"stammered" poems
There once was a young man named Feste, and he was not a very good young man.
He was a thief, and a sneaky one at that. He would go to all of the stores in the market and steal anything that he pleased.
He loved to steal from the baker and the butcher especially.
He would go to his hiding place in the forest after his deviousness and eat away his stolen treasures, brooding on what a “clever little boy” he was.
The baker and the butcher knew though. They noticed him coming in most days and leaving in quite a hurry. They could not actually catch him in the act, but they knew beyond a doubt what he was doing. They were having drinks together one night though when they devised a clever scheme to stop him from stealing ever again. The butcher carved up a juicy ham, and the baker baked up a delicious pie, but they added a little something extra to it…
The butcher made sure to quite a bit of alcohol into the ham, and the baker did the same with his pie. They both set their two traps in the store, right when the spoiled thief Feste came strolling into the market with his eyes gleaming.
The baker watched him walk into his shop,the pie disappeared.
The butcher watched him walk into his shop, the ham disappeared.
They both smiled and went about their work.
Feste rushed to his hiding place and devoured his stolen goodies so fast that he didn’t even realize how peculiar it seemed to taste...
Not long after, he started to feel strange. Numb and stupid. He ran towards the village, acting a buffoon. The villagers stared and laughed at Feste acting so odd. His mother found him though and brought down the fury.
“Feste! Why are you acting like a **** fool?" She demanded.
He threw out a few words in a drunken stupor and swayed in place.
"Wait.. have you been drinking!?” She screamed.
“Noe maum! Allll Ie had todae is pie and haam!” He stammered in a drunken sway.
“And where exactly did you get those!?” She inquired.
Feste had a look of terror on his face and grew silent.
He was found out to be the no good thief and was punished severely, because his mother thought he stole the alcohol as well as the pie and ham, and he couldn’t prove otherwise.
Feste never stole again and he even apologized to the butcher and baker, though they still do have a laugh now and then…
The End
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
When I told my phsysical therapist that I'm a lesbian,
her answer was a question I did not ever expect;
"So... Are you a lesbian because you are disabled and you cannot get a boyfriend?"
I was speechless,
looking at the wall,
stunned. Holy ****
she did not just stereotype every single disabled homosexual to have ever existed.
I stammered no,
and I tried to explain that I have had boyfriends before,
it just wasn't my thing.
Looking back now I realise that,
I should not have explained anything because I don't ever need to explain anything about the people I love.
I have had a thing for girls,
since I was three,
and when I was three years old I did not notice my disability,
the way it's being noticed today.
And the absolute most heartbreaking thing about both my sexuality and my disability is,
that I still do not notice it as much as everybody else seems to do.
I can be the best girlfriend ever,
no matter what my sexuality is,
no matter how my body looks.
And don't get me wrong;
I like guys too. I think guys are wonderful.
If God had created Eve and Ava,
who would have brought me into this World?
I can get a boyfriend if I want one,
maybe someday I find the most amazing guy ever,
and I will not let my sexuality stand in my way.
But for now,
I am a disabled homosexual,
who decided to tell you about it.
And dear physical therapist:
I have never judged you,
not even when you told me you fell for a fat guy,
and now you're married.
So don't ask me if I'm only a lesbian,
due to the fact that I have a disability,
because guess what?
I'll have my disability no matter if,
the person I'm dating,
has a ***** or a ******
(e.k.j.)
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
Saw her first at cousin's weddinG,
She looked astonishing I knew where it was headinG
Escorting the bride she came in smilinG
My eyes got glued on her and my heart started poundinG.
Afraid of her brother but she agreed to meeT,
I got there first, where the buses fleeT,
Time and place was on her to fiX,
Excited, I reached before the clock tickS,
There I saw her waving at platform thirty siX.
Time freezed for a while,
Walking towards her a million thoughts ran through my mind,
Was that really her or someone else!?
But that same magical smile and my heart again melts.
Simple, yet pleasant I liked her stylE,
But the best thing was definitely her smilE,
I got lost , stammered in speech for a whilE,
She was confident and I got nervous blood profilE.
The place was new ,
None of us had any clue,
I was sweaty , the day seems hottest,
Perhaps the oddest in the whole August.
Black and white top and she blingS,
Leather sandals and those shiny earingS,
The watch was pink , hairs were perfect readY,
But **** her luggage was real heavY!
Got in a cab, and some comfy place to talK,
She was in a hurry, but i had all the clocK,
She was bold at the same time cooL,
And I was smiling for no reason like a fooL.
More time I wanted to spend,
But getting her home safe and sound was important in the end.
Got her a bus had to bid a good bye,
And my hopes of meeting her soon are sky high! :)
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
A man came to my door late last night.
It was about 8pm if my guessing is right
He seemed shaken and overcome with fright
He stuttered and stammered as I turned on the porch light
Timothy he said
Timothy he begged
Please listen to me he pled
I must save you his tongue shed
Flabbergasted at the sight,
my thoughts abstracted despite
his quadratic explanation of my plight.
We connected like an arc light.
Hold on I demanded
Wait a second I commanded
He could tell by my look I was stranded
in the immensity of the situation so he spoke candid
So your here to save my life? What do I say to something like that?
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So You Wouldn't Know Who I Am,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So This Hell Wouldnt Have Began,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So Tears Will Never Come,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So You And I Are Never Be Bummed,
I Wish I Could Erase The Past,
So I Could Stop All The Rumors,
I Wish I Could Erase The Past,
So A Mistake Didnt Come Out Of Humor,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
Because Then I'd Never Have Been Sad,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
So I Did Never Hurt My Dad,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
And Many Others Who Have Made Me Mad,
I Wish I Could Erase Them All,
Every Heartless Person Who Made Me Crumble,
I Wish I Could Erase Them All,
Every Person Who Made Me Struggle,
I Wish I Could Erase All The Nightmares,
The Nightmares That Were Real,
I Wish I Could Erase The Nightmares,
The Thoughts So Surreal,
I Wish I Could Erase The Scars,
The Scars On Skin,
I Wish I Could Erase The Scars,
The Ones Gained From Way Back When,
I Wish I Could Erase Every Tear,
Every Coat Of Eyeliner That's Been Smeared,
I Wish I Could Erase Every Stammered Word,
Every Scar From Evil Mans Sword,
Every Breath Ive Taken To Block Back Anger,
And Erase Every Anchor,
That Holds Me To Earth
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:28 PM UTC
I
Half of the fellow father as he doubles
His sea-sucked Adam in the hollow hulk,
Half of the fellow mother as she dabbles
To-morrow's diver in her ***** milk,
Bisected shadows on the thunder's bone
Bolt for the salt unborn.
The fellow half was frozen as it bubbled
Corrosive spring out of the iceberg's crop,
The fellow seed and shadow as it babbled
The swing of milk was tufted in the pap,
For half of love was planted in the lost,
And the unplanted ghost.
The broken halves are fellowed in a *******
The crutch that marrow taps upon their sleep,
Limp in the street of sea, among the rabble
Of tide-tongued heads and bladders in the deep,
And stake the sleepers in the savage grave
That the vampire laugh.
The patchwork halves were cloven as they scudded
The wild pigs' wood, and slime upon the trees,
******* the dark, kissed on the cyanide,
And loosed the braiding adders from their hairs,
Rotating halves are horning as they drill
The arterial angel.
What colour is glory? death's feather? tremble
The halves that pierce the pin's point in the air,
And ***** the thumb-stained heaven through the thimble.
The ghost is dumb that stammered in the straw,
The ghost that hatched his havoc as he flew
Blinds their cloud-tracking eye.
II
My world is pyramid. The padded mummer
Weeps on the desert ochre and the salt
Incising summer.
My Egypt's armour buckling in its sheet,
I scrape through resin to a starry bone
And a blood parhelion.
My world is cypress, and an English valley.
I piece my flesh that rattled on the yards
Red in an Austrian volley.
I hear, through dead men's drums, the riddled lads,
******** their bowels from a hill of bones,
Cry Eloi to the guns.
My grave is watered by the crossing Jordan.
The Arctic scut, and basin of the South,
Drip on my dead house garden.
Who seek me landward, marking in my mouth
The straws of Asia, lose me as I turn
Through the Atlantic corn.
The fellow halves that, cloven as they swivel
On casting tides, are tangled in the shells,
Bearding the unborn devil,
Bleed from my burning fork and smell my heels.
The tongue's of heaven gossip as I glide
Binding my angel's hood.
Who blows death's feather? What glory is colour?
I blow the stammel feather in the vein.
The **** is glory in a working pallor.
My clay unsuckled and my salt unborn,
The secret child, I sift about the sea
Dry in the half-tracked thigh.
3.9k
.
A man has a wolf, a goat and a head of cabbage. While traveling, the group comes to a river's edge. The river is wide with a swift current.
The man obtains a very small boat/raft, floating thing. So small in fact he can only take one of the three at one time. Here is the problem. If he takes the cabbage, the wolf would surely eat the goat. But if he takes the wolf, the goat would surely eat the head of cabbage. How can he get himself, the wolf, the goat and the head of cabbage all safely across the river to the other side?
Take a moment and try to figure it out then read my little story to help you along. Have fun and I'll see you on the other side of the river.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***There once was a man from Afghanistan
with his wolf, some cabbage and goat
set forth to cross the desert remote
they trudged for days on end, maybe as long as a week
whew!! the smell of that cabbage **** did it wreak
over dunes and hills to a mountain's ledge
which lead them down to the river's edge.
Now the wolf was a master over hill and dale
but crossing the river, he would surely fail
with cabbage as baggage and a goat that won't float
he knew in an instant, he needed a boat.
He stammered, and scratched and pondered awhile
he couldn't decipher how they could all cross The Nile
He grabbed a few pieces of floating wood
and lashed them together a tight as he could
He stared at his float, then peered the wolf,
back to the float then to the goat, Hum,
with cabbage, wolf and goat to tote
he prayed to his God, I need a small boat
Then all of sudden sand blew in his eye
and a rumbling voice came out of the sky
F- E- R- R- Y
Now everyone knows that wolf eats goat
and a goat will eat anything especially cabbage
But did you know that nothing rhymes
with cabbage and wolf, except
for wolf and cabbage blah blah blhababage.
So there my friends the problem is solved
if you are able to postulate.
Just carefully follow these simple steps
one, through six, seven and eight.***
1. take the goat over 2. come back get cabbage 3. take cabbage over 4. bring goat back
5. leave goat 6. take the wolf over 7. come back, get goat 8. take goat over again
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
A guy said, "Wow! My stress level
Has really dropped. I am elated!
I owe it to my meditation."
"Yes, and maybe endorphins," I stated.
"What?" he asked. "What do you mean?
What do orphans have to do with it?
I'm TRYING to share what happened to
My mind, and here you go and ***** with it."
"No," I chuckled. "You don't understand.
You see, 'and orphans' is not what I said.
It has nothing to do with orphans.
I was saying 'endorphins' instead."
"There you go again," he continued,
"Saying it over and over again:
'And orphans, and orphans.' You sound like
A nitwit with a capital 'N'!"
"I, a nitwit?" I said, astonished.
"You are the one who keeps repeating
'And orphans.' Now I see that trying
To reason with you is self-defeating."
"Self-defeating? B...b…but," he stammered,
"I was merely attempting to share
The benefits of my meditation.
Orphans are neither here nor there."
"Listen: I WASN'T saying 'ORPHANS'!"
I yelled. "And frankly, I have to confess
Meditation in your case is
Of questionable effectiveness."
"Although your criticism," he said,
"Should bother me, I will not let it."
He walked away, and as he did,
He mumbled, "And orphans? I STILL don't get it."
-by Bob B (7-27-21)
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 11:04 AM UTC
Honey meets tongue,
Leaves taste buds stung and mouth melting
violently versing vows, Spilling out
fermented
Thoughts caught aloud
Dribbling down toward where they ought not
Time stopped us In a clockmaker shop
Cooking empty pots of dead doves in forgot sauce
Some day in december's When
Plans were dismembered
For the scent of Butter bubbling curiosity
Found horse hungry, So, suddenly he broke free
Trampling Predictable logic.
chasing her tail to town
When, I, sir pain, thought id taught again, then again
the art of invading castles,
Without being found.
Trolling, rolling through The inner out of bounds
A shoeless, shoreless yet Very sure way To get around
None catching on of course Till swordsman number four
Split with silver This world on wheels we made
With a crash
left some
Birthday suit vision
Standing
stunned
stupid
Abashed with a gun to the mirror
Which crying, stammered:
If you let them dear,
Just let them,
They will Listen,
To your chime, chiming Bells inside,
Rhyming you dread hearing songs from"
Said defense:
"Who wants to play each blow to the heart
With lawless abandon to The head?"
"letting harsh light burn holes and leave marks wherever they feel"
Don't think so Solomon!"
Vision laughs,
reflection kneels,
Hands praying
And In the periphery, as a way to break scene here
we see the mailman Crying tears on a map
Who once watched little Ms steel-sturdy
put on her full act.
Wood chips flew thenmsky went black
Pupils dilate to her shell-shocked state Of Before,
before hell bent on Withholding,
before Taking hostage of clowns who are all tied up with
Lilith, the queen
The state that led our wayward siren to begin driving round
in Some man-made beast
She calls Ed.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
Like the chef who hates to eat
The playwright who cannot act,
The clothing designer, a nudist,
The brave hero, so shy, a stammerer,
The musician, a deaf mute,
The architect, who live in a tent,
I am a writer who hates to type, for his fingers disconnect his eyes, his brain his insane
I am the father, who knows not his own children,
I am the man who hates to shave, and shaves twice daily,
The man who knows nothing of nature, but writes
in and of it constantly.
The man beset by endless money worries,
Who gives his capital away to charity in increments of thousands,
I am the man that never passes a street beggar,
Even the obvious frauds,
Without giving them a bill, and a god bless you,
I am the man that would gladly die young whose
Mother lived to ninty eight and gene'd up him good,
I don't know what you want from me.
I write to please. But I seem incapable of
Giving, paving streets with words you what u want to hear.
Moon, June, pill, **** me me me be crap on this
I am the chef who cannot cook
The nudist ashamed of his body
The stammered into silence
The mute who screams inside till deaf with frustration
I writer of thin air, the unfair. I know not what
You want of me.
But I weep with frustration at the paucity of my expression,
Good god my final destination not close enough
In the hands of strangers, rejection
In mine own, verbal strangulation
Even
Whatever
Is
Insufficiently
Disdainful
Painful
I cannot give you enough of/if me to satisfy
What is it you want from me
I will write to displease
Why not do
What I do best
Anyway
Secure that this voice
Is lost among the voices
Answering
whatever
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
cherubic smile
cautious slant
stammered calmness
curiously seductive
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC
*When it is calm here
water stained wall paper welters into iris fields
it is a loud clamor following;
bare remnant foot-stones through greenhouse gardens
over lily-pads with tongues patched by chrome specks
beautiful darkness only glowing here and there;
by dim blue candle flames
just to spy these tips of creation;
to gaze all would ruin it's form
like the ash encased ancestors of Pompeii
This is where where alarum is short lived
stammered shrills absorbed by calm
feeding off sound
the thirst for us noisy gloats*
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 3:30 AM UTC
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Alchemy materialized
Adamant sentiments mere panders
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Fervor ascended, language stammered
Imagery never once had I theorized
Upon pulchritude I gandered
Alchemy materialized
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 3:44 PM UTC
you are every midnight shot I should not have threw down my throat,
every syllable I should not have stammered out beneath
shy gazes and lowered eyelashes and chewed bottom lips.
you are every (in)coherent verse I could not keep
my shaky grip from messily scrawling across any blank page;
you are in every frustrated sigh,
every agitated run of fingers through messy hair,
every tear at 2am.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Cold callous fingertips running their sandpaper touch along the cracked weathered surface of my abandoned lips frozen
meticulously pausing acknowledging every section broken
perhaps it was the suns unrelenting rays under intense focus
perhaps my nervous tendencies becoming visible angst for all to notice
teeth gritting
eye shifting
lip splitting
anxiety
finally arising in the form of trembling hands and stammered speech
soft words being destroyed by hammer teeth
attempting to shatter any remnant of fragile emotion
mouth spilling out every word misplaced and broken
as if these sentences will never be pieced together for you to understand
so i sweep up every piece in my hands
place them nervously in yours as if you knew what each was meant to convey
uneasy hands just tremor away
returning once more to these quivering lips waiting with their fingers pressed tight to my face
praying no more words escape....
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 11:07 PM UTC
Beyond the pale of memory,
In some mysterious dusky grove;
A place of shadows utterly,
Where never coos the turtle-dove,
A world forgotten of the sun:
I dreamed we met when day was done,
And marvelled at our ancient love.
Met there by chance, long kept apart,
We wandered through the darkling glades;
And that old language of the heart
We sought to speak: alas! poor shades!
Over our pallid lips had run
The waters of oblivion,
Which crown all loves of men or maids.
In vain we stammered: from afar
Our old desire shone cold and dead:
That time was distant as a star,
When eyes were bright and lips were red.
And still we went with downcast eye
And no delight in being nigh,
Poor shadows most uncomforted.
Ah, Lalage! while life is ours,
Hoard not thy beauty rose and white,
But pluck the pretty fleeing flowers
That deck our little path of light:
For all too soon we twain shall tread
The bitter pastures of the dead:
Estranged, sad spectres of the night.
1.5k
It's fifteen years
since I let Jack fall.
I am unforgiven
by a wife who wasn't there,
who didn't see what happened
and who will never understand.
And nor will I, of course.
That slow-motion slip
from crested cliff to vanishing
replays before my desperate eyes
each night,
and each night I am as frozen
as on that wretched day.
A harmless walk gone awry
and a family forever shattered.
He was within my reach.
Another day I would have caught him,
effortlessly.
Another day I would have walked cliffside,
keeping him to the thrift-speckled verge,
soft and safe.
Another day we would have walked a woodland trail instead.
I don't know why that day
was the day I was distracted,
the day my reflex failed me.
I don't know why my brain misfired,
conscious enough to watch in horror
but not to propel me forward.
Sometimes we catch the cup as it topples,
sometimes we watch it spill to the floor.
Moments of blissful skill
followed by moments of dumb helplessness.
It was no cup that fell that day.
To her, though, there is no general flaw.
There is no explanation in biology,
no hormone or synapse to be blamed.
There is only me. Her husband.
Jack's father.
There are no two sides to my coin, now.
There is only the man who let him fall.
She stays: she is dutiful.
But I could catch every falling cup,
remember to lock every door,
make never another mistake,
and he will still be dead
because his father was a careless man.
Ten years before Jack fell,
I,
a cautious man, untutored in love,
saw a beautiful girl
and inexplicably threw caution to the wind.
Another day I would have turned aside.
Another day I would have stammered my invitation,
lost my nerve.
But for that mysterious moment
There would have been no Jack,
and we would never have experienced
a limitless, all consuming love
which all the pain in the universe
can never staunch
or dim.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
I wear my loneliness on the ring finger of my right hand, upside down.
A beautiful reminder of
Empty coffeehouse booths and
Cold bedsheets, imprinted only by one.
Someone asked me what his name was,
Noticed my confused glare,
And nodded quietly towards my hand.
I had slipped it on without looking that morning,
Right side up,
Wearing a fake lover upon my finger.
I stammered as I turned it around again,
Reassuring them of my loveless heart.
Any stranger, near or far,
Can see my loneliness.
The brilliant emerald embedded only proves
To be a distraction.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
One day while job searching
I stumbled upon what at first glanced looked like a massage parlor
And I, being in desperate need of money went inside in hope of employment
I walked inside to find three middle aged, stressed out business men sitting in chairs
And the sound of Asian string music being played
And six private booths with moans of pleasure coming out of them
The businessmen had a look of awkward shame on them under the dimmed lights
An Asian woman came up to me and said “hello!" You want massage?”
“No, thank you” I said politely
“I’m wondering if I can have a job”
She looked at me with a smile and said “Job yes, yes fifteen dorra!”
A confused look came to my face
A young black haired beauty from the East came over dressed in almost nothing, “She give you good job, fifteen dorra” said the woman
At that moment I knew what this was, a special massage parlor
“Uh, no thank you, uh bye” I stammered and sped walked to the door and down the stairs
I could not believe that that had just happened, a brothel so close to my home
Well, it made sense there were like five others that got raided and shut down on that street less than year ago
But god **** I just wanted a job
I knew I would go back there though
I just needed a job to make money to get the job that Asian lady was talking about
I left there with a feeling of hilarious confusion and the knowledge of a place where you are guaranteed a happy ending
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Oh, Joseph, we love this fine and ritzy party
No, through the poppy fields we rode a cart, see?
I agree, but at that time the lake was dry
There were castles and spires and dragons this high!
Joseph, what a very, very good party.
--At times, I find there are never parties
But it has been so long since this trip I’ve started
So long from home, with the pain of thought-wandering
Wander, wonder if the dead sit so pondering
In their solitude.
What time find men to thought-wander when dead?
Where seconds breathe lifetimes, bleed red
And when will thought-wandering cave in my head?
The stammered squabbles of parties bled
Out into my hearing.
--Oh, I simply cannot believe the things he says
My dear, did he philosophize about his pauper days?
Lord, how she would twist and turn the conversation
She’d laugh and cheer and nod, all to appease him
Do you hear them now?
--In no earthy place could one ever find such a cracked imagination
Go, and thought-wander the depths of my empty nation;
You’ll find a few dismantled towns, a statue, gold;
A statue of me, built by me, where parties were held
Even there you won’t find it.
Perhaps, if one could find, some lonely corner
With shadows and planks in the heart of the world
Where the dead would sit and the dead would ponder
The fuss and precision of their last friend, the coroner
There you may find it.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 9:37 PM UTC
You tricked me into loving you,
But really I just loved the way you made me feel.
You tempted me from across the room,
Winking and bubbling in your multicolored smiles,
Every person that dared delve into your playful perversions-
Stammered away in a radiant buzz.
I clung to an innocent corner,
I hid from your wicked stare,
But your tantalizing teasing,
Was more than I could bare.
I sipped your sinful cider, love,and lost all my control,
Your venom pulsing through my veins-
Face glowed,hips shook,
And my hair ran down my back and urged my inhibitions to run away with it.
In an intoxication fixation-I opened my mouth and kissed the world,
It tingled.
We floated on the music and surrendered to the beat
The crowd became a single blur, but I knew I had you,baby,
I nestled you tight against my lips-
Your powerful sting still irresistible.
How quickly you betrayed me,
You turned my bliss to tears,
You drug me to the bathroom,
Shame faced me in the mirror,
You left me quite abruptly,
Guilt spilled across the floor,
It dribbled down my swollen face-
You won the Friday War.
You tricked me into loving you-
And now I hate you too.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
and enough of this endless restless nesting fetish.
Incomplete sentences stammered by the breathless
Full of obscure references overtested by the bested . . .
forget to forget the last failure from my past and we'd run rampant and ram horns again but a circle won't fit with a square
no matter how many times you test it . . .
speak money speak *** speak respect;
you can't buy any with either or neither
but try please to succeed
and we'll watch your world crumble
Man never stops learning though unconcerned but acts concerning.
Playing the role of the wiseman the fool gives false advice
spreading vices to mice who won't stand for what's right
To be said **** the fools,
but you must protect them from what we don't know
but you'll never respect them
and you find by and by that by mingling with monsters
you're no longer a savior no longer a martyr
but instead you're so dead that you're following
following
and now like the rest you
falling
dropped
to the bottom.
Clear my mind with bleach
be my teacher, no my preacher
The need for meter seems to have defeated my reason,
unwanted, it seems, perhaps even defeated.
I often wonder how the world sees the world, I long for new perspective. The world seems unyielding, unwanting.
I am born to pry at why we are born to die; born to forever wonder why.
And why?
Answer ever answer. And forever wondering why I can never take chances. I'm often to wrought with distractions to advance.
Why did they refuse to give her a chance?
Why did she refuse to give him a chance?
Someone must've written this story in advance.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Past
closed up pizza joints
Past laundromats, through the dying noise
the nights tick on like clockwork
watch the calendar as my steps unwind
I'll wait for my thoughts to ferment
pick my words, hope I don't slur them.
Flip back past the page of these days
get a read how I got to this age
From the summit where I'm stuck and posted
reread the books where I come the closest
From the shelf spill my guts to ghosts here,
and relive old nights in Bozeman
When I found a place
where the nights grew longer--
grew confident that I wasn't always wrong
and just drank the moon
under dawntide tables
rolled the dice with the greatest friends
we said, "We're not old yet."
Through
crumbling bones at night
past skeletons of the city's size
the nights fall out like sand grains
curse the hourglass as my fate unwinds.
I'll wait for my brain to discharge
its contents on hospital charts.
Glued the book shut, stuck in the time
I gained my crutches and misplaced my mind.
From the bed that I'm ******* glued to
to cluttered basements I can't wade through
The foundation just won't hold up
against the cracks formed in Missoula.
Ran off the rails
where I stumbled and stammered
grew comfortable beneath pint glass hammers
I still drink the moon
under dawntide tables
grown apart from the greatest friends
who said, "You're not dead yet."
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
1
Water lilies remembered her
as one of them, lotus buds nodded, jealousy set thick in their eyes
her fingers were white lily buds
she balanced on the big, smooth, round
pebble stones, like a danseuse in an
under water ballet,you are buoyant here than anywhere,
as if you live a life after death
your bodies pale and water caressed, create an illusion of 'unliving'
2.
she tickled my skin-
goosebumps appeared allover
as small bubbles going up..up till they burst above water
I can't forget her first kiss , underwater
my lungs were filled with her feminine fragrance like smoke of cannabis
an experience that sizzled the water, never to forget
(even if she would never come back from the unfathomable love, water gives)
3
I was naked, she too, like a lily in bloom that was raveling in love
as if it was the last season we had
she was magic in body and soul
I peeped in to the limitless with her entangling me and at the end,
I saw halo around her pointed *******
that have become lotus buds.
I couldn't take my eyes off them
after the magical transformation.
The lake was totally out of the world
the mossy patch between her legs
had a fluorescent glow intermittent,
she was transforming every minute in to a form of water life, I understood.
like a fish, coral, moss or water plant
I , for my dismay remained as before; nothing was to be done about it,
like many of the things brought change in a person's life.
4.
Sun, in the voice of light
called us from above,
his pranks tickled her and me
like ghosts of dead women,
found their watery grave here,
we played with tortoises and frogs
made for us crowns with algae and water flowers.
5
A silvery snake, thin, with some intent
coiled around her narrow waist.
eyes in its sharp pointed head,
intently looked in to mine.
she was now a dolphin without fins
then, I received waves of clear foreboding
time to return to the shores, I tried to tell
but massive sheets of water ate my muffled words!
Swimming up a water column, she smiled that detached smile
already, she was a mermaid , I could see
I stammered"You..promised..
to come back..
we have promises to keep,
that we exchanged..."
Under water time runs in a way we can't understand
one becomes a flow, one with altered time..
she was just a glow in the depth when I saw her last.
O
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 1:33 PM UTC
**** dark and stormy nights.
It was really **** sunny,
But that didn’t change anything.
That didn’t stop you
From turning it all around.
Didn’t stop you
From taking it all back.
I don’t know what to believe
But I know I don’t believe you.
I choose to believe the past.
The things that I knew radiated truth
Because of how your voice shook saying them.
I’ll take the stammered hopes,
The sweaty palms,
And the never ending reel of things gone wrong,
Over the screen bleeding black and white
Any day.
I would continue to spin for you a web of your perfections,
If only you would let me back.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC