"wholy" poems
and isn't strange
that i'm sitting in my car
in a parking garage
thinking of you and missing
your stupid plumb apple face
or maybe it's carved from soap
or shaved glass
fragmented by pieces
collected in bindles
followed by bundles
of the joy i used to have
of the sleep i used to get
of the energy i used to take
and isn't it strange how
i have no desire to have you
all to myself for you are
an automous being that
breathes and thinks and acts
wholy different than me
but i can't help but miss you
and your kiwi colored eyes
with the seeds cut out
dipped in a ring of gold
and like smegal i yearn to
hold that precious ring of gold
in my shriveled hands
even though i know
it'll corrupt me
but i'm drawn to mordor
all the same
that's what it's like
missing you
wanting to go there
even when I shouldn't
and isn't it strange
that my world is shifting
complicit and complicated
a deficit of the senses
a pull from the void
a shake of the head
with such filigree i am sated
but blinded by such yearning
to touch your hot skin
feel it rest
against mine
again but
maybe i'm too addicted to sparks
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
News Flash:
Religious Science has created life!
With heat and pressure
and Sounds Sounds Sounds!
Watch their lead-boy
dance and sing
recordings placed in his
chest
by People Who Know.
Listen close
to his strictures about what
is abominable
you can hear their voices
in the crackling gray
noise:
The buzzing of cieling fans
in offices far away, Oz
The humming chatter of
"The maid found a dove
drowned in the pool!"
"Oh, how unsanitary,
truely abominable."
You really should see
him dance
in the Starstudded Ballroom
where the wicked pace
in the side-halls
dreaming of childhood summers
at the lake
and kisses in the morning.
Holy Science has smithed life!
Holy bullets smelted a fine
man.
Wholy Holey Holy Bullets.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
When I was young, they would look at me and say
"Who ever heard of a kid
With his feet in the clouds
And his head so far away you don't even know
Where to look for it?"
They saw that crazy energy in my heart
And those weird ideas in my head
And they looked at me and said
"A kid like that
Could never succeed in school
Because he's too wrapped up in imagination."
So I decided they were wrong
And I poured my soul into it
And when I had something I felt I could be proud of
I brought it forward
And they looked at that perfect test and said
"Whoever heard of a kid
So proud of some story he wrote
For some silly exam
That he wanted to show off?"
They saw my happiness
Over this thing they thiught so trivial
And they laughed
And they said
"A kid like that is proud of all
The wrong things in life
He still doesn't have his feet on the ground
He's still too crazy."
And so I, determined to be what I thought I should
Looked at myself
And took stock of the things they
Thought were silly
And I put them in a little wooden box
With a little iron lock
And little black letters on top that read
"A kid"
And I marched off to be something that
They had led me to believe
Was better.
When I got there and started to toil
To pour ny heart and soul
And all that I could into this work
They looked and me and said
"How can some teenager
Ever work this hard
Without stopping
To be a kid?"
And they sneered at me and pointed and said
"There must be something wrong with him."
So I took a few things
Out of my box
Being sure to lock it again
And when they saw these new old things
And watched me using them
They scowled, and shot me distateful
Looks
And they turned to each other and said
"He just wants to have fun
How is that going to help him?
He ought to act more
Mature."
And I, now at my wits end
Broke my back and sacrificed sleep
For coffee and textbooks
I, now at my wits end
Sacrificed long summer nights for hours
Spent staring at a screen
Straining my lifeless eyes
To work when I should have been playing.
And I returned to them
With all my achievments in hand
All my worldly work
And they looked down at the pile
And they said
"Shouldn't you try to have fun?"
And finally I lifted my headAnd I looked at them and at their
Bitter looks
Hollow eyes
Their tight mouths
And unhappy, looming brows
And I asked myself
"Why do I want to be
What they say I should?
Where did it ever get them?"
And I dropped my things and ran home
And prayed I was not too late
I pulled out my little wooden box
With the little iron lock
And the black letters that read
"A kid"
And I picked up the things inside
And gathered them out away from the box
And back into me
When I was done there was a little part of my soul
Where there had once been a hole
And in little black letters across the front
It read
"A kid"
And I smiled once more
Now wholy sure
That I could always, in some way be
A kid
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.
Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.
You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
She's my manifest destiny
Queen of my whole being
She brings out the best in me
Sees me for wholy me
**** this **** is freeing to be seen for wholy me, only me
Holy **** I've been living lowly
Living without the curves of her mouth
The spouts of sweet songs her voice moans strongly
The acceptance without judgement of decisions I've made wrongly
The commitment to forgive what we have grown from
The acceptance of the fact that we attracted life lessons that shed blessings on the future we both will be bold from
There's certain **** I can't replace like
The simple caress of my face as I lay cross her supple breast
Hearing her heart beat in her chest in tandem with mine
Heaven sent is her presence
It's life changing
Time frames hold limits within loves parameters
Don't matter to her or I for all we got is time
Time is what made us realize realness
Oh four loves jones turn out to be my whole life, whole wife, future baby mom type...
Crazy how it all turns out, how every obstacle paves the way for greatness
Blessed is the life I pray we get to make
She's destiny, I'll leave the future to fate.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
What she finds in him
When whole night he keeps exploring her body
Every night, and other night
As if,or might be some new plant has sprouted from her seed,
As if eating fruits from its branches, mandatory!
But,
What everyother night her seeking eyes see nothing,
For the tenderness she needs ,
Only!!
For a woman is made up of light bkue sky
And pale coloured sand
Wind v fragile
And spark too shallow
And this tenderness encapsulates her wholy!
With trembling hands
Everyother dark night
While her stature he loves
Her hands goes to his heart
To find tender part
But it still is a story of everyother night!
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 4:04 PM UTC
who are you
to peer beyond each thing newly
truly to
beyond peer things newing? (i mere things knewly
when yoully
were but twoly
truly.)
Beyond peer things
, wholy?
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 5:13 AM UTC
I shall carry your body
Across misty mountian ways
Wrapped with
linen and holly
And lament the crooked paths
Of the leather footed thieves
With restless
dirks and brandy
The earth shelters your secret
Under water weathered stone
And i'm left
ever wanting
While grieving and broken breaths
Sing through outlawed ancient pipes
They focus
grief so grandly
One more lonely kiss goodbye
Upon painted wordless lips
A last wish
whispers wholy
But shouting and sullen eyes
Scream my naked barren name
While grinding
Dreams to nothing
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 2:41 AM UTC
you took me to your house last
night and held my mother’s hurt in
your arms made me whole again.
again i feel a sun of
an opportunity i haven’t felt since
the last time you
took me ice skating when i was five.
the snow has always felt like
entrapment to me
a boots on the ground
brawl to get above water.
as we slide on the
ice it threatens to crack beneath me and
break me by the leg that has fallen into the
thunder-rolling
ocean beneath.
but you tell a story of the time
you counted the slivers of white on the ice here,
the trembling pulse of a child’s whisper in the air
whistling through the trees.
and you dance with me without being careful
i’ve never felt so free
one day after your work decided to industrialize the father in you to death
and you decided i had died to you
and the feeling of the sun on my heart deferred
to a space on my forehead that my veins pulse out of
that next day i felt emptiness for the first time.
the ice underneath me broke me into an
avalanche of rumbling teardrops that shattered glass
and ice and
lasted for four long days.
the adult birthed in me breathed
and grew outside of my child body
and the little kid in me just watched until
her silence strangled her to
death?
today i know she’s living
child whisper whistling through my lungs and
learning how to dance in the day time
nurse the grown up to sleep
and take my space for her own
take my space for my own
for the first time today i played outside
found a frozen pond instead of that ice rink
and laid to face the sky,
fearless in the face of the wholy sun
but knowing that i am just as whole
-jmm
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
Incorporeal,
in bodiless form, in spirit
in truth;
from out, looking in,
from now, seeing then
from whence all laws arise;
thinker thoughts,
tinker toy's and dams,
tin solder solutions
"Solutio!" or did he say
"Salute!" loose salubriety?
Endlösung, wholy reforming
all the whys in Userous tyranny,
all the reason in Balance of power,
all the mastery in War against peace…
knotting
strings
of coincidence crossing the wake
of where we were truer sets
of posed causal effects,
twist and shout,
your own salvation,
in the end,
work it on out,
when you live ever after,
what you gonna do?
If it's up to you, of course.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:46 AM UTC