"untelling" poems
With thirty pieces at your feet
Isaiah's prophecy: made complete.
Your infamy sealed with a kiss
May be more compelling
Than your place on Satan's list.
Though history be untelling,
Through you His will be done
To ensure your friend
Go down as His forgiving son.
You both knew before
The bread was dipped,
The soldiers: he wanted tipped.
Apostles fell from twelve to eleven.
You secured your spot in heaven.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 6:39 AM UTC
Keeping you as my secret
As though the world unknowing
Is infinitely empowering
Like the Mona Lisa smiling
Her gaze perpetrating
Knowing thoughts discerning
Never disclosing yet ever imparting
Secrets untelling
Keeping you guessing and searching
For an inevitable unveiling
Yearning unabating
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
when did she go
will she return to me
sweet maiden of the sea
has she been beaten and battered
by old mother nature
she's got a temper, the old hag
full of spite at times
savoring the taste
of revenge on her tongue
even when it's not justified
has she been washed clean
clean by the sea
clear of mind
clean of me
only the wind knows
I listen tirelessly
for it calling her name
perhaps the moon knows
always watching down over us
omnipotent and untelling
with hushed lips
do you see her?
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
The picket signs put your life at stake.
With your hand in hers it is all
you can do to keep moving forward
because the signs are telling you
that love is not love after all,
that eves proceed their holidays,
spring freezes into winter
which ripens to fall.
Light burns off the earth in waves
that crash into the sun.
Bodies float out of their graves
like astronauts jettisoned from the shuttle.
Dirt hardened by ages sighs
beneath your toes,
magma slithers back into volcanoes,
the biker’s tires only spin forward
because he’s zooming back,
he holds a beer can in his hand
beneath one streetlight
and a firefly in a jar beneath the next.
Children are releasing fireflies
from jars, poking holes
back into the lids,
cutting off air supply,
untelling lies.
And you, as you walk
through the picketers,
are become a child again,
weaving through the legs of women
and men a party, hugging your shoulders
to yourself again to confirm
that they’re yours
as you stand in a dress
your mother picked out for you
the night before.
As the picketers leave you fall,
glasses crack, voice creaks
like an attic door.
Rain dilutes the salt on your cheeks
as it rises from the floor;
this is a mind war.
After all that backwards,
this girl is not something you want
to find beautiful anymore.
But you are still holding her hand.
Look,
she says to you,
*maybe G-d doesn’t mean it
when He says He hates us.
After all,
He said* let there be light,
and then there was darkness.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Green eyes glisten in the moonlight
City noises cars going by, sitting on the rooftop the future lost sight
Wondering where life will take her, will she be alright?
She's been strong her whole life, she wonders if it's worth her might
Too many battles, the war is not her fight
Looking back, seeing how she lost her sight
Days in and out, the world keeps turning just look at the streetlights
Street lights ran on a timer, expected without knowing
Same as her beauty, pain without showing
Her path is unknown, her tears start flowing
Broken and defeated, her heart begins snowing
Never good enough, her spirit is bowing
Beauty is pain, her smile brings light to a room
Inside full of demons, her core becomes doom
A seed is all she has with just enough bloom
Only a goddess has this strength in a tomb
She knows her worth in the mist of perfume
Head heel high, this is just another monster to consume
Life runs in eight, the world sees her figure
Enjoying the smallest of things, dreaming of leisure
Pleasure of pain keeps her going, not submitting
Hair in the wind, that would be fitting
She can't help but notice all of her failings
Her children cry because her choices are untelling
Expected to be like her mother, becomes her biggest fear
Like an open book, her soul full of sheer
Battling yesterday's self, her memory is a tear
Proceeding is her only choice
Love and hope will always be her inner voice
Her emotions are not boring
Street lights will always be her story
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC