"undersea" poems
A story, a story!
(Let it go. Let it come.)
I was stamped out like a Plymouth fender
into this world.
First came the crib
with its glacial bars.
Then dolls
and the devotion to their plactic mouths.
Then there was school,
the little straight rows of chairs,
blotting my name over and over,
but undersea all the time,
a stranger whose elbows wouldn't work.
Then there was life
with its cruel houses
and people who seldom touched-
though touch is all-
but I grew,
like a pig in a trenchcoat I grew,
and then there were many strange apparitions,
the nagging rain, the sun turning into poison
and all of that, saws working through my heart,
but I grew, I grew,
and God was there like an island I had not rowed to,
still ignorant of Him, my arms, and my legs worked,
and I grew, I grew,
I wore rubies and bought tomatoes
and now, in my middle age,
about nineteen in the head I'd say,
I am rowing, I am rowing
though the oarlocks stick and are rusty
and the sea blinks and rolls
like a worried eyebal,
but I am rowing, I am rowing,
though the wind pushes me back
and I know that that island will not be perfect,
it will have the flaws of life,
the absurdities of the dinner table,
but there will be a door
and I will open it
and I will get rid of the rat insdie me,
the gnawing pestilential rat.
God will take it with his two hands
and embrace it.
As the African says:
This is my tale which I have told,
if it be sweet, if it be not sweet,
take somewhere else and let some return to me.
This story ends with me still rowing.
7k
The speaker in this case
is a middle-aged witch, me-
tangled on my two great arms,
my face in a book
and my mouth wide,
ready to tell you a story or two.
I have come to remind you,
all of you:
Alice, Samuel, Kurt, Eleanor,
Jane, Brian, Maryel,
all of you draw near.
Alice,
at fifty-six do you remember?
Do you remember when you
were read to as a child?
Samuel,
at twenty-two have you forgotten?
Forgotten the ten P.M. dreams
where the wicked king
went up in smoke?
Are you comatose?
Are you undersea?
Attention,
my dears,
let me present to you this boy.
He is sixteen and he wants some answers.
He is each of us.
I mean you.
I mean me.
It is not enough to read Hesse
and drink clam chowder
we must have the answers.
The boy has found a gold key
and he is looking for what it will open.
This boy!
Upon finding a string
he would look for a harp.
Therefore he holds the key tightly.
Its secrets whimper
like a dog in heat.
He turns the key.
Presto!
It opens this book of odd tales
which transform the Brothers Grimm.
Transform?
As if an enlarged paper clip
could be a piece of sculpture.
(And it could.)
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Smoke, it is all smoke
in the throat of eternity. . . .
For centuries, the air was full of witches
Whistling up chimneys
on their spiky brooms
cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe,
as they flew over rooftops
blessing & cursing their
kind.
We banished & burned them
making them smoke in the throat of god;
we declared ourselves
"enlightened."
"The dark age of horrors is past,"
said my mother to me in 1952,
seven years after our people went up in smoke,
leaving a few teeth, a pile of bones.
The smoke curls and beckons.
It is blue & lavender
& green as the undersea world.
It will take us, too.
O let us not go sheepishly
clinging to our nakedness.
But let us go like witches ****** heavenward
by the Goddess' powerful breath
& whistling, whistling, whistling
on our beautiful brooms.
3.9k
Where shall a hungry mermaid dine
When she hankers, for something fine?
Spiny oysters make a nice cocktail;
And octopus tentacles; and grey narwhal.
And where should she sit, and what shall she use
To stab her undersea feast, infuse
Her goblet, filled up with sparkling sea water,
Awaiting her course, of fresh sea-otter.
And should she tip, at the end of the meal
The dolphin who served her so much krill,
In his scrutable suit, of skin-tight rubber-
(The respectable mermaid never eats blubber).
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:35 PM UTC
A jet-ski, jetty bound, disturbs the waves,
While not too far away, on the seabed
Lies the hungry blacktip and hammerhead,
As a nurse explores the undersea caves.
Harvey wouldn’t capture Marlin here,
Just a glance of turtle, seaweed green,
Gasping at the stuffy air, marine,
Gazing at a sunset he should fear.
The sharks hunt for prey in mere hours.
A flock of ching-chings squawk away,
As mosquitoes come out to play,
Darting between darkening flowers.
Through mosquito nets I take a peek,
In oasis that I realise,
Snuggled in a palm tree lies
A curled green parrot, sound asleep.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
Abandoned admiration calloused with despair
A bottomless compass that leads nowhere
Impotent illusions that curse the starless storm
A revengeful wind swells undersea
Tracing underneath the sunlight
Beyond the aches of fingers
With handfuls of garden walls
Fragility that huddles impatiently
As the ivory magnolias flicker in the decay
Stains of the stagnant obscenities
As the nest of bones grieve
Crawling distances daring the dark
Outside the landmarks
We sneak into the tunnels
As a sheath of pungent amniotic poetry is found
Shattering as the sorrows erode
The appalling cracks stretching my skin
Theatrical anorexic anchors that pierce my flesh
With abandoned ******* and stinging hurt
The nakedness shrieks
With an intolerable shame
If I descend much deeper I will burst
I'll float through the cemetery because I'm already dead
The delirium has me caged
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Churning
Boisterous to me life a high powerful stormy sea will I ever see land again those peaceful
Dales the trees so deeply rooted in there canopy the swaying seems as undersea waves so softly they
Stir as at play deep valleys and hills below above aluminous sun light makes a rich glow in its tow I go
Ever so slow the sea grass moves in a musical undulating fashion the same as the grass on the plains
Colors diverse with coral markers at depths that unrest at the surface doesn’t reach the frothing foam
As it were a great goblet filled for god to drink a offering of thanks for such wonder that can be a
Complexity at once filling heights of emotional strands then instantly terrifying foreboding illustrious
Without equal so vast stretching all the bounds you have ever known by the sea blown tales that are
As voluminous as the sea itself adventure in the raw highlighted with charm by the cawing of the seagull
With the same speed they dive and climb on the surface races the dolphin the embodiment of joy and
Laughter the sea rescuers has been some of their duties to the blessing of many lost mariners in cold
Chilly waters these bubbly ones was the difference between life and death the sea does spray as with
Glory unbound in this all concluding vesture that is seamless all consuming tiring but invigorating once
The sea salt has entered your blood there is no escape its lore hypnotic unbreakable break waters will
Carry you inland by that she granted your greatest desire after she has reared her head and gave you
The Undeniable look at deaths watery jaws but when on her mercy you survive or in some fashion are
Flung on the shore you lose your emotional tiller and blubber like a baby then the manly part curses all
She Put you through you know one thing for certain never will she catch you a float but little do you
Know her winsome call withers all about so you hungrily crave the sea tossed tempest its excitement is a
Drug that a ****** has no cure for it puts robust living in your path all of your days while the timid land
Dwellers only look on in awe and admiration
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:54 PM UTC
Lazing in an unbroken innocence;
a whirled undersea, under me.
Blazing tides taking hold of ambivalence
a calm serenity sweeping through the boundless deep.
An oceanic labyrinth,
rolling in the shadows of the sea.
Gazing past an apparent diffidence;
a cold melody for remedy.
Minding these subterranean incidents,
my torn identity plunges in a swirling stream.
An oceanic labyrinth,
roaming in the dimness of the sea.
Feb 20, 2024
Feb 20, 2024 at 1:49 PM UTC
Viridian green
undersea sentient being
turtle touching me
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
Late was the hour of becoming
those zigzagging cracks up the faded plaster watched like little snakes
calm witness a resurrection akin to biblical import
alone secondstory bedroom filled by distant company
heiroglyphs miraculous sudden translation speaking the sacred tongues of fire
our hearts beating the miles away shortened with every word
an offering blessed and given by minds touching fingers touching keys to invisible locks
turning turning rusty engines purring cats smug smile
yes and yes and yes lost islands bridged by joint effortless task
a torn off mask and a question asked
eternity snuck into momentary clouds parted with blooms of lightnings flash flood food for the spirit
children laughed where they couldn't be heard
the earth sang along with tropical birds
this welcome radiant gift in my chest cavity spreading quickening enlivening
a sturdy reminder recalling vigor not found in any common tonic
simple conversation a conversion of salt water to diamond sparkling fervor
rejoice drank its sweet juices staining the lips drips warming two hearts
a chance found true its mark
bullseye
it will be unstolen saboteurs tricked submitting their swords to strong hands arming guardian angels
this joy travels well past all hours
comforting dreams that sleep undersea in gold spiraling towers
wanderer heat old bones leave the cold leave all pains
pouring out poisons to make bows out of rain
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 3:26 AM UTC
Would you rather the majestic pure white polar bear had a home in this world or that Paul Ryan took a slow, slow boat
to China & then turned around & came back, & then again,
& again?
... the humble Praying Mantis was able to bask in the sunshine
on a leaf of its choosing or that Trump was locked away for
70 years in a dank & dismal people's cell?
... all the bees, & all the dainty flying creatures could buzz here & there as was their want or that Mitch 'Gruesome' McConnell was marooned forever on a distant deserted isle?
... the startling life-form that is coral could take its own sweet time covering rocks & outcrops & undersea crags or that Mike Pence quite suddenly & terminally lost his ability to function in any way whatsoever?
... the soon-to-be starved nomadic people, the soon-to-be flooded
coastal peoples & the soon-to-be parched farmers of India were to be given direct financial & physical assistance by expropriated & toiling Masters of Industry & sundry media lackeys?
... that the delicate flowers, the tall & mighty trees, the vital green, green grass could just a go on going on, & anyone, anyone at all who ticked that box declaring Climate Change a hoax be pitilessly overseen constructing vital networks of deep, deep canals, oh for the remainder of their natural life?
... Would you rather one less Republican politician or one less soaring & majestic wind-tumbling vulture?
... Would you rather ...
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body”
Robert Bly 1926-
You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking
heralds with bugles divine revolution
You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals
gossamers emeralds’ scintillant light
You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes
is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls
You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings
howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch
You could say that the sound that tremors from tadpoles
triggers eruptions of undersea mountains
You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill
on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire
You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins
loosens the shackles of acuate cacti
You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows
silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking
You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks
passes on purple to stillness of shadows
You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas
crackles through canyons of memory rising
You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares
shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade
You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous
tangles up synapses sparking at random
You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening
&n
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
Sea shells sigh
jellyfish flow
with the current guiding them along
wind whispers
sea birds soar
light dances on the water
waves roar
seals bark
Deep in the undersea
seaweed waves
fish dart
as Mother Nature conducts
the endless symphony of a world below
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
What cloud, dim constellation
you pale moon of deep detachment from the self.
Dark moon undersea, you are unwilling to perform me
So come! It clings untold time before leaving; reduces the fat of life.
Though your gravity blots out possibility, there’s use hanging aloof
an opaque cloud, tempering all things loud, bright, and obtuse--
Now you are sealed with all time, you want kindly to observe
Stillness.
And when all time departs in a vapour,
you cling without occupation,
an array of senses, then often you begin:
sketching and sketching, and sketching.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Traveling a rocky shore,
In spite of waves that threaten.
Carried deep into the sea,
Into a lapse of memory.
As darkness pulls my very soul
The deep can't slay my fate.
Lost in all its meaning,
While I see my final day.
Awakened by the truth,
As I stare in much confusion.
Struggling to stand,
And to see through blinding light.
Beckoning me onwards even further
through the ocean,
As I struggle in its wake to see the source of mystic beauty.
I follow to the homelands,
Where the birth of man has happened.
Staring in amazement at the sunken ancient islands.
Enlightened in the truth of life,
My travel has been ended.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
The mermaid was dead, of that they were sure
They carried her out, to the green pastures
They buried her deep, and there left a cross
Near which, the bereft waves were tossed.
And the moon crept high, and the tide moved slow,
And a low and murmuring cry did blow:
At first was faint and seemed far away,
Yet soon was audible through the bay.
It sounded like wind, had lost it's way;
It sounded like something, that once was gay
Something whose soul, was shattered apart:
Something was hunting it's broken heart.
It frightened children in their beds,
Whispered inaudible words, in men's heads.
It revealed it's presence, with two green lights
Reflective and deep, like the mermaid's eyes.
Around the lighthouse, the green lights glimmered
And often neath the water, shimmered;
Wherever the Captain happened to be,
Twas sure, the lights would there roam free.
The Captain never said one way or other,
If he thought it She; herself, in the Ether.
And when on his deathbed, the Captain lay,
Beside his window, the two lights stayed
Keeping a watch, on his mortal frame,
Till his breathing life had waned.
And the midnight that he breathed his last,
And all his earthly torments passed,
People swore of the strangest thing:
At quarter past two, heard a ship's bell ring,
And saw two shadows, one tall and thin,
And one swam in the water, leading one in,
Hand in hand, till they both submerged;
It's rumored now, that the Captain's Lord
Of the undersea; the whole blue ocean,
Because of one mermaids deathless devotion.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
.
Underwater illusions
rocked the
oceanic cities.
Jagged shark teeth
gnash
at the darkness.
Gale force winds
hurl sporadic starlight
like anchors
through crashing waves.
A rocky undersea tempest
pitches a bluish-green spray
stinging the dying
pirates' skin.
Rabid waves foam
at the mouth
as lightning illuminates
every creatures eyes and teeth.
A vicious pitch-black
war waged
from the mouth of
judgment.
Then
an earthquake
swallowed
the ocean.
.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 9:54 PM UTC
You opened me up
like an ancient,
locked treasure box
brought me up
from the sea floor
dusted off
the algae that
had clung to it
all these years,
coating me with armor
That sea-dust had
protected me,
a shy, gentle maid of the sea
from the predatory dangers
that lurk in the dark
the angry barracudas, the lying sharks
Yet that filmy, misty brine
closed me off
to the glories of the ocean wonders
the smiling sea horses
the loving sonor of whales
And then you, undersea explorer
opened up the real treasure:
in shining, beating blue
my wild ocean heart
made of tides and mystic hues
and showed me
the multi-glow shimmer
of the waves
from underneath
re-introduced me
to the raging beauty of the corals
within me
Yes, it seems
that even mermaids
sweet nymphets
of ocean lore
want to love
and be loved
to the core
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
Waltzing beneath the waves
I gawk and marvel at the creatures among my feet
Sadly, all the undersea festivities hardly
distract from the importance of atmosphere
As my body exclaims for a reprieve
I think of how you told me not to hold my breath
And how you'd give me your heart if I gave you a reason
The blood rushes to my head
Turning my already blue face a deep purple
But there's no smoke on this water
Only smoldering debris from the bridge I burned
Before taking the plunge
These memories are much clearer through murky eyes
And everything floods back when surrounded by sea
Eyes as blue as the ocean capable of
Exuding tears just as briny
I use the last of my air to let out a sigh
Which is replied to by cold indifference
As my lungs provide a new home for the water seeping in
I contently sink to the bottom
And your apologetic plea is lost in the roar of the waves
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 12:24 AM UTC
Set I
I don't want a friend
I want my life in a pair
I'm the one to always make amends
Miscommunicate and impair
Show me why life's not bleak
With them I know I can't compete
I see it as you look at me like I'm someone else
That's a potent drug in itself
Oh well, you can't see
So don't follow me to the bottom undersea
Where I'll be slow dancing in the dark
Follow me and you'll end up in my arms
At the seafloor, we'll find a path to embark
As long as we have the keys to our hearts
We can swim through any current to Montreal
Let me be the one to hold you when you fall
Have you made up your mind?
Do you know what you want and where to find?
I don't need any more mixed signs
Immaturity begets emotional crimes
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 11:46 AM UTC
I can't tell the truth from the pile
of airplanes in my backyard.
You have (so far) protected me from my worst fears (aliens/father).
You drew a clockface around one of
my *******
and said clocks like clox, box like bocks.
I call you honest ape, because you
art evolution.
In last light I pulled down my undersea
and said lets dig offshore for oil.
We are grand and novel and full of ****
me with advertising across my ***
you with your baby blue stick shift.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Shapes in the landscape and kisses left on window panes ,
stains on the bed sheets and all of these meet in the end.
Most of the time
I live far below the waterline where the air is strung out in bubbling lungs,occasionally climbing the rungs to the surface.
I have seen all that I need and fed lightly on greed,watched the passing of wars, saw raw hatred and love cooked in the hearts of desire.
I now have the tranquility of being deep undersea,the wall of the artery is built within me and my home.
And even deeper where the sleeping dogs lie there is a light that dances,flashing glances I see that the light also sees me which is something I strive for,something to stay alive for.
But the ocean is a turbulent place for the man with no face and the waves conspire to put out the fire that burns,each wave takes it in turns to pummel and pound the watery ground where I stand,not knowing that I am the rock that this man stands upon,we are one and the same,
I am the kiss that smudges,the stain that refuses to budge,the shape that you see,the blood that flows hotly through the heat of the artery.
I am the heart in me,I beat against time and time beats inside me,under the sea
it's all it can be
I expect no more than that.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Love is for the insane
For men who feel they
Can build fires underwater
For those speaking in tongues
I wish to learn the language
To slowly climb a mountain
To warm myself undersea
To find bliss in our unmannerly discourse
This wise man knows his foolishness
But continues to advise
In hopes of one day
Following his own teachings
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 7:24 AM UTC
Deep undersea
anchor in stone
dreaming, gasping
breath, sky, stars.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC