"strobing" poems
He writes words on walls and
toilet doors.
Looping black texta with
measured precision.
Emptying out his importance in
tomes of acrid, sickly-sweet-smelling lapses
into hope.
Cascading the loneliness with litanies
of somewhere else
that pulses with a joy unfound.
Tales of intermittent dreams
and dalliance with beauty.
Strobing in translucent beams,
the light leaks through his
poorly-sewn seams
onto the toilet door.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
Kisses up and down your body
Lay cuddle start to feel naughty
Game of footsie under sheets
Probing strobing generating heat
Take my finger direct me to the good
Sun rising like my morning wood
Juices flow feel the wet
Anticipate pounding you're about to get
In your thighs staring deep in eyes
Inhibitions fly
Everything we try
Comfort there is no fear
Nibble whisper in your ear
Lap explosion need no muzzle
Sip it slow then take a big guzzle
Pulsating pleasure fills your body
Consistent pace no longer spotty
Caressing scars with healing bars
Pen will stroke till seeing stars
Let us strum like a song that's sung
Twisted like our tangled tongues
We are honey bees
Smoking trees
Tantric trigger squeezed..
Buck my shot
Push to last drop
Contorting from ******** shock
Rub G spot get three wishes
Only need one its your Morning Kisses..
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Pressing buttons,
Hitting switches,
Flashing lights,
Strobing sounds,
"Decorum! Decorum!" she cries,
No use. They are all within His spell.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
You smile black-eyed as
the city belches blue neon
through its steel-glass canyons;
a cobalt factory of lumen, pulsing
through dendritic labyrinths
of sapphired circuitry.
Diodes of cerulean fire,
spreading with virulent sophistry
amid the glittering obsidian dark,
like pale horses of light that
leap from pane to inky pane,
like a Pentium’s ******
God’s own seething fireworks
watched in reverse
as they float in through my car window,
strobing blue against your freshly
washed hair.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 8:51 AM UTC
Listen to you with your lip-synch promises
You kiss me and take a bite with acid tongues
Spiked with sugary smiles
Your words are liquid lead
Your letters bleed loudly through their envelopes
Bubbling like broken dreams
How do you know what you seem to know?
It is a black skinned paperclip globe
A slow ticking suffering sickly
Strobing life
Watch you with your face of clay and prosthetic eyes
You stroke me and scratch with a headless finger
Sliding in my heart to lay your egg sac
Whenever you speak
Your words are biting back laughter
How can I take you seriously?
You hair in black chains
With synthetic singing locks
Double tracked and prerecorded
Sensual loops
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
Grim grey day
starts in the dark,
grumbles, glowers
shoulders hunched
Everyone in bitter agreement -
"Miserable!"
Rain driven against windows,
streaming pavements,
shoe-squelched curses
cast at baleful sky.
Travelling home at last,
raincoat defeated
tricklebacked discomfort,
Windscreen wipers ten to the dozen
under sopping sorrowful trees,
headlights strobing relentless rain
And -
Those aren't leaves.
What are they?
Tumbling across the road,
crisscrossing parabolas
of peculiar joy
Frogs!
I stop:
I have to.
The night is alive
with manic delight
as secret creatures fling caution to the wind
and bound into sight,
into frantic celebration,
unphased by cars, by foolish bipeds
who thought this planet was theirs -
Open mouthed and uninvited
I gaze, displaced and foolish
for not knowing
It is,
it is the most beautiful night
that could possibly be imagined.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:24 AM UTC
strobing images flash inside
your body out of sight
you’re temporary love in his arms
his body is now your throne
your home away from me
a shrine to his transgressions
in the dark you lie to them
and you love it too
pretending the shackles you don are for him
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 6:01 PM UTC
the brightest star
of that well-known
oft mistaken
constellation
disfigured and disguised
by the shifting
of Rorschach’s clouds
the temporary flair
of an unremarkable
astral body
burning through
the upper atmosphere
forgotten immediately
as it fades
along with
any accompanying wish
the strobing beacon
of wingtip
or undercarriage
marking the distance
needed for safety
moving through turbulence
restlessness and discomfort
watched with
ill-considered envy
in this overcast
night sky
those twinkling lights
will often go
unnoticed or
simply ignored
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 7:26 AM UTC
the lights are buzzing
and my ears are stuffed with pollen
yet i can still hear the hive of bees in the ceiling.
the lights are buzzing
strobing against walls of alabaster and tiles of ***** white
neon and drunk off of the ticking of the clock.
the lights are buzzing
they carve out slivers of eyelashes
and slide flickering fingers to rest along the chin of despondency.
the lights are buzzing
their uneven beat is perfect melody
to the crying in the hall, outside waiting room 23.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
Ten fingers
went to tend her
garden of buttons:
The right hand kisses cheeks
with Mr. **** and then greets
The Twins with a tender twist,
as the **** on the door when
He comes,
and we lay atop each
other to be a team—of beams
of light strobing across some sheets
of ice, maybe—with steadily raised stats
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
Bitter.
Tangy.
Chest poking,
distress...
anxiety.
An orange peeled.
A tomato congealed.
Acid rising,
distress...
anxiety.
laughter.
disaster.
911 on the line,
distress...
anxiety.
Please stay on
until we arrive.
strobing lights.
harrowing ride.
11 hours of machines
distress...
anxiety.
1 year to a MRI.
1 year to live or die?
A Canadian health care story
distress...
anxiety.
Take some of these pills,
and call us in 5 years,
distress...
anxiety.
Quacks.
Waddles.
Going south.
http://www.robross.ca
Nov 17, 2009
Nov 17, 2009 at 10:33 AM UTC
I hope my words
Cauterise all your scars
Strobing light your way
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
I trained my gaze to turn a blind eye
To the incessant strobing wheedling away
Weeping willow tears, burrowing footsteps
Needling the swell of pure panic
When you said to me "The anxiety's
Bad at the mo", I became heavy with
The suffocation of 'What to do'....for you
My race to the winning post to
Grab the prize. the cure of all cures
The potion that'll dilute the multiplying
Butterflies grabbing onto your
Worry beads, slung around your neck
Should you forget their existence
A never ceasing adornment lines
Your palms with moistured intensity
Slips your grip on life, where once was peace
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
bitter air pours through cracked windows at sixty miles per hour
dashboards turn to focal points turn to the only sight i'll keep from these days
and the nighttime pitch black glosses over moments of eyes glazed
the week's exhaustion turns each of us up, empty and dour
we work through our days and leave the waking hours to devour
sprawled over small couches and cold basement floors, always dazed
we come alive to mood music and greasy food at odd hours, forever unfazed
we make each spontaneous saturday night, uniquely and quietly ours
the clock in the dash reckons 3:46am in a thin, strobing green
he blinks hard, weary eyes and overworked body, fighting against the morning
and the neon signs of the little old marketplaces, oh, how they sing
we wire ourselves and electrify our moments with caffeine
we crash and burn and forget every night, ignoring our own warnings
and the sleepless sacrifices for each other's wonder, oh, the upswing.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
Sun bleached
Shadow soaked
Strobing days
Thirst choked
Thrumming sands
Screaming hush
Words lost
In the hues of dusk
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 5:17 AM UTC
Today is the first day
Of Spring in Ontario
After an arduous winter.
We have waited with
Northern patience.
I cruised my Shadow
Along Lakeshore Rd,
The sun strobing through
Leafless, budding limbs.
The smell of Spring clean-up,
The burning of leaves and wood;
An invisible, invading aroma.
That one assault held the force
Of all my Springs,
Before I worried over CO2's.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
After each honey-dipped dispute the hapless toddler bounces on a squatter’s mattress,
Teething and drooling like an adorable zombie, gormlessly tossing chewed toys and causing a mess.
On a drenched bed drifting in a flooded car park, the infant paddles towards a collapsed lamppost using a G.I.JOE.
Strobing, the broken light dances in the gloomy water and animates the odd objects below.
Inquisitive, the primal child scales the desecrated metallic obelisk with caution.
Oily and perverse the rain-greased pole requires instinctive body contortions.
Briefly understanding the enormity of the ordeal the naïve kid starts to scream and clings,
Prays for mum, for help and repents for all the bad things,
He thinks he has done. He loses his grip and slides down, landing on his grimy float,
Skimming like a stone across the charged lake, he bounds over used nappies and punctured plastic bags in his boat,
And settles like a fallen petal. He is safe and apologetic.
Though he finds his feet and jumps ignorantly again. His capacity to learn is pathetic.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Our rabbit tails flicker
on the edge of the heat-rush
like making love,
a viciously tender blush.
Here we are, Running,
from useful death;
our needed kindnesses.
Nature’s necessary provocation,
starts the ride,
ensuring death for an ensuing life.
Our blood is fast and heated,
releases and builds the tension,
in ligaments, Quick enough
but strobing the scut.
We are also the foxes
and so forwards we must follow it,
just as the time follows
the seeping wisps on the horizon
of the un-risen sun.
Come live with us and dine,
so we may die, when we need to.
There is a reason for your greed.
Follow those sparking tails
pinpointing life
in the living grasses.
Smell the heat
through the dewy stems
and be what must be done.
Feed your children of every description
to end, a forgotten bone milestone
but with endless input.
Become the prey of your own actions.
The grass takes your meat,
fluffs it up with sun,
for the rabbits
each and every time, it’s time to.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
Stare at a television for too long,
and you're sure to find it becomes a difficult task...
training your eyes to adjust to reality.
This crisp world morphs into a mirage,
seen through the revolver of a machine gun
infinitely strobing between what is and should.
Like a child trying to blink back tears that seem more like a tsunami.
The **** finally cracks.
Reminiscent of those summer days spent at the pool,
staring at the world through a rippling glass wall.
I've always been interested in new perspectives.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
Glimpses of the light
as the shadows echo into a land of perpetual darkness.
Where blackness is a habitat,
imagination fabricates strobing illusions;
portraying future as the inevitable apprehension
of
impossible
answers.
From within, this truth is known,
and though this light is but a delusion-
it remains a solitary hope.
Lies- the remnants of lives
in this dire day.
Deserving of life...
when it is nothing,
a gift cordially received.
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
Perfect synergy
Can you feel it?
Pulsing through the ground
Strobing lights blinding me
Electricity in the air
Hands in the air
I feel love
Do you feel it?
Songstress on the stage
Dancing on her own
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 10:35 PM UTC
attendance
fumbling my entrance array
passionately late i pull off my tie
and crashing here without apology
all-ready a crowd sweated room
low ceiling candy glass munching underfoot
the senses are rushed upon fuming
lit up and strobing with the chaotic humour
and tumorous smells
furious ingestion
swellings and releases
pelling and girling with the dances
hectic music making hero's of uz all
a steaming sot lady lands before me laughing
she climbs me till her bare feet find ground
naked from the waist up
her dress has fallen into a trampled magpie tail
doughy features unfocused
my heart is gurning with ruckus
installed with an addicts engine
it caves and puffs for attention
these are my people
these are my people
now that they're reached their peak
of ******* inebriation
and raving chorus
i am drawn imediate into the density
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 11:43 AM UTC
Let me lean into your hair and breathe in your warm, clean scent.
Tackle me with tickling fingers, knock me over, make me squirm.
I'll nibble on your neck a bit, and make a ***** joke.
You'll drag me up and down the block, till we've searched out every coffee shop, and reading nook, and weird demented new-age store,
With scary guys with scary hair leaning over the counter offering you 'Fairy Dust' for good luck, or maybe this book about trolls?
Then I'll drag you back down a different block, and through the city and all the buildings.
Looking up and up and up.
Falling over our own four feet as we race the dusky-shadowed building monsters from one end of the bay to the other.
Exhausted by our chase, we stumble into yet another hole-in-the-wall to steal some warm recuperation.
You wrap me up in arms and drink, while telling me all about your life.
Then you **** me for details of things I never talk about, and make it seem like no big deal. I mean, hey, it's only you after all.
Next you grab your camera in one hand, and my hand in the other, dragging me back out the door, already clicking fast the shutter.
But it's night! So what? It's the city, there's light.
So you keep right on clicking and posing and grasping at figments, air where you think you might best find a shot, that would hold me to you on the screen later on.
You keep clicking and clicking, till I finally get tired. Then you, sensing me, make up for my sudden lack of enthuse, and drag me further to a club strobing with lights.
We dance there for hours, till the club's shutting down, catch a yellow-topped cab, rumbling and slow. You hang up your camera, I hang up my coat.
Time for a movie and popcorn, hot chocolate in bed. I'll fall asleep, wrapped in comforter, my pillow still breathing. You might wake me up, after the movie is finished, just in time for a few pre-dawn kisses.
A few hours sleep, my head tucked under your chin. Dreaming separate dreams, together.
Our limp-tangled limbs greet the shade-prying strips of sunlight with unconscious aplomb.
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 9:39 PM UTC