#variable
What's the probability of probably?
Is the square root of attraction,
You and is the variable me?
You're wicking me out,
All my facts start to feel like fiction,
And 2+2 is starting to look more like you.
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 6:12 PM UTC
3 years
I find a new place
3 years
I wear a new face
3 years
I carry my shame
3 years
I burden my brain
Am I the variable, or a constant in march
It's never too bright and it's never too dark
A rolling snowball or a forest in fire
Border planted flags do not inspire
Sep 16, 2022
Sep 16, 2022 at 8:51 PM UTC
Heart burdened, the river turns.
The bed is unmoving, curtain remains closed.
Autumn leaf dance, sun hidden, moon peek;
What is it that heaven seeks?
Tomorrow, I head to Chang’an,
Tonight, I take a sip of wine.
Sun rested, cold wind echoes;
My wine cup has shattered…
Tonight, I can’t take a sip of wine.
My mind drift far between rivers;
Dazzling among the night sky;
I find my heart unable to rest.
Sun has now dawn, my body is feeble;
Withered like ashen embers;
Today, I can’t head to Chang’an.
In the end, Man proposes and Heaven disposes.
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 5:36 PM UTC
The only person I seek to be accepted by,
is thy lover. Until then, I’ll do my best, to
accept myself. Conscious and waking in this
reality, we all contribute to, unconscious of
it or not. The poppy’s break from sealed
cases. Muse, what period of mankind
is this? It feels like almost a crime, to talk
about true love, where everything seems
to be based at aesthetic judgment, in
layman's terms, ‘face-value’. Will I quit?
They’re labelled me a major threat. Can
remind people what society has made
them forget.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
Full of life, vibrant and radiant, grew up and grew apart,
to both of our surprises, I took control and went out,
making something of myself, there’s bitter resentment
in your voice, to everytime you speak. Now we barely
keep in touch. Acting like I’ve got be living for the block.
Devil in your grin, Satan in you lies. How come you look
with hateful envy? How come, it’s my fault of what you
did with your life? Every time I go to embrace, you turn away.
Where were you when I needed love?
(There we both came from the same place, it’s the money
and the struggle got us changing places. People yield to
trends, sins committed, people attempt to repent, but they
recommit to sins, I guess it’s their essence and it's the way
it is, I knew my cousin was on dope, I lived in poverty.
Providing reasons to become a ****** as the poor nature,
Suffocates me while I’m clean and I broke free. Life goes
on. I’m alive again, writing in stride, it’s adrenaline based
motivation, I’m little awakened than most. I just wanted to live.)
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
(Knowledge Variable)
I can remember when the sun rose for
the first time in my life, it overloaded
my whole being with neolife, along
with neo-thoughts and sensations, I
burst into tears, disregarded my past
and it to the evening stars, like those
little rocks on the road I just walked on,
it has stayed in past, like it should,
dispersed with the supernovas. From
than, some people I saw, afflicted like
me, lived more fuller as the rest, are
seen as the walking dead, as they should
be perceived. The thought of the world,
where everyone’s muse lives, continues
to weigh me down, the act of pursuing
Residency there lightens as every step
Taken. Any act of art that I undertake,
is mere step towards it, like in every
moment I continue to develop my
true and original self, leads me towards
the deepening of my own awakening.
Now by experiencing the present, it
becomes more of a parent to my future.
Pounding heart, breathless scenes of
enchantment, I can only change those
who pay attentions and walk in, with
or without fear. I can only open up,
like the sun, to whose make effort to
do the same with me. Darker the life,
the brighter it shines, deeper the bitterness,
the closer they becoming a god.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
Poetry, I’ll give you my unfulfilled dreams
and yearnings, any part of my past, that
brews resentment. I’ll keep the rest and
I’ll smile.
(Knowledge Variable)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:34 AM UTC
If you never experience real love, you’ve never lived,
never been heartbroken, never attempted to find love.
Poetry created from both lovers and the heartbroken.
Destroying dice, never kills chance, destiny can,
cellos and tenors, emotions in sound, thoughts lay
dormant, till spoken philosophers moan, exiled spirits
spread with velvet and scarlet, a spotless spree of
rough dawns and silver-golden glowing romance nights.
Novelists and drink coffee with cinema, speaking with
French conversations. Returning, making love with
all the farewells. Life itself, a deep sleep for some
and crazy, like wildfire mystics for the rest, who do
more than desire to live life. Rather, I’ll sleep now,
awake for too long, in attempt to outdo my lover.
Piercing blue, heavy on awakening, pressing upon
me, poetic words for poetry and memories now,
for nostalgia in the future, present experience in crazy
contentment, untamed where that's the only way
to experience someone you love.
(Knowledge Variable)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:26 AM UTC
In reading past philosopher's, a concerto conversation
in historic fashion and expressed in poetry. A soul
trembling, mystic produced, words to murmur all through
a moon-lit, silver night and see the sun rise again.
Descent from the mundane, where void is birthed,
watch life expressed in mystical beauty.
(Knowledge Variable)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:25 AM UTC
Lover, while intertwined, breathing mingling,
body to body, stomach touching, naked. We’re
a vaster blaze to the night sky, than any
constellation the cosmos performs for humanity.
Secrets shared in poetry and they forget about
the sun rising everyday. To every moment
we share, the Muses to this world forgets a little
more to complete it. As we awaken a littler
larger, growing towards holy enlightenment
as our love is grand and true. (No-longer afraid
to die - lover, I belong to you. I’ll wait for you,
at that other place, just smile for me now. We’re
exploding into a million stars and poems, just
by breathing as we kiss. Arch of eternity,
humanity remembers us, in mythological fame,
no offence to any lovers, but this world belong
to us. Untouchable.)
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:12 PM UTC
A poet becomes, when a poet finds the world
outside, unsatisfactory. Not to inspire that world,
be drawing attention to themselves, to be inspired
or proven wrong. Not admitting it’s true love that
they all want. Children to life. Slaves to reality.
Caged in desirous love. Limited in art creation.
Do not render to poets for anything. Live life.
There is only one of those. (When my face got
cut up, I got told that God don’t like ugly. So
every night, I go to sleep with a pistol in my hand.
And one open, just like the Masons. Don't feed into
the world.)
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC
To my muse, that pulled me out of
a still place, where I was a offspring
of my past, placing me here, as a
parent to my future. Where this
present, converts itself into loving
memories, content at the same time,
anticipate the future, working towards
overloading love to live the experience
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
There are poets, who sink into
themselves, deep into the infinite,
where their soul once melted over
and emptied. A poet to be kissed,
hugged and gestured to. Blossomed,
intertwined, like tangled vines.
In person, they have nothing to say
but spark so much, in their loud poetry.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
Her torch reflecting and piercing eyes, wise
and watching-over forever. From my
vanishing smoky glare, pine, eyes. Do I
dare to go closer? Her beauty scares me,
Aura, dipped, angel-like and majestic.
My soul pushes for a spontaneous
outburst of a romantic daring. Her wisdom,
something admire, even outside poetry.
Thoughts scattered and departed from me,
and it’s too late, she’s burnt in my memory.
I contemplate the future, will it bring me to
tears, to write with my tragic hands poetry
of regret? I spoke up. She moved closer
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
A self induced hardship - desiring without action,
dreaming ruthless castle-like magnificence. Aiming
towards Heaven.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
Serpent in poet’s garden, her in my mind,
demons and angels, wrestle, all wanted
is rebirth in poetry. Still sinful as I write
in graceful poetry. When I romance, I
do it right. Though when I sin in lust,
to spills over onto the Earth’s soil.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 3:24 AM UTC
Duration of life, metaphors in actions,
linger thought for memory, paradox.
Profusely in search of defined meaning
to one’s own being, refined. Fireflies
and moths. Deepening dejection, truth.
To eat the apple or not, instead of to be.
Changing owls. Awaken in constant
thread in meditation and conscious.
Death is one final act. Take me to that
other place. I’ll only wait for my lover.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
A trained poet, knows that falling in
love in their life, devalues poetry itself,
no-longer motivated to read in their
own search for love. Sonnets for beauty,
lines to express emotions, nothing can
replace the touches and glances, from
a smiling lover.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
Walking body, talking head, living dead,
questioning everything, like the floor
that civilization stands on. Prospects,
weight and gold, wondering why there’s
no virgins aren’t being sacrificed, angels
and demons wrestle inside. Stand sparks,
rebel with a cause, running with scissors
inside my soul and going to a ghetto
near you. Poetry banging more than street
fame, lyrics leaving one spellbound in
new and profound wisdom. Working towards
my innermost secrets. Shivering. Will I
self-destruct or grow within self-awakening?
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC
At times - the mystics eat the stars
and burst like supernovas. Becoming
wisdom itself. At times - the poets find
love and forget about poetry. At times,
the philosopher falls into death, begins
to calm their running thoughts and rest.
At times, we have to let them. Life is
only worth living, when one does live.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Let me be absorbed in art,
nothing else but art, if I
cannot fall into love and
to be loved. Let me do
nothing but create art.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 2:43 AM UTC
Mystic knowledge, strangely exhilarated my very essence,
providing a sense of strength to depart from this life I know
and where I know those. Where at least myself, I know for
sure, I lived in resentment and disappointment. In silence
I leave, refusing to yield to what society wants
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
She enchanted me with a single kiss.
Never to untangle me, as such, leaving
me alone, in rendering soft moments,
self-producing romance. Yearnings given
when reading poetry and conscious of
hearing the world’s noises as love songs.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
No-one is truly ready for love.
Unexpected events, in meaning.
Whirling and overwhelming feelings,
to which I can feel, as for her, she
created and tame, by touching
my deepest parts of thy soul.
And surprised when she came to
my presence as she brought,
contentment into my life. Taking
the courage, into the abyss
and bliss. As for every star in
the sky. There’s someone
in love. As for every beauty
noticed. A woman had smiled.
Deeper the love, closer to illumination,
the depth of poetry, the harder
the heartbreaks. To put fear into
a man, let him love. To have meaning
in life, let her be loved.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC