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"conjunction" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
Hey lets start this thing and gain a little mnemonic Cuz the teachers always explaining things so dull and robotic But you got it, just trust this rhyme and I promise you'll have it Let me teach you the equation for the function quadratic It goes A, X and a 2 up high Add that to a B multiplied with a Y Put a plus sign and add the third term, the C And set all that equal to a 0 bee It's that easy, with that you can plot the graph That will show you where the ball went and its flightpath See the value of X shows where the line hits the axis To illustrate where the ball was caught and where it was passed It's cuts of cake to find this data with a formula rap So keep in mind these fresh rhymes to the beat of the clap You set X on the left, follow with an equal sign Put the next little sect about a dividing line And that little piece starts with a negative b Add and subtract square root of B high 2 minus 4AC Then divide what you get by 2 times A If you forget this part man, your whole answers at stake But if you follow my rules, and do all of this rap's math I guarantee the next reports gonna say that you passed
0
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:42 AM UTC
anthony-duvalle
The Quadratic Function Conjunction
Hey lets start this thing and gain a little mnemonic Cuz the teachers always explaining things so dull and robotic But you got it, just trust this rhyme and I promise you'll have it Let me teach you the equation for the function quadratic It goes A, X and a 2 up high Add that to a B multiplied with a Y Put a plus sign and add the third term, the C And set all that equal to a 0 bee It's that easy, with that you can plot the graph That will show you where the ball went and its flightpath See the value of X shows where the line hits the axis To illustrate where the ball was caught and where it was passed It's cuts of cake to find this data with a formula rap So keep in mind these fresh rhymes to the beat of the clap You set X on the left, follow with an equal sign Put the next little sect about a dividing line And that little piece starts with a negative b Add and subtract square root of B high 2 minus 4AC Then divide what you get by 2 times A If you forget this part man, your whole answers at stake But if you follow my rules, and do all of this rap's math I guarantee the next reports gonna say that you passed
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22
Published in The Quill on November 19, 2014: http://www.amazon.com/Quill-Fall-2014-ebook/dp/B00PNVT6PG ... On being overweight (whatever that means) Even if you were the moon, they would complain about how much space you took up in the sky, how you were too bright, wanted too much from the stars, demanded more light than the others. And when you shifted, from waning to full to waxing to waning, they would remind you of how instable you were, how much of a hassle it was to keep track of your instability, your need for attention. Have you tried to be a vegan yet? All the stars are doing it. You have tried. In fact, last week was your third try – an attempt, they call it – not enough, they emphasize, try again, they say this as if it is encouragement. That’s when you found them - the celestial crescent, the earthshine, the perilune, how the lacus are lakes without lakes, why the Gibbous is brighter either way, especially during conjunction – all strung together in pearls. You are a full the night you return. As you reflect off the lake, you see Selene, Hecate, Mani, Tsukuyomi, Iah, and Thoth. You tell the stars to look, to breathe your reflection, to succumb to the glow and the beauty of it all, that you are not alone— They laugh. Say how historical that is, how out-of-touch you are, how myths aren’t mirrors, how you - you are not a mystery at all. But when you died – if you died – (we still do not know) - they do not wonder where you went. They spin, spin, spin the entire night home, only once confessing to how empty the sky is without your shine. But every night they burn.
0
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
shannon-a-thompson
On being overweight (whatever that means)
Published in The Quill on November 19, 2014: http://www.amazon.com/Quill-Fall-2014-ebook/dp/B00PNVT6PG ... On being overweight (whatever that means) Even if you were the moon, they would complain about how much space you took up in the sky, how you were too bright, wanted too much from the stars, demanded more light than the others. And when you shifted, from waning to full to waxing to waning, they would remind you of how instable you were, how much of a hassle it was to keep track of your instability, your need for attention. Have you tried to be a vegan yet? All the stars are doing it. You have tried. In fact, last week was your third try – an attempt, they call it – not enough, they emphasize, try again, they say this as if it is encouragement. That’s when you found them - the celestial crescent, the earthshine, the perilune, how the lacus are lakes without lakes, why the Gibbous is brighter either way, especially during conjunction – all strung together in pearls. You are a full the night you return. As you reflect off the lake, you see Selene, Hecate, Mani, Tsukuyomi, Iah, and Thoth. You tell the stars to look, to breathe your reflection, to succumb to the glow and the beauty of it all, that you are not alone— They laugh. Say how historical that is, how out-of-touch you are, how myths aren’t mirrors, how you - you are not a mystery at all. But when you died – if you died – (we still do not know) - they do not wonder where you went. They spin, spin, spin the entire night home, only once confessing to how empty the sky is without your shine. But every night they burn.
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14
When I enter, the black holes of myself, they are located, transcribed upon the blackboards of our unified bodies, the magnification of energy transversed, principles demonstrated by the unconcluding conclusion of the expansion of creation, the rebirthing of one universe never ending When I enter a woman, the discovery sought, the definitional needed, the proofs equational, the factors constant, not the variable truths, the demonstrations positive, the constants of the universe, combinational, all within, a single point glistening to gentle comfort this knowledge of my wasting, the foresight of my limitations from the day of birth my matter, matters, my energy neither destroyed or created, illimitable, my decline inevitable and yet! cannot alter my atomic structure. my future guaranteed, my inner light, traveling so fast, it has yet to arrive When I enter a woman, the laws of physics become special theories of relativity, we are motion in time, force and energy nucleotides rawest refined, elemental and particle nuclear, packets of light exclaimed When I enter a woman, organic, chemistry, interdisciplinary my body and its life force shaped as electric current transceivers crossing galaxies, there can be no deceivers, there but and only the birthing of heat, a byproduct of interjection, conjunction creation of creativity <> she is my proof long after the log normal of my nerves, now parceled to the invisible of an oscillating log natural, fertilizes the sea grasses that so intoxicate, flying, carried, by the invisiblity of the winds, all-where I have chosen as my shifting shape, when this container leaks and crack'd, in sentry reentry orbit, to the nearest garbage strewn construction-dead lot When I enter a woman, physics far beyond the commonplace, physical transition to knowledge of life ever after death and fear are time sensitized passing notions, crushed by the consolation of physics, the eternality of a time once begun, cannot end, and therefore this, my one theory of everything, the God I worship, of course, he is invisible!
0
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
The Consolation of Physics (When I Enter a Woman) Nov. 2014
When I enter, the black holes of myself, they are located, transcribed upon the blackboards of our unified bodies, the magnification of energy transversed, principles demonstrated by the unconcluding conclusion of the expansion of creation, the rebirthing of one universe never ending When I enter a woman, the discovery sought, the definitional needed, the proofs equational, the factors constant, not the variable truths, the demonstrations positive, the constants of the universe, combinational, all within, a single point glistening to gentle comfort this knowledge of my wasting, the foresight of my limitations from the day of birth my matter, matters, my energy neither destroyed or created, illimitable, my decline inevitable and yet! cannot alter my atomic structure. my future guaranteed, my inner light, traveling so fast, it has yet to arrive When I enter a woman, the laws of physics become special theories of relativity, we are motion in time, force and energy nucleotides rawest refined, elemental and particle nuclear, packets of light exclaimed When I enter a woman, organic, chemistry, interdisciplinary my body and its life force shaped as electric current transceivers crossing galaxies, there can be no deceivers, there but and only the birthing of heat, a byproduct of interjection, conjunction creation of creativity <> she is my proof long after the log normal of my nerves, now parceled to the invisible of an oscillating log natural, fertilizes the sea grasses that so intoxicate, flying, carried, by the invisiblity of the winds, all-where I have chosen as my shifting shape, when this container leaks and crack'd, in sentry reentry orbit, to the nearest garbage strewn construction-dead lot When I enter a woman, physics far beyond the commonplace, physical transition to knowledge of life ever after death and fear are time sensitized passing notions, crushed by the consolation of physics, the eternality of a time once begun, cannot end, and therefore this, my one theory of everything, the God I worship, of course, he is invisible!
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107
please be impatient with me for I am Female, Age 19   Please be impatient with me.  Three quarters woman in a body, a quartered quartet.  The crying viola, off tempo, present but unavailable.  The boys want me. The men, more, more.  The women most of all.  The American Girl dolls on the shelf dusty, witnesses to all my demander’s impatience to take, to own, possess & desire my poses all to pleasure them, wanting  many morsos (small bites).   Then, when discarded, my body reeks of con-f u s i o n.  A perfect conjugation,  an imperfect conjunction;  Conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.   The dolls weep real tears in the city of my mind;  flipping out, they too, are impatient with me, and flip me off for they have no good words to express their utter chagrin.
0
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
city-of-flips
(F, 19) please be impatient with me
please be impatient with me for I am Female, Age 19   Please be impatient with me.  Three quarters woman in a body, a quartered quartet.  The crying viola, off tempo, present but unavailable.  The boys want me. The men, more, more.  The women most of all.  The American Girl dolls on the shelf dusty, witnesses to all my demander’s impatience to take, to own, possess & desire my poses all to pleasure them, wanting  many morsos (small bites).   Then, when discarded, my body reeks of con-f u s i o n.  A perfect conjugation,  an imperfect conjunction;  Conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.   The dolls weep real tears in the city of my mind;  flipping out, they too, are impatient with me, and flip me off for they have no good words to express their utter chagrin.
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4
And when I met that girl in San Francisco Off a dusty little pier with rotting wood and squawking seals And screaming bayside wind She caught me off-tropics and danced with the grace of a palm tree lines between the quaked concrete off telegraph avenue On an obscuring Sunday morning and no she didn't go to church or any silly thing like a temple or synagogue She said those were no places for god God was the trees We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's carcinogenic practices oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful Formaldehyde Deriding the formalities of small talk and trivialities She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings I with nylon But I couldn't play songs that sounded any good with them while she could and did. and girl did it ever sound good She'd laugh at the contests on the radio while we drove on a half-moon to half-moon full and whole of ourselves We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel And waltzed to background muzak wacked out of our minds Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal divinity Understanding loving that mind-numbing monotony muzak... ppsh. Who ever really listened to that? And then she left at the end of one fine winter day in a cloudless sky I waved watched her plane skip off towards the edge of a pale blue horizon back south to warmer climes to wherever she truly stayed The tugging on my heartstrings chimed grotesque in precise D minor.
0
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
TimelessWave
Steel Guitar
And when I met that girl in San Francisco Off a dusty little pier with rotting wood and squawking seals And screaming bayside wind She caught me off-tropics and danced with the grace of a palm tree lines between the quaked concrete off telegraph avenue On an obscuring Sunday morning and no she didn't go to church or any silly thing like a temple or synagogue She said those were no places for god God was the trees We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's carcinogenic practices oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful Formaldehyde Deriding the formalities of small talk and trivialities She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings I with nylon But I couldn't play songs that sounded any good with them while she could and did. and girl did it ever sound good She'd laugh at the contests on the radio while we drove on a half-moon to half-moon full and whole of ourselves We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel And waltzed to background muzak wacked out of our minds Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal divinity Understanding loving that mind-numbing monotony muzak... ppsh. Who ever really listened to that? And then she left at the end of one fine winter day in a cloudless sky I waved watched her plane skip off towards the edge of a pale blue horizon back south to warmer climes to wherever she truly stayed The tugging on my heartstrings chimed grotesque in precise D minor.
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62
inspired by https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5120189/love-cannot-be-controlled-or-confined/ <> Love is Meant…… and there, I stop… <> nnnnyup; continuing on, this phrase a self~sufficiency, is it not? no conditional clause, dangling particle, no conjunction peg upon to hang your wintered hat, no adjacent adjective for summer's ending sadness, no preposition to lead us to sunny places, where we search more for nouns and pronouns, or to project/protect, in adjectives to clothe our irrationality in logic-e, logic to define, logic to confine, illogically love permits one to say to another human, you mine, hu-mine, [an aside: "you mine,' (really?)] a preposterous prepositional insanity notion, that needs no explication, love is meant, love is meant, love is mean, dream & yet, meant! stadium sized. concert hall big, mini pup tent, love is clean+dirty s i m u l t a n e o u s l y don't you see the self~sufficiency in that? yet you still seek definition, reasoning, seasoning, love is meant to-be bent irregular straightaway, love is meant, to be/not, cold 'n bot, silly hot, lover is inert, hurt, ert,(1) love is every point of, of a sword's length hilt & blade, yet ironic, the tip alone is a self sufficient ***** to be full~on damaging enough to **** to fully comprehend, that  love is meant needs no further modifying defying pointless phrasal modification of explanation… s u n d a y (if the week did not commence with a sunday, hu-mans would have needed to create one, to understand, love is meant) 4:39am Sun Aug 10 Twenty Twenty Fidelio (5) in a new york city frame of mine
0
Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 8:06 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
A Sunday Declaration: Love is Meant...
inspired by https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5120189/love-cannot-be-controlled-or-confined/ <> Love is Meant…… and there, I stop… <> nnnnyup; continuing on, this phrase a self~sufficiency, is it not? no conditional clause, dangling particle, no conjunction peg upon to hang your wintered hat, no adjacent adjective for summer's ending sadness, no preposition to lead us to sunny places, where we search more for nouns and pronouns, or to project/protect, in adjectives to clothe our irrationality in logic-e, logic to define, logic to confine, illogically love permits one to say to another human, you mine, hu-mine, [an aside: "you mine,' (really?)] a preposterous prepositional insanity notion, that needs no explication, love is meant, love is meant, love is mean, dream & yet, meant! stadium sized. concert hall big, mini pup tent, love is clean+dirty s i m u l t a n e o u s l y don't you see the self~sufficiency in that? yet you still seek definition, reasoning, seasoning, love is meant to-be bent irregular straightaway, love is meant, to be/not, cold 'n bot, silly hot, lover is inert, hurt, ert,(1) love is every point of, of a sword's length hilt & blade, yet ironic, the tip alone is a self sufficient ***** to be full~on damaging enough to **** to fully comprehend, that  love is meant needs no further modifying defying pointless phrasal modification of explanation… s u n d a y (if the week did not commence with a sunday, hu-mans would have needed to create one, to understand, love is meant) 4:39am Sun Aug 10 Twenty Twenty Fidelio (5) in a new york city frame of mine
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47
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
0
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Asylum
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
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31
I'm feeling pretty ***** Or maybe I'm just desperate for an intimate relationship And I fantasize about sensuality because I crave the passionate love between two human beings And I fantasize about skin rubbing skin the sweat dripping between them The mixing of two souls and the conjunction of two bodies The beautiful slopes and curves of her figure slowly caressing mine The soft whispers of love that brush against my ear And trail kisses down my neck Her soft gasp as I trail my fingers up her thigh my other hand grasping the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair Pulling her closer, ever closer Her nails digging into my back Leaving stinging red marks to remind me of her when I leave for work in the morning touching the scratches, I'll remember her In the afterglow Her arm around me, our legs tangled together Her hair curled wild around her face "I love you" she whispers Giving me a tender peck on the lips Before blissfully surrendering to exhaustion I watch her chest rise and fall Her soft breathing lulls me to sleep I'll smile when I think of her Because I'll remember her words "I love you" They'll ring through my mind "I love you" Following me wherever I go "I love you" Lighting the candle in my heart The flame growing brighter and brighter with each hushed word "I love you" or maybe I'm just *****
0
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
MoonlightSonata
*****
I'm feeling pretty ***** Or maybe I'm just desperate for an intimate relationship And I fantasize about sensuality because I crave the passionate love between two human beings And I fantasize about skin rubbing skin the sweat dripping between them The mixing of two souls and the conjunction of two bodies The beautiful slopes and curves of her figure slowly caressing mine The soft whispers of love that brush against my ear And trail kisses down my neck Her soft gasp as I trail my fingers up her thigh my other hand grasping the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair Pulling her closer, ever closer Her nails digging into my back Leaving stinging red marks to remind me of her when I leave for work in the morning touching the scratches, I'll remember her In the afterglow Her arm around me, our legs tangled together Her hair curled wild around her face "I love you" she whispers Giving me a tender peck on the lips Before blissfully surrendering to exhaustion I watch her chest rise and fall Her soft breathing lulls me to sleep I'll smile when I think of her Because I'll remember her words "I love you" They'll ring through my mind "I love you" Following me wherever I go "I love you" Lighting the candle in my heart The flame growing brighter and brighter with each hushed word "I love you" or maybe I'm just *****
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38
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
There seems to be a universal law of supply and demand and all that’s truly had is in accordance with its command. Working in conjunction with the law of cause and effect it starts to really make some sense to all those who reflect. For anyone who believes in providence and has a genuine need it will in time be provided through faith and not based on greed. This recalls to mind the words which a Great Person once said before He was crucified and buried but later rose from the dead. _______________________________________________
0
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
George-Krokos
Supply And Demand
There seems to be a universal law of supply and demand and all that’s truly had is in accordance with its command. Working in conjunction with the law of cause and effect it starts to really make some sense to all those who reflect. For anyone who believes in providence and has a genuine need it will in time be provided through faith and not based on greed. This recalls to mind the words which a Great Person once said before He was crucified and buried but later rose from the dead. _______________________________________________
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9
Watching from beyond, writing their little notes. Look behind the brainstem and see the past perfect present tense. You thought about it and I heard it. We grabbed the thoughts. New bones and muscle. All the different ones, all the same thoughts pulsing, like brain radar bounding back. They're of me. they're in me. But he is not. The serpent retains it's form but it stays inside. It blinds my dreams. No escape, let craving; an eternal void. As it all becomes one form and function. We join. We are the new being, hideous and beautiful. I think he has taken my soul. I probably wasn't using it anyway. I am his disguise.
0
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
positrxnicbrain
Conjunction
Watching from beyond, writing their little notes. Look behind the brainstem and see the past perfect present tense. You thought about it and I heard it. We grabbed the thoughts. New bones and muscle. All the different ones, all the same thoughts pulsing, like brain radar bounding back. They're of me. they're in me. But he is not. The serpent retains it's form but it stays inside. It blinds my dreams. No escape, let craving; an eternal void. As it all becomes one form and function. We join. We are the new being, hideous and beautiful. I think he has taken my soul. I probably wasn't using it anyway. I am his disguise.
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12
<> **”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea when August has ripened and turned Jubilee you must enter dominion of summer's delight and live in the rapture of candescent light Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,   the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”** ~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~ (with her kind permission) <> First verse pinpoints accurate, this, my spot! by oak and sea, my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents, for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing, these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and my shock, at these, her words my breathing is gasped and grasped by oak and sea, for so it be, this is where my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo, my diurnal natural choreography is performed, while slow sipping my very heated first coffee it was here that I learned to love more easily, for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes, lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering a single word, here dear person, is the where and the when, the comfort of the natural-blanket that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire, containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments, that remove the plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue simply put, here I breath freely, here I see with clarity here the infusions of living in nature, prolongs, restore, remind, enliven and enhances, the intermixture of body and soul here in actual deed, the kiss of summer bliss upon my tiring cell’s walls, are resurrected even unto the nuclei, by the warm breath of sun life and sun light, and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air and under their loving, combined-dominion am I resurrected and will yet sense, one more Jubilee again as I lay dreaming by the oak and the sea…
0
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
whereshelter
“To dream by the oak and awake by the sea“
<> **”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea when August has ripened and turned Jubilee you must enter dominion of summer's delight and live in the rapture of candescent light Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,   the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”** ~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~ (with her kind permission) <> First verse pinpoints accurate, this, my spot! by oak and sea, my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents, for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing, these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and my shock, at these, her words my breathing is gasped and grasped by oak and sea, for so it be, this is where my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo, my diurnal natural choreography is performed, while slow sipping my very heated first coffee it was here that I learned to love more easily, for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes, lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering a single word, here dear person, is the where and the when, the comfort of the natural-blanket that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire, containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments, that remove the plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue simply put, here I breath freely, here I see with clarity here the infusions of living in nature, prolongs, restore, remind, enliven and enhances, the intermixture of body and soul here in actual deed, the kiss of summer bliss upon my tiring cell’s walls, are resurrected even unto the nuclei, by the warm breath of sun life and sun light, and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air and under their loving, combined-dominion am I resurrected and will yet sense, one more Jubilee again as I lay dreaming by the oak and the sea…
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62
The picturesque glow from the full moon enkindles youthful swooning and yearning; orotund voices rising above prattle conversation yield celestial affirmations in conjunction with analogous, supernal relations Full acceptance of the shimmering stars sacrosanct messages coruscating through the sky - fulsome oracular expressions instilling mesmerizing past-life recollections.
0
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
jessica-golich
Full Moon
The picturesque glow from the full moon enkindles youthful swooning and yearning; orotund voices rising above prattle conversation yield celestial affirmations in conjunction with analogous, supernal relations Full acceptance of the shimmering stars sacrosanct messages coruscating through the sky - fulsome oracular expressions instilling mesmerizing past-life recollections.
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2
What's happening to all of us? The so-called generation of tomorrow? Don't you remember how we used to be? Before we all grew up, swearing that when we're "big" we're never going to smoke or drink? That boys were yucky and girls had Germs? Remember how carefree we all used to be? It didn't matter to us what people said or even what they thought. We didn't care if our hair got wet or a stain got on to our clothes. Now we've turned everything around, never meaning the words that we said. Its as if every memory of who we were, has shattered, into tiny bits of pieces. Remember the dreams we had when we were young? The morals and virtues we swore we'd never rid of, holding on to these for dear life, yes still we threw them away. The people we are, the children we used to be, now a totally new adolescent. A conjunction of minuscule parts of both our past and present. Remember the days we all were friends, no backstabbing, no lies, and complete honestly. Sharing the humour, not hiding the facts, lived life freely, what happened to us? What happened to the people we used to be? The all grew up that's what happened I guess, but now barely recognisable. The little child still somewhere deep in the interior of the hard outside we've formed. Making ourselves to seem like we're stubborn, matured adults, when that's really what we're not. We're a mixture of what we all used to be and a huge part made up of what we've been through. All our experiences, both good and bad. All our dreams, some nourished since we were young, and others newly spurted. Our decisions to give in to peer pressure, or resist temptation. Our choices. Our friends, the ones that uplift is and the ones that have torn us down. Our family, the ones who loved us and the ones who have hurt us. Our education, tons of learning experiences. Our relationships, that all formed our inner beings more intricate than all of the above. Our emotions leading us and misleading us to where we might or might not end up . Look, i'm not saying all these things determine where we end up but they sure do influence it. And that's what happened to us. That is what we've become and that's what we are. That's made up all the parts of who we really are. What's happened to us, I repeatedly ask , though the answer, it seems so clear. Hard to accept, what we've become and who we strive to be.
0
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
keshia-hayley-africa
What happened to us?
What's happening to all of us? The so-called generation of tomorrow? Don't you remember how we used to be? Before we all grew up, swearing that when we're "big" we're never going to smoke or drink? That boys were yucky and girls had Germs? Remember how carefree we all used to be? It didn't matter to us what people said or even what they thought. We didn't care if our hair got wet or a stain got on to our clothes. Now we've turned everything around, never meaning the words that we said. Its as if every memory of who we were, has shattered, into tiny bits of pieces. Remember the dreams we had when we were young? The morals and virtues we swore we'd never rid of, holding on to these for dear life, yes still we threw them away. The people we are, the children we used to be, now a totally new adolescent. A conjunction of minuscule parts of both our past and present. Remember the days we all were friends, no backstabbing, no lies, and complete honestly. Sharing the humour, not hiding the facts, lived life freely, what happened to us? What happened to the people we used to be? The all grew up that's what happened I guess, but now barely recognisable. The little child still somewhere deep in the interior of the hard outside we've formed. Making ourselves to seem like we're stubborn, matured adults, when that's really what we're not. We're a mixture of what we all used to be and a huge part made up of what we've been through. All our experiences, both good and bad. All our dreams, some nourished since we were young, and others newly spurted. Our decisions to give in to peer pressure, or resist temptation. Our choices. Our friends, the ones that uplift is and the ones that have torn us down. Our family, the ones who loved us and the ones who have hurt us. Our education, tons of learning experiences. Our relationships, that all formed our inner beings more intricate than all of the above. Our emotions leading us and misleading us to where we might or might not end up . Look, i'm not saying all these things determine where we end up but they sure do influence it. And that's what happened to us. That is what we've become and that's what we are. That's made up all the parts of who we really are. What's happened to us, I repeatedly ask , though the answer, it seems so clear. Hard to accept, what we've become and who we strive to be.
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18
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
0
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
betterdays
the tourney
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
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76
So, you brought a pen to a knife fight, you who write with brilliance, no need to fret. I guarantee you leave a legacy, life is not through with you yet. Your nouns have purpose, you who suffer every time you write, I swear this to you. every verb has profound meaning, let your poetry ignite the mind. I promise you this, draw from the passion you find in life, your adjectives will live forever. A spider web spinning digital dreams, each conjunction you weave lingers on. So, you chose a pen to conduct your life, choose each adverb wisely, you who creates poetry brilliance. For the legacy, you leave with words is how the world will remember you.
0
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 2:38 AM UTC
jdmaraccini
Legacy
So, you brought a pen to a knife fight, you who write with brilliance, no need to fret. I guarantee you leave a legacy, life is not through with you yet. Your nouns have purpose, you who suffer every time you write, I swear this to you. every verb has profound meaning, let your poetry ignite the mind. I promise you this, draw from the passion you find in life, your adjectives will live forever. A spider web spinning digital dreams, each conjunction you weave lingers on. So, you chose a pen to conduct your life, choose each adverb wisely, you who creates poetry brilliance. For the legacy, you leave with words is how the world will remember you.
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20
grow a beard... buy a jazz double-bass... start stroking it... attempt to look pensive... and then write some Cockney comedy... and?    **** Oxford.       **** 'em good; can't be, ******* arsed...           where's a ******* jazz double bass the kind i need to stand up to play?! where?!     gone, "nowhere"...         Achilles would sooner find a tortoise, you ******* half-whit bull bullock base catcher... yummy yummy... no ******* double whammy if there ain't a greasy dough nnnnnnnn in my mouth oozing a squid's mating call... from the Jules Verne estimate of how... big the ******* could become... oh please...    **** is a conjunction word... akin to and...      spew effect, regurgitation, founded upon... so... so... farting in a public place is less offensive than uttering a word of oath?! **** me...     more **** less ***** images... i guess that's how you habitually attack Christian h'america... **** **** **** and impose a curb of a ***** show me the puppies kitchen ***** Kentucky style **** ******* wankers... dreaming up some **** in long lost Cockney rhyming slang for some: willkommen zu verirrt amstetten... .................... ................................... .............. ................ SCHMILE... boorish ******* gnomes dancing the leprechaun gamblers' dance... skivvy ************* sure... censor the words... but god forbid you censor showing all the ******* because... if you do? guess what... i might forget my farming impulse... of imagining a a cleavage to also imply a pork buttocks... funny... how a show of cleavage is synonymous with a show of pork buttocks... and then i begin thinking of milking... which throws a ***** **** out with the baby and the bathwater and... i'm shinging... what's that name of the place?! New Orleans! yeah... like some minstrel in that part of the world that part of the world that's a ******** what?! you spew on me... i spew on you... we can at least exchange... what we "love" about each other... but i implore! i implore! visit Warsaw! alone... no, not with other people... ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e.... i'll be your companion, when you peer at your shadow, and attempt, to pretend, to disappear.
0
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
Wankers United
grow a beard... buy a jazz double-bass... start stroking it... attempt to look pensive... and then write some Cockney comedy... and?    **** Oxford.       **** 'em good; can't be, ******* arsed...           where's a ******* jazz double bass the kind i need to stand up to play?! where?!     gone, "nowhere"...         Achilles would sooner find a tortoise, you ******* half-whit bull bullock base catcher... yummy yummy... no ******* double whammy if there ain't a greasy dough nnnnnnnn in my mouth oozing a squid's mating call... from the Jules Verne estimate of how... big the ******* could become... oh please...    **** is a conjunction word... akin to and...      spew effect, regurgitation, founded upon... so... so... farting in a public place is less offensive than uttering a word of oath?! **** me...     more **** less ***** images... i guess that's how you habitually attack Christian h'america... **** **** **** and impose a curb of a ***** show me the puppies kitchen ***** Kentucky style **** ******* wankers... dreaming up some **** in long lost Cockney rhyming slang for some: willkommen zu verirrt amstetten... .................... ................................... .............. ................ SCHMILE... boorish ******* gnomes dancing the leprechaun gamblers' dance... skivvy ************* sure... censor the words... but god forbid you censor showing all the ******* because... if you do? guess what... i might forget my farming impulse... of imagining a a cleavage to also imply a pork buttocks... funny... how a show of cleavage is synonymous with a show of pork buttocks... and then i begin thinking of milking... which throws a ***** **** out with the baby and the bathwater and... i'm shinging... what's that name of the place?! New Orleans! yeah... like some minstrel in that part of the world that part of the world that's a ******** what?! you spew on me... i spew on you... we can at least exchange... what we "love" about each other... but i implore! i implore! visit Warsaw! alone... no, not with other people... ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e.... i'll be your companion, when you peer at your shadow, and attempt, to pretend, to disappear.
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104
There’s a sickness or a ringing in the early hours of night and it creeps and creeps and creeps till you’re begging for the light. There’s a pinging, pinging, triumph of wisdom in your eyes. You have grown and now you know not to take me by surprise. It’s a slow infatuation seems to ebb and flow with tides or with the special flitter-flutter of un-all-knowing minds.
0
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
razan-m
When I was younger, I read Dickinson and Milligan in conjunction.
There’s a sickness or a ringing in the early hours of night and it creeps and creeps and creeps till you’re begging for the light. There’s a pinging, pinging, triumph of wisdom in your eyes. You have grown and now you know not to take me by surprise. It’s a slow infatuation seems to ebb and flow with tides or with the special flitter-flutter of un-all-knowing minds.
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13
I want to learn the alphabet of your emerald eyes, Pronounce the words on the tip of your tongue And complete the sentence between your thighs. Master movement grammar while we are still young The nouns all down your spine are pleading to be sung. - I want to trace the verbs of your palm. Scribble the adverbs of your fingers Across the conjunction of your wrists, into my psalm. To decline your sides where my breath still lingers Your tense, presently, limbers. - I want to speak your Body Language, Be fluent in your tongue. I’m eager to read your novels And write your poems until we are undone.
0
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
john-f-pinto
Body Language
I want to learn the alphabet of your emerald eyes, Pronounce the words on the tip of your tongue And complete the sentence between your thighs. Master movement grammar while we are still young The nouns all down your spine are pleading to be sung. - I want to trace the verbs of your palm. Scribble the adverbs of your fingers Across the conjunction of your wrists, into my psalm. To decline your sides where my breath still lingers Your tense, presently, limbers. - I want to speak your Body Language, Be fluent in your tongue. I’m eager to read your novels And write your poems until we are undone.
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16
Corruption is an earthly sin. Sin is heaven's corruption. Heaven is against corruption; Earth is against sin. Is corruption a child of sin? Is sin a brother or mother of corruption? What is going on with sin and corruption? Where is the conjunction of corruption and sin? Intro of corruption and sin is a short term successful goal. Body of sin and corruption are paragraphs of confusion. Devil writer where is the body of the novel intro? Devil authors excel in their intro with your short term goal. Beware of devil authors in this game of life with corruption. Beware of pigeons, let’s hope Noah’s dove will be back with the body of the intro. Written by: The Senior 02/10/2019
0
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
masterchain-tsabedze
Corruption & Sin
Corruption is an earthly sin. Sin is heaven's corruption. Heaven is against corruption; Earth is against sin. Is corruption a child of sin? Is sin a brother or mother of corruption? What is going on with sin and corruption? Where is the conjunction of corruption and sin? Intro of corruption and sin is a short term successful goal. Body of sin and corruption are paragraphs of confusion. Devil writer where is the body of the novel intro? Devil authors excel in their intro with your short term goal. Beware of devil authors in this game of life with corruption. Beware of pigeons, let’s hope Noah’s dove will be back with the body of the intro. Written by: The Senior 02/10/2019
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15
Insomnia, Insomnia, I wish that you would die. Why is it that you ****** me? You laugh as you make me cry. Feelings that help conspire, My heart to skip a beat. The pressure of my blood rises higher, To cure my sadness I continue to eat. A monster grows inside of me, His name I do not know. All of this peculiar controversy, Conspiracies begin to grow. Not knowing who or what I am, I start to lose my head. While my head forms it's acidic jam, It soaks up into my bed. Deadly forces fight inside, My brain stops it's function. Unconventional disfunctions collide, Like a sentence without conjunction. Distancing myself from society, I'll sleep forever lonely. Friends are like your enemies, So late to realize they're phony. Love has been lost, Some time ago. I wish I had a companion. Misery, Inside of me. A woman's touch will make, This loneliness inside of me go. Questioning the nature of humanity, I feel I'm betraying the lord. Constant coexisting insanity, Starts when one becomes bored. Boarding up these windows, The storm rolls in above. As peers become your hated foes, Hate transformed from love. Waking up this very day, I notice a familiar sensation, Every dawn is like today, With no spontaneous creation. Night comes about, I fail to sleep, Instead I start to shout. Counting sheep, Is useless, As my heart fails to grout. Insomnia, Insomnia, Why won't you let me be? Too many things exhaust my mind. I'd like to go to sleep.
0
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
saint_francis422
Insomnia
Insomnia, Insomnia, I wish that you would die. Why is it that you ****** me? You laugh as you make me cry. Feelings that help conspire, My heart to skip a beat. The pressure of my blood rises higher, To cure my sadness I continue to eat. A monster grows inside of me, His name I do not know. All of this peculiar controversy, Conspiracies begin to grow. Not knowing who or what I am, I start to lose my head. While my head forms it's acidic jam, It soaks up into my bed. Deadly forces fight inside, My brain stops it's function. Unconventional disfunctions collide, Like a sentence without conjunction. Distancing myself from society, I'll sleep forever lonely. Friends are like your enemies, So late to realize they're phony. Love has been lost, Some time ago. I wish I had a companion. Misery, Inside of me. A woman's touch will make, This loneliness inside of me go. Questioning the nature of humanity, I feel I'm betraying the lord. Constant coexisting insanity, Starts when one becomes bored. Boarding up these windows, The storm rolls in above. As peers become your hated foes, Hate transformed from love. Waking up this very day, I notice a familiar sensation, Every dawn is like today, With no spontaneous creation. Night comes about, I fail to sleep, Instead I start to shout. Counting sheep, Is useless, As my heart fails to grout. Insomnia, Insomnia, Why won't you let me be? Too many things exhaust my mind. I'd like to go to sleep.
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56
mom betrays us. headlights into the night & up the breakneck boulevard bluff overlooking town and terminus. she brings his heart in a ziploc bag, an offering to that old burnt-out oak. [husband\father\corpse] front porch blood trails forever. she claims self-defense and the camera-eyes caramelize her fame & fortune & stepdaddies & book deals & ziploc pb&js & dead dog omens. when did the heartache begin? heir\son\brother\body racing car ****** and fluxed up the boulevard in a ritual reach for daddy and the oak. the girls are waiting. one two three, seeds. brakes sabotaged. he bursts into death, a molten ball of mazda. father and son laugh there on the brim of here and hereafter. apparitions uncoiled. [home movies] where mercury avenue ends the woods begin. & those woods are evil, an eldritch place, she laughs. even the indians wouldn’t bury their dead there. america. caught between the whir of spokes and windshields reflecting sky and skin, the blue hue of television flickering on the hands of a family. grandsons conjure grandmaster demons on the ply of their treefort high. the heart of grandma in a ziploc bag. jupiter and saturn are in conjunction, twelve past midnight on a tuesday in september. a school night. [the babysitter brings over an unlabeled video tape, says its scary] the children watch. slumber party screams and pb&js. ghouls blunted by pungent neighborhood inertia. son, a ghost returned in rhythm and electronics, hungry for pizza and pure vengeance.
0
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
CoopLee
ritual
mom betrays us. headlights into the night & up the breakneck boulevard bluff overlooking town and terminus. she brings his heart in a ziploc bag, an offering to that old burnt-out oak. [husband\father\corpse] front porch blood trails forever. she claims self-defense and the camera-eyes caramelize her fame & fortune & stepdaddies & book deals & ziploc pb&js & dead dog omens. when did the heartache begin? heir\son\brother\body racing car ****** and fluxed up the boulevard in a ritual reach for daddy and the oak. the girls are waiting. one two three, seeds. brakes sabotaged. he bursts into death, a molten ball of mazda. father and son laugh there on the brim of here and hereafter. apparitions uncoiled. [home movies] where mercury avenue ends the woods begin. & those woods are evil, an eldritch place, she laughs. even the indians wouldn’t bury their dead there. america. caught between the whir of spokes and windshields reflecting sky and skin, the blue hue of television flickering on the hands of a family. grandsons conjure grandmaster demons on the ply of their treefort high. the heart of grandma in a ziploc bag. jupiter and saturn are in conjunction, twelve past midnight on a tuesday in september. a school night. [the babysitter brings over an unlabeled video tape, says its scary] the children watch. slumber party screams and pb&js. ghouls blunted by pungent neighborhood inertia. son, a ghost returned in rhythm and electronics, hungry for pizza and pure vengeance.
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39
Pulling, tugging, grasping –      all to be closer to you. Two hearts beating, and lungs breathing deeply –      all in beautiful unison. 'This is one of those moments,' he says      I tug his ear as he speaks to me,     an attempt to commit to memory every inch of his body. 'When I can't believe,'      I go on squeezing him,     filling all of the ridges created by my bone structure     with his torso's curves-      They are warm to the touch. 'How much I love you.'     I push the tip of my nose into the nook under his chin     and attempt to breathe in his beauty.
0
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
julia-hunter
December 23, 2014 -- Conjunction
Pulling, tugging, grasping –      all to be closer to you. Two hearts beating, and lungs breathing deeply –      all in beautiful unison. 'This is one of those moments,' he says      I tug his ear as he speaks to me,     an attempt to commit to memory every inch of his body. 'When I can't believe,'      I go on squeezing him,     filling all of the ridges created by my bone structure     with his torso's curves-      They are warm to the touch. 'How much I love you.'     I push the tip of my nose into the nook under his chin     and attempt to breathe in his beauty.
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15