"conceptualizing" poems
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion?
You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery
the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation
Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts
syllogistic arithmetic conceptualizing doesn't make anything so
your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile
fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic
fortunately for you semi-literacy is de rigueur
You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas
Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell
your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste dump
fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile
toxic
half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare,
fostering rumours, manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against
Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today
Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery
You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated flesh
so appropriate and befitting the demise of a professional liar
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
In the company of familiar strangers,
The type you know like a ranger,
Or that with the spirit of a teenager,
Not knowing or completely identifying,
But still ****** with through consequence and conceptualizing.
Though some take the form of friendly faces,
Others take form like that of a nightmare that makes you walk in paces,
Reminding you of the turmoil inside your mind,
The fight between your perception and what you find,
What you see in the mirror and what you hide behind,
Finding the faces chase you with ideas they do not underpine
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
I was driving through Washington yesterday,
we started our trip in Renton and made our way
down to Moses Lake; and in the process,
we had to pass through the Cascades on our way there.
As we drove, I watched as the exits flew past:
Newcastle, Wenatchee, Snoqualmie, Ellensburg,
and as we sped past each of these, Mt. Rainier
loomed in the distance; her snow-capped peak
standing tall and piercing through clouds,
as the winding road passed through hills and valleys.
As I gazed upon the jagged sheetrock
towering all around me, I could not help but feel small.
We've been told our whole lives just how big the world is
and how much bigger the universe is in comparison
But I've always had a hard time conceptualizing
how infinitesimal and insignificant my existence is.
So to be surrounded by thousands upon thousands
of rock and stone that have withstood
floods and storms and winds for millennia
and still stand strong, well into the stratosphere,
is nothing less than humbling.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
There is
steeped madness
atop mantle piece cliffs
as if
poised,
in reluctant certainty at our hot fate.
Somewhere,
in the steamy depths
of man’s mind, our mind
my mind
stews and perpetuates
fuming intent
eroding at the edges,
of life for what
it is and isn’t
or wont be for
future tenses and a
conceptualizing
intensity in a
place which hasn’t
ever been realized
or
even moved along a
narrow line
of directed discourse,
dictated dialysis:
deviation
from the center-ed
path
of righteous, heavenly
glory
of the gods,
in the clouds,
on the prowl in the wicked black of sneering night.
For Retribution!
For Respiration!
For Residual indications on the slick success of cheering fights.
and on and on
were that they were
forever forward still.
But were still revisiting things
which were never seen
in re-wrought thought
I thought
I saw but not
because seeing isn't believing.
And believing isn’t anything really
but lengthy
listless lists
and heavy
habitual hope.
© 2011
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 11:34 AM UTC
The majority believe
We were invented by humans
though who could imagine humans
conceptualizing such tasteless fuckery?
Of such reckless women
But the theory stands
who invented aliens?
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
within my own inflexibility My rigidity deteriorates me
circumstances are changing
these are potentials I’m afraid to correct
I become carried away when I identify with stimuli
I’m boundless I know no restraints
I’m extreme in reaction though I regret my severity
I’m alert to the patterns instincts fail for the need of harmony
I align, my emotions with awareness
an enchanted form of perfected grace
loyalty to doubt lack of power to concentrate
focus perceived illogically
spontaneously conceptualizing
determination leads to recognition in a position of influence
but only when recognized for being in the right place at the right time
the bitterness in rejection when overstimulating the mind
Even amongst the greatest of decadences
spirit warrior has no polarity
in nature of truth blessed this innocence maintained regardless
analysis of personal actions and effects
in an extreme state of self consciousness
self deluted irrational focus on what’s already passed
this inspiration that a rational concept can be established
lack to continue intelligence to endure
persistent re-evaluation
indecision in times of transformation
a deep and profound need to self express
materialism disrupts creativity at best
attracting loyalty as a gift
leadership sanctioned in times of crisis
a natural position of practicality avoiding conflict to keep security
alert to patterns of inferior elements
creates cooperation and results in management
the most successful action is powerful and extreme reaction
a boundless energy which ignores awareness
no restraint puts spirit at risk
balancing principals with energy leads to expansion
and properity
securing identity through careful consideration
opposing restrictions with determination
ignorance of innocence betrayed by action
when finding yourself in a negative position
the success of restraint lies not in abandonment
but caution expressed as a social experiment
instincts may fail for the need of Harmony
yes establish conditions for collective mastery
self deluted transformation reassed inspiration
to omit retrogression would be the sin of omission
to justify these time would be to mislead the mind
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
Time is a number,
A value we have denoted to a moment perceived as the now,
Its presence doctrines society and its functionality,
A fickle means of conceptualizing the abyss.
Time is but a construct,
A bid to control what is everlasting,
A scattered ploy to compartmentalize actions and obligations,
A means of justification.
Time is arbitrary,
For the essence is eternal,
Our soul is formless,
As the creation is infinite,
Relinquish your mind to this celestial current,
And harmonize to its flow surging within.
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 11:28 AM UTC
Just fractured textures
Excerpts of memories,
Forgotten conjectures
Trapped in space and time;
Just figments of rendered sectors
that I’ve assembled to fabricate
my reality beyond measure
I’m tethered but the pressure
Never lessens whatsoever
Forever endeavoring to sever my essence
Or consciousness altogether
The splendor of the Nether
Whether it’s my pleasure to ever enter
Or remain a lonely specter
destined to beg the question,
but plagued to always remember
I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
While conceptualizing my grave end
Though I dread the inevitable attempt
The hand I’m dealt lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble deciphering life’s puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle and bustle
Solutions come full circle at the bottom of a bottle
Mental status: unstable
Cerebral stasis turns tables
Visibly miserable and unable
To cope without the love of my chemical savior
From the apex, I’m ready to sail
While failing to grasp what all it entails
I steadily hide intent in my tales
In my dreams I’m haunted
since leaving the cradle
Life is beautifully frail
I see myself dancing in the portrayal
with the reaper as the main feature
veiled together in a cerebral theater
Patterns intertwine
In fashioned structures
I slumber and suffer
Painting caricatures
Of a perfect life
I yearn to capture
In lustrous colors
That fail to convert
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
For an eternity i've been hand in hand with this breath taking creature.
Love? Deeply
Confort? Indefinitely
Lust? To long for
Passion? From the start
In conclusion? Ended with a shattered heart
Forsaken &&Irrecoverable;
As time passes, Exploration for affection to consume the emptyness within takes place.
I begin to catch sight of this new presence that was once casual to me.
Relishing in one's physique.
Aspiring for one's embrace.
Conceptualizing internally, craving absoluteness over indulging in surreptitious entanglement with one that will never fathom.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
You are so interesting to me.
Your every move. Your everyway.
You are in my fantasy.
I look forward to see you there everyday.
As I write this poem I imagine you right
Next to me.
I think of what I'd do to your body.
And the things I long for you to
Do to mine.
Conceptualizing the effleurage of my tiny hands on your strong working
Mans shoulder.
Oh how I'd rub and caress them until
Your masculinity grows bolder.
You are in my fantasy.
I can feel you inside my poetry.
I visualize you ravishing every inch of me.
Thinking about my body under yours.
Not even caring if we shut the doors.
Daydreams of you and I
Together in an everlasting braid.
This vision of mine can not fade.
You are in my fantasy.
-Jennifer DeAngelo
Copyrighted 2016
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
Today, I started my day feelin’ ay-okay
Productive, yeah, but still feels a bit grey
Conceptualizing, designing & some game play
Basically what happens on my day-to-day
Oh, but, I haven’t mentioned
That before these eyes were opened
It was you that I was with
During the time when I was still asleep
Is there something you wanna say?
‘Cuz anytime you may
Like how I just stayed
After rejecting me — in my dreams & while being awake
Basically what happens on my day-to-day
Jul 31, 2021
Jul 31, 2021 at 12:22 PM UTC
One can only get nearer the truth
One can never reach it
For words do not exist
Nor the mind capable of conceptualizing
An ultimate truth
The human thus forges on
To perfect his craft
Through
Literature
By finding the perfect abstract story
Finds a closer approximation of
The truth
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Fragments of my mind
Just fractured textures
Excerpts of memories,
Forgotten conjectures
Trapped in space and time;
Just figments of rendered sectors
That I've assembled to fabricate
My reality beyond measure
From the apex, I'm ready to sail
While failing to grasp what all it entails
I steadily hide intent in my tales
In my dreams I'm haunted
Since leaving the cradle
Life is beautifully frail
I see myself dancing in the portrayal
With the reaper as the main feature
Veiled together in a cerebral theater
I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
While conceptualizing my grave end
Though I dread the inevitable attempt
Six feet deep
I'll sleep for an eternity
And will dream of the scenery
Of all my forgotten memories, I'm done
The hands I'm dealt
Lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble
Deciphering life's puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle & bustle -
Solutions come full circle,
At the bottom of a bottle
Mental status: unstable
Cerebral stasis turns tables
Visibly miserable and unable
To cope without the love of my chemical savior
I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
Six feet deep
I'll sleep for an eternity
And will dream of the scenery
Of all my forgotten memories, I'm done
The hands I'm dealt
Lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble
Deciphering life's puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle & bustle -
Solutions come full circle,
At the bottom of a bottle
Patterns intertwine
In fashioned structures
I slumber and suffer
Painting caricatures
Of a perfect life
I yearn to capture
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 1:15 AM UTC