"vist" poems
With ghastly cries the clock doth bound
Every sound to earth and ground
Only it sees times grim rounds
Clock! Have mercy on this soul
Once a child now I'm old
The grave outside will soon have bones
Let death not vist to this home
Clock! Go to time and plead my case
Let this life be not erased
Let me slip through times cracks untraced
Let me keep my youths young face
Clock! You tick without a word
Do you not comprehend whats heard?
And earth! For time you must have cure
For you stay pure and so unturned
And I grew weak with thoughts absurd
Clock! I understand your chains
That time may only have reins
But still I'll look to find a way
To cheat on time and shed my fate
With ghastly cries the clock doth bound
Every sound to earth and ground
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
fell from her home
Skies of ohio
stumbled from a cloud
Grew her wings on the way down
hellboy in the back pew
cigarettes, blue dress shoes
closed her bible, "I refuse"
She said, "To be a mans property"
Honeybee
Honeybee
honeybee spread your wings
Honeybee
Honeybee
neither bird nor angel,
she flys free.
"I'll take the skills to cook and clean
our sneezes will still sound the same
I'll vist on holidays
but don't you ******* bless me"
"I'll be Domestic for myself
clean home and the best of health
Foster bees
a book to read.
But the bible ain't for me."
Honeybee
honeybee
Somewhere in the inbetween
honeybee
Honeybee,
apartment on deering st
she met me
at a speakeasy
"if you want me you better find me
Through the bookshelves I'll be waiting"
I turn the pages
Find her wedding ring
kept under the mattress,
not even god as a witness.
Doctor in ireland, she told me
escape in comic books
while he's away.
"Before we start, you have to know
One day I'll leave forever
Let's live a life we won't forget
In the meantime, together."
"I live with no one to respond to.
I live without boundary.
My ride or die resides in ireland
I'd like to love you while he waits for me."
Honeybee
honeybee
I've never tasted honey so sweet
Honeybee
Honeybee
Honeybee, Come lay with me
A few kisses later
cross legged in an office chair
sipping warm tea
I wake
green eyes watching me sleep
It's these moments
in between
Honeybee
Honeybee
were those mornings just a dream?
Honey bee
Honey bee
you leave
Remember me
in the old and green
honeybee
you were always free
guiness jogs my memory
The little things
inbetween
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
Maybe it's that marvelous view as they walk away that never seems to compel me to call them back.
Maybe its the happiness of being alone the wind in your hair or the the highways empty embrace that just seems to keep me ruining far longer than the rest.
The bottle the music a simple soundtrack to the existance we only care to forget.
Passion doesn't exit online as machines can't breath life into your lungs but I can't certainly darken your door if only you'd allow me to tonight.
The party we will have only to forget.
You me and the page it's all in secret and all for them to never truly understand .
Summer may you die.
As all the bad girls sing cheap motels were we gather the ice machine I vist to often underneath the stairs .
I sleep drink repeat .
Trying to find the lines I searched for all the these years past.
From the dust bit in Austin to the Kentucky bourbon embrace I will romanticize the decay only to show you the reality I to often ignore myself .
Another drink shared and hopefully another night with you.
The page can't capture passion .
But I believe I touched upon it more than once with her tonight .
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
notice the gorse growing,
the quarry redundant, is all
zip wires and bounce below.
i have a new photograph,
you look very sweet and handsome.
you were not at home,
so i chatted to your mother.
used to vist that quarry
you and I to watch the train.
tourists come.
45337
sbm.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
No longer at desk the typewriter has been given
it's final rest.
As he cant recall the day or year.
The once strong mind is closed the body
but a museum or tribute to what once was.
he his home but locked within himself.
Vist's from thoose who once knew the man
are like people viewing a body at a wake.
he calls from within the shell for for release.
Yet his lips will not move his voice never sounds.
Inside he burns for the chance to run as the river
chases the sea.
To be the man they never knew and the one he
could admire and both despise.
The page sits in typewriter like a willing
eager lover in bed.
Waitting in stockings that cling to delicate thigh.
the tears escapes it's minds prison.
He thirsts for it like a drunk for that morning drink
of whiskey waitting hands held togather trying
to keep from shaking.
He sits as a painter without hand.
watching the most beautiful sunset fade without
a chance of ever capturing this moment.
The ink is drying he feels it everyday.
Soon he hopes like the dust that does gather
he will be swept away.
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 3:55 AM UTC
Even sound leaves an impact
a trace in the air that meets your ear. A planned impact.
Shuffling feet on grass can crush
the hills of ants whose homelands impact.
Bombs leave silhouetted scars,
bodies slip between cracks in politics. Man’s impact.
Vist a foreign land for a week.
Carry-back-culture-in-boxes-and-cans-impact.
The aftermath of a butterfly’s wings?
Can we ban impact?
Finally able to withstand the sharpness of tongues.
Stop walking on eggs shells. Demand impact.
When a King turns his head, let the letters roar.
Revolution makes a grand impact.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
Vist me in dreams
No one will know
Well, just you and me
Sweet as a sigh
A secret whisper
A muffled please
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
I had pulled you to the top
I scraped my knees and burried my hands
You sore above
While my wings were your guide
I opened you up into my world
Let you hold the gold
In times dueing
It turned to dust
But you covered it up
With a smile and lust
And the only reason i find this out
Is because you blow the dust
Stright into my mouth
I dont give you the satisfactory of seeing me choke
But on the inside i cant breath
And you will never know
My world around slowly cumbles
And you walk out the door
I vist the world of others
To help rebuild my own
But i feel like all their gold i touch
Turns to dust
And that i am the burdan weight apon their shoulder
So i return back to where i belong
I scrape my knees
And bury my hands
In a place that used to made of gold
Now covered in dust
And alone
...
But atleast
You're at the top of this world
Thats my boy
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
Ivrighed efter indbegrebet af intelligens
bestræber de erhverv, som normalt var mænds
Vinter, forår, Sommer, efterår, endnu vinter
sprit, sprog, regression igennem sindets filter
Tid siver igennem som var det vand
men vand kommer igen, hvad tid jo ikke kan
Onomatepoetikon
hmmm... aflæses i sindets lektikon
Lidt for meget at nå
lidt for ekstremt at formå
Lidt for mange dage af de grå
lidt for få af de blå
Lidt for lange gange at begå
lidt for lidt søvn til at stå
-
Udmattelse er en del af at leve
Vil nogle dele?
jeg har vist fået det hele
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
There was no casket to be set into the earth.
Only memories were to be burried washed clean
by the bottles embrace.
Strangers do we part a vist to a familar cold place
by the oceans shore.
Words spoken never hurt when you understand
human nature.
The dark inwhich I only know.
A dark river flowing unto the sea.
Its broken current flow's with no true direction.
As children we start fresh only to loose the spark.
Dancing under a shroud of tenderness apon lifes
harsh stage.
Bitter souls reflect anger lost only tears of regret.
Me i just cast demons down in some twisted hope
I just might forget.
Sometimes you gotta realize when you crash through that glass
celling you only got to look forward to the floor.
The bottle now empty I cast into the dark waters
eternal bed.
Along with a memory I'll pretend to erase.
Distanse is only a thought away.
The road echos my lifes song.
Underground burried so deadly the truth
just as sweet as the lie.
Barbwire and daydreams plague my soul.
Like the bottle that sit's within the depths
of a water cast tomb.
I know strangers as friends.
Night as backdrop.
Farewell seems fitting as hello.
When the river has run dry
To whom will you go?
Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
and we would get up early
so early that the stars
would still sit high
in the dark night sky
we would drink milo
out of plastic cups
and eat oval arrowroot biscuits
spread thickly with butter
we would line up to go to the loo
one last time before piling into
the old car, sliding across bench seats
half our world packed into the boot
then we were off, on the old country roads
still sleepy for the first couple of towns
stopping at Jacaranda for a cup of tea
lukewarm, milky and sweet from the thermos
half a cheese sandwich each, and a fearful trip
to the draughty long drop toilet...looking for redbacks
the whole time, but only finding spinning daddy long legs
after that back into the car, for two hours of
winding our way down, the big hill,
listening for the clearnote call of the bellbird,
watching for wallabies and wombats on the road fringe
and the bigger kangaroos, bouncing away
across the clearings...
at the bottom of the hill, Grafton a quick stop
to stretch our legs eat the cupcake,
used to bribe us into decent behavior up to that point
and another vist to the conveniences.
before the run down the coast,
past the big white resort
and into Brooms Head,
for a week of surf and sun
fish and chips, buckets of prawns,
frosty fruits and sunny boys
in tent and caravan,
swimmers and towels,
we were tribal and free,
roaming the tideline
staying up at the campfire,
sleeping and waking
with the birds......
always such an adventure....
those idyllic days of summer
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
Vågner op og igen i dag er det bare en ubetydelig dag i ferien, jeg behøves ikke engang vide om det er Mandag, eller Torsdag. Igen i dag skal jeg nok bare alligevel bare ligge og dovne den i min seng. Mens jeg ser i mellen 3-7 afsnit af Gossip Girl, mens jeg kigger min insta i gemmen 100 gange. Og det er det samme der bliver vist, der er alligevel intet af det der siger mig en skid. Udover jeg let bliver påvirket, nok også en smule jaloux over se folk der er sammen med folk.
Prøver ihærdig at komme i kontakt med folk med at sende en latterlig snap af mig selv. Men ingen af dem svare rigtigt, det er os okay. Jeg bliver ved med stirre ned i mobilen, og når jeg ikke kigger ned i skærmen på mobilen, ser jeg op på skærmen på computeren. Jeg føler mig som den største taber fordi jeg er så afhængig at at være online på de socialemedier, konstant. Jeg prøver at trøste mig selv med at jeg i det mindste godt selv ved det.
Det sitre i min krop, og rastløsheden snurre rundt i min krop. Jeg kan virkelig tydeligt mærke det. Samt kan jeg mærke min krop er fyldt med energi og vrede, over jeg ikke laver noget. Ligger på gulvet og har tåre i øjnene.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
some days the sun shines
some days the sky pours out on us
and before that all the dawn's good light goes
why bother asking you why
all you know is that it ought to be blue
but buildings always turn to gray up high
so how wrong can you be?
don't lie to me
don't come crying to me about all of your mistakes
i'm done with your problems
done being your solution, sounding board for bigger better things
i'm done with this
done with all of your ****
done being what you have to kick around
this building aint well structured
and we're the ivy falling off the sides
to find a better place for all our roots and shoots up in sidewalks are better
your AC was so dry
your humors outdated
you're problems all too trite
why the hell would i put up with that?
don't lie to me
don't come crying to me about all of your mistakes
i'm done with your problems
done being your solution, sounding board for bigger better things
i'm done with this
done with all of your ****
done being what you have to kick around
if it rains it pours with you
cant see the sunset for the clouds
cant be all that i supported
i'll be done with you and all your failings too
done with all your mistakes and tears
goodnight
goodbye
i'm done being your own **** up
don't you dare lie to me
i'm done with your problems
done being your solution, sounding board for bigger better things
done being what you have to kick around
done being what you have to kick around.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
I had not forgotten them,
those graceful
past-life girlfriends,
adamant brothers
and all others
who drift everyplace
and throughout
squalid brown apartment
complexes and the green-neon
hotel bar illuminations
'cross the street.
When I come back
tomorrow these bold avenues
should diverge away,
be different, memorial
ghosts, however, will remain
waving, walking hand in hand
still into my futures.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 10:43 PM UTC
I heard the news,
I heard the sound of my heart breaking
I didn't vist him on his last few days.
I hated seeing him like that.
I had no more tears left.
I told myself it wasn't true.
I told myself this was a sick joke
That he was still here with me.
But no...
he was gone.
My sweet granddad
he left this world.
My dad ,my gran, my aunt, my uncle by his side.
Holding my gran's hand as he took his last breath...
He was gone.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC