"washout" poems
I hauled clay
for days
to fill the deep
washout of our love
and all your old loves
who bled to death
too, I even searched
the cold evenings
of your eyes
and ran my fingers
through your moonlight
while tasting the blood
of strangers on your lips
but I would have
to have a backhoe
and a crowbar
to finally get down
to the heart
of the matter at night
and in the rain
though I'm afraid
I would only find
a deep dark cave
with blind starfish
like those I see
swimming in
the cold sky tonight.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 11:07 PM UTC
sitting back and relaxing,
turing the screen on in my head,
i turn up the volume and cant hear anything,
the screen crackles to life,
where once there were colours there is now,
Black,
White,
Gray,
life passing by in a blur,
colours seeped out and washout,
peoples faces blur,
actions lost of meaning,
i tried to change the channel,
nothing happened,
stuck in a loop of the same colours,
the same meaningless expressions and actions,
life is a film meant to be enjoyed in colours and life and sounds.
im lost looking at the black and white screen.
Lost for what seems to be a life time.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness;
When they were halted by a tumbled wall
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this,
Spending what onward impulse they still had
In One last look the way they must not go,
On up the failing path, where, if a stone
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself;
No footstep moved it. ‘This is all,’ they sighed,
Good-night to woods.’ But not so; there was more.
A doe from round a spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall, as near the wall as they.
She saw them in their field, they her in hers.
The difficulty of seeing what stood still,
Like some up-ended boulder split in two,
Was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there.
She seemed to think that two thus they were safe.
Then, as if they were something that, though strange,
She could not trouble her mind with too long,
She sighed and passed unscared along the wall.
‘This, then, is all. What more is there to ask?’
But no, not yet. A snort to bid them wait.
A buck from round the spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall as near the wall as they.
This was an antlered buck of ***** nostril,
Not the same doe come back into her place.
He viewed them quizzically with jerks of head,
As if to ask, ‘Why don’t you make some motion?
Or give some sign of life? Because you can’t.
I doubt if you’re as living as you look.”
Thus till he had them almost feeling dared
To stretch a proffering hand—and a spell-breaking.
Then he too passed unscared along the wall.
Two had seen two, whichever side you spoke from.
‘This must be all.’ It was all. Still they stood,
A great wave from it going over them,
As if the earth in one unlooked-for favour
Had made them certain earth returned their love.
1.5k
there was a time
when you were something
for me to begin
like a space where our roots
could settle in
we grew around each other slowly
the buds of ourselves
blooming in the quietest way
many suns have warmed
our leaves since then
our petals lost their colour and scent
and i still blame the rain
for washing you out
so i don’t have to remember
that there was such a thing as
loving you too much
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
I try and tried to read every Rhyme of that kind
for my tired spare tire was trolling in my mind
because I just got hooked by a puzzling word not just that Easy to find
beyond that little title is like a chime, that for me seems an Essay to bind
7 days ago or even more than not a long way to go
24 hours hit and run and ruin my ego doing the lego
I'll be loving reading your right and wity poetic words of wisdom
I'd rather either be your stalker or a Wanna Be r y n with seldom
somewhere in any Comment
Somehow eerie way i meant
through constructions of your concrete days work of art
though I had been deeply fallen unto a crate Shallow Chart
~ ~
! ! !
|
( /_\. )
. . .
∆
I might be coming back always good in here
a night or two consecutive days I can dare
triangle with exclamation that joints without a Dot of Doubt
terrible width of auction catch points to washout lot of bout
going once
going twice
going trice
rolling dice ...
🎲 🎲 🎲 🎲 🎲🎲🎲
🔵🔵🔵🔵🔵🔵🔵🔵
🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒
yet....
yesterday is friday the 13th
yesteryears maybe seventh
decade of the eight wonders of the world 🌎
cascade daily five capital of deary word 🅿️
Oct . 14 Saturday 2023
Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 7:58 PM UTC
I Love You.
You Love Me.
Its Almost Like That Song From Barney.
The Only Problem Is Were Not One Big Happy Family.
Were More Like Enemies, Like Romeo And Juliet.
Except There's No Love, Just A Whole Bunch Of Threat.
Terrorist Come Over And Tear The Buildings Down,
So We Fight Back With Bombs Almost Like A Washout.
Soon The Holocaust Will Be Forgotten,
Just Like A Long Lost Friend.
Then All The Blue Skies Will Come To An End.
All Our Oxygen Will Soon Leave, Cause We Cut Down All The Trees.
Polar Bears Will Soon Be Extinct, If We Don't Watch The Products Were Using.
Then There'll Soon Be Cloudy Grey Skies,
Because All Of Our Happiness Has Said Goodbye.
Global Warning Will Be A Higher Risk,
As We All just Sit Back Saying Tsk Tsk Tsk.
We All Knew We Could've Done Something But Now Its Too Late.
So We'll Blame Our Neighbors For Each Others Fate.
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
It's raining outside;
I want to wash away the ash,
but I don't want to put out the fire.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
by the sea
i saw her there,
lost on another voyage;
i hope she finds her way
home
floating on the notes
between the bars of the road
bopping along a scale
frozen in time
until the asphalt weakens
under the sun and rain and snow;
washout roads
lead to washed out souls
but
conditions have never been better.
i was saved by a martyr self
bundled in boxes and shipped off to
my sister — my keeper;
rescued by captain fantastic,
sleeping with myself,
saved in time tonight and every night
and winding it down
like the brown dirt cowboy you always knew i could be.
those songs came over the waves
sailing through my musical bones,
electrified;
neurotransmitters like piano keys
jazzing up a well-strummed soul,
fingers plucking heart strings without resistance,
and i am at the mercy of music you’ve made -
that mesmerizing melody
in the inflection of your voice
and
the movement of your body
against mine;
rhythm.
don’t **** this song and dance
when the curtains just opened
let this harmony take us home
and resonate.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
She is a vibrant being,
radiating color and life,
Until the tears start flowing,
and wash the color away.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
The snow chastised, floating
Swirling through the blue ridden air
Smokey haze, crackling splinters
Of wooden fibers wretched from their lair
A washout water mark
Radiating flowing heat
Crickets weeping viola harmonies
Reminiscing fiery ambers singing
In memory of months laden with snow
When man could skid on the lake
Skating lavish traces in echo
Of ghost striking pitched chorus
Something like mourning
Fluttering in the reflection
A bittersweet harmony with
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC
nothing works right here
doors swell shut
lights flicker out
I give it all,
still feels half-finished
like a song cut mid-chorus
the people I love
leave limping
like I’m bad luck
that rubs off
so I turn cold,
keep distance,
wear silence like armor
meanwhile my body
is a clock with missing gears,
ticks, stalls,
ticks, stalls
still, I drag forward
through the static,
through the rust,
through the weight
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 2:13 PM UTC
Looking glass of wine,
His lots— numberless countries,
. . . Ship in a bottle.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
Had your thoughts been more pure like your skin,
As bright as the diamonds on your soft wrist,
Had you been more away from fault and sin,
Or giving each action a cunning twist,
And had you been more noble than fine art,
More modest like a meditating monk,
From desirous fame and names apart,
And not on an uncontrollable lust drunk,
Your style would have been much more prettier,
And pleasing to look at – without a doubt –
Both the inside and the exterior,
People would not see you as a washout.
But you'll not change until you see that rules
Shape prettiness right, like forms do to jewels.
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
Teenage dreamer
was embittered
cause he figured
nothing he did
mattered one bit.
Another life lost,
another child fatherless,
another man shot,
another human brutalized
and we see it happen almost live.
T.V. Bobble heads
spin talking points
to demonize the dead;
Drive by mace spray
of those who seek
to make a change;
A little girl cries
and needs milk
to washout her eyes;
A parade of storm troopers
patrol the streets
forcing innocent bystanders
to retreat, get beat,
or arrested on live T.V.
Rubber bullets pounding
against soft skin,
less lethal but still
penetrating,
blood seeping
from those seeking
a peaceful end
to this prevailing system
that locks them in
a recycled state
of grief and suffering
Just to show those
who were seeking an end
to police abuse
of their family and friends,
to all of our human kin,
they give us ultra force.
So now when his peers
cheer for hope
he still feels
the ill-will
of those who seek
to reap
their thrills
from the greed
that kills the seed.
of what we need
to be better.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 7:40 AM UTC