"timing" poems
Lurid pressure in perfect hiding,
Heat rises amidst quiet timing.
Covers conceal fingers,
And skin conceals-
Well,
Only from the blinded.
Flitting breath from lungs to neck,
Begging tongue,
And baiting breast.
Tentative flesh,
Upon tentative flesh,
What comes next?
Anything I want,
If this is,
Yes.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight
Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape
Summer again
I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening
For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….
She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…
The queen will be safe here
from the rabble
The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
Among these lofty cliffs
Between the raging circuit of the tide
Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
Here lovers learn
the debt of love’s bad timing
“Drink ye all of it!”
--the potion that assigns our sorrow….
She will not sleep—
while I chew this gum-- GUM?
Roll down the window!
Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings
As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity
…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly
Their hands steady the wheel
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Oh honey,
Sometimes it’s the timing that’s wrong
Not you.
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC
I've been waiting...
For the right moment.
Wasn't sure for what.
But now I know it.
Been close many times before.
Ready to scatter my brains and soar.
Better than a deep sleep... Never more.
Unfettered, emptiness galore.
1
2
3
4
Squeeze
Bang
Splat
That's what I've been waiting for.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
It all begins
With pronouns
I becomes the subject
Of my project
Adding you
And collectively we
I choose you and me
And I exclude the he and the she
Until I am certain of we
You and I pick verbs
actions
Inflect them to match
fit
begin narratives
Transitive verbs take objects
You touch
tickle
tease
taste
take skin
*******
lips
me with words
Words have become a clause
But still a simple construction
So, you tickle me where?
For this you need a preposition
To position your tickling ammunition
Do you touch
tickle
tease me ON my *******
*******
thighs
buttocks
****
Do you feel me INSIDE my mouth
****
soul?
Positioning is envisioning.
Then you use adjectives
To modify descriptions of
Sensory inscriptions
So, gentle complements touch
Soft and passionate kiss
And you become superlative
And adverbs elaborate experience
expression
exploration
You fill me deeply
thoroughly
violently with all that is you
But adverbs can also mean time
Not sweet or cursed time
Or time denoting age
But timing is always important
And grammar dictates
That
Time adverbs are placed
As a beginning or an end
Like a lover's embrace
Thus,
This morning, you woke me with
A demanding "here and now! " and I will reciprocate this, tonight, I vow.
Conjunctions are sentence connectors
And sentences behave like detectors
Bodies balancing with and, but, or
Otherwise subordinate
And the scale tips towards
Conditioning hypotaxis
Making actions a complicated praxis
(before my mind can connect, you will have to pursuade it /pursue it)
But we coordinate conjunctions
Equally
I touch you
You touch me
Exploring
Exploding sensory functions
So, together we cry imperatives
Completing our ****** narratives
Moaning
Whimpering
Begging
Yelling: Please... bind me!
touch me!
bite me!
take me!
come!
Oh! Please, come!
I love the English language... ;)
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
I wrote you a poem and all you said was “I love you!”
and I need a whole lot more than that
Did you know Marilyn Monroe was borderline too
and what did that leave her besides a suicidal mess I do not look up to?
But I guess she did **** JFK so there's that
Today is valentines day and I didn’t say anthing to you about it
because I know you hate February 14
because 2 years ago you had that major surgery
You didn’t talk to me until 4:20 today
and that was only to laugh about the timing
and it's really hard for me to not tell you that I wanted to **** myself today but instead I wrote 5 poems and drank too much coffee
and **** I would really **** for a cigarette right now that
I have to use my charm to get
because im only 17 but somehow
I always “forget” my ID and wear a low cut shirt
and flirt openly with the 40 year old indian guy across the counter
just so I can get my illegal nicotine
I wonder what my mother would say about that
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
The rat smells the air, squeaks in alarm and runs off.
Black boots come into view. With the sharp tip of a sword.
I crouch in the dark, behind the bins of *******
The boots walk on by. The sword, poking into corners.
