"twos" poems
having no root, i followed my own route
i used to know no other way
some would say i was the sum of a brute
i used to prey, when i should pray
i used to believe in an eye for an eye
to our minds vengeance comes in twos
by the time that we buy our last goodbye
we do what we do, then pay our dues
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
They sit atop a low wall kicking heels,
Pyjamas draped in bathrobes pulled-to tight
To ward Antarctic winds — Nearby the squeals
Of blues and twos betray the mortal plight
Of some ill-fated soul — A fog bank peels
Up from their glowing embers, for in spite
Of coughing blood and dragging drips on wheels,
Collective will has long since lost the fight —
And did they think as children at the flicks,
As war was sold with glory, did they think
As Bogart raised a lucifer to his lips
How Tinseltown might guide them to this brink,
And just like Fleming’s catcher tempt them in
With candy coloured cartons and a grin?
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
The trail rose up
through the sand
and sage covered hills
following the sinews of a land
scoured by fire and flood.
Even the most severe carving
here was nothing
compared to the city below-
its concrete grid
glaring over my shoulder-
sprawled out,
******* on its dingy
comforter of smog-
******* up
the dust of the desert
around it.
The trail led me up.
Up past twisted
juniper bones,
past pale green yuccas
curling
fine white filagree
from their dagger blades,
past sandstone boulders
swirled like confections,
past ancient cooking pits
nested with ash,
and ghost-like hands
outlined on stone-
to a white cliff face
up-thrust
beneath the cloudless sky.
From a lone stump
a pinyon jay squawked
drawing my eyes down.
A sentinel
to its comrades-
who rose up
from the draw to my left
and sailed in twos and threes
sinking down into
the draw on my right.
Right before me,
around me, behind me,
first two- then six,
then tens of metallic blue
wings beating heavily against
the unfamiliar desert air.
They had come down.
Down from the scrubby
forests of pine.
Down from snow
covered slopes.
Hungry,
they searched the green
fingers of the washes-
the winter forcing them
down across the trail
that was drawing me up.
They passed close by,
wing beats feathered my ears,
first up, then down-
the sentinel
keeping an eye .
Listening, suddenly hearing
my breath beat
against the wind-
I stood motionless, perched
beyond starting
and destination-
blue wings lifting
the hunger within.
Tom Spencer © 2017
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Here I stand so shaky, as I begin to walk
Learning from Mom, learning to talk.
The examples I see will shape my way
The decisions I make, will shape my day.
Here I stand to begin, in life’s early hour
I’ll test the limits, I’ll test my power.
In the terrible twos, the decisions to come
Are made by the hand, and shaped by Mom.
—————————————————
Here I stand at the dawn, the edge of the day
With decisions to make and prices to pay.
The choice is mine and mine to make
The decisions I choose will make or break.
Here I stand a teen in the prime of life
A time of joy, a time of strife.
I stand at the crossroad as I start these years.
There is the road of honor, the road of tears.
—————————————————-
Here I stand to choose again and again.
Do I choose to loose or do I choose win.
One road I see will cause me pain.
The other I see will grant me gain.
Here I stand at a crossroad, to choose this hour
The choice I make is in my power.
To choose the wrong or choose the right
I will set my course, I will set my plight.
—————————————————-
Here I stand as I marry, the Love of my life
Become one with her, to be my wife.
The vows we say, the promise we make
Are made forever, we will not break.
Here I stand by my Love, our daughter’s first hour
Now Mother and Father, with our delicate flower.
The example she sees, the example I live
Is the greatest gift, a Father can give.
————————————————
Here I stand at the bedside, my mother’s last hour.
She withstood the storms, of time and its power.
Though times were rough, she withstood the test
Her love sustained me, she gave me her best
Here I stand in awe of the example she set
Of truth and honor, I’m in her debt.
The decisions she made were examples to me
Helped mold my life, in what I could be.
—————————————————–
Here I stand as the evening, of life draws near
I’ve tried to follow the paths found dear
Paths of love and honor, from examples I see
From those before me, that I strive to be.
Here I stand did I, make the right choice?
Did I follow the loud or the still small voice?
For I now understand, the power of love
It’s the power given by the God above.
————————————————
Here I stand to survey my life today
I began and will end, on the edge of the day.
The choices I made, He was always near
His Grace and Mercy has brought me here.
Now I kneel in His presence the race is run
His grace has sustained me, the journey is done.
He brought me through, the dusk, the night
To a brand new day, what a wonderful sight.
——————————————————
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
Twin ***** i seek
One is meek
Twos a freak
But a kick
To groans so deep
A shreek id hear
And there goes a leak
To the two ***** i seek
The beauty of ***** come high and low
But Paulo's pair of ***** is something the world should know
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, hanging on these little things life grants us is the reason of our survival;]
in his feels
I know I see
the drowned drips of the feet
smiles of the fakes he sweeps
lick the lips and motion the blondes to touch
hearts to brush
always as also so little as much
thinking when he means of the ones and the twos
the whispers and the apples to smell to near
hairs so dark for the safe to fear
maybe then the want would not haste
or not for the come to paste
invisible to the seen to the face
on the yellows they still remain
or blue flowers on the neck I wish the belongs come to make
-------ravenfeels
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 4:56 PM UTC
Dark driveways in muggy weather
Look like sand stuck in a feather
Ferns and curbs don't go together.
Clean, thoughts on it
Wrong again
Seemed, nope not this song again
A misty clip
Of winter ****
Seemed so soft and fond again.
Face the throat and choke the face
Wait for boats, critique the wave
Answer into sushi dish,
'Was this really once a fish?'
You, oh you! Oh you, oh you.
True, we knew! Who knew? Not you.
Don't begin to read the news
Now it's burning rows of twos
Ferns and curbs don't go together
Runny nose in sunny weather
Feel like lakes lassoed and tethered
Ferns and curbs don't go together.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
All I'm looking for is some clear communication in the physical world.
I've got some intentions that don't necessarily balance on the scale of right or wrong,
but self-love gets old after a while.
I know I haven't talked about this in months,
but getting closer has been my top priority,
(since always).
Celebrities die in threes,
and relationships come in twos,
so where does that leave me?
I would use your name like some of my favorite poets do,
but I'm not that daring.
I'm an addict,
and I'll always be a top-notch quitter,
apart from the fact that I find new obsessions.
I have these new rips in my skin,
I can't help but cover them up,
or wonder about yours,
and if they're the same.
I think it's too late to compare,
but you know I tried to say this earlier.
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 7:54 PM UTC
Crumble
brothels sprout
flesh peddlers collect their fees
selling daughters
in twos and threes
Lopez or Diaz
lazy or defiant
escaped
in polluted lagoons
the virus spreads
Dancing with the dead
priests absolve the devils
in their mist
Pilar sold her virginity
for a few bars of gold
wrapped in an old ladies hatred
she murdered her vows
Mexico is a land of smiles
the knife only glints
in the Aztec sun
as they bury you
after eating your heart
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
Thin and sober, like
evening air,
Le Freak brings its
benign curiosity
To her lips, some
Belgian monk
At a waffle press;
a meteor explodes
In the sky. A sent-
ient gas hovers
Cautiously, then ex-
plores the dim
Recess of my lungs.
Or it glows green,
Then vanishes. It’s
an aggressive brew.
And God bless Amer-
ica for its hop.
That’s something I
haven’t heard in a
While. It latches on
and holds its breath
Like it holds its
head. White and
Swollen, like you’d
expect.
It trippels on its
laces, and then I
Said: “My twos are
unshied” and I
Meant it. I grabbed
the bottle instead
Of the glass. Looks
like it only takes
Me two to get un-
shied these days.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
CARNATION: Every frill in her dress is another piece of your heart broken. She withers in the winter but heaven forbid you see her at her loveliest in the spring.
VIOLET: Her voice sounds like steel cutting through velvet. You squeeze her tightly until she blooms in petals of blue and purple.
DAFFODIL: She's a field to run across but be careful that doesn't take you by surprise and lull you into daydreaming for the next 200 years.
SWEET PEA: By the time you lean close to her an inhale her scent, the sky will have already begun falling; she will have already transformed into vapor and taken refuge in your lungs.
LILY OF THE VALLEY: You'd expect to see her floating around in twos and threes, but she'd rather be hidden behind tangles of ivy, where you'd never find her.
ROSE: Be careful that when your hands are grazing her hips that you don't cut yourself because a woman hides her most important weapons under a layer of secrets and maybe there's more to the waistband of her skirt than you'd like to believe.
WATER LILY: A siren of the sea, she is lilting, singing a sad song and hypnotizing you, but you don't know any better and you want to see if she floats in your hands like she does in the water.
POPPY: Kiss her softly and when she collapses into pieces at your feet, scatter her in your bathwater and pull the drain plug and forget about her forget about her forget about her forget
MORNING GLORY: She stretches in the morning and sunlight rushes to touch her and the stripes of rays on her skin make you remember all the reasons why you woke up everyday for a reason other than habit.
MARIGOLD: Beware of the girl who covers her mouth when she smiles. Sometimes, it's because she doesn't want you to see that her heart is in her throat, but other times she's just trying to hide the fangs.
CHRYSANTHEMUM: Her clothes fall like petals in the depths of secrecy, but if you plucked them off the ground one by one, you'd still never know whether she loves you or loves you not.
NARCISSUS: You only love her because you see your reflection in her eyes and all she ever wanted to do was drown you gently.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
this is too urbane for me
these glimmering, polished fantasies
with images and memories
of what it was like to be real.
my nose has grown too long
with all the lies that i have told.
i'm afraid these concrete-walls
are closing in and i'm about to fold
in paper halves
or break in plastic twos.
or shatter in glass pieces
or splinter in fragments of wood.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Heaven got so plenty moods
At dawn she's like a sleepy maid
Just awoke, and rescheduled, still,
As she rise from her midnight bed
Dusk is her blushing face
As she sees all the love
Midday she shines bright
As she dances over the sky above
Full moon she sits up there
Her fair skin shining silver light
As she tries to fall asleep
In her gown of deep blue night
Rain can be thrice
In sadness, she sometimes weeps
In joy, she squirts water, playful laughing
Or she brings the water's salvation she keeps
When angry, her wrath masses in clouds
And cataclysms, that storm the land
Fog is a try to cover the world's darkness
As she cups it with a caring hand
Blood moon shows her scars and wounds
That had cut her deeper than any blade
Blizzards rage in her despair
When she cries out with words unsaid
In eclipse, she tries to hide her face
Shame letting her cheeks glow
For even she is not all perfect
Not always she can cover in innocent, white snow
Every girl has, sometimes,her terrible twos
And few enough are of such purity
Heaven is not perfect
But she's made of simple beauty
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
They're gonna try to use my lyrics against me in trial
To prove I've been running for ah thousand miles
Many styles but the flow ********
Ten years gone ah prisoner of war
To live like that with the weight on my back
Ain't no ******* joke homie staying on track
Ese panick attacks to all my rivals
When the news hit the neck about my arrivals
It's called survival for the strong stay alive
You ain't gotta be like me I ain't trying to misguide
Just provide ah course eye view
Of what it's really like for ah chosen few
That's what I do I put your life in this
Ah street gang corrido is ah underground hit
From the face event you might hear the violence
But if you didn't keep you'll find peace in silence
Step in the booth I payed all my dues
If you check new tourist it's like two million views
The reviews say I infuse
That lowrider crews L.A County blues
Some win some lose
In their grave they snooze
While the DJ cut it up on the ones and twos
That's cool that's what the criminal say
So I'ma keep riding homeboy no delay
Big C Rock Mac 11 spray
Got the people in the zone ******* no bang
Put your hands up now put them down
Only the selected could cancel the crown
The rest of you clowns get faced down
Las puertas del Infierno ese that's my sound
Notorious Enemy that's how I get down
Ain't giving up nada catching no rebound
So album after album that I keep on dropping
Letting everybody know there ain't no stopping
This my coffin so bury me in it
Intellectual metaphor bout the music business
Mental fitness along with lyrical sickness
Loyal getting ready cross examine ah witness
Bout to fix this
Situation at hand
Cause my presence on ah stage ese high demand
Here I am
C Rocka the legend
Ink oozing out my pen is carving ah message
Say I'm destined to lead ah battalions
Sentenario change wing that's my home in Dalan
Not Italian but you get it kapish
I'ma sit up in the cut till it's time to release
My dominion's of angels and demons
To the scene where it's needed
Cause my people's is fiending
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
After the milking's done,
Farmer gone to house and bed,
Rag-tag tabbies, half-breed furs,
Assemble by the milking stool
Yowl a bit, then settle down to purrs.
Rosined up, a straw-boned bow
Emits a violinic fiddle's skirl,
And one by one the mousers
Stand on twos to take a matted floor.
Come, let us see you pirouette,
You puissant pouncers.
Lightly spin those furry toes;
Sheath deep those claws to put
Perfection in your prances;
Balance on your tails, and spin;
Exercise or exorcise in cattish dances
The feline feelings you are in.
Dance happily and furiously...
Or sinuously and slow...
Whatever moods mouse-
Murderers can feel or know.
Enjoy the dance, ye half-breed cats.
Never mind the jealous schemes of mice,
Nor terroristic plots of leagues of rats.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Dear friend,
The Earth divided in two and there was much preparation
There was trenches built by humans, hollowing out the underground
Somehow, there were others that were sure they would not live through it
In which preparation was minor for them
Humans that traveled for days and days, just to live out their dream
Gathering around the fire from the core of the earth,
Only to capture the beauty with their camera and canvas
Strange it was to see everyone singing in millions of different twos
With a string of words from all the other ways we speak,
All buzzing around, with no two the same
These were, in fact, the ones who were not afraid to die
Right before they burned, they all held hands and smiled
United in the ways they loved,
While the others died in fear, these were the ones who died
happy
and
surrounded by the ones they loved.
As if humans are very emotionally complicated
Striving too hard to survive
It's very beautiful around Earth's falling apart
Don't bother writing back
sincerely,
Lover of all things
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
- 6 happy songs
1. Oui hear
What we appear
What, we appear?
What
Where
Capturing the in
The expressable in it
Capped in it
In
Into
Together to gather
To Get Her - To Gat Her
Two Gets-together
Gether
Glather
Troubling isn't it
Very troubling
Trouble some
Some troubles in ning
Inklings
Inner rings
Der Rinks
Der
2. Vert
Over therr
Overt therr
Knew a woman who was livin
Oh Vert Herr!
Oh Vert Herr!
Over therr
Err a woman who is livin
Oh Vert therr!
Err
Err
3. Bleu
A cloud farmer
I eye the sky
Eye the sky
Eye the sky
A cloud farmer
I eye the skye
Eye the sky
Wide
4. Blanc
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blanking blank
Blank
5. Rouge
They come to me in ones and twos
Ones and twos
Ones and twos
They come to me in
Ones and twos
Ones and twos it's
True
6. Noir
Brush away noir noir
Brush away noir
Brush away noir noir
Noir noir no
More No more
Noir noir no
Moe
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
It's the same all the time:
You go to the table you pick up the glasses and trash
You throw away the garbage and dump out the ***** glasses
You push the glasses on the scrubber and twist them and turn them until there is no dirt
You rinse off the soap and then you put them in the scalding hot blue chemical water and stack them in twos
You start again but this time you do two at a time and you scrub
You push two on the scrubber you twist and you turn them and get all their stains off
you rinse away the cleaner and drown them in sanitizer and stack them next to glasses the same
You finally reach that last glass with cream and grime to the brim
You go to scrub this glass and push it onto the scrubber
As you scrub the water is turning milky white and brown
you keep scrubbing but it won't get clean
maybe it needs a rinse
you hurridly put it in the second bath of water but that only gets it *****
maybe if you sanitize it, it may finally be clean
you put the crusted glass in the blue water and your hands burn and bleed
you turn away to nurse your hands but there's one problem.
*the glass isn't clean
it won't be cleaned
it's broken now because I tried to fix it*
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
What will happen
what will be
is something, that's quite new to me
Every given outcome
calculated, analyzed
actions, as my mind, is now, paralyzed
Simple mathematical
adding ones, and twos
a simple something, that I just can't do
Standing face to face
perplexed and overwrought
caught in eyes so gray
all answers to all questions
as now all of them
I've got
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple-tree,
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.
With dangling basket all along the grass
As I had come I went the selfsame track:
My neighbors mocked me while they saw me pass
So empty-handed back.
Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by,
Their heaped-up basket teased me like a jeer;
Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky,
Their mother's home was near.
Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full,
A stronger hand than hers helped it along;
A voice talked with her through the shadows cool
More sweet to me than song.
Ah, Willie, Willie, was my love less worth
Than apples with their green leaves piled above?
I counted rosiest apples on the earth
Of far less worth than love.
So once it was with me you stooped to talk
Laughing and listening in this very lane:
To think that by this way we used to walk
We shall not walk again!
I let my neighbors pass me, ones and twos
And groups; the latest said the night grew chill,
And hastened: but I loitered, while the dews
Fell fast I loitered still.
1.8k
We were serene at a coffee house in the antebellum.
Vanilla latte plain dark roast art in pastel chalks
of little sense to me you drawn to impermanent faces
on the wall. Mix match tables of twos of easy people
odd numbers we fitted in conversation and caffeine.
That's all. You said in your breathless way more than I
ebb you flow a lyric of banal and small notes
where I place listening sounds looking in your eyes
without shame. Strange calculus by which memory is sad
sides of an inscrutable equation aspiration love
quiet hours loss longing I saw coming in your eyes
did not look away but went straight in.
Your car ran fine money was still the problem.
Never touch your hair. Just for me - long, wild, ebony.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:23 AM UTC
2012
A year accused
A year acknowledged
To be the end
2012
A year to change
How we view the world
A year to wonder
What is to come
A year of intrusion
As the skies grow with metallic glare
With rumors to bring knowledge and friend
as well as foe
2012
The timing down to the flatten of winter
Spread by twos to bring new heads
To our lead, and to be our voice
But
Will our voice actually be heard
Or will it fade like
The previous ideals of love, respect and knowledge
Is our lead a true thread, or a needle fired into the blanket
2012
A few have risen
A few are chosen
To flow into a new reality
As a change is occurring
The flip of Earth
The flip of defense
The flip of conscience
We flip to see that
We are ready for our true purpose
Once again
2012
What will it mean
The strength of our world
May be weakening
But it is only the beginning
2012
Change is on its way
More then what was promised
But never sewn
Change is coming
Happening in each one of us
To build on
To live on
To grow on
To a new world
2012
As for what will exactly happen
I cannot truly say
A forward look I attempt
Jumps farther then I need
A foreseer brewed from generations I may be
But my talent is not enough
All I can say
All I need to say
Is things will be better
The universe is self healing
Any holes made
Are filled
Any marks
Are covered
2012
How is this
How can we be going through this
When the universe prepares
All are united
Every bead in us
Is born from a worn star
We are the universe
We are all the same
No matter how different we become
2012
2+0+1+2
2+1+2
2+3
5
Remember the number
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
Sleep wouldn’t come, the clock hands seemed to shrug, so I decided to walk.
It was dark, the kind of fall overcast that makes a low ceiling of the sky.
Early mornings, on campus, are always solitary - students shun sunrise like vampires avoid the sun - so I got sole custody of the university. With no traffic, squirrels, birds or humans - predawn was nonchalant.
The wind, busied itself, sweeping the leaves falling in twos and threes, first left then right and finally throwing them in the air like a carefree child.
Frost on grass looked grey, then would suddenly become silverlit by the moon.
If you measure time in steps, as seconds, and then miles become hours. Soon, dawn made night morning, dew became drops, and I searched for coffee.
Nov 19, 2021
Nov 19, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
***** with sticks
come in twos
like some sick
pair of evil ******* shoes
(the kind that gives you blisters)
it's a rhyming kind of night
which is weird
this redhead wants a fight
c'mere.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC