"boggling" poems
I was brought into this house
Ordered from the local furniture shop
Made to order according to specifications
I am a wingback,
Upholstered in full-grain leather
True to my rich heritage
I was placed in the library
Amongst the illustrious works of famous writers
Half- a - century have passed, providing support
To the backbone of the family
Although tired, he finds solace in my cozy embrace
I give him my wings to fly into the world of literature
Cervantes, Bunyan, Bacon, Goehte, Dostoevsky, Chekov, Tolstoy
Some of the names from the illustrious collection
Not all were privileged to have a seat here
He was transported to each era, savoring the rich legacy
Of literature down the centuries
I was privy to the mind-boggling debates
Which he conducted with himself
Trying to reason each work of literature
A mere wingback rose to be a companion
Providing sturdy support on the mahogany legs
One fine day the reading session ended in deep slumber
Five decades of bonding and companionship came to an end
Now, I stand here, forlorn, at the corner of the library
Reminiscing the reading sessions, and siesta
The wingback does not have the wings to fly away from this bond
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
The first afternoon I can recall,
you grabbed my hand
and took me outside.
You surprised me, I said.
Because that noon
is the first time
I saw that lake.
The second afternoon I can recall,
you called me by name
and we went outside.
I brought you lunch, and
we drank some
mind-boggling liquid
which you stole from that old man
living beside that lake.
We lied on the grass, and
if that was not a dream, I hope not,
I felt your breath with mine, and your lips
on mine.
The third afternoon I can recall,
you went to my bed
and shook me awake.
I was mesmerized to see you again,
but you’ve changed.
The colour in your eyelids, your cheeks,
and your lips was artificial.
If you haven’t spoken, I
wouldn’t be able to recognize you.
Sitting at the edge of my bed,
you’ve said the name of that lake,
and I knew it was you still.
The fourth afternoon I can recall,
you were 18 and still cried on my shoulder
not because you were hurt, but
because you were happy getting married.
Flowers, chairs, and a priest
waited for you beside that lake.
I was about to cry at that moment, knowing
it wasn’t me you were marrying.
The fifth afternoon I can recall,
you yelled at me,
“I can’t live this way!”
I asked you why, but
you didn’t tell me, you showed me.
That kiss beside that lake was wrong.
In all of the reasons why it was wrong,
I found one which is right.
You loved me the way I loved you.
The sixth afternoon I can recall,
you left me
alone beside that lake.
Yes, you loved me, but
as you have said you need to love yourself more.
I can’t hold you any blame for leaving,
I understood, and I lived with the promise
that you’ll come back to me –
in one piece or even in ashes.
The seventh afternoon I can recall,
you were barely alive.
You looked old, with dark circles around your eyes.
You hid them with glittery make-up.
“This lake haven’t changed.” you said.
I looked at that lake,
its beauty and all its glory
looked nothing
next to you.
The eighth afternoon I can recall
was the worst of them all.
You didn’t call, you didn’t leave,
you didn’t cry, you didn’t go to my bed.
And you weren’t barely alive.
Someone wrote me a letter, not you,
to take you where you and bring you back home.
You didn’t find yourself, you’ve lost it
To yhe hero
in your veins, who ate you in your sleep.
This afternoon,
I carry you, with all but my shattered heart,
inside a jar.
My tears are one with that lake,
but I’ll bury you beside it.
I know you’re happy.
Your soul one with that lake.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
I seen a empty bottle in the trash.
There was also napkins next to the trash.
I wondered how many people use these napkins..
It's stated recycle. Recycle what ? Trees? Regurgitated garbage we eat over and over again ? How do we still have a mountain of trash. Plato and Socrates knew something. Perhaps eject it to space. Maybe we can **** our ozone if we just burn it. Cause earth swallows anything including pasts and futures. Who's in control of Earth's health. Cause we **** on it. And that bottle... Of course is full of **** and vinegar. Release all tension and let's rise to the stratosphere. Floating cities above Earth's gravity.. no pulling of our new system down. Elisium on the moon. Perhaps a ride in a roller coaster to the darkside will thrill you more. Maybe it's not as cold and chilling as we thought.. and Earth's warmth and feelings will make a change like a landmass arise or one to fall..
I've fell many times. Now I've married the other half of my mind.
People climbing out of oceans asking about ships.. but my dreamscape makes me the hero in my pirate flag informaniac boom. Cannons and truth. My voice in thought and control of the room.
I blow horns like harps of trains and riots of mind boggling facts. I am and Lord knows Jesus will help me like a snub nose I tuck. I'll play gangster while my inner ghost fires the bullets..
I'm not violent as what sin runs in his blood. I'm just everything else and it's time I leave after passing and giving peace to my son. His family is mine and we deserve heaven.. same as 144 thousand.. all for order of the Bright Apollo flights and fry minds in a hystaria historical society of terror. Longer days hotter with white out snow. Raining tears and explicit when our children explore.
Yes I ********** .. it's better then the alternative.. making more humans live... rebirth and love now Is in a different narrative.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
the heart is the most deceitful thing there is.
the brain knows that.
we just find it hard to understand.
what we generally perceive as love is nothing
but a mere illussion of what we're missing,
what we want.
the rush of emotions we suddenly experience
is so overwhelming that we can't grasp
its true intention.
we are building false hope in ourselves,
and we feed the thought
and excitement.
when we deeply think about it,
we are just inlove with the thought
of being in love.
it's more of a feel-good trigger
we unleash if we lost that
adrenaline.
it's that fairytale ending we have in our
imaginations that waters the seed
of romance in our hearts.
sad thing is we don't live in a fairytale.
i might insist pessism in your thought,
hey i don't write your love story.
blame it all in the confusion and lies
about love and your fairytale dreams,
your ever-after might not be within reach.
love is an illussion.
a trickery even rocket scientist can't explain.
mind boggling fantasies about prince and princesses.
but there is hope. ( an accomplice)
hope that even if you don't live in a castle nor rule a kingdom
believe that someone will treat you as the princess
far better you imagined yourself.
and when that day comes you might want not stay in neverneverland.
you don't grow old there.
what's the point of i-wanna-grow-old-with-you line?
love is a dangerous and a beautiful thing to enjoy.
its like sinking in a quicksand of bliss.
or swimming in a sea of chocolatey sea of tears.
but remember that in the midst
of everything you
beLIEve
in is a
LIE.
be careful.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
Philosophical epistemology strumming adventures
Albeit, coherent mental decoding stratifications structured
Supposedly our world rests in our minds, revolving knowledge
An entwine of conceptual abstract flowing within oneself
The mind in the “I” the “I” a reality lived in my experiences
George of Leontini, a mine mind approving solipsism exploring innatism
Imaginative insights that nothing exists, the secrets secreting secrets
The knowledge behind the veils that remains un-communicated
A reverse of normality and known existences, moral disposition
Hypothesis of depersonalizations, adventures of self internalization
Justifications for what lies outside the Medulla Oblongata
Skepticism and just alternatives to western philosophy
Subjective unapproved experiences only robust in one’s mind
Descartes abstraction of inner experiences, reciprocated paradigm
Intuitively, perceived lived formulations of "Cogito Ergo Sum"
Psychological conscious undoubted individualistic thoughts
Berkley explored perspectives that physicality is an embodiment of the mind
The mind a decoding visualizer, that encompass the non-existent
An idealism marriage of ‘metaphysical’ and epistemological philosophy
The intense esoteric “dualism” verses the fiery “monism” reality
Mind boggling differentiated truths bleeding with blinking unresolvable hypothesis
The jiggered methodological, streamlining the un -logic sequential beats
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Told dumb ***** I didn't write nothing about her.
Did dumb ***** believe nobody is ignorant like her?
Hell no dumb ***** started robbing and stealing and lying
about how poems of all on here are hers and said hell no when
all on here asked dumb ***** to remove poems.
That returned me to thinking all blacks do **** like lie and steal.
I don't have black friends and none live in my neighborhood
so how the hell do I know what blacks do and how they are?
People where I live are mainly ignorant cause we ain't
exposed to much except for seeing a lot of trees and white people like us.
Somebody explain to dumb *** ***** in broken speech and her native
English my objective for posting ****** cl posts on here.
Dumb *** ***** learned nothing from ignorance I copy pasted
off craigslist the home of biggest populations of dumb ********
in the history of the internet and the world.
If I was still on craigslist I would have called her some names
for going after me and stealing my freaking poems.
Thought about calling her a stupid n word but
I learned her ignorance got nothing to do with race.
She is ignorant because she was born that way.
Mind boggling how someone can get mad and go mad
over minor **** like what she went all whack job over.
I don't like that ignorant ***** and she's embarrassing to her race.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 5:19 AM UTC
Forgive me for I play possum,
Interrupt at their business is not my interest,
In my mind that was instilled,
By parents who cares, and terrors at rest.
In riddles full of cues I acted dumb,
Oh boy, I tell you I'm not numb,
These ears need affirmations,
From your mouth, not just suspicions.
Forgive me for I play possum,
Upset and annoy you are not my intentions,
Sometimes I just find it awesome,
Fleeing from duties and directions!
I'm not treating you as squirt,
I just don't want to pay heed,
That futile and stale creed,
Consumes you though it doesn't need.
I forgive you for thinking,
That possum is still what I'm playing,
But now this puzzle is what I'm digging,
Give me some time in digesting,
For this mind is boggling,
Because that line keeps on playing!
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 8:01 AM UTC
Whenever my family and I,
Prepare to embark on a fair drive,
I grab my phone with my playlist along with my headphones.
Filled with excitement that nobody knows.
We set out on our excursion,
I put my headphones in,
I turn on my music,
And let the symphonies enter my head.
If I close my eyes,
I can visualize,
An ancient city filled with song and dance,
Amidst a sacred feast with the finest band.
I see the dresses swirl, and I smell the wheat in the fields,
Along with the fresh bread that they created with their yields.
The song changes to a more melancholic melody,
I envision a final stand, one with honor and dignity.
The knight fights its hardest, but is overrun,
The piano’s keys, haunting me, as it dies under the setting sun.
Another change, more upbeat, a comforting, catchy symphony.
I wish to dance, but I am confined to the car seat.
I open my eyes and look to the right,
At the sprawling landscape we’ve been passing by,
But instead of farmland and trees, guess what I see,
The same mind-boggling envisioning!
More songs play, various tones,
From joyous to somber, sacred to monotone,
Threatening to empowering, all on their own.
The drums beat to the piano’s keys,
As a rare mandolin strums in harmony.
A glorious symphony,
An undertone for creativity.
Oh, the power of envisioning!
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 7:17 PM UTC
there it is again that first hit
its like an ******* that takes me to a place such as heaven
drugs why do you have me against my will
wanting to stop but you your like just take your pill
mind boggling how when i leave you alone i only want you more
friends say go to rehab i say hell nah
drugs youll be the death of me, maybe then ill be at peace
i just want the pain to cease, pulling me
the relationship was good at first , there when i needed you
had me on cloud nine my first impression was **** friends, **** men even my mom
not that you failed to do your job
its just that im always high
i dont club or go out to dine, i just sit in my boom boom room and gaze at the sky
thinking could i get as high
nighttimes are the worst stuffing feeling in the dirt
waking up is as dull wishing id died the night before
drugs **** you and what you've done to this mess of a life that i have to clean up
there it is again that first hit.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
*Skim milk masquerades as cream
Wolves self-ordain themselves as custodians
Of the “good” of sheep and that they’re a team
In the quest for universal good, poor proletarians.
A fattened up emaciation
That derails the pursuit for accountability
Paving way for many a loophole
A stranglehold on emancipation
The sheep simply merely sign a treaty
With fate to elongate their back breaking life before taking a stroll
In either heaven or hell, that’s if an afterlife exists.
The wolf menace is thus a malignant cyst
To “body politic”
Posing mind boggling potential harm, worth incisive critique.*
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
What is reminiscing?
Is it thoughtful, memory-filled wishing?
Is it toxic to one's mind?
Is it safe-zoned distancing?
Two paths to look upon..
one of the past, one of the future
Both with pointed signs
Can't the two just blend,
and make everyone happy, in this world of mine?
What is reminiscing?
Is it a fatal, mind-boggling blow?
To me, it's daydreaming of the past..
and imagining yourself with the things you still don't quite know
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Questions are mind boggling!
The key, However.
Is within the answer.
Of your mind.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
Beware of them
As a lover or a friend
As a family or a foe
As a passerby or a neighbor
Because they hide as they stand on the stage
They put you on a mind-boggling maze
They set you on an endless chase
With no one else but with your own tail
Because they shout in silence
They scream using pen
Using only pseudonyms
They want you to both understand and not understand what they mean
Because they conceal as they express
Behind figure of speeches
They'll have you take a guess
When you do, you're already checkmate in chess
Beware of them
Because they are contrasting beings
Living in a world of what-ifs
Living between reality and dreams
Dreams for family, rage for a foe
Feelings for lovers, concern for a friend
Observation in a passerby, rumors from a neighbor
They turn it into words, rhyming at the end
Because they are but they are not
Because they do but they don't
Because they are cowards but they have guts
Because they will but they won't
Because they are two-faced people
Because they are at different places at the same time
Because they push and they pull
Because they have truths and they have lies
Oh beware of them
Because they're simply complicated
Because they're famous yet anonymous
Because they'll always have you choose
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
I encounter,
*innocent
wonderment
in its
thunderous loudness,*
in the eyes
of a child,
standing alone,
looking at a
giant wheel turning at
mind-boggling speed.
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
N. a deviation from the common norm. Something or somebody who does not fit in.
A glitch, an error in systematic method.
Something abnormal.
Something strange.
Something mind boggling.
Exactly what I was meant to be.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
*I groggily stumble out of bed
My high pitched ear splitting alarm
Having ****** me to consciousness
Everything around me seemingly heel over head
Spiraling up and down virtual staircases of confusion.
Aftereffects of a long night cut short inadvertently, causing untoward harm
Thank Heavens I don’t suffer from urinary incontinence
It’d otherwise be a disaster of mind boggling proportion
I go about my daily routine tasks in slow haste
Mine eyes heavier than lead, straining to keep them alert
I hurriedly help myself to a serving of chips doused in tomato paste
I top up my morning meal with a chocolate mousse dessert
I proceed to kiss mummy on the cheek
Wishing and hoping for a good week.*
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
I've always had this empty feeling
in my heart.
I've tried many times over the years
to satisfy it
First I became a teacher.
What better way to fill my void
than by educating the leaders
of tomorrow?
I taught them. I filled their heads
with knowledge. Every child that
entered my classroom left with
an appreciation of what they
had learned.
Still, when I laid in bed at night,
I felt that emptiness in my soul
******* up my contentment.
So I stopped teaching
Next, I became an adventurer.
Clearly my last job, while fulfilling
was incredibly boring. What better
way to fill the void than to feel
the adrenaline rushing through
my head?
I skydived, I wrestled alligators,
I climbed mountains, I pod raced.
I felt more alive than I ever had
before. It was exhilarating.
Women loved me, men wanted
to be me.
Still. It didn't fill the void. I would
go to bed with women whose eyes
were just as empty as I was. I would
wake up with plastic and rubber.
I stopped thrill seeking.
Next, I became an astronaut.
I clearly needed to complement
excitement with the satisfaction
of doing something good for
the world.
I studied the universe. I traced
lines along the constellations.
My research was renowned
by scholars worldwide. With
my help, the world entered
a new paradigm
Still, the void persisted.
I became an architect
and built some of the
most mind-boggling
structures that had
ever been envisioned
I became a doctor
and found the cure
to the diseases of
humanity
I became a poet
and wrote words
that echoed
throughout the ages.
After all I had done
After all I had accomplished
After all the time I had spent
I was still empty.
Then I looked up
Then I opened my eyes
Then I realized
All I had been missing
All this time
Was you.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
There is a stillness
that lies beyond the tallest trees;
beyond the quiet nesting
of daylight summer birds
Halfheartedly
I am reluctant
to close my weary eyes,
to miss this beautiful cool
refreshing bliss
of serenity once more
bound in endless flow
How contemptuous a nightly lull
that breaks the sun's disquietness
of the day,
renders day into night,
and twilight shadows
that playfully scorn
our daytime senses
We are all rocked in the cradle of mother night
she sings
her veiled and peaceful
insightful sound
I suckle
like so many others
on her breast of cool refreshing peace
I absorb her calming black-night-lactose
that gently whispers to sleep
the energetic day child
within us all
As cool water consumes fire
As night consumes the heated day
I think beyond
the stars
that now shine
the past starry nights
I think about trillions upon trillions
of stars overwhelmed
by the black empty
outer limits
that encircle and distantly
embrace them
I think about
the greater part
of the universe,
making ours and all other
daylight galaxies appear
but like so much dull
insignificant fluorescent glow
And because how mind boggling,
awesome and vast
is the eternal cosmic night sky
And how belligerent to think
all galaxies' day-suns
like our Sun,
being the all powerful
when they are but only
minuscule stars winking and
swimming passively
in the greater awesome devouring blackness
LOOK NOW!...a comet
streaks across the heavens
like a rapid musicians
hypnotic metronome
then stops
then fades away
while the rest of the heavens
sing along
in blinking symphony
Influenced by my most
inner ease
my total being joins
this starry rhythm
I sway like a calm breezy lull
and half shuffle
my feet
over the midnight countryside
of stillness...
... ever sooooo...gently
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
This girl man.. Something amazing..
Her beauty was mind boggling..
A smile that could grasp the attention of every man or woman in the room..
Whether it was envy from woman or the lustful temptation from men, she always had eyes on her..
She had gazing eyes that struct you, making you fall in love at sight.. Trapping you in an everlasting heart throb..
A body of a goddess.. Luscious cocoa butter skin with thick voluptuous thighs.. The true meaning of Mona Lisa ..
As we grew closer to each other, I begin to notice something different about this woman.. Although she was astounding on the outside.... she damaged on the inside...
A beautiful sculpture across the room.. But you dont notice until you get too close that she is damaged..
The party girl.. Taking shots back to back like she was doing backstrokes.. Careless, no ambition.. Living life on the edge..
She says "I must advise you, I am stamped with an invisible warning.. Will not commit.. Despite my best efforts, I'm beginning to feel some small cracks in my faux finish."
Unattached, free as a bird.. Doesn't depend on nobody, & no one depends on her..she doesn't have peace of mind.
She was Untamed beauty..
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
They say actions speak louder than words
but I’ve never been one for shouting
so here’s my quiet confession
only for you; my sole obsession
My mounting
feelings soar
on this paper
My words may not roar
But rest assured
They are true.
I need no hyped up hyperbole
No profound, mind-boggling simile
no hiding
behind complex imagery
all I have are my naked words
bare, exposed emotion
unbuttoned passion
white expression
embrace this page
clinging tight.
Still
nothing I write
can ever capture this feeling
no epic, no odyssey
can chart this journey of
flying
with you
I am not Shakespeare
Dickenson
Frost
I’m just a fool; lost
Without you
I am not trying to compose a classic
not trying to re-write the Romantics
these are my words
from heart to hart
I love you
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
Heartache,
Takes blood,
Reveals pains,
That you never,
Even thought you had.
Mind boggling activities,
Enters your thoughts,
The pain of it,
Encounters your body,
And your mind controls your actions.
In this state you cannot think,
But you can.
Almost everything hurts,
Piercing to the skin,
Intrigues the darkest part of your heart.
Your just there,
In a dark room,
Contemplating alone,
To leave your heart,
To enjoy the emptiness,
That your mind plays with it.
In the end there are no thoughts of tomorrow,
No joy in anything,
You stand alone,
Only to feel your heart deteriorating,
From the fowl resentment thoughts,
Of your mind.
© Robyn G Neymour
September 2011
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 9:14 AM UTC
Intuition not mind boggling
Steak not goulash
Friend not lover
Know not question
Breathe not hyperventilate
(Add more please)
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 7:02 PM UTC
A book?
A book!
A book!
A book.
Sometimes, he really didn't make any sense to her.
But she was sure, she didn't make any sense to him either.
She had asked him for a solution to a predicament. He answered with a question of his own.
There eccentricities were boggling, to people and to minds like the white spots around your eyes or the colour violet.
There was a point he was building upto, she was sure. Well not sure, hopeful really.
"So why a book?" She asked?
"Why not?" He answered!
"How would a book help me with my existential crisis?"
"Well, a book has been credibly established to allow people to travel through time. So how does one derive the question to 42? By a book of course. How does one spend 5 hours in 4 minutes? With a book! When the questions are more elusive than the answers, read a story taller than the empire state building. And you'll probably fly through existentiality, well of one form at least. Books are what make sure that time doesn't remain linear, but rather flows like a twizzler in a baby's hand."
"That was so nonsensical it actually made a little sense", she thought. She'd never tell him of course, his head was inflated enough already.
"So", he continued, "Read a book, and I'll read with you. And maybe we'll find the question to your question in the blink of that naked surety you find in the split second of absolute consciousness between the pages."
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
i just need that right moment
to run from this perfect amalgam of confusion and doubt
this overcooked stew of panic and frenzy
hide in a space where i could infinitely freeze
and stare out cold, stunned and lifeless
feel my heart take its sullen pause
and cry...damn, howl even
into the unreachable depths of sorrow
at the mind-boggling finality
of losing you...
i need to get over this.
the ending has got to be so clear
no ifs, no buts, no more gut-wrenching self-persecution
i need that ******* perfect moment
to nail this ******* coffin.
i need that precious moment to grieve
cash in my pure unadulterated mourning
my monumentally epic funeral
one that would put your self-loathing to shame
as i shed my shameless tears for you
for losing you,
the incredibly amazing you...
and for losing us,
the one-in-a-million Us.
when can I have that moment?
please?
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 1:14 PM UTC