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Michael Hoffman Sep 2012
My mind was pulsing
with endless subtly shaded descriptors
and shockwave verbs,
when a pop-up alert flashed
red and yellow and blue…

YOU HAVE ONLY 9 WORDS LEFT !
ACT NOW !!!

YOUR LIFETIME ALLOTMENT IS 20,000,000,010 WRITTEN WORDS,
AND.........YOU HAVE USED 20,000,000,001.

ACT NOW OR LOSE YOUR RIGHT TO WRITE FOREVER!

BUT WAIT !!!!!!
  
COMPLETE THE SIMPLE FORM BELOW IN THE NEXT 60 SECONDS
AND WE’LL DOUBLE YOU TO 40 BILLION MORE.
IMAGINE ALL THE SHIMMERING ADJECTIVES, THICK NOUNS,
CLEVER ADVERBS AND PITHY PRONOUNS YOU WILL HAVE!!!!!!!!!

Panicking, I clicked on the form
and furiously typed …

William Shakespeare
10 Henley Street Village South
Statford Upon . . . . . .
Viren Parakrama Oct 2020
I will speak interms of confusing metaphors and allegorical descriptors
for You will never know what I mean,
and I will never know what I mean,
all You and I will ever know is what is said

Beyond that thou art which is not
Who I am and what I am is anybody's guess,
Where I am is in poetry,
when I am is poetry
How and why I am is a poet.
an artist chosen by this art

A puppet of words that string me along,
That dangle my reflection on the scene.

and What's this scene?
The dream of this stage, an age to redeem this day, this momentary cage of sound and phonetics, playing on the morphemes, that sort these informants into proteins that fire the works of this neural chemistry.

A cosmic tapestry... And I've lost the plot of this pointless exercise in passing the time as I pass this chime down to the last rhyme.
With no point but a line, a single continuous line that's only sometimes audible.
With no beginning and no end but always a middle.
A halfway mark between now and then

Half and half all the way to infinity,
Trapped in this trinity plus one.
The subject, the object and the verb plus all the fillers in between,
Adding the jective into obviously obnoxious obstancy.

Abstracting words from subtracting the colors of birds...
Man I really don't know when to stop.
Nor does he, when he spots the plot that keeps the inserting eye from searching the skys to admiring this fly.
Zipping in and out of space, never able to pin it down between his chopsticks.
So maybe I should stop this
Right here, left now and take flight,
Tata bye.
Lucanna Aug 2012
I leafed through the DSM this morning
diagnosing every ******* person in my life
incessent character flaws,
maladaptive responses
that ache in my mind,
and shatter my "normal"
expectancies of human behavior

In all of the descriptors
"has a strong desire to be the center of attention"
"is often inappropriately provocative or sexually seductive"
"Exhibits odd or eccentrive appearance/behavior"
"Seeks excitement and stiumulation, often acting on impulse"

the only person I could really diagnose
was me                                                                        your therapist
Stored up enough,
but the energy now takes on its
own purpose.
If only I could draw;
I'd create picture books
on exactly what the ending looks like.
Rough sketches left collecting
for many months,
before I ever once thought of putting
color to them.

The why, would be as mind trancing
as tracing catch phrases into the many
levels of dust accumulated.
I'd write something so cliché, like,
"With this oily finger I remove the collection of time."
or, "With this flesh ensconced utensil, I cut
through time."
I'll think myself so clever, that I'd forget
where I left off, and distract myself
again with writing.

A small recluse emotion of mine
objects viciously, but my attention to every
words incentive laced meaning would
leave the visual to again rest unchanged,
not colored.

So's the plight of one who likes to think
himself an artist. There's that scandalous
narcissist again just waiting to ****** you up,
reminding you just how beautiful your words
are, and how small in intellect those who
don't get it are.
Upon that shelf your pictures sit.
I can only write as a narrator,
because our "philosopher,"
"philanthropist of word volley, our
genius of word play,"
is once again too caught up in the
descriptors to finish the real
picture.

Not that this idea will stand the
test of time, but I do believe more
writers will commit suicide, selfishly
of course.
Oh, the tragedy, the malady of writing
so enigmatically that no one gets
your "deep soul."

While upon that shelf,
within a fiber of your overrun
writer's ego, there's a drawing begging
to be finished, colored, maybe even
shared.

But just where does it reside?
Did the alternate you place it
in plain sight, simply so it wouldn't be found?
If it's too early it just can't be worth it,
can it?

He'll have to learn to put down the pen,
rid himself of the whiteout, the erasers,
set up an easel, squeeze out some paint,
and realize there are other mediums
where there aren't mistakes, misinterpretations.
Only perfect imagery through wispy wrist,
sweeping arm, no words, images
are now your letter blocks to construct with.

Brushes, and all manners of paint your pen.
Stop being so foolish "Writer man,"
if your ego clings too sharply to words,
simply remind it,
"This could be another pen name."
"...I love that idea, what would it be?"
"Narcissist Ugly."

"So caught up, I forget I'm tethered to nothing, but doubt."
Donald Guy Aug 2016
I hear the world is full of pain,
Flooding, terror, acid rain;
Music, theatre, laughs and art,
Whiskey, coffee, beer and darts,

Rainbows, glaciers, hiking trails;
Rare Pepes and EPIC FAILs,
Overwatch and Pokemon Go;
Donald Trump and Bernie Bros;

Dreams, and Drugs, and Rock n' Roll,
Dharma, Love, and the eternal soul,
The Holy Quran and the Higgs boson
Tajwid in Geneva, QFT in Tehran.

Yet day by day I sit and type
Edit, grep, compile, pipe
All  that a system smoothly might run
Ashes to Ashes, Zero to One

'''
npm install; grunt &; restart nginx
docker run -d me/interests; pkill sleep; pkill ***
nice 14 nutrition; rm /etc/cron.daily/exercise
pkill -STOP judgment; scp foodler:'**/{burger,fries}' ~
'''

It's rather ironic that this metal you see,
Seems quite a better multitasker than me
Whereas It stops its world to switch one task for others
My open descriptors always overflow my buffers

Whereas it take new patches with a simple 'apt-get'
My resolve for upgrades I quite often forget
And when its health checks fail, we regrow the ASG
But my self won't reboot. et memento mori.
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
rsc Sep 2014
Is this a power hierarchy?
Does our dueling footwork
Convince us to
Lock into some sort of
Competitive symmetry,
Twisting into your
Mashed potato minefield with
Doo *** , doo dad laden
Dancing shoes?

Gimme your
Electronic sympathy, baby,
Infiltrate the airwaves with
Piercing eye contact and
Tremourous finger tip brushes.

Is my informality coming through?
Have I communicated with
Unlocked elbows and
Megaphone ears that not only
My body but universe
Lives here and in you?

Orient yourself to me,
I task while asking you to
Take off your straight jacket and
Stay a while. Unlock your
Pandora 's box so your
Monsters can meet mine,
Mirrored in different shades of
Shock and shame, operating under
Varied hues of the same name.

Lean into me, let your
Shoulders slender and shimmy to a
Tenderizing touch, the
Objects under your skin collapsing
To the 4/4 timed battle
Between form and perception.

The ingestion of the
Metaphor is the message, and
The tongue regards a tune
Differently than a taste.

Face symmetrical, nostrils work,
The blooming waste of consumption
Centered on the top right corner of
Your cheekbones.
I can't help but grab the
Slight upswing in the tone
Of your voice and spin it around;
Let's swing, darling.
I'd like to take your descriptors
On a date to the dance floor.

How long can we keep this up until meaning has waltzed out the door?
Nessa Kay Jul 2017
you are all bouncing elbows
and awkward knees
with crinkly eyes
and imperfect teeth
,
gelled up hair
and turned in toes
yet you have shot me
like an arrow from your bow
;
its easy to admit
though it seems out of place-
you are the Sun in the Spring
as it warms on my face
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2023
My Woman, My Partner

we need today it seems identifiers moreover,
as we slice, dissect, and categorize the W’s of our
individual experience,
by defining ourselves as pieces of categories

Today, woke with this title-to-be-poem in my head,
My Woman, My Partner

I like particular, individuating descriptors that distinguish
rather than categorize, summary’s that capture the
roomy broad and small strokes, the subtleties of capturing~
encompassing an image total, and yet intuitively tasting and
comprehending the depths and flavoring of our totality,
a combinatory humanity

my choice was My Woman, which was comprehensive
and distinguished, yet upon consultation with said person,
for pre-authorization approval, it was returned to me with
an engine-heart additive, that was both a word that denotes a
binding, ties, equality, and takes it to another, even ever
highest level,

this essay on how I came to title this poem, well, is the poem
in its entirety, it is the process, the point, the summary and the
minutiae of all I wished to convey.



Sunday Aug 13 8:03 AM
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2013
Restoration

I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
Within all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
Michael Humbert Dec 2014
Starved glutton
Hopeful pessimist
Cognizant ignoramus
Overeducated fool
I am a roiling sea of paradoxes
I read books to describe what it feels like to love you
Justin Murray Jan 2012
Sleepless nights I dream of things
that seems to be, initially
fantasies of a boy

These dreams tend to focus me
on what I want and who I am
Role models and mentors help to shape
who you see so casually

So casual I seem to be
but my mind races frantically
Suave and cool are not my descriptors
although my shell tends to be

That shell hides me from view
to show a more likeable me
But hides the true me
Behind a wall of *******
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
I found myself in a desert the sun beat down relentlessly you see I was just one more fool living on the
Devil’s life plan he comes and sizes you up watches with intensity not of care but hate he doesn’t take
Long he has seen the same thing multiplied many times before he does a little razz and dazzle if you
Could have seen my face you would know how appealing it was oh that’s right you got the same
Treatment you see this desert is where he houses all of his captives it’s so wide and vast the thought is
Who’s trapped but we are like the icy ice berg but with us it’s the conscious like the tip then the
Subconscious is all that mass the true awe and power of being human I want to insert two pieces I wrote
That deals with the subconscious I believe you will benefit from them just one more person’s thoughts
On Such a grand subject
Piercing the Inner Sanctum
The trivial the less important will never even get a start into the bastion of peace and well being that is
Sacred and defended to the last breath the one irresistible caller that is never barred and who is as a
Master key is beauty to no avail can you post guards loveliness has no comparisons like spectacle in any
And all forms it governs and rules all of our hearts once seen the invitation is never with drawn like the
Vistas seen from a high mountain incomparable glory is touched sequestered in depths of appreciation
Moments of grandeur with this spell compression is ultimate the thick richness slowly sinks beyond all
Comprehension it will linger for a life time the blues are the high honor of dress befitting a person of
Rare quality to have and squander cherished gifts the emptiness can never be measured but to make
Contact with the sublime on a desert plane the one invaluable gift of solitude no pretense or frivolity
To cause error or a missed chance to speak and hear wonders undeniable voice that is attended by rare
Essences of tranquility that robes itself in splendor it beckons in pure language simplicity that astounds
Bewilderment of the highest order lodges in your soul the hush of holy beings are noticed if only by the
Assured peace that builds a walled fortress nothing can assail these attainments visited and began
By The unutterable beauty that moves with conscious and deliberate design to bestow upon you
The Perfection that once ruled in Eden

Now deeper the mind seeks to find the way where all rules are absent

Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not
Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet
Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly
We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm
Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always
Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown
A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding
Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities
They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid
All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind
Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing
Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts
Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems
Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist
The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred
This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we
Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme
Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is
No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are
Sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how
Crazy we would be without it

So with that small insight this is more truth I signed my life away to the devil and here is the fun
Part it’s like your hardly comfortable on a computer your on this small frame here he is on a
Worldwide super computer and he is a **** like no other you are slowly crawling along he is  
Miles Ahead of you try to strike order in life this answer comes back it has been high jacked its
Not even your thoughts any more it’s completely contrary to all that is decent and ideal but it
Comes as a fog it creates a state of disinformation this is how we find we are bound in half truths  
In this state how far from love how desperate is our circumstances what caused and allowed
Us to be left to the dry treacherous land of being forgotten misplaced without remedy to know the dark
Embrace of loneliness we are a people of language it finds us it speaks health to our inward being it is
The gentle soothing the spell that alone provides the structure the melodious times hear the flow of
Refreshing water from hidden springs they bend at just the right place they find us where dark
Broodings Are pulling us into compromise and ruin we feel and taste the surety of joy the call of
Assuredness is known in these depths this internal dismay of mazes infernal are their crushing blows
Does it wash away the meaningful is the face of grace seen to be drowning in walled in terrain to high to
Climb to understanding that enlightening that is our very humanness our ability to connect to share
Never forgetting who and where we came from the integral foundation that builds us as a people was
This first dislodging the first steps of chaos the hardness that drives and separates to quickly we are
Adrift and at the stern is ego without measure and the seeds of discontent are what we are sowing not
The creative roots of harmony and good will burned black by the desert sun all descriptors fail to show
The unique the part that truly was wondrously made no one is looking they are only into the new
Exciting theses very words are the quiet assault that is aimed at them they need restored but they never
Will agree then a nanny kills two little ones in her charge stabs them to death with this insane step into
Yet deeper subterranean darkness the roots of life are growing but they are poisoned throughout it
Reflects on the service the body is racked twisted as a gnarled old tree that can look picture perfect in
Nature but terrible in human life in this state of waste and need of restoration I could hardly see who
Cares at that point the view is most disgusting and in this condition all hope lost the final boat has sailed
With it the last of human dignity goes under the deep black waves when this thought was strongest the
Sea was not my reality only the lifeless desert it was all there was but all of a sudden was it mind tricks a
Mirage I was seeing this beautiful bough filled with blossoms and from there it continued to grow and
Spread out before me all green grasses a profusion of glorious colored flowers of all kinds it started to
Break through the deadness of my mind a time long forgotten slowly started to emerge I couldn’t see
Anyone but I knew that a visitor had joined me tears started like a dam had broken somewhere deep
With in all I knew I was truly loved I had worth and value I could feel it being added anew where I was
An eye sore just moments before now I was a princely person I had this intense sense of whoever it was
Who joined me had known extreme suffering He got me on every level and he was repairing and
Restoring those long festering wounds they just seem to fall off and the greatest peace started to emit
From my inner being there was just a sense of well being that was mountainous and truly rivers of joy
Started to flow out and away my friends step into these words they come from the great restorer your the gift that the thief stole and now you have been reclaimed
Maya Tod Dec 2014
You move like a snake

silently, smoothly, along soft and

from morning dew wet grass.

I found your shed skin beside the lake,

a trace, a mark to follow

already drunk of your sweet fragrance.

There you wait for me on the edge of the woods

but your are a chameleon: every tree, leaf, whisper

of air says your name, hide you, then expose you in twister

and I’m in trance, exhausted of search.

I lean my body on the nearest birch to rest, your alertness

to test.

And there you come,

gorgeous in all your beauty to ****** me with flickering

fiery licks of the tongue that glides over my skin, biting my chin.

I shed my dress, with sky’s bless

Love and Earth, Eden in birth of our desire

endless and restless.

Lake ripples, burbles in sweet aches of waves

upon the gravy shore.

I wake up. I see your peaceful face resting beside mine.

You are a dream of the realm unseen.

There are no descriptors to describe my adore.

I bend to kiss you and hurry to pick up the clothes from the floor.
Kitty Prr Sep 2013
I am not a poet.
I have read many poems.
Beautiful, touching,
Clever and meaningful.

I don't use lovely analogies
Or powerful descriptors.
I write lists.
Clear, concise ideas.

I don't leave space
For the reader's interpretations.
No open wandering paths
For them to meander along.

Everything is clearly defined.
With passages precisely laid out
To direst the reader to
EXACTLY what is being said.

Sometimes when a poem wafts into my head
It is more poetic.
But then as I put pent to paper
Only the skeleton remains.

Even this poem
Had a better feel in my head.
Yet another thing to feel
Inadequate about.

I am not trying to wallow
In self-pity (yet again).
I am just not a poet.
I would like to know what I am.
Shaun Meehan Nov 2014
fidelity, understanding
empathy, caring unconditionally
failing descriptors of life's most sought feeling
reason, felt as purpose for existence—love
time spent seeking, sadness at depriving
either youthful bliss or aged wisdom
emotion's hold unconstrained by seniority
consuming our hopes and dreams
those which drive drawn breath

found true amongst family
in peer only seldom
never a nation, only the few
love guiding all, the
key to a perfect civilization

to create a people of programmed emotion
woven strands
DNA's complex beauty
reduced to binary code's rigidity
heartstring circuit wiring
free will replaced by java script exception
not soul but operating system's disaffection
mechanical allegiance
an imperfect love found in robotic adherence

fealty unfettered
good intention forced subjection
creation resultant a society hollow in perfection
an empty hull of truth
love lacking substance, fictitious in merit
absent the tribulation
the moon by which the sun's effect strengthened

loyalty absolute the greater plan
stalwart and without grievance
love free of expectation
a golden emotion impossible to automate
true love organic by nature
fluid in its implementation
dynamic and unpredictable

to understand the value of light
a man must lose himself in the night
a hard road to learn the better way
by the world's cold we might
know a Kingly castle's warmth
the answer to evil's allowance
free will to choose our citizenship
a nation whose flag represents
the most excellent way
meaningless without choice
left led by our own feeble perception
too oft to misunderstand His intention
a perfect love made perfect by imperfection
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
Peak experiences are now
Flashes of allusions;
The universality thing,
But not spiritual or metaphysical,
The minute and grand have equality,
Or none are equal.
The tree is free from adjectives,
A birdsong nest is superfluous.
Nest will suffice.
When I hear your name
We are together again.
I can't pass a hedge
Without  remembering the push,
The old gap;
It's the push.
There's the poem.
The push.
Each thought a particle,
All particles experiences.
Try it now. No descriptors.
Eyes. Airplane. Clouds.
     (but the story continues):
Airplane. Sunshine. Kiss.
     (there's the peak)
Each word a peak experience.
I picked up my blue and red, beaten up copy of Merriam- Webster and flipped to page 328 where the word “racism” was.
How nice it would be to take an eraser and remove this word from every copy, every edition, every page 328 of every Merriam- Webster’s dictionary.

Would the word go away if I could do that?
Would the conservation of ink that would no longer be needed somehow help to permanently delete this word from the minds of the world as well?

I’d like to think eliminating this word from print would make it go away, but we all know that just because something isn’t pressed into the delicate fibers of sheets upon sheets of paper doesn’t mean that it still isn’t out there, engrained into the part of our brains that picks up vocabulary the way an infant learns how to speak.

Words like racism live on inside the minds of people,
not just on paper.
The more we say the word aloud, let our tongues create the formation that’s necessary to produce the sound that is a product from this combination of vowels and consonants, the more we make it real.
If one person can remove it from their speech, and urge one more person to follow their lead, perhaps over time the word- and the act-  can be gone completely.
But it takes more than just not saying “racism” and it’s various forms, it takes consciously stopping yourself from using any color as a description of someone.

Why does it have to be a black man?
Why does someone have to a white woman?

Remove the word racism from your mouth and it’ll fade from your brain; remove descriptors from a person and they’re no longer a depiction, they’re  just a person.

Just a man.
Just a woman.
Just a human being living, breathing, and sharing this land that we all call


home.
Ottar Oct 2013
time spent, not wasted,
      out of doors tasted
     some experiences priceless,
are better
away from anything wireless
on any sunny day,
a light breeze plays,
with the leaves,
all for one and one for all
it is a free-for-fall until ... you
take a wee one for a walk
in the woods, on a path,
over a bridge and along
a stream.

What a dreamy day it was,
the crunch of leaves under-
foot, the oooohs and aaaaahs,
and various descriptors,
in a language I long forgot,
that of a fifteen month old
pink coated naturalist,
who points with fingers
                   or her fist,
who squats down to
study the million leaves
in reach, looking for the
one that needs the most help
          or a kiss to feel better,
God, You sure make beautiful
weather and a passing grade on granddaughters!
(said with tongue and cheek as she can touch more leaves
than I can take away....)

Up hill and down, by the creek and away,
up by the hairy animals that make her say,
woof-woof in mockery as they guard
                                  the yard
with the chain ink fence
then finally we turn for home
where every pole and tree within
in reach has to be touched like
it has the magical powers of a garden gnome
(let me guess, you have never heard that before)

the wind and rush of traffic at our
back as we spent the walk, not wasting
any time, for she will never be
this
young again.                       Nor will I.
Lucanna Dec 2013
A need that twists
cabled and gripping
To be needed.
A war between
"I shouldn'ts" and "but I have tos"
Where am I in all of this?
The identity of a woman
with ten thousand strong hearts
and breaths
All of it deflated by another
Who appears to need oxygen MORE

Need need need

Kneed Kneed Kneed

until I'm contorted into a
better reflection of yourself.
Unrecognizable am I
I look like the surface of correspondence
Here I am!
Always.
I am
The soul mate
to your dreams and
descriptors and
hurt and
tears and
all that you've ever wanted to change in your life.  
And you'll swear on all that you stand for
that we are closer than anyone you've ever known
But if you were to recite one fact about me
The room would be quiet and empty.


A need to be needed.
AA jargon.
Diane Jun 2013
In this world we come in contact with many people
But there are some
                                    With the artistry of language

There is a kind of humor that only a wordsmith articulates
A kind of intimacy that only a metaphor can tell

A type of eroticism that the presence of its descriptors  

                                    Elicit transcendent flames

And the absence of its poetry leaves it ordinary

And there is something about those people who live instinctively
Knowing that their choice of words can

Capture an experience
Encompass an emotion
                                     Bring it to life and let it fascinate

And those people are my starlight
My still night and moon

Those people are my sunlight
My energy and ocean

They breathe me
Feed me

Surge through me
And identify me
                                      And I am drawn to them

By something bigger than myself, inevitably, we see into one another
Understanding the life within the bonding

                                      Is wordless
But would not exist otherwise.
Francie Lynch Mar 2018
Isn't it easy to write during these times,
And difficult to write on these times,
Without ripping off figurative comparisons.

I want to use wasteland
But I'd be the one compared,
And that won't work. That's not my intent.
Besides, Townsend and T.S. worked it.

There are the platinum choices
Like Satan, Lucifer, or Legionnaire.
But Milton has his scent all over these,
And the Bible invented them.

Those times.
These times.

Apocalypse, or any version thereof,
Would surely bring Brando to mind,
And Kurtz's heart of darkness.

There are inspiring descriptors like,
Cataclysm, devastation and destruction.
Well-represented in cinema
Since Birth of a Nation.
Now there's irony.

As much as Holocaust would be perfect to plagiarize,
I, nor anyone else, should ever attempt,
(And it would be a vain glory attempt at best)
To use this singular word
In an analogy for anything, ever again.
Ever!
Unless absolutely necessary.
Unless someone we know gets stupid.
Then more stupid.
Then stupider.
Then most stupid.
And finally,
Not with a whimper, but a bang.
I falter.
Not exactly plagiarism is it?
Shouldn't be repeated either.
Thus, our plight. Tip of the cap to all I've taken from, willingly.
Lyzi Diamond Jun 2014
Did you ever ask
how long it takes to write
you out of every verse
and all the lines and pages
crumpled in the wastebin
and beads in your hair
and lips drawn like mannequins
and some unsavory sounds
muffled and escaping under the door

Tap tap slap with accent
and headache and eyeroll
while matching shirts stain
in the same exact places
and the low powerhouse hum
hovers somewhere between C and D flat
while beachy melody traipses
over mutual bored expressions

Everything is borrowed, have you ever
built anything with your hands?
Why so soft and exhausted,
you *****? Why don't you stand and fight back?

Unknown monsters disappear
into shadows and thick smoke
leaving a trail of tired descriptors
and false intention
Colm May 2019
All descriptors
And ideas of self
Fade like the days spent walking
Down the path of possibly

And time
Time lasts just as surely
As it waits for no man named me

Hence why
Is the question which I ask myself
Must I try and be
When I've already become
Self Argument
Steven L Herring Dec 2018
Take it away
The descriptors
The labels
Oriented sexually moot
Identity is an argument
best left in the closet
behind old winter coats
and underneath the carpet

Outliners of new think
A shapely figure shall
remain without words
And all compliments from now on
will remain unheard

We are a new breed
A silent society saying nothing
without a signature of compliance
because anything less
would be an act of defiance

No men
No women
Only people live here
Animals at best
Simians sizing up semantics
through troubled waters wading
all the while waiting
for the fan to spread
the feces
to the species

I can't help but wonder
about a face-palmed deity
with his son at his shoulder
God through gritted grill
all but spitting the words
“Soon, my son!  This will all be over!”
And Jesus laughed
poetryaccident Dec 2017
Of all the ways I could describe
how radiant are my friends
it would be one of the three
descriptors stating excellence
none are considered to be the best
instead there is a wide contrast
between effects on my vision
attraction placed to be considered.

Pixie seen would be the start
upturned nose with freckles topped
smile emblazoned, wide enough
oh so cute would be the phrase
these nymphs allure my roving eye
I'll not complain in reticent
just to know that God has graced
the world with fairies near at hand.

Next would be the pretty ones
sum of the whole becomes the lot
not one feature or the other
yet in the all I praise the world
portrait painted by God's hand
with water color or touch of oils
each impressed on soft vellum
charm of the whole becomes the promise.

Lastly are the ones I don't approach
though it's not right, I'll admit
a wall too high for me to cross
the moat with surface that reflects
gorgeous spilled from beauty's fold
stop my heart, I've seen too much
goddess come to walk the earth
within my vision, a pure idol.

Now you've heard attraction's spread
from cute to pretty and then beyond
each as precious as the last
beautiful as the final stop
all these ways I could describe
with so many friends I am blessed
qualities in spectrum's glow
displaying by those in my life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171130.
A friend expressed disbelief and discomfort with others stating admiration of her beauty.  I can relate, not that I have strains of beauty, but I am praised for some things.  I slough off these for my own reasons.  This makes my friend terribly normal, but still a beauty in her own way.  The poem “How Radiant” is about the ways people can be attractive.
Meghan Cruse Jan 2020
Cold and distant are adjectives used to describe me.
Misunderstandings cause pain to myself and to others.
Others perceptions are impossible to adjust
while pleading my case simply results in mistrust.

Sensitive and boring always sound so negative.
Sensitivity contains my observations and drives my compassion.
Simplicity keeps me grounded and allows me to remain rock-solid.
This combination is pivotal in relationships
As my responsibility and reliability will not slip.

Pessimism and sarcasm are a double-edged sword.
My realistic outlook influences misconceptions about hope.
My humor allows self-sharing without fear of being hurt.
I understand events happen and life is hard
And even knowing this I get through unscarred.

Adoring and analytical are my preferred descriptors.
The word Loving falls short at capturing the depth of my heart for those close.
I cannot avoid analyzing people and my surroundings
But alas most find all this to be extremely confounding.

— The End —