"upturning" poems
she walks at trouble with her Jugular bared
Into fire because she likes the heat,
the way the flames play and flirt
with her fingers and her bones.
lips tilted around a cigarette
drags in the poisonous kiss
of a ***** cloud,
upturning her palms to strangers
to give them her hands and her ways.
That girl is Brave
diving off every cliff
and caressing the rocks
as she floats down
harmlessly to rest
upon the filmy waves.
but when her little soul
becomes golden at the edges
I hope for her that a hand
will catch her balloon string
and guide her back to earth.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
Crazy things we didn’t know were there
Without an X to mark its spot,
We shoveled and we dug over our bodies
We pillaged acres of skin, ravished even,
Our flesh fueled by the promise of glowing treasure
Wielding shovels and picks only our better natured angels
Understood, or could call “sweet intentions”
No map we possessed ended in gold
So we drew up our own tracing mountains and streams,
Upturning every rock, wading in every pool,
Our made-up languages became passcodes for secret doors
Our hair and nails became booby-traps
Like poisonous ivy and razor sharp spikes.
Perilous our hunt for heirloom, we would find.
But how could we not look?
Our compass points Northeast from down here
So as I climb towards your chest and you to mine
Our knocking proved there were unhallowed
Cavities under ribbed-caged bodies
And still we dig
Closer and closer to the treasure in our chests.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
in pealing season, she is a girl of lousy ingrowth
she is an unkempt corner; kitchen sink. legs pulled like knives. phone call her curled tendons; isolation in
grit and fibril
she is women with wings. this is how we stymie the rapunzel. we carve the ugly into her. we teach her to wear skin like saran. skin like punishment
cut-coin the rumpelstiltskin. how she is wound and string, paper-doll; bird-in-a-box
how we wring the juice of her on washcloth. hung upturned from the ceiling fang; plucked and feathered
like apology. cherry-picked; veins like mikado. how it is dark and she is blind-bat wind-warriors; waterboarded with no hands
upturning the paper boats of her in every follicle; how the flipswitch insecurity eats her like pickle. in a storm
she is neither nor tongue nor limb
just breast, bone, the weight of mirrors
how we jettison when the grief is heavy. abandon. thick, empty abandon.
alone in grit-cusps when the monsoon has eaten into the white, wispy mortuary. dark in hallways; yet pale and slender. she is beautiful.
we lift her ribbed corpse off the shoreline.
we unload the offering like red carpet;
this is how we wrap her in white and weary-eyed
translucent. how unavoidable we become when we are the last hope. crippled. when we look hope in the eye. askance. how she will beg you to look at her with the heart in the honey-jar; torso in tourniquet
how the walls are ripped in shades of askance. how we look away.
how us, walls, look away.
how, us, walls, askance.
how we drip of askance; how the pink flesh and cherry-limb slips like matchstick on brushfire
how there is purple and primrose and bruise
there are some spots on the floor where it still reeks purple and yellow and bruise
how we are
lousy
ingrowth
here. how we
try
to
pluck
and erase
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Tell me again why you are running away,
...forgotten yearning.
It seems to me like you've gone astray,
...very discerning.
I know you won't listen to what I've got to say,
...so concerning.
But it seems so selfish of you not to stay
...ever the casern king.
You always 've seen the world in a shade of gray
...endless murmuring.
I wanted, just once, to hear you pray
...useless stammering.
Just to know where your soul would lay
...'aven't started burning.
I tried to shape you, create form from clay
...too inurning
But it seems that I created a mess, a splay
...you're learning
Blinded, I just watched as you began to sway
...court's adjourning
And now your body ash as we prepare to bray
...just sojourning
My constant pushing led to this needless slay
...very secerning
Regrets of times past will be reminisced today
...un-upturning
And so, we say goodby one last time along the brae
...stop mourning
As we spread your ash to the wind on this spring day
...I'll be...ret..u..r...n.....i.......
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 1:23 PM UTC
are some dreams real?
dogs in the alleyways
stopped at the robot by a slavic cop lady
but she lets others pass
dragged to a restaurant
interrogated by a mafia owner demanding money I don't owe
they say I've eaten there with a pregnant lady last week
dunno what they mean
Alan smiles but conspiratorially with them
how can he be a friend?
I sob that I don't get their drift
too late..
I need to a safe room to tell a story
whisper your name in the night
dream you lodge nearby
I jump up to do midnight chores
i pack out glassware from closets and you're there
ostensibly to help
the helpful lodger gesticulated that he's leaving
while I make the right noises of working
so, after upturning the table to work on its insides
you leave it on the floor
upside down
it will stand that way till you return
you get so irked at my queries
I'm half afraid to talk
I get a quick kiss pressed onto me face
I didn't brush my teeth
my tongue feels thick and gritty
you rush off into the night
I'm in an alley with a tape-recorder
hearing a deal go down
I call to the fat son of the owner
they're all slobs
with underwear down their knees
and *** on their shoes
I drive down the highway with half attention
and think how we could have met
yet that thought drifts far away now
as my story waits in line
on a conveyer belt the public never sees
stepping out this time line
to lance ahead single entity
for when the other catches up
there just ain't enough temporal cloth
to be clad in unity cloaks
some dreams are maybe then just dreams
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
I will shamble in the ashes of a thousand burned out buildings
Dancing in disaster while the hot winds burn and blow
And the skies are getting darker while the lightening cracks
To frozen ground and black
Turns the ice and the snow.
All the world is turning and upturning
And spinning out of control
And all the world is burning
As the rage begins to grow
The streets are filled with nothing
Only smoke and char and rusted cars
And hollow voices in the darkness
Shouting out up to the stars
Calling for the things they need
Down to dead ears that hear no pleas
For the streets are filled with nothing
But choking fumes as thick as sludge
Frigid water filled with ash
Black and running quenching nothing
While the world is burning still
All the world is turning and upturning
And spinning out of control
And all the world is burning
As the rage begins to grow
So I dance in the dark
In the soot and smoke and the cold sick water
In the bones of the buildings that burn
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
I just want something to come home to
Words
A little picture of happiness.
Something to make the empty echoes
Of a lone heart beating
A little softer
Over and over
Again my eyes flitting side to side
A smile, maybe
No promises.
Just words.
A lover’s repose
I want something to wake up to
Words
A little picture of happiness
Something to jumpstart the tired dull thuds
Of a lone heart weakening
To pull my lidless shades
Up a little
Corner of my mouth upturning
Maybe
No promises.
Just words
A lover’s invigoration.
I want something to let my heart sing to
Words
Harmonized throughout my day
Something to make the beating
Prevail
A little longer
To draw myself
Through life’s difficulties
A scant crescent
Maybe
No Promises.
Just words.
A Lover’s Endurance.
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC
Someone said that having secrets was like holding an invisible box close to your chest. Nobody can get close and they can't see why.
It's in the ******* way.
I overturned my box, papers all tumbling out--you could've picked up any one and asked a question.
You said nothing, upturning like a fish. Belly-up boy.
I picked softly at your lip, finding a tattoo on the inside of your lip.
It says ***** but it might as well have said "YOU'RE STUPID" to me.
I tried to pull any information I could about it out of you.
I got nothing, like *** from a stone.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
Start walking at the end of the driveway of
the modest yellow house on Haven St. made of
crumbling bricks and splintered high-beams
tattooed in black ink
at the back of your hand.
make a right down Crescent
towards the sun
and another right on Brunswick Avenue
no stopping for snacks or bathroom breaks
and if you don’t shut up
grandpa’s going to reach over to the driver’s seat
and cuff you at the back of your head
with his callused hand
overworked from his years
down at the cattle station.
After twenty miles or so northwest
kinetosis hits, upturning today’s sad breakfast
of French fries and saltine crackers
You will stop crying and be a man
Grandpa said as we
reached a sign that says
Nursing Home, 3hrs. 15 min.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
It’s been two summers and all I could do is to retrace my steps to where I first met you.
I’ve been upturning rocks in the rubble that’s left of you, trying to find remnants of your being breeding with all the dirt and stale air that still carries a scent of you.
In my attempt to reconstruct it all, my hands quiver with the weight of the sharp edged despondency pressing on the void that’s been gathering dust in my insides.
It’s been two summers and all this retracing and reconstructing has been wearing out the spaces you left within this mess of wretched longing and hopelessness.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
looking for your lover
upturning the corpses
looking for your lover
-------
vain images
images of beauty
hiding the scorn
masking the shame
------
upturning the corpses
looking for your lover
only corpses!
making love to corpses!
only corpses!
-------
to love
you must be free
become free
and love
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
Sit there
Eyes shut and drift away
Gaze not at the falling sands
There is no upturning the hourglass
Besides...
What use is time without plans
What use are plans without time
Sit, enjoy the breeze and dancing grass'
Butterflies
Flutter and from flower to flower
unaware of their minute lifespan
Feeding from buttercups centuries old
Sit there
As your ancestors did and as your children will
focus not on the sand that has fallen
nor the sand yet to fall
instead, consider the beauty of infinities "hour" glass.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
What’s your damage?
She asked of me
Tilting her head to the side
And Squinting
inquisitively
I picked at my chipping nail polish
And stared down at my boots.
Hugging my knees into my chest,
I Held onto myself tightly
The fire in my belly
sizzled up my welling tears
And flipped my sadness into rage
As I Flew around the room
Like a trapped bird
Hurling obscenities
And upturning chairs
Just For Sitting there, looking stupid. Empty.
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 7:08 AM UTC
stripped away and sanded down
old love settles /
creaking knees still
bare love’s weight
sweet neck nuzzles
faint patchouli /
hot dog breath
crowds exposed legs /
tipping slightly
placing a soft kiss
onto a smooth cheek /
sunbeams through lace treatments
spotlights our tattooed rings
our eyes meet /
gently upturning
our smiles align
with the sun and moon /
timeless and constant
our love reincarnates
next time we meet
each time
until we travel the cosmos
as wind /
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
When nations beckon
And the world refuse to reckon
Desires begins to burn
Upturning
To the very last one
Heart throbbing against self *******
Fighting false battles
Along the way
Liars exonerated in white robes
Perambulating, freely reassuring false hope
Beggars bellowing bad breath
Living luxurious lives like lords
Tailored tight thieves take turn
Chopping cheap chops
On platinum platters
Thinkers in their infinite wisdom
Making hilarious decisions
What's there to it?
In this vain world
If not that by your greed
We should be crushed
Into nothingness
Then maybe our eyes
Will open to see the world
For its cunningness.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 7:45 AM UTC
When nations beckon
And the world refuse to reckon
Desires begin to burn
Upturning to the last one
Heart throbbing against self *******
Fighting battles along the way
Liars in exhornorated in white robes
Perambulate, freely reassuring false hope
Beggars bellowing bad breath
Living luxurious life like Lords
Tailored thought thieves take turns
Chopping cheap chops
On platinum platters
Thinkers in their infinite wisdom
Making hilarious descisions
What's there to it
In this vain world
If not, that by your greed
We should be crushed into nothingness
Then maybe our eyes will open to see
The world for its cunningness
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 4:33 PM UTC