"trifecta" poems
you are may
i am december
kisses exchanged
during the bluing hour
child like
staring at you
in wonder and amazement
frosting night
falling snow
flakes in your auburn hair
i walk you home
in the cold frigid air
holding your hand
dreaming of you
you are rare
a beacon
a lighthouse
in a storm
in my daydreams
you are the pixie, the fairy inspiring me
at night
you are the siren, i surrender to
a trifecta of youth, beauty, personality
you are refreshingly young
spring in my wintered life
preternaturally beautiful
perfection come to life
your femininity bewitching
your youth intoxicating
your mannerism seducing
i would do anything for you
oozing sensuality
innocences
of a woman on the cusp
you hunger for sophistication
to be worldly-wise
seeking passage guidance
from an experienced traveller
the trade, the deal, is timeless
refined by evolution
i am humbled
to have been chosen
the ultimate champion
of your ****** selection
in turn, you are my trophy
the spoils
of a never ending war
i know our time is short
the span of a bloom
a season at most
i know the outcome
seen the devastation
the problem is
we think we have time
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
pale dead moon
them the words heard, cloud covered, make the few streaks visible
look like mocking smiles saying see we got your numbers,
play pale and dead you’re sure to win and add an over/under
and a trifecta guaranteed
everyone is willing to take and give you thanks
with a nice tap on the head which buys them
a grimace smile of 2 seconds recognition and
further confirms the crumbling internals
and unless you walk away,
into solitude and recall from
high school language class
répète après moi "c'est la vie,” repeat after me, that’s life
no, now,
pale dead moon,
that’s life
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
My old man used to take me to the track
Showed me how to key the top horse
Sprinkle in some long shots, he’d say
Oh, and son, it takes money to make money
He’d smoke his stoag’, pound his beers
Imploring me with his simple wisdom
Life is way too short not to...
Not to what dad? Just not to
He never played the favorites
Even money is like kissin’ your sister
And win bets?
Well those are for *******
My formula was simple
Name + color + number
Times the square root of lifetime wins
Divided by the odds, plus two
We studied the programs in silence
A father and son crack team
And usually not on purpose
We’d make the same ********* face
I was eleven when I hit my first big one
Trifecta box, because I wasn’t a *****
Paid almost two large
Never made dad more proud
Steak and lobster on my son!
We went to Ruth’s to celebrate
I tipped the waiter a hundred
And fell asleep on the drive home
It’s been over a decade since
And about a dozen girls
Always done after they go down twenty
Always win, place, and show
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 11:40 PM UTC
Flames flew from Salem to Soweto,
Fanned by freedom's winds
In sails stubborn like mules
Seeking the rights of thoroughbreds
And the thrill of the trifecta;
But in the land of speed
Horses and zebras reign
And the mules,
They dream of pristine barns
With piles of fresh hay
And corn...
Dry, white, primed
For revolution
by fire
Like crimson race-cards
And threadless black tires...
~ P (#burnfree)
12/20/2013
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
Raisin colored Island, how the waters pruned You too, lazy coconut day, climb with rope tied feet and lack the fear of heights. Such terrain as if every part of the world shared a piece to make you. I praise your autonomous solitude, rest assured amongst the South Pacific Blue.
Piecemeal makes much more simply than succeeded individuality. A Euro here, a Euro there, the Rail can take you everywhere....Well, Eastern rules are slightly stern, seems time stood still in terms of brood, but, betwix the contrast of the artistry it is hard to be angry with Tradition.
Goa, India I will never forget You, how could I, You raised me, my mother tongue was Konkoni, the shore side village was Home for me. Later in life coming back shaded a more solemn hue, it is my Heart that couldn't handle it, the Truck ride through....the major transit cities, those who have seen, you know what I mean. It did not help to have to leave my childhood memories and GodParents behind for the hundredth time. I miss you Madrina.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Poison
The First
The Serpent
The Water
The venomous black ink
Slithers endlessly
Silently
Until she reaches her prey
Power
The Second
The Demon
The Fire
The burning red ember
Watches now
Patiently
As her victim is drawn to her warmth
Sorcery
The Third
The Conjurer
The Wind
The Shadow Of The Night
Needs only
To exist
And her casualty swarms to her allure
A trifecta binds, seeking
A fourth
The man
The earth
The flesh and the bone
A host and a home
A willing sacrifice
Falling victim to her charm
Silently striding to his own demise
He succumbs completely
She devours wholly
The elements are in order
The black magic witch is born
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
I haven't felt this in a long while
That same old, beautiful teenage rebellion coursing through my twenty year old veins
Remember the grass we'd tread on during days of
Extracurricular activities all hungover and dread locked
Or the Saturday night in late September
When three girls first inched their way toward a mirror
In the thrift store and the coffee shop
Gourds and games and locking ourselves in the car to listen to that rust colored song
Amid the high school hoi Polloi
Three girls, still, getting closer to that mirror
There were books about the body in a Goodwill
About the diseases that afflict our tiny bones
And science hung from a rack while she put on an old mans sweater and fantasized about the death that could have taken place in each stitch
Catholic school boy bonfire
Doing donuts in the field because, well, life is a highway
And can you believe it? She hit her head again
Oh our blonde believer, knocking her brain out of her skull and onto the highway
While our other friends smoked secrets in the woods out past the driveway
When we parted from our dear doe eyed psychopath
And found ourselves a trifecta for the first time in months,
There was only one thing to do -
Admit there were robots among us, chug a beer, and say goodnight
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
The Mecca is the trifecta of the vertex of the epicenter of the apex
But we just use that as a reference point
We refused to be swayed by centripetal force
And peeled back the layers of the mind to find the inertia that had given us the centrifugal force to push us in our quest to find the ultimate reality
I saw a vandal giving in to voyeurism
When a watershed moment happened
He had a sudden premonition
There were nervous virgins about to take the plunge
There were people giving hi 5's to each other and making pinky promises they swore to keep
There were poor soul's trying to quit cold turkey
Eating molten ****** cakes
I looked to the East and visions came to me as well
I saw kids having fever dreams of pitching fits and fever pitches
I saw liberated lesbian librarians eating their feelings and playing
**** one, **** one, marry one"
I saw the extinction of guilty pleasures
I saw a man being caught up in getting up to speed with
I trifling teenagers
Low on money but high off drugs
I saw myself checking in to check up on the check out line to pick out and pick up a new catcher's mitt
I caught a case
A call
And a cold
I saw the love of my life running towards me on a soft white beach
As she came closer I could see her beginning to decay
Her skin melted
Her organs and blood fell from her
Her eyes and teeth dropped out of her head
Her hair fell out
And her skeleton came into my arms and I heard a whisper
"I will always be with you, my uncrowned king"
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
We're supposed to be better than all that.
And so my eyes brighten,
My mouth sings its usual overtures--render
Unto Caesar, as they say. But
Every time my eyes discover you (like the
Columbian trifecta--every time), or
Your voice sends the Weeping Willows scattering,
The glinting stars in my eyes burn with more than nitrogen and flashing teeth.
The hate staggers with newborn horse legs--a hand on the heart, the
Other shaking its rattle, sending the lovely chords of your laugh to strangle and bind my thoughts.
Its acrid taste stings my mouth, where
Your name sits like something foreign.
But it's the only thing that keeps me warm in the snow.
Hi (I love you)
(but)
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
Inborn, instant wandering Orient, oh Dragon breathing fire, breeding underwater. Love your magnetic triangle, love it like your child , protect your nest, let none be safe, if that be best for your hatchlings.
Outgrown, violent ripping, Vesuvius rising, burning and churning her helpless spew, if only we knew she is the victor of balancing. Thank her inner fire, even as you melt beneath her flow, follow her stream into the dreams of tomorrow, for she makes for fresher Earth.
Changeling Eastern desert sands, there is much movement into blood and heroic tears for what has come to be a rearrangement of the nativity of the people's homeland, such duress is unreal, to those who do not live it day by aching day. God Bless You, you are sturdy, resilient, Strong. I pray it won't be to much longer. My thoughts are with You All.
|~{•}~|
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
buried alive; (in) sane; or harakiri?
a trifecta of horror
cuts through the lush foliage while i
writhe in a nest of
eldritch entrails
anxiety
rises up like an ophidian
coils shedding every quarter of a noon
ready to strike -
i lose movement
and falter through the streets
the meeting rooms,
and the endless conversations that end in stalemates;
my anxiety
an ouroboros of volcanic self-effacement
spills into posh mental facilities (lies)
and shoddy hospitals that turn the sick into the living dead
humiliation
burns bright red (magenta)
and brands my delicate skin with age-old glyphs
they mark the end of a civilization
the birth of a metropolis
with twin suns and dark monoliths
where the mob guillotines the visionaries
and the artist dies a dog's death.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 7:59 AM UTC
Today is a trifecta of the memories
and stains you left upon my chest:
One year ago, you kissed me beneath
the play structure at the abandoned
park after midnight for the first time.
One month ago, you whispered
another trio to me under the willow
tree as the river scuttled by twenty
feet from our entwined hands and I
thought we would be forever.
One week ago, you ripped away
that state of mind without two
weeks' notice and left me as a
traveling refugee; I continue to
wander without purpose.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
A trifecta of sounds
An ancient ocean
I don’t know who to speak to anymore,
but to a supposed internal being,
much more advanced,
or so I hope.
I long for days gone by and
for lemon trees in my backyard—
trees I never had while growing.
I feel.
I feel much too much, but there is
a beauty in the suffering,
a plain, openness that is inviting.
I speak to fill the spaces in my mind,
gaps which weathered time and
seashells.
Hope frantically obeys,
beckons at your call,
inches forward on a fast-moving planet
with glaciers and galaxies to call home.
Home…a funny concept.
We are all home here,
in this infinite cloth into which we are woven,
threads like stories and eras and creatures.
To blend in is a must, at first, at least.
I possess no hidden talents, yet many that they speak of.
My forehead tingles ever so casually, a signal
that I have tuned in at last.
They have been waiting for me, and I, them.
I pause, ever so delicately,
avoiding damage to the transmission.
I am loved, as are you, and
we are all sharing the same story.
Sometimes, moments of clarity
knock me off my feet,
and at other times I am drowning,
but I know how to swim.
I have been here before, as have you.
It’s so mysterious, and so big, and so…
Tenderness
Relaxation
and Forgiveness:
the key words of this lesson, this module.
I long for the space station I may have once belonged to.
There were more plants back then.
A messenger goes and snatches away
the last missing truth.
It is found in a peach pit, juicy and glistening.
The secret was inside of us all along.
The answers and the questions, too.
The balance was all there to begin with.
The truths, or truth, as we are not taught.
Two trillion years later, a blink of an eye,
if you can imagine it,
you are sitting in your aqua-garden
and floating water letters to the staff at sea—
the galactic sea, that is.
Suspended above asteroids and seaweed,
you cling to what you had lost many eons ago:
your humanity.
You have evolved into something greater,
but what you can recall of the collective human consciousness
is so stunningly beautiful,
that it temporarily blinds your inner eye.
Tears stream down your mental body.
It is so great to be here again,
connected to the past self who wrote you a letter.
An oasis awaits you.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
Three kids sitting cross legged in a homemade shed
A trifecta, if you may
A band of crickets screaming prayers into the humidity
One recounted stories of robots in the high school hallways
All laughing and golden, whispering empty epitaphs into the abyss
Singing songs of nothing to a comfortable god
One spoke of aspirations shrouded in cigar smoke
A life of more than mother's wishes and monetary muteness
Being caught between stagnant calculations and hammered guitar strings
Lyrics tattooed the back of her teeth, curious wonderer, light wash grief
Questioning the deities found anywhere but her circle of friends
And we must sacrifice ourselves to rock bottom
One drank a singular beer and couldn't see straight
A hole in a head, filling fast with all those secret woodland soliloquies
Like for the first time, she could see
Clumsy ankles treading through the over brush, love or lust
And how should we go on living through these nights fated to end
There was a soundtrack to our revolution,
Haunting hymns over the busted stereo,
Love poems washed away with morning
But the night sounds
Oh, the night sounds
The holy ghosts in moonlight reflecting off the leaves
The sacred rub of skin on skin beneath the moribund trees
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
January was dark. All **** day. A cold tequila car. A book with writing down the spine. Thick salt tears, a heaving chest and a shaking rib cage.
February was nothing like the movies. Sliding to the cheap seat theater on ice roads with friends you don't care to know. Numbness and red cartoon hearts.
March was my birthday. ***** and three sad ghosts in the basement. A banquet hall concert and a pack of gum. A boy turned stranger and a tragic lo-fi guitar.
April was bad. A hotel room filled with cousins and no blood to show for my innocence. Two-headed boys in painted sweaters. Tiny bottles of rage in the back of her parents' car.
May was my best friends, but not him. A return to the ribbon tree with plastic bottle poison. A handful of dirt to escape the way *** makes you think of me. Two girls with not much else to lose.
June was the night in overalls. Screams and tears and mouth fulls of craft beer and whisky. More ghosts - so many ghosts. First time ***** and my personal demise.
July was the night we went swimming on her birthday. Beer on the back porch. Forgetting why we ever hated one another. We slept together on my living room floor.
August was candle wax. A picnic on her mother's surgical scars. Tragedy and almost nothing else.
September was the great departure. Another year apart. The music festival in that field. Boxed wine and Pope Francis in the living room. the trifecta raged and kissed and called it a night.
October was leaves in pavement rivers. Sneaking into that concert just to watch them fall out of love. A pack of Marlboro Reds and unrequited fireworks. Animal masks and German beer. Four girls on ghostly slopes and celtic knot rings.
November was fevers and mirrors. The night we traveled back in time. PBR on your sister's porch and a long drive to the high school. A girl faced with the ghost residing in her hometown. Bob Dylan and a second bucket of gin.
December was mostly a blur. Christmas parties and holiday breaks. Basement promises and winter lagers. Old home movies and my best friends. Secrets in the college town and history's tragic repetition.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
O Father
What done haveth I in acordaunce
The Maiden ress between me eyes
Lyke brimstone et a pedestal
Dreams are distracted in me lyfe
In Marigold, Mahogany, Maroon
Venus Trifecta et Holy Grail
Et is et discorse ov Destiny ov myne
So I asketh of Thyne
To wash anew me acordaunce
Exceptionly et is in tyme
Tho I kno regret may form
Et is for the greatr good
Imperative deed so tru
An may I drown not
In red temptations
Fore done me fair aims
Wyth pursuits ov sound
For promises ov gold
To replnish retribution
Ov souls unheard
I am thyr messenger
From Alpha to Omega
May no fair Maiden
Put et in her pocket
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
the two play tic-tac-toe by prison correspondence. the mutual doctor they once met through is now famous for being there when god was in labor. I love my research when it brings me to my mother’s stone because my mother’s stone is without epitaph and because beside my mother’s stone is one engraved with a phone number which predates what everyone is doing. I call the number and nothing. the two unfold a couch into a bed and go their separate ways to check email. their little devil details the car that didn’t get away. I want this little devil so badly it murders the actor I look like. the two stand in front of a movie poster and stand there just as they’ve planned. a beauty shop closes its doors sending beauticians into a street crowded with beauticians for open carry. I send Emily to search for Emily when Emily was pretty.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
(Audaci Favet Fortuna)
sum
are
won,
sum
are
earned,
some are,
funny, some
are burned
and the smoke is moved
heaven-
ward, with open hopeful hands,
cupping the wind,
like wings...
Sending the
remnant wishes
home giving
feet to dreams.
Sums lost, some cost
lives of the unfortunate,
inhale the wisp on the wind,
to guide, a way from the ashes,
and hot coals heaped on the heads of the guilty, inspiration from any source better not back an unlucky horse, a trifecta;
there is no handle on reality, there is no night dreams that succeed once exposed to the light of day traitor trials, and you think that once
you get on your knees to pray you will be stuck and stay that way, you your voice to the heavens, will be invisible smoke, a clear cold thermo- cline,
that there is no help there; but you'd be wrong; the choice you chose before you burnt your fortunes, fortune which favours the bold, a silent tattoo, not a noise until the needle hits a nerve.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
i think i forgot my place in the universe
happiness is fleeting and i knew that once
so why do i chase after things that are finite?
why do i conquer and destroy everything in my path?
the world is supposed to be easy for the taking
but the world is taking me
i overdose on everything
i've never known when enough is enough
gluttony, lust, rage
the trifecta rule i always break
everyone is wrapped up in their own universe
struggling with their own problems
so why
do i
expect
someone
to
save
me
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 10:15 PM UTC
I have to admit I am caught between storms -
Of friendship
Of love
Of lust
And I cannot imagine one without the other two,
A trifecta of an immeasurable soul.
Because I have a deep sense of attachment to each part of this
Relationship
That now has inconceivably doubled:
I like you both.
And now I am caught in this dichotomy of I think of the other,
I smile with the other,
Which one should be the other?
He wants me to give more of myself,
While he does more than I.
Which do I put myself out for?
What if, in this scenario, I gave a part of myself to the second,
That I haven’t to the first?
I did.
But the first has taken a part of me that is deeper,
Below the skin, the surface.
And challenges me to the extent that
He knows who I am and where I’ve been.
And what about today?
Disclosing his failed attempts with his last lovers,
Not making me one,
But taking my trust and putting it in the palm of his hand?
But then there’s the second,
Who in what small measure
Has managed to smear my concept of time
And gave everything in the palm of his hand.
A whirlwind of staying up all-night and sharing
These small hours,
Imprinting him on my mind.
Who is safer?
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
stuck in this rut, reveling in reaching, ricky and louis laughing at twisted tales like sherlock on a good manic day, goofy with hysteria throw happiness in cyanide, worse for fever and worse for cold, worse for hangover, too conscious of the trifecta of time, not conscious enough of growing old, massive teeth baring ***** and snitch and ****** all the ***** words thrown into a frying vat, frothing and frolicking in mixtures of mundane, however twisted in the opposite, do come again?
worse, then worser, then the worsest you can imagine, thrown into the sea for some sort of great escape, some sort of greater story, to retrieve a golf ball that was planted at the beginning of the joke, the joke is funny, and we laugh
and perhaps the man that is somehow removed from this time lapse will lose his ability to know hysteria, the man who no longer knows seriousness will live his life better but not contribute humor to the mix, but will be, as a tree, indifferent
given away, given up, given to suit, to jacket, to shade, to gray, gray gray, fifty shades of ****** up, I laughed at that one, but later I whipped and she screamed with pleasure, the truth hides and has a loving eye and a whipping tail
a red faced ****** hysteria, the cure for cancer, to humor, to understand truth yet purposefully mislead, the bit, and finally, the bow
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
All having come from
an undressed wound,
whose fully enveloped
bloom knows the ****** tug
of the moon.
We her mad children, pulled
from the trauma unit of
creation...spend a lifetime
trying to stay with what's in
front of us.
Times's blackout trifecta...
whose lapsing present seems
to always beg: stay with me!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
been looking at this **** and hearing the spirals.
informing each other of human natures past denials
we have all the tapes and we made all the measures ...for completion
in the words of the few and the actions of many, there is no trifecta.
only deleting and rebuilding, constructing and destroying
making papers out of people...
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
Time will tell...only when the answer holds everyone's heart
Brings it forward and elevating it till
All will see!
Not just those three
But those gathering around
To watch, learn and grow
Is that such an impossible calling?
Where we are and come about?
And what lies next?
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
three times
you interjected into my heart's permanence
and three times
you've done it before.
once another two years have passed
i think i'll be looking for more.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC