#terms
I know the reality
Of how you make me feel
I sit with that truth
I look at its fine lines and wrinkles
It is a tired love
It has grown weary with age
Stricken with wants and lacking of
It should rest
But still I take its hands
I lead it down a path uncertain
With a certainty that this isn't what it needs
I look it in the eyes and know there's nothing left there
So why do I try to stoke a flame that has since gone out
I ignore the reality
But I know it dearly as a friend
I was leading you to the roses
But you were always free to go where you'd like
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 2:38 AM UTC
If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry,
is astrology a tragedy or a comedy?
Are there clusters of tumbling uppercase in outer space,
the remnants of conceit metaphors that broke up like meteors?
My scattered universe is full of orphaned verse.
Why do terse alien names all have hyphens?
Quatrains swirl in fiery hues across the ecliptic plane,
and sonnets streak by, like sparkling comets.
Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone.
Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil?
It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you.
Black holes are swallowing Haiku too.
.
.
Songs for this:
Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac
Theme for a **** Beach by The B-52's
.
.
I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know.
.
*No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name
Aug 9, 2024
Aug 9, 2024 at 9:13 AM UTC
A general term I feel
Though my mother would disagree
She would say
It's the perfect term to describe me
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 9:16 PM UTC
About the time you voiced to me
Above the river, by the tree
Across the bridge we saw the lights
Against the setting moon of night.
Behind my fears and fitful mood
Beside the others chatting rude
Between my silence and vacant talk
By evening on a summer walk.
Except for fumbled fervent words
For you I wish my feelings heard
From a challenged passive way
In wait my lonely times would lay
Into the words, what could I do
Of nouns and verbs and pronouns too
On days I scout without success
Over terms I should address
Through magic words a pact is made
To phrasing language dues are paid
Toward prepositions, there points a sign
Upon the start of every line
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 11:17 PM UTC
Loathe
Power verb
Direct, yes
Though,
Verbose is
How I wrote
Still I write in open circles
Even I don't know what I mean. Trust.
Looping back, is there not an artistry in that?
Together
Adjective for the ages
Cut to form,
Don't get me wrong,
It sounds fitting
With the way you lead your life.
Your confines.
Look at all my fitted pieces.
I bend the lines with word as waveform.
Looping back,
Fulfilling is
As useless
As it is
Useful
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 3:41 AM UTC
i should have read the contract
before dating you
before loving you
before you
if i had read your terms and conditions
-sex whenever i need it, your feelings aside
- put up with my delicate ego, but allow me to slowly shatter
every ounce of your self-worth
-you must not say or do anything more intelligent than I or
you have given grounds to publicly humiliate you
-do not touch my fragile masculinity
-i am permitted to treat you as inferior to myself
if i had read the fine print
then maybe i wouldn’t have signed four years of my life away
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
some have totally rejected
the protocols that were
carefully written down
choosing not to heed
their intent
taking the approach
of we'll follow
an unconstrained
bent
the conventions state
in a transparent glass
never of our purpose
should there be
any unpermitted
pass
adhering to terms and conditions
isn't an arduous task
they're so concise in respect
of what they ask
some enjoy free wheeling
though it will come at an expense
for not to remain within the parameters
means a quick despense
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
I think I found my solace.
Under the never-looping azure above,
I declare that I found my
[solitary]
sanctuary.
When the noises continue to vibrate,
the [pandemonium], the crowd
seems nothing if I hide under my comfort
s o l a c e t h .
This heavenly, a thing that stops everything from
[buzzing]
is no ordinary stim
( s o l a c e t h )
I am happy
(euphoria sensation, tingling inside my under parts.)
I breathe inside my solaceth paradise.
The solaceth, I put them in my veins, so of course
I swallow my solaceth, I put them inside my veins, so of course
sticking on my skull, lingering under the PLASTIC, ONLY CLAY skin of mine.
It will never be faeces, because the solaceth is my blood
now, even my saliva and ***** now taste like solaceth
do you want to taste them?
it will never be urines, because I drink my SOLACETH back.
solaceth, [ d i s e a s e ? w h a t ? ] is me. I am solaceth,
solaceth inside me now.
Yes, maybe as you say, it's a virus.
A virus for us to finally reach our utopian land!
Forever sniffing, forever living, our SOLACETH!
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Humor comes in a million different shades.
As mine reaches various greys and yellows,
I admit, more often an inkling than a joke,
I say, "I could die happy, right now."
This life assures me nothing good nor bad.
Blah.
Maybe the next? If any.
I won't take anything away from myself because that would mean,
I have an enemy.
And you don't run from your enemies,
You face them.
So it's safe to say,
I am here until I am not.
«c.h.b.»
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
These words you speak
These words you spin
Have infinite meaning
A definitive substance
Inject my mind
Flipping the norm
Unravel all the lies
They fed to us
Unlock my mind, unwind my eyes
Take me out of this boxes, boxes
Erecting all around me
Untwist my tongue, deject my terms
Pull me out of the sinking crane
Piloting all around me
Who gives the ****
Just give me a fact
All 7 billions souls unique
This linear life is meaningless
Fictions to act
One day I am frog the next a beauty
The mystery of the dark
All shrugged in blanks
They say its locked in your head
A crazy existence
Dehumanised to decay
The police can’t even help
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
You and I aren’t quite so different,
We really aren’t.
With every feeding came life,
And with every wrinkle,
Death,
Notarized our finite parchment,
Parallel and ultimately mortal.
We’ve shared –
An experience, any experience
And epiphanies congruent pain,
The numerous, the humorous.
We’ve remembered upon
Paths we’ve taken,
Together, apart, and in –
Eras defined by how we
Walked, talked,
Slouched,
Or slowed to a crawl,
Huddled and bled a back.
So come the heave,
The finality in flame,
Make a face for the name,
Let the dead man dream
And take that memory to the grave,
The One, that’s never forgotten
Whilst eternal and reciting –
“I love you,”
I loved every single
One
Of
You.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
Flatterer (n).
Bits of silver whispered
from a well-polished tongue;
a certain flexing of fondness
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
Embouchure (n).
A certain lemon-sucking
puckering of the lips pressed
against a moistened surface;
a sure fire way of producing
some string of singing sounds
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Cheap (adj).
How your mother thinks
you look in that outfit
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
Bananas (n).
The things with a curve,
a little thick and firm and squishy;
durable outer cover for protection
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
make peace with the pieces
read fingers like pages.
print your ideals on karma.
forget the sound of loss.
pray your presence into being.
carry your struggles on wind.
a hollow silence eerie.
the common constant
concerned only with thought.
mind mouthing reasons,
behind the affront
of being heard.
head heavy & compressed,
there is lead between my ears.
eyelids stapled to the floor.
amassed angst,
my gravity consumes me.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
I wonder if when Thomas Jefferson scrawled out the Declaration he could see the world that I have come to know.
I wonder if he would understand the nation that would blossom from under his inflammatory words.
Would he know that the world would never be so simple as black and white if only because a racial lawsuit might come from it?
Would he see the world burn up in a digital fire that no nostalgia would ever be able to quench?
Would he know the society that would simultaneously spew rantings of "You're special" and "You are never going to be right enough to live here"?
How about that war that taught the people that it's okay to hate those who fight so that you can love another day?
Or even the world that has severed so deeply within its own walls that you can only hold on to you hearts and hope that might not be severed too?
I wonder what this man could have been declaring so seriously that he would send men to war for it, just to have the papers he and his dear friends were writing on be the shield that politicians might use to prevent their fallout.
Freedom is not objective. And Subjectively speaking, this freedom we've been given comes with about ten thousand terms and conditions that none of us are going to read anyway because this is Amurica and we don't do that here.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC