"tenuous" poems
let’s live suddenly without thinking
under honest trees,
a stream
does.the brain of cleverly-crinkling
-water pursues the angry dream
of the shore. By midnight,
a moon
scratches the skin of the organised hills
an edged nothing begins to prune
let’s live like the light that kills
and let’s as silence,
because Whirl’s after all:
(after me)love,and after you.
I occasionally feel vague how
vague idon’t know tenuous Now-
spears and The Then-arrows making do
our mouths something red,something tall
106.8k
In my mind, I raced against time
I smoked peyote with the Apache
I chased Kangaroos
Through the bush with the Aborigine
All the while
...I searched for the power within me
In my mind, I outpaced time
I drew cave art with the Neanderthal
I climbed to the top of the mountain with the Sherpa
I hunted seal out on the frozen tundra with the Inuit
All the while
...I searched for the power within me
In my mind, I eclipsed time
I wrote poetry while under the tutelage of Langston Hughes
And I created visual greatness while apprentice to Gordon Parks
I even stood on the wall with Che' Guevara, like a Sentry standing watch
All the while
...I continued searching for the power within me
In my mind, I turned to face time
I wrote an addendum to the Emancipation Proclamation
And I saw the ugly truths
Of freedom's farcical Declaration
All the while
...I continued searching for the power within me
In my mind, I embraced time
I sought to free my nation from the pandemic perils of *******
And I prayed that we Americans would be free of
The snares of racial and economic divide that still has us chained
I did this while searching for truth, in this, our most tenuous hour
...then empyreally, God reached for me, touching me, and I finally found my power
* Reprinted from 'Exegesis a Decade of Poetry by Mekael'
© July 14, 2009 by Mekael Shane
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
How tenuous this grip we have, how slight our hold remains
When all around loud braggards boast that power now pertains,
We see the banner headlines splashed across our daily rags
And redneck demonstrations cleans the streets of Spics and ****
When blood runs in the gutter as the battons rise and fall
And whilst taking tea in style the filthy rich ignore it all.
The blonde leader of our nation struts, postulates and brags
While the rest of us skive off around the corner smoking ****
Our kids ingest confusion as they loiter on the street
Unknowing our delusions make illusions held, replete.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our hold remains
As our allies shower cold distrust convinced our fault inflames.
What chance of clear redemption, what remedies revive
When truth is lost to darkness can our honesty survive?
Reputation cut to shards, confidences ******
That leaders of community no longer hold our trust
When white is caste as black and then to green and then to grey
And sanity refuses pontification one more day.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our holds remain
As twilight turns to darkness caste against a larks’ refrain.
M.
The White House
HAMILTON, New Zealand
25 July 2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
i breathe
one breath at a time
each inhalation linked to the exhalation before it
yet every breath stands alone
there's something tenuous about it
this soft machine is on thin ice
devoured by time in innocent increments
like a moth nibbles away wool
my heart
little gorilla
wearing itself out
rubber glove with a hole in it
weird luck
my eyes are bright
solar blue ball lanterns
if you saw me
you would say
good bones
river of envy
yet all hinges
on a muscular rhythmic pulsating machine
like a determined jaw chewing
jumpy mouth
yet on the verge of betrayal
a glitch
karmic indecision
in destinies wheel house
a red fist locus banging
ones immense sense of self
a vainglorious elaboration
built over a small pulsating muscle
innocuous
dumb blood flesh knot drumming
scarlet tribe
throne of my very soul
great sovereign
old man in a crib
splitting open of its own accord
a sudden rip from life
to a dead sea eternity
the final frontier
starless night
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
Book of life brings various mysterious chapters,one such spells my visit to village..
It was so awe aspiring, but no man's clock can be rewinded to bring that timeless age...
I shouted in wilderness like the way toy means to infant's rejoice...
my words couldn't jump over the peaks, bouncing back my voice...
I was panting and cramps got better of me,pushing me to rest on flat limestone...
But enjoying every bit of that pilgrimage and witnessing melodious chirping tone...
I resumed my journey upwards but soon grey clouds triggered the quenching rain...
Closing my eyes,i opened my arm,kids with cherry cheeks called me tenuous insane...
It seemed as if almighty took me to the heaven, being surrounded by the flowery and green hills...
In the east breeze those school kids were skidding down the slope with their paper windmills..
An aged shepherd was looking for some shelter,not for himself but for his lamb and sheep..
Such care, such love,that's why the wool machine searched the banyan where her master could sleep...
Some urbans haven't travelled to such pictures just because of it's tech- remoteness..
Wish i had my own hut in the vicinity of woods giving utmost peace,but I'm hapless...
Darkness is floating through narrow lane yet eye catches only citylight..
But wish i could dream again in countryside under shiny moonlight..
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
Now you realize what you did,
you took it too far,
this time it was to deep,
to raw,
now its going to be hard for us both.
I asked for your help
' Its never ending, I again want to die.
Please tell me why?
Be my Soul Mate now just talk to me
help me find my life again.
Not with you, just my life. '
I couldn't get your abuse out of my system
you repeated
"You need to do the leaving"
"Let's die rather then not be together"
I said
"Only with You".
The ongoing flashbacks
of pressurizing
demanding
me to do what you wanted
heightened in Athens.
Questioning all that happened
what did it mean
just
******* my soul and body
So abused
I couldn't disentangle from it
So violated
And you continued it
with your talk and talk.
Your lies of reflection and regret
Your abuse of my love and belief
Then my desperate wish was granted
You made contact via a third party
On reflection
to address the end, to answer my questions,
to give us some meaning, to help us move on with our lives
you cared about my life, to be honest.
the day, the place, the time, the third party all set
then you renegade last minute, no explanation, once again shut me out
without a thought for my life, you willful behavior, ongoing abuse.
So finally now I know you are a pathological liar.
I don't give a **** about you anymore.
Its like I have woken from a nightmare
I have no more energy for you
I am not afraid of the fall out of exposing you
I will no longer protect the secret.
The legal proceedings will tell the truth
And you will have to face your demons.
I will move on with my life
which is so much bigger than yours.
I will fight on to free myself from
your abuse.
My life no longer tenuous.
This is the end of my series of poems - love and deception.
The courts will be my voice.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
You and the clouds have a lot in common
so,
The tenuous cloud in the distance reminds me of you
Faint, nothingness.
You and the clouds are similar
I can see them but I'll never touch them
I'll never get close enough to the sky
To feel, exactly how amazing they are.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Sofia clung tightly to the black tipped violet wings of the tenuous butterfly.
She softly pleaded to the intricate friend.
"Please stay," a tear caressing her cheek,
"don't leave me."
Her mother walked up behind her.
"Oh honey, don't hang onto his wings, you will only **** him."
Sofia turned to her mother's chocolate eyes and quietly muttered,
"Let go of my wings mommy."
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
they say that love never dies
could never curl and bawl and cry
love is the purest of all emotions
even turbulent and torrid
it is pure, never horrid
but I'm tired of loving you
or seeing your jaw, you finger, your tooth
and feeling a rush of fear
that i will never escape from this anxious pit of unclear
good intentions and impure thoughts
so i do what i am taught
i slog through the love, the lust
the misplaced affections because i need, i must
be graced with one smile, a small glimpse
even if my feelings you already dismissed
i was going to tell you, don't you know?
i was going to knock my feelings off their petty throne
i thought that maybe if i let it all out
i would not feel a gout
of excitement for the forbidden feelings
that maybe i could stop pealing
in laughter at the smallest thing
when i thought you weren't looking, as i watched you sing
that i would have the control of my buzzing desire
but now i refuse to fan the fire
my friends still egg me on.
Valentines Day is on Saturday, what could go wrong?
I've found that people are great at giving advice
when it wont affect them even once or twice
but they know that you know off my misplaced affection
you see it now in every inflection
she lied and told you behind my back
and then asked me to cut her some slack
when now that tenuous friendship we once had was broken
and i only ask you to give me a token
of admitting your silence
rings out louder
than any no
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
**Drop your Grudge Rants
by the door
We Will Not Tolarate
This Anymore
Edit and toss Distasteful Rhymes
Ugly Poems with Vain designs
Haughty thoughts and
bitter words
Childish petty accusing verbs
Who did What to Who and When
Will this Clusterfuck never end?
Selfish actions, Spoiled Children
We Refuse to be your Minions
Like CNN
And Drone Fox news
We've had enough of
Self Serving views
Hurting hearts, far and wide
tender Poets with
tenuous pride
Yet, Strutting and Indignant
for who I ask?
All those involved,
A Donkeys ***
Not a home for
Egotistical Zealots
Nor a place for
flinging pellets
We come in Peace, HP to share
Not get caught in ugly snares
And to the few that
have the gaul.
"If you have nothing decent to say,
say nothing at all"**
**YOU CHOOSE TO USE
HP THIS WAY.
GO AWAY. FIND SOME
WHERE ELSE TO PLAY.**
●HELLO●HELLO●HELLO●
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
i am afraid we have begun to dissociate,
unable to dissolve, I dissipate
we lavish emotion, laugh laudably
and cry with our larynx ripped out of our throats
i just need a little attention
'cause it's midday
and the midwife has a migraine,
with spoiled milk and clogged drains,
laundry a mile-long with tenuous children
tense with grimace and gray
we believe uncertainty for the hopeless and expectations for the great
the subtle hum
followed by slithering smirks
followed by snarls and sneers and weird sober
social experiments,
followed by small town dramas
and big time hypocrites.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
there are not words
to define or describe
the intricacies of a human Soul
a Soul does not
converse with words
but with
passion
raw
perfect
inexhaustible
words are a facade
tenuous
nothing
the only conversation
occurs
between souls
and words
are simply there
to fill the gap
that awkward silence
the crushing oblivion of forever
when all passion is gone
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Beaumaris,
carnival of soft pastel tones
of damp evenings
of tramway cars
with small orange lights
distracted bystanders
the empty bridges
the silent horizons
pale lace on a parasol,
light sepia dreams
of a particular Monet,
forgotten, unseen
before the rains came.
Many years later,
I found her
so tenuous, so subtle
in what little was left
yet there it was, her soul
all new shades
of melancholy.
Now I just swim,
every now and then
in that blue ocean
of her blueness,
the Sea of Oblivion.
In the glimpse
of bright reflections
of sunshine
on the water,
of salted afternoons
in a country
where it no longer
rains
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
I am not spring
frost thaws eternally
from shallow-rooted fronds
tenuous and unbound
susceptible to wind's constant round
battering the living flat to ground
sodden, smell of decay all around
time is fleeing
these shoulder seasons
with all their restless reasons
yet to unfold in you
sun-soaked glade
I need your rays
to germinate
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
We are hydrocarbons
We all burn
We are all laughed at
And we all get our turn
We produce our own enemies
We almost smother ourselves in sadness
We all release CO2
When we die from this poem's badness
We all want to be superior
We all want to be the equalizer
We want to be leerier
Without being the sympathizer
We smite and are smited
We hurt and we heal
We spite and are spited
And have a tenuous relationship with what's real
We are hydrocarbons
We are equal despite what we aspire
And if you don't agree
I'll light you on fire
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
My grandmother likes salami, God, and bougainvilleas
I like to think she likes tenuous pink things-
but then there’s the salami.
One day she taught her daughters to string neck-
laces from bougainvillea petals
like-ponies-in-a-junkyard
I think I chewed too much bubblegum in mass
because I picture God pink
an ethereal globe of a poppable pale pink.
And for some reason, I like to think Brother
Charles saw that too
I bet my lungs are somewhat pink:
more pink than my berry red blood
but less pink, sweet and/or hairy
than a cotton candy poodle.
I forget if they were strawberries or rasp-
berries too
There are things that are pink
but then there are things that are pink
and shadowless.
Like subterranean lungs,
God, the future, and
the smell of flamingos in the dark
The future is still pink and
somewhat fruity
like a lukewarm strawberry milkshake blushing,
or was it maybe just the taste
of my pepto-bismol stained lips.
One of those ponies was my mom
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
the curling smoke
from warming fires
rise into the slate
gray sky of the
Beqaa Valley
sheaves of
rising prayers
expire in twisted plumes
dissipating into the
gloom of an ever
looming winter
overcast
refugees from
the Arab Spring's
uncivil wars
gather for warmth
around waning embers,
smoldering in the underbelly
of the lowliest bottom of rusted
steel drums, tended
with scavenged debris
some thought better
suited to fortify the
faltering hovels of
last resort
the fires
join us in
communal rings
straining the
tenuous links of
brotherhood, the
politics of men
assiduously tear
asunder
we count ourselves
among the fortunate,
blessed exiles recused
from the acrimony
of desecrated cities,
welcoming the
residencies of
bewailing lullabies
of colic infants, the
searing hunger of
stunted children and the
incomprehensible babble
the elderly eloquently
speak in tongues
of a desperate
exasperation
our nagging impotence
swaddle us in ambivalent
inabilities to master circumstances
profanely denigrating our humanity
privation is
our daily bread
the bitter manna
feasting on the
animosity the banquet
of rancor generously
prepares for
peace starved
pilgrims
in these
refugee camps
the cold cuts deeper
hunger pangs
grow sharper
our blighted dignity,
vanished livelihoods,
and the presence of
recently interred
loved ones trudge
through our mean
encampment as
fully enfranchised
citizens in our
distressed
kingdom
what was lost can
never be recovered
our homeland leveled
yet doors still stand open
silently pleading all
to cross a new
threshold
the full restoration
of our hope,
the reconstitution
of our flagging
humanity, the
spark of the
holy spirit
willfully uniting us
in the salvation
of reconciliation
is nigh
we are
the divine children
stoking the embers
tending the fire
that light pathways
through the cold
darkness of a
broken world
Oh come
Emmanuel,
dwell among us
Oh come
Emmanuel
ransom once
again the
poor captives
of Israel….
Selah
Music Selection:
L'Accorche-Choeur, Ensemble vocal Fribourg
Veni Veni Emmanuel
Everywhere
Christmas
2013
jbm
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
(history)
Quell the bard was silken-clad and ever young.
her flute connected earth and sky,
tamed lightning in the higher notes..
her ancient horse would winnie to her song
of endless breath she blew her story even into stone.
having borne the stigmas of a *****
her martial prowess struck,
trampled disrespect to cacophonic dust
while over hills and vales he carried her--
a love-sick equine heart at peace at last upon the road
between her thighs, commanded loyalty of beasts and men.
none claimed her for their own,
though some risked instant death to try
..stirge beaks tap on bones and rock
to seek corrupted blood of elven kings,
who having reigned and fallen
to a royal troglodyte of dragon times,
paint each eon with ambivalence...
i conjure what my heritage beholds
--reclusive double-tongue to hoard all words,
reinvent religions for a lark
what legend am i privy to the making of
that hasn't had its underwires stripped,
hung about a square in lewd display of Fact
to purge a sense of mystery awry?
i am alone within my fantasy.
its symbols still mythologize my i.
i will not bare it here, or anywhere--
concealment is its freedom, and its boon--
in which a frame of tenuous material appears
where antidote addictions cycle musically,
the timeline's summoning
a game of recompense, compensating wanderlust
won by whim and licorice for thought;
it finds familiarity untamed--
adolescent anchorage aweigh--
adventures into wildernesses lost
.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
If there is distance, make allowance for it, and patiently support the reasons for its necessity, for fear always increases the space between two people. The tenuous connection of yesterday is infinitely more intimate than the angry silence of todays mistrust, and tomorrows loss. To begin anew is to mourn that which was, and relive its exquisite pain as eyes look to the unknown for the promise of consolation
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
I try to wear you once in a while,
making sure if you fit the same
as the last time i checked
But then again, whenever i notice
the apparent worn off, tired seams
from the fabric that was once our love,
I go back again and sew them together,
Carefully threading the gaps back
where they once were sewn tightly shut,
left with no space for inadequacy,
hardly any place for scarcity of love.
My misguided, solitary efforts then proved
a love with tenuous and delicate clothing
that has misplaced its capacity
to wear out storms and excessive usage.
Back there is where i find
that not everything burnt out
could rekindle its flame.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
The battle line is drawn,
My path to freedom is craving
for insane courage, my cost of sacrifice
can be easily traded, for there are thousand
others like me, all vying for the same goal.
So the odds are meaningless to consider,
Yet in this dim premise of survival, hope sustains
With its tenuous grip on my sanity
I will have no regrets if I fail
Failure means nothing
I’ll be happy to return to my old world
The only reason that keeps me going
Is my burning desire to share,
For I have learned so much,
Yes I am precious,
In fact we all are,
But what would the mortal world know?
They take everything for granted,
I could offer them answers,
For I know the language of the wind
And how they make every flower blossom,
And the Sun, his ray has the power
To destroy everything in its wake,
Yet it is gentle, sustaining life,
Making a bold statement of his Love.
I know his love even more for I was his ray,
and oh! The joy I can never stop savoring
how happy I was to spread light in the world
of darkness, how I watched Nature wake up to my call.
yes, my world is a paradise, but it is not without sorrow
The clouds, do you ever wonder why they roar?
Is it because they proclaim their might?
No, they cry, and they cry hard,
I was once their teardrop,
I fell trying to affect the world
Around me, but it was futile
Such is my irony as a mortal
Even now I am trying to do the same
I f I succeed, I will cry once again
For having to return in to the world
Of hollow birth and death,
And the true meaning of my tears
Will be lost amongst the smiles
Of innocent mortals.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
Reality is drowned beneath the waves.
The bubbling crescendo
Sounding forth its mockery
At my resistance.
Anguished cries are muted
By the vast liquid’s gossamer grasp.
Each arching crest curves around my soul
Cocoon like it entraps me.
Explosive waves roar their obsession.
Each powerful white tipped crest
Rolls with the joy of loves persistent tattoo.
White water propels me headless
Towards destiny’s ocean
Its power rushes through my veins.
Tossing me over the edge of reason
The Tsunami consumes me in its passion.
Heart pounding within my rapturous journey
The water falls away into distant oblivion.
Suddenly I am ****** free of its tenuous hold
It’s vehemence crashing me against the scared shore.
There the marks of our passing remain a constant reminder
Cherished scars to be carried on loves momentous tide
Like a Tsunami come to claim the soul,
Love seeks my full surrender.
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 12:56 AM UTC
* * * * *
Today, a breeze rides thru
the window across her bed,
reaching me on the other side.
My clean bare feet resting near.
The sanctuary,
sheets so Soft
comforters comforting.
Flowers fragrant,
her colors, fresh each day.
Her body has taken shape,
like the center of a spiral shell.
A soft curled position.
Hands tucked. Delicate cheeks
resting upon them.
Two years now wondering
will her life return.
The pain pushes through her
too much to bear.
She awaits for the inevitable.
The deliverance.
I am watching over.
One of her people
this time in her life.
There are the others,
tending the difficult task
of daily living.
The dearest ones.
Facing the inevitable
hurt of losing her.
I am one of the blessed ones.
Chosen to care and
weave my love,
into the tenuous, quiet oasis
that has become her life.
Understanding,
wisdom and grace, envelop us.
A delicate tenderness abounds,
these precious moments of our day.
Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC