"ambivalently" poems
Overview:
-Birthday: ∞
-Studied everything at The School of...
-Lives in ∞
-Gender: Seriously?
-Religious Views: Tolerant Chaos
-Political Views: Ambivalently Apathetic Anarchy
Family And Relationships:
-Relationship: It's complicated
-Family Members: Everyone Ever
Details About You:
*I am. We are. It is. Impossible to forget but hard to remember. Remember that time you found some money on the ground? That was me. Remember that time you got so sick you thought you puked your actual brains out? Sorry about that.
I love you go to hell.
To be honest I'm still surprised I'm alive after all the crazy **** I've done to myself over the years from nuclear ****** bombs to snorting the ground up bones of warring people and all that jazz. Oh yeah, not to mention those times I've caught asteroids with my face.*
Favorite Quotes:
Wind, Farts, ******* Laughter.
Life Events:
Shit...where do I start?
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
My water’s luminosity…
whisky and sage.
We breed to feed other fishies,
but I’m on stage.
Performing for some human’s selfish garrison.
This disregard is quite humane in comparison.
The cat, your companion,
He claws at me constantly.
I epitomize a pet.
I am merely your captive;
Only aesthetically attractive.
I long to be the social hippie of the sea,
but this isolation is drowning me.
One day you’ll find me ambivalently
sinking at the top of my bowl,
and you will flush me down yours like the rest of your useless ****
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
House plants are hostages
we take while we rob
the bank of life for
all the experience notes we
can carry safely away.
We are using the funds
to build our vivarium
homes, microcosms of
the world beyond our walls
where we first glimpsed
the scheme.
The machinery of the world,
greased by blood and sweat,
remains beyond our control
while at large, yet
under our close supervision
we coax submission
out of our captives for
our own enjoyment:
selfish, ambivalently cruel
benefactors, dispensers of
our plants' waters of life.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Your skin feels like no one else’s
I keep forgetting and remembering again,
the way it feels, the way it slides
through my ever changing hair
once it was black, you saw me back at brown,
left me at blonde and kissed me again in auburn.
Everything around have changed.
Yet I find myself still marching back to your hill.
And no matter how much these words bleed,
Nothing will ever be enough to paint our heartbeats.
How will something die, if it never lived?
All this will ever be is a ghost of a reverie.
I like tracing the paths of the places we've walked
in the fingertips of my worn out memory.
And see it all wounding up to you
A pain I so l ambivalently allowed to grow into me.
Like wildflowers, it sprouts slowly, then madly.
On it goes into my chest, my lungs
and at times I'll admit it gets hard to breath.
The roots have grown thick in the parts of me that never learn.
It's just futile for you or for anyone to see
I'll just go back to sleep in hopes that maybe,
...maybe not
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
My languid darling,
With your videre as you pass by
Pausing, freezing, looking back at me
Through harmonical movements
That made it seem as if you were dancing
Turning here and there ambivalently
Trying to ease your own boredom
As you listen to the sound of music.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
it is hard to translate emotions
into words and be wholly honest
our humours swirl ambivalently,
like vagabond alphabets which
have not found their words
as if insufficient time has
lapsed after the meteoric
impact of feeling, for the dust
to settle and for the words to cool
from the heat of the present tense
and all we can cough out is
soot: scorched and subjective,
a hurried attempt at translating
a restless disquiet into lexical entities -
ordered, grammatical.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 7:23 AM UTC
regularity describes the place
where logic proves its basic might
it's hard to leave its suggestive trace
and to analyze a pointless night
cause everywhere we'll spot a point
from which we'll have to start again
and after all we'll find a joint
to reach a more familiar lane
and so we try to understand
but understanding changes all
you can't use light to see dark land
nor understand such thoughts that crawl
beside the well known logic path
through the unknown that you can't hold
ambivalently yours like your breath
but looking back just needs a story told
so we can't escape that blurry snare
no matter how we try to think
we're bound to the very sense we bear
this thought is quicksand and we sink
as long as we try to resolve this link
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
I chew my way through nickles I earn from angry tourists ambivalently tossing percentages into a jar. I've learned that some of the toughest people come from the proletariat. I fear the people that have worked at McDonalds for 20 years. I kneel before the Knights of Mediocrity.
I check my mail and I come back with a fist full of loonies and quarters. Payday. My great big nose reflects back in the copper before I put the coins into my mouth-recepticle. It is barely bearable. It tastes like blood, but is it from the metal or is it the coin cutting my gums? With the sheer yield of my fields was I able to get it down. I wash it down with some OJ.
Of the queerest men and women I have met, most of them were from the same world as I came from (and to which I will inevitably return). The world of the workforce. I am merely ailed by itchy feet and a severe fear of placidity. I work hard. But only if my work is paid in mileage. If every penny spent is a road to anywhere but here.
A former colleague of mine developed prominent ****** ticks from working as a cashier at a market. The world falls harder on the content, because their yields shield most of the fall. People die both in front of desks and between steel beams.
Two men sit in silence, playing chess. Suddenly, an argument arises and both parties toss theories of chivalry between one another before one of the men yell,
"I don't think it's quite that black and white!"
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
i hate you and it is almost
****** the way that i want to
destroy you from the ground up,
flay your flesh from your bones and
watch your blood coagulate in the hot summer sun it is
cold
where your body lays
buried beneath mimosa pudica so preciously planted
i love the way your hardened body becomes pliant
to the touch
my warm blooded fingertips pressing into your sides
and if i had a **** i'd destroy your body
more thoroughly
**** your spitslick opening
more roughly than with the use of a finger
or three
which opening am i referring to
the one i create
with a knife and a flick of the wrist
right between your ghostrib and the meat of your stomach
i find it to be
most pleasant to the ear
that wet moistmaking slop of a cavern
and i want to put my tongue to it
so carefully
tasting your inner screams and whats left of your soul
stuck inside that rotting meat it cries
for help and i am your mother
rich in my love and rich in my hatred for the uncouth young
way your body wraps around my quivering flesh
my indecisive muscle
ambivalently traverses the planes of your abdominals
and my fingers follow, stained black with
your bile
i love the texture of your
insides
smooth against my calloused
touch
your faded whimpers echo in my ear and i am
ecstatic
i've clipped your wings
and you are my pet now
my gorgeous gangrene wild animal
to keep and to care for
and i love you
i am your mother and i love you
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Do not give me reason to haunt your mind
For I will dig and dredge up what I can find
Turning it back on your placid core
Non sequitur alliterations a lit alit alittle more
FOR I AM NOTORIOUS
So, do not doubt my ability to route
You... from your sanctimonious intransigency
To push and pull you into a corner where
You never thought you would be
FOR I AM
INSUFFERABLY NOTORIOUS
Should I find you neglect to collect
the pieces you discard
I will indeed ...
...far exceed the need...you plead
so hard to accede
FOR I AM
AMBIVALENTLY NOTORIOUS
AND INSUFFERABLE
Any abuse necessary to waylay
any excuse
You choose to use
In order to...
...cling
To your inner sanctum
Will i infuse..as I
Resort
to retort
By waxing
Perspicaciously panegyric
Upon your very being
In order to inspire..desire
With any and all necessary
Encomiastic encomium
So as to create higher aspirations
For I am notoriously cruel and inspiring
As I push one to the brink
Because....one way or another..
One way or another
I will....
.. Whatever it takes
I will... Make you think!
FOR I AM.... NOTORIOUS!
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
Preening predator
Ambivalently proud
While other prey clamor,
Kaiser beast now sated
Yields to his jungle den.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 1:59 AM UTC
Creativity and ambition is real
And the feeling of risk and intelligence
Are asking for damnation please, placidly
Birds among many things that chirp around your soul that wakes up the dead
Cheering up the party with the talk of apartheid, black and white
Competition is the last word, and talk of lost causes and intellectuality
Est mir leid
I'm up in my knees with Bukowski, they call me old-school Burroughs, the Kerouac rings in the philosophical Barry Manilow
Barry Levinson, please don't make my death bed, you're plot points make sense ambivalently too in case I touch upon Bacchus
The dichotomy of the bridling *** I suppose you switched with the surface of the country full of dunes and locusts
The swamp of the divorcee storm saves it for the orgie and the promiscuous dollar ride and melee
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 5:42 PM UTC
Leave the clean up to the professionals,
the conspiracies to the airs.
The dance macabre, music all-strutting a
life-expression,
worn in the ingratiating shimmer
off Time’s surface,
bright as a smile
and decent as a memory.
Like a worn blade
incapable of cutting so much of
what is needed of cloth,
and leaving only ruin
in its wake.
Just so,
matter turns to finer matter,
and of the, well, supposed immaterial,
the
to be not-to-be-so abstract
that-is-a-life,
a worn-to-pieces quilt of
finer thread than dust,
ambivalently contrasting
in the light of:
what is useful,
what is not,
loves me,
loves me not,
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 11:06 AM UTC
Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I mean really see them
Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast
Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching
The plume of colour from a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio
Understand.
Perspective.
Take some time to really see something, for the first time.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC
Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I really see them
Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast
Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching
The plume of colour of a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio
Take some time to really see something, for the first time.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC