"youngling" poems
Teenage
don't cry
don't sorrow
don't worship
don't listen
don't hold back
don't have emotions
But in fact
teenage hide
teenage scared
tennage runaway because home is no better than the bearing streets of cruelty for at least I'll have control of my destiny
teenage try
teenage listen
teenage will help
teenage get nervous
teenage sometimes doesn't understand.
Little do you know TEENAGE will cry harder in room thinking about homework than the once youngling who scraped her knee.
TEENAGE. STILL. FRAGILE.
TEENAGE. STILL. UNCERTAIN.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
Anxiously awaiting atomic assimilation
Basing me on belligerent and boorish bastardization
Capsizing cargo with careful consideration as to
Deciding which day is decay's destination
Everyone embrace the elevated expiration
Forget my face and follow fabrication
Go to the gallows with grace and gravitation
He will hold you and hinder alienation
I, however, hold insignificance in interest
Justifiable jackhammers jacking fighter jets
Killing Californians who are kissing canvases
Lying without laughing and lighting cigarettes
My master makes me move my mundane mind
Never knowing next to nothing with nothing else inside
Overly offering operating override
Practicing patiently pulling peoples' pride
Quickly questioning quizzical quietness
Rationalizing raging reinventions ridiculous
Stapling this summer to my (still) sick subconscious
Traveling tunnelers trading tides for tiredness
Under the umbrella my undertow untangles
Violently vibrating like varying violin angles
Waiting with wandering whispers under the table
Xylophonist x-rays, excruciating fables
You yellow youngling, you who screams in my dreams
Zebras zoom by every single night, it seems
Let's chant my enchantments, the alliteration song!
And untie your tongue
So you don't take it wrong.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
Some days I see myself outbound like an 80's movie...
living life day by day, wondering what lays ahead of the play.
I love life, because of the good and bad, but off course, bad things can't cut it, but we have to get what's bad to get the greater things in life.
No, no silly, i' am not talking about politics, or the crap happening right now...but the adventures in our personal lives that we go through every single day.
Being with you tonight was like two fishes who swam together in lovers hearts, synchronized in nostalgia.
When we lock eyes, emotions spur into greatness.
You held my hand as we walked underneath the starry night, so quiet and dark, playing hide and seek around the truck parked in the front yard, and as i looked back at you, we swung a hug in each other's warm arms along with a never forgotten kiss.
Your kisses, one by one, are always cherished and never forgotten...also when you're leaving to go home, i take a photograph of your lips in my mind, how they feel pressed against mine.
As I walk underneath the pear tree nd lights flashing underneath from the garden below shining unto my minty laced robe of satin, catching your eyes once again on mine in a new pictured memoir.
I love nostalgia, who doesn't?
it helps you feel like you belong...
when no one else is there to help sing your song.
I have been a day dreamer since a youngling, and will always
continue to do so throughout my living days.
happiness comes through dreams,
and when you believe in those dreams
you can really see
your true
reality.
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 4:36 AM UTC
In the birdhouse I built,
The youngling flies off for the first time
Looking back
With hope for you
I whispered your name
I wanted nothing more than the world for you,
So much,
I invented new ones.
We made moons at the cliff
In a word of spoken poetry.
The rivers split
And we became found.
I caught all the petals in the wind
To recreate a flower.
I taught you how to fly,
And you became a bird.
I'm just an old fool
Who pieces together
The broken heart.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
Dinner is Served
*Continuous hunger
unsatisfied
and faltered
Feed the weak
and eat them young
Makes a simplicity
of having to
house them
or to let them run*
Baby calf, born to be
brazen with a side of pilaf
Seared over open flame
tenderly exquisite
Make no matter
of an empty life
Just too satisfying
to a tempered pallet
To think of where and how
this dish came to be
Ending a wee
youngling's life
Served best with
a chilled blush zinfandel
or an aged red chianti
White and/or red
make up life of blood
and life in continuation
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:40 AM UTC
Worship His Lordship,
Brace up timely solace,
Before you are befooled,
No syntax would serve,
When death comes to date.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….. 1
Oh Dear, desist from desires,
That govern mundane mandate.
Blessed are you, whatever deserved,
Of your actions, or inactions past,
Be content and devoted,
To your duty, serene and supreme
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……2
Concealed by shiny silky skin,
Beauty is one of flesh n’ blood,
Glow or glamour is never forever,
Introspect and respect the truth,
Let not illusion overtake your wisdom.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……3
Eventual, life bubbles off,
Like a droplet on lotus leaf,
Conjured by complexion,
Concluded by deadly disease.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……4
Kith n’ kin crowd around,
And enjoy the fun and frolic,
Of youth, of health n’ wealth.
As the age anchors in sickness,
No referee comes to your rescue.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……5
Sprint is the spirit of life,
The Soul holds the body
The day the Soul skips away,
Even your wife walks astray
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……6
Fun n’ play rein budding life,
Youngling passions linger fore,
Hoary age diminishes in distress,
None to come along, nothing to impress,
When the dusk dawns on you,
Too late to mediate and meditate.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond…….7
After all, what are you!
Of whom are you?
Who your wife and children are?
Are the bonds you made binding?
What is your origin or horizon?
Ponder over the divine marvel
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……8
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
He sent me as a youngling kind
enough to fear thy ways.
He made me as shy as could be,
And forbid me to pay thee heed.
Yet I try to see the way,
That no one else could show me.
Every second I try to believe,
I can be as better as I can be.
I walked the road,
laden with hopes and trust,
My soul feels heavy as a sea.
With courage as the ship,
Supported with will as the mast,
I try to be a sailor,
In the waters inside of me.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
.
Notes wash over
The no angled ear
Listener, journeyer
See trails leading
To a cloud of sun,
Break in the skies,
Soon to know again
What was creeping
In the eyes of restless
Thought, unrequited
Sense, the whirling
Ride in the globes
Of vertigo and touch.
Dismembered by mood,
The musician conjures
Lost jewels in thought,
Sparks to the mind,
Sorcery in the bland,
Wayout, man, you dig,
Tap the deep rythmns
Drowning under toes,
Shutters we have lined
Go ourselves together
In the blinds. Turn on,
Off those penny eyes,
The horn careening
In its heights of low
Down blues and sheen,
Be bop and stirring
In a rush, unfinished
The player knows
Your got number,
Is offbeat, syncopated
With the pearly drums
Of the sheet, read heart.
Jazzman is charmer
To sleepy serpent
Kept, shot in only bars
That leech into night,
The looking glasses
Pouring over misery
Ride sweet nowhere
In the tempos of fix,
Youngling daddy-o,
Plenty is the brass horn
Of Jazz in the clears,
Cool fingers singing
What the mind hears.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC
.
Notes wash over
The no angled ear
Listener, journeyer
See trails leading
To a cloud of sun,
Break in the skies,
Soon to know again
What was creeping
In the eyes of restless
Thought, unrequited
Sense, the whirling
Ride in the globes
Of vertigo and touch.
Dismembered by mood,
The musician conjures
Lost jewels in thought,
Sparks to the mind,
Sorcery in the bland,
Wayout, man, you dig,
Tap the deep rythmns
Drowning under toes,
Shutters we have lined
Go ourselves together
In the blinds. Turn on,
Off those penny eyes,
The horn careening
In its heights of low
Down blues and sheen,
Be bop and stirring
In a rush, unfinished
The player knows
Your got number,
Is offbeat, syncopated
With the pearly drums
Of the sheet, read heart.
Jazzman is charmer
To sleepy serpent
Kept, shot in only bars
That leech into night,
The looking glasses
Pouring over misery
Ride sweet nowhere
In the tempos of fix,
Youngling daddy-o,
Plenty is the brass horn
Of Jazz in the clears,
Cool fingers singing
What the mind hears.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
Only those with the wisest minds -the oldest eyes, remember the days of love truly lost.
The woman with the rage speckled iris, the man with the world-heavy curved spine,
Holding aloft thy heads as the wisping breaths of each memory tortures and threatens to crack.
Like mere puppets dangled on a string are they. The heavy ambiguity collapses the lungs,
the heart torn from the cavity from such pure and sheer anguish
that one would think thine eyes had seen many a scorned sky.
But nay.
this is neither scalding storm nor bloodcurling encounter
tis nout but mere consequence
Consequence that comes from tasting the sweet nectar of thy goddess affection;
The honeycombed effect of forged kisses under the stars;
The rippling shudder of the pulses as skin meets skin.
Eyes caressing over mounds and peaks of soft flesh and pray!
My sweet, sweet maria the smell of youngling dew
As one awakens from the deep, soothing slumber that follows
Each blissful frolicking under the devious eye of the tangent sun.
Aye.
Thy beauty is but a hideous monster scarring the vessels of the ventricles as they lay.
But as sure as day and as righteous as the gods are we addicted,
Like fresh salt in a wound after the ****** high.
Pain crashes blindly against the unravelling ribbons of sobriety
Lustfulness takes under like the crash of the star spangled wing on the wave;
And you my wistful lover! My dear maria;
Are the amphetamine to my warped and harrowed heart.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Dear night mother,
The youngling flew the coop.
Off for wild adventures, he cannot be tamed.
His elder kin spoke of magic,
The intellectual splendor of spells
Gifted yes, but not quite so as her
The painted daughter of darkness,
She colours the world in twilight.
This brings us to dusk, mantle I wear proud.
Eldest of eld, nutured by you mother,
To grow strong, wicked and well.
Those glowing eyes,
The prestege of feathers
Mother owl, bless our endeavours.
Grow old, grow wise
Bless you, oh mother,
And the nocturne skies.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
Could I take what was meant to be mine, calm
Moments entwined with the thought of it could
Be clamed by my hand. sweat beads off my brow.
Twitching palms reach for the handle, chocking
On decisions that could follow. Could I let go of
This moment as it rushes forward, unfolding.
The mood was as silent, death was waiting on
The other side, could I let go and walk the opposite
Way, lose what was rightfully fraught in moments.
I could be post mortem in the actions that follow
Forward, a story untold, as I passed with a moment.
Could I provide moments that were flowed forward.
Could I take what was meant to be mine, calm moments
Entwined with the thought of it could be clamed by
My hand. It was one moment to be in my hand.
I forget the words that spelt the chains of holding,
An opportunity of single thought as words once
Again spilt forward. saved with a single thought.
This isn't for me a moment for a child to be more than
A father ever was, I was of word and conclusion would
Spell if my youngling would be more than I was not.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Notes wash over
The no angled ear
Listener, journeyer
See trails leading
To a cloud of sun,
Break in the skies,
Soon to know again
What was creeping
In the eyes of restless
Thought, unrequited
Sense, the whirling
Ride in the globes
Of vertigo and touch.
Dismembered by mood,
The musician conjures
Lost jewels in thought,
Sparks to the mind,
Sorcery in the bland,
Wayout, man, you dig,
Tap the deep rythmns
Drowning under toes,
Shutters we have lined
Go ourselves together
In the blinds. Turn on,
Off those penny eyes,
The horn careening
In its heights of low
Down blues and sheen,
Be bop and stirring
In a rush, unfinished
The player knows
Your got number,
Is offbeat, syncopated
With the pearly drums
Of the sheet, read heart.
Jazzman is charmer
To sleepy serpent
Kept, shot in only bars
That leech into night,
The looking glasses
Pouring over misery
Ride sweet nowhere
In the tempos of fix,
Youngling daddy-o,
Plenty is the brass horn
Of Jazz in the clears,
Cool fingers singing
What the mind hears.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
Youngling without guile,
Waging war with life itself,
. . . Subtle temptations.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
"Will you hold me in your loving embrace?"
"You will rise with the sun in my loving arm"
"I am a cut out stalk without root in the earth"
"I will be your renewal of hope every season"
"I am a weak youngling, to and fro I go with the wind"
"By my divine guidance you will grow strong and tall"
"I have no breath, no life for my survival"
"I will be the breath, the life you so want"
"Will the sun shine on; on me?"
"It love will caress your little beautiful face"
"What says you of the windy storm, rain and seasons?"
"Mine is to defend, yours is to be calm"
"My needs are endless, I did wary you of life"
"I will provide providence when you are in need"
"All you have given, what needs you from me?"
"That you shine, and be a hope of life to another"
May 21, 2021
May 21, 2021 at 8:01 AM UTC
Once upon a time,
I knocked on the gates
Of paradise and asked for a secret.
Saint Peter said to me,
"Live boldly, youngling.
Evening stretches on
Longer than the daylight."
Awake again, I smiled
Because I had indeed
Been given a secret.
But it wasn't what old Saint
Pete had told me.
The secret was
That I already knew
And I smiled anyway.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
A story unfolds in her eyes,
the little runaway recites,
depth in an iris of secrets,
halcyon days and sapphire nights.
Release the words dearest youngling,
bleed the emotions you regale,
let the narrative entice time,
weep the history of your tale.
She blinks and the page slowly turns,
another chapter taking shape.
The story unfolds in her eyes
and lids close as she seeks escape.
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 7:00 AM UTC
o, life — you summon the compunction of
our beforeness.
with your hands, you have worn me
like a glove, tending to your footfall
of soil.
with your voice, you poise the starkness
of this bleak leviathan airlessness.
rousing the frogs sleeping in their
fortresses — i give them no unction.
it is because life
is a shard of glass surreptitiously
flattened out, shifting its balance,
an obscure triangle. because life
is a rose of the old and my hands, a curious spry — i know not its thorns,
only the dew that melds to dry.
because life has left me a youngling so old, groping in the beholden dark.
i recover no wholeness, and as i sit
in the middle of cobblestones,
the moon whetted to an inverse dagger,
the blue of the sky like a cathedral
in twilight has its tremendous secrets
revealed by lunar markings.
this is the voyage of the derelict;
scraps of paper twirling, blown by wind
from stars, the sodden aroma of the seaside — life, you are a sea and the waves unnerve the true blood of subterraneans.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
.
Younglings mass about
An elder, gray as voices,
Unbidden, true as losses,
Before winning, hopeless
As an birdling before flight,
Great as truth before might,
So many stories taken down
And the papers all lie, sullied
On the ground, when will love
Overtake, when will righteous
I remake? Songs loved be sung,
Hung out to dry in burning dust
Of never a daisy under sunshine?
For truth, justice and the pursuits
Of happiness is such a fragile thing,
Youngling make sures under skies of
Purity, sweetest, strong, frail, nothings.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
I. Death
The succumbing of the body. A multiverse of gratitude prospering to numbers and numbers of different equations set by the timeframe of some data. The child that freezes and realizes its fault and cries, sobs to its mother. The ticking time bomb of thoughts attacking every single brush of a fingertip and every blink of the eye. the picture of dorian gray hung upside down with satanic signs seeping into the paint. The cold breeze washing over the youngling flowers. The becoming.
II. Heaven
What is heaven but a tropical world filled with red lipstick printed butterflies. Sand seeping into places you used to despise. The ocean, the mother god, latching onto you creating you, its prey. What is paradise but the whispers of secrets that you should never have known. Of your friend who stole a boys' kiss. The very boy who made you blind and created an utmost infinity of bliss. But no, he didn't love her, he was the very messenger, the bird who flapped his wings and mimicked a boy in love.
You spread your legs. Because all you have learnt is that you are the paradise. You become the wonderland of Alice.
a sultry voice whispering into your ear, making your heart flutter to the beat of the words. the sensation of euphoria like ocean waves rushing through you.
heaven is the ache in your stomach when the night feels everlasting and you connect with another being. just being.
paradise is belonging. it is being one.
it is the feeling of a stranger's lips on yours, intoxicated. The sweaty palms of the other exploring places only few have encountered.
it is a distant memory. feeling reminiscent of a time that once was.
it is the first steps you take without a helping hand. A free bird.
n.b
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 5:59 PM UTC
.
Notes wash over
The no angled ear
Listener, journeyer
See trails leading
To a cloud of sun,
Break in the skies,
Soon to know again
What was creeping
In the eyes of restless
Thought, unrequited
Sense, the whirling
Ride in the globes
Of vertigo and touch.
Dismembered by mood,
The musician conjures
Lost jewels in thought,
Sparks to the mind,
Sorcery in the bland,
Wayout, man, you dig,
Tap the deep rythmns
Drowning under toes,
Shutters we have lined
Go ourselves together
In the blinds. Turn on,
Off those penny eyes,
The horn careening
In its heights of low
Down blues and sheen,
Be bop and stirring
In a rush, unfinished
The player knows
Your got number,
Is offbeat, syncopated
With the pearly drums
Of the sheet, read heart.
Jazzman is charmer
To sleepy serpent
Kept, shot in only bars
That leech into night,
The looking glasses
Pouring over misery
Ride sweet nowhere
In the tempos of fix,
Youngling daddy-o,
Plenty is the brass horn
Of Jazz in the clears,
Cool fingers singing
What the mind hears.
.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
Eyes.
I always feared eyes.
Of course,
I've gotten over that fear
But a long long time ago
When I was but
A youngling
A child
A toddler
I feared eyes.
They were in my dreams
My nightmares
And I couldn't shake them.
They were the eyes of my family
My neighbours,
My teachers,
My friends
Even my mother's
Own hazel eyes
They scared me.
I was even afraid
To look into my own eyes
In the mirror
Or in pictures
So I never bothered to
But I was always told
They were a bright green
Like my granddad's
I never knew
Not until middle school
When I finally got over that fear
I remember I started
To look into the eyes
Of my first real crush.
They were a deep ocean blue
That was when I started to look into eyes
And truly saw their
Deep depths
It was a whole new world
I was amazed.
My eleven-year-old self
Finally got over her own fear
One she didn't know she had.
I got along better with people
Made more friends
Saw who they truly were
By their eyes.
Made connections,
Followed where others' eyes had led.
I slowly became more
Aware of things
I saw more than just a person's face
A person's body
I sort of saw
Into their very soul.
But now,
I have a new
Sort of fear
Of others seeing my eyes.
I try to hide them
Usually by my hair
Or by reflective sunglasses.
No one knows
I feel this way
Because I don't want others to see
What I look for
I don't want others to see
Into my deep depths
And to see
Into my very soul
Because it's far too dark in there
I'm afraid they'll leave me.
The fear's not for everyone,
But it is for a lot of people
I fear for them to see
I don't know why
Don't ask me
I just do.
I just don't want others
To see into my dark soul.
I just realized
You all just saw into my soul.
I don't even know you.
****
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
Whisper to me agin
How life was back then
When nothing would hurt
When all I had on me was dirt
Now that life is real
And not as happy as it was
I can't seem to heal
But I gotta press on because
There's someone that cares
She's a person that knows
She helps me when I start to ware and tare
And when life really blows
I see her and I'm bright
I feel full of might
When she holds my hand thru the flood
And afterwards we play in the mud
So I gotta stay strong
I must stay brave and tall
For nothing can be wrong
When things run up the wall
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC