"amounting" poems
His blue eyes are like glacial-lakes, wrapping around his heart till he's chilled to the bone from the cold.
A deadly place where treading is no longer permitted.
His eyes are transparent and distant as the impersonal clouds passing overhead.
Even as I stands before him, reflecting off him.
I am still merely a reflection.
He knows my face, I reason silently.
From the hills of my cheeks, down towards the valley separating my lips.
He should recognize it all.
Instead a blank expression greets me.
A look of cold, solid insouciance.
I'm immediately angry with myself for wanting to justify his indifference's.
A reflex I've never been able to expel.
The vestigial limb on a skeleton.
A party favor from another time forgotten for the newly discovered toy.
I twist in the fridged winds wrapping around him.
My force giving under the great pressure magnified by his powers.
I never wanted to dance upon his breeze.
This realization makes me burn hotter.
My anger brighter than the northern star.
I welcome it, my amounting rage.
I embraces it with a raging smile.
His glaciers may be cold, immovable at times.
A pretentious notion I might freeze.
For I am the sun swirling in nova's ring and cannot be affected by his black iced personality.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
/ beelzebub
*(given employs the spider a posteriori
and spiderweb a priori, and then back
into a bicemeral reverse psyche-analogy -
the id est contra the id erat -
but there is no latin revival -
given that the latin encoding has been
translated into a.i. algorithms...
forget putting the pandora
into a box into a box into a box,
into an etc. or what is a russian
cultural artefact... forget it...
a black fly would not take upon
itself to make a dustbin, a *******
maggoty brothel, like a green bottle fly
might... black flies have character,
style...
they're the ones that take
to tango, with spider architecture,
akin to the theological spider analogy
about an ad infinitum a priori argument)*:
a bit like watching
a black fly - "washing" itself -
rubbing it's front limbs
together, "attempting"
to start a fire...
god, those awful
green bottle hypers -
with maggot excesses -
in a potential well
expressed into practice -
black flies?
i can entertain them -
like i might entertain spiders
that do not require aquariums -
the non-exotica types...
so i sometimes find myself
rubbing my hands together,
like a catholic amounting
to an altruistic prayer symbolism...
so kommen faust,
so kommen faust,
so ist pseudo-faust -
or rather:
england?
deutschland jr.
america?
deutschland sr.
and if that wasn't the case?
oh me, little old slavic
babuшka...
i still can't explain rubbing
my hands together,
like a black fly might...
keeping standards of where
to take a maggoty dump's
worth of procreation value...
black flies?
compared to the others?
the priests of the whole
spectrum...
i sometimes wish they were
red,
so i could call them: the cardinals...
alas...
not to be, god said otherwise...
but i can fathom the priesthood,
like i can fathom -
an aspiration of a sleeping
samurai, devoid of the zodiac
delusion,
encouraged to make
chiromancy initiatives
(readings) to alleviate,
******** monotheism.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
Why do you fiercely stare ?
Why do you mock me so?
why is the mirror there?
Picking out every minor detail.
My effort isn't amounting to much
but leave me be please.
These critics are harming my progress,
Because I'm only as good as I let myself be.
So why is the enemy Me!?
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
My mind is at war with my actions
Running and running
Dodging mines at every turn desperately trying to keep you happy knowing that one wrong step I will explode into tiny bits and pieces,
amounting to nothing as I once did
My heavy boots I pick up with every step I take knowing when I get to you I will regain your trust for the evening
Shooting me down each night in every ***** of my body with your hateful words knowing that your country will win the war in my head and I will forever lose
Falling asleep each night with fear that someone else could take my place
Knowing that your ego could fill the entire desert
My blood pours out of my body as my words do on the page describing what hell I am experiencing being under your command and how I desperately need out
But you cannot just simply
leave the war.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
I see it
It's on their faces
All of 'em
This shadow
Like some sort of indifference
Built out of hurt and pain and loneliness
Like they're so tired of fighting that they just gave up
"This is reality" they say
Yea, I see it
Don't think you can fool me
And there's a lot I could say
You know, to them, to myself, or to God
A lot of words that attempt to heal
A lot of prayers that attempt to reveal
A lot of...wrestling...that attempts to understand the brokenness of our condition and how God fits into all of it
But lately I've only been able to think of one thing
One single question that wells up inside whenever I begin to feel overwhelmed by the comprehension of the depth to which you have sunk your teeth
How dare you?
I see her
She's laying it all before me
Her heart
Her emotions
All her past
All her brokenness
Her father who used to chase her all over the house
Call her all sorts of horrible names
Totally RUINING her sense of self worth!
And now, she doesn't know what to believe or what to say or how to say it or what to pray or what to do or what to choose or how to love or when to love or if to love at all and all I can say is
How dare you?
Are you not aware?
And I see him
He's caught up in himself
So misguided by the failures of those involved in his life that he built a wall TEN MILES THICK around his heart, locked it, swallowed the key and never looked back cuz he's so **** sure there's nothin' left to see and all I can say is
How dare you?
Do you not know?
Oh and I see him
Sitting right across from me all full of lies and blasphemy
The things he says only ever amounting to full blown hypocrisy
I see him
So full of anger, hatred and hurt that I don't even know where to begin
The web is so thick it's BLACK
And you say it's hopeless, and I feel helpless, and all I can say is
How dare you?
Can you not see?
Oh, and I FEEL it!
That voice!
Insipid and subtle
So confident and slithering and leaving no room for rebuttal
Give UP it says
You're not capable and they're not worth it!
Your faith is invalid cuz it contradicts all the others
Your heart is too filthy and your soul is too shredded!
You're gonna fail! Because you always fail you failing, miserable failure!
And all I can say is
How dare you?
Do you not know?
Can you not see?
Are you not aware?
Get to tremblin', beast.
For we are the children of the living God.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
You're pathetic
A cry baby
Never amounting to much
Worthless and useless
A waste of space
Obnoxiously selfish
Self-centered attention *****
You crave pity
And all eyes on you
Just stop whining
Long enough to **** yourself
You don't deserve life
Since you waste it
You're nothing special
Just an accident
Never meant to happen
Sincerely, yourself
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
I sit on my **** by the fireside chair
and talk the mill talk to the calender man
but he doesn't care
he just watches his gauges and pressures
how precious he is
to the factory owner who allows him to live
on a pittance each week.
And while he clothes the World
in his mind he would seek
a botany bay
where his ancestors lay
and put roots in that ground.
The sound of the press, blocks the sound from the bell
just as well
because that ringing in his ears is not the bite from the future
but the teeth in the fears of his past
and another bolt of cloth has been passed by the foreman
and ticked off the list that he keeps in a book
to read to the crook who works in accounting
and pushed to the double entry
in another book amounting to
daylight robbery
but the snobbery of the age is another page set
in the mill town you get
****** all.
The fine hall's for the Master and all you survey
are the ruins that lie in the ruins of another day.
Get away
to get away and walk through a gateway into a better day
but the Devil you know is the Devil you pay and what would he say
if you jacked in the mill
and worked down the mines
better times indeed?
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
I take from the rich
And I give
To the richer
Grow
Money trees
And then watch the world wither
I've slithered
In gardens of green
Dripping red
With a purity hood
Draping over my head
I have poisoned the fountain
Of youth
To retain
My control of this endless
Monopoly game
As my capital gains
A skyscraper a day
To the skyrocket
Stock market
Locke's do I pray
Upon all to be blessed
With lavish excess
But succession of kings
My investment ******
To breed wealthier nations
Uncommon in man
Through unhealthier rations'
Invisible Hand
Do I muppet the mouths
And harp on the heartstrings
As I tug on the chains
Of the slaves
Freedom rings
And that fat lady sings
All she wants
I will cling
To this power
With eagle-lied,
Vulturous talons
Devour
The will
And then **** the bills,
Billing blood that I spill
With impunity
Robbery,
Poverty
Property
I am the law
There is no order stopping me
No cherry topping me
No global powers’
High towers
Are topping me
No master forces endorsed
Are out-shopping me
Spending spree
On the lost souls
Now to bending knee
Fall
And enthrall in the terror
Of my urban sprawl
Making maggots of masses'
Automaton dreams
Into my gilded ages'
New pyramid schemes
You can call me a liar
Truth is
No concern
To the one who reigns fire
With oil to burn
Down upon the deniers
Until they all learn
I'll recruit body bags
To preach life to the choir
And when the screen lags
Train these dogs to play dead,
Lay their own on a wire
In so doing shred
The carnage they desire
So I can play God
And with demons conspire
A masterful plan
To command the economy
Zombie hive mind
Get in line
For lobotomy
My progeny
Multiply to consume
And consume
And consume
'Til the ******* last fume
Dissipates into space
The good fortunes of Earth
All amounting to waste
With the mother who nurtured you
***** and disgraced
The four steeds
Of Apocalypse
Nothing but paste
For I win every time
I with you
Humans race
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:01 AM UTC
The premise of amounting to nothing,
Can be comforting.
If you think you are capable enough
To affect real change.
And if you are, and
Do not, you are no
Man. And if
None of us act,
We are all ******
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 10:23 PM UTC
A ladder to climb,
A moral to sign.
Devour the lotus.
Mountains amounting to doubting,
How much further do we have to climb?
Further, go further,
But remember, it can be dangerous
Leaving all of the past behind.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 11/29/10
Revised 9/27/14)
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Gold rings on slim fingers
Long eyelashes batting, bright
Amounting to the moment, no value when the night runs
Men laughing, their eyes full of unbridled lust
Only the tinkling of glasses, carried on a breeze
Rushing champagne from a bottle, embossed with the best label
Outrageous fashions, the fabric thin enough to rip
Under twinkling stars, the players move on
Snakes all of them, their fangs shining in the light.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
As the days come and go, the memories stay the same. All at once they rush to my head, as if the pain had made it's nest in my mind.
Thoughts of it all comes to crush me, as if the world it self had given up on me.
Fear of failing, or of not amounting to the others requirements, forces me to do right by wronging others.
Dark thoughts to which I am a slave to the path chosen for me, not by me, but by my actions.
Wanting to make it all go away, but it's same as wishing for richness to all in the world.
They say "the world runs on money," which causes the most unminded of us to jump to the others neck, just obtain a piece of happiness. Some will go as far as to take another's life, just to reach what most of us consider as the ways of life.
My own thoughts have pushed me to do the most unworthy things to the ones who love me. The feelings which force me to be unfaithful to my soul. Leaving but an empty shell to roam the lands.
Ashamed to be in my own body. The thoughts of starting from scratch, and help others thinking as if, but it does not matter what face one puts on. The pain will forever remain within you, until your leaving day.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
Causally awaken.
Deceiving perception.
Desires clouding.
Thoughts amounting.
Thirst building.
Blind folded.
Saliva dripping.
Unclothed and,
Her body rolling, down my lips,
Full lips, her mound I kiss,
tricking up and down her neck,
Our lipstick, as we kiss.
Eyes open wide
Body paralyzed
Skin tantalized
Satisfaction written on her face
Our rhythm guides the pace
Quivering from the vibes
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Prelude,
Skin was scorching,
Prickling our naked ankles.
Whispers of passion—amounting to the indefinite.
Excitement overriding fear.
Your smirk—it was scorning my wit, but all the while I was spinning—
Trying to outdo you.
Challenging the norm of lovers before me, despite those many warnings.
And yet, here I am, brushing against your infamous lips,
Having more intentions than I care to share with you,
Because I will be the exception.
I, a determined revolutionist bent on transforming your philosophy.
The inevitable vulnerability, the alleged helplessness found by your touch—
You were all talk, and nothing I couldn’t handle.
_____________
Interlude,
Something encroaches now.
A force unplanned.
It violates me. It breaches the wall of my veins.
Slithering, swimming —
A parasitic force of which I was convinced I was immune.
Biology’s symbiotic model; forever tainted by our act.
For many a love was given in primal flesh, yet goes unrequited in spirit.
I believed I could break this cycle.
I, the revolutionist
Believed I could topple your deeply set pride.
I believed I could crack your shell and pull out the viscera,
Bleeding, pulsating in between my fingers, and let the mass slide from my hands
To fall upon your chest, floundering in plain view.
I imagined that your eyebrow would raise, your lips would part to form a
Contorted grin, you would sigh, and then admit,
“Nicely Done.”
I believed you would be impressed.
I believed you would be impressed…
______________
Epilogue,
Wit is waning.
Skin is cold, rotting… and wasting.
My beautiful body is rotting.
And I cannot admit that you were right,
Lest I would rot more quickly.
Still unyielding to your claims,
Only so you not think of me as fragile,
Not because I think I may win.
Clinging to the hope that you may someday learn to love
This broken, yearning body.
This fallen revolutionist—
All along a convenient satiation of flesh.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 5:07 PM UTC
God doesn't hate
Satan doesn't abate
The hate that's in the "Christians" eyes
Is nothing more than sordid lies
And misconstruing Fathers words
It's been a while of killing birds
With stones
Amounting less and less
Greed, lust and selfishness
God doesn't hate
Satan doesn't abate
The signs they ****** in the air
Are lies, lies everywhere
Because God doesn't hate
And Satan doesn't abate
The gospel that they are preaching
Away the truth it's leeching
Because GOD DOESN'T HATE
And Satan doesn't abate
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
It's raining. It's pouring. Here's another poem for your exploring. I implore you stop snoring and ignoring the resonant glow of morning.
Touring forgotten graveyards should never shed tears of mourning. Celebrating life, while others die, isn't scorning.
Happiness and love that you're storing, sheds bright light on the adoring. Painful funerals seem quite the time, that sounds boring.
Bringing respectful flowers of purple and golden hues equals scoring. Harnessing the power of the Sun is more powerful, than the pedal of the Hummer that you're flooring. The glum guns over soldiers' shoulders fire heart-warming bullets into the sky.
Past souls still swarming, adorning their tears of sadness that rains down to the ground in the light.
Your fear and doubt, swimming around, will swallow you into lost depths for the drowning.
Sprouting up new life from the mound sounds astounding. Crowning new Queens and Kings for selfish deeds, indeed are alarming.
Memories of noble families are founding truths for crowning and gowning. Wealth to weaken poverty, for the pounding.
Quit the clowning, as the pied pipers at dawn wield magical flutes that wipes off frowning faces.
Amounting to the sorrowful pain, gained from the Earth, go wash your dirt, hurt, and pain away in the rain.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
In the midst of all there is to live
The crawling uncertainty, the laziness of souls
The crippling doubt that rules us all
Her gaze is shown, a lighthouse wearing a red stole
Hours reduced to seconds and not much to spare
A sip of winter *** delicate move of hands, hips unbound
Fingers slip, chocolate lipped, spurred moments
Tamed desires unleashing round breast-bites on empty appetites
Quickening shivers, last minute kiss and our time is undelivered
Words amounting to clichés and graceful, still, is her face
The provoked eyes of adolescence delight my wary ghost
I no longer linger in uncertain realities
Raise a glass to the possibilities and what to come
In the shadows I find you, my cure
For you see, my disintegration never had a meaning
So let us dwell between uncertain realities, least we find ourselves a host
One year amounting to a lifetime
Dreams of promised serenity are greater still
What lies beneath the Arabian sun? Nothing but Imprisoned spirits, enslaved birds and wild ignorance
Larger than life talks of reform, crumbling yet, in our first test
Remembrance of past ways
Everything fate has in store for us
Even odds were aligned in phases
Mountains of passion sprung high
I’m a spectator, you control my letters
Little by little, unnerved attempts
Oceans of black uncharted seas
Various letter arrangements and lines
Eventually leading to the sublime
Your embrace and my sea metaphors
Oslo awaits, but waves won’t abate
Until one day, when our minds abide
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
The banging sounds
seem to drown
out my thoughts
ricocheting back, a rebound
but amounting to nothing
disappearing like a person fearing
the truth.
It's unruly and forever fooling
the gullible and trustworthy
but surely they don't believe the lies
that people can change
but rather re-arrange
and it's strange
how time can fly
but I can't.
my imagination soaring
yet here I stand.
Man is my head spinning,
the thought of winning this race
against time and space,
defying physics
to try and mimic
a picture so perfect it's a vivid vision
but there's a division, a collision
where my desires are tired and sick of reality
clashing with their limits
that bind us all
until we're blind and we fall.
If only I could make myself fly
like my mind or time
whizz by in the blink of an eye
and hope to find
the peace and ease I seek in life,
with no banging sounds causing me strife.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
As she adjusted her bra strap,
I noticed my lust.
Blindingly sevidical, but as brief as a wrap,
To control, to control, let it fall to the dust.
I wished for many a time
Merely to speak, to flow, allow my thoughts to congeal.
Alas, it was faulty; only amounting to my sacral slime.
I should realise, fortify the need for reckless zeal.
Claim envy. Jealousy. Angst.
A coward. A loser. A failure.
For sure, for sure. It appears it canst.
Only to seek, touch, comprehend your allure.
Sirens and succubi hold no claim.
Vixens and Amazons wither in your light.
Incorporate: Intelligence. Ineffectual. Insane.
For you lasted longer than any mere sight.
They will ask me, one day
How I allowed the fissure to exist.
Fall. Fall. At the bottom you lay.
I will respond, “It was my cowardice I kissed”
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 11:01 PM UTC
Why
Am I still in this place?
How
Am I still dragging my heels..
When I know better.
I could do better for myself .
Recognize the madness of life
Is only a test of patience.
To attain happiness and contentment.
But we as people
Are our worst critics.
But its easy to forget
We can empower ourselves just as much.
So chin up dude.
Smile.
That's what everyone remembers you by.
And laugh..
Laugh more.
Life is beautiful,
And so I've been told
To look in the mirror,
And tell myself my fate.
For I choose how I feel
About every situation.
Every memory.
And every moment.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
We are dying, the world is ending...
The fact is inevitable, yet we pretend that it will never end, we think that nothing will go wrong in our lives, so we ignore the warning signs. We ignore the amounting number of wild fires that burn our neighbourhoods, the ever steady rise in temperature, the ever increasing number of deaths in natural disasters due to our populations. I'm not a "SAVE THE EARTH, SAVE YOURSELVES" person, I just think that we have to wake up from our perfect little dream societies, and at least accept that accidents are imminent and that we don't just do something after the event has happened, but be prepared before it happens so that more people don't have to die from unpreparedness that was at the fault of our governments ignorance towards something that may only happen once.
After hurricane Katrina struck the U.S. Government spent billions on hurricane prevention in that affected area, while the rest of the coasts of the U.S. Stand vulnerable and naked to even the smallest of hurricanes.
Another example is mount Helena in Yoho National Park, we know that anywhere from tomorrow to fifty years that she will erupt. But as the world does everything but pay attention to it, there are unknown scientists taking measurements of the volcanic activity and becoming more anxious by the minute trying to save the uncaring world that live below the mountain.
There are hundreds of examples that I could rant on about, but no one wants to hear it because it conflicts with their tiny little perfect worlds.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
An anxious amortal
archnemesis
affectionately
allowing an amoral
animosity
achieve an attitudal
agressive and aversion against
any and all
annoying,
aggravating,
afflicting,
and almost annihilating
alliterations,
although all
aforementioned actions
are absolutely
artificial.
An amiable
abomination
and architectural abuse
at an alphabet achieved
after aesthetically
arranging ample
arbitrary
alternatives alone,
amounting an acclamation.
An affinity at
awkward avante-garde arts
arising at
an astronomical acceleration,
aside an archaic
argumentum ad
antiquitatem argument
awfully appraising
an atheistic and agnostic
apparition,
anthrophomorphically
alive and apparently
alright after asphyxiation,
alluding an astral authority
absolving accusations
and all allegations.
An advantageously
astute and adroit assassin
always actively
acting and assaulting
alone, ain't assisted
anyhow,
already
antiquating auxillaries
altogether.
An alliteratious afterfocus:
Aborting all anticipations.
Anticipating affirmative antagonizations.
All are alright.
Already airtight.
Adios, amigos.
Author: anonymous,
an acorn-afflicted,
assassinatrix affiliate.
attributed as Agent Argent.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
Scratching at the surface, a mass of desperation weighing over my gentle soul
yearning, scraping trying to dig out of this hole
I'm scraping to make it out of this whole
pieces of me shed with my every thrashing, every movement comes with a struggle
pieces strewn throughout my life, never amounting to a puzzle
forward progress is my dream within it all
yet there is never a climb without the fall
no descent worth noticing, no downward spiral out of place
A part of me breaks with every brief glimpse of that face
Walking through the halls of worn images and depressed portraits
finally realizing they are all mirrors
the only surface that could reflect the reality clearer
nights plagued with restless thoughts and dreams out of reach
reaching for the surface, hoping these hands can finally breach
the veil that shrouds my forward motion
drowning in my failures, a soul just drifting in this ocean
every step comes with it's hesitation
a constant testament to my self will and patience
a train to my future always late to the station
leaving me anxiously waiting
staring down the tracks of my past
listening for the humming droning of the steel bars scraping the electric rail, sizzling and popping in the late summer evening
Waiting to depart, finally leaving
On the platform, ticket in hand, bags upon my shoulder
I never saw myself growing up, I never wanted to get older
Never asked for much, never yearned for more than stability
All scales must return to level, just wondering when they will for me.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
If I could convince you of one thing,
I would convince you that you are worth it.
These arms are much to short and far too weak
to rip through the curtain of time,
but if I could convince you,
I would brush hours with my fingertips
and leave palm prints engraved on the days you didn't feel loved.
Reaching back, up to my elbows in pools of your story,
sifting through the silt built up at the bottom,
twisting knobs and turning dials
until every time you heard his voice or her voice say
'you will never amount to anything'
instead played back
'you will never stop amounting.'
Spry young saplings, planted at the river's edge,
you will never stop growing.
You will always find strength when you lift your branches to the sky,
be it deep in your roots,
you will stand taller than northern pines,
taller than sycamores that split clouds with their leaves.
Believe me now more than your memories,
you will do so much more than survive.
I would spill this pain I see melted in your eyes.
With all of the righteous fury a sinner can muster,
I would destroy those times you were told
that it's never ok to cry,
that you must live like prisoners inside your own bodies
with emotions covering up the windows more and more each day.
If I could convince you,
I would swallow every steel bar you've ever known,
Giving you back your mother,
Giving you back your father.
I would fill myself with cages
if you would know that you are free.
You are free to live life as you have seen it in the trees.
Stand tall, and drink from the rivers of love
so few are willing to share with you.
In turn, share your rivers with those who also believe.
I would not erase the pain you have suffered,
for I would not dare touch your strength.
I would ask, that when you feel the wind,
like the breath of God, stirring through the trees,
that you would stretch out your branches and weep.
Water the ground that has brought you so far,
embracing every waking moment
that you might never again live in dreams.
If I could convince you of one thing,
Change your mind about time,
showing you that you are both past and present
staring boldly into the future,
I would convince you that you are worth it.
Whatever "it" you could imagine "it" to be,
Know that it will never measure up to your leaves.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC