#succinct
a product of his instinct,
why use
ten when
two will do,
and the ratio is increasingly
progressive!
**"lovely intimacy between poet and muse here,
like an old friendship-made of fatigue and faith"^**
the only reason why my hair,
yet intact,
despite old age's creep
in every other elsewhere,
although
Gibson's, his sixteen,
a superior concision
of my endless, repetitive iterations,
his literatation
nonetheless
is an insufficient
to cures what ills me…
to calm my heart, soothe my dreams ,
would render 99 of mine 100 muses,
and all your voices
ungainly unemployable
worsen yet,
the disheartening palpitations
that shake n' bake my very core,
them those demons too,
the contrapuntal hidden forces
that rue my brain,
well hell!
poet complains!exclaims!
for when the muses sleep,
these devils roam, they creep,
never permitting an easy sleep,
and instead of poems,
they give me forth in
groans and moans,
the unintelligible reverse of
my ever~faithful muses's intimacy,
the un~cooing of our pleasure,
for
when rhymes dewdrop^^
from the insertions from heaven's eyes,
and then when,
you and I
together embrace,
the harmony of spirit
that a poem
makes writer and reader
sharers,
the calm shaking
of hearts well tickled,
laughingly ratified,
and even momentarily
satiated and satisfied
is our
now combinatorial
esprit de corps^^^
~'~'''~~
just a wee ditzy ditty that
fell onto a screen
when reviewing
my silly but
true and utter faithful muses's^^^^
utterances,
in being be tweening
the quickest ten minutes
of my ridiculous life
<nml>
10/6 no tricks 2025
3:10am ~3:20am
~~~
and
now let the real,
hard-work of handiwork ahead,
of writing
something akin
to a psalm, a prayer,
a train of quatrains,
a hiya to haikus,
a ballad to bellow,
you know,
that serious stuffing
that leaves us both
😢aweeping😪
with the unadulterated
purest of joy
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 3:50 AM UTC
measure me by quantity,
mine you, deep my shaft of data,
I got plenty,
lots of ill-advising words,
to a thousand poems...
keep 'em short, boy,
satisfy the appetite
of the new age for
short and sweet,
make the metaphors
obvious
make sure
the span of spam
tween moving the heart
and the ticking clock
is
brevity
that is the soullessness
of popular attention
you maybe, nah,
you are an old fool,
getting into movies
practically for free,
an ancient mariner,
(a what?)
but nobody wants to
read the longings that are
still and wild flowing
into and from,
erupting
of every pore,
every one a door
to to a different destination
"Your poems are too **** long"
So I will write what you want to hear...
**** it....
too long? Ok!
Suk it...
but using grownup words,
try,
Succinct me!
3/28/2015
Nov 21, 2021
Nov 21, 2021 at 4:17 PM UTC
Succinct.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 5:18 AM UTC
They say that love is blind.
Evidently it also has no sense of smell.
And come to think of it,
Love has poor taste as well.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
It is not like a tree
In bulk doth make man better be,
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year
To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere,
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night—
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see
And in short measures life may perfect be.
የሰው ትክክለኛ መስፈርት
እንደዛፍ መግዘፍ
ሠውን አያደርገውም ከፍ፣
ጭራሽ እንደዋርካ
ለሦስት መቶ ዓመታት
በስፋት ተንሰራፍቶ፣
በመጨረሻ መውደቅ
ደርቆ ፣ተራቁቶና አርጅቶ!
በጥቅምት ወራት፣
ባላንድ ቀንዋ ሊሊ
በጣም ብልጫ አላት፣
አመሻሹላይ ብትደርቅም
የብርሃን አበባና ተክል ናት
በምጥንም መስፈርት
ይስተዋላል ውበት!
ክትት ማለት ሲሆን መስፈርት
ግሩም ሳይሆን ይቀራል ህይወት!
(በቤን ጆንሶን) //
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
To need to write books is great;
to need but one line is greater!
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Look,
the point is
there is no point,
so get over 'finding' one,
and start ******* making one.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC