"accelerate" poems
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
What we called as emptiness
Also having something
Full with energy and matter!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
If it gets the model set it will accelerate
Bloom and illuminate!
Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!
In fact by mining the vacuum’s richness
A theory of everything may emerge!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
Space around everything is virtual
When everyone convulse for existence
Invisible firework display
It is dark energy
Take over the dynamics of creation
and we are dreaming!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuity!*
Explore your verve in emptiness
Gain oomph to illuminate everything!
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
You earnestly plea with precious time to slow down just a bit
So you can accomplish more in your day
Holding tightly to his swinging hands in desperation
To place another second into play
Your attempts to slow him down he finds quite endearing
Smiling at you from his spinning face
Wondering if you even recall your pleas of yesterday
Crying that his hands were stuck in place
Precious time seems to always swiftly fly right past you
When you find you are running late
His hands are spinning round, faster and faster
Accelerating more, if you hesitate
Precious time slows for no one, nor does he accelerate
He passes by us constantly, the same
Laughing at all the fickle faces there, staring at his hands
Which not a one of them, is able, to tame
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 7:13 AM UTC
Clash. Zap. Thunderclap.
Orbitals charged with electricity collide - feels like crossing the streams
let's - smash atoms like Adam and Eve,
pierce fiercely with particles blown white hot from my accelerator
Insatiable
Like trying to fill up a black hole, so i accelerate her
excite her, ignite her, my touch lights her on fire
combust.
a cloud of ecstasy like Co2 rises higher
I've got my eyes on your ions
take a picture it'll last longer?
snap a photo digitize her
particles turned pixels tilt their head skyward
transcendant enlightenment, released it inside her
E=mc^2 , i can please you at the speed of light
we just rewrote the big bang theory and this time we got it right
opposites attract and charged sparks fly
we might not touch but ion be ****** if we don't try
I'm a ****** intellectual
I love your body AND your mind.
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
I finally accelerate and you sense it, pulling back before I can try to satisfy this thirst
The plotting smile in your dark eyes is mischievously magnetic and I lunge forward to steal one last kiss
But one more is never enough, with you
And goodbyes are so hard even when our hello is still so fresh.
How am I expected to pass your heart over to summer?
Your lips, your hands, your salt? Who am I to just let them go?
We are two bodies, becoming one, irrespective of the distance between us
If I am, then we are. If we are, then I'm okay.
Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 6:43 AM UTC
Old like a pensioner,
I'm reminded,
every waking hour,
of how I'm being left behind.
I'm sat there,
staring into space,
waiting for the world to change,
and love to accelerate leaving me stuck.
Stuck in the past,
where people are how they are,
where they haven't changed into freaks,
intent on destroying what makes them beautiful.
They are just fresh and pure,
and wise enough,
enough to not take risks,
risks that aren't worth taking.
But SNAP,
an adrenaline rush,
back to reality,
what has happened?
They bitterly remind me,
that I'm to ill to be in control,
they have planned to move on,
without a second thought.
I am sat there,
a hopeless mess,
while they leave to get a job,
proving there ability in independents and change.
It doesn't take a genius,
to realise I'm ill,
the anxiety of loss and change,
leaves me edgy and so low.
I'm dying,
I hope someone,
can **** my troubles,
before they **** me.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Terror turns its wheel in your stomach with fried rice,
while again the streaming stops as your computer checks
are you just sleeping or dead?
I've had it up to here
with high speed
I get sick, the faster
that I eat --
I have an ego
and toilet to feed with refuse
So fearful, we, of death
push for prevention, instead,
accelerate.
accelerate
accelerate
x, x, x, x, x
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
To see is to witness
The glory of
broken dreams
Break into a true
Sense of reality
Crushed by the weight
Of dried ink
On red hot paper
Folded into an airplane
Floating far on
Winds of change
Our life is time
And time flows
Slowly at first
Only to rapidly
Accelerate
Redefine ourselves
By the mirrors reflection
Cracks and scars develop
As we apply our
Ritual attraction
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
I used to be a vehicle with such fuel to go on,
To go places where I thought was unreachable;
I have this fuel, a special one
I used to be this vehicle who moves steadily with strong force,
Though you are strong, this vehicle is weak,
But still, we moved somewhat steady;
Because of that "strong" force
Now, it's just a vehicle, a weak one;
One that cannot go on,
One that lost the force,
One that lost the fuel,
How can this vehicle accelerate now?
How can this move forward?
A 'me' that lost 'you' is,
lost,
stopped,
Immovable
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Let me rid you of your heart aches
With poetry and strawberry cupcakes
So stay with me but for a little while
You accelerate time in just one smile
But all things must come to an end
I’ll miss you more than you can comprehend
To this day I’m still finding goodbyes tough
Because time spent with you is never enough
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
/
The small roads
Is constricted
I can't reach at your home at all
Can't accelerate my desire newly
Walking out of mind
In another way,
Lost Address
After passing such a long days
Can't remember anything
All those demands of time
How else is a way to get lost in transit
Forget the way back home
But what is there left to be
Without the knowledge of my mind
Day by day Sounds seem like a fairy tale
Get lost on the road to losing forever
You do not come anymore
Can't call in my old name
However, yet I smell your hair gets wet
See the flowers to be born again
Anywhere in Another spring
Again I dream with this nature
All I know is wrong
But what happened at the time, causes
Love lives between forehead wrinkle lines
Exists as a single grain of winter dew on the grass
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
How could you ever make me sad
even just a tad
can't you see
this is no tear placed upon me
a raindrop in my eye
is all you could ever mean to me
no matter what the past shows
I know
it was never love
when I looked into those eyes
it was never compassion
when you leaned in close
to show me lies you thought you felt
and it was never happiness to feel
when you held me close on those winter nights
saying the sweet words that made my heart accelerate
we were never a fate to last
because now salt is all I taste
as I say your name
and the thoughts of you come breaking through
do not worry though
for it is not due to you
instead it is the raindrop in my eye
That makes me cry
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
driven at night ive seen sights that make life look less like leisure,
and more like self harm for group super pleasure,
your not at the edge of this,
unless you get that sub-dom affection looking like special effects,
I accelerate slow, park, put on the the light, around a quarter to four.
she tapped her nail , amplified by the glass,
a note smeared the window misting, she stared over my coffee flask, intimately into my cocked submission,
her emaciated wrist has this diamond bracelet, it's shaking, as she points directions beyond restaurants and offices,
one too many cocktails slipped by this ruling consciousness,
now she invites in my taunts of a 30ish nihilist, "shh, just drive us".
snorting coke off the plastic payment dish,
using the twenty shes paying me with,
hooked up to my rhythm,
nobody is left not menaced, in a rolling evolution into avarice,
isn't the skyline marvelous,
the ad-hoc sprawl, minerals raw,
rear view see her chewing her face off,
directions useless, i'll let you out here, I believe you,
wave the fair, but leave the door, i need the air.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
Pure in it's gleaming marble white
a rare conch shell, well formed,
with 'reverse turning spiral',*
he holds, in both palms with reverence
closer to his naked chest, where
his beating caged heart tries to create
echoes, as if it, in an unknown
mysterious way, represents
a myth entwine him with pure nature.
An intriguing remains, retrieved,
from the accumulated deep sea secrets,
where still his memories vaguely roam
in another life, as a creature of the deeps.
The conch he is aware, hides tender notes
that bridles air, water and fire, cosmic ripples
prods him subtly to accelerate his quest,
a swim towards the maelstrom of inner core,
commingling with the music cosmos conducts
every moment, with it's billion piece orchestra grand.
She is a flame burning in clarified butter,
his consort,her eyes reflect a concurrent spirit,
both her palms she bring together ,makes a lotus thus
and a red blooming lotus is nestled between palms.
Her lotus speaks of fecundity,from which flows love and life
generations, descend find succor, in the gentle fragrance,
and warmth, the lotus, protects, even at the midst of a freeze.
Her eyes are blissfully half closed immersed in the fragrance
wafting in the air spreading in waves far and wide.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
High ground
I concede to you
in the disproportion of a time allotted to you
for the choice of robe to grace
a glorified cameo around your flesh
like a sheet designated for an overthrowing
in an honorary statue's unveiling
Liturgy is looming in the bathroom
already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's
mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles
I have settled comfortably into in wait
High ground
awaits your hallowed prance
into the concealed languish of your man's
dangling imagination
I salute you with incentive
through a lowering of eyes made necessary
by your towering above my horizontal soak
I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway
over the humility of my reclined posture
with the hidden scepter of your body
fated to dictate the pace of my
anticipated knighting
The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum
incites a turning of my head to take in
the litany of parts available to my
frenetic feels and jumbled focus
Stationary in your naked smile of proximity
you extend to me excessive time to entertain options
as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities
and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness
I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries
sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery
The wall is cold and you protrude
haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame
Warmth is of the essence
Fingers split your hair in celebration
of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch
signalling our first hint of friction
and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth
Do you realize you now rescind creative license?
Or have you filled the snare of your intentions?
Now your balance shivers in the mercy
of my curled leg of leverage
and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes
like an ice cream scoop
Uniform heights allowing eye contact
makes optional the visual acknowledgment
of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast
with a dancing thumb
I connect and latch onto what is now
our binding axis and shuffle eye contact
with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
He did something in the shipyards, but I was too young to know what. Those times, in any event, had long passed. His hair was white and he had spectacles with thick rims, that is much of his appearance as I recall. It was hard to imagine the time in which he had worked; things around there were beginning to accelerate, melting into air and the past was exactly that; should he come back now he would recognise very little.
I learned much later that he sometimes visited the Chinese takeaway to talk about communism; he believed in an equally high standard of living for all, not death camps and suppression of the individual. If one man has a nice suit, all men must have a nice suit. His presence was not a political one for me, I was a child, he was someone who we visited. He greeted me on me and my brother's visits with a smile and a jig; "Not bad for 85 year old'' he'd say. He made us ice cream floats, slipping the ice cream out of those individual paper packets that ice cream used to sometimes come in. He was a vital man, there was something to him that made him exciting to be around. Although he had been educated to a low level by contemporary norms he was well read and informed, I came to learn in later years. He never had a child, that I learned too. What does that do to a person to be childless? What does that do to a person to have a child? Time passes and things happen regardless. I think he died in the same week as my grandma, but I could be mistaken. The exact details of one's life sometimes become muddled. An enigmatic figure in a bigger picture. Forgotten by many.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
If we were forced to choose one from three addictions
Drugs, Alcohol or Love
Love would be the choice
Call me sappy all you want
But it's the most positive
No doubt about any of it
The other two are hindrances
While the third one helps my heart beat
You can accelerate my engine
All day and all night
I can forget about the rest for a short time
When you take me off into the clouds
I'm about to start a new Airlines
It might fail but i might as well try
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
Death once spoke to me through a streetlight that solely flickered rushing red.
Along with the drops of acid dancing within the outlines of a thread.
One pedal to accelerate an already accelerated mind,
One pedal to reverse a raucous reaction,
Mirrors plugged to my beating flesh, pulsating time,
Wheels swirling off it's axis, succumbing to the lost traction.
Closing eyelid after eyelid, fate selected a pedal,
Roaring of both synapses and electricity,
Swerving across the bumps of light that model,
Leaving stones to break like my bones, collapsing entirely, goes my entity.
Water crept into my lungs.
Water replaced my tears.
Water ****** my blood.
He said to me, "You'll smell a smell you've never smelled before,
and sense a sensation worth dying for."
So with one last cell, and with one last breath,
I smelled and sensed the defiled Death.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
upon waking, i could feel glass in my lungs
small, sharp shards prickling the breaths from my chest and
stealing them away from me—
like some stolen innocence i remember once was mine;
but that was years ago, now
i've been ruined for a long time
i don't sleep very well, and i don't-
don't really wake up very well, either
particularly as we accelerate towards winter
and the only thing i can associate the cold and the dark with
is childhood and threat,
and my school teachers called it Seasonal Depression
but my therapist knows i'm always depressed
Depression is a long-time cuddle buddy;
she's kept me company through trauma.
my therapist tells me that
the cold and dark, they're incentive to flashbacks
too many nights, only single digits in age, forced
to sit in the frost-bitten shadows of an alcoholic's living room
with the AM hours throwing bloodied ***
and violence, through a TV screen
and i still remember the crippling ache of empathy,
watching that little robot boy's family abandon him:
lost in the woods, found only to be beaten.
i breathed through the glass in my lungs,
and never could quite let go of the memory,
nor the popping eyes and crashing cars
or the bleeding walls and possessed children;
wondered, briefly, if maybe some strength could one day possess me
and make my father see i was worth more
than a black-blue shadow in his home, and an accessory in his favourite bars
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
The old man gazed at the sun about to set
And its molten core soon to dissolve in the sea
Scratching his head with tremulous hands
And running his fingers on the stubble of his unshaven face
He held once more tight to his wheel chair
Casually he had a glance at his hands
Those dry, weak and shriveled hands
Gone wrinkled with passing years!
His hands once so busy are now limp
His days once so brisk are now long and dull
He noticed the discolored patches on his skin
Under them the lattice of tortuous veins on the dorsum
They run down to join with the bigger ones
Like small rivulets flowing towards larger rivers
He remembered how the streams from summits
So vigorously come down with a gush
Also the noisy cataracts somersaulting down,
Leaving reverberating echoes all around
But they produce only a soft musical sound
As they join with the rivers and pass through plains
And finally end in a kind of hushed stillness
Just before merging with the sea!
The old man philosophized;
Life too, is like a river
Fierce and ferocious when one is young
Gentler and sedate after middle age
And slow and sloppy in old age
With this calm acceptance of the need to de accelerate
Wrapping himself in the shawl against the growing cold
He turned away from the window.
Pushing his wheel chair,
He moved forward,
Knowing no haste…..
Towards his bed for another night’s tired sleep!
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 7:27 AM UTC
there is saturated optimism
lurking in the threads which weave
between our blanket's thick long sleeves.
every layer compiles rich warmth and graceful weight,
the tendencies and favors constantly accumulate.
this compatibility tends to near motivate
the crawling shivers which slowly evaporate and
the pessimism to dissolve.
then, steadily accelerate.
if there was ever optimism
inside the threads i've long woven
where our blanket's warmth had suddenly frozen,
then the shivers which constantly knit across my heart
have been stitched inside out from the very start.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 5:38 PM UTC
cold morning light
streams through
the concrete cathedral
beneath the highway
the clouded breath
of a homeless man
glows and curls
in the golden air
cars accelerate
and the wisp is swept
into dim
and hardened shadows
Tom Spencer © 2018
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC