"ambiguously" poems
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly
over the perceived salience of his musings
It was as if there were a veiled mystique
that left hopeful understanding ,
ambiguously obscured ...
His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale ,
like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,
drowning acumen ;
albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions ,
scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye
Illusive accord ,
beclouded by seeming stigmas
borne of the flesh ;
delicately sensitive nuances ,
misunderstood imperfections ,
bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ...
In the hush of pensive repose ,
flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ;
bequeathed as if darkness
was magnetically drawn towards light ,
purging muted understanding ...
Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,
accepting , that all answers sought
are not meant to be understood
A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ;
the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved ,
befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat ,
understanding a circle is vulnerable ,
only makes it stronger ―
hence ,..
it had been written
in countless misunderstood ways ...
Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently
for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ ,
tattooed on introspective walls
far removed from the afterglow of light ,
where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;
heart speak hushed , deft words avowed
in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper
soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow
from unseen depths , permeating
deeply within inner realms
The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :
"Spell words that bind together passing strangers
*Coalesce thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone
Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual
hearts and minds with words of love and light.
Conjure written spells to bespeak sincerely ,
a faith in unabated love*"
and yet , he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words
…words grasped from emerging thoughts
drawn in to the light
searching for other adept words
to recite yet another way ,
sketch another word-scape ,
written with the relentless inexhaustibleness
of an unstoppable awakening ...
Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light
he will write it again and again ,
... finding another way to be set free ...
Harlon Rivers
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Flowers you have ruin my towers
My towers above chivalry and chauvinistic ideals
They push out the prohibitions of useless propaganda
For me, alcoholic toxins appeal to my lyrical woes
I think ambiguously when I feel numb and freed of obligations
And the curls of my toes,
Don’t wrinkle with the ties of man
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
In my so called startled desperately stance o' interactively yearnings,
So wantonly emerged the worse anomalies by far
(yet the peak-est good time) to come..
I'm so naturally stupefied..so inclined on making & molding,
making'& wanting
As trial & error precipitates;
Virtually stagnant in the stillness o' haven-
Temptation stricken--chaotic world..An idolatry dernier cri chic!
Sets the tone o' a Caring Mom, would tell her kids
Not to be fooled by a a mainstream fool-
A Con Artist as Weird as ***** gets!
For the norm to behold!
On the LOOk-Out
but not lethargic.
Stigmatized out o' the blue, I surely reflected,
In a Dark-Dreary tunnel -- I 'd Die for
& to Root for-serenity subsides!
As I come out, I see rays o' Guiding light, I reckoned ..
"I have given You EYES to see,Ears to hear and a mouth to speak!" ..
but perhaps as indecisively as I may seemed--
It is what IT is!!..,.
SORDID!..so holistic ambiguously odd for me alright.
I speak my MIND fervently...
But as one may say, "My Smile can mean a thousand Ships nor launches its Value than Money ..
For every Smile to give out Comes with
a Territory o' Joy & Hope worth-
Every seconds inhaled-Priceless--
The breath o' Eros exhumed ..
I'd rather be ever Smiling along comes..
Head over my shoulder
however excruciating
can be, in life.. .
Neither in Bliss o' Ecstasy nor Dismay.
Just as though to keep my SANITY intact..
Oh My God keep my Salvation up in Heaven above! ..
so Creepy, too
Cloddish to think.to be canny
At all cost!
& not easily persuaded by the devil.
Lurks to get me..
A standstill Safely & Warm in a timely fashion,
In my own Rosy- Scented room thy PRAY, Oh Lord forgive US ALL Sinners, may GOOD Girls & Boys go to HEAVEN & Bad BOYS & GIRLS go to HELL !
I stand uprightly poised attitude
& be corrected if one varies-
The Age of Aquarius in stateliness!
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 6:47 AM UTC
*reality abruptly removed the veil
realization mercifully provided the light
a binary being seeking his own level
attempting to rise to the surface of himself
if peaceful existence is based on choice
then personal dogma tablets need chiseling
if afterlife is fashioned from belief systems
then intimate mysteries need conceiving
dialogue of a dress rehearsal for an actual life
faithlessly hidden within lines of complexity
alliterated ambiguously, expressed equivocally
setting the stage for reincarnation's passion play*
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Tiny clumps of hair
Once caramel in color
Crumbles beneath the lowest
Lair of pallid
Trampled dust.
A lump in the back of my throat
Rises as the bone shows.
Our teeth have clanked
Collided in battle, our hooves
Finger-less and delving, we were
Ambiguously a hiatus in the water-color
Sticky like honey whilst Satan licks up my spine.
Burning sweet like the water that runs from the Nile
Into the mouths of every little insensate frame and comatose sky
Lacklustre pallor only children could buy.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
We're just like Carrie and Mr. Big
You want to be free
We're just like Harry and Sally
We like each other at the wrong times
We're just like Lloyd and Diane
I'll never stop trying
We're just like Allie and Noah
From different walks of life
We're just like Scarlett and Rhett
Independent and Fickle
We're just like Ilsa and Rick
Nothing can separate us forever
We're just like Bridget and Mark
Childhood friends turned accidental lovers
We're just like Hubbell and Katie
I'm just too unique to settle down with
We're just like you and me
Undefined , real, struggling
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
You are a curious fleshy navigator
Explorer of mind and world
You are a synapse searcher
A hemisphere lurker
You are a voiceless idea
An unopened potion
You are beautifully blurry
An ambiguously cryptic existence
You reach my extremities
A nice warm flow
You burst from my body
The only existence I know
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Aristotle’s arrhythmic articulations
Appeared too apologetic for Aphrodite's amusements
Aroused by antisocial media’s alacritous abundance
Amidst arteriosclerosis and amphibiously obeisant Ophiuchus
Asclepius' ascendance was almost an abortion
Arrested by Apollo’s amorous attempts at aphrodisia
Ambidextrous Artemis’ androgynous appointments
Awakened ancient antipathies accentuating allopathic artifacts
Altercations arose among ambitious acolytes and Athena’s anorexic acidoses
Awkward Adonis actively agonized by alarming aneurysms
Allowed Antigone’s ambivalent armistice an aperture of acceptance
Appointing an ambiguously appealing additive to the Argonauts
An anaerobic Acropolis arose amidst ********** asphyxiations
As Amazonian armpit hair advocates approved artificial insemination
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
I want to have someone
to write a love letter to.
Something sincere
and nostalgic.
Something bordering on already said
or cliche'.
I'll write one for you
any of you
anyone as lonely as I am.
This poetry all seems passive
and pleading.
I'll write one for you
one of you
just one as lonely as I am.
All my words beat around
and climb the shady subject
aimed deliberately
ambiguously
around its name.
Loneliness
and the want to find someone
anyone.
*I'll write one for you
one of you
one of you who needs connection
as bad as I do.*
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
When we met inside a Dunkin Donuts on the corner of two busy streets, I ordered a small coffee. I said I had a lot to get done tonight, so I can't be out too long. If you knew how well I can lie, you wouldn't recognize me on a crowded street. I always ordered a medium before, because it took longer to cool, so we spent more time taking cautious sips through the small opening of a plastic lid protecting a styrofoam cup. But I dreaded seeing you again, because it'd be so long since I remembered the angles of your face, and the deep darkness of your swirling brown eyes, and the straight sharpness of your thick locks of black hair. Because when I'm not lying, I can say I don't miss you anymore. A busy street full of strangers is plenty company for me, and I don't mind my right hand catching a cold November breeze, instead of warming up inside your left. You said you're doing better, that the emptiness of your studio apartment isn't as lonely as it used to be. You said sleeping on your full-sized bed was okay now, that only one side warmed by a breathing body wasn't sad anymore. But you still missed me, my scruffy, uneven beard, the boots I look my best in and your head on my chest. We walked outside so you could smoke a cigarette, and I left quickly. I lied and said we should see each other again. But I hoped you'd lose sight of me on that busy street, becoming ambiguously shaped inside a scrambling river of cold winter bodies, all with cold hands clenched or covered in gloves, not holding any others.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
We who like poetry,
We who read these heartbreaking tidings.
We are quite the voyeurs:
Witnessing the silent struggle of our fellow poets,
While they wear their "heart on their sleeve".
While they open their heart and pour their suffering
Too honestly to be good,
Too ambiguously to be known,
Too blue to be shared,
But strong enough it can be felt.
It ain't easy to write of your own demise,
And yet you will only talk of these things to the blank page:
Who won't judge, nor bring advise.
Just a release, just a way to express ourselves, that staring page,
Expectant to be carved with our confessions, with our heart:
A love vampire.
And as a friend of mine says:
"Unrequited love is the best food for a poet's soul"
Yet it's bitter no end, yet it's saddening no end.
As a friend of mine says:
"Poets are faded blue"
Yet it's hard to lose all joy, be colorblind.
You don't write to feel good,
You write 'cause you feel bad.
And we who like poetry,
Seek in those lines ourselves,
We rejoice on finding there
A phrase or two that tell
That we're not alone
And that others
Suffer too.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
A ripening sky-
dotted ambiguously with
molten fibers--
*the sculptor’s daughter
And her flesh shavings.*
How corrupted,
the christening angels:
the sunsets they cry, and contaminants they hide.
Our faux harvest of a blessed apple,
slaughtering the whole barrel,
Ripping out their cores.
Zipped through bursts of
squints and charcoal,
inky, starless
irises--
*Dolly Misandrist; not human;
one after the other, sliced those sonnies up,
Knocked them down like chess pieces.*
Perhaps she wanders, and flees-
filled with - fire -
spilling over with sin;
perching on her
Shattered masterpieces.
A flock of birds,
ringing around the carcass,
pounced to tear apart their evening meat--
*they chased Dolly the damsel to the state border,
She was fenced in by boys and their
grandfather’s pistols.*
Cleared her throat to plead one last swan song,
but was interrupted by the scraps
of bread they threw into the duck-pond.
*The first boy shot her right between the chest-
“You shouldn’t have been such a **** Misandrist.”
Eyes-
“That’s for my brother.”
Head-
“Ladies don’t come first where you’re going.”
A speechless, frozen moment passed.
Blank stares. Open mouth. Nothing coming out.
“That *****
The trees scurry from beneath
the ocean of stars. Come Sunday morning,
the church pews are full.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
of blissbrick meanderings
smacks straight into
purpose, full
don't number
nameless incubating
prior to hatch
unimaginable unknowns
may yet manifest
one potential alteration:
me, singer in this
ambiguously yay rap duo
Vernacular Spectacular
Spitshit Linguistic
or maybe Prolix Helixed
first album:
Straight Outta Whoville
you may know
but you never
quite know
the One is THE
ultimate storyspinner
weaving all our tiny threads
into tapestry bigger
than grey matter
can muster
let it
let go
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 7:43 PM UTC
Deep in the wild,
when exploration led to
intoxicating moments,
she whined, in a way suggesting
she needed more,
whimpered ambiguously,
let out broken cries,
like yelps of pleasure,
purred a little,
as the engagement
became congenial.
When the waves that lashed
became strong and
she felt out of control,
she yelled out, so colorfully
braking all barriers of mind,
till her lust exploded,
in a spectacular way,
she wreathed like a bull
struck by the matador's sword,
squirming and murmuring,
till the waves slowly retreated.
Slowly she opened her eyes
as if she was in a prolonged sleep,
and then,winked at him
mischievously as if to say
their tango with
intimate moments was
a gift of
**nature's quest
to blend complements
in to
one.**
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
Ambiguously aged
Restless protuberances
Chilled tundra flesh
Timid breaths
Inclined emotions
Cold stranger, nothing more.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—”
I took one look at the impenetrable obscurities
That the distance concealed,
And another at the unanswering stones,
That consented mutely to mark the way, if not lead;
At the bending flowers whose faces I could not read;
And heard the equivocal vocalizations
Of ambiguously colored birds, and I—
I walked from the path to sit beneath a nearby tree,
And began to wait.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
the hole
in your filter
let's you speak freely;
ambiguously slandering,
cursing, and hurting
every person
you know.
the hole
in our friendship
isn't going to get smaller;
it widens as you speak more
and more of the disgust
and anguish
i had to go
through.
the hole
in your guitar
is a sure place for my foot;
its destiny's been written again,
and broken,
it shall ring the tunes
i'd tried to get
you into
before
it
all
fell
through
all
the
holes
in
our
friendshit
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
Days of accepting the unacceptable, of awakening, of walking without returning to see, to go making stories, arming bridges, arming new ways of being, being the same, to change some incongruencies in life, to have others; return to begin, with out believing in destiny, rewriting each situation in a different way, being conscious of change, but without interpreting it, and only leaving oneself to be, unrepeatable, inconsistent, unrenouncable, ambiguously new, cool and clear, without fear, days of living my way.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
All I hear when I try:
(How is this for ambiguously annoying duo:)
I really love you
(It will not work)
You're the sun the moon and the stars
(You ****
All I say:
I really love you
(Sorry I did not understand)
You're completely amazing
(You **** too)
Yes we both like being alone a lot but know the other side of the freedom is...freedom and it ain't always free is it?
you're pushing and pulling and raging and all I am doing is letting you can't you see?
I just don't know how to love you the way we both dream of.
Goodnight and if the new stars shine brightly enough for you, good luck
And numbness blessed numbness til the pain or love or maybe apathy someday will roll in
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
mimicking my tears, rain plummets to earth
driblets escaping, a plashet appears
caressing the window and kissing the street
elusively pleasant, ambiguously received
beads race down my windowpane
showers of comfort, salient skies of gray
mere melody of drizzle or drops soothes my soul in ways you cannot
perspective is important here
clouded minds find solace
whilst sunny cerebrums, unable to associate
ideas of positivity in days so gray
in one corner: better than resorting to a pill
the other: worse than spouse found unfaithful
opinions pitted, popular pins eccentric
one, two, three, four... will rain redeem their rapport?
mere melody of drizzle or drops soothes my soul in ways you cannot
rain, rain, go away
dark and dreary, "shame you!"
a lesson taught, not genetic
sheets of rain, stale excuse to stay
but I, but I - bid the day hello
when rolling clouds greet my morning breath
mere melody of drizzle or drops soothes my soul in ways you cannot
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
By John Pass
A kick or two out
against the playful waves
then roll over, look back
so often I've done this, summers
without number, friends or family
on the shore, a ledge
of rock at Ruby Lake
or Lighthouse Park, trees behind
and above them leaning out
for the open light
and reflected light
and my delight not simply
to be swimming, a float
but in the perspective
of people in a landscape
beautifully proportioned
enclosed in a moment
as though in another room
but present, whole, unencumbered -
the sky always blue
( beach weather ) the shoreline reaching
around, away, each way
a point, or cliff, or thicket
of willow, quietly emphatic
of the people, their intimate
isolation, approachable
passing a towel or plum
getting comfortable, distant
but undiminished, and I
alone in the water, ambiguously
proud of them, pleased
to swim in and be counted
among them
John Pass
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
My favorite outfit
was when your heart laid restless on your sleeve-
a paper mache
of a dream I desperately
DIED
to achieve.
Our senses merged in snow,
and before light,
we were buried-
shrouded by a part of you that
had
died.
Every sound you echoed
made marrow leak lazily to
a concrete road constricted
ambiguously,
with hazel
and green,
and the blackest
******* BLACK
that my marrow will ever manifest.
--
Wear your heart on your sleeve.
Without love,
death is the only achievement to achieve.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC