#imagined
Does anyone else think that they’re going to die young? I mean, I can dream about a future. A life. I can imagine parts of it, like how my house will have tiles on the stairs to make it look like a piano has vomited on them. Or how the backsplash for the kitchen will be handmade tiles painted by my favorite people. My car will have a stained glass sunroof, the inside of the door will be covered in stickers. The backyard will have a children’s park in it, a treehouse with wood rotting and a slide stolen from the municipal pool. I can imagine the concept of a later version of what my life will look like. But I can’t see what I look like. I can’t see how I will act, I can’t imagine myself. And when someone brings up the future in a conversation, I feel so out of place. I’m not suicidal. I’m not planning on being dead by a certain age. I just don’t think I’ll make it to the retirement home. My legacy will be something to only live thanks to word of tongue. Speech will last one generation. I’m good with kids. Toddlers love me, and I love them. But maybe I’m so good with kids because I’ll never have my own. I don't want to be a mother, not really. Or date any man. Settling down, long-term relationships, date to marry; all these things that I guess just weren't programmed into me. They never were part of me. So maybe I won’t die young. Maybe I’ll just never grow old.
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 7:27 PM UTC
I imagined myself wandering in the clouds of dark memories,
I imagined myself journeying to the top of the remains of broken dreams.
I imagined myself standing alone amid the lies of surroundings,
I imagined myself walking steadily on the wrecked bridge of survival.
I imagined myself being watched all the time,
I imagined myself being judged all the time.
I imagined myself like a puppet for the audience around me,
I imagined myself like a door keeper for all the thoughts I have.
Nov 18, 2025
Nov 18, 2025 at 6:00 PM UTC
~*for M. both
a living one, and
imagined, too*~
10/5/25
just woke up and began to work;
the muses are cofuse-ed
they think when head hits pillow.
it is there then the~moment to
refill my head
with verses glorious, alas, alack,
into the sub-subconscious furnace they go
to melt, meld or even die
iron of ironies; 90% of these words,
were adrift in my head when I
to bed, "for to be repaired" last night, and
only came to be recalled @ 2:34 am
when them muses and you guru,
woke me to 'get outta bed', and you
who
bids me sleep,
this clashing arousal,
starts engine's cylinders to begin
live~composing, stoking and stroking,
to awake, create, reassemble and uncover
the poetic notions trans~versing my head
one-day, someday they will depart,
for cleaner, greener Champs-Élysées,
where reborn poets speak all languages
with equal fluency, eagerly awaiting
my spouting in Hindi (already ✅), in
Hebrew and any/all dialecticals this
god earth
ever mothered
And there you have it, my FPOTD, dear m.,
SUNday 10/5 & writ in the city where I am alive
in the Den of Writing, where the muses
like to hang out with their old companion,
until such time they will come to inhabit
a younger, well rested, equally restless,
a not-my-mine mind
<nml>
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
i imagined i
kissed the universe yes i
think it kissed me back
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 9:33 PM UTC
Idle word redemption day. {optional title}
Clocking time.
Timing coincidence,
confident tempus fugit…
ever learning, never certain,
each lessoning examined
conscience temptation, fug-edaboudit,
esse,
This is the day,
laid out
in front
of time's arrow
to be shot thro-
ugh-**ing A, okeh, shot…out
ra' rough, footballer mind
an instance
in prayer… patiently ghine
-----------
He, if he were you,
ignoring nothing, finding quiet
time, alone,
in an empty house;
he would think, being as you
were he, I think,
rare, quiet, not noiseless, listen
the humms, the wind rattling
leaves in Live Oaks,
needles in Pines,
birds whose peeps are
playing
with my ears,
tuning mine
to his who hears
quiet time slipping by,
acknowledging most
deafening noise
is all
in the mind.
--------------
Wally Amos, are you still famous?
Me, too. Locally.
Famous for fine grandchildren,
Parent-Teacher Conference
confirmed, year after year,
fine
grandchildren given access
to books, and self education,
And wicked fast internet/
tutorials for anything
solvers of Rubic's cubes,
setters of gathering magic what's
and ifs, and but then, so that's
better, he thinks, this tinker
touching each across time,
think yourself useful to us all. Amen.
----------------------
Laughing, thinking of shouting,
at the floor, I am
so intense
because
I am alive
in my own future,
the world's a mess, unless,
I laugh,
and take the good.
It is a sunny November day,
after the promised latter rain,
laughter functions, leaving lines
where old faces wrinkle happily,
fitting character traits common
to old scout squinty perspicacity.
-------------------
Bored, in ever after, eh?
¿Made no plans
to pursue, when you had time?
Well, as a filler word,
or is it
a feeler a
wordwiggle rough
through a ra'thought,
be may, may be, maybe so,
declaratively so said, indeed, thinking
beauty be,
what if now,
is the same time,
any instance taken
seriously curious wise,
from the initial point perceived, taken, held
to hold this thought, or hold that thought
as self evidently true,
having being
in minds
let be found like live words,
in spirit form, as breaths, taken
held, to rethink against knowing again
what was meant,
so long ago,
when all words got scrambled,
some lost all sense,
such be idle, now,
set to activate
on recognition, off, set
which is no longer the case, you know
common conscious
ness is the use, men-tal chabad
of knowledge actioning knowns
under the God
pledged and sworn
to try to tell the truth,
the whole truth y nada mas,
aliegiantly, in the spirit of Liberty…
inspired emperically in poetry
IF, Gunga Din
allah
Tha… just so, says
fear was the problem,
not knowledge
of wonder and adversity,
so opposed
for honor,
as translated good vs evil,
to death, staining beguilement,
from aha, got it, reason
to woe, original curse, sin
during developmental stages
interesting times first tier burns
of what our story says we mustabin,
in the dark ages, previous to the internet.
[[== jest, so ==]]-
eftsoons
obsolete or archaic way
of saying "soon afterward,"
ongean magical once more,
with feeling.
Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 5:10 PM UTC
Doorkeeper,
where can I find an attention spanner?
Wrenching the nose, brings forth blood,
so it don't freeze, yawn and rub eustacy
from your wide open heavily hooded eyes
Eutopian Earthian Mind Schemes,
not dreams, moral equivalency resets/upgrade
Free any ostiarius,
and find doors open
in the realm of curiosity,
the bane of short attention,
at tenere, eh, stretch
the fabric of reality just so far, the bubble
we be sayin' wagwan like a password, pops
and what is going on, lets any enter, imagining
this exclusive, exceptionalist aweformed bubble…
when a reader re ads attention tension,
pop, the idea that was the weasle,
offers a way to say this and get free. An ostiarius,
freed from slavery when we read the idle teacher
of decolonizing clogged cognitive colons…
and the sweet persuaders remind us whose time\
Yours, we took this much attention,
but you can still use it, we sorta cloned you.
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 9:01 PM UTC
mind is imagery
and we are able to choose
what is imagined
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 3:39 PM UTC
Gnoshit, reco-gnosis,
makes one imagine I am, no, know I am
one, in the largest ever population of nobodies.
I am as anonymous as privacy needs to be, open source,
casting pearls to pearl eating entities, noticing
taking notice, marking time for recollection,
whiling away on missed perceptions correction duty.
We, the public entity,
did we ever have a republic
without slaves, as a we, did we become
the people who constituted the distribution of power,
to the people,
under authorized sanctified known terms?
On the border between all languages,
the gift of translation, we have
t'reason,
to trusted reasons why we keep war alive,
in season,
the bulls all wanna breed,
the biggest boasters become kings,
let Lyndon tell it, ladies. History records
the incident as sometime after 20 Aug 1968.
While we replay the audio from the show at Khai Vinh,
put the mark anywhere? think wonder the verb, if
ever once it all seemed much like now
the experience, live
at the **********
across the highway.
Not many had the exact same experience,
but the music is all still played in that order,
chance opening a vein unexplored limnal spaces.
Playlists with metadata dendrite meandering mods.
Did you say you once wrote a book a day, by golly,
did you think that you wrote with extreme
prejudice, or did you slide each phrase,
along the edge, to the hilt, each phaze,
phinally spinning luck elucifity, apologize
for lies I left believed, as certainly as turbulence
mastery leaves lads and lassie's breathless,
globally on TV, the most imagined sin,
connecting, carnal knowing with dis connected
what kind of master would forbid knowledge,
start there o man of god, make me believe you know,
while you know I got you at the grand jesuture,
for all to hear, as all believed the lie about us,
let all believe the truth,
Job was right, no immortal knows a mortal's ignorance
of patience's perfecting function, waiting seems sufferage.
Endure until the end, pretend you are attending a judgement.
And notice, the remembering use by the accused to account
for idle words, with penitent acknowledgment, I was beguiled.
That's it, we know, the side the enlightener entertains
contains all the luminaries of our culture's global echo intent
chabad chata hamartia, principle idea, wisdom's dominion,
at the point of first precept, no noise, a twist, to on.
Our signal through tomorrow, prepaid.
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 9:15 PM UTC
It was bad as I always imagined
Honey no longer tastes sweet
All who partake intoxicated
Words melted in the midday heat
Illusions beyond comprehension
Evoking apparitions from a fleeting flashback
Fragments claimed in the light of day
Painted my world in shades of black
I could only watch colors fade
Charismatic allure had me paralyzed
Energy spent transformed into tears
Crossed paths unrecognized
Time has not dwindled intensity
Feeling depth exceeding all measure
Defined by despondent devotion
You no longer bring body pleasure
I dream a life free from anchors
The shadows darkening the air
In moonlight images my skin unblemished
Make-believe scars were never there
Jun 28, 2024
Jun 28, 2024 at 9:24 PM UTC
If we can never sail the ocean
We’ll still dream of the sea;
all have their own notion,
Of what it means to be free.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 5:34 AM UTC
Always before him,
ever in his thoughts,
always in pretense
he imagines
you are calling
like a mermaid
from the deep,
and he the sailor
in a craft
being drawn
by your song,
to the watery grave
below and beyond.
He always hopeful,
ever dreaming,
you wake up at night
swim in your dreams,
to enter his craft and bed
and make love,
but upon awakening
to morning's song,
he finds
it's all in
his saddened head.
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC
I’m painting you a million colors.
But none of them will stick.
They drip and drop,
From the canvas to the floor.
Without a face, without a name,
Who are you?
You’re mine.
But I’ll sit here colorblind,
And wait for you to come.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
Oceans swell as lifestyle sells
The bare and barren truth lurks
An imagined Photoshop collage
Draws weary as deliveries stop
Where are you my dear old friend?
The one I knew so well as a child
Take me home…
to the birds that sing,
to the trees that whisper
and the flowers that bloom.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
My role as a poetic scribe is…
more than I imagined, or had
hoped to do; He qualified me,
as one of His spiritual nomads,
who digs within the Scriptures,
in search of those prized gems-
eternal lessons of Godly wisdom.
I’m not desiring some stratagem,
to con people in turning to Him,
but to share my heart’s delight
of a solid Faith in Christ; He
strengthens me and by His Light
guides me forward in Truth; by
this gift, I can softly voice
my limited understanding of His
Love for me; I opt to rejoice,
having accepted His sufficiency
for my Life; I’m an extension
of Today’s New Testament Church,
rising up with poetic ascension…
while embracing my true identity
in Him; by His Grace and Spirit,
I’ll write new songs, stories,
poems and hymns that will lift…
all eyes unto the eternal Godhead.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
let go of the blue
constantly hidden and true
there are too many hills
left to climb
leave all the windmills
behind
let go of the guilt
that your heart is too big
I know it sees too
I'm just a guest visiting
borrowing
your smile just like glue
(mending wings
and severed strings
petal and root)
let go of wet salt
it cannot be your fault
that you shelter our hopes
we come mere vessels
weak and effervescent;
we leave complete with a soul
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
I'm not going to deny that I've loved.
I've loved everyone I've met & they loved me more or less in return.
Every love was different, but none were like hers.
I wasn't always easy to love. I fought addictions, pulled all nighters working, & she still loved me unconditionally. She shook hands with my demons, and still wanted to stay.
If you have someone that loves you in the midst of your personal hell, cherish them.
Anyone could love you, but not everyone loves all of you.
- irasol.losari
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
**This path of mine the avenue
literally miles from nowhere
nothing but "trees lakes and pine,"
the sweet sent of your smooth hair,
my heart beating fast, you holding
my hands and letting me dream, "aware."
Your raspy voice your glittery eyes,
I'd fear for nothing, to worry or care,
"you'll be good to me" I'm "now your
bunny" let me be free before I'm lost
for all eternity. It's just this life is
So **** short, I'd never imagined
a hell that could be worse than
never getting to be your sort.**
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 4:43 AM UTC
I hope these words have found you well
Better at least
Than when there was a dream of we
I'd hate to find
That your state is that of mine
Haunted endlessly
By an imagined existence of you and I
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
God is really so much more than we have ever imagined
yet it’s within His imagination we’ve all been fashioned.
______________________________
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
Have you got it~
gathered together:
your thoughts
piercing
perplexed
lonely night wanderings~
marriage, friendship, stylish rings
sharing many flowers seen in all
throughout your life~
lusts, trusts,
broken, misplaced,
belongings frail
and fragile
emotions,
tears captured
in chalices
lean,
laughters
as stargeezery
enthusiasts glee-m~
in memory gathered all of
your lovers
$$$$$$$$$$
would be the
smallest
island on earth
big enough to put them on
to play them all bitter arbiter lonely times
and prepare for the unforgettable party!
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Whether we go up to heaven, after we die, or plunge down into hell
we're only meant to stay for a limited time, so do some mystics tell.
Heaven and hell must surely be the two most familiar otherworldly places about
but whether they're real or imagined it's only by experience that we will find out.
____________________________________________________
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
I wake up alone
It's a cold shock
Hands clutching the sheets where a few minutes ago I imagined that familiar warmth
His hands scarred from fights and glass
Wrists bruised from cuffs
"Sorry I didn't get back to you, I was arrested then hospitalized"
Gone
My hands ache
My chest aches
"You deserve sweet things"
He was wrong
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
*"My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Among the infinite doings of the world,
Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,
It was my folly; if industriously
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Where of the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
By its own visage: if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine."*
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
*Your hair is like white snow, filling my field of view
With this beautiful sky of clouds over our heads,
Up and on into forever they shall climb,
Bringing our imagined dreams to life we can't forget.
You sit upon the grass, your the only thing standing
Between loneliness, I feel a stab in my throat,
Like I cannot bring to words how I feel (the "M" word)
Before you find out what I really want to know.
You see, I made this song, it's about our kingdom
About you and me, my heart dances, I want to know,
Is there any place for this song bird who's sung,
If it is caged then where do all the notes go?*
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
I run,
Aimless,
After a glimpsed illusion.
I hide,
Hopeless,
From an imagined devil.
I love,
Heartless,
But never really realising.
I hate,
Relentless,
And never ending despair.
But
All
An
Invented
Destiny
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC