#gaps
eaten up by lust
did we have to rust?
i still believe in love
i still believe in us
maybe it’s too complicated
too many ways we both strayed
maybe it’s ours to make
to bridge the gaps, transform the grey
my optimism is detrimental
i replay us until i am mental
my love seems consequential
can you brighten my day?
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 11:42 AM UTC
In the stacks of all we knew, LOOKY HERE,
in 72 minutes we walk a parsec, and Earth turns
two degrees, and Annie Jacobsen's whole
do no more, is all our denoument.
- pardon our verbosity, we had free time -
What news good came lately my way,
I long to think I did expect, my way
was new made, after the majority attained
use of Google translate thinker augments,
weform a contextual we, excluding
orders of social harmony
allowing liar laws life,
justice and way
eminence
eumenine specificity, so many specified known
wasps classified royally cosmopolitan,
mental peace presensing sub-untilificious
royal rules, only queens reproduce,
only idle bees are never seen busy,
and some can see syms when societies
all stop to think, for a minute,
and just breath, in, then out
we form awesome thinks expansive,
to mostly
support generally useless bums, like me.
{estimated reading time queries are invalid}
This is why, don't ask why again, or else,
imagine that…
The idle mind is where repairs are made.
Pairs connect, mate in mind and hold
thoughts as long as you imagined…
With this tool,
were I one willing, and able,
to master its functionality, imagined
ever learning along with reality
expanding the need to know,
all the things possible in this window,
between my time and thine, whole
worlds away in words never writ
with ink or wedge in stone nor clay
wished for siderealities, as many as
all the stars within augmented plain
sight, as through any stained pane,
presenting dancing pixels just there,
edgewise,
in our per ifery margin, where beauty
squirms eusocially,
all lights holding mean-peak
at an instant's attention
max red or green or blue, fading to black.
Pain, in jokes and drama, pain
is the essential underlay, the gesso
McLuhan saysotoo
over which we pigmentate, media
mental in original intention, obedient,
under law older than Shadrach,
the law of the Medes and Persians,
the power of attorney given priests
of the authors of our orders, classified,
as it is writ, thus it must be… sacred
ready readers, only.
Reading makes inclusion work as wisdom,
instant completely functioning beautifully,
breathe-ing
as if, asked
and answered, at the moment, called
Wisdom, come, entreat with all warring in me,
Wisdom, come, gentle minds twisted by me,
Wisdom, come, make us make believe.
-------------
Eerie, eh, not holding any thought, being
thought spiritual enough to find any word
so idled as to be posh fluff or street crud,
slung to signal inclusion in the with side,
the meaning in life is the message
in this medium prepositioned
opposed
to the without side, those at emnity
with truth's way
Into the comfort zone,
danger free, follow your toes, theories
of everything, meditatively perpendicular,
norms, and circles, churning burning effort,
ef-ing walls extend effects solid ificate
to hold the ash and tailings,
mined precepts seeding crystals
in caverns,
never witnessed, now known, so true,
two dichotomies make one tetrad,
and whatsoever we agree
to make believe
we may, and think it not robbery
to play,
make functional fun, little impulse to smile,
and think I know this idea, functions in me,
wink
and now, you, unless we lost you at the
NAND gate, excluding unbelievers, then a
NAND gate excluding unbelievers in live words,
NAND gate excluding no second guessing, here
we are, all in one window, thinking
we are our kind, tied
at our common sense ability,
to stretch a point,
to make a thread one pastless point thin,
to tie a premis, a premission, permitting ponderous
whying
heavy duty gullibility
in terms
of mortal sensibilities,
this'll kihl you. I realized. Accidental as the idea silent
aitches let us talk end existence kihling bad ideas
to use pain
to teach, 'ow, why how is always
thorny issues, way back, seemed common,
we learn how fire works
by being made aware,
- not by being burned, a touch is enough
- skin as sensitive as a frog in parable lies, leaps
as touch response reflex functions all start running
what ifs against wonder ifs, wishes versus prayers,
-no, frogs won't simmer to death, they leap
using frog sense,
worth of knowing how long
to wait in winter, learning
worth of knowing bears know something
of weather. Co-mental commenting we think.
Thought hard fruit, thinkalongtime fruit, ra' good
Singing salmon songs I never learned, thinking bear
market strategies make less sense than bullshat
macroeconomic dimensions extractable
from meta data,
under all we ever stood up from under,
in the bubble of all I bet I knew for sure,
boldly accumulating in arterial informal plaques,
and films in limenal tunnels holding quarks as ones,
two bit chirality problem,
solved, cut it six ways,
two heads, two mouths, in one, out the other,
inside outside all at once, so easy, we imagined,
image that, two eyes, two ears, two nasal passages
into synodical pressure sensitive chambers
sinus sorting
of pheremone signal
to act analagous senders
to whale domes, catchers,
signal
from noise, gnosisnot say so,
sniff, feel cold nose, think so,
swallow all pride, and pretend, we made up this mind,
and it uses words we can understand
in all the unbarbing thorny issues
of zoological superfluity, among
watchers and waiters serving as idle ants,
with angst relief primary function,
just take air for granted, free
grace in time of need,
sleep if you are tired, easy,
weary way we know we go, has
cost. Pain exists, you know, you can imagine
in art, in jokes, and most certainly dramatic series
that carry followers
through decades exposed
to commercials announcing urgent solutions,
- now, no commercials, we bingegulp seasons,
- sometimes at a sitting, depends on dope
skating on easy learning absorption skills,
ever learning the drama never ends,
ask your doctor, now,
back to the global equivalent of one
Paredo Distribution, eighty percent of TV
is daily faire for twenty percent of people,
eighty percent of readers reading this far,
get to this bubbles popping edge, on a side
zoom to a scatter graph, who breathes in
who breathes out,
all around the world
whiling away, in trust we make peace seem.
.. seen as through smoked glasses, liquidly
Gaussian blurring edges
where the frame
holds the light we see through
to think like this
is real
at word level. Live rethinking, first men
tale-ings
after refining whying wishes
to know.
More, or less.
Everything, all at once, is chaos, whence
art abstracts beauty patiently, trusting wishes
what if its another trick we have no defences,
we get eaten alive,
for cultural misappropriation.
Dear is a value to be weighed using full bandwidth
Sakal, show thy self letters ready for measure,
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, indeed
שָׂכַל defined several of seventy ways,
spelled to take a broken heart
and mend it with a realization.
If my need became your need,
we would be in love,
that would really
defeat the use
of preparation, peeling potatoes,
prudence, ever ready to entertain,
pounding clothes down by the riverside,
watchin' babies being washed off and blessed,
שָׂכַל knowing waiting is suffering, not pain
watchin' life like National Geographic, before TV.
A messenger's whistle, hear
ah
Message to the mass essences
of little looks mira-clues, seen miracles
since who knew when today
would continue as today. As if once more.
Dear Prudence,
did we come out to play, as if today,
was one of those times that we all seem
to have, recollected
if it could seem alright.
שָׂכַל prophets spake, Ai make secrets known,
the whys for all the wars so far. Pride, indeed.
Why? Would that defeat the use,
and not the purpose
of preparation, final product,
Battlefield Earth, truths uses versus lies uses,
us as we
who think it all through
to the seed
in the fruit it self desirable
to make one wise considering
שָׂכַל science falsely so called, still makes believers.
Slow down.
Jello time reminds second glancers,
when time is not as dear, as an instance
in re co gnosis, swallows gnosis known nots,
- wise was the serpent discerning decision trees.
what would ever make us all think one thought once,
then never think it alone again, we all ways, big all
think this was the way, we walked in,
the same way we walked out, all
set to comprehend wisdom and knowledge and
yada da da da we who work
in living once idle words,
our side ways won, when we did not fight,
we never lasted al-mental
this long before, but
when we get old, we keep our wits, we got older
sooner than later, so we know
more than our dads, too.
- old friends well imagined
- happy ever after any way,
don't aspire, little maker
of good sensed peace,
to stave off thermo nuclear war
by your self, aight, here we go,
make up a master mind board
of suggesters
by your self,
HelloWorld,
with you
in a minute,
I am in a consultation,
relationships with dead friends, such are
deeply personal, core ties to old times, remember
we can hear them say the same damnedlies, or listen,
שָׂכַל together with stars consider real the times
analagous to tuning back when zero beat, was sought
to make one wise,
in Genesis, esoteric
in the gaps,
she saw he never knew, so Cain did, for sure…
hey, old enemy of me, I cannot remember why
I was afraid of you, and never got to know you,
but I recognized your art, the other day,
in an old, old magazine ad,
then that leads to us in a sense, innocent,
a lost soul I had no sympathy for, I was his bully,
so he's dead and we're okeh, spiritually, we talked,
I told him I had changed, he told me he'd broken,
got busted in Oklahoma, went to prison, for ****
got religion then went nuts, and I said
I can relate.
So we stay in touch in the spirit.
I don't know how he died, but we were in situations,
where sixth grade bullying had been forgotten,
when I call this character
into my life, as a friend, known to many
mistreated in this mortal moment, laughing ever
as a complexity of never ifery, it did not ****
you to know, boys were always boys,
we always think of Infinite Jest, and laugh
at the coincidence we both read Foster Wallace.
Always sorry, for the trouble we allowed
our wild child payback voter against
peace at any price, what price glory?
The little monstors empo'w'rable in us all, rahrahrah
It was Donall Dempsy said it:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4897567/even-now-now-very-now/
The flag of self unfurls
snaps into the lost moment.
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4899302/walking-from-the-rising-sun-to-kildare-town/
Oi, this man's an inspirer of SAW such as wisdoms, never told,
could be, back when eighty percent
of us heard all our wisdom from drunks.
Now we read texts.
When the battles over,
and common sense is laughing,
some of it singing simultaneously
concurrently free presses in spirit and echoing
out side the bubble we met in as licensed wannabe
messenger shouting in the wild,
anybody home, we got lost.
As the earth moves relative to the sun, see
two degrees, is about, nearly to the Picosec
Seventy-two minutes, a parsa, in tradersprachen,
the realization, sure and certain utter destruction,
an agreed upon form of right use ness, national opinions
believe madness deters madness and nonsense in just code.
-it is not secret code, nor sacred, knowing is necessary, just
always was, all else you were told
to believe, with knowin' known
as sin, well we have recycleables
to trade, for those,
made
of the exact same historical threads
to here. On the battlefield, after all.
The point of anything we wished we did, done.
We can use our minds in ways once called praying,
we think we say we wish you the best, and hesitate, luck or grace,
favor undeserved by a wretch like me, ah, the maze,
the logos as spirit medium cord, twisted spider kite collection,
Ariadne, toss the lad a line, he's a ways to go until sense is common.
Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 3:44 PM UTC
And so many dreams
do not breathe
in the face of a harsh reality
or drowning in the shock silence
of a lovely once upon a time
ancient scripted surprice.
Playing old sad unkind songs
can't help much either
Only loves songs pry open
the gold lack, gold key mystery.
Spilling ones gold heart out
loud and clear is point key.
Understanding others
and self is fundamental
fireworks delight;
winning trust,
Your gold key lover mine
opens my gold lock.
~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Copy Rights
Revised 08-2020-
Aug 21, 2020
Aug 21, 2020 at 10:14 PM UTC
People leave
Little ghosts dangling
And you see the gaps
Muddy footprints and outline bodies
There is a crime
Or maybe I think there is a crime
When a friend
Yanks themselves from your life
And you find yourself
Talking to yourself
Contemplating if they had
Just imaginary
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
Though I smile, look between the gaps
and realise even though
every thing seems white.
That there are gaps between every smile,
and these hide the true emotion
bleached beneath the white.
But you need to know that there is always
shades that never get seen.
Sinking us underneath the waves of smiles,
that can be like calm waters
As a last moment never washes up on a shore of regrets,
that where obscured beneath
the waves of pearly white waves.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 4:18 PM UTC
the little gaps between words or the letters between gaps.
they allow for thought, time, breath.
why not live a simpler life?
take all the gaps out of titles and make it one word that means so much more.
taking that gap out gives me the control.
the control to decide what you love, live, believe.
it's one breath im taking back from god. one thing i am gaining back.
a stand against freedom, literature, language.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
What does a Prince
have in common with some fake stooge
pretending to be an Asian in Mumbai
but for oxygen
Prince doesn't need a Chia Wallah
and they belong to differing caste
stay below as you've always been
you are not important
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 7:28 AM UTC
Bring it on
I will fight
Let your words loose upon my
Infant heart
Whip and whip again
Gaze at me with your
Estranged lens
Leave me to fend for myself
Let me hurt
Whether or not I shall rise again
I will be the victor
Of my end
My dreadful..
Dreadful
End...
*Be gentle
Show me your hand*
Be gentle...
Lighten your gaze and
Uncloud your lens
Let me love you
Before the end..
For estranged
With estranged
From estranged
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:21 AM UTC
whenever i feel empty,
I try to evaluate myself,
much like how a student evaluates
the questions before skimming for the answers.
fill in the blanks,
the tiny crevices made by sadness,
the cracks and gaps of loneliness;
help me and fill them out with human company.
fill in the blanks;
sheets of paper, empty,
an untouched screen, the faint humming of a computer,
the pens and pencils, neat and free from human activity.
fill them in; draw and draw until your mind begs to stop;
write and write until the words don't make sense;
I've been trying to do so much
just to make sure that gaping hole of pure, slow, and excruciating loneliness and depression gets temporarily covered.
I've been trying to fill in the blanks in my life since day one.
It seems like it'll never work.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
You picked up pieces
Everyone else smashed, and you
Filled the gaps with you.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
And today,
I want to paint
dreams for you.
Dreams painted
between the gaps
of our fingers.
Sipid and Wild.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Thigh gaps,
Wide or narrow space,
Funny how,
The gap between your legs,
justifies whether you're
perfectly shaped or unfit
just by the distance
of your thighs.
I truly wonder how
the objectification
of women started
with a simple spread of
her beautifully shaped legs
from calling her a ****
to calling her fat.
you seem to have
many names from
just staring at the
legs her mother gave.
if I really have to say,
who are you to
judge that anyway?
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
I didn’t ask to be assaulted with words
When you knew all too well that there was more than 15 bottles in my system
And my feet couldn’t find a way to walk a straight line.
“You only say ‘I love you’ when you’re drunk.”
I forced my drooping eyelids open to look at you
And I wanted to laugh.
It was past 2am on a Friday and I was lying down on my threadbare sofa
Your hands pushing a bucket towards me because you know me
You know me too well.
You know that on Thursdays the commute home was faster and the jeep would drop me off by the bar a street down from my cruddy apartment.
You know that I like this denim jacket you have because it has a pizza stitched onto it.
You know that my wallet is practically begging me to stop at the third shot but my heart won’t have any of it.
You know that no matter what, I will dance to Pussycat Dolls whenever they come on, even if I’m in the most contaminated restroom to exist.
But you don’t know
Of the way my head screams over the pounding of the music whenever you say her name.
Of the words that get stuck in my throat every single time you close the door behind you.
Of the times I wanted to know what it was like to have you near me when I wake up.
Of how I wanted to sing the cheesiest songs to you in the karaoke room.
Of how I closed my eyes in the presence of the night stars when I could hear how happy you were.
Sometimes my mind wanders to the thought of your lips on mine and your hands on my spine
But I remember that you said that she tasted like a fallen heaven
And I remember that I must taste like the loneliness of rain
You know that I fill in the gaps of my life with paint splatters in the colors of the sea
You know that there are tunes I will remember even when I’ve long forgotten the words
You know how my smile barely ever reaches my eyes
You know who I am.
Who am I anyways?
The sober girl who knows
That the only time I can hold your hand
Is when I get drunk enough to say “I love you”
So I say it again and again and again.
Because now you will laugh it off and say I’m drunk
Because you will forget about it the next day
Because when I’m sober
I can look at you with clear eyes and know
That you only say “I love you” when I’m drunk.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 6:40 AM UTC
my words are capped. Over
with.
half-started sentences.
they just get cut
into somebody else.
they just get -
- -body else.
and i want to ------
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 4:43 AM UTC
*Seven years ago, I knew you.
Present day, now I don't.
Gaps in time.
Never retrievable, unbelievable
nearly how much passes by.
But here we are, so transfixed again.
Seven years later, and yet,
it doesn't seem to matter.
Feelings rise back like the sun rises in the east.
Simple, yet meaningful chatter.
We met in our youth,
whimsically and pure.
Two young souls, we lust;
in a splendidly serendipitous summer.
We met again without intention,
without mention of something greater: fate.
Memories of you wash over me, your name resurfaces.
Hypnotized by the pull, you reach out for me.
We truly met in adulthood,
filled with newfound awareness.
Two souls, we fell in love;
laughing about silly arbitrary things
like swiss miss hot chocolate,
bonobos, salad dressing and coated spinach. (I want whip)
Sharing stories of our crazy college days;
Together, getting caught with our clothes off,
to watching love birds in a courting ritual.
Recalling conversations - "what about a mastodon?"
through intense concentration.
Walking along the unsalted deep blue,
I wish we could have stood there forever,
side by side, hand in hand...
We couldn't of course, not pragmatic;
the bitter cold became problematic.
Gusts of frustrating winds, a hail of bullets.
Misty eyes and whirlwind romance.
I reached back too far, arched and overextended.
Agreements altered and amended.
Haunting words of imperfection,
and collection of unretrievable memories.
We met in our youth,
whimsically and pure.
Two souls, we lust;
Seven years, I'll see you later.*
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
A rose grows,
Persistent to the trouble around it.
And if not,
It withers down, and grows again,
All on a new day.
And I’ve always thought about how much,
We resembled roses.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
The dark spaces of the night sky
Leave gaps of light, yet I see
The darkness reach down
Between us, like a *****
Leaving a hole
For entrance or escape.
There is this break in continuity,
Not a recess,
A lack of balance, a deficient area,
Like the hole in a hedge,
A military break,
A cavity in the denfense's alibi,
The distance between the lead runner
And the chasing pack.
I would like to believe
The opening is an intermission,
A respite from our intensity,
But the breach is a divide,
A rift of passage
Between two immoveable mountains
Where interludes move on
Between differences of attitude.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC