"sphynx" poems
My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
She never will hear explanations
But instantly puts me to rout,
There's no use to try and deceive her,
If out with my friends night or day,
In a most inconceivable manner,
She tells where I've been right away,
She says that I'm 'mean' and 'inhuman.'
Oh! My wife is a most knowing woman.
She would've been hung up for witchcraft
If she had lived sooner, I know,
There's no hiding anything from her,
She knows what I do -- where I go;
And if I come in after midnight
And say 'I have been to the lodge,'
Oh, she says while she flies in a fury,
'Now don't think to play such a dodge!
It's all very fine, but won't do, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
Not often I go out to dinner
And come home a little 'so so,'
I try to creep up through the hall-way,
As still as a mouse, on tip-toe,
She's sure to be waiting up for me
And then comes a nice little scene,
'What, you tell me you're sober, you wretch you,
Now don't think that I am so green!
My life is quite worn out with you, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman!
She knows me much better than I do,
Her eyes are like those of a lynx,
Though how she discovers my secrets
Is a riddle would puzzle a sphynx,
On fair days, when we go out walking,
If ladies look at me askance,
In the most harmless way, I assure you,
My wife gives me, oh! such a glance,
And says 'all these insults you'll rue, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
Yes, I must give all of my friends up
If I would live happy and quiet;
One might as well be 'neath a tombstone
As live in confusion and riot.
This life we all know is a short one,
While some tongues are long, heaven knows,
And a miserable life is a husband's
Who numbers his wife with his foes;
I'll stay at home now like a true man,
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
2.2k
i think a lot
about sphynx
no hair to care
for the lemon-shaped eyes
that squeeze shut in the breeze
but do not make lemonade
no sugar either
all protein bro
do you even lift
a finger because EYE do
YEW dont but they dont call you a
sphynx, do they?
oh wait nevermind i sphynx i got confused
eye am not a sphynx i do apologize
but Lucy is, shes my friend.
maybe even more than a friend
eye dont know
its just that shes a
mutant like me
and she pays for it too
just in cancer and heart disease
not with crying and mocking screams
saree i didnt mean to go there
but eye sphynx eyem getting worse
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:23 AM UTC
Meticulously maintaining
Impossibly feigned nonchalance,
Toying the cigarette ever so slightly
In her fingers -- careful so not
To appear as too calculated
The pariahs parade the dancefloor,
Shades of ignominy culminating in a
Prismatic rainbow, heightened by
The stale odor of ***** and body heat
Still, she stays in her perch like a silent sphynx
Waiting -- watching --
Aimlessly, but with direction, such
Carefree flamboyance below her,
A stoop to which she’d never deign
And so she watches, resigned
To fate, as much a fixture in the joint
As the gilded barstools --
The closest she can come to confronting
The fact that she is no different
Than any of the rest
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 3:23 PM UTC
I don't recall year one of life,
But I'm here now,
So they got it right.
Yet I remember being one,
On a mattress, in the sun,
The smell of bacon and farm odors,
Were part of me as I grew older.
But I never asked to grow up.
I walked first steps
In my father's shoes,
Blathered blissfully when I was two.
By the time I turned three,
I was sure youth suited me.
I could reach the outside door,
When I grew to the age of four.
Now the world's mine to explore.
But I never asked to grow older.
Then by five I tried to hide
From the travails of an older child;
The digging, weeding, painting, work:
My escape to school was my re-birth.
But I never asked to grow older.
I didn't ask to turn six,
Seven, eight, nine or ten;
I shuddered at our portends,
I didn't like how my world ends,
I finished fishing with Amens.
But I never asked to grow older.
I made twenty years ago,
When decades moved ever so slow;
Thirty came, forty gone,
And fifty didn't last that long.
But I never asked to grow older.
Since I must,
Please remember,
Dip my soother in Irish whiskey,
Include me if you solve the mystery,
And reference me and my life's history.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
I am birthed from an egg in the forbidden land,
standing proud I stretch my arms out wide.
I open my eyes and open my heart,
emoting memories pour into my cold mind.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
carry me out to the infinite stars of knowledge,
to where the Twin Goddesses of Truth
petition the serpent to deceive the future.
The barge of the Gone Forever sails past
and it bows its bows to the flail and the sceptre,
turquoise and gold with the face of millennia,
its image forever burnt into my countless lives.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now fly from the shell that holds my long sleep
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
I beseech and invoke, with secret Words of Power,
the hidden wisdoms of the ancient spell.
I scribe, weighing words in their charm
to call forth the Magic of the Dark Night.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames
of he who abides throughout all time,
consume me with a thousand thousand names,
and make me the Lord of All Laws.
All Hail! to the girdle of the stars.
All Hail! to the secret glyphs.
Guide my journey through the eternal time
and take my Sphynx as your devoted sacrifice.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now sail my boat of millions of years
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
Jun 4, 2024
Jun 4, 2024 at 8:06 AM UTC
I'm back at the grind feeling mad as a hatter.
Still floating on. A poetry carpet.
No friction or pressure or fear I will fall.
Swooping and turning my belt is unbuckled.
Standing with toes hanging off.
Hands out for balance.
What the hell rhymes with balance.
Oh. Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your right
Niagra falls is a vision at night.
There goes a guy on your left on a rug.
Pass me a ***** driver so I can debug.
We will be landing in fifteen minutes.
In. Front of the sphynx.
After that captain sully sullivan is going to take the wheel.
The carpet guy is going down on a wing and A prayer.
Then back to his house for a much needed nap.
Good night and sweet dreams.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
Does the silence choke you?
A reminder's vibration.
Just notes and beats
Rhythm and sphynx.
Missing and murdered
Missing or murdered
Thick off the tongue
Like tainted rivers.
Dubstep dreaming
So calm a feeling.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
Sphynx-like they move,
lions in the dark,
where they watch her
through hungy coals set in gaunt faces,
licking their chops for her bones.
But she is a lion tamer,
with no more bones to spare the unfed worries yowling in her peripheral,
and a tinder spark now lives where the dark once crept
to keep their hunger at bay.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 5:34 AM UTC
She's like a wolf with such pretty eyes.
But she's a woman with prettier thighs
Don't look to hard or she'll eat you up, you silly pup!
And what did you think?
Was she the pack mother or the canine sphynx?
We're all dead tonight thanks to the ebb of the tide. The moon smiles and squeals inside at the breath and the sight of our homicide.
If you asked the hungry, they'd say they're glad that we died
Because they feast on our flesh
On the Earth we are but guests.
Know your place lest you rest in a coffin lined with the sorrow of your regret and carved from branches of your potential. It's essential that you respect lady death.
Don't step out of line.
Step out of line your life is mine, the universe is mine. The stars and the heavens combined.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 2:54 AM UTC
Roam my beach
Where proof gets stranded
With every inch of water.
I will keep my secret shelter
In the dunes.
Here I dig to cover
(As the Nile's favourites once endured)
Ones like me.
I think.
I too built my sphynx to oulast
The odds, the waves,
And time.
Past the lawns of lakeshore
The family still waits
For the feast.
As for the calf, save the leather.
Rings don't look good on me.
What will come from all the rejoicing.
Oh god!
My brothers, Jake and Ben, understand:
The inheritance was never mine alone.
Let the feast begin.
Save me a seat.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Sous les draps de ta pyramide
On a vue en 3D sur la mangrove
Rhomboïde
De rhizomes entrelacés
À perte de vue.
Et j'essaie le sabre aux lèvres
Grâce à mon géo-radar
De me frayer un chemin dans le feu inextricable
Vers ta chambre nuptiale
D'eau enchevêtrée d'éclairs et de lave en fusion.
Sous les draps de ta pyramide
J'emprunte ta face Nord
À travers une oubliette à l'abri des regards
Des crabes et des salamandres
J'emprunte la descenderie
Et au bout du couloir
Me voici à l'antichambre
Et un sphynx exige de moi un mot de passe
Pour accéder au nec plus ultra de tes entrailles.
Et je dis : soldat du feu !
Et ce que je croyais être un simple feu de broussailles
De mangle rouge momifié
Se révèle un feu de jungle folle
Où sauterelles et criquets grésillent
Sous les flammes humides de ta chrysalide.
Et j'ouvre ma pompe et j'arrose
De mon eau de rose ton sanctuaire
De fleur de grenade inviolée
Et je comble ta faim
D'un bon mortier fait de venin de sable et de sève d'argile
Montante et descendante
Que tu dégustes en te pourléchant les lèvres.
Pour ne pas en perdre une miette.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 5:36 AM UTC
My feet tread the stones and my bones write the words which in other words hurt and the hurt that I feel can't begin to conceal what I try to reveal but I can't.
There's a layby I walk by, but people don't lay there, don't stay there so what is it there for?
is it there to confuse me with more words written freely?
In the precinct, so succinct, standing tall like an old Sphynx is a monument to testosterone, they call it the old folks home but there's no home for me there, I'm out in the town square, an old square in my own hole with a large hole in my right shoe and a bigger hole in my stomach, getting through it is easy, practice makes perfect and I've had plenty of that.
The stones become spongelike, the longer I write the softer they get, the softer they get the more that I write, it's a rite for me, a day and a night in the life of me where eternity is got to by catching the 3.43 from Euston to Peterlee.
If I sleep, I sleep lightly, frightened the monsters who fight me might win.
I see an end in the end or it may be a layby I pass by, shaking my head I go on wondering why.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
Open Your Eyes To The Pain
Im Breaking Limbs
Reahing For Change
I Will Not Pretend
Perfections In
Shrooms Bloom Questions
I Can't Feel My Brain
I Don't Know If I'm Stressing
I Feel It All
I Pay Attention
I Don't Have Wish Wash Words
To Quick Sqaush Verbs
I'm Face To Face With The Curb
Like Clipped Wings & A Bird
I'm Still Trying
Senations Statements
I Feel Like Dying
I'm Getting A Viloen
Eye Lids Cant Handle Any More Crying
Years Of Tears Pierce
Fierce On My Strong Facem, Iris
I Need To Meditate
You Hella Fake
Stay The **** Away
Real Connections Are Always There
I'm A Ghost In Smoke I Always Stare
No Disquesie My Eyes
Shine I Died Inside
& I Want To Share
Nights Are Very Dark
They Tear Me Apart
Where Is The Spark
I'm Cold As Dusk
& Its Not Fair
In The Kitchen
Wishing Some One Was Here
Gazeing At The Table Blade
It Rains On This Chair
I Will No Longer Not Speak Up
Even It Gets Me Beat Up
Fear Doesn't Reach Us
Plus IF I Projected This Chi
It Would Decapitate Head & Feet
Hands & Knees
Only Mother Earth
& Father Sky's Can Handle
Me
I'm Made Of Matter That Matters
There's Blood On My Matress
My Ego Decays
As My Last Day Hatches
Im A ******* Spy
All Seeing Eye
Sphynx Cat
That's It
I'm Going In
Head First No Gear
I'm Ready To Die
There's Never Been A Time In My Life That I Cry No Tears
The Pain Is Deeper Than The Sea Floor
I Know I Need Grounding
I Bleed Surrounding To See More
I Want To Be A Day It Self
Or A See Horse
I Got Shreaded Wings
& These Thorns
Electrical Be 4
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Striving to be better humored than the weather round me,
Caressing Its cheek as it sternly speaks.
Sick of the mendacity;
I'm ignoring the storms hollowed shrieks.
Are we slaves to sensation,
Donning obsessive ***** eyes,
Who praise the fallen pioneers who stalked their own demise?
Are we all alone and lost inside;
Devoid of all sense
Of foreseeable purpose?
Hushed cryptic words through an emerald mine;
Oblivious to the surrounding eminence.
Can't say how long this will last,
Itching desires, searing deep within;
Continuing backward on this destructive path.
Allow me freedom from my sins-
Let me reveal my secrets.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC