"swerving" poems
Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot
Grey marks the skies
Lush green plants peeping in
The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background
For
Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen
And some music to complete the scene
Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop
Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal
But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep
Whispering, persuading me to dream
But I really don't want to miss this shard of time
I never want to lose little moments like these
A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car
Crash landing, rather
The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down
Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime
It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom
It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it
Each drop morphs into another, making a wave
The rain weaves an intricate web of waves
All strutting their sparkly magic before me
I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in
Millions of crescendos growing about
Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others
But I stay focused on the beauty all around
I wonder if heaven has rainy days
If so, this must be one of them
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic
i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents
you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door
sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor
i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips
i practice things i'll never say to you
i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl swingset misses children
rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach
for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray
this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep
i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes
i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one
in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume
i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice
if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"
i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem
the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****
we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you
nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps
sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
#*go on your way
My beloved child
turn aside from
the swerving path
untangle your gaze
to center on Me
stand in courage
hugging wisdom
guard all thoughts
leaning upon My love
release what's behind
and walk on in joy*#
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
I still find myself
feeling your skin
in the spaces between
bed-sheet creases
and if
missing you is like
swerving into
oncoming traffic,
then tonight
I’m sleeping
in the road.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
I catch you sitting at the diner counter again at 2am, the fourth day in a row. The waitress comes over and hands you a black coffee. I stare, but you don’t turn around and catch me looking. You’re glaring into the mug, like somehow you’ll drown in the warm murky mix. Like somehow if you keep looking your problems will dissipate into the rising steam. Like somehow it’s the answer you’ve been searching for since you were born. You wanted an answer. Something that would make everything come full circle. It’s been years of you driving down an endless highway, passing every exit because you don’t know how to stay in one place. Even ghost towns won’t harbor something so deeply damaged. A person who can only pull the emergency break when they’re afraid they might crash. Crash into what? Not everything walking by you is a catastrophe. Accidents only occur when you forget to pay attention. Just like how you forgot that your side door mirrors were broken. Those objects are not closer than they appear. You tried to slow down but they only seemed further away. Everything you’re trying to hold on to is slipping through your hands the way sand falls through the hourglass. Tick tock. Did you forget that people need affection if you want them to stay? They are not dolls you can glass-case until you feel like playing with them again. Not everybody enjoys being a toy. How long has it been since someone sat in the passenger seat? The car rides must be lonely when there’s no one around to fill the silence. You can blast the radio as loud as you want to but that won’t block out the hollow feeling in your chest. The one that sits where your heart is supposed to be. Something that music can’t fill. Your mother once told you that history repeats itself but did she mention that only happens when you refuse to change the scenery? If you always stay on the same road you’re never going to snap out of it. Break the curse. Realize that love is sitting at the base of every exit if you weren’t so scared of swerving into oncoming traffic. The only head-on collision that’s going to happen is when you grow too tired of driving alone that you forget to keep your eyes on the road. When you realize you placed yourself in your own hell and your breaks finally give out. When you fall asleep at the wheel and never wake up because you were terrified of letting somebody else steer.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
Dope, money, and hoes [x9]
[Verse 1: Da$h]
Ain't write it, thought of this when I was drunk driving
Like I had a license, been swerving through the intersect
Just to make the ******* wet, breakfast: yac and cigarettes
Feds about the only threat, spit nasty like my throat is strep
She working at the pyramid, shake her **** for some bucks from Tut
Pharaoh to the marrow, Cleopatra roll my dutch
Dour blunts they double stuffed, got a ***** stupid chopped
Used to squad these faggots' wives, the ******* that I used to pop
Wear the **** I used to cop, respect your elders lil *****
Ain't even of age to drink, I get your ** to buy me liquor
'Linquent **** I live for it, they tryin but might die for it
These drugs got my brain, money got my mind finding fun in crime
******* love my rhymes, to be honest I love their mouth at campuses
Looking for talents just like I'm a college scout
Ask her what she shout, I’m ashin' her on the ******* couch
[Verse 2: Da$h]
Dope, money, and hoes, getting dope money from shows
She sniff her coke then she blow, **** it, I don’t judge it though
Sugar free, no love for sure, just put 'em on Sepulveda
Benefits and bank rolls, all a ***** really want from her
And when she bring it back, call my brother hit the trap
Invested in a couple packs, will probably see a couple stacks from what he talkin
Money hulking like Bruce Banner
Panarama day dreaming, While she downin' my ***** on camera
Life's in action, piping, smashing whatever you call it
Smoke a 'Port and I'm off but they ******* think I lost it
And my dog facing blunts while I feed my pups bath salts
Infiltrate my castle, take your face like it's a mask boss
Pass raw flesh and bone, money long like small intestines
Homes I'm taking breakfast, long as getting checks involved H´z *****
Cause if you ain't know, AraabMuzik
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
It's a nightmare of a journey
Through the Rose Hills.
White roses cover death
Along side the 50mph ride.
We'll speed down the boulevard
Turning right, swerving left.
Drink some beer on Broadway,
Smoke some cigarettes at CVS.
Then I'll fill your heart with rose petals
And regret.
You grin and whisper gently
I'll meet you in Whittier at Sunset.
Lets muddle through Greenleaf
Under a cerulean sky.
I got lost in the time held in your eyes.
I stumble back to only trip into your disguise.
Only to drown in your lips and lies.
Dragging our souls to Hellman's and back,
I'll find you on Hadley letting the sun in,
Wilted in Whittier at sunset.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I go to the door often.
Night and summer. Crickets
lift their cries.
I know you are out.
You are driving
late through the summer night.
I do not know what will happen.
I have no claim on you.
I am one star
you have as guide; others
love you, the night
so dark over the Azores.
You have been working outdoors,
gone all week. I feel you
in this lamp lit
so late. As I reach for it
I feel myself
driving through the night.
I love a firmness in you
that disdains the trivial
and regains the difficult.
You become part then
of the firmness of night,
the granite holding up walls.
There were women in Egypt who
supported with their firmness the stars
as they revolved,
hardly aware
of the passage from night
to day and back to night.
I love you where you go
through the night, not swerving,
clear as the indigo
bunting in her flight,
passing over two
thousand miles of ocean.
11.1k
You slowly walk down the avenue of normality
Ignoring the side streets and oddly placed alleys
Change, you feel, is strange and unnerving
You stay straight and narrow, no veering or swerving
You look at us weirdos and our strange machinations
you speed up your pace with much trepidation
You're so busy keeping to the road that's more traveled
that you are completely unaware that it's turning to gravel
You're walking alone, and the road has all but decayed
the streets that you passed up, now bustling highways
Your fear of the odd and peculiar, the offbeat uncommon
has led you to become alone, forlorn, and unwanted
Everyone's different
Everyone's weird
Everyone has secrets that no one will hear
You wanted to be normal, and normal you are
now you're a minority, among the bizarre
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
dipping, soaring. swerving
with sounds of their symphony
which they could only know
I hear, I listen
I see, I believe
with so few words to say
I wish I could say more
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Mixed messages
Confused conscience
Swerving signal
Thorough thinking
Optimistic offering
Hesitant Hell
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
there was a little duck a clever duck was he
he just love the snow and he just loved to ski
he took a little trip for a skiing holiday
in the land of austria so very far away
packing up a bag he boarded on plane
sitting by the window to look out of the pane
he was very happy as happy as can be
and all along the mountain tops he could plainly see
he reached his destination and headed for the snow
with his little skis so he could have ago
he climbed up a mountain high up in the sky
then he could ski down again and watch the world go by
swerving in and out with his speed so fast
racing to the bottom till the finish line was passed
going over bumps flying through the air
jumping over everything he really didnt care
he got to the bottom is skiing it was done
it gave him such a thrill and he enjoyed the fun
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
**** head, struggling for breath
Final hit, before the red
Light flashes, warning to stop
Over dose, **** the innards
She never chose to lose this
Battle, between herself & it
Where'd she go, lost in space
Chasing herself, a dog with his tail
Praying to an above, to lead her
Straight laced, not swerving off track
Please God save me, her last plea
Before another day dawns, her final wish
Sketcher, tweaker, where's that syringe
The lights too bright, reality a curse
Rolled up in rehab, another ghetto kid
Not this girl, high class, white, moneyed
Lost to the night, speed freak, hopeless
Drowning in addiction, using again
Chemical structures defining her fate
Her brain the game
Disfigured face, unrecognizable eyes
Family love, isn't ever enough
Rushed to ER, another broken soul
Promises that drugs will save her
When only she can ever
Save herself
This time, she's not another life
Lost
The Gods sure blessed her, not with
Her wish
So she's packaged off to rehab
The third times a charm, right?
© Sia Jane
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
When the universe is carefree
And there’s happiness in the chaos
Wild and wide, cannot be tamed
Many worlds coexist throughout
Here we are on this celestial body
Trying to find answers to our origins
Many questions and confabulations
Our daily meditations yield no path
We are caught in the web of time
Going back and forth with our life
One form to another, inexplicable cycle
We can be carefree as the universe
Maybe the answers are hidden within
The path we have taken is flailing
Our unsure steps swerving us away
Time has come to be carefree
Join the chaos and find meaning
Align with the universe’s nonchalance
The answers will appear before us
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
I can fly, standing, my
back ***** I can fly, holding
my arms aloft, I can
fly, speeding down the hill, I
can fly, swerving around cars.
I fly, dancing with death and
courting danger, I fly, laughing
loudly at my fear, I fly,
relishing the near-misses and almost-
impact of tragedy, I fly, I
spin, I wheel, I turn, I
soar, *(I escape
everything.)*
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 5:47 AM UTC
i've found myself swerving off the road when the sun is setting.
when splashes of orange, pink, yellow spray across the summer sky my eyes wander away from the road and i'm lost in the color.
i've risked my life just to catch a glimpse of heaven's painting, and i think that's how it is every time i look at you.
i chase sunsets like i chase you,
always wanting to see more of you and not being able to stop myself.
you're as beautiful as a sunset,
and i'll keep chasing you until i crash.
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
A tattered bird had a made a tomb
in tepid water, it was a puddle
near the framework of a half-built room—
but the soul’s a swerving tunnel
and the dead are waiting at the end:
all sorts of animals huddled at the fringe
where littered pine needles stand
and creep inside the sandy construction site,
pale in the morning light,
the tractors dug aesthetic swirls in the sand—
a culvert keeps the brook alive,
it flows into the forest, which learns to mend
its scars with the festering of its things:
kingfishers’ **** on the berries and branches,
if the plants could undo their own stink
the heart wouldn’t die on its haunches—
the morning’s dew resolves to hoary ice,
its killing the greenery,
but the sandblasters lean, arranged by the outhouse, like
a dream, the first worker arrives early
he rests against a smooth-planed board—
flood the mind, but be sure to drain it out,
its his breakfast cup of tea that stores
his knowledge of beauty
past the place where the bushes are thin
there is an apple orchard, plucked to pieces at the end of fall—
trees arranged in ranks, held up with wires and strings:
a dementia arboreal—
the smells from the orchard meet
the smells from the machines and hover
above the building-zone, mixing with the bite
of cold humidity—a cruel kind of vapor
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 9:10 PM UTC
I stood
On the edge
Of the shore
Peering past
Where others
Have gone
Before
I took
A step
Of faith and destiny
And so did you and so
Who touched the water
Before the path turned away
From the others
Heart leaping into my throat
As the road turns away
Swerving toward the fork
Time to make a choice
The dead are gone
The living left
The clock still runs
Don't make it stop
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
The bartender a europa server leaves me a shot of liquid propane.
He moves past every silver dollar forgetting about the meaning
of whskey and bull dogs.
I watch cody a young university of washington student sneek In a can of raineer beer (if he really goes there) ill never ask him.
This is how lastcall always takes place: a drunken masqerader our friend johnny
Drops his wallet and kills a shot of jager. ( are we drunk enouph yet)
I order a taco and gain three hundread pounds tonight.
Master of the pitchers. He still dreams of being a physical thearpist ( he failed trying to take over for Dyrile). His new tall order of a job makes my anticipated buzz weaker.
Im tired of these long dresses opening up and spilling all over the dance floor ( the dj warned her not to)
Our ladies still mention bach. Inside of her purse hides a mystery knovel.
Tueday means a victory at home. Every player utters pride of being a regular.
We sink the black eight ball knowing the bouncer gets in the way of ourdrunk enemies ( a red head)
He charges like arhino. Hes a animal without areason to **** But the bouncer prevents his six year jail sentence from ever happening. Bexause were all forgiven like helpless bar rags trying to dry out before the mold and mildew
contaminate our bull **** stories. We all speak easily after the brooklyn dodgers turn every blue and white hat around the five head.
He wont show us how the airforce cut his hair. Every one of his is angry patrons drink until the switch flickers the message ( crawl home bfore the cops fish with dynamite) in the ruston pqarking lot. (Searching for fake DW'S) each of themshine a britemaglite until the last car disapears still swerving like a skunk ptetending to hide in the storm gutters.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
I am sore muscles, burned food,
lit windows of houses I’ve seen
while standing out in the cold,
dead leaves underfoot, dreams of shoulder blades
pushed against plaster and a lump in my throat,
catching someone check their reflection
when they think no one’s looking,
running after an ice cream truck, airplanes crossing the sun,
laughter shooting from the chest,
vehicles racing along pavement,
the tenderness of the air this morning,
shadows stretching across snow, my gut fluttering
when we’re alone together, poems I write in which
nothing is true, the migration of birds,
lights dimmed and all the music turned up, constellations of stars
I will never know the names of, my thoughts chattering to no one,
driving on ice with a pounding heart,
dragonflies and thunderstorms with one ear-bud in,
a head on a shoulder,
hugs tight enough to hurt,
swerving to avoid strangers in the street,
poetry read on full eyes and an empty stomach,
waking in the middle of the night to
move through the house while everything’s soft and quiet,
leaning into things with base violent passion,
strawberries picked in August,
things I want but will never have, that great numbing beauty,
laying back on an unmade bed,
laughing and sobbing like a ***** hurling rocks
into the navy monotony of the ocean,
electric jealousy,
inhaling dust of old books,
euphoric indie riffs, photographs pinned to walls,
jogging to catch up with a new friend,
spilled milk, a cool pillow at the end of every day,
shifting seasons, happiness louder than bombs,
lungs full of breath,
affluxes of glitter in my eyes,
a roar building in the space around me,
love and love and love
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
i am the frostbite
spreading through the frozen fingers of your new lover's
hands, transferred body heat
burning the skin.
i am 3 am drinks in the
pouring rain, swerving onto
oncoming traffic.
i am the ship lost at sea of our love.
i am a broken bathroom mirror.
i am an unidentified purple bruise
on the neck of your ex-lover.
i am the fork in the toaster.
i am an untuned guitar in
a filthy venue.
calloused hands against soft skin.
slam the whiskey shot down on your neck. wash the blood off in the kitchen sink.
broken blinds forcing unwanted sunlight into your nightmares.
i am the definition of breakup *** i am the
aftermath of self-hatred and one more go around.
**** just for the fun of it, just to ****
pretend you are making love. pretend this matters.
i am late night emergency room
visits for rope-burned necks.
i am the car alarm blocking out your
one night stand's profound moans.
organize your bookshelf to spell out my name in the titles.
every song on the radio
will sound like goodbye.
i am the perfect time for a first kiss. swollen lips. swollen throats. inevitably calling your name on my deathbed.
i am under-the-bed-shoeboxes filled
with ripped photos that
still smell of his cologne.
i am one more dose of ambien
to get you through the night.
overdose on love, starve your lover.
stop.
rewind.
i am the first glance in a coffee shop.
play.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
beluga whales surfaced, floating ghostly white
ferocious tides ripped, sands sinking
cowslip tripped the cloud's crashing sky
sunbursts cracked storm walls, with fire yellow light
rain far-off sheeted, poured - hillsides weeping
fireweed bowed, bent heavily sleeping
the rutted road curved swerving narrowly upward
leading me to the sweet summer of Girdwood
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
Who do you think leads us
When we find it there at the top of the mountain
The sky a sweating forcefield
Defending an unknowable cannibal society from the rages of brutality
No lifeguards here at the sidewalk hot dog stand
No golf carts swerving in and out of lanes
On a neighborhood parkway
Our footsteps bend back with tension
Where we face a collision course
With a culture three short steps removed
And left to warp and mutate in the lee of the stone
Where sands of time blow sparingly
To the pace of a sputtering tractor motor
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
i find myself assuming the role
of quiet observer, looking around
discreetly, and with more interest
than i let on, i am transfixed
by the simplicity with which complications arise
between crooked pathways
and straight lines
of people, walking around
interacting on levels that confound me
and it makes me feel like an island
yet uncharted
sand untouched, bare of footprints
and most of the time, i like it
the feeling of being clean
unsullied by those complications
and i sit on my shore, watching the ragged ships
sail by
and the gulls circle, crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we hide the truth
and perform the lies?
sometimes, i assume the role
of confidant, of living journal
and i describe the weight of the words dropped on my pages
to nobody, because
it really isn't my place
to trivialize darknesses other than my own
and i understand, i do
but i feel lost, some days
among the black holes of people
who cannot escape their own space
their own star-flecked universes
and their planets crash into mine
Milky Way swerving out of the path of destruction
and getting lost in their dissolving sighs
and i feel heavy
with the ink of their confessions
heavy with the advice that they ignore
heavy with the simple ideas
that crowd my head, circling like those gulls
crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we confide in strangers
and never trust our own star systems
to find their way back into orbit?
i find myself assuming the role
of me, of my own name
displayed proudly on my sleeve
familiar letters that seem to betray
my transparent, flickering image
warm and true to friends' eyes, perhaps
but the spaces between the characters
are what appear to me in the mirror
not the black lines
but the grey areas
and i feel that transparency often
when i am surrounded by that sea once again
as i so often am
and the waves just seem to crash right over me
feeling invisible, and yet somehow
too visible
to ever be a part of the current, it seems
as each whisper, each ripple
each glance, each possible missed chance
each glimmering sail upon the horizon
appears to laugh at me
whether it's my sad, slow swimming
or my ragged inward appearance
that shines through the cracks in my face
it all becomes part of an image
that i see burned upon the surface of my soul
and some days it truly feels
like even the gulls are circling around me, crying out
why?
why do you do these things to yourself?
why do you even bother?
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
Two people lurk in everyone
the star and the scar
born from building high citadels of power
and cascading into smithereens
when the switch is tripped.
Maybe the voltage ran low
or the circuit breaker was poorly constructed?
I dont know.
I operate on a three phase armour
of emotional stabilisers
that spark and twitch when overheated
with too much energy. But I return
with black faced integrity
collars up and smoking
to fight on another electrifying moment.
'Thats life' I hear
the rollercoaster ride
built into the system
going around in circles
always facing the sunrise
and sunset. We scream and tumble
into the guts of the incline
the switch and roll of events
swerving around corners
holding on tight white knuckled
until it finishes its rumble
and we walk out wobbly and vomity
until the better side takes over.
The darker side recedes
into an unknown pocket.
Author Notes
Thanks to Cinderley13 who wrote about Catfish and Lydia and Lyda and made me wonder what the hell was being alluded to? It now makes a bit more sense.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC