"decode" poems
Ilion gray
poet extraordinary
is away
learning the codes hidden in raindrops
no reason for surprise;
for the mountains of Brooklyn, the Manhattan caverns of Sunhenge^, corridors of narrow focus for trapping the declining sun rays,
neither high enough, narrow blinding,
to keep a good man from doing good things that life provides as opportunities
to do the right thing
he muses that it took five years for the other poets to understand our
poem-dreams;
avant-garde he says,
but I laugh,
never felt more misunderstood
and reply take care, be
en garde!
no matter for he is learning a new language,
the codes hidden in raindrops in a land of wheat
once called Indian Territory and eager
await his return so we may
walk along the Brooklyn shoreline,
beginning from under the Brooklyn Bridge
where Washington’s men escaped a British trap
and he can decode for me the whispery thunderous noises of
NY
showers that come up so sudden, so roughened, but right now,
the seductive sun blinks in Manhattan windowed towers reflecting back on to our East River as golden blinks of nature
We will walk lost in the absorption of our
different commonalities, holding the hands of
his young son, and my Wendy,
both of them equal in possession of round saucer eyes
that give us poems
He calls me me friend,
I call him brother, teacher, master, better than the best,
well recalling a late night message that bred
a five year conversation ongoing
not everything need be coded
what you read here
it is not coded,
for the raindrops come clear and clean
and the poems land on our tongues
bounce on the foreheads and eyes of the babes, all stored and saved for the future blessings spoken in a single tongue
7/18/18
^https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattanhenge
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
Drawing images using some words
Telling some stories that are unheard
Stealing the moment, freezing the time
Killing the beast that vultures the mind
Spilling blood, the pen is our knife
Collecting traces from this mysterious life
Connecting dots to create a line
Polishing stones to make it shine
Our words are riddles, a must to decode
Giving multiple key for them to unload
The meaning of some could make readers insane
If wrongly unlock it will conquer their brain
We are a shape-shifter just like the cloud
Painting angels and demons to enlighten the crowd
Hoping they’ll listen to our joy and our pain
Wishing they’ll get the lesson of our every rain
11/03/2015
Mysterious Aries
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Keep rolling, like sailing, rowing the science voyage.
Discovering a new discovery, then much happens:
a new crescent, new moon on a new turn is found,
yet a night to be invented eclipses it furthermore.
Will the voyage float at the newest dark energy frontier?
Will it now pierce verily the virgin-skinned heaven’s last barrier
that divides the seen and unseen, holds the uncharted water?
Will it by design decode or recite the word, the language
the lock is coded in, the very command written on the stone?
Till then it won’t move, nor does one see the skin black or white,
and till then one won’t stop the sun lighting up the night!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Yeah I totally love being single!
You can do what you want whenever you want without obligations or having to think about anyone else you can flirt shamelessly with as many guys as you like, there is no pressure to look good for anyone I love that I have all this me time where I can spend a Saturday night reading and listening to the music I like without trying to decode mixed signals in text messages
I never have to depend on anyone but myself.
No one is stressing me out by depending on me.
I can sit by myself on the couch home alone when everyone else is out
And feel completely isolated, unloved and unlovable
I can feel so ugly and obsess over it
I can scroll through pictures of pretty celebrities and models and girls I know online bitterly wishing I looked like them and could be like them so that maybe someone would notice me and give me a chance
I can scream at the radio for playing stupid love songs
I can eat ice cream and chocolate wondering why I am such a waste of space
Thinking of all the guys who have rejected me and dropped me over the years
Have no one to love
Or who loves me
No guy I can trust with my secrets and loyalty
No one who needs me
No one to want
Or make me feel wanted
To spend nights together
Just talking
And watching movies
Being cutesy and flirty with
Lie hand in hand with
No one I can gush about to my friends
No one I can bake for
No one I can buy stuff for, just 'cause
No one I can do random couples stuff with
No one in my life
It's pretty great.
I love being single.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Some say I entertain
But I write to maintain
My own **** down my own lane
You want **** go ask mane
Maybe I ask for fame
Probably go for the money and dames
Go on rari's and cadi's instead of trains
Or atleast go lit over all my mains (If I had some)
Everybody I know now they stains
One thing to another so quick they been prayin
For justice, to be loved, some **** they all be sayin
Maybe y'all expect me to be slayin
But nah I am payin
Taxes and rent I owe
From this person I been fakin
Maybe now I'm on a low
Started off high but **** happens you know
Like riding a car and you get stopped to tow
Maybe I look worse, dusty like I came from the dough
Or ***** as **** like my other boys' fro
But for real tho
No roast no show
Maybe I need this to grow
Harsh when you on your own on the road
I'm seeing **** too early hoppin like a toad
Like seeing a video on youtube and it forgot to load
Probably changed so much I am hard to decode
May be considered weird but I guess that's my mode
So I don't write to entertain
I don't want all that fame
**** the world now I love the train
But I write to explain.
One's mind trying to be sane
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
i used to cradle her bleach-cracked hands in mine
and decode the stardust resting within her fingerprints
up until the day that i lost touch with the art of reading braille
and she stopped slinging tall-tales for me to fetch
and rest the plot-twist at her feet
often in the post-script
i'd find my train of thought highjacked by the sunlight illuminating the rainbow of earth-tones ablaze
in her frizz-ridden curls
as if she'd been washing her hair with the damaged case of beer
she'd gotten for half-price at liqour depot
she never did quit drinking
but neither did i
at least we tried
though sometimes
in the middle of the night when nothing was alright
and we'd barely survived another fight
her face would catch my glance
cast aglow by a flood of lava-lamp light
the sea of freckles resting at the crest of her cheeks
rose lips perma-pursed in half tilt
her resting heart-rate so high that i could almost see it
pirouetting within her chest
it was then that i'd love her best
amidst the ruins of who we were
just moments before
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
As a child I was taught poetry
the quiet writing of feelings reflections
often in a beat with a rhyme and a few examples of alliteration
I was taught that as a woman my feelings
should be hid and kept quiet
that when I liked a boy it was not my place
to ask him whether he liked me back
I was taught to look out for myself by not dressing slutty
not walking home late at night
I was taught that my curvy figure would make people
question my morals my virginity my character
I was taught that as a girl I won't be as successful in math or science
I was taught to give myself to other pursuits
in liberal arts or domestic dealings
I was taught that even if by some miracle I found success in the fields where I "wouldn't be successful"
that I would and should give it up in a heart beat to raise a family
I was taught that I must share my feelings
my emotions my struggles
but not in a loud and open way
I had to remain quiet cool composed
Poetry was to be my outlet, written in couplets sonnets and verse
quiet and held inside written on paper
stored away from the world
to be read inside the mind
by others- men, teachers, parents
in order to decode me
and learn how to
keep
me
silent
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
*Get me to be
a soul liberated
from every
attachment
it could be.
I want to want
nothing from anywhere
not want to get
tempted
by things unnecessary
get myself bound to
what will be my
downfall
The soul needs nothing
it is to be free
but my own flaws
have made it
not so
that it could go
as it pleases
What is that one really needs
with no one else be depleted
all the seed, sign of lives
but with greed
everything dies
Devoid of true knowledge
what is I seek
I see myself so very weak
my vision so blinded
my eyes itself closes
that I cannot see
the lies will bite
the anger will burn
my own journey
with karma
it will come back on me
I wait
as I expect them
coming to me
My sins who will wash for me?
my thoughts
why they never sided me
they followed the down path
got me to fuss on things
over all the nothings
never mattered to me
the body detoriates
every day, every second passes
My mind forget
what it remembers
I speak no tales, but riddles
what sense
I try to formulate
This time who will be
the one to get it to decode
the mysteries
the real truths
which could liberate
but to think deeper
what really is
the answer lies very deep within
much closer than
who you are actually really.*
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
All my dreams
Are black and white
Colorless meaning
While I'm dreaming
Featureless faces
Claw at my flesh
A man?
A woman?
This dream is a mess
All I see
Are Cold black eyes
Frostbite burns
Between my thighs
Lost in darkness
another nightmare
I look for a savior
But you're not there
No knight in shining armor
To whisk me away
No tattooed prince
To save the day
Just me
Alone
In a twisted state
Fetal position
The shape I take
You'd think I'd know better
At this point in life
My dreams
by no means
resemble real life
Metaphors always
scramble my brain
I try to decode
Just to stay sane
Awake from my slumber
And all I can think…
Why can't I dream
In tangerine?
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Lying beneath trees in the heat of the day cannot possibly be compared to any other pastime: to watch the light toy with the leaves, shining bright and brighter in the ever-changing gaps in the leaves turned dark by the shadow. The interplay between the light and the leaves in ever-ongoing banter and they hate to quit their game when the sun moves too far beneath the horizon for the light to reach above the boughs and must return to its source. The wind plays a part in the sport as well, when it rustles the leaves and causes a sparkle in the variance of illumination. Tortoiseshell patterns scatter along your limbs and features and tumble off the cliffs of your sides into the grass you recline on. The filter of light casts playful interlocking patterns of light and dark impossible to decode without the proper encryption, forever lasting while the world speeds past their lazy game.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
I took the high road
while you were catching a plane.
We didn't put efforts to decode
instead we became strangers again.
I took the yellow pills
while you were dancing in the rain.
We never climbed uphill
instead we became strangers again.
I took the therapy
while you were inside my brain.
We never resolved our issues
instead we became strangers again.
I disappeared into the thin air
cause' you never felt my pain.
We were never meant for each other,
that's why we became strangers again.
-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
***I don't feel like doin' anything
I don't feel like writin' a poem
I miss my bed, I want to go home
I don't want to move, I can't lift my bone.
I'm too lazy to think of words
My fingers cannot even write this verse
Not moving an inch would be worse
Oh I want to eat something, where's my purse?
I don't feel like goin' outside
I don't want to eat my meal tonight
I don't want to think and decode this byte
I'll sleep, watch movies, eat popcorn... bye.***
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
unravel my thoughts,
like a bunch of necklaces tangled together.
unscramble my words,
like a puzzle.
decode the meanings behind my Instagram captions,
to try to understand my ways.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
You are too old for your looks, dear gentleman
Dear gentleman, you are much too spry
You jump like a wallaby, dear gentleman
And you run much faster than I
When I am snoozing, dear gentleman
You wake me up,
Because you’re hungry for food
Dear gentleman, I was sleeping
I find this, at times, very rude
Dear gentleman, you don’t go outdoors very much
You always stay inside
Watching the birds taunting you
This really must hurt your pride
When I leave the house, dear gentleman
You stay standing guard
Dear gentleman, I must praise you
For this job must be very hard
Dear gentleman, you don’t speak English
You speak some foreign tongue
I cannot understand you, dear gentleman
I can’t decode the songs you’ve sung
Dear gentleman, I must thank you
For you a such a good friend
You and I, dear gentleman
What a pleasant blend!
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
Simplicity is so simple that
our mind are not well informed
in it's simple formation.
Simplicity is the ultimate
form of sophistication.
In it there are complexities
and it's quite interwoven.
Beautiful in its form.
It shows us the beauty of
creation telling its own stories
with peculiar history.
Nature is so deep and
captivatingly beautiful.
Intriguing in its own way
and profoundly awesome.
It's amazing how much of
it we really know.
Its so confounding how
many people really comprehends
the principle back of it.
In simplicity nature speaks.
Spirals of things visible are
so complex that it's configuration
and formulas are of simple nature,
only to be deciphered by a simple mind.
The mind of man is sophisticated
and complex but simple.
It's rhythm pulsates within the
intricate formation of the spirit behind it
making it one of the most simple
but not so understood things of nature.
Like a jigsaw puzzle it's sophisticated
complexity is made simple by a sound mind.
The mind has to be disciplined
to decode it's hidden ciphers.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
Mercies at juxtapositional refinement
Abandoned constitutional confinement
Handshakes on the bridged ligaments
The sweet melodious serene dreams fleets
One after the other like peculiar inventions
The mellow scenes of frames realignments
Wonderful crafted words verses paradigm
Harmonic jazz awesomeness, decode freeness
Orchestral spontaneity drills pragmatic energy
Yet, as the gingered steams rise from the hot brew
The scented breeze of life vaticinates with a smile afar
Whispers of "no obligation, no expectations" reverbs..... on and on....on and on
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
the moving shadows of
the men gathering
flicker in my vision
cause me to ponder the moment
in a way i had not seen before
cause me to fracture the vision
to decode the meanings in
each mans motion
each mans meaning
her long black hair entangles my head
as dose her deep long looking
her neat clean eyes frighten me
with their possibilitys
with their depth
with their hot beauty
it is not my place to find
a place in this womans life
i am but a distraction to her
somthing to occupy the moment
to phish for lost keys
in sections of some dreadlock music
she erased poems to fit onto the kindle
she removes her shirt
to rinse out the sweat
in the tidal pool
a young woman nearby stops
and stares
smiles when they meet eyes
and i am surfing my beach bike alone
walking it
home?
where am I
where am i going?
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
You lack honestly
The mere bluntness I seek
Your shadowed emotions
Hidden, masked
Behind blurred,
Mixed signals
Submerged in frustration
Confusion
Trying to decode
Your thoughts
Your actions
Your words
Do they mean nothing?
Or is there something here?
A small spark to a flame
Growing at a brisk pace
Or perhaps its the end
The end of hope
My hope
You call me
Text me
Hug me
Even kiss me
You tell me how much I mean to you
How much you trust me
Then you stop
Not only do you lack honesty
But you are indecisive
Your emotions shadowed
Trapped, confined
Behind blurred,
Mixed Signals
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
When you talk to me
I can only smile
Your voice, it gives me chills.
But for every word
That your mouth forms
My mind receives scrabble pieces
Shaken in a bottle.
You laugh and shine
Like summer time.
But I can only smile
Your meaning evades me,
But I adore you so.
For now I'll watch you.
Lift my heart up,
And send me more riddles
As I try to decode
This message in a bottle.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
I hope my words reach you.
I hope they pace through your mind
and make you think of
who you are and
what you did
all the time.
I hope you read them.
then read them again.
and again.
over and over until you drown in them
when the metaphors and the tear-stained
phrases wash over your body like
I once did.
I hope you think about your past
and see why
it never could last
and realize why I have to
distance myself from you.
even though sometimes I get this urge
this urge that stronger than the
push and pull of the moon and our waves
to send you a message.
just one.
It'd read something like "I miss you. even though
I'm not supposed to miss you I do
and I can't go a day without having you
stroll through my thoughts"
but I can't.
we weren't meant to be together now, maybe never.
but I hope you read this words
and decode them like you do
music. and see that 75% of my poetry
has been about YOU. and I just can't help myself.
read my words.
listen to me.
but don't act on it.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
When her eyes sparkle does it make mine seem dim
deep into your eyes I swim
deeper and deeper
trying to find a trace
a crack of weakness where you drop the armour and let me read your face
But you remain forevermore unreadable like a book in a language unknown to me,
for others girls to read and decode what you are thinking inside, the world that you see
So I take my thoughts from your eyes, take out my paper and pen..to try to solve the puzzle that is you but end up rhyming yet again.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
A bit of sunshine
A bit of magic will do
Not a big banquet
Not too many people
Maybe a little privacy
Maybe a little "my time"
For midnight,
Be it your soft kisses
My family,Oh dear!
Not fancy cake surprises
And as I sleep in your arms
May I dream a paradise
Not money,nor hard cash
Mornings be like,
A slight nip in the air
Sunrise from my bedroom
Not zillion missed messages
I want the day,at peace
Like a poet's wish
Simple,chaste,crystal clear
Not fake "Happy Birthdays"
I want the day,
Maybe full of good vibes
Among true people,
Among trustworthy friends
Not mere acquaintances.
As I drove past,
The air,
I want to feel it,
Making my hair dance
I wanna face its coldness
The soft stiffness upon my cheeks
Not mere cigarrate puffs
I cherish a memorable picture
Over trillion pout-faced selfies
Well,all for my birthday,
I want to cut,
This citys' madness
Not just chocolate cakes
Take me far away as you can
To rugged mountains,to blue rivers
Fairytale isnt it,
I want it real
Just the scenario in front of my eyes
Searching for you,
I hope to see you by me,the next time
I wanna blow dandelions
Not just burning candles
I wanna run past the barren fields
Dressed up in florals
Not the dark glittery blacks'
Well,all for my birthday.
I wanna live these moments
Tyind to decode this one day
Not snazzy gifts,nor over-the-top clicks
I want my birthday to be like,
I am just 17
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
Let me straddle your mind until I'm confined
to the empty spaces you refuse to acknowledge ,
taking hostage the inhabitants of this grand mental escape ,
I equate this mission to landing on the moon - you consume
every fiber of my being I intrude ,
wishing to know what you are thinking
it sort of ****** me off when you choose *** over celibacy
just assume it's my jealousy I'd rather have your mind than head
as we lay here in bed I listen to the breath that escapes the dark carven of your lips ,
you kiss me so softly with vocabulary I hear clearly how deep you crave me,
such a sweet sentiment from a sapio ******
someone who can fornicate my mental with intellectual ,
you eat out my riddles and digest philophosy
have me shaking feeling close to God see ,
we get bare naked to the truth
Exposing absolute equations and reasons why , I sigh .
Gagging on your brilliance
you present such increments of human creativity ,
swallowing your mysteries
stroke me close and slow
fill me to capacity with the knowledge of you
tell me the truth you love to **** me
with your words You encourage this insanity
This perplexing wet whirl of words gushes ,
and i demand to see the length of your lyrical havoc
I wish to kiss and grab the sensual sentences you string together
& nothing could compare to the pleasure when we intertwine our minds .
It's ridiculous how meticulous you are with my mental
we lay there , gasping sinful in sections of ecstasy
i watch you vividly , react to my melodic passion
i hold on - grasping my fingertips around your brain
you dig deeper and in pain i give you my vunerability
I .LET . YOU . FEEL . ME
speaking languages I forgot i knew
yet I know I cant dispute
our connection from confessing the truth
you sparked theories bigger than any bang
articulating art using slang
we decode out way of conduct
it was just pure luck we ****** through conversation
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
Search, understand, make sense of the signs
As universal energy illuminates our minds
Sceptical at times but in essence we believe
There's celestial truth in all that we percieve
Recurrently pushed down rocky roads
But those rocks have been placed there for us to decode
Realisations, higher selves, awakened minds
Take those lessons forward and the light you'll find
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
...my mom tells me as she tucks me to sleep.
Her eyes are bright blue with similarities to the Tenerife Sea. Solid, bright but with an icy touch. I believe her.
Then my eyelids flutter open after a kiss and I stare into a young man’s brown eyes. Solid, deep, full, sincere, warm. I trust him more than I should.
My own eyes aren’t that easy to decode. They’re a complete mess.
A chaos of color conflicting with eachother, instead of settling on one.
Blue when I wake up,but green when I step outside.
If eyes really are the windows to the soul what does that say about me?
Am I splatters of different colors floating around like petals in a mysterious endless lake in the forbidden part of the forest?
Am I a rainbow only to be seen clearly when both rain and sun hits upon me?
Am I a bouquet filled with different flowers plucked different places with different stories?
Forests are easy to get lost i.
Lakes are easy to drown in.
Rainbows are not tangible.
Flowers are pretty but their lifespan is short after having been plucked.
I wish I wasn’t a chaotic mess.
That I wasn’t torn in between the things I want, the things I can, the things I have, the things I want to be.
I hope that one day my eyes and mind will make up their will.
But for right now, I my eyes may stay a chameleon.
Only seen by those who really see.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC