"delirious" poems
god, just fill me
fill me with your love
fill me with yourself
fill me with anything thats not what i feel now
i know im selfish
im hoping you’re sad
hoping you’re distraught even
i hope you’ve cried
i hope you’ve mourned the things we never did
luna
no. no.
newcastle
edinburgh
god what’s the point
i hope you’re as sad as i am
worse ?
i hope i hope
i wish i wish
i wish tuesday never happened
the part where everything stopped
the part where the red string was cut
oh god, and writing this
writing this, i remember
“soulmate”, you said
“soulmate”, after such a short time
well if i am your soulmate, as you lied said
things will be okay
we’ll get back
back from the nothing
the red string was never cut
it has a knot, it got tangled
like the movie you never saw
that red string that ties us together
red as your hair
that red string
if you were right
you probably weren’t
it is tangled, never broken, never cut, always there
haha writing this
writing this has given me some sense of ****** up optimism
three poems in one day, god, how pathetic
all because of some **** you said in the early hours of the morning, delirious
delirious on us, just as i was
“soulmate”, you said
soulmate
I’ll hold on to that.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
I often envisage love
as snowflakes-
Each of us have it different
but it’s really just the same
with its imperfectly etched beauty
only few can comprehend
Its beauty can never be
expressed in words
or even a sliver
of what it’s worth
The snowflakes are piling up
and the shivers are ethereal
we don’t even realize
that it drives us delirious
The snowflakes keep piling up
but it doesn’t end here
it’ll drown us in its avalanche
and leave us gasping for air.
-m.j.a
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
and the light of the
empty parking
garage
casts shadows of
delirious days
before
me
thank God
there is light to
see the shadows
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
In the Midnight heaven's burning
Through the ethereal deeps afar
Once I watch'd with restless yearning
An alluring aureate star;
Ev'ry eve aloft returning
Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car.
Mystic waves of beauty blended
With the gorgeous golden rays
Phantasies of bliss descended
In a myrrh'd Elysian haze.
In the lyre-born chords extended
Harmonies of Lydian lays.
And (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure,
Where the free and blessed dwell,
And each moment bears a treasure,
Freighted with the lotos-spell,
And there floats a liquid measure
From the lute of Israfel.
There (I told myself) were shining
Worlds of happiness unknown,
Peace and Innocence entwining
By the Crowned Virtue's throne;
Men of light, their thoughts refining
Purer, fairer, than my own.
Thus I mus'd when o'er the vision
Crept a red delirious change;
Hope dissolving to derision,
Beauty to distortion strange;
Hymnic chords in weird collision,
Spectral sights in endless range….
Crimson burn'd the star of madness
As behind the beams I peer'd;
All was woe that seem'd but gladness
Ere my gaze with Truth was sear'd;
Cacodaemons, mir'd with madness,
Through the fever'd flick'ring leer'd….
Now I know the fiendish fable
The the golden glitter bore;
Now I shun the spangled sable
That I watch'd and lov'd before;
But the horror, set and stable,
Haunts my soul forevermore!
13.2k
between green
mountains
sings the flinger
of
fire beyond red rivers
of fair perpetual
feet the
sinuous
riot
the
flashing
bacchant.
partedpetaled
mouth,face
delirious. indivisible
grace
of dancing
11.7k
The young maricones and the ***** muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours' pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Like a collar of palpitating ****** oysters
Surround my solitary home,
Enemies of my soul,
Conspirators in pajamas
Who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
Radiant summer brings out the lovers
In melancholy regiments,
Fat and thin and happy and sad couples;
Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon,
There is a continual life of pants and *******
A hum from the fondling of silk stockings,
And women's ******* that glisten like eyes.
The salary man, after a while,
After the week's tedium, and the novels read in bed at night,
Has decisively ****** his neighbor,
And now takes her to the miserable movies,
Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes,
And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down
With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes.
The night of the hunter and the night of the husband
Come together like bed sheets and bury me,
And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are ************
And the animals mount each other openly,
And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically,
And cousins play strange games with cousins,
And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient,
And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought,
Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast,
And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly
On beds big and tall as ships:
So, eternally,
This twisted and breathing forest crushes me
With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth
And black roots like fingernails and shoes.
10k
A sea of white
Favors hallowed ground
Where dotted lines track snow angels
And souls are lost to release
A druid spell conjures delirious bliss
Tasting the snowflakes
Kissing the cold air
Hugging the entire sky
A great and simple magick stirs
Holding mitten hands
Warming nuzzle noses
And the smell of her hair in winter
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
To smile at the carnation,
So gallantly growing,
At peace with this world.
In silence...
I tune in a short conversation
Between minds and bodies -
Incredibly cold.
My heart has surrendered
To nightingale's song.
I dream of Rhode Island...
I'm leaving! So long!
The winds of Sonora,
My nannies and friends.
My love for Evora -
My tears know no end.
The shadows of Mordor,
With sunrise they fade.
Grace, Kindness and Splendour:
Three Buddhas in jade.
I feed roastede pidgeone
To poor ryebread crumbs.
Avoiding curmudgeons,
I'm playing professional dumb.
Caressing the grass-blades,
I live in a drop.
Arcadian arcade:
There, God has no job.
In hurting the Nature
We drain our souls.
Let’s all at once cease
Being ignorant ghouls.
...To stroke the carnation,
To gently kiss buds.
To eat simple meals
Like lentils and spuds.
To carry some water,
To chop down some trees.
To stop feeling rotten.
My soul is at peace.
The time is forever,
The purpose is now.
No “when” and no “where”,
No “why” and no “how”.
The light effervescent,
The sound circumaural,
The hearts ever-pleasant,
The dreams polynomial.
...Collapsing eternity,
Upheaving humanity,
Rock-bottom fraternity,
Defying the gravity.
Creative destruction
Is staunchly forbidding.
The wisdom of ancients
Is widely-misleading.
Depleting our anger
Is key to survival.
Harnessing the hunger,
Improptu revival.
Combustion of senses,
Precarious laughter.
Incurable sepsis,
Delirious canter.
Regrets are forgotten,
Bright days are all-cherished.
Let’s live unbegotten
Until we all perish.
13.06.2012
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
I'm in love with excitement,
turned on by action,
enamoured with the arts.
Quick moves intoxicate me,
I'm all over teamwork
& my heart is ruled
by high adventure.
I was hoping it was you,
the one who would
make me sizzle,
set me on fire,
help me live
a bit in the edge.
And, could it be?
O Darling,
you can't be serious,
leaving me delirious,
all alone
with mutant turtles!
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Spare me the misery of your absence, my dear
so that I do not grow delirious without you.
One day without those tender blue eyes
and I am lost in a fog of my self-pity.
The joyous cadence of your laughter and smile
never cease to enchant me day after day.
But where does your loyalty lie, my dear?
I shall not question your motives, love
for by faith and God you leave my side.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
*I love to feel your body next to mine
I languidly run my nails up and down your chest.
Time has been kind to you, you've aged like fine wine
Next to you I feel delirious that you desire me.
I feel addicted to you, my passion is boundless.
Every time I see you, I smile,
Wantonly I want you to defile me.
Craving you like an addict craves his drug of choice.
Your touch emblazones my need, my lustfulness.
How long will our desire last?
Until we run out of breath?
Until we desire others?
I kiss you deeply, hear your heart pound in time with mine,and
I lie in the knowledge that we will never desire another*
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
MIST CREEPING SLOWLY
The morning found
only blood & feathers.
The fox leaving
only Death
& its presence
& the gossip of the frightened chickens.
My uncle swearing
‘til the sky was blue
(early morning clouds that the sun shone through) .
An embarrassed ****
like a mad alarm clock
crying like a cartoon “cock-a-doodle-do! ”
My uncle dispatching him
with a quick kick.
“Oh yeah, and where the hell were you? ”
I take in the scene of the massacre
& whisper:
“I sure wouldn’t like to be a chicken! ”
* * *
All that next week
my uncle stalked the chicken coup
waiting for the fox
who was clever enough
not to turn up
until the eight day
driven by his hunger & his nature
she stared into my uncle’s cold metallic sight
& the evil acrid smell of a cartridge caught in flight
as both it & the fox(shot through the head)
fell dead
at my uncle’s muddied boot.
My gentle uncle delirious with Death
the frosted air
stained with his breath.
His voice almost transformed
into an animalistic hoot:
“Hey boy, betcha didn’t know I
could shoot! ”
The good side of the fox’s face
seemed to still laugh
at the very idea of Death.
I whimpered:
“I sure wouldn’t like to be a fox! ”
The countryside
brutal & Biblical
demanding
a life for a life
Yet all I could see
was Death...Death.
Priest-like...
I knelt & whispered
a quick act of contrition
to the fox’s carcase.
My uncle probably thought
I was barmy.
That night in celebration
my uncle wrung a chicken’s neck
(the chicken’s name was Patricia)
& I declined the clean
white breast
still haunted
by the chicken & the fox’s
death.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
Every time I hear of you--
I wonder what went wrong
that you would choose
another over me.
The cogwheels of my brain
would constantly rewind
to the very day we meet;
the nerves I had prior
and the brief good memories.
This bitter nostalgia
reminded me of
my foolish sense of hope
that I was the special one
among many others--
Only when I was told
that I was rejected
did I realise...
I was only a pitiful jester;
dancing and joking
for your fancy
on that very day.
I could not help thinking,
being rejected on a Christmas eve
is a terrible Christmas present,
and also the only Christmas present I had.
They say that it was not His will--
But they also did not know...
Perhaps it was His will
that I spend the dead morning of Christmas
soaking my pillow in tears
while nursing a overactive mind.
And yes, I saw you again on New Years Eve--
from afar, where everyone was celebrating
of their successful association with you
with delirious hopefulness and motivation...
Meanwhile, I was made to
welcome the New Year all alone
with tears in memory of your rejection.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
White is the colour of my true love’s cherry cheeks,
White is the colour of my true love’s tantalizing teeth,
White is the colour of my true love’s foxy fingertips,
White is the colour of my true’s truly delicious dish,
White is the colour of my true love’s social scarf,
White is the colour of my true love's lyrical laugh,
White is the colour of my true love’s bilingual breath,
White is the colour of my true love’s playful pledge,
White is the colour of my true love’s flowery fragrance,
White is the colour of my true love’s decorated decadence,
White is the colour of my true love's delirious delight,
White is the colour of my true love’s sugared spice,
White is the colour of my true love’s secret shirt,
White is the colour of my true love’s purple pearls,
White is the colour of my true love’s shapely shoes,
White is the colour of my true love’s brooding Blues,
White is the colour of my true love’s wonderful words,
White is the colour of my true love’s dashing door,
White is the colour of my true love’s brilliant bedsheets,
White is the colour of my true love’s toxic treats,
White is the colour of my true love’s distant dreams,
White is the colour of my true love’s ring that glow gleams,
White is the colour of my true love’s guilty guile,
White is the colour of my bitter bile
For...
Black is the colour of my true love’s hardened heart.
©Rangzeb Hussain
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
I can't forget to remember
That night when I woke up from a nightmare
He was laying beside me ,thought he cared
But when I heard ,he was singing me an 'unfaithful' lullaby,
Singing about being treacherous and the hopeful goodbyes
So delirious
Lost
He was
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
- by Ashley Capps
Ophelia, when she died,
lay in the water like the river’s bride, all pale
and stark and beautiful against the somber rocks,
her hair an endless golden ceremony.
She made the water sing for her; it flowed
over her folded arms.
Not so my father’s sister Karen,
swollen in a day-old tub of water
when they found her,
needle tucked into the fold of her arm,
her last thing: a wing.
So everything went as nameless as the men
who lifted her naked from the tub,
or those who rolled her
into the mouth of the furnace,
which is what you get
when you don’t get a service,
when your mother’s years of grief turn
last to rage: I won’t pay for it.
Leave me out of it.
And even though they finally said
it wasn’t suicide; a mistake—
no one knew what to do
with all of that anger,
or in the end how not to blame her.
Even now, in her unmarked container.
*
People once believed a deeper reason, some dark secret
motivation to the way the lemmings threw themselves
en masse into the sea. Were they weary
of their lives; could they, too, despair?
Or like those second-vessel swine
when Jesus exorcised two babbling men of their demons,
driving the demons through a pack of bewildered hogs—
the way they plunged?
The truth we know now: they leave when food is scarce,
when they’ve grown too many;
believe the roads they follow
lead to new meadows, a place to start over.
I think of Karen, feeding
and feeding her veins, how it is possible
she saw us all suddenly there—miraculous
and festive on some bright and other shore,
like the life she had been swimming toward
all along, trying to get right.
Like those sailors long ago,
that tropical disease, calenture—
when, far from everything they knew,
men grew sometimes delirious
and mistook the waving sea for green fields.
Rejoicing, they leapt overboard,
and so were lost forever,
even though they thought it was real, though
they thought they were going home.
—by Ashley Capps
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
Too good and yet true
Too beautiful
To taste
Without falling in daze
Without following
Delirious
An aroma trail of craving
On the back of my tongue
I’m getting equal measures
Of heaven and hell
Perfectly balanced
My eyes are my traitors
Plotting to open the gates
Sending stowaway warriors
Whom I never gave orders
To slip behind walls
Of thickest black pupils
In the Trojan horse
That my eager look is
And gazes are bridges
Unwillingly
Supporting the siege
Of epiphanies
You and me
Caught in our ambush
Completely surrounded by Us
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
*The rain pours heavy on my windowpanes; it is only through the darkness that I realize what pain truly means. The sorrow, the lack of luster in everyday that has changed and I fear for those who do not yet know what madness life brings. It is nothing yet everything to understand what suffering brings. The state of darkness looming upon wake, and when the dreams of your subconscious mind come to life and haunt you day by day, I fear for those who do not yet know real pain. The loss of someone you love being ripped away, so abruptly; worse than a Band-Aid on fresh wounds, so terribly worse than seeing someone you love fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of their own demons, like a well you’re drowning and eventually succumb to frightening disdain. One realizes that everything in life isn't truly the same, change is the only constant in this delirious world of contradicting facsimiles.
You have nothing but hope and faith in this world of detriment. And I hope someday you find what you're truly looking for, whether it be love or the meaning to life. But never forget who you truly are, regardless of the pain and the tears that washed away the innocence of your years and fears. I am truly sorry for what you have endured, but I cannot look back anymore, nor ponder upon those heart wrenching fears you called my own, of which I cannot call my own. You must own them like cheap records, and let them die in the night like the decades of musical loss and dying discords. You must find yourself in this beautiful world, never give up on everything wonderful. For you are worth much more than words, much more than anything I could ever endure.
© 2014 Christina Jackson*
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
These nights I pretend to myself
and whisper to myself that
its not only you but,
alas,
you are confused why it still pervades you.
But I am told that
God calls lying evil sin.
And through Eden,
God tried to say to the world -
that lust is demolishing.
( but who is god to say)
it’s all so beguiling
and delirious.
and god yes it’s demolishing,
when reality resurrects every day and I am
thrown to watch it before me
even if I close my eyes
or bite my tongue till blood.
only the false sins I whisper
will wipe the blood clean.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Empty skies embrace
Sparse cloud formations
The blues fade and overlapped hues
Sparkles crested in fickle delight
Lazy outstretched yawns of natural light
Sun’s glare glazed under Moon’s appearance
Embossed against the translucence of blue space
Everything up there is calm today
No rush or race or interference
Gentle indifference drifts to the West.
Staying dry for us
The beautiful simplicity of being Sky.
Stop and look around.
Cyclists trickle on painted pathways
Student groups pontificate about life
and the lecture they should all be at,
Lunchtime sprawls and **********
never ending spurts of schoolchildren
delirious for sausage rolls and E numbers.
Everyone in a rush to be someone
Going somewhere with purpose,
and yet,
Be indifferent
to each other.
The bland complexity of being modern People.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
We can hold hands
And not get serious
We can make plans
And not get delirious
We can kiss each others faces
And shimmy out of our laces
While my heart races
When you touch those places
And it's all just fun
So we call each other ***
There's no strings attached
Just my heart to be patched
And it's you I adore
Because we both want more
But we'll just cuddle on the floor
No energy anymore
I just want to play
I like the cute things you say
There's nothing to stress
I can't possibly make a mess
For that's what I fear
Hurting you my dear
Getting serious scares me so
******* up makes you my foe
I have to let you know
That I really don't want you to go
Because a friend is what I need
I don't mean to mislead
I thought we agreed
We'd aim to succeed
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC