"ambi" poems
An introvert
become an extrovert
called Scientists
an extrovert
becomes an introvert
called Saint
an introvert
always an introvert
in marriage
an extrovert
always an extrovert
in Politics
an introvert
become an extrovert
during ***
an extrovert
become an introvert
during affairs
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 9:21 PM UTC
Ginailad lang ba nako akong sarili nga ok lang ko
Sa pag trato nimu sa akua nga murag trapo
nga labhan lang nimu ug gusto nimung gamiton
Ambi ba nako ug direct to the point ka
kay hastang baliktara imung trato sa akua pag ako nag talikod na
gi himu tikag princessa pag kauban tika
gi antos ko ang tanan, sa ka way klaro nimu ka storya
ingun-ingun paka ka naay pag-asa
pero ang kamatuoran ngitngitpas alkitran
Nag antos kog pito ka bulan gi hatag nako ang tanan
ang resulta karun mura-patag mas worst pa sa wa nagkaila
nikalit kag wa na nag reply pag tan-aw nako sa twitter nimu
naa nakay lain kasabay sa lipay-lipay
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
It is was this which teaches
Taught me
Ambi
Dex
Terity,
Though of
Left hand
Teeth
Tooth-brushing
My knowledge is rough;
It was is those these
Sunny
Dusty
Sunny afternoons in the sun,
The sun at the right angle
Angled towards me,
But not in my eyes
And the black
Fabric
Black, even in the sun,
As a field against which the
Sun angled out of my eyes
Shines
Shone
Sunny directly on my hands,
To which advantage
My advantage,
Or yours,
Would allow me
To pluck with tender
Specific
Tender care
Each thin blonde thin hair on my knuckles.
I already have will always doubt that you notice
Or notice that I notice you don’t, you never notice;
I notice you noticing me noticing you not noticing
My perfect,
Thin-blonde-thin, blonde-hair-free knuckles.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
i am ambidextrous – i can count how many times you’ve hurt me on both hands and i am ambivalent, i love you but i hate you
there is a certain ambience i recall in flashbacks and unspoken memories, however it fades as quickly as my smile when your name is mentioned
there is so much ambiguity in your eyes when you gaze at me – i stopped marvelling over you and your thoughts and instead marvelled over myself
who am i, without you? what am i, without you?
i am a life of ambition
you are a life of indifference
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
Why does the right hand get all the good jobs,
like greeting visiting dignitaries
(such a pleasure) ,
or blowing farewell kisses to the one you love
(such sweet sorrow) ,
or playing the melody while the left
has to oompah along in the bass?
Right-handers get the best adjectives too.
I mean, we’d all like to be
adroit (as the French have it) .
So why do we poor southpaws have to be
gauche or, while we’re about it, gawky?
Tactless, without grace, ungainly, awkward,
physically and socially inept, that’s us.
And Latin’s no better.
We’d like to be dextrous too.
What makes us
sinister? Was Dracula
left-handed, or something?
Even when we can hammer
or saw or paint or drive a *****
with either hand equally,
or cut the nails on both sets of fingers,
they only say we are ambi-
dextrous, which is a bit of a left-handed
compliment, treating the left
as if it were an honorary right,
as if it had no right
to be skilful
in its own right.
I suppose my left hand ought to be grateful
(in this respect) that I was not born
into a tradition where it is laid down
what each hand can do. It could have been
condemned to a lifetime
of bottom-wiping and not much else,
and becoming cack-
handed in more ways than one.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
One of us had loved the
other more perfectly, had watched the other more closely, and one of
us listened and the other hadn't, and one of us held on to the ambi-
tion of the one idea far longer than was reasonable, whereas the other,
passing a garbage can one night, had casually thrown it away.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
"hi, can i drive?"
"no, haha, just come in."
"can you drive me home? actually.."
"sure, come!"
tiny black car and beautiful interior you got there.
"have you set your seatbelt on?"
"sure! let's go!"
"no, no, put it on right. i dont want you ended up like our friend.."
"don't say that.. i put it on right. we're gonna be okay."
smell of the ambi pur you got there, take me to an ****** scent to my nose.
"where we go now?"
"dont you say you want to go back home?"
"oh, sure!"
"no, no, no, i know something better."
you keep the windshield closed, make your breath even warmer.
"hey, is it the route to the city side?"
"yeah, why? you don't want to go there?"
"uh, actually i have a lot of tasks to do."
"oh.. okay, I'll just drive you home then."
the keychain you got on your back mirror, it's shining and pink.
"..."
"..."
"cough."
"..."
i start to look at the wood we passed by. it's silent.
"..."
"..."
"I.."
"yeah?"
it's a beautiful voice you got there, with every kind of melt you made me.
"I... kinda.."
"turn left! that's my home, the orange one."
"oh, oh, okay."
"okay, stop here."
the car just stopped. left the noise of the machine we heard.
"thanks."
"ah, sure."
i look into your eyes like you did. you want to tell me something.
"ah, Dy?"
"yeah, Sunny?"
"it's a beautiful car you got there. thanks for the ride."
"ah.."
it's a beautiful car you got there. I'm sorry to say that, because my words are just lost in your eyes.
×
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC