"trespasser" poems
Our last connection with the mythic.
My mother remembers the day as a girl
she jumped across a little spruce
that now overtops the sandstone house
where still she lives; her face delights
at the thought of her years translated
into wood so tall, into so mighty
a peer of the birds and the wind.
Too, the old farmer still stout of step
treads through the orchard he has outlasted
but for some hollow-trunked much-lopped
apples and Bartlett pears. The dogwood
planted to mark my birth flowers each April,
a soundless explosion. We tell its story
time after time: the drizzling day,
the fragile sapling that had to be staked.
At the back of our acre here, my wife and I,
freshly moved in, freshly together,
transplanted two hemlocks that guarded our door
gloomily, green gnomes a meter high.
One died, gray as sagebrush next spring.
The other lives on and some day will dominate
this view no longer mine, its great
lazy feathery hemlock limbs down-drooping,
its tent-shaped caverns resinous and deep.
Then may I return, an old man, a trespasser,
and remember and marvel to see
our small deed, that hurried day,
so amplified, like a story through layers of air
told over and over, spreading.
9.5k
O, mosquito for taste of blood you seek,
For miles and miles you fly, within radius,
To earn a warm and idle skin to *****
By day in cravice dark by night with us.
O, mosquito you small but deadly thief;
On wings of silence came you trespasser,
A drop of blood you've stolen whilst to leave
Me unawares that I'm being the loser.
Alas, you left behind a virus strange,
Of potent evil concoction which spread,
And corrupted my veins by this exchange:
My good liquid for diseases I dread.
Like being bitten by a winged vampire,
My body shaking my soul is on fire!
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
the day i was cast out into the world
through spread legs
they looked between mine
and declared, simply:
“it’s a girl”.
we’re taught to be ashamed
of who we are
that people like me, like us,
are freaks of nature.
told me the body i was given
this body, is sacred.
that i should never tamper with it.
that it’s blasphemous to trespass
on divine territory.
(who knew i could be a trespasser in my own home?)
you point to the sky,
tell me
god doesn’t make mistakes.
turn that finger back on me, on us,
spew ridicule for the ones we’re supposedly making
for merely having the courage to be.
what is it that makes doctors and parents alike
so reluctant to believe that
there are other colors out there
besides pink and blue?
the lines are blurring ––
**** robin thicke]
this is not a phase.
this choice was not mine to make
(unlike the one you made for me).
don’t tell me who or what i am.
i didn’t climb out of one box
just to be shoved into another.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
If Thoughts Were Audible,
Would you try to catch & make
Every fluttering thought your Bible,
In your craving
To come face to face
With that one thought
Which would have the answer
To what is the question,
That has gnawed at you since birth.
What if you bumped against
Hitherto infrasonic tremors
Of a morbid sigh or curse,
While hoping to tune into
A blessing or yearning,
Would you consider yourself
The ****** of the Panopticon
Or a prisoner of it?
Would the nail-biting curiosity
Of groping the trail
Of fragmented thoughts
From all (how many?) corners
Make you lose your own 'stream of consciousness',
as they would call it?
Deaf now to your own mental utterances
Would you (n)ever speak again?
[Since,
Your eavesdropping mind
Would already know
What the other has to say
As would he, about your thoughts
Before either uttered the first syllable.]
Or,
Would you start thinking
About what to think first
And what order to place those thoughts in, next,
So you could fool your mental trespasser,
Sending him off to a parallel trail of thoughts?
But of course he would be able to
Hear through your strategy
As he would also know
Of that moment
When you decided to
Guard your own thoughts.
But the question is,
Do you have any left, now?
A numb stare is reflected
In your mental neighbour's eyes
As you both confront
The fact that
*Deaf people don't have
Songs stuck in their head.*
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
At first, I felt like an invader. A trespasser in these spirits’ home.
The stillness swirled around me, as if it were trying to dizzy me away.
The tombstones didn’t want me there. I was abhorrent.
But then, I felt a kindling inside of me.
And as I sat in solitude under the withered old tree between the graves at 2am,
I couldn’t help but feel like the tombstones were my friends.
I couldn’t help but feel like a tombstone myself.
All I was was a symbol for what I had once been, a memory of who I once was.
What was inside of me, though, was just ashes of the past.
Sometimes people visited, dropping off a flower of hope or love or anguish,
But once that flower died, I was dead.
I started to cry.
I cried for these people, these new friends of mine.
I cried for their pasts.
I cried for my own.
And in that moment, I realized,
I was meant to be a tombstone.
People were meant to visit my grave. People were meant to cry for me.
I wasn’t meant to have a happy life. I was meant to have a memorable death.
I was meant to transform into a tombstone, for the world to visit and cry for.
And that was okay with me.
{alaska}
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
taunted by the adrenaline
he marched towards her reverie
white colored walls, lavender scented halls
his thought was this is his last resort
it conveyed a lot emotions
bubbling the excitement in him
for he thought he’s the owner
when he realized he’s the trespasser
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
you had too many drinks that night,
and she was wearing a dress,
so you thought, "she's a **** right?
because you label women as:
what they wear is what they are, right?
you tried to woo her countless times,
but she still said no,
and you thought she was playing with you.
you thought, just because she was wasted,
that means she's ***** and wants to ****
she was an innocent girl.
all she wanted was to have fun,
but you ruined that for her.
even after she pushed you off,
and smacked you in the face,
and called you every swear word,
you thought she wanted you.
she cried for help,
but the music was too high,
and everyone was too drunk,
and they all thought she wanted it too.
and that makes me sick.
because she didn't want it,
she wanted a place to let loose.
she didn't want it,
she just wanted some fun.
a couple of beers,
a couple of cheers,
then she'd go off with her friends.
but you've formed her into a woman,
a woman who screams in her sleep,
who locks all the doors,
who jumps at every bump in the night.
you've done that to her,
and you don't even feel sorry.
you thought she was an animal,
just a play toy.
but she was so much more.
and after she stopped weeping,
you tried to kiss her again,
but she pushed you away,
you got angry with her.
you shook her and smacked her,
you beat her black and blue.
**don't lie to me, i know you want me.
i know you want me.
I KNOW YOU WANT ME.**
and she screamed,
even if you hurt her.
she screamed and screamed,
even when you broke her jaw.
she shrieked.
she cried.
she never wanted you.
a week later i was walking home,
and coincidentally i looked up,
and on top of the building was a figure.
there was a goddess up there,
black and blue from a beating,
but still beautiful.
her sobs floated from her mouth,
down to the streets,
but no one bothered to listen.
but i did.
and i went up there,
and brought her down,
and hugged her.
she flinched and squirmed,
because some **** had ruined her.
some ******* poisoned her thoughts,
making her believe every guy is the same.
every guy she has ever loved or trusted,
became another trespasser.
she couldn't even look her father in the eye.
but she broke down before me,
revealing herself in blood in tears,
painting me a story that made me sick.
she cried for hours on that roof,
curled up in front of me,
begging me to let her die,
but i refused.
i saved her life,
and i hope no one saves yours for when karma comes around.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
At One Point In My Life,
I Could Look Down Pitch Black Hallway,
And See It As Clearly As I Had With The Light On,
I Use To Be Able To See People,
And Animals,
That Have Been Gone For Years,
I Used To Be Able To Be One With The Forest,
Now I Am Just A Trespasser,
I Was Broken Off From Society,
But I Hated It,
I Was Colorblind,
Because The Otherside Looked Greener,
Now I've Changed,
I Am Right In The Center Of Concrete And Chaos,
And Deep Down Inside,
I Wish I Was That Person I Used To Be,
The One Who Sat Off In The Distance,
Unreconized,
The One Who Could Sit Up In A Tree For Hours,
And No One Would Even Notice I Was Gone,
I Wish I Could Write Like I Used To,
I Wish I Was Someone Who Didn't Have A Phone,
Going Off Every Second Of The Day,
I Wish I Could Just Sit In The Peace In Quiet,
Listening To The Music Of Birds Chirping,
The Person Before All The Hatred And Anger Entered Her Territory,
I Wish I Could Hear The Things I Can't Anymore,
See The Things That Are Now Invisible..
I Wish I Was The Person I Used To Be
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
I am a leaf, shed, homeless,
drifting in through a hole in the carpentry --
a skeleton among skeleton relatives,
dusting the shuffle-worn surface
of our mother's planked-out chest.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
She takes
more than her share
consuming what is hers and
a little of everyone else.
An inconsiderate roommate
of the seasons
devouring the contents
in the frig
and beginning to work on
the boxes marked "Spring".
Like us,
they hate her and dream
of ways to evict the trespasser
but she has no pride or
modicum of fair play.
And we know
when she
with diva flair
finally blusters away
we'll be raggedly left
paying the debt.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Girl you know what?
I’m awake!
Been awake
For the whole night!
I’ve called my lawyer
And we’re
Discussing about
Your crime alright!
He is asking me
Since when
Have I started
Losing sleep?
Could you be nice
And please
Remind me,
When did we first meet?
He is inquiring
About the crime scene
And I’m without
Any words or sound!
Because the moment
I saw you I was lost
Couldn’t pay attention
To anything around!
He wants to know
For what should we sue?
What compensation
Do I want from you?
I told him something,
Don’t laugh now...
I said a date
Over a cup of coffee will do!
I can’t stop thinking
About you for a second,
Can’t keep away from you
In the day it seems!
At least let me sleep happily
You devil,
Stop trespassing
Into my dreams!
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 2:44 AM UTC
He showed himself today;
A trespasser on the land where leaves reign.
The morning sun proved his Achilles heel,
In the space where my inner soul
And the outside world collide.
“I can see you.”
The words are a dance -
Hot chocolate and cotton-candy,
Swirling sluggishly together in sweet adoration;
He melts at the exposure.
And at the tip of her engine roaring lips
Heat divulged his truth, young and bare –
The David fighting the Goliath air.
Surrender your almond sun skin and
Forfeit the strawberries in your hair.
He feasts and diminishes,
With no appreciation for the warmth,
But coal coated shame burning into ash
As bloodied juices dangle in anguish.
The calendar vigorously holds deep, intrepid letters:
“Beyond the Autumn lines, Winter quivers with fear.”
Sealed lips savor their secret:
Winter just trespassed here.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 11:57 AM UTC
You enter because you want me and you to have jam
But to make it clear, you are not welcome
I know you very wee
In to the point that you made me fell.
And trust me, that was my biggest mistake
The bad feeling that i'd rather be bake
I am trying to forget you
But you show up like mushrooms do.
You are the boss of all the sin
And you are working 24/7 to keep us mean
Yes, I expect you to exist in my life
A Trespasser who is holding a knife.
Satan you are not welcome
Turn around and never come
I'm over you and I'm so glad to lose you
A Trespasser like you deserves a boo!
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
*Sacred Spaces come to exist
When breathless lovers
Look into one another
And see their souls reflected*
On Saturday night I drove out in the dark hoping to return to ours
Kept company in the empty seat beside me
By your phantom presence
I guess the route I took though
was not the one we had gone together
and it wasn’t so much return
As reclamation
Strange, I noticed, that where once was holy, hushed and waiting
Was now bathed in industrial light
Had become abandoned amber
that, if we’re being honest, reprimanded me.
This was not the place where we stopped to rest.
I suppose alone I was the trespasser
On a way that opened only for the two of us.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
Soul trespasser...
You long for splendour...
You are one of those who yearns for one-off occasions to chase after you.
You’re remembering someone’s secret celebration in a place of strange perfection...
A child that partied all night, became their own bartender and private dancer...
That unique hotel’s façade declared adventure...
But now there is a window to a dark wall of desire.
Hungering for some old, solid friend there...
You await their return, and when they do, you’re still lingering... wanting their whispers to declare...
That this room has the very best view and mirror with you in it... For a life that feeds you more than you can chew...
You’ll risk it. Won’t look back on that wardrobe journey... You’ve packed your bags, opened up in a new strange surge of wellbeing.
Cobwebs from years of wild, winding worries – clear –
As the brightest sun discovers you...
On a functional vacation, joining the dots to a person... who no longer needs to fear or hear... or acknowledge you’re there...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 6:28 PM UTC
How do you do it?
Tell someone that even during waking day
She's all you ever think about
That when she's right there with you it doesn't even feel like you're dreaming
And no, it's not like that
I have dreams of moonlit beaches where we make small talk until you just laugh and say
"Wake up, the moon has to go away. It's morning time my sweet."
You say "I'll see you tonight, tommorow or whenever next we meet."
I dream of streetlamps lighting up park benches where we've met for the first time about 17 seperate winter nights just in this past july
Last night we had dinner, the conversation was lovely
It started with some awkward smiles deeply laden with sincerity,
It moved on to telling each other about the other, and we left with a brief squeeze of the hand.
That's all I've ever gotten, and I'm quite content with that
So the stage is set, not sure what the play is we're set to see
But she picked it, I'm sure it'll be wonderful
You have a different name tonight, just like you always do
The ballerina's where intoxicating
their grace was Endless
as they swam through the air
I felt like a trespasser, struggling to breath
When we left that night however, our goodbyes were more distant
It's been getting more and more like that recently,
I recall a night some ten years ago
I could have sworn I remembered your face
for almost 3 hours after I begrudgingly woke
But no
Your shifting smile, and timeless eyes
I like to think that's because you're getting closer
And not because I'm a tad too late
Were you here already? And I just couldn't pick you out of the crowd?
You know trains in the city, awfully hard to focus
Or perhaps you know of horses and mountains
I'm not one to judge
I hope I see you tomorrow, I look forward to our night
To our day,
To our mornings and to what we'll say
But if you have to leave for good my dear, please just find a way
I have a P.O box you know
It's rather simple really
I just would love a photo of you,
to remember our night in Sicily
Or pick one of your favorites, they were all suitible
I'll check my mail every day
Waiting, hoping
That I can see your face.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
One day I’ll leave this town for good.
No one shall know I’m gone
Till some trespasser on my lawns
Makes sense of the silence,
The piles of newspapers and mail,
The cobwebbed porch and flourishing weeds.
I would be gone and won’t look back.
I shall seek the future:
The road that’s yet to be traveled,
Mistakes yet to be made,
New towns to wake up in, new friends,
All the stories yet to be told.
And nothing would hold me back.
This free spirit will be
The greatest of all my triumphs;
But since nothing would hold me back
This uncompromised freedom
Will be my only regret.
Diptesh Ghosh
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
The dog is nine years
three months
six days old
and still counting,
the old man sits and counts up in
a chair rocking on an old porch,
creaking floorboards faded wooden again
from turquoise,
turning raw in their old age.
Parts of the floorboard have chipped away beneath
the chairs wasted slats
and yet the old man still sits, counting
down
time
like a train whistling at a
trespasser on the tracks
like a stray hair curling from
it's braid
get off those tracks
'cause you know it's not your place.
All we ever do is rot back down to
the floors we came from
and maybe
all we end up doing is completing a week
and then we're not counting anymore,
and maybe
the chair doesn't rock back to dust
and forth to
nine years
three months
and six days old
and we sit on our old porches
watching the train tracks and
maybe we know it's not the
time or the place
but a train whistles at the
trespasser
and we watch the young girl
and we count down, looking away
when it happens.
But we're not counting any more
and we sink into the porches we came from.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
Just be...
And U will see...
It is that essence...
That has never left your presence...
Seek, and U shall find, open your ears and your eyes and a single snow flake will again make a sound when it hits your cheek...the falling leaves will sound like a cascade of rushing footsteps as they drift from the trees above striking the ground below and the dark path will merely be bathed in a more subtle light.
U have never been a trespasser and never will be
U are of nature and nature is of U
U R Lobo
(C) Shawn White Eagle
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
so you go
but leave your key
you're not allowed
back inside of me
don't know why
I keep expecting
anything less obscene
knowing your cruelty
far exceeds any
hole inside of me
don't know why
I keep expecting
a ******* miracle
knowing the cancer
growing inside of me
when did I get bit
by this infectious madness
when did I turn into
a blood thirsty beast
how can you go on
knowing you did
this to me
how can you claim
to be the victim
knowing the disease
that you left
inside of me
I'll never be
rid of you
but I will
be over you
I will transcend
this addiction
that leaves me
screaming for you
I won't go
no I shouldn't
have to go
I don't know why
I let you make me
the trespasser
knowing that you
came here and
I haven't moved
I don't know why
I keep rationalizing
your dependency on power
knowing that you are
the monster I created
so you go
you go
you go
before I throw
you out.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Get out of my dreams, nobody invited you here.
Don't you know it's rude to barge in uninvited?
I forgave you already, why do you keep coming back?
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
So, this spider was crawling up the wall,
The wall, which had its cosmetics coming off.
The wall, which was mum.
It had seen much.
I was there, under this cursed ceiling fan,
Which was creaking monotonously.
The portraits and the tapestries,
With the rusted nails and hooks under.
The sedimentation of soot,
On the walls,
On the ceiling,
And on the pictures.
All silent,
Dead silent,
Except this cursed ceiling fan.
The ambience,
Was in its nothingness.
As if, they were looking at me in awe,
As if, I were a trespasser.
Unanticipated, I heard rumblings,
And chantings,
And phrases.
The wind in the room suddenly came to life.
The Air, spoke something into my ears,
Something unintelligible.
The frequency went up,
And up, and up.
Ultrasonic vibrations, were those.
The portraits glared at me,
I was becoming anxious,
As well as having eerie feels.
My eyes glued on something,
Something creepy.
I remember,
How four score and seven revolutions of this planet back,
My 16 year old friend had perished in this very room,
Under this very cursed ceiling fan.
Now, not everyone can live for a hundred and three years,
And remember an incident.
Oh, and yes, my eyes glued on my own portrait...
...We do exist,
We defy science.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
_The endurance_
Locked away in millennial slumber
We dreamed again of the glorious days
In golden halls of apotheosis.
The conqueror shall return the old ways,
And they shall kneel and sing the songs of praise.
All hail the first emperor
Of the great empire that would never fall!
Exalted among men, long may he reign.
We who on wintry mountains once stood tall,
‘Neath the earth now, humbly await his call.
_The intruder_
For centuries, we stood still in silence.
Curtains of darkness were the only light,
Behind the shut gates of the mausoleum.
Sealed in the abyss, not a soul in sight-
One strange voice rides on lonesome winds at night.
Silhouette of a stranger on the wall
Brings forth a light that would perish all.
Eyes on the throne of our supreme lord,
He sees not of the shadows of his steps.
Come forward, stranger who shall meet our swords.
Lied forgotten, but we will not forget.
We are the guardians of the emperor,
On war chariots, in both life and death.
Tread lightly, trespasser, to where you enter,
For this journey you should not have ventured.
Hark now, careless wanderer, eyes greed-blinded,
Who seeks to steal the treasures of our prime,
And slither away from our anger,
Thief, you have awaken the dragon’s sleep,
You have reached the point of no turning back.
You have brought corruption to the holy place.
Our master stirs, and commands us in rage.
We shall stop at nothing to cast his vengeance
Upon foul men and free him from his cage.
Witness the destruction and dawn of the new age.
_The ascension_
The intruder lies quietly on the ground.
From the ancient times, foes who crossed his path,
We promised to leave none of them unscathed.
He who commits this unforgiving crime,
Is bound to taste the dragon’s wrath.
Do not look into the abyss,
Or may the abyss look back at you.
We once rose as a great empire of might,
Now we rest under the light.
We shall rest no more, and linger no more.
Rise, Legion of the afterlife!
Rise.
We have waited.
We have weathered.
We have endured.
We have slept.
We have dreamt.
We have awaken.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC