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"construction" 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
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
I ****** up, and I did it really badly ****** up good, although I love you madly It was my own insecurities which drove me to it I knew it was a bad idea, but I just didn’t give a **** Sorry that I hurt you, left a path of destruction I’d apologize again, but my brain is under construction I know I ****** up, it was beyond my control Wish I hadn’t ****** up because now I’m all alone Should have known I would **** up, it’s been too long My track record was clean, had to do something wrong Don’t ask me why because I don’t have a reason I tend to **** up everything, regardless of the season I ****** it all up, no possibility of turning back now I see the havoc I caused and looking back I don’t know how I can’t tell you how bad I feel, you wouldn’t believe me I ****** everything up, the way I always knew it would be You probably knew I would **** up, I do it all the time The potential was always there in the back of my mind I held the **** up cards, and now they’ve all been played And now I sit here useless, knowing why you wouldn’t stay I’m not good at doing things the right way, just need to **** up My once numb mind is burning, knowing that I cannot stop Wish I could say it won’t happen again, that there was just no chance But know I’m armed and waiting, to destroy the hope for romance **** up this, and **** up that ****** it all up good Never mind the pain or tears Because I ****** up good When I **** up it’s no surprise It happens everyday It would be nice to say that my ******* up has gone away
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Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 8:32 AM UTC
I ****** Up
I ****** up, and I did it really badly ****** up good, although I love you madly It was my own insecurities which drove me to it I knew it was a bad idea, but I just didn’t give a **** Sorry that I hurt you, left a path of destruction I’d apologize again, but my brain is under construction I know I ****** up, it was beyond my control Wish I hadn’t ****** up because now I’m all alone Should have known I would **** up, it’s been too long My track record was clean, had to do something wrong Don’t ask me why because I don’t have a reason I tend to **** up everything, regardless of the season I ****** it all up, no possibility of turning back now I see the havoc I caused and looking back I don’t know how I can’t tell you how bad I feel, you wouldn’t believe me I ****** everything up, the way I always knew it would be You probably knew I would **** up, I do it all the time The potential was always there in the back of my mind I held the **** up cards, and now they’ve all been played And now I sit here useless, knowing why you wouldn’t stay I’m not good at doing things the right way, just need to **** up My once numb mind is burning, knowing that I cannot stop Wish I could say it won’t happen again, that there was just no chance But know I’m armed and waiting, to destroy the hope for romance **** up this, and **** up that ****** it all up good Never mind the pain or tears Because I ****** up good When I **** up it’s no surprise It happens everyday It would be nice to say that my ******* up has gone away
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32
you stolen pink, arson rose you angry yellow you know you the new black? you inmate slap color of construction oh range convict cage or bruised sunset you peel or rind oh range oh range (oh aren't you glad I didn't say orange?) you uniform agent you coral fire burnt aren't you glad i didn't say orange?
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
An Ode to Orange
Time sails around us, leaving the present left to rust. All my love is written below the earth and spaces between the stars, in the oldest language. And we lay on our backs crushing the grass. You told me to wait, but I can't wait forever. so you said, "come along and travel among these childlike places with me." I said I'd follow you as far as to the moon's oldest side. And then all at once, I'm a child again. A child who would waste their time playing in the naked creeks and thought of the unthinkables. I was always trying to find my way to you yet I was never scared of getting lost for I followed the stars you mapped out for me on the back of an old construction paper that you scribbled across with stardust. And on the night of the blue moon I found you on a piece of paper written 70 years ago. you wrote to me telling me to always keep looking and wait patiently for the days that are to come. and wait I did.
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Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Time Stops, Time Flies
The nature around us Provokes to think! The geometry of nature Creates coincidences and intersections! Coincidences of creation- destruction and re-construction! Intersection reveals the connectivity, Connectivity between deconstruction and reconstruction! Geometry portray the commonness and uniqueness, Commonness and uniqueness between ‘image and number’ and ‘shape and number’! It leads all relation to number relation!
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
Nature- image-geometry and number
my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street so let’s thank the queen for writing it down before she’s just another thing i have to step over all the rest have tickled my feet so far and everything under construction reminds me that these days the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover i’ve been racing to crash on the couch just to wake up to see if i have time for it all and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about   with the way things are going you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep when she whispered paris nothing, everything may have changed so this is not like anything i’ve never meant: my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and besides this time i think i've really done it two days and this is already my favorite story but second chances don't have to be so mysterious maybe i just wanted to see you smile again i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L still choosing o over x and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it i’ll keep looking for you so long as you don’t stop drawing me maps if i died in my indecision then your mouth showed me heaven you’re the closest thing to purpose i’ve ever tasted i wish you knew how much i mean that
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Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
i fell in love with a girl in london and i'd do it all over just to see her smile at me again
my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street so let’s thank the queen for writing it down before she’s just another thing i have to step over all the rest have tickled my feet so far and everything under construction reminds me that these days the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover i’ve been racing to crash on the couch just to wake up to see if i have time for it all and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about   with the way things are going you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep when she whispered paris nothing, everything may have changed so this is not like anything i’ve never meant: my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and besides this time i think i've really done it two days and this is already my favorite story but second chances don't have to be so mysterious maybe i just wanted to see you smile again i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L still choosing o over x and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it i’ll keep looking for you so long as you don’t stop drawing me maps if i died in my indecision then your mouth showed me heaven you’re the closest thing to purpose i’ve ever tasted i wish you knew how much i mean that
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33
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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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
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
Thursday, 1:36AM A conversation Stemming from a picture Posted on Facebook Over whether a volleyball is pink or bubblegum. You girls should seriously get your eyes checked Suggests its owner Because the volleyball is most definitely not pink Indeed bubblegum and white. It is sad, he says, That a college-aged person does not know The basic colors of life. He tells us I will pray for you As if we are the ones who need to be atoned. What is our sin? Hes wondering why God gave us such shallow minds And bad color perception. To this I take offense, especially since Perception is not spelled “p-r-e-c-e-p-t-i-o-n”. He brings Conception, Construction and Liposuction Into the mix. Where is this going I asked What is the relevance Of these things? He has no answer… The things I have learned from this are very clear: Pink does not equal bubblegum Facebook does not equal Intelligent conversation And owning a pink volleyball Does not equal being effeminate And whether male or female All are one.
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Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 1:29 PM UTC
Refusing Pink
It all begins With pronouns I becomes the subject Of my project Adding you And collectively we I choose you and me And I exclude the he and the she Until I am certain of we You and I pick verbs actions Inflect them to match fit begin narratives Transitive verbs take objects You touch tickle tease taste take skin ******* lips me with words Words have become a clause But still a simple construction So, you tickle me where? For this you need a preposition To position your tickling ammunition Do you touch tickle tease me ON my ******* ******* thighs buttocks **** Do you feel me INSIDE my mouth **** soul? Positioning is envisioning. Then you use adjectives To modify descriptions of Sensory inscriptions So, gentle complements touch Soft and passionate kiss And you become superlative And adverbs elaborate experience expression exploration You fill me deeply thoroughly violently with all that is you But adverbs can also mean time Not sweet or cursed time Or time denoting age But timing is always important And grammar dictates That Time adverbs are placed As a beginning or an end Like a lover's embrace Thus, This morning, you woke me with A demanding "here and now! " and I will reciprocate this, tonight, I vow. Conjunctions are sentence connectors And sentences behave like detectors Bodies balancing with and, but, or Otherwise subordinate And the scale tips towards Conditioning hypotaxis Making actions a complicated praxis (before my mind can connect, you will have to pursuade it /pursue it) But we coordinate conjunctions Equally I touch you You touch me Exploring Exploding sensory functions So, together we cry imperatives Completing our ****** narratives Moaning Whimpering Begging Yelling: Please... bind me! touch me! bite me! take me! come! Oh! Please, come! I love the English language... ;)
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Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
Exploring Grammar (why I love the English language)
It all begins With pronouns I becomes the subject Of my project Adding you And collectively we I choose you and me And I exclude the he and the she Until I am certain of we You and I pick verbs actions Inflect them to match fit begin narratives Transitive verbs take objects You touch tickle tease taste take skin ******* lips me with words Words have become a clause But still a simple construction So, you tickle me where? For this you need a preposition To position your tickling ammunition Do you touch tickle tease me ON my ******* ******* thighs buttocks **** Do you feel me INSIDE my mouth **** soul? Positioning is envisioning. Then you use adjectives To modify descriptions of Sensory inscriptions So, gentle complements touch Soft and passionate kiss And you become superlative And adverbs elaborate experience expression exploration You fill me deeply thoroughly violently with all that is you But adverbs can also mean time Not sweet or cursed time Or time denoting age But timing is always important And grammar dictates That Time adverbs are placed As a beginning or an end Like a lover's embrace Thus, This morning, you woke me with A demanding "here and now! " and I will reciprocate this, tonight, I vow. Conjunctions are sentence connectors And sentences behave like detectors Bodies balancing with and, but, or Otherwise subordinate And the scale tips towards Conditioning hypotaxis Making actions a complicated praxis (before my mind can connect, you will have to pursuade it /pursue it) But we coordinate conjunctions Equally I touch you You touch me Exploring Exploding sensory functions So, together we cry imperatives Completing our ****** narratives Moaning Whimpering Begging Yelling: Please... bind me! touch me! bite me! take me! come! Oh! Please, come! I love the English language... ;)
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89
Overwhelming mental congestion for perfection, Socially influenced blueprints of future attraction. Constructive criticism given by construction workers, The labor of family and friends for reassurance. A solid foundation of first impressions, Structured walls of growth and development. Insulation of natural feelings and experiences, Ventilation to cool down the heated encounters. Electrical wiring of an emotional and physical connection, A circuitry of passion and romance with a light switch. Hardwood flooring for candle lit dinners and ballroom dancing, Granite kitchen counters for intimate midnight snacks. An attractive exterior siding to woo the public eye, A secure lock of commitment on all the doors. A roof of trust, and a picket fence, And now, my love, I’m simply yours.
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Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Architectural Relationships
A man is like a flower Starts with a bud Blossoms into its nature Natural ecstasy and perfection In time it wears out too Finally falls off the tree A natural process A natural phenomenon Naturally the man See as a flower All the nature of being To the base is the same The intelligence the man puts into saying That he is only the creature of importance And everything in the world are the resource Resource to be consumed by himself Is the false flag he is raising And is in the denial of the very nature Anything which is resonant And synchronous to the nature Has the time in nature to the eternity Whereas if not In accordance to the nature Sooner or later On the verse of decay On the verse of extinction I see the human race is in the path of extinction As civilization denying nature rather than glorifying Human beings are far from the true essence And are not synchronizing in the heart Of the very nature The so called intelligence is what humans praise and glorifying A lot full of **** And it is a shame We see the population of human species To rise and rise So may presume the statement I just stated to be false But seeing the thought processes And so called intelligence Is setting the human species To a sense of decay The step to the human race to demolish its own race Is a unjustified intelligence in itself The truth and laws of nature Being in shade Humans incorporating thoughts As a tool of destruction Rather than construction In the field of criticism rather than motivation In the field of extinction rather than sustainability In the field of destruction rather than collaboration And effort in maintaining the continuity Of equilibrium and resonance with the nature On the contrary Making critics and complain about the others Not realizing all are the part of the whole Is creating a challenge to the nature Going off beat with the nature. We shall know Anything not synchronous And not resonant to the nature Nature wipes out sooner or later We cannot accept the very fact it is true Even seeing our own life As a child The bud to the flower The youth The perfection in being and entire existence The new ideas and new world The fruit of generation brings about The generation to come To fertilize the seeds of the existence The old age To be renewed thoughts Nature wipes out as per the plan of its own Accept it as a reality As it is the truth The sharpness of flower Remembered as the youthfulness of flower The bud is treated emotionally With care as it is to be the perfection In the time to come The flower to be wiped out is respected As it was once a perfection Once roared the magnificence of itself Upon this very world The being-wiped flower doesn’t ask For its claim in the now world And indulge the new with its now state But appreciate the perfection once it had   Make believe the youthful flower to blossom And accept its own existence in the present. Every species and beings Are in the nature of being We are no different from the other species We are no superior and at the same time no inferior To the other species And not the other species to us humans Everybody and everything Is the part of the whole The whole is the nature itself.
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May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
Flower of life
A man is like a flower Starts with a bud Blossoms into its nature Natural ecstasy and perfection In time it wears out too Finally falls off the tree A natural process A natural phenomenon Naturally the man See as a flower All the nature of being To the base is the same The intelligence the man puts into saying That he is only the creature of importance And everything in the world are the resource Resource to be consumed by himself Is the false flag he is raising And is in the denial of the very nature Anything which is resonant And synchronous to the nature Has the time in nature to the eternity Whereas if not In accordance to the nature Sooner or later On the verse of decay On the verse of extinction I see the human race is in the path of extinction As civilization denying nature rather than glorifying Human beings are far from the true essence And are not synchronizing in the heart Of the very nature The so called intelligence is what humans praise and glorifying A lot full of **** And it is a shame We see the population of human species To rise and rise So may presume the statement I just stated to be false But seeing the thought processes And so called intelligence Is setting the human species To a sense of decay The step to the human race to demolish its own race Is a unjustified intelligence in itself The truth and laws of nature Being in shade Humans incorporating thoughts As a tool of destruction Rather than construction In the field of criticism rather than motivation In the field of extinction rather than sustainability In the field of destruction rather than collaboration And effort in maintaining the continuity Of equilibrium and resonance with the nature On the contrary Making critics and complain about the others Not realizing all are the part of the whole Is creating a challenge to the nature Going off beat with the nature. We shall know Anything not synchronous And not resonant to the nature Nature wipes out sooner or later We cannot accept the very fact it is true Even seeing our own life As a child The bud to the flower The youth The perfection in being and entire existence The new ideas and new world The fruit of generation brings about The generation to come To fertilize the seeds of the existence The old age To be renewed thoughts Nature wipes out as per the plan of its own Accept it as a reality As it is the truth The sharpness of flower Remembered as the youthfulness of flower The bud is treated emotionally With care as it is to be the perfection In the time to come The flower to be wiped out is respected As it was once a perfection Once roared the magnificence of itself Upon this very world The being-wiped flower doesn’t ask For its claim in the now world And indulge the new with its now state But appreciate the perfection once it had   Make believe the youthful flower to blossom And accept its own existence in the present. Every species and beings Are in the nature of being We are no different from the other species We are no superior and at the same time no inferior To the other species And not the other species to us humans Everybody and everything Is the part of the whole The whole is the nature itself.
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104
I am the entourage Of a fantastic mirage I am the agent Of my mind's figment I am a believer Of mythical creatures I am a builder Of splendid architecture I am a drunkard Tripping on futures so absurd I plan construction Of my own destruction I am the feeder To dreams of grandeur I am a magician Of wild, potent concoctions I am a tycoon Of emotional typhoons I am an adept Skilled in exploiting concepts I am a parasite Brandishing fangs that bite I play host To a monstrous, hideous ghost I am an addict Of thoughts derelict I am the dreamer Incapable of anything lesser I am a diver Sinking deeper and deeper I am an insatiable thief Claiming trophies without grief I am an emotional hermit Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit I am a weaver Fabricating tales that meander I am a Neanderthal Adopting behaviours and habits that appall I am an ape Mending wounds that gape I am but me I'm blind, fighting to see I am rhymesmith I lie through my teeth Getting hard to breathe Heart to words, I seethe...
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
Me
Having ripped my way through Concrete older than my father With jackhammer and Shovel I rest. As thirsty as sweaty and ***** As dirt. Across the street The ladies at the hair salon Whistle and wave giggling girishly. Clouds of menthol. **** sexists. I put my shirt back on. It's not even lunch and I'm Less than a Diet Coke ad Without the coke.
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Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
The Objectified Construction Worker.
I must’ve known you in a past life You feel so familiar Even when I didn’t know that I knew you I knew There was something in the way The warmth radiated from your skin Caramel macchiato I drank you in The baritone of your laugh You were so familiar Yet we had just met Your silhouette Was one I had seen before But not in this lifetime Were you mine in another one? Slipping through my fingers like silk Always one grasp away But you’re never gone The way you remain like the rain Soaking grass in spring And I’m thirsty for you For endless nights talking in darkness Till light came in again And never running out of words But even as we spoke it felt so deja vu Don’t I already know you? How do you know me so well? Like your code is written into my cells, I feel you on a molecular level Your soul intertwined in mine But never fully actualized in this timeline Years and years come and go But your “aww” and chuckle never fade, I hear it like you smiled that way you do Like it was yesterday Time a construction that doesn’t function In the realities in which I know you I have known you You’ve been mine and I yours In lifetimes before In present, eyes closed I manifest My me’s and your you’s Subconscious whispers traveling Through time and space Dimensions unknown But I know It’s you and you know It’s me too.
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May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
Past Life
His Down's Syndrome makes His age a tough guess, I'll Say eight to ten. Wide eyes on machines, Ice cream dripping on the Pavement outside the Construction site. *I wanna work like this when I grow up,* he says in Young enthusiasm to a mother Whose eyes well up with Gratitude when I approach And kneel down in front of Him. *So you want a job, Buddy?* I ask him with a Wink. He suddenly remembers His ice cream and bites into It shyly. Nods, glancing at the Tools in my belt, the scratches On my arms, the brick wall I've been attacking with a Wacker jackhammer. Nods Again. *Well, I'll see you in a Few years,* I say with another Wink, this time to his mother, Who'd look her young age if Her eyes weren't as tired, *But you can start with this And get some practice.* I hand Him my Stanley Fat Max Hammer. His ice cream Hits the ground as he Recieves it with both hands, Looking to his mother for Confirmation that it's ok. Oh, it is. She mouths a Thank you SO much... They walk away, his chatter High pitched and fading Around the corner. And I Head over to the foreman to Report that I lost my hammer. Don't ever employ me. I can work a good game, but I'm too soft around little heroes.
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
Stanley Fat Max
Yes to my muscles, but how can I help but Sigh at the spots and the thighs which are still in construction Adult loading Where the **** are the instructions? As I stretch and bulge And involuntarily yield to Maturity of Body loading loading loading
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Uncomfortable in my skin
Late night. Footsteps. Crane necks and girders. Fog lifts. The wind cries. Steel bones in moonlight                         I'm out                       so late now and it's Sunday night and Summer's ending                          soon. I'm aging                                           with questions fermenting in my mouth ignored for years Fenced off. Unfinished project shelved and waiting                      for next Spring. Cool night eclipsing years spent indexing, answers mislaid and blueprints unrolling Components rusting, crane necks and girders. Steel bones in moonlight. Tight lipped and staring.                              Fall comes                              construction halts now and the walls stand half                             complete And outside                                      the chain link shrugging off the cold and still wondering when Step through unfinished building. Get home. Shelved                       until next Spring.
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
Construction Site
distant ships sailing through the pink crests of brain matter   brimming with cargo; the unit of knowledge burrowed in flesh unable to feel pain, passing the sensation on skulled flags—beware, remember, know that these things can haunt you. (know that these things may one day heal you) this is who you are now: yellow, sunflowers wreathed in knotted strands of wheat-colored hair, pill bottles half-full, hands like rotting fly traps curled in supplication on a Thursday morning when the pain is too much to bear alone. this is who you will always be: a series of binary sparks, a long silvery tunnel, streetcars laden with passengers weaned on anger & fear & love-- a construction site. you are a work in progress.
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Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
N E U R O N
Features, my reflection— subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply, their evidence a betrayal of age. A wrinkle looking deeper, mane of face, of head—hairs fresh lacking pigment. Vain attempts made to mend heart, to sooth soul's dread. Testimony of experience of wisdom, persistence, perception, an impotent contraceptive, the argument aberrant. Regret to cloud memory, my youth seeming a flesh and blood cliche. Tiny footnotes heavy with prose, words in bold to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention. Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight of love and heartache of passion's attempt failing, to try again, sinking before succeeding. An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent unpredictable—without cause changing. Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future, the venom of defeat an insidious invasion. This new age creeping toward night in this stage my life's sun less bright. Maturity's introduced responsibility, some enjoyable while others to own hostility. A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure. Spurring combat for what remains of youth, fingers wrapping air in futile seizure. The inevitable to command subservience, presuming ownership of life, though the mature demonstrate the defiance of the immature. Objects, activities, music assaulting ear, their manner, symbols of strict adherence to who once was— a spiteful surrender refusal. A piece of me defining me until no more, years holding power—threatening to change who I am at very core. Canvas construction the colour of murre, rubber toe caps the shade of pure. Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected; a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection, a Converse rebellion. In torment of age's scars, I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Converse Rebellion
Features, my reflection— subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply, their evidence a betrayal of age. A wrinkle looking deeper, mane of face, of head—hairs fresh lacking pigment. Vain attempts made to mend heart, to sooth soul's dread. Testimony of experience of wisdom, persistence, perception, an impotent contraceptive, the argument aberrant. Regret to cloud memory, my youth seeming a flesh and blood cliche. Tiny footnotes heavy with prose, words in bold to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention. Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight of love and heartache of passion's attempt failing, to try again, sinking before succeeding. An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent unpredictable—without cause changing. Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future, the venom of defeat an insidious invasion. This new age creeping toward night in this stage my life's sun less bright. Maturity's introduced responsibility, some enjoyable while others to own hostility. A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure. Spurring combat for what remains of youth, fingers wrapping air in futile seizure. The inevitable to command subservience, presuming ownership of life, though the mature demonstrate the defiance of the immature. Objects, activities, music assaulting ear, their manner, symbols of strict adherence to who once was— a spiteful surrender refusal. A piece of me defining me until no more, years holding power—threatening to change who I am at very core. Canvas construction the colour of murre, rubber toe caps the shade of pure. Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected; a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection, a Converse rebellion. In torment of age's scars, I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.
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There are so many ways to worship the divine Though my absolute favourite is in an abandoned parking lot With fogged up windows to hide our devotion within A temple of our own construction, and as sacred as the sin between our lips As your hands roam the curves of my body, the fire within us ignites Ready to sacrifice any and all logical thoughts The rituals begin soon after in a rush to take our clothes off and I am nothing more than a humble offering So you can drink me in like the finest of nectar, suited only for the gods And finally the festivals commence with a tangle of limbs and a fight to keep ones breathe Hands still explore as the fire burns hotter and before I know it you take me to the home of the gods You welcome my acts of piety and respond in ways that make me see stars My screams echo louder as your pace only quickens And as the fire consumes us both You take great pleasure in hearing your name being sung from my lips like a prayer Satisfied by my worship you have no doubt in knowing which god my devotion belongs to
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Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 11:40 AM UTC
An Act Of Worship
Why do you still occupy the nooks and crannies of my head? Drifting up through the cracks in the plaster bent nails and poor construction hammered hastily into place How do you fill my vacant minutes with shadows of you? Your outline walks beside me on the street, wound up in my headphones the echo of your daydream touch a humming static on my skin How still do you fall asleep beside me when I am wrapped in the disquiet of a restless night? How do you ease yourself into my brain like its nothing and hide among synapses that try so hard to lose you And how still to lose you? When the thought of you occupies the wasted time that escapes order and control and slips under the floorboards And in that quiet and that dark is where you and I occupy, held together by the wandering nature of thoughts, that find their way into the nooks and crannies of my head The thought of you is indifferent to my hasty plaster work, and the thought of you is intoxicating.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
Your indifference to my construction work.
I hate it when dad comes home He is ***** and he has smelly feet Having spent long ours at construction site Smelly and filthy.. what a sight! I loath him, I look down on him When I walk pass the working site I turn my face, pretending he is out of sight I constantly accuse god, I said he isn't fair I want a different dad.. who drives a much better car goes to work wearing tie and suit The perfect dad I always think I should have... At school one day My best friend cried She was devastated Her rich dad left home left for good with a pretty woman... She has a house as big as a castle Fat bank accounts and pretty outfits Constantly travel around the world Houses, condos, hotels just name it where but she has no dad to cuddle anymore at night when she gets scared of storms and thunder I remember my dad's smelly feet instantly annoying.. disgusting.. frustrating.. This dad of mine I used to loath... But he works all day his sweat is his labor of love to bring food on the table... so we kids don't sleep hungry This dad of mine doesn't own expensive car has never been overseas has never worn a tailor made suit and but he loves us wholeheartedly... and always want to give only the best for us. This dad of mine whose smelly feet will annoy me forever but he loves his family truly and will never leave our side at anytime when we needed him most... I love you daddy All your perfect imperfections I am sorry................
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:11 AM UTC
My daddy's smelly feet
I've been focused on nutrition sense before recognition of a requirement of nutrients for my life. I eat for nutrition I shunned the processed chemical ick a lifetime ago it seems no longer remembering the taste of chemically created food stuffs. though I know if I were to get a taste it would satisfy my buds they were made with my buds in mind hijacked my senses lied and lied and lied told my body it didn't need nutrition that is could live off of intuition and stuff in boxes and bags and cans I've become my own food processor now I have mouths to feed now I know what to feed and where they make feed from so we stick to the grass-fed I'll teach them how to eat even before how to read its just how I see it once that sugar laden red chemical construction touches their lips they will instantly desire more Twain and Fitzgerald will take them longer to digest. so these are my priorities now. I am a nutrition seeker a truth seeker and I believe I come from a line of healers all who knew nutrition is the key to life, here. the basic building blocks, the amino acids of life, here. when you're nourished it all makes more sense but stay out of those center aisles their chemical composition is too dense my kidney could no longer clean the code of food stuffs. My strong little kidney I'm so proud of it for releasing its grip on its twin. it wasn't for us anyways
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
nutritious
Seasonal construction Path of destruction and rebuild, Traffic crazy, in the car ahead, Face yelling at a speaker phone, Zig-zag path like the road owner, 3:05 late so a five o'clock date, And a seagull sits right on the line, Patient Mockery so sublime, The seagull "walks the line" Waiting can be a hating game, That would be a vacation shame, shame, Shame. So now the seagull is not alone on the line. ©DWE092013
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Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
Ferry Terminal (no personal pronoun or I challenge)