"sovereigns" poems
there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
& ready.
there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
seedling.
sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
yolk.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is ours.
is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
good dreams.
meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we begin.
we end.
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.
thus
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
we daydream.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
To write of Love, of Heaven, and of God,
Hills of joy, o'er which Angel pursued
Of that Boy, a sublime hippie shepherd,
Who in Heart the wisdom of Heaven had,
My pen, it labours, I give sweat and blood,
To paint world in cerise, a sweet red flood:
Or Prussian blue, depending on the scene,
Let Poets tell true folk from chess piece Kings,
Feign benevolence, when they are mean,
Who strut and rule above, superior things,
Who on the carcass of the suffering wean,
Drunk on power, Almighty sovereigns.
To write of Love, Heaven, apart from days,
Spent in drudgery at whim of Lords,
Who sit engorged by gold, wealth as they graze,
Upon the fruits yield by the mass, that horde,
As mass toil deep 'neath sun's sweltering rays,
To give and barter time they can't afford.
But they will be the ones in Heaven crowned,
As all time vindicates the plight of souls,
Who in port, or wine, have never drowned,
Rich gluttony the faithful mind abhors,
Upon which Saints and angels incensed frown,
So to tyrant's whims take pious war.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun
On moustached archaic faces
Grinning as if it were all
An August Bank Holiday lark;
And the shut shops, the bleached
Established names on the sunblinds,
The farthings and sovereigns,
And dark-clothed children at play
Called after kings and queens,
The tin advertisements
For cocoa and twist, and the pubs
Wide open all day--
And the countryside not caring:
The place names all hazed over
With flowering grasses, and fields
Shadowing Domesday lines
Under wheat's restless silence;
The differently-dressed servants
With tiny rooms in huge houses,
The dust behind limousines;
Never such innocence,
Never before or since,
As changed itself to past
Without a word--the men
Leaving the gardens tidy,
The thousands of marriages,
Lasting a little while longer:
Never such innocence again.
3k
*As the surface clouds cleared
and the sovereign sun arose
My perspective was no longer fixed
on what lay below
Yet on what awaits before me…..the unknown.
I fly, with the rocky shoreline behind me.*
Maria
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the emperor of the solar system
demands obeisance
but for half of our life
ceding us to the
super moon's sequestration,
a velvet coated, cosseted,
the other-half-of-a-lifetime
remainder reminder
of the divide no poet
can supersede
yet, even these planet pulling,
tide churning bodies
are eclipsed,
their torrented powers
have human
shortcomings
orbits prescribed, predictable,
they too can only look down
upon us and wonder
what if and what lays beyond
their lawful curves
but I can look up to you
watch you, human,
so powerful are you!
you, you, you
can reset your course,
irrespective of tides, gravity
I can watch you
rephrase your life,
knowing that my eyes
cherish what ere,
before in time,
what will be your
course selection
as I write,
I wonder if
my thoughts sufficiently
clarified,
do they require editing?
no matter,
the way they fall is
how they'll be served
I live with the same orbs,
and the winds that lifted your wings,
changelings of perspective,
now but the breeze that coats me,
were the hot air currents that lifted you,
now here, days later,
my genlest cloak,
as I inscribe to you
and the waters that I see,
not lapping today,
but modestly erupting,
the same Atlantic green
you have seen days pre-me,
but my shoreline sandy,
rocks removed,
for your comfort,
awaiting your arrival
the woman sends the seagull,
French Toast is ready,
(one piece, that talkative white bird's commission)
coffee hot n' salted
all ready, prepped to your taste
and for some reason random,
clueless why on, in my Long island offshoot sheltered isle
tears wave over my cheeks,
which I must erase/disguise,
before the repast begins
Surprise!
How came thee to be at our table?
How good the meal will taste,
now that you chosen to fly/stop by!
and this gibberish nonsensical
cup of words
is your welcoming present,
for here,
humans are the sovereigns,
and the celesetes bow to our wishes,
we select our own direction,
regardless of how the orbs try our souls,
we are most powerful human,
sovereigns of our selves
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
166
I met a King this afternoon!
He had not on a Crown indeed,
A little Palmleaf Hat was all,
And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!
But sure I am he Ermine wore
Beneath his faded Jacket’s blue—
And sure I am, the crest he bore
Within that Jacket’s pocket too!
For ’twas too stately for an Earl—
A Marquis would not go so grand!
’Twas possibly a Czar petite—
A Pope, or something of that kind!
If I must tell you, of a Horse
My freckled Monarch held the rein—
Doubtless an estimable Beast,
But not at all disposed to run!
And such a wagon! While I live
Dare I presume to see
Another such a vehicle
As then transported me!
Two other ragged Princes
His royal state partook!
Doubtless the first excursion
These sovereigns ever took!
I question if the Royal Coach
Round which the Footmen wait
Has the significance, on high,
Of this Barefoot Estate!
1.3k
The days remember and the nights remember
The kingly hours that once you made so great,
Deep in my heart they lie, hidden in their splendor,
Buried like sovereigns in their robes of state.
Let them not wake again, better to lie there,
Wrapped in memories, jewelled and arrayed —
Many a ghostly king has waked from death-sleep
And found his crown stolen and his throne decayed.
1.1k
We are all talking much louder
Than your shoulders can translate
There are escaped sovereigns hiding from
Modern anthems of star spangled spasms
Underneath our hearts there are cars and cartridges
Condoms and consoles coiled around our flagpoles
We are through being told what not to do
So whenever we fool around with tiny tyrants
Please know that we are talking about you
And I am supplying your mind with ecstatic silence
In order to finance these fading fitness regimes
And measure your symbols in systematic struggles
We are all insignificant bundles of nerve fibers
Hoping to one day be born again
As an alchemical magus fluent in many languages
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 2:29 PM UTC
For country and brother, child and mother
Towards a land of turmoil, your soldier does go
To watch and protect, to allow our homes to grow
Boots with steps like thunder, over and under
In their eyes there is wonder, the world blown asunder
A canvas of time spread out upon the years
Helmets all tied neatly in a row
God is with them calming their fears
The wonder becomes a light towards the end of the tunnel
Until back home they go
Quell your sovereigns with happy tears
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
My feet steadfast upon the soil,
The ground stirs beneath me.
The translucent smoke levitates about,
Seclusion claiming the sublime mountains.
The wooden sovereigns retain indefinite poise,
Exuberant with gleaming white flowers.
Ants traverse the green bridge,
Their mouths opening a seal to new life.
Elegant leaves flutter in the wind,
Their entities obscuring the radiant sun.
An infinite stream flows;
A waterfall is calling to me.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 10:01 PM UTC
varsity jackets,
badges of glory,
guarantees
left by old, old money.
state champions'
tendency
to wander
pass female dorms,
late at night,
reasons of, not far
beyond her.
homecoming queens,
smiles permanent,
eyes glassed,
twisted sovereigns.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 4:19 AM UTC
I make no promise and expect no change
Yet find the need to arrange
My words upon this page with angst
Of what has become, or what has came
Upon majority of human brain
That love should leave and hate should stay
Hardened minds of mental clay
Crack and erode but never stray
From cheap beliefs that bumper stickers say
Exactly why we're failing
From the school house frequent sigher
From the ever-flattened rubber tire
From the foot penetrated by the briar
From the sweat workers perspire
From the president that you loved prior
From the elderly man that won't retire
From a name in lights to a world on fire
Are cultivated by desire
And cradled tightly in other's pliers
But no restraint is needed
Those who believe you can be taught
By a distant rifle shot
Stain your clothes in ****** polka dots
And leave you lying there to rot
The media lay still distraught
They knew your name but they forgot
And all the people pleaded
But those who **** for peace will see
It's like ******* for virginity
And everyone who sees agrees
That every person should live free
Not they not them nor he nor she
Should ever be threatened and forced to leave
And no mans authority
Should enforce anyway but peacefully
And as far fetched as it may seem
It will happen naturally
And is exactly what I foresee
And that is why I'm trying
Our speaker speaks of bombs in June
Sure to shake both sun and moon
While gentle flowers lay in bloom
From ashes cast they wilt to soon
The dull boys wages melt in a spoon
By danger out young ladies swoon
Sovereigns sit face down in saloon
Awoken by mighty trumpets ploom
While scholars flee with impending doom
To them he says "I want you"
But change is not commanding
You gaze upon a world galore
Both ripe and rotten to its core
You gnaw through holes that worms bore
To find it sweeter and more bitter than before
The rainy day the drafty door
Are not your problems anymore
But blood and gore and golden shores
Homemade cake and civil wars
Both exist in a world that's yours
You will find things you adore
And that is understanding
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Thy breeze,
It's beautiful beyond all lies.
Its honest and holy.
It's creative,
It's the truth.
You hear its beautiful words.
Becoming a sovereigns child.
This Breeze is holy.
It's of Holiness.
It's of love.
Thy Breeze of Holiness,
Reigns down on the kingdom..
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
Here I stumble
Atop this tower,
Abyssal ground below.
The infinity of sovereigns
Slowly crumbling about me,
Victims plunging towards eternity.
My eyes lay gaze upon my earth,
Its certainty clouded.
Will I descend?
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 11:35 PM UTC
that day
the policeman was in a jolly mood
he sang on the job as he gunned people down
listen to his out of tune song while
cocking aiming firing his machine pistol
emptying the clip into running screaming people
reloading doing it again for he had ten clips
each of thirty two nine millimetre slugs
zipping zapping into people thud thud
the roar of his sub gun echoing about
quick call the cops there’s a mad man here!
oh **** he is a cop who’s just robbed a bank
plugged the teller thru the heart stone cold dead
studded the manager across the chest
all for a bag of gold sovereigns in his shirt
look how he stops to light a joint
deeply inhaling the **** with a smile
then opening fire into store windows
at terrified people hiding inside
who if they live will never forget
the mad singing shooting cop
who broke a dozen laws that day
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:35 PM UTC
Among our bouts of adolescence
Lies a fire deep, its kindled presence
Enough to start a war on naught
For war was all we ever wrought
Upon this Earth. We yearned to change
Their rules that lie, that rearrange.
We rose to see our efforts fail
And mightiest supporters fell.
So now we lie in iron chains
To rot away whilst our foe gains.
Both pedigree we put to shame
And allies free, who saw us lame.
In years of darkness, brooding thought
Had tortured us. We sorely bought
Our lives away through sundry act
Instead of holding nation’s back:
Oblivious to horizon’s edge,
Unable to see beyond law’s pledge.
Complete with shame, at prison’s leave
We traveled home to sadly grieve
On unjust scars our souls have made.
We left our past to slowly fade…
But still, we lack our rightful place
While sovereigns rule our lives to waste.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 10:49 AM UTC
I have garnered such wealth as I have
Through, if I may be so bold as to say so,
A preternatural ability to observe and catalogue
The foibles and follies of my fellow man
(This hard-won sagacity not the product
Of what I have learned as much as
The sum of what others do not know of themselves)
Yet, even though I believed
I had plumbed the very depths of absurd behaviors,
The prospect of kings--no, more than that,
Kings among kings-- bearing gifts
And complete fealty to some rank infant
Rudely swaddled and propped upon damp straw
Has brought even myself to bafflement.
Understand, the charms of children
(And the commensurate commercial usefulness)
Are not unknown to me,
But they are mercurial, undependable beings,
As ephemeral as the light of stars
Which allegedly acted as a guide to that trio of sovereigns
As their retinues crossed sand and savanna
(I sometimes chuckle to myself at the notion
That perhaps unwarranted clouds
Could have obscured the object in question,
And that the triumvirate could yet be
Wandering, searching, ruminating in vain)
Such intangibles are nonsense, of course;
Mere fol-de-rol entertained by those
Who would disdain the heft of solid coin,
The grit of good sand and dirt
Providing the assurance of good footing
As one saunters across the landscape
Upon such a night as this,black and unilluminated
As the aftermath of death itself.
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 1:56 PM UTC