"trudges" poems
I am lonely, not lonely
the choice up to now
has been mine
I will slip away
(at will)
into the recesses
of small shops
of empty rooms
or quiet spaces
to avoid her touch
or his gaze
or their judgement
our subconscious desires.
But all swallowed up
deep in the belly
of fog, of smoke
a vast, impenetrable
night sky
suddenly the
all-encompassing fear
grips me
washes over
so suddenly
I realize
I have not lived at all
that I am
suddenly
(forcibly)
the only one left.
Down a long, winding road
that trudges on endlessly
into the fading silhouette of trees
and broken sidelines
dim headlights
I am lonely, not lonely.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
CATERPILLAR recognize me
BUTTERFLY (turning away glances over shoulder) excuse me
CATERPILLAR i’m you before you transformed
BUTTERFLY get away you ****** worm
CATERPILLAR you can’t be serious look at me i’m you
BUTTERFLY look at you? euwwwh you’re a sticky slug with too many legs (pause) i’m exquisite fluttering colorful poetry a celebrity with huge fan base wherever i fly people recognize admire me
CATERPILLAR (creases brow) what happened to you did you forget your past where you come from
BUTTERFLY my past is fiction i’ve always been this lovely luminary (turns profile to audience in exaggerated manner) can’t you see i’m busy go away please leave
CATERPILLAR (bluntly) you’re consumed in vanity drunk on yourself spectacle without substance you make me question my own growing will i become like you
BUTTERFLY stop talking i’m calling 911
CATERPILLAR (sharply) you’re a sickening disappointment another Paris Hilton spin-off i hope to die in the cocoon and be spared the sham of you
BUTTERFLY (speaking into cell phone) yes operator i’m being accosted violated attack in progress please dispatch police immediately
CATERPILLAR you’re pitiful over-reactionary spineless decadent
BUTTERFLY i have nothing more to say law enforcement will be here soon
CATERPILLAR quit fretting i’m out of here i need to find and warn other caterpillars this meeting is a bleak awakening
BUTTERFLY think what you like greasy maggot i’m late for a performance and need to skirt paparazzi
caterpillar trudges off stage left as butterfly ascends over audience
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
As the sun sets
and melts -
a deep orange -
into the blue vastness
yet another
weary day
dies
and a void
creeps into me
and fills
my heart.
I think of home :
I think of you
and
the sky
blushes a faint red.
The birds
are home-bound
restless to be ensconced
in the warmth
of their nests,
the turbulent sea
has come to a stand-still
with her pacified waters
resting lightly
against the
broad, brown chest of the shore.
The traffic
trudges at a
snail's pace
as hordes of vehicles
bang on to the road
with an
air of urgency
that gets
more pronounced
with the
incessant honking
as the city
rushes back home
and my dear heart
returns to the
heaviness and hope
that accompany
my wait
for you
for home....
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
Weeks past
Having no motivation to pick myself up
The universe smiled upon me
And sent a boy with his head in the stars.
Blank
My mind draws a blank.
Having burnt my past I'm speechless
My heart races and I can feel my face flush
An unexplainable sensation overpowers my body.
Starting over.
Its almost as if the frozen winter forged a blank slate
And the affections from this boy melted away everything...
The rush, the butterflies, it all feels new again.
Like I have never fallen in love before
My new sensations are accompanied by a changed mindset
I was truly a new person.
Memories from past loves
Cannot compare to my heart's newest obsession
Such sweet words...
Sugar coated but genuine.
Everything...
His gaze, his walk, his talk
It all makes my heartache
My tongue is tied as he showers me in compliments
Oh his eyes
The way he looks at me and tells me I'm beautiful
I feel as if im drowning
But why?
I'm an experienced lover and swimmer.
But the fog caused by his intoxicating scent makes my past seem ages ago.
Why is this all so fresh...
My thoughts are spinning
And before I can even ask my mind for advice
We're dating.
I was following my heart entirely.
I'm so stunned
It's as if I was wiped clean of my past (and confidence)
Starting over.....again.
Never thought it would feel so
Natural
And so the winter trudges on
His arms around me keeping the fire alive
Snuggling while watching Star Wars
Fueling each other's passions.
I would have never guessed my fate just a month earlier.
Thanks universe.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
The mason trudges on
night and day to finish
his masterpiece. Clockwork,
he waits like a prisoner
yearning
for the jurisdiction to
fall in his favor. Each
opportunity: he will steal it.
Adhesive to stone and
metal support:
This wall will not
fall. No, this one he will not
let dissemble. Opposing the
prior ruin, plagued
with age and abuse,
the once damaging blows
instead drive this puzzle together.
Attend carefully.
Every door slammed behind
to shut me out,
Each painful stab in your glace
lancing through my chest, into
the black cavity life has consumed
into me.
He will work
to layer his project, this
projection of my cautions, until
the last glimmer of light disappears
behind the last stone in the
last wall. Now a true prisoner,
my mind lies
in contentment.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Exposure,
plenty of light,
nothing uncovered,
or too much left unknown.
Through the lens, which he can't see but only thoughts and ideas he scatters through his shutter.
The rain can be captured quickly and in large amounts.
The press of a button and the stress is released, a flash of light and lightening coincide
crash
electrify.
Fighting the storm, protecting his truths and love.
He still trudges ahead; heart in hand.
Recording his sight, capturing the beauty.
Making it home, he doesn't think twice, he places his heart back in its chest and moves on downstairs.
Walking tall and soaking wet,
avoids looks or stares that come his way.
Piecing his mind back together, missing pieces lost outside in the horrible weather.
He'll keep on aching and asking himself questions, as slowly as the night air dries his split hairs, he can slowly rethink the choices he's made.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
Smears of charcoal under my eyes
The white of my bones shines through my skin
Blood streams through the cracks in the floor
Horror behind me, horror above
Chained to the basement wall, ravenous
Awaiting my abductor, half curious
The door screams and creaks open
My body jumps, a frightened child
***** boots stomp slowly down the stairs
To the rhythm of my petrified heart
DEAD YET?
He bellows
My mousy chest no longer moves
Up and down
There is a sickening silence
Heart attack
Is there existence after this day?
No escape
He trudges closer, squinting at my shell
My once beautiful thin frame
Now resembling a Holocaust victim
Rib cage exposed, eyes locked
He sneers again,
I asked you a question
My voice box is being strangled
By the sadistic frog in my throat
The seconds tick as I find my words
Piece them together in my mind
And try my best to lock away my strength
You may be able..
Kick
*To **** my body..*
Steel toed boots
To slice me to bits..
Crack
But I promise you..
Another rib
You cannot..
Bleeding
****
I can taste my decay
My essence..
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 4:20 PM UTC
There trudges one to a merry-making
With sturdy swing,
On whom the rain comes down.
To fetch the saving medicament
Is another bent,
On whom the rain comes down.
One slowly drives his herd to the stall
Ere ill befall,
On whom the rain comes down.
This bears his missives of life and death
With quickening breath,
On whom the rain comes down.
One watches for signals of wreck or war
From the hill afar,
On whom the rain comes down.
No care if he gain a shelter or none,
Unhired moves on,
On whom the rain comes down.
And another knows nought of its chilling fall
Upon him aat all,
On whom the rain comes down.
2.1k
Hobbling over rock and dust,
The Nameless winces with every weary step.
His soles scorched and torn
By the unaccustomed roughness underfoot
The jagged teeth of a prickly piping earth.
Alone he makes his way
With tiny treads towards the dying dusk.
Fatigue dragging at his limbs
Bowing his neck to leave eyes downcast
And unfocussed; seeing naught but blurs and
The swirling and swaying of the trembling past.
A city:
Grand buildings stretching as one toward the sky;
Great lions waking from their feast and basking
In the brilliance of noonday air.
The bustle of flesh coursing about their purpose
The tight press of bodies all around
And the chatter and the natter and the laughter and the anger.
And then the silence.
The fear and the glares.
The hunger
And a guilty aversion of one’s eyes.
The shattering of glass
The raising with fire and boot.
And the stealing of Names.
And now here he trudges.
With tiny treads and into naked night.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
She tasted like watermelon on a july day
pink and juicy
Mostly liquid (transparent) but full of flavor
a rosebud mouth that inhaled like I did
bitter meals of smoke from tin foil and glass
She laughed like echoes off ancient cave walls
all experience and fire
dangerous arousal from a primitive state
I gave her my greatest possession
sharing with eyes wide open
She fights without going to Geneva
***** with bricks
taking hits like a man
deep breaths of poison and still she trudges on
She smelled like gardenias inside my palms
familiar and hand-picked
infested with seeds
but all that I can recall is her on my lips;
pink and juicy
tasting like watermelon on a july day.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
They always told me of my pneuma,
This creative spirit,
Capable of conquering nations or liberating the unjustly incarcerated
Unearthing fabled, folkloric myths,
With all the pummels I’d expect a brain cyst—
Still, he trudges on,
Like a scapegoat in its farcical, ineffable glee—
Why are you telling me
To manufacture and market my life
Like an indulgent, indulged on swine
Conforming to the convention,
Supporting units of straight edges
What in this straight-edged maelstrom
Can help the creative pneuma
To thrive in a place so confining and restricting
And detrimental to discoveries, breakthroughs,
Spiritual sustenance?
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like
The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance
O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love We are the World's rejected kin
The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious
In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunk and red-handed by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more
*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken*
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
Brown eyes,
Soul as she
Trudges through
These Demi-Ichorous lagoons
Of romantic mire.
Suspened tear-shaped vessels
From which sorrow
Bares down on soul's
Amber gated soil;
And memory,
Upon memory,
Upon memory,
Entrenches her feet.
Time immobile,
Despite vague recollection
Of retrospection.
Rain in anguish endured,
Devoured by these russet shoals,
And yet still remains this marsh-like nostalgia.
Branchless wasteland,
A collection of Earthen mounds
In sienna hue -
Barren in sky's womb
But God save the oak tree!
Hope's ne'er forsaken pillar
Kept a constant distance
Absent the stronghold of grasp.
Some circle of brown-eyed hell
I suppose,
Keeps the satisfaction
Of soul's salvation
Just beyond reach.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
the depths of your eyes
are swimming with long lost
affection and your heart
heaves and trudges along
the long mangled railroads; all
gently mapped with my
collarbones and
it is beautiful,
our intertwined souls
are beautiful.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
**Mostly after seven, she trudges back from work,
like a ship badly wrecked, towed in to the dock,
"Perhaps dismantling is the only option left"
she bitterly muses, waiting for him with a glass of wine.
"Getting out of the office" he laments over the phone,
"is crossing a wire fence with electrical charge"
work never ceases, nor day and night, clearly demarcated,
avarice of the corporate is sticky dark tar of night,
spreading beyond the borders; like workdays it extends.
Become difficult to keep head above the waters,
swelling every moment.
One works like mad, as if there is no tomorrow worth the wait,
and it goes on till the moment one arrives at the dead end.
The more one works like a dog, the faster ends up
as a dog in the manger, but who cares?
Yen to make profit touches the sky,it's demands insane,
the urge to **** comes, when pressure mounts
and deadline comes close; during a presentation late night,
he watches with insatiable urge, two ***** eyes
go down and **** his tender erogenous spots
that's when mind in slumber shakes the body to its roots,
"She'll be at the end of her tether" a thought goes home and recoils.
Life is a flashy party, jaunts to strange lands are the ***** high,
children, not even in thoughts, the time to count ***** are far,
when the latest model car arrives, the neighbors are in awe,
but soon, the vacations become a pain in the ***
conversation with her becomes labored, mostly nods and grunts
"What's wrong with you?"both shout at each other at once,
that makes them laugh out loud, child like they are in fact,
what a predicament is this, laughter and sob are no different!
A dangerously close shave life is; full of nicks and cuts,
quick fix ***** and walks on the brink are routine.
When he gets in the room she sleeps alone,
she tells someone over the phone aloud:
"I am badly ****** again and again, literally I mean"
life of a nerd and a techie, celebrated pair, envied by others
has this as the foot note, after rows and rows of success.
"Why me?" they both in their lonely beds in adjacent rooms
Yell to the Gods at the top seats, staring at the white ceiling.**
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
For gory guys and glamour ghouls
The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like
The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance
O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love We are the World's rejected kin
The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious
In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunken, red-handed by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more
*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken*
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
Brown hair blue eyes awakes from a brief slumber,
respite isn't found in the black curtain of sleep,
not in the office chair at a desk,
respite is not,
respite cannot,
As he trudges across the mess on the floor,
cutting his soles open on the trash accumulating over the years,
the metal and plastic,
cold iron of promises and betrayals when he said he'd grow a thicker skin,
the paper-cuts of childrens' cards as a breeze kicks them up,
it's December and the window's open,
it's freezing in here.
Close the window,
stopping the draft,
he gets changed in front of an open window,
exposing himself,
luckily nobody notices.
Freezing air shatters the warm membrane of his lungs,
they contract and shudder,
and don't expand again,
the morning ritual is painless but uncomfortable,
ignored until it goes away,
instead of dealing with it,
because it's easier,
focusing on breathing,
and driving,
than acknowledging the weakness.
This is lumbering,
shambling when it should be gliding,
huddled,
when it should be upright,
instead laid out on this stretcher,
they're making way,
just hoping it'll be over soon,
out of sight,
out of mind,
as it crashes through the hallway,
next to them,
a disaster stuck in their minds,
alive,
dead to the world outside the hospital window.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
The road of life is not straight,
And it does more than
Simply turn out of sight.
It winds and it bends,
And it twists out of sight.
It climbs great high mountains,
And creeps through dark forests.
It disappears underground at times,
So you can't even see,
Your hand in front of your face,
Let alone the next trick life life throws at you.
It crosses huge plains,
And trudges through oceans.
Sometimes it rains,
or even pours,
And yet just as often,
The sun shines so bright and hot,
That you can barely breathe,
Or even just see.
Life gives you options,
Forks in the road,
You don't know where you're going,
But you go all the same.
You wish for a road map,
But none ever came.
So you just keep on marching,
And we'll do the same.
Yes, we'll all just keep on marching,
On this road we call life.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
The night takes its form
In stages of still blackness
and inky silence.
Ibu knits by the staircase
squinting in the candlelight
while reciting pantuns;
Abah trudges through the water
with a kerosene lamp
and a yellow umbrella
muttering to himself –
All is still on the water’s edge.
I look out the windows
torchlight in my hands:
Water is everywhere
Lawns and roads
In every house and every car
its murky reflection
placid, unmoving, brown;
The night brings with it
A cacophony of noises:
From the candlelight
A cricket calls to its mate
A bloodthirsty mosquito
buzz in my ear
the gentle patter of rain
on the roof
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Blue haze is in the air at dusk
Wet dew descends on grass,
Sunset’s red striations touch
Horizon’s clouds of glass
A heavy silence permeates
With the settling of the day,
And clouds of starlings flock to roost
With nightfall underway.
The homestead paddock’s horses
All graze quietly in the gloom
As evening light turns purple red
To a distant blackbird’s tune.
A golden leafage carpetry
Is spread across the road
And the farmer trudges through it
homeward bound, beneath his load.
The cottage lights are glowing gold
As daylight dwindles now.
The softly spiraled chimney smoke,
The lowing of the cow,
The leafless alder branches
Stretching to a sky of stars
As the chill of late Autumnal
Celebrates the birth of Mars.
Marshalg
In the Autumn leaves
Victoria Park Tunnel
24 April 2010
Apr 23, 2010
Apr 23, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
Even in the dark clings meaning
“It’s all futile,” is all she’ll tell me
But she’s still floundering
Along this midnight coastline
What we perceive is so unreal
Fragmented realities
We fill the blanks, all unknowing
That we create our own cells
I wish she heard me the way
I imagine myself heard
This is all but impossible
Blessings fall from unknown lands
She tore down these stubborn walls
To wake me from depthless dream
I breathe deeply of her scent
And so bittersweet savor this
Breath of sea mist and beggar’s grave
She speaks novels with silken touch
The danger lies in returning back
Staying thoughts of easy death
The temptation seems so clear
She resists and trudges on
I let her once again flee
Thinking it a diversion
But never from my window
Shall I see the shore again
She visits still, sporadically
I recount my doubtful suffering
She nods as if she understands
But they took her tongue and hands
The grief in me comes naturally
As I begin to weave a tale
To feed the future my lies
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 3:59 PM UTC
A SOLDIER
A man born from flesh and blood
Ordered to **** with no regret
As the giant cannon ***** fly, screams of terror hollow in the distance trenches
In the blistering heat
He trudges through the valley of lost souls
Looking at death straight in the eye
Knowing deep inside there is no surrender
Adreline begins to pump through his veins with great heist
The sharp splintered ammunition waiting to feed the hungry giant spring gadgets
Waiting to rip flesh from bone
Behind the trigger he lays analysing the ****** field before him
He sees the paralysesd faces of small children, running towards him arms open wide
His thinks what can I do
He closes his tired eyes for a second, he runs screaming get down
Nothing happens, blood starts to flow from his jagged wound
He cries out for help lying in empty hole, as vultures fill the clouded sky
He knows now his on his own
As darkness prevails vanquishing the perfect light
He lays his head down to sleep.
Droplits of blood soak through morning mist
the smell of burnt flesh fills the air
He awakes from his deathly sleep to fight another day
LARRY A STUART 09
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 11:00 AM UTC
She paints walls
with anguish
blended
from murky emotions between them,
coats the ceiling with shades of his past mistake.
Befuddled,
his clinical genius
finds no path for them to take.
She flaunts neglect
for all to see
so he allows no one to enter.
She erects
invisible mountains
for him to climb
with uncharted trailheads beckoning.
He trudges daily
through fallen ruins of past quarrels,
wandering unmapped terrain
in search of their secret stream
of lost love.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC