"candidness" poems
Indistinct moments of brief respite flow into the room
Where the consequences of your actions lie
Bringing a false sense of relief to rest upon your brow
Until the next time you look into your eyes
The candidness of the mirror suspended within this room
Smiles in all its feigned innocence at you
Sending out a call to come and look upon the wall
Into the very eyes, which reveal the truth
Take a deep breath and enjoy the moment of brief respite
Flowing into your conscience as a reprieve
As soon the mirror will be calling out in laughter
Come here, and take a look at me
The mirror’s name is Karma also known as Fate
Her call is mighty powerful and strong
The vision that she holds is determined by your actions
Come take a look and see if I am wrong
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 2:36 PM UTC
*I forget what speaks louder of you;
if it is the hunger of my lips
longing to kiss you
or the kiss waiting discretely
to be born from yours
swaying on the verge of vulnerability
I forget if it is the kiss
that tender
and irresistible
becomes unbreakable;
your soul’s assent
or if it is the words in note
the morning writes and you erase
in an innocent attempt to
hesitate your truth
pausing at its tip
or the shrug
off your left shoulder blade
that briefly masks your will
before it is abandoned
at the edge of quiet moments
when you heed without refrain
It is the candidness of silence wept
to carry the ripest, sweetest kiss
onto my wanting lips
without disturbing yours
in truth
unrelentingly
and quietly insatiable*
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC
They tease only because they like what is true.
That is why you call them friends.
So when, in avocado skies,
With the fragrance of fuchsias,
And perhaps even focaccia,
And other salty, honest facts of life,
Droning like blue hummingbirds
And Manuka bees,
You seep through my weak and ailing
Ego, out onto the blotting paper of my conscious mind,
I shall consider what it is they cherish,
And come, perhaps, to feel the same.
And do not berate me when I do,
I tease you only because I like what's true!
But here's a precursory thought or two,
Already noted on bibulous blue...
While I write a bottle’s worth
Of evasive attempts at articulation,
The following transpires:
That I have more in common with Van Gogh
Than most care to know, or notice.
That some called him Vincent.
That all I’ve ever written does not sum me up now,
And that the whereabouts of Brighton really doesn’t matter.
That you are the closest I will ever come
To understanding the stars,
And candidness is more attractive
And captivating
Than anyone cares to admit.
That lousy house parties
Are sometimes better than expected.
And you are braver than me,
And I thank you for it.
That speech is, more often than not,
Inadequate, and
Words seldom do justice
(However hard I battle with them.)
And that self-confessing,
Asymmetrical smiles
Are secretly my favorite kind.
That some songs have a hold on me,
That I could never explain much,
And photographs are not my favorite medium.
That poems are often incredibly hard to write,
And it’s all your fault.
(That you’re forgiven.)
And that even the spectrum
Of browns, golden and dusty,
Azul, virescent and viridescent,
Warm and hazy, igneous-red,
Flushed in sunset,
Curled in blazing amber;
The hue of gloriously tawny,
Shaggy apertures
Of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers
Are no match
For the honeyed morning's
Beams of light
Dancing on your head.
'But how can words express the feel of sunlight in the morning...'
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
I'm sorry I loved you
So dreadfully whole,
And with the white-washed candidness of soul.
I'm sorry I loved you,
And that with everlasting breath:
I praised your song,
Sung, as if to the death.
I'm sorry I dared raise
All hope's expectations,
By reaching out a childish hand
To cold adult's gaze,
And thinking my love untrue -
Why else then, my innocence razed?
I trusted you.
Like God trusted man with Paradise.
I fell in love with you -
Your untainted beauty and miraculous eyes.
I'm sorry.
For youthful naivety,
I´m sorry.
For universal chord that ties us together,
And untied us forever,
I´m sorry.
For praying to a fallen God,
Loving a pig's gall and sod
Dreaming that from the clod and dirt
Of the earth's mud
A Prometheus of love returned might rise -
But rise the love did not
And child's heart was shot
And child's innocence did die
I'm sorry I loved you,
You with the miraculous eyes.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
You could win my heart with peanut butter
or with passion for the never ending quest
of finding the perfect running shoes.
You could win my heart with literature jokes
with Kishi Bashi, Bach, or Bocelli
and if you play with me, I'm yours.
You could win my heart with affection
honesty, cleverness, and candidness,
I'm addicted to non-corporeal human evolution.
But I'd rather you didn't.
Not yet.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Savages, animals,
uncivilized Creatures,
Fiend on Earth,
Unrully beings.
But do I complain?
NO!
Through Devious deeds,
Robbed me naked,
Devised weapons to
silence my Menacing
mouth.
But do I complain?
NO!
Wrote Memoirs of how
Dark & uncultured I
was,
called me a Devout
to my Unpolished ways.
But do I complain?
NO!
Mesmerized by my
wild and Beautiful face,
Dazed by the
Candidness of those
residing on me.
But do I complain?
NO!
Driven by Cupidity
stole both life &
lifeless,
Tall buildings Built by
my sweat & Blood,
my Kins sold and Tortured
on Foreign lands.
But do I complain?
NO!
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
Give them a cat face
And they'll bark you
So what then?
Curse them with a smile
For beneath you can conceal
Please do not feel
Yet one must recognize the fancy dress that covers
There could be more than just troubles
Embrace it as long as you withstand.
Make the most out of your candidness
Set it free once the Guard told you so though
The fog of wisdom is fast approaching
Learn to get rid of worth not having
But don't forget to wear your comfy sneakers then strike a pose
Anyway this is your runway show.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
Some sparking a J in celebrating of 4/20. Others are going to church because its one of their three Sundays. Customs of dying eggs, candy baskets, and bunnies. Cute dresses and fly suits forget the resurrection people more concerned about costumes. I'm a little confused when people say Happy Easter cause easter don't resonate to me. Like the thoughts of my risen King. Jesus the reason but we more focused on drinking and eating. Consuming and copying the cues of this commercialized culture. Excuse my candidness . The tomb is empty!! Jesus should show up today with a S on is chest for Savior. Or a L for Lord or a K for King. I digress. He can just show up with the holes in his flesh.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
life from the crossroads,
meeting a blood clot
already thickened from
running sweat, a stone's
throw from a ***** four
letter word: P-A-S-T
in another stream (one
wayward than my own)
i would be he, shivering
and possibly unrepentant,
emphatically gone too
far beyond anyone's
morals.
yet in another, i live out
the dreams of the father,
or 'sins' if pure honesty
had its say. what i wouldn't
give for a beautiful wife,
obedient children, a gold
standard like this stanza's
length; prosperous--
preposterous. in my own
uncharted stream, i would
live out troye's dream. free
on the inside, eons removed
from demi's 'sober'. what
choice does one have but
to make pop stars their
patron saints? maybe
mr. a-z has the answer?
scribes and stagehands,
satirists and spirits so
wishfully kindred, i smile
in solidarity. each line a
flame of pathos, each tap
a letter in loosening of
veins, like makeshift gifts
of a medium we inhabit.
to my girl, a lady-to-be
of such unwavering faith,
love someone even when
the party's over. keep
your billie eilish close by
like a bluebird in my heart;
highwayman to highwoman.
but most of all to Him,
patient with my inevitable
candidness just as he would
if my bargain held up. if we
were in love, I might just
learn to trust myself again.
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 6:43 AM UTC
I believe there is a certain necessity for persistent re-evaluation of one's self. to allow the psyche to reassess and perceive one's personal growth. are we still exerting energy and resources towards what finds us that betterment upon our inner wealth? this should directly concur with pure candidness; one's ability to balance the acknowledgment of their faults with the appreciation of their prosperity. this aforementioned ideal of persistent re-evaluation corresponds with my argument that complacency is trifling in today's world. though, I mean to mention a prime difference between that of momentary complacency and perpetual complacency. momentary complacency is viable and is, in itself, essential. we must, at times, come to terms and concede for rejoice. perpetual complacency, however, proves to hinder our ability to constructively progress our state of well being. within this argument, my mind wonders to that of this near obsession with improvement and all of the flawed gimmicks that follow. how far can one go? nevertheless, I want to be better. I want to see better. I firmly believe that we could do better.
be well,
bcb
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 6:24 PM UTC
Tale of the none, with silence
The risks we endeavor, are forever?
And a daydream, that has a moment to suffice
Create me an avid soul, shrewder thoughts for lovers...
People of charming since
And guarantee's hence, with a smile
Of recourse, I will know a rage, insight lends
The times of virtue in calm, and duty to shyness...
Mercy in a carried few
Witnessing the gifts and presence of mind
With the senses of curiosity come patience, we due
To a passion of simply asking for help, in time
Allied solace, the terms and needs of equity
Privileged intuitions of a charity in call, and prowess
The turn of composure into gold, absentia in divinity
Suggesting hope, is a long cool look at love we guest
Many days like these
Energy in forms we can understand
Solitude forth a response, to aging tomorrows we please
First and foremost, the basis of comparison to answer a land
My needs are my promise
Salutations in couth, the liberty to accept austerity
With the sincerity of kind, a sharing seemliness of the wise?
And to a shrewder how in the season of now, the candidness of disparity?
Sep 4, 2023
Sep 4, 2023 at 11:24 AM UTC
Out of the dark and into my dreams
Through the haze, not quite as it seems
Out of the dark and into the depth
Candidness abandoned, and honesty kept
Out of the end and into the dark
Bottomless as oceans, still as this heart
Out of lit tunnels, into that dark
I left myself at the gateway, ineluctably apart
Out of myself and into the air
Insides roaming, body spare
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC