"spikes" poems
I love company
In the form of anxious thoughts
I am less lonely
Accompanied by twenty screaming voices
Tearing at my every inch of flesh
Pouring pain into my veins
Crying is good for the soul
They laugh in union
As I lie lonely in my bed
Hoping someone will find me
Bruised and broken
And take me into their arms
Hold me like a child
But you are too grown to feel such things
These voices whisper, licking blood
Carefully off their fingers
Spikes poke at my sides leaving no room
For me to move or breathe
I am slowly dying
And yet I tell you I am fine
For if I were to ever admit
That this is how I truly feel
My demons would take form
No longer shadows but figures
Ready to take me whole
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
I've come by, she says, to tell you
that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's
over. this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrange
her long red hair before my bedroom
mirror.
she pulls her hair up and
piles it on top of her head-
she lets her eyes look at
my eyes-
then she drops her hair and
lets it fall down in front of her face.
we go to bed and I hold her
speechlessly from the back
my arm around her neck
I touch her wrists and hands
feel up to
her elbows
no further.
she gets up.
this is it, she says,
this will do. well,
I'm going.
I get up and walk her
to the door
just as she leaves
she says,
I want you to buy me
some high-heeled shoes
with tall thin spikes,
black high-heeled shoes.
no, I want them
red.
I watch her walk down the cement walk
under the trees
she walks all right and
as the pointsettas drip in the sun
I close the door.
15.4k
They enter as animals from the outer
Space of holly where spikes
Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi,
But greenness, darkness so pure
They freeze and are.
O God, I am not like you
In your vacuous black,
Stars stuck all over, bright stupid confetti.
Eternity bores me,
I never wanted it.
What I love is
The piston in motion ----
My soul dies before it.
And the hooves of the horses,
There merciless churn.
And you, great Stasis ----
What is so great in that!
Is it a tiger this year, this roar at the door?
It is a Christus,
The awful
God-bit in him
Dying to fly and be done with it?
The blood berries are themselves, they are very still.
The hooves will not have it,
In blue distance the pistons hiss.
13.6k
Since you've been away
I've trailed the wake of the clouds
Just crumbling clay...
That lay in the shade that enshrouds
Depending on the ifs and mays.
Wake up, my love...
Since you haven't been here
The sky did nothing but only sang
Ambient translations of mocks and jeers
As the green blades of earth bared their fangs
Mischievous songs that I've held dear.
Wake up, my love...
Since you've been gone
I've realised that I'm not moving
And you too, haven't moved since last dawn
A reality all too disheartening
Bits of me all cut up and sawn.
Wake up my love...
Since you've been missing
I am never whole, and never will
A lifetime of endless chasing
Bottomless jar without a seal
Void clustered emptiness in need of filling.
Wake up, my love...
Since you've been absent
I could only hope for this lungful
To lead me to subsequent
Ones that taste like bitter pills encapsuled.
Mind full of drugs running rampant.
Wake up, my love...
Since you wouldn't have known
What these days are like...
Time induced tumours have grown
The hours impale with temporal spikes...
Inseminating malignant thoughts soon to be sown.
Wake up, my love...
Since you've been away
I'm a player hoping for a fair game
Nonetheless still crumbling clay...
That lay in the dark just the same
Choking on the what ifs and what mays.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
We fall,
and hard,
and in the shadows,
***** ourselves on snags,
that tear our clothes;
grazed and cut,
we stagger on -
Impressions, ideas, fancies!
Of these have we been disabused.
But is this spring,
come again?
Lovely,
yesterday,
in the bright sunlight,
to see you,
felt green hat in among the photo clouds,
apple suedes on the gallery's dank floor.
Melvyn,
and I,
merrily circling with you the light cloud images,
my nostrils full of pollen spikes.
The pictures:
wisps of trailing dreams churning in ‘scapes of infinite blue;
dark clouds,
in amongst them,
too.
Photographs in two time places
caught;
at once, all:
the other and t'other.
So excitement swells,
and everything besides us quells,
because the knowing of itself,
knows,
and dares beyond the frames;
to skirt knowingly the unsaid;
to want beyond the wounded past,
to pull things,
once again,
inside out.
In whimsy’s currents flow these thoughts,
these feelings,
these drives;
swirling in eddies,
so that as you sit,
on a summer’s day,
it moves,
a mirror to everything above.
The wavelets on the surface,
hammered into shape,
burn, bite and dazzle;
the sun’s flames leaping and dancing on ripples.
In the basement,
on the concrete,
your Y proneness shifts,
releasing knees on black-clad thighs;
two pendulums swinging,
brushing;
yawing metronomes in the cool,
coolness of my desultory thoughts.
Oh, what am I saying?
Feelings like reveries walk along these silver lips straying languorously.
These myths are too soon made,
carried one to the next,
one-on-one,
until contained no longer,
become new truths.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
to live
every day
in morbid dread
sharp cold spikes
driven deep into
the chest
anxiety
conditioned,
learned, pressed
screams
in my head,
and yet
remains unsaid
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
Saguaro cactus
why do you ***** me with spikes
It hurts very bad
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
i bought a cactus
the summer of my
eighteenth birthday
i picked it up from
the local nursery and
cradled it all the way to
my car so that it wouldn't
fall to the concrete
i had only just met the little guy
and i didn't want to lose him the
day i finally got him
it is quite stupid to buy and
name a cactus but
i felt very attached to the small
succulent that occupied the
left corner of my bedside table
it was a cute little cactus with
orange on his top and a long
green stalk with spikes poking out
i felt pretty satisfied because
even looking at this plant
made me smile
taking care of this cactus
gave me something to do
and it kept my mind off of you
for a while
maybe i connected with this plant
maybe i felt like i was the plant
i sure do feel like the plant
trapped
growing
pokey
all adjectives aside i still
am very much addicted to
caring for my little cactus
if it lasts through the summer
then maybe
i can too
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
7.2k
i saw a little hedgehog as lovely as can be
peeping through an edge staring there at me
i fed him with some bread and he began to eat
he began to nibble at his little treat.
he had lots of spikes sticking in the air
little tiny spikes sticking everywhere
he had hazel eyes a bright has bright can be
such a soul a lovely chap was he.
when he finished eating he waved and said goodbye
wandered on his way beneath the bright blue sky
i will look again on another day
hoping that the hedgehog will maybe come my way.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
Spines curve as sweetly as drops from a honeysuckle
Notes in a melody fill the void spaces
Gentle rushes stir like the swish of rustling leaves
Flushed as red as the cherry who’s stem is knotted
Time stolen from the hands of a frozen clock-
Still like snow fallen from a winter shower
Senses fully awaken to chase alluring aromas
Repetitive jolts of candied sin trickle throughout the body
Electric flow in the veins sparks an extended invitation
Contagious appetite will mirror aches of desire
Surges of shock in the body join the mind and soul
Accelerating spikes in heart rate kiss private secrets
Boundless longing branded to one another
Yearning indulged by limitless exchanges of energy-
Transfers immune from harm
Pressure from oneness loosens the tremble in pleading breaths
Hands close around each hip to clench their hollows
Credible fingers drenched in admiration coat mingled skin
One is composed by the gravitation of two
Defying moonlight to surrender at an immeasurable ******
Reaching for the highest point to let go
Sharing traces of untamed wind with soaring wings
Collecting innocence altered by ecstasy
Choosing vulnerability to expose what cannot be said
Fantasies traded through the rhythm of touch
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
Nights like this remind me
That a void is inevitable.
Not only do we enter and leave alone,
We live alone.
Otherwise, our hedgehog spikes
Drive us further and further away
As we try desperately to connect
To the same people who puncture us
Who we also wound.
We love to love
And we hate to hurt
But we hurt those in love anyway.
A cruel world is this
Where we are always trying
To cling to somebody real,
Someone who doesn’t know that you see
A bit of yourself in them.
Is it worth burrowing close
When your spikes could come out at any time?
Perhaps, it is better to stay in the cold air
Safe from the inevitable *****
I choose to not decide.
Either way, there is longing.
So I might as well take a step back
And see what hedgehog dares to borrow
right next
to me.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
Frost tipped lines of unhappy bliss
Ignorance leaves a rancorous taste in my mouth
Fine spikes of knowledge run through the day
Pieces of hints drop gently within
Deaf ears tune out the loss that it is
Speak of nothing
Step around it
Leave it alone
Time runs fast so remember this
Ignoring it only surprises one of us in the end
cc070311
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:03 PM UTC
For years words have dropped
Down
Into my head,
Like rain on the spikes of a bromeliad,
Single splashes forming trails
And trails and trails
Trickling
Down
Around the bud,
To fling themselves into the dirt
To splash the roots.
Then slowly up the roots they go
Into the bud.
It soaks them in and soaks them in,
It is patient patient patient,
Waiting too long,
Until I think it'll never open -
And then it
Blooms.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
sitting here but not
my insides
in a twist
my organs blooming,
their flower landscapes
rising in my solar plexus
like poetry expanding
its cellular shapes
into
light frequencies
I need way more.
I need the pulling off
and stripping down
of souls
I need to meet in
a depth of falling
I need to be pushed off
the silent gates of madness
into endless sea
no looking back
senses piqued
from slightest brush
of oral butter pouring
on hot cream
my mouth, a searing
crimson wound
oscillates in
contraction radar pulses
ripe for intense
tongue exploration
aching to be filled up with
your distinct flavor
My essence molecular is
overflowing with fluid
giving me life
in throbbing, raw
electric vibes
whipped organic, in
rolling tides
Somewhere, out there
our volcanic impulses
meet in steamy ebbs
and send energyflow
to a new and ancient universe,
magnetic
and I am
a raging heaven's child
wrapped in
a tight little
tourniquet
blood pumping
through these veins
my longing for
dark stretches
of intimate caresses
to soothe
the spikes
of snaking pain
Give me
those airwaves that
let me breathe freedom
into the fields of our skin
Let me run like wild herds
of the animal within
and as I find myself
hanging off
my
own
edges
my many-braided loops
in zigzag split,
a-fray
my skin rips open,
parting fibers
that expose my
very
DNA
helix swivel
undulation
hips grinding into
soul
reaching in to
pull out
fresh rebirth
from between my folds
O help me to allay
this tender affliction
undo me, already
so I lose control
one little shove
and I am over the cliff
deep into ocean
**** over spliff
I am beyond ready
so grind it to the hilt
Give me your
tender-ripped heart,
spill your honeycomb milk
I am here, ravenous
in the pan
uncooked yet ripe
saliva and breath
steaming my own innards
flushing out strife
I am piquant hot pepper
ready to be broiled
my blood is already
boiling
my tender meat oiled
mull me over
in your oral cavity
like sacred wine
until I drip
through your bones
and down your spine
Just meld with me
and flow
into that light tunnel
of dark time and space
so I can stake out
my rhythms
and claim
my
new
sacred
place
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC
The Rain falls warm.
It's humid and the shirt
sticks to my w3tb@ck.
How much has fallen
into my collective bucket
during the pass hour
Of heavy monsoon rain?
I gulp chunks
to replace water
in this futile work cycle.
Adiabatic landscaping
in a stifling heat,
within some complex
feed-forward loop.
The cigarette burns
beneath a protective dome,
my cupped hand.
Particulates drift away into
the hazy mist, embedding
itself in breath,
and choking congested,
fluid-filled lungs.
I watch a tiny display
showing small spiking memes
feeding forward to what?
Will it be an apocalyptic
firing storm or a recognition
gestalt, inhibitory spikes
triggering attenuation.
I drink again the rain.
Can I supervise Win-Lose
games? Am I learning
some wrong algorithm
while drunk on heavy water,
in Futile cycles?
With my open hand
I take Virgil's lead
into our Gradient descent,
urging him on, afraid
our alpha steps are too
small, and the time too
short. There is a constant
fear of being trapped
in some eternal,
local minimal.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Cicadas whine metallically
In trees along the sweltered streets;
Wasps and hornets arc angrily
Enough to cause me fear.
Late summer’s not my favorite time of year.
Flowers nearly done;
The tulips, irises, and poppies
Long since seeded out;
They’ve had their fun.
Bedraggled day lilies remain,
This is the beginning of the mums.
Bees seek latent nectars
Or tap into their golden stores
To supplement their bumbling runs.
Lawns foist a burnt but stubborn edge
While only thistles still refuse
To bow to August's incessant heat;
Their spikes sprout poisonous defiance.
The dog’s left yellowed pools of dying grass;
I admit the neighbors’ lawns surpass.
I suppose the time to gather
Drying excrement’s returned, alas....
Keeping up appearances is hard at summer's end.
Ennui of season full and just past ripe
Leaves tired old men like me
A chiding cause to gripe.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
little eddie hedgehog wanders round at at night
especially when hungry and has an appetite.
he wanders through the hedge to see what he can find
to see if there is food of the hedgehog kind.
he has a coat of spikes that stick up in the air
so the others know whenever he is there.
then when he gets tired in to the hedge will crawl
then goes fast asleep rolled up into a ball
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
"The Three Kisses
The Kiss Of Hello
The Kiss That Is Never Just A Kiss
The Kiss That Spikes Vein With Precision Orchestra
The Kiss That Heals In Entirety
The Kiss That Hides The Relent Of Vex
The Kiss That Suffocates Rusting Man
The Kiss Without Detail/Ed System)
The Kiss That Pounds Each Pore To State Of ******
The Kiss That Hiroshimates Euphoria
The Kiss That Approximates/Parallels Living
The Kiss Only
The Kiss, The Kiss
The Kiss Of Neither Hello Nor Goodbye
The Kiss For The Sake
The Kiss To Save Face
The Distracted Kiss For/Of Domestic Bliss
The Kiss To Bathe Mania In Generic ****** The Kiss Of The Motions
The Kiss Of Searing Content, Hindering Suffocation And Blasé Defection
The Default Kiss, The Efficient Kiss, The Alteria (Motive) Kiss
The Kiss That Makes Sense
The New Language Of Kiss
Le Kiss, Le Kiss
The Kiss Of Goodbye
The Kiss That Is Never Just A Kiss
The Kiss That Spikes Vein With Precision Orchestra
The Kiss That Deals In Hypocrisy
The Kiss That Begins And Ends Each Second
Job, Health, Kiss, Marriage, Car, Security, Kiss,
Yearn, Enjoyment, Loss, Holiday, Kiss, Loss Holiday Kiss
The Kiss That Hiroshimates Plague
The Kiss That Parallels Living/Approximates Rage
The Memory Of Kiss Acidifies Brain
The Kiss, The Kiss, The End.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Hydrangeas explode, grass spikes the soil
Sun scorches all, water crashes on shores
Ice destroyed, eyes beaten by bright rays
Heat everywhere, blue suffocates the sky
We love a violent summer
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
i saw a little hedgehog while walking in a field
curled up in ball with his head concealed
all his little spikes sticking from his side
he was fast asleep snuggled up inside
then when he woke up he rolled out from his ball
stretched his little body and he began to crawl
he had a lovely face as cute as cute can be
with big brown eyes he looked up at me
then he carried on looking for a treat
for some tasty insects and things he like to eat
he made me feel so happy this creature of the wild
with his life of freedom and mother natures child.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
4.5k
Integration that we clamour for
Disintegration we design for
Unity in Diversity: India’s facet
Diversity , disunity are in closet.
No national spirit acts in rescue;
No co-ordination glares unique.
Vitiated Political Ambitions snarl
At the stranded panicky people.
The Himalayan chill frozen minds
Eat , drink in star bars and mines.
Father of the Nation Gandhiji weeps
At Highway junctions in Idol forms.
Harijans weep , Girijans weep, but
None to keep promises highly put.
In Legislature Canteen Primary needs
Pitiably play shadow-dance; no deeds.
Votes and Whiskey stirred black- horses
Rush to mikes in spikes ; roar for votes!.
Illiterate poor and injured minds again
Ink : first- finger for a five year tension !
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
As I watch my yawn open eye
Wide awake I’d smell the roses
trace their spikes and wear their lipstick
And pardon me if dreamers can’t smell it
A fever akin to a violin’s soundest
Cutting right through 4AM
with a blade of flicker and undestined dim
I’d ride past the bus stop I walk to everyday
Hang my black coat and never claim it again
Ride past the point where I’d make it to work on time
But my boss to never see my face again
And if the hour hand were any slower
I swear…
I’d finally meet you
And when I do finally see you
our glass cages will then shatter
Out of the wreckage, a new kind of disaster
A happy one
but I’d have to warn you
I don’t have time for greeting cards
There are no lungs in paper
Life is
a box of limbs
And that,
I would open
And you bet!
That, I’d claim
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
Straight into the sunset, I’d watch the sunrise
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
Across
mountain
peaks
like
the
spikes
of your
hair
my fingers
brush,
careening off
glaciers
and sliding
down hidden
slopes.
Curved and
crossed
as the bones
in your spine,
smooth
and
strong
like
the
gliding
wings
of
a hawk.
The tawny-colored
feathers
echoed
in each
iris.
A look,
haunting.
Chills
and
weightlessness
invade
my body
curled
next
to yours
in perfect
sync
to your
heartbeat.
Where
waterfalls
overflow
our emotions
capsizing
our lonely
individual
vessels
amid galaxies
colliding
each
other
on a
spiraling
journey
of
passion.
The heat.
Bronzer
than the
sun in
Summer.
My love.
My moon
and
my stars.
My one
and
only.
Just
two
out-there
planets
together
forever.
Undiscovered,
untarnished,
undefiled
by humanity.
A secret whisper
from
the
nebulas…
*I
love
you….*
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC