"deceleration" poems
The way he mouths her name
His precise tone and articulation
sends her crazed and off the edge
a bliss with no resuscitation
Exploring every inch with callused touch and hesitation
Whispered moans in exclamations
His kiss. His body. Her adoration
They build their high in accumulation
Released in sync, their exhilaration
Silent physical communication
Coming down with slow deceleration
They meet eyes and mouths in gratification
to slowly fall in reveries
from their affair and liberation
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Need adventure Helicopter not included
I mentioned before California is like cereal it is full of fruits nuts and flakes well add Larry to the list he
Found himself out in the yard in a lawn chair and the unthinkable happened he come to the conclusion
He was bored now that just won’t do not in Los Angeles so to solve the problem he dashed down to the
Army surplus store bought a bunch of weather balloons stopped along the way got a tank of helium
Brought them home filled and tied the balloons to the lawn chair then tied the rope to his jeep went in
Got his pellet pistol sat down in the chair so with figuring at release he would float up thirty feet one or
Two ways to get down use the pellet gun shoot a couple of balloons float easily to the ground or if not
That you’re just about even with the top of the house surly you can get the house underneath you to
Jump Off on the roof now Larry wasn’t mechanical so anything to do with engineering was out what was
Is that wonderful feeling of being up there so he pulled the rope there was a slight difference in the
Expected feet not thirty but he shot up and leveled off at sixteen thousand feet ever feel your rope
Might be missing some length well if the thought ever crossed his mind about the pellet gun idea two
Things he was certain about he wasn’t bored and he didn’t want to shoot any balloons deceleration the
Other Way was not an option so what’s a not to bright Californian to do well besides holding on for dear
Life and freezing you added yourself into nature mixed bag nothing left to do but let nature do her thing
So eight hours later he drifts into the Los Angeles airport corridor of all people you would meet a pilot
Trying to land three hundred people calls the tower with this message I passed a man setting in a lawn
Chair with weather balloons and by the way he is at sixteen thousand feet and he has a gun to scrabble
F-16 would be too much even for California so good news for Larry they sent out just a Helicopter and
Brought the lame duck back to safety just another day in the state it’s hard to be surprised in but some
Still succeed
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
I mentioned before California is like cereal it is full of fruits nuts and flakes well add Larry to the list he
Found himself out in the yard in a lawn chair and the unthinkable happened he come to the conclusion
He was bored now that just won’t do not in Los Angeles so to solve the problem he dashed down to the
Army surplus store bought a bunch of weather balloons stopped along the way got a tank of helium
Brought them home filled and tied the balloons to the lawn chair then tied the rope to his jeep went in
Got his pellet pistol sat down in the chair so with figuring at release he would float up thirty feet one or
Two ways to get down use the pellet gun shoot a couple of balloons float easily to the ground or if not
That you’re just about even with the top of the house surly you can get the house underneath you to
Jump Off on the roof now Larry wasn’t mechanical so anything to do with engineering was out what was
Is that wonderful feeling of being up there so he pulled the rope there was a slight difference in the
Expected feet not thirty but he shot up and leveled off at sixteen thousand feet ever feel your rope
Might be missing some length well if the thought ever crossed his mind about the pellet gun idea two
Things he was certain about he wasn’t bored and he didn’t want to shoot any balloons deceleration the
Other Way was not an option so what’s a not to bright Californian to do well besides holding on for dear
Life and freezing you added yourself into nature mixed bag nothing left to do but let nature do her thing
So eight hours later he drifts into the Los Angeles airport corridor of all people you would meet a pilot
Trying to land three hundred people calls the tower with this message I passed a man setting in a lawn
Chair with weather balloons and by the way he is at sixteen thousand feet and he has a gun to scrabble
F-16 would be too much even for California so good news for Larry they sent out just a Helicopter and
Brought the lame duck back to safety just another day in the state it’s hard to be surprised in but some
Still succeed
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
Lets start with L,
who I've been through before.
Oh young love and how sweet it was.
I was watching Buffy when he first dropped
that L bomb.
Big word for such little kids.
But now he's a man,
constantly hiding behind his ego or insecurities,
And I'm not sure which to believe.
Musing on other things than M,
awkward and skinny,
whose voice I've never heard
and face I've only gotten in pictures.
But he's kind.
Which has to count for something,
even if he's doomed to the
friend zone. (DUNDUNDUNNNN)
Back up to B,
and, oh, all the characters I wrote for him
about him
a deceleration of suppression.
He did love me, I think,
but not the right way,
and he still doesn't.
She can have him.
And I hope he doesn't lose a good thing again.
Jump to J,
who only wants me for the V, T and A
(if you know what I mean).
Which is great, I guess,
but I need love
in my heart
and in my bones.
I only have enough for one person,
who isn't me.
And then A.
And god I love him.
And god I miss him.
He'll win every time.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
Fast.
Matter-less.
Moving through the city like photons.
She's never there like the stars...
muted gracelessly by carcinogenic light pollution.
Dark.
Empty.
Like a landfill where every day it's sunny.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
Light illuminates
my dis-entombed thoughts
on gilded kite
prodding dust patina
mellow mote drifts lilt
hoping not to puncture the membrane
– I run –
attempted lift
fresh soil turns under foot
tread and gait escalate
pocked path reverberates
my insistence to avoid puncturing
Deceleration
Halted earthen assault
I ****** with machination the aerial apparatus
prior to complete stagnation
Decrepit deceit eschewed
Again – I run –
taut paper snap
sheet lift
weightless message intones
in knotted vertebrae, and closed palm
my chest lifts in unison
diaphragmatic sigh punched hollow
rhapsodic finesse
privy to atmospheric secret
my hand translates the ethereal
smooth fluttering undulations
oscillating tugs, dives, and slay
Calligraphic flourishes echo the linguistic menagerie
Byzantine illustrations
Pellucid canvas drunk with dye
Evinced in muddled thought
The ink bleeds down the twine
indigo echoes of entombed vein 'neath flesh
Translucent pulse haunts taut string
furling arc – tensed tissue
acrobatic hydrofoil
tugs – glides – taunts
Ostensible horror conveyed in clenched palm
The ether curtly responds
Swift redirect
Sliced palm
Tethered scream evocation
cochineal deluge concedes
Deep purple liquid clings
Congealing - between sodden twine and palm
Whispering currents furl saturated line
into fresh groove, disturbing the clot
The wound bucks as flotsam
Relentless onslaught
I yield -
I release you
Your ethereal message tattooed into my palm
Some things were ne'er meant to be restrained
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
" According to the Earth's gravitational pull
He threw his handkerchief up,
Deceleration would take place as it goes up
And there, It'll always come down
May be hard hitting your head..."
But it didn't as it was stuck in a switched-off fan
Innocous, curious laughs poised the atmosphere
Breezed a wind of arrogance and disapproval
"Wait..", he hopped and uplifted by table
Attempt to rescue, tide, brand handkerchief
As he rotated the fan,
" G' morning Ma'am" bowed the class
There he was
In front of the honorable principal
Sweat-Wet, Stuck on the table
Bewildered in a circle of loopholes
She giggled, wished and said,
" Oh ..My inspections truly reveal me the unseen parts of the story
That must be an integrated fun learning"..
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
We are wig~gling the universe
one protein at a time
agitating the
fluctuations
of the eternal
cosmic slime.
Twisting and turning time.
Until we see 'The Beautiful"
the quent-essence,
we must jiggle, Aether.
Changing
dull to bright
day to night
width to height
all is light
goose bumps racing
up and down
my spine
always
make me giggle
:)
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
off along the wall, head
in clouds: dissemblance, smoothed,
covered, glistening. repetitions
in static, falling rain. repetitions
outside, under the porch. light
like waves in consistent motion
and removal. too many
names. too much love. swollen
up, like knotted deck timber
in this downpour. still and left
to walk home. alone, again.
happens all the time,
by choice; fine delusion. by
flames licking at the cusp. out
under the irreplaceable canopy
we're left, slowly rotating. soft
magnetic fields. candles encased
in ice. clear night. words tip in
enclosures of crisp unfolding
breath. significance. diffusion.
harmonicity. my analytic heart.
decomposition. won't sleep. won't
let out. your tender clasp. vines
wash up and around finger
tips, around ventricles. shuttin' down,
relentless deceleration. relenting
pace. pinched aorta. all under
some fictitious caress. some
later eventuality. some song
never uttered. not yet.
not just yet.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
My world is a fire of ash and iron
Burning desire and ashen wishes
My ears bleed with the warning siren
As if a hammers kisses'
Punch me in the chest
Breaking threw my sternum
All my verses for her are my best
But the blazing hammer demands I burn them
Charcoal confetti showers us
More than rice ever will
Brand me with our plea of trust
Then to our trust must we ****
Let us vanquish this blaze
Douse our fire under water
Let's think of the many ways
Let it graduate us as its alma mater
Like good students let's learn our lesson
So we don't have to bring eachother pain
Let us look at eachother and count it a blessin
Leave behind our crimson stain
But sooner or later one of us will fall off the deep end
So if not bit by fire
To the deepest depths we descend
Stabbed by our beloved Rose's briar
Into the depths of accusations
We arrive at the same vocation
Needing proper annotation
For a change in our relation
Tune us to a different station
So we can leave this filthy crustacean
Let be heard the deceleration
I'm moving to a different nation
Call it a love vacation
I'm leaving this deformation
This demoralization
This incarnation
But wait
What about desperation
For jubilation
And my reclamation
Of a chance for replication
With Reformation
Maybe a salvation
For our situation
Maybe threw communication
We can fix this obliteration
Of our love
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
we are descending
into an era where we
can ever see the truth again.
we are immersing
in a pool of black ink
and cold sharp pain
all over again
blinding us.
we are serenely
killing ourselves
drowning inside with no oxygen
to breath, to take in
we are decelerating
and the illusions won't stop
the fear won't disappear
and death is
the sound we'll never hear.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
In this limited mother tongue
by which I communicate to you,
all I can call it is love.
Cannot express through the utterance
of a single word, if a father holds
a daughter in his arms for the first
time with a smile like the glowing light
of the full moon, looks at his wife
and says, you're both so beautiful.
This thing we call love cannot articulate
the husband and wife, who married as teenagers
have been together for seventy years:
stood by each other, with barely any food,
thanked God for what they had;
and when he could no longer stand,
then she would pause beside him.
Nor can it show the heart struck newly weds
eager to be just like them.
Love does not express the emotions
of adolescence. Doesn't define a deceleration
with flowers, chocolates, or teddy bears. Nor
tell me if we're in a Romeo and Juliet
fin'amour named true love.
My language has been redefined
through technology and celebrities.
But fundamental element, binding our souls
is spread so thin, how could be defined?
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
If it don't make dollars
Then it don't make sense
Make cents, doesn't it?
I'm in life's drivers seat
But I don't have the gumption to gun it
Really own it, run it
Because of this consistent deceleration
My opinion on myself is really suffering to degradation
It's like Germany's currency after world war one
Worthless, wordless, like an unloaded gun
You ever know you deserve better but can't find anybody worth the time?
Yes I know I've whined constantly about this topic in rhyme
But it annoys me and breaks my heart at the same time
So if it don't make dollars it don't make sense, at least for now that's what I find
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
the speedometer that measures the
acceleration and deceleration of
time in our lives journey is
remarkably similar to the one
we employ in our vehicles
intra moment we can move from
slowness to rapidity in minuscule
amounts of seconds, all the while,
those few bursts of being high, are
parcel of a longer cross country trip
that could be calculated in years,
decades, even life-spans
though we lack the visual imprimatur
upon our eyes of our exact speed most
times, we always have in our possess
a notional beginning and ending
we take a trip to grocery store, up/down
to NYC, fly to Paris just because, and return
home to bury and burn loved ones,
witnesses and fellow travelers to the
longer segments of our irregularly
configured continuum
here, you sigh, why, do you trouble us
with this obvious observation when
we have so much to do, so many roles
to don, and the kids need milk for cereal,
which is a thirty minute round trip that
should have not been necessary had
we “organized our moments of movement
far better organized!*
perspicacity.
this word has been mindful for me for a
days, while bits and bobs, of a poem’s
composition blurted up and out, in
some disarray, while the mind, tries
to collect them all, all for one, for
later collation and an unknown
destination
the wisdom to see down the road.
to plan accordingly, when we can oft
not see around the next corner,
or even the next single steps we “plan”
to take, made without any thought
thereof
is there a poem in here, somewhere, Oh Sinner-man?
perhaps…or, just an indifferent end?
Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 5:02 PM UTC
Deceleration of my sigh,
In church , A priest with a cassock,
Averred his massive lesson,
"Life , a maze or meander"
Thee in life chapter,
Caged in unexpected labyrinth,
A diversion in everyone's life,
Why? "Verged on obsession"
For beloved love ,
In strength of malice,
Bah ! Stabbing thou parent's heart,
For that lowly bubble relationship.
Thy spellbound to tyrannous friendship,
Swound , with a fissure in your brain,
For that loon, For that false friend,
You keep aside the whole world.
By thou Senator,
All fair in Almighty's home,
Incident always strand your life,
Which open your blind eyes.
Quoth the Priest,
" With o'er taking wings,
Chase your dreams and humanity,
Make your Parent elated "
Live with reminiscents for smile,
"Make a go of it "
"Rise to fame and Fortune"
To touch only the pious dust of Almighty's feet.
My Allah , heal these artless creatures,
Till the doom doomsday,
Keep them out of this cruel lifely labyrinth,
Keep blessing them with your holy benediction.
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
To the terracotta freckled green eyed boy,
I am not in love with you anymore
If I had told myself that this would happen, I would have told you that you were horribly wrong
Dear boy,
When I see you
my heart does not tap away morse code with heartbeats trying to tell you the extent of my affection
I do not dream of a future with you
Or what our daughter would look like and what she would call your parents
I do not shiver at the thought of joining our bodies in deceleration of our love
covering ourselves in sweat and humanity
I used to call the curve of your neck and the safety of your arms around me home
But I have learned that home is not you, a house, or anyone
It is myself
I will love myself to the ends of the earth
I will learn the curves and nooks of my body
Fall in love with myself because I am courageous and beautifully made
I am not in love with you anymore because I fell in love with myself
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 2:48 PM UTC
Ode
to the Red Line.
Thine gentle deceleration
doth end in fervent lurch.
I fall.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC