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Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
A curtain of impatience
Descends upon your day
An urgency for completion
Comes intensely into play


Emotional Intensity
Is largely in the frame
But your judgements equilibrium
Holds the dominance of blame.


Stability is vulnerable
Through a three dimensional fan
And a questionable tangent
Will have them querying your plan.


This belligerence is natural
When integrity is crossed,
When intentions are criticized
And cohesiveness is lost.


But a rational track of history
Goes far towards your cause
And a creditable performance
Will surely open doors?


So swallow your urgency,
Ease passion’s twitching arm,
Put a hold on your aggression
And show the scrutineer’s your charm.



Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
8 April 2009
Alexis J Meighan Oct 2012
GOOD MORNING AT MIDNIGHT

Easily aroused at the noon of night, time to say good morning in that special way
So many sounds, and to my point of view the mood is right for those things that I
shouldn't do but do anyway

What should I do to convey to you
That there is a primal need to feed this brew
Of lust and untamed general excuses, the make believe, and urgencies
all to get next to you

"Where to begin"? My thoughts are at attention
While my flesh rips from within.
I'm a slave to these waves of intimacy shackled to the seeds of my intentions

I am so captivated by your sleeping physique
So enticed by the subtle words your form brings to mind. I seek to infiltrate your mounds and depressions, your angles and impressions, and topple this fortress of pillows, covers, and sheets

Once again, "where do I begin?" I plot and divulge the scheme
Maybe the base of your stance, the arch of your feet? A firm grip to squeeze and massage away
The pain of your daily stride. Equal care for every soft colored nail, and each one kissed admired and dismissed. I can tell your skin is impressed by this

Oh where can this moment lead? I trail of to the rear of your knees
Oil soaked palms, on your warm toned calves
I kneed and *****, till that tension passes
Are you ready to announce your submission
I can hear your deep exhales from your face down position

Can you turn to greet me, face upward to receive me
Your eyes lock to mine. Even though there filled with the days exhaustion.
They shine like they arrived from the sky
Waking for the experience, "hello my love"
Relax and enjoy and let me exploit you
A few kisses and my tongue shall anoint you
While my fingers explore the very core of your erogenous ****** being

Our journey has no predetermined destination
Just the satisfaction of knowing when we arrive

This night I'm endowed with pride,
and I strive
to make you believe (that)
Every lap around your,
every tap upon your,
never stop until your,
waiting for the tide to recede.
With every breath you encourages me
As we kiss and break up (our senses)
Then collide and make up (once again)
A new dimension to an old trend (lovers)
A new connection to an old friend (you)
A new ingredient to an old blend (embrace)
A new depth to a old shallow end(******)
With that eruption I want you to receive what I send

In the after glow of your embrace I indulge in your taste
Both our flesh cooled by our sweat
Only to find heat in our relief and
The absence of our possessions and stress.
Nothing else exist when we do
No other sound can drown the song of our impromptu passion

As we agree that slumber is our next quest to embark I kiss your lips and we lock sights
A unspoken appreciation for our
Good Morning at Midnight

XIN
Janette Jan 2013
How far can we fall
from the edge of a whisper
suspended above molten desires
dangling from a single breath
escaping through fragile fingers
pressed against
a reflection of lips
piercing the swollen silence
in words that belong to you

I am paused in patient syllables,
a hum on the tip of your tongue
searing the wings of uncaged secrets
spilled from your eyes upon my skin
sliding in the hush of immaculate worship,
in this ritual of discovery
an unyielding hunger,
your hands unravel passages
confessed in intimate testaments,
stained in your fingerprints,
translating the map of my body
in minutes that pass too soon.

Cradle my thighs in an estrus of dreams,
bathe my release in the burning hours,
drenched in the silk of lilac orchids
soft petals from your eyes,
leave a trail from flesh to soul
for lips to taste the jasmine-laced crave
softly veiling the naked lust
caged behind these sapphire windows
gazing into the depths of your reign,
I am stranded in exile
awaiting the guidance of moonlight
translated in the stroke of your fingertips
that brand my flesh yours

And, in that place,
Ours..
I reveal every sacred secret,
exposed and shivering
beneath your body ascending
upon the ****** truth of me,
beneath these sheets of midnight silk,
tangled in translucent urgencies
unfolding into a delicate intimacy
that preludes this savage awakening
so restless to adorn your primal sting
in a deluge of my body to your parchment,
scribe me spent in the ink of your resonant whispers

how far can we fall....from the edge
Old Neptune marks his boundaries today, leaves sargasso
and thin, bamboo-like reeds on the shore of Dauphin Island. He blows briskly, to urge his white steeds to the seashore.
The water is dark with disturbance, veined with foam like tatted lace. The scent of Neptune swallows the fast-moving air crossing
the island from Gulf to Bay sides. Oil rigs
haunt the horizon like boredom, breaking
the vista, reminding all who see them of human limit. Old Neptune accepts no limit, no boundary. We, who want fixity
as security, we watch as Neptune abuses boundaries, expands us
whether we want him to or not. There is no fixity; yet there is security. There is consolation in flow, in flowing with Great Neptune, rolling in his
tidal urgencies.


c. 2014/2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
Bazookio Jun 2014
I have a friend
close to the end
he talks fantastically about all of the places he has been

His body tired
save for those eyes
which burn brighter than sun tracing an arch across the skies

He says 'Of all the things I know
of all the things I’ve learned...
anywhere you go
the good things must be earned.'

Safe and sound
both feet on the ground
he seems impervious to all the ******* going on around

and when he speaks
though often brief
you hear a man who knows the meaning of true happiness and grief

"How is it I work each day
when aching bones demand respite?
What makes me sit composing verse,
when others sleep into the night?"
(From 'The Worms that drive you')


His one life goal
just to share
the words that cause the sleepless nights, the ones that rattle round upstairs

And oh my soul
was bought to bare
by the words which where exactly what I didn’t want to hear...

"Have you wondered how tomorrow looks,
when you've lied about today?
Have you squandered opportunities
when you've refused to play?
Have you sought the possibilities?
or broken through the ruse?
Have you shed your limitations?
tried to fill some bigger shoes?
Does it all really matter…
that your world is locked within,
That the things which hold you back
are simply things you revel in?
That your greatest limitations
are the ones you self impose?
and the key which locks the door
is locked outside the door you close?"
(From 'Limitations')

"To loose the joy of purpose is
to loose the will to try
and when the spirit of endeavour's gone
the soul begins to die"
(Title unknown)

"Then the sun comes up with a glorious show
And the nuclear dust in the air is aglow
The rich and the famous are dead in their beds
and the ***** and the cockroaches nibble their heads"
(Title unknown)


I have a friend
when shuffling with the crowds
as everyone looks down he holds his head up in the clouds

And though dismayed
the time had gone so soon
as he walks amidst the chaos he hums a gentle tune…

"Who am I and what am I
and what have I to show?
And should I be concerned
that very few may care to know?"
(From 'Soliloquy')

"To look upon my megre works
as worthwhile in the scheme of things,
[Is] to nurture somewhere in the soul
the song which satisfaction sings"

"The hourglass
[will] reach the time
when all life’s frantic urgencies evaporate like wine"
(from '8')


though memories fade
words grow like seeds
taking root within the hearts and minds of anyone who heeds

"[I’ve] seen troubled waters pass me by
from torrent flow to pebble dry
From softly spoken words of love
where teardrops fall to pools of blood

So verily I say to you,
take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things
from one who sorts the chaff from grain
(From 'Rule of Chance')

Go outside and look around
the simple things in life abound
The wonder of the detail small
enthrals the mind and makes it all

It’s all before you spread about!
you make the choice YOU WORK IT OUT!
It’s all a state of mind you see
and it’s the simple things that set you free"
(From 'The Simple Things in Life')


(C) bazookio 2014
This here is a wee ‘Ode to Marshall Gebbie’, Prolific Ninja Wordsmith; Family member; and friend.
Italicised words are particularly favourite sections of larger poems written by Marshall, which I have surgically removed and grafted amidst a few of my own meanderings.

Listen to the tune here if you like:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdWZdy4wdxk

or read more of  what rattles round in Marshall's head here:
http://hellopoetry.com/marshal-gebbie/
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2010
Well my old Mate,
The sands of time have slipped between our fingers, you and I are not the spry young things we used to be. Gone are the expansive days of limitless horizons, gone are the great aspirations.
We live now in a time of quiet satisfaction. We have lived our lives as best we can. We have our achievements and our failures, our moments of despair and delight, the highs and the lows of a lifetime well spent.
What magnificent moments we have had... both of us! Moments of love and triumph, moments of roaring laughter, occasions where we have both felt... that our cup does indeed.. overfloweth.
We have watched our children grow from helpless little bubbles to striving creative people with urgencies and points of view and imperitives.
We have both found partners who have shared the pain and the hardship, the joys and the agonies. We are the lucky ones friend.. these women are the rock of our lives without them we would be substantially less.
Despite the fact that we have rarely seen each other since the ****** days, I want you to know that I have always regarded you as a brother.  Something quite indefinable there, but special.. you will always be my brother.

Speaking of brothers.. ****** old Johnson has married himself a young Chinese lady, they are living quite happily in southern China, used to be Changsha but I think now elsewhere..
He is coming back to New Zealand next year.. about March.. which is very timely because then we will be able to accommodate them in our new rural retreat in Taranaki.
Janet and I have built a lovely little donga atop a high hill overlooking the magnificent green, South Taranaki foothills and the wide blue Tasman sea.
The place is about 50% built right now. In a few days Janet & I will travel down with a truckload of stuff and spend the summer break and Christmas working our bums off on the property.
We camp out under a sky full of the most brilliant stars.. more than I have ever seen before. Every morning we awake to the glorious dawn chorus of the native birds in the forest around us.
We have two particularly curious, enormous wood pigeons who follow us around all day from job to job and a chorus of beautiful, irridescent tuis who entertain us with their song and antics flitting between the flowering tree fuschias.
This place is paradise.
We will have two guest bedrooms... so sometime, in the not too distant future, I want you and Suze to take a little break.

Boaz is returning from New Mexico for Christmas, Solomon is driving him down country on Christmas eve so we will all be together with Grandpa Bell, Janet’s dad, for the festivities. I can’t wait!
Have bought Janet a beautiful oil painting by a local artist.. Of geraniums in a rust red ***.. and a glorious light emanates from it. Will be just the thing for the wall in the new kitchen.
That’s it!

Love to you and Suzie and all the tribe.
Have one hellava good Christmas mate
Luv M

Hold your hand aloft in light
Feel the blood run through your veins,
Know that you have lived a life
Loved a love and held the reigns
Of something..so worthwhile and good
That friends will well have understood,
When you have long passed from this land,
...Your Cup hath Overfloweth.


MERRY CHRISTMAS

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18 December 2010
Jeffrey Pua Apr 2015
I want you
To staple my hands
All over your *******,
All over my tongue
Your tongue
And kiss me, direct,
Dictate the paces
Of these urgencies,
Rage against me,
Overpower, plunder,
Just for once, for you,
Forever,
O indelicate flower!*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
Marshal Gebbie Sep 2011
We strode together in another age, my love,
You, in your earthen gown and beautiful dark tresses.
I, the wearer of the long plaited, thong and sinew sandal.
You and I, we strode through quiet valleys of tall conifer
Where huge rock falls left monolithic edifices... as monuments to past largess.

Together we walked as one, in a world much simpler than the one we live in now.
In a time, without the inhibition of contrivance or sophistication.
We walked in clarity and drank from clear, clean waters.
We dallied in the honeyed light of a huge, summer moon.
A field of dandy lions in the warm April sunshine, was the byre in which we made love and produced our babies.


A love ... un-harried, unhurried and devoid of any preoccupation other than that of the beautiful desire
We felt for each other.

The love we feel now is the same as the love shared then;
But in this age it is diluted and complicated by the urgencies and imperatives of the day.
Then there was just time...given and taken.
Without cost or penalty, without blame or insinuation, without hurt or harm.


Time in that better age...was a friend.  
A friend who augmented the beauty of today into the promise of tomorrow,
A friend who exchanged the serenity of yesterday for the excitement of the new day’s dawn.

This was our time, when the bond of eternity sealed our commitment to each other.

For however many lifetimes we may live in...

We shall be one.

Marshalg
For darling Janet
12 September 2011
done over this afternoon I only have one image
and about you were many other surly things

all wrapped in the sudden heat of happening
through the clear eye of a diaphanous world.

inmost spring of an unreachable bud,
a raw material for hurt kept in the after-hour

of a dwindled morning charged to dark
moving with precise instep

rummaging for completion
underneath an untamed sky

left for claim but not entirely as to be free,
no remnant of the hour’s expensive thrill

where I do not find you in me,
as I am still down on your able ghost

pinning it down to where it will never
meet its breakable place:

a wondrous dawn, or the fever of Maytime afternoon,
  in your most excellent clothes

or else it was simply desire
Nat Lipstadt Feb 3
"I will create as I speak."

<>
these profound and most serious of words,
vibrate within my chest (really!) as I
tongue test them, having just awoken
and a Sabbath ~Saturday looms before me,
naked and full of
potential.

I am hopeful, and unafraid, by the clean sheet of twenty four hours that covers me nearly toes to head, a singular occurrence,
normative
would be dread of the shroud of lists of items of urgencies that demand outage justifyingly,
urgencies crying out,
attend to me now!

but this day different, a sleepy peacefulness
compromises my interstitial spaces, and an amber color of
calming quiet fills them, no raucous splashes,
no errant droplets hinting at the fullness-yet-to-come
when the tanks of
empty are quietly, with a silent sigh of finality, announce the profundity of sufficiency and satisfaction facing
undefined emptiness,
that these contradictory sensations are
harmonious extant
within me for the foreseeable momentary.

Dai!

this single syllable Hebrew word for “enough,” issued in one breath, like “the end!” hits me with a slap of sensibility as a closing lid on this just about to possibly boil *** of emotions and internal combustion.

two last thoughts burr me mind before signing off:

the contradictory nature of the blanket of
an unscripted openness of a day ahead, and the
totality of its fulsome satisfaction it offers,
do not confuse me.

no scholar I, it occurs that the word Dai,
unlike any other, has a root unknown to me,
but internet of godlike humans had anticipated my query and offers me irony and reassurance that I am so not the first to wonder and know this satisfying confliction of this two headed Hydra send-story, sensatory, balanced imbalance
for the root of this common word used daily to say:
“enough,” “stop,” or “that's sufficient.”

comes from the root is DaWaH דוה which literally means
“to flow or extend outward.”

and though
*
I created this poem as I spoke,**
I only reiterate what my ancestors already knew
thousands of years ago!

by the bye,
the Hebrew phrase "I will create as I speak,”
is well and better  known to you as:

Abracadabra.


Dai!
Saturday
Feb. 4 2024
6:39am
Searching Dec 2013
With just the two  of us in the early hours
Before anxious alarms awaken your body,
The distant music of the morning traffic
Nudges the edges of my subconscious to
Instinctively turn my body toward yours
As my arms slowly navigate through sheets
To satisfy their craving of the delicious daily
Ritual of wrapping you up with my hands  
And pulling your weary warmth into me,
Calmed by having you all to myself briefly
Before the day's urgencies disrupt our peace.
Dedicated to B.K.G.
Copyright © 2013 Searching.
All Rights Reserved.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2011
Ursula-my friend,
My quiet, distant, rarely seen friend
From days of yore.

How calm you are.
how you glide through your days
Keeping your private thoughts to yourself.

How the urgencies and anxieties
That plague every life
- are so well contained in yours.

And in your soft green eyes
I feel a happy acceptance, born of time.
Born in my brotherhood of your Sam.

My very European friend,
Made in the turmoil of youth
And so warmly regarded then, now and beyond.

Ursula my lady, always a lady,
You posess a tender spot of pleasantness
In the corner of my mind.


With affection
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
5 February 2011
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2015
Well you buggers,

Here we are, spread to the four winds of the globe.
No chance for a peck on the cheek or even a Christmas noggin.

But curiously, I think the Christmas spirit flows between us all nicely, we have all had contact this year, some meetings happy some sad but the important thing is we have registered with each other as FAMILY…and therein is the vital living bond.

Time runs between our fingers like sand, we all get bound up in the imperatives of the day. One minute we are kids playing in the back yard, the next we are busy, busy adults tied down by mortgage and commitment…. and then suddenly we slip to the twilight years where, some will say, it is the time to reflect and ponder lost opportunities

We have, all of us, let the urgencies of the day cost us in lost opportunities. We are all guilty of it…..So Janet and I determined this year, not to let this happen….
Not to let this opportunity slip.

Darling Janet and I are having our first Christmas without dear old Verne, Janet’s father; the kids are elsewhere and we find ourselves alone
At the farm in Taranaki. We are going to pack a simple picnic lunch of sandwiches and fruit and toddle down to the black sand beach and the pounding surf at the bottom of Pitone Road and there in the dunes,we are going to raise our ice cold glasses of pinot gris and loudly bellow a toast to all of you to the West wind ….and wish you all, where ever you are….a loving and happy,
FAMILY…..
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Cheers Janet & Marshal
(Please spread this message amongst the troops for us?)
Our family is spread all over the globe.
using the medium of social media
we have gleaned an excellent way to spread the message
Indeed, not just to family, but to our wider family out there in our warm & wonderful community of poets....YOU!
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2009
A silky tendril of time has gone
And with it went the year.
The highs, the lows,
The west wind blows
Like dust it disappears.

The passions and the dreams fly by
And vanish like the mist,
The sands between the fingers flow
Like gossamer dismissed.
The hourglass has run it’s course
The clock has reached the time.
When all those frantic urgencies
Evaporate like wine.

This year has gone and sped away
And left us standing there
With vacant stares and open mouths,
Heads shaking in despair,
The time has gone so fast, it seems,
The frantic dials have spun
Then we starting singing “Auld Lang Syne”
And yet… ANOTHER year’s begun!

May “10" become a special year
For you and yours to be
Much happier and wealthier
And healthier and free.
May breezes blow and fine wines flow
And good luck bless your day.
A toast to you in this new year
With love from M&J.;

Marshalg/Mangere Bridge/for 1 January 2010
Pepper Dove Jun 2017
Days turn to eternities
with hindering urgencies
buried inside of me, a
labyrinth of reasoning
alone in the midst, I
refuse
refuse to quit
sawing at the chains anchored
to ankles tied
to this abyss,
caught in a paradox
caught
in a **** whirlwind
gotta break free, 'cuz
drapetomania’s got the best of me.
An overwhelming urge to run away; escape.... came across this word a while ago and was inspired to write this.
Jane Clark Oct 2013
A business call,
a meeting planned,
a note half-written,
pen in hand.

Caught up in urgencies
I find
the worthier
has slipped my mind.

Days flee away!
Tasks without end,
have distanced my
familiar friend.

Now sitting here
and missing you,
I wonder what
I need to do,

to return
camaraderie.
Familiar friend,
remember me?
blushing prince Jun 2017
A boy wearing a yellow raincoat ***** a silver plastic gun in one hand
and grips the inside of a melted chocolate with the other.
His stance is firm
and poised rendering the expressions of his heroes-or rather his fathers’ figures on the
wall of a studio apartment he visits once a week. All four corners memorized.
He stares now from the bottom of a street.  
He chews bubblegum, the color of his grandmother’s blush or a slapped wrist.
“It takes heart to be mean” he’s told.
For all we know he wants to be the saint and the antagonist but it doesn’t show,
it’s not registered between smirks and spits.
He’s been frozen-food fed since he was weaned off his mother’s milk
and affection.
Sometimes he plays with the snakes in the backyard of the girl he’s in love with
They give him a cigarette and call him lonesome cowboy bill
So the wounds heal and the days grow shorter
The siren of the ice cream truck become a wake-up call
as they turn into the screams of men in blue uniforms
the sugar melts between the warm asphalt and
no one notices a child go missing when the bus drives away
in the kid’s place lies a keychain and a school lunch bag
hope comes in the shape of a old taxi with a skeleton in the driver seat
snakes becoming criminals in the shadows
There’s a ticket for the crossroads but he ends up in Nevada, our charlatan warrior
his girl-child neighbor loses a tooth in the dark and the zipper of her favorite jeans
he doesn’t call and she doesn’t answer
he changes his name and grows scars on his knuckles, he wants to be like the man
in the car commercials, he wants to rid himself of his accent
instead he acquires a taste for cheap alcohol, an asphyxiating penchant for
street powders and scrapes up enough money for soft leather boots that
make a clacking sound when he walks quickly  
He stares now from the bottom of a street and walks up to a payphone. I want to go home; he whispers this into
his wallet. But there’s nothing in there except for phone numbers he doesn’t
recognize and worn midnight shakes.
His hands tremble.
A man wearing a red suede jacket ***** a silver pistol in his hands.
He’s gone back home but it’s different now
the studio apartment has turned into a new casino complex
and his father lives in the cemetery. He brings roses.
He doesn’t feel quite natural in the urgencies of life, this goon hero of ours
His childhood sweetheart wears lacquered nails and has grown a beer belly
he wades in her backyard for a bit,
the ****** in his palms for leaving, for drifting when he could have stayed still
he spits and it evaporates
the snakes are nothing to the
the devil in his eyes
A man wearing a red suede jacket ***** a silver pistol in his hands
and fires
there’s a moment of silence
a bird chirps in the distance
the heat lingers
there’s confusion
and then
just a man
in the corner of a street
with an open mouth
and a crooked
sincerity for
all the things
you have to do
to be lonesome
cowboy
bill
Jeffrey Pua Apr 2015
Let us bend time and kiss,
A darkness in the light of an infinity,
Of these old, wise ancients,
Of this traffic of stars
Gazing back.
Let us make love.
Let us move with urgencies
And synergies, and Honolulu queens,
As though the moon memorial
Swiftly shifts,
Effaces.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
Winston Lee Feb 2014
There once was a girl who only existed
Hanging on to only the threads of life
Her world was painted with shades of grey and seldom illuminated
Her dry existence began every morning with a sigh so deep that she almost inhaled the stars in the sky
She lived each day as if she'd have a million more and nothing she ever did would make a dent in the hood of the broken down lemon of a car that she called a life.
But you see this girl, this poor girl, saw the world for what it was a spectrum lifeless grey hues
But she also saw the technicolor beauty in every building animal and vibrantly clothed stranger.
There once was a girl who only existed because she saw no other reason to go beyond that
she found out just how easy it is to find your self slipping into the sink hole we call living that opens under our feet when our legs feel weak, our heads start swimming and our thoughts start to get so heavy that they begin to weigh us down like anchors out at sea
There once was a girl who only existed, nothing more than an apparition in her own home haunting her friends and family.
Alive and breathing but not much else she hovers though the days months and years like a spirit in purgatory because she knows that life's greatest obstacle is time.
You see, time has it's hand around everyone's neck slowly gripping harder and harder until all the life has been squeezed out of us and all that's left is a shell like an empty tube of toothpaste.
They tell you life is short but for some people it's the longest thing they'll ever do.
As humans we're taught to never waste our time but what if the secret to truly living is hidden in the seconds, minutes, and hours we've let slip through our fingers. What if the only way we can truly feel alive is to let all the urgencies of life die.
I kow it's a bit sporadic but I feel like that's how life can be sometimes.
Juhi Jun 2017
How long will i be
kept on edge...?
When will the gush
of a single breath
pierce the swollen silence..
With words that belong to you...?

How long will i be
Suspended above molten desires...?
Escaping through fingers
pressed against my lips...
Spilling out as a rhyme..?

I pause ...in patient syllables,
a tune on the tip of your tongue...
As an uncaged secret...
spilling from your eyes
upon my skin..
your hands unravel passages...
translating the map of my body
in minutes that pass too soon...

How long will i be
in exile before we
find that place...?
Where i reveal every secret,
exposed and shivering
beneath these sheets of purple silk..
tangled in transparent urgencies...
unfolding into a delicate intimacy...
Spent in the ink of resonant whispers...

How long will i be
kept on edge ?
And how far will i fall...?
wordvango Aug 2017
tender is the ream of paper unwritten on
virginal
just pure fresh
rendering
her white flesh to my energies

a coil of possibility
a misnomer a dream
a bundle of tangled up thoughts spoken
with an urge to untangle
all of  those tightly woven knots

or at least share them
that is what it is, sharing
trying to connect somehow
this energy I have after nine
and ten hours
of straining muscle

when I see a bit of pure white
unsotted unsoiled  unspoken
pure white like a holy vision
a vision of goddesses dress
I want to tame her

Take her as a mighty lion
tame her to be mine
add her to my lair
pull her hair
write on her flesh

with my pen my words my scent my soul my heart  my being
my next thought
make the white paper suffer
my hurts my desires my untended energies
feel my pen deep on her
in her surface

mate with her claim the spaces the dashed curves
the indents the margins the surface
from top to bottom
from side to side scribbling the
most urgencies

I feel a need to write in ink on white
ChronicSage May 2020
Sap
Infused and marinating
Love is all there is
Whatever other seeming urgencies
It is the only one to return for
In all the many lifetimes
Leaving breadcrumbs
To find us back together
Whipping in its rich creamy froth
Or basting in its sweet sticky sap
It's only for love, always.
#love #sweet #always
JR Morse Nov 2023
1 Caligula Sade (add Marx for $ .50)
a simple curriculum simple words
none, nothing, nowhere, never
none left undone (all of it)
none of it all yours

2 Condescends to punish
with ill-gotten gains
such are the rewards
of a lifetime of conformity and complaisance

3 Lollypops candy red
ballgags
derogatory interrogatories
all day long quid pro quo quid pro quo
("Don't let this happen to you !")

4 Dampening urgencies
in a vague meander
lunar etched passage
#4704. feel ?; how do you, (csv)
#1 bestseller; amazon (csv)
yo tambien, Asia !

5 There is but one rule, though:
"Never a sweaty horse to the barn"
once was confusion
is/are (a) temples(s)
upright and pure [not mine. nope- Milton.]

6 What is yours
is yours to own
conflate in any manner
with f*ck-all else
as you surely will
or not at all
Recombination
(recumbant version, ft "get me pictures !").
Delton Peele May 20
?
Time it takes ....
For me
To recover ...
From certain things
Slowing
Urgencies  ....
Growing.......
Yet I still sit still .....
I know ....
What I should be doing..
That part of me is currently..
Disabled......
I bury my head in pursuant of what I shouldn't be.........
Keeping me from what I could be....
So....
I simply justify by lieng
Using time constraints ,back pains ,
Covid ,or what ever it takes to postpone ..
Now I'm burry........
Lay awake all night stars in my eye
Some times a few tears .....
A little worried
If I finally find >........
...
It again.         Love
Will I be able.  
Or will I finally find that love all along was my Cain......
It's killing me
I'm alone and emotionally unstable

Many moons,
Flitter by ......
Haven't got the glitter out of my eye
My reflection is blurry
Mold upon my window cill  !
I sit dormant.....  
Dark grey consumes.
Hopes  and dreams ...
Blue skies  ,
Sunny days
Everything I want to do.....
A.K.A.    .........
YOU.
.........
I finally find.  ....
Only to find
I ....
Can't have you....
Change the epoch
******* epic
Ethan Frome tragedy
Deep convulsive inhale
Fade to black
Fin!
.....
...
.
Delton Peele May 4
I can still feel you.....
I still hear your laugh
You are still the one
Everyone wishes
They could have.....
You are still .....
The one
Apothecary salve
You soothe my soul
The emollient
smoothes and removes

All my muck and uglies.
Somehow You give me empathy...
For those who bruised me...
For  with you they can see
How beautiful I am ....
And now they envy
The one Everyone
Wishes They had......
You ......
The one who's in love with the thought of being in love..
Me who is perpetually
In love with you only...
your love makes me whole......
Ampersand.......
You elevate me to King ...
All masculine
Top of the world .....
No hands .
..
You make me .....
Wanna be a better  Man.
........
Don't read.....
"Don't read this forgemeknot" on collection  page...color.......

You will find your heart .....
And behave differently
.......
Then everything be still.  
And quiet.    
Urgencies and emergencies
Fade to oblivion.....
All Lilliputs strings....
Slip away tickling
Leaving you tingling
You feel connected
But not bound .
Not afraid to commit a faux pas or mak a loud sound...
Liberated your free .....
Alone you no longer feel lonely
My love will hold and protect you .......
Although you have me
You're security burgeoning
No more need to submit .
This I will not allow you to do.
...
Yet listen to"sunshine superman "
By
Donavan .
Then commit
Or
Not...
It's up to you boo
Either way you are unique
All clichés aside.  .....
You are one In a billion
Completely changed my point of view .......
Yes I really would stop the world an melt with you.....
I'd walk the streets of pain Grrrl ....
8 million times for you....
I never dreamed I'd meet somebody like you.......
At night I wake up with my sheets soaking wet .....
With a freight train running through my head....
I know random quotes from songs ist like anything
But original.......
But read beginning to end
Again ......you just did your already beginning to forget
What hinders you now read again ........
You already did.....now you under my love spell
Don't read again or you'll never wanna leave me......
Sup2uboo!
012357911. 13.  17192329
Shysta Oct 4
to you,

I’d like to believe -
that meeting you was fate,
that it wasn’t just a deranged connection, neither will it ever be a coincidence of sorts.
to me you’re unlike any other.*

Knowing you, was being home.
A place to rest my mind against yours,
A place to be surrounded by the breeze of your thoughts and wisdom.
Where every story you told me was like an age old letter kept in the crevice of the walls,
untouched,
perfectly enveloped;
How is it that amidst a sea of wandering minds, you find a mind that wants to wander yours?

You made me realise that love is easy, that it’s not rocket science and that it isn’t complicated,
That we tie ourselves up in difficult knots
and that love is simply, as easy as it sounds.
To me, you’re familiar -
a past life, a divine intervention or probably a second self as you call it.

You make me want to read you and learn you and annotate you,
with my silly stickies and neon pens, and
fill you up with all my flowers hidden away in dusty old books.

Somedays, your sweet words ask me to write you a poem,
about the whirlwind my life is right now,
and I want to tell you about it;
about how on days when I’m walking the streets of this unfamiliar city
and I look back -  
I don’t see the traces of my footprints.
When I come back home
exhausted from the weight that my shoulders could ever uphold -
I find no feather of tranquility to tickle me out of weariness.
When my unhinged, running at 3000 thoughts per second brain
seeks frantically, a resting ground -
It is only ever stomped on with battering noises and formalities.

But how do I tell you, that I can endure a lifetime of lonesome dreary days like these -
If it means that every night, without fail
the warmth of your pacific voice would caress my soul,
That the only thing worth thinking about
is the idea of your presence around me;
even in spirit.
That on some level, I’ve imagined a world that exists in my head entirely built by you -
The expanse of the deserts,
poetry for streets,
walking on water,
monuments for homes,
and you.
but how do I tell you?

Sometimes I feel stuck between the layers of the sky,
A void, nothingness.
The clouds below, the space above.
It’s like I’m floating in mid air, and at times I like it that way,
But I know that eventually I need my ground to steady me;
To let gravity pull me down with all its might, as it should -
But when I put my weight on the earth
Where do I go? and to whom?

I find myself in an endless loop of uncertainties.
Almost as if I’m stranded on a desert of yearning and longing;
and your embodiment is simply a mirage,
falling in and out of the abstraction of us.

In my infinite monolithic dreams -
I see you standing at the far end of the sea
where the sky meets the land and forgets to leave,
and I am like a light stretched out, dispersed in the breeze;
I can almost touch you, but you could barely feel.

At times I read in-between the lines;
I find urgencies in your words as if you’re reaching out,
and maybe you are, but how can I know for sure?
So I sit still, with your mind and my heart -
I sit still and let your words consume me endlessly.

I’m torn between fragments of momentary bliss,
my nights end with the mornings,
and you fulfil my empty heart.
This imprisoned joy, this strange sense of belonging, this purpose of being.
Everything, everything.
These moments of shifted colours;
How long until it’s taken away from me?

On nights unguided by the moon
my thoughts fail me, constantly.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
there’s a reflection of you on the ripples of the sea.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
a melancholic ballad takes flight from my heart,
at every page of every book,
in between the lines of Hemingway,
at a peaceful walk
on a silent night
at every step of every way,
Unknowingly, unexpectedly, somehow, through some way
your light follows me, everywhere.

I think holding on to hope, helps.
& I think if I hold on to it like the way that I do -
you won’t be so far away from me;
that your spirit will finally take shape,
that it’ll finally have eyes to hold my gaze,
that it’ll finally have strength bigger than
mine to carry my being.

But if ever, our worlds cease to collide -
If ever your voice blurs into oblivion.

Know,

That your subconscious is eternally linked to mine,
That wherever you go, and whatever you see -
I will walk parallel to you,
even if we’re distanced through space and time;
All my of reality will merely exist in theory, and I’ll accept my grief for gratitude.
I’ll hold your eyes close to my heart, and see whatever you see;
Even in another world,
I’ll only walk parallel to you.

There will always always be a little bit of you in everything I’ll ever love.

All the happiest part of my heart will only ever be yours.
Only your name, and your memories, your words against everything else I’ve ever known.

— The End —