"uncounted" poems
On
The counters of poetry
I dock and lock myself
Then
I scope on the bottles of liquors seductively
And spellblind by their syllables
I took the shakers and hybrid
The Similes
The Onomatopeia's
The Nemesis'
The Near-Rhymes
And The Triadic-Lines
Then I gulp fourteen shots of Sonnets
From my paper-glass
And glug a paradox
Or a foil-sigh
Trice,
The knots
Bundling my eloquence
Will exonerated itself
And torpidity will cuff my consciousness
And the droplets remains in my paper- glass
Will impel me
To quest for myriad of them
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stock on a comedy chair
Then
When the
Limbs of time tread
Will I rush to the counter
Like the athletes at Olympia
And hybrid
The Blank-verses
The Alliterations
The Limericks
The Litotes
The Aporia's
And The Dysphemism's
And
Gulp countless
Yet measured shoots
Of Ballad,with my paper-glass
And unravel the oratories
Of sacred secrets,eclectic enchantment and regrettable reflexes
Aside,or injects the world
With my rugged pins of eruditions
Bestowed in me by the liquors of poetry
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stocked on a comedy-chair
Again
I will rush
To the counter,and hybrid
The Exaggerations
The Personifications
The Imageries
And The Caesura's
And
Gulp uncounted shoots
Of Epic's from my paper-glass
And
Eulogise my steam and wit
Yet,I'm drunk
And deeply drunk wholly
By a might that mortify me so much
That I've become a slave
In the awe of my servitude
Now and then
Will I weep and wail terribly
Each morning,each noon,and each night
For the great demise of myself
And for an emancipation
From the perpetual counter-cells poetry
I'm drunk,and deeply drunk by poetry.
Deeply Drunk
©Historian E.Lexano
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
This is a place on the way after the distances
can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
raveling courses to stop in a single moment
and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs
some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads
to the end and never touched each other until they
arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left
until they could be repaired some that went only
to occasions before my time and some that have spun
across other countries through uncounted summers
now they go all the way back together the tall
cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings
of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's
manure cart the year he wanted to store them here
because there was nobody left who could make them like that
in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels
that Merot said would be worth a lot some day
and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson
that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass
behind the old house by the river where he stuffed
mattresses in the morning sunlight and the hens
scavenged around his shoes in the days when the black
top-hat sedan still towered outside Sandeau's cow barn
with velvet upholstery and sconces for flowers and room
for two calves instead of the back seat when their time came
2.7k
Slipping away across the sea,
I drift alone and wondering.
My soul's been pulled away from me,
Cold is my heart asunder. Sing
For me, my love, a song unheard
Though you may be too far away.
My ears will hang on every word
Though dark clouds loom, heavy and grey.
Would that I were an eagle fair,
My call you'd hear so clearly ring.
But sadly storms I cannot bear
With feathers plucked and broken wing.
Long nights I've spent deprived of sleep,
My only vice: this paper and pen.
Lines untouched delve into the deep
And tell me my plight will never end.
The morning pale does welcome me
With mist and waves awakening.
New hopes spark and fear is set free
from a heart by sadness shaken. Bring
Me back home to the love I've lost
To weeks uncounted, sailing far.
Waters uncharted I have crossed
With thoughts of you as my guiding star.
I know, my dear, you'll wait for me
For love's forever bound between.
A man complete I'll ever be
When your fair face my eyes have seen.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
Uncounted words on the page, attempting to mimic brilliance
Predictable as playing Russian roulette with an automatic
Forced sterility, impossible as drawing a straight line
The wrist won’t comply, simply cannot, no reason to attempt it
We fool ourselves with second hand ambition, discard our
own greatness
Quiet and sublime, carelessly letting our spark burn out
Do you remember what it was to be a child?
Nothing but used up memories with no sound
Black and white like some old movie, lips moving, no voice
Barefoot dreams are all that remain for me
Empty promises made to one’s self, surrendered so
easily
Nights of Bach on the radio, hiding behind closed doors and
cheap wine
Days of endless monotony, dark stairs and the smell of
scrubbed mildew
An afternoon spent in your arms, making love under the
pecan trees
I almost saw your yesterdays, beautiful creature, when I met your
eyes, laying there
A little girl, running with a sparkler in each hand, screaming her
defiance to the world
Holding onto what’s left of each other, two halves, trying to make a
whole
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
Yonder in time a boatman wait
Behind the misty white death his bait
carrying souls to an unknown land
his path same in journeys uncounted sand
the early morn mist clears to light
rowing close his passenger in sight
he checks the list of destiny for the name
yells to the shore to confirm the same
mortal soul to immortal land
the boatman row with steady hand
A distant melody the boatman sing
A gentle ride sailed with feathery wing
Time swift to the unknown land
The passenger be welcomed by angels hand
What hath thou have to pay the fare
Seek the boatman his journeys share
The mortal look towards the angels hand
What hath i got in immortal land
pointed the angel to a box of gold
Tis your treasure in heaven unsold
Yonder lay in the box of gold
deeds of the passenger in earth to hold
deeds of love and deeds of care
memories of past ever to share
Time stood its ground the passenger thought
He said to the boatman thou shall have all i got
why doth you give all the angel sought
To those on earth I owe in deeds and thoughts
A fare to pay for those who cant
To heavens abode the ride they want
leaving forth the pains and sorrow behind
leaving with sweet memories to the loved and kind
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:24 AM UTC
The rain makes everything fresh,
the plants and the grass are like gold,
the air is sparkling with joy
(by Sharon)
The rain is coming down.
Look outside, everything is wet.
The leaves glitter with the rain on them.
(by Tracey)
Rain makes the roof top wet,
the grass is all wet and soggy,
and mum cannot do the washing.
(by Lee)
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
As I ***** the streets of town, buildings made of grey and brown
Speak to me of people and events I still remember.
Steps upon well-trodden ways, rain makes blacks upon the greys
Painting scenes among the maze, from a long lost warm November.
We once lived on this side-street, our apartment there, small but neat
Moving in we fought the snow that came early that November.
We didn't have many things, but winters all gave way to springs,
And summer nights gave us wings to launch us into each September.
Many of them passed that way, weekdays of work and -ends of play,
Camping on cool clear autumn nights warmed to fire's final ember.
Years passed by uncounted then, new homes we found on new streets when
Our spaces seemed too small, and to the movers we'd surrender.
Walking round I see them all, the homes we made in this town so small
A lifetime spent and good times to remember.
Finally I walk o'er the hill, past the campground now quite still
To a peaceful lot just past the mill, where she went to rest one cold December.
My footsteps give me some small peace, how happiness came with such caprice
When we lived among these streets that I soulfully remember.
We loved the leaves and cool of fall, the change of seasons, first snow squall
And the love was greatest in our very last November.
The change of month took her away, how lost I felt on that sad day
How can I but hate the first day of December?
I miss her arm that fit with mine, I miss the way that her eyes shine
Just every second of lost time, since we loved our last November.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
It's all about
The attention you get
Not from poetry
That's a bath
of unmatching
Angst
Uncounted syllables
and unrhymed
utterances
Splashing about like
some lower form
of soul
Raisins are needed
to offset
your parched
Appreciation and
foregiveness
that suicide themselves
in that barren
self
you call home
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
Dropping it for the first time
lysergic acid diethylamide
there on
Pescadero's beach
with night hunkered down
in the dunes
We howled at the waves
of the wild Pacific
stamped our feet
on the dense moist sand
and miracles radiated outward
from each footfall
uncounted stars
galaxies somewhere deep
in that gritty sky
the sand alive
with phosphorescent life
Oh and we laughed
swore oaths to each other
spied the turbid moon
as if for
the first time
her hair in a mess
of wind-torn cloud
It was perfection by the sea
until
some wise old hippies
alerted us to our danger:
"The heat's in the parking lot, man."
Panic.
Crawling like drug-addled moon dogs
on our bellies
through the dunes
to find a near-empty
parking lot.
No heat.
No hippies.
Only the wan moonlight
vacant pavement.
And so in our glorious excess
to a sandstone cave
where a box of whispers
was found
and poetry invented.
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
Hakim sat
on the banks of the Euphrates,
his discarded newspaper
lifting, page by page,
on the warm wind.
He had been reading of the countless dead.
Of course, his mind played first
over those he had known.
An uncle, two brothers,
his mother
and a grandfather of ninety six.
All of them,
definitely gone.
But according to the paper,
atop the official body count
some twenty thousand souls
may or may not
have survived the conflict,
and his head swam
with this crowded limbo
and the knowledge
that no-one knew.
Enough people
to populate a small town,
possibly dead.
Not important enough
for anyone to be sure.
And Hakim, eyes
glazed in the dusty sunshine,
began to wonder
whether he was one of them,
the uncounted,
the unacknowledged,
wandering vacantly
through his outstayed welcome,
simpy waiting
for someone
to write down
his name.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
Standing on the ledge
I can see below, jagged reminders of happiness
Treetop dreams of echoes traveled
Toes tipping the cliff face, pebbles fall
bouncing to their own beat,
unlike that of my heart,
staggered and frail
Peering down on those lives,
white picket fences in quilt top designs
like tiny ants, moving about,
frolicking between corn row wisdom and apple blossom beauty
Never once looking up to see
this man who knows he can not fly
reaching for the depths calling his name
A strong gust of wind whistles
beneath dark clouds mingling with my stare
Still moments have escaped,
replaced by the emptiness that is my mind
holding only one thought, one view
footsteps, a straight line, uncounted
in a fashion of leaving…far below
Golden horizons beckon
of a last setting sun, one final time
Flowing rays of watercolor brushstrokes
That I…we once enjoyed,
hand in hand, singing songs of a forever love
that fell like autumn leaves in silent
multicolored tears, puddles of drained melodies
I cling to my hopes…
like a crooked root protruding,
grasped tightly for fear of falling
Yet all along know I must…let go, release my dreams
I find so hard to forget…your kiss, your smile,
your laugh filling my soul with joy…but I can’t
if even there is the slightest chance…but there is not
Standing on the ledge…someone push me, please
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
~
Walk with me
on golden fields,
down paths built of love
and we will share
every breath of
this journey
with each other,
step by wondrous step
~
Take my hand
and we shall follow the sun
wherever it may lead,
along edges of time,
uncounted minutes,
shadows changing shape,
for this is ours
to keep forever
~
Sit with me
and we will write
poetic gardens
filled with fragrant,
beautiful blooms,
leaving petals of our words
scattered about
cobblestone walks
for all to see
~
Wander with me.
bringing smiles and laughter
through forests of
evergreen dreams,
underbrush desires,
finding the next vista
painted in the beauty
that awaits us
~
Stay with me
for there would be no need
for looking back,
we would have each other,
our words, a whole world of
new memories to make
endlessly
as one
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
words are making a dark sound,
last three days I moved a few spells
spaces have lost in the expanding universe,
where we are jingling on hopes
who is playing mystical sounds?
my hours are passing on toiling,
sun goes down slowly
evening star moves toward black hole,
shadow flees over the horizon
I can see afar off —
though the heavens teem with stars,
an uncounted host of them
and though the moon,
she who rules the night,
reflects her rays of borrowed light
yet the darkness is not wounded,
the aggression of the night continues —
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
i am a woman made
of countless triggers never warned
(**i don’t need a ******* trigger warning, I pull them every day**)
of unnoticed scars
(i heal too fast and am too clever at hiding them)
and uncounted skipped meals
(because i’m too good at lying and too fat to have a eating disorder)
of empty pill bottles and whiskey bottles and ****** wrappers and inboxes
of unspoken dependence
and too much *****
(because i used to like to drink too much so that i could flirt with death
& if I survived I could feel thinner in the morning)
but all that is changing in the morning
but right now it feels good to feel drunk
and that’s okay
because I’d rather feel drunk and alone under flannel sheets
than ever
you lot again
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
I sing again in praise of love unknown,
In ancient form, composed of stolen phrase.
This timeless moment everything is shown,
And I am forgotten in the uncounted ways
Narcissistic I's you and me and they;
Desire, embodied to be laid aside
One last of time to make the passion play:
One love to fill the emptiness inside
Whence all the horror of the endless 'me',
Lost, loveless, fearful, cruel, un-free:
That not-thing knot that I refuse to be
And am... Am not, and only dying see.
This dying borning life is always new,
And I am love and life, and I am you.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
I walk through this city blue
Writing books of unwritten verse
From simple, daily, conversations
Jotted down on cheap notepads
A couple walks together, same routine
Adopted from uncounted years, together
A cigarette hangs from cracked, chapped, lips
His cane taps out a rhythm, hobbling along
Sounds overlap, reverberate off cinder block walls
Voices blend into seamless harmony
A lonely man sits alone in his apartment
Surrounded by books stacked on creaking shelves
Waiting on a call, just to hear her voice
Cars come but never go, an endless procession
Ebbing & flowing, tides of gasoline & steel
Filling blank lines with mass produced ink
While I watch a game of chess in the park
Strategies countered by intuition, or luck
Blind to the outside world, they play on
Paint chips off walls as blurred faces walk by
Cracked concrete crumbles by paces & strides
Only to be overrun by sprouting, spiny, weeds
Crushed into pulp by careless, rushing, feet
Beats of a jazz quartet, pouring from an open door
Echoing down empty hallways, finding my ears by chance
I'll keep walking, through this blue city, until I find you once again
I wrote a letter to you, my love, to this day its not been sent
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 5:03 AM UTC
swirling clouds of exhaustion wrapping themselves around my brain, colored ever so closely to those of funeral shrouds. i inhale fumes & hold them in my ribcage, hoping for cancers to form, praying for a physicality to the sickness in me, for a tumor i can point to: "there!" i would say, "this is where i hurt." but my cells only hold my bad memories as fibrous proteins. they clutch condescending looks & carry them in the illusioned hope they will motivate me forward: to prove them wrong, to rise above the insults, to use the weight they hold to propel myself further. instead, I sink beyond previously charted depths. my toes know the silt of a sandy bottom (rocks so broken apart they aren't even considered pebbles anymore; insignificant alone & incomparable heartaches uncounted or uncountable together). i anchor myself in this remorse, this hurt i can't point to. i yearn for selfish suicides & scoff at salvation.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Keep me busied until i'm blind,
So I cannot see the divide of yours and mine.
Whisked up in desparate uncounted steps,
Unfeeling unhindered by lonely threats.
Cough up and out all the black,
The taint the stain of all I lack.
Distract me so I see no ill,
Dillusional I live like on some blissful pill.
Stop the clock and it all hits,
In disconnection my happiness sits.
Away from heartache crave and despair,
Unhealthy obsessed and blissfully unaware.
Give me distraction at every moment,
To save me from future lonely atonement.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 2:25 PM UTC
She is a *****
She has opened herself
To perversions uncounted
She has become diseased
From her depravity
Filthy
In her corruption
She shall be made clean
By My Love
In My Love
She shall be permitted
To dress in fine linen
Bright and Pure
To the feast of our union
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 9:52 PM UTC
As so far back he cares to remember
He pictures seeing his old man lose the temper
And the angels face is one to be punished
The same angel that protects from old mans rage
Forcefully putting herself in another place
It's been going on for uncounted years
Simply put, hair fallen out for fear
Every day it would happen inside
Kept away from everyone till the day that he died
And now the anger lives on through their son
He who saw, caught it all, a whole childhood raw
Everything, so dark, covering up to hide the marks
But under force there's an attempt to justify a returning
Pretend that he's just a hurt person
Let the little one be the last to pray
Please don't stay
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
it's quite cold out here
dark too
but mostly I have the stars
to remind me of you
I think about the others
the ones that hold you near
but it doesn't really matter
because i am so far out is reach
for I am very small in your universe
uncounted and betrayed,
and you are the reigning sun
almighty and praised,
a great distance from where you are
I crave to feel your warmth
but maybe someday when you dominate everything you love
I will be left, for we never met
and while I watched from a distance
alone in my existence
I have yet to grow out of my irony
for I am remembered for being forgotten
and I hope for a better day, where you'll know that I'm here
but for now I wish you happiness,
it should stay that way
so even while you do not know me,
hello my love, most call me Pluto.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:17 AM UTC
callous
bruised
I held you
beheld you
with cruelty
with abandon
you
could have been cinders
cellophane
the patina of my absent mind
you
could have been a yesterday
forgotten
one of many
one, yet uncounted
one, lost in a crowd
me,
uncaring, and unbowed
heartless - ignorant
not today
today I saw you
through the window of my heart
vignetted
alone
as I always knew you
alone
without me
then
it occurred to me,
for the first time,
you were without me
and I
was without you
alone
we were alone
and I
yearned to solve your loneliness
your solitude
abrade the fixtures of mutual isolation with warmth
wear down the gloom of silence
with laughter
praise of you
hold you
close,
as if holding myself
loving myself
through you
by you,
loving me
I love you deeper
softer
sweeter
into the cradle
of our love
where we are born
in bliss
fighting the cold
of our darkening world
while the light dies
our hearts burn ablaze
seeking the truth
the higher power that united us
God, who would wed us,
love,
that can save us,
if only we tried,
if only
yet,
for tonight,
I watch you
through the window
of my heart
I shed tears
wishing I were with you
but I will settle
for our dream...
May 11, 2024
May 11, 2024 at 1:52 AM UTC
Your trailing starlight woven with silver needles
Enters the mundane life of human days;
And magical tongue recounts miracles uncounted,
In magnitudes of unexpected ways.
Your vision never balks at walls or ceilings;
An artist's heart is not like other things,
The words like hope in slowly burning censors
Take to the sky, once given freedom's wings.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC