"subsurface" poems
how do you justify a head spun so spun from a virtual verbiage virtually vindicating a long lost ideal supposedly lost in the war, practically lives ago. closed eyes like picture frames for a face so quickly etched into their very own new and nervous neurons. novel indeed but hardly new, reminders and reminiscence of made mistakes recovering from the back burner blindside. yesterdays regrets dont matter much in this dream and a refusal to awaken is the only option. it's only what you've been waiting for if you recognize it when it passes you by on the boulevard. Numerous enough are my days for me to understand the importance of open eyes for blinking is risky with this vision. ice ages have taken hold and regressed since the last time that friendly chemicals werent responsible for such an onslaught of smirks. the concept of "we", of "us" something subsurface unseen yet present with a strong presence presenting preconceptions upturned and made moot. you frighten me in the best way. the best kiss my lips never received, from the pacific with love. from the sea itself.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:37 PM UTC
Whats up? Life, and all that comes with it
Whats up is a pain that brings me down
Whats up is the opposite of me this time
Its where I ought to be, but down is the where that im now more around
Whats up is whats high, a mile high, but thats not where I am
A transition from up to down but still on the highest point I stand
Standing but changing position always and not knowing how
But the how isnt the why and why is something I know from head to toe
Which is why my head hangs so low in the sight of a new place to go
But a new journey brings me high for a reacquaintance with the sky
That I had been too low to see from my subsurface window
For a time too long for just me to know
A time thats a distance from the last places called home and
The homes that the loves of my soul call their own
So leaving the distance behind sends whats down to whats up
Its that charming moment where a realization wakes up
And through eyes not my own I see but dont see
The once original past that made whats up whats me
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
There is no end to my exhale;
flowering emptiness filling me, infinitely.
Subsurface tides of me rush recede and
waters winds in beautiful tandems leap.
With in-breath I am remembering my birth,
with out-breath I my dying.
When I am silent to the very bone,
beyond myself, my edges blur and free
what choruses now, what string, what flute notes drum
who is it who sings to and through me?
When life and love breathed exactly into this world,
and I became here, was someone beside me then?
What did my face look like
before I was conceived?
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
On the wall where shadows grew;
Light lightly refracted though windows.
With cups of long cold tea;
where appropriate storms swim.
By a wall where shadows put on a show.
Let slip words aglow,
in skins subsurface shimmer.
Skip, flip, fall and tumble.
To Cracked laminate floors.
Spilling those storms out into the world.
The Sun boils, flowers and then bows out
to a Gray sickle of the night.
In this world where shadows know;
A little light is all that's needed to nurture
the shadow's show.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
#
*Pain.. when left alone to just be pain;
and trying to heal from that place, without giving hope to others
the way that you do so beautifully when you write the way you do..
It all becomes such a loneliness, when unshared.
And your opening up in that beautiful and gorgeous way that you do--
it is a wonderful example (both to, and for) so many who are still
tightly bound within the pain of it all, never knowing that the
reaching for hope is so very worthy of their time and energy:
both, desperately needed
in order to become able to press through the shame;
in order to just be able to hold on.
Never more gorgeous and **** you are to men like me--
when you glow that way..
as a beacon of light to those who were ones bound so very tightly,
within the injustice of all that was so unfairly laid upon them--
just as it also was with you.
And,
your healing and perseverance, in your movement towards strength,
again, is opening doors for many--
there is no doubt in my mind, of that very truth:
Something deep and beautiful happens inside of me, and those like me
when I see ones like you do that beautiful thing that you do out there.
Wild thoughts come to the surface-- of mouth, pressed to mouth,
and gentle (and the not so overly gentle) removing of clothes-- in a
not so very un-fast pace.. in the deep need to so very quickly know,
between brightly-glowing bodies;
that wonderful feeling of skin on skin. Really. xo
And, though innocent in your use of it, and unbeknownst to you,
there is a conniving and scheming within it that bypasses all of the
filters of my heart, and enters directly into desire's unbridled
and untamed world--
the one that always is brewing within me, subsurface.
Leave it to the gorgeous wild-ones such as yourself to bring that
part of me out into the light of day-- where I can barely manage it.
The thought of ever being alone with ones like you at night, brings
about such a wonderful,
exploding eruption of warm, lava flow..
even within itself.
True story, babe.* xo
#
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 9:06 PM UTC
And here.
Among wights.
Missing all tickets unsold.
Calling all who lived and felt.
It is colder.
And the wounds are raising.
And again with revenue as to portray.
"It is gone." She says.
And I dream.
Of that razor to steal my heart.
And who steals my blood daily.
Though not as to compost.
Poisoning flowers.
Oxidizing.
And fermenting her soil.
Soon again.
I will drink.
My ears warm.
The morn brings leashed air.
A chuckle at present.
Of the last.
Of past words misunderstood.
Once of four.
And once of five.
And yeah, we speak in high tones.
In vague terms.
Of times arrived.
Departing flights forgotten.
Many moments undersold.
Still I taste.
A forced kiss.
Too loved to unleash.
And so I wonder who said, "Who?"
Oh bother.
Speech of idiots.
Words ******
I deny all salves.
All soothing.
All encompassing.
Sweet chestnut colored love.
Curves to hold and suffer subsurface.
Sans scars.
Food tomorrow.
After today, food tomorrow.
I recall her taste.
As recalled, I remember.
The violence.
And pride.
After the meal.
The tears and the urination.
After theft.
I swam.
With those who denied.
And those who gave.
Who took?
She sat.
And I swam.
And they spoke.
The water.
I emerge on new skin.
Skin of those before.
Of dreams wondered.
Dreams failed.
I pursued and entered.
A feast.
A drink.
Soft pelts.
A bed and works of excuse.
Drowned in water.
Drowned in love.
My sweet ancient temple.
The skies of false truth.
And the ******* of an angel.
The miss of one married.
Scarred.
Loud speeches.
Parades across the globe.
And hopes of love.
Goodnight sweet muse.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
Pinpoint the subsurface crack,
Stare until my vision goes black.
We must be complete maniacs,
Eating our own dental plaque.
Here's a toast to the next generation,
They'll solve what's wrong with the nation.
Survived our own cremation,
But will we survive damnation?
Teeth rotting out of our mouth,
Won't let the dentist into the house.
Ignore all of the deep seated doubt,
Despite pain that screams so loud.
What's the solution for this?
We'd rather live in ignorant bliss.
Obey the laws, stay off the lists,
There's a crushing boot we'd rather kiss.
The leather taste masks the decay,
Step out of line and we will all pay.
Stare horrified at the widening gaps,
Watch our leaders take lazy laps.
As we stand and ignore the collapse,
Instead we rip apart the lower class.
Using dental tools to pretend,
We get it and we comprehend.
How we have come to descend,
Yet still, we're unable to amend.
The rich stand inside golden gates,
Pointing their fingers at the baits.
Watching us fixate on our tails and give chase,
By the time we're broken down, it's too late.
By now, it's too late,
We'll watch and meet our fate,
The tooth decay much too great,
Gave in to the ouroboros of hate.
Jan 7, 2025
Jan 7, 2025 at 11:19 PM UTC
The moon’s fingernail
pushed over the celestial dark fluid
that overflowed nightly.
The midnight blurred
my flattened, forgotten universe’s
center rather greedily.
The world ended
at the edge of my car’s windshield and
moved forward quietly.
From the highway
the faint heartbeat of Kansas
throbbed two-dimensionally.
Her heart cavity
collapsed under the infinite stretch of sky
and pulsed irregularly.
The fall of Atlas
forced all the beauties of the world to be
buried subsurface perfectly.
But my mind spitefully imagines mountains
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
I hope you don't know my secret.
I'm actually a monster.
In the guise of a boy with long hair.
Beneath my jacket of skin, scales coat my body.
Beneath my mask, I have a face of teeth and tentacles,
A beak made for chomping, and eyes glazed black.
I have webbed wings on my true back, but you can't see that.
My toes are made of bone, and just as dry.
If my instincts kick in, I can run faster than any man,
Hit ten times as hard, and **** in the blink of an eye.
I am no man. I am a monster.
A monster with one goal; protect you.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
And here.
Among wights.
Missing all tickets not sold.
Calling all who lived and felt.
It is colder and the wounds are raising.
And again with revenue not as to portray.
"It is gone." She says.
And I dream.
Of that razor which left with my heart.
And who steals my blood daily.
Though not is in compost.
Poisoning flowers.
Oxidizing.
And fermenting the soil.
Soon again.
I will drink.
My ears warm.
The morn bring air leashed.
A chuckle at present.
Of the last.
Of past words misunderstood.
Once of four.
And once of five.
And yeah, we speak in high tones.
In vague terms.
Of times arrived.
Departing flights forgotten.
Many moments undersold.
Still I taste.
A forced kiss.
Too loved to unleash.
And so I wonder who said, "Who?"
Oh bother.
Speech of idiots.
Words ******
And I deny all salves.
All soothing.
All encompassing.
Sweet chestnut colored love.
Curves to hold and suffer subsurface.
Sans scars.
Food tomorrow.
After today, food tomorrow.
I recall her taste.
As recalled I remember.
The violence.
And pride.
After the meal.
The tears and the urination.
After the theft.
I swam.
With those who denied.
And those who gave.
Who took?
She sat.
And I swam
And they spoke.
The water.
I emerge on new skin.
Skin of those before.
Of dreams wondered.
Dreams failed.
I pursued and entered.
A feast.
A drink.
Soft pelts.
A bed and works of excuse.
Drowned in water.
Drowned in love.
Temporal.
My sweet ancient temple.
The sky's of false truth.
And the ******* of an angel.
The miss of one married.
Scarred.
Loud speeches.
Parades across the globe.
And hopes of love.
Goodnight sweet prince.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Pages rippling,
Quickly pushing through the years
My mind is a casino shuffling machine
Rapid fire, every card is
Every face bleeding through
Anchored memories, subsurface stillness
Reality is the crooked blade--
I now realize
I was always looking for
Everything that wasn't them
Different hair, different eyes
Why are they all blurring together
Old slides on a movie screen
Staring back at me.
Vindictive, hostile, blaming.
I was scrambling for the ideal of novel,
New and transposed.
Enough to break me down into molecules,
Toss me into atoms
Throw my essence against the starstuff and dark spaces between--
But there is no ripple effect.
No unseen unclothing me.
The faces keep bleeding through
I keep wading, riffling, sifting through the sands of time
It falls;
Between and all
around me.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC