"somewheres" poems
Joe without his legs
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint
Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps
Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly
Joe worries
Like long time buds
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries
Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Normally
Accepted
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one seems or cares to
Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
i wish i knew how to put some pretty words together;
in a way that you could read me and cry without realizing it,
in a way that you don't know how it all suddenly made sense
but it all fell together - so right - till the end.
with the steady hand of a seamstress and the persistence of a theorist,
i would string together wispy letters, carefully taking away
and holding all the guilty, lukewarm feelings of self-romanticized nostalgia,
with those hollow, deep pangs of shamelessly missing you
from the somewheres and over theres beneath my ribs.
sometimes, i really miss you - and all of those times, i hate it.
sometimes i stare back at you longer than i should,
but i'm beginning to think that even looking your way
is much worse than a waste of sweet time at this point.
i don't want you inside of my mind anymore.
my wants and needs and maybes of tomorrow are foggy and furiously blinded with
what you used to make me feel. will i ever want anything that much again?
i see you a lot in my mind, smiling handsomely in a way that kind of ****** me off.
in some way, i am overwhelmingly upset in a way i can't describe, in such a strange dialect that
i've maybe only begun to understand when you spoke it to me with watery eyes and an offkey tone:
"i can't do it." i think i know what you mean now.
you were trying to say something deep, i had thought all along,
but i think you were just trying, just simply trying to go along
with something that was safe; you know, i forgive you for playing it safe.
we're just trying to protect what little good we think is left.
i wish i could have tried just as hard; tried harder/ to be with you
because i'm just so tired
(i need to rub my eyes clear)
that i will exasperatingly admit that i am lost after you.
i'm so ruthlessly childish, in a curious way that i refuse to let these warm,
painful feelings for you go.
ruthlessly, still into you, i'm so hardheaded that i will even ignore myself
to forget you
over
(this is the last time i'll look back on you)
and over
(i swear his name won't come to me tomorrow)
again.
you replay in my mind;
maybe one day i will
forget that you ever really meant everything to me once
anyways.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
My Radius
Mine distance
'tween the center of mine
and my edges
('cause I am not exactly
spherical, Varies, I guess)
The differences divided
by a varying circumference
diameters changing
makes it SO hard to divide the pi
squaring it
(or trying to multiply by zero)
Makes absolutely
zero sense
poses more questions than geometry
or algebra,
(far as I know, might be a constant, somewheres)
the I = me?
trigonometrical nonsense?
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
Words:
whispering sybils
of concealed worlds.
In betweens and beyonds,
somewheres and nowheres,
truths for making believe.
Words.
Carmine nostalgia of the unexperienced.
Utopia upon a time.
Windmill wings to grow a heart,
flavours and scents of new seen worlds,
tangible places pulsating in snow globes,
cosmogony of what is not.
Words:
scribbling, engraving a forever world.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
I just want to ride,
Far or near,
By your side,
And away from here.
Driving to nowhere,
In our own sweet time;
Arriving to unknown somewheres,
With your hand in mine.
We'll forget the rest of our town,
While we go into the stars.
After we watch the sun go down,
From the hood of your car.
With that crisp summer air,
And your face shining in the light,
Not a worry or care,
Our old lives out of sight.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Put a few quarters
in me,
and look at the island
with the woman on it
swaying loosely beside me.
I don't know if I'll be able to make it
where we're going.
"Let's go!"
you shake me.
You go hard.
There appears in front of me
a lake of black coffee.
A caramel hand and its tiny bones
peopled by sweeter fingers
with fingernails as white as gondolas
stirs in a hurricane
of cream and sugar.
"Drink this,"
I sway to your voice,
but your body is as indistinct
as the sun split open
like an egg on the ocean.
Am I going to make it
through this night?
Stumbling out of somewheres
into the salt of Brooklyn.
You
hold me
up
because it's high-tide
in Venice.
And I might've drowned
in the subways
without you
telling me,
"This is our train,
Get up babe."
And that's how we made it back
to my uncle's spot off of FDR,
you fording the waters
as I waded back
on broken oars.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 1:14 PM UTC
We don't always have to know whether we are coming or going.
We end up where we are regardless. There's no such thing as nowhere.
Everywhere is somewhere,
and we are always there.
"Nowhere" doesn't exist.
The universe is full of "Somewheres"
-- Even amongst the spaces between the stars is a somewhere!
Lady R.F. (C2018)
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 4:54 AM UTC
all my life, i have waited for promises.
she left, he left,
they dissipated with ease,
smoke fading into the morning air
i have learned to stand
on my own two feet,
a little unsteady &
a little unsure, but
i’m still here after
trying not to be.
swallowed poison, spit food
from my stomach, sharpened
blades against my skin.
& here i am.
isn’t it beautiful?
isn’t the world worth
staying a little longer for?
now, i know enough not
to threaten myself with
certain oblivion. that i will not
be another sad story. that
there are somewheres i have
never travelled, *** that must
be had, faces i have not yet
split into smiles with my own.
& i don’t quite know who i am,
no certainty nor sureness, but
i’m ready for the good to come.
& now there’s you & i don’t think
i’ve wanted this badly. me, i’m on the verge
of becoming the best of myself &
then there’s you. give me your forever &
i’ll kiss you every morning. give me your forever
& i’ll never regret a thing. give me your
forever & i will go until no end
to love you for the rest
of your days.
i’m sorry to sound so confessional but
after trying to sink these feelings to
the bottom of the seabed, i learned
that words float. you are not a shipwreck
waiting to happen. you are mine
& i am yours &
let’s just see
what sort
of world
we are
as one.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
The days are long and hard to go,
Walkin' down my side of the road.
Up ahead I see Emmylou comin' ,
known her since we was 2 or 3.
Yet, she crosses over from,
My side of the road,
Making like she don’t see me.
Up ahead comes old Nat Black,
Shuffling along and limping some,
He marched with Mister King,
Over in Selma in ‘63,
That’s how he got that limp you see.
But still he keeps to his side of the road,
On the opposite side from me.
Further ahead comes Jake Sutton’s kid,
Strutting along at a pretty brisk clip,
A stout club in one hand,
and a white sheet tucked under his arm.
Off I bet, to burn a cross somewheres.
Him and his rowdy friends cluttering up,
both sides of this road I tread.
Sleepy little ‘Bama town,
With so much trouble all around,
I just keep on trudging down,
My side of the road.
Hoping someday, it will lead us all,
Someplace better and fair,
Then this divided road we all share.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
Its teeth are longer and sharper
than any other unforgiving beast on this planet.
The hairs that ***** on the back of its neck
are charged solely by curiosity,
and its eyes burn electric yellow—
never breaking gaze with so much as a blink.
Indigenous to every silent crack of this earth,
it requires no sleep or acclimation.
No living thing can out run it,
and if it sets its sight in your direction,
do not try to argue your fate.
Its presence alone will bring you to your knees,
and wherever it chooses to sink its fangs
will ensure immediate affliction.
This—a sickness of insatiable wonder.
To sit still now will surely be the death of you,
because, darling, you’ve been bitten—
plagued forever with knowing that
millions of somewheres have suns
that are rising, and you cannot rest
until you’ve had a chance to paint them all.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
IN THE AFTER-TIME
" Alice thought she
had never seen such
a curious croquet
ground in all her life; "
It was somewheres near
Roswell
18 something and something
there or there...abouts
& Billy the Kid &
the boys have just
...paused:
in their croquet
for a tintype photo.
Billy's the guy
in the cardigan sweater.
Him & his gang
( the Regulators )
are posing like
they were a prototype
for
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
or the band
THE BAND.
Pure Americana.
Billy the cardi-cowboy and
his gang of croquet playing outlaws...
Not exactly how
one would have somehow
imagined them
. . .passing the time.
One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen
points out that
Billy
" . . .the Kid has spooned
his shot!"
A ricochet of tobacco coloured
spittle hits a spittoon.
Silence congeals
about the accusation.
Now, whether Billy has
merely pushed the ball
silently through rather than
soundly hit it
is:
neither here nor there.
A cold revolver
clicks &
"I says I hit it...I hit it
get it?"
The other gentleman outlaw
begs to agree.
"Ok, Billy boy...keep yer
cardi on!"
And so, we leave them
there
in the croquet craze of
1878.
Time like a yellow ball
hit through hoop after
hoop until: it arrives
at this
present...NOW!
And a photo found in a store
for a dollar or a few dollars more
repays the expense
by morphing into
the 5 million dollar
photo.
But I hit the ball
back through hoop after
hoop after hoop
until it arrives back
at Billy's boot.
And a voice cries:
"Ok, kid...play!"
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
One more dusty rotation
around this earth,
following deep grooves with stories
that suggest
this ain’t my first rodeo.
I can’t manage to keep hold of
a single thing they boast of worth,
but I have a finger on my awareness,
and that’s a start.
Meanwhile, the universe simmers
and bubbles, unsteady—
her shaky fuse lit and ready to go.
Restlessness and an urgency
felt with every passing second,
but she hasn't told me why.
And when I squint for a solution,
all I make out are
muted colors and shapes with no edges.
Abstract suggestion of a journey I know
I was born to grab by the lapels—
to collect lessons from grooves
and their dust
and gut feelings—
to allow them to transform
my armfuls of nowheres
to somewheres.
So, I tighten the grip of my thighs
on this carousel horse of mine,
careful not to let the circles
ride me.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
walkin down the street
an ole wino hangin on
to the bus stop sign
to keep from fallin down
"what a sight!"
i mutter to myself
then
"judge not that ye be not judged"
comes from somewheres else
so i ...up to him
"you o.k. .........bro?"
"no!...no...!!
i left my heart pills at home!
i got to get home!
just got out from surgery
only yesterday!"
"well now" says i to myself
i am a fool, such a fool"
but.......no cab in sight
and i in such paniced fear
we sit down on a bench
i take hold of his hand
like GROSS ELECTRICITY
his death comes shooting
right thru me
he and i are one
only one fate
i try to meditate
can hardly even breath
he and i are one
dying body complete
but then the feelings calm
the breathing starts to ease
i look into his eyes
he smiles back at me
"i.m ok now " he says
"a cab'll take me home"
"maybe" says i
"you shouldnt go alone"
he says
"i'm fine.....and by the by
thank you for my life"
finally.........i say
"DID THAT HAPPEN WHAT I THINK HAPPENED?"
"yep," he says
a cab comes....he waves and is gone
i turn and go wandering
down the street
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 5:17 PM UTC
I drank to drunk
And walked over to that girl
I knew her from somewheres
We were acquaintances in the most distant aspect
She was kind of ugly
We talked about the weather,
And how Harper was an idiot.
We talked about how she loved her classes,
But she didn't ask me about mine
Eventually, we descended into silence,
And we turned to our phones.
I started a conversation with someone else,
while we were alone,
And it was silent
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
I am a wanderer,
Searching for the somewheres,
In the middle of nowhere,
Taking in everywhere,
Entranced by anywhere,
Believing in whats never there,
Wishing I was elsewhere.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
Dear friend of mine,
Someone, Somewheres, Suffering, deeply,
open door in-front, closed doors behind,
oh dear oh dear me,
Manhate mankind,
Incomprehensible wretched misery,
Is what you'll find,
In this cooler, Jug, clink,
paints a picture of the soul in purgatory,
And you cannot cross the line,
I was knocked out by the son,
Blackout for the count,
Run out of time,
Confined solitary inhumane amounts of no fun,
Miss my spiritual spouse,
4u2b3,
You Have to March to the sound of your own drum.
I'm gone now it seems,
please Don't tell me...show me,
or treat me mean to keep me keen,
To Whom it must concern,
Even never has beens,
The bully devil burns,
vague misfits off the streets,
asking is family that familiar,
Just keep on keeping on ,
when the path gets steep,
putting one foot in front of the other,
when your dead you can sleep,
WE will have one another,
Like a band of black sheep,
W e are not alone forever.
Must be game over,
From just another hit,
A tortured artist weeps,
Carrying a toxic tonne of bricks,
In this synthetic womb of doom,
why is this world so sick?
A myriad of opportunity's missed,
destined to lose,
scared of god fearing man,
exchanging platitudes of subterfuge,
and namby pamby empty semantics,
Hides the emperor being naked news
I will C U Next Tuesday!
Many are called, but few are chosen,
Hear the please in my prayers,
Is this the only way?
Now the road to your heart has frozen,
Me ,myself and I don't care,
What it takes,
trudging spirit broken,
What you said full of hate,
No matter what you'd do,
A leap of faith in 28 days,
Will never make you great,
In the stench of the belly of the beast,
They Only grow weak,
Everything they say just goes round and round my head,
Every-step is agony with blisters on my feet,
And then Comes an unexpected nightmare,
Breaking stale bread,
Then eventually get some sleep
If only men were angels dare not tread...
Is this really real?
forever waits still,
I'm definitely mad in the head.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
walks on water
(who cares?)
the blue sea trembles
(the sun)
anyone who wants to
can love
(nobody does)
--
in her torn dress
she is
just another
ONE
in her torn dress
she does
what needs be done
--
walks on water
(over there)
we are always
somewheres else
soul torn to pieces
(who cares?)
we are always
somewheres else
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 9:36 AM UTC
it shines like the city
and it breaks like the bridge
and we should be drunk
but this is a school trip
they’d find exhaust in my lungs
if they did my autopsy
i’m soaking up in puddles
wanna breathe gasoline
the heat is too sweaty
and the people don’t smile
and it’s not LA
But let’s stay for a while
and you hate LA
it’s all concrete and palm trees
so let’s go get burgers
let’s go get ice cream
glitter like winners
and it’s sticky out here
and somewhere it’s winter
but somewheres never here
this station’ all yellow
am i in a movie?
this is living, worth filming
i’m finally breathing
scream off the balcony
up 46 floors
suburbs in the sky
wanna break down the door
live like real people
leave our shoes on the floor
watching the sunrise
and still wanting more
Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 6:53 AM UTC
A moment taken to ponder
That the person walking by has a past
And a future
A birthday
A best friend (or not)
A strife (or not)
A first love (or not)
Right here was en route to his somewhere
She was heading to a different somewhere
How many somewheres are there - a million and thirteen?
The universe destined their crossing on their way to each somewhere
Star-crossed...bullshit
What does why or how matter anyways...who might, though
Arrival at her somewhere
She didn't embrace the end of the moment
As she remembered to forget the world
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 1:52 AM UTC
Joe without his legs
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint
Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps
Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly
Joe worries
Like long time friends
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries
Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Living
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one cares to
Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
Hey hey hey
Death rainin down
//// ////
Another crazy kid !
Amongst crazy kids ?
//:: //
Hey hey hey
• •
It don't really mean nothin
( does it ? )
Crazy kid !
What's THAT gotta do with you or me ?
//
It's just death
And death is rainin down
••
••
Little Mary cuts her wrists
And makes Poetry !
Hey hey hey
It's just something we brag about
// //
Hey hey hey
Death rainin down
Upon the crazy kids
Somewheres else
••
Yeah it's always Somewheres else
Hey hey hey
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
joe —without his legs,
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint
Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps
Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly
Joe worries
Like long time buds
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries
Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Normally
Accepted
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one seems or cares to
Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 2:49 PM UTC
.
( I think )
||
they don't talk much about it on Fox News
But ...
Hey !
We sorta talk about it here ya know
::
Yeah !
Ya know
Love !
I read some sorta poem about it Somewheres
Ya know
Someone wanted ta **** someone
Love !
Yeah
That's what they called it
)(
Love
)(
I
Personally called it horseshit
But ..... (?)
::::
We know
We're all gonna keep dying till we're dead
::
Cause it ain't really love at all
Is it ?
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
.
redeem the honor of creation
::
The empty train
So past midnight
Into
The blackness of dying soul
Into the ways of madness
The ****** memories
The visions of slain children
Thru the mountains
Somewheres else (?)
Up
Ahead
Or so we hope and even
Somehow believe
::
The mystic hotel in the deserted town
Town of the howling wolf wind
The fear that there might be a face
Like her own
•
The young lover !
The mother searching for her son
In the graveyard of
The moving centuries
Moving without love
••
Weep ! Oh weep !
She hasn't slept in 1000 years
////:
Oh little one !
Do not turn away
It is she who is afraid
Of whatever light is known
//
The little kid over there
Trying to write a poem
Doesn't know just what he sees
)(
Years revolve in solemn grace
She returns
Her barb wire eyes are still in place
But her heart is softness and compassion
And there is a sense
Of peace
And she knows
She's been released
And might learn to be alive again
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC