"tremored" poems
Lost underneath the hood
she made sure
he stopped to ask for directions
then with map in hand
and strapped to the seismograph
she tremored into the land
of eternal sunshine
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 6:37 AM UTC
My troubled hands
trembling as I truss
trusted tricks
tried
Tragic tropes, tracks
Trampled trips and trippy trends
Trawlers tread
Trebles tremored
Trimmed but trackless
I don't know
what
this means anymore
Trump
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC
when we met, it was tipsy tuesday and donnie had swollen fingers
and nate sank into his plaid frock and dropped his shadow
on the patio like a heavy slug, and the flies
cavorted in the vortex of our subtext
as the night skies spat stars
at our foreheads.
you were beautiful; too beautiful then.
i was smitten, i was tossed on stormy seas, unsick.
i was healed. the world spun filth and dull glamour
but your face hurled fireworks
and my mind leaned into my heart
and i knew i loved you.
whoever you turned out
to be.
i babbled and groped, as the inertia
of falling, filled my sails
and I was purposefully adrift -
in your brown-black eyes;
as a dog fetched a frisbee
for an illiterate.
and i think i bit my lip a bit.
I saw you for the first time.
for the last time
in my life
and was never
the same.
my heart, now more precise.
you had fierce speech
underneath your sweet speak
and long hair.
i had you in my soul's yurt
on a plain of windswept pavilions
with free horses and costly
remoteness.
i was ' there ' less
and more somewhere else
alone with the perfect you
reading my lips
as they tremored
delight of it.
i babbled speechless.
i remember you tossing your locks
at my cage. and i was set free.
please add me to your wishlist
and complete me.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Therein lies the fur, filled with running wind,
Milkweed in the scruff, the scent of wild-wood,
Some mystery-hearted forest where pulse begins.
Therein lies the Centaur, satyr, and god-disguised swan,
Ageless wonders prowled upon by an age-old Parthenon.
You broke your wolf’s tooth through those haunches of lore.
Therein lies the fur, filled with barking dust and dandelion war,
With a spine that stretched back to the she-wolf and city-birth,
The peeled nerve of a howl once tremored your Aurelian lips.
Therein lies the serf, hunter, fairer hand, and lord,
From wattles and daub, the wandering-sands of Saracen, or Crusader’s moor.
You kept the path beside to remind that instinct shines as the holiest earth.
Therein lies the fur, the warm, ungovernable peasant of sleep,
Ever prophetic in your skies by eyeshut-trace of the hunting moon,
Twitching at the day’s thousand faces, all asleep in themselves.
Therein lies the soldier, nurse, chaplain, and fell-prayer,
Mange-like war is the whimpering season with its flea-bitten welts of stars.
You struck blind but true at the throat of gas-hissing war.
Therein lies the fur, outracing the rain and the spout,
Nested with more birds and Autumn song than rain,
Your sleeping ear pooled like cool eaves of the barn.
I sing once more like a boy into your unfolded ear.
Listen always for my ancient, choral voice and your chores of play,
And race earback to the sun in the belly-grass of your free-eyed fields.
Leave your last paw mark, torn on the red clay of my hand.
You are forever wrapped in human touch, ageless and aged,
And if ever the dark in madder darkness encroaches,
Leave black eternity to my faithful eyes.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
the defense of your legacy manifested into strings of saccharin
and phrases like ‘Come on in from the rain. We all need a torrent to own the storm, just- take off your clothes, don’t mind Kierkegaard.’
your sincerity is a cipher
you’re something of a conversation piece between good friends
who were artfully made of pre-engineered steel on a day Jove tremored in his bed
you’re something postured beneath a javelin
and likewise- something propelled for decorum
blackguard, black coffee and a birthmark turned into a running joke.
inevitable.
you searched the bottoms of summer pools
and found no discernible trace of your history
her sable crown whips back and forth in your head
and you maintain the chaos with aureate cries of preservation
it’s a halcyon boom, a lonely and sexless halcyon boom
it makes every yellow and red dress chimerical
it makes your neck unassailable
drugstore cowboy
they got close enough
to see you sweat
to note that heat and her magnificence could purge as quick as they reinstate
and you still beat
like they do
stubbornly.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 10:20 AM UTC
And my nerves
Are like useless hands
At the edge of an
Argument.
My foot had a fight
With a brown brogue
And lost,
And it pays for its defeat
With nakedness.
I carry a jaundiced bag
On my hip,
Like an oversized yellow blister,
And I empty it
With a tremored hand
Against the cistern.
Half of my face
Went numb and
I dumbly
Stared into the bathroom mirror,
Astounded that I
Could still smile.
My most meaningful relationship
Is with laxatives!
I romanticise my gut,
Where the flora lives,
Because you have to
Love your body,
Somehow -
Don’t you?
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
Ambient voices lurk upon the tip of the ears,
As the ruffling of the leaves become faint and dull!
Shaken by those voices clamor your essense to a vilified characters,
And those sound intensified by the roaring thunder they seem to pound like war drums.
As the heavens shed it's tears to calm all senses to a full moon,
One can only indulge in the simple act of nature to light sound of rain drops to sleep.
Do we become the persona others echo,
And does one escape to runaway from energy of darkness?
It is a destined war to meet the oppositioned in battlefield,
And then you ask yourself if you are the truthful conviction of good?
The innocence isn't so much the victor of the scenario,
But the reflective nature to do the right things.
Those loud voices spilled the vile tongue of characters uncleansed,
And the dirt seem to gravitate the bubble you once protected your essense.
You try to rub off the dead skin that sicken your persona,
But seemed fatal attraction and unwelcomed maul of voices protrude.
Tremored hands can't seem to stop,
But the heart had seized it's pulse,
And looked to the self in the mirror no more.
Gasp to get some air in the drowning ocean,
As the weight of the back become stronger,
And reach out the arm to brace upon the nearest shore.
Everything must stay silent,
And then ask am I good enough?
The eternal struggle to find the person on the lake is a journey,
But one can't runaway forever from their own shadow,
Because the shadow will follow you for good.
Once you realize the reflection is your's
It is too silly to have ever feared it.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
6:00 a.m.
It was her 28th birthday
She loaded the ***** laundry into a washing machine
and looked at the toilet that she needed to clean
She fixed her hair, she took a shower
without even looking at her own reflection on the mirror
She grabbed a cup of instant coffee
and gulped ounces of it to steer away the terror
She tossed the cup in the bin
but missed because her hands tremored
And as if time was racing with light speed
she saw the sunset fading away in retreat
She goes to work the next morning
with layers of concealer under her eyes
but she could never conceal her wistful smile
She comes home with her daughter sleeping in her bedroom
And on the sofa was her tired husband
still in his party clown costume
At the corner was the telephone with five voicemails from her mom
but she never found time to listen to her qualms
She glanced at the night sky from her window
with an almost unnoticeable sorrow
One day she woke up and she was 70
Still doing the same laundry
Still drinking the same instant coffee
She looked at her daughter walk down the aisle
with her father who almost never smiles
She brought flowers to her mom's grave
but she couldn't hear her from the other side with the distorted soundwave
She still walks out her doorstep with the same shoes
Almost getting tired of hearing the same news
She still sees the sunset from that window
And she looks out from them with the same almost unnoticeable sorrow
She woke up and she was 28 again
She started to make an effort to notice her face on the mirror
She took time to look at her mom and cheer her
She hugged her husband more and this time tighter
She sank her lips into her daughter's soft cheeks
And never dared to miss a moment when her innocent lips speaks
She walked out the door before the sun could set
to finally buy a new pair of shoes, they were red
She walked the earth as if it were her first time
and she locked her gaze into the golden sunshine
Time passed and she's now 92
And on her deathbed, she said
'If there's one thing that sunsets had taught me,
It is that transitions can be beautiful too.'
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
Sentient street,
As we walk through the gates of sentience,
Like a child,I quirked my head,
Left~right and back with innocence,
To glimpse at their seemly slums;a nimble haul of dread,
Tucked me,as I gander the miscellany artistry,
The winsome combs on their chambers,
By builders and framers,
For all;but the aesthetics I knew belonged to the affluent,
An erudition I needed not to imbibe as a student,
Oblivious of myself;I spotted their melancholic eyes in their inscriptions,
And read the histories and encryptions,
The stares they gave tremored my heart,
And tore the arteries apart,
My soul wept for their bereavement but tears was deficit in my eyes,
As I march to the yard of his repose;I said"A journey we shall all embark"
Gawking at the annexation of other chambers,as grief berserks,
I got there,
I stood meters afar and stared,
As the priest blessed the yard;And prayed for his soul,
Conferring him into the bossom of his maker,
And instructing the digger afterwards;to dump him into the hole,
His folks quaker,
And bade him their farewell with flowers,
In their last hour,
But as they fetch sands and stones to wrap him,
In their faces I saw grim,
When the diggers spat and slapped;his coffin with stones and shovels,
For this has been their long awaited muscle,
And in deligence;they deliver,
"This journey I will embark too"I said,
As I stood in my shiver,
And withdrew and left in mopes.
Sentient Street
©Historian E.Lexano
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
i locked my heart in a safe and
i left it at an unknown perch
for the universe to devour and when
i went to retrieve it i found
it half full,
and so it remained. but
as i grew
and smiled
and tremored
and lived,
i found my half-filled heart
full.
i do not know the time and
i do not know the place
but i know my mind and that is all
that really matters.
as i lay masked in a vulnerable darkness i
feel a lightness in my chest because
no longer do i cloak myself in darkness, i
merely embrace it, and
i merely conquer myself.
my hair falls how it pleases and my
face wrinkles as i live as i please
and i find melodies in his words and
the earth and the trees and i
feel this life is meant to be as he paints
circles in my palms that constitute
certainty.
i feel so much and i see so much
and i write
so much
when the world goes
dark..
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
As he walked about the world, it fell to shambles around him.
Buildings crumbled, the sky fell, the ground tremored beneath his feet.
He'd rub his temples, blink his eyes, and scream within his mind.
Then it would all reform, destruction undone before his eyes.
He'd walk about his world again and it would all fall to shambles.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
you say you're fine
you say your good
you stare into their eyes
"I'm fine"
"I'm good"
You probably smile through your lies
fake happiness and safety
I know your pain
I see it in the mirror
I see it when you tell jokes
I know
you need to talk about it
you try to talk about it
you can't hold it in
it's not good for you
its what I did
think of me now
how I hate myself
bottling it all down
don't push it down
don't pretend
I know how hard it is
pretending your okay
keeping a blank or happy face
avoiding eyes
faking smiles
sometimes I still pretend
that I'm still who everyone thinks I am
that i am like everyone else
a whole girl
unbroken
unscarred
then I think how scared you were
when you told me
how you tried to pretend it was fine
like I did then
I can't pretend to be 'normal'
when your words came out broken and shaky
one step from breaking
I remember the day I told you
that I was 'different'
how my heart raced
how my hands tremored
my words barely slipping through my lips
you barely reacted
that's how you were
shaking and almost crying and almost backing out
and you told me that sometimes you feel like it isn't real
like you are lying to yourself
I still do that sometimes
a lot
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC
They told me you shouldn't cry
I believed and lived in wry
They told me you should understand
And so I stood still waiting for a hand
They told me you should smile
Turning it upside down, yet another hostile
They told me you should express
I wrote in words of blood and along came distress
They told me not to whine
Hence my resort, a glass of wine
They told me you are wrong
Very well thought I, let's now sing a song
Alas, satisfied.
Appreciated by my own
For the brave person I became
Positivity that they admired
Meanwhile came
A voice from within
Mourned, screamed, tremored
And whispered
"Are YOU still alive?"
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC