#absorbed
Feel far from now and then, the past we may recall
personally, as matters of familiar facts, we memorized,
instantly at the time, a local high school suicide's service,
Richard Cory on all our minds, those days it was taught,
as we were
admirably schooled in every grace:
to make us wish that we were
in his place.
Ah, yes, old man, recall the summer of 1966,
precursor season of the post war sorting hat trick,
preemptive weeding out of conscientious objection,
war on poverty had been declared, Job Corp boys,
got exposed to life in an old, for America, sunset town,
speckled with shades of muted copper skin color, but no
blacks, not one single one, lived in that happy little town.
This present notion, not so great, some sharp stone step
up and back, noting names taken in vain, golden boy, gay
and handsome and talented as Hell, they'd say of him,
what was his name, old friend, he'll haunt me, he,
who had shared his secret, with me, and another,
the shame of knowing, steps with sharp scruples, blame
for never knowing such pain, for never needing to hide
the truth that I really only liked myself, needing none
to love or be loved by, only my dog, as I must admit
old age allowed its natural peace of mind, settled down,
feeling no local angst nor any international hypocrite shame
fed those justifying Trump as Cyrus, Lance Wallnau's revelation,
begun after the advent of mega churches blooming into zones
abandoned by industries forced elsewhere for cheaper labor.
Scatter brain, free form information, mulling over cold coffee.
Poker stirring ashes, shaken off, to mull yesterday's wine, now,
squeezing drops from the dregs of that '66 vintage, Havasu summer.
Site Six got a Holly Corp McCulloch Deforestation Equipment Deal,
land mustabin so cheap then, and chainsaw manufacturing rich
with endless forests where Pax Americana provided good jobs
yeah, mind wandering, senility exercise, daily drill, pray tell,
whose life was ever easier than mine, upto now, I got by,
in what seems no time at all, each minute spent, as was
- offering all my ****** friends to forgive me, slowly
- hang out with me and my former enemies, we amuse
- ourselves with thoughts that force paste solid memes.
Melvin was the kid's name, who put a bullet through his head.
Richard Corey was in the Billboard A.M. most requests list.
Now no haunting memories remain, just the red socks.
And straining pangs from New York one man bands
melodizing the old story of Richard Cory's bullet.
Edwin Arlington Robinson's 1897 collection,
The Children of the Night.
Rich men's sons, had such books, free men's grandsons,
had Carnegie Library testimonials to puck and good luck.
But Melvin was a queer duck, he wore red socks,
with his black suit, when he played the prospector,
opposite me, as the face of corporate greed, proper
black socks, proper conserved privileged extraction,
forgettable, that whole scene, but for those red socks.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
Sometimes it's as simple as squeezing one thought into one quotation
Sometimes it's too wordy to reach that satisfaction following an end
Sometimes it's simple but ya can't find the words while missing all the signs
Sometimes it's complicated but can be illustrated in just a few lines
Sometimes you can't figure out how to coax it out
Sometimes there's no stopping it from getting out and wandering about
©2024
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 2:23 AM UTC
My girl likes little things
not the big things of value
or baggy big like Jeans
But short skirts and tight tops
Little shorts and flip flops
with high hopes,
but little dreams
My girl likes little things
Not big things or deep
Little things like lipstick
The comments on her self pics
The brand of her breeches
The right lace on her sneakers
My girl likes little things
Not the things
too heavy to keep
My girl likes little things
Not the big and the weighty
Just the little things shiny
like an iPhone glittering
the right tone on the dial ring
a cover case with the right bling
Almost everything
And anything
not significantly big
My girl likes little things
nothing seriously grand
little things, like small talk
A nice sweet short walk
Even holding hands
among other little things
If there’s room for my fingers
beside her diamond rings
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 5:14 PM UTC
Nothing will ever go completely right. As long as there will always be those who wants to hoard things for themselves even though, aware they will never live forever.
As long as there will always be those who are not ready to live right and reasonably...
What's the point?
Reasonably!
Hoarding!
Foolishly!
All leads to the den of obliteration.
Perplexed?
Let's give up!
What if we give down?
What's it about surrender!
What's it about never surrender?
No one is, an exception.
There is neither a thing I can hardly do, except to right the wrongs of the mind with my words.
Words inscribing the wrongs and beauty of the soul in a pinchbeck, puny age, is like a melodious masterpiece of a violin in a noisy throng, rarely a soul offers any attention.
A token of my contribution.
Smiles.. I hope that be enough. Though "bitter Smiles" cause nothing is ever enough..
Enough!
Cheers..
Verily we are spend thrifts by nature we exhausts everything. And we! eventually gets exhausted.
Up 4am.
Having aftermath dinner.
With the most tremendous of guests, comforting yet tormenting, thoughts and Memories.
Dining on meals and wines of, unfathomable class and brand.
With the most tranquiling of musics, echos of emptiness.
Guarded by The magnificent majestic retinue, lugubrious phantoms.
Encompassed by The most absorbing and cimmerian paintings, mystical darkness.
"In a stead formed yet unformed by ether, the mind".
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 5:11 PM UTC
the crooked and
mishandled alleyways
of words to whisper
have always riddled
the backstreets of my mind...
i mapped them,
longer than enough
to see the ins and outs
i've known them,
more than enough...
like the palm of my hand
or the skin on my face.
it has always been
a palimpsest
of the maze i used to
be sealing myself in—
or perhaps seeping myself out.
there were promises,
there were poems,
and of course,
there was you.
and every single word,
or every single way,
i have always been
tongue tied and
waiting and just so
so long overdue—
stuck in the prison
of a misfortunate fate...
knowing the means
and never escaping
somehow still lost
afraid of ever stretching ways.
'hey, long time no see—'
'happy birthday! want to talk—'
'happy new year hope we still get together!'
everything just comes out in clicks...
'backspace'.
Jan 22, 2020
Jan 22, 2020 at 12:11 PM UTC
I walk into this endless void
Wondering why am I even here
I've turned entirely different
This carefree, chilling guy is me now
I'm dancing my way through this
I'm way more happy than I ever was
The monotony of this void excites me
By every minute, I am being absorbed
Into this never ending nightmare
There's no end to this
But I'm becoming a part of this
Fragments of my soul are getting
Embedded into this vagueness
Now, I'm nothing
Just like the void
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 3:57 PM UTC
an all consuming love
took hold of the narcissist
his great admiration for self
was the everlasting gist
in front of the mirror he stood
kissing his own reflection
whilst at it saying I'm so deserving
of my steadfast affection
yes he was absorbed
in a love profound of pond
this being the love he'd
keep fervently fond
no one else could love him
with such a richness of care
cause he was unable to
empathetically share
the love he did bear inside
his indulgent infantile heart
would never be completely
cleaved apart
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
My eyes only focus
on my regrets of the past.
My fingers only touch
my scars that never heal.
My ears only hear
my own vitriol.
My words only mention
me, myself, and I.
Self-absorbed in pain.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
We are absorbed
From one click of a button
To 5 hours of life
Reliving a cycle every day
Thinking it can’t get any better
The more followers
The better life
Only posting what you want
And not letting them see the other sides
Pictures only there for a moment
Then washed away never to be seen again
When moments could be spent better
Long lasting moments
With no worry of a time limit
Instead we are made robots
Dependant on 5 inches
Missing what life has to offer
Too afraid to leave them at home
Because you you may miss a notification
You never cared about anyway
Making life easier every generation
Thinking the only way to make friends
Is by chatting online
Getting a reply
But waiting 5 minutes
Because we are too afraid of seeming desperate
Walking right past someone
Who you could have shared your life with
But instead your head was faced to the floor
But of course
The floor is more important than a person
But this item smaller than your hands
Somehow gained a power to control us
Hooked us into this trap
That is too late to run away from
Forgetting the date and saying it didn’t remind me
Will be the only excuse
And family, friends, and people
Will no longer be an option
Soon we will all walk around with tubes in our ears
And goggles over our eyes
Seeing a virtual world that must be greater than what we were given
Meeting people but never seeing them
But it’s fine
Because we have all we need between 5 inches
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
Everything in the present is somewhere, somehow connected to what happened in the past.
Over a period of time it’s realized,
a thing of past is a thing of past,
will remain in past,
no matter even when efforts are made to bring it to life in the present,
however,
even then it will remain in past,
from where it came,
to where it belongs.
Definitely a thing of past is a thing of past and it will always remain in the past.
The good thing is what happened in past cannot be changed,
either ways whether right or wrong,
over a period of time it does not make any difference in the present.
Better way is to accept the present in it’s present form,
then move ahead with the same in mind.
Best way is to be a part of the present moment in time in the present,
move ahead along with the same in mind with regards to how everything needs to be done in the present.
One of the best way is to get involved and remains absorbed with regards to what is there that's going on in the mind.
Desire and dreams remain in a contrast, play hide-n-seek.
However, dreams and desire must not affect the mind with regards to what’s going on in the mind at the present moment in time.
A time will come when it will be realized that efforts made till now have got something to do with regards to future and time now is to ascertain future.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
Who do you call when there is no one to call?
Your last friend that catches your sense of humour, dies without a sense of humour
The friend that generally made up all of your contacts
Calls beforehand of daily progress always went answered to a mother who no longer exists
They were followed by a friend who absorbed everything said
These absorptions poisoned the well of humour and goodwill that you befriended in the first place
Your contacts list might grow in the days ahead
But the optimism that that idea requires to believe in and the failed rate of your previous confidants make you feel you should protect all
Keep everything within, never explode.
Hopefully implode.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
Lost is the present moment in time
Lost in thoughts of my own.
Absorbed is the mind
Absorbed in thoughts of my own.
Engaged is the mind
Engaged in thoughts of my own.
Involved is the mind
Involved in designing, discussing and deciding about an uncertain future.
Involved in thoughts of my own.
Very soon it will be realized that all the efforts which have been made up until now,
all of them were made,
sepcifically to reach a point of conclusion,
so as to make a definite decision.
Interesting are the ways of life,
interesting seems life,
but still,
even then,
even as of now,
it's life and life continues along with the passing moment in time.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:21 AM UTC
Close to you
I was filled inside
Another glimpse
of a words divine.
Close to you
Silent absorbed
and new melody founds
O ~ my souls want to sing.
Close to you
and new days begins
To be filled inside
deep embrace and love.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
Cry me a river,
In fact,
Cry me two.
I am sick of hearing,
All about you.
You never once stopped
To ask about me.
While I sat and listened
To all your sob stories.
I love you,
But I need you to know.
I can't listen to you.
You are self-absorbed.
And I can't help you.
Even if I wanted to.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC