"coexists" poems
Beastly is this monster state yet many damsels cannot avoid
Some may call it disturbingly conflicting and become annoyed
Where rationality coexists with irrationality in an unstable realm
Pretty monster states navigate this journey as captains at the helm
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions
Wonder is this monster state since the inception of Adam and Eve
Men can only hope to be compassionate, steadfast and never peeved
One moment, pretty monster states can be loving and best friends
Next moment, challenging one’s good nature and spirit to extreme ends
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions
Frightful is this monster state like a suspenseful thriller or mystery
Only those who are not faint of heart can sleuth this case history
Where a profound will of character serves to stabilize one’s constitution
Bringing the monster state to an uneventful but amenable restitution
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
The world's on fire, peace is extinct
Look how fragile peaceful minds can get
All hostile minds are having a ball right now.
It's like peace got embellished in chaos.
Where's peace at, what happened to her?
Regional, global local, peace is in short supply.
This is the renaissance of a new world order
Where partial peace coexists with total chaos
People only search Google for mostly facts
Not for solutions to some distorted peace
What is peace then, how can it be?
Just a routine rhetorical question
Coming from the disturbed mind in me
Listen, One-minute partial peace
Bang, another minute total chaos!
Nowadays, Instability everywhere is commonplace
As unscripted hate rhetoric freely echos,
From jihadic podiums to confused minds.
The conspicuous birthplace of premeditated evil.
The mind, soft spots of those totally confused
Call it the hotspots and playground for the devil.
I, the skeptic, to say the very least,
See this quiet storm as a distorted peace!
twitter @ivaclappers
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
**To the girl with the alluring melanin...
skin the enticing & mouth-watering color of caramel
To the girl with the enigmatic mind,
subliminally affixed to mine**
ॐ
To the girl with the beautiful heartbeat
that coexists as one with mine.
To the girl with the winsome name
...my lips feel so much better when it's your name leaving.
To the girl with the mollifying voice,
your voice is the strongest tranquilizer I've ever encountered;
It apprehends all negativity I'm engulfed in
and brings me back to sanity again.
To the girl with the broken heart
shattered into a thousand pieces,
I'll spend 1,000 days putting each piece back together
and on the 1,001 day
you'll see that not only did I mend your heart
but I gave you remnants of mine.
To the girl who was at war with herself,
I've seen your battle scars.
To the girl who constantly goes back to war,
you are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
ॐ ॐ ॐ
**To the boy with the perfectly sculpted face...
if you were to ever leave, I'd spend forever recreating it's beauty.
To the boy with the beautifully structured mind,
which never fails to unravel every mystery within mine.**
ॐ
To the boy with the wavering heartbeat
that coexists as one with mine.
To the boy with the voice of a symphony of my favorite melody
that never fails to leaving a distinct sense of perfection in the air.
It scatters positivity throughout my body
reminding me of the purpose of my existence.
To the boy with the faltering heart
which never falters enough to give up on me.
And even if it did, I'd spend all my days
as a cardiovascular surgeon.
To the boy with the artistic fingers that paint with fire,
igniting every inch of my skin they lovingly skim over.
To the boy with the dark parallel lines freckled over his wrists,
reminding me of the heartache, and distress you once endured.
I'd spend every day of my life eradicating each piece
of pain-coated glass embedded in your heart.
You are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Grandpa melted two squirrels together using the fat from their bodies after skinning the skin from their bellies. They were dead before he began this project, of course. He's a taxidermist.
Grandpa is surely to blame for many a nightmare–
The jars of eyes and teeth collected from years of scraping corpses off the highway.
But as the Buddhists preach, I've found some blessings in his macabre pastime.
Most of my friends shy away from the undesirable aspects of life;
Death bringing up the forefront.
I feel that grandpa's melancholy menagerie has helped me
Cozy up to the idea that despite life's bountiful beauty,
A dark side coexists intertwined-
But darkness is not always
A bad thing...
Is it?
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
To live without love is death.
To live honestly,
Is to love truly.
Life is a meaningless void.
Dark, dull, and unafraid.
Populous yet lonely,
Blinding yet bleak.
A land of color coexists,
of love that is cautious and daring.
Transcending human comprehension
And the providing hope
along with its audacity.
It’s power and will to thrive
conquers the misanthropy
Of austere death.
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
maybe we were two lonely souls in an
infinite number of universes
that coexists at the same time
so in the least cases when other universes
cease to rotate;
we were looking at each other’s eye—
half consciously exchanging breaths as we stood
in a random street on a random time with random people
in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
devoid of life with its absurdities and ambiguities
that when other universes began to move—
adverse was ours.
we were motionless and breathless
and static and frantic
amongst the dismal place where we stood
under the rain and under the heat of the sun;
*dear, did you feel the spontaneity of our souls
for the first time in a lifetime?*
maybe we were two lonely souls
searching for our own universe in this
infinite number of universes that when
we finally had the chance to meet on
a road with nowhere to go while listening
to our timeless symphonies of pleasure, pain, and lost;
we found universe at each other’s soul.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we met in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
when we were living in abyss.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we found our infinite universe at each other.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we knew love.
(06.19.16)
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
The devil resides in my
right arm
&
God,
my left
sometimes I wonder
what would be
left
if I decided to not take action from fear of choosing the wrong step
hell coexists in
my mind
&
Heaven,
my heart
yet I think
that’s indeed my
art
the ability to manifest the myriad of universes within me as opposing they are
nightmares dwell within
my sleep
&
Hope,
my breath
where in that
reality fosters fantastical
depth
that every intake harbours the fate my world could change for the best
My reality is torn into two by
my existence
&
Yet,
life ensures
my contradictory nature
leads to positivity
assured
a metamorphosis turning my
temptations to strength guaranteeing
ethereal horizons to be made
broad
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC
Like water, like flowing rivulets,
notes fly from fingers fast on frets.
Slippery sinuous shimmering tones
(complemented by brash bluesy Bones).
Like storm’s thunder and lightning a chord
brings the sky to us on earth—
or is it that we fly , then die until the rebirth
in gentle reverb of a note two octaves higher?
Strange how rain coexists with fire.
Drench us in the cascade born from your desire.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
These dirt roads
They break way to gravel
Until the grass splits the cracks
In the soil
And gives birth to such green fields
Who seem to scream in anguish
Of the childhood you spent
Roaming amongst these woods
Now they remain
Simply a funeral home
For trees dying one day at a time
Much like you
Still soaking life in through your roots
As you stretch your branches even further
Grow ever taller
Towards the heaven
Which you only pray exist
In empty church pews
Stained with spilled wine
From the final day you still believed
In the ghost they claim walks among us still
But that day was long ago
Nowadays these false religions
Only coexists with you as fuel to the fires
That have ravaged several forest to ashes in the dirt
They looked a lot like yours
And suddenly you realize
That you're the last tree standing in your forest
And it's a dry day
A wedding day
For a forest fire and a final goodbye
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Some dim witz, try and talk slick; I'll flip the linquistics on these limp biscuits, like it’s No body’s Business, for instance; these lyrics throw bricks at ****** that write lyrics like bones and sticks; you barely hear it, and nothing sticks. So I will put it like this; my pen dragging is a lyrical assist of my mind management that coexists with an untapped abyss capable of slick rap antics, with acrobatics, sick enough to spit dope **** to a fiend and crack addicts; the flow problematic; semi-automatic with the flips, and a-wrist-to-go craft it; now your verbal way; above average. I’m on a roll; way a head of the class ***** My Style switch like a buy chic; trying Bi **** and she 5'6 six with some nice **** kissing a ginger, same height, both wearing tights- I like it. Funny how things *** together; Good-night. Its not over; I'd like-to get it started, get it right. You like the way I write, you should see me when I am right. Now, drunk off wine coolers and sprite; and my buds' light; so everyting is gonna to be aright. Prepared for one hell of a fight; writers block, get's a hook, then a right; then in the a.m. I am, out for the night. my word play, ******* with my sight- translation, I will be so tired in the morning, the morning will be my night.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
She’s a dimple and a drag, corner of Worth and Magpie, French Vogue idioms and her mother’s red flowery hoop earrings. Aloha! Aloha! Oopty-oops in contract loot thru streets and backyard parties, concrete larders, her eyes lie like presidential promises, a slipknot of licorice around her neckline to keep her rising tide from the Menarche Moon.
Anything to keep the little penny featherweight dancer from slipping. Her siblings poke fun at her funny way of speaking, her bath tub is just an excuse for chiseling at her innards, taking a drag at her lungs and punching her duck-billed platypus in the kidneys; a heavy-weight champion of the worm.
That until all the saints come writhing off the fishing lines. Until the ballerina’s edema coexists with Tokyo extremists, serial killer behemoths that keep body parts and *** toys in the freezer. Here, here! Wrath goes to the fella with the wicked demeanor. In an area of limited sight, this country, it’s people are sickened at the sights of themselves, and the wackos are coming out in large swaths, minerals and dimples strapped to their waist belts in the throes of a menopausal demagogue heaving OxyContin down El Camino Real.
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
what need we know,
what laws to posit,
mission clear
but still us,
we remain a wee unclarified,
the theoretical, lacking,
so today,
all scientists, all visionaries,
all literature professors,
critics and ******
today, only positing,
non-negating,
in order to
establish the tenets of
The General Theory
of Poetary Genius
once proofed and proved,
the theory capable,
discerned and predictable,
the foretold course
motion foretold of a
planetary body,
a special singular star,
a peculiar one,
plot not its course,
but it's discourse,
the emanating waves
of words arriving, self translating
in any and all languages,
but for all,
in their native tongue
The first element,
chiefest law of them all
is to pose the problem differently,
so that answers come from
a planetary poetic perspective radical,
enabling any old genius to see it
as no one has seen it before, till now
We mortal Joes,
ponderous weigh,
inexplicable unsolvable ordinary,
what is love?
The Poet Genius declares:
it knowable, it's real,
its solution a matter of a matter,
among two planes it coexists,
though in three dimensions...
what is love co-exists
in space and time at the
subatomic level
and moreover,
who gives a ****
The second element,
(To be continued)
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
The sweet tryst of your love has had its end
Which fadeth through the dawn, it coexists
The keen affection descends like a trend--
You slowly, but surely, have to desist.
The sickness spreads, continues to rescind
A whirlwind of sentiment takes it's place
Your mind undergoes sins of rue chagrin
Your life, just a sad blur, will end it's pace
Will you tell yourself it was all a lie?
Or will you own up to fabrication?
Your goal in life was to personify,
To move man with simple revelation
In your last breathe, you find the true meaning
To live as king, and to die demeaning
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
To a young boy growing up there is nothing greater than getting up, eating cereal, and watching cartoons. But as a young boy becomes a man, he sees that his priorities change. Music seems to take full charge, and with music comes an even bigger challenge, the female mind. Things that seem important are put to the side and room is made for a girl. But to me she is not just some girl, she is the perfect girl, a princess to some sort. But what I love the most is that my priorities aren't put to the side, everything coexists. So even as I sit here, I realize I'm still a young boy who gets up, eats cereal, and watches cartoons, but now I know I can so all of this with the perfect girl sitting right by my side.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
keep barking
what,
mongrel?!
never to a chemist
what, suddenly there is
no notion of a cognitive
mongrel, i.e. a bilingual breed
of man?
i found that people
complained about having
a mixed-ethnic rooting,
never was the case translated into
the cognitive element of
vocab...
you are allowed an ethno-allowance
"stipend" and be left off
the hook if your mother was
white, but your daddy was black,
but then it comes to
possessing two languages,
good luck Buck!
akin to psychiatric disorders...
the pills don't work!
tell that to a chemist:
the **** was i doing all this time,
so running, cardiovascular
oxygen to the brain will solve
all the problems?
the last thing you want a chemist to hear
is: the only medicine is exercise...
i'm not saying it's perfect,
but to suggest that all pill taking
is bad makes the study of
chemistry: pointless...
might as well be studying
arachnophobia!
if i actually did make it into
the profession i'd be as much hated as
a police officer...
chemistry: bad...
make sure you wash your teeth with
cow dung extract,
and perfume yourself with
freshly plucked daffodils then!
jobs retain a tinge of absolutism
because relativism doesn't exist between them,
the only relativism shared is
the relativistic fact that such jobs
exists, and can exist because
they are coexisting...
a bus driver coexists with
a cabbie because: e.g. e.g. i.e. a mechanical
means of travel...
psychiatry undermines
the benevolence of a chemist,
by over-simplifying
the case-study of a cardiovascular trainer...
the **** is the point
running a treadmill without
generating energy?
you can't suddenly explain
to a chemist:
your pill aren't worth popping!
well, that's one way of saying
the currently exploration
of the impotence of antibiotics...
that worked...
but what's the point of telling
a chemist to suddenly "dig the groove"
of divorcing himself from
synthesising synthetic mimics?
- and instead analysing analytical
precursors?
a chemist is not going to suddenly
rephrase his quest
to agree to:
a futility his own work -
culminating in an effective
plagiarism of nature isolated...
but then popularising biology
and physics reduces chemistry as
being the Quasimodo of science,
a hunch-back ugly-face of endeavour...
a science crucified in terms
of modern ethic...
once the only adventurous
branch of science,
now the most ethically conducted
patron of rigour...
it has truly become nothing
short of a farce...
something worth being ridiculous,
but not inclined to be subject
of ridicule.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
***when you accept the ‘I love you’ invite, coolly quietly
understanding this is but a summarizing way of saying,
let’s enter the gated fence to friendship, locking in & out,
the delving reveals to follow are truths more costly than
any fiction, you see only the too real, how much pain can
exist, survive, be survived, quietly thrive, just beneath the
skin’s preternatural strong thinness, holding us in, together
while yet a sieve, separating the granules of our composition,
the coarser fail to penetrate the finer cells, the molecular level
is where the sensory Alice in Wonderland world coexists with
the blunt exhaustion of so much agony, too much, and in the
early morn these words appear of their owned and freed volition,***
do what you must do to repair yourself
***...and you confess to understanding that to heal oneself,
you must heal others, and that separate and unequal
sorrows can somehow heal each other, praying for ex,
exfoliation, exhumation, excalibur, expelling all the ex’s
so new skin self repairs, a great miracle that, and that
human reparations are a thing you alone initiate, inhale,
fostering a belief that !we! is the solution, the only...
5:46am
11/28/20
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
And here I go again.
I
am
so
out
of
control
in
hate
with
you
You are not making this any easier.
Your
hungry
eyes
feast
mercilessly
upon
this
lonely
corpse
I need to re-center myself.
Find
the
perfect
balance
where
wrong
coexists
with
right
But, I am afraid.
Can't
let
you
be
the
one
who
got
away
So, I'll stay.
Even if it
(hopefully)
kills me.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
There is a bumper sticker I have seen, it says to "Coexists"
Be one big happy family, make wrath and hate desist
-
After all we all are One, members of the human clan
Be all Lovey-Dovey, in the Family of Man
-
Excuse me please excuse me, in my Bible I do read
A verse of Scripture plane and True, to this I will take heed
-
The verse is from Corinthians, the 2nd Paul did write
I read in chapter six, how I'm to fight the Fight
-
Number 14 is the verse, the verse where I will start
Read the chapter to the end...I take his words to heart
-
If you think I'll coexists, with a ******* ****** or a Queer
You can think again!...Your Damnation draws so near
2 Cor 6:14-17
14 Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?
15 And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?
16 And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.
17 Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you,
KJV
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 3:54 AM UTC
The rock, a perfect place to be seated and become enveloped and lost in the sounds which surround you.
Nature at its finest.
The whipping of the wind, blowing on your skin and through your hair.
A pleasant sensation mixed with the thunk of the waves hitting the shore and rock.
A rather unique way of saying hello with each passing moment.
A combination of the wind and waves creates this aura of serenity.
A calming only experienced by the person in the moment.
Nature is full of life, and sounds which is not appreciated enough.
The rock is teeming with life.
The little flies, who in turn play a part in the annoyance of biting your skin. Everything coexists together and it's a shame any of it has to be interrupted because people came into the land to essentially take over and share in the beauty of the land.
Nothing quite says brisk like a dip in the lake while partial cloud cover and wind blows by.
I want to stay here, forever.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
I've always been attracted to things I couldn't have. They lure me in with soft tantalizing pleas of "aren't you curious how much different your life could be with us in it".
All the possibilities come roaring to life
"You could find love"
"New friendships aren't all that bad"
"New experiences"
Now this new experience idea has invaded my mind, wringing around my brain with an embrace so tight that it's not a comforting hug anymore.
I want to experience everything life has to offer, both the positive and negative. I want to feel such a contrasting variety of things, I think this coexists with the high hopes I have. Maybe by feeling a lot i can cover up this numbness that doesn't seem to leave me.
Ironic how I can get rid of everyone else but I can't rid myself of this, I do admire consistency in anything and **** is it undeviating.
I didn't use you but you came into my life when I was in the middle of a transition. Someone wanted to get to know me and the attention made me happy, it still makes me happy, Which is where the problem lies. Despite all the sure tale signs that you may have only been wanting one thing, I took a chance and dove in. The stormy waves visible to me in the distance didn't seem to matter. I came to see you as my raft, keeping me afloat and away from the dark pit of endless water underneath me, that I was afraid I would drown in. You distracted me from it in the beginning, entertaining me enough that I forgot it was even there.
Then you became it, You began to drag me down. You grabbed a hold of my ankle, pulling me underneath the waves and I haven't seen the sun since. I would try to swim back up but I couldn't bring myself to break free of your grip, so I stayed and began to force myself into thinking this was how all relationships were.
Day by day your hold became looser and finally you let me go. I despised you at first but then I became grateful. The freedom was liberating, my mind was at ease for the first time in a while. No more anxiety triggered by you, no more useless effort from my end.
Recently I let you back in, did some things I'm not proud of but who doesn't. You didn't stick up for me, the thought of me being a bad influence is laughable. Now we are both forbidden from seeing each other. Never did I think I would see the day when a mother views me as harmful to her son.
Like I said, I've always been attracted to things I couldn't have. I don't think I am anymore.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
The Self,
an illusionist,
whose words turn and twist
to check the boxes
of society's wish list.
The Self,
a great illusionist,
whose smartphone coexists
hand in hand
with moments missed.
The Self,
the greatest illusionist,
whose audience consists
of a world
full of narcissists.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
You look like a reason to try to want to wake up
A reason to try again
You look like the shameless shade autumn wears,
Not apologising for all the goodbyes it brings.
You look like a reason to want to die a little less,
A reason to play dressing up in front of the mirror
You look like this rebellious pen of mine,
Taking a break from the blues and writing about the red in your cheeks
Clichés be ****** it yells.
You look like a liberation death could bring, but only sweeter,
The light filtering through the curtains, but softer
You look like the face of a stranger I confessed my miseries to long ago and wished never to see his face again when I was done
Except I could never run away from you, pls don't make me ever wanna
You look like the adrenaline rushed first kiss,
But with more finesse
You look like all the warning signs I have ever ignored when I ran past them,
Except this time I want to stay and discover why.
You look like all the poems I have ever sat on fire, except you fire never burns you into Ashes, it somehow compliments and coexists w your halo
You look a lot like humming bird, except you're humming in my heart, fuzzily flowing into my veins
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
today you'll glide your cursor
past this poem,
like it's nothing, like i'm
nothing
but tomorrow
or maybe the day
after
after
after and then,
serviettes may pile up
our strangership coexists with
friendship,
and bucks and bucks'f starbucks,
and 'good evening' might become
'Good morning'
'Good night'
'Good day'
if that day comes,
when that day comes,
then good day sunshine
i would have found the light in my life
again
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one that can see my black, oil slicked feathers.
They are the reason I don't like getting wet, the reason I fit better in the shadows than in the direct sunlight.
I'm not colorful on the outside, though the glossy yet demure rainbow sheen of my midnight mane may say otherwise.
They say it's what's on the inside that counts; if you cut me open, I'd bleed opal.
Opal, shimmering liquid pearl, luminescent moonshine filling every crevice of my heart, every crack and corner that are not filled with emotions that threaten to overturn the barriers preventing floods over and over and yet over again.
I'd forgotten- funny isn't it?- how easily words can flow and glow from my mouth if I would only open it. But as quickly as I do, the contents that spill out are black as tar, black as my coverings, my feathers, my thoughts.
What else is there to say but that I wish the black and the rainbow would coexists?
Oil slicks and opals are both beautiful.
You can see the rainbow in each, but sometimes you have to take the time to look closer.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
I layed there in the dark,
waiting for perhaps a revelation.
I woke to the light,
hoping for a miracle of sorts.
For a transformation of my life,
in a way that leaves me better off.
But the truth settles in,
I can only do this with action.
A child like hope will no longer do.
I must move in life to manifest my own.
Although my dreams have lead my head,
I can no longer wish.
I have wished & wished again & again.
As if speaking with a dying breath.
I layed their In the dark.
Waiting, wishing, hoping.
However,
I see that I have to be the life change.
I woke to the light.
Times have drastically changed,
& I must come back to life,
with all the strength I have.
Its not as hard as I made it to myself,
But It will never be easy.
And that is okay,
that is the way it must be.
I can make the change that I hoped for.
I can be the change I want to see in life.
I woke to the light.
To realize that the pain is only a teacher.
A lesson in a loss,
a siren of our own misfortune.
But it is not to the end we feel the weight.
Times change & so does what hurts us.
Darkness is not there to take away light.
The Light is not there to blind us.
Darkness is simply the absence of light.
Yet a certain amount of dark is needed,
to see the stars at night
There is no bad in light or dark in nature.
It is simply how life Coexists with us.
Your darkness does pass,
as does your light.
Just as they both come back,
but neither is present at the same time.
In the end your light will be all that stays.
Realize the good in the bad.
Accept the bad in the good.
Life slows down for none,
& it's never too late to stand back up
We layed there in the dark,
to wake to the light.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC