"stumblings" poems
gun squad
we were death
wandering the hills.
pieces of puzzles
out of time and place.
we were worlds lost
beyond
sound and sense,
stumblings on ridge lines
looking for something
to ****
we were empty-eyed
birds of prey,
locked to earth
under the weight of packs
and guns
and ammunition,
trying to find wings
that would fly us home.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 7:02 AM UTC
Leave your imperfections
that I might know that you are human
That your stumblings
might resound a warmth unto my heart
Thy errs find grace
and forgiveness
in the steps I tread
before you
For I was no better
nay worse
than the efforts of your globe
of conjecture
My golden orb
fails in warmth
As I dreams of avenues
and cobblestone alleys
Of love of those
I know not any more
**** , this curse of time's
finagling abomination !
Yet I find hope
in the rebirth and youth
Let two souls come together
and remake the world anew
As for my glory
It comes down to reason
and the hope
that our imperfections remain intact
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
Love is never judgmental and is accepting of our short comings, ours stumblings and falls.
Always given freely and sets no terms or conditions to the one who is to be receiver of love.
Love is given willingly, unconditionally, without thought to agendas or materialistic rewards.
Sees wonderful qualities and beauty within and is never repulsed or put off by physical flaws.
Never ending, at times, but level and intensity changes with passage of circumstance and time.
It never deliberately brings forth feelings of being broken or endless depression; love is kind.
Sharing of grievances falls upon open mindedness and ears ready and set to listen and hear you.
Love never takes a pregnant pause or hesitates in acceptance of being who you were born to be.
Knowing no one born of human or other forms on this planet is perfect; include self, is love.
Love inspires random acts of kindness without thought of any form of personal benefit to self.
Realness in love makes you feel as if you can climb the highest mountains and reach it's peaks;
forever encourages, but never seeks destruction of mutually healthy relationships and dreams.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 7:45 AM UTC
Sometimes I write nights, in the séance of the city
to the thrum of the sidewalk, the fume of the smokestack;
I scribble the madcap of it all, I furrow my nails in vinyl and dance
in memoriam,
my face blackened by storms in the crematorium;
there are those that watch the world through a window,
and those that are watched;
and if they have no voice in their manic stumblings; and if instead they
mutter
to the shadows for traction, to the swirl in the gutter, the outer rim of
silence
they will find a friction
to descend upon cement with an electric lunacy;
and though they will be outliers, they put out the candles
and write nights too;
within the funneled starlight, and the wheel of the sky,
we string our bodies astral,
in procession and out, similar in divergence, until similarity diverges
into steam and carbon
and time surges backwards to rejuvenate nights
and our visions are left clotted in their seams by
the dark.
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 9:01 AM UTC
8 months ago,
it did not seem like we needed drugs
and alcohol
to have fun.
And suddenly,
there was everything
we had heard about from
everyone else.
But instead of in the whispered gossip
and the disjointed stumblings of drunken dreams
it was right in front of us.
And so the straightedge in us
was bent
with every shot glass
with every smoking joint
that we brought to our anxious lips.
Slowly, hesitantly, at first,
our arms creaked upwards towards our open mouths,
as if we were training muscles,
we didn’t even know we had.
But then it became familiar,
and our elbows flowed smoothly with the oil
of routine.
And at sometime during those long and blurred nights,
I lost track of what was right
and what was wrong.
With every sip I drowned my values
and with every inhale, I cremated my former self
and the white smoke of the fire
wisped up into the air of a dimly lit garage.
Until all I was left with was the present,
wondering where the future would take me.
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 12:20 PM UTC
On the other side
of my over
thinking
I’ve come to realize I still have
more questions
than answers
The future feels just the same as
it did ten years ago when my now
was my future
then
Friends are more often
thought about
than visited
when later today turns into tomorrow
and tomorrow turns
into this weekend
and then next weekend
once a month
whenever you can
because time pushes us all into
this strange thing
called Life
and it’s full of all kinds of ********
designed to rob you of
your money
your sanity
your time
but don’t let this discourage you
from greeting tomorrow
with open arms
and a head full of more questions
than answers
The magic doesn’t seem
to happen as often,
but on the days it does
You have a good day at work,
you pay all the monthly bills on time,
your schedule syncs with an old
college friend and you meet for
coffee, or street tacos from a
local food trailer, or you shoot
pool and whiskey at a dive bar
early Saturday evening
and it feels like the old times again,
and you learn the things you did
were your first stumblings into
adulthood and even though they
sometimes change the way you walk
forever, it’s those times you discover
again when you start your third game
and the songs you queued on the jukebox
start playing and now that you can enjoy
the taste of good whiskey more than the
quantity of well, and all the loose fragments
of the memories we carry every day, left open
on the table in a journal with more strikeout
lines than unmolested phrases all become
complete with each corner pocket called
shot, each memory recalled and retold with
language alluding Greek Epics and Shakespearean
Tragedies,
It all starts to make more sense in ways
and stops making sense in others,
and the future is the same as it always was
some things
you can change,
some people
you can keep
some days
turn into weeks,
months, and years
trying to make sense
of what’s coming,
of what’s gone,
of just what, exactly,
we have now.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
The Brick Church Road leads to Friedens
where yesterday as today
wooden carts and steel wagons,
ferry their most solemn cargo.
After the preacher’s comfort tonings
of walks through the shadowy valley
and eyes lifted to the hills,
After fresh sod flourishes
over the sealed earth,
the carved stones whisper,
“Remember our bearings and sirings,
the banners we carried,
our triumphs and stumblings.
Sound the words and tunes of our jubilant songs!
Never forget that we are you.”
April, 2007
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
I walked out to my car this morning,
and it started right up
My hair, still wet from the shower
is still full and covering my head
I've got new framed pictures to hang,
and clean sheets on the bed
Work was alright, I guess, I don't
hate my job but I hate the idea
that we work for old paper to trade
for bright shiny things that always
seem to lose their glimmer
I've finally got a good woman
in my life who whispers to my heart
and knows what to say to chase
away the dark.
Every kiss on my cheek, every bite
of dinner, every time I feel alone
I reach over and take her hand in mine
and know that the day needs the night.
I have love, health, a paycheck, and the
freedom to drive until the tank is empty
True, there are still things that I want,
but don't need, and things I need
that were taken from me, like my son,
his first words and his first stumblings
in this world
But every day passed is another conquered,
another reason to keep moving
forward
When you've seen as many sunsets and
broken hearts as I have
You are used to the fact that
the sun returns,
love is real,
and life is beautiful.
even on the old, *****
rainy days.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
I wandered through an empty village
Or amid the litter of a debauched celebration (for a triumph that was only poses)
And then (as a parenthesis between my lonely stumblings) before my visage
Was a mother cultivating three children as a gardener tends his roses
She spotted me, stopped me, and said,
“Stranger, all I ask is that if you find the home of a kindly settler
Who offers you a bed
Or find a summit that shows all the land’s dangers and comforts like a peddler,
Please make a sign or some kind of mark to indicate so,
For one day my children will be walking your lonely trail.”
I told her that if I was lucky enough to find such I would somehow let them know
“I wish you Godspeed in the hope you will not fail.”
“And for showing such kindness to a homeless wanderer I thank you.”
I walked on and she did not watch after me as I disappeared into the new
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
I seem to lean
into my shadows, failures and faults.
That slope too natural
and my downward leaning too easy.
What darkness have I learned?
What sullen seed has
merged into the deeper passages
to transform
into thorns?
Is it my repeated stumblings
or the sin of another
inflicted early
but now forgotten?
Maybe it’s so terrible
my mind has stashed it way way down
now a fungus still alive in the dark?
I feel too at home
dwelling in that cave
and I am in need,
I am sorely in need
of light,
enough lasting exposure
to **** the blight
scorch the itch
and set me leaning
into an upward pitch
to thwart the dark
proclivities.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
The lie was this, I lied and pretended the harm and foolishness was coming from a woman far beyond such stumblings, so as to offer a clearer image of the people we are dealing with here.
Listen, lets get the kink out of all the tighy whities( stop wearing them)
The real girl is not on here nor even speaking to me , you, or any o'. The fools acting in her identity.
Now if there is one or two that is her, who cares, she can do as she **** well please, even **** it up that a freak like me , wishes to shake her peach tree.
But Know This Friends........ Those towing this act and who game of bizarreness and threat, of cat and mouse and God and Satan , IS NOT. HER....
And to suggest so is stupid and should only be left up to ********* like me..... J,f,k. Just ******* kidding, jeez.
But truly, sorry folks the hottest babe in the baddest and greatest love story ever attempted to be written, is not the villain, okay. I acted like it, at her expense, ( u, yeah about that, um, sorry, hope to clear some of those up in the future , just get real blonde and stupid all eight feet tall and dunmber that a curbed igglus ice ies cup stuffed with Oreo. And foot cheese flavored pretzels all for a dollar ,$ 137.9. And has you tiniest OSD all mad about it, like" what, what you gonna do about nasty *** icies". Looking.. **** see funny as hell and disturbingly crazy as a coconut. Yep, leave it to me.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
What is truth and how can we begin to know it?
Does it seem to encompass all of us?
We stand apart, a people set above
Destined to forever see what we cannot ever be
Battered buildings stand as silent monuments
Deep inside our dreams we sense some meaning
We stand alone, a people set above
Destined to forever be stumbling forward blindly
As a race we will continue on again
Traveling the dusty road of time forever
Watching empires rise and fall like dust-
The stumblings of petty things called men
We stand apart, a people set above
Destined to forever be walking forwards endlessly
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
Help, please sir i cant breathe,
My lungs. They've left me by force,
A theif!
Wounded stumblings
Ive been assaulted, become disoriented and abandoned
Left in a maze and i dont know the rules, sometimes i turn left, sometimes i say yes
I could have sworn i was following a golden path, but here i stand crippled and dazed
Why did this happen
I followed all the rules.
I went to every training session
So lost and afraid
So confused
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC