"cogency" poems
I can't seem to write
anything these days.
There's just no poetry
in my misery.
I can't seem to right
anything these days.
There's just no cogency
in my apologies.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
She desires excellence – pristine, pure, perfection.
She desires excellence – clarity, cogency, coherence.
She desires excellence – sharp, sensual, stressful.
She desires excellence – alluring, artful, alone.
She desires excellence – too much, too much, too much.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
they cower in motels
behind brave windows and balconies,
hurling mortal nouns
into private spaces
avatar faces
painted dirt brown
spew hurt and shame
like acid rain
with decadent refrain
and broken blades
seek veins hidden
in sheer fright
from eyes cued to gore,
grime and more
criminal cocktails
circumvent cogency
by a moonshiner's mile
improvised neckwear
leave a mark
as the world goes dark
like forensic files
or the hunt
and another soul
checks out early,
bypassing the lobby
and the regally blind
eyes cued to gore,
grime and more....
~ P
#bedroombullies
(8/3/2015)
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
This addiction to cogency
is holding me back.
We can snap our fingers, and
tap our toes
in different time but
the results would be the same.
The Pride of Saint Vitus
has a name, but
there are no parades
because, well, can you imagine?
I have little to give but
you are welcomed to it.
Its been said that cynics are disappointed dreamers but
as a disappointed dreamer
I say cynics are ********
There are judicious uses of time and there are
beautiful wastes.
Its a shame that
I need to lay down in the evenings
when "good" T.V. is on and
the sirens wail a little bit less down on the boulevard but
there are these echoes, see, and
they keep me from reading that book I started in the winter of '77.
Let me rest a minute.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
A **** in my brow from side to side,
You split my skin nine stitches wide.
I don’t even have the cogency to cry.
Another ER trip, I swear I’m out.
No matter the showers of love that you spout.
I can’t put up with another shout.
I know one day I can live without…
But I’m clumsy, I’ll tell them I fell.
Even though all of my fallacies smell.
They won’t believe the volume of my yell.
But with gentle arms you re-create my cell.
I’ve been here before, I know this death knell.
I wish I could tell you no.
You know this won’t be the time I go.
Today is just not my day.
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC
Feeling lost from light,
while some lack sight.
Claim cogency ironically,
then cower from fight.
Is this might,
this fear of strife?
25, handsome, bright,
and still yearning for knife?!
Deserving of life?
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:35 PM UTC