"stowaway" poems
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
********* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky
Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography
Good man
Soft man
Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.
No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--
A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze
Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?
He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth
Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.
God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Too good and yet true
Too beautiful
To taste
Without falling in daze
Without following
Delirious
An aroma trail of craving
On the back of my tongue
I’m getting equal measures
Of heaven and hell
Perfectly balanced
My eyes are my traitors
Plotting to open the gates
Sending stowaway warriors
Whom I never gave orders
To slip behind walls
Of thickest black pupils
In the Trojan horse
That my eager look is
And gazes are bridges
Unwillingly
Supporting the siege
Of epiphanies
You and me
Caught in our ambush
Completely surrounded by Us
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
there was a little meerkat he lived in zoo
miles away from home feeling very blue
missing all his family very sad was he
hoping maybe oneday his family he would see.
he decided to escape anyway he can
meerkat he was clever and made himself a plan
he waited till the dark so no one else could see
squeezed out from his cage now at last was free.
then he saw a boat anchored in the bay
meerkat decided he would stowaway
then the boat set sail and headed out to sea
he was heading home happy now was he.
meerkat made it home to his desert land
underneath the sun with miles and miles of sand.
surrounded by his family like he was before
happy and content he was home once more.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Saw women
Waiting at the bus stop
Heard the new cinema song
From the advertising vehicle
Asked the stranger sitting near me
Whether he was not going to Potta ashram
In conductor’s seat
Slumbers a traveler without a ticket (stowaway)
Under the label of defence forces,
Two school children
On the Ladies’ seat,
Padre from the local church
“The lady who brings this card is an orphan
Her family was lost in floods
She is the only one for herself and her child
A blue card fell in my lap.
How did I become blind?
Beating time on the stomach,
A Tamil song stretched its arm
Became deaf
A girl became mute
“do you remember this face?”
Sat on the seat for handicapped
With a sense of belonging and righteousness.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:48 AM UTC
there was a little meerkat he lived in zoo
miles away from home feeling very blue
missing all his family very sad was he
hoping maybe oneday his family he would see.
he decided to escape anyway he can
meerkat he was clever and made himself a plan
he waited till the dark so no one else could see
squeezed out from his cage now at last was free.
then he saw a boat anchored in the bay
meerkat decided he would stowaway
then the boat set sail and headed out to sea
he was heading home happy now was he.
meerkat made it home to his desert land
underneath the sun with miles and miles of sand.
surrounded by his family like he was before
happy and content he was home once more.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
*did i tell you about that orca (killer whale)
that killed a killer white (shark)?
yeah, flipped him on the stomach
inducing a conscious sleeping position
of the shark, belly up... the ****** orca
drowned the shark.*
dear daffodils counting to only sixteen
springs, why blossom why bloom so soon?
lemmy was part of something better
than his solo project... no one really talks
'bout his solo crazy train antics,
so why talk lemmy why talk ozzy os' burn
and simply dismiss hawkwind & black sabbath?
oh -
*na kraju nocy i u progu dnia
kogut na dachu pieje
w głowie sie kręci
da na da na da
gorączka znów szaleje.*
given all that, imagine a seal on a drift of ice,
a stowaway of a berg,
then imagine why, it's seeking a monastery,
there are four orcas beneath the mirror surface
of the water, in formation, like horses
to the gallop of a wind's flute eolides,
and they're moving in, dipping with tail
fin exertion of some reflex spasm -
and the mini tsunami created suddenly
tilts the seal's monastery and the seal plops
into the depths... where it's only an old
cloth rag soon to be mince.
p.s. i denounce the polish diacritical mark
over o to make u (ó) as not diacritical at all...
it's an aesthetic mark, and yes, it does look pretty.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 5:47 AM UTC
Most every night at the Stowaway Bar,
you can catch the old lounge lizard singer.
With his head full of rhythm and rhyme,
and his fake books full of songs,
he plays his blue guitar
and dreams about a young girl.
He fell in love with the wonderful girl
when she strolled into the bar.
And as he played his new guitar
she told him he was a great singer,
and she loved his beautiful songs
that would reel and ramble and rhyme.
And with every prophetic rhyme
he would sing to the lovely young girl
all of his best love songs,
as if there were no one else in the bar,
except her, the smoke, and the singer,
and the sound of his new guitar.
But every night when he was through, he'd pack up his guitar
and put away his rhythm and rhyme,
and for awhile he was not that love song singer.
He'd looked around the smoky room for the girl
but she was nowhere in the bar
and all he had left were his tears and his love songs.
She said she loved his songs,
and the way he would play his guitar.
But now the smoke filled up the bar,
and he was out of rhyme.
For he had lost the beautiful girl
who wanted only the singer.
But he was only the singer,
and he was only the songs.
Although he missed the girl
Every night he would tune his blue guitar
and open his sad heart full of rhyme
and fill up the Stowaway Bar
And the old lounge lizard singer plays his blue guitar
singing prophetic songs that reel and ramble and rhyme
to a young girl who sits alone at the bar.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
It's always you, whom I miss
It reminds me of the perfect blue
on purple sky,
I attach him on a beguiling lullaby retracting the memories of the sea
where the strings like constellations
connect us; You can never be apart from the ocean.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 7:26 PM UTC
thy
heart
cast
a
stowaway
upon
the
ship of love
while
It
lean
towards
the
dark wine sea
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
I have been unmade and made anew
bolts loose, screws askew
metal stitches holding jagged words abrew
Light a match, no make it two
don't smile at me
I know its true
don't construe my issue
with you
respects not owed and its not due
don't feed me lies
my trust you blew
spooned shards of glass
masked subterfuge.
Don't cast me out
don't look away
I'm a stowaway
renegade
castaway
what makes you think I will obey?
I know the face that I portray
like I'm asking to be betrayed
but cut some slack, bits of leeway
I'll scrounge for scraps
don't make me pay
you cut my tongue, I won't soothsay
the odds for me will soon outweigh
just watch I'll drop this masquerade
and I'll cutaway
to counterweigh
this disarray
replay
this wordplay
display of
swordplay
'cause I'm a stowaway
renegade
castaway
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 11:57 AM UTC
sweet waters with mint fragrant hints,
memories flood me,
"walking back in time"
he describes it
of my early days of discovery,
this voyage upon the poetry ship,
with me, mere stowaway,
unfit by compare,
sailed to lands unimaginable,
friendships seeded in words,
sprouted like a field of summer sunflowers,
water weeping, for joy so joyous,
the mastery of his words
elevates, levitates,
the ashes of sadness now dispossessed,
floating on the Ganges
the drumming of my dreams,
of treasures of golden words,
in lungs undiscovered, unspoken,
leads me back to you,
Balachandran from Thiruvananthapuram
April 10, 2016
~~~
Jun 1, 2013
Balachandran
How I love to say your name,
Rolling waves over my tongue,
It is must be said out loud
Two or three times to feel its rhythm,
Two or three more just for the
Spiced pleasure it conveys.
Bala chan dran!
My name harsh, Germanic,
Like the Black Forest,
Where my ancestors dwelled,
Until a harsher people drove them away.
Balachandran!
Under the ground beneath the temple
Padmanabha Swamy,
A temple dedicated to
Vishnu,
In the state of
Kerala,
the original spice country.
South Western sea board of India,
where miracles never cease to happen,
A billion dollar treasure discovered.
A treasure of words and sounds,
A language musical, every word a poem
Of incroyable elegance.
I am so glad that you were not born in France.
Perhaps someday I will courage summon,
To spicy lands, explore, and even come to
Thiruvananthapuram.
For now, I must be satisfied with the
Poetical musicale program I attend,
When I say over and over again,
Balachandran from Thiruvananthapuram!
Dedicated to K Balachandran
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
I can never not love
you. I can try as hard
as I want and forever,
but I will never not love
you. You have seared
yourself on to my soul
in permanent marker,
drawn an infinite tattoo
there, harbored like a
stowaway. You're draining
my vital organs, my survival,
the ships about to crash, full
of water, drowning, and still
I can never not love you.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
In nights when
a crisp humidity
wraps its
cocoon-
Jolts within me
suddenly
thoughts of a cove
where as a
child,
scattered clandestine
words-
burrowed on their
own
into the pallid sand
who soaked herself
with salty sea,
then pledged confidentiality...
until I grew,
and could take
it.
So
Burn
Inverness.
Let the whispered
die
and with you
firefly
ethereally toward night.
One can merely
hope
not a single soul
will catch
one
here nor
there...
though what's
there
to fear?
Only that which is
deeply known:
I was,
I am,
a child still-
never grown.
Red sky,
hide
stowaway embers;
remains
fallen from youthful lips.
Let ride away on
bobbing crests.
At low tide,
an even lower
soul
walks the shallows.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
his solo journey made
its fresh, courageous start
on the waves of
*** and vicodin
& the bright, painful
color of it all
was nearly lost on her
heavy-lidded
& pale eyes
little did he know she was
a stowaway
steadily drinking up the
audacity
to make herself known
to him
but oh Lord, when
she did
you better believe he
never
forgot her
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
I never thought I could believe
That there was love at first sight
Now I am waiting to receive
Your love that burns so bright
You came and took me by surprise
I never knew that you were there
Now you lift me up on to highs
I am waiting for that moment to share
You are my stowaway
Hiding in my heart
You are my stowaway
Waiting in my heart
Like a secret waiting to be found
You were ready for me to discover
You crept up on me without a sound
I am looking forward for my lover
You were hiding in some special place
For me to find you all this while
I look forward now to seeing your face
I look forward now to making you smile
You are my stowaway
Hiding in my heart
You are my stowaway
Hiding in my heart
copyright Chris Smith 2010
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 5:37 AM UTC
You have dreams of big cities and fancy cars and you are surrounded by beautiful people
But your ship is drowning
You've been on this voyage for 18 years now and you've come farther than you ever thought you would have but you will come up alittle short
Just as always
You have such big dreams but larger deadly habits
The razors won't help you and you know that but
Somewhere in your head you have convinced yourself that if you drain out all your blood you will also drain out all the hate and be lighter than ever and then you can finally make it to shore
But, my dear, the hate is not in your blood it is in your head
You are the captain of this sinking ship but your depression is your first mate
Your depression has been the evil stowaway that has been sleeping in your brain for years now
The hate in your head can be traced back to it
You've spent the last eighteen years trying to track its every move
You've performed countless operation on yourself trying to make yourself better trying to remove your depression
You would have thought you were van gogh trying to paint the perfect smile on your face because you know people say smiles can cure depression but i guess you just didn't try hard enough or maybe you should have ate yellow paint instead
But no matter how you decorate the ship it is still sinking
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
I start this off without any words. But they will come. This is the blessing, and the curse. Regardless of what has transpired in my life, or how much I wish to forget, the words will come. They are my salve and my damnation.
The words that find their way onto these tomes soothe and comfort my weary soul, yet the ones that hide in the spaces between curse and condemn. They haunt each fiber of my mind, traversing the expanse between my neurons on the backs of false pretenses, the sugar coated electric lies that I tell myself and repeat to others.
Alcohol is not a crutch; it merely plays the role of ticket-taker, ousting the transient, stowaway misanthropes from the boxcar of truth that is my thought pattern, allowing me to take an accurate head count.
I am afraid. I am so frightened of being who I am and making myself happy that I settle for making others happy in lieu of my desires. I am paralyzed by thoughts of failure, as well as dreams of success. I am terrified that if I should start screaming, I may never be able to stop. I am usurped by panic at the thought of another day in this drudgery that is my own existence.
I am discontent. I am not happy with the way that I have allowed my life to turn out. I want it to change before I have reached the point that I only look forward to its end.
Yet, still I continue to laugh. Again and again, I regurgitate the same old sentiments of positivity and hopeless hopefulness that I have grown so accustomed. “Tomorrow is another day,” or “It can’t rain all the time.”
But tomorrow is another day. And how should I face it if it ends up being the same as today? And it can’t rain all the time, but better men than myself have drown in a flash flood.
So why do I continue to say these things? For the benefit of myself or for the person who is listening? Which one have I become?
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
Stray cats lingering around vacant cans, alleyway
disarray of the forgotten. Odours of a doorway
they hunger upon, loitering around refuse, dismay
day and night. Where it seems like an endless replay.
Runaway of ill gotten anger, now soiled on a pathway.
stowaway of loneliness and then finds a hideaway,
leading astray of its virtues, but in despair finds a delay.
Friends appear from crumbled pasts and its day is less grey.
May all those of lost causes find this place of a hungers buffet.
Ok there isn't enough to go around, but they get by. A display
lay before all that there not alone. Feline brotherhood, stray
repay for being taken in, food is there goal, bins lids fall today.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Our skin is ripped
Torn apart by our own hands
There’s too much ache
Love is disgusting
Fingers are ***** if they’re not yours
And your fingers are transparent
And I fall through them
I fall into them
In an unknown dark
In an exotic fire
Further
Every night
When you are absent, but you are here
You pull me next to your body
Inconsistently and soft
The way I want it
Because you are in my mind
You flux through my bloodstream
You ride through my neural network
Without final destination and without the ticket
Stowaway in my body
Always
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 7:23 AM UTC
I feel each day pass me by
Without a word, without a cry;
Desire wells up at the gentle tease
Of the fresh and alive, god-child sea breeze.
The food I eat is damp and stale,
Stolen from the life I cannot exhale.
And worst of all, the people, real,
Going about their business still
Ignorant to the one that hides
Beneath their feet, breathing lies.
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 7:55 PM UTC
Pick up and take off
Hey little bird flyaway home
Home where you belong
Hey Little bird flyaway free
Pick a place and take it
Hey Little bird flyaway stray
Stray stowaway to somewhere new
Hey Little bird flyaway free
Pick away and take away
Hey Little bird flyaway
Away from yourself
Hey Little bird flyaway
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 9:22 PM UTC
I feel it
That itching
That aching
That yearning
To break out
With a toothbrush and spare clothes
And hop on a plane
Or a train
Become a stowaway
See the world through different eyes
Things are bigger than what we grew up with
And culture goes beyond
Pencils and polos
I can observe that world of keen minds
Inhaling the aroma of savory finery
Find elegance
Strength
History
In the grand scheme of things
We are very small and
Insignificant
But we are watchers
And creators
So we watch and create
And re-create
And this is how we can change the world
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
They say with time, comes grace
But I was born graceless
And the hourglass only reaffirms
That nothing, no one, will change that now
I saw your light dissipate
Fade out into the void of nothingness
I tried my damndest to keep it flickering
For as long as my unsteady heart could
I have grown weary, battered by the war
I've waged against gravity for years
But it looks like I have finally won
As I watch you drift further from the ground
Your light was a beacon to these brown eyes
I followed it like a second Northern star
They say the valiant don't stowaway in lost bliss
But I've never claimed to be the valiant sort
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
RING!!! RING!!!!
The sound before the hello
Ring ring ring
The expectation of the clueless heart
Anticipating the peace that is the Familiar
That Voice permanently engraved in the soul
The symbol of protection and safety
There it comes!!!!
BOOM!!!
The explosion of the heart
BOOM!!! BOOM!!!!!
The Aftermath of the impromptu silence
Just as the strange clear voice escapes the pink vase
Debuting its smashing hit single
It hits the drum when no one is listening for it
Calling out like a violent storm
Threatening to break up the boat on the once calm sea
Like a stowaway hiding in the basement
Only to be revealed by a run of luck.
©Belema.S.Ekine
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC