"strawn" poems
Lays of Mystery,
Imagination, and Humor
Number 1
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
Faint odours of departed cheese,
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never ending sneeze.
Strange pictures decked the arras drear,
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
One showed a vain and noisy ****
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
And one, a dotard grim and gray,
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Whose icy breast no pity warms,
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
And one, a green thyme-honoured Bank,
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
All birds of evil omen there
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
The fatal Notes neglected fall,
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
The wandering phantom broke and fled,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Where lay two worn decrepit men,
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The serving-man of Richard Roe
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waiting on John Doe.
"Oh rouse", I urged, "the waning sense
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence."
"Vain", she replied, "such mockeries:
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please."
And bending o'er that man of straw,
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, "Law!"
The well-remembered voice he knew,
He smiled, he faintly muttered "Sue!"
(Her very name was legal too.)
The night was fled, the dawn was nigh:
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
Vanished that dim and ghostly bed,
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red happy
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
Oh, yet my spirit inly crawls,
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
5.5k
old coffee coarses through me
can’t feel a heartbeat
going too quick to pick up a pulse
a sign of life
a drug yet a luxury
-integrity-
_prosperity of humanity_
and you have none while you continue to slander
my name
my _name_
being mentioned in rooms i’ve never stepped in
without my control,
a once blank canvas would soon be used as a form of blame and through it peace in you-
preconceived notions are drawn in the minds of associates and strangers
better than an aged painter in the studio he’s only ever known
yet this painter is blindfolded
while this oblivious painter intently tunes in
to sympathize with the selective truths you dispose
‘how could she??’ they say
beautiful
in an unconventional way
for you to teach them what they don’t want to be
whilst they choose what to hear
words sifted once again like the selection of the finest grain
rejects strawn amongst the boulder
you were once beautiful
a sweet dandelion left to a stem with a rigid bulb at the top
not hideous just no longer wished upon
unfortunately
there’s no lights in this room
just brushes sprawled all out on the rug
with a ray of sunkissed light coming through the duvets-
it’s a bother but you
bring it up when others do
used to be the highlight of the room
but now just something that reluctantly grew on you
you want the dark but i only wish light amongst you past lover
you continue to lead-
incite fine strokes in them for my self portrait
for better or worse
i refuse to recognize for myself
using colors i’d never think you’d use- their masterpiece being guided by your bitter words
i blamed myself for an instant-
something you’d never do
leading me to believe that your heart
never was truly pure when i was with you
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
You are my
favorite,
the first
I could pick out,
among far off lights
in chaos.
You shone to me
in Strawn, Texas
when I was a child
with my grandfather
on his deer lease.
You were the last
I saw before bed,
You were still there
when we woke
in the early morning.
You are a hunter too,
your bow pointed forth,
and sword
hung low,
like the gods
used the stars
to sketch something
inappropriate,
like the sky was their science
journal from
middle school.
You followed me
like the bear.
I saw you
on Fall nights
in college,
on my back
in my backyard
with burnt ash
on my T-shirt,
through an
unfocused
tequila telescope.
But now, in this city,
I don't see you
as often, or maybe
I've seen you the wrong
way all along.
Maybe like we see the world
from the floor down,
we see you hunting the bear
when in mirrored reality, you run
from the beast
and I can't blame you
because we all
do,
or maybe
you're not even there
anymore,
we just don't know it
yet, because as fast as things
change, like
youth,
seasons,
perceptions,
Maybe you've burnt out,
Maybe the bear caught you
swallowed you whole
into his black-
stomach.
Maybe I should
start running
so he doesn't
catch me too.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
my tan warm
brown skin
child of the earth
with its deliberate undertones
from birth,
it had been something
i had grown to love,
to adore,
all with its imperfections
growing up,
i realized something i had adored
some despised with their inner being
a threat that they
had grown accustomed to hate
they did not understand
the gentle, quiet beauty
of this delicate covering
how calm it was
they feared what
they could not understand
like a child
afraid of the darkness
and what it hides
ignorance was their
bliss
but sometimes
knowing what is not meant
to be known
can bring undesired presumptions
they taught me not
to love
my perfection
as my flaw was
now the world's spectacle
delineations strawn
like wispy lines in
the tumbling sand
of my skin
imaginary concepts
with such flawed
meanings
of destroyed beauty
i lost a part of myself
while growing up
that i could never get back
something this world cannot ever back to me...
education was meant
to be the answers of
the questions
of our own
incoherent thoughts
but,
it fed me
knowledge that attacked my innocence
this dreary
hateful world
took my spirit
and my soul
away from my rotting body
my spirit is broken
and i can hardly tell
if i am human anymore
i rather just
live in stupidity
like a sheep following its master
my perfect fool paradise
those who are fools
remain fools
if they do not learn
otherwise,
or if they do not know the
true state of their
unfathomable condition
(b.d.s.)
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
Man I am far too gone
To last this long
Nonstop talking til dawn
To write this wrong
Not becoming a pawn
I will carry on
Far too gone to sit and cry
Non stop loving that cannot be strawn
While I give up hope or try
Man I am far too gone
To live my life
And to think and mow the lawn
Dealing with pain and strife
Man far to gone
To be locked in a cage
To mimic what conclusion is drawn
Put into a ravenous rage
Far too Gone
To feel this way
Becoming a motherless fawn, and not fight to see another day.
Far far too gone
And lose all insanity
Too far gone to make a stand
And wanting to hold your hand
Falling down with such vanity
Far too gone to run this time
To bare the embarrassment of a crime
Holding back hurtful tears
Only to combat my fears throughout the years
I am too far gone
No way of turning back now
If by will I will learn how
Because I am too far gone
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Shattered and scattered
Pieces of heart lay strawn.
broken echos loudly
in a silence that is profound
Each sherd tells a story.
of love that once was a hole
now lost in darkness.
of a heart that has grown cold
May 16, 2024
May 16, 2024 at 8:18 AM UTC
Coming in this class,
its strawn and long.
There's a draw in the voice,
its strawn and long.
This class lasts til 12:50,
that, that, now that,
is too strawn and too long.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC