"deferring" poems
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.
Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.
Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.
Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.
The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.
The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?
Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
I cradle the thought of my soul deferring from my body, as if death were a newborn to be adored. as my efforts towards nurturing this ideal reach expiration, a broad emptiness conquers my internal being; and I fear I will drift through time unchanged. hear me, propellers are necessary in the water and legs on land- but I'm no ship, and I have ropes tying my born given feet to my hands.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
It was my best friend who asked me
what I'd choose to be in my next incarnation.
Honestly, she caught me completely off guard,
intellectually dumbfounded by a prospect
I'd never considered, nor felt I deserved.
That night I wracked my brain searching for
a suitable chakra from which to derive an answer.
I know she believes everything is renewed,
so, deferring to her convictions,
I chose a jaguar, as suitable for my solitary way.
She's always had a knack for surprising my existence,
deflecting the metaphysical, steering for spiritual shores.
I recognize this power she exudes, though she dismisses me.
The jaguar I'm evolving divinely subsumes her virtues,
is cognizant of the heroine from Mumbai ashrams.
I'd like to tell you I hear rumblings in the sky,
that there's a certain path beneath my feet,
but my destiny eludes all outward signs,
striving for that inner love that has no name.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
Seems like everyone's
looking for replacements,
the lost and left
huddled together
seeking their placement,
anAtomys standing static
but the field is magnetic,
bonds are bound for
the making and we
take it with ease
not questioning if
we're faking it,
and in fact instead
of friends we're
lining up
potential enemies.
Is it all just
overfamiliarity?
Is the attraction just distraction?
Force filled friendship
or true connection?
Full of heart
or cardiac arrested development
trying to drown
out the loneliness and rejection?
And if so how long will it last?
How strong is the net cast?
Is it holding us together
Or are we just caught up?
Deferring inevitable dejection,
only a matter of time
before detection and
we're exposed for
the fraudulents we are?
Or have soul mates been found?
Lovers been crowned ,
best friends and brothers
who will always be round?
Better things coming together
replacing what's broken?
Truth lying in the unspoken.
Filling vacant places
like liquid frozen.
All In good Time?
But can you Trust in time
when it ultimately brings
atrophy and erosion?
Or Will these laws
be undone by devotion?
Logic replaced with emotion?
Possibly...
But enough philosophy
my replacement bus is here.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
I freed
A sea urchin
Lurching
Over my **********
In aversion
To my excursion
From the hurting
Sleep
Unearthing
The trees
Of a life
Dangling
From the branches
Shaking
With the cannons
Blasting
In the distance
Of my resistance
To the betterment
Of my belligerence
Toward the kids
To unnerve them
From the bliss
Of ignorance
Into servants
Of science
Deferring
The gods
To appliances
And silencing
The violent
Tendencies
Of stupidity
Into ridiculously
Clever things
That inspire
Laughing
All while
Mapping out
The world
Anew
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
In the beginning there was procrastination,
and I can't wait to start putting that off.
To begin or not to begin that divides us all.
Deferring action never increases entropy,
and lengthens the life of the universe.
Completion happens once, but delay has no limit.
I'm not dithering, just exploring all the options.
This "beginning" poem has just been hijacked by hesitation,
and dragged down the rat hole of reluctance.
Oh well, there is always tomorrow.
One can always say, my muse took a snooze.
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 10:22 AM UTC
Mary Jane
Wrapped in cellophane
her body an empty cavern
an embodiment of losses
tastes of bitter Mary Jane
Holland.
Baby miracle of life
a stab in the dark
a twisted knife
to the heart, breathe
Me.
Life had stained her
a reflection upon,
a broken glass mirror
a blue mooned
Sky.
Tornado fires; paper dresses
deep volcanos filled to the brim
ashes & dust
tears bring pain
burns holes in
Skin.
Cleansing comes
blood oozing out
attacking this monster
living inside
python green eyes
Robotic.
Dancing with demons
poisonous addictions
hells aftermath
skulls, crossbones
signify splintered
Souls.
Yours for slaughter,
surrendered in this wasteland
my mind created
when you were first
Gone.
Butterflies cover *******
love hearts & roses,
form tattoos across,
my spine, enviously decorating
this bare form, one alive, one
Ghost.
Drink me up, make it quick,
**** me dry, dear Carmen
please don't cry
it's all an alibi, one that
Sings.
A lullaby; a secret way out
how tranquil it leaves me
a baby lulled to sleep, I
call you Mary Jane
Holland.
My lover, my life,
it's nothing more, I
am at one, with stars we name
in this infinite
Universe.
If I am a star above
& you are named as one too
we will never be lost
wrapped together, conceiving
Constellations.
That is why I want to sit
with you, on the roof
top of my car, out in the abyss
of my surroundings
&
Stare above, sing a lullaby
of my love, count those stars
until claimed & soothed we fall
into the slumber of love.
Only a cloud can carry
& awake anew to
the rising of the sun
an abstraction deferring
multifaceted realities.
© Sia Jane
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
while luxuriating in the boughs aching
to imbibe solar raiment golden this summer like
february twenty first two thousand and eighteen
when old man took a mandatory brake
from mister sun spilling forth
unseasonably balmy temperatures
equated from this human drake
swallowed hard taking
respite delighting, holistically
lolling (nar gagging) obliviously par
taking paradise magical optical pulsations,
a desperate need to succor dehydration
that found me relinquishing
a coveted reading nook and cranny,
this explanation not "FAKE"
excuse withholding appeasing,
an unrelenting paroxysm
watering parched palette
**** ceded to abend
imagination immersion
linkedin radiant nirvana basking (like a robin)
while feeling spell bound by this warm weather
unseasonably tropic teaser came to an end
drew the analogy how indomitable
joie de vivre kneading love intend
ding, sans partaking draught found wealth
between bounded pages doth mend
moe so than any medication
(akin to placing a wager sparring rivals)
desire for on par,
when body needs replenishment of fluids
thus...deferring self
for healthy pleasant liquid to slake
in an effort to curtail parched mouth
felt as if being scraped
by a lab bot tummy sized rake
thence entire corporeal being
didst shimmy and shake
analogous within mine
so many dozen square feet parameters
thee earth didst quake.
thence upon gulping sweet pineapple juice
(to evade dole drums)
a poem yours truly decided to make.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
He is Fire
Fire like mine
Fire I could have been
Fire I should have been
Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
He didn’t waste time
He didn’t waste his fire
looking for love
in clubs
in gyms
on-line
Everywhere in-between
He didn’t waste time
He didn’t waste his fire
getting his heart broken
getting cheated on
deferring his dreams for a fantasy crafted by others
He let his fire shine and burn
I hid mine away
the only heat felt from mine was by proximity
the only light that shone from mine was in comparison to shadow
He would never be like me
His fire is not like mine
He is smart enough to not bother with things that would take away
He is smart enough to protect his fire from the water
He would never fall in love with it
He is
not me
His fire is
not mine
His fire is
Better
His fire is not as hot as mine
He can selectively burn with his
mine can only be contained by that which would try to destroy it
I don’t regret me
I don’t regret my fire
that is not the point
I want to protect
him
his fire
The way no one protected
me
my fire
© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,"
Said the blind cyclops in his customer review,
which is filed in the Physically-Disabled-Yet-Still-Insightful folder of our Customer's Reviews.
A folder seldom perused by our super,
who seems to prefer deferring all menial mentally-unstable issues to those who are new to the feild.
I hesitate to inform them that "field" is the type of word that I've always been notorious for misspelling.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
*If you have in mind to give someone a gift
Love or just anything to bring a cheer’s lift
Don’t defer do it now before it’s too late
A time may come bitter to leave you in regret!
Don’t keep deferring a gift by pondering over it
Or thinking it can further wait in time’s endless pit
Tomorrow it may so happen that the one in mind is gone
Without ever having your gift leaving that work undone!
If you have in mind to gift someone a thing or two
Keep it not in abeyance make the now its time to do
Next time is a long time so it may never leave your heart
You delayed the gift too long and chance was swift to depart!
Once the wish grows in mind to give someone a gift
Hurry for tides may change sands may go for a shift
Do it now get it done and treasure the receiver’s smile
So you don’t have to regret the rest of your walking mile!*
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
Lately my vision of the future has been hazed with excuses that flow out of me like some form of muscle memory. Refused to answer the door for opportunity because of the fear I have instilled in me. And so I'm sitting here, deferring what could have been, for a comfortable life that should have been temporary. Watching other friends run past me and overlap me, making the end seem further than it should be. Letting myself dodge the responsibility of taking the risk to be a better me, so that I can say I tried without actually doing anything. But I'm sick and tired of all these excuses. I'm dumbfounded that I even let myself excuse this. And I'm shocked that I thought I couldn't do it. But, nows the time to prove to myself that nothing will stand in my way. That, no matter how long it takes, my future will no longer be grey. That, I can be stronger than who I let myself be. Because in the end, the only person who will benefit from this, is me.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
The voice of my soul is soft and quiet,
Undemanding and reserved.
All-wise and all-knowing,
but also all-deferring.
She sits in patient silence,
waiting upon me,
as I skirt to and fro
clashing and clanging through life.
The voice of my soul is gentle,
forgiving, and unjudgemental.
She knows what's best, but does not boast,
instead, hoping I'll choose right.
The voice of my soul is sometimes sad,
when I ignore her again and again.
Not despondent, but denied
I push past the tears I see in her eyes.
The voice of my soul grows sometimes louder,
when she has given me plenty of time.
When she sees me wearing thin,
and sees unrelenting warning signs.
The voice of my soul is the voice of a friend:
Compassionate and caring.
She loves me still, despite my flaws
and constant neglect shown toward her.
I can learn a lot from the voice of my soul,
how to be calm and patient and caring.
She has so much to offer, so much to share,
Just waiting for the chance to begin.
And so, on this day, I'm pleased to proclaim
A change in patterns henceforth.
In gratitude, I humbly aquiest
to all spoken
by the voice of my soul.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC