"correlating" poems
I planted a seed underneath the concrete; unable to feed it what it needed, it seemed obsolete.
Aware of the complications to this plants creation, stationary I stood depending on faith to advocate me in my dedication.
As I waited for the rose to rise, I rose my head to look up at the sky; wondering why a guy like me is doing this and why I'm even trying.
I guess I just wanted to see beauty penetrate the tough surface giving it the purpose to teach me that beauty lies within each person.
The hard reality that everyone else sees on the outside fails to expose the rose underneath; so the cracks in the concrete are all that they see and all that they know allowing beauty to seem surface deep.
If they stuck around to see what's in the ground, the very foundation that reveals the variation of our souls, they would know that beauty can be seen even from the deepest of holes.
After much debating, contemplating and waiting, I had concentrated on a view so intoxicating; even correlating with my previous statement.
There I saw in front of me, a healthy, black rose that broke through; unknown as to how it changed its hue, it did what I didn't think it'd be able to do: it grew through the barrier into something new, teaching me that even a plant can do it, too.
Although the mystery of it's dark beauty is still a surprise, I won't question it; just make the best of it and understand that it came through, despite what may have tested it.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
It is a beautiful day in my world.
The sun is shining, my skin is glowing,
Everything around me sings into my heart
In red, yellow and orange.
The world is playing me a beautiful song, in the perfect key,
And I wish I could save you.
I wish I could save you on days like today,
Days that are worth all the fight.
On days that chocolate tastes even sweeter than the day before,
And every hair on my head falls into place,
When I have all the answers to every question I ask myself,
And all of my thoughts find correlating words,
I wish I could save you.
There are days that make me so happy to be alive,
Days I know don’t come very often for you.
And on these days I pray for you.
I hope that one day the tiles in a new place won't make your skin crawl,
And I hope you’ll go to your grandchildren’s graduations without feeling unsafe.
Because no one can hurt you here, not with me around.
I spend these beautiful days hoping that you’ll make it to your next.
On my favourite, most rewarding days,
I spend the night wishing I could save you.
But it’s always the hard days that get me.
On days that make my stomach turn before I even leave my bed,
I think about what it’s like to feel this fear persistently.
When I wake up woozy with unease for no good reason,
And my body is too heavy, my heart is too weary to brave this world,
I think about how it must feel to always feel this way.
And I wish I could call you to tell you I’m too scared today,
Too scared to appreciate all that lead up to this.
But I live with innocence that you never had the privilege of having.
And I want to save you.
I want to absorb all of the things that you feel into my body and suffocate them with my love.
So I don’t, I don’t call you and I don’t tell you about the pain in my heart because yours is bigger,
So much bigger that it envelopes me,
Covers my mouth and pulls at the pit of my stomach.
On these days I wish I could save you out of my own selfishness.
Because I want to call you,
Want you to tell me I’m safe,
And no crying.
There are days when everything falls apart,
There have to be, or else how would I learn to put it back together?
You told me there are some things that can’t be fixed,
Like the traumatized mind.
Because you can’t fix your brain, only learn to live with a broken one.
I could listen to those words as many times as you repeat them to me,
And I know you will,
But I will always want to change them.
And I will always want to save you.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
*None would imagine,
a benign imp,
blithe, light footed
triggers a surge
of aesthetic spasms
******* of the brain,
moves incognito
on this high podium
beside your chair
when you
read your poem
just like when you're
in a creative reverie
Every time it's a mystery
how she sets music
within every word
how then a rhythm
in progression
is unleashed
flowing in to your
poetic musings
to create an image concrete,
correlating to the wave
beating in your brain
Heart, soul and spirit
merge in to one
poetic words to mark
what your being gathered
from spring flower fields
and scorched earth alike
all the poet gathered
at the receiving end
of the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune,
is set in tune,
all of you gathered here
for the poetry session
walking through the labyrinths
inebriated by poetic wine,
munch yourself bit by bit
in the cadence of poetic beats,
as past, present and dreams
in many small instalments
pour in from the beginning.
What the poet offers
takes, each one listener
to a world different,
one begets many
images proliferate.
They will relish all this
and be born again
within themselves
later on, leisurely with light
peeping out of their eyes,
an alchemy none can explain*
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
You might say I am talented, and talented am I
But maybe not the way in which you're thinking
My words may seem so balanced as they bleed before your eyes
But the veins from which they spill are badly torn
The peace that I have wanted only seems fit to comply
Scarcely randomly between each effort's sinking
It is my greatest challenge to find beauty in the lies
And the tragedies now endlessly reborn
I tell myself each instance, it won't be like times before
But repeatedly, I doubt the words I'm saying
Even though I know the future has such miracles in store
My worries and my fears come out to play
Instead of having patience, I embrace what I abhor
'Til what little peace I've found, I am forsaking
And I find it that much harder to keep holding out for more
Through the torment of such never ending pain
So, I write down every word of which I need to hear the most
The very words I often speak to others
And arrange them in a way I know I'll keep them very close
And reflect on them each time I lose my way
But, as my understanding seems to venture oh so close
To the truths that I so often seem to smother
The party starts all over, and I play the gracious host
Entertaining every doubt in every way
What seems like creativity so sanely resonating
Is emotion never making up its mind
Although it may seem natural, each time, I'm hesitating
Almost never satisfied with what I say
So many imperfections in the art that I'm creating
But I blend them in the best way I can find
'Til the beauty of the heartache and the pain so devastating
Ring out true for me as madness leads the way
My writing helps me through each darker day that's always waiting
And the storms which come to rage within my mind
Even in this reading, some of you are now relating
As you see the bitter truth in what I say
Don't focus on the way that I arrange my conversating
Focus on the messages within the rhymes
For my talent isn't in the way the words are correlating
It's in showing, just like you, I'm not okay
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Life doesn't make sense.
That's the one thing I've come to make sense of.
The way you feel,
and the way I feel
never seems to be correlating from day to day.
One day I'll be madly in love
and you'll ask for some space.
Rejectedly I sit and ponder how we even began.
I doubt every beautifully blissful moment.
I get scared.
Alone.
Afraid.
All sanity that I once had,
as miniscule as that was,
ceases to exists.
The next day you're fine.
You reach for me.
You embrace me with the warmth of your lips and the tingling of your fingertips.
But I pull away.
And so we begin again,
our quest to make sense
of what doesn't make sense.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
this is love when you're tied down
this is love when you're never found
i am writing to your last life
correlating new fights
lessons learned
found your turn
carved it in your eyes
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 7:53 PM UTC
earthen and underexposed, I've never
needed someone as ravenously as I do you --
my environment secondary and the correlating perception laced with my association of you
I plead the fifth -- with my being aching to share
my existence with you, only you
your energies balance me and, magnetic, we resonate off one another
harmonious and guilty -- for I've brushed my lips along yours in sin,
and she's done the same in vow.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC
A heart beat, so soft and sweet.
The red rose grew, for thee eyes to seep through.
The love thy felt, no words could tell;
For underneath the disguise lies beauty that hides.
A gentle touch, deceives much,
For thee to speak, confusion emotions make thy weak.
Heart ache not for pain, but mystical devotions scream thy name.
Endeavoring to be stole thy strength,
Inquiring what is real, correlating to what is fake.
Feeling condemned in one’s life, scavenging for more time
No more time to think, for this thy see;
Thy judgment will soon be received.
Though vow I looked upon, I once held in my arms;
But now it devoured, clock ticks another hour.
Thy sin remained, pour down the rain.
I can’t recant what thy tongue divulges;
So forgive thee, seize thy all.
For thee don’t obtain much;
Thy apologetics are just simple words, a prayer.
Though thy not worthy I call upon,
One that makes thee forgives, forget
Even the little things that hold thy pain back.
Uncommitted to do what’s right, just what’s wrong to thee eye.
Thy depleted all I could, nothing left for thee;
So let thee be.
Here thy am crying,
Wondering why, when they only going to die.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
every night
i lay on my side
as miniscule tears
leak out the corner of my eye
stinging the skin
they seep down.
it's 3:51 am
and I'm realizing that
my body
is correlating
itself with
your vacant heartbeats.
i think of you
and all that you promised
and wonder if
these promises
remain,
and my body reacts.
i begin to overheat
and get worked up;
my veins jump and
my fingers twitch.
i distract myself
long enough to cool myself down
(to a more appropriate for the mood
frigid temperature)
but just as fast as
a rubber band
snaps back into shape,
you creep back
over the threshold
of my bruised thoughts,
and i begin to heat up
once more
thinking of how
the sun shines out of your ***
and that to me
the stars are
in your eyes.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
I haven't been honest.
Chaz only sends me snaps of
bunched rosettas, I want to tell
him, *move your pitcher back
as the stacks form so that you
get a more elongated pour*
but I don't want to deter him
from correlating steamed milk
and espresso with my name, so
I don't. And he has a new girlfriend
now with slim fingers and defined nostrils
that make me think of Audrey Hepburn, so
at first I tried to insert myself into their bubble
to be a part of their happiness or maybe just
Audrey's beautifully sculpted features. But
to be honest I stopped talking to him
back in May or March because we had
this sort of thing that I didn't know
how to handle and so many girls
had handled his **** since then,
since me, that nothing felt like
it held any concrete significance,
pursuing whatever it was that I
was pursuing, would not make
me feel any more whole, which
was what I was aiming for.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
A concept consists of a series of correlating ideas.
(The bees are on fire)
An idea is the interplay of memory and imagination.
(There is butter in my coffee)
Memory is what happens when a sense experience is recorded with language.
You can't go wrong with a song about a horse.
In an effort to feel:
Eat beets.
take drugs.
Let recordings of the vibrations of the vocal chords of strangers captured by equipment transport you.
Pete and repeat were on a boat. Pete fell off. Who is left? Repeat. Pete and repeat were on a boat. Pete fell off. who is left?
What if there were many men?
Do you contradict yourself? Very well then. You contradict yourself.
Oh and when you come back on Friday you all have to be gay.
Great white whales glide glistening gently through the sweet butter *** of my mother's voice.
Each tine of my spine like the spokes of a Fork is a notch on the belt of a God I can't know.
Every car holds a human going somewhere.
We are all alone together in the traffic on the highway.
You have your drugs but not your woman to take.
I refuse this poem.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
we need it
because
it is
gawking at infinity
correlating entropy
I dissolves discerning
obscurity-beauty
caught upon the winds
of fevered
irreducibility
quickening our desires
to ascend
proving
(in no regular sense)
that our fragments
are nothing
but a prelude
to a whole-plane
perspective
and all our ends
are woven
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Him.
The light I see in the stormy abyss that is ever changing.
I want to be poetic but to be honest
I just love the reality of it all.
The sweet sound of his voice at 3 a.m.
The tickle of his curly cued brown mane.
The way my heart sings whenever I feel close.
I have lived in the way of the isolated for so long
I have forgotten the euphoria that comes along with love.
I had given up on adoration long ago and now
I find myself finding things I would think you would like
The idea of us correlating throughout time
The way of us finding each other each time
You You You
You are the one I feel.
And I just ramble when thinking of you
God I don't even know what I'm saying but
I know, this beaten and bruised heart
is forever yours.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
You know sometimes I need to re-familiarize exactly what was so present i have realized.
Correlating between these eyes.
A delicate beautiful world arises upon a soul you became to adore.
May wield caution with a heart I pour.
Her atmosphere tends to bewilder you,
Be wary of her fragile nature.
As I construct this sentence to construe.
As I trace the portraiture of her.
The subtle silence of her breaths resonates unspoken words you are face upon.
Its a tragedy of the death of such expressions that belong.
As they seem to lose there authenticity.
Admittedly i confess she may be just a mystery.
Along with the nights that transmute to day, except ill never stray.
Time lost in the conjuction ..
Just can't help to notice the foreign Construction of her essence.
As it may appear as a pleasance.
Don't get to entranced.
Cause you just may miss the chance.
As appealing as her resonation seems.
A composure to redeem as I drift upon her dream.
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC
i know who i am.
i know i'm boring and i'm not the brighest star in the sky.
you said you loved me and you said you cared.
that was until you found someone shinier and a correlating personality.
i know who i am.
i know i shouldn't, and i don't, expect you to stay by my side even when i want to draw blood.
but there was a part of me, a huge part of me,
that wanted you to stay.
that part of me felt like you're my soulmate.
so here i am,
i will love you from the backseat.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC
i talked you asleep last night
our eyes could light up this fire
so tired and contrite
we were cold, yet burning in our lies
my heart rate dropped till 3
not worth a **** to emphasize
correlating all our fears
and dying deep inside
we tried to meditate
those breaths, called on me
sunrise lit up the sky
where is love without a fee
where is love without a fee...yea
where is love without a fee...yea
i walked you to the right,
hadn't taken a left in years
our veins consumed by blight,
withering away from our tears.
You speak those fabled favorites that I've yet to hear, and casually confront my years,
You speak those fabled favorites that I've yet to hear, and casually confront my years.
lying in the cradle,
as sin falls on me,
my arms are still unable
to hug your belief,
hesitant from the labels
you branded purposely.
i talked you asleep last night....shhushh. yeah
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
doth thee see it?
pinned upon thy forehead,
truth blinded by thy sight,
angst scabbing thy ****** soul,
conditions correlating thy inaction,
reprieving evils salient of deeds,
aye, evil which thee abhor,
did praise in passive insolence - silence,
though extending ten praises to sky,
while perfection in joyous song,
devotion though earnestly dear,
message so adamantly wrong,
awash thy hands of did stray abandon,
re-read works of a Son to thy Father,
feel pain in abduction, hate, slaughter,
then ask thyself where thee falter...
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
You’re talking too yourself
Causing a lot of the same mistakes
The problems you’re faced with
Stare at your soul
All the way from the eyes
Straight down too your heart
Shooting right back up to the mind
Embracing it all with whatever soul your will has left to look at with
Constantly reading your own book
Correlating corrections with so many errors
Concentrating on the void of the infinite mirror
The faults
The beauties
Loving it all
Till all of it
Falls
Don’t look in the mirror
Getting lost in a world
That’s really never been there
Talk to your soul
Tell it, you love it
Don’t look in the mirror
Searching for fear
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
Haunting glades
ruffled by wind
starlit serenades
envelopes souls unwound
the darkness's Æthered aura
on these marrowed hills
the silken moons glazed glow
belays the nights chilling light
correlating perused solitude of
preluding constructs
condemning intentions and
facilitated goals
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC