--Title In Description--What is a Cafe O'Lait?--Title In Description--7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Café-o-Lait Café au Lait - that's it
Am I retarded or something?
I don't know.
Is it a Misto?
The fuck's a Misto?
No one calls it that in Italy, do they?
Apparently they call it something in France
Café au Lait
Hoity-toity snub-nosed know-nothings-about-what-I-do
Want some Brévé?
No whip, though, cause that would be piggish
while you're at it, make that sugar-free syrop
Anyways, my shift
head to rome, child21st Century restroomhead to rome, child5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tells all who enter:
the urinal is a miracle,
a fountain of youth.
I only see filth and fallacy
through 20th century eyes
as Orpheus plays
America the Beautiful
with his ass
in a stall two doors away
and record industry executives
pile in flapping contracts
Seagulls on the shore of
beautiful Lake Creativity
now gone dry.
And this, I know,
through 20th Century eyes,
is static modulating
21st Century minds
from wherever here is,
they are -
and to uncertain eternity
tomorrow's rock gardentomorrow's rock garden9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tomorrow's Rock Garden
What has man become
but a misplaced tombstone
in staggered rows of arrogance
resistant to the chisel of common sense
and smiling like sheep
with granite teeth
polluted to perfection
on chemical lawns
casting a stubborn shadow
over dead values.
A New StartCan I ever free myself?A New Start9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Can I ever leave this place of hate?
Can I ever go away?
Can I leave before it is too late?
I sit here as a centerpiece.
All eye and expectations on me.
They just don't see they ask to much.
I don;t even have my dignity.
Trying to hard to make evryone happy.
I've come to my senses and given up on that.
Because all they evr want is more,
And I've realized that I can't.
Their backs are turned.
Their attention pulled in another direction.
This is my one chance to escape,
And to begin my own resurrection.
Leaving my prison,
What once was called my home.
I'm turning away from the pain.
Starting a life of my very own.
The Unrelenting MemoriesThe ones that come in the darkness.The Unrelenting Memories9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The ones that haunt you in your dreams.
The ones that you can't get rid of.
The ones that cause all of your screams.
You want to clear them of your mind.
But they shall never go.
They kill the good thoughts you have.
And suffocate the feelings you've always known.
Once they get inside,
There's no bidding them to leave.
They are a deadly disease.
Not allowing you to breath.
Why did I not tell the truth or say I'm sorry?
I could have been set free.
I was dwelling on my lies and deceit.
Now the beasts are here with me.
These are the thoughts that come in my darkness.
The thoughts that haunt me in my dreams.
The thoughts I can't get rid of.
The thoughts that cause all of my screams.
TrustTrust9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Trust is a sensual demon:
always taking, never teasing me awake,
but comforting me regardless.
You have taken a finger to the honey-pot:
chosen to spoil the clarity of comfortable perception,
and spilt my purpose.
Search out the clue to silence:
investigate the drive to talk,
and find a way to regain comfort.
Pinnacles of PerfectionPinnacles of Perfection9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The weather is changeable, and full of fruit:
a zesty tang to carve the edible cradle of trees.
Green hued pianists fingertips nimbly dance,
infatuated twigs lust for a young bud
and, when achieved in woody splendour,
plush green embellishment, ever upwards turned.
The youth drenched weed gazed in earnest wanting,
encrusted within his stamen was an anarchists mantra.
Calm the release to trust of life's dangerous procreatives,
mistrust the signposts and lose the generation.
Hearts are inept to emotive confusion,
yet each excretion of sound plays with youth's deafening muscle.
Startled, the truth-raven ruffles feathers to pristine clarity,
suffering in quiet subtlety the bravery of the young.
Erections of wisdom push out of his womb,
lines formate rubbing his eyes, exhibiting the progression of life.
Follow the bend and swirl of the branches,
and evaluate the weight of delicate caresses.
Drink Nectar from the war torn leaves,
they stand swift as masculine flowers and love with hearts wid
Baby BoyBaby Boy9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
grasping for the untouched stone:
The Demons of Icy NightThe Demons of Icy Night9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The icy night drew calming silence
from the branches ripped and bare -
poor mother, grieving for her son,
knowing demons grip him there.
Gentle Man at RestGentle Man at Rest9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stooped and haunted, the gentle man at rest
sleeps soundly, undisturbed, in Sunday best,
asleep ensconced in brittle timeless fire,
and seeking tryst with all of Man's desire.
This poet's words not pure enough to soothe,
nor sharply tainted, cause enough to bruise
the sleeping ego, neat and trim, inside
disrupted harmony - a vulture's pride.
The closed and hidden eye has seen it all,
and shouldered all necessity; to call
it living is to leave it all undone -
the vicious twist of life's true form has won.
The Worlds in PaintingsThe Worlds in Paintings9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The masterpiece unveiled, who knew
what lay beneath the cloth, so new;
that canvas will hang forever.
Wonder at the turn of her face,
why is she not smiling, while around her
other faces pose in seated pleasure.
Wonder how those trees did not uproot,
why disparate forces could not trip
the brush that touched the branches.
Wonder at the satisfied stature
of the gentleman with hounds,
of the lonely regal shooting party.
The master painter knew these folk,
these gentle-edged spokes that walked
and breathed and loved as real hearts.
Frame a thought for each poor soul,
while the picture hangs dented by time itself:
imagine the life behind those oils.
Emphatic NoddingEmphatic Nodding9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will wear my thong.
it is only a wedding.
sod the rest of you.
People are LookingPeople are Looking9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am the one
Who has no blood
To puff the veins
And away from
My bleeding heart.
I am not stood
As I cannot
Find the power
To lift myself up
And out of this chair
So I am down
And people are looking.
I have no thoughts
To air my views
Is unknown to me
In my small world
I do not walk
Or do as I am bid.
I am snuggly warm
And outside air
Avoids me, like the wind.
The Twice-Loved SoldierThe Twice-Loved Soldier9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Having scaled and felt the scrape of the stars,
the world collapsed beneath his feet
and left him in poor mental health.
Poor flower, petals wilting in the light,
with Summer's crooning so near at hand
and a heart's desire to be enclosed in joy.
Elected to perceive that imperial beauty,
a second chance at perfect happiness,
and another paling memory to disrupt life.
Sympathetic fool, looking for fault inside,
where simple perfection lives already -
the pictures on the walls are hers for you.
Strain to hold contentment prisoner,
take a grip on ecstasy,
and surrender to the strength in your heart.
Regal ChildRegal Child9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
reach inside my mind.
unravel the happiness
to find my reasons.
the pensive father,
deciding the small one's fate:
I will hold you now.
the sound of laughter
tickles my senses awake:
my small baby boy.
wear my crown, my son.
clothe yourself in majesty,
and rule this land well.
The Unclean MindThe Unclean Mind9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
someone is always watching -
do not post that filth.
GeniusGenius9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
look in the mirror
to see the genius there:
believe in yourself.
Thought-GripThought-Grip9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A thought-grip holds my brain
with a near-close nightmare:
that she is not mine,
nor do I reside in her heart -
it is cool with wonder
I am cool with wonder.
Now my head lifts from sleep -
it is infectious and docile -
and the world is unsmiling
at me - on me - is the Sun gone out? -
for the darkness is heart-deep,
and her leaving:
war-pain is a child to my heart's.
The melon is splitting,
and groaning to a stop -
heart-stop quiet suddenness.
Incomplete PoetryIncomplete Poetry9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
it is not complete.
your mind is filling in gaps
which should not be there.
The Cruellest PunishmentThe Cruellest Punishment9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
take this dirty brush
and lock it away from me:
do not give it back.
stop the shaft of light,
let inspiration darken;
my pen will silence.
cut clean at the bloody root:
seal closed the heart valve.
Today And TomorrowTurning corners, turning pages, doors slam shut behind.Today And Tomorrow8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Burning questions through the ages, answers still to find.
Leaving you believing me, know I'm hung for treason,
Running scared, no where to hide, searching for a reason.
Missing you and losing me, where did I go wrong?
Another line, another fear, pieces of an unsung song.
How can I turn back the time? So many hearts to mend.
Make it work, fix the pain, starting from the end.
So many days, so many tears, lessons I've not learned.
Keep reaching out to touch the flame, fingers long time burned.
Dont let me fall againIm lonely,Dont let me fall again10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Im without a soul,
Inside im screaming and crying.
No purpose, no reason,
Kill me for an act of treason,
Don't yell , Im deaf,
I can't hear your words,
I still see the violence,
Still feel the hurt.
Im another one of them freaks,
Roaming with out a cause,
excited by death,
saddend by life,
I laugh when life took an unexpected pause,
No one can see, they are as blind as me,
Kiss me, my sweet victory,
Drown me in my own tears.
Im with out a soul,
Inside im screaming and crying.