All the while, eyes of glowing red, within deep sockets
of a musty old skull, scan for signs.
I look at my hands. The festered and rotting flesh.
My bones showing through. The stench unbearable.
Glad my nose fell off last night.
The timing was off. It was just a little sneeze.
PLOP! Right in my gruel.
Every one at school laughed.
Skeleton Puberty *****
And now, Dad is mad. Just cause I waxed the hearse
and didn't use "Ear Wax". You could hear him rattle
all day. What's wrong with the "Toe Jam Wax"?
Wait till I catch sis. She went and showed mom my
mags. "Raw! Boo To The Bones". I'll bet dad had
mags like these when he was a teenager.
They have good stories. The pics are just a bone-us.
I think it's safe now. I'll just sneak into the house.
Just sit and look innocent.
How did you find me?
A whole trail of pieces? Sheesh!
I know. I'm grounded. Not for the wax job?
The Mags!?.
Skeleton puberty *****
My Halloween offering for Oct. 12th
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
We've been out here swinging for a while now
tearing at your throat like there's no tomorrow
And I've never been one to stand aside or
stand in the way of change, but she's got us on one hell of a ride
hanging over the sides now
trying to get my bearings with my guard down
standing over the edge now
we've been playing both sides, don't let us hit the ground
it'd be one too many if we went down tonight
can't catch a break wondering is the timing ever right
can't catch my breath but it's over now
passing in phases like the last round
the last scene before the grand finale
dialogue caught in tatters like you've a mouth full of razor teeth
touch my cheek
kiss me only when you feel like it
(we were there just last week)
take this dose and space it out, I need
my portions small like my dreams
always on to the next faded scheme,
it's okay though because my vision's 20/20
and I don't mind chasing
the hard-to-get things.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
the magnolia was a bit of a *******
(as far as trees can be ********
and like very many other things—
like japanese candy from the Fugi Mart in Greenwich
(across from the McDonald’s and next to
the music shop where I got my viola)
and like pokemon cards and nintendo gaming systems
and like Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” on a pink CD in a Hello Kitty radio
—that ******* of a magnolia was a distinctive taste
of the years I spent growing up in my house at the end of Wyndover Lane.
the ******* thing was almost perpetually in bloom.
it barged into both spring and autumn
(it didn’t give a **** about timing)
those pink and white spongy petals padding the ground
and at first you think it’s ******* beautiful
sitting in the crook of the trunk where it split into
two large
separate branches
tilting your chin back to catch a glimpse of blue between fat blossoms
then the petals start rotting
water-retentive little *******
and you can’t sweep ‘em away because they stick to the patio
brown clumps slipping under rubber soles
my dad lets loose a string of curses
and the magnolia shakes with laughter
I tried pressing the petals in a notebook once
while I was in that naturalist phase it seems all little girls go through
when you make fairy houses out of bark in the backyard
and put flowers between the pages of books because it feels
oh-so-much-more significant
than picking a pretty thing and showing it to mom
but the magnolia seeped through my spiral ring
and when I opened it up a month later they were dry tan papery things
not at all velveteen and rosy
and there were garish pink bloodstains all through the ten pages
on either side
magnolias don’t preserve well
except, honestly they do don’t they
then of course there’s that childhood tragedy that everyone has
when your dog got hit by some soccer mom’s suburban
or your teddy bear was lost in an airport
or maybe you just liked to cry because some things
were just really worth the tears at the time
but when I came home and found out they cut down my ******* ******* of a magnolia
I bawled
there wasn’t
even
a
stump.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
Chemistry was cheering us on,
but Timing was fighting against us.
I could always hear Chemistry yelling our names,
but Timing was making it rough.
Chemistry was on our side,
trying to help us win that war.
She fought long and hard and never gave up,
but truth was we needed Timing more.
Timing cheered when we lost,
he would not let us forget.
Chemistry held us close,
she whispered "this isn't over yet."
So now we sit and we wait,
wondering what happens next.
Because Chemistry is sitting ready,
Timing will be put to the test.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
mommy loves you unconditionally
even as you soar amongst the clouds
searching for the perfect timing
to come on down
please, forgive my impatience
i just have this undying urge
to have you here
in my arms, clinging to my breast
as i provide you with life
and you provide my breaths
little one, shining so bright
come to me only when you feel it's right
the doctors tell me otherwise
and my womanhood is of questionable might
but i know you are as rightfully my child
just as i am the moon to your night
an infertile mother will forever understand
why so many letters are written to our unborn
with shaken hands
why so many tears have fallen
why you wonder it isn't your calling
to be given a life of other plans
but i know you hear me, little one
and i know you love me too
and i promise to better preserve my body
so that it may be the perfect home for you
until you are ready to bless me with your smile; the uniqueness that is true
everything i do, everything i aim to be,
every dream i work so hard to achieve
i do for you
so please, be slow and easy little one
mommy needs preparation too
just know this,
when you've become tired of waiting;
when you're ready for the world
and you're journey has come to the point of passing through
watch for flashing lights
and smiling faces
and tears of joy
listen for songs of love
because i'll be right there--
for i've been waiting too...
just for you.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
my sense of timing is highly sophisticated
i can sense exactly how much time a task will take
i will start it when i have
exactly
that much time
left
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
I'm not too lucky when I gamble
I lose more than I win
I would probably do better
If I tossed my money in a bin
Gambling is not just luck
It's timing and some skill
Some gamble for the fun of it
Some gamble for the thrill
To define exactly what it means
To risk money that you've earned
Means throwing out sensible thought
And not heeding what you've learned
For example, I played poker
And I lost most every cent
I lost my mortgage payment
Now, I'm living in a tent
To win it back I chose to go
And bet double at the track
The first horse that I bet on
Fell and broke his back
The second horse was scratched
I was in for a bad night
My fifth horse only had three legs
And he could just turn right
The next one had a jockey
Who's eyes were badly crossed
I won't tell you how he finished
But, I'll tell you that he lost
To gain back my small pittance
I went to the greyhound track
My first dog had a rider
A small monkey on his back
In the third race I got daring
And I bet on number three
Once the race got started
He had to stop and ***
I picked a dog in the fifth race
Just because I liked his name
It was the best one I had ever heard
"I'MBETYOU'RESORRYTHATYOUCAME"
The odds were long but what the hell
I was now gambling just for fun
Not only did he catch the rabbit
My ****** dog had won
I think I've got the secret now
I know just how to win
If I get tempted to go back and bet
I'll throw my money in the bin.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 5:16 PM UTC
Science is hard
Chemistry is harder
Chemistry is defined as the complex, emotional or psychological interaction between two people
Our chemistry is tangible
Our chemistry moves entire cities
Chemistry is so hard because you mix all these things together and they either blend and make something fantastic or they blow up in your face
They leave you with burn marks and scars to remind you just how badly you ****** it all up
And I think what we have here is a disaster ready to burn my face to blackness
I think what we have here is a scar ready to form and last forever
What we have here is a chemistry left to remind me I still wasn’t good enough
What we have here is a chemical reaction that the whole class can laugh at
So science is hard
Chemistry is so hard
But having good chemistry and bad timing, that’s just heartbreaking
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
Can he cry
Knowing the winds won’t stop
Feeling his heart pulse achingly
Listening to the sounds in the other stalls
There are others crying with him
He still can’t cry
Can he cry
Knowing the failures will stick like duck tape
Felling his snot paint his sleeves white
Hugging himself in his time of fright
He still won’t cry
Can he cry
Knowing this is one out of too many
Feeling the burden settle so heavily
Breathing in timing to the tapping on his knee
The tears won’t come out
He can’t cry
Knowing it’ll always be the same
Feeling the drain on his psyche
Listening to the silence in the other stalls
He’s still the only one
And the winds still won’t stop
And the clouds will pass by
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 2:08 AM UTC
I have a two timing wife,
but I love her anyway.
She’s sorry that she has
to have that name.
Sometimes she gets real mad,
and it really is quite sad
that she has to play
the old two timing game.
I find as I get older,
my hearing’s getting worse.
I’m always asking, “what?”
which brings her strife.
She repeats a second time,
in a louder voice sublime,
and that’s why I call her
my two timing wife.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 10:34 AM UTC
You're tweeting
Texting
Face Timing
Whatsapping
SMSing
Facebooking
Skyping
Yet you seem to disconnect yourself from the authenticity of the present
She, he, them, us- are all gone
Congratulations on your 'social media'
Because now the only thing you can really socialise with, is nothing
So think about the next time you decide to choose social media
Are you willing to risk it all in return for a like, comment or message on a screen?
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
I take her frame in both hands,
she lets me go for a spin.
Chassis built for performance,
responsive to every move,
I steer her around the circuit.
Following every change of direction
with timing and precision,
she lets me hug the curves
just long enough to feel her power;
not long enough
to lose all control.
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
I'm not one of those people
Who can bury that itch,
So very down deep
That they can't even scratch.
Certainly, most days, I'm satisfied with Me,
Just can't seem to be satisfied with Just me.
I want four hands, not two,
And four feet, covered in warm woolen socks between sheets.
I want clamoring voice from a throat that's not mine.
I want two heads, two hearts,
Two toothbrushes.
Different length hair in the shower
(You clean it out)
Accidental-shrunken work shirts
Cussing fights while I finish the laundry
Surprise apologies later.
Nights of scheduling compromise
Days of scheduling compromise
How many sick days can we skip work with?
I don't need some long-distance,
Not-a-relationship
Just-friends-with-benefits
********
I cannot hug me
I cannot bury my face in my chest
And just breathe.
My arms don't reach far enough,
And I get a crick in my neck only to find that
My shirts just smell like cheap soap.
Not looking for marriage.
Ten years until kids.
Maybe a dog later on.
We'll walk it together, and you can bag the poo...
It could be I'm just too addicted to ***
Or maybe I wear too much lingerie.
My corsets and evening gowns show too much of my flesh?
I know too many good random subjects for conversation?
My **** looks too good.
Your **** looks too good?
Pick one and tell me,
So I can find that one thing
That keeps the timing from not lining up
Or lets me meet men that aren't married, or
Under 18, Under 21, Under-able to carry out a conversation with words longer than 2 syllables.
I probably won't even see it coming,
That day when I find that someone who satisfies Just Me.
But for now, can I please find
Someone to just satisfy me?
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 7:24 PM UTC
Why, why can't we just ask them how they feel,
let them explain what to them seems most real.
Why can't we just say: 'Hey, I kinda like you', without
a glance of pity in their eyes and remorse.
Then she thinks of how I failed, how we failed
because I didn't follow the rules, the rules of love.
The love, like a soft spring breeze, it was definitely there
But ignorant as can be I just could not see, I never was aware.
You have to stay on that track
from time to time, looking back
maybe if I did this or that, it would have been
could have been, but never was.
And so it never led to more.
Once I hope to find a girl who doesn't,
doesn't care what others think.
Who has no need to follow the rules
together we'll walk aside the road.
Chemistry + timing does not equal love
You'll also need...
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 6:33 PM UTC
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
i kept my hatches battened but that
didn't stop your love from barreling toward me
like a runaway freight train with faulty breaks.
and god almighty, did we crash.
you came to a screeching halt at my doorstep
and i didn't know what else to do but let you in.
you looked so cold. we did not start with a spark but a full-on fire.
i told myself i wouldn't fall, instead i jumped.
our sinking frames somehow morphed into life preservers,
and we managed to keep each other's heads above the waves.
we had seemingly saved one another.
you tossed your pills, i flushed my razors, and for a while that was enough.
but we learned the hard way that even the deepest love
can only keep the storm clouds in your mind at bay for so long.
eventually our cracks began to show.
missed calls and silent hours built houses of cards
that were blown down by too many miles.
we hardly ever smiled anymore.
my hands were sieves and yours were sand.
i want to break the hands of the clock
that cursed us with this bad timing.
i have mourned all the hours i won't ever have with you.
i have felt the thunder that rumbles in my lungs
when i reminisce about the memories we'll never make.
the moment i realized i would never wake up beside you
an atom bomb went off in the center of my chest.
but the radiation is what's killing me.
the life is being drained from me here in the wake,
in the ache of your absence. but i won't beg.
i will live out the remainder of my days
tormented by wondering if maybe in another world
our love is perfect and neither of us bleed.
- m.f.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Wow. Way to go.
You ****** up once again.
You pick the worst timing.
You make everything so dramatic.
You pick at the tiniest things.
Wow. Way to ******* go.
You feel good about yourself?
You think you'll do better next time?
You think you can fix it?
You think it will fix itself?
No.
I'm a **** up.
Can someone please slice me open and let me bleed out, because I'm afraid if I tried, I'd **** up. And the world doesn't need any more **** ups.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
Almost 3 years. That’s all it took, 3 years for me to fall in love with you. We never became anything, it was because I never wanted us to be. I wasted every single thing you gave me. I threw away the flowers you gave me for my birthday because of the reason I thought they were too cliche, I crumpled the love letters you wrote for me for I didn’t want your words to be my medicine, I never accepted the love you were giving me because I refuse to let anyone in. And after 3 years, I realised that I also needed flowers not just thorns, that I was suffering from taking poison for years because I never took your medicine and that sometimes it would be great to let someone in. You gave everything to me, your eyes somehow managed to have some light in them whenever they saw me but I killed the light and turned it into darkness, you do not own your smile anymore since you gave it to me but I returned it to you that’s why right now all you could ever do is frown because I erased it from you, and you gave me your entire universe but unfortunately I wasn’t interested in cosmology back then. But now? There is nothing I want to study but your universe and all that’s revolving around it. I did all of those things, maybe that’s why you became the first word of this paragraph. You became my almost, and not just an ordinary one, but an almost that I could never ever forget.
We were the children of love, however timing wants us to be orphans. Just when I started realising my love for you, you found yourself. You built your own universe and your smile became even more happier than before, your eyes speak a thousand words now, they are no longer the ones I wasted. I would do anything if I could ever just turn back time, I would hold you and tell you that I feel the same, I would give you all the things you gave me, I would do anything for you. Too many could have been, should have been, and what ifs. But nothing could ever change what is happening, perhaps it’s right for me to feel this, to feel this pain, the pain that I gave you. Love wanted us to feel the same. Timing does too, but the difference is timing wants us to feel the same pain. I don’t want to beg you to love me, or to stay, or to do everything just to bring back the flames because baby all I am about to do is to hope. I will not hope for you, but I will hope for days.
I hope for the day everything would finally be okay. I hope for the day that we are both happy, and that we are ready to make each other happier. I hope for the day that we can both see the moon in our eyes and the sun in our smiles. I hope for the day that we are both prepared to let each other in, and that we are no longer cowards but brave people. I hope for the day that we are finally exploring each other's universe and we will both realise that is the only thing we would ever want to study. I hope for the day our fire will warm us both instead of burning us to death. I hope your water will cleanse me and mine will make you feel alive instead of drowning each other because of our deep oceans. I hope for the day that we can finally heal one another instead of destroying each other. I hope for the day that we consider each other to be our home, not just some place you can go to because you don’t have anywhere else to stay. I hope that we will no longer fight the hurricanes and storms we gave to each other, because one day, we would conquer them, hand in hand, together. I hope for the day that you are no longer my almost, but my always. And maybe, one day, timing will be our friend not our foe, or maybe we would even be strong enough to fight it, but right now we aren’t even strong enough to fight for our love. I will hope for these days to come, I will hope for these things to happen, I will hope for everything. Because that’s the only thing I could do right now.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC