Darrel
On his shoulder
are the weight of his struggles,
his prostrate grief,
and esoteric quintessence;
the impending doom
that defeat riveted
On his hands
are burns from cigarettes,
an empty bottle
and everything else
lifeless and afraid
On his eyes
are shut persiennes
veiling the shadows that
love has casted
and its silver web
of emptiness
On his brittle bones
shivers the abhorrence
for ephemeral amities
and its affinity
which is the love
for weak beacons leaning
on tired sunsets
He traversed skylines
like arrows assailed
to the stygian flames
and to get out of his track
is a distraction from
the eternal malaise
that he is trying to chase
and escape all the same
He counted little deaths
and little details -
like felled petals,
and lambent sighs;
like the sequins
and tears evocated
Darrel was not his name,
because his existence
is but a fallen grain
in the hour glass -
he was jeopardized
a beau not,
a confidant not,
a wise not,
a luxury not,
a poet not,
but he was an eternal child
who knows not
but the home built
with monoliths
from scoured grace
And to be given
a home with walls,
frail constitutions,
a hearth for warmth
where nobody
had a name
despite myriad of
regrets and failures
that a man wouldn't
even surmise
was a splendid bliss
for Darrel
and Darrel
was his name.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Into Emptiness Engulfing Emptiness
Still and silent
I rivaled the weather
like a weathercock
swaying with the squall
because my reticence
is soused in the kerosene
of broken amities
hauling an aversion
to trusting, to people
but the fire is compulsive
in the growing tedium
With eloquent words
I vied to unmake memories
but emptiness wasn't
an auspicious confidant
I hunger for company
underneath the diffidence
to fill the disemboguing
ravine of quintessence
I wallowed haplessly
like an eternal child
fumbling for the thread
that leads the way out
these labyrinthine walls
but Theseus' tapestry
remained unwoven
for Ariadne remains
forged and elusive
So my soul caromed
into a deterred ballet
I vied for irony
as I swayed with the farce
and molted with the mediocre
like a writhing moth
searching for its home
in the light of a fire
and its perilous beauty
until my gusts abate
and my wings fold
into the cobwebs
of my shabby struggles
While the blood seeps out
and empties the bones
hollowness was generous
to submerge the lilt
of my coruscating laments
and then there was
nothing at all -
emptiness gnawing
the empty home
ensconced in an empty home.
poem by Norman Santos
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Five O'Clock 500
Album: For The Record
Just punched the clock and boy am I ready
Walkin' out the door a-headin' home
It's time to buckle up again
In my rolling hunk of tin
It's quittin' time the evenin' race is on
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jeff
Oh, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500 every day
Oh, Bubba's runnin' right on my bumper
Pushin' me but there's no where to go
Lane changin' left and right
Blowin' horns and blinkin' lights
Oh, the fast lane has never been so slow
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jeff
Well, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500 every day
Well, the caution is out we're at a stand-still
Heard there's construction up ahead
Won't be long so they say
Soon we'll all be on our way
Some trucker on the CB just said
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jared
Oh, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500, five o'clock 500,
Five o'clock 500 every day
Every day, every day, every day...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gain of Loss
Hardest of Lifes lessons is loss,
In which having becomes without,
When complete changes to shatters,
That what was full is, just an emptiness,
And guided becomes lost.
Security of knowing, fades to a memory,
Images of Love, become dreams,
Security of touch, a sensation ebbed away,
And Loneliness becomes company.
When the weakened Heart, strengthens,
tired from the weariness, of loss,
Growing, of the last Love,
To become the strength,
Of the next.
Lesson learned, is not to Love less,
With Loss,
lesson is, to learn to Love Grander,
With Gain.
poem by Darrel Kincaid
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A Swallow
When a swallow lost its track home
dementia gave her wings a dungeon -
a cavernous cellar eating itself inwards
plume to soul, banishing the quintessence
rifted on the hallow meandering bones
Her nest is an asylum of felled stars
brooding for the manifold gusts
that lead her flight back home
and in this plight, adrift the sky
she dreams of their crystalline eyes
the angel's sequins glittering
upon the insipid atmosphere
but their lights won't hatch
for her shallow clouds anymore
When she leaned on the sunsets
she remembered the seaward drift;
A pang on her unfixed wings
and insufficient incendiary
Suspended in a limbo between
the eclipse of memories, and
the equinox of her broken reality
She will dissolve into the sedative
flapping of jellyfish wings
and the willowy breeze hauling
her burdens out of their chambers
and the walls would remain unscathed
for when it topples, she would
glide down into the bottom
of a bottomless abeyance.
poem by Norman Santos
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Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.
quote by Darrel Royal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Together
Music & Lyrics by Kenny Nolan
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your eyes are sad eyes
Mine are too
It doesn't take too much to see
What we've been through
You lost your baby
And me the same
Ain't it true how love's a hurtin' game
Could I have this dance
May I be so bold
It's just my arms are empty
And the night is so cold
Wouldn't it be fine bein' lonely together
Wouldn't it be fine havin' a shoulder to share
You could tell me how he broke your heart
And I'll tell you how she broke mine
And maybe later on I could take you home
Now wouldn't it be sad bein' lonely all alone
A heart that's hurtin's
Not hard to see
I guess he promised you the world
Like she did me
But dry your eyes now
You'll be just fine
We can drown our achin' hearts in this glass of wine
Well I hate to say
What's done is done
It's just two can ease the pain
Much better than one
Wouldn't it be fine bein' lonely together
Wouldn't it be fine havin' a shoulder to share
You could tell me how he broke your heart
And I'll tell you how she broke mine
And maybe later on I could take you home
Now wouldn't it be sad bein' lonely all alone
Love
It's such a crazy thing
All you got to give and no regrets
But love
It can live again
Stay with me tonight
I'll make it work out right
Wouldn't it be fine bein' lonely together
Wouldn't it be fine havin' a shoulder to share
You could tell me how he broke your heart
And I'll tell you how she broke mine
And maybe later on I could take you home
Now wouldn't it be sad bein' lonely all alone
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Usurped Eternal Frame
Your vines crawling upon my constitutions -
a glove to the empty hands of my
insufficient quintessence decapitates
the imposition with a severe abandon
In a not so subtle larceny of flames,
I foisted an intrepid whuthering
equipoise my defeated brawls
slowly stone-freezing in naivety
Because this loquacious tableau
still jousts with your nonplus propositions
adhering to the mellifluous conflagrations
by the hands of your phantom's exodus
And still, the furnace of your skies
shears the shadows of your manifold nets
like a storm-troubled sunny day
passing with an undecipherable augury
And like a murder of crows
I malingered on your adamant frame
pensively waiting for an aeon to fluctuate
and succumb to your succinct eternity
The searchlights pried behind curtains
and the sieves of the persiennes
its vindictive glare snide on my face
when it caught my sullen stares
The intrepid percolation inveigles
the beleaguered privacy to submission
but why are the supercilious rifles aimed
with stifling danger on my chest?
And the jabbing of your trifle attention
scathes my assuaging beacons, and
I donned more metal, more ignorance
descried out of safety and out of bliss
So I rocked slowly in this limbo and
the cadence of saudade serenades,
obstinately waiting for the an iota of change
to dance in a binary rhythmic pulse
Because in this eternal frame -
a bad case of impassable musing
reality grew visions and they are
usurping my delusions ever more.
poem by Norman Santos
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Green Guys
Kris Lemche, David J. Phillips, Christopher Redman, Darrel Davenpor, Nathan Marlow
Poet or Sinner
You knew me when I built monsters
Before the days when you bled
You knew me when I surrendered
To the nightmares in my head
You were just a child
Nothing’s ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame
Come take my hand
Share my lonely dinner
Tell me if you think
I’m a poet or sinner
Poet or sinner
Tell me what I am
Poet or sinner
Be the angel who can
Raise the dead
While marshmallow dreams
Drown in the tide
Change my world
With the taste of ruin
Flowing from my eyes
Turn back time
Soaked in bubbles
Of our reckless lives
Poet or sinner?
Don’t know what I am
You knew me when I fought demons
In your tangled hair
You knew me when I marked you
With my stain of despair
You were just a child
Nothing’s ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame
All I know
I’ll love you in shadows
Till the sun disappears
All I know
I’ll love you in shadows
Till His Light reappears
Poet or sinner?
Don’t know what I am
song performed by by Catman Cohen, music by Catman Cohen, lyrics by Catman Cohen from How I Want to Dream: the Catman Chronicles 3 (2009)
Submitted by anonym
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Hey
You have grace
Like a dove that flies
Into open skies.
And your face
Lit by beauty and loving sighs
To turn the midnight blue.
Hey, I wouldn't wish love on you.
You have style
Tears are dried
In the warmth of your smile.
You capture the lonely and lost.
Like evening sun kisses bitter frost
As you sit where Eden grew.
Hey, I wouldn't wish love on you.
You have dreams
Of never ending life
It seems.
Your dewdrops are lost
In silver streams
Yet heartache returns
When least expected
While your Rome burns
- Undetected.
Innocence,
Just a bird that flew.
Hey, I wouldn't wish love on you.
poem by Kevin East
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Pseudo-Romanticism
If lips shall lock,
hands be bolted,
should eyes be closed?
Should souls be soused
in ice, in fire, in electric shivers?
The scintillating intermingling
would linger deep
etched to never cease
like how poetries seal
the bashful emotions,
the reticent desires,
and the feral suffering
Teach me how
to lull your tremors;
what scull your waves
and funnels your vertigo?
Teach me how
to paint your bliss
and erode your malaise
for I know nothing
but the honesty in
entangling strings,
and eloquent attraction
Teach me how to pry
behind your perfumes
and the buds of your
daffodils and carnations
The mellifluous quartz
would recognize my weight
if I can carry you
as I trespass shadows,
chase vicissitude and
molest limitations
But you have to teach me -
Instill knowledge in my
deterred incarceration
if knowledge is important
in romanticism
Or perhaps
all you need is
to unfurl a face,
your empty hands,
your crimson lips
that are devised beautifully
to sing of poetries -
of forthright audacity
in bearing fragile petals
Reveal the mirrors
of your somnolent eyes
and cure my myopia
by reflecting my scars
Break me gently
but do not go gentle
in fixing my wreck
as you infest me
with hope, again
over and over until
I have nothing more
But do not unleash me from
my broken tethers
because they are the vestiges
Of what I used to call love
now in a ludicrous visage
are these tassels
where you should start
to weave and resent
The more I speak
the more I descry
how ignorant I am,
how fastidious, how stiff,
about romanticism
because love
was my painted malady,
my broken fix
And with all my
broken bones
and haunted places
compassion and sympathy
would never cure
my spurious charades
I need my fix
that keeps me broken
and it's not even
a simple romanticism.
poem by Norman Santos
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Heart Or A Languishing Flower
Great men and despised slaves
All close their eyes
And bid farewell to tender sunsets
And the glorious sunrise,
Neither the great nor the insignificant
Are eternal, everlasting.
The best a poet can do
Is weep beautiful tears
In the midst of ephemeral life
Colored in hues of joy and sadness
And then hope those tears
Fall upon a heart or a languishing flower.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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My Best Friend/First Love's Death
What is sad, mad or even glad?
Do they relate to good or bad?
The anniversary of Darrel's death is here.
The memory of his death is much too clear.
I loved him more than any other.
He was my friend, my foe and my brother.
Nineteen years have passed since the day
that God took my brother away.
The good die young, or so they say.
But, why does it have to be that way?
No other deaths have hurt as much.
I miss his laughter, his words and touch.
Please God, help me to be happy, not sad.
Stop my anger, teach me to be glad.
Now, thank you Lord for my family and friends.
For with each happy moment, a sad one ends.
poem by Jan E Smith
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Burns, And Burns, And Burns....
the poet burns, and burns, and burns...
warm your feet, cook your meal,
read by this light...
tell the ones you love
that you love them...
here where shadows cannot destroy...
take the bread of this body,
and feed just one of the hungry...
take these eyes, let humanity see justice.
take these feet, and walk the path.
take these hands and build a home.
take this heart, and love your neighbor...
take these wings, fly free at last!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Anatomy of Rue
The far flung tirade bellowed
into the gray reflection
and the resistance knelt
before its banquet of rue
but sleep was neglected
by the sullen eyes,
and tales were still narrated
into the frosted-glass
fearfully staring daggers
like a hysteric pistol
crying at point blank
knowing well that the only eyes
it can look into are the mirror's
The seasons passed hurriedly
but solace never came with
the showering yellow petals
and the breadth of trepidation
grew like a feral bush of ivies
and its thorns instilled
false-hopes in waiting futilely
for the sound of keys
unlocking my ajar doors
And here, in the decapitation
of my cloud's phantom-musing
I fell into a monastic languor -
limbs falling like yarns
untangled from the web of life
and in the wanton silence
I listened to the veracious absence
of pliant footsteps chasing
the setting of my red cooling star
It gave way for oscillating sequins
of the night to enthuse aeons
to go back to their weaving
of nostalgic poisons and
the monsoon beat like wings
escaping the hunter's net
Obdurately, the bridges held strong
even when the constitutions are burned,
I remember you as who you are
with a stark pang of grandiose
and remembering is no different
than breaking bones just
to prove that you are still alive
And as death sieges my garrison
with myriad auguries sifting through
the spurious altering lights
outside my cellared window,
the casted shadows on my walls
can only bring a cloak of life
into this steel-cold self-incarceration.
poem by Norman Santos
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You & I
(j.buckley)
You and i.
Ah, the calm below that poisoned river wild,
You and i.
Tears that dry on a rude awakened child.
Where you look down
I've walked before, burning holes
With eyes of liquid brown.
If we had only known, in a way
We wouldn't reach this ground.
You were my only home, silver eyes.
I want to see you shine.
And we will fell the weight
Fall away from us in time
Searching our past for the true
You and i, you and i, you and i,
All for you.
Where you think you'll fall,
I adore you.
Where you shut your soul,
I will open for you.
If we had only known, in a way
We'd never reach this ground.
I'll know, silver eyes.
I can see us shine.
I said, we will fell the weight
Fall away from us in time
Searching our past for a true
You and i, you and i, you and i,
All for you.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar Daddy you Baddy
Those mystical shadows in your young eyes,
Cover the message of your many lies,
If only I knew my little honey
You were only after my pots of money.
I bought you a fancy car,
Diamonds and pearls in a jar,
No problem I gave you nuggets of gold
Maybe maybe I’m too ruddy old,
Now I’m left out in the cold.
Our honeymoon by the falls of Niagara
Was a downright flop when I lost my Viagra,
Then as I stood tall
To top it all,
You told me to ride the falls inside a big barrel,
As you rode off with our young chauffeur Darrel.
It turned out it was said I was the silly old baddy,
An’ life ain’t sweet being an old sugar daddy.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Time To Come Home©
Come home, my child,
Be not afraid.
Come home to the arms
Of I who you made.
Come home, my child,
Into the light,
Out of the darkness
Of that cold night.
You are not leaving
You'll be ever near.
Come home, my child,
Be of no fear.
Reach to the gentle
Hands from above,
Come home, my child,
To My boundless love.
poem by Joanna E. King
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Home Alone
I watched time crumble
On the brick floor's slumber
From its fated machinism
And the pallid light of summer
Leaning wearily on the walls
Escaped the frosted windows
With a somnolent opalescence
A wan and aimless escapade,
Such a dreamy afternoon
Where life pounces keeling out
Of gravity and vibrant hues
A slumbering dog, poignant from
The absence of barks and bones
An empty set of walls
Once a place called home
The house swooned over
From its winding knee
And struggling loop of
Tightrope heraldries,
Like the collapse of lungs
As a breath of verve escapes and
Heaves back with a titanic space
To accentuate the hollow break,
Topple and restore, filling emptiness
Without making a sound,
Without any motion, but
The absence of the souls
That became its constitutions
Floods the vivid light with gloom
And the summer is contained
Within a wintry solitude inside
The lone yearning bones
The curtains unruffled,
The floor spread wider,
The ceiling climbed loftier,
And the saudade croons
Played in the air waves
With laughs and simpers
Tinkering the static
And in this chamber,
For now, I'm home alone
Yet, soon, this place
Would be abandoned
By my trifle entity and
The company of my soliloquy
But not of my yearning
And shadows and shards
And lone feeling in the solitariness
That makes this place a home.
poem by Norman Santos
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Into the Darkness (part 1 of 5) 'Intro
The day gives way to darkness
The darkness becomes eternal
Within the darkness is shadows
Shadows of the fallen
The fallen want retribution
Retribution for their deaths
Deaths of the hand of the lord
The lord of the demons
The demons have caused a catalyst
The catalyst opened the door
The door brought forth the wrath
The wrath of the fallen
The fallen I could not save
But redemption has its price
The price is my soul
The soul of a fallen hero
The failing of the hero brought forth the darkness
For now the world has no more heroes
We live in the darkness
Trying to stay away from the shadows
We are in an eternal darkness
Till a hero rises again to bring forth the day
'29, August,2009'
poem by Rikki Giovani
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