they slide my shirt up over my head
and i hide my body against them.
that their eyes,
which hold such capacity for judgement,
are fooled by the touch of my skin.
the honest fear
stands clear in my heart.
unwavering in the face of its own impossibility.
in that second,
i feel as if i am being stripped
of the feeble illusion that has granted me access
to thier desires and passions.
i'm truly ashamed in that moment
for having tricked them
i am so much more
then i truly am.
I read in a poem that there is no sound more ****** than the clink of a belt being undone but you only wear worn out t-shirts and a frown on your face. I think of the sound of tires driving slowly over the asphalt and how I could get turned on easier by a look than a touch. Your bed and you both taste like sweat but I am not going to complain because I'd rather be overheating than alone. I consider switching on your swamp cooler but it's loud and I want to be able to hear your moans in order to remind myself that you want me too. Do you?
I was doing my poetry homework when I had to stop in order to write poetry.
I dont know if I can handle the fact that you have made playlists for other people and that is so 2018 of me. Did you make that playlist for her?
If panic attacks actually helped anything I wouldn't mind the hyperventilating but instead I still feel like a sink has sunk inside my chest even after I've calmed down. Wouldn't it be nice if you could cry it, release it, scream to the skies and then be okay afterwards? I'm not sure who made me believe the symptoms of my mental illness should be like a shower; I don't feel cleansed. I don't feel new. I only feel raw, exhausted. It feels more like that same dull knife is tearing me open each skin layer at a time until I figure out how to grab the hand that holds it or I'm left open on the table, whichever comes first.
I'm writing in order to breathe. If I can't get oxygen to my brain my fingers won't be able to move.
I'm so scared I'm going to lose you. I don't want you in any other way. I want to love you, hold you.
I hear a baby crying outside of your window and I realize I need to get up to go home and get my work clothes. I find these simple things excruciating. Writing to you is a diary but I never should have learned to open my mouth and speak.
I started this poem four months ago and titled it a seven day long poem but I guess now it’s more than that. You always made me feel the things I’m currently feeling, I've never given up control this much in my life. I like to be in control, the one ignoring, the one who needs the time. I wish I didn’t love you like I do (it's just, there you know. It won't go away. It's not too much or too little, it's just stubborn, just like you). I'm so scared I'm going to lose you. I don't want you in any other way. I want to love you, hold you. Did you make that playlist for her too?
Here we are again.
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold
over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old
behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle
Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.
How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
lines cut heavy
on a button stretched brow
thick rubber shoes
and dragon canes
fill out the closet floor
and narratives (drowned)
apparitions set sullenly
with voices from the past
find the favor list
point men and preachers
tip up their tuscany caps
twitching and sign gazing
with spectacles held firm
recurring evening news
and beadledom views
clappers and caregivers
raise a crooked foot
grips and rockers
settle in on the front porch
at an untimely turn
as the gooseberry pie
(with a smidgen of cloves)
chills by the night watch
Naked pink and ebony feet
brush the slimy grass filled path
Through the tea fields elephants retreat
After a night of jaded mud bath
Armored with sack and gunny weight
Enter the frost covered fields in drowsy rest
Wake up the greens to a gentle fright
And pluck under care of enchanting *******.
The supervisor mackintosh
Walking with a bend and a toss
Shout at those Cinderellas
Who look for shoes and umbrellas
Even before its time to knock off
The tin covered temple of olfactory auditory deity,
the holy Garden tea
The chanting enchanting to a coma hot mesmerizing wafts of aroma
fills the air, capture the sense of all devotees who belong to the Orthodox commune TEA or CTC.
The sirens bugle the devotees into fits
They come in shifts for worship.
The tender hearts freshly plucked before they attain mature Tea
Spread to wither under a hell
of a hot air with care.
crushed and torn and curled,
the souls are put into a purgatory rotary drum to pause to meditate
on the ephemeral color change
To cover the green with copper red
Garment to ferment before being sent
to the fluid fire dance
To attire in black and retire
for a last plunge in to a boiling cauldron
A sacramental service,
a self sacrifice to energize the tired souls
In cups of tea..
Don't ask...I don't even know...
I meet a baby girl today
Who stole my heart
carried it away
All it took was to see her face
and my heart was
taken to a special place
A place filled with
So much love
it stretched for miles
It's a wonderful place
where these hearts go
If your wondering how I know
it's a Nana's heart
And that heart filled
with so much love
Well that heart
Met my first grandbaby today. A beautiful little girl. She made my heart melt
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye
i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation
have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness
do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your two ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****
i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
gray rubbery boneless head
i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side
can pretty pretty do that?
come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
I adore you
With your forward brow,
Eyes of nightshade and black treacle.
Your image floats and unfurls in the ****** spaces
Between marks posed in gazette.
You stare back at me knowingly,
As though watching the course of my life unfold.
You have stretched your hand through time
To let it fall in a cold gust across these pages,
Betwixt the folds of my cerebrum,
Your spectral lips prompting faintly
In the nook behind my ear.
-O goddess, O muse!-
O fellow soul…
You have found me.
Sadness stretched across your face,
like plastic wrap on food,
suffocating and enveloping.
Still laughter seeps out through its cracks.
Tears streak down your face as you hold to my hand.
Gratefully saying goodbye,
yet wishing to hold on to glad memories.
Wishing life was easier to part.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
She’s tense tight
Locked in place with Loctite
Immovable limbs of angular lines
Ripe curves stretched wrong
Tinkling shards of glassed ice
Drop shadowed hooded eyes
Kohl rimmed cries and sighing sobs
Tense tight locked down life
Soul gripping lies slid out to fly
She’s shut off and down
Tense tight unmoving cries
who you were I cannot say
July there golden as a burning bubble
and it gave away an evening
the exact temperature of skin
lawns stretched out to anybody
and you with a pup
while the last
of a day poured slowly
out of a dark pitcher
your kindness with him
stroked my eyes
as he rolled around your feet
in the cool grass coaxing you
to stay a little longer
you with patient pauses
and the softness in a man
that is the most seductive
While you were away,
My words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Unvoiced mutterings that fall out in droves,
Burning rants swallowed back in singes and sears...
While you were away,
Time was stagnant; a viscous puddle.
Hours only stretched longer,
The second hand jabbing its ferocious needle...
While you were away,
The clock drove me insane.
Ticking my life away in literal seconds.
Losing sand grain by grain...
While you were away,
And when it's all quiet and dark,
I could hear my heartbeat...
Awaiting the new day to make its mark.
While you were away,
My words seem to have lost their meaning...
As if they were stuck in limbo,
Unanswered calls that keep on ringing...
While you were away,*
I am but a little lost foal...
Because whenever you're away,
I am never whole...
We were mixed up when it built;
One another forced to coexist.
As it drew us high and higher still,
Below us grew the abyss.
Overflowing with ecstasy,
We left our hearts astray.
The obnubilating and obsolete
Had gotten our way.
Obstacles vanished one by one,
Increasingly slaying the beast.
Moments we thought we'd won
Are when we'd won the least.
We stretched out our hands towards the sky
Like wretched ghosts wrapped in disguise,
As though we had just found a new paradise
With the devil ahead leading as our guide.
We followed him throughout the land:
"This way leads us to the great fountain",
And now we're stuck in a desert of sand
Wondering when oases shall be attained.
We've taken a bet against our nature.
Was it anyone-in-particular's fault?
"For every curse there'll be a cure,
For every flood there'll be a drought."
Once more, again, we shall repeat,
To morrow, and for ever more.
When the sunshine now seems to greet
And when the darkness falls,
Comes that nighttime of our lives;
We ponder what we've been,
But what we're we supposed to be
When the pact was always sealed.
So we wait in such anxiety,
The impatience growing itchy;
And we amass, tall in piles,
To crash onto the shores like the sea.
Written in August 2016.
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
I was small then
She had a parakeet that landed on my head
and a bathtub too
with water so deep!
and legs and claws!
**** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!
She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
where bugs hung-out in the haze
of teenage August
I played in the tall weeds
with a shoeless Italian boy
who ate tomatoes like apples
and cucumbers right off the vine!
He was ***** free and foreign!
We played— reckless, abandoned
behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn
and through the endless fields
I didn’t know....
His name was Tony
I ate pizza with him—the first time
At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
but I could watch night flowers
bloom on wallpaper
She came in to say good night
slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
and I peeped her *******!
like Tony’s cucumbers!
I had never seen my mother’s wonders....
Night spread its wings from the old fan—
a bird of tireless exhaustion
whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
stretched out on the whine
of the overland trucks
Route Five through the night of an open window
In the grape arbor below—
crickets crickets crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
a summer child
not yet ready for the fall of answers
Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
I followed her everywhere I could
I was small then--
do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
of being sixteen
and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
while she tied her sneakers
against the mattress by my head
I followed Maureen (in my mind)
tanned and bandanned
to work in the fields of shade tobacco
with all those Puerto Rican boys!
She knew where she was going!
I was small then
...do anything for a stick of gum
“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
...through the goldenrod of roadside
through the smell of oil that damped the dust
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
the way the screen door slammed
on her bright behind
the way her lips taunted and took
the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen
I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!
Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”
Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)
through the goldenrod of roadside
“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Peggy Lee's Fever:
I was seven years old and did I ever get this!
Peggy Lee's stripped down performance is the epitome of ***.
Windsor Locks is in Connecticut.
yet it was never too late
to crest the memories of yesterdays
A voyage that was finished before
and here I am gazing beyond
through oriel windows once more
An ocean wide stretched from afar
with a quill and vellum on my hand
I wrote these words and understand
life was never easy reaching its core
self must refine from silver to gold
dreams red as velvet, white as snow
Pure as the heart of every little boy
molded from a mother’s fervent love
brave, a father’s heritage in honor of
Blessed by the gift of God up above
toiling day and night from my storm
He never left me lonely, till all is won
I gazed back to the oceans and saw,
Could it be…
Land A Home,
it was a moment of spring
I step the shore, my heart felt its beat
And Lo, my guardians caress on thee
for there is no sweeter victory
than the ones who truly loved me
#Family #Guardians #Ocean #Nature #Life #Love #God
Have A Blessed Sunday
God bless you Poets
There is no Place to feel Victory... But in Home
like a stone you fell, stars on your lips,
out of the dark, like a bird carrying the sky.
i stretched towards you my soul singing
of meadow grasses and old ruins.
everything you touched became a flame,
joy burnt like a fever beneath your wings.
i ran to you, shadows drawing back
the night like a curtain.
oh, the echoes of a pounding heart, across hills,
across continents, you strided on the wind
until the sea shook out its sheets
and the leaf shivered on the branch.
the night settled its layers of black
into dark forests, rested against the glassy tide
and you were gone, you were gone,
lost to hair more fragrant than mine.
from my book
Darling, you are so pure
and it seems like I lie through my teeth
more than I grind them in my sleep
I simply don't
that I am nothing more than skin stretched over cracking bones.
I was walking down the road
Just as happy as can be
And all the leaves upon the trees
Were waving back at me
I saw a curly snail
As he stretched to greet his day
Then headed down the road with me
Then stopped to stretch again
I saw a pretty sparrow
She was perched upon a wire
She sang a song—I sang along
We made a lovely choir
The snail conducted from a twig—
Just so, our song began
“Happy Birthday to You!”
Did you hear us as we sang?
We had a happy party
As we danced around—We three!
And we wished you Happy Birthday!
Just as HAPPY as can be!
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
On the bank of an endless river
There is no money to be saved
All the waste of life is washed and clean
Presented to the future still dripping
And you are waiting there for me
And I am waiting here for you
On the bank of an endless river
There is no change to be sought
All the days meld to nights sewn seamless and neat
Stretched taught over the space between birth and death
Where you are waiting for me
And I am waiting for you
On the bank of an endless river
As the violet of day
draws to a close...
Witnessed the dwindling
by the horizon.
Ever so slowly,
This moment here...
of the past,
Whilst I shed these
lease of bravery
but I know...
it wouldn't last.
A final skirmish
night and light.
My crimson wings
spread to greet the.
green evening air.
Feather and wind.
spoke to each other;
quivered as if
the same story
that ended quickly before
trail of leaves
from days of
Flying past the
blushing orange cheeks
Evading the beckoning
Into the sun,
I would go.
Beyond world's end,
I would follow...
To find you
where the universe
would run its course.
I'd gladly soar through
warped new planes.