"tailing" poems
the bottle twists
glass falls in drifts
and air parts like flesh
there’s a terror beneath this city
trucks enter from out of town and shake the power lines
passing without pause
sometimes birds gather for days
chirps grow exponentially
before tailing into silence;
heather and brimstone
little bodies roll to the edges
and burst on the streets in red regalia
a somnolence keeps the city forgetful
time flows in fits
a streetlamp; a raven; ten gravestones
it all runs without moving
vessels dilate
hands hold themselves
there’s nothing to breathe with
an empty chalice, turned on the hour grants
heaving clenching writhing
an ocean of rust
bulb shatters, blood spills out her
mouth cave head turn faith
the world remakes itself
**********
the colour of sunflowers
bicycle chains
thirst
colonialism
wet paint
emptiness over emptiness
act without agent
lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack
peel the flesh and find flesh
always more flesh
don’t stop they know better
chirp chirp chirp
turn
exit
substance
purpose
nothing
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
Waltzing under red moonlights
as thorns tear tongues. We laugh
with black roses reposed in the mouth.
Severed Bonds serve savour songs, as Love leaves longing letters in ponds
of heavy healing hearts.
We waltz still, not as statues but temperative trumpeters tailing tundras with tabinet tufts.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
--With antlers
Breaking; broken
We're all-
Wonder; wandering
Through the glass
Forest where trunks
Reflect regret--
And leaves cut mistakes
Into scars.
We are deer,
Eating barb-tailing
Grass.
But I'm sorry
Antibiotic acorns
Aren't working anymore.
My pupil's seep,
Mercury in return.
When that feeling--
Attaches bed-linen
To stapling sharks,
They begin birthing
'Acknowledgement'
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
My french lime shirt,
tail flutters in the wind,
the ocean waves of teal,
continue rolling in.
The boat's spray is salty,
I taste it on my lips,
we bounce up and down,
as we race on wave tips.
Slowing now to troll,
looking for exposed tails,
the seagulls above,
flap like winds in the sail.
Sliding in the water,
cold, causing a gasp,
a long 8 weight fly rod,
now firmly in grasp.
Bronze flashes in water,
tail shining in sun,
the bait swirls around me,
this is about to get fun.
Whipping the silver fly,
in a long backcast,
now flying forward,
landing soft and fast.
Twitch it now, ripples,
a V cuts the bay,
the hunting, tailing red,
is now on its way.
With a mighty splash,
it swallows the fly right down,
the mud is churning up,
the water turns brown.
Stripping line and reeling,
in the shining sun,
nowhere else could I be,
having so much fun.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
Nine is still hugging-new-kitten time
filled with loud giggles, school-loving fun days,
a pig-tailing best time for friend-making.
Nine likes browsing through pages
of favourite tales curled up warm as toast, shawl
clad or napping on Dad's welcome lap.
An eye-on-best-chance-time is nine
for young girlish schemers, secretive play-time,
torchlight snacks with sleep-over pals.
Grown from doll-cuddling but baby
crazy lipstick-red nine acts the high-heeled lady
then raids Mum's bed for cosy snuggles
Life swiftly draining under-ten days
brings teenager-cool ways but not for a while,
beauty at nine has an innocent charm.
When that nine-candled cake makes
its sugary entrance I wish, as she bends closer
to blow months more maiden delight.
But just a reminder dear daughter
being nine still means early nights, clean teeth,
earned treats and a tidier room please.
(Written for a friend a few years ago)
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
a letter came from Ukraine
tailing the newspapers' grey accounts
faster than the cloud of fallout
there were three smudges
from a child's digits, between the stamp
and my address
prints of proof you were there,
eating the Hershey’s I sent, though
your mother scrawled my name
and safe, numbered place I live,
a planet away
the letter yet sits
on my desk, quiet, perhaps
waiting to be opened
I planned to surprise you
in your sluggish summer, with a visit,
and American Girl dolls
but April lasted forever
for you, who happened to be walking
close to the melting kiln, looking
for spring’s first buds
on a Saturday morn
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
It’s open window
It’s closed
Running circles into old sheets
Once was something worth knowing
I’m dreaming old pains
Aged misery with replays
Of people I once knew
Losing nights, losing sleep
It’s all too real for my head
Painted memories on a canvas
Agony plays pretend
And I’m thinking too much
Wandering mind loses touch
With everyone
Claiming once was, once loved
I’m chasing echoes
Tailing happiness
When will I catch up?
I’m too scared to start this flame
I’m remembering
All the times I burned, hands hurt, stomach stirs
I’d rather chase shades
Than face a hope so easily snuffed
It’s almost enough
Almost
Those bedside talks ain’t coming back
The rattle of bone chilled teeth
Those winter nights
Breath and fog, we were
Dawn’s kissing sun
You breathed a life into me
Blossomed colours, set a fire with every retreat
I don’t think
My heart can take it
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
My roommates and I congregated in our suite's great room and we’ll head out for dinner soon.
“Have you ever eaten dog food?” Leong asked Anna.
“No,” Anna answered, “it smells like chicken - it’s got chicken in it”
“OOO!” Leong pounces, “Busted!!”
“What?!” Anna reacts.
“How would you know that then?” Leong asks, doubtfully.
“My mom told me!” Anna cries, in self defense. “She’s a vegetarian too.”
“Your mom told you.” Leong said, like a prosecutor raising an eyebrow for the jury.
“I just took my last English class,” I report, pony-tailing my hair, “my teacher told me - privately - that my writing destroys.”
“Nice,” Lisa says.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling and grooming with pride, “I thought that was a ballin’ complement and I’ve been riding that high.”
“No doubt,” Anna says and nods.
“My English professor..” Leong says, exasperated, “is driving me crazy, I’ve written three final papers so far and she’s rejected them ALL.”
“Huh?” I gasp, “Show me one!” I demand, wiggling gimmie-fingers at her laptop.
“Here’s a question,” Lisa asks the room, “What would you change about your childhood?”
“I would have never grown up.” Sophy said.
“When I was in third grade, in the UK, a girl in my elementary school, was murdered,” I reveal.
“What?!” Anna says.
“Oh, my GOD!” Lisa gasps.
“Spill” Leong demands.
“Her name was Kennedy,” I begin, “She was in another class, I didn’t know her but I started to imagine that I’d known her. I’d think of her playing on the swings in a yellow dress, in daydreams and in nightmares.”
“I can see that,” Leong said.
“I was flummoxed, at the time, how a family could lose a little girl and a president.” I added.
Anna looked confused.
“I was in third grade,” I replied, ”what did I know?”
“Go ON,” Lisa prompts.
“We heard that she was walking home and got snatched,” I continued.
“Jesus,” Lisa said, shaking her head.
“Although I never walked home, I was careful not to be snatched for a while,” I summarized.
“I bet,” Anna agreed.
“That’s what I’d change,” I said, “Poor Kennedy.”
“People **** Lisa pronounced, and there was general agreement to that.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
Walking along the bank
of the prancing village brook,
lined with screwpines
in full bloom spreading
musky scent
and shamelessly imitating the color of your skin,
thinking of you all along,
on the way to Krishna temple
you frequent,
I see a surge-
a bevy of giggling village belles,
your ***** friends,
march forward,
holding the hearts of young men to ransom,
teasing me on the sly,
for courting you so ardently.
Who can stop them,
a barrage breach of
Cupid's darlings,
tailing me by chance.
My eyes searched everywhere,
but but missed you so much,
today they miss,
the crown jewel they deserve,
to be in the middle,
that can be only you always!
On the imaginary crown of them
you would have shone,
added charm and embellished
their victory lap,
in the guise of temple visit,
to worship the Lord, lover nonpareil,
whose love life is our lore.
On long black tresses
they wore garlands of jasmine,
can't help pity their haste
and muddled taste,
you would have told your brood,
how jasmine would have felt,
unless perfectly adorned on hair, those
incomparable blessing in fragrance.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 11:38 AM UTC
Running Blind Madness
Eyes Wide Heart Pounding
Spirit Lifts Senses Live
Theres Thunder IN THE Atmosphere
This IS A Free Arena
A Gateless Auditorium
Open Fields
Open Wide
Forking Lightning ON THE Horizon
This Natural Inebriation
IN Dynamic Resonation
Anticipation OF THE
Consternataion
Hells Beasts Abound
Snarling Snouts Sounding
Heavy Hoofs Pounding
Crazed Dashing Hounding
IN THE Chaos That'S Surrounding
Hells Beasts Abound
Torso'S Writhing Flailing
Grit Bucking Flailing
Crimson Flow Tailing
THE Gore OF THE Impailing
I'M Knee Deep
IN A River OF Blood
Fleshen Heap
IN THE Reddening Flood
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Earth
Besot With Death Mirth
Drown THE Earth
IN THE Afterbirth
Every Beast THE ****** Herse
DON'T RID ME OF THE ******* Curse
IN AN Ever Rising River OF Blood
Causing Chaos With NO Remorse
I AM Power IN Full Course
Wreaking Havoc
Sump
WET
Dripppin'
Torn
This Bloods LET BY MY Horn
I'M Sopping WET
MY ****** Horn
I Feel Like I'M NEW Born
Drumming Quakes Pounding
Shaking THE Foundation
Lifting Spirits IN THE AIR
I AM GOD Everywhere
Helter Skelter IN THE Chaos
This IS Pandemonium
Freedom Forms
IN THE Void
Electric Flux Obliteration
Pure Intoxication
AS Evil Incarnation
This Revelation
IS Anihilation
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Feeling the duanting cry - aloof.
Like a violin with its haunting strings.
I was in a coma-like state of sleep.
The knock at the door.
The dead swan on the butcher's block.
The brilliant faces and signed will.
Borrowed cigarette in the back seat of
the black Mercedes-Benz with Bette Davis.
I stunned in my black suit and silk tie.
I noticed her blank stare from behind
those huge sunglasses. I sighed deeply -
high tailing my heels out the door.
The dead swan on the butcher's block.
I lingered in dismay (I felt paralyzed),
stroked by the rapture of the male swan.
I prayed. Bette Davis is dead.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Counting beads.
...and now on their way to tomorrow, today, and who is there to say
cease fire
someone will turn in to the driveway of hell and burn in eternity for these iniquitous deeds,
it's a deforestation of souls, a population control by those who have sold out to Satan,
the only freedom out there is death from the air and it comes in screaming as if it's a baby leaning into life and falling,failing,tailing off and dropping,
dead,
like the scrolls unrolled that wither away on their way to tomorrow,today,
to cry and to die without understanding why,
population education?
I'd sooner be stupid,
play cupid to the factions but
it's destruction not distraction
they want.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
paris...
no american in sight, or how i just see utopia...
songs on the steps of sacré-cœur, kissing
an american girl, then cheese and wine
next to the Eiffel tower, laughing, joking, trailing
and tailing off with talk of nabokov,
the nightclub scene with ping-pong ecstasy dances,
youth, youth, youth,
of youth that congregated once in those places,
parisian girls congregating for a game french hushes
with the chinese whispers and anglo comic charades
learned from the conquering normans...
paris back then, what wouldn't i have given for it,
but i learned of starving north,
where lecture upon lecture repeated david hume,
and i said:
it's the 21st century after all!
make edinburgh the new paris!
oh paris, but paris stay intact,
with the eiffel tower in my palm,
where all love met no love
but love met love all the more fictive,
written with a million reincarnations
that once told a tale of warring fractions known
as factions,
and it was told so: paris of my past where
i walked the streets with the compass height
ordaining coordinates that the tower was
to thus learn:
in times of panicky sentencing est mort,
people congregate in hawkish gaze
at monuments of their bone and marrow
turned into cement and irons of scaffold,
and there they congregate to ogle a new hope
when encouraged by a new fascination
of those that are less amazed by the phonetic
simplicity of animals than those who keep them.
oh paris, how i too wished things would have
remained a truer you begging truancy
from international press coverage,
how that one summer i became embedded
in taking to sleep on rock that felt like
woollen napkins filled with duck quills.
and in the memoriam altar two boys played
this song: as entombed by the title.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Blazing down the dirt road,
nothing but sky and and and
renegade on the run
like my loose tailing past no longer matters
like everything I was
am
will be
is lost in the dust burned trail
nothing but sky and and and
it is found again some
forgetful Sunday
when the air smells of
dry salt asphalt
spring mud, river,
racing rapids
bound to lose
nothing but sky and and and
don’t look for me
I’ll be home soon but
don’t look for me
when there's
nothing but sky and and and
me.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
You abandoned me
You left me like a useless old puppy
What happened to all the love we once used to share?
The love that once brewed in the summer air
What about all the good times?
Times spent cuddling as the bell of love chimes
Now it’s colder
Chills have blown over
Sending solemn vibes my way
With every glance, I fray
Eyes that I once melted under
Now pierce my heart with spears you plunder
My slowing heart is dying
Your every touch used to be so exciting
Now I am lost
I used to chase after you at all cost
Tailing you as we followed our heart
But now, you suggest we part
My yearning to go with you to ends of the earth
My past belief that you’d stay at my hearth
Built from the once roaring fire
This burning feeling longing to respire
You left me like a useless old puppy
You abandoned me
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC
If it's not the **** they keep emailing me
the police that keep tailing me
the system that's failing me
what is it then?
what can I see?
The absolute ******** they spread on the TV,
shows like Dallas or Dynasty
and god forbid it be
Jeremy Kyle because he'll be the
******* finish of me,
what is it I see?
There's a blind spot from blind Pew,
get one of those in your hand and
you're *******
On the radio where I go on
a slow night
it's all *****
Nothing new, **** all to do
minimum wage,
no wonder I'm blue.
The postman a third dan, some
judo, plays ludo with gusto and
I want to **** him for bringing me
bad news, black spots from
blind Pews of which there are many.
It'll go in the end or send me quite ******
if they stop with the **** mail and
the police tail and
let me fail
on my own.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
I saw the great change in him
After he saw the nyanga
As if something was tailing him
Something sinister from the Okawanga
He wanted to gain mental strength
That was why he sought witch doctor help
So together they went to great lengths
To summon the Tokoloshe for this whelp
Born of ****** and sinister thought
The foul creature was called to this world
And a wake of ill doings it brought
Causing fear in each boy and each girl
With this new friend he didn’t need me
But he still needed praise and accept
So he brought me along just to see
How he ***** a girl whose blood he kept
In a bottle for pride in his deed
After he killed her and chopped her up
“I was brought there to watch her bleed”
That’s what I said, when I told the cop
The Police came and took him to jail
But the Tokoloshe followed him inside
Soon he vanished, no trace, not a trail
And rumours said Tokoloshe helped him hide
No one saw him for several days
But a rise in disappearances occurred
And soon he revealed his wicked ways
He stole belongings from his victims, I heard
So, he was caught again but not held for long
His Tokoloshe had not finished yet
It was his purpose to match evil with wrong
And **** and **** whomever he would get
18 months he was on the loose
Sometimes aiding police investigations
He would help them pick up the clues
So he could re-live the gory exhilaration
They could only find partial remains
Tokoloshe had made him use his axe
Rather thoroughly and thrown them off trains
He made sure souls would never relax
When they caught him the final time
He was smiling with satisfaction
He felt no sense of remorse for his crimes
Now he hangs as the judge’s reaction
Tokoloshe is still hiding somewhere
Coming out at night when your dreams are deep
Wreaking havoc and causing a scare
Biting toes, ****** women in their sleep
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
I was always looking at you, always at your back. Watching your every fall and every rise. It's too unfortunate I'm too close to you. I can't see your face because I'm always behind you, staring with my eyes from afar and with my heart from nearby. I'm afraid that if I touch your back, you'll turn out to be the person I wouldn't have thought of. I can't say hello just to say goodbye in the end. I'd rather have us stay this way, me tailing you and observing you grow. It is better for me not to get to know you and be disappointed with just myself, than have known you and be disappointed with you and myself. That way I can leave easier.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
She used to smile for all the right reasons
But now it's not only at the irony
When another thousand pound straw is laid across her back
And another unspoken slight wipes it off her face
Her eyes used to sparkle
But that green has faded to gray
Up close you can see it
She's not the same anymore
She smiled and her whole face lit up
Now it's a faint turn at the corner of her mouth
She straightened her hair every day
Now it’s pony-tailing seven step and half-kids to school
Now it’s sitting at home
She was bullied into “place”
He’s losing his shape
And everyone is going crazy
Everyone is fading into Mom-jeans and pullover hoodies
Silent tables
This was never what eating dinner as a family was supposed to look like.
She doesn’t like cooking
But she learned **** quick.
A glance at their marriage makes her stomach turn sick
He started smoking again
Food on the table
*** in bed
She’s saving her money
And getting ready to leave
But this time...
Tailing half as many kids behind
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
The harried life of truck driver ..
An eye witness account of kinetic America
Of supercell thunderstorms , Winter blizzards
The lonely byways of Texas , Oklahoma
Blue ridge mountains of Kentucky and West Virginia
Cornfields of Ohio , Shores of North Carolina ,
the turnpikes of Florida and Pennsylvania ...
To roadside eateries , bob-tailing at six a.m. ..
To family gatherings , special occasions minus a hard working
provider in the picture , running hot , enroute to Baton Rouge and
all points west , trying to make a decent living ...
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
Wind pushed along the clouds..
The same way I budged myself through the light of day..
My thoughts have become a cliché..
Deemed, my mind is soon to decay..
Hazy.. lazy..
Shadowing time..
Tailing this lure.. through dusk and dawn.
I'm jaded.
I'm faded.
This world has got me shaded.
There's nothing I can do,
but fight for my virtue.. wherethrough, dusk.. and dawn...
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
In the unbroken smoke, where the cream on the coffee can choke
an unwary cat
that's where I'm at.
I didn't look for it,book it,get this life at cost,so **** it,
I never asked to be here,
the price I must pay is too high and I fear I will die.
The sanatorium,
humorously called a
gated community where
electrodes are placed on my brain,
is that normal or sane?
what kind of people are these?
I can walk as I talk with the trees in the garden that's known
as Gethsemane
where I feel all alone but know that nurses are tailing me.
The smoke drifts away
there'll be no shocking me today.
Napoleon comes by and he waves and says 'Hi'
I say,
'not yet'
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Air right front side to side cuth hand relaxed
Texture cold ghoul, see per person heart pierce
Magna seer, trials true down & Peer say angst
Hidden waves fly soon nerve endings concourse
Luck bare tailing virile Abe, ebb & remorse
Pearl once afar dragged near spirits across
Angel crime states left exempt never cross
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
Checked myself yesterday
wondered if my soul was intact
that, and the seams that hold it together
its sense and social competence
its gait and many faces
its sainthood and devillish endeavours
and all other things
Washed down everything thoroughly before
I reckoned I was ready to see you
the perfection down to the littlest detail
at least, what passes as perfection
glazing over and stopping short
of reeling and swooning at
the mere whiff of your scent
Cleared the hoops between
the long sidewalk jog of endurance
hearing the cars whisk by and wishing
that they'd give me a lift - for what seems important
that brief moment when my eyes find their sockets
The sun will rise as I
slowly make my way into the compound
find the snug spot between the walls that they
seem to have left empty for me
while I might watch from the window panes
wonder if you would look over
and pay me some attention
though often, I
pass the entire day
watching but never found
To work the night shift and spend the daytime waiting
tailing your silhouette like an empty vagrant
grasping onto nothing as the world ignores my presence
like they did always
like they did yesterday
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
As I slide into my little red dress, I glance at the mirror on the side wall and notice it's slightly crooked. I quickly adjust my view, grasping my hair in one hand, and "pony tailing it" with the other.
"How could he raise a hand to this fine body?" I think loudly, as I rub my firm round hips. Smoothing away every wrinkle visible that might distract from my hour glass figure.
As I'm dusting my face with the finest of powders, I make sure my subtle lips are moistened with ruby red dew.
Blowing that final kiss in the wind, I grab a little "Oscar" to splash on my visible *****
"He loves me right?" Closing the door behind me, with keys in hand, I lock her in - the abused woman.
No one will ever know (or care to meet her). She just is.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC