"comprehensive" poems
My pain is not a poem,
my poetry isn't poetic.
It's cryptic and a message,
cutting up and breaking
branches. Comprehensive;
my poems are suicidal, files of
medications and prescriptions
are seemingly all my mind
can write. Jumping to conclusions
and indenting my addictions,
inflicting this confliction, convictions
I don't mention. Those rhymes that
I have wrote; it was the drowning as I broke,
a broken draft of notes, that sing:
"you'll never learn to float,"
Acid, or is it water?
I'm hoping for the latter,
well I guess it never mattered,
years doubled and I'm sadder.
When does it get better?
When do I get better?
I guess it never will, and I'm
home but I'm not here,
I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck,
and all my heart
can pump is tears-
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
No one cared until I started holding a pencil
until I started writing
let's call them poems
Did writing make people actually care about me?
Or did it just make them curious enough to ask about me?
Do they like my writing?
Or do they like how I can describe things in ways they can't?
Has this pencil brought me closer to people?
Has it made them finally see me?
Questions start to occur
every time I hold this pencil of mine
questions question question
so many questions
and not enough answers
If you ask me to speak my feelings
I will not be able to utter a word
I will not be able to form a comprehensive sentence
However
Give me a pencil
and I will express... gladly
Whether through writing or drawing
I suppose I owe a lot to my pencil
You might see it as a wood that leaves mark on papers
but to me
It's a whole world,
a world that I'm eager to explore
Thank you pencil
Thank you for being there for me
when my tongue isn't
Thank you for speaking up for me
Thank you for being my voice
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Mahigit pitumpu't limang porsyento
Niyurak ng matinding alon
Walang awa ang haplos
Ang yapos na nakagigimbal
Kinitil hindi lamang ang buhay
Gayundin ang hanapbuhay.
Ni hindi masisid ang perlas
Na ngayong may takip sa ibabaw
Nabibilang ang lumalangoy
Kaawa-awang gambalain
At hablutin sa laot nang walang muang
Ngunit anong siyang magiging sapit?
Kung sila'y hahayaang hindi nakagapos?
At doon sa lambat ay patitiwarakin.
Tinaguriang "No Build Zone"
Ngunit naroon nakatirik ang bawat pundasyon
Walang opsyon, pagkat ang gobyerno
Kaytagal din nang pag-aksyon.
Mula sa libu-libong tirahan sa Tent City
Sila'y lilisan patungong Bunk House
Transitional Shelter kuno
Hanggang sa malipat
At magkaroon ng panibagong tirahan.
Doon sa Tacloban,
May dalawang daan at apatnapu't anim na tirahan
Bagkus ang nakalilim, apat na libong pamilya naman.
Salamat sa mga NGOs
Sa 9181 na Bunk House
Sa gobyernong dapat na kikilos
Kailan ba sisimulan ang pagbabago?
Walong libong pabahay raw ang ginagawa
167 bilyon ang budget,
Saan nga ba napunta?
Ito ba'y binulsa?
Comprehensive Rehabilitation Plan kung tinagurian
Kay bango ng ngalan
Bagkus umaalingasaw ang baho
Ang kasiraan, ang kawalan ng aksyon
Para sa bawat mamamayan.
Sa dakong Guian, Eastern Samar
Tatlong daang permanenteng pabahay raw
Ngunit ni isang pundasyon ng naturang pabahay
Tila naglaho pa rin ni Yolanda
At walang bakas na pasisimulan.
Sabi ni Pnoy, malinaw raw ang target
Pero hanggang target na mga lang ba?
Kailan ba sisimulan ang tuwid na daan?
Baka naman baku-bako na
Wala man lang pasabi sa kinauukulan.
Kung ang hustisya'y hindi matugunan
Sana ang kalamnan ng bawat biktima'y
Syang agapang mapunan
Kaawa-awa silang naghihikahos.
Ang laki ng tulong ng mga karatig-bansa
Ba't tila walang pakialam?
Kayong mga nasa trono,
Tayuan ang posisyon
At serbisyo'y gawin nang totoo.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
In his monochrome home
Postman Pat
Has a black and white television
To colour co-ordinate
With his black and white cat.
As well as
Secret love children
Who also match.
He christened them all Foam.
As befits an autodictat
With a comprehensive
Collection of
Black and white combs
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I am swamped to think
about the massive problem
that the universe has given me.
It only makes me furious
and I think I will get awful day,
but someone whom I love texted me and also supported me
by sending her selfie.
She is gorgeous.
I don't feel
that I've lost my flithy mind.
Everything she gave made my day runs effortless.
She is adorable.
My heart feels comprehensive.
Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 10:17 PM UTC
Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or
some northerly harbor of Labrador,
before he became a schoolteacher
a great-uncle painted a big picture.
Receding for miles on either side
into a flushed, still sky
are overhanging pale blue cliffs
hundreds of feet high,
their bases fretted by little arches,
the entrances to caves
running in along the level of a bay
masked by perfect waves.
On the middle of that quiet floor
sits a fleet of small black ships,
square-rigged, sails furled, motionless,
their spars like burnt match-sticks.
And high above them, over the tall cliffs'
semi-translucent ranks,
are scribbled hundreds of fine black birds
hanging in n's in banks.
One can hear their crying, crying,
the only sound there is
except for occasional sizhine
as a large aquatic animal breathes.
In the pink light
the small red sun goes rolling, rolling,
round and round and round at the same height
in perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,
while the ships consider it.
Apparently they have reached their destination.
It would be hard to say what brought them there,
commerce or contemplation.
3.7k
It could be the comprehensive blow
of short sharp needles to my torso,
or the merciless ache
of looking at a sunflower with one eye shut,
or the unrelenting urgency to walk
the map of another.
but,
there are spaces,
where leaves use to be,
and now afternoon air moves between,
and there are dusty birds,
who flutter to the sound of the rain.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
Is there someone out there that can make the insecure, secure?
The lost become found?
The weak become strong?
The introvert extrovert and all things in-between?
The ugly more beautiful?
The headedness and nightmares become more of a joke?
The sounds in the background become solid and free
Chuck out the garbage
The ties that bind thee
Those that put you in trouble of the deepest kind
The ugliest of mothers hellbent on revenge
Taking out pennies from someone else's den
Is there someone decent and cool
To help get along in the life of a fool?
I am the pest the irregular verb
Adjectives, hyphens the comma's full stop and nerds
All comprehensive found sometimes expensive
So you'll never know what kind of gift wraps inside
Quaky, Jackie, Stumble bunny and fall
Am running amok for the sake of it all
Sinderella what a fella
He went to the garden zoo
Played hokey cokey
Oh what a jokey
He even drank the soup
Happy Halloween you creeps!
© Bernard M Coldwell all rights reserved
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
Thou metamorphic god!
Who mak'st the straight Olympus thy abode,
Hermes to subtle laughter moving,
Apollo with serener loving,
Thou demi-god also!
Who dost all the powers of healing know;
Thou hero who dost wield
The golden sword and shield,--
Shield of a comprehensive mind,
And sword to wound the foes of human kind;
Thou man of noble mould!
Whose metal grows not cold
Beneath the hammer of the hurrying years;
A fiery breath doth blow
Across its fervid glow,
And still its resonance delights our ears;
Loved of thy brilliant mates,
Relinquished to the fates,
Whose spirit music used to chime with thine,
Transfigured in our sight,
Not quenched in death's dark night,
They hold thee in companionship divine.
O autocratic muse!
Soul-rainbow of all hues,
Packed full of service are thy bygone years;
Thy winged steed doth fly
Across the starry sky,
Bearing the lowly burthens of thy tears.
I try this little leap,
Wishing that from the deep,
I might some pearl of song adventurous bring.
Despairing, here I stop,
And my poor offering drop,--
Why stammer I when thou art here to sing?
2.8k
our lives are fraught with numbers
so many fractions of a second faster in a race
most wins on record best jury votes
highest flight deepest dive most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees and more displaced
tens of thousands honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
or the stock exchange
votes in elections or for beauty queens
polls tweets virtual friends & followers
likes on the social media on hellopoetry
we have been taught to measure our status
our importance and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices
even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear
0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past and very little present
our hands on smart phones homes TVs
pushing a button makes things move
swishing a screen displays the world
over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
of customers for businesses
of voters for the politicians
of workers for the corporations
of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become
and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth
all of which do expect their individuality
be honored and their dignity respected
numbers don’t honor individuality
they simply count the units
items or people are for them the same
it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
Eloquence is comprehensive beauty.
Brevity shows a command and respect of time.
Wisdom breeds their concurrent existence
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
In purple checked dresses we are confronted
Behind a piano sits ‘Miss Creak’ head of house
She has one bad eye, unfixable from childhood
But plays beautifully perched on an oakwood
And fabric stool. This is our secondary school.
On the wall above the piano is a framed print
‘Madonna of the Meadows’ by the artist Bellini
I pushed a drawing of a couple intertwining
Under ‘her’ door knowing she never would have
But a boy may have felt affection for ‘that’ affliction.
Here we all ate meals, did fashion shows and sang
I was glad my dress was purple not orange or red
Went better with my blue eyes and blonde hair
The rest of the school diveded into coloured checks
To represent Shakespearean female characters.
Just opened in Wandsworth a new comprehensive
Serving all abilities, behaviours and nationalities
Cordelia, Beatrice, Juliet, Katharine,
Portia, Rosalind, Olivia, Viola a rather unsuitable
Vision for such an uptake of adolescent froth.
Miss Creak was, kindly, I wish I had always been.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
*"The Business Int'l is a trans-national,
Multi-operative, corporate entity.
With the means to function outside
Normal Gov't bounds
The Business Int'l has become the worldwide leader
On the frontline of:
Genetic & Bio-Engineering!
Space Exploration
And long-range teleportation services!
Our research will better* [human-kind]
*And is the most advanced & comprehensive
Ever imagined.
The Business Int'l values it's loyal customers!
And at the Business Int'l
We take all of your corcerns seriously.
We also offer aid to every worker at any/all of our subsidiaries
Any 4th class employee who feels compelled to:*
[Leave the Facility]
Or
[Propagate sensitive data]
*STOP.
Remain calm. And fasten yourself to nearby set furniture
Until our Registered Physcian can
Follow up with you.
Self-Quarentine is a Business Int'l core policy!
In extreme cases though,
The Business Int'l reminds you to
Be prepared to utilize
Your personalized botulinum capsule
Provided to you during your initiation!
Thank you!*
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
My Woman, My Partner
we need today it seems identifiers moreover,
as we slice, dissect, and categorize the W’s of our
individual experience,
by defining ourselves as pieces of categories
Today, woke with this title-to-be-poem in my head,
My Woman, My Partner
I like particular, individuating descriptors that distinguish
rather than categorize, summary’s that capture the
roomy broad and small strokes, the subtleties of capturing~
encompassing an image total, and yet intuitively tasting and
comprehending the depths and flavoring of our totality,
a combinatory humanity
my choice was My Woman, which was comprehensive
and distinguished, yet upon consultation with said person,
for pre-authorization approval, it was returned to me with
an engine-heart additive, that was both a word that denotes a
binding, ties, equality, and takes it to another, even ever
highest level,
*this essay on how I came to title this poem, well, is the poem
in its entirety, it is the process, the point, the summary and the
minutiae of all I wished to convey.*
Sunday Aug 13 8:03 AM
Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 8:11 AM UTC
Everything has become so irrelevant.
I'm searching for an explanation but it doesn't add up. Nothing does.
I stay Comprehensive but nothing suffices. Its a case of reversionist logic.
A impending cycle with no absolute meaning. Fog seems to cloud my judgement so my conscious doesn't comply.
Loathed anti prescription swallowed daily, while the white walls and blue ocean make it's scenery.
The voices try to compromise, but it's a debate that holds an never ending rebuttal.
Always forced into the unknown.
But a understanding of me, my voice, my demeanor, and my place in this bounden life circle is lost. So you must believe that no one will understand me.
I consider my self a ancient relic.
I'm one of a kind but not rare.
Cause once someone sees something extraordinary over time, it looses it's taste and someone becomes tired of seeing the same thing over time..
logic at it's finest.
We all soul
search to fill life's embrace of these mixed emotions.
To experience what keeps my sanity afloat.
My vices keep me intent.
In a way of keeping my head up and realize what power Im withholding that makes me immune to unknown circumstances.
But the path to the void is too simple.
My courage consumes and corrupts my will of giving up.
But yet again, it all seems irrelevant. Maybe your point of view on these lines I speak is a clear one. But then again maybe manipulative resources blind you. Or do you see my point?
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 5:23 AM UTC
never knew it,
never was I self-percepted,
that anything exceptional,
lay within, neither obvious
or dormant, was just an ordinary
if not, extra-ordinary pained
child by peers and my surrounders
and my own words yet today,
do not confer any distinction
when yours irradiate me into
a stunned and silenced reverie,
a reminder, a minder, that talent
recognizes no laws of equilibrium,
equality, and certainty not, equity
so I read with shocked, shocked, I tell you,
bemusement but comprehensive perception
when the young and extra~special confide,
their own misperceptions, overwhelmed by
the anxiety
of the billions of sky stars, and letters in their
twinkling orbs when forming identifiable comets with tagalong
dust trails^ of the debris of words that are formed by
their travels and travails on orbits
not necessarily predetermined
by gravitational adult pulleys, a gravity upon
their projected, sometimes directed,
sometimes not,
trajectory
*"and yet, though an orbit is a type of trajectory,
not all trajectories are orbits"*
nor are
*"some comets, particularly
those from outside our solar system,
that move so fast that the Sun's gravity
is not strong enough to capture them
into a closed orbit*
*These comets follow an open, curved path
through the solar system and then
continue on into interstellar space,
never to be seen again*"
so be advised,
as you reassemble the debris from the multi~universe,
when assembling your owned,
unique~verse,
create your tail
and trail,
the futurity
of you is to be both
silent and loud,
absorbing and disgorging,
to awed and to be humbled,
by all that and those who went before,
all once younger and talented,
and knew this self-same anxiety,
but never let the fearing of their
the mystery of plotting of their
path
deter them
from exploring the skies and deep mines of the
sea trenches where undiscovered mysteries
abide
<nml>
4:59am
in the city where one can never see the
light of the stars,
particularly
by their owners
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC
1289
Left in immortal Youth
On that low Plain
That hath nor Retrospection
Nor Again—
Ransomed from years—
Sequestered from Decay
Canceled like Dawn
In comprehensive Day—
1.9k
How can I
Falcon fly
While I die
In a web of lies
Where they brutalize
Us like flies
We must communicate
By connecting
To avoid rumors of hate
That are infecting
The non-inspecting
No problem detecting
Yet happiness expecting
Tyrant electing
Issue deflecting
Fascism respecting
Public that's perplexing
So the Internet should remain harmlessly neutral
Instead of adding to our economic Kama Sutra
Finding new ways to ***** each other
Like restricting access to information
So we won't hear the screams of our brothers
To the rich and powerful's elation
Dealing with this pseudo-fame
Feels like a burdensome shame
In order to listen to people
I have to hear them talk
But I fall into a deep hole
When their ignorance is written in chalk
Easily erased
But also easily traced
Yet not so easily faced
Until we're easily replaced
By the voices of our oppressors
Promising to alleviate the pressure
If we'll take a position that's lesser
And never ask them to be a confesser
Each electorate
Must be kept separate
And must be made desperate
So take away their voices
That should limit their choices
The rich want to be molding the clay
So they say to touch it you'll have to pay
I can't sit here and stand it
This particular predicament
That's beyond my bandwidth
Eating this **** sandwich
Given by a grand witch
So I add the name capitalist
To my ******* list
Which they seem to agree with
They rationalize you have to be an ******* to survive
They explain in business that's the only way to thrive
Yet get upset when I call them the biggest ******** alive
The Internet can do infinite good
Yet it is minimized and misunderstood
The faithless fathom
It as a nameless chasm
Made inside our rage filled cabins
But they refuse to see the connections
The healthy introspection
And historical corrections
They'd rather use deflection
Mentioning mundane memes
Or divisive digital teams
They see the shell
But not the turtle
They put us in hell
With a data girdle
Everybody has the same capability to add to the Internet
So they should have equal capacity to use the Internet
Sometimes our economic systems make us act counterintuitively
To what is fundamentally needed by our species
Something humanity has never had before
A comprehensive brain that can connect and inform us all
We've seen money corrupt the minds of humans
Let's not let it corrupt the mind of humanity
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
the lovely picture window (always the same, always different)
There are painters who must,
having found the place, must,
repaint it, compelled to repeat it,
each a variant, yet always the same,
always different
I awake to a perspective that is wide,
always differentiated from the prior,
always almost similar, but never with
the same exactitude, differing attitude,
same longitude, identical latitude,
always different
horizon distanced, in all ways a view
encompassing, duality near, far distant,
harmoniously, eyes open, magnetized
to wake before 6am by the suns modesty,
first light, first clarity, a curtain risen, yet,
always different
am I so blessed or thus cursed, for the urge
to disclaim and ode, compose and thus self-
decompose, analyze, reflect, slice apart, needing
the comprehensive understanding this me/place
scripts the raw appreciation, daily differentiated
always the same
this peaceful venue seizures, chest calmly
pounding at the insistence it commands,
the price I must pay for the prize to praise,
to sing, weep, reward restful sleep with lyrics
eked out, pouring, unsustainable yet finished,
always different
a single May Iris, returns, born from a torrential,
thunder, lightning, sky mayhem, rises by a sundial
greets midst a planted clump, upright rises, lavender,
in a majestic solitary, absent but a day prior, yet mine eyes
failed to witness its discernible emerging birthing creation,
always different,
always the same
here, I am Iris too, always the same, a day aged,
but the differences minute but stolid actualized,
this overnight sensation, my body’s restoration,
what I visualize, indivisible, now visible, realized,
miracle of continuity, unchanging chained change,
always different ,
always the same
wonder, am I more blessed, or a s~lightly cursed being,
my breath restored, wet eyes full brimming, changed,
revived but always modified, a newer old man, whose
sum total always a different number, but in sequential,
compelled to confess, no understanding of this miracle,
always the same,
always different,
this daily visionary miracle
6:36 AM
Fri May 24
2024
Silver Beach,
Shelter Island
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 6:53 AM UTC
she acts as if music is her entire world
her only survival mechanism
her only escape from the hateful world around her
and when she plays her music, she plays with the force of her entire heart
truthfully and genuinely
so much care is put into every note
so much precision and thought and meticulous attention to detail
she embodies the attributes of her music
she is beautiful, powerful, fierce, loving, passionate
when she plays her music, she blocks everything around her
focusing solely on forming a dramatic symphony of wonder and delight
not giving attention to her anxious wandering mind
she closes her eyes to take everything around her in
the beautiful feeling of her fingers sliding along the keys
the wood smell of her reed atop her instrument
the exquisite attachment she feels towards her silver plated beauty
the passion she feels in the deepest part of her heart when she lets her emotions flow through her horn
she plays her music seemingly effortlessly
although so much effort is put into her meticulous practice
she believes her purpose is to form chords and tones of delight,
because its all she has ever loved doing
music is her one true and deep passion
her one true love
she wears her emotions on her sleeve and everyone thinks they understand her
but she is far too complex to see straight through
nobody knows the pain she has been through
nobody knows the despair that has passed her
nobody knows the hell she has suffered
she finds that it is not very hard for others to tear her apart,
but music mends the holes inflicted on her soul
when she feels like she is drowning, music saves her
when she feels like she is falling, music picks her up
she uses her emotions to strengthen her music
to show her deepest hidden wounds and to free herself from the sorrow that has been inflicted upon her
her entire story is too complex to fully comprehend,
but music allows her to let her feelings out in a comprehensive way
music heals her heart and soul
it saves her from any pain that may arise
music is her everything
her life, her passion, her utmost talent, her world
her personal purpose at this time
her coping mechanism to fight the cruel world surrounding her
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
it is cold
my ******* are hard
I'm not fond enough of you
to care whether you think of me as appropriate or otherwise
I drink because I like it when my vision matches the blur of my mind
a boy I don't know came up to me at the gay bar
he caressed my face and walked away and then walked back
to apologize for not being able to contain himself
his friend also apologized on his behalf and assured me that
it is not his friends fault that I am so charming
naturally I smiled in comprehensive shyness
it has been a while since a touch has felt like home
it has been a while since home has felt like home
you will fall in love with all the wrong girls
you will ******** your way out of the responsibilities of growing up
you will catch the attention of strangers
and you will mean so much to them
so many things
so many thoughts
so many names left unknown
sit out with me in stormy weather
we're both naive, broken, and delirious
with not much else to do, do it with me
roaming poet of the night, give me your words
*oh, pour me another drink
and punch me in the face
you can call me Nancy*
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
From the sounds echoed behind juvenile play-figures
To the vocal vibrations that reflect nothing but wonders,
Her voice deepens with every height she reach’
Sharpened in the spine of every speech.
Her voice gets louder as the vocal cords grow wider,
Penetrating through dimensions like a path finder,
Echoing through space and times
Compelled by ignorant minds.
Her voice awakens the deaf with larger ears
And puts to sleep loud mouths with smaller ears.
Hear her voice as she’s about to speak
And don’t let her silence say that she is weak.
Let her voice out this acquired volume of integrity,
Let her voice pierce through generations with simplicity.
Let her tone be comprehensive
And the melody as impressive.
*Your voice has ripened through the ages
You can now soothe pains of all stages
Use your voice to change a nation
And watch as it rejoices from liberation.*
Break the silence.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:53 AM UTC
I will not plug in, you fools -
you may dazzle, tempt and cajole
with high tech-cessories,
interactive goggles, voice activated,
touchscreen detachment-inducers
But I will smugly refuse.
Because the information you impart,
while instantly comprehensive,
is flawed.
I will hear-see-smell my way
through this beautiful life,
truly connected
and weaving through the cloud-heads
with impunity.
Until -
composing a poem
to explain my superiority
I stumble
and break my ankle
on a jaggy branch
which moments before
a rabbit
unfettered by language
noted
and bounced effortlessly over
before merging
with the quick green undergrowth.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC