"unthinkingly" poems
I heard the world's loudest **** today
It echoed round the town enough to say
*"I am a **** of great renown and fame,
I am a **** who's worthy of the name
Of* KING of FARTS!" Unthinkingly I sniffed
And, let me tell you, I have never whiffed
Aught so potent, dank and dread and foul
Blasted out from heaving human bowel
As that king of farts I smelled today
And which took my ******* breath away.
Who was the pumper of that putrid beauty?
How many curries in the line of duty
Had he consumed? It must have been a man -
No pong so strong ere blew from female can.
Can no one answer yet my urgent question:
And say who suffereth such dire indigestion?
O heavens! his torment must be something chronic.
Can no one subsidise a high colonic
Irrigation to prevent another
Noisier and more noisome than its younger brother?
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
I always suspected electricity
Ran rampant through my veins
To make me dazed and dizzy
But unable to sit still
It made me prone to flights of fancy
So I left giddy trails of sparks
Blazing proof of my restlessness
That once brightly caught your eye
Once your gaze had found my own
My moods came in swooning flares
And you crackled alongside me
Filling my aching, empty silence
With shiny, blessed noise
We burned so beautifully
With my electric fire
And your trilling declamations
Light and sound intertwining
Like thunder that had finally caught up with its lightning
It seemed like Nature's order
A completion of the whole
Two halves that followed each other
Unthinkingly and automatically
So one day when I found silence
It felt like Earth itself was splitting
Panicked, I burned more brightly
Stoked the fire just in case
I feared that I had dimmed
And been the cause of this new quietness
So when I still heard nothing
I thought my efforts insufficient
And I ran my highest currents
Until my wires nearly melted
Thinking the sun and I were comparable
And anticipating a response
And still I heard no trilling
No crackling at my side
So I wondered if perhaps
I had shined beyond your limits
Swiftly, I contracted
Reined in my flares and doused the fire
Thinking sudden darkness
Might just shock you into sound
I finally heard the faintest popping
Not quite the rending that I wanted
But a break from quiet all the same
Afraid of spoiling the moment
I leashed my electricity
Kept myself dim so I could hear you
Though I felt the writhing beneath my skin
It finally became unbearable
So I flashed like wild lightning
Lashed out and struck the ground
Hoping for your thunder
A dark and roiling storm
Swirling raindrops and clouds colliding
And deep, ugly noise
All I wanted was your thunder
But in the end
It was only me yelling
Screaming out for downpours
Alone
Listening to my own echoes
Waiting for you to harmonize
In the end
I was always waiting
Wondering when you'd chosen silence
Wondering why I'd let you dim me
Wondering how it was we'd ever burned
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
The mysterious pregnancy
of the present moment.
Call it hazard, randomness
whatever you like.
Contained in that moment,
all the possibilities of life.
The locus of existence.
Whatever you do could
change everything.
You are 21 and sitting in a bar.
You walk out the door and turn right.
One life looms. Hazard.
You walk out the door and turn left.
A different life. Hazard.
You stay at the bar;
someone sits down beside you.
A third life opens up. Hazard.
Forget choice. You didn't choose,
you just unthinkingly did.
Yet so many possibilities
in that innocent instant.
Mythic, timeless, un-contemporary.
Powerful as a Black Hole.
We speak of good choices,
bad choices, as if we control
our lives absolutely.
Wrong. Worse than wrong: absurd.
Ego. You believe yourself a god?
First comes the random hazardous moment,
numinous and fecund with an unknown power.
Choice only follows that moment.
You choose within the arena of hazard.
Only then, thumbs up or down.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
I ask for direction but only the spirit knows,
the semantic is lost in one ritual or another subroutine.
We breath in violable biology to voice a movement
that joins u to me and together we point there,
somewhere without realizing that I consciously exhale.
A relaxed breath in but two ways out.
There is no committee nor panel of experts,
endless discussions, of morality of us all;
There is only me deciding how to exhale,
which way to breath out.
There is no wrong or right, only the slow,
controlled, submissive, submission vowels
or short, percussive consonants full of sound
and fury signifying the falling
golf ***** scattered on off-target greens,
a lawn of flamed bogeys.
A brief pause in silence aftermath, memories
of honored and vicious executioners
before I pick up the next eddie current,
the next randori in forgotten volume,
in brownian space, in distance maai,
in movements unthinkingly remembered.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Our lives unfold
atop these sloping curves
the very surface of this great rock
into which we have so unthinkingly carved
Out a living.
Civilization’s mark,
the roads, the buildings, the mines,
you should stand atop a mountain
on a cool night,
gaze off at an urban skyline
in the distance.
I am a lonely blister
On this one great stone.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 3:46 PM UTC
this former guttersnipe doth harbor no ill will
while lain in the gutter of this conventional ville
where some insomniacs take nigh quill
your plea 4 money, but a confession
that my life like a bitter pill
shape n size like n opal battling uphill
monetary resources nil
yet surges of imaginative days with hew fill
me jet throw toll aqua lung gill
lug gin islands n tandem with my mind till
death dew eye part, but social security disability
just barely amp pull - this no pitiful poetic swill.
at this juncture
my self confidence fuels me with greater skill
2 take risks, such as reach out n smooth over
ruffled n ridged feathers emanating
from sputter ring unthinkingly sans my virtual quill
i.e. emails n such prods awareness
2 maximize opportunities that could fill
a void - specifically a marriage bereft of compatibility -
n figuratively i jumped in2 this drama OUT of desperation
years ago when hot n ***** pangs would not chill
plus my then living mother n now octogenarian
widower father raged against me, their sole
soul less son, who daily they did flip their grill.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
a mother caught a cheating husband.
a few minutes walk from their home in a high glass building.
from below she knew which apartment it would be
a green light shined from a Victorian lamp
which she had gifted the thieving *****
as she ascended, the start of that beating drum
thumped loudly with every step
through the empty corridors
she held her ear at every red frame
for his voice of treason
and on the seventy fifth floor
at the eight hundred eighty eighth door
she listened on
heard voices unthinkingly in love
her heart could not bare what her ears had heard
her joints and elbows contorted inward
towards her chest where she beat it madly with her fists
she slumped all the way home
plotting a demise for he and she
allowing malevolence to poison her good hearted soul
she thought of a way to get rid of them both
climbing an endless staircase dark and poorly lit
cries and tears of a joyless woman unrequited
passed her children without a momentary glance
not a wave goodbye
no more kisses goodnight
from the rooftop
passed the eight hundred eighty eighth door
she found her cure
she leapt as she stared out into the sky
and not a tear no more she will cry
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 12:42 PM UTC
vim and vigor
**** and vinegar
stale old sayings that still ring true
and i'm people-watching again
putting words to their steps
pulling phrases from the books i read
when i was a child
and dressing them up like dolls
in their own descriptions
some game, i think to myself
as the lines drift round their heads
like prickly crowns
we define ourselves with these words
with things unthinkingly said
and we wear them
like capes or like armour
like medals or like long baggy sweaters
displaying or betraying
the true poetry inside
i'm people-watching again
noticing how we take these words and use them
to excuse ourselves, to explain ourselves
to take the disdain and refrain from believing
our own homegrown lines
for some reason, the words that come
from other mouths
are the ones we take as truth
vim and vigor
now that's a compliment
**** and vinegar
take that with a grain of salt
by default, your own voice comes first
so describe yourself wisely
i'm people-watching again
shielding myself from the poetry of it all
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
Late is the hour
but still
I am awake
Alone; a tower
Cold - I think
of many a mistake
Made unthinkingly
My own mind
has become
my worst enemy
And it's a battle I cannot win.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
"Faith" is suffice for comfort
If the abyss encroaches on thee
But only the Surgeon prevails
Making blind eyes see
"Faith" deceives and says the pivot
Of the universe is the human race
When the crux of our existence
Is lost somewhere in outer space
"Faith" is impotent next to fact
When Reason is apace
But ignorance defends itself
For fear of losing face
"Faith" just means a belief
Held uncritical, unthinkingly
But I have become a sceptic
Oh Science, inform me
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
Infatuated with titillating breeze,
flower, out of its mind,
was unthinkingly ready,
to let go the vine it bloomed!
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
"See you later," I whisper unthinkingly as his breathing stops.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
I want to be tragically beautiful
I want to whisper delicate fancies
in the ear of the unknown
I want to sit in pools of serenity
while the world passes unthinkingly by
I want to breath in the flame of passion
and exhale pure intellectual thought
I want to steep myself in contemplation
articulating the terrible complexity of humanity
I want to sit in a coffee shop
allowing the distinct sent to engulf me in comforting familiarity
I want to wrap my arms around the wounded
and shed magnificent tears of sorrow
I want to soak in scenery
taking in the exquisiteness that embodies nature
I want to smile radiantly
yet mistakenly allow sadness to show in my eyes
for I am so terribly alone
and yet so interestingly picturesque
But I’ll remain in delicate transit
until that day that I succeed in capturing
the dignity of tragedy
while relinquishing
the nightmare of beauty
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
there is a point of no return
unthinkingly dismissed
a line crossed
bringing instant regret;
each and every decision
up until that moment
questioned
lamented
and rued
i have just crossed
that threshold again
the hangnail was
bitten and pulled
until flesh was torn
and the blood ran
now there is nothing
but discomfort
knowing full well
what i was doing;
there is no excuse
for such folly
Jul 8, 2021
Jul 8, 2021 at 11:44 AM UTC
She said she liked my confidence.
What she didn't know, was it was liquid courage.
That this strong façade was cracking.
Words fall unthinkingly from my lips,
a charm for wit and a fault for aggression.
Just smile.
From someone shy to someone bold.
From someone hurt to someone who could care less.
And that's what she liked about me.
The number of faces I've spoken to,
with reckless abandon.
In hopes of sparking an interest, only to stand and leave.
These shaky hands in surgery.
Should never poke at someone's heart.
But confident.
Sure.
And thank you.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Tall grass sways In the wind above my head
Darkness hangs in the air like smoke
threatening to choke me out at any moment
I'm completely alone
Lost
I look around desperately praying for anything
I see a light in the distance
Hope
I sprint through the grass with arms outstretched completely unguarded
You met me with open arms
Unthinkingly I grabbed your hand and let you lead me
We reached a dark dense forest with a narrow path stretching out before us
I felt safe
I let your light lead me on
You kept me safe from the forest
Each move so careful so precise
You played a perfect game
You led me to the heart of the forest
I relied on your light like the very air I breathe
Then you turned your light off and you let go
I could feel your presence leave mine
Yet I couldn't see or hear
Immobilized
I tried to follow you
I started walking
Then running!
Then sprinting after you!
Until I tripped
Tears began to fall and it was as if they would never stop
Now here I sit destroyed by my very protector
Broken
On July 7th 2011
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
Some walk the line
Between a woman and a man.
If god got a do-over
Would he do the same again?
Or would some afterthought
Bring about a badly needed change
That causes confusion
So some use the epithet “strange”?
How do people so often ignore
The amazing leaders and creators,
Proof they’ve been shown before
That different people can be world beaters.
People have cheered for decades
Those strong women who compete in sports.
For centuries men of feminine type
Felt they’ve needed to sink to life’s last resorts.
For no reason that makes sense
Parents have dealt unremitting hate to their kids.
Some of them take it personally
As if it is the result of something evil they did.
Demands were made unthinkingly
To change they way they had to behave
And too often the orders came from
The unsuccessful directives of “Jesus Saves”.
So here they are, suffering daily
The children who live as god made them
And society, for no good reason
Chooses to call them names and evade them.
There is nothing wrong with them
These beautiful people living on the line
Who act and live their lovely lives
The way nature has defined.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
Indeed
this important and yet impotent word,
sometimes hurled with mighty scorn,
or quiet whispered ruefully reflectively,
empowering, yet so weakly confessional, that
it is a word equally reveling in overarching wonder,
or a summarizing a simplicity of inability,
to surrender by weak agreement…
indeed,
that selfsame word,
indeed,
I’ve employed usage unthinkingly casually,
mis-appreciating its power of causality,
used so often in poems, slipping it in to the
hilt, succinct dagger of irony, killing easily,
and yet only 17
thousand
poems of the mega-thousands here,
have been designated with the honorific
#indeed
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 2:30 PM UTC
he's in the news
practically every day
for the things he'll
unthinkingly say
often he's seen signing
a managerial piece of paper
which is very important
in its draper
the heads of other
nations
aren't fond of his
aggravations
the word great tumbles
out of his gob
within every sentence
that word he'll lob
when he finally
moves off the stage
will it be filled by
another of his gauge
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
The others look at the ground.
They look at the sky.
They watch for a miracle,
Believing that they believe,
Wondering when they will no longer wonder,
Unthinkingly mouthing the New English Bible.
You ignore their designs.
You wait for the moment
When we will forget
The climate in our clothes
And the slaughter on our plates
And the tongues of our elders
And the mystery of what remains
And that light is our order,
Our kingdom is stone
And that love, envy, joy, despair
Are rituals that we cannot unlearn
As we touch and retreat in predictable ways.
The sun burns its vicious circle.
So you lie down to sleep.
You try to go to sleep.
You hope they remember to wake you.
But not too soon.
No, not too soon.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 7:04 AM UTC
It exists just to be used
Softened lead and wood the color of sunshine,
On a clear summer day at noon,
Sharp to be dull to be sharpened again,
Cut to be cut to be cut again,
Long, for the purpose of being shortened
Shortened, short
Made to waste away, to sacrifice,
simply to make its mark, your mark,
A mark that will never be its own
What do you own when you are simply a conduit
Of other ideas?
An implemented utensil made to hold,
To shape thoughts, to make words,
To make worlds,
Smooth as soft grass beneath flattened palms,
Light enough to flick between fingers,
A soft hand, a trailing finger, a lover’s touch,
Round and round, and then round again,
Here, then there, unthinkingly,
As your focus trails over…
And doubles back,
Before crystallizing, your tool suddenly held firm,
As you spin your tales, your worlds, your words,
Then pause, and look, your thoughts made tangible,
Your tool a stake, a spear, a weapon when needed,
Sharp and dangerous, ready,
A pike, a sword, a dagger,
Able to communicate the sharpest words, the harshest touch,
A slap, a hit, hard, and heavy,
Smarting like a bruise just found, just poked, just pushed against.
A tool, a weapon, a builder, a revolutionary,
With just the barest hint of pink, of regret, of dissonance,
To stop.
Your trailing words, your tirade, your letters of love to leave,
Second guessed and sectioned off and sacrificed successfully,
Erased from all of history,
Transformed, at once, to nothing.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
*I hope you are well. Truly. My name is gladys, I am twenty-two, this is not an autobiography. This one time I almost crashed my car into a metal sign post in order to not run over a pigeon. I often leave secret notes hidden between the pages of books from my favourite authors in public libraries and book stores. I never got my photograph/ senior quote published in my graduating class' yearbook in high school because I am eminently indecisive. I don't mind it, however, I sort of like the idea of it, a somewhat absent nostalgia. I really like it when people unthinkingly do kind things for other people. I like the color blue, a lot, although I rarely wear it. I use commas quite excessively in my writing. I like that they indicate a brief pause but are not as final as periods. I like many things, I like to do face exercises and arm stretches at night before I go to sleep. And that, that is all. For now.
You are wonderful, goodnight.*
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Today
Yes, today
Today of all days
words fail
I drag my mind
down the factory line
Assembling detritus of soul
filling alliterative consumerative holes
Divining not whining
my words not un-rhyming
So mechanically doing
hands unthinkingly spewing
Blindly inscribing the scroll
As my spirit, and heart
turn to
coal
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
I know
because every time I hear the word "love"
My mind would jump to you
If it wasn't already there.
I know
Because every time you walk in a room
I worry that you can hear my heart
Knocking against my teeth.
I know
Because you can trace the structure of my bones
And tell the story of us.
But our story grows and so do I,
So do we,
To make room for more memories.
I know
Because for the first time
Since I became old enough to harbor an awareness,
And dislike,
Of my body,
I believe someone when they say I'm beautiful.
I knew
The day I unthinkingly referred to a place
That I had never considered more than temporary
As "home."
The only reason I could fathom
Is that it's where you are.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC