"absoluteness" poems
Please weave your
nerves along
My bones,
my marrow is
your supper.
Please wrap your
never ending
absoluteness around
My eternity,
my endlessness is
your reward.
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 5:59 PM UTC
She sits in stoop, low over the sodden earth
Pressing herself to leave an impression in the muck
some sort of public confession,
That she actually exists.
Swallowing whole all things dead and dying, but
Her own unsubstantiated concept of
Living, defying her purpose
In insipid contradictions
To her needless desperation to grow.
To prove her own mass substantial
Absorbing into herself all things that seem too real,
That threaten her absoluteness
That threaten to have existed before her
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:18 AM UTC
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface
of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds
the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me.
Scrubbed you off my skin again for
the umpteenth night in a row. Row
row row our boat away from the constant,
constant rows. Stormy arguments and
weathered mistrust. You'll break me,
won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you
come drown with me Ariel? Won't you
come up with me to the kitchen and lock up
the door then lock up the oven then lock up
ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry?
But then how does cooking gas end up as sass
in a library? How did sustenance turn into
asphyxiation? Why are our hands on
each other's throats instead of being binded
by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness
of palms within palms and fingers interlocked
and question marks dispelled.
Splash! as way in and over my head
is the bathtub music
and my absorbent curls are
drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking
about the why you only call me when
you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking
about the way I cannot suppress you when
the cellphone has long gone quiet and
your Hughes of blue are still loud but
your red is dead.
Ariel, Ariel,
I want to be your dark-haired prince.
Ariel, Ariel,
my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink.
Ariel, Ariel,
gurgling away as the bathtub music fades
into ugly brown rings around the ceramic
pause button
that shows no hope of continuation
Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash!
as the false sea drifts away, the final splash!
that scatters bathtub music past the drain
and into the air. Ariel, Ariel,
you are the false rain
that my landlocked country never prayed for.
Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten
Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot.
You will not sing for me. You will not.
The final splash! past the drain and into the air
is you Ariel. The false rain.
The rain song of our endless games.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Musk. Wind
whispers mysteries in the form of it;
it thickens thin air until it turns black,
black enough to
hush. Wind,
being black, absorbs your thoughts,
makes violent curls of them; thickens,
thickens thin air until it
transmogrifies
into pages and pages
stained black with disaster-
as if a hurricane crumpled
those could-have been white aeroplanes, potential
papered to fly, and flung them
into the pit of your mind to
sink
deeper
and
deeper
and
deeper
until
your poems were written and the casualties numbered:
each line a suicide of a thought that could have been,
each syllable ink-stained and bloodied black
by artistic integrity, or madness: the same.
This wind is your hair.
This wind is your territory.
Not mine. Never could I have met you here,
in this place
of your solitary being: where real poets exist.
I am not a hurricane: and I am not your disaster.
I have learnt and re-learnt how useless it is to define you
in terms of myself; how useless it is to define you
at all. A rationalist like me can never truly understand
what it is to be part of your endlessness, the sheer
mountainous immensity that constitutes your thrill.
Yes,
your hair fascinates me as much as any ancient,
spiralling, far-away Andromeda- but the fact
that even now, I've already tried to limit you
with words
shows the absoluteness, the solidity,
the density
of my misunderstanding of your... your...
And
real poets know that rationalists are fools.
You know
I am a fool.
I write these meagre verses
with unreachably cold computer technologies
thinking
that these words could somehow save us. Yet,
simultaneously,
I am some drunken nuisance knocking
vehemently
at your door, who turns and strolls
away
right before you finally
answer.
I am a fool
going home and seeing clouds
in the darkness. It is my first
time seeing them in the sky. First
time in nearly a month.
The moon illuminates the clouds,
and so do
the towers of highway lights in the middle of two roads.
One road leads forward, the other backwards.
As the car passes the towers,
the two lamps attached to each of their heads glow.
They streak on as the car speeds on homewards.
They leave fading tails like shooting stars, except they do not travel.
They are stagnant mind lights, peripheral memories; unmythical,
artificial.
They are not like you.
When I pass you,
You....
You...
You.
Please,
never believe-
for even a whisper of musk
to yourself;
for even a black hush,
to yourself;
for even one sliver, one strand
of Andromeda hair, falling
towards yourself-
that
Grahamstown
didn't mean anything less than Eternity to me.
It does.
I am not a hurricane. I am not your disaster.
You are far too much of yourself
for me to be even a zephyr
to you.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
you’ll never feel the bite of pain
that tears the skin from bone
nor the aching loneliness that
scares the heart from home
the absoluteness that leaves a hole
where nothing is able to hide
while driven by the loathing
birthing a life to the love inside
no matter what the circumstance
you can’t negate the absolute horror
of wanting what is begged for
there is no returning the honor
I’ll whip my self unmercifully
until the end of a perfect day
even while you subjugate me
my scars upon myself just say
how much you intended to deny me
all twisted parts upon me are a whole
crisscrossed upon my body are the marks
that give you access to my soul
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 7:05 AM UTC
the presence
of futility
an enduring antipathy
or dimensions
of the unresolved
emotions
of past lines
of the traveled
senses are damaged
from short lived
over applied
civilized
series was foreseen
long after
the desolate
unveiled
a raw reconvene
noumenon narrow
absoluteness
destined at zero
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
You know they say Accounts is boring
Full of rules and such.
But I see in it a beauty,
One that I miss so much.
Accounting is an art,
Not to be framed or praised.
You will never find it hung in galleries,
And most will not be amazed.
It has in its insipid placidity
A calmness, stillness of being
It prizes precision, stoic obedience
And an unquestioning routine.
In its so called predictability
Many are led to be jaded
To do something the same way over and over
They find that the novelty has faded.
But to me it is a land
Where man rules with his mind and his hand
Where everything has a place to be
And a counter- part to keep it company.
I miss so much the process
Of allocating what needs to be.
I ache sometimes for that closure
The drawing of double lines, you see.
Because amidst the raging chaos
Of our bubbling minds
Accounts demands discipline
And control of some kind.
I don’t find this stifling
I find in it a peace
A closure most of life doesn’t offer
And with its balance sheets, a release.
It’s nice to make sense for a change
Of our haphazard world
Where everything belongs somewhere
And nothing is left unheard.
Accounts, you are well adjusted
Perhaps too much to a fault
People are tired of your perfection
The balance you bring, the halt.
But I in my maze of a mind
Love to do a few sums
That start of like puzzles
But end up being fun
Mostly because there are answers
That are arguably right
This absoluteness maybe a construct
But I’m willing to suspend my insight
And go along with something
For once that keeps me on track
Accounts you are meditation
You demand concentration that most people lack.
Poetry is applauded
Poetry is acclaimed
But in the real world, it is you who are useful
Although you don’t have any fame.
You are also a quiet achiever
That doesn’t boast of your strengths
Rarely a loud inspiration
That does not go to great extents.
You are not melodramatic
Nor do you lure peoples with guise
What you see is what you get.
No gimmicks and no lies.
You teach me of a denied truth
That reality is boring.
Your philosophy is order and balance
Your karmic world sends me soaring.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
The first love;
so deep the ocean filled with envy.
Its vastness and mystery had me venture off so fathomless,
there was no point of return.
A love so vast,
the tides couldn't pull me back to the shores of normality.
Yet, the deeper I swam in the sea of utopia,
the stronger the storm rode in,
tossing me back to a solitary world of black and white.
The rough landing - leaving scrapes on my wrists and gashes in my chest.
Back to black and white -
the simple reality that love compels you so far deep into bliss,
you'll never see the storm’s rage from afar.
That first love is casted deep into oblivion,
and sinks quickly to the bottomless abyss,
only to reel me back into the absoluteness that
you were never ready to sink with me.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
walkin down broken glass streets
armed and ready
for anyone
to mess with you
--------
we all are
arent we?
------
the world is broken and we
arm ourselves to ****
-------
all the tender stories
all the terrorist tales
woven
into vampire imagery
or tea bag maladies
of dementia and senility
------
pornographic *******
to be bought and sold
for love or money
------
the children crawl thru the gutter
become madness
they ***** in alleys
------
we ***** ourselves constantly
for security
-------
the simple absoluteness
of beauty
is always here
and beckons and calls for us
TOO SEE
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 10:56 AM UTC
Just turn on the TV
It can be depicted on almost every channel
Open a book
Flip through the pages it is not hard to find
Turn on the radio
Everyone has sang about it at one time or another
Love can be found everywhere
I don't mean where you can find that special someone
I'm talking about where you can go and hear stories of fictitious love
Things that Hollywood can only make happen
We all wish for it to happen that way
But it never dose
It gives us a deceitful hope of how things really are
They make it look so easy and fun
When in absoluteness it is not always fun
They make it look elementary
They leave out the heartache, the pain and struggle
They leave out the tangibility
How things really play out
Why can’t they depict real wholesome love?
And show us what we are really looking forward to
Show little girls the truth behind their favourite story
In real life the road to bona fide love is a long and hard journey
And nothing like the movies
But sometimes that is good
Not all couples Hollywood has created can make it
And that shows us that Hollywood should not meddle with love
Because no one should meddle with love
Love is unpredictable, stressful, a roller coaster, but if done correct amazing
I'm young and have yet to experience love
But I have experienced more heartache than one deserves
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
I never sought the simple.
Instead I chased the wild, winding uncertain path of youth.
Never wanting to reach the point where my well beaten, beatnik path
merged with the absoluteness of adulthood.
I mean where's the poetry in that?
There is something of strife that gives birth to beauty.
And so I lingered in the languish that is fumbling forward
with only the hope that nothing much will happen.
But the clock has conceded that the past has passed,
that the now never lasts and that the future has been forming
with a sort of quiet quickness that has slowly snuck up on me.
Without my conscious consent life has been lived,
and as I failed to flee it a new phase has found me.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
You leave a hint of glory in your absence.
You really don't know, do you?
You shine with a aura bright like the sun
Leaving in your wake the darkness of night
Like the longing the night does to become day, I need you to soothe my longing for your warm breath on my neck
Like the certainty that is involved with the changing of the winter winds, I need the absoluteness of your fingers intertwined in mine
You are a star, glowing bright and vibrant
I am the cold winter night, the darkness is what nightmares are made of.
Please let me bear your absence for I am willing to endure the night to watch it turn to day.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
For an eternity i've been hand in hand with this breath taking creature.
Love? Deeply
Confort? Indefinitely
Lust? To long for
Passion? From the start
In conclusion? Ended with a shattered heart
Forsaken &&Irrecoverable;
As time passes, Exploration for affection to consume the emptyness within takes place.
I begin to catch sight of this new presence that was once casual to me.
Relishing in one's physique.
Aspiring for one's embrace.
Conceptualizing internally, craving absoluteness over indulging in surreptitious entanglement with one that will never fathom.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
Be careful with me...
I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.
I remember every word you say to me...
I absorb your words and that look in your eyes when you look at me.
One look at your face and I'm gone....
all drowned in the meaning of you,
of what you say with your eyes.
The way my heart pounds
and my world spins out of control when you are near.
I had thought that the anger and hurt of you..
would lessen that feeling of utter absoluteness.
I trust you instinctively, completely
I fear getting lost in you again.....
I fear losing you again despite that you are not mine to lose.....
I still carry your heart in my heart...
I still embrace it everyday...
If I never see you or hear from you again
I will still love you forever....
E.J.M
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Places of absoluteness:
heaven and hell--
no miscarriage of justice.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 5:37 AM UTC
Immortality Craves Destined Demolishment...
Absoluteness Summons Starved Storm...
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
Grievous,
is the sight of wilted rose.
Petals fall from grace
upon an army of life,
rank and file,
row after row.
No soul, no heart
can escape the cycle we see.
Paper doves fold into themselves,
or so it does seem.
Yet, before the loss settles,
before a life gone is laid bare
angels dive down from the heavens,
hitching rides on momentary whirlwinds;
a force conjured by hearts of days gone.
On single-saved breaths,
they whisper words of reassurance
with lips pressed to ear,
so that their message will resonate
through booming notes of song,
reflective of their gravity.
Alluding to a plane beyond the cycle,
an existence not to be seen,
but to be felt
and known in absoluteness.
And as breath slows,
and the body returns to stillness,
the soul stirs.
For tomorrow and the day next,
I forecast hordes of grey clouds
intent on conquest of light.
But they can only hope
to cover heaven’s beams for a time.
For those who’ve known love,
light is everlasting
in both heart and mind.
As echoes of those past scatter,
and in luminescence,
take body and sprawl confidently
across the sky.
Driven by undying connection,
the souls of the departed lock arms;
to hug
and to shield.
Nov 3, 2022
Nov 3, 2022 at 10:51 PM UTC
from the top
of your head to the tips of your hairy toes,
you exude an unquestionable
brilliance
the theories
streaming forth from your noggin
leave a trail of droplets wherever you wander, and i,
skedaddling behind
you,
wait for the remnants
to fade into me
i yearn for your beautiful mind to be infused into my own,
to see what you see
to ponder your thoughts,
vanishing away from what had been
and pursue the absoluteness
of a sitting duck
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
I need to be saved
And wake up in someone else's arms
Feeling the absoluteness of security and love
Whether be covered in tattoos or scars
I'll accept you wholeheartedly
You're every embrace and flaw
Every feature I fall in love with
And everything else in between
I promise you this
But in return would you accept
Someone in need of saving?
Someone as ****** up as me?
Someone covered in detailed flaws
And darkened scars
From thighs to wrists?
n.j.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
under my eyes you see the infinite allure of time,
millions, billions of years,
so much you can’t even comprehend,
I told you time is a continuous illusion,
a figment of smouldering history,
time has no trace when envisioned in its fullness,
capacity of great proportions and its limit,
it can no longer portray the absoluteness,
it is painted by the incomprehensible allure and charm,
touch it with senses and desires and it will reveal its secrets,
the fruit of sensuality and grace,
death of the Universe, rebirth after rebirth,
I catch the trace of time,
a kiss of thought in the divine,
me and the mind to rule a world beyond the infinite.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:29 PM UTC
There I was, there was I, sojourning... so journeying to seek absoluteness with absolute certainty like a true voyager; a sojourner of Truth, when immediately upon my arrival, I realized, Aye, there was I, and my, oh my! I made ingress to a cloud floating upon a whisper in the eye of Nature, in Nature's eye; and she said to me with interest, in all her splendour, in that whisper that kills me so, "I was there." but where was I? Was I there when there I was, wandering in Wonderment by the by? For where e'er I go, it seems, there am I.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
I was afraid I won’t succeed in life,
I was burdened with aloofness and I couldn’t see my pure self,
but I had hope within my essence,
I am unique the way I am,
sometimes afraid, sometimes so brave,
if I don’t love my own beauty nobody will,
I see through myself here and beyond,
and I see you too, you are afraid and think life’s hard,
listen to your mind and search for the truth inside yourself,
you have something nobody has,
the way you are is unique and perfect,
a world of love and great virtues to govern your mind,
from now on you live within the grace of the allure of time,
the life you have on Earth is the beginning,
beings of joy and happiness,
come to the shore of great allure,
your mind is a burning ocean of knowledge,
open your fear in the face of the infinite absoluteness,
you’re vanished from evil now and for forever.
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
I was doubt; you were joy.
I was dark; and you, serene.
I was night; you were day.
I was the impala; you were the big cat
Or so it appeared.
It seems our roles were always interchangeable
As I preyed on you
You were vulnerable and weak in my arms
As vulnerable as man could be.
I could see it in your eyes
Eyes which led into your endless depth within.
Cat eyes, predatory eyes
That weakened me
That melted me
Hypnotized me
Out of reason.
Reason must have dripped away liquidly through my ears
On both sides of the pillow
When I lay down under your predatory gaze of love
All there would be left was the utmost feeling of belonging
Husband of my soul.
So strong was this feeling
So real was this feeling
So warm and true and endless
So encompassing
Subjecting human nature
To its' absoluteness.
In truth, you are the night.
And I am the light.
Though there is no joy in being the light of reason
The murderer of hopes and dreams
The enemy of happiness
The warden of aching hearts.
There is no joy in reason.
But it is reason that reigns.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
Of course I'm scared of death.
What fool wouldn't be?
wanting to die,
does not negate fear.
Of course I'm scared of death.
The uncertain,
The unknown,
The absoluteness.
Of course I'm scared of death.
Even with a noose around my neck.
If it will be painless,
or excruciating dread.
Of course I'm scared of death,
so i back down tentatively.
Some may call that cowardly,
but to that I am okay.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:35 PM UTC
Through dark anvenues- long adventures
Past fire escapes- elluding dark figures
Beyond there lies- a strong willed exhibitor
As we consider- all of the inhibitors
Consuming false minister's
In a race to penetrate the heard
Through our experiences- in a world so perturbed
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 9:48 PM UTC