"aesthetics" poems
Selfies,
I can smell the desperation,
from here.
odors of worry;
rippling anxities of uncertainity.
two dimensional,
instantaneous impressions,
pixelated presentations,
and
Teenage frustrations.
up tilted camera.
held against the light,
Illuminating eyes ,
and eradicating spots.
that looks like a good one.
Vicarious representation;
of how good
one could look,
fallible and hopeful.
big bosomed dame
showcasing blessed cleavage,
pulsating the adolescent
bulges.
delivered to
metal passenger,
thereafter shown
among peers.
networked to unknown.
Friends who'd never
met eye,
or
touched skin,
or
even spoke.
self conscious
cropping of images.
fat and fearful.
wasted hours,
dying for love.
False dream of
captivating the messes with her selfie.
The very ugliness
of impressions.
Oh, how shallow we've became.
The denial
of the impact of aesthetics.
laughable,
torrents of judgement
Skinny,
fat,
ugly,
behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
*Her eyes are a metaphor,
a conceit, fantasy
No shakespearean sonnet
even a lyric, will suffice
to describe the elegance she carries
Her smile, the greatest curve,
all simile will be denied
Haikus and couplets
even the long ones
will not be enough
Her laughter is a song,
a perfect harmony and melody
She is neither a hyperbole
nor full of irony
instead she is perfect rhyme
She is a walking poetry
a personification of aesthetics
Almost an abstract
unfathomable beauty
out of the ordinary*
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
The sensual glee, that translates as conjugal poetry
gently speaks about the pair's easy, perfect chemistry.
Intimate moments exude a rare sense of aesthetics,
pointing to an alchemy they could easily spark
by their sultry proximity; minds and bodies, move
in resonance, and the waves of exhilaration brim and flow.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
War of beauty , War of aesthetics
For love
and hidden heaven
beauty for all seas and seasons
dance with civilization for love and oceans
crush and vanish our civilization
just for economic fall down in few heavens of poor classes
and war of aesthetics like savage flowers
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 5:07 AM UTC
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.
Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.
Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.
Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.
The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.
The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?
Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
She used to tell me
of math and poetry
by the length of her arm
and rhythm of her heart
conversing verse and fraction
with form following the function
of communist theories
and greek philosophies.
she beat out aesthetics
with a perfect symmetry.
because no one understands
the relationship between
seafoam and shoreline
the way she does
[swimming in saltwater sorrows]
reimagining time in an hourglass,
she shot up infinities with a glance
and left me moondrunk in the night.
she emits sparks throughout my system
breaking and entering--
my kingdom under siege.
her name was an amalgam of numbers
italic1.6180399. . . .italic
and I loved her by design.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
There's a sister who floats with hungry collarbones and a razor-edged smile. She smokes sadness when she isn't ready to exhale.
She is beauty in fine art and wrath the colour of thunderstorms; the rain comes when she smiles.
Holier than thou and quick to judge, with antiseptic perception known to bring out the things you were not aware existed.
Addictive, those imprints from her feet will stamp all over you; nimble fingers puppeteering those who fall out of her thoughts.
She is selfish and always leaves, leaves, leaves. She ran away at the first tremor; she did not stay to watch the concrete crumble.
But she picked me up when the concrete friction broke my knees, lashed tyrants with her tongue and prowled behind the boyfriends that came and always went.
This sister whom I project; the image of her I mirror. She is love and laughter and moods that taper and flare.
She is a cluster of persons, a bomb liable to a detonate on a short fuse. She is trouble ailing in the best possible way; her flames light up the shade.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
My ****** is tired.
Tired of having to explain why she wants to be left alone,
Tired of men thinking they are entitled to her simply because they buy her things,
Tired of women who shame and police her,
Tired of being commodified,
My ****** is just...tired.
My ****** does not owe anyone ***
She will take up arms to protect her agency and have it recognised,
She will let whomever she chooses inside her,
She will most certainly not explain her decisions to a soul,
My ****** does not owe anyone ***
My ****** will not alter herself for a man's pleasure.
She defines beauty and serves other worldly aesthetics,
She is a queen who possesses the ability to make you see God with her warmth,
My ****** will not alter herself for a man's pleasure.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
I've been blocked
well an good
by some obtuse
butthurt mindfuck
cant believe my luck!
but please unblock me
long enough
to delete your unread
message (so I can clean
up your verbal Diarrhea)
It's annoying
to me
as its messing up
the aesthetics
of my screen
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
aes·thet·ic
/esˈTHedik/
adjective
adjective: aesthetic;
adjective: esthetic
1.
concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty.
"the pictures give great aesthetic pleasure"
giving or designed to give pleasure through beauty; of pleasing appearance.
"several aesthetic gardens radiate from the fountain in the square"
noun
noun: aesthetic; plural noun: aesthetics;
noun: esthetic; plural noun: esthetics
1.
a set of principles underlying and guiding the work of a particular artist or artistic movement.
"the colorless aesthetic"
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 9:08 PM UTC
• grape gatorade
• baby powder engraved earrings
• glow sticks
• the smell of old holy pages
• peach cobbler
• complement circles
• heterochromia
• crazy hair
• wet clothes
• dr pepper
• cold rain against the humid air
• glances people steal
(j.a.r.)
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
In Gothic architecture, light is considered
the most beautiful revelation of God;
Beauty is a characteristic of an animal,
an idea, object, person or place that provides
an experience of pleasure, or satisfaction;
Beauty is studied as part of aesthetics, [culture],
social psychology, philosophy & sociology;
An ideal beauty is an entity;
admired; possessing features
widely attributed to beauty in a particular culture;
to perfection:
Ugliness [commonness], [ ] commonly considered to be the opposite
of beauty,
annihilated as an intellectual concept,
no longer exists;
The experience of beauty is often
involved in an interpretation of some
entity [being in balance & harmony];
the experience of nature may lead to feelings
of attraction & emotional well-being;
Because perception is a purely subjective experience,
it was once said that beauty
is in the eye of the beholder;
a sentiment long debunked;
There is evidence that hypothetical perceptions
of beauty involve determining
aspects of things, people & landscapes;
beauty is typically found
in situations likely to enhance the survival
of the perceiving collection
[of chromosomes]
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Anthropos apteros for days
Walked whistling round and round the Maze,
Relying happily upon
His temperment for getting on.
The hundredth time he sighted, though,
A bush he left an hour ago,
He halted where four alleys crossed,
And recognized that he was lost.
"Where am I?" Metaphysics says
No question can be asked unless
It has an answer, so I can
Assume this maze has got a plan.
If theologians are correct,
A Plan implies an Architect:
A God-built maze would be, I'm sure,
The Universe in minature.
Are data from the world of Sense,
In that case, valid evidence?
What in the universe I know
Can give directions how to go?
All Mathematics would suggest
A steady straight line as the best,
But left and right alternately
Is consonant with History.
Aesthetics, though, believes all Art
Intends to gratify the heart:
Rejecting disciplines like these,
Must I, then, go which way I please?
Such reasoning is only true
If we accept the classic view,
Which we have no right to assert,
According to the Introvert.
His absolute pre-supposition
Is - Man creates his own condition:
This maze was not divinely built,
But is secreted by my guilt.
The centre that I cannot find
Is known to my unconscious Mind;
I have no reason to despair
Because I am already there.
My problem is how not to will;
They move most quickly who stand still;
I'm only lost until I see
I'm lost because I want to be.
If this should fail, perhaps I should,
As certain educators would,
Content myself with the conclusion;
In theory there is no solution.
All statements about what I feel,
Like I-am-lost, are quite unreal:
My knowledge ends where it began;
A hedge is taller than a man."
Anthropos apteros, perplexed
To know which turning to take next,
Looked up and wished he were a bird
To whom such doubts must seem absurd.
3.5k
painting when being bilingual, the naked phonetics of the english alphabet, and the diacritics on the polish one, for example -sh- of the former and -sz- of the latter, but the painting is still entitled: trying to capture what was being said without lip-reading but by optics encoding the sounds, so that someone bilingual might decipher; and yes, dependent of aesthetics / orthography the -rz- versus the ż.
azog
szak gaum'dasz!
blog
kruto, goniś... gunwondersmargen'ś.
azog
mor'rzyrljisz?
blog
golumdo, sza zu lisz sza za duh.
azog
jam dysz! *** da kurz nak krza rzuk;
arz ga bejark gundabadul,
mar kam narm karszrz.
mulgaj! a'naj! ursdraj! tu pu nam - ah me c!
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
Wanderlust warlock blaspheme rapacity
Obsequious diligence pier pair appearance
Obstreperously vituperative vociferous tenacity
Consortium eclectic synectics concurrence
In extremis extremity cantilever capacity
Citadel clairvoyance pilaster conveyance
Inductive integration interpolative audacity
Derivative factor derivational appliance
Futurity fatidic’s laconic sagacity
Aseity veracity cacophony compliance
Accidence ambience aesthetics opacity
Acoustical articulation intonational occurrence
Apomixes anabolics histophysiological mendacity
Epistemological somatalogy syntactics refulgence
Refractive reflective semantics complicity
Hephestian dialectics Hegelian effulgence
Linguistic syntax synaptic intensity
totally tangential
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
I know I aint much for looks
And you might not disagree when I say
Statues have more substance than this
I know I can’t Stendhal you to a standstill
It doesn’t mean that I can’t make you breathless
Like when I make you laugh
There is so much beauty in your laughter
That while you are wiping tears out of your eyes
Doubled over like you were trying to find your breath on the floor
I forget that I don’t like the way I look when I smile
And I smile
I know the math of aesthetics is lost on me
But you can save your symmetry
For building blocks and butterflies
Bad habits
Scars
And an awkward affinity for lopsidedness
Made me
Come
Balance me out
Because so often I feel like a fat kid
Sitting on a seesaw
Alone
Or a ******
Trying on different sizes of life
In carnival mirrors
Or a Greek artist
Who has chiseled all the wrong parts
To perfection
Before he understood realism
Realism
Is a twin sized bed at 3 am
After the cold seeps through the window pane
It is cobwebs stained black from a house fire
Before
I never realized we had that many
It is a vanity
Reminding me how not to be vain
Unless you mean this poem
This poem is vain
Realism
Is this
It is me
And it is you
Perfectly human
And nowhere near beautiful
Unless beauty is symmetry
And symmetry is when you balance me out
By being the other fat kid on the seesaw
Or the person who makes normal mirrors
So I can see what I look like in my own skin
Not perfect
But that doesn’t mean I don’t have ways
Of making you breathless
Come
Let me make you laugh again
Let me make you breathless
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 6:18 AM UTC
*Piano Cello Interludes
I am listening to music,
piano with cello interludes,
thinking about you.
I hear the passionate sadness
mourning from the cello
as the piano weaves hollowness
and melancholy from black and white
minor keys.
I feel the disconnect
between the requiem’s movements
and the reality
of an alive, beating
but confused, sullen heart
fighting to be free.
~~~
It always amazes me
to hear the bow guiding the strings
in pulsing tempo
to the fingers caressing ivory
in such a way
that only a smile
can answer in return,
allowing for a kiss of life
in the midst of chaos
and death.
~~
In moments like this
I want to sit beside you,
place your hand in mine
and tell you all I have learned
and know;
all the secrets
that wander through my mind;
even those held in
dark recesses,
cobwebcluttered
and filled with spent emotions.
~~~
But I know I can’t.
Not because I don’t want to,
nor from fear,
though, to do so is scary
since it would mean giving you
my heart.
No, not because of this.
Rather, cause
I don’t think
this is what you need
or want.
~~~
Life is complicated,
complex in its existence
and it is this contradiction
between desire’s want
and equality’s need;
between what’s flesh
and what’s fantasy;
between art, aesthetics
and reality,
that guides my choices.
It’s how this contradiction
interpenetrates,
thereby shaping
and changing reality.
It is this contradiction
I hear,
feel and taste
in the weaving of piano and cello.
Music living with us in the gutter,
while enticing us to look at the stars.
~~~
I am listening to music,
piano and cello interludes,
I see vast galaxies,
nebulae,
and shooting stars,
Knowing this,
this music of you,
will last a lifetime.
~~~
~~Aztec Warrior/redzone 2.24.14*
enjoy the music that goes with this poem
https://youtu.be/QgaTQ5-XfMM
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
so
here we Are:
Arnold......Shortman,
Shorty......Meeks,
Mr......Meeseeks,
Ezekiel......Whitmore.
Morphine,,,,,,Morpheus,
Neo......Geo,
OG......Sour,
Sour......Diesel.
DeeDee's......Brother,
Cousin......Vinny,
Vinny's......Lover,
Brothers......Grimm.
Grim......adVentures,
Billy......Madison,
Hansel,,,,,,Gretel,
Chelsea......Grin.
Grimace,,,,,,Misery,
Mister......eBonic,
Bonny,,,,,,Clyde,
Kyle,,,,,,Kenny.
Kenny......Powers,
Powder Puff Girls,
"Girls Girls Girls",
Girls Gone Wild.
Wilee......Coyote,
Coyote......Ugly,
Ugly......Betty,
Betty......Crocker.
Doctor......Parnassus,
Doctor......Krieger,
Doctor......Horrible,
Doctor......Evil.
Evil......Knievel,
Felix......the Cat,
Captain Jack Sparrow:
"Captain......my Captain".
Tinman,,,,,,Scarecrow,
"Rowrow Rowyer Boat",
Bo......Burnham,
Earnest,,,,,,Vern.
Verdict,,,,,,Votive,
deVotion,,,,,,Vengeance,
aVenging......Evey,
V,,,,,,Vendetta.
Denace......the Menace,
Crystal......Globes,
Snow,,,,,,Aesthetics:
Skeletal......Shedding.
Head,,,,,,Tail,
Sally,,,,,,Jack,
Jack......Rabbits,
Magic......Hatters.
Shattered......Glass,
Glasgow......Smile,
Guile,,,,,,Vega,
Akuma,,,,,,Ryu.
You,,,,,,Me,
Beneath......the Bleacher:
Jeepers,,,,,,Creepers,
Reapers......of Seeds.
Seeds......of Chucky,
Chuckie......Finster,
Principal......Muriel,
Yuri......Gagarin.
© Copyrighted Jesse James Adams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
she's one of those Scandinavian girls all your friends at the barbecue would say,
"dude, how the **** did you manage to get with THAT?"
because they're all entranced in her painted and unintentional glow, she's a diamond,
and it's not the diamonds fault it's a diamond.
it's a mix of luck, probability, and perspectives on beauty derived from
thousands of years of embedded consciousness on what defines the aesthetics of a souls harmonic glances
I'm luckiest because she's not just a diamond on the outside.
the rest of her diamonds still reside underneath. speaking through her body yet still deep to discover
and I'll keep looking.
I'll keep looking and I'll discover how rich she is.
But she doesn't know it yet.
she may never know it.
diamonds are easy to see,
but hard to find.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
I will wrap you up
in duct tape & glass.
Cheap wood your caged throne.
Black grease paint,
a halo for the false God.
A Revolver glorifies you
but the rapier kisses your lips.
Allegiance only to dark aesthetics
tainted
torn face
worn leather.
I mount your eternal beauty
a heretics altar.
Naked before you,
I touch faith
& give you my little death.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
You're a canvas smothered in fragmented glass
Mirror of beauty,
Aesthetics of God.
You're a plastic portal to the Ideal form,
Propped up on a cliff,
It leads to a brick wall.
Try to delve into yourself
Obsessed with the shining garbage on the outside
But it doesn't exist
It's just a painting.
You slice your hands as you attempt to claw your way inside
Blood dripping and staining and real,
It doesn't exist
You're just a painting
Painted by you,
Painted by them,
Painted by us.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC