just didn't know and I still don't know what moment was more alarming.
I wondered if he payed attention to abandoned buildings.
I didn't either,
Until I became one.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
Failure
Illuminates
And plagues
Our accomplishments
"The first bullet
To **** by your head
Is the scariest,"
The general said.
"All the rest
Are just like
Old girlfriends
You might catch sight of
At the bar."
When we take our own life
Into our own hands and
Rely on the sincerity of others,
We are playing a game
More dangerous
Than Russian Roulette.
I take for granted
What I have
I dare not to see my
Many blessings
For fear of feeling
Unworthy
The walls here
Do not leak and
There are no cockroaches
Scurrying underneath
My one sheeted bed
The air I breath
Is not nuclear and
There is no
Secret Police
Pounding on my door
I am alone
To do
What I please
When I please
The only rapping
That echoes around me
Are from the hand's of
An unknown creativity
Who put
This desire
In me?
Who cursed me
To never be
Satisfied or
Free?
How long have the shackles -
Rusted and red orange in the sun -
Been strapped to my wrists and
Gripped around the bases of my ankles?
But
To abandon my irons
Would be to abandon
Myself
Leave myself
In the desert sun -
The soul begging for
Water, for food, for
Shelter from the beating flares of sunlight
Where there are questions
There are answers
Where there are answers
There is rest for some
For others
They dutifully
Choose not
To recognize
Outside my windows the
Street workers with their hammers
And their sledgehammers pound away
To the mad rhythm of this hustling city.
History has not forgotten them,
But it wants to.
History wants to forget us all.
History wants to re-write itself.
We want to write ourself to be
The divinely chosen Men of the World.
We will never be,
We will forever be human.
To reach the heavens
Would mean death.
And death
Lasts longer
Than a lifetime
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 2:35 AM UTC
Everywhere we went,
we rode shotgun,
carried one too.
We were home wreckers,
housebreakers,
misfits riding on the edge.
We came with sledgehammers,
battering rams, metal-knuckles,
some disappeared for interrogation.
You should have seen the head splitter,
he went back to the world,
they turned him loose again
into the general population.
Bright-eyed bushy-tailed bucks,
we forged into no man's land,
miles & miles of golden desert sand
was the mainstay of that virtual wasteland.
A traditional-home of the kingdoms,
warlords counting their money,
that **** wasn't funny.
I never laugh at horror stories
or disbelieve fairy tales,
they might be real.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
Does it matter that every time I try to get out of the bed, my head feels like it's being pounded with at least 500 sledgehammers?
Does it matter, that every time I try to breathe, my lungs lock out any air and let me drown in my own dusty and black smoke?
Does it matter that every time I see you it's just like the world has stopped?
Does it matter that every time I cross near you, I can smell the cologne that leaves me breathless?
Does it matter that every time I go to school, you choose to ignore me? Does it matter that when you cross in front of me you don't even glance in my way?
Does it matter that I feel helpless when you play around with her, wishing that it was me you were playing with?
In the end, I believe it doesn't because I know you'll never notice.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
You are never given a warning
Often times, not will try and stop you
Your heart will flutter like hand painted butterfly wings
You will know you are in love when your hand is aching to write poems on their shoulders
Love grows like vines up from your stomach climbing to your heart and mind
Braiding into itself like a strand of DNA
Singing prayers and sacred alphabets of lust
No one is sure how to describe love because we negate definition when we know it is deliberately dangerous
We make it seem like this heartache is so wonderful
Because it is better to feel something for someone that to not feel anything at all
A joyous disaster is still a disaster
We are putting up wallpaper to cover up old memories, love songs, favorite colors going grey
We are never sure of what to do when our pulse turns to choir of sledgehammers when they tell you that they just don’t love you anymore
Something will trigger inside of you and you will feel like a city of stained glass with an approaching terrorist attack
But we continue to fall in love
Wondering how many times we can survive roulette
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
She told me that women like
men with grizzled,
*******
faces, men with scars
men with eyepatches
men with very unkempt beards
Mouths that snarl
when it’s time to smile
Eyes that are like eggs buried in
a nest of wrinkles
Noses that are never straight
And the jaw,
oh the jaw has to be big
square
like a drawer
A man’s face must have a chin
that can take sledgehammers
that’s why the luckiest woman
in the world
was Belle
from The Beauty and The Beast.
That was a real man, The Beast.
although the story is a tragic one
because in the
end he turns
into a charming prince
with smooth face and polished
features.
“What a ******* she said. “If only
he stayed a beast…”
Meanwhile I think about
myself
the most grizzly feature about
my face is the mad
eyestrain I developed
because of my job, after staring
at monitors in a dark room for
all those years and then coming home
to stare at another monitor.
it is now impossible for me to get
outside and keep my eyes
open like a normal person. I die if I
don’t strain them as hard as I
can. Sunglasses don’t even help.
and there’s also the dark
circles below my eyes
they’re not even purple as I’ve seen
in other people
“They have the texture of the
skin around the ******* she said,
laughing.
She was right.
She was also right when she pointed
out that if you can’t grow
a beard by the time you’re
twenty you’ll never grow a proper
beard.
**** I said. “Guess I’ll never
be a beast.”
“It’s never too late to get your
face ****** up
though,” she said. “You
just need
to hang around
the right people.”
“Such as your dad?” I said.
“Oh, **** you,” she said,
dragging the blanket
over her *******
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 10:39 AM UTC
Rebuilding the home
After nearly a year trying, I moved house
The house was tired
It had dated
It had lost the sense of who it was
It had lost all its character
Too much time with someone not attending to its needs
And it, tired and unloved as it was,
Didn't provide much of a home
Frustrated by its loss of self
I started by pulling down the ceiling
Get the structure right first
Dust and debris fell,
I wore a mask to keep from breathing it all in
The dust toxic with a touch of asbestos
I wrapped it up in the carpet that smelled of an old mans dog and threw it out
This weekend I knocked down a wall.
There were sledgehammers, crowbars, chisels, saws, hammers, electricity, falling timber and plaster, screws and nails.
I didn't even get a scratch on me.
Tonight I picked up a cardboard box and got a paper cut and it hurt like hell.
Sod's law!
Breaking down all the bad parts of the house nearly broke me
Pulling out the guts of it
Taking away all the unloved furnishings
The trappings that were there to make it a home but actually just held it back
Searching for the hidden character underneath
Everything was ***** - a building site
Looking at the beams
Wondering "would they hold?"
I needed a break
Eventually it changed
It started with the fireplace
I smashed through all the fake brickwork
Stripped the plaster
Needle gunned the paint
And there was the character
Beautiful, strong stone mullions
Aged and flawed but beautiful
I pulled up carpets and sanded floorboards
Changed the bathroom for one more in keeping
Painted, varnished, wallpapered
Added in all the things that I loved
The good memories
The hobbies
My artwork
My children's photos and toys
Filling the house with fun
I took things that were broken and made them new
Changed their form
A garage door to a bed
A smelly sofa to a garden bench
Made the broken new and beautiful
Seeing them in a new light
Making amends with the past
Talked to the kids tonight about me dating. They were really interested and happy about it. Told them I don't want to date at the moment and Tom and Hazel both said "well, when you get your house finished Dad, girls will like that" They're so sweet. I properly love my kids
Just before Christmas, I got the carpet and the laminate down.
When the kids saw the house all done up they said this...
Hazel... I love our new house!
Tom... It's the best house in the world!
Jake... I think the reason it feels like home is because of all the work you've put into it Dad.
We're home now
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
<Act I>
It's probably been far too long
I've been keeping all my doors closed now
It's what you have to do
When you live inside haunted houses
Would it be different if I'd said
I wished I was haunting you
If it's not real
Turn all of my lights on
Just hold my hand
And blow the candlelight out
<Act II>
Sledgehammers can take the walls down
Unlocked doors, unopened windows
Don' erase the pictures - just black the eyes, and hide
Cause once in a while
When I see you smile
Through all the pain
Darlin' you steal the whole frame
If this is real
Why are there no shadows
Turn off the lights
Hold my hand
Don' leave me alone
<Bridge>
Recognize
I'm stuck in my selfish "I"
Reconcile
It's not about me tonight
<Act III>
I resigned
Satisfied
In my closed casket
This bad habit
I've consigned
To leave behind
And let that me go
Plan my escape
Love me back to life
Hold my hands
Darlings don't let go
In the dark
We'll keep each too close
My lifelines,
I'll be your candlelight
Jan 3, 2025
Jan 3, 2025 at 4:51 AM UTC
When I said "I love you"
and you said "I love you too"
our hearts were sledgehammers
swinging at one another
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
sledgehammers aren't so expensive
compared to the cost
of piecing bits back together
i'd never ask you to pay
so much
to undo something
deliberate and cheap
so how about just
don't
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
I think of you
like hands think of folding;
like birds think of singing.
I think of you
without meaning,
in the middle of my sentence;
while I'm standing in line.
I think of you
and my heart sounds off
dangerous rhythms
reminiscent of your words.
I think of you
and I wilt in remembrance
of something like love
that we beat to death
with words like sledgehammers
and glances like knives.
I think of you,
and I try not to miss you
too much.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
I started building my house when I was five
Copying the words some pastor told me to say
I already had the foundation laid for me
But that was when it turned to concrete
Or so I thought
Slowly but surely the walls rose,
But they were built of twisted metal
Firm at first
But slowly it crumbles.
The roof is built, supposed to feel safe
But at this point it smothers me
In a house that is not my own
It is full of lies and deceit
It does not feel safe.
Then somewhere along the time,
The hammers building turn to sledgehammers
Ripping down my walls
Revealing the carnage through the haze
I walk out, and walk away.
The freedom feels strange.
New words on my lips,
Ones I shudder to think of now.
I knew it wouldn’t last
But I wasn’t ready to return
But then music.
A single album, two friends.
Help lead me back down the path to the wreckage of my house
I know it is not all bad.
An intact siding here, a piece of tile there.
I collect the pieces I can still use
And I move to another spot.
I start to rebuild.
I still have questions about my faith, I’ll admit.
Sometimes I forget I’m not the only one I can depend on anymore.
But that’s normal.
I’m learning.
And I have people with me,
Visiting me and helping me rebuild.
I won’t lie and say it wasn’t hard.
But I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
In my journey of faith.
Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 2:02 PM UTC
i have good and bad days. its just that the bad days outnumber the good ones. and sometimes the bad days get really bad and i lose myself in my thoughts. sometimes the bad days get so bad that i can feel my heart aching and trying to burst out of my body. sometimes the bad days get so bad that i forget to treat myself like person and instead, beat myself with sledgehammers and hockey sticks. but sometimes the good days are so good that i skip around dancing and singing all day. i smile and laugh and forget the bad things and become this becon of light. i just shine and shine and infect everyone around me with all the pure happiness i project. sometimes the good days are just the day where i dont break down. sometimes i have good days and sometimes i have bad days. im hopeful that the good days will outnumber the bad ones, eventually.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC