Archive for poem

The One That Got Away

Posted in One Shoot, One Stop Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 16, 2011 by dustus

I loved her, honest
Warm shoulder, face, soft eyes
Mostly imagined, as well as initial
Surprise pet names
Rats make for a stupid hat
Dancing spastic to Sinatra’s pack…
If like-attracts-like
Then I am insane

Benighted cotton balls, human
Upon magellin’ hair
Sniffling through catacombs—
Their ancestors spared
Licking skull eye sockets
Smelling condensed blood
Without squeaky pre-flights
No airline cruising bag of nuts
Nor fearing yawlps from elephants
Over cobalt blue tears
Coloring Ulysses butterfly
I’ll never tell—Pinky & Brain swear
Because one never really knows why
Some cast a wicked spell
Knowing it’s not healthy: staring into glare
Though rodents tickle smile growth
Your left side looks so dark and scared

Like unto her, recognized one
Took held breath from my yesterdays
Making me finally cut; the bleeding runs
Strolling edit, weekends come
Always wanting, aching fade
Craving thrills, smelling grave
Fair nuanced shake
I’ll squeeze that sponge
Drink lips, fears, spiked pain
As tales trail sensing time frames
Independent journey pines for nothing
Now, except sapling splinters— 
A privilege being a writer
Fucking sue me; one-shoot-me
Looking past this, future smiles
While mental illness crying fire
Patrons trample burning aisles
Saying cheese, final friend
When love is all I want and need
Until we meet again—

From Skinner’s lair to inside trees
Panopticons and lakeside springs 
Postcard composure
Photographs, dreams
Through notes, held keys
Wind-song through reeds while
The one who kept me up at night
Feeling nothing except history
That part of me… faux enemy

Died today
Remembering with a sigh
Will never be the same

Goodbye, One Stop

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Care for a reading of The One That Got Away?

*spectacular photography by Rosie Hardy

Chris G… wish you a fantastic new beginning, my friend.  Learned a great deal from you, and have high expectations for your future accomplishments. All the best for a great start in CO! Don’t be a stranger.

Final Words of Thanks….
I really don’t know what to say, and I’ve thought about it obsessively, go figure…. Guess it’s kind of hitting me all at once now. To sum up the journey, I’ve learned more about writing and poetry from real writers—dedicated, intrepid blogging souls— who bring their best efforts forth just about every week, even when they don’t link up, or opt to send poetic tweets. Through One Shot Wednesday and Form Mondays (each day really) I feel like I received a poetic education—gleaming gems of knowledge and inspiration prompting me to experiment with varied styles, take notes, make conscious decisions through my work. Those lessons prove invaluable; and Sundays, well, I never expected it to turn out so great. Big credit to Chris, and to everyone who posted and shared their thoughts with us. I’m grateful for your heartwarming kindness and encouragement.

Cheers.

Peace.
dustus

Can’t Wait

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2011 by dustus

Tongue bit, clamped
Could taste it bleed
Mixed with saliva
Stifling cries of, “Please
Baby, don’t leave!”

Enter time’s return rush
Knowing regressions
From cross words
Puzzlement, smell salts
Warped log cabin of make believe
Where cathedral ceilings brace—
Maple syrup drawn from intimacy
Guess I never expressed—
What she had once meant to me

Sh…
Hermit crab lurches
Like an old man with crooked legs
Hubble, hobble, watch ’em wobble
Through scopes of spray mist…
Over canvas beach
Pebbles smooth, tide swell
Scuttle into eternity

Sounds from perplexed hearts
Crests sharp—over barbs and bark
Trapper claw snaps down
Spits out entrails
As the earth spins side projections
Giving to new life…

Finding spirit on skewed point
Dissecting mind
Without reach
Emptiness cradles stars
In the wake of shedding duck trails
Shimmering waters, ululations glisten
Dovetails, and billowed sails
Shy eyes hid behind hair sway
Sky climb to a golden age
Those autumn harvest days
When life sighs, breath held
Chest tight, on deck over water main
We rage against dying light
Run out of what we mean
Pour one for me
Red wax drips lethargic
Myopic, uptight
Revealing myself
Wounds close as I write
“Can’t wait until love
Will finally feel right.”

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Care for a reading of Can’t Wait?

One Shot Wednesday (Week 51)
@ One Stop Poetry
It’s my turn to host!

Eavesdropping

Posted in One Shoot, Poetry Reading, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2011 by dustus

photo by Rob Hanson

Above this dusty relic phone
Laughter spring sentience
A map of soles
Connects body
Instep…

Movement calling arches;
Come in arches—
Convivial apogees
for filigree
Mechanisms fuse wire, ligaments
It’s cliché to say when you least expect it
Like news, dropping bombs without warning
To lose yourself through charged sentiment
Returning to amend again
Biochemical remnants
Stains memory into the glass of years
That should forever
Never
Stand
Your silence…

Five-alarm warnings, imploring, before life ends
Regrets that, meant, honor, discontent, mendicant
More when voices
Distill vibrations
Rendering whispers…
Most soothing…
Feathered sighs…
Intimate

Do I spy falsies?
Maybe that’s clear
Levity during tears for mortality
Intense, sears carving reality
As tragedy snuffs out waning night
Death pronouncements through the tunneled ear
Cease climbing toward the apex right
When singing bird chirps fill the morning air

Yes, I’m missing sweet words
The ones that we hold dear
Recalling felt a soft smooth face
Even hang ups, wrong numbers

Just wishing love to hear

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Want to listen to Eavesdropping?
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Rob Hanson took the fantastic HDR photo. Today, it is Part 2 of Mr. Hanson’s interview with Chris G. at One Stop Poetry. Awesome photographer. Go check out the interview.

A Life That Works

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 7, 2011 by dustus

I’d like to share a happy song
Figure out what does go wrong
Itching scalp from burning sun
Seldom let myself have fun…

Want it real?
Sushi raw?
Lacerations from a jaded saw?
I’d like to tell you how I feel
Man up from clown
Stand ground, appeal

Layers of an onion shed
Nightmare turns away pretend
The ceiling shows time’s twisted flow
Adjusting eyes tune street lamp glow

These walls are bare
As will, heartbeats
Jugular, nose
Breathe, repose
This is what a writer chose
As muffled echos ocean close
Interstate drone
Time alone
Everything I wrote and own
Spells drip catching studio skylight—
Wings melt into a candle vigil and
A life that works
Perceived self-worth
To walk this earth
Past pain, main, rebirth
Limbs coated with sweat
My pride, hair, and dirt

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Care for a reading of A Life That Works?

One Shot Wednesday (Week 49)
@ One Stop Poetry
Host: this week the honor goes to
poet & friend, Mr. Brian Miller

When Machines Mend

Posted in One Shoot, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2011 by dustus

photo by Rob Hanson

Forgetting, over hours
Details under interrogating fluoresence
When machines mend
This antique Elizabethport Singer
Will bind sturdy seams again
Holes in ripped jeans
An old weblos patch
Then I’ll pay the pub a visit
Talking over 2 buck drafts
Pouring to home; a smile basks
Planning new tapestries
The artist tips his frosty glass

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When Machines Mend reading…
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Rob Hanson took the fantastic HDR photo.  Today he is interviewed over at One Stop Poetry.

Sounds Like Life

Posted in One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2011 by dustus

Poetry Challenge “Favorite (or least favorite) Things”
A Bookstains Challenge

This poetry challenge is based upon a poem (well a bit of tomfoolery) that Lynda for Bookstains/Echostains wrote ages ago and forgot about.  But the idea for the challenge was inspired by Jesssica’s Japes wonderful poem “My Least Favorite things.”

“The challenge is simple – just write a poem to the tune/rhythm of the song from ‘The Sound of Music’ inspired by your favorite or least favorite things.  To start you off, here’s the first bit of the Julie Andrews version.  In case you don’t know how it goes – here it is on video.”

My Favorite Things  Sounds Like Life

Imagine an author rejected by agents
Piles of manuscripts rot in the basement
Trying to capture what’s lost through no means
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

Expressing emotions through vectors and color
Writing too much ’cause he can’t find a lover
Many see Jesus as resurrecting
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

Breakdowns through trauma; forever seems fleeting
Bombardment of images won’t equal feeling
Being original is poetry
Sounds like life music through lines that he dreams

And when the avalanche comes down
As our carnival leaves town
We still search for a reason through time…
Exhaling sad sorrow
Don’t cry for tomorrow
Sing onto death
Sounds like life

(repeat ad nauseam)

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Want to listen to me read this one?

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One Shot Wednesday (Week 43)

Celebrate National Poetry Month! (US)
*hashtag your tweets #NationalPoetryMonth
@ One Stop Poetry
It’s my turn to host this week!

On This Easter Day

Posted in Image Poetry, One Shoot, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 23, 2011 by dustus


Do you remember me, Grandma?
These lilies are for you
Picked them at your favorite park
The one near Arthur Kill

Imagine she misses Grandpa
Night lights in vacant eyes
Drawn to sudden song from birds
Past war abducted mind

Do you remember me, Grandma?
When I was Little D?
Within your yard I’d cross home plate
Pretend to be a Yankee

And will you remember me, Grandma?
On this Easter Day
Slave labor tortured
We’re out of time
I watch you wheel away

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Would you care to hear me read this poem?

*The above poem is my response the One Stop Poetry Picture Prompt Challenge. The above photo is by a talented and kindhearted Canadian photographer, Mr. Greg Laychak! Check out his interview today over at OSP.