"specs" poems
_...All I remember was
Cancer and my hospital room,
My green gown, my bed,
My white hair and mustache
Until suddenly...
...Reality started to stretch…
…And flatten into a brief euphoric white…
…I felt a cathartic release
As I was encapsulated and bathed
In a glorious sensation…
...I floated for an eternity…
…Until I felt my euphoria lifting…_
…As my eyes reopened
I found myself gazing
Upon a room of tiny lights,
Blue and pink specs
Dotting the inner workings
Of large wall sized machines…
…They lifted me upright
In a gray metal chair
And with sharp robotic groans,
A long arm from the wall
Held up a mirror to my face...
...In the reflection was a young man
I thought I would never see again…
…I had a wife back before,
But now I have a new one
Everybody in my situation,
("Reborns", as they are called)
Has brand new things and people
Filling their lives and concerns
They bring nothing with them
When they make their returns...
…Every morning I wake up
On the west 402nd floor
Of a residential tower
Next to my slim, youthful wife
And the trails of flying cars
That populate our view
From our wall-spanning window
As they soar through the city…
…I was told of technology,
Created and discovered
That could reawaken people
Who, like me, had died
In an earlier era and time…
…It’s strange that my past,
In all its importance and meaning,
Memories, friendships and scenery,
Seems to no longer be of concern,
Now that I have all this…
…I love what was, very dearly,
But the life I live now is for me.
I have new children, knowledge,
Friends and technology…
…I’m quite sure it’s possible
That old family members
That passed before me
Could exist in the same place
That I now live and find myself…
…But I can’t be certain,
Maybe they live further,
Deeper, in an unknown future
That I can’t even comprehend…?
…All I know is that, like me,
They have a new life somewhere
So I’ll do what I tried to do
My first time around…
…I’ll continue to grow and live on
In this new, world-spanning cityscape
Fueled by the love and memory
Of a past life remembered
only by me...
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Hey there sunshine ray,
Time to wake up and come out & play
Break thru the tiny cracks of a shattered old window
& illuminate where all darkness resides
Brush away all the gray, and the pain of yesterday
Warm the rosy cheeks of the cold sleepy faces
Drop like raindrops,
not leaving a single place
untouched.
Hey there sparkle glow
Shine wide and bright & remind those,
eyes filled with tears of loneliness
of hope.
Transform the plain morning into golden kissed flames
Fill the bubblegum blue sky with tiny bended rays of sunlight
Sunshine, sunlight, pierce the veil
&
Drown away the worries of the night
Fill the day with your crystal clear lemonish’cream’vanilla’icing.
Skip thru the puddles and tickle the sides of those who forget they could laugh over the small little things.
Hey there sunshine ray,
let your droplets of orange orange crimson sparks……
Spark and radiate and **** throughout the air of tiny million atoms filling the world with sunkissed stars,
Rain and flood all corners of the earth
Paint the flying dust specs swirling in the wind and grains of sand
Dazzle the view of the silent watching patient ones
Turn the leaves from green to emerald
and flowers to rainbow dancing peakcocks swaying in the breeze
Hush the world under a spell
with your droplets of sunshine.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
Amazing it was what Grandad would do
with a drop of oil or a bit of glue
Stopped watches, sticking locks
Faulty switches, zips on breeches
Kettles that wouldn't sing
Bells that wouldn't ring
He'd say let me have a look my dear
Touch the pencil behind his ear
Adjust his specs, stick out his tongue
And in a jiff it was mended and done
But now he's not here to save us from sin
Anything broken goes straight in the bin
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
I wanted to be better than what
I’ve become. Like maybe a
real individual: An intellectual
in a burgundy bathrobe.
I would have specs
and impressive novels to peer
into the future with.
But I am just the same as
yesterday. They say I’m an
adult, but my robe is still
hot pink. My glasses are still
plastic. My novels are still
popular fiction.
All that I have become is underdeveloped.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 1:08 PM UTC
We find bottomless holes
In our mentalized theories
Local logical postulations
Cause-and-effect sequences
Perceived chain reactions
And medical research findings.
All those are quintessentially
Protein specs floating freely
Our words float like protein
Fondly called lewy bodies
Colorless and unsubstantial
Dreams in shreds floating
As in amniotic fluid like then.
A certain woman of less virtue
Was not fit for our society
She embraced men in dark
In dreams and art and thought.
Fuzzy scenes of yesteryears
Floated into the present
Including ego and power games.
Let me know who is this professor-
The man who brought it all up.
Our language loses meaning.
We do not agree you are you.
Actually you cease to be a son
A brother ,a person ,a human
You are a hand or a stone
Just a broken splinter for a whole .
My part becomes a whole
A thing is a word, an idea,an event
A daughter-in-law is a hand
A son a stone in the wilderness.
There is sorrow swirling in the belly
The anguish of a human existence
The pain in the bloated stomach
These forced feet take you nowhere
Men came with tails in their necks
Forcing down tiny white universes
When they go into the nether world
There is only a swirl in the belly.
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 6:14 PM UTC
This one's for she who wears the glow in the dark specs.
The one nobody disrespects!
The one who always has the biggest smile on her face.
The one who constantly conducts herself with impeccable grace.
The one who isn't a afraid to be different, to stand out and defy the norms.
The one who's light still shines, so bright, even after weathering the harshest of storms.
The one who sees nothing but goodness inside.
The one who makes me feel as if I I am airborne, I can simply spread my wings out and glide.
I have been afforded the greatest honour by her, she considers me her sibling, that alone gives me the biggest sense of pride.
Some say: "Money buys you happiness."
I will not argue, that could be true.
But couldn't the same be said about love too?
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Let me take you out to lunch
Mrs Bryce said
(she was a middle aged dame
old enough to be his aunt)
o.k if you like
he said
but her friend Lilly
didn't like the idea
(some jealousy
of the lesbian kind
maybe he later thought)
and was quite reserved
as they went to
the posh upstairs restaurant
he one side
and they opposite
Lilly giving him
the cool stare
her pinched mouth
wrinkled forehead
Mrs Bryce studied
the menu
her glasses on
her eyes focused
what you having Lilly?
she asked
and Lilly scanned
her menu and picked out
something in French
and then she asked him
and he said
o the stew will do
and the waitress came
and took their orders
and went off
wagging her behind
which he noticed
but they didn't
being that part
sexually blind
and then came
the small talk
the casual chat
or this and that
and Lilly straight faced
thin lipped
and icy eyes stare
but he knew
what Lilly didn't
she had no idea
about the ***
or how the middle aged
dame had it still
could still turn on the fire
could **** off his desire
but Mrs Bryce
never said a word
not a hint
she wore her middle age
and middle class morals
very well
a mask of gentility
or cultured good humour
good manners on show
but he knew
she was hot
and could go
(her husband
some middle aged guy
with sourness
and boredness
in each greying eye)
and she sat there
giving it the small talk
sipping the wine
one finger raised
her eyes pure
as cut glass
behind the specs
and Lilly listened
in soft admiration
wanting to be nearer
breathing in
Mrs Bryce's scent
dreaming of the two of them
doing whatever in
some bedroom spent
but he had the real
not a dream
and as he watched
Mrs Bryce sipping
her wine
thin lips
on thin glass
he remembered her
that time lying there
bright eyes
greying but dyed hair
he bringing her
to a seventh heaven
of yes and yes
and more
and Lilly sour faced
sitting and listening
to the small talk
but wanting
something other
for sure.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
Sometimes I stare into the night sky and I realize how small we are.
I look into infinity and
It doesn’t look back because
I am a spec amongst bigger things and smaller things
And life and death are everywhere
And what am I to a universe that
We, humans, the smartest life we know to exist,
Cannot even wrap our brains around?
And then I think about homework.
But how am I supposed to even think about homework
When the sky is always present above our heads
Filled with limitless possibilities that I can get lost in for decades.
I could waste perfect days lying in the grass day dreaming up anything,
But you want me to memorize math equations?
During the day all seems so hopeful and bright.
I think of the way your hair would move in the breeze and
I imagine your big eyes filled with wonder and curiosity
As you stare into the clouds.
Clouds made of the ideas people dream up during class
While their teacher tells them how to cite sources in MLA format.
And at night my fascination with the sky becomes
Less excited and more scared.
I think not of the way your hair would move in the breeze,
But of how your hair would move
While someone else tucked it behind your ear.
And the noise you’d make as they kissed your neck
Crimson lips, swollen with lust.
Somehow the stars don’t give me dreams,
They give me nightmares.
Of you behind my back,
On your back with other women,
Or worse men.
But you’re always there to calm my fears of betrayal
And kiss me back to reality.
This life is one that,
As far as I know, we only live once.
And we can’t waste it getting caught up in the what ifs of the past,
But we can waste it getting caught up in the wonder of what else lies outside of our grasp.
And we should ponder the unanswered questions of the universe
Because when we can’t sleep at night and
We can’t focus in class and
When we are drowning in the stress that comes with the human life,
We can look up at the sky, and remember
That we are all small.
Specs to the universe and
If the ocean can rise and fall with the moon in perfect harmony
And the birds can fly thousands of miles to warmth
And our dogs can always know when it’s time to eat
Without the ability to read clocks,
Then we can always find our way out of these messes we inevitably fall in to.
I never know any of the answers,
But this life is one worth living,
And I’ll spend it trying to figure it all out.
And I’ll never do my homework.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
*Breathless on the thought of you
longing to be desired
trailing specs of emptiness
crowding my busy mind.
baskets of hope
left in a meadow full of weeds
there stands my sanctuary
in the midst of all I need.
painless stares shared
across a broken path
as tear drops drip
onto my broken heart.
breaking point not far away
whispers whisper thoughts of prey
drops of life fall away
dripping down my spine
all that I desire
you are my kryptonite.*
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:13 AM UTC
POETS ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE SEA AND THE SAND LIKE ITS ROMANTIC. THEY SAY THE TIDE KISSES THE BEACH EVERY TIME IT COMES HOME. BUT TO ME IT LOOKS A WHOLE LOT LIKE ABUSE. THE WAY THE SEA REAMS UP TO COME CRASHING DOWN ON WORTHLESS SPECS OF SAND THAT USE TO BE SHELLS AND LIVING CREATURES. NOW BATTERED TO THE POINT OF NOTHINGNESS. SO NO TO ME IT REMINDS ME OF NOTHING ROMANTIC. IT REMINDS ME OF 3AM SHAKING AWAKE COVERED IN SWEAT FROM THE NIGHTMARES OF YOU DAD. YOURE THE OCEAN AND I AM THE SAND. FOREVER LONGING TO HOLD YOUR HAND. WATCHING AS YOU LEAVE OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN COMING BACK TEN TIMES ANGIER. NOT SATIFIED UNTIL I DROWND.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
The stars don’t define my life,
But the specs of mould on the ceiling,
I study them carefully at night,
Reading them in true light,
A sickly soul they’re revealing.
A wondering eye sees all,
And repulsion overwhelms it so
Much that one gives out a hopeless sigh.
The ceiling is too high,
To wipe Aries and Leo.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Back in my teenage college years
I was told about “Autistic kids”
Who lived in worlds of their own,
Seeing things through weird and wonderful specs
In social isolation,
Frightening in its completeness.
At sixty six I since have learned about many
Of their “traits”:
Their obsessions, inflexible routines and
Panic
At all change.
Their inability to read
Emotions or social cues
Or innuendos
Or irony.
I have worked with those with Aspergers,
Colleagues, friends and clients –
Indeed with people all over
The Autistic Spectrum.
And the main thing I have learned
In all these years
Is that in my own way…
I am one of them.
Paul Butters
© PB 1\10\2018.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC
I didn’t cry when you left
Neither did I say anything to anyone
I just kept quiet for a few days
But, I've observed everything
And suffered even more
That blue shirt,
Which you often used to wear
Is ironed and arranged
in the wooden closet
Your specs are still kept
on the television..
And the umbrella ..
waiting for the rainy season..
In The last rains
We were soaked and drenched
I did not touch your umbrella ..
I know,
That you do not like
If your things are misplaced
I’ve told the cobbler
To mend your old shoe
Your watch is repaired
With a battery brand new
Taylor has stitched your pants
With a lining inside
And
Your bed is done
And mom waiting by its side.
Dad ....
I know
You will be tired by the journey
But this time,
Please stand still
And Rest for some time
I will take off your shoes
And massage your legs
To make you de-stress
Whatever you’ll say
I'll do it all
Just stand still
And be there
You know what dad ...
The last time you left ..
You left us shocked...
Ananya
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
“The nerdish image”
They say I am a nerd, they say I am a geek,
I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t bother but I am done being meek…
I am sure that the nerds do not really bunk,
And in case they do, they most definitely don’t flunk.
I am wearing large specs,I am holding a fat book,
But it still doesn’t call for you to throw that look,
Don’t be judgmental, please don’t assume,
To me it’s so unfair, every time you presume.
I might look bookish, I can’t cat-walk,
I am reserved, I am shy, I do not really talk,
I am no fashionista, but my deepest concerns aren’t books,
brands, clothes, shoes, yes, I care about my looks,
okay,Call me a nerd, call me a geek,
I do not really care, won’t complain, won’t speak,
But behind my back, everything that you talk,
It still hurts sometimes, coz it sounds like a mock,
Good marks, good grades, oh! I want them always,
But they aren’t always mine, if you haven’t noticed, just in case,
“Calling me a nerd isn’t the real concern,
It’s the fact that I am not, and I wish I had been one.”
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Sights disable me by birth
Father as witness to.
Mother to teach A to Z every time
And trying well correcting my sight.
To leave school, after full fill lessons
To change my disable sight, why?
For my sight, present friends and other people,
Of book tonic, medicine plants,
Traditional treatments
And more other onetime roots,
But nothing change my sight,
At last the order coming,
Wear specs.
To run at 1st street
Saw, wore whole shop in saffron coluor,
In glass chamber, stick saffron bindi in all doll's forehead
And saffron specs covered their eyes.
Add verse displayed - buy specs
Get rusted lance free absolutely.
To reached eyes on 2nd street
The shop 'n' carpets are green,
All dolls had beard and turban
In theplank advertising - buy specs
Get sword 'n' a bottle perfume free.
In the 3rd street endered my face
Whole room yellow, front dolls, specs,
Everywhere yellow, display text be yellow,
If buy specs, wonderful wine free.
To the 4th street, move my foot
Whole floor blue like the sea,
At shop, dolls, specs, all are blue
Gospel on display board
Seat on heaven be reserve free, buy specs.
Much crouded in 5th street
From enterence and street , to shop are red
Dolls are spectrum of victims, specs are red
slogan of display plank,
Sharpen wooden spear free,
Under puchased all specs.
And stret boys call worst,
Throw ***** of guilty verse,
And much caper plays
At back, a crying noises
That 2nd street, ask a boy brokenly
Passed away whole street,
In which specs for my sight?
And which colour for specs?
I too distruct and move my leg to 6th street,
From door to everywhere crystal,
And the floor pellucid, on the street no crowd
At the shop no doll and display plank.
When wear crystal specs,to see my own me?
To know my friend, colour of appetite,
Depth of love, greatness of hope in eyes.
I pray, with pulsated heart,
And wait for specs on the 6th street.
==============================C N Kumar.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
Distant bells start the day
the sun casts strips on blue-gray walls
cobwebs hanging lazily above
not strong enough to pull bodies
from beds
of hard wood and tiresome sleep
on the edge of this pencil, a poem
lazier
watching specs of dust
gracefully failing to fly
Early rising
needing more sand than most
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
The cold wind touched my skin and my body trembled
As you removed the last piece of my clothing
You also removed my eyeglasses and asked
"Can you see me?"
I slowly nod even everything was a blur
The curve in your lips says that you smiled upon seeing me naked
You started kissing me
And I stand still because it was my first kiss
and I don't know how to respond
Kissing. Deeper. Harder
I found myself craving for more
Faster. Stop. Breath
You asked me to close my eyes
But I didn't (because everything is blur without my eyeglasses)
Instead I put my feet on your waist
Then hugged you tightly
Mainly for support and to make sure I will not fall
Slowly our body collided
It was your trap, a sweet pitfall
Your hands all over me
touching every part of me
You stopped on my *******
and started fondling
one more caress and I totally fall
in your sinful trap
**** Lick. Mash
And I can't make you stop
No, I don't want you to stop
So wrong yet feels so good..
My body starts to shake
As you put your hands in between
Fingers in and out
I'm losing my mind
Fingers in and out
Faster. Breathless
Fingers in and out
Exploring every part of me
Which I don't let anybody see
I'm in ecstasy
Pain and pleasure
never felt this way before
Panting. Wanting
You drop to your knees
and position your head in between
You bury your face
and started to taste
Lick. Lick. Lick
You said I taste like heaven
So I was in heaven
Lick. Lick. Lick
Pain and pleasure
never felt this way before
But you're not yet done
And I don't want you to be done
You asked me again
"Can you see me?"
Again, I nod even you're just a shape in my vision
You lay me down
"wider"
I just stare into vagueness
Then I felt it
You pushed inside me
Deeper.
Pain and pleasure
Pain and pleasure
I'm losing control
With every ****** I can feel you all over me
As you bury yourself inside me
you also touch my heart
In and out. Harder. Deeper
Breathless. Wanting. Moaning
The world is spinning
"Can you see me?"
I finally answered
"No, but it's not important
as long as I feel you near me is enough"
I was staring at the shadow of him as I said the words
It was dark, only heartbeats and ****
I'm sure you touched my heart
But you said it's just my body
that's pain and pleasure, I guess
I thought you touched my heart
but as you said, you just touched my body
*I made love to you, but you just f_cked me
I thought it was love
Pleasure is all you see*
The morning comes
Knowing you won't be beside me
But still I looked around
To make sure that what happened was real
Yes, it is indeed real, you were real
For you left marks
crumpled bed sheet
red marks on my skin
and bloodstains..
I wore my eyeglasses
my vision becomes clear
But no specs can clear what happened
under the moonlight
*Innocence gone
Pain and pleasure
The euphoria of last night..*
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
The winter last, I, with child-like excitement, jumped up and down exclaiming about the beautiful, crystalline snow on the ground outside my window. Thrilled over the beautiful, bumpy sheet of white that covered all memory of summer for as far as I could see. Images of sparkly Christmas lights danced in my imagination. Wishing I could afford to go skiing, and hoping to get a kiss under the mistletoe. So why is it that this year, when I look out my window, all I see is ***** frozen specs of water that fell from the sky? Why is it that now, the cold seems more lonely than it does refreshing, and the ground seems like a wasteland of death where the vibrancy of summer once was not so long ago? Why is this winter so different?
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
The first wind calls a coolness
to wait around the tips of ears, tickling
and teasing away like zephyr in the air with child-like wisps.
The second wind is married
with specs of dust like ants in a pool of honey.
Jealous clouds follow like a thick coat holding warmth from us.
The third wind brings a bleak—
ness. A flamenco show in the air now is
performed by specs of sickness—twirling—vomit—coughing—death.
The fourth wind is a mistress
caught less tepid; throwing trees; swinging
tall buildings like spiked morningstars and taking away the song.
The fifth wind shivers hard
against the glass air; howls, then shakes,
then breaks the sky into momentary cracks of white fire.
The sixth wind sheds misery
from between the dirt and the celestial
shroud into little vials, then freezes them for a short while.
The seventh wind showers the earth
in a shifting of silence and still sympathy and
Within the storm a small hummingbird twists with the sky.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
The idle ghosts of innocence
Dance sweetly in a silhouette of sun;
Teasing tiny palms, they shimmer
As tempting gold specs of treasure,
And as he plants these small seeds
I sometimes sense Time seethe --
*Fickle is man if he cannot see,
Of remembrance, dust is currency!*
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
T'was my friend's wedding day
Was dressed up to have a ball
We reached the venue
and beautiful was it all
The bride sat shining
and smiling most times
Her expressions so mixed,
wonder what went through her mind!
I sat through the side,
and looked all around
There was a tall guy, I noticed
A watch he had worn, on his right wrist
He had specs on his eyes
and lens in his hands
He zoomed in and out,
moved like a spy
He captured every expression
which missed the normal eye
Don't think he talked much,
he spoke through his eyes
I controlled my gaze
looked here and there
pretended to be busy
as if I didn't care
As we friends planned to gather,
gather on the stage
to click a picture with friends
the groom and the bride
I moved around the light stand
to give him a helping hand
"Thank you!" was all he said
with a hard to forget smile
I wonder why I din't speak with him?
What held me behind?
It saddens me more now,
to hear from my friend,
he wasn't from my town
and came from a far land
I will see him again though,
through pictures of this day
When they'll be posts on Facebook
Imagining him standing behind
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
I am made by your opinions, not skin.
I am polite as i am vulnerable. And i am quite when your bass speaks.
I cover up as men stare,lustfull eyes look if your skin is too bare.
I dress to impress,I cannot be a mess.
If i am too lean i am anorexic, If i am too chubby i am fat.
If i wear specs,i must surely play chess.
If i walk with my head held high my ego is too big.
If i look into your eyes I'm probably overconfident.
If i see your flaws i am too judgmental.
I am a woman, not of skin but of your words.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC
A cold icy tundra is a place where I don't want to stay,
It's a place where the sun barely shines every single day.
The frosty grass blows forever flapping in the wind.
But the dangers will scare you allow me to begin
The dangers in this weather that will come to bite you,
Me, Talking about insects, it's better you stay away from
The cold icy tundra a place where icicles form,
A place where it's not even a tad bit warm.
You might need a couple of jackets to survive its rough cold winter,
But, when the long winter is over....
Specs tiny specs of warm sun forms around all the plants
Defreezing them from their chains of frost
And, when they thought all was lost the wind, warm wind came rushing,
The ponds were filled with warm water gushing.
Oh! how the summer began in a flash
But, a huge cloud of terrible ash came and made the plants fall...
The huge forest fire raged and roared,
All that winter it was seemingly bored!
As fast as summer came winter came to save the day!
All in all the tundra white and gray
Snow, soft snow fell on the ground
And, suddenly the tundra made no sound.
Tundra winter dangerous yet fun
Tundra summer welcomes the sun.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
In the evening comes the dim light, the swooping away of day,
the blue, gray clouds, the turbulent air of wild birds
small specs, black and disappearing.
After awhile only quiet,
and then a certain silence settles in
it moves like fog, alongside the moon
it comes cold, blanketing the soul
a depth of space unknown
a well of darkness, undiscovered
the losing of this day, this light
and in the long, lingering hours
dwelling in the dark caved places
touching the soul and flooding the heart
the crashing waves will come
to break one wildly apart.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC