"circumventing" poems
The light you shine on me is so warming
that I cling to you.
You can always aid me in circumventing
my insecurities.
I've learned to become something new;
half of a whole.
In time we both will have to go
our seperate ways.
Waiting for days to return what we had,
the things we took.
The bittersweet feelings I'm experiencing
(more bitter than sweet)
Are from realizing that I will have to learn
to be alone again.
But unlike the other times I've had
this is special.
What are we even? I'd like to hear
your answer one day.
I like to call us more than friends
with benefits
We're friends that love each other,
and love well
That means we can be whatever we want
or need to be.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
Tell the voices in your head
To form a picture of me instead
Remind yourself of who we were, remember how much tears you've shed
And although those feelings inside you are dead
As long as you loved me, I could silence all what they said
Free your insecurities and circumventing acts
Try not to be fooled by people's opinions and start learning to accept the facts
We live in a world of segregation
Molestation
Racism and human spring deforestation
We fight beasts, beasts of our conscious, and we claim our prize
We **** zombies, zombies of our morality no matter what size
We strangle dragons, dragons of laws that no one abides
And you come to me afraid…
Why do you come to me afraid…?
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 5:33 PM UTC
i am the controlled group
i expected interferon and
i got a saline injection
hepatitis c is the
monster
hiding under my skin
i've called for 300,000 favors
from faceless friends - IRC, IRBs, dietitians, physicians
to try to cheat the system
and to cheat the 4 horsemen
harbinging my own internal apocalypse
"If they don't give me anything,"
I began calmly to my wife;
"the scars on my guts will generate another
Chernobyl out of frustration;
out wanting to see my son graduate."
my white blood cell count is 3
and i will wreck this study
go to mexico
and buy as much real medicine
as i need to survive
rudely refusing the FDA's
50% miracle drug
the ingenious intravenous
sugar pill
i only have 3
white blood cells
circumventing valuable scientific knowledge
is not off the table
i will walk away in slow motion
after saving my liver from
hepatitis hellfire horse jockeys in lab coats
with the entirety of clinical research
burning behind me
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Someone told me talking to women was completely different from talking to men
Familial desire circumventing physical rationality
I don't ******* get it
Flesh is flesh
There is no separation between this body and the next
No delineation save for my own arbitrary ones
This world is chaos bound by imposition
And none of it is real
I'm not even going to say middle class conceptions of family are constructs
Everything is a construct
Knowledge is anthropic chaos
Don't pretend you can tell the difference between essential existence and our subjective reordering of boundless matter
A gap does not form between a molecule of air and a molecule of flesh
I am trapped in my own sensations but I am not defined by them
So back to the story of material existence reduced to reproductive imperative
Treating all of the other *** as a means to displace one's self beyond annihilation into temporal infinity
Who ******* cares?
Legacy does not carry on after death
Legacy does not even carry through life
Language breaks down the moment we open our mouths
No one will ever view your life the way you view it
Splashing through a pool, ripples morph all reflections into monstrous amalgamations
Hey, tell me
Do you even remember yourself that clearly?
Hollow triumph, grandfather's bones in a grandfather clock ticking past twelve
Sorry, I just don't see the allure of treating half the human race as a means to satiate your own lust whether physical or genealogical
Or even categorising humans into binary dualisms that bored philosophers a century ago
Haven't you heard? God is dead
And there is no meaning to your boring male existence
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
I know this place well
It is where I dwell
At times it can be forgotten
Ergo it is my shell
Reverberation fabricates strings and lines that demonstrate
Echos driven back to source with insanity to placate
Lessons are never learned within such solitude
Until a rupture occurs defeating meaningless platitudes
Fundamental discretion against complacent and ill-comforts
Do not take away visibility from the truth that sometimes hurts
Cracks emerge, illumination transcending
A surge, then an urge to crush this shell circumventing
I know this place well
It is where I dwell
In time I do remember
Ergo I leave my shell
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
It stood upright, a branch outstretched
and blocked the path on me.
In circumventing sideways dance
I edged in grass quite slow,
but a craggy root handcuffed me,
and would not let me go.
I stood in shocked drawn silent gaze,
unsure of where to turn,
This tree had pulled me tighter now,
it fought my urge to run.
But then it spoke in ancient voice,
in tones of guttural flow.
Dark words in wood translation,
spoke of a poisoned stream below.
The leaf on every branch now shivered,
in worried recounted tale,
as it described through words so clear
what caused its bark to fail.
A darkened tale of toxic waste,
a legacy untold.
of man's destructive story,
where greed and fear unfold.
Water table now unset
In (fractured gas) halation.
Land is sold and cracked
in tempted cash flirtation
War for oil in scarlet lands,
where majors lived at base.
The youth in pointless sacrifice,
to save the political face.
Where poverty prevailed amid
abundant arable nations.
and the silent cries of children
skewed charitable donations.
Air of grey, fermented
with pollen soft pollution.
Chokes of spluttered ash,
cast doubt on evolution
This tale of woe recounted
by nature's mother-tree
with roots now losing hold
while balanced grip on me.
Swaying branch quite dangerously
in forgotten leafy youth.
this once majestic elder falls,
unburdened by this truth.
It died in pain where it had grown
drowned slow in poisoned stream.
a fading track on reddened skin
where its handcuffed branch had been.
I straightened up and stumbled on
relieved it had let me go.
My eyes in shock, slowly adjusted
To wood in flat plateau.
I cast my eyes in horizoned view
not believing what I'd seen.
The wood in matchsticked pattern
where once proud kings had been.
The landscape now lay barren,
with wood strewn all around.
The stench of rot erupted
from muddy blackened ground.
I wandered off to tell the tale,
of being confronted by this tree,
unsure of what just happened
or why it had chosen me.
I walked for miles in desolate,
through air starved atmosphere.
but met no one along this road,
a winding pot-holed frontier.
I walked until I finally woke.
in spluttered inhalation.
Confused, I feared this reality,
of earth's final damnation.
In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
Awoke, its tale will linger,
forever haunting me
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Jamie wakes up
A gunshot from within
Eyelids crash into the cage
Jamie gets up
The heavy shadow also rises
The unwanted, only company
Jamie takes a shower
Water pouring hot and clean as angry man's blood
The bars cannot be washed nor melted
Jamie, the golden child
Jamie's gold is turning into stone
Jamie takes a bus ride
Circumventing the forever nameless faces
Are their shields up too?
Jamie gets to school
Nails buried deep within the palms
A secret buried deep within it's ugliest of kingdoms
Jamie laughs much too loudly
For it takes an earthquake to cover the storm
It's relentless shivers just won't die
Jamie, the martyr
The crown of thorns restlessly resting on Jamie's head
Jamie walks back
Way back
Yesterday's sun - today's dark cloud
Jamie listens to a song
Swimming in the pool of ease
A pool much too shallow for Jamie's big fat shadow
Jamie stops to smell the flowers
But finds none
Only a concrete meadow swallows Jamie's feet
Nobody ever considers Jamie
But this evening Jamie is considering
Jamie comes back home
And finds all hopes lay fast asleep
Or is it the reek of death?
Jamie undresses, and then some more
The essence without thick skin collapses
It's tortured and it tortures
It's weak and it weakens
It's broken and it brakes
The menacing trigger
The blood flow
The bare images of hot white pain
It all drifts away
As Jamie drifts into sleep
Jamie, the divine soul tainted
Much too used to taking bullets
Jamie, the heart that bravely fought
Jamie, for who would have thought so many demons
could live within an angel?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
can’t tell at all if these thoughts are even mine, smoothing my hair out
on the lawn while the sun kisses our skin and we lay around
Spring is getting swept away and the asphalt is as hot as you
heat circumventing every shade of skinny leaved trees
and our truant is every bit of rebellion i need to escape myself
these neon signs are open and i still want steal time with you
just like the weather did and be full to the brim of light
want to dream again if this day is one, and daydream all the stinging away
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 5:01 PM UTC
Sometimes all it ******* takes in Life
is having a single iota of Self Control
for One to bypass much grief and strife
circumventing Victim for some other role;
moreover, I feel I must clarify,
One must not lose One's Self to this,
I wish to convey in some Earthly way
Self-Discipline seems akin to Bliss.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
She tells me,
"You're very self aware,
You know what, why and how you do things,
Yet you continue to do them."
I explain to her that I never learned how to ask for help
So I only ever knew how to look to myself for the answer
Which has led me to become pretty creative with metaphors
As well as entertaining internal monologues,
Like when I explained to her that my parents look at me
And see a knot of misfortune
Without looking at all the threads that I'm comprised of
Which led them to this conclusion of me.
She asked me if I ever thought of harming other people
To which I noted that I tend to play fruit-ninja
With peoples faces
In my head.
Though I'd never actually do anything,
Just as I'm able to keep a professional demeanor
Giving no hints to
The constant stream of expletives in my head.
She asks me why I don't feel like I have friends,
Which leads me to disclose
That I can't tell if I work too much
To spend time with friends
Or if I do it to distract from the lack of.
I laugh when I regale her
With how I recently bought a yoyo
Because it is relaxing
And makes me feel like a cool kid
That would be part of the gang in Hey Arnold,
Stating that it's been helping me with my panic attacks
By focusing on making my yoyo
Go around the world,
Pretending it was me,
Circumventing my lack of coping mechanisms.
Iliana looks at me, with her mouth slightly turned down
Attempting to keep a straight face
Though her brows still knit together in slight confusion
As she asks me how I'm able to say all of this with a smile on my face,
"Well," I state, "I don't have time to be depressed."
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
Anxious for my
Afternoon embalming.
Flushed free,
Laying down the masonry
Of trees yet
To be.
I must confess I want a jack and ginger.
My favorite manieur de mots,
Your offspring making
Silk of my spit.
Two book wormholes,
Circumventing travel,
Welding my smoggy sand castle
To the grey island you anchor.
Would you care to
Fatten up Elpis
With me?
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
We have our timezones.
You have lit my nights
with oil lamps,
and scribbled words,
dripping ink,
bright blue circular, circumventing words.
I have glistened your days,
with sunshine,
and the smell of rain,
with sprinkles of cool
breeze showering on you.
My candles and rays,
are tip toeing out of sight,
I fall short of noticing them,
(partly because work kills me)
but more so,
because you have made
them seamless,
and thriving.
My pages,
do not boast of love,
or affection,
or any of that miserable
writing,
they screams passion,
they rip into anger
and courage,
belief,
belief you sewed into me,
with your gentle hands,
fidgeting and seeking.
And your eyes,
do not burn from the sunshine,
they glow,
and stare into the depths,
I see in you.
I know you hate the rain,
so mine doesn’t actually come down on you,
it lingers with its scent teasing you.
The cold breeze doesn’t
suffocate your breath,
it travels through
your body- within your veins,
it is breath.
We have our timezones,
but we meet at the horizon.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
Oh insightful
Second Chance seeking daughter
Sought after naught
Calamity Jane admirer
Calling shots
With self admitted pistol witted tongue
Relentlessly repenting
For those unrelenting, circumventing
Qualms we harbor
Oh preacher of improvements
Through movements
From sidewalks
Cardboard sign holding beggar of change
Street hustling
To the pocket rustling
Public
Let’s course correct
Let’s resurrect
This hope we’ve buried deep
The climb is steep
But the prize we’ll reap
Will be nothing less than perfect
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 6:10 AM UTC
outer body
mind sick off radio silence
worry behind me
embers of apathy dissipate across pavement at high speeds
"the best of the plague years" drones on through headaches
and sometimes this all still feels real.
DIY the time of your life
i've already given up twice.
old anthems resonate between clenched teeth
i just want to know where i can rest my head
it's like i have to channel the old me just to get a wrong word in,
senselessly spinning fabrications.
blog-tag manifesto.
cicada summer redux.
we are the originators of resurgent treachery,
and it's all seeping through the cracks at once.
settling ourselves by circumventing sidestep hearts,
old prestige fades as the evidence rests engraved on golden placards.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
She Waited for me
On the corners of life
And all the other destinies we have yet to reach
She waited
While taxi cabs of time
With flashy lights
Of forced fake opportunities
With horns of loud disturbance
Like musical madness
Mandatory for all the people
Stopping by
Waving hands of rhetorical questions
With cigarettes of flying ashes
Like the sand boxes that measure time
Upside down
But she refused
She refused because she was waiting for me
Her eyes so sincere
Like poems of honesty
Long lost in humanity
With a laugh of a million stars
Colliding to form a mirage of happiness
Mixed with a sense of existence
Like no other…
She waited for me
But I never came
Her delicate soul
Lingered her impatience a little longer
Her urge to be vivid
Was tamed by the desperate dullness of my presence
Her circumventing vibe of light-like energies
Were hindered and toned down
Just to feed my egoistic
Patriarchal sense of self
Lacking the properties to be a proper man
She waited for me…
As I struggled through
The worldly matters
Breaking glass of shadows
Fighting sin of forbidden years
Destroying fear and respect
With a sense of anger
Clutching knuckles of regret
Proliferating rage
But she was waiting for me
So I fought
I fought for her waiting
She waits for me to fight
And all of a sudden I realize
That I was waiting for her
I was waiting for her all along…
She represented the life I never lived
The decency I never had
The courage I kept within my words
And the light for shadows I lurked behind
And the light for the shadows I now could not seem to find.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
The glow of our candles
Blazing thoughts into the darkness around
Crunches from violin strings
Circumventing the whole world
Instead to focus on the light
The beauty.
Some people get so caught up in the physical
Attributes of our mutual friend
They lose sight of what brought them together in the first place
We are not some people.
Remembrances are not a consideration
Stand as a false choice on the punchcard
I will dream with you
Wide awake, stepping on eggshells, scared to death
Into the night with you, walking our rainbow path
Eyelids heavy enough to allow for a beautiful life
The devil's words will hold no merit, no weight
In this new world of ours
God knows we are all good friends
Knots of fear sinking to the pits of our stomachs
Tied up and twisted
But barbed wire and blades cannot cut your flesh when
You choose not to believe in them
They will bloom into clouds and
Float far away
Reach for the leather-bound book on the highest shelf
Touch an angel's face
Drink in tears that pour from the ceilings of every library
Too fragile to break
And the soul listens to all it holds in between its slender fingers
Rich dirt raining down from the crevices
Raining life upon a wasteland
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 8:08 PM UTC
"Under the tree sat Buddha, meditating with his fear.
He grew to understand how to face Mara, less his habitual red ears.
The red ears of resentment,
The red ears from fright,
The red ears that pushed him from tranquility to fight or flight.
A similar story comes to mind,
One I know all too well.
The story of mine is a tale to tell,
As long as judgements forever set sail.
Leaving the moment for the past, I see a hateful boy.
Distant from the world around me, so confused & annoyed.
Transformed from my façade of impersonation, to the feeling of being lost.
Stemming from the monotonous & everlasting worriment in thought.
From mediation I understand, what red ears did to me.
The red ears transformed my thought process,
Into someone I'd grow to see.
From growth came lessons, and new habits from within.
To sit with perceived problems patiently takes courage & a half Buddha grin.
A smile to acknowledge,
An acknowledgment of growth.
For the one I was to who I've become had to happen, as if renewal were a must.
The change was essential, & shall stand the test of time,
from the old wondering & circumventing rollercoaster thought ride.
The form of wonder we know all too well, that steals us from here & now.
I wish we could all learn how to live presently & apart from the modern crowd.
Tranquility was foreign to me, however the possession of is a must.
A must that changes a boy to man, which should happen before skin to dust.
While undergoing transformation, a man will come to see,
That who he wanted to be is he, while listening under the tree.
As I sit back to reflect, I can now understand.
I understand how the test of time transformed me from boy to man."
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
Coming out of
A nearby hut of mud
A rose bud
Used to mix with
High school
Students’ flood.
On the street
With a bow
Her I used to greet.
Drawing close
And casting an
Affectionate glance
I used to say “Hi”
Often I never
Failed to utter
“Lovely!” “Cute one!” …
In her heart a cherished
Corner to buy.
Though she was shy
Her angelic face
Smiles used to aurify.
When she comes of age
I was sure to propose to her
Though age gap could
Put us asunder
“Does that she too wonder?”
I still ponder.
One sad Saturday morning
A funeral procession
Round the hut
Drew my attention.
To her parents & siblings
And , of course,
To my hidden grief
She opted to be brief
You see
She could not tolerate
“Detained!” on her
Grade 10 certificate.
Vexed
She found it hard
To reflect
A pitch dark night
Will certainly
Cedes place to
A broad day light.
Had she managed that
Dark moment to outgrow,
She could have
Long forgotten her sorrow.
Two decades later
Whenever I pass
By that place
I see her younger brother
With sadness stamped face!
“Suicide why?”
Is it not cruel
Inflicting
A harrowing pain
On those we
Will be survived by!
Is it not selfish
Taking our life
In to our hands
Our corporeal existence
To finish?
If we share our sorrow
Moral prop
From our confidants
We could borrow
This way
What is unbearable today
We may forget tomorrow.
Is it not better taking
The bull by the horn,
Circumventing challenges
To stand shoulder high
While many are born?///
(BY Alem Hailu G/Kristos)
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC
here is no wrong way to do the right thing.
old men teach young men,
say it ain't so, joe, can casey take another swing
four strikes, ah
the trick of blowing bubbles in chocolate milk
learned wordlessly,
many worlds
bubble
by us
if
we keep our heads while all about us
implode
explode
implode
oh
this mountain is circumventing me,
no danger
no effort asked for, life is the river I am in and
if I think a bit
different, as if I may chose i mean a thing, as a pro
verbial thing.
In a word.
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 9:53 PM UTC
It’s presence we can feel
Our eyes can’t seem to catch a glimpse
Only possible through the gentle sway of leaves
And a whiff touching your hair
Or while brushing against your body
It can carry the fresh perfumes from afar
Winds are also a messenger, for things to come
Always making us aware of its presence
The wind slithers through the deepest forests
If it faces obstruction, it changes its path
Swiftly travelling to a new destination
Wind disregards the manmade boundaries
As wind is nature’s messenger
It can also bring a wind of change
It may be bright or sometimes sinister
The wind has neither creator nor destroyer
The wind is the master of its own journey
Traversing and circumventing any obstacles
The wind is the inspiration to so many poets
With the help of the wind the sailor finds the way
The wind is mystical and is also intriguing
Sometimes it also brings destruction
The wind also sweeps away the dirt
Bringing with it a change or transformation
It’s here, there and everywhere- omnipresent
Winds of change will sweep away over us
© Amitav (Radiance)
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
This century is of the cash and capital,
Its captains are collectors of credits,
Their collaborators are culprits,
This century is circumventing my calmness,
Its clauses are cuffing me,
Their conditions are confining me,
This century is a cruel calamity,
Its covenants are costing me my composure,
Their claws are creeping in on me.
My confidence is collapsing,
My clarity is crippled,
My consciousness is ceasing.
This century is carving out my carnage.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC
Flowers dry up when there not impressed with themselves. Withering back down below depths of uncertainty. Prompting joy that shouldn't exist. Commenting on a bigger structure that is not from within. It's around them. Circumventing proudly for all to see. If you aren't impressed with yourself. Then how will you bloom again for all to see?
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 4:31 PM UTC
Another approach
Same strategies
Same chain of command
Different authorities
A mesmerizing complex structure;
Circumventing individual responsibilities.
How can we strive?
How can we grow?
Every being as important as the next;
For the success of a mission years away from fulfilment.
Everyone has a part to play
Every part must be played fully
Or else stagnancy is well around the corner.
For development,
The team must be strong.
They must be together.
They must have the same goals,
Or everything crumbles.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
*The foot paths are no longer small because I walk them solo
As the wild flowers are wilting in revolt of your absence
I dropped from the high to ocean bottom low
But I'll just keep acting like I second your renaissance
Days which were brief in your presence are suddenly longer
With every minute circumventing slower than a year
But boredom doesn't **** so I'm masking myself to look stronger
Painfully bleeding inside and soaking my heart with every tear
Because we once spent the hours and days together
Listening to your favorite songs and sniffing at wild flowers
Besides promising we'd be two together forever
Playing in the storm,tramping on fallen petals of April showers
The birds now sing to the weighed down beat of my heart
Attempting to stitch every cut from the broken glass of we falling apart*
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
Why this house? This house that walks without frame? Only air strides
circumventing the dome. The permeable atmosphere
flows freely shaking water down my arms,
pulp by pulp, fragment by fragment,
consolations for tippling music streaming in the ears.
Blowing arias – intone of regret, or the loss of beautiful things.
Preferring silence over sanguine narratives. How are we to assuage yearning?
I heard someone say, “The ideal is unattainable.” – strange, holding
the small of one’s back and lament the narrow ends of the world.
Strange the flight of birds, the hum of buses past Quezon City.
It would drone that you do not know her – and that she is never somebody
else’s – that is dearth consoled. Your palm indents delineate not fate
but the steady distances of things close to contact, eluding tragedies.
Why this house, and why you?
I have no blueprint of your home. I know not what festoons the balustrades.
Your rue for the absence of a balcony. A panel over earthenware I suppose,
or partitions to separate dreams from stilled things impaled to the wall.
I presume there are photographs of you in every corner
to remind you of your gathered storms.
I know not the smell of your home, but I have your
nameless fragrance on my shirt wedged, ambulating with me through the halls of
where I chase moments like cirrus stirring in a somersault of summer.
Make use of bowls with
evening water and flush the specter down like how you would, cold water
into throat from a night of weeping. Somewhere there,
the China will remind me of your elliptical face in
the intensity of leaving. Your eyes
the windows for birds humming a music I do not hear. I have been to too many neighborhoods,
I have seen unfinished structures foretold by obliged scaffolds holding together
a would-be home. Why this house? There are only shadows intimate on
the floor. The sudden burst of impossibilities watered down, attenuated by
piercing glances through the thickest of nights black with remorse.
The palpable silence gyrates and the diameters of the world are too close
to break in sidereal circles.
Why this house? Because you are in it, and outside,
through the thick quietude, underneath the paling moonlight,
you pretend you see nobody.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC