"unplaced" poems
There's something majestic, yet also extremely gloomy, about a streetlight at night in the rain. Something, some unplaced dimension within the echoing cars and within the particles of water, as they spray...into oblivion
Mother, do you recall that rainy day?
The day my gumboots soaked through,
I beleive we were waiting for a bus. It was one of those city rains, when all you could dream of was home or the warmth and comfort. When all you wanted was a bath and hot-chocolate or another item of food, steaming with love. Mother, I remember holding to you're body for warmth as we sat under that old wooden bus shelter.
I clung to you're body and melted into you're lingering scent, you're falling breath and you're human form.
You held me, you hid you're shivers so as to warm mine.
We watched the cars spray etheral mist into the orange lights of the city.
We watched lovers rush by under umbrellas, we watched rain curve down the cement like a snake on it's own journey.
We listened,
oh did we ever listen, we ate up the noise, the stories within the rain, we cuddled until we felt the warmth from our bellies rise out of us like smoke or a dragons breath, tainting the air.
I, you're daughter. You, my mother.
You're long hair curling down your breast. Me, like a little berry scrunched up as close to you as I could get. Like our bodies would drip into each other as one, our breath the same. Only my gulps of air came much sooner and you silently resisted my subtle games. When the huddling was done you reached out to me with you're strong hands and you led me along the night of echoes. I can't remeber much else, asides from sitting with you in the empty pizza shop as we both savoured and satisfied our cravings for comfort. Cold-handed laughter as we danced over the most delectable pizza.
Then we caught the bus home, you sat on the red leather, grabbing the creamy yellow bar, I jumped onto the ratty blue seat beside you and leaned once again into you're body, melting into sweet harmonies.
Eating in the sounds of humans and the sound of the bus, splashing through water
and journeying on through the deep
and endless city night.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Give me the sky
And I will soar
Among the mighty clouds
Grant me the wind
And I will fly
Beneath the radiant sun
Dare me to dance
And I will learn
Upon a golden lit stage
Lend me an ocean
And I will sail
Farther than the tides
Make me a promise
And I will trust
Grasping to it forever
Bring me a melody
And I will write
Stringing lyrics by starlight
Join me in life
And we will laugh
Finding joy side by side
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 8:06 PM UTC
No Garden awaits here, I am Stone
You are Water, so We are lost
Gardener: tend my arid places
Hope for me when I have nothing
Be my Rock to future flowers
Maybe there are none left me
Masada palaced and unplaced
Our longest dreams of lions
Now is now, a furled fist
Behind my back and seen
Not at all and never again
So it never happened, we all
Agree
~*~
Read Me all the Poemes You Fynde
My Rising shall Be just to Hande
I Arise to Illustrate Your Care
Earn thus Existential Tendril
Iambic grace, Rarest remonstrance
Pentameters helplessly Entwine
Willow so Willing to Your taste
I will take your hand
Lead you far and a-
fielding
A great song eats strange hours
Horses know, wielding such power
A-stamping and snorting
Horses born crazy, now bending tame
Never underestimate planetary power
To lay you to ground
Sleeping, a runaway,
One changling thing who clings
Inside sweat-soaked dream burrows
No evasion, no escape
In such wild grown tall goddess
Places, clinging to a broken bit
A knuckle’s worth of bitter
Traded for a kiss
All is well
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a **** it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.
I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,
And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
I can't place my finger
On how you became so distant
And different
And difficult to tolerate.
I can't place my finger
In between the salt water trails
Down my cheeks because it won't
Stop them from flowing.
I can't place my finger
On how I precisely feel,
Or why I randomly cry,
Or why the stars make me feel so small every night.
I can't place my finger
On the moment when you became
A face in photos that I vaguely stare at
In attempts to remember who you are.
I can't place my finger
On why the sadness creeps up
And camps out in my chest,
And bangs pots and pans so I can't sleep.
I can't place a finger on your hand
When you're lonesome,
When you're tired;
I can't be there for you.
I can't place a finger
On the moment when I became the past.
I can't place a finger
On the moment you decided to let my words be the last ones spoken.
I can't place a **** finger
On my own valves and stop the blood
Pumping through my veins because if the pumping ceased,
So would these endless nights and thoughts.
Granted I can't place a finger
On why I'm so "damaged",
As you would say;
I'm not sure why I am perpetually in limbo between extremities.
I just can't place my finger
On why I even care so much;
I promise it's not because I miss us.
I'm quite fine without.
I can solely place my finger
Upon the fact that I'm out here
Blazing a trail on my own,
And I'm scared as hell I'll waver and trail down into the darkest parts of my being,
And just remain there, sleeping on the dark path that is carved out in my heart where only these thoughts resurrect themselves and lie down with me too, long enough for me to forget how to place my fingers into a fist and fight them off; I can't place a finger on why I'm fighting in the first place, why sometimes I place a finger to my face and there are streams of unplaced, uncalled for sadness and delusion.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
It had fallen and all was awash with ash
Burning what was once valued cash
I held on to it, a motion unknown I'd slash,
No time for pity food would be stashed.
I wore my mask in this bleak dead time
All was chaos but I'm no longer in my prime
Survival was an uphill struggle at times a climb.
If they were near the bells would chime.
Could I depend on others, eyes never seen
Masks hiding truths behind shaded screens,
We were survivors a group no more than eighteen
The stupid thing I miss the taste of caffeine.
Random I know but Jesus that taste,
But that was a different time now all erased.
Gone with the ash, now humanity unplaced
I wear this mask, a sign of humanity disgraced.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
just unplaced.
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 12:15 AM UTC
Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.
For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;
So may they flourish in their due degrees,
On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky.
If any cares for the weak words here written,
It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten,
Whose faith and hopes are dead, and who would die.
Yes, here and there some weary wanderer
In that same city of tremendous night,
Will understand the speech and feel a stir
Of fellowship in all-disastrous fight;
"I suffer mute and lonely, yet another
Uplifts his voice to let me know a brother
Travels the same wild paths though out of sight."
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
There is a certain unplaced quality to the whole thing
Like it was never planned to look as it does
And the fact that it is the part that we aren’t supposed to see has always appealed to me
The ripples and cracks
Fissured by time
As a clash between flux and permanence
And will bent by entropy
A rusted staircase like a lonely island dangling and looking weak and unsafe
And who knows maybe it is
For the paint is chipped black frosted like ice
But it is hot and the air is heavy
As it always feels in a place like this
For there is rapture in a place that feels like it does not belong
And like you do not belong there
I contemplate the number of feet that stood right where I stand
I think about the installation of such things
I think about the man who stood and wrote his name in paint
About how that got bent like that
About when that wall fell down and when that glass broke
The stories that touched this particular spot only for that brief moment
The stories in which this is not even a footnote
Where the organic flux meets the rigid industrial
And all coalesces into a barren scape hidden away
And forgotten for it fits in neither picture
As the romance of the days that it saw beautifully have long been realized as nostalgic and useless
And a brick may fall and hurt someone
Or they may just tip their hat and continue on their way
But despite all these things I have a sense of blindness
And sublime captured by a world of temporary distinction
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Wuthering secrets of long past times
Forgotten romances of heartened crimes.
Christening crinkles twilling frosted echoes atop damped dervishes of your fragile mind.
Shelling out are withering bones of decaying, eternal, mindless vines.
Encasing slithery crevices eradicating dusted wintered shadowed lines.
Binding the sainted ****** where upon the shore of gloried day breaks of the lost door.
Listen to the howls of the wind--
as all of creation stirs about & about
Never the less, simply this.
To again, never to.
Driven off the cliff of insanities thrills unto the shivers of the unrested, splintered and torn.
Forevermore, oh how dreadful!
Namelessly unplaced, vacantly ashamed! Lonely and untamed, gratefully kept at bay!
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
and baby,
i will never forget the lyrics
to that song,
our song
that only we will dance to
do you remember?
where every note i pull you close
where every beat i kiss your lips
where every pulse i feel your heart
sometimes we dance,
where every two steps
we both spin in circles
around, and around,
dizzy, unplaced
those two steps away
confused, misplaced
alone, with others,
yet those two steps are okay
because eventually
those two steps
lead us back to dance
our way.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
I return to the cold hallways i once remained.
I swallowed the tasteless pill of depression
And sunck deep with her warm embrace.
So far into the wasteland
Diving into the stark blinded sight i now see though.
I don't know how to get though my sadness
My pain
My unplaced love.
My ears cannot hear
My eyes can't see
My mouth cannot speak
And my mind cannot tell the truth.
How am i ment to continue on?
How can anyone.
But i do not chose death
Nor do i chose life.
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC