"audaciously" poems
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Infinity's Mirror by Nat Lipstadt
Two mirrors, set in opposition observe created notional blending,
a reflecting pool of bonding's of unglued, contrary compositions.
Mirror to mirror, his imagery, fuses to Sylvia's images, hers,
faintly recollected, now living face, face to face, with his past insurrections, alters his future visions.
From cold water lake she's drawn, impaled by refracting regrets,
retrieved, drawing her words upon him, an awakening slap to drink,
beloved, tragic magic, infinitely captive. But this old man's tiddlywinks, land-locked words, blunted instruments, needy for release & salvation, are neither silvered or exacting, just stains on a dulled, tarnished brass spittoon, except for the brunt'd bunting of lines across his roughened terrain'd face, black and white, pen and ink etched illustration of howling agitation.
His words worn down, hardened, red faced, purloined speckled pellets, damp to roll on down her rutted, almost ancient, tear streak paths, disbelieved superstitions, sacrificed for one of her living morsels of words.
Man, here to her, pledges allegiance, audaciously defiling her poetic sanctity, a visage endless repeated, delivers her shiny poem-poised countenance, even though no forgiveness from time can a mirror afford for either, from her words, confession born, terrible truths beyond, beyond the finite.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mirror by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Congratulations another consecutive win
******** central made it clear
You're the biggest family of ********* every year
There is no rival that can compare
Sponging off us and can't see
The burden we bare
Well the cost of your unbeaten record consumes us
while your respect is something refused us.
our dignity is intact never stooped as low to air the trash talk
We'd rather hold our heads high and walk.
But the ********* of the year can enjoy paying rent
because this finance bubble debt needs a good dent
dont worry I know youll all object,
with the usual ******** excuses to that effect
but when we asked for assistance which you had the ease of doing
you said no, get someone else and audaciously bunked right in.
Go live in rip off ********* home theyve got a big roof.
I should know i paid for it
I expect more crap but I hear ********* of the year is up for grabs!
Go for it! I'm sure youll win
Regards from the newly crowned,
******* ***** of the year.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC
Sagaciously gloaming melanite eyes
Resonating euphoniously ululated memories;
The shadow land of illusion
Rising out of the ash of an acorn
Wallowing in the blood of wars strident refuge,
Gnomic relics errant of an
Enigmatic almondine heart
Offering an olive branch upon an
Altar made of oak.
A ruminantly nostalgic requiem
Sedititiously traversing the firmament;
Ineluctable reprobation
Ineffably manifested,
The doves of meta-morphosis
Embracing the silk garments of love;
Sound minds cacophany
Devouring the delusional devout
Veridically inspiring ascendancy
Decieving serenities whisper throughout
The dominions audaciously
Rousing ambivalent fears.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
Tell me, Gentlemen:
while you soared higher than your fears and dreams could ever reach, into the blue crystal infinity,
did you hear the voices of angels echoing off the wings of geese migrating south for the winter?
how did it feel,
fighting for a nation that measured your worth in disheveled water fountains, mop buckets, dust rags, and potato peelings,
defending stars and stripes stained with the same molten white abhorrence smeared on ******** bombers?
did it hit you like a G force?
when you climbed into that cockpit, audaciously red, the blood rushing to your head, was it bitter hand fulls of cherries sweet?
when you returned home through back doors and alleyways to face an Uncle Sam with burning crosses in his eyes,
when you stood curbside at your own homecoming parade feeling confetti and streamers tickle the bridges of your noses,
tell me how it felt, Gentlemen.
will my brothers and sisters who fight only for tennis shoe wealth, understand the worth of those medals on your scarlet blazers?
if I listen hard enough to those jets breaking the sound barrier will I hear your story?
tell me, Gentlemen,
what was it like to fly?
infinite respects,
Curlie Fries Mcgee
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 8:06 AM UTC
Quiet and demure night
one finds out by chance
is sleeping peacefully
on the same bed,
covered by a grey blanket
the sultry day too seeks after,
the tribulations a day long.
One would think that
smug and complementing light
for her is an anathema, is it?
But now it comes to light,
he is more like her paramour,
this face she keeps hidden
so audaciously, the unabashed
adulteress has no sense of shame
"When you imagine things,
take responsibility to it,
don't try to blame others"
You'd hear her murmur,
the long clandestine affair of
darkness to light, takes me
to where it all began..
will there be diversity
that enriches life without contrast?
The Himalayas should
sincerely thank ocean trenches..
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
My juxtaposition to your heart...
Just short of right and just left of leaving...
This fascination...distant adoration...
Trailing off into the distance...despite my own persistence...going...going...gone...
You see...Yours was a velvet touch... smooth against the skin of my soul...
My lips raw from your sandpaper kiss...once riveting...
Now... remorseful hue... morose shade of blue...defunct me and you...
My own sweet type of primal bliss...you...audaciously exist...within me...
As I the ribbon...the strand...
NO...the last straw...
Am wrapped around your finger...linger...
flail...fight...then make tight...our binding...
Intertwining...
Bound by our brittle bias...
And you... pious... feel the need to mediate...to delegate...
NO...dominate...
Our love...
You... an anomaly...of the not right variety...
Build...gather...house the mire ...selfishly... misty moments... memories
My pain protruding...while eluding...my acute identity...
Pregnant with grief...disbelief...I strain...
Laboriously to free you...
Giving birth to the rain...
of emotions...
And OUR storm rages on...
A weeping...seeping semblance of love...
Circling the drain of our destruction...
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
...and so time
continues to gobble itself up;
the only dog
to ever catch it's own tail.
I'm wishing to stop
and willing to last.
All the while,
a hypocrite shrouded
by my own inability
to escape self doubt.
I cling to the moment
before decision, audaciously
battling consternation
I bid time to speed past.
caught in
petulant impatience, I question...
shall I forfeit
myself to hell?
or shall I wedge myself
in the gap
of days past,
and days
I cannot cease
from escaping my grasp.
I linger a moment longer
on a thought I often ponder...
What's the point
in living fast?
I'd rather lay in the grass
and finish last.
C.e.M. 12.23.14
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
**At first light I made a gift of coffee
it’s aroma stirred just one long leg
I lifted her naked into the wet warmth
to bathe awake and wash long hair
carrying her towelled wrapped form
bowed lips now sip then fight me
as I dress her in jeans, socks and top
beauty made calm and simple
Drunk sad at her leaving party
keeping her warm I had let Lust sleep
now still lolling in grief for dark peace
my selfish need drags her ****** up
into light trapped by the green valley
walking on along its grass path
the canoed river spits past a-whirl
rediscovering the torn through pocket
her hand delves questioning
to withdraw unhurried, stroked
by a flicking fishing rod
Recovered now leading me
over the bridge above the Boat
then on up the steep valley side
we arrive at the Ostrich for beer
then to dine on fish in the open
feeding and sharing her lips
we consider audaciously
the little garden’s potential
she hums prayer murmurings
pleased by the moment
On into the nearby woods
high above the Kings trail
to slowly descend hedged paths
we return to the river valley
slipping between shop doors
lifting a book we idle along
a new couple enjoying life
taking tea under waterfalls
back besides the Boat where
her beauty is now Queen
She leads me smiling by the hand
along both banks in the setting sun
till we near the Abbey's stone ribs
skipping around it's green shadows
a bank helps us to vault within
Fenced alone
ignoring distant figures
jeans and top colour
the darkening lawns
beckoning me closer
Lust now sits astride
the grass and stone
an open ****** grin
A week only, no more
I am left alone in her bed
on this smaller island
she ashore in another
busy - separated by a day
we talk lovers spells
and write away our hopes
Three months and two days
a call **** you we were....
pregnant” her sacrifice ours
on a stainless alter of
that new god Career**
.
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 2:45 AM UTC
Though the date may be late… and
Those type things don’t happen anymore…MUCH…dare I say
Those type things don’t happen MUCH anymore… (yes I dared)
It is nevertheless ingrained…
No matter the age or the date
However young or old…
It is in our DNA… and
Our DNA does not forget
Will not allow us
As other cultures will
To easily enjoy
The remote loveliness… and
Maniacally flowering greenery… and
Beauteous quiet of this
Southern forest… this
Confederate lake…
Without our spirits
Sadly counting
The cumulative number of
Hundreds of years of
Fertilization by
Black Men’s bones…
But like my father and his father before him
We show up anyway…
Albeit somewhat uneasily…
While the native good-ole-boys
Stand stock still and stare
Actin’ like they never seen one’a us before… and
Though we arrived obviously prepared for what we came to do
They still stare… as if
wondering what we could possibly be doing here…
or maybe… how dare we enjoy God’s green earth with our brown selfs…
And my beautiful Black Man
with ease of motion
Audaciously pays the Black Tax
(the quoted price over what the sign says the price is)
As I bait my line in defiance
Albeit somewhat uneasily… and
Cast it out into this confederate lake
And my beautiful Black Man
Also stands… broad shoulders back… and
Pointedly does not acknowledge the presence of the natives
As they stand stock still and stare
But it is there
(We will NOT be afraid… and we will NOT go away)
Unspoken between us... But
Always in the back of the mind…
The recesses of the consciousness…
Preparation for this day… and the worst that it can bring…
Is ingrained…
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
Freedom was,
that field of grass, tall and verdant,
undulating rapturously,
hand in hand-
with wind's sinuous dance.
The grass hopper ruled it all,
his mind, knew limits, not once, in his life,
he was a wild horse, in the jungle of grass,
**but a great regret he had,
gnawing his heart,
like malicious cancer cells
that would eat away all his grace,
he tried and tried
but never could whistle,
not even a haunting note,
like a nightingale.**
His consort would
try to soothe him, with words
"How you make me swoon,
with your soulful croon!"
his eyes would turn bloodshot,
she would then back off,
feeling left out, not able to share pain.
*" Grass hoppers
are left with no hopes-
they are a cheated lot,
left to rot"*
he audaciously believed,
his face remained always, cadaverously grim.
A boy and a girl, who ran away together,
reached there, to escape the torturous world
tasting freedom for the first time,
stood watching the grass hopper-
with admiring eyes,
and hope brimming in their hearts,
they were so charmed by
the green freedom he seemed to enjoy!
Here, the wind swept grasslands,
looking up to the heavens,
were a world apart,
even the muck didn't look crude!
**"Look at that grasshopper,
bless him, how carefree, he is
I wish I could be like him"
She wistfully said.**
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 11:00 AM UTC
What was so cool flew out of the window.
It was only left slightly ajar.
The mad dormouse sat in his tea ***
Trying to work out what to wear.
Will today's writing hat feature war or care.
Pasting an image.
Maybe decrying, sensations of caring.
Writes sometimes audaciously daring.
Buzzing around like a wasp in my hair.
Driving me mad with his lunacy.
Decrying love story.
Then love in it's glory.
Says he wants to be free.
Guess what.
Perhaps he should try being me!
In a breath of fresh air.
He'll write a cute muse.
And in the next breath.
Another he'll abuse.
The poetry man with the black and white muse!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
power pose
in front of the angry men
"we're not scared of you"
but they should be
she spits fire bright
from lips she wears matte dark
she's digging the perfectly manicured claws into the palms of her hand
hands that bring incredible generosity
and incredible pain
depending on how audaciously you approach her
with your alcohol-stenched breath
and a body that takes up space
but contains nothing of substance
aside from liquor of course
an empty, angry vessel of wordy slurs and slurred words
she knows they don't deserve her tears
they should feel grateful to receive even a smirk
an ounce of her attention
in this economy
with the men who untuck their shirts after a long day's work
unaware of what the women have been up to
is priceless
you can't commodify what you can't touch
they are not beds waiting for you
to lay down on
to make your lives easier
while you weigh down upon ours
her silk sheet skin
and the comfort of knowing she will be there at 2pm and 2am
this is her home
this body is an address
it is not your residence
loiterers will be fined
she will be fine
power pose
the power grows
this is your power prose
because mama,
you will be fine
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
*After I pass I hope I can become a planet for thousands of beings to inhabit on, to fall in love on.
I hope after I am no longer I become a star for the lost beings on this planet to wish upon.
After I can no longer be, I long to become one of Saturn's rings, maybe even one of its many moons.
I also live in the hope that you embody Saturn so I can once again, revolve around you.
I am not wishing for death.
I do not wish something grant, although becoming a star seems rather extravagant and audaciously honorable.
These are selfless wishes.
I just want to be part of something much larger than I am.
Endlessly wishing I can at least once be in the presence of God in this lifespan.
I want to know what death feels like, I want to know what rebirth feels like, I want to be the moon, and you could be the earth.*
Shall We Begin Again?
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
Miles of ivory silk,
draped across the heaven's rafters
painted in the lightest of blues
The deception cheats your eyes
yet skin, oh clever skin,
is not so easily fooled.
The eyes state audaciously that
the day is pleasant but the skin,
in it's connected wisdom shouts "Liar!"
as the bold winter breeze picks your pockets.
The once refreshing diamonds of dew
that rescued from the suns angry rays
now blanket it's old damsel in crystals of frozen death.
The crunch of the boot,
unwillingly emerging from the warmth,
upon the already waning grass
sealing the blade's inescapable fate.
The action is welcomed
by the lowest lying fog and mist
as it rushes to kiss the feet of the new ally.
Upon awakening, a simple "ah"
releases smoke of a tepid body about to freeze
as the chilling bite is reluctantly embraced
Warmth must be sought
through the enemy's blaze
The orange dance is begun and grows
As hands of flame reach for the sky
eating, destroying the invisible foe
that naively wanders into the inferno
the crackle of wood hides the screams
Day walks on and the cold ceases
it's relentlessly harsh attack
'til morning is received once more.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
somewhere near the spoken
and unspoken
in a time stitched into
the mesh of camaraderie
beings are too easy to vanish
in an oblivion created by
business of a galloping heart
and lure of wealth
and though winds are fast
with waters still
she feels the tug of roots
pulling her back to memories
and vivid textures of paint
once audaciously smeared
on sheets of paper
now form a collage
of muddy remembrance
but with a blow of passions under her wings
and hearkening to voices of accomplishment
her being must go on to a different place
to transform
but not vanish into a galaxy of stars all alike
but be the sun of a million souls
yet remain the glisten of morning dew
yet remain the chirp of blossoms
yet remain a crochet of smiles
though she does not wait or beg
for world to join her
or apologize for giving into her desires
it is with this start
the floating dream of success awaits
in celebration of which
under twinkling heavens
bidding farewell to an October night
she slips into the trance of kathakali
and every beat of her feet
counts down
to the advent of orange morning light
of her own small sun
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
Rarer than diamonds, knowledge or hallowed life itself, valued beyond reckoning, two souls lay in the warmth. Their sire's face was awestruck, openly joyous at the miraculous news he had just received. The sheer happiness and tears that happiness had brought forth was almost as unprecedented as the event that caused it. His usually stone like mask almost completely melted as he embraced his wife and for the first time in 200 years, truly laughed. In the comforting softness of their mother’s womb, two consciousnesses peacefully rested, unaware of the joy that their existence had wrought. In this warmth they stirred, feeble minds looking about for something to latch onto; and something they found. Metaphysical tendrils tenuously probed the lowest reaches of the upper dimensions. The twin psyches emitted an aura of precinct, but naive curiosity, 'looking' for some form of contact. Feeling the projection and reception of joy from the warmth surrounding them, they absorbed, discovered an experienced that joy, if only for a moment. As the wandering tendrils of not-thought climbed higher and brighter they came to an open Plane; the middle. Unable to go upward or back, they drifted forward, each in an opposing direction. They 'saw' each other. Timidly and slowly, each danced around the other tendril of thought, assessing and recognising its companion.
Hesitant, wondrous and cheerful, the strings of unstructured consciousness circle closer and closer, until one audaciously brushes against the other. At contact, they each shyly shuffle closer feeling and tasting the other. The tendrils give a faint shiver, grow taut and then still, before glowing. Revelling in their newfound closeness, the twin minds rapidly pulse, imitating a feeling felt but minutes beforehand; crisp, pure and untainted joy. The sensation flares majestically, before dimming to a low hum of contentment. In the material realm, their mother looks at her husband, her face lighting up at what she feels inside her; her children. Diamond tears slowly wash emerald eyes as she is embraced tightly, from both without and within.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
Always working for more
Really earnest, but know what life has in store
Never giving up no matter the cost
Ever so patient while lost
Sincerely cool and care free
Happiness means everything to me
Audaciously blessed to know what life is meant to be
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC
If I am where I am because of you
To shamelessly think that, I guess this place is not all that beautiful
If I am where I am with you
To audaciously think that, I guess you are but a fool
And if I am where I am for you
To brazenly think that, honey, you are not exactly a piece of jewel –
For me to seek and possess –
Only to be robbed of equanimity.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
Audaciously adequate is the sweet little grin of her,
Hiding the abundant anguishes and sorrows that no one can cure;
Once in a while, a knight in shining armor comes around,
Effortlessly liberating her from the fortress of the beast resembling a hound;
Nevertheless, the temporal loop continues whatsoever,
As if she is destined to be with the hound forever and ever.
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
The clouds are a constant reminder of this fairytale I have in my mind of what I want us to be,
But,
Baby;
We are indeed no fairytale.
We live in our own world of uncertainty.
We are an anomaly;
the furthest from
representing
A banal love.
Yet, sometimes,
I wish you would
audaciously
fight for me like the others have;
But then,
I start to wonder
Maybe this is what keeps me loving
You.
I fell in love with your scars,
Only wanting to
Ameliorate
Heartaches and show you
There's someone you can be yourself
Around.
& as
Crazy as it seems,
I have no desire
To throw your past
in your
Face;
Yet, as
convoluted and capricious
as
Your love can be,
I am still in your passenger seat
Ready to go where you will
Allow me to.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC
In the velvet screening of the midday
I found something funny to say
I recall its principle, man it was whimsical
But then came the friar in black
He said, “I hope we can reject you a crowning
Hope it didn’t rot within your morning
This is all proleptical, simply reciprocal
We’ll store the proof of it on a rack”
Then!
Here comes Auderre with the stupefying stare
Sauntered like a soul with a sultry smell
How could I not see her audaciously
Luring me into the well?
She said,
“I’ll repeat a story- it is vaguely auditory-
Of the cellar in my room
I kept myself well groomed
Like a baby to the mind”
“Take dutiful care, for to repair’s to impair
So sit rather comfy for now
We’ll whiten you yet, somehow
Make your gears grind”
Here comes Auderre with the stupefying stare
Woke me with the pull of a morning bell
How could I not see that she’s into me?
It only happened after I fell
Through the afternoon of the Cornwall grind
The whitewalls spin in time
My lady is redacted through a codeine flow
And the syntaxation starts to go
Here comes Auderre
Oh, she looks like hell
I can’t see
I fell
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
Temptation knocks at my door
tonight,
Wanting to come in.
Wanting
to make a fool
out of me.
She flirts so audaciously
willing to fornicate,
To please her
To please me
But this isn't right.
Sin crouches at my door
tonight,
Waiting to strike.
To barge in,
To attack,
Hold nothing back.
Temptation thus leads
my downfall
and Sin,
the cause of my death.
What hope shall there be
of a ressurection?
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 1:19 PM UTC
Time is a faucet being slowly opened until the trickle becomes a torrent.
Time is flying by and we’ve been growing together
into one...
You are to me
My everything, True Love,
Filling me with glee,
Ordained by One above
Audaciously you leapt
Into my longing life
And though your mother wept
Steadfast, you quelled her strife
I, kneeling in the leaves
You, in that clownish-dress
Your acquiescence thrilled me
When you uttered, simply, “Yes.”
And now, like melting candles
Our beings intertwine
You hold me by the handles
I drink your kiss like wine…
It’s of the finest vintage
This kiss of yours, so fine
Each lip expressly minted
To snugly fit with mine
The mountains stretch toward heaven
Sky lies down with sea
The Lord has blessed a fallen being
And you are all to me
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC