"deliriousness" poems
the transcognitive experience
a transformative deliriousness
makes your gibberish sound Shakespeareanesque.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
I’d rather die young
Than grow old
I will not follow in the footsteps of deliriousness
Hands trembling
To grasp at the memories
Or names
I refuse to forget my own name
Or stutter at heartache
Until I bite my own tongue
I refuse to grow old like you
To give up like you
I’d rather keep a noose
Tied tightly to my birth
To yank me like a ripcord
The second my voice sounds like yours
Trap the hate in my throat
Keep the old out’a my bones
The quiver out’a my knees
My son
Will never have to carry me to the bathroom
Or wonder if I loved him
He will never grow old like we did
Embrace the cold like we did
Beg people to hold him until he falls asleep at night
Just so he can remember
The warmth
**** going gently
And crying at the light
**** being forgiven
For letting the world fall apart
My son
And my brother
Will be so much stronger than we were
They will know that I love them
And they will know that they are safe at night
They will never carry me anywhere
Even if it’s my coffin
To its grave
Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 11:40 PM UTC
As a boat atop a glittering,
fragile sea, I am.
Storms frequent the waters,
and threaten me to capsize.
Ensnared in a titanic battle;
the meeting of the infinite heavens
and the untamable deep.
I shout to Thee in a full desperation, and Behold!
- my ropes become taught, the helm is retaken,
and I endure on the grand Stallion.
In the beginnings of the ceased wind I praise and laud and sing.
But aught the wind stop...
the sun, the flat, and the ease overtake
my vigilant spirit.
And how my tongue goes stale,
my muscles as a sleeping giant.
I thirst, but until the brink of Death...
I see it not.
You find me there, pondering the drink of Salt,
which becomes of a man Deliriousness and Violence.
Just as I yield to jump,
and swim that endless swim,
Your Right Hand catches me,
on all but a whim.
Fortitude regained, and rid of shame;
With a visage of stone, and straight before;
I unfurl my sail, and proceed,
back into the gail.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Supercilious satirists sipping scotch with seriousness
while discussing super silly stories
in a state of semi-deliriousness.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
He played in her lushness all night long
She had a comely garden of pleasure
Within it he could place his stem's treasure
His tactility twas earnestly strong
Her ******* were so delectable of taste
She became excited by his action
The feel of it made quite an impaction
Their love instruments were most hot of baste
Her inner petals did hold him spellbound
Beads of sweat flowed so very profusely
Together they explored feverishness
Upon their bed nest twas a sighing sound
She and he were getting it on nicely
As they did discover deliriousness
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC