I know love for your golden floors

[Canofceleri]

I know love for your golden floors

 

 

i know love for your golden floors---

floors of wheat, two feet standing,

hold close our grain

and harbor magnificent bugs (gleaming

with the sun-- the Star of No God)---

all living things.

 

meadow,

 

i know

your earth,

though its contents evolve and grow hair in the night.

 

and see now how we're served with night?

 

and so i fear the darkness

though i curiously close in on you---

your gravity is a force no matter the time of day.

 

o gayest meadow that i've known, when

shall we part?

at one or the other's destruction or perhaps long before?

might i chance another meadow (or perhaps a brief and lucid garden)

as once

you were chanced?

 

shall we conquer death?

 

 

 

scribble

 

 

a dragon lives in my brain.

 

and i live in the disorient that it brings all

red and smiling with great white teeth

and celebratory between the ears.

 

my thoughts aspire

from confetti adorned canals

and fire from islands

long rejected from the brain i am today.

 

 

 

The other short lives which with mine are tied

 

 

the other short lives which with mine are tied

do not exist in my own world.

 

not unlike you---

unknown and breathing

with a long yawn which does not cease

even for dreams.

you are carted through the dungeons of my day

within time which does not belong to you.

my reminders account no effect

and you're courted smiling with the most terrible breath.

you've founded in you someone else.

you dismiss the travel.

you dismiss its breakdowns and startups.

you dismiss everything.

me and you.

death and heaven.

 

life is much too long

and nothing exists outside of your own world.

 

 

 

sitting at day on a lounge chair

 

 

a foot so large and dirty

is human and all mine.

as is the shade i sit in and the pen i write with

and what puts the feeling in my face

and on (into my brain).

i may recall some other time

but that's just one part of what living is,

for now there is now.

 

 

 

father

 

 

father,

 

what have you left for me?

dollars spent and years of the same advice.

when i think of you i cannot do so in general,

i see your sun kissed skin brown and calabrese

and i think of its texture (now rough and old).

i know what it's like, the feeling of your face unshaved for a day

with its tiny daggers everywhere

and the wrinkles on it and why they're there (your laughter, your anger, your sadness, your disappointment).

your tears roll off of my cheek and i taste the salt in my mouth.

 

father, the man i call dad when we're face to face,

i miss you already

and your warmth and knowing that no matter where i am

you will be there to help me.

i am human child--- the baby most vulnerable of all---

and when you die (probably soon)

i will take my clothes off

and i will return to the river of hallucinations (where i was born)

and live with my blood on the outside until the wolves smell me out.

during my last conscious moments i plan on crying

(on imitating how i remember your cry).

though i'd rather be a live hero, i exist a dead chicken.

andandand tell me who your friends are.

 

 

 

s'mores

 

 

opens on dog on back road

 

to couple--playful and loving

 

to couple--fighting, she goes to drive off he manages in the car and they fight more. hit and kill dog. they leave she cries.

 

to couple--playful and loving

 

to dog gets up tends wounds and dies.

 

 

 

working out

 

 

a good friend once told me,

"i'm not smart--- i just

know too much about the wrong things".

 

whether or not he's a real good friend,

if his i's were really you's i do agree.

except maybe for the word wrong.

the only thing that is wrong in my world

is the world itself, and you friend...

i'm perfect and right.

 

 

 

Animals Are People, Too

 

 

There is a reality to speak of,

it is in reading this--- a story.

And so it (called a dog) lazily travels

a narrow and serpentine clearing,

on what's called a road, in the middle

of a wood.

It is aimless and travels.

A distant motor hums and crescendos.

 

 

"Mine!" it speaks, it breathes,

they hold each other tightly

displaying some mutual affection

and are comfortable, relaxed,

even delighted. Smiles abound.

"Mine, mine, mine--- all mine!" the "hole it"

breathes the wind and murmurs.

The pair cohesive flung down against

the contextual and rocky islands of what's called Italy.

They are aimless in their travels.

 

 

A dark turn.

You bitch! you c*nt! you slut! you ho!

you whore! you dog! they laughingly

commiserate at some point... Not now.

"You bitch! You bitch! You f*cking stupid c*nt!

For what? Stupid petty sh*t! All over sh*t!" and

what's called tears salty flow

and crying, the kind that make words unintelligible.

The "hole it" destroys symbols and

the "block it" pounces on the other it

and struggles to refrain.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Now in

what's called car, one it's escape to vent

has been foiled and the quarrel continues.

"You're driving is out of control now".

"F*ckin' dick, you asshole don't tell me how to drive,"

and faster.

"I said I'm sorry".

"I'm tired of it. We're----" ERRRR!

 

Bum-bum Bum-bum Bum-bum

what's called a heart is overworking. The "dog"

referenced earlier has just been hit by the other its car

and is now going to die. The organism has sustained

severe internal injury and will surely

cease within literally moments. There is not much

(what's called) pain involved, for something inside this dog

has reacted chemically and it is (for all intents and purposes) "in shock".

The "hole it" has reacted to this situation with great emotion,

what had earlier consumed her so fully has now died as well

in the crash. Now it is time, as is commonplace,

for the "block it" to console the other and pretends it is as effected.

 

 

"Mine!" it speaks, it breathes,

they hold each other tightly

displaying some mutual affection

and are comfortable, relaxed,

even delighted. Smiles abound.

"Mine, mine, mine--- all mine!" the "hole it"

breathes the wind and murmurs.

The pair cohesive flung down against

the contextual and rocky islands of what's called Italy.

They are aimless in their travels.

 

 

There is a reality to speak of, it is now in reading this--- a story. And so there is a feast on some part of this pavement (on the dark and hot of concrete laid for the transports of other people who come and go as well and do in fact eat as all others). But this, once a living and breathing person, is now for the hungry opportunist who cannot be blamed... who is just hungry. Many dismember, many still carry parts of the food back to their homes. Or maybe it just rots into the floor and some random vulture flies overhead and chances it.

 

 

 

a fragment

 

 

we should all feel proud for something. something that we feel distinguishes us from anyone else----that is ours.

 

 

 

untitled

 

 

and though your pictures speak to me

i've only read your words.

 

 

how should i say that i

 

voices, darkly through the glass a spider births

a swinging chain to barbedwirebronxcomplexwithmanysuitedwindows

i fear dying but am currently well composed for themindisoutofwhack and

everything's distorted. what's valuable? NOWlater

[Canofceleri]

30 views and no feedback? I dont mind honesty i know it is flawed. Any critique would suffice. Is appreciated.

[Eminence]

As you're probably aware yourself, I think the main problem with not garnering any replies is due to the fact that it's simply poems - it's all a bit more in-depth, and people aren't familiar with what its message is or what it means. I mean, I consider myself to be good when it comes to prose writing, but as far as poems are concerned, I truly have no idea, really.

 

Saying that, from a general perspective, I enjoyed a couple of them. As I say, I'm not sure on the meanings of all the words, or the different layouts, but I liked a lot of the imagery used and such.

 

I quite liked 'Fragment', actually. It's probably the most simple to understand in the bunch, and yet one of the deepest there ... it reminds me of a quote that must have been said by someone famous at some point - although apparently not!

 

Sorry I can't be of more help than that, though. I'm honestly not too sure of what to say when it comes to poetry - I think I'd be able to do it eventually, but it'd take me a long time to decifer the meanings behind every poem, and indeed every carefully chosen word and line within.

 

As I say, though, from a simple minded view, some of it was enjoyable to read.

[Oxidizer]

Somebody's got talent.

 

I thought they were really good, some pretty deep stuff thrown in there as well.

 

Like Eminence said, I think the only reason there ain't a lot of feedback is because people prefer stories, y'know? Or if they're like me, find it a little difficult to read poems that don't rhyme - but that's my fault.

 

Excellent work either way!

[TheJonesy]

Just as Eminence, I am no expert to poetry. The only thing I do know is that it is very difficult to write and give the right feeling and vibe in poetic writing. So what I am trying to say is...it is AWESOME!

 

GIMME SUM MORE!

[Canofceleri]

Thanks for the comments. Actually my dad died of a cardiac arrest two days prior to Father's Day. It's been really hard on everyone, it makes me think about the poem I wrote above about my dad... I nanchalantly typed it up and thought nothing of it and didn't seriously believe the line "probably soon" to be as soon as it was. 8 days before he died I posted this.

[TonyZimmzy]

Thanks for the comments. Actually my dad died of a cardiac arrest two days prior to Father's Day. It's been really hard on everyone, it makes me think about the poem I wrote above about my dad... I nanchalantly typed it up and thought nothing of it and didn't seriously believe the line "probably soon" to be as soon as it was. 8 days before he died I posted this.

Sorry to hear I always like browsing through your poems, they're interesting to read.