"assembles" poems
He slowly assembles his rifle on the barren rooftop as the
wind blows through his light blond hair.
His long overcoat ***** and wraps around his thin long
legs.
He places his elbows upon the short wall in front of him,
firmly kneeling on both knees.
Glancing into the rifle's sight, he focuses sharply through
its cross hairs; he sees hundreds passing through the sight,
men, women, children, and as he sees it, a maze
of mass hysteria.
He thinks of his current desperate situation and with each
passing thought, his heart pumps more hateful
adrenaline through his expanding veins.
What am I?....He wonders.
"I am the orphan child too ugly to adopt!
I am the spit in the street you step in and curse!
I am the cockroach so many crush beneath their feet!
I wish to love and beloved, for I am ever so lonely,
so empty.
I wish to give my whole self to someone to make them
eternally happy!
To sacrifice all I possess, including my life, for the one
I love,
but I am thoughtlessly branded a stalker!
I am the void in all broken hearts.
As a child, I only wished to be loved and appreciated,
but I was raised the invisible child.
There's a painful sore in my throbbing brain, the lethal
virus of society'd disdain.
I'm insane!....I'm insane!...Give me peace, God if you exist
Give me peace!
He glances once again through the sight's cross hairs,
catching sight of a young boy standing alone, mouth wide open
with tears rolling down his cheeks.
He pauses.....envisioning himself, his blue eyes cloud
with tears.
He pulls back back his loaded rifle placing it against the
short wall,
realizing at the moment this wasn't the way to end his
unbearable pain.
Reaching into his deep overcoat's pocket, his long fingers
catch grasp of the cool surface of a 9 mm.
Pulling it slowly from his pocket, he raises it to his temple,
slipping his finger upon its tight trigger he whispers once
again,
"God....if you exist,
Give me peace."
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
The principal in a cool cartoon tee
His fashion sneakers squeaking across the floor
Sets out candy, pizzas, and canned sodas
Arranges a door prize, and assembles the faculty
Requires them to sign in so he can check on them
Orders them to hold hands and sing the school song
Reminds them they are all one big family
As a preface to his primary agenda:
To tell them to be more professional
The principal in a cool cartoon tee
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
With ideas in her head,
she acquires ingredients from creation.
She picks up some bread,
some meats and some crustacean.
With purchases in her hands,
she assembles them into her curation.
Each ingredient has a plan,
that's all part of her preparation.
She cook in her pots and pans,
dishes of her imagination.
Juggling flavours and textures,
from experience and experimentation.
She host her friends regularly,
not any one group particularly.
With smiles, laughter and her kitchen art,
everyone sense the generosity from her heart.
She is the artist,
the scientist,
the chef,
the friend
and my wife.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 5:39 AM UTC
Nero was not worried when he heard
the prophecy of the Delphic Oracle.
"Let him fear the seventy three years."
He still had ample time to enjoy himself.
He is thirty. More than sufficient
is the term the god allots him
to prepare for future perils.
Now he will return to Rome slightly tired,
but delightfully tired from this journey,
full of days of enjoyment --
at the theaters, the gardens, the gymnasia...
evenings at cities of Achaia...
Ah the delight of **** bodies, above all...
Thus fared Nero. And in Spain Galba
secretly assembles and drills his army,
the old man of seventy three.
4.4k
He finds the clues
come to him like fireflies
swarming around him
in the air
murderers all have
long shadows
& some were born
with silver spoons
in their mouths
& others not
He assembles collages
of cases from newspapers
to see which ones
remind him of which
& drinks too much
as the night holds him close.
He's got a Dame in town
he knows she's bad news
He knows his whole life is
a case of Win or Lose
A card trick
played by a blind man
he has too many regrets
& yet none at all
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
he awaits the brittle thought
its naked vocal is neat and clean
it comes to him from the open window
overlooking Cinderella's shop of horrors
her glass slipper now
serves as a wine glass to the gluttony
of the desperately affectionate old men
who would melt at the thought of even her smile
the brittle thought arrives
and he unpacks its pieces parts
and assembles himself in their divine image
now a brittle man
he wears his fractured frailty with
a dignified pride
take one for the team his new catchphrase
the pieces parts swallowed wholesale
become the recycled food for thought
in the hipster gypsy's coffeehouse
the brittle thought
is more than a concept
its a grassroots movement
to be one of the pieces parts
left in the wake of the slowly sinking titanic of sanity
the brittle thought is there
is more than a con artist pulling
off his masterpiece
its a game show host doing a miami vacation
its a dollar store version in a Ritz Carlton lifestyle
Cinderella's shop of horrors
is just his kind of place
filled with the recycled gods and devils
that made the old world such a colourful
place to live
Cinderella is giving away all expense paid
trips for one to be lunch
the privilege of being fed to lions
is not to be missed
the brittle thought finally breaks
he walks home in the rain
grateful to eat lunch not be it
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
This is where I’d rather be,
amongst the forest and its greener pine trees,
walking through woods we walk
with the bells of bridesmaids ringing in the eaves;
the sky is gray and
cascades in and out of lunchtime consciousness,
it knows our footprints before we know our footsteps
though it cannot know how hard I’m holding your hand,
melding slowly with non-brushed off coastal sand,
neither does it know that you’re the girl with Taylor hair
whom wears blue-lined shirts with white pencil
stitched up skirts.
But Certainty overruled with cool hand
to teach me that reality assembles on foundations
and
thoughts are built on imitation expectations:
but the Taylor haired girl exists.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
CHOCOLATE EXPLANATIONS
“Right. . .!”
I try to explain it
with chocolates
that she( girlishly )
keeps trying to eat.
I pick a luscious
dark chocolate seahorse
And I say “Now this is. . .”
( and she finishes my sentence for me )
“. . .your hippocampus!”
She squeals. . . delighted with herself.
“That’s correct!”
I praise her
“. . .it’s shaped like this seahorse!”
“And it controls
your memories of you
your “who you are”
your “how your self assembles
its sense of self
. . .with all its past and future mysteries!”
“Yes. . .yes. . .that’s it!
She claps her hands
thrilled to bits
by the familiar telling
the reassurance of sounds.
And this twisted twirl of almond
with a real almond in the centre of it
“. . . is your amygdala!”
She blurts out before me.
“You got it”
I smile.
“Everyone’s got one!
a seahorse & an almond
one on each side of our brain.”
“Now the almond tells you how
to respond to the things
that you’ve assembled
into a sense of self
. . .with the proper emotion
. . .the right feeling.
. . .whether you just like
or love it”
“Oh, I love it. . .I love it!”
She almost sings.
“Now, explain it to me again!”
I give her the finished explanations
and she eats them
with much exaggerated
mmmmming & ohhhhhing.
“I love your explanations
about what’s wrong with my thingy”
She knocks upon her head
like it was a door
to a self that she had
locked herself outside of.
Most times
she doesn’t even know
her name
or who
or what
she is.
But she loves this story of
HIPPOCAMPUS AND ITS FAITHFUL AMYGDALA
She loves
each sound
each word
each letter
each pause
of the chocolate
explanations.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
There is a sunset on expansive lake.
Its lip of waves soft with ripples, trembles,
eyes shed tears of falling stars and still ache,
for something other than what assembles.
Such crowds. Acnes of campfires erupt,
on the blank faces of bald dunes, still preserve.
Beach's eternity makes the moment abrupt.
sand through summer fingers cannot conserve.
Oh sun, ease our smallness before the night,
gild inevitability with light.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
Consider Socrates, sauntering through Athens
Testing his thoughts and his tales on the throngs
And think of the first moment of perfect insight
they had. From this guru who’d made Reason his song!
There in the crowd balanced wisdom and madness
But there were those who were raged by a rebellious creed
Thinking of innocent youth, corrupted with gladness
They fought to bring Socrates to death for his deeds
that threatened the state. All admire her name!
Athens collapses in to panic. The jury assembles
To decide whether Socrates is to blame
For the corrupted thing the youth resembles
See the lawmakers bring justice to her knees
As fate chooses Hemlock for Socrates
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Honeycombs of light
****** themselves into being
in metro fields.
Children cross the lush
to skip stones at the dead fence
as night assembles itself
into spaces and stars.
Day falls away like a skin,
beneath conquering belts of milk
that separate from a lidless emptiness.
Silver subway trains gleam
in their charcoal tunnels.
Apart from all of it
is a chalk morsel moon.
Sometimes you are
the thrown stone
sinking down to post
& sometimes you are
the star wheeling off tether.
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:42 PM UTC
Ambitious achievements
Believable dreams
Continual dedication
Distinguished devotions
Empathy assembles
Fabulous frames
Genuine exceeds
Helpful highlights
Indications increase
Joyful overpowers
Kindness proceeds
Laughter succeeds
Management changes
Nomination strengthens
Optimism produces
Politeness conquers
Quiet decides
Restful reminds us
Satisfying solutions
Triumphant sensations
Understandable involvements
Victory defeats
Worthiness reigns
X-ray heals questions with
Yearning desires
Zestful concludes 26 meanings
Deborrah Ann Stenberg
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
The leaves rustle in response
and the crickets sing along
as the wind assembles its orchestra
to compose another song
glb©2015
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
Now! is the time
for those loved least
A howl!
assembles the spooks, kooks, and beasts
An umbral lens looks
at cracks between light
Be brave! Embrace inspired fright
Reach into the shadow
and we just might make friends
with the spectre called Life
We are alive! Let's celebrate this
divergent experience we co-create
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC
The astral bowl was full of green smoke,
the tin roof, the fairy-light canopy;
two friends suffered in greed.
The backwater shed,
a monument of beer cans
blow listless on the lawn.
One says,
"I have not given up on my dreams
I have grown tired of sleeping through them."
The other, an insomniac, glistens:
"Merrily, Merrily, merrily, merrily..."
The television was on mute.
A flag assembles from the garments
retrieved at the end of the war.
A red-eyed stare
as they lament
the dried rivers in the carpet.
One says,
"There are eyes on me all the time
so I drink myself blind after work."
The other, a pessimist, decrees:
"you drink to steel yourself for the cliff-face-
no idea where you are going."
The sky was granite
as they ****** outside.
One turns to the other and says:
"I try to live an honest life
but it always feels like a lie."
The other, still ******* replies:
"we keep our secrets close to our person.
Now please - tuck yours back inside."
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
I’ve shifted again
cloned to this moment
movement saturated with magnetic attraction
Birds clothed with daunting spiral screeches
dives
into
black berry pie
Grandma’s hands veined with my spirit
called me to the pitchers mound
I see a possibility and I aim,
my spine speaks the diatribe of loosing
but my heart is snickering like an older brother
laughing out loud, copying my every word
( I am confused and a bit angry)
this a proven tactic my world seems to set loose on my
Learning.
Right then?
I care for naught; my heart nor my head
So then I think
Who am I?
I am suspended above likeness
Above suspicion
Above the ‘norm’
I am loose and I fit into groves
like extended membrane of rats
inside the crush of cellophane noise
four years old at christmas unwrapping gifts
freely expecting life to deliver
but a father, a mother, a friend, a stranger
warps my view
black like blue
Clothed in sound
It is almost assured the sun will shine today
It is almost assured the grass will grow
It is almost assured I will become more
Scene 2: I am back on the pitchers mound
the screaming errupts
such unruly delight from the crowd of my memories
going back seems deafining
I throw the ball
I hear a crack
my within and without
assembles like crosswords on Sunday
sound becomes me
the life I know
knows me
(we’ve been friends thoughout time and beyond)
all at once I catch up to the knitting of dreams and beliefs
Into something ‘not known before’
**Pearls made from sand
ENTIRE STRAND**…
I understand there is more than mind and heart
( blasphemy?)
I understand there is space between the moments
between breathing in and out
Oh sweet spot transition!
Crack….
Here I am
Right where I am
using the substance between the seeming separation
as starting point
of all I deem real
Linaji 2011
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 2:54 PM UTC
Sweet silence tamed the breeze
With brisk of pale scathed blue
Granulated through the air
And set my mood
These days before the autumn
Where I have learned to carry
Peddle on and set the marks
Towards all and in whom I choose to pace my care
Frayed I feel my cuffs
Right on the edge
Swaying synchronized within the breeze
And too my steps are fluid
Almost dancing on the seconds
I'm alive to swing my skip
Un-mindingly by abandon houses
Built and raised on my life's road
This memory lane
I am a sail of seasons changing
Autumn winds a fuel cascading forward my vessel
Over known oceans of remorse
What sorrow deepest I had formed beneath the hull
Now act a platforms, open highways to the east
Of our sun rising on a woken world
In active motion to fulfill
What we know must be done
Now here to reach
What loving hands may greet you
Know me in prevail sailing on today
And when assembles evening
Just as eyes fix darker shades
Upon a world that with me swoons in pleasure
I would see a night time soon to rest me
After all has been appreciated
No single point or high
Our autumn is approaching
With life's true care
Reaching out from my truthful eyes
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
A play unfolds in my mind each night
As two opposing forces fight for control
The nefarious darkness assembles its army of thoughts to lay siege upon the throne of light.
Reason fires down from the compassionate wall
As the guilt slithers its way to the top.
The loathing berates the beautiful moat until the trenches give way to a cleansing flood.
As dawn emerges the enemies call a cease fire...to replenish their armies for the twilight to come.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC
Daybreak sets the mist on the curving road
A man behind the window peeks with mystery
Watching with eagerness still so alone,
He knows it all, but what can’t he see?
Hollow walls crawl with echoes of laughter,
Tables infested with sketches and scribbles,
Blank frames hung gently upon the concrete,
An open gallery, showing all the exhibitions.
Butterflies cocooned for the winter’s drive,
An anthology of this art which assembles soon,
To watch the creator once more turn them to life,
To see the set of the sun and rise of the moon.
The door cracks open and a shadow is cast,
Which is chained to the mold of her beauty.
A darkened room is brightened instantly,
I see her face but the vision soon leaves me.
An omen of my misery,
Open eyes to sight of pain.
Till the sun meets the horizon,
I shall meet you once again.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:45 AM UTC
CHOCOLATE EXPLANATIONS
“Right. . .!”
I try to explain it
with chocolates
that she( girlishly )
keeps trying to eat.
I pick a luscious
dark chocolate seahorse
And I say “Now this is. . .”
( and she finishes my sentence for me )
“. . .your hippocampus!”
She squeals. . . delighted with herself.
“That’s correct!”
I praise her
“. . .it’s shaped like this seahorse!”
“And it controls
your memories of you
your “who you are”
your “how your self assembles
its sense of self
. . .with all its past and future mysteries!”
“Yes. . .yes. . .that’s it!
She claps her hands
thrilled to bits
by the familiar telling
the reassurance of sounds.
And this twisted twirl of almond
with a real almond in the centre of it
“. . . is your amygdala!”
She blurts out before me.
“You got it”
I smile.
“Everyone’s got one!
a seahorse & an almond
one on each side of our brain.”
“Now the almond tells you how
to respond to the things
that you’ve assembled
into a sense of self
. . .with the proper emotion
. . .the right feeling.
. . .whether you just like
or love it”
“Oh, I love it. . .I love it!”
She almost sings.
“Now, explain it to me again!”
I give her the finished explanations
and she eats them
with much exaggerated
mmmmming & ohhhhhing.
“I love your explanations
about what’s wrong with my thingy”
She knocks upon her head
like it was a door
to a self that she had
locked herself outside of.
Most times
she doesn’t even know
her name
or who
or what
she is.
But she loves this story of
HIPPOCAMPUS AND ITS FAITHFUL AMYGDALA
She loves
each sound
each word
each letter
each pause
of the chocolate
explanations.
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC
As the sun highlighted
Across the shadow of your face
To the tip of your nose
To those big brown eyes
The complex of your skin
It makes me float
From the curly top of a cloud.
The assembles of a nature
Grass that swayed together
Fresh air that i smelled
Like a fragrant baby cologne
Makes me wanna sting to your arms
Exceptionally.
A perfect character of a fiction
Makes me want to cast my self too.
If you add and mix up a little
Perfect combination
To a great creation.
It still possibly called LOVE
If its just your eyes know
More than anything
Without words to be uttered
Nor actions to persuade
That
Our
Eyes
Only
Met
With
An
Extraordinary
Unexpected
Day
Between
Ours.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
Every time it happens she can feel it breaking off,
branching out and reforming.
Every time she utters a word,
she is walking down a new path constructed a millisecond before she steps.
She is choosing her realities with no particular discrimination.
It isn't that she wafts through the wind without care,
it is that she calculatedly assembles her existence but fails at being an active member in it's design.
She could be,
though in doing so she would doom herself to a path of bland ever-constant introspection and would have to forgo living life altogether.
A billion or so versions of her move in unison so perfectly that even the most scrupulous judge would not find fault in her chorus lines.
However there is always something amiss,
even if it be nothing more than a hair they are all separate and un-touching.
Which of these 'perfect' copies is the 'real' one is an utter mystery.
I think it is safe to say that they are all the 'real' ones,
what is important here is the particular one.
There are trillions of paths that hold her,
but not quite the her that we are speaking of now;
not the her that moves her pencil to the left in such a way as to create a stray mark on the paper;
not the her that wrote this.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 2:50 PM UTC
Blemish of Darkness
Dreams becoming a Reality
Afraid of the Dark
Light of Hope
Serene Spirit Suspense.
Want to talk
About a Fight?
Try Dispelling
Something You
You have No Control!
Who Dispels Love?
How Dare such a thing
a this?
I will Dispel darkness,
for it is Light that Shines.
This Light is the Reality-
the Promise of One
Return-
Yet, Who comes to my Aid?
I Fought the big Fight!
For in One Year-
All lessons were Blemished
with the Blood on the Cross.
I will Not Cross
that Road again...
Yeah, that is a painful Road-
Let it Go-
What is there,
but Darkness on the other side?
You want to Follow Me?
Or will you Fall
into Oblivion
not Knowing what really shows?
All the Grass is dead
And there is where You
Thought there was Green.
You must Dispel
from Hate
before Hate Dispels You!
There is no other
Harm than to Fake Love-
when Karma Assembles-
Oh Yes! This Fake Love-
will Dispel from You;
The Time in Space
Will Conquer Your ever Thoughts-
Keep The Light-
Learn to DISPEL
from DARKNESS!
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
Friendships may come
Friendships may go
Always remember
The heart really knows
Though there are times
You may have fought
You may have spat
Remember one thing
No matter where you are at
The reasons you became friends
The first thing to remember
No matter where ever what ever
Your future resembles
Remember your friends
And what that assembles
To have a friend is to be a friend
Always remember that!
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 4:59 PM UTC