"consolidation" poems
Please forgive my hesitation
at instigation of flirtation.
Did I ensure my elimination?
My romantic assassination?
I'll gladly partake in any placation,
for any chance of indoctrination
to the centralization of your concentration.
An operation of admiration.
A correlation of inflammation.
Your gravitation brings animation,
exclamation and elongation.
My specialization is duration.
Not to hint at a connotation,
but I feel a certain **********
by an obligation to a certain destination
where your presentation gives me restoration.
Petrification?
Total mind evacuation?
Would clarification bring fascination?
Stimulation!
Salivation!
Gratification!
Insinuation of fornication?
A simple salutation to syncopation.
Would a single bright carnation
be enough of a motivation,
for a two way relocation?
Would poetic recitation
be sufficient lubrication
for collaboration?
A consolidation?
Or an exacerbation of isolation?
Please hold no reservation,
I've only got one aspiration.
To achieve a higher elevation;
by means of inhalation,
or a certain recreation
involving a bit of perspiration
along with physical communication.
Does this seem such a bad situation?
Or are you ready for pure elation?
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:56 PM UTC
∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰
Too little and of course, too late
they spend what’s left imprudently
attempting to alleviate
the love of God’s own liberty:
The world transexual one-party state.
They think it’s normal — right for all
lost in a prideful dying fall
their lions heed the sea-horse call
attempting to transgender fate;
the devil searches for a mate
his nightly Babylonian date:
the world transexual one-party state.
They’ll legislate the Lord away
(his fundie followers as well)
their hateful heaven, holy hell
shall wither up and disappear
before redemption can draw near.
Their myths no more shall obfuscate
nor dangle such celestial bait
that underwriters overrate:
the world transexual one-party state.
Their antichrist is overpriced,
the nations, globally enticed,
now glorify the deviance
in herd-like mass obedience
surrendering to expedience:
where good is bad, and bad is great
and Christ the only one to hate,
allegiances exacerbate
the world *********** one-party state.
Parties will form and parties end
but parties can no more defend
consolidation into one
than flip a switch and dark the sun;
the Caesars left this part undone
the Muslims are just having fun
with our *********** one-party state.
Bring on the night until we see
that dark means dimming by degree
two parties? Overdone by one !
So let it bleed and let it be
till One is All and all agree
that we are doomed to hesitate
when God cannot resuscitate
the late One-World *********** State.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Inspiration strikes a sadness in my mind
Lightening fires of truth so bright I go blind
Wide awake yet dreaming of another time
Another place where things used to be fine
But in the back of my mind, where that inspiration strikes, I feel alive and alone in the sadness that overwhelms me at times, surrounded by the dream floating behind my eyes uncontrollably, bouncing off my mind getting ideas of time and space and distances between two places, satisfaction and depression, a thin line rests between my eyes, like a target, the bullseye is my soul and it's slowly disintegrating with every shot, look and insult fired my direction.
I'm losing control.
And my dreams are gaining ground, taking over and my reality is lost in the background.
My soul can no longer hear a sound.
I think I've died.
I've tried to come back around, telling myself it'll be alright.
But I lied.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 6:37 PM UTC
I’ve summed up the equation for my isolation
It's People who look up, look down, left and right
Desperate for information
We never looked inside for much needed inspiration
Instead,
We lead a life of impulsive behavior mixed with preoccupation for our own reputation
I've lost toleration for the weak minded population
Individual thoughts slowly decay and eventually cut off circulation
Sending thoughts on permanent vacation, worthy of respiration, ideas now suffer suffocation
If this is my "generation"
I’d rather live in hibernation
You can take this as retaliation
I just don’t understand why we seek gratification for having no imagination?
I swear,
It’s like the world around me is nothing more Than telecommunication
Different voices yet the same conversation
Broad interpretation leaves room for destructive **********
Shedding uniqueness for trendy consolidation
**Who the **** do you think you are? a star?**
You're no constellation
You expel no illumination
Your personality is a narrow cultivation of
Seedy corporation,
Media publication,
And lack of moral stabilization
Let me give you clarification
Meditation is my detonation
Put words in your mouth before you die of starvation
We all have a fixation on giving into temptation
Putting ourselves in situations were
Passion is stimulation,
Trust is manipulation and
Love is ***********
Pour out your heartache in perspiration
After *********** we expect a standing ovation
*** is nothing more than sensation*
....are we lost beyond the point of navigation?
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 12:35 AM UTC
Dank memes comfort me
MLG Four Twenty brah
It's Snowing on Mt. Fuji
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Lumpenproletariat's
Comprise the population
Revolutionized, new variants
Attempt consolidation.
Socialist experiments or
Anthropology's deviation?
Avoidance- societal detriments of health:
Classism's obliteration.
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 12:45 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Draw your sword and prepare for war
Oblivious of what your fighting for
The same deal every weekend
Only in your dreams does the chaos end
Finding companionship in drugs and alcohol
Temporary catching you amidst your fall
Living for the consolidation of the night
Yet so out of tune with life
So turning to **** you dull the knife
Weekend warrior
Your battle call is sounded
*** drugs and rock n roll
Your anything but grounded
Blurring your vision to forget your surrounded
Shallow ambitions
Mindless repetition
You go with the flow
Baited by the hook society uses while fishing
Spending all your change in a well for wishing
Surrounded by people who mirror your actions
Afraid to be alone
You feign a false satisfaction
You turn to numb the feeling
Call it fatal attraction
You fight for the weekend
To keep your mind off the deep end
Submerging in shallow pretext
You take refuge in pretend
So pickup the threads
That are constantly coming loose
And tie your hands behind your back
As you dig for the truth
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
Accelerate me into life
flash forward
what is it like
people not driving cars
robotic body parts
hologram friends
destined to screens
faces unseen
Where will we be
when
time flashes before eyes
before our eyes
creating new families
relatives
gone from our lives
the future
what will happen
in the future
the future
consolidation
all our things
are consolidated
into this modern day destiny
will we be
traveling
through a paradigm
of things we used to dream
the future
no one knows
where all of this
will go
in the future
the future?
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
*I find it hard to write of the light,
darkness has set its roots into me,
I want to write of the light,
but the stain, the shadow haunts me.*
*The problem is this: my words do not come at will,
only at the beckoning of fierce emotions,
my joy is forever diminished by pain,
all light is shadowed,
dulled, made useless.*
*I know I am not the only sufferer of this affliction...
yet that offers little consolidation
to one who loves the light, but belongs to the darkness.*
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
Yeah I may be a Christian and I may be a poet but that doesn't mean my Life is picture perfect. An addict to the Ice and a slave to the Mary Jane...I have learned to cope with it all. Yes I am a full functioning addict I work I pay my bills and I save my money. However, whenever I have extra I like to treat myself to my addictions. It's self medication and a solid connection to an altered state of mind. Meditating on what has gone wrong in my Life I am seeking help for consolidation perhaps my best friend long gone abandoned me to my own destination. What else to do where to turn...I don't know but it is a direct confrontation with my inner being and the devil and he wants my soul. So here I put it in writing and hope for some explanation. God is there with me but I only feel lamentation. So many paths one can choose but I am seeking spiritual exploration...but my soul is weary and tired of loneliness and isolation. Sometimes I feel am not good enough for God's grace or mercy or even salvation...but here I am writing about my experience alone battling my addictions. When am high I feel like I have secluded myself from my Life's many problems and trials forms of testing my caliber against the world filled with agony and despair. My life is in a point of turmoil and descending to an abyss. However, what am I to do am just a lone human seeking God...what else is there for me?
Inside my head are many fears. Unimaginable, uncontrollable the urge to feel accepted by society to just fit in to motivate myself to feel loved and appreciated by all mankind. Though the Age and time we live in that is just a far away dream...logically knowing it's impossible to please the masses with knowledge that is impeccable admirable and clean. To them am a lunatic a fanatic of dogma and God. What they don't know or understand is that am a sinner awaiting my redemption and also my salvation...to the one and only that provides the breath of Life and it's known creation.
Thinking on **** I am not contempt with the erroneous ways I have dealt with my life in the past. Will it all end one day will I be granted the glory of God? Or is it all im my head and I will end up in hell for being who I am today? Questions only God knows the answer to...questions upon questions...what ifs upon what ifs...doubts upon doubts. I am what I am today due to the decisions I made yesterday. But just let me be me and let God show me a way...so I can find my way back home and be there to stay.
©Franko the Christian Poet
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 5:10 AM UTC
.
'No man is an Island'
Maybe not true my Dear friends.
Perchance in general, contact is good.
But take a good look.
There are many Islands in the emotional ocean
with closed harbours and sealed ports.
Refugees of romance; Tortured traumas;
Insane individuals; Mental mercenaries;
Each one a lonely star,
a pinprick of light, disconnected,
on a girdle of the sky,
protected by a carapace of experience,
cold, distant, drifting further from the source,
in a race for consolidation and annihilation.
Islands of safety become Isles of danger.
Selfishness; Self-hate;
Self-perpetuating; Self Destruct;
The inward circle and downward spiral
cloaking the Island, shielding its existence,
shunning the continents of integration.
So can it be true my Dear friends,
no man is an Island?
© Pagan Paul (28/06/17)
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
With an overcast sky, summer warns us
the moon stops by for a brief conversation
before taking its leave, replaced by the sun
I stitch together sheep counts, Z's, and dreams
but these days drag into my subconscious
and streams of melancholy drain into one
You shake your head, watching me
it seems I have mistaken midnight gloom
for rain clouds and thunderstorm doom
Summer's warnings, now clear as day,
everything they were meant to say
I tend to overthink and underthink everything we are
When winter comes,
with endless hours of midnight
maybe then, I will have enough time
to consolidate what we are destined to be
unmistakably
Jul 8, 2022
Jul 8, 2022 at 6:13 PM UTC
The light in your bedroom keeps me company
Though it makes me wish you'd disappear
Because I don't think you deserve my sadness,
And yet I give it to you anyway - everyday
Handpicked and wrapped up with a sort of pleading desperation
A "please take me back there, sitting on your front step with sweet consolidation"
But we don't go there anymore,
And so the light in your bedroom keeps me company,
And at nighttime I wish I'd disappear
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
perhaps it is a drop of water, or maybe a tiny stone
that has caused this madness, a craziness that I created
I sit in a stone cell with no light and the drip drop dropping
on the loose veil of sanity
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
.no, i believe in a god, because i also believe that man, cannot delve into proper jurisprudence... i believe in god because i can't believe that man can settle the argument for justice, outside the realm of the godly ultimatum of the democracy of, death.
so psychiatrists are basically
psychologists queen-armed
with pharmaceuticals...
i'm dead too...
and i'll bedead much more,
core, years later...
but like you'd ******* care...
psychiatry
is merely psychology for the masses,
with the sodden
pharmacological-blues
of the bourgeoisie-typo
of panic...
no ****** no...
i was the sort of person
that was necessarily
inconvenient....
i was diagnosed schizoid...
because if i wasn't,
i'd be deemed a
terrible, "idea"...
hell...
you can't forget me,
i'm loving the drugs,
esp. when i take them
while drinking!
so?
**** you!
bilingualism and reading
Heidegger,
could only be considered a mental
health issue,
in the ****** place, akin
to England...
thank god!
i'm ready for the Eire people
to cite their ******* Bible!
like some crooked excuse
in juxtaposing a vague
attire to satire.
- and what are the chances of
me being paid social consolidation
payments?
virtually, and really: nil...
but some ****
is just waiting for a housing benefit,
while expecting his fifth child?
so i'm mad...
come to think of it...
i tend to forget that god is evil...
i try to remember that man is: unjust...
god might be evil,
but i keep remembering that man is unjust...
i prefer an evil god
to a good god...
because, just because...
i know that man will never be just,
however much he glories a sense
of justice...
because i'm pretty sure
the devil covered that
instance of a paradox...
there is no "good" god...
when there's a notion
of man's injustice premeditated,
or, rather...
there is no "good" god...
when the justice of man,
supposed, "justice"...
is anything but a courtship with
a halved deliverance of
purpose...
an evil god is a god with only
the good bound to men...
and if men ploy their affair
of goodness on a faking...
ergo: quid est deus?
then a genuine diagnosis...
so...
why do people find it strange,
being diagnosed with cancer,
and their supporters, running
the career mile of a charity
shop organization...
ha ha! ha ha ha ha ha ha!
ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
a stick owns two ends...
you laugh at me...
i? i laugh at you.
you were diagnosed with cancer?!
ha ha ha ha ha!
ha! ******
like how the the reversal of
the stick feels?
now watch me give a ****
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
*my organs in a snapshot
//*
i might rip my lungs out because you’ve become my every
breath, and i can hardly deal with ache in my chest. is it love?
everyone can tell that i am different. everyone can tell that i’m
glowing and maybe it’s because of you, maybe it’s because the
two of us make something like starlight. you are the very
creation of every single constellation, you are my inspiration,
my oxygen, the very consolidation of truth.
you rip my heart out and bring it back moments later. it’s laced
with fairie lights and twinkles, and somehow it’s still whole.
you are the only person that has not torn it apart.
god, babe. no one i’ve met has made me want to sing the way
you make me want to sing. i’m resting my head against your
chest as we dance to our favourite mixtape. slow and sweet,
like maple syrup. it’s been almost three weeks and i know
exactly what this means. the butterflies in my stomach turn into
fireflies and they love you.
and now you’re thinking,
*baby, you’re golden,
baby, i’m holding
on to you.
baby you’re golden,
baby i’m holding
on.
baby, you’re golden
baby, you are,
you are,
you are...*
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
Nimble diffused twinkling dusk
An unforeseen consolation
Upon such mirth hold I must
Nimble diffused twinkling dusk
Forthcoming woes shall be hushed
A yet to be fused consolidation
Nimble diffused twinkling dusk
An unforeseen consolation
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 4:27 PM UTC
She carries a past painted with murals of adversity,
She treads towards a future adorned with jewels of potential and prosperity,
She upholds responsibilities with dignified clarity,
A consolidation of the contributions of those transcended,
A goddess embodied; who leaves even broken hearts mended,
Her generosity embarks on a triumph unfolding.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 11:57 AM UTC
Owls on bicycles might be riding the ridge
on the ceiling which, for now is nameless
but has a concept
that it’s escaped- for an owl somehow balances,
quite s e r e n e l y
but this isn’t sleep
it’s a fragment of my brain
falling off and dribbling down the p
i
l
l
o
w
into the papers to be glazed over.
Insomniac lust for
memory consolidation
or brain function restoration
(perhaps)
Escape through paralysis
a world you can rule
without lifting a fingernail
A nocturnal paradise the other side of a boundary
I
can’t
break
through.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
Break open the center and let it out
this nurtured, confounded realization of loneliness
as it spills. It gushes into the streets,
infecting everyone with an emptiness—unnoticed,
we’re walking amongst corpses that can’t smell their kind
till heads turn at the sound of someone living, screaming, writhing—
dying.
Like how we arrange lovers and hearts in cupboards in the mind
murderers and betrayers roam freely, killed often
no room for consolidation and refinement, schedules don’t permit
the need to feel is greater than the need to believe
and no words of wisdom or profundity can replace the hunger
to crave the flesh, the mind, the soul, becoming whole in anger and confusion—
simply.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
the waves wash over me as the momentum of the minute consoles me
but there is no consolation, no consolidation
I am alone with only my irrationality that leads to sedation.
and when I sleep, dreams don't mean a thing
except lucidity and restlessness and trauma of being.
But being me is more than just waves and sunsets,
sorry to upset, but I am no daisy or garden
I am uneasy eyes, where everyone is a suspect.
So respect my wishes when I tell you no
Because I know, that no never means yes to me
it means satisfaction to some, sorrow to most
and i'm done being buttered up like your morning toast
with that perfect crunch that you finish like it's your last meal..
My smile is my *** appeal.
So slither your tongue with verbs etched with sin,
and i'll let you paint your picture across my skin.
But this is no love poem, or rhyme scheme rendition
this is what satisfaction looks like when it's written
and I've watched myself die inside a mirror
found myself drowning in a ocean much clearer
but the salt kissed my wounds and my bruises
and reminded me, no one ever loses.
Chances are like a fine wine
followed by slow dancing and slowed time.
& I get confused sometimes with the way
you say my name and then sigh.
Don't say you will leave me
Just say you will love me.
Don't say you will touch me
Just say you will trust me.
because i've never known home until i heard your voices tone,
and I condone most things like kissing your insecurities
and falling in love with your tragedy but baby,
there's so much more to me.
I can see only with one eye because in the other i'm half blind,
but i will never turn a blind eye to the tides of your rise
and even your fall but baby, this is my kryptonite
and my light at the end of this dark dingy dim tunnel,
this all so ******* fundamental, the way you make me mental.
I'm so ******* metal.
Hard as **** and I **** like I'm hard - to love
but I'm easy - like sunday morning not easy like,
hormonal and ***** you can take my layers of lust and peel-
My smile is my *** appeal.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
THE DILEMMA OF A GENERATION
Mohamed Bouazizi
Represents not just the struggle in Tunisia
But of an entire generation –
His life was a consolidation
Of a series of injustices
Of economic apartheid.
After all, let us not hide
And call this tragedy what it really is.
Mohamed’s life and death
Was one of many terrible examples
Of the depth, the breadth
Of the gap between the rich and the poor.
If you think to yourself,
“I’ll never be that desperate,”
Think again;
You are fortunate
If you’ve never worked and worked until your fingers chafed raw
Yet it was not enough.
You are sheltered
If you’ve never experienced
The yoke of the owners of the world.
You are blind
If you do not see that we have ‘freedom’
That is built on top of mass graveyards.
This yoke
Has served to choke
Not just Tunisians,
But everyone who was not born with wealth
Or the opportunity to make it;
The millennial’s dilemma
Is common across the globe –
Do I lose hope?
Do I succumb
To a life of fast money and being numb?
Do I stop caring, focus instead on the life I can enjoy?
Do I ignore the stolen livelihoods, hushed, covered up and coy
Do I fail to think about the exploited labour
Of suffering human beings,
Of the ****** of my country’s neighbour?
Do I simply sidestep my knowledge of all of this?
Complacent, lacking the will
Unaware, perhaps lacking development of the skill
To realise that our world is dying
Not a slow natural demise
But of humanity-induced suicide.
Or do I, instead,
Pull up my sleeves, avenge the dead?
Do I sacrifice my well-being,
My opportunity to reach that thin demographic of the population
That fragment of the nation
Which lives a life of luxury,
In order to change the world around me?
Do I go against the swirling, swishing current of life
Give up all opportunity for power, leave this society that is rife
With abuse?
For if I don’t,
The sick world we were born in
Will perpetuate its unholy cycle of sin
I will be an instrument of that process,
Whether through complacency or an excess
Of loyalty towards the state.
If I don’t fight back,
If we don’t fight back,
Who will?
Our stillborn children?
The posterity that will be born
To a world that has no clean air,
A world that is built to be unfair
A world that separates people like an algorithm
Those above a certain monetary threshold
And those below it?
No.
It must be the millennial who fights for rights,
Before they are sold off completely and stocks run out,
Before men and women in power with infallible clout
Turn us all against each other
And make us destroy ourselves.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
So this is what my life's become?
A solitary drinker in a crowed pub;
Nursing a burgeoning alcoholism
And entrenching melancholy with self-seclusion.
Worse: compounding isolation by ignoring
Or minimally acknowledging, peripherally,
Those Sunday night lushes;
Instead, focused on the static dynamic of an evolving city;
Absorbed by a blue-meshed scaffold adorning
Another modern eye-sore of urban consolidation.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC