"tract" poems
up in the high country the wild horses run free
they've done so for nigh on a century
not a saddle upon their backs
enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract
in the Guy Fawkes National park there is a harass of them
trotting through its blue hued wends
their days are numbered in the park
park authorities want end to their spirited lark
up in the high country the wild horses run free
they've done so for nigh on a century
not a saddle upon their backs
enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract
to sight the wild horses in full cantering step
is exhilarating and fills one's heart with miles of pep
their hooves thundering and pelting along
to the wind's strong liberating throng
up in the high country the wild horses run free
they've done so for nigh on a century
not a saddle upon their backs
enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract
down the steep ravines and o'er the hills they stride
without the reins of a man holding their ranging pride
the wild horses have need of open lands to caper and pace
they are a breed which must be allowed to freely race
up in the high country the wild horses run free
they've done so for nigh on a century
not a saddle upon their backs
enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC
Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry
The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract
Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP
Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel
Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain
After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE
Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed
They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS
From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long
On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football
Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES
One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS
Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches
Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze
A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities
The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin
QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria
Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS
The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear
Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES
Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan
The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced
Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS
At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine
As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot
****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Down to my last bit of strength
Walk out of work in sobbing tears
Start the hike home
half a mile
81 degrees
"Yo Panda you look beat"
I stop dead in my tract
That voice
It shouldnt be here.
Is it really here?
Afraid to hope
afriad to believe
Take a gulp of air
look up.
Am I seing things?
Chillign against a car
a smirk across his face
arms crossed
sunglasses oddly on
HAWK
Big brother Hawk
in all his dark glory
drove 8 hours give or take
just to make sure
I was ok.
Runnig into his arms
I cling to my big brother.
Wrapping them around me
lifting me up in a
big bear hug.
Safe, secure, peace.
In Hawks arms
I always feel
those three things
No matter what.
*"You're safe now Panda,
I'm here for you,
You're not alone."*
He whispers to me
And I know he means every word.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
young love disgusts me
like an infected cow’s mammary gland
your milk is full of antibiotics and ****
you drink it
you like it, want more of it
it wants more of you
but it’s really just making you sick
although nobody really tells you that
you just drink the milk, easily satisfied
until it makes your way through the digestive tract and destroys your newly infected insides
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Not once but twice, have I broken your heart,
With each time, a little more I regret playing a part.
I messed up last night, but fixed it today,
Now I've messed up again with nothing to say.
You can't forgive me, but I dont want your leave,
Perhaps it's true we wear our hearts on our sleeve.
Man I'm a ***** up, I hate myself now,
I'd do anything to fix this, but I can't think of how.
We're not better off gone, that is a fact,
Having messed up twice, leaves me sick to my tract.
I am this monster that I see in me,
Perhaps It's better if I leave you to be....
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
***** feet
***** of them ache
they're dry
all dried out, moisture to face and digestive tract make little difference
but comfort a little sort of; maybe
subdue to replenishing
skip the pain with a drink fucken, fucken drink fucken
dust lingers in the brain, it swirls
a cloud of ground envelops the shape of u
u become covered
u have a layer,
salty,
and dry
and 'organic'
(surely bio (though im not sure what is or why are))
full city boy, suburban boy, not particularly gritty boy
along side hippies
and volunteers all tripppy
and unwashed, and un plastic
yet forcefully hemped
drunk of micro beer
and burnt brown and blotchy red
and wire-y
and dry
and matted
as if nothing really matters except for principles
misguided and randomly enforced
feel like a husk; peanut shell
insides swallowed by the mouth of the party embodied
a monsterous sweaty man tanned and thickly bearded
and beered
fat dreads fall around and surround u; a forest of hair
a circle encroaching of fuzzy pillars in fibres
entrapped inside them; feel their lingering time matted hold
a wealth of effort to become unkempt; they are bars
they are walls
and the FACE!
……………………… ………………………………… oh
looming down, wafts of armpit vapour cloud; a looming puft that surrounds
engorged by the scent as it circles u, the mouth that lowered onto u
chews u and spills bits of u
chomp chomp
protein for vegetarians; u; ur rigour ur vigour ur guts
eaten in a flurry of chomps and slurps and it crunches
and it grates
like the rocks on the ***** of ur feet it grates
u are digested
and reused
as they would like
but for them; for a collective u dived into
for fun
2 days to peddle ur wares
to progress ( admittedly through some days of regression…)
for all humans, and Humans; for fun
on monday we will repent
for the damages waged on the inside of the body
and the outsides too
for some gain
i guess on this which we settle
for always for display for fun
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
Love is beautiful
Patience and kind
Movie star kisses
Making passionate love
Paints a pretty picture
But lets get down to the nitty gritty
*** is ******* good
Rough and passionate
But the next day can be filled with regret
The next ******* day is plan b
And why don't people *** after *** on the television?
Thats a urinary tract infection waiting to happen
Or yeast infection
What the televison doesn't t tell you
you can get hpv with a ****** on
Hpv leads to cancer
(but not all strands- you still got hope)
maybe a chance you already have hpv
Because almost every sexually active person will have it at one point in their life
What the television doesnt tell you
after **** some girls will have to take a huge ****
And most girls don't like ****
It hurts every ******* time
What the television doesn't tell you
how to use proper protection
That you can be rubbed raw
Get a hernia during ***
Sometimes its pretty ******* bad ***
Its not pretty
It can be awkward
It can be silly
and you do not need to act ****
What the telly doesn't tell you
Is how it doesn't matter about the age you loose it but when you have the emotional intelligence to go through with it
Even then you do not know that you have opened Pandora's box
You do not know what you think you know
The specialist are still figuring out ****** hygiene
So the next time you watch the television and you see the **** stars or teen lovers
It is not so easy
*** is complicated
But can be good and worth it with the right person
No matter what age or relation
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, ‘fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way.
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlooked on diest, unless thou get a son.
3.1k
Some of the first mecha featured in manga
& anime were super robots [スーパーロボット _sūpā robotto_],
ultimate, sometimes transforming into weapons
w/ superpowers. They are often one of a kind
products of an ancient civilization, aliens or
mad genius, are usually piloted by Japanese teenagers
& often powered by mystical or exotic energy sources;
Getter Rays, Photonic Energy, Ide, Spiral Power &c.
Sometimes they are formed from
a combination of a few weaker robots;
their abilities described as "quasi-magical";
w/ Miss America becoming less & less
a beauty pageant, it's only a matter of time
before Medusa inherits the mantle;
the revived gods of the ancient world
crossing the rainbow bridge to do battle w/
high-tech monster robots; AI meaning nothing to a flying fist;
Apotheosis, from Greek ἀποθέωσις from ἀποθεοῦν,
apotheoun "to deify"; in Latin deificatio "make divine";
also called divinization & deification;
is the glorification of a subject to divine level;
The term has meanings in theology, where it refers to a belief in art where it refers to a genre;
Defecation is the final act of digestion,
by which organisms eliminate solid, semisolid,
or liquid waste material from the digestive tract via the ****
Humans expel feces w/ a frequency varying
from a few times daily to a few times weekly;
Waves of muscular contraction known as peristalsis
in the walls of the colon move ***** matter
through the digestive tract towards the ******
Undigested food may also be expelled this way,
in a process called _egestion_
Open defecation, the practice of defecating outside
w/out using a toilet of any kind,
is still widespread in some countries,
for example in India, home of the
heroic deities of Hinduism that evolved
from the Vedic era 2nd millennium BCE
through the medieval era, 1st millennium CE
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
From my rented attic with no earth
To call my own except the air-motes,
I malign the leaden perspective
Of identical gray brick houses,
Orange roof-tiles, orange chimney pots,
And see that first house, as if between
Mirrors, engendering a spectral
Corridor of inane replicas,
Flimsily peopled.
But landowners
Own thier cabbage roots, a space of stars,
Indigenous peace. Such substance makes
My eyeful of reflections a ghost's
Eyeful, which, envious,would define
Death as striking root on one land-tract;
Life, its own vaporous wayfarings.
2.9k
This room smells of cigarettes and ******* (“My daily cologne,”)
Before it was bought, this place was a home—
But now it’s just storage—
A place to get horizontal.
You don’t have a religion (“This isn’t adultery,”)
You proudly show your body
You’re not afraid of sin
You’re not afraid of this intense heat (“I’ll let you **** me thin.”).
I can reach you at *69
Being away makes everything hard.
It’s a 1-800 number—
Payable by cash or card.
Even when we were teens (“When you were sixteen,”)
You could always pleasure me (“And I was fourteen,”).
Even though I’m married (“It was the best time for me.”),
You’re the one I need.
You’re the angel in these bed sheets (“The devil with my chains.”),
The local roaming God—
We down whole bottles of sweet Champagne (“You didn’t even have this at your wedding,”)
And stand up on the balcony (“Having *** in the rain.”).
Sweat glints on your body in this smoke-filled light
And shimmers on your neck.
(“My eyes are open so I can remember,”) My eyes are closed so I can
Forget, forget, forget.
You won’t change yourself (“Come away with me,”),
And I know that you won’t cry (“I can make you happy,”),
But even though my eyes are closed (“The tract marks will disappear-”),
I like to pretend you try (“We can live forever if we make it past thirty.”).
This room smells of alcohol and ******* (“The scent my wife just knows.”),
Know that I remember and love you (“I don’t want a wife, I want”),
But you’re not just mine to have (“you to be with me.”),
Just try to save some time for me.
This romance of ours is deep (“We’re not going to make it.”),
Even if it’s two hundred and hour—
You were always worth the money
Saying the one is me (“Even if we try,”).
We’re going to die here together,
Just you and I (“The tracts are way too deep.”),
We’ll be in each other’s arms
In life we couldn’t do that (“But in death we’ll **** well try”).
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 5:23 PM UTC
It has come to my attention,
And I feel the need to mention,
That someone let their dog **** in the garden.
Now I know that that sounds crude,
And I have no wish to be rude,
So if that word offends your ears I beg your pardon.
But until your dog stops ********
Near the place that I am sitting
Then you and me appear to have an issue.
If I ever catch you in the act
Of letting that dogs intestinal tract
Dump on my lawn I will provide you with thin tissue.
To pick it up may not feel nice,
But unless you follow my advice
A more unpleasant fate I have in store for you.
Because a **** I clearly give,
So I will find out where you live,
Squat on your lawn, and calmly have a poo.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Coffee, coffee
Wake me up
Coffee, coffee
Until my day is done
Coffee, coffee,
Keep me from killing others
Coffee, coffee,
I'm turning out just like my mother
Coffee and its addicting creamers
Coffee makes my digestive tract cleaner
Coffee coffee
The love of my life
Coffee, coffee, coffee
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 7:36 AM UTC
With no argument I think most people agree
With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat"
But it's possible there's information not known
Having equal importance or maybe more so
All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food
It will travel through digestive tract once consumed
Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts
They're the building blocks making up all that we are
Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine
An old dog and new tricks go together it seems
Our plasticity will let us both change and shift
It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts
These connections might possibly benefit us
But this same mechanism can also do stuff
With a negative scope, the outlook and belief
We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief
If we're constantly saying things inside our heads
Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread
Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook
Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook
The same way that a person engages with time
Like activity, also is true with the mind
A small change in the way that we look at ourselves
The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld
With the make-up within that each one of us holds
Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old
Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry
We are always creating what's in our mind's eye
So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak
Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek
You are capable of so much more than you know
All it takes is belief and in time it will show
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
there are two ways to breathe.
one is through the splinters.
the carved out,
thickly bleeding
respiratory tract
receding.
a futile attempt to enjoy the air
blown over like
a house with
no foundation.
the other is to
close your eyes.
and hope
that the hurricane
does not
cut off oxygen.
because
nirvana
is not a choice.
it is an island
somewhere deep in the ocean
waiting to be discovered.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
13th floor mannequin girl dropped out took a greyhound to Tinsle town
Fredericks of Hollywood, hired her to pose in the window sporting lingerie wigs and gowns
Her parents frowned at the catalog the debutant passed around
The Mississippi tract home chippie
Hates square Timmy he just got in her way
Jocko **** stud turned out to be gay
Schwabs drug store made her mop the candy store floor soda shop, then she wants to live the star is born dream
Twenty-years has passed, now she is a sad old ***** queen
So much for her dreams to be on the Hollywood silver screen...
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
i am a child
she is my baptism
to see her face
is to split a prism
and see the
colors kept alone in heaven
forgotten suns
across her eyes
swallowed whole
by ecstasy lips
glide the shadows
purest ******* eclipse
golden fall utopian braids
silken upon supple blades
ending at the small of back
framed by dimples inside
summered ivory tract
******* circled in rose pink sphere
pillars of grace beholden dear
when you're asleep
i place my hand
over your heart
and
feel the angelic
undertones vibrate
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
In experience you have learned
which tunnel to explore.
You enter this
tunnel for promises of
"gold and precious things!".
But this promise
did not enter through ear;
but thoracic permeation
Well prepared having
spelunk'ed before;
light- your pack
light- in hand.
Climbing, scrounging to escape
the tight entrance with
jagged rocks and false paths
it's many turns and falls-
although you cannot keep
your flashlight straight
experience triumphs, as in
a maze done quickly
once done before.
One strong pull
emerging through;
cave's pupil dilates.
Ground so smooth and wet
though wise to walk
we tend to slide
why?
Faster to the gold
Faster for exhilaration
Faster because faster!
and... why not?
hitting rough spots mid-slide
pain in debt to speed.
You let your feet
gain some tract
as the tunnel
narrows
Solomatic mind; without
doubt- body complies.
A slight gust tickles
but this tunnel is not through...
Alas! A shining shimmer is seen!
The earth is rough
to navigate
difficult; (but shimmers numb the sense)
pain soon saturates and stops your
smallest movement, heartbeat, fidget,
thought... The light is moving near?
As tunnels break space and time
and especially direction
feel as though you've lifted up
and the cave, the light, and all
rushes to you.
The sound of breathing relocates,
oh, yes that's you.
gun to back, hostage of Aphrodite
running, sprinting, breathless
you seek this precious shimmer
soon to realize it's coming
faster, harder, alarming to
you.
Looking ahead-
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap
the sound the light bequeaths
not from ten feet but maybe
five, you realize it's you
heavy- pack
heavy- darkness follows
sprinting, pushing through.
And the entrance could not be any farther.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
•
The devils situate me in the dungeon,
In this pitch-dark place,
Chains locked to my hands and feet,
I clamor at the top of my lungs,
But only my voice echoed,
And penetrated deep, deep within my soul,
A voice with dejection,
Tears gushed out from my eyes,
All swollen for hours and hours of crying,
My hopes almost diminish,
My prayers weaken,
This little faith lifted my chin up,
But my body is so worn out i can't hold it any longer,
Oh God please help me,
Please save me from here,
Then suddenly,
I passed out,
After awhile i feel two hands holding my face,
I opened my eyes,
But the light is too bright,
I can't see anything,
I close my eyes and listened to the wonderful voice talking marvelously to me,
It's a man's voice!
I open my eyes again and i see a man,
With all white clothes,
And a huge wings behind his back,
I was dumbfounded,
An angel!
Exhiliration enfold me,
And I started weeping silently,
My God answered me! He answered me!
He is my angel,
I slapped my face with my two hands,
I might be dreaming,
But no i am not,
This is totally true!
He stand me up,
I stand up with no troubles,
I was astounded,
No more chains, no more chains !!
I am free, i am free!
In my happiness i hugged him.
One second i was hugging an angel,
Another second I am hugging a man.
Oh, Wow!
That man is him,
The man who did all for me,
The man who saved me from my darkest place,
He took me out of that ghastly place,
And now I am in paradise with him,
He makes me happy all the time,
All the time,
He is always there for me,
Whether I am happy, sad or depress,
He is always there,
He inspires me,
He is my angel,
He help me overcome my demons,
He is my light here on earth,
His radiance shines brightly on me,
And I am beyond happy,
He comforts me,
He is my refuge,
I always have this hope to wake up each day 'cause I know, I know i am gonna see him,
He is my happiness,
My best friend,
The one I can always lean on to,
The one I can always trust,
His smiles are my daily dosage,
His laughs, his jokes are my daily medication.
His love is my supplication,
He is my all, my all,
I learn to extend my patience,
I learn how to be selfless,
He showed me a geniune love,
A love so recherché,
He guides me to the right tract,
And hold my hand so tight and walk with me,
He protects me from bad,
He is my other half,
My preordained one,
My strong king,
What's the best thing in him is,
He pulls me closer to God,
I can't thank him enough for all he do,
He is so amazing to me,
How can i even deserve this?
God had been so good to me,
I am way so blessed,
I am so blessed,
I am gonna show him my love daily,
I am gonna be by his side always,
I am here waiting for him alone,
I am here to love him always,
I won't leave thee,
For you are preordained for me,
My love, my soulmate,
Ohhh goodness Lord,
I praise you oh Lord for all you do,
I thank you for all you have done for me,
I am so blessed Lord,
I am so blessed!
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Bank,
took away my tract-home-house, got divorced from my last cheatin’ spouse
Laid-of from my company job, all I get to eat is corn-on-the-cob
Get evicted cant pay no rent
Rains too **** much to pitch me a tent
Kinfolk don’t like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer ho-home romeo
Kinfolk don’t like the shape Im in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !
Pay Taxes that I owe? Hell No ! I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer ho-home romeo!
Bought me an old F-150 Ford, at least I ain’t got no **** landlord
I cash in cans I find on the ground, easy work get paid by the pound
Can’t buy me no tonic and Gin like the rich Good-Sam suburbians
I fix my own truck rent-a-wreck, told I don’t qualify for no welfare check
Afriad to go outside in the day for a jog, got bit last week by the neighbors dog
Can’t track me down, I’m always on the go, move down south if it starts to snow!
Move when I want don’t have to hesitate, hitch-up my truck and relocate
My left tire just fell-apart so I propped it up with a K-mart shopping cart
Got me a bottle of Jim Beam to pamper, might get drunk but I’m a happy Camper !
Kinfolk don’t like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer ho-home romeo
Kinfolk don’t like the shape I’m in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !
Pay Taxes that I owe?
... Hell No !
I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer ho-home romeo!
© David Wayne Clare In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
He is a man in fact , a factual man in fact
But in fact more than man, and more natural
He is a predator, sometimes ****** endeavourer
Jumping as a feather stead upon my weathered bed
Lead at the head but it's heavier
A best of a beast, in his chest at least
A lion's heart beats, and with mine at his feet
He is deadlier
Mane across his back, mainly manly, manly knack
And a pride to admire any crazy track
Mired by those paws or clawed back
Lion's share of the hair and a siren's glare
Its enough to ensnare any to come back
To lie in the den and unpack
A purr that can stir dwelling spell in gazelles
A roar that could ensure his reign is obtained on every plain
If called for
His face is made heeding, and bleeding the sun
His legs win a race never needed to be run
Already won
Prowl and it's done
If he who rides the tiger finds it difficult to dismount
Than he who rides the lion will feel him sure surmount
No doubt, for nobility is paramount
Alpha is better beyond count, couched in whim
And he reigns as King of the jungle I grew for him
King of all that's funnelled through to him
King of all that humbles me and truly sings
And so
Clearly success best rests in
Being a lioness, not left guessing lionless
A carnivorous, blitherous, tyrant's guest
In fact I am a woman, a natural woman in fact
And factually I am a woman intact
Yet in fact a woman distracted on a lion obsessed tract
Where a leonine mess is lacked
And a lion-like chests interact
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
422
More Life—went out—when He went
Than Ordinary Breath—
Lit with a finer Phosphor—
Requiring in the Quench—
A Power of Renowned Cold,
The Climate of the Grave
A Temperature just adequate
So Anthracite, to live—
For some—an Ampler Zero—
A Frost more needle keen
Is necessary, to reduce
The Ethiop within.
Others—extinguish easier—
A Gnat’s minutest Fan
Sufficient to obliterate
A Tract of Citizen—
Whose Peat lift—amply vivid—
Ignores the solemn News
That Popocatapel exists—
Or Etna’s Scarlets, Choose—
1.8k
The chill that crawls in the cytoplasm
and
folds in against itself damasked and dynamic
but it wasn't the climate's bite
the pea gravel stone cemented into place
boarding up the fluid monument
poured up and leveled by its creator
but it wasn't the stone
digging into my heel
pressing on the once broken bone
that reminded me that this
THIS
is not the way i ordered my hamburger
and no
it wasn't any thing growing atop
my flimsy wrapping
pale and hairy
and then nothing
inside me and resting
along the walls of my longest tract
digesting my food along side me
even still
more base
it wasn't any amount of matter condensed
shooting
firing between two neurons
reminding me of half truths
or lies
blatant ones
which can careen me back
into places better left forgotten
no
what i felt there
with wet feet and cold quivering hands
was something that
despite what i would love to believe
CANNOT be measured
that which drew me from
every one of the places
that should be connected
but aren't
to a love
manifested as suspicion
that placed both egg and seed
in the same envelope
of
both disgust and admiration
**** you Vicky
whoever you are
****
you
and all the cold
******** lice
and the pressure
the memories
they all try to drag me away
to a place where I cant see
what they desperately try to convey
one to another
and
our brilliant star moves from behind
one iridescent pink gossamer puff
sparkling for a moment
back behind another
it's warming
but it doesn't reach back
for your had
no request for your warmth
and yet
every fiber aches
for the moment when you careen
back into it
or when everything you know
is compressed back into it
that
that little moment
where everything and nothing make sense
like two dogs speaking french to each other
as long as they both know how to
howl
not just how to
how is simple.
but when
and why
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
for the missed and the missing
~~~
lea - a tract of open ground, especially grassland; meadow; land used for a few years for pasture or for growing hay, then plowed over and replaced by another crop; untilled; fallow
~~~
In the Lea Field
And again that man
in the fallow fallen field,
grasps his own tiller,
looking ahead, downwind, leeward to plow,
impatient to cut rows of upturned earth
to grow markers,
plant seeded rows of words
and again that man
presumes time,
planting a yearly crop of
hoped for just enough time
but it does not suffice -
enough and sufficient time
will not grow in the lea field
this year
Now a man comes to mind,
living and dying
in a lea field
the man too,
field fallen fallow like the grassy meadow
that once fed his overcast gaze
yet the man believes still,
word seeds of lea poems prior planted
fullsome in their dormancy,
potent with patience,
shall not always remain so...
they are
bridges-in-waiting,
un-til,
ready once more
for the missed to
till
anew
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC