"staling" poems
twitchy sniffly noses
silky bracelets woven
a sennight of whispers
and soft rains fallen
bones strident ringing
skins slow submerging
bloodshot eyes and
star-shot skies and
cheekbones shrouded
in staling chlorine
sneaking syrup smiles
under honey gold
four tonics drowned
to fight off the cold
and fast fortune-telling
for finites foretold
trace the lines and
face the folds, please
hold both palms closer
but leave them closed
twitchy ditzy fingers
***** rings unspooled
a sennight of stories
and sinking in pools
bones washed in phenol
skins slick like ferrule
bloodshot minds and
star-shot why’s and
wisteria lips speckled in
the warmest shade of cool.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 8:01 PM UTC
i would compromise
--i compromise. i appear to i mean,
with peace-demeanor customized for show
paraded there and there, obeisant nonsense
in a confidence of meek to render compliments
crowding infancies of all
for the sake of art
i bend my frame about cliche
to have a human dragon claim
"the real persists unknown"
and gather at a sacred dolmen
fascinating morals sung beneath the stars and sun--
you said there was a butterfly
tasting at my skull, shaking with uncommon music too..
its skinny, immigrant feet abuzz
within the world they called a One, wings on pause, my eyebrows in flight.
a blanket iris cries warmth
in clusters hung ripe, filming over all
a native ceremonial, falsepolitik
i pluck at them atop a fence
obscure for comforts masking truth
discarded, found, fashioned
into furniture for candled houses
built with children's sons
where families try to see
a clearing in the warping
mirrors saddled with a dripping time no illustration comprehends
. wooden beams help it rise and dim,
the sunny lie, genuinely fake,
authentic trick of aeons hidden in the true
-- growing young, stemming back
to foil brighter undiscoveries for otherwisely
patient basements full of heirlooms,
sheik dining areas all
nodding over cheap wine we still manage to squint up at nothing at
in apple layers
symbolizing tidy crimes invented ceaselessly,
serving existential voids--
grace, fall, stumble catch
acquired tones of oak or berry--
other fruits would do, or none,
as i still feel
praised by your rejections --
when indifference gains a sweetness
like a novel vengeance won
i am indulging villainy
workshopping staling norms,
garden dark as cultivated loam.
where i am words
mooding intellect to torment,
faun complexity awry
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
the sun also rises
with the smoke,
staling sweetly
while the coffee drinkers
scatter dewy dawns.
we're smoking your last cigarette
letting soreness seep into
concupiscent sluggish limbs,
as sleep-cornered bedroom eyes
melt their waxy redness
into the cruelty of morning light.
insipid tongues, chapped and swollen,
speak in strokes of satin whispers;
breathy simple silken strands
"you're so soft"
scintillate resplendence
with moth-wing gentleness
to evanesce the daybreak chill.
how i yearn to remain
in between the days,
hazily hidden in the serenity
of our echo-quiet secret place.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
Crippled creature broken in ballistic bone fracture about the blind tile,
freckled in blade licked flesh,
back strap shoulder blades quiver gaunt as skeleton wings
sprinkled in splashed satin fruitless reds and auburn oils,
the child’s insides splattered across the stomach of the floor,
limp muscle binding that of bundled circuitry,
the boy only resembling needle and sticks
a mass of anatomy straightened out in lifeless splendor,
bone splinters clotted in saw dust muscle grindings
the face showered in locks and tangles,
galaxies and embered suns,
tassels golden simmered,
the creature’s hair a mane torn over his black socket eyes,
fierce in ferocity growling,
a monstrous roaring of prideful bangs,
Fallow face and cheek stomped to the floor as a rag
his form splashed about ground and surface.
Skin nearly bleached in cancer cell white,
a body folded as parchment, joints and ligament playing the part
lightless strewn as an idea lost in lifeless.
A white room hollow, muteness staling,
the busting of a boy broken in scaffold limbs torn
intwined amongst netted nerves wound about spindled bone
branched out in checkered blood stain
Shattered arms resembling puzzle pieced wings,
boy bathed in synthetic sunlight kisses,
But a watch crushed in brittle bronze shards about God’s feet
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 30, 2011 at 12:44 AM UTC
Water flows by,
Quietly polite.
Green under sunlight,
Silver at night.
Is that my monarch's head
Shimmering between wakes?
She looks down and kisses Georgian rooftops.
She dives and twists her celestial face.
But as rain falls my monarch distorts,
And in the first snows she poses for me.
And as we celebrate new solstice a hail of thin ankles bruises the water.
Fish dart from them.
Sharp stones bury themselves so as not to offend.
I remember my feet in there...
All the times comes past here.
All the times yet to come.
I cross a bridge and the town's vein is out of sight.
I breathe the smell of ecclesiastical ceremony
And the cut-grass stench of various friendships nurtured and deflowered.
I mimic footprints that I've pounded into the ground.
The same drunk campaign.
I drink the river and become its flavid run-off.
Water flows by,
Timeless in flight.
Not at the front of my mind,
But in sight
As I recross the bridge.
I'm accustomed to its murky silence.
The distant, sporadic car horns.
Avoided emergencies, obnoxious goodbyes.
I hear them all.
I smell fuel emissions and nocturnal suffering.
I taste staling alcohol and summer's fruits.
I see the town that has cradled me.
I pick at its foliage and try to feel something.
I'll remember praying for floodwater.
I'll remember plains and peaks.
I'll remember the wall that can't hold it all.
The long, loud day
And the long, quiet sleep.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
I Warrant that thy lack of care
Is bound within a hard restraint,
Bound within thy calloused fist
To disavow convention’s taint.
I Warrant that thy steely eye
Hath fixed upon the prize of yore,
Hath disregarded consequence
In disinterring mankind’s law.
I Warrant that thy wall of pride
Hath steeled thy arm of self regard,
In keeping thy momentum’s rush
From dissipating conscience hard .
I Warrant that the breath thou breathe
In staling air of all contrite,
Contaminates the very heart
Of those who roar “Seig Heil” to *****
I Warrant in the dead of night
When phantoms stalk thy peace of mind,
Incineration souls aflame
Might cause thy yellowed teeth to grind.
I Warrant that through centuries
These ghosts shall ride thy spirit hard,
And man shall weep in horror when
He looks upon thy cruel regard.
Marshalg
Warrantor to an indiscriminate other
24 February 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
Sitting on the steps of the back porch
A piece of staling bread sour-dry in my mouth
Wondering if there is peace in this evening.
I notice above me sky whales,
Silent, moving slowly, but faster than you would think,
Bellies blue, edges tinted pink.
And suddenly I know which way is west
Because they are gliding away from the darkening pallor
Where the sun set not so long ago.
The air above me is water.
I am looking up into the sea
Where migrating orca mountains
made by breath, moved by wind
Slide from dusk to darkness.
I no longer know up from down, drowning from sighs,
But by God I know which way is west.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 6:52 PM UTC
This
*innocuous, looking,ancient brown
papyrus scroll contains, on every inch of it
wisdom invaluable, rare to find
(we guess)*
But
*we are relieved of a misery as none has
been ever successful in reading the script
not a bit , even once, hence staling won't help anyone.*
So
*there is no security risk in keeping it open
in full view of all, in case someone ingeniously cracks it
we too can rejoice for this miracle, otherwise let us
sit like this, hoping for this winter gloom to somehow end.*
All
*we look for is for some cheer, even someone
with ulterior intentions is fine , let any one show up
for once, breaking it open letting know what is in there
so precious, is it all we need to rejoice, theory of everything*
any one?
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
Deceitful dealings bring
discreetly fearfully beings
from under
crumbling ceiling
To intellectual meetings
Tightly griping your thighs
Afraid of falling
Trained to stray from crawling
Unable to commit to staling
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Sirens are wailing,
My very last breath is staling.
A set of eyes pin me down,
Complete with a mock frown.
"Why, it looks like you're in trouble."
My fear seemed to double.
It's just like how they say,
'Your life flashes before your eyes.'
I'm pathetic, aren't I?
I let this person find my weakness while I was blind.
"Now, if I may,"
A beat passed. I'm going to die.
"I shall see to your demise."
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
If my words inspired such things
As demon's fire or angel's wings
Then the words I'd write might be warring
Like opposing, blood-stained kings
Each word in depth as if a book
The letters soldiers, a chessboard's rooks
With swords that clashed and shields that shook
As hallowed ground was overtook
Such damage or healing my words could share
Each one sweet'ning or staling the air
An angel's kiss or demon's snare
The choice being mine, both side both there
Oh, what effects these hands could bring
From siding with such warring kings
As grounds they shake and swords they sing
With raging fires and beating wings
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
have you no strength to lift your head from the flames,
that tremble from the flesh where your fingers bed?
and you are drained and you are dry,
and my old and calloused hands will never be satisfied,
with the skin I've molded on top of yours
this clay will never find its way from where they lay,
underneath my chipping nails.
am I trapped beneath the weight of tremulous limbs,
or am I trapped beneath the stench of a staling mind?
come daylight, I will decide
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
every morning I wake up,
with an aching in my heart.
the bed staling with each passing day,
each day tougher to start.
the silent dawn then comes alive
as I recall words and laughter that rings so true,
as I hug this pillow tighter
wishing it was you.
I close my eyes as I rest my head,
yet all I see is you.
These lips recall fervent memories
of times that passed too soon.
and as I rise with the first gleam of light
and place my feet upon the floor,
I try to walk away from your departure,
as I pace to wards the door.
the day soon ends,
and as I lay again in this bed,
I know i'll wake up the next morning,
I know it'll be the same ache.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
Maybe if I continue to fall, the most important people of all will see.
Maybe they will see me desperately trying to breathe as the black ink fills my lungs.
The ink stains my lungs, maybe if I really show what goes through my head people will agree I should be dead.
The more depressed I get the more fine I feel, my control is tearing at the seams.
Nothing feels real as I’m trying to think of a new deal.
A new deal as in a new way to cope.
I have tried to pray the pain away, but all I think of is hanging from a rope.
Smokes, alcohol, slicing my skin to bits.
No matter how hard I try the demons are still crawling from their pits.
To wreck havoc on my soul.
Maybe if I let them win people will realize that I was falling.
As I lay in bed bawling, I wonder why I’m staling.
Maybe if I end it all..I won’t have to fall.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
Strolling down the walk
under the blistering sun,
would I have been
good enough?
Showing me your
favorite spots,
eating late lunches
on the dock.
Would you have
held my hand?
Late night talking
in the cooling summer breeze,
how is it that I
still find reason
to daydream all these
pointless dreams?
You look
fiercly new and ultimately
something akin to
worthwhile,
like you could have been
the best place
to have called
home.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC