"conveying" poems
Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished.
Like us, a draft
of what can be called
"the both of us."
A draft created
that's open for change.
A change
to be better
---better
than who we are
or what we are
in the midst of the conflict
that floats around us
for the sake of us
for the both of us
---for each other.
A change
to be smoother
---smoother
with no mistakes,
with everything
in order;
consistent,
and coherent
even with the dialogues
we say that matter.
A change
to be clearer
---clearer,
meaning it is
at least what it is
meant to be conveying
with no underlying
vague wordings
when it comes
to our feelings
---for one another.
But that's there all is:
a draft
of what could be called
the both of us;
a product
of what we can become
if we make it become;
a product
of the possibilities
of what can be us,
of what might be us,
of what is it between us
between the fragments
of the words,
the lines,
and the series
of all of them
that constantly paint
faint descriptions of us,
descriptions
created [fabricated]
in my mind
like a work of fiction,
of pure imagination.
Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished,
like the poems
I wrote for us;
like the poems
about us;
like us, a draft.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
The waves rush in and out again,
Legs useless, hands limp, arms bent,
The masked ones have departed,
the cutting now has quit.
Silent, though I wish to scream,
Brain it is pounding,
in a preamble to explode.
White light and incessant buzzing,
relentless pain is throbbing,
conveying its full extent.
Hands and kind face suddenly appear,
Holding blessed instrument,
Approaching now quite near,
Into my drip it does commence,
I descend into the depths,
white to grey to black again.
Down I go in welcome spin,
into the embrace of oblivion,
Ah, Morpheus my dear,
dear sweet friend.
Wake me not until I'm dead,
Or 'til the tide does ebb again.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******** sycophant
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
*I feel your heart's heavy
and your mind trailing off to places
I'm not allowed to go...*
- Dajena M
My body...
Lays battered under unforgiving weather
I amble forth with unsure
In search of pastures much greener
My face...
Wears my despair
Mirrors wouldn't recognise
Reflecting back a faceless stare
My eyes...
Stung red with tears
Conveying the murmurs from my soul
Clouded by despondence that never clears
My limbs...
Bent awkward with time
Arms hang lifeless; legs sore from bearing
Load of my past of crime
My mind...
Trails in the wake of fallen dreams
Searching for an oasis
Instead finding only brackish streams
My soul...
Holds the weight of an anvil
Still I trudge to the farthest reaches
Through barren lands where all is still
My heart...
Yet beats with rhythm so true
It keeps me alive
It gifts to me...
you...
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Lost in his thoughts
With her eyes closed
Waking up from her fancy
By the call of a pigeon
With a message from him
Conveying to meet him
Near the river side
Of the Gulmohar tree
Hearing the trumpet of
The evening conch
With an acceptable smile
Ready in his favourite
Shining peach fruit dress
Wide eyes with black kajal
Long black hair decorated
With magical fragrance
Of buds of jasmine flowers
Colourful bangles filling
Her soft wheatish hands
With musical bands
Sitting under the flame tree
Decorated with beautiful
Orange-red Gulmohar petals
Waiting for her beloved
Lasting the wait till dawn
But never did he come
Flowing kajal with her tears
Turning her to black cheeks
Back to her despondency
Like a broken soul
Comes again the pigeon
With a message on its body
Written by human blood
Dear, move on in your life
I am, no more in this life
Jasmines giving an odour
Bangles becoming colourless
Kajal, blurring her vision
Falling down on the floor
With her eyes closing !
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
Farewell, to my voice wich vanished beneath the echo of those mountains, disappearing in the far distant, out of reach
The summer sun burns through my skin, lightens up this cold heart of mine for the first ime in a very long time, but even this won't last,
Yet I have no reason to be sad, this agony is bittersweet you see,
Constant change around me, without me changing one bit, it is as if I have become stuck in some kind of loop, unable to ever advance,
What does the future hold for one who has given in to this madness?
Farewell, to all the flowers which were blooming majestically this summer, now withering over to the merciless, drought like heat,
The greensleeves of nature are to already become colourful,
Farewell to all the warmth you have given me before you slipped away into the sea of time, moving on without thinking twice,
When the lullaby of a vampire is sung it'll be time to shut my eyes,
Because then I can be sure that I don't want tomorrow to come,
Farewell to the times we were friends conveying about silly things,
Now everyone can rejoice, once my voice is gone,
Farewell, left behind, I can no longer even cry
~Umi
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
When we met
it felt seconds
Comparable to a movie in fast-forward
When we part
it felt forever
Having no ends to meet
Both of us knew it
that there was something
A spark
when we are together
A deep connection
Even if we are living in distance
We may be denying it
when people see us
But clearly we know
that we are not just friends
secretly
Conveying feelings in disguise
Running around the bush
Mutually desiring to see one another's face again
Soon
but only doubt keeps us apart
Only doubt...
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
Feelings are simple,
there is no need to complicate things.
People make them cryptic
in effort of conveying them
that sometimes
they themselves too get lost
in a repetition festival of superfluous words.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
Licking the ***** off the small peaks,
Each dilated eye in ecstasy truly speaks.
The peaks are so natural button-like soft,
Conveying sans the speech the desire oft.
Whenever stiff & excited about to burst,
Titillating the sensuality be with trust.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
I didn't have a lot of choices growing up.
Not unless you count the way I wanted him.
Painful or excruciating.
I didn't have much power either.
No amount of prayers, wishing, hoping, begging would change his mind.
Not to say that I didn't try though.
I have a difficult time conveying just how strong my memories and flashbacks are. I appear calm and collected to the passerby. I have to. But peer into my soul and you will see the claw marks of my pain. Scraping their way down into a collective pool of boundless grief and torment log jammed by the planks of fear and shame.
I long to turn myself inside out and bare my rotting scars. To have someone besides myself witness what bubbles to the surface just long enough to be squelched again. Power and a choice. That is what I beg to find within those murky waters.
A choice to change.
A choice to pull the planks and let the stagnant flow.
The power to persevere.
The power to put them in their rightful place.
Forever.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
First,
Thank you for this poetry, precious intellect.
For employing each muse, under no objection--
Working hard so that the words in my head can sing their celebrations
As if without effort,
And take their leave in abstract
Unity.
Second,
Thank you for my pain, you lying ************
Every time I fall under the spell of night silence,
Unencumbered by those solemn realities,
Somehow, still, I long to be bound in the ribbons of mental garrulousness.
Because ****
It'd sure be hard to write without any words--
Without the consequences of this troubled mind.
So, it looks like you’ve found a convincing way to pitch the worth of suffering.
And Darlin’, I suppose that
I'll be the buyer of your generic brand of heartache--
Never cared for that top-shelf quick n’ done despair anyway.
I must just have a pallet for lingering bitterness.
Third,
Thank you for this herb, mother nature.
For the improvisational song that it sings in my veins,
Tuning out prosaicism’s drone.
For the rocking motion of my psyche
That starts when the rapid and the slow converge,
And the configuration of the fourth dimension warbles me to sleep
In a chorus of veins—
Conveying each of life’s cadences,
All in vain
Of what I myself
Ordain.
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
You
The real you
The pain of your words cut deep
Not in retribution or contrived delivery
But by the agony behind them
Conveying raw emotion
Your bleeding heart exposed
No frills
No fuss
No 'woe is me'
Just soul wrenching honesty in each and every line
The heartache and pain, flowing like a raging river
Across the page and beyond
Reaching out, begging for recognition
Of the person behind the crimson tide of verse
I hear you
I see you
I heed you
And I feel you
I am drawn to you, drawn to your words
To the man behind the words
And I care
Enough to offer friendship
More to offer love
To know you need not be alone
For I am here
For you
With you
A shoulder to cry on
A chest to lean on
Arms to enfold you and ease the burden of heartache
So powerful is the pull
To be that friend
I cannot ignore, I cannot fight
I surrender to it
I surrender to you
To the beauty of a new friendship
So pure in its infancy
With a lifetime of first and forevers
This I pledge to you
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
have you ever loved someone so much that simply saying “i love you” can’t even express how you truly feel?
have you ever loved someone for their heart, not for who they pretend to be?
have you ever loved someone so much that a thousand poems and ten thousand songs aren’t suitable for conveying your love?
have you ever truly loved someone so much that a simple day with them is infinitely better than an extravagant day with anyone in the world?
have you ever truly loved someone so much that you don’t need to change yourself in order for them to love you?
because only then is when you know you truly love someone
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
I wish to get this out in the open,
I wish to clarify something
I must confess something to those who care about my writing:
My sense of humour is... well...
If you know me in person, you know my sense of humour
or what could be errantly said
to be a sense of humour.
I draw heavily upon:
facetiousness, mythic interpretation, sarcasm, satire, excessive formality, irony, wordplay,
a somewhat predisposed tendency towards not taking most things entirely seriously
even and almost especially when I am 'supposed to',
resorting to profanity on rare occasions,
and quite simply and succinctly a ****** up world perspective*
amassed over many years of living in this society
and from living with my late, similarly minded, brutally honest alcoholic Father,
in this society, nonetheless,
who in fact was at least *quite ******* directly* responsible for my aforementioned errant sense of humour.
If you knew him, you might say that I'm a "chip off the ol' block" in some ways,
but I know I'm quite ******* deviant from it in others.
So, to those of you who simply know of my existence via this digital outlet/public-sketchpad for my new-found passion of writing down every ******* thing I think it worthwhile to ponder again later, or perhaps even share with similarly minded, or at least accepting people; I wish to convey my deepest and most sincere pity, not in that it is anything that was your doing, just in that you can't possibly know my sense of humour and tasteless applications of irony and satire, and as such; I've probably offended some people.
However, for some anomalous reason,
some of you seem to like this stuff
So I'm going to keep it up.
If you read this: thank you,
but if you did not, then **** you;
however, if you didn't initially read this but were later directed to it by me or by some other personage,
fictional or real,
or for some other reason happened across it,
I rescind the aforementioned **** you" in light of conveying my deepest and most sincere
"Thank you for putting up with my weird-ass ********
I appreciate anyone who finds any value in my works.
I also appreciate the improbable nature of anyone liking my brain-vomit.
I love creating and I love sharing my creations,
so when that all works out,
I'm ******* fit as a fiddle;
Giddy as a schoolgirl on Prozac;
Happier than a young necrophiliac who achieves his boyhood ambition of becoming coroner.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
Explosions of grief won't greet her death
Great men won't be summoned to speak
Bands of mourners won't wail at her passing
These gestures she will not seek
Just mingle the day with music and madness
Make the day one drooped in frost
Children must carry her down winding roads
Clarinets must moan her loss
Then at an hour no one knows
A man must visit her grave
He'll kneel and touch her tombstone
And smile a mysterious way
He'll be dressed head to toe in somber black
Conveying his grief gallantly
Just let him place one pink rose at the site
And rejoice in his memories
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
On that day which caused my voice to disappear,
All those around me rejoiced and had a feast, celebrating this moment
The words I say brought people tremor, fear or just pure hatred,
Everyone hated them the moment I moved my lips to convey along side them in hope to find someone who could become even a friend.
I was of course wrong all along, deserted for the reason that they found what I said in some sense weird or obscure, maybe irrational,
Was it my means or my purpose that scared them away ?
My looks or my style of conveying to appear more likable to them ?
In the end it didn't even matter for a second, as their false smiles carried the message of their fake friendship and intentions.
Maybe now that I won't have to converse with sound any further, those words of mine might reach someones heart and touch it instead,
But that is simply a distant dream, because everyone hates the words I say, perhaps it is meaningless to seek meaning in my useless self,
All I can do now is to heave in sobs,
Left behind, I can no longer even cry,
~ Umi
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
Conjunction:
a small class of words distinguished in many languages by their function as connectors between words, phrases, clauses, sentences
- the act of conjoining; combination; the state of being conjoined; union; association:
- a compound proposition that is true if and only if all of its component propositions are true.
- the coincidence of two or more heavenly bodies at the same celestial longitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am in a relationship.
a colorless word
a word of no clarity
a good one? a bad one?
a professional deal,
or one that makes you squeal
with pleasure or despair
without context or content,
a description of a status,
not a state,
but a quid pro quo
I prefer
I am in a conjunction
*well recall the day
our orbits
more than crossed,
but synchronized,
when two bodies
began to travel
upon the same longitude
one direction
in conjunction
t'was the day we coordinated
on our mobile phone,
co-configured our future,
our calendars*
*nowadays,
I answer her questions
while she is commencing to think,
when her foolishness prevails,
she questions, "did you remember to..."
my answer, a question returned,
connected, constant and conjunctive,*
"and what's my name?"
an answer conveying constancy
*relationship
oft the farthest place from logical,
but you know that,
say I am in a conjunction
and the logicians will celebrate
the end of your lonely celibacy,
well they understand the truth
inherent in and of and about
your compounded proposition*
*what unimaginative creatures we be,
dispensing with beauty for factuality,
but facts are easily misread,
your fact and my fact, relationship,
the exact same fact, conveys neither
an agreement as to what that means
are we unionized, associated, or conjoined
what is the quality of
our related ships?*
so
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,
amend my status please,
post me
as being in a state of:
a) conductivity b) connectivity c) concoctive
no, none of those
capture
what we have
captured,
so let create a new state,
a new world,
using a very old world word
post us as follows,
"Nat is in a conjunction"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
Charged was the air between us
carrying the words we held back.
That knowing look on his face
conveying he felt the same love.
Blessed was how I felt
when we spoke for the first time.
Heard all his unsaid words
when he gifted me a rose.
Unforgettable is the day
we had our hands locked
making the simplest promise
of a joyous journey together.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
You cant be hurt
is what their face have wrote
on my skin
why are you hurt
is a question they keep
Conveying
you know what's worst than dying
is laying there in a bed
so ill
your trying so hard to get on your feet and stand still
U have got all the will .
but their ignorance
their deep ignorance
is an everyday drill
Has the paranoia slipped in yet
do you think its you
why are you feeling this
you must be too sensitive
you must be self obsessed
it must be all in your head
Why are you acting out ?
you can't be hurt
why are you hurt?
You're too emotional
And the worst you get
the worst they get
Take a step back trust your emotions and Tell them
**** off :)
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
Spectacular view of the stars and their constellation,
Conveying astral messages to the mankind.
Astounding vision of the moon amidst darkness,
Giving a ray of hope for those who are in the dark,
Telling them to spread the light of wisdom,
Personify the beauty of the universe.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
**~~~~~Spoilers Ahead~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Didn’t know SH was so amazing,
A second degree mind palace,
He was keeping.
What we watched in an hour,
And were perplexed by, for days,
Had taken place in his mind,
In mere 300 seconds!
Baffled with the news of return of Moriarty,
He decides to solve a similar case,
That had occurred 120 years ago.
He recreates his whole life,
Complete,
With Irene’s photograph,
In his pocket watch.
Fits all the pieces in 1895,
All,
Including John’s witty wife,
Then enters the ‘cleverer one’,
And fatter this time,
Having already made a theory,
He asks Sherlock to do the leg-work,
Because Mycroft himself is busy,
Trying to beat his little brother.
The game is afoot again,
All in Sherlock’s complex brain,
He exposes the truth,
Of Mrs. Ricoletti’s death,
Just as he was about to know about Moriarty’s,
He’s is woken by his friend.
But he goes back again,
To complete the story.
To solve the mystery,
He goes to the Falls,
To again finish the problem,
The final problem.
But this time John interrupts,
In 1895,
And kicks Moriarty off the cliff,
To let Mr. Holmes happily, alone,
Complete the fall.
Now he returns to the present,
With a smile conveying I-know-it-all,
And he does know all about the villain,
His death, his plans,
And the rest.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
We all joined the party as friends
But the moment we were invited
We started being divided
Our agency we lose
To words heard in pews
Or shouted on the news
My once loyal glance
Becomes a soiled trance
As we put pettiness on the pedestal
And yearn to meddle in the petals
Of the roses that were frozen
For the sake of the chosen
By fate
To be the life of the event
But when strife is their intent
I find myself incensed
With problems I invent
My faults won't relent
My incessant repentance
Falls on deaf ears
Contempt it endears
But if we followed those apologies
Discoveries would be made
That'd somehow effect friendships
And their limits would be endless
But this party has a temptress
Wearing shiny things
Like expensive gold rings
We lust for the material
Forgetting the ethereal
Love becomes imperial
As we try to conquer each other
With kisses that feel like punches
And punches that feel like kisses
We want to break out of our solitude attendance
And our validation relies on another's dependence
When the music at the party
Is constant
Creating a craving for company
But the noises of social interaction
Never matched the beauty of the music
As life is weighed down by banality
We look to it's finality
And wonder if the party could've been different
Without the nuisance of the Devil's imprint
Last night I had a dream about you
We were at an event
Kissing passionately
And just as I was about to go down on you
You looked away
And saw other people watching
You pushed me away instinctively
And as you looked down at me
I could see the love of my only friend
Disappear behind an expression between disgust and pity
Right before I witnessed our friendship vanish completely
I woke up
Next to a cell phone
Conveying your invitation to an event
Unaware of the nightmare event I just attended with you
Unaware of all the other slumber parties we've been to
Unaware every moment I spend with you is the event
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC