"undertows" poems
i fall and ascend in a sea vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits
industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering satanic eggs and tumors
i am here born to you thin of bone
mother of catastrophes
on a colossal ball of scab and callous
that moves sonorous dazzling shapes
careening through
ephemera workhorse torches
of doom
you fill me with knots of terror
and desperate dreams of stairway wings
veils and glimmers
resolutions dissolving
petaled apertures of desire
and night whispers
in a spider web of sonic bulls
before undertows gravity
i was vibrant
but then i died into the rock ash of earth
they called it my birthday
my parents with party hats and balloons
blinked fetters
against nights of granite and stone
i got deader still
until i was nothing
but an imagineless gob of mud and breath
an eye looking out
behind red nerve forest fires
and tears shook tambourines
down heavy lashes
cascaded fluttering tassels
i am born to you mother of senile seas
citadel of shattered glass
in a slate cube of cyclones
mute and screaming
my fate deep shock
encased in mausoleums led nautilus
blatting hells jaundiced shriek
Pluto conjunct Saturn
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
We sat aloft a dune
peering over the ocean,
waves mesmerizing
our inner turmoil,
grainy surf dimensions
cut into psyche,
voices turned hazy
midst broiling sun
washed back with
salt water tears,
there was no lighthouse
to guide the way
nor save disparate crests
no words reverberated the sound,
just the floundering of
gritty restless emotions
that once were blissed horizons
before moon lost its balance
to relentless torrential currents
of neglectful destruction,
drowning in ambiguous undertows
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
Your words
Would burst up through
The grikes and clints
*A sweet green grout
That took root
Under the gray slab*
And each word
A grass moth
Gathering sugar
From the Milkwort
For the cold days
To come.
You were always
Kind to me
In this river of life
With its currents
And hidden undertows
*And the things
That scared me into
Threading.*
I was no Otter
I never learned
The playful art
Of splashing
Through the sunny
Moments
While the clouds
Gathered like sisters
But you always
Got me moving.
Using words
Like steps
Filling my page
With courage.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
beneath the stillness of my ocean,
there are currents overwhelming,
& it’s a gentle, persisent undertow
-
they pull me down.
-
I can not tell, at times,
when the sea only whispers,
those waves of wonder,
I am all smiles on my vessel.
-
but lo! at times, I remove my hat,
And without, I can see reflections,
(refractions too!)
of the sunlight, illuminating,
the trenches & dark spots,
the layers I seek not to swim,
-
it is there, where I search for a map,
but there is no map, or guide of sorts,
my ocean remains ever unknown
it is there, where I float alone
-
they pull me down.
-
what is the worst; to know not
your ship or self?
I do not see either…
I can only see the reflections
-
that truth is drowning me….
-
I have made my boat bright,
intertwining daises freckle
the sides, but it is not me
-
& true! the piece will work
but for how long?
-
I fear I have not made it strong.
-
still, I shall sit in it. it carries
me well…
I have made seat enough for two
took the time to fill them up
no! my boat is full…
-
I must make for you, a space!
have my seat here…
me, I shall lay on the floor!
-
yes, I like it better here…
I can see only the sky…
& for miles & miles, I will
dream of, one day, sharing this view
-
& we won’t have to tell at times,
what the undertows are murmuring
-
I will not listen;
I will not let them pull me down
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
Poetry is, as poetry flows
Beneath the rocks, through undertows
Over great mountains, across oceans deep
Dwells within dreams, while dreamer's asleep
As poison to pen, heaven can wait
Driving the path, for creativity sake
Don't judge yourself, of what you read here
Create your own space, and abandon, all fear
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
It would be inaccurate, indeed downright unfair,
To label her as a convenience,
Certainly no matter of being any port in a storm;
She fell into that category of handsome women,
Tending more to the Rubenesque than the runway,
And those occasions where an evening with the gang
Fragmented into a somewhat unmatched set
Were more in line with settling into a familiar harbor,
Bereft of the intoxicating hazards of shoals and sand bars, perhaps,
But comfortable with a certain steadfastness about it,
A pleasant haven from the riptides, undertows,
And various entanglements of the open water.
It was an aneurysm that took her, the type of thing
We’d associated with grandparents, aged aunts,
Corpulent colleagues of our fathers.
What’s more, it turned she was staunchly and stubbornly Lutheran,
Regular to the point of obsession in her attendance at services
(We’d no way of knowing such a thing, of course,
The notion of staying overnight at her place
To rise from last night’s sheets at mid-morning
And share a table for omelettes and awkward chit-chat
Being both curious and curiosity)
So we arrayed ourselves in stiff collars,
Accompanied by ties we’d hoped to be suitable,
As the whole affair had us a bit off balance,
And we were only able to restore our equilibrium at the end,
Just in time to attempt to bounce pebbles onto her coffin lid
In what he hoped was some witticism in Morse code.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
a sight for the
eyes to behold
one thousand bodies
washed upon the shore
a curious treasure
for the sea to cede
gracious undertows
yield hungry ghosts
wrapped in blankets
of seaweed
suspended in true
states of bardo
occupying a beachhead
between sea and land
cycles of tides churn
The Wheel of Life
a quivering moon
lights pathways home
strewn bodies of liberated
souls molder in the sand
proper alms for *****
and squawking gulls
Dedicated to the people of Japan and
the victims of the earthquake and tsunami
Oakland
3/14/11
jbm
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 10:21 PM UTC
Oh, I should be in a church tonight
On my knees.
I want to cry at god's feet
And I don't even
Understand
Why.
I wish I thought there was someone to tell
That I am afraid
That I hold this sea of grief in me
So deep and black,
So rich and full.
It is the grief of worship,
Always has been
And I have never subscribed to any religion.
I wander the streets
So hungry-
Soul hungry.
This is no state
For a warm bedroom and a cup of tea.
This is kneeling on a marble floor
By the light of one candle
In a room so pregnant with silence it seems that you
Are the only thing that ever has been or will be.
This is I want to feel cold, smooth stone beneath my palms
Beneath my cheek.
I want to close my eyes and press into the floor and become cold like it, and surrender.
This is the feeling that crushes tears from me when I hear a choir sing,
Or when I read a beautiful book.
This is god
And I sit here
So still
Full of this impossible, excruciating need
For something that doesn't even have a word because it is too old and too private and too vast.
It rages within me, it presses out and I am so small, just skin and bones
How do I hold this
Within me
Like tears?
I feel like a candle set adrift in the middle of a cold sea at night
That tiny and that fragile.
At my fingertips I can feel the waves
And although I am a flame they are inside of me
And that
Is what I have to face and fear-
Drowning inside out in love, in grief, in joy, in anger-
It makes
Little difference in the end,
Shockingly little.
They all grow like the sea, swell like the sea, crash like it,
All hold their vicious undertows and their satiny surfaces all catch light when I am lucky enough to be in the sun.
I wish I knew
What I would say
If I really could cry at god's feet tonight.
Maybe I would say,
*Put me on this earth,
Let, for once, this ground tether me more than my passions.
Let gravity hold me instead of this ache,
Just for a second
Just to remind me
That I am human.*
Because it's as if all of my feelings have been drawn up through my skin like ink
All at once
And I am the color of shadows and lonesome murmurs,
I am the taste of winter on the wind,
I am the voice of the trees as they try to sing to the moon in the darkness.
Let me go, please, I can't bear this longing, I can't hold it...
And yet I am in no church,
No soaring hall that echoes with quiet,
And my skin is unmarred
And I am still
As stone
And I will likely remain so
Unable to find any feet
To fall at.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
The world turns. Forest fires burn.
Gusting winds that blow. Torrents and undertows.
Tides fall and grow - so do the seasons.
This world is complex, there must be a reason.
He made us to be.
The deserts are scorching and lake tops' freeze over.
A distant star explodes and becomes a supernova.
The ground gashes and rips as each fault line slips.
Each fault line slips.
He made us to be.
So what's the reason why the waves crash the way they do?
And why is a sunset so beautiful?
It's not random to me. I know there's a designer, you see.
A creator that we must honor 'cause He made us to be.
He made us to be.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 2:32 PM UTC
On this ocean I float
And I melodize my song
Sing along if you join my tide
When we croon
Together morning ‘till noon
We sleep better at night
Hearts stay in tune
Over distances in spite
Of waves rippling through our lives
Some great, able to separate
But third eye ablaze
You're always in sight
I too have feared the undertows
But even if you’re caught below
Don’t inhale the salt
And to the surface you’ll float
When I’m alone
I whistle with the winds
The melody that healed my wounds
And if the waters splash
I don’t kick and thrash
The brine can’t burn my flesh
An anthem sublime
Rains from the sky
Returned to the ocean by the clouds
Every drop resonates
The horizon vibrates
From the pounding of our tribe
Turn your head around
Don’t stare at the depths below
Your breath you’ll find comes from
The direction of the Sun
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
Hmm, Christmas season has gone, good:
Presents shoved in drawers, some used, some abused,
Some never to see the light of day, until thrown away,
Others worn with delight, played with, till dawn’s first light,
We never even saw church, or thought of god, any god.
Why should we? Religious? Nah, not us, Darwin rules,
We had science in schools, we mocked the fools,
Who even imagined an all seeing deity, with awe,
Punishing and rewarding, everything he saw,
But we ate our fill, partied with skill, just avoided,
The need to **** especially to **** so messy,
Never allowing our own family blood to spill,
The clean up is swallowing, such a bitter pill.
Hmm, Easter approaches, we do it all again,
Stretching our family, what an awful strain,
Pretending we like, adore, the snidely sneers,
We just ignore, avoiding the drunk, such a bore,
While those of us, who are close, watch the chaos,
Feel the undertows of love streaming among us,
Binding the salient parts, making a family work,
For the kids, you see, a duty we, must never shirk,
Our only legacy, from the lives we have built,
Making us continue, regardless of the guilt,
Emotional alloys in alcohol flux, so easily spilt,
Another religious festival, who gives a toss?
A land of empty churches, not such a loss.
Hmm, Whitsun lies beyond Easter: what?
What is, Pentecostal; exactly? More rot?
Fifty days, oh yeah, makes sense, sure,
Makes nonsense, have faith, no defence,
We don’t care: get it! Got it? Well good!
No nailed-god; for heathens like us; we hijack,
As Christianity hijacked our paganism, yes!
Copied and pasted their festivals over others,
Took our sacred places, chanted in dulcet tones,
Where we gathered, running naked around stones,
Leaping cleansing fires, bumping ugly bones,
How’d you like that, preacher folk; in shock?
Burn in your created Hell; let heathen Earth rock.
© Paul M Chafer 2014
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
The boatman glides over dark waters,
Calloused hands hold heavy oars.
City lights twinkle like fire flies,
On murky currents forged by undertows.
His face well carved by years of hardship,
A backbone bent by deep regret,
He's marking tickets off for the passengers,
Most still unawares
His name be Death.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
For the years still ahead, aching to achieve,
can you proceed enmirthed and jolly
as you gracefully make your leave?
Or will pangs of old uncertainty
heave waves of manic sighs
while depressive undertows
keep your fears always alive?
The mirror may scream obscenity
or whisper doubt into your cheer
with gloomy cover cast to dull
the ways you hold yourself as dear,
but don't let the voice you hear
be an empty echo of the words
that others crafted to appear
as something more believable
than a charlatan on the pier.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
She was as relevant
as a
peninsula--
Mostly surrounded by
surrounded by
surrounded by
surrounded by
she was mostly surrounded by
surrounded by
surrounded by
surrounded by
water
insanity
turbulence
undertows
but
as a sliver of land
hanging
and
hanging onto--
she was made relevant.
-LP
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
your eyes are riptides,
undertows,
the current sweeping me off my feet:
pulling me under until i cannot breathe,
drowning me.
in a sea of people, i always search for you,
hiding across the crowded room.
sharp relief of your jaw line
--sculpted,
a statue of david--
your soul smothers me when you smile,
lights up those eyes
like the moonlight reflecting the choppy
ocean water at night.
in a sea of people, i always find you,
gentle touches like stingrays and eels,
sugar-coated shark teeth
sinking into me,
windswept across the beach with
cawing seagulls hunting clams.
your words are too sweet
--candied,
falsified for personal achievement--
smothering me in my sleep when you
trill your fingers to say hello.
in a sea of people, i always miss you,
shadowed,
a ghost of what once was and what will be,
things that i saw and things i will see.
the tide tickles at my ankles
as i stand on the edge of the horizon,
searching for your silhouette
in the darkness.
the sun has set and the tides will rise
--moonlight,
moonlight in your eyes--
but i am accompanied only by silence.
the ritual
of a faded dream that
crossbreeds with vague metaphors
and bad similes.
sweet dreams, great barrier reef.
goodnight, my darling.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
I Struggling
under the currents of this world
And I see the others
and their struggles too
yet somehow
they make it out of the blue
or least to the surface
where they can breathe
I make it there
from time to time
But only ever
undertows i find
I wish to see above the waves
to see the light
and better days
Maybe i must change my ways
or build a boat
to hope above it stays
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
A sharp mind dulled
While I run
From the dark death undertows.
Pulling from unseen roses, a gun,
And fragile bullets, columns, rows.
Truly no escape
From a serpent, Eden, and apples.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
how can i say
that i envy the chase
from the tip of my pencil
to your graphite gaze?
spitting my heart
onto an endless canvas
of greys and blacks,
hoping the red would stain…
but it never does.
only your floral words are
indelible on my skin
and the reverse
is just a lie i tell myself
so i could sleep a little better
every forsaken night.
the truth is far from your moon;
beyond all your pretty stars
and iridescent eternities,
it is despairingly beyond my fathoms.
but i hope, and again i hurt
for butterfly smiles
and deluding taciturn undertows
and nightmarish illusions
leaving bruises of you
on the very tip of my lost tongue
and all over my wept eyes;
a lifeless empty void
against the autumn shower
of your warm hermetic glances.
and there is no one else
to keep this rusted clockwork
ticking rhythmically to the beats
of your mindless cradle…
and that is the ultimate folly
of this ascetic destructive shale
that i tactlessly call my soul.
for a fool’s machinery,
this chemical heart is.
So indiscernible to lose itself in
such vitreous self-infliction,
and sabotaging the very blood
that my tiring arteries
now regain, thus to sustain
the very memory of your breath
in tranquil consonance…
foolish—and yet; a fool, i am.
a fool for believing that this
lie was past the dark side of the moon
and beyond my wounded stars
and lacklustre infinities…
you are despondently beyond my fathoms.
but i hope, and again, i hurt.
darling, just how can i ever say
that i envy the calm reflection
from the incipience of your melody
to your coda’s revelations?
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
Poetry is
as poetry flows
Beneath the rocks
through undertows
Over great mountains
across oceans deep
Dwells within dreams
while dreamer's asleep
Fights the good fight
even if lost
Doing what's right
no matter the cost
Defending the weak
wherever they're found
Raising a voice
to let freedom sound
Don't judge yourself
of what you read here
Create your own space
abandon all
fear
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
As a child on a beach
Shoveling moats to the kingdom
And as the waves to the sand
You scooped me up.
My heart is like a shell of the sea
vacant from previous owners,
Wandering lost in undertows,
Trying to find a ground to settle.
Perhaps you want not to own me.
Or drag me down with tides
Maybe you want to keep me…
You might think I’m a treasure.
Just please be careful, be careful with me…
I have tumbled myself quite fragile
With a delicate palm you raise me up
To the light, as you gently appraise me
I wonder if I am worthy of your shelf
Adorned with bits and bobs,
Savored, polished, cautiously placed
So thoroughly loved and cared for.
I dream to be amongst those trinkets
That Time itself, took mercy
Where decades of wear and tear
Only made them greater.
How could I think a happy end?
Amongst your most favorite things
Your gaze steadily bores into me
A spotlight over the squalls.
I think to shout-
“Discard me to the sea!” (It seemed clear I was not worth keeping.)
Instead, your lips lift to a smile.
Pupils wide and awestruck.
You place me to your heart
And then- as if to yourself,
you softly whisper:
“I love you most of all.”
Relief, I sink into your cradled arms,
My heart pulsing like the waves
A steady force all of my own, untethered and delighted.
Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 12:15 AM UTC
sinking under
this mirrored surface
one last glance
at who I am
undertows from inside
the water flows
to where I hide
distorted vision
time rushing past
to say, "I love you"
took my last gasp
051501~12.4p
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
A hundred wasted lifetimes
A thousand broken dreams
Countless shouts of triumph
Rage apart at ill-stitched seams
Hands which reach for glory
Fall to dust an inch away
Towers of humanity
Crumble as they sway
Tapestries of vanities
And falsely stated niceties
Only set the mind at ease
While silently they breed disease
And thus will further weaken
Your vaguely-wrought construction
Until you're lies must deepen
Cocealing your destruction
Yet, still it flows, and no one knows
If it's lies or truth that goes
Cascading through the undertows
That drag you down between the rows
Of everything that could have been
Instead of what it's come to be
When even truths are now pretend
And trying is insanity
Yet, here we are, inside this lie
Which buries you, and still you try
To raise your tower to the sky
While even angels stop to cry
At such a shadowed, weakened soul
Crying out to be set free
Never heard, and locked inside
Your tower of humanity
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
So, when I thought about her, I knew that I shouldn't be
She was a river of undertows that once held, would never let go
She would be my Queen of everything, my Queen bee
So you see, I can't help but think of her as my longing for her grows
I wish that she would wash over my body like a tidal wave along the shore
Feeling her all over me....something that I could never possibly ignore
She's as unique as the ice that flows down this mighty river
Right now she's a mystery, my fantasy giver
As the sun shines upon her, she glistens like flawless diamonds
She's a breath taker, the likes of which I can never pretend
Take...selfishly steal me away just for you on a perfect sunny and 75° day
Stare in the face of all that oppose and whisper to me....."nope, you're all mine today" !
One day I'll be her honeybee, so sticky and so sweet
Once she's had this drone, she'll be buzzing "in this heat let's please repeat"
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
"Eve's Diary"
Within your deep eyes lie a galaxy.
A heaving sea. Undertows, and eddies.
An undulating undine in abyss
blanketed by dead stars and those who gleam.
She faced cataclysmic adversity,
and she fell from the cosmic nursery.
She lost her skin of lustrous ebony,
gradually turning burgundy--- to flesh.
And soon she lost her memory,
and everything was in haze.
Destined to walk for all eternity
and marvel at this once tiny, blue marble,
which she saw from space.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
Adrift on waves that I compose
A shipwreck life of word and prose
Longing for the shore that shows
How blue my tide of sorrow flows
When her horizon sets and goes
To hide behind her vacant glows
Then pulls me in her undertows
No man could fathom deeper lows
The depths of anchored lovers' woes
Not even Lord Poseidon knows
How far I've sunk to feel her throes
Submerged in frigid voids she chose
Our hearts immersed in shadows froze
Yet like a thawing winter's rose
We still found warmth to melt the snows
So my descension never slows
Nor grants my flooding lungs repose
I'll drown in her 'til my eyes close
Until my dead man's chest implodes
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC