"ardency" poems
*I breathe in your essence
the musk of morning ardor
mingle of last night still lingers
heat permeated somewhere
between pearls & lace
lust, the scent of you
ignites the longing flames
I feel the blaze building
hot musicality beat in our *****
waves of ecstasy wash over me
eagerness of nether bliss
wet warmth should be a clue
sans lace should be your cue
wrap these pearls
around your ardency
lavish me with
your male machismo
I'll fervently submit
to ravish your firm desire
tune you like my saxophone of love
play that instrument
all the night and day long*
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:37 AM UTC
I would crack it open over the sink.
I would split
first, the stiff, waxy skin
then the inner membrane, papery and white and fleshy
and reveal a thousand rubies, nestled in their pulp.
And as my hands glossed, sticky and scarlet,
I would press my index finger to the center of my tongue
and **** the sharp juice with such ardency
that you would become
the pink in my spit
and the thick in my mouth.
I would take careful notice not to lose a single jewel,
but to fully consume.
I would not mind your seeds
lodged between my molars.
Perhaps I would even keep them there as long as I could
because you are my favorite flavor.
And perhaps after your juice has spilled and painted maps on my arms
and dripped from my elbows,
I would piece the shell back together,
tuck it in your chest behind your ribs, and close you up.
And perhaps then,
when I had licked its walls clean
when I had emptied its insides,
then there would be room for me.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
It seems as if
I have no time
for time.
I do not make enough time
to read all the books I have bought or
learn something genuinely new on guitar.
my short efforts on learning the ukelele
violin and piano have failed.
Not enough time to study and understand
philosophy, or read
over history
Not enough time to dedicate to both school and art,
Not enough ardency for my job.
I have fallen into mediocrity
I resent it. I resent it so.
My album that I am recording is not good enough.
My reading habits are almost nonexistent
My photos are starting to look the same
I used to be above the rest but
they have caught up and are now excelling pass me.
Where am I then?
Am I just the typical hipster philosopher musician
Who’s greatest work will only be seen through
the narrow window of a tumblr poem?
And oh look, another aggravated, angsty poem
on tumblr, how special.
Frankly, I do not know how to balance it all.
And deep down I know even if I found a way,
I might cease to care.
And however many years from now, even if
my album is on the top charts
I have read dozens of books
And learned and experienced so much
I think I will always believe
That I do not know, or do
enough.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
I'm looking for some puppy love.
Some kitten, gerbil, guinea pig
love. Any kind of
unconditional love, really.
I'm looking for a place to rest.
Or to recharge, reboot, recoup
myself. A place to
regenerate my heart, really.
I'm looking for propinquity,
Or amity, ardency, affinity
for another. A form of
uncomplicated connection, really.
I'm looking for something else.
Something different, unusual,
extraordinary. Anything,
anyone but you, really.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
gyrating
to and fro
hypnotic
mesmeric
her hips did move
men were lured
into her pelvic groove
the spangling sequins
on her costume
shimmered
in their most desirous eyes
how they all
aspired
to
dance
in her tantalizing field
a scorching heat
she did produce
which generated
a furnace of ardency
in a smoke filled bar
on ninth avenue
men did feast
upon her sultry menu
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
Consumed by a primitive hunger, they made passionate love,
in a lovely wooded stretch, away from their verdant village,
the girl, in the throes of a newly known pleasure,
felt something round, just below earth,
touching her moving hip; it turned out to be a dinosaur egg!
a witness beyond time for the ardency of Tamil lovers
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
The lightning
A sharpness of illumination
The charged ions, her hands.
I want to join her
Her vehemence, her power, her random abandon
Her ardency, her benevolence
She strikes the earth with a tremendous blast
And cracks the crags of cenozo
The snapping of her leashed dogs
Excite the nightro
gen
I shall climb the mountains to the west
I have to yell loudly into the atmos in hopes of her hear
I will thunderously dance under her wet and hope its tears
If answered, I shall join my love in the aether, and become one with her.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 6:43 AM UTC
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody
A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me
From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array
Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain
A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma
Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied
Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria
Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes
Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired
Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community
The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart
I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable
Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion
Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins
Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves
Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
Her pink bud did enrapture his gaze
The everything about her did amaze
Within him she did wake robust ardency
Nothing quelled the resolve of his desire
The sight of her instigated a fire
To be in steamy rapport twas his wish
How he hungered to taste of her dish
Captivating twas the rose's potency
Her comeliness did verily pleasure
His every thought taken by her treasure
Night came that time to imagine and dream
Whereupon his being could meld with her
Neath the lunar spell his mind did meander
Twining in her petiole's sultry stream
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
*Chasing your impalpable light
With my arms outstretched
The ardency
Of debilitating need
Polluting veins
Sleep walking
In the corridors of habit
Mumbling your name.*
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
deep browns and golds,
and skyscrapers as high as tombstones,
speaking through the train station’s whisper,
drinking for a hundred thousand dollars a day.
and all of it is like molten metal,
searing hot and cold to the touch,
the ardency of you being with me,
the frost you gave when you left,
Nothing but a bad memory and quite a head ache,
And nothing but awkward explaining to do,
I’ll be better without you,
Without you.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC
looking deep within self
I glimpse an image of
you and I, realizing that
our felicitousness
flows with the
currents; expanding to
enlighten mind and soul
alike as we fulfill its
dormant hunger, to
appreciate what our
affinity for one another
begets; as we awaken
to overindulge in the
delicacies of our wants,
fore, our desires are
somewhat demanding
in its urgency; when we
have a lifetime to savor
of one another's ardency,
without abating our
affectations; before we've
had a true feel for love's
expectancies.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
*don't harangue my life with care for pity at woman's idiocy, not having adopted Caesarian birth as universally adequate and prospering her, to instil this barbaric guilt in me wondering why women, of all mammals had no natural anaesthetic produced when giving birth... **** your little guilt-trip argument! Caesarian or no argument!*
to be robbed of a glorious death, and be given an
inglorious birth, esp. when women were given an ease
with a Caesarian birth diplomacy... what's there to retain for man?
ardency in labour? old age? i too was robbed of what
Caesar described as the ideal death: the sudden one...
am i to wait for my sickbed...
if i only chanced the thrill of life
within one sunset and sought no night
to encompass my life as worthy compensation
of nothing.
a life lived to the bell-tone of a replaced
uvula, no care for charity asserted...
in that one momentary exception of all life prior,
to have lived it, and hence entombed,
readied for the element acquiring me to
further its signature... as sustainable...
i'd rather die a painful death that live
a comfortable life: pain is eased with its short-lived
establishing awareness when the glory prior is "prolonged"
ascribed to the fates akin to Achilles... and indeed pain is
merely pain with its prolonging on the sickbed...
counter heroism, so defeatist;
how many times am i to be robbed? to thus experience
such shallows of thieves with cheap constantly
expedient thievery? i've had enough to concede to a juggle
of fates and fortunes! one smooth stroke of the ace
rather than the many axe-hackings of the neck
of ****** Mary. bothersome agitations via pride, honour
and braveness, only if they do not happen,
and should they, they'd be undertaken, but to no quest
of celebratory non-enactment, i.e.: farting rather than ********
prior: to be given a wave of the standard acupuncture
of infantry: as guarantee of mythology; and a nobleman
on his horse without a stirrup prior to the *** intervention.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
I had a dream last night
Of being pursued by a murderer
A homicidal man, whom I'd seen ****
Again and again, with merciless vulgarity
And who hunted me like prey.
But as I fled him, he knew my habits
He foresaw my strategy to escape
He discovered me.
And in the raw terror of that exposure
Scrambling before him, in the dirt
At the height of my adrenaline
I came to a jolting, sick realization
That I was enraptured by him
And all his poison
His carnivorous mania, and blood-drenched agenda
And I felt the Hunger in his approach
And simply waited there, suspended
In that loathsome state of horrified ardency
For him to Consume me.
And it was not in the frenzied seizure of awakening
But only after a lengthy absorption, when I noticed
That I called it a dream, rather than a nightmare.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
The day I met you
I woke to find violets
Blooming in the spaces
Between my ribcage
The awakener of spirit
Offering the gift of reprieve
Now safely tucked inside a rememberer's heart
I would have fled my home
Left the door ajar
To run towards loving you boldly
Arms outstretched
I fancied you would return
My devoted bones
Still wanting you
I still find you hovering
In memories laced with fiction
The ardency of my need
Like the way the frothy sea
Longs for the shore
Uninterrupted in time
Reaching towards never away
Evermore
You were the crimson hue
That incardinined my skies
Setting my core ablaze
Into a raging inferno
The efflorescence of my becoming.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
I close my eyes; feel the melody;
Turn the volume down, it comes so softly -
Let it flow freely, in the air for forever -
And at the end, let it come in a whisper.
You hear another sound - the silence of tears
Of a broken heart urging for comfort to fears.
You, and only you, can hear this quiet pain
It is up to you to help them now regain.
For no one else can ease the agony;
This here now a fragmented ardency
Was once a great passion far inflamed
By the mere mention of her name.
So here now before you, a shattered soul
Incite a new passion, and expel the old.
Please, I beg you, warmth from this cold -
All these maddening thoughts of her -
Help my mind to clarity return
I'll be waiting for that whisper
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
Avenue of golden trees
Lead me towards you
Subdued fragrance of ardency
Is it true that dreams come true?
Tiny droplets of serenity
Drizzling like bliss on me
Abiding to catch a glimpse of you
Is it true that dreams come true?
Is it fine if I trust in time?
Is it fine if I call you mine?
Is it fine to look for something new?
Is it true that dreams come true?
For once can I touch the dew
For once can I stop being blue
I trust, bestow myself upon you
I guess it's true that dreams come true.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 9:51 AM UTC
Mother I tempered with the forces
I became a villain in the story I've written
Mother remember me chasing pavements
The ardency of the gnaw
The absurdity
Mother remember the box of darkness
The dirt in my fingernails
When the moon fell
And my guts sat heavy on my chest
Mother remember, the sweet sun on our backs before the severing from the cradle you sang to
The wind was a lullaby
Blue stained onto my faculties
Mother impending doom sits
In the pit of my stomach still
Mother don't worry, I quietened the blood
I stitched the hem of the undone
The sunrise in the east breathed life into my body
And those hands
Mother I made a home out of a bruise
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
A wide street,
Singing prelude to a smaller one,
Rests beneath the shade of pestilence-stricken houses,
Built one above the other,
Or so they seem to be.
And that wide street,
Tells no stories,other than what is evident,
A 'Misshapen Chaos',
Constancy of stampede,
Dust,unwilling to leave,
Trash,adamant enough to keep its place.
Yet,when you rush through all this,
A keen eye,
Might lend you some lunacy,
To see the beauty,
Beauty of ambiguity,
In this place,Shah Jamal!
Aye! Vague,that seems,
For how weak the people,
Unable to leave the state of constant suffering.
Yet strong enough to be here,
And to be here for life?
Still as we march down the street,
There are things.
'Things' of all sorts,
And things too intimidating for one to fix their eyes on them.
Perhaps,
Rather certainly,
More than eyes,
One's nostrils might suffer!
For an entire spectrum of odors,
Of all kinds,
Individually,however,pleasing,
But together-Hell!
And as the wider street leads to the narrower one,
The intensity,
The ardency,
The fervency,
Of the loathsome odors,
Might make one lose their faith in God.
But holding God's hand,
Do we sail through the unwelcoming sea,
Of smells,foul and rank,
To reach the end,where
This curse breaks,
And this damnation is no more,
And our mirth,
And our glee,
And our joy
Is out of bounds.
And absolutely surreal does it feel,
To reach the hostel,
Alive!
Or rather Undead!
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
Confessions on the tip of my tongue
Words of truth, dismissed and swallowed
To sit in my stomach, and rotten my core
Paralyzed, I'm left to lie in my cell
Sickened and bloated by my own deceit
I ponder the cause and effect of this commodious defect
This isn't about affection
It's about the reflection
Venomous ardency
I am a prisoner of myself
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Your fine eyes and lively wit
first caught his attention,
your light, lush figure
he discerned upon closer inspection.
You then had the audacity
to speak your mind,
to tell your unwanted suitor
where to go.
Nonetheless, what did he find?
A young lady brimming
with charm and intelligence,
a country girl of unrivaled specialness.
And hither came his letter,
an eye-opening missive,
a charitable benediction
that proved redemptive.
Here your prejudice began to be
worked on for the better,
its constant hold relenting
until it unfettered altogether.
His agony of rejection
soon warred against his pride,
his ardency for you
could not be denied.
A chance encounter
and you were
at once astonished
at what your heart did reveal,
his intense stare warmed your cheeks,
his kind words
and acts of goodness
then sealed the deal.
You could love no other.
And in this blissful denouement
you agreed to become his wife and lover.
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley...
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
A flare too risky to hold
A flame too hot for the coldest of the cold
A blaze unable to be glanced upon
A ludicrous conflagration
A spark too absurd to illuminate
A burn too dangerous to reciprocate
An ignited too deadly too recall
An incineration that ends all
An inflamed too painful to understand
An inferno too impossible to withstand
A meaningless and lifeless torch
A hopelessly cold and unfeeling scorch
Those are all the fires I knew
Then I encountered a fire that's true
I got too used to heat that I forgot
The difference between warmth and hot
You introduced a fiery fervor
I learned of a feverish ardor
Now that I have fallen in love so selfishly
To use your fire fueled by ardency
To warm up my heart that's burned and icy
Will you allow me?
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
i wonder if your bed remembers me over the others;
not that i spend more time in it or am any more special than them, but because i lie on the same side each time.
as a forewarning, i am neither permanent nor important, but i refuse to stop writing for you.
Lying in your bed and you lying to me in it has helped me learn that you will always wake up on my mind and I will always wake up alone.
Last night i dreamt I was your alien dream girl that kept the nightmares away but I woke up to god whispering that I'm the nightmare to which there's no relief. Disappointing revelations follow me through life and I think your entirety has become one of them, along with the crystal compliments you spit through your teeth.
I wish i could tell you that you made writer's block serendipitous, because the words that crawl out of my fingers ******* hurt, but your nose keeps bleeding and i keep screaming and you don't know how to stop. You don't understand that different places aren't new things, only the same poisons with prettier names.
Keep my secrets— don't tell the others that I like the toxicity, the burns and scrapes in my psyche. Keep that to yourself and I won't remind you of the day i watched you bleed, the day i whispered "I love you" with bloodstained teeth.
One thing you'll never realize about yourself is that your hand is a razor blade, a slender, sharp mountain range; but fingerprints fade eventually, or at least they smudge. I'm hoping you'll smudge away like your fingerprints, ambitions, conscience, compassion, and honesty. But while I'm waiting on you to change, I'll scribble on my walls in permanent marker, screaming "Look what I've done!" the entire time.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC