"commital" poems
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Those eyes of green
An old man's rheumy eyes
Awash with memories and salty tears.
And sharp eyes of green
That scan the distant skies
To capture shades from down the distant years.
Hardened eyes of green
Which cut with crystal sharp
The foolish prattle of that errant boy.
Weeping eyes of green
That witnessed cadenced harp
Consort with tone and brilliant colour's joy
Aging eyes of green
Now wilt with evening light
To not regret the fade of dying time.
Eyes of green recall
Her beauty's luscious sight
To life's commital of her hand in thine.
Proud eyes of green
Recall his baby's cry
The swaddled infant holding up her hand.
Tired eyes of green
Now closed his lids to die
To wander to his chosen plot of land.
Marshalg
For Grandpa
24 March 2013
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
To the hearts that I broke,
you don't know how lucky you were.
It hurt,
oh it hurt when I said I didn't love you. When I
threw you on the ground like a thousand
China plates.
You thought you'd never heal but she picked you up
and glued you together
with gold.
She filled your cracks and now even though they know
you've been broken,
you're better now.
And I would have filled your cracks with candy,
so you could have shown the world your colors while you
wasted away
in
a
waterfall of my saliva,
alive with non commital kisses.
You just don't know how lucky you were.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
50% of marriage is made out of silence.
Sometimes it's too quiet to notice, though.
And we become so used to it
That any sign of my spouses voice almost offends me.
And I love you too much to let you know what I'm thinking.
You ask me countless times,
Like clockwork, "What are you thinking?"
And just as consistantly I answer without giving you a hint.
"I was thinking that I love you."
Begging you to continue the silence.
I forget the reason why it became so **** quiet...
All I know is that it's better this way.
And when we're infront of our friends and family
We silently agree to act as if we were still best friends...
As if we knew every secret and more.
Then we return home and close the door
And turn each other on mute.
Like phatoms chained to a ball of non commital noise.
Sometimes I think my ,"I do" was the last honest thing I said to you.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 3:43 AM UTC
My mind feels sick
Filled to the brim with self sabatoge
And a non-commital attitude.
Tears right on the edge
Of running down my cheek
And I say "running"
Because even they want to get away from me.
Then there's that exhaustion again
A sour feeling on my temples
And sore eyes from looking in the mirror.
Asking the big questions
I get nowhere
Will I ever find the answer
To why I can't let myself be happy?
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
My life is not your little garden of flowers to pick and
Pluck parts of me from.
Love Me, Love Me Not, Love Me, Love Me Not, Love Me, Love Me Not,
Love Me.
I can't Smile happily as I watch you approach with your greedy hands
Empty once more.
How am I supposed to Smile while you Peel away my layers of
Good Intentions.
It gets old Waiting on a Maybe
And thats the only word that
Tastes Good
To You
You Breathe Fires of "Perhaps"
You ***** Potentials and Possibilities
You Craft Nooses of Love and Affection
Why is it that you begin writing love letters
And
Create Spears Crafted with
Loving Hands?
Why is it that your words are
Purple
With Poison?
They are thrown out and
Spatter
Like Blood.
Leaving your own crime scene of
Confused Tears
That Beg for More
Behind You.
Why?!
Just Tell Me What
Broke
Inside of you that you feel like
Your Sticky Games
Hold You Together
Why is your stomach always
Hungry
when I offer you the Food off of my Plate
What is Fading the Color from your Eye?
That Grey is not
Indigenous
to the Eyes that I
Memorized and Learned.
How has your picture faded?
Why can't I just
Paint them back The Way They
Were
?
Maybe, Only Because
God
Didn't
Give
Me
The
Right
Colors
Why Then, Do I Spend
Day and Night
Mixing and Remixing
To Find the Perfect Shade of your
Joy
Maybe you just aren't
My Masterpiece
To Create
&
You Will Never Be
Finished
While the Brush is Still In
My Hand
Maybe All Along it has been
My Hand
that Held the
Knife that Scarred Me...
Maybe Not You After All
Oh Maybe Maybe Maybe
How I Hate its Non-Commital Nature.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
she sits, across from me
********* the loose threads
of her genes
they are attatched to the fraying of her mind
this, it girl
who is
falling apart, before us all
an honours student,
stumbling quickly down from grace....
silence, is her cloak...
these day....
and in this desperate,
wanting,
of invisablity.
her distress cries loud enough
for all ....to watch...
tears,
fall and track,
silently down her face,
as we quest for the canker...
reponses,
monosyllabic
and non commital...
issue forth....
defiance...
her weapon of choice....
we can,
but, reiterate,
our duty of care...
and hope....
that when she falls....
it is within earshot
of one who gives a ****
she leaves....
no more intact...
than when she entered.... and hitches,
her ragged psyche
and theadbare jeans
up over
those slim, woman-girl hips.
...as she walks, out of
my office door.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
I tried to not take us
so seriously because
in the wake of a long
stream of non-commital
commitments, I've
begun to understand
how intense I become
when someone matters
to me on a personal level,
that's why I left you alone
when I found out about Marla
and Darla and Carla and all
of the Lala's that you ******
and then you decided to be
different for a day (let's be honest.
more like five minutes tops)
and you found yourself
with the proud and loud
feminist, Mandie with *an
i-e* in your bed and I keep
telling myself, *it's not the
feminists fault that she likes
men. This man. My man.*
And so I decided un-invite you
to the party I'll be throwing
for you in honor of you
being accepted into so and so
acting program in the city.
I'll drink everything they
bring for you, **** everyone
that only loves you. I'll
leave your car beneath
some distant bridge,
**** your boss and
and take me a little more.
It's not your fault I didn't
take us seriously.
It's not your fault
the feminist liked
you more than me.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
I used to call Tim Ben
until I heard his
ex call him as such
with a light trill in her
voice, he never told me
it was serious. He said
that it was this thing
and I figured that it was
just like this thing
that we're having now.
This whole, non-commital
*I'll call you when I call
you if I call you* thing.
But then I heard her
voice singing his
real real very real
name and I'm
looking at him and wishing
that I could rip out his
lip ring and call him Ben.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC