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23h · 24
What's App, Doc?
Antisocial mediums
Sacrifice to the brazen bull
All for one, and one more fleeting night
Light the Tinder up

Stalk me on TikTok
My eyes haven't Faced
A Book in my
Entire life

I Reddit on X
I'm addicted to ***
In an Instant:
My morals aren't worth a Gram

Before we Chat
Let me hide my real self
In a Snap:
I'm Linked In to this charade

I Draft a King's self portrait in my own perception
Jamie Foxx made me do it
To keep my mind off this:
I will lease another iPhone on credit...
Did I say "buy"? I meant, "trade in."
Adam Kinsley Dec 10
A Monday night thriller:
His wife was the killer
The steel pierced his chest
And time did the rest

He thought it was hidden:
A dual life, forbidden
But, time had remarked
Another love, sparked

A culprit was shown
The "friend" she had known
Had crafted a lie
And made him her guy

The second girl learned
That vengeance still burned
She let her inside
That night, three had died...
Nov 26 · 48
A History of Ignorance
Adam Kinsley Nov 26
We're solemn and trite
Our words, soaked in spite
So often, dismayed
Our hearts are betrayed

I crawl through the night
And, writhe in my spite
I gave up the ghost
I miss Her the most

But, we chose our fear
So often, unclear
There's nothing to say
We both lost our way

Pretending we're fine:
Our hearts crossed the line
We built up this lie
We're waiting to die...
May 2021 · 137
[Untitled]
Adam Kinsley May 2021
I writhe in my anxiety:
A ghost of what has passed
Such solace fled so far from me
My hopes are failing fast

I gave up of my will to love
Love soon had turned to blame
When push becomes a violent shove
The bottle called my name

This Hell is where I made my bed
Where all my demons thrive
At once, my conscience turned and fled
I'm lucky I'm alive

It's been ten years since I felt well
When then, I lost my hope
I writhe in my genetic spell
My brain can barely cope...
Apr 2021 · 1.0k
4:30 AM
Adam Kinsley Apr 2021
Acute to the place from where my regret will stem
It's 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn
Anxiety floods my synapses

Regret is a dish best served deceived
With my own two ears, I heard the truth
But, I still had not believed

I speak from a place of squandered ambition
Of fecklessly feeble, and imprudent volition
I buried my treasure, and forgot where it was when I turned around

Indulging my sloth, my lust, and pride
My conscience was seemingly silent
Though many times, I should have died

I sold my costly soul at once, to buy a gin and tonic
Hello my name is Adam, and I'm a hopeless alcoholic
So, at 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn

And, my tenuous will fell asleep already...
Guess at what time I wrote this?...
Adam Kinsley Apr 2021
It's been three sunrises since my eyes have closed
Ain't had a drink in one long week
There's toil and trouble, my brain is like rubble
My vision is blurry
Mine eyes doth see double

My conscience has not been acquitted
I sold it to the highest bidder
My brain is a mess, a pawn within chess
By my demons, I've been slighted
There's much to confess

Ambition had been twisted in unscrupulous knots
I stared blankly at the ceiling until the sun rose
My mind is a maze; I've been up for days
My stomach is empty
My demons sing praise

I haphazardly buried my reckless past
Indeed, it repaid me with a cruel vengeance
Collecting my fears through so many years
I've poisoned my body
With too many beers...
I wrote this just now, and I haven't slept in nearly 40-50 hours. Hopefully, it makes sense.
Mar 2021 · 154
What To Say
Adam Kinsley Mar 2021
I bathe in lust and spite
My conscience doesn't feel right
The obscurity helps us writhe

This awkward silence embraces
We tried and failed to start once again
So, let's forget our faces

Eyes wide open at four AM
I wish, for once, that I could finally sleep
But, sorrow sown, I stolidly reap

Despite my intention, I boldly lied
I aspired to change, but never tried
Due to my inert intention, I conceded my mind

I opened my mouth, but forgot what to say
I left blood on that lonely highway
To the Devil's chagrin, I took two steps back again

I opened my eyes, but couldn't see
Opaque ambition is far from me
I'm Anxiety's best friend

If I have to be...
Feb 2021 · 956
Past, Present, and Virtue
Adam Kinsley Feb 2021
I stumble recklessly through my timid thoughts
This bridled resentment destroys my conscience
Despite my intention, I ceded my morals
The morale of my virtue plummets by the second

Dissension among my synapses seethes to the surface
I am a house divided against itself
Regret lovingly entices my bloodthirsty demons
She shrugs surely with shivering shame

With my vision impaired, my dreams are soundly asleep
Kept calmly in this cavern of my cantankerous crimes
My respite is met with malice and spite
I cannot escape what these two hands have done

My distress is hidden in silence
I had already dashed my untarnished ambition
I awaken in sweat and confusion
As an empty bottle mocks me with cruel contempt...
Nov 2020 · 133
Love and Self...Writhing
Adam Kinsley Nov 2020
I writhe in my anxiety
Still wishing I could sleep
My conscience ran so far from me
I've sown and now, I reap

I'm blinded by the lies I've told
And, petty, selfish lust
Regretful schemes are getting old
I'll fail to earn your trust

Indulging in such reckless vice:
I wish that I had fled
What demons will I soon entice?
I know, they want me dead

The nights are stern, as once they were
With all my sober thoughts
What bold chagrin will I incur
While aspiration rots?

Forgetting all my fatal flaws
I still have never learned
I'm sure I'll find a coupled cause
[To all those bridges burned]...
Adam Kinsley Nov 2020
The sirens will play
Blood on the highway
Such hazardous parts:
Our menacing hearts

Reason was blinded
Lust hadn't minded
So hopelessly vexed:
We dreaded what's next

Our schemes were derailed
We tried and we failed
She lives by my pen:
Destroyer of Men

Our schemes had begun
My demons had fun
So surely, I find:
I'm losing my mind

In dreams, she appears
I'm plagued by my fears
In silence, we flee:
Regret, death, and me

So solemn and crossed
I'm helplessly lost
Where once she had fled:
She's trapped in my head...
Oct 2020 · 321
I Missed the Misses
Adam Kinsley Oct 2020
This heart is graceless and vile
Stricken with an archaic smile
I missed this life, by a mile
To search for morale
To defile

The sins of the past
So sternly, they last
My downfall was fast
In a chasm
Too vast

I stop and can't start
I bartered for my heart
And now, as I part:
I summoned my conscience
And, tore it apart

I gave up my dreams
For closely-knit schemes
It's just as it seems
My morals are waning
In sputtering gleams

What lie had I told?
Pretending I'm bold
I have no heart of gold
With no sense of purpose
My heartstrings unfold

My head is unkind
I'm losing my mind
What vice, I've inclined
I wander through majestic stages
But still, I am blind...
I had meant to portray the problems associated with our vices, and how they interfere with different facets of life.
Adam Kinsley Oct 2020
I wander in wonder, a kin to dysfunction
Cruel silence stole solace from these feeble fingertips
Adrift, my memories spurn my conscience, coercing calamity

All which I have retained is bitter self-loathing:
A quiet and fleeting contention to vex all I have known
My motives have melted, like wax wings in the sunlight

Catharsis is for the strong of heart, not the bullheaded
By no means have I escaped this labyrinth
My blood is on my own two hands

These erratic desires have turned bitterly against me
Discord is unbridled between these once cordial synapses
As unkempt remorse refuses to flee...
Sep 2020 · 79
It Seems
Adam Kinsley Sep 2020
Will I be, forever, a fearmonger's slave?
Such heartfelt complacence leaves little to crave

My will has defected as memories fade
Synapses are failing, my conscience was played

I'll **** that whole bottle and wake up the same
I live for the shameful, and pass off the blame

Without my intention, I float through this earth
I loathe this perception, yet had it since birth

How long must I live with these demons of old?
My soul, it has seemed, to the Devil, been sold

There's no doubt, by reason, my reason's in doubt
It seems I have chosen my conscience to rout...
This piece was written in regards to vices...basically anything into which we put time and effort, along with poor reasoning.
Adam Kinsley Jun 2020
My pride is a crutch
I do not dream much
Archaic notions of solace surround me
I'll soon lose it all--
You'll see

What fevered dreams had befallen me?
A cordial endeavor to give up the ghost
Only to search for it in ever corner of my mind
I've tried for a long time, since my birth:
To sabotage my time on this Earth

A husk of a dreamer, I saw in the mirror
His downfall is much clearer
There is solemn beauty on the bottom floor
These two hands have done much to abhor
I wish that I could say more...
Jun 2020 · 96
The Babel of Confusion
Adam Kinsley Jun 2020
Her heart is lost to my weary hands
Undiscovered solace remains as such
She is the Queen of my unattainable dreams
The vexing silence precedes me

Our hearts sleep in separate rooms
Such blissful schemes are stranger than fiction
My descent into madness is afoot
I hung my heartstrings from the ceiling

My intention missed the bus again
I abandoned my heart's reconstruction
And, confined in the menagerie of her solace:
I will be devoured by the bowls set for Babylon

The future has written itself
I was written off in the final chapter
But, I still dream, in turn:
Of holding Her heart in my weary hands...
Adam Kinsley May 2020
My ego constructs simple lies
Desensitized
I'm bounded by such subtle dreams
Dissension comes to comfort me

It's all how it seems:
I'll see you in my dreams
There's nothing left to lose
I saw Lucifer fall, like lightening

This brain is foolhardy
Welcome to my pity-party
Regret rears its reckless head
I trade my conscience for fevered dreams

I give up with all my might
'The words I write are cheap and trite'
My feeble will was calm and collected
But soon: I gave up the ghost

This is not what I imagined
I still hear her tepid cries
Trapped within her yayo skin
Still: my conscience cuts me down to size...
Apr 2020 · 93
Souls To Lose
Adam Kinsley Apr 2020
What fruitless inaction:
What closely-knit schemes
My will has lost traction
It's just like it seems

Redemption eludes me
I trade it for fear
This lust still precludes me
It's all I can hear

Dissension is growing
I gave up the ghost
There's sorrow in knowing:
I missed Her the most

The Devil deceives me
But, I had to choose
Though no one believes me:
We've souls left to lose

I took up pretending
To live like a fool
What time am I spending:
So callous and cruel?

What vexing contention:
Her heart in my hand
I shudder to mention:
Our dreams weren't manned...
Apr 2020 · 90
Set It Loose
Adam Kinsley Apr 2020
I vaguely remember
My heart in Her hand
Those days, spent in silence
My head in the sand

The time swiftly passed us
Each year, we loosed hope
When push comes to shoving
It's harder to cope

With cruel recollection
We hid each mistake
Our minds, self-deceptive
We give less than take

With passion, unconquered
We gave up the ghost
Amidst my intention:
I miss Her the most

We gave up our solace
To search for cruel schemes
If only we'd known this
Outside of our dreams...
Apr 2020 · 108
My Loyal Deception
Adam Kinsley Apr 2020
I see the end of my feeble might
Watching Rome burn, with Nero Caesar at my side (1)
My brothers have gone mad--
The unsurpassed past stalks me like my shadow

Behind closed doors, I hear deception lurk
Redemption turns into defection from my conscience
My misdeeds swim with me in a vibrant sea of self-loathing
I hear the Visigoths clamor outside of my brain's walls (2)

My paranoia precedes my ambition
I sent spies to **** my loyal friend, Parmenion (3)
No crisis is averted with my self control
I expose my haughty pride to choler and strife

My senses burn through their synapses
Soon, all will be lost--
Integrity took an extended vacation
I blackmailed Her with all that will vex...
NOTES
(1) Nero Caesar was the last in the famous (and, infamous) first line of Roman emperors. Halfway through his reign, a great fire destroyed roughly 1/3 of Rome; after-which, Nero started to show signs of insanity.

(2) In 410 AD (ACE), the Visigoths were the first foreign invader to enter and sack Rome since the Gauls did so exactly 800 years earlier

(3) Parmenion was the second-in-command to Alexander the Great. He was trustworthy, and was also a friend to Alexander's father, Phillip II. When much of Alexander's unhappy army started to mutiny, Alexander killed several of his army's leaders and their fellow conspirators; but then, in paranoia, sent assassins to **** his second-in-command, Parmenion, without any word to or from him...even though it was never proven that Parmenion had any knowledge of the plot.
Mar 2020 · 98
Coy Koi
Adam Kinsley Mar 2020
You femme fatale
I lost morale
We give and take:
It's our mistake

We're cruel and coarse
There's no remorse
We bent the rules
Our hearts are fools

There's no control
I sold my soul
We cheat and lie
And, live to die

We're tried and true
With fear, anew
Devoid of sense:
We're on the fence

Benign intent:
Our hearts are spent
With fear and joy:
Our lust is coy

This Love pretends
So soon, it ends
To no avail:
We're doomed to fail...
Mar 2020 · 87
What Once Was Retrieved
Adam Kinsley Mar 2020
I took a trip down to where my life went off-track
To tear up aspiration, once-and-for-all
But, I've been trying with all of my treacherous might:
To pretend that I don't want little pieces back

To retrieve my schemes, which once were dreams:
I delve into the synapses, of which I wished were contrived
As an indentured servant of a past which hasn't passed
Apparently, my heart's omission is exactly as it seems

Two witnesses agree: each third angel will fall
What I proposed as wit, I need to forget
I failed to surmount my own conscience
The will I contracted was feeble to sprawl

Who heard heralded heartstrings here in my heinous Hell?
Through a system of tweaked perceptions:
Of odious arrays of distinctive dishonor
But: I guess, all my demons have known me so well...
The first two stanzas of this piece speak about humanity's weakness, and the second of pride (alluding to the fall of man and fallen angels)
Mar 2020 · 116
Addict in the Attic
Adam Kinsley Mar 2020
There's an addict in the attic
In the cobwebs of my brain
I threw a party in his name
Distress follows me every day

What reckless intention:
Regret never left
Sanctification is feverishly distraught
I never woke up from this dream

Relapse reveals relinquished regret
My God, have you forsaken me?
I am not a patient of patience
Regret recreated my reviled redemption

My heart keeps a record of my wrongs
I can't control my own mind
Rest alludes me like all of my dreams
I give up pretending to live in my reckless schemes...
Mar 2020 · 89
Her Devices
Adam Kinsley Mar 2020
Spinning the bottle:
Hand on the throttle
Unwanted dissent:
It's not what I meant

Cordial yet feckless
Livid and reckless
I gave up trying
I felt like dying

Euphoric divergence:
Chaotic resurgence
It's just as it seems:
I gave up my dreams

I run from the past
To live in this caste
Self-loathing will boast
I miss Her the most...
"Her" in this piece isn't actually a woman, but rather, a point in time in the past.
Feb 2020 · 85
The Music Left
Adam Kinsley Feb 2020
I feel like a floater:
I find a different life every year
Euphoria is a thing of the past
An archaic dissent into madness

"The words I write are cheap and trite"
I bury my demons, but they come out at night
I can't escape from the words in my mouth:
Or, the vexation stuck in my soul

I hear the music between my heartstrings:
But, do not know how to portray [it]
My reflection has mocked me for years
I don't feel most of anything

My conscience has taken an extended vacation
I called them, but they passed out on the couch
Dreaming has passed my past
I can barely remember...
Listened to this song while writing this piece:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5p7Hjy5BBgQ
Feb 2020 · 113
Insurmountable Silence
Adam Kinsley Feb 2020
The delight of my defection:
A plethora of schemes
Regret still stalks me, patiently
My dreams gave up on me

Silence overwhelms my seemingly cordial heart
My conscience is on vacation
The chasm between morals and impulse widens
I dive, headlong, into self destruction

My bones shake with envy and fragility
The regret in my heart seems insurmountable
It's difficult to run from your own tactless heart
To endure the most patient heartache

My senses dangle in haughty enticement
Disregard stalks me like a thief
My mind adulterates each contention of my heart
I cannot ignore its silence...
Jan 2020 · 91
A Walk With Satan and God
Adam Kinsley Jan 2020
My cruelest intentions deceive me, and vex
The dreams I create put my heart in a hex
Distraught by ambition, regret knows my name
A stranger to solace: I'm solely to blame

The breadth of my sorrow still thrives in my soul
There's no place to run to; there's no where to go
Conviction precedes me and leaves me to die
It's tough to decipher what isn't a lie

What grief will allot me is fictitious schemes
To bury intention, and give up my dreams
What price was this folly? How much is my heart?
There's no home to go to; just where do I start?

Intrepid, my demons return to their crimes
My sins came to haunt me a trillion more times
I see my Accuser and fall to the dust:
'Oh God, don't forsake me; but **** me, you must'...
Dec 2019 · 320
Solace and Her Schemes
Adam Kinsley Dec 2019
Does solace know best?
She rips through my chest
Deception is key
Her love isn't free

I feel our hearts break
Through one more mistake
Our will was once kind
I'm losing my mind

The Devil came back
He planned his attack
With cruelly knit schemes
(To live in Her dreams)

I lived with despair
There's much to repair
Her sorrow takes shape
When will I escape?....
This piece is about the negative effects of pride, and the human propensity to feed our egos, especially in the digital age.
Dec 2019 · 168
The Bottle Is Always Empty
Adam Kinsley Dec 2019
My heart is violently choleric
It yearns for disaster
Pride has made a wretched fool of me
I am consumed and bested by my sin

I deserve death from the Son of Man
My mind is a slave to self deception
I am mocked by my own words
Blind guides follow me off of this cliff

Sorrow is my biggest fan
My will is a den of thieves
When it's all about me:
This life is cold and dreary

The bottle is always empty
I am guilty in front of the Accuser
I feel death at my doorstep
So, I turn to let them inside...
The Accuser relates to the Devil. 'The Satan' is not a name, but a title, which literally means, 'The Accuser.'
Dec 2019 · 272
On the Fly
Adam Kinsley Dec 2019
My God: have I forsaken you?
I'm trapped inside my schemes
I searched too long for some place new
[To give up on my dreams]

I see the mirror mocking me
My heart is filled with snakes
I feel the Devil stalking me
He tells me my mistakes

I squander life so foolishly
With graceless malcontent
When solace runs so rapidly:
My ego won't repent

I live within obscurity
The world is cruelly trite
Please, God: relieve my apathy
I'm weary of my spite...
This is a piece about wrestling with God, especially through addiction.
Sep 2019 · 136
Satan's Amnesia
Adam Kinsley Sep 2019
Don’t drink and decide
I wish that I lied
Just know that I tried
With you by my side

Dissension’s victims are just playing dead
Their skeletons line the walls in my closet
Snakes slither silently in such surreal sorrow
We are their two blind witnesses

Our hearts are two stories, drenched in delusion
Not even a child would believe them
We bathe in our most wretched sin
And, run to misguided chagrin

We live for the feckless and fleeting
Amnesia is knocking at the door
So, we turn off the lights
And, close the blinds…
Adam Kinsley Mar 2019
I am captured in No-Man's-Land:
In a Great War of silence and solace
My heart, when at its best, had meant that all of your fear had bred your peers
But, this awkward ambition deceives:
[Through our true nature]

My heart is bad company to keep:
I cannot sleep
Hammurabi's Code--
The heart of man was bought and sold
There is no place to run:
The bottle will find me

Underneath the moonlight:
We are stranded by this silence
Regret had set sail long ago
My breath awaits its volition
This indecent descent into dissent thrives--
Meanwhile, our egos play Russian Roulette

I'll trade your violence for silence
My will is filled with thieves
My thoughts are holes in an hourglass
Aspiration had marched off to war--
Though, you never came back
After a while, I stopped looking for you...
Mar 2019 · 167
"Facilitated by Pride"
Adam Kinsley Mar 2019
A penny for your thoughts:
My conscience rots--
He can't cope with this silence
I am deceived by our Accuser

I cannot break this cycle
My actions speak louder than words
Choler and regret have arrived--
Our party will run all night

Don't drink and decide:
This silence will lie
My brain is my body's laughing-stock--
I should fire the C.O.O.

I'm acutely aware of this defection:
Of solitude, and all of her friends
I lie well within my own skin
Our wretched demise, facilitated by pride...
This piece outlines that all evil in the world is facilitated, if not directly from, pride.
Feb 2019 · 187
[Untitled]
Adam Kinsley Feb 2019
'I left my dreams in the sand...
On a beach, named Weirs
With a plights of distaste...
...and, one more demon for each freckle on Her face'

The smoke cleared between my eyes
I wrestled with each plagued notion of solace
My indifference indentured every passing second--
Here, I am the only fool

There is no place to flee from this silence
The past is all that speaks
Reflection is Epimethius' lover:
I am staggering to relieve all which haunts me

This callous heart of stone defeats me
I deceive my own endeavors
These two eyes have seen far too much
As they fall back into their defense...
Feb 2019 · 284
The Lost Generation
Adam Kinsley Feb 2019
We are the Lost Generation
The forsaken and forgotten ones
Splintered between the Age of Empires:
TV and iPhones
Wedged into slices of sullen Americana
Abruptly, we are scattered in solemn silence
My dreaded Intention flees from vexing self-destruction
Thus, I am stranded...simply waiting--
To die; 'to sleep, perchance to dream'
We are an idea of silent ambition
Withered kinetic energy, floating away--
We are the Lost Generation...
I don't know if this idea is official or not, but the term (to me) of the "Lost Generation" is my generation (which is a bit of a misnomer, because the gap we're speaking of is shorter than a generation).
But, the lost generation as I know it is the people in America who are wedged between generation y and the "iPhone generation." Those who grew up on AOL IM, and saw the dawn of video game consoles as we know them, and were close to college age at the dawn of iphones.
It is called the 'Lost Generation" because most of "us" don't identify with our slightly-older peers, or those who grew up with smart phones.
Adam Kinsley Feb 2019
Content in my reason, I indulge my future distress
Feckless friends and fiends lie...together
Our homemade misery surmounts
Indeed, we do have a habit of making habits

This Intention for contention is our invention
A fleet of reckless daggers flow from my mouth
I decimate past and present alike
Thus, the future flees from my nearsighted discourse

My dreams vehemently elude themselves far from my sight
Devoid of ambition, I fall from the sky with Lucifer and all of his friends
These means will never be justified
Choleric, we are vexed by our sugar-coated ends

This silence overtakes us
We are lucid metaphors of our former-selves
I lie awake and wake to lie
My half-empty bottle is never fulfilled, and never content

My heart is a home of chaos
A passionate portrait of selfishness
I am a kin to fruitless endeavors
Forgetting sense, I meagerly float throughout this wretched discourse...
Jan 2019 · 133
A Bottle For A Dream
Adam Kinsley Jan 2019
I writhe inside this sentiment--
A ghost of all I lost
The words I wrote were sealed and sent
Regardless of the cost

Dysfunction thrives inside my heart--
With empathy as vice
I'm just the one to play this part
What lust did I entice?

Until this day, I dared to dream--
And, lost my weary mind
Although I learned to plot and scheme:
The blind had led the blind

I never question why I stayed
My demons always scream:
'How could you pose this vexing trade:
A bottle for a dream?'...
Dec 2018 · 334
"Blind Counsel"
Adam Kinsley Dec 2018
Apart from my Reason in all of my schemes:
I gave up pretending to live in Her dreams
My vexing ambition for solace had turned
By then, the intrigue of our love brightly burned

Our hearts were pretenders which writhed in the dust
From Love to deception, deception to lust
Content in our sorrow, we buried our shame
We played with our motives, assigning the blame

With demons as counsel, we came out at night
The words which we peddled were senseless and trite
Devoid of ambition, I gave up the ghost
Of All My Intention, I miss Her the most

I wake in this silence with all of my thoughts
With each passing second, our trust slowly rots
Between my synapses, I find Her asleep
Disgruntled, this silence is all we would reap...
Nov 2018 · 369
"The Silence Overtakes Us"
Adam Kinsley Nov 2018
A vivid ambition pursues me--
I trip, head-long, into frivilous deceit
My heartstrings quiver with envy
Solace evades its temperament

The perception I had peddled fled from me
Its estranged discourse won't stay grounded
My heart beats like the empty seconds
Here, deceit is my faceless mistress

My mind is aligned to naïve regret--
Tossing and turning throughout the night
I gave up my morals in seconds
Now, I am my own Accuser**

A mind in crisis precedes me--
There is no place to crawl towards volition
I fight tooth-and-nail with my conscience
In the end: The Silence Overtakes Us...
**I capitalized the word Accuser, because I am directly referencing the Hebrew word 'Satan' which literally means, 'Accuser,' or 'Adversary.'
Nov 2018 · 244
Society of Menaces
Adam Kinsley Nov 2018
Her lungs are black--
Insomniac
Her Love is free
She's after me
I'm up all night
My words are trite
Our will is dead
I toss in bed
We're doomed indeed
Our vice is greed
Three hearts had Lied
We're dead inside
Our pride won't mix
We conjure tricks
With words unsaid
What faith is dead?
Thus, lust is left
With minds, bereft
Had we not learned...
That Love is earned?...
I normally write poetry with rhyme and strict meter, but rarely with cut-down meter like this...Let me know how it flows and what you think.
Adam Kinsley Nov 2018
Of All My Intention: choleric and kind
I built an excursion, still feckless and blind
Through all of the chances I seldom had placed:
My mind was mistaken, my heart was defaced
I fell for a Dreamer, and She fell for me
With All Our Intention, our eyes couldn't see

When silence was golden, we fell for much less
There's much to remember, and more to confess
What hearts had we planted with all of our schemes?
We dream in the Darkness, and live in our dreams
Our Reason is chained to irrational castes
We yearned for the future, and buried our pasts

What once was ambition had turned into dust
From Love to affection, affection to lust
Our faces show sorrow; they come out at night
With each new perception, our hearts had grown trite
These hearts we had melded were built in the dark
From All Our Intention, our Fears disembark...
There are two subjects in this poem, but one of them is quite fluid.
Oct 2018 · 940
A Plethora of Mocked Vices
Adam Kinsley Oct 2018
I writhe in ambiguity
Though the past would send their best
My will is lazily over-thrown
As I build my own gallows

I hit bedrock--
Yet still, frantically dig with more fervor
My mind is an empire on the brink of collapse
With Regret as my only ally

I threw my aspiration to the wolves
Dreaming is but a subtle luxury:
'My vivid hallucination of deceit'
Pawns have put my king in check

The side of life cries to me
I feverishly run to my grave
My heart is the product of my own dissent
Indeed, my own Intention mocks me

I am a puppet, sewn to these vices
Comfort escapes from me
My anxiety is the sum of a plethora of sins
So, when will I be written out of the story?...
This piece is about addiction and making the same mistakes over and over again. Basically, the subject has destructive vices because they're sad, and sad because they have destructive vices.
Oct 2018 · 146
[Untitled]
Adam Kinsley Oct 2018
Do you see the dissension within my eyes?
I stumble throughout this feverishly manipulated age
The minds of children are enslaved by their reflective masters
We yearn to destroy what Reason had painstakingly divulged

My intention marinates in this silence
I deafen its egregious cries
This past will not pass
While the mirror mocks my demons and I

My once lively will recedes beneath my synapses
These demons wonder why they still wander
With two eyes, I had to see too much
Indeed, I sold their sense of solace

Our lives are fevered dreams
Unspoken in their indignant dejection
Filled with volition, we reap what we sow--
Imprudently awaiting our own funerals...
This pieces looks inward [within oneself], then outward towards society, and back again to the self.
Adam Kinsley Oct 2018
We are controlled by what we create
A vexing tool from a creator?--
I found my death-note in a bottle
Then, silently stabbed at Caligula's sea

Obscurity has founded me
All night, we danced with Death and all their friends
We reserved our table: Misfortune and I
To crawl, ever-lovingly into self-destruction

What fevered, feckless filth are we:
A brood of virulent vipers--
With cordial smiles masking our true nature
We stumble, backwards, into our very own traps

Volition is dead to us
Indulgent indifference will lead to our violent destruction
I have the mindset of 1,000 fools--
And, I deserve this...
Sep 2018 · 355
Me, Myself & I
Adam Kinsley Sep 2018
I forged my dreams in the mire of regret
The past had not passed me for long
The angel of Death awaits my plea of ignorance
While the sands of time bury my aspiration

I acknowledge my mistakes
Yet, do not learn from them--
Walking backward with Epimetheus off the cliff
My disdain surmounts my discerning heart's integrity

Between me, myself, and I
We produce the same Lie
Gouging out my eyes to spite my mind
I am solely affixed to its lack of fervor

My descent into dissent imprisons me
This island is no longer a paradise
I cannot run from my own mind
But, I can turn down the volume, just for tonight...
This poem is about not learning from your mistakes. I use Epimethius as a metaphor, because, in Greek mythology Epimethius
Jul 2018 · 321
Bedtime Story
Adam Kinsley Jul 2018
The depths of my depravity sink
My cruel and careless mind is aligned
With eyes affixed on all I've solely lost:
I dance with my scapegoating ghosts

Yearning to turn the page:
My hands are cut off by Hammurabi--
To keep from gouging Oedipus' eyes:
I am written out of the story

Ambition does not lust after me
I am forgotten in Dante's Inferno
My hands have denied any involvement--
They cite my brain for a lack-of-character(s)

Volition is cemented in the mire of Regret
Yet, She still screams to me:
"'Out ****'d spot! Out, I say!'"
So, we bury my tell-tale heart under the floor...
I mix several historical references with historical literature, spanning around 3,500 years, with my modern-day interpretation of my own mind.
Mar 2018 · 426
Ms. Ambition
Adam Kinsley Mar 2018
Discord is unbridled behind my eyes
I cannot indulge this silence
My conscience is tangled within my senses
Heading towards a past which has not passed

I had a date with Ambition
But, went home with Addiction
She gave birth to Affliction
I am a father, now, to guilt

We sprint, fleetingly, from an idle mind
Forging more treacherous motives
Anxiety is the Queen of my Disposition—
Indulging the vexing discourse within my bones…
Nov 2017 · 530
[Untitled]
Adam Kinsley Nov 2017
I'm bested by anxiety
And, all which I create
Amidst my heart's insanity:
I'm everything I hate

It's clear to me, to age from youth:
We're barren to the grave
I have ten lies for every truth--
[For each sin I forgave]

I don't know what I'm doing here
I waltz from place-to-place
Your whispers fill my feeble ear
It's written on my face

Embittered by my solitude
I'm barely still alive
My demons had their will renewed
Beneath my nerves, they thrive...
Oct 2017 · 402
"iDream"
Adam Kinsley Oct 2017
I bathe in ineptitude--
Adjacent to grief
Returning to folly--
I'm chasing my ghost

We're breeding dissension--
With hearts made from silence
We hire duplicity--
And, plot our demise

We yearn for relation--
But, speak to a Robot
Devoid of ambition--
We live in our Dreams

Inert in supercilious nature--
Buried in pages
We're training our synapses--
[To...not...feel...a...thing]

The way which we're living--
It's closer to dying
But, we're just pretending--
We aren't the same

I gaze in the mirror:
A ghost of Intention
I wake in the discord
With my head down, iWalk...
Oct 2017 · 264
[Untitled]
Adam Kinsley Oct 2017
I'm born to division, envision my pride
Tormented by panic and all which I hide
Bereft through my senses, I'm struck as I run
With demons as captors; my loss is their fun
Embittered by sorrow, I don't see what's next:
I'm vexed by dissension, but hide in my text

You're king of our heartache with little to show
Engulfed in our sorrow; it's all which you know
You're feigning completion, and losing your mind
A slave to your culture; you're petty and blind
In time, you are caught by the traps which you set
There's much to remember, but more to forget

We cling to the fleeting, and dawn a disguise
We're sullen and feckless; we're trapped by our lies
Amidst our ambition, we run for the door
We gave up, in silence, while searching for more
Tormented by Reason: we don't feel the same
We play with our heartstrings as if it's a game...
Sep 2017 · 226
"Playwrights of Babylon"
Adam Kinsley Sep 2017
I'm calm, composed, and nonchalant
In debt to my desire
I sell my soul to design passion--
To find that it fled from me

I play for my heart--
With an elderly, unkempt chess board
With fading colors and missing pieces--
Ambiguity has blended them as I sleep

Adopted by Reason, I ran from Home--
To sleep, nevermore, in my own skin
Disfigured, the hours melt away--
My rib-cage houses their wayward ghosts

I am controlled or coerced--
Anxiety crippled my heart's playwrights
Cutting off my vexing hands--
Bound in a stock, headed for Babylon...
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