Edge of the Forest October 24, 2009
Posted by Tel in By the Shine of the Moon.Tags: halloween, Poem, poems, Poetry
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looking out the window barking incessantly
lord tennyson, tennyson what do you see?
ain’t nothing but death creeping up the hill
coming from down yonder for you and for me
Avenge October 14, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, Poem, poems
2 comments
he hobbles into the board room
moving slow as winter breathes
making jokes from door to wall
as he retrieves his measuring tape
to size up things, like picture frames,
this aged volunteer doing good
but i resent him right now
i visualize my own grandpa
the jokes he could have made
had clothos been kinder
how he would measure up
if lachesis was less treacherous
were he granted twenty more years
instead of falling to atropos’ shears
Kentucky Moon October 10, 2009
Posted by Tel in By the Shine of the Moon.Tags: appalachia, appalachian folklore, kentucky, Poem, poems, Poetry, tradition
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there are nights in kentucky
when the woods are too deep
and the tree tops scrape the moon,
sad harbinger tip toeing over the mountains
granny always warned us
between tokes taken from her corn cob pipe
about dangers that lurk in the darkness
of hills and hollows on nights like this:
keep ye heads low, children
stay ye the straight and narrow, babies
say ye prayers, little ones
cross yeself when ye goned astray, sweet ones
she’d guide us into piles each evening
like dead fallen leaves in october
before starting about the space
all her manners of sunset fixing:
nine broom straws in the fire, babies
fresh woodruff for the winders, sweet ones
dried basil for the door, lovelies
then ye drink yer milk and chamomile, dears
in front of her unbearably hot fireplace
she’d speak of shadrach between spits of tobacco
before crossing the cabin and praying
all of us into an uneasy sleep:
i smoor this fire this night, children
as the son of mary might, babies
the compassin’ of god be on it, sweet ones
the compassin’ of god on all the house, angels
she’d pluck away on her old mandolin
on nights when the howling got too bad
and the praying wouldn’t stifle our fear
stopping only if the screams neared the cabin:
keep yer eyes closed, sugars
let granny’s music fill yer ears, babies
let the haints pass us by, little ones
the holy ghost is fornenst us, loves
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
safe and sound in hindman
late at night when the moon is heavy
heaving herself over appalachia
these are the times i hear the howling
echoing down from the hills and hollows:
make sure the basil is tight
is there enough woodruff for the night
then you take your milk and chamomile
let the dark hours peacefully pass
along with the kentucky moon, babies
Ode to @ October 10, 2009
Posted by Tel in Caesura.Tags: Poem, poems, Poetry
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oh petit escargot
long have the french forsaken you
but your popularity rises
slowly like la lumaca
winding through italian emails
pouncing, spirited cat’s tail
frolicking over Finnish technology
delicious little cinnamon bun
whose swedes take more
than their fair share
playful klammeraffe
rounding your way across germany
here, though, you are all the rage
twittering through american households
hanging among senders and domains
long after business hours have ended
yet why then must your name be so plain
among a country who adores you?
Zoo October 10, 2009
Posted by Tel in Not Towing the Line.Tags: abandonment, Poem, poems, Poetry, sociology
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there were the crazed hyenas
whose eyes shot through us
as they paced mad and crazed
sizing us up for breakfast and lunch
there were the plume faded peacocks
still over-the-top in their extravagance
sequestered away so as to not have
their confident gaiety kill them
then there were the other bipeds
distant cousins with the gall
to point, mock and laugh
making comments about my ass
how odd and other worldly
was the sociology trip
to see two distant worlds
both uniquely human
separated safely behind respective bars
Friends* October 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Slick.Tags: gay poem, gay poet, gay poetry, lgbt poetry, Poem, poems, Poetry
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*with revoked benefits
wholly squandered on fidelity
whom in youth and decadence
i would but proudly fuck
perhaps the third attempt would be your charm
your louisiana accent my own undoing,
mon brave, mon liege, my marine
perchance i would surrender
to proudly rise and serve
in battles of stonewall’ian proportions
one can never have too many jamaicans
whoa is me and my loyalty
on hot summer baltimorean nights
when you came caterwauling
with an itch looking for a little action
and a white boy to do some scratching
plans for a threesome unraveled
because if one thing mixes like oil and water
it’s two dominant male jealous jamaicans
oh there was never enough wine
not even in the loire valley
to cause me to go astray
but perhaps with all the grapes of france
california and south america
the nameless one who worshiped
the ground i jogged on
could have had his sacrosanct way
that new york smooth yankee
with all the rush of times square
should’ve taken his time
instead jumping out of the sheets
and rushing out the door subway fast
putting out can come slowly
especially in my own southern way
but it was your day wasted, not mine
i have gone on down the pike
10, 5 or 2 years looking back
is not too far gone but dizzying
when dwelling on what lingers:
memories and missed opportunities
o my jake, my jake
let the ghosts of the past come
trying to conjure my infidelity
with your cock-sure confidence
and hot fuck lust passions
mingled with occasional romance
we can drown them all
in a decades worth of grinding
Time October 3, 2009
Posted by Tel in By the Shine of the Moon.Tags: lgbt poetry, new orleans, Poem, poems, Poetry
2 comments
there once was a time
when you rode on me
boy upon boy’s back
down the bourbon street
my daddy has said
there will come a time
when god sends lightning
right down the old rue
but we, you and i
know nothing of this
we are enraptured
with the promises
she has always held
for people like us
Booklust October 3, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: lgbt poetry, poems, Poetry
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whoever believes books can’t take you places
obviously has never sold one on amazon
that was an affair to remember:
starting off with a simple transaction
of selling a book up river to new york city
and then phone calls inquiring of delays
a northern accent and a southern accent fought
then found a similar, curious attraction
culminating in hot, thickly accented phone sex
coupled with firm knuckled fists and panting
oh – to remember the title of that book
and sell it again and again, one for every state
with an adorable and alluring accent
Synthesis September 27, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, life, Poem, poems
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my mother had always swore
she’d never do anything synthetic
the last time she said it
or anything for that matter
was as her head hovered over
the table where reflected light
created a church window halo
just before leaning forward
escaping the glow to trace the powder thin line
laced with something heavier than nature
Paradise September 25, 2009
Posted by Tel in Geography of Love.Tags: family, jamaica, Poem, poems, Poetry
3 comments
my boyfriend had a rough life
growing up in what some call paradise
it’s not all rum and reggae down there
unless it’s the rum-soaked breath of careless father
or reggaed out rasta rags for relatives
shuffling their burdens onto an aging mother
who spends her days hacking away
at sugarcanes for just a little money
but a small boy sees this all and cries
swears to be the one to help, the one to rise

