"absorbtion" poems
Why do you invite me to destroy my shelf? the other
Was it jealousy of my lack of good sense? the self
Did my speeches ring false in your church bells? the group
Perhaps I had beauty in your eyes taken up by it ? the hungry
I proudly displayed by egotistical selflessness before you changed? the it
Old tricks on new friends ending friendships with absorbtion! no soul?
yes , a setup that was painted and written and signed in tears . unslept?
recording the sun and then recording the image on tv of its light.
repeatedly.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
There is the sound of music somewhere
softly playing in the woods
or is it just a wind blowing through.
I've heard this music before
returned once more
a major chord
taking myself too seriously
I can barely see the mirror.
I've got to get going
But I have no where to go.
Self absorbtion rolls in on the violins
Surrounds me in
a jacket and a blanket
sleep invites me in
drowsiness fills my mind
but I've been sleeping far too long
and it is no longer quiet inside
as the drums and cymbals
richochet within me
and anxiety hums its edgy tune.
I can't unwind my mind
hyperactive but not motivated
unable to move
while the guitar solo
reaches high and drops down low.
Is that the oboe and does it know
a crawling wriggling
alien ball of
Medusela hair
has taken up residence right there.
In a distinct diva voice
she's singing my song.
While opposites play a single chord
a single note
When with you I want to be alone
when alone I want to be with you.
The drum beats so slowly
there is a weight on my chest
a blindfold over my eyes
my heart's in a freezer
my legs are paralyzed
the music is playing
the crescendo is coming
and I'm dancing again
to those Depression Blues...
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Where were we when you quit the sound?
Caught in distance while you hung around
Encased inside of our own menial pursuit
Flaunting desperation as a constant survival
As you battled death in your combat boots
There is no glory with fate as your rival
What were you seeing in your distorted mind?
As you ate your last words and ecstaticly dined
At the chemical festival of illusions' absorbtion
How far did your gaze stroll onto the other side?
did you meet with an end or the start of damnation?
In which lonely drawer do your dreams now reside?
Where have the remnants of life made their grave?
Are they in the lingering regret that you've paved?
Through each flash of your face and casket sight
The delusional rebirth of your presence revealing;
Fragments of ended realities giving spark to night
Burning sigils into visions of a broken feeling
Flame lit sketches etched across a charred eulogy
Only a name remains lying in the wake of a memory
Pieces scattered amongst an unfitting resting place
Conflicting beauties molding a divine contrast
A devil laid to rest in the midst of holy space
One shade of diversity on a bland earthly cast
Echoes of descension from this dimming black sky
Adorning each reflection with your hollow eyes
Complexions left searching for an answer to hold
As to how lifes' vigor can so swiftly fall to decay
And,The aging of dignity resembling every tale told
Seems to shine a reality check on this tragic play
A nulling backdrop for this cemetary playground
Where the kings and queens become tediously crowned
With a sickly ailment that reaks of dalipidation
The stench of the end atop an eternal retrospect
Glaring back with the most sincere of validations
That the fallen live on as our recollections resurect
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
I haven't yet realised the ease
With which the poet allows intimacies
To slip away into the welcoming
Embrace of the reader.
I am no wild Byron, sowing my seed
On all grounds, stony and fertile alike
(Though perhaps that is just as well
For posterity).
I have no cause, no plan, no scheme,
Nothing to fight for or even espouse:
A true postmodern product of a time
Lacking imagination.
A constant running commentary
On myself - a work which does the jobs
Of critics and academics alike -
They must surely be grateful.
So I sit and write myself a letter:
"Solipsism and self-absorbtion
Are a circular labyrinth
With no exit.
"Look outside.
- Sincerely, C. Treacy."
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
Vindictive viral inception,
Sneaking in my thoughts pretending
ta be the Ego inside o’ me
No!Free! Digo me,
Quickly
WHEN,WHERE,HOW, WHY? come the questions
“No answers” quoth the clouds as they transfigure by.
I am done defending why
I don’t think I need to take my slice of the pie.
Take a look; exclaim ow, oh my
I got a piece of SKELL truth in my eye
Sincerely instead of me, so trickster
this shadow amphetamine
But my light is gone
A denser Vibration I adorn
One of Absorbtion,
no reflection ever
since this inception
…of attachment
…of suffering
…of another love
So in love it tears me apart
So in love it wears my heart
so instead of being asleep
I’m desecrating thoughts, tainting delete.
Making others worry and weep
as I sweep my gaze
From external to internal
infernal extension
referral to station
impatient inflation
we stand together in the dirt o’ the nation
so in love I seem to flirt
So in love I always hurt
I read the text on the screen….and **** NO!
It can’t mean…eye look, I scream.
Shock sets in, while I’m translated in the hug of a friend.
We lock eyes and she knows why…
Darkness sets in and she helps me cry;
tears from near realized fears,
tears from the suffering
desire steers.
My boy is in trouble
I’m in a hurry and on the double
STAND BACK
PLEASE SLACK
this information noose is too tight to bareback…and my throats so t.i.g.h.t I can’t taste the air. This isn’t fair! What a cruel affair to send me into such disrepair.
Mental suffering burns like a flame, so I use cigarette burns to tame
the Pain in my heart…………..fading away.
My body cools off and with a different pain I can face the day.
So often I pray for the day where my loved ones can stay in zion with me, oh wait hypocrisy risin inside o’ me
please state, the ideas deriving me, Caged in my psyche, found the lock, but lost the key.
gotta get outta my mind, gotta get outta my body
opaque and dense, and way late for defense
Wee wait in such suspense for LIFE to dispense, of us and our love.
WhyohWhydotheseideasresideinme, if i leave my body will i be free, they think you justgottado1morethingtosee.
I just hope to god they don't try again. I just can't take that part of the plan....
Please live. and be glad for it.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
self-reflection churns out an image of a clicking cicada of an aggressively ****** young girl, who due to the pressing weight of a blue silk chord around her throat possesses
a shiny dark, green exoskeleton (refracting light and resistant to moisture)
(SO ******* KAFKAESQUE) (!!!)
who sings as she rubs furry legs together and has decided to spill pain whenever possible onto screens and sheets, throwing up wherever she lands, without true cause in a careless disarray, breeding narcissism (let's throw a party)
biting into shattered satin, like a moth feeding off of human wetness and stains while punctuating words with mispronunciation and self-absorbtion
because she is deathly afraid of being boring and a daily routine, how predictable
(the crowd looks on miserably, fanning their faces with paper plates, sweating profusely)
this poem is predictable;
sorry.
I never have tried to **** myself, it would be silly to think that not killing yourself or killing yourself would have an actual influential impact on most of the world, except in rare cases.
Death is looming, I am grinning, I have not yet seen it so I guess I will live forever and subside off the hearts of men (no, not really, I'm kidding).
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Why don't we pray
Until we're sick
Do we not love another
Until death
Why have I not sent a thought or found that which is bigger than me?
I smoke, cough, drink poison
I stay up all night
I bleed, I cry I love
Repeat
And still find it easy
To sleep
Why is it this amnesia?
Why am I fated to pretend?
Year after year
To find yourself alone, purpose unclear
Needs become beyond selfish
And wrecklessly bored
Without a healthy tinge of fear.
No son's head was clear
For Sunday mornings
We all found the time
When the towers fell
A new day comes, horizon clear
The poker master calls my hand
Another year, another wrinkle,
becoming wiser yet it feels like complacency
I guess I'm trying to say sorry
And thanks for the love I feel
And everything that I know is real
Nobody prays
Until self tragedy, all alone
Years of survival, carnal absorbtion
Will then just be like waking from a dream
And a voice unleashed cries " you left me"
"you forsake me to this suffering"
Or was it god, unfortunately?
So today I pray
God, universe?
Thankyou for giving me life, undeserving
Help me not hurt me
I'm tired of meeting god, unfortunately
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
I want your off-tempo
scratched fluidity
the initial absorbtion
shock absorption
to immediately disintegrate
and I do not feel guilty
I feel normal
and no different
but rather
confused
and curious
I do not remember much of it
a triad of points
that grow
upward
slope
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:48 AM UTC
I want your off-tempo
scratched fluidity
the initial absorbtion
shock absorbtion
to immedietly dissinigrate
and I do not feel guilty
i feel normal
and no different
but rather
confused
and curious
i do not remember much of it
a triad of points
that grow
upward slope
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
As a child I had come to the belief
That the color black
had no friends.
Starring at my ceiling in the night,
I would fight,
trying to find the hues of blue, red and green.
Trying as if I were flying without wings
And all I could think was black is mean.
Other colors run away
Because black has no day.
It is the unknown
the future
the past
It is the person that finishes last
-the supposed worst
It is the person that finishes first
-the one that can never quite quench their thirst
It is hatred.
It is love
It is difference
It is normalcy
Black is the friend you are always with.
The moth attracting a flame.
Hiding from the rain because water washes things away
Our troubles
Fears
Joys
and Bliss
Who would we be if it were not for everything?
Black is the absorbtion of all colors
Instead of being none
It is one
Black is everything I never could be
It hides the flaws I never wish to see.
Black is anything, but me.
Black is the end of the spectrum we'll never know.
Black is the color with not much to show.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Take your own life
violently by the scruff,
and LIFT.
Once you have its undivided,
wholehearted attention,
stare it straight in the eyes,
and say 'Enough!'
'This is a self-interest intervention.
'Get over this,
shake yourself free
of this mid life need
for a preoccupation
by hostile thoughts
and self-absorbtion,
put to one side
self-indulgent fictions
and get real,
get serious
and get a life
that is true to the person
you now are.
And start by ending the comb-over.
It's a non-starter.'
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
Being captivated by abundance of light sounds as if it would produce more light. Shadows pull both recipients down from The Whole and into the void. Placed with the intent of creating confusion buried in the subconscious. All memories wiped leaving a shell, will little memory of the fall aside from the strongest of emotions present; love followed by deceit, tailed by defiance. The destruction afterwards is the most captivating because of the need. Absorbtion of all in the path to fuel the fire of transmutation.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC