"steams" poems
The burning flowers underline the sunset and
Dash before the fire (k)night catches them.
Ripe berries cheaply
tremble
but hopefully their vitality won't burst the pulp pulsating
beneath.
Crumbling flowers
crumb the floor
And Prisms of catching silver refract rose quartz and petal
and crimson
dust.
Bejewelled in Scarlet,
the air,
as the (k)night approaches, grows colder,
Unsure of whether he will bring
solace or strife.
In his chariot
he flies faster than the bees which buzzed around the fruit flutes
in the morning and among the trumpeting bluebells.
Stars fleck the (k)night
like freckles
and the milky ways resins stain his spouting steams lovely.
The (k)nights kind onyx reaches his crescendo and the floating moon danced drowsily through the cloud's spiralled tendrils
Which diminish as dawn
approaches
so their Tentilcles
droop to crinkled tissue paper sheathed in pink.
And so the (k)night
rides on into
The frivolous sunrise.
The lowing, glossy calves
in sage beside the ***** fields
cast a beloved ambience
As though
we are safe
in the knowledge
that the sky will remain
forever
topaz and the leaves
forever emerald.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
I stay awake—
gas,
ion and
tail.
your ghost strokes
my back, fingers
ski-jumping vertebrae
as my face steams into
powder.
your pith, soft and white:
our star in you—
rove to your low neckline in
fire humming comet.
space is blameless in
this limb of heartbreak.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
buried behind a wall of complacency
my contentment boils -- steams like pots of cleansing tea-- in the constant cold
pass the peace pipe over the bones of my enemies.
my rebellion is rooted
deep within my veins
{burried under tact and sweet smiles} but ready to return
the blood of warrior women waiting to return
runs within me- my abilities are their evolution
from the color of my eyes to my tolerance for pain-- rooted
into my skullspinesoul
in a field of dinosaur bones-
only the strong survive the cold
this ever present frost
follows me like the windigo; its return
deep in the decemberjanuaryfebuary ache of my bones
a disease malignant in the
deep r
u
n
n
i
n
g
tap-roots of elms- etched
into
time like
skeletons in the ice
tested {thawing} with every return
of this ******* season, evolving
from the lifeless bones
of trees to the wings of birds
brittle, but strong;
bundled with love(hate) protecting me from the cold
letting go, but wanting them to
fall back like
cigarette ashes in the wind
this is no place or time in my life for slow acceptance but
I find safety in the muscle bound bones
aware, lying (insomniac), waiting for someone to breathe
life into the marrow.
my love- deep, engrained, rooted
the pulse of human heat keeping me from the cold
will I ever change?
bundled against the cold, the cracking of my bones
is like the creaking of the dead trees i stare up at
with their songs of change
and the end of fears never to thaw out again
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
Crescendo at the pitch ,
the touch of the octave,
the slide of my ribcage.
Put me on the overdrive
the feel of the rhythm,
beautiful eyes in glimmer.
I can't believe we are back,
on the track and split laps,
the untimed togetherness.
At the start of the race,
where heat and mist rose,
steams in the gush of the ****
Poised passion rose to the skies,
wetness and action felt so right,
the torrential evaporated rain.
My future lies in your bed,
on the blue walls with graffiti,
away in a continent afar.
Inside the cocoon of a time-space,
irrigated by sprinkles of growth,
where we hum through civilisation.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC
Mercies at juxtapositional refinement
Abandoned constitutional confinement
Handshakes on the bridged ligaments
The sweet melodious serene dreams fleets
One after the other like peculiar inventions
The mellow scenes of frames realignments
Wonderful crafted words verses paradigm
Harmonic jazz awesomeness, decode freeness
Orchestral spontaneity drills pragmatic energy
Yet, as the gingered steams rise from the hot brew
The scented breeze of life vaticinates with a smile afar
Whispers of "no obligation, no expectations" reverbs..... on and on....on and on
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
I gasp, for breath...fading away, below you
helpless, beneath the deluge, of you.
Heat rises, and steams, a rosy flush,
into pale, cold cheeks...
as you waterfall above me,
and I turn my face up to you, in gratitude.
I am a dry...arid flower...
dominate me, with your downpour.
Keep me moaning, in little, breathless gasps...
drunk, on your deluge,
lusting, for the gentle, seething weight,
of your measured, eager touch...
so thirsty, for your rain,
as you slick parted lips, in waves.
Slowly...almost painfully
I ache, and writhe
as you pour over me,
and I gulp, hard,
against your hot embrace.
Mmmmm...lover...caress my bare skin
stream, relentlessly
across the peaks, and valleys
of my dripping, naked body.
I'm so wet, beneath you.
Every dance of droplets,
across these spreading hips,
and long, feminine legs...
every prolonged, whispering touch...
every sweet, steaming kiss,
steals my breath away,
and leaves me shuddering,
quivering,
groaning, helplessly,
beneath the lick of your warmth
across these rounded, fleshy cheeks.
I die, a little more, each time
you wash over me,
As I drink you in
...unashamed of the little pool,
you've got forming beneath my bare feet,
and tightly curled toes.
I'm...drenched,
tingling, from my head,
to my toes...
soaked, but satisfied,
beneath the incredible force, of you.
...I just can't get enough, of you.
Apr 26, 2025
Apr 26, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC
Tracing smoke with dry ice fingertips,
I hold my breath and begin to float.
The heat of a bellies past burden
steams to my head, until I begin to rise.
No where to go, except everywhere I'm late,
so I drift along a black and blue sky pretending
to be a storm. Pressing clouds into my skin
that slowly evaporate into recovery along the way.
Unconscious and shattered, I land where I've
always been. Cloaked in dew drop kisses and
pink morning yawns, I could pull the earth over
my head just to snooze into eternity.
But there's a mouth at my neck, breathing sticky
lies and humid affairs. Each whisper a grain of
sand, filling my vision with a million fragments of fog.
Blurring what ever I was and who ever I will become.
I drink shape shifting water that always refills as
***** lubricating contorted lust and pages that
won't burn. Scraping scabs for clues and emptying
all my pockets for loose change as a compass for hope.
Slippery slumber, the hot air rises to make room for
cold confrontation and chilling truths. On every
surface you'll find manic scribbles that feel
like immortal truths
bleeding from my fingertips,
only to wake in silence with no resolution.
Just the melodic drone of recycled air from the AC.
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 7:51 PM UTC
I
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o’clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
II
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands.
With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.
III
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.
IV
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
3.1k
shes sat by the window
like a flower to the sun
burnt deep
paled lotus, mechanized motifs
cigarette, sweet parallel steams
lips pink, eyes deceased
silica tears, seeded
fiber optic designed !release
enter
automated dreamstate
delve
inside the beast
oscillating
pirouetting
psilocybe
serene
days gone underground
plagiarized by peace
prototyped the touch
she’ll never know
it’s me.
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 7:07 PM UTC
Tearing the sky
storms and thunders grunted
eliting the trees!
First rain drop fell
floating like angel, like dead leaf
rinsing my brevity.
Gestures of steams
driven the beauty of crazyness
to mingle with my soul.
Charmed by enthralling
rhythms of mismerising rain
my heart became wet!
Strokes of poetry
in the ruined part of my heart
reverberated unconsiouly!
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 4:01 AM UTC
--To W. H.
With a ripple of leaves and a ****** of streams
The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,
And the winds are one with the clouds and beams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the West from a rapture of sunset rights,
Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
The wood's green heart is a nest of dreams,
The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,
The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,
All secret shadows and mystic lights,
Late lovers murmur and linger and gaze--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
There's a music of bells from the trampling teams,
Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,
The rich, ripe rose as with incense steams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
A soul from the honeysuckle strays,
And the nightingale as from prophet heights
Sings to the Earth of her million Mays--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
Envoy
And it's O, for my dear and the charm that stays--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
It's O, for my Love and the dark that plights--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
2.8k
The kaleidoscope patterns of our footprints in the sand
And those of the seagulls that litter the beach
Like black and white winged pebbles
Are slowly being washed away by the rising water line,
Time and the encroaching tide welcoming us
Into the sea, with the Dolphins and the mermaids
Swimming and lounging on little mountains of rock
Close to the shore, beckoning us into their world.
Our world lies further back, behind the tide line,
The umbrellas and sunscreen and such
To shield us from the blazing sun
That sustains all life in their realm and ours,
And is, perhaps, the first and strongest connection we share
In this blinding world of sand and sunshine,
Where we and them become us.
We wade into the sea, all tentative, coltish legs
And shivers as the waves crash over us.
Everything turns magical as we dive in,
The underwater world blinding us with
It's salty, sandy currents and steams,
But through the rose tint borne
Of our foreignness in this place,
All I can see are dreams coming true.
A lady of the sea paddles up to us,
Offering us her treasures if we'll come
Live in her coral home and breathe the same salt water,
And I, lost in her world, found in her beauty,
Reach out to take her pale hand in mine,
And become as she says,
"I am yours, forever now, as you are forever mine."
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
1/17/10
dopesick boy
make me dope sick
his black in the blue
eyes vanish
he vanishes
the skeletal frame
of his guitar
& all the almosts
that got shot
cause he shot up
the broken window in time
the self steams out of in
the night
his black & blu eyes
pinned
pinned wings in a glass
case
another face
wings evaporate
dust where a boy once sat
holdng my hand in love
Jan 20, 2010
Jan 20, 2010 at 3:22 PM UTC
From the foot of the bed
I stalk you
watch you test the silk
and taste the edgy fear
praying for release
Ignoring your whisper
while pressure steams
inside my skull
my breath whistling
through my teeth
your low moan
explodes through me
and I pounce
bitter-sweet and salt
on my tongue
I love to smell
you wanting me
I love every sound
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
At the patio i sat
gazing at the blazing blackness
of inevitable strokes of
a glorified paint brush!
Entangled by the utmost masochism
my muscles rustled with ignorance
as the sky rumbled like a **** ghost
trying to tune the infernal chaos
that got demoralized and dehumanized
in the silence of darkness
that devastated the darkness of silence!
Steams of intolerable poignancy
curled around
like ignited demons
trying to tantalize my fears!
Trying to materialize the scene
the storm flashed in rage
ravishing the darkness
dazzled the impatience of night
as it rained in my heart
whose fragrance
lured my innocence.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 4:01 AM UTC
Her mocha sits across from my chai latte, milk and cinnamon under angel white foam shied by that coarse, mud brown elixr of caffeine and antioxidants. Her panini steams trails of chicken and grilled tomato through the air while my coconut and raspberry cake slice sits dense on the plate while I stab at it with a plastic fork; she stirs her drink with a partially engulfed spoon between sips. She texts her friends on the latest Apple extortion and I write jilted thoughts on the word processor of a smartphone that struggles to squeeze into the back pocket of my nameless jeans. The sugar clings to my throat as she fills hers with Silk Cut cigarette smoke. How do you read between these lines?
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
a book with oh-so-wonderful words
is a life of no other
with taste and smells
that you've never experienced
a girl with the most beautiful eyes
that break through you r skin
that makes you smile
for no reason at all
a slice of pizza with so much cheese
it steams as you put in your mouth
taste like you want to feel
but the girl is always better
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
In the troposphere of your life are the ready clouds to precipitate
The clouds which are for days condensed of your acts
The acts of your kindness, selflessness, dedication and the lot given into other lives
And on the day of memory - a day worth celebrating
Let our wishes be the steams that melts those beautiful clouds
Let the rain soak your soul wet with joy
A joy that really make the day special
Special enough to preserve you even as you are to us forever.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
Lest the gamers forget the petals doused with blood,
Slayers bequeath their chine.
The guidance of wisdom is deemed for crud,
The sparkle of existence lay bare on the line.
Mockingbirds lost their techniques,
Before dipping their feathers in grizzling red.
Their sentiments shut along their broken beaks,
Symphonies out of tune,
Recorded grünes are that of the dead.
Long lasted the gloom of winter,
As if protected by a permanent warrant.
The only bids are that of a sprinter,
Losing his soul for a bribe, or the steams of the first torrent
How loathsome becometh the living, in a world rotten and vile,
Even I don't guarantee forgiving
For that, I'll set my sail and be gone for a while
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Of course we always do _learn_,
while attending any _schools_.
That should then have us _concern_,
how we must comprehend _rules_!
Do you know what “you’re” _means_?
It is both “you are” _combined_!
Those two words'd make _teams_:
can't you keep them in _mind_?!
Teachers'd teach us for _sure_,
having us properly study a _lot_.
When I see “_your_” for “_you’re_”,
my mind steams up, pretty _hot_!
Gosh, it's really, being so _weird_:
lots of folks just don't _understand_.
People'd need their heads _cleared_,
considering grammar's _command_!
Sheesh, guys, _please_ of _now_ upon _you_: how we need _APOSTROPHES_ with "_re_"!
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
I curse the mind's divine plan
as I lay in valley's low
gazing upon myself a god
and a perfect smile aglow
whilst I toil in my misery
my soul tied with stones
my statue's likeness stands above
revolted at his lesser clone
Look at how he humbly gloats
His skin golden perfection
A mind more clear than unstained glass
A body crafted in circumspection
but though I pull my nails
with a revised renewed edition
with every labored detail
capturing perfection
this tortuous image
calms my heart
stabbing it with hope
for a better start
and I hear whispers in my valley
selling nectars of complacency
spinning truths from fantasy
of how I too one day may be
but as my hands try to summit
the hill soars ever higher
and my mind it pities me below
Remaining on my pyre
and my blood steams
and irrational rashes grow
as I come to realize
I'll forever remain below
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
I picked grey for the sheets
to cocoon our tangles
and black for the curtains
to block out the light
after sleepless skin bliss
in the morning we'd drift
merging aural wires
where flesh cannot press
unified on a fraction
of new foam mattress
dew lattice charted upon
have breakfast in bed
then get up and eat
giggling over tea steams
poured in black and red
Japanese porcelain cups
I found at the thrift shop
with cherry blossoms
fired on their insides
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
rows and rows of decadence
chocolate covered dreams
gold and purple velvet
exotic coffee steams
haute coutre on sterling racks
staffed by aphrodite
cherry blossoms in the air
art to serve the mighty
gilded goblets fat with rubies
thick potions to control
ivory pipes on opal stands
pink smoke from their bowls
mahogany and marble
amber glass aglow
tinkling diamond chandeliers
funiture art nouveau
elixirs and magic rings
magenta fire in a jar
thick and heavy gold
tiffany eggs for the czar
pastel parisian cakes
hand stitched italian shoes
hornback crocodile leather
master barbers fine shampoos
bespoke tailor in a corner
adonis with fine liqueur
any delicacy or art
for any type connoisseur
richly wrapped and waiting
your opulent desires
soak them drink them in
bask in their fires
all priceless things
based on human lies
worth less than dust
compared to love in
someone’s eyes
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Oh, to sail upon the sea.
To brave that which so scares me,
To leave land and life behind,
To sever those ties that bind.
To experiance all those amazing places that I so want to SEE!
That will be something that will forever impact me.
But oh,
Can it happen?
I don't know!
I'm really sick in my body,
Even though I have never said,
It is true that at times I,
Who so loves life,
And beauty.
Have wished to be dead.
Sometimes it is hard to continue on,
But I CAN be strong.
Because I want to experiance those places,
To see,
The world,
The tropics,
Those places,
That make me hope and dream,
The sea and its steams,
There is so much to see!
Dear God,
My lord,
heal me,
Let me be healthy,
So that I can live my dreams,
And photograph,
And experiance,
All that is in my heart,
All that is me.
I want to feel hot white sand beneath my feat,
To stand underneath the Saharan sun,
to feel that great heat,
To Stand upon Rapau Nui,
To FEEL that island beat,
I want to gaze upon the pyramids,
That are ages old,
To gaze upon greek statues of Zeus,
Marble and Gold.
To see forests,
Forever untouched by man,
To visit places,
Unique upon all the lands.
Seattle is my home,
From Father Mountains,
And Mother sea,
But I want to see those places that I always dream of.
Lord,
God,
Let me be free,
Let me healthy.
Or,
To hell with that,
Let me,
Be,
Tenacious enough,
To do what I dream of,
Anyway,
Good God,
Just let my spirit soar,
Let me see,
Let me Photograph,
Just,
LET ME BE FREE,
Just let me open my eyes to beauty,
and let me see.
(with camera in hand)
Long I stand,
Healthy or not,
Let it be known,
Life's,
God's,
Gaea's,
Great beauty,
I have sought.
Gone on too long,
This poem has rambled.
Dear lord,
Let me,
See.
At the end of my days,
Be it months or years,
Let me see those mountains,
Seas,
Shores and streams,
Let me see those places,
that constantly show up,
That shine through my dreams.
Let me see,
With camera in hand.
Sick or healthy.
Every part of me,
Will do my damndest,
to fight,
To take pictures,
and to stand,
Upon those shores,
sands and streams,
that beckon me,
through my dreams.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC