Posts Tagged ‘Observational poetry’

Danza Della Anime
with bravura strokes
she paints a tapestry
of desires & ancient wounds
upon wisps of shadows
long succumbed to darkness

bound by umbilical thread
screams of shattered silence
reach vaulted peaks
to drown

circumference of flame
closes to corset
devouring sins
purified soul released

as hind-sighted children
play roundabout
& echo gregorian chants
of the free

When our chops roar
she seems reticent.
She has witnessed
so many.
Why is she coy
observing our osculation?
Does she know we’re
for other lips?


death by Poet(ry)


when you woke up this morning

the dust in the acidic

draft-less air

had already settled upon your face

thus ruining

those past-apocalypse seasons we spent together;

it is a reminiscent of these

when I find myself at a morality loss

rousing up in cheap motel rooms

where the continental breakfasts

don’t seem “continental” anymore.

why do we keep on running?

where do you think we are going?

why can’t we just stake our claim

on some little dingy foreign country (side) dive

and trade treason for reason?

instead of bathing today, you bathe in perfume

and sit upon my dormant cock

the heat within your woman’s womb

doesn’t placate me anymore

but it’s the slow wind of those acidic elements

that waft through your monotonous hair

that which stirs my black key stroke erections.

and each strand that rakes through my hand

reminds me of earth –

pigmen born of mud

air, where contagion spreads –

fire, hell-lelujah in the sky –

water, a grave integrity of baptisms –

you lay your naked face against my cottoned chest

feeling for my last breath, you whisper:


you don’t know this


but you have a black picket fence

staked around your heart

a grave marker

sitting on your soul


and, you’re wearing a suit.


no self-proclaimed poet wears suits,





A Bag Of Puckering Arseholes

“Oi!, if you bang on that front door
one more sodding time.
I’m throwing down this half-full
pot of piss onto the lot of ya.
I told you that as soon as the last kid
left home so would you be.
Now it’s been 3 months
get over it and move on already.
I’d call the Heddlu
but I’m not threatened in the slightest,
more irritated like.
It’s half past midnight for Christ Sake!
and you’ve brought
your 3 divorced friends ‘round
from The Lamb & Flag
with you for moral support.
Aww, my heart pumps piss for ya,
they couldn’t save
their own cowing marriages.
I’ll be Damned
if they’ll be doing owt for yours.
Now, fuck off and take ‘em
bag of puckering arsehole mates with ya
before I let the new dog out, ya useless cunt!”

© Paul Tristram 2016


Respect where you came from

* I did want to include the world as a whole but could not find a collective of stats…

As a man
I say


all this
defiling women
like it is our right
to desecrate the sanctity
of her womb
not even wipe your feet
before entering a room
do you kiss your mother with that mouth

in the united states alone
a woman is reported raped
once every 2 minutes


and that’s just


in the time it takes for me
to read you this poem

2 women have been raped


why do you defile
the place from which you came
those who gave you your name
you kiss your grandmother with that mouth

one third of the population
of the fairer sex
of a nation
has been raped
that means if you are a woman and have a woman sitting
on either side of you
one of you


have you no shame
women have struggled
and died to give birth
every day
and you soil the
sanctity of that
of a
in your


you kiss your daughter with
that mouth

that mouth
the one your mother
held to her breast
to give you nourishment


that mouth
that kisses your wife
& children before they go to bed

and the men of power let you out of jail
’cause there ain’t enough room
to house all the people that smoke

or do some other drug

probably to escape from the reality
of what you did to them
change lives
in the blink of an eye
without remorse
that could be

your daughter

your wife

your mother

and that is


so take your pick
it was probably


now bow your heads
and pray
for the two
that had to suffer
while you listened
to me
pray for their souls to be free



Clipping toenails scatter

in the



My anxiety

needs to



desperately of us


Your cigarette butt ashes

embed on my



And your black market

perfume reeks

of maggot




An Old City


An old city

Actually is not a city

It’s a banana tree

It’s every nook and corner

Like a banana tree

With unique taste and flavor

Since thousands of years.


It has igneous memories

Of old lava

Buried here and there

In metamorphic creations,

Inadequately ejaculated;

And in footprints rocky

Soft dew could sleep blithely

Still with modernity.


An old city

Is like an eternal journey

Amidst webbed rings

Worn, torn, entangled intricate

As if fibers of time.


~ 10,000 leprechauns & 1 death star


there is no gold

at the end of my rainbow, just a village

of cerebral pillagers … nuggets

in crack crystal white are disguised as

sham~rock dealers, no dust

because bitches love rocks

in a bowl of Lucky Charms;


10,000 leprechauns armed ready

in blow body armor impersonating the recreational

of pipe liquid rapes

in a death star orbiting orifices

where foam froths

in galaxies far far away …


like magnetic snow

snowmen are born in the imaginations

of blurry face`s, and fixes

are pixelized over pores

pulsing to please [ insert your needles here ] …

and ‘I’m sorry, honey’ that your eggs have embryos ~

just cut the umbilical chords

and everything will be alright.



this Poem


I’m going to send

this Poem

to everyone I know


just to see who

will give it Love

and let it take root


just to see

where my words

can sprout


how green

they can be

how well watered

in this world






artist: Fabian Perez



Cherry Pie Love


you are






sitting there


doused in hunger


burdened by despair


hidden there


in the


darkened corner


of this








nursing vino


smoking a camel




eating cherry pie




for the love of




I ache to




who did you