"adjectival" poems
one love is skinny
one love is tough
one is unrequited
one's had enough
one points a finger
one plugs an ear;
and that's how i'd describe
how we both ended up here
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 12:03 PM UTC
I am chaos.
I've ceased to be adjectival; I no longer embrace, but am, chaos.
My heart has been broken and glued back together in ways all the pieces were never meant to fit.
I am one million miles per hour over the speed limit, on a dead-end road, with no intention of stopping.
I'd rather not sleep, not eat, not laugh.
I'd rather get ready for the day with swollen eyes and a worn-out mind.
I just want my lungs to explode.
I just want for my eyes to slam shut.
To be still.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 9:42 PM UTC
I am suicide sleeping.
She forgot and took a day off.
So here I am.
I drive wreck-lessly.
windows down. music up.
daring a tire to blow. to lose control.
Stoplights and Speed Limits have become mere suggestions.
I am not invincible.
and I embrace it.
I'll shake hand with death before * I * die.
I am not coasting.
I am beyond your... verbs.
Your... adjectival states of being...
Undefined.
Indefinite.
I want to know. not to learn.
I want to see. not to discover.
I needed to be re-built. not demolished.
But I am without foundation.
Faithless.
God-less.
...Simply suicide sleeping.
One russian roulette away...
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 8:56 PM UTC
~~~
reaching hard for words
~~~
enter tip toeing,
the loudest noises off,
save for a silent, seriously-forming smile,
re-designing your face,
while in the orbit of early morn,
mapping your return to the planetary
bed
all the while,
observing her
while closeted, comforted and cloaked,
upon their/his
landing zone bed,
honing your return re-entry voyage
home
the blonde in her traditional,
sleep arms slung in wilding, disarrayed
repose,
and
her breathing stride,
regularized and still,
yet so humanly unpredictable
wild ride
and your are surprised
by surprising yourself,
once again,
that you're in this position,
when an unforced, yet an enforceable,
warm hearted girl-glad,
chest centric?
envelops and coddles
and yet
shocking you,
that this never-expected-gift is capable of being felt
at in over up outside inside
below across beneath above and the
all encompositional prepositional,
throughout
forms of its own accord,
not asking permission,
to exist within
your body that not so long ago,
forgot where it kept
the
how-to manual
and you,
obligatory poet,
noblesse oblige,
try reaching hard for,
top shelf, newly combinated,
adjectival adverbial nouns and
verb words
to encapsulate this
shocking development
but finding none,
save for the the silent, seriously-forming smile,
busy re-designing your face,
quiet like,
it,
thunder claps slaps
in your mind
enough!
*your smile is
this time
self-speaking sufficient
and
there is no need
to reach for words*
~~~
9:03am
The Sabbath
1-15-16
nyc
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
She was poetry,
And she was beautiful.
With her eyes
Filled with metaphors.
And the secrets
And similes
In her smile.
Her personified hair,
The adjectival laugh,
The imagery in her hands.
Liaisons between
Her eloquent feet
And the soil.
She is poetry,
And she is beautiful.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC