"unspun" poems
There is no prize to perfection,
No crown for its endless direction.
Only the stillness, cold and mute,
Of a dream that halts in its pursuit.
The edge of longing, sharp and thin,
Cuts deeper than the goal within.
For what is gained when all is won,
If the chase extinguishes the sun?
Perfection lies in things undone,
In breaths that falter, threads unspun.
For life is richer, raw, unplanned,
A fleeting touch, a trembling hand.
There is no need for flawless art,
But space to mend the human heart.
No prize awaits, no grand pursuit—
Only life’s quiet, imperfect truth.
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 12:25 PM UTC
i
girls with guard dogs at spike-heeled feet
lips to kiss fire, still semi-sweet
ii
dirt black coffee on a fine tipped tongue
and spiderwebs only half unspun
iii
dead roses in flowercrowns and tangled thorns
and white bedsheets, handcuffs, lingerie unworn
iv
tempest springtime to summer’s rest
and flowers of lovers laid on deathbeds
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Words. Work.
Getting old. ***** shirt.
Exhaustion remains after washing away stains from dirt.
Lower back hurts,
..but this mindstate is not where I'll stay.
Meaningless pay spending my hours when I just want to create and play.
Heavy body, cat nap after embers hit the ashtray. Astral stray.
The most nutritious are sometimes the first to decay.
Get up just to lay.
Easy to see darkness when there's no heart in the frame..
So I'll adjust how I see, and remember to breathe,
because all of life comes to us with ease.
Gonna physically release just to come back and share my dream
Yes yes, nothing less.
Do what you love
is all I can confess.
Limited time, I see that we're blessed
Hope to make the most of mine,
before in peace we rest
Death sentence. Moral Repentance.
In the age of remembrance blinded by pyrotechnics.
Embody the calisthenics and honor further than aesthetics.
Depths beyond measurement kissing anti-venom lips.
Tethered to the weather within our steady blissful trips.
The clock can tick all it wants but the hands are losing their grip. Proving nothing to be more beautiful than this present-tense eclipse
Intuition is our intangible compass
Creating a compassionate instance that can't be diminished
I am hear forever to play with the trinkets and parade those that listen
Love is all encompassing, not just a mission
Thoughts come to fruition
Extending what you envision
The Synapse fires like a piston
What you've done indicates your current position.
Think now my friend.
You are the sun shining at the podium speaking at the perceived end.
You are the sum dictating everything yet to come.
Thank you for praising the vibration connected to one.
Take a deep breath, smile, and have fun.
This strong web we've achieved can never be unspun.
Reflect your true self and know we've only just begun~
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
The glory of nature
in all of its transformations
the dawning of consciousness
the surrender of love
the struggle for survival
the dance between
the light and darkness
The meteor shower
the child's first step
the child's first smile
the cocoon unspun
the spider's daily web
the many mornings
come and gone
This observer of
what is and what is not
consumed with awe
Melting solids
to dust
liquid to vapors
riding life's lightening
thunder's laughter
From oppression to freedom
From slumber to wisdom
The glory of all nature
instantaneous and gone
the ink on the page
the sun gone nova
the event horizon
random particles
converge into being
dissipate and defuse
from movement to entropy
ashes to ashes
stardust to stardust
The poet ever singing
the glory of transformations.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
When I was sent up
on an escalator made of neon lights
I was rapidly unaware of the plunge.
Cut from the bottom of this cup that,
sometimes,
when filled to the brim,
resembles Christmas in Tokyo.
If ever I looked up for plasma Christ
and only felt envy
I will go on to comb the earth
for all the unspun sugar that has settled
down here with me.
Explosive notions teetering on the precipice of my palate
over the edge of the antarctic,
the south pole.
Like a trampoline built over hypothermia and bad vibes
or playing chutes and ladders alone
with limited intermissions for drugs
and the dead.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
I'm unsure, he's unaware
While still reassuring repair
to cure eyes sore by keen compare
with pure spots blinded in the stare.
Sweet allure within despair
shy and demure, polite and fair
enduring subtle not to scare
For what lie low, cannot prepare
poor but buy woe and bought to share
swore what I know I thought was there
door shut pry so as not ensnare
More room to grow we sought somewhere
the sun would care
for none were rare
to run unspun
bury what's done
no nightmare dare
come
we won't bear
some-
where cared by for the sun.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
I guess the image I had was corrupted I never mentioned filibusted. A seething whit I couldn't match from a advisory who met her match. The prose the verse it all unspun to show what really was undone. So ****** off the parson said and go home to your Steele bed or find a den that warms you more and forget the pain that came before.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
I
-dulcimer clatter opens the sun, first fruit-
timber fathoms/crystal veils
on all steps, crossing all human borders
untethering wood
from forest, until only the green element remains
to purify the soul
an alpine afterimage, shadow-display
(creature of Earth, moss-backed & yowling thru the chaotic sleep
of October, you see it's symbology in your tea, sharpening its
obsidian hands against the seastones,
imprinting loveliness into the rock, to be worn by tides,
replaced by death absolute)
The fabled Black Horse (shadow-self) waiting solitary at a
gas station, an imprisoned dreamer inside
its gaping jaw/saturnine, coldness
of daybreak, clouds at their Atelier, my head
feels a pressure, been awake too long,
breathing in through the nose/out through
mouth, monastery of the mind in need of clearing.
II
Soft/soft/skin/fury
embrace, catharsis, collision of
two individual energies
pent-up and cast/release
like a skeleton net::onfire
(kissed, consumed
elated, recurrance)
closeted eternities
cycling back into the
wind (hanging willow)
calling to the seeker, gold,
purification & lightness/mouthcurl washed in silence
(your own body, rising tide)
welcomed crucible of chilling air
& my black and
white vessel,
electricity spirit-
whispers
“valley swimmer, elude me”
FLASH OF LIGHT
III
…. The widewaking world
unspun-
theatric elucidation,
emergence of a great snake
a wisened flower, sprouted from exile
blissful rejuvination of
the ivory leaves, at once!
I wrap my throat in a Munich scarf
(pattern-blue)
walking upon the softness of
Grötzingen (angel's eyes speaking)
an orchard, where the last gardener's tireless
work lay like a dreaming ossuary
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
For breakfast, I brought my self-loathing undisguised by bruised, hollow eyes and disquieted moaning,
all crunched up into the contours of your hard edges,
like thin-veined broken and browned, misused leaves orphaned from its parent.
My desperate limbs always reaching, wretched, to shoddy fill into the gaps that your self-confidence casual posture had formed on the floor;
empty-air spaces and pervasive shadow caverns I have claimed without verbal invite, promise or asylum.
No self-confidence to speak from, anguish and primal, seeking shelter;
pain entwined with pain making easy comfort in forgetting.
A soul disquieted;
there are pieces stripped straight down, pinned together in different places, unspun and uneven smears of paste that don't ease closed the obvious imperfections.
A harmful machination unexplained, fitted negligently back together,
the design with no catalyst to begin, untended and purposefully without purpose.
No comprehensible enrichment, selfish perversity plodding culmination,
almost complete.
Build, re-build; conspiracy laced with nonchalance; twisted person alchemy.
Any or Each of Many becoming
the godhead of a shallow, malcontented deception,
rudiment contortions to mangle, punish, ruin
an altruistic heart; a beaten wooden phoenix shaped from past wrongdoings and misery.
More burning away, combustion of reclaiming, bones and sinew steeped in the truth of the universe.
Unjustified and never the differentiation my heart once blamed, not good nor bad.
We, two souls alike in circumstance, circumference, cylindrical,
watching the world make more of us, clutching bird-like shoulders merged through a pale waning.
Existent time-limited victims of disappointed alliances,
made in the land entrenched in the business of making monsters who make monsters.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
See, once many moons ago,
by a single solit'ry sun,
I met a cat nominated Liam,
and above him was his thumb,
Twas a good thumb,
twas the best thumb,
unspun the skin cells were silkest
and yet, when reassembled,
not that ilk. It's (Whaaaaaat?)
She was a tough and callous blemish
that he'd relish, totally cherish
'till he'd perish, (not embellished
tales true, but tails lie)
and Lasquisha for all her balance
and her posture
all her talents
Gideon knot who'll accost ya, with her roster's
Fox'd-ya-got-cha talons
(oooooooooooooooooooo)
This Liam was a good old cat
a tabby cat, not big and black,
but orange, mangy, super slack
deranged, estranged and caged in slack
with slipper feet, and coddled back,
he sat in chair that lazy sack
and when the doorbell called his track
he shirked the effort needed, whack!
Lashquisha, see, she was another
met our cat before this brother
Set her sights on not a smother
but, acknowledged rites of other.
So lashquisha with her sight so true
and thumb eluding tyrants skew
so set about to be anew
not thumb or (k)not, nor nails too,
and that was where I'd met these two
well first the cat and then the shoe
for sock was never needed, who
would hide themselves from their own view?
Lashquisha when I met that thumb
surprised not I by glove of fun
and *** and ***** layered un-
derneath the figure Liam strum.
See Liam knew his thumb so well
he knew the thumb twas not a shell
that caged the angry men that fell
to clipping when their partners tell.
For thumb a partner never is
unless like me you've ****** the quiz
and ended up a pointless shiv
in side of angry hornets nest.
And rest assured the thumbs annointed
given by their partners pointed
comments feeling slightly daunted
by need to act their best.
Attest they do the thumbs that chew
And unrest is left by plough and brew
But then again a thumb are you?
And me, and we, and I?
So tru....
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Heart:
I have a book of songs,
a collection of antique emotions,
carefully crafted for someone
Like how seedlings germinate
inside the womb of the good green Earth
feeling the warmth of a watchful Sun
Yet I pick up another,
a chronicle sans embellishments,
A tale every bit pure, every bit unspun
A familiar fear grips me -
clouds me, maims me, ****** me
as I open it with glum expectations
But I feel myself break,
to know of my absence from this tome,
with each page I anxiously turn
Did I not deserve
a chapter, a line, atleast a word?
Maybe I will find a footnote - none!
Mind:
Oh my dear heart,
Do not expect in return something better
because you've surrendered to her memories
Equivalence is just, but justice is not a quality
How do you plan to **** the one
whom you've already granted immortality?
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 4:21 PM UTC
Stressed out,
I confess ‘bout,
nothing no fronting,
trusting what the love brings,
awake again,
late late night,
so late it’s early,
code so easy it’s one,
alive when we jive and shine on,
as a magnetic matrix electric sun,
allows all of the dark lies to be come undone,
under the magnetic matrix’s electric sun,
the Darkwebs cobwebs become unspun…
Volume 1
The H Trilogy
I just published a new book.
If you could take a moment to check it out,
and even write a review it'd be most appreciated.
All profits go to a charity that prevents ****** assault against children.
So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause.
Thank you SO much!
∆
Here’s the link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
Wax hammers melting under a suspicious sun,
bubbling on the soft tarmac road unspun.
Sarcastic grass struts in impotent arrogance,
at the rustling of a billion pointless paper bags.
As sparkling sin, trusts a single pointless poem.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
Two lines entertwined
Surely time should have been taken
All that was divine has fallen
To the light in your iris'
A lie unspun
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
I catch little bits and pieces
like krill in a net made for bigger fish–
noticed by chance but as present as mist
in the places where clouds form.
Olives on sticks, buds on treetops
overspread from the chatter of crowds
who in currents of traffic meander,
neither aimful nor aimless nor calm.
Sun made present for now,
and so the torrents will show
and the walking is slow,
not that speed is important;
The population straightens up
as if to show for the sun,
as if the clouds were unspun
to unravel all tensions
and break down the denser threads.
So girls turn in dresses with floral prints–
all their purples and greens and their scents–
perfumes pirouetting with pollen–
awakened in lively spins.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
The world is unwrapped and unspun as a ball of yarn
before my eyes
it unravels
spreading then and wide, and then
as a piece of paper, a blue sheet
it stretches in front of forever
for a moment it becomes a water
and every step forward leaves less of me showing
until I disappear
and no bubbles disturb the surface.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
I have learned that blood and bone
Are no assurance of love
That the parents who should protect you
Forget you
In the wake of their own unspun lives
I have learned that the newborn life
Once cradled in my arms
Won't consider my sacrifice
In the wake of unbridled rage
Love is a hollow lie
I have learned that I am a monster
Murderous and cruel
Selfish and judgemental
Producing bitter fruit
That withers on the vine
I have learned that the world
Doesn't love a dreamer
War and tragedy churns
In the belly of Babylon
The meek are weak expendable
Casualties of circumstance
Destined for demise
I have learned there is no sanctuary
No refuge from the malice
Washing over me like sleet
On a winter day
My heart is cold stone
I am lifeless
I have learned that intoxicants
Only fuel the ache
magnify this emptiness with
shallow platitudes
The flavor of the day
Scraped off the spoon tomorrow
I have learned
I still don't know how
To give up the little dreams
In the silence of my soul
I gather them piece by piece
Hiding them from myself
For fear I'll do me harm
I have learned I should love myself
I have learned....I don't know how to love
TLB 05/20/08
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
I see,
The breaking thread.
I hear,
The ticking clock.
I know,
The feeling unspun.
I want,
No real heaven,
That picks apart my soul.
I’ve been in this dream state all my life,
Moving from beautiful wasteland to fertile wasteland.
Of all the ruined lessons,
one struck home.
of millions of centuries,
the truth finally etched in bone,
Never again will I take the ****** surgical knife,
Of memory and rhyme,
Of language and thought,
Of love and delusion,
To open up worlds in people,
Just to hold their hand.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Let me show you what i see,
each time I put a verse to rhyme,
all that i feel, and think and do,
is written here, safe for all time.
Let me take you to the edge,
right to the end of every line,
a place where pain and pleasure meet,
a place where thoughts and dreams combine.
Let me build a world for you,
from all that I have felt and done,
my secret wants, my deadly sins,
the web of truth and lies unspun.
Let me tell you who i am,
the boy i was, the man i'll be,
the truth is here, no lie or sham,
within these words you will find me.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 7:41 AM UTC
There's no point writing anymore
when the idea of sharing them again becomes
so droll
Now my thought's wrestle against themselves
and disappear, and unfold
The farther they stretch, the further they fold in
then release, like a breath, for a moment unspun
yo-yo
betrayed tenfold, no matter the compatie.
Friends, turned heathens, turned businessmen, turned faithful, turned deathtrap, turned kindness, turned apathy, turned hoprful, turned apathy, turned tarnished over time, turned hate for the self.
and I'm over here like, bro//
I just want to be left alone.
therein lies deceit, a line I've waited to say for some time.
we all seek something, and it makes want for us all
no matter the source.
Perhaps, that's why some of us still pay taxes.
If you're reading this
Just because you're scared, doesn't mean you're wrong to be. When your scared, though, make sure you're scared for the right reasons. Don't act out in fear, or jealousy, or anger
They cloud your judgement, and distract you from the cause.
and.
they could very well destroy whole chapters and books of a life.
I hope you fix what needs fixing, mark what needs marking, cultivate what needs cultivating, and build what needs building.
Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 2:39 AM UTC
Fear not as we all fall from haunted hollows,
Hallowed shallows that grows deeper in darkest shadows,
Live on dear brothers and forever let go of my hand, set me free,
Tell mother all that you know or dared to ever understand of me,
Her eyes will open to the truths she could not bear to see,
Under those clasped lids of easy lies,
Set alight the darkness in my mind that you despise,
The shadow that hides underneath our secret sighing skies
And lo, we are silently distraught at nothing’s fiction,
Weeping with the laughing darkness that accompanies the hesitant disparate,
Desperate indecision reaches for all the long lost and wrong decisions,
That no one knows but everyone proclaims to possess but just too late,
Amongst the lost and lonely living in patriarchal prisons there is a vision,
Someone’s inherent father finding a place alone to rest and wait
Welcome unto the final and only fight worth fighting, my son,
Fear not the surge of the sadness’ swarming seas,
For you are truly most alive in death’s warm welcome,
Do not fear the cold clasp of shadows under your hallowed dying tree,
So when all that is said is not said, and what once did is never done,
You must accept the things you will never be,
You must accept the things you will never become,
Thus death is only but a key,
Thus this life is the lock left undone,
Though living in light there is only death and darkness surrounding you, son of Suns
Look upwards father into the shadow of shadows,
Enter world’s we could never have seen,
Welcome son into these sorry shallows,
And though I will cease to have ever been,
Come and become life’s fragile thread unspun,
Therein is no where or when,
As all things must live and die,
And the living must live on then,
And the dead must only wonder why,
But this is not the end
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC