"stratus" poems
puffs so alluring
three dimensional
but you're not
i want to touch your creamy exterior
but all i get is moisture
your shading is ravishing
symmetrical paint thing
wisps of stratus horse tail ice
dusty cumulus marsh of mallow
your nimbus is what i dream
charcoal colored opaque
mixed in with a little blue
you make it hard
not to stare
at you
so eager as light shines off
your behind
you'll soon be mine.
overcast clear
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Yes its big yosef a true heavy weight makin' earthquakes through all states watch for the snakes
In the grass never front for the cash who wanna clash?
With a mighty Titan I'm on a God status love hoes with the **** size of Trish stratus
Now tell me who's the baddest
ya on a one way trip with Gladys Knight
On a Midnight train to Georgia no one heard of ya
Ya flows is wack your skull will get crack fuckin' with the mack
I make a love connection from my smif and wesson learned ya lesson no plexin'
On my team one man supreme like a lion i be the king makin' suckas sing
Lullabies I feel ya soul cry reaching for the sky
Ain't no ******* allowed puff a cloud til the city unda a smoke shroud
Fools Talk loud but die silent known to be be violent
If provoked by a fake loc my pistol loves to smoke it stays high
Leavin' holy bodies to fry
Who could outwrite this? my style will diss rhymes deeper than an abyss make ya ****
Out ya own blood as ya face down in the mud with no crud
Touchin' my eyes sleep with one eye
Open scopin' and hopin' got more scams than Ken Copeland I'm still floatin'
On cloud nine almost to ten sippin' gin never see me grin my lyrics touchin'
Every last one of you wack rappers so come again.....
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
My mind is foggy
Though I'm not groggy
A mist emerges
My peace it purges
I see contradictions
And feel convictions
That inflict conflict
And indict convicts
So I accumulate cumulus clouds accordingly
To fog my marshy mind more horribly
My brain becomes a banshee
And screams from my mist
She shrieks an awful list
Of everything wrong
And everyone gone
Her voice blasts through my cerebral stratus clouds
And her voice echoes within the silent static crowd
The clouds I gathered to block her wailing
Are completely empty and always failing
They look so absolutely grand and solid in the sky
They're just water vapor that form droplets in my eyes
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 2:59 AM UTC
into this pink grist
run mercury brooks
from the tower of liana
and ruptured mist
pools an ovarian sky
barefoot through milky way city
above strawberry ice cream lane
stratus clouds scale the ruins
and
the maraschino cherries ********** rain
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
The nightfall smears a biding shade and plume
as Nyx complexed the clear diurnal day
and skews the stoic lensing out of gloom
alike the hearted Eros, wrought his sway.
How still the specks of frost on balm and reed
like stars arranged in view for crystal eyes,
and glazed upon the tips; a sweetened mead
which lovers strive in truthful, purple prize.
A sullen stratus coats the idle orb
succumbs the amber beams to patchy lure,
and from within uncertain skies absorb
a kindred duel; dreamers must endure.
Tonight, the morrow, all thereon to be
to ardors flux; at night is when to see.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
Cinematic
Friends that I get tats with.
The catastrophic
love affairs
that seem so charismatic.
We are the characters in the attic.
The Anne Frank
of the stratus.
the
Sarcastic,
******* children of all these older kids,
that's it!
And that's okay
with us.
The black of day's
a must.
The hack upraises us until we feel so
ill-discussed.
Don't look at me on the Subway,
because these eyes can't handle others.
Like a book
without
a cover, we are
Eve & Adam smothered.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
A lost and thirsty wanderer
sought oasis on a parched and dusty plain
where spectral mesas
merged with pastel stratus clouds -
quivering in the summer sun.
A slender blue ellipse emerged
along the horizon's edge,
taunting the traveler’s arid throat.
Recalling child-day afternoons.
splashing in the pond behind the barn,
his legs urged toward aquatic deliverance.
But knowledge seized his boots.
Wary of loving a delusion,
he chose instead to seek a road or farm
or chance upon a horse-backed rancher
tracking down an errant calf.
Still he looked back to his phantom pond –
never to know if an oasis flowed
less than an hour’s walk away.
December, 2018
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
I don't know how anyone would feel about this.
I bet they would stop reading me if I do this.
But this is one of the things that I really love.
And I'd be able to write about it for hours.
So if you are a wrestling fan, then keep reading.
If you're not, the you might wanna stop.
Alright, if you are still reading this, thank you.
Now I can get started and tell you what I know.
I know what a bunch of the moves are called.
And I can tell you who my favorite wrestlers are.
I can even tell you what my favorite storylines are.
I have a variety of wrestlers that I like to watch.
There are some that I don't, but I like the music.
You know, the music they use when they come out.
Anyway, the wrestlers that I like to watch are:
Jeff Hardy, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, John Cena,
The Bella Twins, Kelly Kelly, Mickey James, AJ Lee,
The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Santino Marella,
Trish Stratus, and Brie Bella (on her own).
I love these wrestlers for a lot of reasons.
And if you want, I'll make a separate thing for each.
Just like this if you want me to, and I will.
Anyway, the wrestlers that I like the music to are:
Randy Orton, Edge, RVD, Christian, Eve Torres,
Brie Bella, Trish Stratus, The Rock, Jeff Hardy,
Kelly Kelly, Shawn Michaels, and Mickie James.
Alright. the names are practically the same.
But that's because the music is very catchy.
My favorite storylines are the following:
Shawn Michaels and JBL (late 08 - early 09)
Brie and Nikki Bella (Happening right now)
Jeff and Matt Hardy (2009)
Shawn Michaels and Chris Jericho (2008)
Triple H and Randy Orton (Mid 2009)
The Rock and CM Punk (2012)
Jeff Hardy and CM Punk (2010)
And I'm sure that there are more.
I just can't recall them at the moment.
But I think that this will do for now.
I hope you liked this.
Please give it a like you want me to get
into more detail about the wrestlers.
And if you want me to get into more
detail about the storylines.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
tried and true,
this pain is not new,
I welcome it like a friend,
I seem to know,
but never show,
the cognizance of my own end.
kicking and screaming,
the sun stops gleaming,
but i know of the ocean's fare.
the lighthouse is dying,
the stratus are crying,
I am stripped down and left to bare.
bandage to wound,
with red seeping through,
I stand on broken toes.
but no one is there,
not a sound in the air,
and I remain alone with only my woes.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
as they
shuffled by
she told her friend
“i always look
forward to this
time of year
when the first
tinge of yellow
touches the leaves
with the contrast
between shade
and sunshine
a comparison
of polar opposites
where a gentle breeze
can chill
or relieve
one making you
appreciate the other
once it has gone”
i couldn’t help
but take note
of her poetic words
as i surveyed
those same trees
glad to see
swaying hues
of green against
shadow-dappled green
feeling fingers
of sunlight
still breaching
filigree tree-shadows
to warm the skin
of passers-by
while overhead
a pastel blue sky
mottled with only
staccato wisps
of gentle stratus
paint the vista
leaving thoughts
of the days to come
when this spectrum
will shift
and these colours
must change
Sep 24, 2022
Sep 24, 2022 at 7:42 AM UTC
I met her in a line
for expensive coffee
picked by honest hands
she wore a scarf
from morocco where she
had never been or smelled
she says her name as if
her mind were elsewhere
so I smile and nod and turn
and look at the ground
thinking of pink stratus clouds
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
I'm in the habit
of thinking bad
and feeling sad
and wishing I had
all these things
owned by the likes of kings
years marked by tree rings
I'm in the habit
of being lazy
no sleep I feel hazy
can't control my emotions-I'm going crazy
breaking smashing going insane
because I'm angry in the brain
obsessed with the idea of fame
I'm in the habit
of eating junk
trying to stay calm as a monk
Hiding knives in a trunk
because childhood nightmares
keep sending these flares
to open a door nobody dares
I'm in the habit
of being jealous
thinking I'm Wiccan worshipping tellus
but I haven't the energy to be zealous
straight jacket
maybe rabid
what's that racket
I'm in the habit
of forming habits
and ticks and quirks
wishing I could leave the stratus
busy wondering if I should
but it does me no good
picking up fragments
should I sew or stitch
confused from the start
outcast built of wood like a witch
these habits
set fire to my wooden heart
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
so I am writing you
something breezy
to make you think
of a kite on a string
reaching
for the stratus
and
swaying and gliding
rhythmically
like one partner
in a ballroom dance
as it soars
higher and higher
on its journey
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 5:53 AM UTC
latin can not describe the electricityof blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing upon the banks of my shoulders likethe white-gold sunshinethat would prism behind your chinook archwith all the beauty of a nuclear winter.for the transplant of my frontal lobeto the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructionshave been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am toone, stand very stilltwo, present my brain to the skyand three,wait for the apricotsof sunrise to settleinto the overcast of his eyes.i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skepticalthat an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:27 AM UTC
I am walking
Again
Gently sloping two-lane highway
Graying asphalt with faded yellow lines
Curving
Curving into the
Distance
I feel it, this moving space
Endless promise
Stretching out extending
Air
Snaps cool
Against my face
Against chromium green bristling pines
A stand selling apples
McIntosh apples glowing knifesharp
Reddish-green skins
Apples piled high in heaps
Jumbled against rough wooden boards I buy
Brown paper bag of them
Get one out, rub
It clean on my shirt
Bite thin
Taut skin splits
Peels I taste
Acid pineapple flesh breaks
Tender white
Sky, a light slate grey sky covered
With high stratus clouds
And
I am sixteen
Again
Walking along
Empty road, eating apples
Heart lifted
With independence
By being out
Out
Sheltered
Under these endless
Dark pines and
The spreading
The deepening sky.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
She stepped out
One foot at a time
Steam rolling out from behind her
Beams of fluorescent light spearing through
Only to amplify her presence
She was wrapped in a white towel
Held up delicately by her *******
Silhouetting her waist, her thighs
My personal goddess, I thought
And so she left behind these little footprints
For me to hop in with yellow galoshes
Dancing in the fog of our love
Rain down on me
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
1. Understand Weather.
(Strangers on a bench,
Looking up.)
“Cirrus, I think.
Cirrocumulus?”
“Stratus surely.
Or altocumulus.”
(You must also hate the cold
And the sun,
And always wish the current season
Was a different one.)
2. Never Be Honest About Stuff That Hurts.
Pain so bad
Can’t even **** –
“How are you, Arthur?”
“Brilliant, thanks!”
3. Have An Opinion On These People
Katie Price (Feminist? Witch?)
Kate Moss (Goddess? *****
Stephen Fry (Snob? Wilde?)
Frankie Boyle (Offensive? Mild?)
4. Never Talk About Money.
“So.” An American asks. “How much do ya make?”
“I…I…Oh My God look at that dog over there that has a face like a pancake!”
5. Learn How To Apply The Class System To Cigarettes.
Pipe – Monty Withnail
Silk Cut – Comfortably Middle.
Lucky Strikes – Probably not British.
B&H; – Shops at Lidl.
6. Secretly (Or Openly) Enjoy The Royal Family
“So, did you hear what they called the baby?”
My boyfriend shrugs and says -
“I don’t give one tiny ****
“They named him George. Isn’t that twee?”
“Aw ******* hell, I had a tenner on Louis!”
7. Hey Jude.
If all else fails,
At the end of the night,
Sing na-na-na
And it’ll be alright.
8. Never Complain About Your Meal
“Hm. These mussels look a bit suspect.”
“How’s your meal, Sir?”
“Perfect!”
9. Always Hate The French, (Even If Your Own Mother Is French)
Numberplate 'F'
On an articulated lorry.
“Stuck up…onion…bastards.”
(I’m sorry mum, I’m so sorry!)
10. ‘Jerusalem’
Mime a sword in your hand,
Bang your chest with devotion,
Wave the sword about,
Sing with emotion.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
The suit in question
Is grey. Pin-striped white.
Double-breasted. Three piece.
Blue tie, grey hatching.
An absolute nightmare to change into.
I drop my jeans
In the monastery stall,
Shed my shoes.
Old friends.
The trousers, slacks,
Rise morning fog
And sleep in the stratus
Of my waist.
I really wonder how
The men of the then
Could have worn them.
So much taller.
So much grander.
So much straighter.
White shirt with
The butterfly tracks,
Make-up stains
From a billion ancestors.
Dead relatives that don’t
Respond to the call.
I take their places
Without a single
Crumb of guilt,
O feel the guilt.
The vest. Easy enough.
Yeast but grey and it
Rises horizontally.
I’ve just noticed pockets
Sewn into maddening teases.
The barest suggestion
Of an opening.
It holds like the bowl of the moon.
The coat. The great monarch.
Organizer with a clipboard
Ensuring the quality
Of a burlesque of silk.
So strange.
So other.
So queer.
In a minute or two, the
Hyperhydrosis.
It really is my only hope
Of describing my true temperature.
I will ignite in a biological
Soliloquy that can
Pronounce all those tricky
Thoughts I’ve given up
For the stage.
Gentle gravity,
Cruel crushing backhand.
Burst my complexion,
Steal my aqueous words.
Again, this suit.
How many Lomans,
Bankers, adjudicators,
Businessmen and Babbits
Have lived out their deaths
In you?
Brave rain cloud,
Where is your lining?
I feel the quip swelling
And project it to the back wall:
Only the costume knows true reincarnation.
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
When I was seventeen
I did a dangerous thing:
Rung by rung, I rose
into forbidden space,
climbing as an insect
would along a slender
blade of wiregrass.
At the top of the tower
I settled into thin stratus.
I took in my home town,
insignificant and benign:
car headlights sliding
on roads to park below
neon drugstore signs,
yellow house windows
and amber streetlights—
whole neighborhoods
stretched out like fields
lit by electric flowers.
I’m sure I saw the glowing
orange tip of the cigarette
my girlfriend was smoking,
rocking herself away from me
on her metal front porch swing.
While I cowered
there in that aerie,
the air reeked of rain,
smoke, and despair.
I remember my heart,
syncopated and suffering;
how it pulsed beneath
a scaffolding of bones—
a buried, burning flare.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 9:27 AM UTC
Their name is not Trish,
they are not blonde but gray,
not from age, but the contents,
they do not elevate, or leap from
the third rope of a wrestling ring,
but they drop on you a million
drops of rain, from low levels,
drops that find their way into
the lowest part of your shoes,
and not into your heart,
the drops tap dance across
your umbrella until the clouds
lift and go away by tricking
the wind to carry them away,
to dampen spirits of others, to their dismay
unless they are human sponges. ( Important but rarely seen part of the
water cycle)
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Reminding, rewinding, removing, regretting
Tears blind eyes in corneas, splintering spliced sight
There is no world where I can't stop forgetting.
I have a picture of you, watching the sunrise
stratus clouds stretched along the gold blanket of sky
the waves before you striking the dock gently.
I can't find myself behind the camera,
Remembering my thoughts as I snapped
the shutter. I forget.
I go through my own ocean
where I am tossed between wanting to be shipwrecked for good
or rescued by you. I want to either let you go entirely,
or keep hanging on. But I am gripping a rope on its last thread.
I know you have already let go. I haven't. I don't think I will.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
ephemeral laurels,
those lullabies of may,
became fungi while i was still asleep;
none preserved for the non-punctual
who dreamt of spring through spring–
another missed migration.
i walk along the ridge alone at noontime,
songbirds seemingly on strike against the straggler–
the prairie warblers so persistent in july
have gone, with august, silent,
nestled against the mountain walls
of cicadas’ seventeen-year symphonies,
those long encores–
i listen but do not hear.
i press my ear to the escarpment
and feel i’m missing something–
like ice ages are whirling still within the cool conglomerate
in spite of summer and sweaty palms,
like the passenger pigeons blurred
and smudged into oneness under the strata
have become,
without my knowing, the stratus clouds above–
or perhaps there is no spite in spindly evergreens
that flower for flowering’s sake;
that wilt to wilt;
that winter with or without listening.
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 12:31 PM UTC
Parsed upon a river bank
the north shore
as the confluence
gathers and flows...
swift as the Stratus clouds above
I attempt to find the meaning
of everything
Just one of those lazy
summer day
with time on my hands
speculation abounds
as my INTERJECTIONS
ring true in my head
I surmise nothing
yet proclaim to the
realization
that
nothing
will ever be the same
we move forward
we grow and learn
that is the extreme constant
Rolling with the punches
will lessen the burden
of changing times
We have no choice but
to adapt
or be left behind
See clear the way
of your short life
cherish it
live it
and
love it.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
To lay under a sky so blue,
Watch the clouds stroll on by.
A dog,
A horse,
Cumulus,
Or stratus.
Waiting on the sunset,
As the fluffy white monsters absorb the colors.
Radiant reds,
Or subtle pinks.
Troubles all washed away,
Laying under the sky.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 12:09 AM UTC