"unsubtle" poems
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
Beat-Up Old Car
Vastly under-appreciated possession
In dull blue, a MK1, no less, with original rust
Inside lingering scents of Exchange and Mart
top-notes of WD-40 and miscellaneous mix tapes
A car like this gets into your life
in lumpy knuckle-barking unsubtle ways,
stays there in subtle ones
That long drive back to Yorkshire
in the quintessential exemplar
Clutch cable snaps.
****** and Crap.
Hardly helpful but can be accommodated
with enough thought
rough though it is
on starter motor
and nerves whenever
anticipatory powers inadequate
and we are forced
to a complete red-light stop
Brakes dodgier, exhaust noisier
than ideal or legal
Gender-ambiguous
elderly tyres flirt outrageously with slick tarmac
Showing their canvas underwear
and male-pattern baldness
Keeping this unstable, unsafe, unreliable
ultimately essential lump of metal
moving and on the road
is a fine art
Engaging, fluid and intense art;
The Clash and The Specials
Costello and The Cure in support
A distraction then
getting hauled over by plod
somewhere near Bury St. Edmunds
Thatcher's boys.
Tax? MoT? Insurance? ID?
No real interest shown
Any passengers in the back?
Clearly no. Pickets?
Pickets? What?
Please open the boot sir... Oh.
On your way lad. Drive carefully
I was, officer, I was
More than you will ever know
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
You intrigue,
With your unsubtle unsettled intent to decieve,
Breadcrumb clues
Your gender;
(don't care)
Your age
(don't care, but oft
Insightful)
<>
Only two things do I require;
Any name you wish to provide,
(So intriguing, always a poem in & of itself),
And from where you hale/hail,
So my imaginings can fly to you
With full embrace
<>
Sunday
July 20th
2025
Still & Quiet
in the sunroom
S.I.
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 7:22 AM UTC
A universal force leading you to the crossroads
To sell your soul and finally live within potential
Or pass it by, blinking lashes
blocking dust and truth
It takes three things and only those three
Everything else is fluff
You gotta be ugly - you gotta be blind
Can't see or fathom the linear substance
The concrete holding, your bricks in the wall
Either in a literal sense or on the inside
Prominent features surpassing character
hard to look at but don't you worry
You gotta be blind
so it's no concern to you.
Next you gotta depart with your core
Strip away hope,
a skinning between body and soul
No longer will it be yours but if you're lucky,
you may get to keep it through layaway
There's always a price though, hidden fees
Steep, unsubtle , a fat moon face hiding behind a child's mask
I wonder though, was it really ours, this soul, to begin with?
To sell?
Self entitlement lingers second thoughts
That's the biggie though. Ultimate collateral, this soul you carry.
Finally, I'll only touch the tip.
Driving, animal instincts seeking warm comfort
You gotta answer to a new title,
a southern anatomy most of of the species glorifies.
it dominates in a protruding and brute external hang
A tangent but have we considered this tender piece to be the answer to vulnerability
instead of historically jarred ********** of wit
and wealth?
That's all it takes, folks. At that fateful railing
Get used to hot, sticky and sweet breath
Always chasing, caressing the back of your neck.
The void in the center where you had it
The soul you had
before you sold it.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Magnets;
lock and key;
and, the unsubtle,
bolt
and *****
These are things that collide harmoniously and do not dispute
We are not such an archaic, mechanized metaphorical construct.
I feel us as primal,
torrid decadence;
a deliberate impassioned vulnerability:
an animalistic exposé.
Unfocused, infinite black holes
expanding
to be lost within
Quivering circle of solicitous, engorged fuchsia
steaming harsh,
needy
attempts of oxygen recovery
Soft powder snow
melting over olive tree trunks,
quaking with endless echoes resonating from beyond the hills above
A thunderous harbinger centers chaos,
rampaging gust-like vibration through taut roots,
a volcanic eruption.
Lava geyser
blazing till all energy
enthralls the earth.
What I see for us is a metaphor in nature.
I will be the seismic activity
and you
will dance above me.
Your world will collapse against me
in my relentless motions.
And when you stand again,
I will bring you to
your knees
in my aftershock
and show you strength that will move you mountains.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
my eyes are exhausted from seeing things
i need not want to have a glimpse
from looking at people
i need never want to love at all
from catching melancholic eyes
i need in no way want to sympathize
my eyes are exhausted
from observing faces of reality
the crooked
unsubtle kind of hypocrisy
―a.t.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
this one starts where so many have
bed-begun
a weekend morn,
sun flooding the chamber,
we swap YouTube fav's,
over cups of almost
hotter coffee
I ******
with
"Roxanne" by Police;
she subtlety point counterpoints my
unsubtle advances, parrying by
sending me dreams of
the **** promised land of
"El Tango of Roxanne,"
from Moulin Rouge
I concede,
she pleased,
pleases me,
that her triumphed victory came so easy
not realizing my plan all along,
realizing, my all along man plan
ah,
Saturday, Naturday,
making natural spring water
poems
drawn from the saucy source
mother (bed-sun-music) earth
this one ends where so many have
bed-begun
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
a Saturday afternoon love song
<>
finally the breezes have sheared the humidity,
away, away, out, out sluggish, do nothing thoughted spots,
so peculiar to a Saturday August afternoon,
passing like a last exhaling breath,
quiet like, no receipt, no return, no raising of the turgid, languid lungs
one more time
alone with quiet contemplation for sole companionship,
observe a regatta of sailing board boats, silenced passerby's,
orderly and regal, the wind keeping them tidily single filed
their empowering wind makes me prone to
thoughts of singing,
Leon Russell's A Song For You,
up next on the playlist,
but the squirrels beg off,
the rabbits hide away 'neath the deck,
the craven ravens retreat to the highest branches,
alone, laughing at their impolite, unsubtle slipping away of the
dearly departed
earbud a semi-solo performance, a duet,
me backed up by
Leon and the river-baying waves,
a city boy singin$ rockily,
in a place where a city boy has no earthly business to be, ^
especially singing,
chanting to everyone, no one in particular,
listening real careful like to the words of two oaky, growly voices,
leftovers from the Sixties, sing a song to the ones they love
*"I love you in a place where there's no space or time,
I love you for my life, You're a friend of mine
And when my life is over, Remember when we were together,
We were alone and I was singing this song to you"*
sometimes it just doesn't get any better,
under the wings of the sky and its multi-shaded blue blessings,
don't need counting, enumerating, all kind of blending going on
the old alone days been on the mind,
those laser clouded future gazing hazing days,
when you listened to music non-stop, but never sung along,
strange though, I wept then, and weeping now,
can't quite make the connection...
*guess my singing is still
just that bad*
<>
August 13, 2016
05:50pm
S.I.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
The mix and match of minds at hand with attitudes diverse
compel me to make comment that some may find adverse,
Some may find a reason to launch to fierce attack
Whilst others choose to spectate sipping beer and sitting back.
It seems we have proponents of a new unsubtle mix
Who breeze in with their verbal fangs and talons fiercely fixed,
Who at the slightest pretext take offence and go to war
Leaving innocence astounded, open mouthed, upon the floor.
Some here can handle criticism, others clearly can't
And some perceive this helpful and others simply shan't,
But our greatest single asset is this freedom flow of words
where opinions and convictions are divested and diverged,
Where compliments and attitudes should be taken in our stride
And barking, fierce rejoiners must, perhaps... remain outside.
Ruffled feathers agitate but few intend offence
Interpretations differ... but in truth, with common sense,
Accommodation can be made without hot anger's flame
So let's bury the invective and get on with Shakespeare's game.
M.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Here it is; my body of work
Lately I've been showing off the other kind
Not that I'm complaining though
It has been such a long time
So what is going on inside my head?
Feeling fear, and doubt, and nervous
Pretty soon I'll start confusing you
Accidentally on purpose
With all this space around me
How can I feel like I need more?
"You should know that I'm nothing but a lousy,
Selfish, drunken man-whore."
These and other ways to leave your lover
Before the loving even starts
Paul Simon never wrote this tune
I've got that **** on lock
Burning bridges while they're being built
Such an unsubtle self-saboteur
Way to go there hot shot
What the hell did you do that for
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
The best made plans of mice and men often go awry
So why make plans you cannot keep, why d’we even try?
Why does man seek comfort in familiarity?
When familiarity breeds contempt
Why do we miss this unsubtle hilarity?
Within all the things we’ve dreamt
I’m not giving in just giving up
I’m going to let life wash over me and overflow my cup
I’m going to take all that it offers, even if it’s not expected
And live each day as they come as if they’re not connected
I won’t get what I want, I’ll get what I need
I shall cast off the shackles, unbridled and freed
I shall walk bare foot through the grass and savour the cool crisp air
I shall live only for the moment as if I just don’t care!
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Not death
Breathe slow
Past coil
Jealous?
We don't know
Sad as plain sight
Fake intents
Misdirection and dense
Regrets for tomorrow
Until the demon runs
Mind will be blank
Conscious without reprimand
Disgracing self
And projected shadows
Into millenium of words
That trick only inside
Gross and perfect
Figured somewhat insect
Fear of movement
Ready to read
Never to explore
A monster that is a bore
No true faces
Just stolen ink
Anger in three ports
Without the eyes to close
Ever so unsubtle
Render one cold
With love as slow as shell
Until they grow the verdure fungus
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
Drugs, drastic doings and daily doses of suicide.
Do I do it for that feeling of self government?
That adrenaline rush; an engulfing sense of freedom and autonomy.
This is my body,
My lungs to inhale with, my mouth to swallow with and my nose to snort with.
I shouldn't be doing this,
I'm going to do this.
Why am I so ****** up?
Do I do it because I don't care?
'SMOKING KILLS' ,it says it on the box.
Every day I torture my lungs, suffocating them,
Smothering them, smouldering them.
Every inhalation bringing me closer to death.
This thought is not a deterrence but a mere acceptance.
The more I allow myself to be a slave to my plotting and unsubtle murderer, the less I care.
Why am I so ****** up?
Do I do it because its an act or rebellion?
Look at me, I'm doing something you don't approve of,
I'm going to make you angry.
With my misdirected strength and determination,
I'm going to tear down the walls that are your rules.
This feeling of disobedience, it's addictive.
Why am I so ****** up?
So many reasons, so many people, so many ****** up things.
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
all my past
imposes on my breath today
i enter a grand mosaic public building
and on goes my medical face mask
i join the back of the queue with my documents in one hand
and my numbered butcher ticket
in the other
i admire the mosaics
a jarring tide of art against the bureaucratic purpose
of these rooms
gauzed in with own product exhaust
all my past is attending
exhumed
patted into my breath
baiting remembrance with unsubtle notes
for example :
integrated spittings of 'drum' tobacco (i quit a decade ago)
horning catches of cologne every boy used as a teen
seasonal scents unweaned from deep in my system
(some reigned in from the different countries
i lived in or visited)
then i am frisked back to infancy with breast milk and rusks
it's all there a basking flippancy
all there in musk about my face
one fragrance after another
it's an honest relief
to host an alternative to my 'old man' breath
but odd and concerning
something of the brain ?
Apr 6, 2024
Apr 6, 2024 at 1:40 PM UTC
And there I felt a sense of elation.
Seeing it for the first time.
A sense of interest.
Soft spoken, somewhat political.
Funded by interest.
The likes and dislikes of what lures the climate of smile.
It felt surreal.
A breath of fresh air.
A simple reminder of the smallest thing.
Not once did it feel that it was too much.
Not once did it feel that it was vain.
Off beat.
Watching episode after episode,
Subtle unsubtle laughs.
The gist of different references.
Spontaneous in the avenue of conversation.
I drove to get a second look. Then once more around.
The freedom of advertisement.
Officially elected in detailed statement.
A festival of sorts.
I would turn the corner and see all of my favorite characters
represented by my most favorite character.
To compliment surprise her cheeks rose like a billboard.
If marketing research counts, I was instantly sold.
Finding she was a avid merchant.
Her infinite knowledge for detail.
The gap bridged between listening and speaking.
A new experience to a different sector of my brain.
The rescue of a struggling smile.
A festival of bright smiles and laughs.
Corners of strong jawline and spontaneous conversation.
It was incredible.
Catching the most important reference,
My favorite character in life.
Wearing a Bob's Burger t-shirt
Granting smile in a instant
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
Sub-human thing.
Unsubtle sting;
a barb that pierces.
My body sings a song that echoes owl screeches.
The moon, it gapes;
my one escape to the farthest reaches.
Out on the fringe, my fur is tinged by embers burnt into the skin
to be met with gnashed teeth and claws that grasp at meat within.
Sub-human form;
body transformed into a nightmare.
A howl that drowns out all and every modern trapping.
Run away and I'll give chase.
Red blood boiling through my veins.
Tearing flesh with filed fangs;
enamoured with the taste.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
The thing about the word unhealthy is that it can only exist
in comparison to other, more appealing options.
In the absence of vegetables,
a diet consisting of processed sugars, caffeine,
and American Spirits raises no red flags.
Broken individuals seem to shine brightest
when they cannot be referenced against those possessing more admirable qualities.
You are the dent in a beautiful spine,
telomerase granting immortality to the cancer.
She is dive bar songs for everyone,
for her,
for this half-drunk moment,
but secretly for you, really.
Dusted in neon smoke your body can’t breathe
but still delicately pack into the corners of each lung,
knowing it can never be exhaled.
For someone so self-professed anxious,
She says lots of words that are not “yeah”.
She is a kiss that tastes like mornings spent reading The Bell Jar.
Long legs twisted into thick comforters, bare skin
close with the desperation of two people who have everything to lose.
Morning hair spread wide and thick. On your backs,
not wanting to move, wondering how
much time you have left. Doing
the math together.
The wrinkle following you through an empty apartment.
Here is proof, evidence.
A human alive; a body in operation.
When She crashes her smile into what’s left of your teeth
it feels like a jaw being broken by sunlight.
Closer to her than anyone,
without knowing a thing about the ashes in the corners of each eye.
Rings with an unsubtle sway from striped dress,
to the edge of your timid fingers.
I know how little a man can do with two hands.
Abandoned toys and worn out shoes have a past
, like the people who used them.
Don’t tell people the reason you have to leave parties early without saying goodbye,
why you stay so close to the exits, ready
to push away any innocent bystander who might be able to help you.
Don’t tell them She’s the voice mumbling
beyond the edge of your lamplight.
Wondering what Hope means,
if the other end of the text message knows
and what it means to find out.
Some stories end with four shoes on a subway platform,
not caring if you’re stepping into the right train.
Others end in the fields
as the ants clean the bones.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Drilling through flesh to find something worth sparing. Yanking out veins, arteries I'm tearing.
A drastic change from who I used to be. In unsubtle ways this world has altered me.
I'm searching for something worth nailing to my cross. But my search turns up nothing, and my intestines are in knots.
Digging and sivving, through heavy, labored, breathing. Rending and bending, through tendons I'm teething.
Im dredging up the dead that lay in my mind. I'm trying to find the peace of a sweeter time.
But I only go so deep, because of what lies bellow. A skull full of dead rabbits where even Alice wouldn't go.
Tying sinew to their paws I make them dance and jest. I fear what I've become because I'm alone and have killed the rest.
And yet I'm still smiling through the blood, and the tears, and the pain. Because deep down in my past I've found that I am the one to blame.
I have scorched my skies, I have charred my earth. I was my own downfall, to You my Friend.
Signed.
For what's it's worth.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
Dear previous flame,
For whatever you may feel, know we are mirrors.
For whatever insecurity you may look to cure, through searching hard and unsubtle in the profile I choose to share,
Know that I’m a shadow, searching hard through a shared room that was yours before it was mine—
Looking for any sign of superiority, a crack in the impenetrable armor I built for you.
I know you’re my reflection on the outside looking in.
You’re his past but my potential future and the empathy I feel runs deeper than the credit you’d dare give me.
The truth is I see you in every girl who could remotely fit your description, despite knowing your exact image.
You are not a threat, but a curiosity nonetheless.
Because after all, any record broken is only as good as above second place.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
The storm was raging
Unsubtle changes!
The circumference of the area
was lit up by lightning
flashing down
in the blink of an eye.
All the birds were clustered together
It was quite scary
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 10:27 AM UTC
My father was a coalman ,when I was a little girl
Five ‘o’ clock each morning, coal-sacks on his shoulder he would hurl
Behind the wheel of a lorry at fourteen years of age
No driving licence did he have, for he was under-age
My dad he was a strapping lad, what you would call robust
Handsome, though you couldn't tell, face covered in coal-dust
When he would come home at night, he was quite a scary sight
All I could see was big brown eyes and teeth so pearly-white
He'd perch me on his saddle and wheel me up and down the lane
Even though he'd worked a ten hour shift and was in a lot of pain
He used to tell us stories, they always made us laugh
He told us about a lady who wanted her coal put in the bath
One day he was approached by an expectant mum called Florrie
She told him that her waters had broken, so he took her on the lorry
When she arrived at the hospital, her skin and clothes were black
She'd got there safely in one piece, surrounded by Nutty-Slack
Some customers would pay upfront, my dad his lesson learnt
When customers refused to pay for coal already burnt
If someone was short of money, he would fill up their coal-scuttle
But if he told his dad, the boss, his response would be unsubtle
Hardly anyone has coal fires now and this makes me very sad
But lots of people in the town remember the Coalman, ‘my dad’
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
the sky is so blue,
the ******
topsy-turvy vase dribbling sun-spit
crashing around
with its mucus rays
stumbling, heaving on doorsteps
punching drunkenly through windows
giddy and chaotic as it *****
air greedily upwards
windmilling glory
away from us as we exhale-
"what a perfect day
the perfect day to stay
inside
the perfect day to **** away"
the swaying, nauseous people say,
and the sky, the tipsy ******
giggles as it throws itself
blue, unsubtle, with ripped tights,
glistening thighs, come-hither eyes,
unsteady, with love,
at the trees.
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC
And for some reason
At the depth of it all
I have fallen back into
the deepest groove of my own suffering.
I do not know how or why
this pain has come back.
Or why it refuses to leave.
Deep down
at the bottom of everything
I am surrounded --
By perfect monstrous silence
Echoing gently the constant reminder
Of my own isolation.
I haven't felt this alone in years.
At least not consciously so.
Face to face with failure:
The deepest kind of suffering.
The very essence of sadness.
The darkest part of darkness.
Nothing but this:
Alone again as always
Irrational misbehavior
Living always in a tortured instance.
The world isn't so bad
But the experience itself
Is a whole different thing.
I'd rather die right now
than walk inside and put on a happy face.
Splice myself open and drain away.
The inexplicable suffering of my life
Has taken hold of me
Mysterious, unsubtle.
Always and forever.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
Ok, I think it's time we had a talk
I am a lover of change and difference
but sometimes, I have to balk
It's been less than four weeks?
since change was forced upon us
something, we didn't go out to seek
So what's up, with what appears
to be, unsubtle sweeping deviations
every day I fear, newer divination
Are we settled on this one?
will there be others?
what can we expect?
and I thought
we were
brothers :D
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC