"amplifies" poems
I never know what say
a memory of longing
is painful as it keeps
decaying in my chest
putting my love on paper
doesn't take it away
it amplifies the sting
trying to move on
infecting the open cavity of my being
you read my words like you understand
but I'm lost in a memory of what would have been
trying to collect shattered pieces of my own self
emptied and dancing whisked into the shadows
like the end of a dream
feverishly waking up because my feelings weren't received
give them but don't get them
like as if I sent a letter of longing
never in return
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 9:28 PM UTC
Man pineapples are so good
It's my favorite fruit
It's amplifies my taste buds making an enjoyable reaction
No room for sadness
Cuz pineapples bring me gladness
Justice to my nutrition
I'm a living organism and I need my power
Making me preach wholeness with boldness
I'm black and that's what my people do
So I'll continue to eat the sweet yellow fruit that purifies my soul
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
you always say you were never good with words,
but it's your wide eyes
and strong hands, soft touch,
that speak to me in hushed tones
as for me, my heart goes wild
with mad love and adoration for you,
so much that when i try to speak
the words stumble and i am tongue tied
so it always ends with you
and me
and the quiet
and the way we both lack a way with words,
yet the comfortable silence we share
amplifies the light of love
bursting in our hearts
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
SHE alone....
accentuates beauty,
her existence alone amplifies
why true perfection lies... in natural imperfection,
... and that....
...is the epitome of gorgeous,
wondrous...
A mysterious entity that makes me quiver at the nurturing womanhood...
.simplistic..
. True divinity, divinity that speaks to my soul in a language with roots far deeper than Latin...
A supernatural being that cannot be restricted by definition,
for it would only be an affliction
of her capacity,
so im left with nothing in which her beauty can be compared to,
for it's strength is far greater than any other force
....the beauty of a woman...
The embrace of her warmth and grace...
The softness...the independence...
The "love me for who I am"
...and i will..because....
it will always be more than enough...
and anyone who perceives it as less
...has never known true beauty
in the essence of a real woman ...
Thank you,
Thank you for teaching me compassion...
And passion...
sacrifice....
The bitter in bitter sweet, that is
arguably sweeter than the sweet...
A woman is much more than who she is,
but what she is...
and what she stands for...
It makes me strive to better myself as a man, so I do not let her down
...like I have....before
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Life is not symmetrical.
An interesting ponderance
With unforseen,
Far-reaching consequence
And the green is in the profits
For the sages and prophets
Who drop it
Telling rhymes
To capsize time
And no one's around to stop it
Open to interpretation,
A cryptic message
Whose meaning gets lost in translation
When living in a basement
With one suitcase of baggage
And it amplifies
The black-tie strife
Of societal ties.
And you figure you figures
Add up to something bigger
While I'm a ghost just trying to capture
A bigger piece of the bigger picture
But got distracted by the frame
I look familiar
But you dont know my name
I look familiar...
Like looking in a mirror
Because we both look the same
But we're different
You see,
Im a dedicated runaway
Who ran away from home
Trying to escape
A world of computers
And cell phones
Pursuing a knowledge
I always have known
But the world's greatest minds
Never predicted this...
And my happy meal
Tastes like flies and ****
Yeah, ****
Because someone ****** in my vinegar
And if I ever see justice,
I've got something to give to her
My eyes.
And the power of sight.
To open up her mind
And redirect her fight.
But I fall back
With no one to catch me
Forced to rely upon
Linguistic ability
Because its the power of speech
Which tells you to look both ways
Before you proceed
To walk across the street
And I know its not easy
To live on adrenaline and caffiene
But I'll chainsmoke cigarettes
And drink gin from the tub
And try to destroy
Another piece of myself everyday..
Until all thats left is love...
Life is not symmetrical.
Sometimes it rains on only one side of the street.
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 8:51 AM UTC
I once thought my goal in life was to remain golden and pure.
And for so long everything I saw only made me more sure.
But now Im alone.
Loneliness enters me like a poisonous mist.
With each breath I take, it amplifies how much I missed.
Missed memories, feelings, people, and more.
How much have I missed while I tried to remain "pure"?
This heart of mine now feels only pain.
Anguish fuels my thoughts, as if my mark of cain.
What I once thought divine only brings more devilish praise.
My heaven turned hell, these intentions set ablaze.
I cannot continue this inner conflict alone.
No man is an island,
No matter how pure.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
Early June in Calcutta
means packed streets
of decaying carcasses
and forlorn bodies
pulling rich people in carts.
Record-breaking heat
amplifies the smell
of curbs doubling
as urinals,
and pungent sweat
soaks our shirts
before we even leave
the rickety roof
we called home.
But when I think Calcutta
I picture sunshine
and warm masala chai,
Suporna's smile as she chews
a mashed banana treat
and Rosie's tiny hand
twisting the gold band
on my middle finger.
I remember thank you songs
and walking songs
that we sang at bus stops
and busy streets,
where the glisten
on our skin
was only outshined
by the sparkle in our eyes.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
magic amplifies in my loneliness a single flaw.
a bird, a high window. sound of a brain cell.
hunger and its unremarkable kitchen.
as a doctor I hammered the baby’s knee.
bio, and the undisclosed location of god’s recovery.
harm is harm’s audience.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
Months burst with potential understanding
Thyroid, Childhood Cancer, Breast Cancer
And Autism - a landscape of perception
I knew little once
Before lived experiences carved pathways
Of comprehension
Hand flapping, repeated movie scenes
Specific sensory needs
Neurological landscapes diverse as humanity itself
From verbal to non-verbal
From sibling to parent
From self-discovery at 34
My perspective widens like a lens
Societal Echoes
The world whispers harsh narratives
"Discipline them"
"Fix them"
"Normalize"
But we are not broken
We are different
Intricate neural networks
Misunderstood symphonies
Digital age amplifies cruelty
Marginalization becomes performance
Awareness transforms to spectacle,
Unfolding Truth
Intricate neural pathways
Misread as discordant tunes
The digital age sharpens cruelty's edge
Marginalization dressed as entertainment
Awareness turned into spectacle,
A truth slowly unraveling
Hatred cloaked in the guise of compassion
Bigotry masquerading as care
April - a month of performative understanding
We see what others refuse to witness
Complexity beyond simple categorization
Humanity in all its beautiful, challenging variations
Spectrum wide as consciousness
Unbound by neurotypical constraints
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 9:06 PM UTC
The karvings of this awe-full fantasy amplifies,
the throbbing of my freezing heart.
The shapelessness of the kloud whispers,
wonderful mysteries in inaudible murmurs.
The blue-orange painted kanvas above.
The silhouette of the mountains that hide,
behind the undaunted smokes that forms.
The opening that the heavens made,
to show the earth its dazzling threshold.
Gradually.
Sensationally.
Approaching the land with unfathomable ardor.
Devout of the seamless tenuous night,
Gangas klangs echoes through the cold.
Lumps of land deprive the moment of silence,
as the people sing to the gods with reverence.
Heareth me, O goddess of the krops!
O god o'er all the mountains come see;
How gracefully she stood before me.
While the pyre gives emphasis to her figure.
*Kurves of the kreseant resembles her smile;
edges of her lips sink.
Beautiful exkavation mark on her left cheek,*
all in perfekt symmetry; perfektion in all she is.
"Saya Suka Awak" I told her.
that very moment:
Sparkling of the stars devoured our eyes.
Sweetest morose partings seeped in voiceless lullabies;
in unison with symphonic notes lulling unsaid goodbyes.
Through the last movement of vagueness the moment subsides.
For the love that profess fades,
with the chilly thin air it travels;
back to the heart of the other.
Oceans apart they were,
yet atop the mountains. . .
love blossomed.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
Loneliness does not leave my body when I walk into a crowded room /it only amplifies itself with thoughts of why didn’t I just stay at home /what did I expect to find here / a pretty face with a kind smile and deep soulful eyes that would not only see the troubled and lost thoughts inside my head / but would be a mirrored reflection of the same struggles and doubts / someone who would say more by saying nothing and understand all the silence pouring out of my mouth / you know the girl / the one I read about in the poem I wrote last week / last year / yesterday and probably again tomorrow / the imaginary one I write all those fictional love poems to / the one that kind of looks like me in a dress / is it weird that I think she’s kind of hot? / the one that reminds me of the real girls and women I am always too afraid to talk to / I swear if it weren’t for alcohol and aggressive women I would still be a ****** today / it was so cute how they told me they never brought guys home with them... I don’t know maybe this was true / maybe it wasn’t / and I was always so naive that every time it happened I expected we were going to just watch a movie or something... / we did the something / just a something not as PG as I was expecting / something not really PG at all.../ oh...young me, where has tho gone.../ (sigh)... / I don’t drink so much now and I am not as naive / still a little / but that’s another story.... / and now I have been alone so long that it has a certain comfort and warmth / so long that I rarely notice being lonely at all / the dull buzz of silence / the peacefulness of an empty house is louder than the empty echo and cries of desperation from my heart... / that is / until I walk into a crowded room
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
What does a condemned man do? What does a man with no hope look forward to? One might say, “Today is terrible, but I will look forward to tomorrow.” But what use it tomorrow for the condemned? Doesn’t tomorrow bring quickly his dreadful fate? What use is the beauty of the sun or the calm of the breeze upon his face and skin? Are these not splendor’s that will add to his misery; memories that will torment his eternal soul. He does not ask to hear the sounds of joy and gladness, for where he is headed never have these been present. He is headed to the deep below, where the wails overwhelm the senses and hope is a soon forgotten fable strictly uttered by those above. The memory of the sunshine upon his face amplifies his unending anguish; the smell of the common morning air will plague his mind. “What caused such a fate for this man”, asks the world? He did not take heed to that which is written, that if you hear the voice of God today, do not be stubborn as your ancestors were when they rebelled against God. He chose separation from God - - the path that leads to no sunshine.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Vocabulary
Bears imagism
Foundation
Imagery
Amplifies eloquence
Apache's tear
Metaphors
Stabilize meaning
Plausibility
Allegory
Visualizes enigma
Sammi Poe
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:45 AM UTC
I come as the moon in my spirit form. Always serenading, yet I still yean for the one I love with my whole being. My two sides of the same coin. My synchronity. My union.. Until we stand side to side with differences but in fusion. While stargazing as I shout out this one here amplifies my spirituality she's my serenity - Swoo
Jun 15, 2022
Jun 15, 2022 at 6:11 PM UTC
true to the soul of your years
rough fabric hewn from
a life filled with bitter days
and desperately lonely nights
her worn eyes look thru me
as the candle flickers with nightbrezze
dances light shadows across walls
and amplifies the emptiness
and the window to the world outside reveals
little but the skies wheeling silently overhead
and a trail out of the wilderness
away from her glass cage
hollow hearted she is bent over the page
beads of sweat pepper her brow
her lips flicker with silent phrases
as she labors thru each crafted word
weaving her barefooted form out of the
crisp white page
showing her carefully posing her hands
in the gestures of birds in flight
while her words are in broken french
her soul is fluent with all the seasons
that one finds on the harsh streets
and in the hallways of institutions for bent thinkers
as darkness breaks the soiled sunlight
and the shards sharp and swift
it sheds all premise of innocence
the light is unclean
it breeds children of shadow in the mind
that run laughing thru the memory's
tearing at the fabric of her image
scrawling obscene words on the walls of sanity
and breaking the dusty windows along the road
between your today and all your yesterdays
the essence of its cage bound in place by shadow
know its child of misgivings
see its motherless harlot of fears
and sour the milk of reason with its poison eye
leaving me hungry of the thirsty floor
leaving me angry on the grieving hardtack
like so many who hide themselves away from harm
she became trapped in her illusions
and now spends her days trying in thought alone
to break free
i pity her
as much as i fear a monster like her
your ****** moments fade your smile from my mind
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
The Wait:
don’t look for love in public spaces
love is shy always
hesitating she comes with flowing grace
to the patient lover
in the end all that is needed
is to look into the mirror –
in the reflection of your eyes
you’ll find her!
The First Smile:
Oh! Say not that this world is mean
do not turn your face away from me!
the lack of a smile in return
was not intended to spurn
but your smile left me so captivated
so caught up and fascinated,
that even as my heart somersaulted,
my lips forgot to smile!
Being Together:
the mist hides my secrets,
of it are born my desires
the arc of the moon expands to contain
every wish of this lovesick heart
the morning but amplifies this-
the sweetness of the night’s embrace
on sleepless pyres were burnt our passions
on winter’s breath our dreams impaled!
Inseparability:
Love isn’t Love
until one sees
that I am You
and You are Me
so where lies the question
of coming and going
wherever you are
there I shall be!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
lover’s lament is a foreign phrase.
the failure to follow through
after days and days.
a night well spent amplifies
the objection of your heart.
the only self-reverence in your hands
is the skill to erase.
i am desperate with intent
and you’re high off the assumption.
with a whiff of my willingness
your power is content from presumption.
desire is essential only when
you fear I don’t need you.
i react to negligence and
all it does is feed you.
your eyes have averted
as you’re fully aware.
my will is good but
nothing to spare.
i need an end to this name
i’ve been given.
i need a start to this life
that’s become bedridden.
you need a friend
in this karmic
game of resentment.
what decadence a fair-weather
friend will give
for their own contentment.
i look around and
i’m the only one still trying.
your poor heart still bleeds
it still bleeds.
it’s still dying.
like a silent revenge
fallen upon my deaf ears.
i still hear you.
expose yourself but
conceal your regret.
it’s your own self-doubt
you find hard to forget
attack for full control
that you accuse me of stealing
a gift in exchange to retaliate
your warped feeling.
to be afraid,
to be afraid,
to be afraid.
is to be free.
and you’re just like me.
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 12:42 PM UTC
It is a replicable dialectic
that swirls in my mind
like a spiral of cigarette smoke
covering fluctuations
of diffused expanses
of transferable hallucinated images
relying on an artificial artificiality
to generate a reality
one that amplifies a calisthenics
of maximized reduction
in the blank vacuum of space
allows those sophistication’s
where there is a scrutiny
of exclusions
that may perhaps betray
the concepts of others
those correlatives
of our own creative interirority
where a mind may repeal a transgression
for it is breakfast in the time
of the Wizard Pig
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
at this time in the past right here
it used to be real
oh!...oh! for another reality
to leave this false perception
and go...go...go to feel the wind
on another's face
to see with another's eyes
how the colours appear to them
to hear what another hears
with an innocent ear
to feel the euphoria
that slows the world down
to have another's departure
from all perceived notions of reality
to a new understanding
another reality
where brief encounters with time
start with the embarkation of a sentence
that causes a curious disquiet
to race through the nerves
ricocheting in a vibrancy
of vatic vitality, a creative tension
transforming the cortex
creating new unforeseen images
a new reality where thoughts are visible
and circulate, orbiting moons around the mind
dazzling with a universal symbolism
that with a kaleidoscopic vengeance of words
scatters and amplifies the distinctions
of the senses, into a new reality
one of convulsive voices
oh! this new reality
it causes me to walk to a stranger
who is myself
and forms a true disintegration
of a controlled focus
on a beautiful disorder of
chaotic discourse of a volatilized impulse
of the emotions, where blood stains smile
lavishly with a different vocabulary
destroying a predictable reality
and forges a new one that entertains discovery
of other dimensions.. which are the figments
of another's imagination
it is solitary encapsulation of ideas
that glitter on my tongue
where conflagrations of burning water
swirl dramatically in difficult articulation
of the smells and rancid ***** stains
of the ordinary that tries but is precluded
from the stream of consciousness
rushing in a discord of sympathies
through the inner geography of my mind
and forges a symbolic relationship
with these inplosively brief encounters with time
causing psychic post apocalyptic
predispositions to a false mimesis
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
*Crepuscular rays
science name for beauty
filtered Light...
Two weak sprinklers
coaxing green from dry blades
desert futility...?
Steady wind blows
roars in tree branches
motor noise amplifies...
Blue paint droppings
pavement lines and splotches
patterns imagined...
Breathless biker
yield passage on steep path
shared success...?
Uprooted tree
branches to sky reach out
same questions...?
Bright setting light
yucca spears dead and alive
both reflect...
Dead logs
piled and waiting
tree dust...*
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
I am a hawk without wings
flying above trees.
Salty wind hits my face;
I smile.
The land beneath me sings
bounty and beautiful scenes.
I gaze
It passes me by.
I am left to stare.
No thoughts to spare
deafened
by my haste.
My smile fades,
the time is neigh.
I descend
and clear my mind.
The helicopter hits
I feel the thud
First our packs
Then our guns
The roar amplifies
then fades away.
No longer am I a hawk.
Now I am a snake.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
This is a poem for the ones who go unseen,
the ones who go unnoticed,
Who go through their life in a quiet reverie
Though they are of few words
There entire life is a dream
They don't get an influx of likes on social media,
No one is begging them for dates
They just do what they need to do,
While blending nicely into the background
Their minds are loud
But there lips refuse to make a sound
This is for the ones
Who think they don't belong
No one can see their pain
Because no one looks close enough these days
We're a surface level generation
Praising fool's gold
We fill our mind's with aggravation
And our lives are either extremes
of mania or stagnation
But then there are the unseen
Still reveling in all the simple things
They are the unobtrusive rebels of society,
The true rebels really
For they don't rebel on Instagram
They rebel, unwittingly,
For everything they do
Is in opposition to popular culture
I write this
To remind you all
To not overlook the underdog,
For they are the most riveting of people
Though they don't build a personal brand and a steeple
To advertise their life
They are the most genuine folk
Without a lick of pride
I haven't always been so cognizant
of the underdog's pain
I connect with them the most, of course
Because they really listen to me, and make room for my authenticity
But at times I've chosen to be vain
Ditching the underdog for the "cooler" crowd,
And all for social gain
And yet, surrounded by people with whom I do not have a sense of belonging
Loneliness echoes in my heart,
And it amplifies when I'm trying to fit in
It leads to deafening silence
And in the dead of night, hours of crying
But you don't need to be born an underdog
To change this social conditioning
For our whole lives our culture has programmed us to be on a mission,
To be better, more efficient
So we can gain success, so we can have superficial love
We're not merely automaton's with minds
We're sentient beings, with hearts that need to love
And we're alive
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
A tremble begins to settle on seething skin
She is a maker of parasitical kin
It does not consume like a dancing fire
But it amplifies with a vision of curdling desire
Just like a mother, it grows like a molding seed
A miracle of the asexual spirit in a world of greed
Abrupt in nature, beloved by its own flesh and blood
It left an intangible mark inscribed on her soul in disguise of a hunch
A precautionary tale serves a special prevention of the ugly occurrence
What a marvelous delight it becomes when it reverts as a guide, full of opulence
But not in a sense of monetary value, rather a calculated demise
How does one understand a raw creation of wrath?
What will she become after venturing the thorny path?
Does an inquiry halts her progress in activating fury?
Is there an object of her ire that requires a narrative of her mutiny?
Why does the poison never spread like death in a rush?
Can she possibly raise an army to march with an uncontrollable urge of violence?
When will she endure the thinning of her lips to match the peace of a deafening silence?
Is there a warning to keep herself intact for the coming apocalyptic days?
Will it save the dormant history of her being through enactment of saving face?
The question remains unanswered, but the fulfillment of the instrumental vengeance shall prevail
The inappropriate conception is almost complete to its term
A note emerges from an acidic confinement for the preparation of a womanly stern
This clump of a girl is not a shameful creation for the sake of tragedy
If anything, the child's fulfilling rage will cleanse her ancestors as a token of remedy
There is no reminder of a continuing paternity names on her birth
No need for prophetic visions as she strikes down the Earth
An abundant offerings on her behalf shall never satisfy her
As the melting iron starts to sizzle the plumper skin, the blinding nostalgia of rage tastes better
She has no patience for warnings to initiate an appropriate plan
The hour of her sustainable war has begun
Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
Sometimes it seems to me that your ultimate goal is to see me broken.
You sit in your chair and twiddle my hearts strings between your fingers.
You strum my chords until the melody becomes too similar to your own.
Then you knot each of my hearts strings up individually,
Leaving me strung.
Only so you can start all over.
You learn me just to forget me.
Lead me just to leave me.
I'm a game that you love to play.
But only when you haven't smiled a genuine smile for a while.
I make you happy and nervous at the same time.
Cause everyone knows that a sweet hello births the most bitter goodbye.
So when it feels too real, it's too easy for you to run.
In the meantime you just walk the line.
You reside on the equator of my past and future.
And my resistance only assists your thrive.
You are the factor which brings life to my smile.
You are the crease in between my cheek and the corner of my mouth.
Every breathe I take while with you amplifies my high.
I hate you, but I love how you make me feel.
But only sometimes.
You are a wound that will never heal completely.
Marking me imperfectly beautiful. You are my creative collaborator.
Forever infected by your loves venom.
Therefore I bleed thee.
But, we don't relate anymore.
Our pitters don't patter on beat anymore.
Our paths don't meet anymore.
It seems like your hearts not even in reach anymore.
I figure to leave is the only way to settle the score.
But you've packed my bags and you opended the door.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
She is a tall glass of water on a summer’s day
She sits in the sun and condensation only amplifies her glow
Full of character, despite her titillating transparency
For every cold cube of ice, is one who took her for granted
Some try to drink her all at once, but
Such a fine glass must be sipped from before it can be drank from
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 9:19 PM UTC