"compounding" poems
“Being a farmer is like being a priest;
you take a vow of poverty
and make a pact with the Lord
that no typhoon will come
and destroy your crops.”
In the rise of sedentary human civilization,
The nation’s agriculture
Became the key expansion.
Its history dates back thousands of years,
With its development,
Has been driven and defined –
By different climates, cultures, and technologies.
The Filipino farmers:
Are they now a dying breed?
Numbers of small farms has dwindled,
With workers opting for city life.
But this trend could exacerbate food insecurity!
Yes, in an import-dependent country –
Already struggling to meet current food demand.
In the face of growing losses,
And from volatile weather,
To new-fangled farming tech,
Limited education makes them less receptive.
What took such toll on the agricultural sector?
Maybe the farmer themselves,
The investors, the buyers – maybe.
Now, it’s due to the government policies,
Our programs are good, yet so weak.
There’s excessive reliance on agricultural imports,
And corruption on the upper level.
Compounding the problem
Is a younger generation –
Largely, leaving rural areas nationwide,
And depleting the pool of potential agricultural workers.
They say it’s too late to do something;
But the mind-set of the younger generation
Still we can change
And make farming appealing once again.
(9/8/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.
But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.
Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.
And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.
Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.
Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.
I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.
But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.
Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.
'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
We sit,
Witnesses
To Immolation,
Acknowledging Death.
Vap'rous vows now vanished;
Infidelity preceding
The wedding day,
Following after,
Covered deftly under
Lies compounding lies,
One holding true,
One never so,
And so we sit over
Coffee and Divorce,
Now that the truth is out.
We sit,
Witnesses to small talk:
"You may have the furniture";
"Insurance ends in May";
"Do you have a question?"
"There's nothing left to say."
We sit;
She leaves;
Her emptiness
Remains;
We three sit tight,
Uncertain,
Nothing left to say,
But still we sit musing
Coffee and Divorce.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Island can't stop sliding
even when dull pencils
stuck in sand push back
strong, even when your
toes are curling inward
and holding on tight
The sunburn highway is
crowded today and we're
stuck in traffic, caught
behind a particularly
thick cloud, compounding
beach breezes and midday
shivering beneath towels
With sweaty hands clapping
beat and fast punches, the
overnight foliage blooms
and dies, laughing hard
in the bright room with no doors
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.
It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!
But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.
Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******** pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.
Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.
Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,
The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
every morning i walk my terrier
through a winding half-mile,
but i think he’s the one walking me:
he’s always in a sprightly haste.
i don’t know how many tail wags
i miss in between slow, drowsy blinks.
elsewhere, the earth is walking her moon,
both zipping around their own usual orbit.
in the city, the suited adults manoeuvre sidewalks,
dispensing brief greetings, sparse on chatter.
punctuality is a battle through suitcase-wielding phalanxes.
overlooking the bustling crossroads, a greyed man sits,
****** from cigar compounding existing inertia.
limbs in inactivity, mind far from monotony,
slowly drifting towards a familiar wraith
in a different hurry: the one for reunion.
i think about us and wish the same.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
The dream haunts me
often, far too often, building
in intensity but is initially
disguised in absurdity and the
nonsense of a young man's lusts
with an old man's deficits.
This woman-like entity,
ill-defined at first but forming
voluptuously, emerges from
swelling curtains. She moves, more
levitates, toward my bed, buoyed
by what I don't know, but angelic-like
it would seem. Or perhaps
an Aphrodite reincarnate?
Oh this goddess, what pale
skin, as Parian marble, full bosomed,
jutting ******* ***** that
beckon, nearly drool, and pursed
red lips beaded with sweet
juice stolen from the wild cherry
tree beneath my window.
Far too much clarity for a simple
dream. But such a dream! And what
seething testosterone I feel!
I am become a hedonist, raging,
pulsing spermatozoa, renewed
of time and youthful energies.
Nerve into nerve we join, ecstacy
compounding ecstacy, bodies wantonly
impaling the other on this love bed
to the result that each cell of our
individualities melds. We are indistinct,
yes - as one, and any ****** impulse
between us is shared to the point of
utter exhaustion, depletion. I am
nearly drained of life, it would seem.
Then, as it always must,
the scene changes, Act II.
Inexplicably, shedding a ******
serpentine-like skin, she slings it away
and drops limply upon me - entirely
skeletal, dry cartilage, sinew, lifeless,
sexless, motionless. The horror
of a diabolical hollowness
stares through me, and I am
suspended, fully terrorized, in
this paralysis. So, this is
succumbing to the Succubus?
God, my dear God, that I should
never dream again!
--
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 10:25 AM UTC
Amphetamines in the dark.
Sitting here, heart pounding.
All bite and no bark.
My shame compounding.
I’ve been up for days.
Heart beating, chest thumping.
I navigate the haze.
My internal engine pumping.
Amphetamines in the dark.
I haven’t had this energy in years.
All started by a spark.
It will only end in tears.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
All too often the view is bleak,
generations under scrutiny and constant critique.
When all that lies within is misery,
all it might take is a tweak.
A new perspective.
A new technique.
To open the mind and think.
All too often we're blind to the beauty surrounding,
it can enlighten and be astounding.
Your spirit begins grounding.
A different view that seems to be organically compounding,
and tears fall as life's true nature becomes clear and resounding.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
I have used up all my tokens
and squandered all my pardons;
all that’s left is tarnished pyrite
and a jewellery box for two.
For I will tear your heart out
and feed it to the coyotes;
you may be the one for me,
but I’m no good for you.
As the field runs crimson
I’ll proceed to crack your spirit.
I know that this is foolish,
but love - this is all I know.
If the moon would make a bargain
on the dust that seals up fractures,
I would strip my backbone
reaching out to make it so;
I would mend each tiny crevice
- plant hydrangeas in the darkness,
but without a new foundation
it is all still frail and makeshift;
and each compounding weight is
all crushed-guts and shattered-statements.
Again we’re set a whirling;
we can’t recognize our faces.
The strongest tree is only paper
and my convoluted nature
is just a fallacy I’ve built to house,
my fear of what is true.
So, we’ll dance until our knees split,
you’ll repeat that we’re a unit
and as I kick the chair out
choke a final, “i love You.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Amidst staggered breaths
my fragile frame converts to dust.
Oak entombs the ashen ruins
of a long awaited
Us.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 6:43 PM UTC
royals mistake the tears cried over animals, esp. those wild and not petted, as if they were man’s added 1 to a million ‘ stones in minature form of the sandy: see that singleton quotation mark? it’s different pause from comma semi-colon or hyphen, it’s the ironic pause - almost compounding the two words.
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead, i,
no more a body than a maxim,
i the tomb in stone
but in body a bone,
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead,
no more a body than a maxim -
why will not death wilt
before engaging in the lives or mortals?
why will death meddle in mortal amorousness
when it will not meddle in a death of a god?
**** you death!
meddle elsewhere! who are prone
to breathe the same air as you;
interesting lives make less
of a library than libraries readily mothering
the lives hardly lived but nonetheless written...
eager ***** in section 1,
less eager ***** in section 1.5
mature ***** in sectiont 2 of being crazed
by crosswords and those dumb books
written by young men who "diverged from living"
given horse was replaced by motorcycle...
and feet were replaced by horse later replaced by
ferrari... vroom vroom...
and affordable life in london by saudi arabia investments;
let's wave to our mothers...
we'll be the ones on the premier red carpet
for sure...
it doesn't matter... i prefer opera to cinematic raqqa...
and i prefer theatre to conversation.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Do you promise?
Do I have to promise?
Why can’t you just promise me?
Why can’t I promise you?
Compounding compromise after compromise
Plunge unto the same mold and lose our eyes
Lose our ability to realize
I drift to you because you aren’t me
You don’t complete me but you don’t deplete me
After-surge, recharge
Electricity in your touch
A culmination of all you’ve ever felt, been through
And I fall harder through the floorboards of my arrogance
When your fingers fuse with the heartstrings
Reminding me without words
You’re easy to move around and I swim through you
Converge and compromise
God, I think your fingers should melt me down
Oh, they make some of my favorite sounds
Fusing with the heartstrings
Reminding me without words
That feeling is you
Do you promise I can have it too?
Compounding compromise after compromise
We pour unto the same mold
And lose our eyes
We didn’t need them anyway
I’m not me, you’re not even you
Release myself into the wild and swallow you
All we can be, drowning on the same wave
Holding hands to stay in parallel motion
Amidst all the commotion
Without eyes I can say I wouldn’t want it any other way
Converge and compromise with you
Aug 21, 2022
Aug 21, 2022 at 10:41 PM UTC
watching the clouds from my plane seat
listening to Lana Del Rey speak
compounding words and motifs
wondering how this all came to be
me in the sky, diamonds in my eyes
and worry draped over me
trap me in the mind, time after time
the power of potent poetry
Mar 31, 2023
Mar 31, 2023 at 7:00 AM UTC
You falter,
one foot
dangling seamlessly
in midair
before
dropping;
the moment of the fall,
the transcendence of it
makes me wonder if I could go
ahead;
could I explode
into a million
glittering
pieces
and launch myself
past the stars into the
mass gyrating grave of
four million suns?
into a dark not even
light
can escape?
Could I just
suspend there,
at the edge of the
gyre,
feeling my body
lull
into
half-time.
Could I watch, then,
as the Earth spun
in real-time,
allowing me a very
modest
amount of years for
life to settle;
returning when the
time is
right.
My body,
compounding
back into solid flesh,
plunking back to Earth,
just as I had left,
a weeping puppet,
and I’d pretend
as if I’d been there
all this time.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
I experience solitude
Because I act rude
The effect is compounding
The effect is dumbfounding
I'm stuck in a trend
That will never end
My rudeness they return
So my bridges I burn
My life takes a turn
For connection I yearn
All I feel are the spurs
I live a life sheltered
To avoid being peltered
By the wailing welter
My walls block hate
Which is great
But I also miss love
That travels above
My feet are growing weary from the emptiness I stand
And I can count all of my friends on half of my hand
The half with no fingers
That's a real stinger
Not hearing the ringer
I become a feces flinger
Instead of a beautiful singer
The silence is deafening
My mentality it's threatening
With pain that's resounding
Of the drain I'm rounding
And the lingering loneliness
When I am my only guest
My mind is put to the test
By a solitude that infests
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
dark i sit
with hands
carving a bowl
holding\\chest
digging dark soil
mouth filling with thick spit
lips seeping
moist air of solstice
darkness chatters like compounding bone\\shifts
beastlings drooling
tasting it. tensing root.
sipping in(to) darkness
exhaling bounty
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
does the inside of your head
ever feel like a radio
thats constantly changing
stations
with lots of
static
and all the stations are
bad thoughts
that are strung together in
a sort of continuous narrative
of constantly escalating
fear
and
compounding dread?
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
Slaughtered agonies,
Afloat in my jagged saliva
My anguish anchors the arch that revealed me
Morally dispirited, me breathing you
Hysteria smothering the hallucinations
Intoxication anxieties compounding
Into a hopeless staggering daze
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
To buy, or not to buy: That is the Question.
Whether it is better in the end to suffer
The moods and whims of some outrageous landlord
Or take loans. against your future earnings
And end up owning something? In hock, for years;
Pay rent? And by paying rent to say we end
The heart ache and the thousand natural shocks
Home ownership is heir to. Reduced Consumption?
No Politician’s wish! To rent? To lease?
To lease, perchance to own? Ay, that’s a thought
For in the grip of debt you’re paying bills
Till you have shuffled off this mortal coil
It gives one pause. That’s the aspect
That makes calamity of adjusting rates
For who would bear the years and years of debt
Fine dining now reduced to happy meals,
Buyers remorse, and the long delays.
The Questionable title and the risk
Your credit rating doesn’t rate the loan.
When you yourself know if you lose your job
You’ll end up sleeping in your S.U.V.
To grunt and sweat under a heavy load
Under the threat of something worse than debt
The forced short sale, from which, once closed
No equity returns. It puzzles the will.
And makes us rather bear such debts we have
And, if necessary, refinance them still.
Compounding thus make cowards of us all.
And so our youthful promise and ambition
Is hobbled by the weight of student loans
made by lenders judged too big to fail.
In this regard the risk is very real
we lose the house to auction.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 4:57 PM UTC
An achromatic photo
a tumbling rock
falling
down
A snow packed peak
Every inch of stone covered in weighted white
Rolling and growing...
growing and rolling...
the only sound heard, ice kissing ice
And my screams
Do you hear it?
The avalanche of my life
It has a sound unlike any other
A crescendo of every experience compounding on my soul, demanding to be seen, heard, felt, feared
Warning level 5 avalanche
Please evacuate the area for personal safety, hazard may cause more calamity
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 12:39 PM UTC
Under the flowering moon
Your naked body lies
Bound to the lunars tendrils
Tethering to your skins ambiance
Fingeringly scalinging the motions of your body
Following your soulful extractions
Silver lights incarnate driven passion
O' woman, woman of the moon
Of the night, of darkness
Dance with me
Dance the dance of love,
Of the heart, of passion,
Of Desires stowed deep within the mind
Beneath the woven fabric of a feral night
Entwined within the stitches silver aura
These stars our only witness
As the darkness spreads it's clinching grasp
Plunging our passions into carnal chaos
Watching the heavy rise and fall of your chest
The echoes of your hearts breath in my mind
The chemical passion of our physical bodies
Consumes the desires of our flesh
Shadows contouring to the night
The sweet nectar of your lips
An everlasting enticement to mine
Darkly decadent sensations pressing on
Only as creatures within can conjure
Elegantly crafting and artistically formulated
These darkest nights memoirs
Sated with our own designs
Unrelenting and intoxicating
Addicting and compounding
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
Behind veiled minds, shapes vex open and shut in delicate sway;
moving to meticulous harmony, often misplacing understanding,
narrowly, missing margins of discontent.
Moments lost in struggles of stretch and pull weakens fragile equilibrium
compounding into reasons of no logic or consequence, bewildered
by the total sum of US.
Your ache acknowledged, by a body that longs to burn fires, to touch,
again and again, over and over until skin bursts forth into melodramatic flames,
coveting thoughts of our bodies getting it on to its entirety.
Wearisome desires of want, exhaust beyond measures of frustration,
running from gentle sways of to and fro' oft over-whelms 'dizzy and fraying release me'
My love - lend your heart to sacred whispers lest we are swallowed by reason of no logic,
leaving us dismayed, apt to vulnerability, resulting in suffocated flames.
Upon our human form, allow our burn in aches and longing - souls know of no boundaries
except the eternal, totality completion of we.
I ache for you!
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
—given the torc of carnal resumings
which gnash my fibrous night-time musings
from the loom of fonted wisdom
and a wheel of word conversions—
the miser in my mental montage,
like a spoke fleeing speeds
that reel within muscled spin,
gates his ripe profusion,
compounding paradoxic lingual grin
in working meanings thin
between what worldly threads proceed.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC