"stallions" poems
As long as it doesn't hurt,
I want you to imagine watching me being torn apart,
by powerful galloping stallions in a crowd full of naive people.
As I'm torn,
my deepest darkest secrets that only you know,
come pouring out.
You have become protective of these secrets because you have helped keep them for so long.
so you can feel my pain as the incidence unfolds before your eyes,
there is nothing you can do but watch and feel.
This is why I burnout and freakout,
every time I hear the word councillor or support,
it's like someone taking your job and getting respect for not knowing it like you did.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
XXXI. TO HELIOS (20 lines)
(ll. 1-16) (34) And now, O Muse Calliope, daughter of Zeus, begin
to sing of glowing Helios whom mild-eyed Euryphaessa, the far-
shining one, bare to the Son of Earth and starry Heaven. For
Hyperion wedded glorious Euryphaessa, his own sister, who bare
him lovely children, rosy-armed Eos and rich-tressed Selene and
tireless Helios who is like the deathless gods. As he rides in
his chariot, he shines upon men and deathless gods, and
piercingly he gazes with his eyes from his golden helmet. Bright
rays beam dazzlingly from him, and his bright locks streaming
form the temples of his head gracefully enclose his far-seen
face: a rich, fine-spun garment glows upon his body and flutters
in the wind: and stallions carry him. Then, when he has stayed
his golden-yoked chariot and horses, he rests there upon the
highest point of heaven, until he marvellously drives them down
again through heaven to Ocean.
(ll. 17-19) Hail to you, lord! Freely bestow on me substance
that cheers the heart. And now that I have begun with you, I
will celebrate the race of mortal men half-divine whose deeds the
Muses have showed to mankind.
4.5k
All at once the music stopped;
The calliope stopped spinning.
Atop the stallions we held hands
Convinced that we were winning –
For we were in the prime of life,
We held the golden ring,
Though the music stopped, we knew
Forever we would sing.
All at once the music stopped;
The Ferris wheel stopped turning.
Atop the city looking down,
We saw that lights were burning –
For we were in the evening and,
Our lives had passed midway,
And when the music stopped we knew
That we had had our day.
All at once the music stopped;
The carnival had ended.
And we held each other tightly,
As if our lives could be suspended –
For without the music and the lights,
Past and Present blended,
Our future was but memories
That we had resurrected.
All at once the music stopped;
The night was deathly still.
Alone, and scared I trembled,
Without a prayer, without a will–
For my life had been a carnival,
With my lover at my side,
But all alone, without my lover
I knew that I had also died.
Phil Lindsey 3/29/16
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
"Move" they say
and put martingale on with a neigh
Thai pony in Chiang Mai
A green patch of grass
was what your heart desires
would yourself like a chew of truss?
In the forest with no name
on hard concrete without an aim
swimming with the tuk-tuk wave
"Where am I?"
you ask with side-patched eye
"My knees are soft like a microwaved pie"
But all you ever get
is a whip on the back
from the oddity with some leather strap
"Why are you so hesitant
while all the other stallions are competent
don't you know the creatures in the carriage are very important?"
"How important are the vultures in the world I don't know
but I know that I won't say no
if you borrow a thread of my hair for a violin bow
and play their funeral march with it to and fro"
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
The grass was clear in the moist of the ruins moat
Twas dawn and all this hike, not even a city I could sight
The plains were sheer as the white satin coat I've seen
Clash, a clustering view from mountains down to hills
Shaking knees as I rise to pick up my bed of sheets
Then the breeze swept as I shivered to its grasping chills
Distant peeks; unbridled stallions are troubled free
The sunray spots the verge and brightens the darkest end
At lost in the moment, a nature's sage of imagery blends
A brown wren swiftly glides upon to rest at my tent
In the midst of the day like rain in June and blooms of May
Swans, Geese and white petals dancing to a bluish bay
Solitary to be, but with the rivers overflowing symphonies
We'd sing hymns to delight in an afternoon galore
A steadfast rhythm clinging as I walk with God alone
Euphoric army of billows cascading, a purple-orange scene
As I idle in the view of fields depicting a justful liberty
To smile and remember someone cared with all is please
Singing crickets and fireflies we're all a friend of mine
At eve I rolled endlessly, frolicking at the midnight meadow
Casting joys and crowns as the moon beams a silver line
To the hinterlands, life's a breeze and everybody twas at ease
An escapade I was wanting to get lost from life's reality
Meeting pauper's, gazing wonders, then we'd all fall asleep
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Bad as a ***** *****
Bas as a ***** *****
Flapjack rippin up tracks
Call the conductor
Oh wait that’s me
You need training
Wheel’s on the track
Traction that you stuck under
N never wonder who is coming with the blunderbuss
All up in yo face, one shot n you under us
Ain’t wonderous?
****** up a couple plastics, pause, chill, kickback
Smoke a couple blunts
M to the A G, N to the Ificient
Life’s nice isn’t it?
That is, if ya got a little life light to lighten up those, like,
Way heavy dark instances.
And I don’t give a **** what you’re inference is
Psh, this ***** tryna tell me what the difference is
I thought it was obvious
I am, they are not the ****
Now we all got a nervous system
But that don’t explain why you’re so nervous mister
I done chained two chains up by his whiskers
Gave away his dummy money needed hunny ****** his sister
It’s the
Little Rapscallion
****** up your fleet, better bring the whole battalion
And I rap stallions, you stickin to the stable
Fables of your ladies n your many medalions
**** I’m goin off in this motha *****
Tossin these ***** fuckas wall to wall
Knockin bricks out with a fist pound
So get out n stand back, take notes, watch it fall
I’m bach with ***** don’t matter what your speed
I can clock em all, No cops involved, knock knock knock knock
Lock down drop top n ball
I’m all tweaked up n ***** you bound to stall
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
— for the American Mustang
Strung up on one leg, bled dry while alive,
unloaded off trailers crammed full
of the crippled and blind —mares
giving birth on three legs, foals trampled
by stallions, and a wave of fear
hovering over tossing manes
like the sea after Moby **** surfaced
for the first time. Last year,
135,000 horses died —
rounded up in hundreds and sent
off to slaughter like feeder goldfish,
three stops from Canada
or Cabo, displaced from plains
once revered for their livelihood.
In 1969, Vonnegut
wrote, “And so it goes…”
In 2061, our children will ask about the wild
horses who used to live in their backyards
as they catch the last fireflies and bottle
them up in jars, flickering and dying
like tired bulbs giving up on electricity —
2015 sees Henderson, Nevada grasses paying tribute
to power-plant-lines and a suburb built
on Tralfamadore fiction: house-mounds
and picket fences caging domesticated dogs,
curb-lined streets and caution signs, billboard
warnings of humanity’s fixation with progression,
combined like coffee with an overabundance
of half-and-half and too much sugar — only 99 cents
at Dunkin down a little ways, and home
to the dreamers who forget the word freedom.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
I now realize that I am not a mule.
I do not have to carry people and their burdens on my back.
I do not have to be slowed down or held back by the weight of others.
I will no longer be controlled by others.
I am a stallion.
Free to roam wherever,
Moving fast and majestically,
I carry my own weight.
And when I am with a group of my kind,
We will not hold back or let anyone take a ride.
I am a stallion ,
and stallions do not carry people.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
I shake like a drooling fool,
exhale a snore
am spent as my drizzle creeps towards her ******
The loose flesh of me weighed down upon her,
but she wasn't there
She was running through fields of fresh emerald spears,
chases the wild horses of Patagonia
never catches them as she is overrun
carried away by the stallions from behind,
blooms a water lily opens and closes over and over,
Cereus opens with the touch of the Moon over and over,
feel the dust hear the waves of trampling hooves
as her face, a tense string,
shatters into an open mouthed smile and shout of,
"I am life, and you are the most blessed of creatures, here.
I am the glamor of everything.
I am Mother Earth in this moment,
screaming, fitting, wailing, quaking, coming.
Your diminishment has made this possible.
Bathe in the spinning cradle of life,
and stay still before you retreat from it."
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 7:15 AM UTC
I have to prove this tonight. Mind over matter. Thought is sharper than any knife, and moves faster than any bullet. Thought leaves the body at 10,000 signals per second, if propagated correctly it goes directly to who you send it to. It grabs friends along the way. Friends who want to **** for you. They will hang out around the target and then actually go into others and into the target. They can take over cells, thought, and well being. I am sending them tonight. In a few moments I will release these white stallions to trample and to bite the backs of the dark ones who travail in the shadows. No hiding. I know the routes to send them. There will be a lot of friends. The good spirits that are beaten down and awaiting their bodies to finish the dying process. They are in purgatory. I help them, and they are thankful for me, as I am thankful for them. I hope they are more gentle this time...I truly do.
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 10:42 PM UTC
I have to admit
That I immediately knew what the media meant
As I grew up I drew out-
Side lines
Meaning kinds when you omit the 'n' so I'm sent
To set askew a few lies, yes my butterfly knife flies like a feather pen oh I've been
A berserker moving farther
Further herding words heard for war it's forward
But since before he was drafted roughly but justly
Just to sink in ink engrafted ****** because he's
Made for brigades who blockade it to shock it
Force it shoot it and make it play its poor music to Bach it
Oh face it, we rock it
The battalion's out there and they're shouting
I'm silent but they rattle
Yeah my rabble of stallions, they're rowdy
But of course, off course it is not all Norse my love because
They say the other north
Yeah your horizontal course turned up with a
Tincture of madness
And that is the one, single error and I'm glad of it
If you catch it
Maybe a troublemaker by nature but baby a peace speaker missing demeanor
With misdemeanors when getting meaner
But I practice a bit
In an out-there train re-accident be-
Cause the battalion's out there while they're shouting
I'm silent but they rattle rapidly
Yeah my rabble of battle lions rabid
To vaporize vapid rabbits
They're rowdy and
And love is getting much louder than growling it's
It's sounding much louder than growling
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
From dawn until dusk, you are here,
Meandering images smiling sweetly,
Your words, a thousand-fold message,
Caress me inside, soothing my soul,
Bringing perpetual joy to my mind,
For you are all, my loving constant.
My companion, thoughts of you jostle,
Real-time memories holding sway, yes,
Corralling projected musings, taming,
Horned unicorn harnessing wild stallions,
Calming dreams, wayward ripples in time,
Cosseting us with complete and utter love.
Whole, unified spiritually, emotionally,
We become unconquerable, unassailable,
Our Aztalan utopia, home to our musings,
Deep stronghold, fastened by pure love,
I kiss your humble mind, sincere heart,
Forging a blended alloy of true happiness.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
The first love for me
It was always the sea.
Being lovingly caressed
Being slowly undressed
By the deep oceans call.
Being caught as I fall
Into Kingdoms below.
Where I flow
Into gleaming ravines
Into Davy Jones dreams.
And on the network of tides
I slide into rides
And slip into waves
Of mermaids and slaves.
I glide upon stallions
Sail in lost galleons
And float in with the breath
Of those swallowing death.
As the seafarers are pounded
As schooners are grounded.
And sink into the deep
In silence they keep
The first love for me
It was always the sea.
John Smallshaw 2011.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 7:10 AM UTC
The first love for me
It was always the sea.
Being lovingly caressed
Being slowly undressed
By the deep oceans call.
Being caught as I fall
Into Kingdoms below.
Where I flow
Into gleaming ravines
Into Davy Jones dreams.
And on the network of tides
I slide into rides
And slip into waves
Of mermaids and slaves.
I glide upon stallions
Sail in lost galleons
And float in with the breath
Of those swallowing death.
As the seafarers are pounded
As schooners are grounded.
And sink into the deep
In silence they keep
The first love for me
It was always the sea.
John Smallshaw 2011.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 7:10 AM UTC
You are the clouds
That come crossing the
Cool reflected solar rays
Just to kiss cold cratered moon
I watch
Your vaporous outlines
Loose their edges
I soften just like them
With the heart of hope
A Carousel of cloud stallions
Race away faster
Than the impressions of
Love's drug induced elations
I reach out into the darkness
But your ghostly white night light
Slips away like cirrus thoughts
Tonight you are solid in someone else’s arms
But to me you are my
Cloud covered twilight daydream
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Helios prepared his golden steeds,
Each huffing and pawing at the waves of Oceanus,
Alectrona raised her arms, and Eos woke from her slumber.
The chariot was lashed to his stallions,
And slowly, the sun god rose.
Eos spread her fingers across the sky,
And as he rose, a fiery flare bringing day,
Threads of pink illuminated the clouds as purple ribbons split the darkness.
Phanes lent Helios light as he rose on the mountain in the sky,
Orange twined its way through fields of blue,
A blazing scythe that cut away everything but itself.
Clouds that had formed by Zeus were gathered like birds,
And as Helios passed, they lit from within with scarlet joy,
And the laughter of Tethys echoed as she made the white fleece of the heavens.
Farther and farther he climbed the mountain in the sky,
And the heavens turned a bright blue,
The orange scythe that had cut away the onyx and navy fields
Faded away to return the next day.
When at last day had truly begun,
And Hemera had truly awakened,
There was only a purple horizon,
By that mountain in the sky.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
A line of trees in massive form
Encroach along a ridge of stone,
Gnarled, bent and weather worn
Their clinging roots call granite home.
This ancient wood has weathered time
Felt the freezing gales of snow,
Has witnessed birth and death by day
Through life's kaleidoscopic show.
Oh the stories they can tell
When sunshine in the heavens ,warm,
When rivers run in merry tune
And safflower honey bees do swarm.
Oh the stories they can tell
When fillies kicked their heels in grass,
When whippoorwills did sing their song
And rampant stallions vied for class.
Oh the stories they can tell
When ancient armies trod this way
When clashing steel rang loud and clear
And good blood flowed in battle fray.
Oh the stories they can tell
When faceless horsemen galloped by,
The stench of putrid fear's lament
When populations bled to die.
Oh the stories they can tell
Of mountain peaks succumbed to fire,
Where ash removed the very sun
And panicked people fled the dire.
Oh the stories they can tell
Of black and white and good and bad
....But immaterial, perhaps, to trees
Who root in rock and seem so sad.
Marshalg
Taranaki dreamin'
26 May 2011
May 25, 2011
May 25, 2011 at 9:49 PM UTC
lay down your arms at the foot of her bed
lay down your arms at the foot of great monuments to her war
where you have awoken amidst the ferns in that deathly hour
and let her strong masculine hands lead you to a place
where your fears are mounted on the blackest of stallions
driven by the most unholy of demons
and let her lay bear your chest
skin thick with scars from old attempts at immortality
scrape the meat to show the place where your weaknesses hide
shrouded in dry, cracked, velvet steel
stained from your acid tears that fall down your tired face
and as she whispers to you the alms of renewal
let your mind embrace the scent of her breath
and forget her lust
and forget the fear
and forget the death and regret that you have made part of you
release it through your flesh as each fragile layer comes peeling off like dead petals in the heat
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:03 AM UTC
On the golden sands
Stallions of pure white run
Waves returning home
©Jon London 2011
Copyscape Protected
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
By Arcassin B & Olivia K
AB: As long as the earth turns , let auras fly into the abyss,
Just to get a hug or a kiss From a loved one,
OK: To find you waiting at the end of the world to carry me
through in a pastel pink rosebud,
AB: I feel the flames of Hades calling me ,but I
Woke when heard angelic presences,
OK: calling to me with ****** song, harps be strummed for all to hear, harp strings tug at heart strings,
AB: too much decadence for everyday people to comprehend on the
Bliss that is heaven cringed,
OK: Painted in raging scarlet, heaven vibrates simplistically, causing rolls of thunderous applause and so those rains fall, releasing the reins of horses wild,
AB: And while we lives wondering what have could be a historical moment, Flower grow like stallions flowing through the grass so surreal,
OK: and here we live in dreamlike skies as love be cultured as grown pearls before our sparkling eyes.
Together we ride the smiles we share, a surreal helter-skelter.
Known only as true love.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
everyone
is in their own little world
these girls don't wanna see weakness
stallions running the preakness
I feel something want to cease this
but it's creeping
and it's seeking
hard clinging
nose bleeding
stay creative
no more complaining
uplifting
mind drifting
into position
to dismiss them
forgive them
and continue
to live them
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
(Song title from Howlin’ Wolf’s catalogue, by Willie Dixon)
Red sky,
Blood red with dark clouds billowing out on high,
A shadowy troupe approach,
Closer and closer they begin to encroach,
Four stallions and their riders strong,
The devil on their shoulder whispering evil wrongs,
The fear in my eyes turns to tears on my cheek,
My legs crack and I forget how to speak,
I stumble and stagger and try to hide,
This is what imagined on the day that I died.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC