"antecedent" poems
Take my hand
Let's get away from here;
Let us escape the intensity,
That is reality.
Let us wander:
Into the realms of imagination,
The spectacles of fantasy,
Stopping not once.
To reach the light, we must travel through the dark
Past the broken hearts
Past the sorrowed days
The dark is immense.
Past the antecedent
We walk through the perils of life
Of love, if it exists,
This is an uncertain time.
At last, the light approaches,
We reach the area of escapism,
But alas it's tampered
With the remnants of solace.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 12:41 PM UTC
Oh the wax
upon my fingers,
burns of antecedent time;
sticky and unpleasant.
Drips of vagueness,
like tears before bed.
Crying appeal always so strange.
The shape of you,
a thin tall tower of white.
Sometimes red,
as my eyes staring at the dark's
only light.
Scented in desire,
an orange jelly at her centre,
I'd love you only now,
but what of later's pleasure?
The winds of my lungs kills the light,
with it's dues of pressure.
_Ssssttt—_goes the after echo,
of wet fingers on wick.
Feeling an empty dark
without you around.
_A feeling once lit._
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 3:34 PM UTC
A hollow ‘hello’ from Hell! Yes, from Hell.
Where do names come from? This Hell is
a sleepy fishing village and the best
spot that we’ve found on Hollow Head,
a Sleepy Hollows, so to speak.
We are in the ‘Bridegroom’, a little Bed
and Breakfast, run by a Rip Van Winkle
wise enough to know it was Empedocles
who jumped into Mount Etna. Empedocles!
Is my face red! Yet it will glorify
my pronoun to perfection—‘he jumps’. Yes,
both poetry and philosophy ought
to have the same antecedent. They forge
a world that’s capable of consciousness.
The self, per se, remains vestigial—
the voice of the volcano, not its source.
Your pronoun is the antecedent, not
your noun. Problematic resolved. Perhaps
I will go for a walk in Hell, perhaps
I will take the air, take the breezes.
A wonderful day in Hell! Ha-ha!
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
Are we all not idioms,
peculiar to ourselves
in construct and meaning?
Are not all of us
syntactical anomalies?
Do we not all have elliipses,
lacunae, egregious gaps
in our beings? Lack of
parallel construction in
our lives, dangling like
participles, a pronoun
without its antecedent?
Are not our lives run-
on sentences handed
up by unconscious wishes
and unmet needs? Too
bad we could not be
more declarative and
less rhetorical or
imperative.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Somewhere after the nothingness and
antecedent to this somethingness,
Where you and me aren't two but an absolute one,
Where you and me aren't distinguishable by any means and no means,
And Where the time is unleashed from the unboundedness,
I want you to come to there with me consciously,
And that's where we will stay forever....ever...
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
*Cut me, leach this tumor within me
it has festered into a separate entity
with its own blood supply
grown overbearing in its voracity
taking up more space each day
edging me out of the picture entirely
seems as though it'll devour me whole
dismemberment appears imminent
I'm only afraid of what I'll find
a face similar to mine with two heads
a cancer of your caliber, eating me alive
cold, ruthless treachery of no denial
ancestral antecedent, I'd prefer it dead
set fire to your name in vain
demon feasting decades after
it will never surrender peaceably*
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
She is the antecedent to my happiness,
The center of my universe,
My sun.
When she lights my days,
The world is dressed in warmth
And even nights may hold her glow,
Reflected in tender memory
of promise and affection.
But this is a dark night.
I sit in bright illumination
And I know it dark
By the lack of beauty in bland colors
Not even a billion billion ball of burning light
Can make the world radiant.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 11:36 PM UTC
*she was a marionette of the echoes
of her past
corrupting her present.
She was fluctuating betwixt
the anguish of the antecedent and
invariable sanctity.
She was apostle of the present
but
She worshipped her past*
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
the view
stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
posthumous adulterer
awakens in need
of
****** corrective agency
towards Fenitbow
and Glightrovee ab-surd as
qua as qua
asqua aqua qua
a^s is trite melody infer[no]
t a x i yellowing each pavement
by truth in yo ' fa ' ' lo ((lo))
i by horns and turns
in plyable waves arrest
what justice juices
freel_y
obligatory
antecedent
quai noyh thlume
ye
HEaVY
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 6:17 AM UTC
There was no antecedent, no trigger pulled,
but the wound I got when it shot
was also no accident
so there is no reason to rattle me
for the answers to be shaken loose
because nothing is going to come falling out-
there are no coins of unspoken truth.
It just happened and I can't say why
because I wasn't even there.
It wasn't nothingness, just an absence
in the place where my mind usually
takes up its space. The lights were out
and nobody was there- that's not mad,
and it seems sensible, although
what happened made no sense, I know,
but I can't be a witness because I wasn't in.
Questions of why are wearing thin.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
if a person is a place
can you return
to them, yourself, each other
( from where )
if we renew ourselves
are we meeting again
is our memory gone?
( from when )
are you returning
or are you coming
for the first time
( to here? )
if this is new,
is this new?
is it an antecedent to our anecdote?
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
Dear Mother
I must confess a secret sin
It may sound foolish
You might just grin
And should these words
Make little sense
Please tell me so
Avoid any pretense
I slipped into your skin today
How the weight of time wears
In memory's ***** I sought to lay
Antecedent memories I tried to bare
But I could not comprehend
A Pizzicato journey
Well-paved walkways
The darkest alleys
Waves of variations
Like the untried
Unconquered waters
Ripples and swells
Of every known emotion
And more
I slipped into your shoes today
Memory lane I threaded
It's not an intrusion I must say
But a lesson from the learned
Though I still could not understand
Interludes and episodes
I would never fathom
Actions, reactions
I failed to decode
Highroads, crossroads,
Byroads, no roads
Turbulence in truckloads
Pardon the rhyme
Allow me to switch modes
I slipped into your past today
And caught a glimpse of you
Like the most delectable spread
I feasted on the fleeting view
Yet that does not mean I comprehend
But when time unfolds
The truths to behold
In subtle forms
Or atomic bombs
Should I discern
The right lessons to learn
I'll go with the flow
I'll let you know
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
You ask no questions; I provide the answers.
Greetings, my friend! We have moved on from Hell.
Today I stand in surf up to my knees.
Imagine: liquid rock, a steaming sea,
the battle of fire with water, land
like iron being forged, the earth refreshed.
We must make this moment a postcard from
infinity. My friend, I need your help.
This message, like our hope for life itself,
must be left unattributed. It must
be left an unresolved antecedent.
Think of Empedocles poised at the mouth
of that volcano, Etna’s edge. He is
about to enter this world’s soul. He is about
to die. We are all thrown into the world.
Empedocles, the poet philosopher,
must hear a voice from far into
the future, a voice from today that will
insure his resurrection, one
to clarify his immortality.
Write something in the sand for him to see.
'There was something more,
something more divine,
more bestial…'
Write that. Leave it unsigned.
'For I have been ere now a boy and a girl,
a bush and a bird and a dumb fish in the sea.'
Write that. Knowledge will come.
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 4:52 PM UTC
when you're alone, you don't have to defend your motives
when you're alone, you don't have to have five good reasons
or three
or even one
every action has a consequence
maybe every action has an antecedent
sometimes i just don't want to investigate.
it's as if
everyone else lives to.
sometimes
i'm just difficult.
i'm just emotional, i'm just irrational, i'm just impulsive.
but if i was predictable, who would bother predicting?
it's embarrassingly easy to confuse people.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
tell me back,
think me into nothing but a straight line,
a separation of roadways in the rearview.
this is holy,
this is a cathedral built of guilt
and no guise –
god unfolds the earth
and splits us apart.
that’s how I think of it
anyway.
I want to become past tense,
an antecedent to all that is divine,
“hail mary, full of graveyards,
the lord was with thee”
I want to become light –
the most beautiful thing
god ever created.
I want you to think me into a saint.
all I’m trying to say
is that I want to be simple
and pure –
a testament to Love,
assurance that it doesn’t have to be
complicated.
tell me back,
think me into the first prayer,
a plea for passion.
I want to become god’s light.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
A medium of perpetual reflections
that never swing
between the antecedent
occasions that were between now.
For a horizon never setting is rising
before the winding fractions that
perceive the timely momentum
going forth before every step.
The past is a frame of what is expected,
what was learnt as mistakes.
Guiding us to not misstep on those
faults but build bridges forward.
We have so many memories to make,
so many pages not yet written.
But every page is a footstep and were
only half way through our novel
of life's moments.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
the antecedent story would be a simpler telling- how it came to be the boy and I and three cows. one can imagine; one must. we celebrated spontaneously in our biddable house and we lost track. sufficient that I was aged and he much less. our argument presented itself like this: magic paper or magic milk? boy he would hold the bucket above the paper and pour. I noted this was an act magnificent and an act personal. I was pulled into the boy initially but pulled back. the milk though went into the paper; abandoned, freed, gone. the boy did this once a day for three until the bucket was empty. I said paper, he said milk. our further experiments left the paper sunned and thus brittle. we then had only our cows which led us to grass and hormones. hormones led to science, grass to god. grass to his mother.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
its not about the antecedent
that as it is sometimes called
i dreamed of you
you being here
and breathing on me
holding hands-full of gold
jingling around my boney sides
grasping for zebra animal crackers
holding me against the wall
turning up and down the commercials
i cherish you in these moments
making it seem like time is no longer passing
making me believe this is real
low fives
and highs
tag team the whole thing
hate
love
your choice
but
i win
wan
wain
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC
As usual I awake, open my phone & observe a virtual world full of my peers Opinions.
But the things I'm seeing & hearing today, this time I can't sit back and listen.
When someone points out your negative habits, you rebel, utter "this is my life" & that's it. Nobody ever budges.
Same Love becomes legalized, & you're offended? People who feel so alone, now have some light shed into a tunnel of hiding and depression & I see a shortage on law degrees but an abundance of judges.
I've watched my generation, friends I've had from childhood drown and disintegrate in sin you guys praise, Hallucinogens, violence, theft, disrespect, *** antecedent to matrimony, all these things you same judges promote.
Now today, people with blunts in their grips, blood on their hands, with children despite lack of marriage, but more importantly people we allow to live their lives and be happy want to condemn others for being happy makes me sick, puts a disgusting blockade in my throat.
Gay love is love too & they deserve the same smiles you have. A gay woman once tutored me to pass a much needed course, a gay guy one returned my wallet when I thought I was surely going to hurt for weeks, I have so many stories.
God is the ultimate judge & we will all be judged for our sins. I just feel like there's so many things wrong with this world today, two people being happy should be the least of our worries.
Love Wins -Dash Pinder
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
The poets call it cupid,
Skeptics speak of Damocles,
Chemical to logical,
Songbirds in the trees.
Just some bubbling excitement,
Or a sentinel steadfast,
Maybe it’s fits of crazy,
Emotion in contrast.
In the heat of your body,
Above the way that I feel,
Under the taste of your lips,
Before you I kneel.
I offer my turmoil,
You surrender your stresses,
To define this true love is
Beyond our guesses.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
Cook our intelligence
Look at the belligerent
Hate filled hornet nest
Continent of ****** pest
Fumigation of the U S
litigation red tape
when a sticky red fate
gets caught on tape
Oppression communicate
When killers walk out gratis
CIA, FBI, NBC, All of them be
Lying to me, cause the tv told me
this was the nation of the free
**** that we are a nation of slaves
Haven't evolved since yesterdays
Declaration freedom from tyrants
Then drove the natives to tears
Never equal when they see ants
Regicide of a king who had a dream
Martyr the leaders to slow the steam
Now the nation burns its mainstream
ACAB, SRA, BLM, All of them be
Talking to me, cause life told me
That freedom it ain't really free
Data stream use instant transmission
Every one, one team with one mission
Can silence a king how about a nation
All chasing the dream of compassion
Fighting mace and tears with passion
While our president hides in his residence
Plotting with pence on building a fence
And Biden forgets he was the antecedent
Passed in 1997 military gear to the precinct
Two party election, its insanity or compliance
That trump boy works with Geppetto
Puppet and toy to masters he echos
Funny money, president to get dough
String pullers they really made a show
Now the polls they swinging so low
But Biden's another flunky
Dancin to the biddin of ******
Oligarch kings of the country
Sayin dance you ****** donkey
**** the country till it walks funny
Scared of the protest they cant contest
Plants in the crowd to **** interest
Cant fold wont be fooled by insects
Declare a war on our country's best
Commit war crimes in blue vests
I don't know where our future will go
But if we keep movin and never slow
Where we're goin is better than now
Yesterdays wounds will heal I know
This nightmare could end tomorrow
Maybe this was never the land of the free
But it could be if we wanted it to be
If we plant the seed nurture it and see
Keep it safe from greed's insanity
Nurture it with bodies of the bourgeois
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 8:38 PM UTC
We sojourn
in a dying world
diaphanous
as the antecedent glow
of Virtue and Destiny
We scatter
and within and around and among
the sepulchral
Wind and Fire
of progress and evolution
a promise
breathes resolute
that nothing here may abide eternal
and in the imperious pursuit
of meaning and purpose
We sojourners
inexorably consume ourselves
Infinite and Whole
against the rucked pall
of history
like entwined marionettes
set upon a boundless stage
Into Oblivion
We dance
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
antecedent
https://twitter.com/Inaki_Gil/status/1117868382785802242
Sur l'isle de evocation
a parody of Paris
the beating heart of France
an exultation of hell and heaven
secured by a stake
enveloped by a blue mamba
unable to escape the flames of desire
eyes widen in fear
a flicker of light in the dark approaches
the laughing licking light ascends
trembling trees unable to bend
crushing fervour all around
upward flowing conduits the secular rain
the molten skeleton teeters
France holds its breath
archangels strain in suffrage
the walls will hold
la dame will survive
the people invoke the deliverance
the light begins to wain
the magician becomes the smoke
the lance to heaven pierces the heart
belayed are the bells
fighting holds the line
a cough amongst the smouldering fumes
a guardian not seen
the bonds are not broken
the abode is saved
glaring out from a bell tower
sadness views the destruction below
sacred are the loves of engagement
harried by the time of contempt
Le Français are mortified
a chariot touches down
the dawn angel stirs
its divine intercedence appears
the lance is withdrawn
the mamba turns red
convict us the rebirth
its nations faith rings out
dawning a peoples decree
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 3:47 PM UTC
wrote about a feeling i used to know,
became i a very special piece of dust
upon the windowsill
until
was i introduced
to a gust of wind from outer space,
and we courted each other for time eternal.
and in the next life was i hiking in the rain,
from a good vantage felt i thunder roll up and through my belly
Appalachian thunder
drip drop beads of water, flowing through my brows and lips
don't know what i used to know,
but there you are, your blood is in everything
i only dive into your body over and over
and you're like a page that got stuck
as the winds ravaged a book of symbols and pictures.
sweet subjective antecedent,
tell me what the world means, means.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC