"cohesion" poems
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly
When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity
Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme
Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm
You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically
You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously
The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic
Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Cohesion that which binds
Division that which separates
Love that which builds
Anger that which destroys
Emotion ?
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
.
Cohesion has been fragmented,
merely an old dissolved memory.
A shroud darker than pitch black
heralds the omni-directional strangler,
seeking to crush the fragile neck
and slowly asphyxiate the minds reality.
The turbulence of mute non-existence,
trapped in an endless glass sphere,
a cold snow-globe paper weight,
screaming for the end of the world.
Terror dissipates all common sense,
the inner head explodes and implodes.
A wracked skeleton of fevered flesh,
the violated remains,
beautiful and torn,
left,
when the butterflies of darkness
******
the fire.
© Pagan Paul (2017/19)
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
the
unity of id
eas link
ing p eople
toge ther
to f orm
solidarity.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
~~
behind the shadow a distinct lost dream
standing opposite of a long bridge
crossing through the middle cutoff
see the river flowing beneath
illusive calling but can't go
on the edge a dark sharp sign
known voices floating over
echoing an ego which cover the shadow
how many days offset!
and try to touch the last sunset
still silhouette stands on the shore
what is mystic that always opens the door
the river bumping with waves
between the broken parts of the bridge
passing a phase of life on the ridge
yet subconscious grew a cohesion of dream
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
I need a new pick up line.
"Hi, I've got no confidence in myself
but maybe if the two of us
came together
then I wouldn't need any."
"You must be a Flinstone,
because I can lick your ********
with a breath strip on my tongue."
that's *******
my breath isn't minty
fresh. at all.
I wanted to be a poet,
but I couldn't tell what bad poetry
looked like.
so maybe it's mine.
so maybe I should
stop looking.
it's like:
"I can't do it,
so I won't try."
it's like:
"life's too short,
so let's end it.
baby."
there's your pickup line.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
The cows graze in their pasture
Subservient to their master
Who doesn’t move faster
To help avoid disaster
So the cows are on their own
To deal with snow
Those all alone
Completely froze
Yet those who know
To use the warm glow
Of company that showed
Survive temperature lows
The cows used to solitary grazing
Now begin embracing
To fight cold air they’re facing
That is life erasing
While frost is lacing
The grass once worth tasting
The winter refuses to yield
As snow builds in the fields
The cows’ cohesion is revealed
As they protect their veal
And forget to steal
To connect and heal
During this ordeal
In times of inclement weather
The cows huddle together
Like someone pulled a lever
That won’t stay locked forever
So eventually ties are severed
As summer comes
The dumber numb
Thinking they won
Soaking up sun
Knowing winter is done
They divide into ones
A flow line
Of the bovine
Slow grind
Shows flies
Grow wise
With no size
They devise
To go for eyes
Cows go blind
In their mind
And cannot find
Their herd in time
Pretty soon the irritating fleas
Give them mad cow disease
As they don’t look to please
But put the good on their knees
While they’re hiding in trees
And biting with absolute ease
Seeing the absence of immunities
From their lack of community
The lost independent
Weather defendants
Become repentant
When they hear encroaching
Thunder clouds approaching
The cows become hectic
From a storm electric
Their formation eclectic
So they feel unprotected
But a fence was erected
So they can’t join the dejected
And this lonely life they elected
Is sadly reflected
The lasso angler
Hassling wranglers
Unmasked as stranglers
Bring the herd together
As they pull a lever
That’ll stay locked forever
As the cows’ heads are severed
And the horns in their head
Stick around once they’re dead
As we eat what they were fed
While they made their own bed
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
"God is Alive, Magic is Afoot."
Who are you? Who am I?
the light in February can be self-sufficient,
sharp as deafness in the middle of the sentence
heavy as denial,
rapturous as a fusion
in the wind, in the air
forces of cohesion and destruction
play well together
in the arena of ribs, guts, lungs,
perhaps the silent liver
something is shivering inside
the light of a blade
an efortless wave of desire
a tired boundary left alone in the afternoon
the contours of my limits, your limits,
their limits so bright in this
constructivist fabric
Picasso was just foretelling us
forcing the doors
to expose the cover-up
dreaming his internal objects
then we start all over
with every breath
I want to give myself to me
as a new toy, as a gift
I want to love him with overt passion
I want you/him to break and store me
in between your thoughts
the body is full of eyes, of ears, of lips
I’ll survive in a whisper
They just want to flow into each other
clapping, holding on to the fluid of life
engulfing everything, defying all
censorship, authorship,
leadership
the light in February
is newly born with desire
to embrace itself, its darkness
in the vibrant body
I am, you are are sliding back with the air
finding rest in the vital void
the song remains the same
I am you, and you are me
the enchanted blade
is ready to cut
a new body for misunderstanding
we need to survive each other
something is tickling my feet
some wordless revolt
some rage of the living
to impersonate death
to posses their breath
I feel my boundaries
watched over by desire
but you are always invited here
to sing your sea of blood
turquoise or as you like
I am my desire
my desire is searching for myself
everywhere
in the incomprehensible light
in the lightness of his hair
in their hunger, courage and despair
for tomorrow
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
the first time you told me you were in love with me,
it was in a letter (you
and you didn't dare even write the word. never were brave enough
to love me
openly.)
the first time you told me you were in love with me,
it was when you were leaving me for him. (i wasn't worth
the price;
you did a
cost-benefit analysis
you never left me, really. and cut your losses.)
he left and we returned to what we were before
him, as if we'd pressed pause
if i closed my eyes i could almost believe
it would be okay
we were still glowing-gold
and perfect.
but instead of the synchronicity,
some unnameable tension, the jarring sensation
that something in us was out of alignment. (i asked you to wait:
give me time,
some days more to play pretend.)
the first time you told me you weren't in love with me
was just after you told me you would have married me
would have run away with me
(as if i weren't the
teenager, here. as if it were my fault
for not being selfish
the heartbreak, the loss of ignorance and asking you to.)
was what brought us back in sync. you wrote once
about the end, the devastation that the city of us
was victim to. (we're finding that the damage is
less like an explosion
and more like an
earthquake: broken glass, aftershocks, and
the first time i told you i wasn't in love with you cracks in the
anymore, foundation)
i didn't know why, hadn't noticed the cracks in the pavement;
i had only just started to see
the shards of glass.
you kissed me ten days ago, and said you didn't know why
it didn't feel wrong, why it didn't feel like cheating.
it's starting over again, i told you. the glass is being swept up,
our pieces falling back into place. (it's the natural order for us;
this, darling, our effortless cohesion, will always
rebuild the city.)
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
/
Many and
Many years later
My Poetry books
That I had lost
From the middle of the bookshelf
Within Thousands of many other books
Where I have found
Utterly Unknown
Some Pages
Yellow
Pale
Is very difficult to read
Yet quietly reading
I read with a lot of the force
Crawling.
As a Small child walking
Many years later,
Understand
Know
Become that Strange Poem
The Poem
Showed me Dreams
Told me to Love
Strikingly,
Bought all the Colors of my Canvas
Drawn your Images
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In my Heart and the Soul
Then
You and I
Grew as a highly Sophisticated
Metaphor,
In an extreme
Cohesion,
Nice One
My Heart put on your Heart
In a Romantic Tune
Bode on a Small Boat
Toward a Tough Sea,
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In the Song of the Sea
Then
Sudden Sea Storm Came
Made Substantially Vortex water
We Drowned
Lost you
That also happened
Many and
Many years before
In this Sea and my Soul
Today I have found you again
In a Sprung Dream
As I lost you
Many and
Many years before
As if I'm standing
On the Shore of the Sea
You as a form of Sea Angel
Come forward to me-
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
*Immaculate moments of Mystery,
be my thoughts for me as
I stay motionless in
your Magnificence,
Invisible in your Absence
Please guide my hands
to soothe and to heal,
my heart to know and to feel
with great Capacity
for the Totality in
the Essence of your Presence.
May I live with purposeful intent
beyond the confines of the self
to grasp with great intensity
the gravity of Eternal Love,
binding order in the Chaos,
Cohesion of the One....
Omnipresent Mind....
Incomprehensible Thought,
into You I swear to forever seek,
until Dual is undone and
the Heart shall rejoin,
before the beginning and
back to the One.*
Ishq Noor ~
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
a crumbling of the floor's cement
all pieces shall not stay welded
splintering bits in discontent
the plaster no longer melded
all pieces shall not stay welded
unity's oneness going awry
the plaster no longer melded
this being an unhappy fish to fry
unity's oneness going awry
each person in the deck breaks rank
this being an unhappy fish to fry
all of their cohesion well sank
each person in the deck breaks rank
on seeing a leader's madness
all of their cohesion well sank
they'll wake up to ego's badness
on seeing a leader's madness
the plaster no longer melded
they'll wake up to ego's badness
all pieces shall not stay welded
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I have the shape of the institution.
Each email address is a human.
They are known by their words and actions.
The whole wide world is just a fraction
of all I do not know. Expansion
and contraction, breathe in, out, meditation
on existence, non-existence, creation
and duration. I have no explanation
for fusion, fission, taxonomic relations
or artificial classification.
More I do not know: locomotion
by combustion, electron separation
and transportation via superconduction
which supports the idea of the unified nation.
What girls are like behind their eyes. ************
a useful restraint on overpopulation.
The story of a life, my life, any life, cohesion
must be rationed, conjured, a fiction
about a vexed, tenacious town, its rail station
truck stop, high school, night spots, recreations
the temporary citizens enact visions
dream-like orations, ballets, conflagrations
to in the end receive in annals honorable mention
from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, institutions.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
When he shows up at my door at 1:30 am, I do not hesitate
Instead invite him in with tired arms,
Make a conscious decision to sacrifice a night of sleep
to lie in the body of a boy on my too small twin sized bed
It was not made to hold another but
this heart was
His smile is summer in the marina and feels too much like the sunsets of
red and
purple and
pink
I want to bury myself in the sand next to him beneath
A sun too harsh for our pale skin to meet, one that
will leave us burnt and peeling and laughing at our human turned starfish bodies
I want to be surprised by the freezing that comes from
running into the ocean bare and unbound but
for now all we have are the sheets we are in
so we sink further into the memory foam
Too delicate and slow for my eagerness to grab onto,
He mentions the softness of my lips as they trace his
I laugh and say
“I try”
What I really mean is
“I hope I am enough for you”
His limbs stretch across the length of the mattress, mine fold to fit his
Our cohesion in this lack of space is a packed box and
I don’t mind the suffocation
I think to myself that
this intimacy right here
is exactly what I need,
to be touched like I am important even if it is just for a moment
I decide that this hour of holding before
his eyelids fall together for the remainder of the night
is worth the 10 hours I will spend not sleeping
His breath, heavy with exhaustion, overpowers the sound of my starving heart
beating for the music of his and
that’s completely fine
I am running out of ways to
tell him he is exactly
what I want
So I let him stay as an unspoken declaration of always welcome
I let him make my bed a home with the hopes that
in turn he will make one out of me
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
if there is ever a parallel universe,
i want to exist in serenity with you,
there and forever.
complete utopia,
devoid of all negativity,
my lust for you expands eternally.
i would sacrifice my cohesion,
my solidity,
my utter being,
to simply exist within your comfort.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
They say the neon lights
Don’t often burn that bright
Splintered from my urethra
Swollen in this hex
Devoured by the Eve
Brought to justice by the guilt
And when they said
That all I had to give
Wasn’t worth a fitful look
I’ve been duped by sedative
The artificial power
Has swollen in my head
Wrapped around an ice pick
Can be found my fleeting shell
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
That sweet nectar
Lingers on my tongue
An inebriated hour of reverie genuine
A claustrophobic detainment
Incarceration with power windows
As your effigy is left behind
These shiv grasped hands
Awaiting exertion, transpierce my eyes
Upon introspective re-inspections
Ichor transmogrifies
Necessitate me
Remain vacant here
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
Aching flesh calls
To aching flesh
Chests touch
Lips compress
Part
Wet tongues intersect
Clothing shredded into tatters
And scattered
Hesitation abandoned
Nails on hot skin
Lips leave marks on necks
A patchwork of red and pale
Never fail hips
slip inside
Two become one
As the fervor increases
Pheromone aura releases
And a story is added to the tower of pleasures
Vibrating
Pulsating
Slow rhythmic thrusting
Clasped
Grasped
Connected in four places
Pleasure painted faces
Individual palates blending
Pulling apart and separating
So that eyes can lock in ocular embraces
Unification of purpose
Invisible bonds reinforced
As tremors cascade from fluid cohesion
One thousand demons scream in the ashes of a dream,
As one, that were two, become Legion.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 10:53 AM UTC
Omnipotent master, not in ocean
But the raindrop
All heat shines spectrum through; illuminate fluid cohesion
Several shades of wisdom painting picturesque arc
Sky high miracle hiding in cloud fall
Pure white of light
Containing color
Water divine
The children catch them in their mouths
Drizzle bringing smiles
A message dripping down
I am with you
Wordless feeling
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
Deep into the rainforest, a struggle to survive
From insects to leaved trees, wanting all to thrive
The habitat of animals, species all around
Living things a-plenty, crawling on the ground
The four main layers play a different role
The bio-diversity forms part of the whole
The dark forest floor and the understory
Shorter plants existing, many bugs to see
The vibrant middle layer, yet forms the canopy
Climbing the emergent, just like a monkey
The strong plant materials, helps to build a home
For people of the Amazon, food that has been grown
Tropical regions, Equator ever near
A moderate climate, giant trees are here
Forests on a mountain, misty all around
Coated in a moss, such an eerie surround
North and South America and Oceania
Asia and Europe, as well as Africa
There’s a cycle of life, yet deforestation
Affects the homes of animals for plantation
Removing ecosystems, can cause erosion
Droughts as well as flooding, less cohesion
The modern ways of man affects vegetation
Contributing to a silent devastation
Replanting, recycling, assisting with crops
Steps of preservation quench like raindrops
The precious seeds and life, of which can be found
Yet, it’s not too late to turn this world around
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
Pompous:
"Oh God, no, not another shallow rhymer,
fitting each word to its neat little place.
Oh God, no, not another painterly composition
with planal directions going round and around or leading that way and this.
They did that in the past; get to the new.
Make sure the reader or viewer knows that the masterful
knows more than than the masterful lets t/h/r/o/u/g/h/ out.
Disdain extenuating weakenings caused by straining for clarity
or unnecessary exertions in expressions of cohesion.
Words, though plain, arouse astonished wonder by nonchalant impenetrable shufflings.
Be clued-in, be bold, be tough and show it when you sculpt the clay.
When shaped, use your trowel to scratch the surface, evoking even more obscurity.
Toss it off in broad strokes of masterful negligence.
Be above the miniscule.
By these means show in shadowy hints the profundity that winks beyond merely ordinary restrictions.
Break the barriers, fly the constructive. Those old shackles lie about the world.
Show you ain't no conforming sissy.
Display in impatient referenceless strokes
Your forceful awareness of the world as known."
Facetia:
"Oh?
A world which evidences no form and structure in living creatures;
no eons of effortful evolution;
Forests have no ecology, and laws of nature aren't for binding.
Mind never happened, spirit's a farce,
unions only expedient plottings.
Lessons of history describe the disruptive;
it's what you grab and who you club;
others are only take or be taken.
Show 'em who's boss,
stash it away,
it's dog eat dog until there's nothing.
Shake it all up and break it all up.
It's only entropy."
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 7:17 AM UTC
now is the time, she says.
she says a lot of things, though.
it's enough, it's enough to watch walls
crumble like chalk in the hand of a child;
it's enough to watch sunrise without dread.
now is the time, she says.
I say not much, they say.
not much like a Polaroid
of a dead owl in your dresser drawer;
it's not much like a flower caught in a fence.
factual information is less than an obituary
telling you that your wife is dead.
my inalienable right to make pancakes
at three AM is where I flail in moonlight
like a strange yellow fish swimming with cane and toothache.
but, ah, what was that she said---
a million things all at once with no simile
(the walls make sound, but
my eyes are a million things said on Sundays)
no cohesion, no considerable operations,
no calorie is succinct, no little bubble in your mouth...
my terrible thing weeping towards a shelf always
with pretty words pretty eyes pretty nowheres--
my wound grows down the trees like ivy
my hands reach towards you, I close me eyes--
I breathe I breathe
smaller breathes to not disturb you.
so soft and calm with gossamer in your eyes,
you shift like the moon tossing
on waves of cloud;
what gods have I to curse
when thou art fled?
Little lines can't suffice,
empty is a word not full--
opulence and splendor
like my toes in the damp summer grass.
inhale, please, and take your pulse
out in the cold because
the dryer is broken,
everything beeps at me
and houses shiver in nightmare.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC