"deconstructs" poems
Sleeplessness
Brought to you by sparkling espresso in a can
I have underestimated you yet again, oh humble coffee bean
But back to work
Eight tabs open, going back and forth
It's nothing short of a miracle if any given task is given more than a minute of attention at a time
Muscle spasms, trembling, fascinating
Overwhelming urge to mindlessly flex the muscles I don't have
Fake machissimo brought about by exhauation?
Or the exhileration of having to complete 8 projects in a day
While simultaneously trying to grasp a breaking down of my mind which hasn't happened since...forever
Hmm
These are the prime conditions to breed a taxing marathon of productivity
Or a chain of costly impulsive decisions to perpetuate procrastination.
Signs that someone is going crazy range from ****** to inability to stick to a single topic to excessive use of run on sentences
"How meta, acknowledging your insanity deconstructs the very notion of it if you normalize it within yourself and just look as everyone else as crazy! Ha.ha."
That made no sense, i don't think.
I like using big words to make myself sound smart you can make anyone believe anything if you use big words also it scares those
Hippopotomonstroesquipedaliophobixlcs
Grumble grumble
Good night/morning/whatever
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
In my love of day
My love invents another day
In my window night
Another night is invented
We are what we think
So carnival of carnal imaginations
Be still, learn to concentrate
For the calligraphy of fate
Shows sign-seeds of
Syllable-clusters, rampant sparks
That the stars in my hands
Invents a touch that deconstructs
Itself, these eyes that have
Taken these pages by storm
And this heart that cannot
Let any portion of the
World go unloved alone.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Standing on the intersection of
a Monet, a van Gogh, and a Picasso
Nice piece of real estate!
Water lilies ~ Charrette de boeuf ~ Tete d'homme
Let's start with the lilies:
I'm impressionable and I gaze lovingly into the pool
I see my reflection slowly unfurl in the shimmer of the pink petals
As in a dream ... I float on
The watchmaker sends an instruction: rotate clockwise
Now an ox cart:
I seem to be walking in Poe's imagination
Crows flitting about as the ox champions
His burden on a drafty day
Another instruction from the watchmaker: continue clockwise
And now Tete d'homme ~ cubism:
My world deconstructs
Line by line, shapes and forms
Fracture into the subterranean unconsciousness of my mind
Leading to another instruction: close your eyes
Shift
Your
Perspective
Watchmaker says: open your eyes
Uncentre
Misalign
Unhitch
Watchmaker says: ens causa sui: 'a being that causes itself'
Now I've got Dali giving me niggling doubts about the nature of time
Sartre with a side of Darwin and I'm being and nothingness
Ground yourself Mullin!
Open your eyes ... this is reality
There's Rodin in a battle of good versus evil
Munch and no screams! This is good
Gaugin sharing his garden view
I'm in my happy place again ...
That's better
And here's Cezanne, Degas, Renoir, and Pissarro
Bringing me back into a recognizable reality
My eyes and my mind are in alignment here
But I can feel that watchmaker winding me back up
My iris constricts and my pineal widen
Third eye ain't blind
Hope someone is around to catch me
No worries, I'm sailing with Renoir and
I've found A Muse (Constantin Brancusi)
Ain't life a musing?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Do what you have to do
For the good of the pack
Because the pack is life
Do what you have to do
For the good of yourself
Because the pack is only a pack
Of the pups that make it up
Do what you have to do
To preserve the self
That which not only nourishes
Deconstructs
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
I leave Victoria
And 'Green Fields' by The Brothers Four comes on shuffle
And buildings crumble
London deconstructs
A primal forest laps at the southern service
As it flees to a coast populated by leviathans and krakens
The concrete suburbs fade to green fields
Kissed by the sun
And in that
I thought I saw you
Until the clinking train tracks reminded me of our slavery
And of the ticket collector
Tapping on my shoulder
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
You could carry all your pain inside the nerves
in your tongue like such lines are suitcases
with just the right proportions.
Vertical lines always did create the illusion of symmetry.
If your pain found its home in the part of your body
that longs to be used in the verbal explanation of what it holds,
maybe your tongue would learn to create more than it deconstructs.
You wore streaks of grey sky like a costume
that did very little to conceal what lay beneath.
Maybe you thought if you wore it long enough it would
act as an extra layer of skin,
another stratification to separate you from your deepest self.
When they taught us how to laugh we never questioned
if we would grow up to be happy.
It was always something we were sure of when our minds were clouded
in a shroud of naive hope.
Now years have passed and we have learned
how to whistle wishes into the harmonicas of our necks
and wish for a better melody.
- m. b. 2014
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
This message
It will self destruct
This message
It deconstructs
This message
An eruption
Of my consumption
Of the bad
My feel bads
For damage done
With an empty gun
In hand
Collect the shells
Sweep the scraps
It dont matter
Who was first
But last
We all cast shadows
Here and now
From frown
To pout
We all go out
Like *******
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Men have had their bodies
and souls destroyed by machinery.
Hollow cogs and cold-blooded gears
grind through the better part of the day.
Relentless and unapologetic
Feeding on the dreams of a far away beach
A cabin upstate
or the delusion of retirement.
Dreams that slowly slip away
as your body deconstructs.
This is not a life to envy
Why do we endure
Is this what a dollar costs?
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 5:54 PM UTC
Little masons building, little masons killing
Little masons yielding, little masons wielding
Their swords, tools, and daggers to construct
A wall between trees, as one deconstructs
Little masons like little demons, propelling
Little masons like little ****** love-quelling
An oceanic romance between weathered trees
Leaving broken branches, making debris
Little masons performing their duties
Little masons collecting their rubies
For the hard-work they did today
Leaving two tongue-tied trees slain
Little masons dividing throbbing hearts
Little masons throwing away broken parts
Little masons complete with rapture
Little masons impede love's capture
Little masons like homogenous poles
Little masons making holes in two wholes
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
What is the body,
but a pile of meat?
Moving around,
seeking only to eat?
What makes us human,
what makes us strong?
What is it that pulls us along?
Do we have a soul?
Or just a mind?
Do we have an identity,
beyond what we can define?
What exactly lasts,
what thing underlies,
our very existence,
whose meaning is undefined?
Some call it "soul",
others simply "mind,
yet there are others,
who call it not "mine".
The first sees an eventual, heavenly life,
borne from the sacrifice of a holy Christ,
or the forgiveness and judgement of a heavenly being,
or the results of past actions, coming into being.
The second sees the mind,
a product of the brain.
No different from nature,
which never ceases or begins.
Having existed since beginningless time,
what comes to be, eventually declines,
and one is returned, to the darkness underlined.
The 3rd is one, who does not distinguish,
he sees the body and mind,
not as one who would wish,
for a lasting identity, or an eternal peace,
nor does he see it, as one who just is.
Instead he sees things, unlikely as it may,
the aggregates of consciousness and body, clear as day.
He does not deceive himself, thinking of meaning,
nor does he lie, thinking himself as "body".
He separates the speculation of a soulless man,
as he does the thought of a mind separate from man.
He overcomes the dualities which we normally comprehend,
With a sight that sees, what is simply at hand.
The truth that this body, its aggregates and mind,
are all but products of our imaginary mind,
which projects and creates,
in an endless thought-pattern,
a speculation that is ceaseless,
an identity to be had.
Instead he deconstructs,
he sees the body as it is,
an aggregate of thoughts, perceptions and things.
He overcomes the idea of "suffering" that exists,
and does not cling to the idea of "pleasure" for bliss.
He rests in the nature that is rightfully so,
not overthinking, whether he has a soul.
Because such things, are deceptions coming to be,
by the ever-thinking mind, always deceiving thee.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
long the gears have slowed their turn,
blunt edge blurs each mindful stare,
watchful state does not discern,
accelerated, life, it burns.
lost the gaze, the dreamers yearn,
untethered feet do not return,
lucid gaze succumbs to rust,
hazed, the mirror, collects more dust.
too late we see what we have lost,
life a dream, life is lost,
as Earth meanders on her path,
her past forgotten, her past is passed.
onwards, the darkness calls,
observers perish, darkness falls,
time itself, deconstructs,
a universe falls to dust.
each history, book bound, staid,
its furthest reaches always fade,
what hope have we, in slow decay
to leave our mark, to save this day?
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Slinky mind rivulets
intravenous channels
having their way.
Syntactic synergy
trickling streams
of deep crimson
crawl the carvings.
The void is a tender tunnel
a soft serene muffled jungle
peer into the patient eye
of leveling paradox
silence, the Siren
where power deconstructs
the struggle meets its maker
tendril limbs of limitation
have lost their hold
Bring it on
bring it all on
such weight
is but a feather of light
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
He is all I need
All the scented sensual sweetness
That bewitches me deeply
All the scintillating sensational man
That has me so intoxicated
So captivated by his bold, ****** moves
He puts me in a state of perpetual excitement
Speaking his name passionately
Feeling his desirable enticing flame
Drive me insane with his saucy eye-popping game
When he flexes and caresses his muscles
When he arrests and finesses
My picturesque heavenly lands
Abounding in naturally incomparable homosexualness
Charm every part of me
Conquer my prized private parts
Permeate me with astonishing wonder
My boldest and most dangerous fantasy
Make me gasp as he crashes
Into my tantalizing love tunnel
Pound me remorselessly
Make me bounce on every ounce
Of his muscle-bound profoundness
Feel his progression of aggression
His hot-off-the-press perfection
Unstoppable top-drawer sausage
That makes me holla the more
He deconstructs my guts
****** me with his mean supreme moves
Feel the peerless fierceness
Of his masterfully made manliness
Pressed against my satin-soft vulnerable body
Stretch the depths of my wetness
Make me concede to his prodigious cataclysmic litness
Make me frenzied as ****
Make me shudder while he declutters my structure
Make me scream while he clings his hands
To my beautifully compact shoulders
Saturate my manhole with his poetically zestful delectableness
Devour me, overpower me, guide me
Into his rollercoaster of riveting rapture
My deep-voiced dapper splash
My awesome exalted marvel
Tear me apart, dig deep inside of me
Hypnotize my inner world
Shock my wet walls
Cause me to fall in his crowned splendiferous heartland
Of mighty energetic freshness
As he ejects his juicy man fluid
In my wicked kissable slit
Feb 15, 2023
Feb 15, 2023 at 10:13 AM UTC