"desperations" poems
The letter I never sent,
I write my valentine on my beating heart,
And send a perennial prayer,
That you could know without knowing.
Petals on your doorstep,
But no signature,
Pink Rosehip on your bedsheets,
Spying through your window blinds,
At someone I invented.
A label that travels as my desperations move it,
How I value the sick,
The unnatural,
The corpse and the comfort.
The will to pull me off the train,
The weight of every station,
The ommitance after the deprication,
And the awkward silence after the cosmic joke.
I lust for that iced libation,
The roseate water of ivy and redemption,
A clay to fit inside my insatiable skin hunger,
A welcomed error of continuity in my own beliefs,
And my perennial prayer,
For an ardent antiphon.
-Unabaitingly, The Romantically Inept
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
Barangay streets keep
Desperations wide awake.
The speed of drug wars.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC
Sore’ us
Ooze
‘da poor ‘ust ones
Black scotch and de’wars
**** ‘um is fin’er
As I run from life
‘a from any at all.
‘dis ain’t ‘dey party
Fa’ de’ parted departing
It’s just ‘dey way
Of getting ‘duh deed done
It’s not mystery
Nor ‘duh chance.
See?
Pure despair
‘nings discernment
Evils low ruse
Vindictive benedictions
Pleasures ease
Smell’s clear
While here
Something’s sick
’nings’ fatale
‘ah a‘traction
Sum treacherous torture
Of sentenced de jour…
Jeer’us!
Infectious disease’us
Runnin’ rampant
Of spells complete
Consumption ‘us
Divergin’ opinions ring
Must be sick ’o
Is pathetic delusion ’o
Imagine
Is just imagining
Flashbacks of ole
Smackums’ hymn
Kind’a makes me laugh
But truth is too
Much to rash
That woman’s
Complete
Abusive…
Trash!
Got the world?
Or her wrath
Taken out the best…
Mother Natures Son
Everything he cares for
His family and chill
‘da heir
‘dey run
Only pain and death‘ eruption
Ultimate relentless destruction
Her kind of fun
Yeh ‘dey disorder of disorders
Kin‘da be a gun
Yud luve to be swift
For such ‘da gift
That takes you from ‘dat world
She’s so horrid
From hell they’d tried to bar ‘er
They’d hope to have starv’n out her
But souls she’s quick devour’n
Takes you out
To bear pain upon ya’
Despair, would you’ve joy
Preparations of
Desperations…
She’s suicide!
She’ll get ya on her dream sensations
Thee unforgivable debts
War crimes kinda’
You’ve got comin’
Lest her best compensations
U’d try n try to escape
Marked for pain
Marked not to make it
As prey unto desolations
Of the desperate
And ultimate violations
(She is Suicide
Kind’a be a gun)
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
The mirth crease on my face,
Are the traces of scoff,
Laced in my heart,
The oath I swore,
I hold with pride,
And the throne;I shall surely ascend,
For in their minds are nefarious surmise,
Bequeathed by their fathers,
As an epitome of my exactitude,
And in the reverence of their supposed lore,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
The webs I cast,
And crown the ravens on the orbs,
Somersaulting the flamboyance and alluring sciences,
In the follies of their fantasies and lust,
Their souls are clipped with taint claws,
And shooed into my den,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
In their temples and synagogues,
Are my dote ravens,
Quoting the collars of their scriptures,
And stalking their honored lingo,
In their desperations for excellence and deliverance,
Their minds and sight,
Are bewitched with elixirs,
To their satiety,
And drove in slavery,
'He is powerless"their honored lingo,
In their moments of quandery,
I hover on the corridors of their thoughts,
And whisper the "B" plans,
Brewing the animosities and cruelties among theirselves,
Carving justification for the aftermath,
But still;"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
Apostrophe'
©Historian E.Lexano
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
My ribcage shatters apart to expose
Splintering fragments of brittle bone
I scrape them up into a pile
Offer them to you with a smile
Carving into this sordid heart of mine
With ink spilled from the grip of your fingertips
It spells the words I've never heard
Uttered from the sinister curls of your lips
And the lusting lick of your desire across my death bed of wilted roses
I feel your hunger devouring what's left of mine to give
Your kisses I repress with my tongue
But I'll give in until you're done
I'll beg for more down on knees with prayers
when our course has had its run into the immolation of the sun
We'll end our affairs and leave it unrepaired
dwelling in the darkness that we've built upstairs
I fall into your black tracing scars upon your attack
I feel the bones break in your back
When we collapse our arms around ourselves
Holding tight into a mendacious night
seething with tumultuous roars
Our bellies hungrily ache for each others' taste
We satiate ourselves until the early whisper of dawn
Leaving our scars in scraps of flesh and song
The bite of your bitterness sings along
So tattered I leave beside you
So shattered I break inside you
So torn to be reborn without you
We mourn the morning of our scorn
Pressing it into the palms of our hands
Pushing deeper this belly ache of rotten thoughts and perceptions
Those secret discretions buried clear in our deceptions and flatlined intentions
We have lived this life we give with smoldered chances rendered
Not a moment to spare for the tired or mentored
Guided by the guilty jilted mistakes of our indiscretions
Our hands are bathed in the blood of our love
It takes every ounce of me not to give in to reminiscing of missing what we're dismissing
We're lost searching with no profound calling to take hold of our hands and lead us into the light
just speechless apparitions given into desperations of heartache and failure
seeking a savior to release this pressure building inside the beating of our entwined hearts
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
***Book One
(∞The Psalm of The Star Child∞)
The Precursor's Psalm I-V
To the Child of The Empyrean. For ye valleity stars shine.
(I) ―En Fortissimo
1 Tender with sentimentality,
I fathom you,
2 That you draw closer, nigh’ with every waking moment,
Closer to ensconce ‘twixt my embrace,
3 That your towering arms
May aegis these benighted bones.
4 The Vestibule of Our Souls shall be
Assoiled by an Arcadian Eternity,
5 Shall scintillate in my every blooded tear, shed garnetiferously,
―Upon my crucifix, our crucifix:
6 A penance, pardoning our transgressions prognostically
Before by romance, we touched erringly.
(Se'lah)
(II) Celestial Communion
1 O, Star Child,
May your beckoning
2 Sow the Seeds of Somnus upon the sanctimony
Festering in my faith,
3 (A besmirched hope)
Tarnished by my reverenc’d doubt.
4 O Minstrel of Manumission,
Will ye sing unto me ye SoulSong?
5 The Womb’d Aethers bleed,
The Terraqueous Mother conceives, Gaian a dream,
6 Her Luminous Brethren yearn
For the Arbiter of Fates.
(Se'lah)
(III) Song of Wishes
1 Velleity speaks,
It whispers,
2 In the twinkling of the stars.
When shall it end,
3 When
It has yet to begin?
4 Be still― and become one with all things,
As time fades, consciousness begins,
5 The Experiential Cascade:
All that was, all that is, & all that shall be,
6 Circular & Cycling,
Forevermore.
7 Know that there is a reason,
Know that there is a place,
8 Know that there is a person,
In this world for you.
9 Open up your heart and see,
All you were meant to see.
(Se'lah).
(IV) Spiritus de Tempus (Zeitgeist of the Future)
1 ―Blooming in Reminiscence
The Dreamscape glistens,
2 A Redolent Reverie wafts
The Tenuous Air amidst
3 Her Zephry'd Lightwaves
& Crystalline Pulsations.
4 Ardently I pine,
For thine visage, groping for a rhyme,
5 Whence I can gaze once more upon thine
Countenance sublime,
6 All desperations been defied,
For thee I reverberate Love, The Spirit of the Times.
(Se'lah)
(V) Bastion Heart
1 The agony in existentiality
Unravels undying piety
2 And
Cloistered in cadence of solitude,
3 I, the Somnolent One,
Am roused by The Heart’s Resonance.
4 In wanting, there is life,
In desirelessness, wanting still,
5 Know thine Power,
Indomitable Will:
6 The Couer & The Amour of the Spirit
Are immortal.
(Se'lah)***
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
"Most men lead lives
of quiet desperation
and go to the grave
with the song still in them.”
Henry David Thoreau
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*this fearsome cursed thought,
rises fresh daily from
under death's precursor,
when sleep crusted eyelids broken
illusions none,
escapes zero,
go to my grave
with no lew'd selfie
foolish proclaiming
I was the greatest,
tho but an itinerant bit, an Internet curio
this so very quiet man,
sings his way every day,
with these worn tools,
dull, yet shiny from loving overuse,
the very things you
are currently grasping,
words,
his words
as you do as well...
each poem,
oil poured annotating
a new poem king anointed,
a psalmist on the lyre composing
of still waters to lie beside,
of valleys where he shall final rest
delusions none,
my bones and words will in dust meld,
ashes, couplets, dried essences,
a scents that is
this beings, his Eau de Cologne alone,
tints and hints of yellowed pixels,
tired bone and the worn flesh of
maybe's too plentiful,
coulda's, shoulda's,
if only
so in quiet desperation,
and human spirit ignited by lighter fluid burning,
write, and write yet thrice more,
that a leaden life be happy soiled,
each singing a freedom breaching birth,
a glorious failure, yet endeavour'd
to let his unique tune be heard
to my grave down, down,
but one contentment proudly, black-bold-etched,
amidst the forest of daily desperations,
protested he, with tunes herein shared,
marked by no copyright,
other than his name plain,
satisfied that his singing was
loudly heard until his voice,
could be, would be,
stilled only by Father Time*
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
It's upon these cold stones
Which now, I choose to sit, and wait.
Alone at sunrise, fear, hatred and of course, this synthetic 'Art of Doubt'....become me.
The ridged steps- my only companionship
the true essence of cold.
as my fingers numb, and I can barley type this out
Honestly know
I wonder how long and painful
death by ice
really must be.
Beside me; a building filled with everything I could ever ask for want or even need.
Everything.
And yet , Upon these Cold stones
I sit, just a while longer
To remember what I still have. Not mourn what I've lost.
But mainly, to be a man who doesnt deserve anything inside that wonderful, overwhelming sentimental house. Be it people, possessions even the animals-on those cold steps of reality-he deserves where he rests.
They all deserve more than what I thought I could haven given them.
More than this.
I am so sorry Dad.
Im very sorry Mom.
Thank you, for these cold stones. You will never understand the gratitude, which one day
I must leave behind,
of all the these priceless blessings.
But for now
It's upon these
Oh so cold, disgracelesss stones- you and me are too alike
melted with liquid burned and with fire, me and these cold stones
know true
desperation.
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 6:48 AM UTC
Love,
Love
Oh love, was there ever a word more magical than this?
--
We tame ourselves;
our desperations and imaginings
with a bottle of whiskey and Jack
for are we not all just drunkards
all drunkards
constantly drunk on the idea of love?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
Pink heart, blue heart, black heart's spades.
Love more, love less, love that's fake.
Shy straight arrow shot through the heart,
Don't think there's more I can take.
Heart became black, spades, so I dumped it in the lake.
**** love then, **** love later, but I want love not sorrow
Failure yesterday, failure today, what to expect tomorrow.
Black heart with a stick inside,
And inside a space that's ****** up and shallow.
Spades hearts, spades feelings, spades, spades, spades.
Grim reaper spades like poisoned sharpened blades.
Killing feelings, desperations, and destines.
Leaving bleeding hearts of spades to decay.
Pink heart, blue heart, black heart's spades.
Love more, love less, love that's fake.
Shy straight arrow shot through the heart,
Don't think there's more I can take.
Heart became black, spades, so I dumped it in the lake.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
I saw you gasping
Again and again
Between nothing and nothingness
Where nothing was there but a stone
Be it in the sun, the ice cold frozen tundra
What is air to this stone, the stone of persecution
Stones of death, sorrows, judgments, pity by self or
By others who have taught us by now oh all too well...
We have mastered our own death walking, talking, gasping
between nothing and nothingness as if upon a cross or the last
time we shall have our mouth above water ever again...feigning
what would be life, but we have bound one another whereby to save
oneself every move we make just tightness the noose, or drives in the barbs
of poisonous fangs that not only numb but at once intensify ones pains and of
desperations...
you've been here all much long before
a watchtower whereby you look for the door
the door out, the door unguarded you might slip past
one slick night and too you guard that door with all you've got left
you can still call life,
get out and or don't even dare
enter my shattered temple holy still
like two paths daily moment by moment
there are two gasps you can dare
one as if your first
the other just
might be
your
l
a
s
t
.
.
.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I remember you were born happy
Belly full of joyful loving exuberance
I watched you gasp today
as all that so desperately
just wanted back in
Your beautiful temple
Body soul!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I watched LOVE today
Trying so desperately
With some fervent gasping's
To Simply Be LOVE to YOU!!!!
Fulling out a belly full
of wondrous loving joy
blissful rambunctiousness
To match so graciously
Your Magnanimous Heart!!!!!!!!!!
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
you have desperations of joy that you
walk on short leashes
happiness has sharp teeth.
and mercury eyes.
collar tugging back
adam’s apple bobbing of
rabid throat.
Look up, beast, look up, frightened
brief fires.
when balloons bloom they pop
most times
but when they don't
they slip soul-less to skies
away.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
i find myself exhaust'd
without words to fill
the gaps between breathes
standing in a garage
scavenging ashtray for
more cigarette than ****
feelings of a cut and run
history. always cyclical, always
flooding. again, repeating.
i may not be able to
tell the future, but
i will laugh should we make it
together. my memories
have been lost before, never
quite wiped clean.
i once could live.
these days writ of longings,
of fated desperations, writ
of corner'd separations
while eyes haze and lids droop.
while connections are made
between the breaks in
statements you had to say.
lemme be straight, i am done.
taken to apathy. absconding
with nil thought of leaving
negative remembrances behind.
leaving yellow-paged notebooks
of a past life.
days of the deifiers, days of their
fat-trimming inquisition. For
the flesh lusteth against Spirit,
and the Spirit against the flesh.
and those were scrawnier days.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
in the moments just as dawn discovers the sky
and lays a ****** kiss on the ancient alter
of a soft sea's sandy beach
the rain sweeps away the dust from my eyes
washes away the thoughts that long held me to these broken stone halls
and sets my soul
to this candlelight flicker
in the warm tradewinds
that so entice you and leave you in the raptures of her arms
but she is a mysterious song
her tale full of the spice of the east mythology's
full of the heat of passions found at the end of many roads
when all desperations and desires have parted
leaving only the bare soul
leaving only the true words written in your heart
there in the flickering candlelight
in the warm tradewinds heading east
towards Madrid
to her
her words reaches through the tumult of the sea
thick and rich like a wine
and with the velvet softness that only a woman's voice can give
and forgetting yourself
you turn the tiller
setting course for Madrid
and the destiny of roses in flickering candlelight
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
destruction topples creation
as close bonds split,
alliances rekindle desperations,
individual greeds dismantle agreements,
darkness defeats lightness,
boundless shackles frees death, ending life
life, ending death, frees shackles, boundless
lightness defeats darkness,
agreements dismantle greeds, individual
desperations rekindle alliances,
split bonds close as
creation topples destruction.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
well,
i am accustomed to writing about the dismal and the dingy,
the sharp corners
the foggy roads
the desperations.
now,
i am at a loss
because how do you wrap words around
love that is free
seam bursting happiness
puzzle piece bodies toppling with the feeling that we have always known each other
even before we met
this is a new place
where the poetry is
our souls
our skin
the colors dancing between us.
and i can say this:
love is not to be tasted
it is to be
devoured.
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 11:40 PM UTC
Fallen angels eternal sleep, broken hearts that rip and tare
All our lives are harder now, now your no longer there
You are loved by all of us, because your soul is rare
lost friends will always suffer, when so many people care
The world was such a better place, since our paths first crossed
Summers turned to bitter cold, now that you've been lost
Flakes of snow forever falls, life comes at a high cost
The happiness that we once felt, has turned to bitter frost
Too many fallen angels, there is no sense of hope
Flights of beauties crippled wing, down life's long slippery slope
A sense of lose always remains, knots in a fraying rope
Tangled feelings always last, as we all try to cope
Blackness falls upon our soul, twinkles fade in the night sky
Fallen stars no longer shine, tears of the Sun will cry
Unanswered questions plague my mind, what is the reason why
Broken hearts forever bleed, when you have to say goodbye
Cries of fallen angels echoing, beneath heavens golden cross
Tears of our desperations, when you suffer a great loss
Life's too short for all of us, to gather too much moss
Everything that once was bright , no longer shines like gloss
Why was beauty taken, life will never be the same
Your lost presence will be felt, with every burnt out flame
You touched everybody's hearts, from the day that you first came
Life's not fare now you are gone, is life itself to blame
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
1. Unanswered questions
2.. Overloaded backpack
3. Night terrors
4. Unwritten poetry
5. More anger than I probably know
6. My mother's voice
7. Deep love for purple
8. Responsibility vs Irresponsibility
9. Desperations
10. Tenacity
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Sometimes "the pen" calls me
black ink throbbing
in a brass tube
muffled screams handheld dreams
with words, yet understood.
"What's your intent? One more lament
or a quippy, query?
tale to tell?
As you invent, please just indent
and, punctuate as you,
cast your (perma-spell)"
And then it starts.
The wiggles.
I hold it loose between my thumb
and fingers
sometimes I get the giggles
sometimes I just go numb.
Desperations, contemplations
Ego trips with routes exposed.
I'm never quite sure where we're going
So
I try to wear comfortable clothes
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Dying of fires
The days /
reflections
on surfaces of oceans...
Burnt Umbers, blue & blood,
Mixish
Muted, drowned.
The sinking sun
wounded. Down
For death sees red
before dark fall / Ruin...
It is the sensation of ripples
when supple lips, pink linguist
leaves poetic syllabic pining
—live wires touching
Nape, the meek taste of tongue, shyly
lifting countries to new conquered kingdoms
of skin—
gooseflesh and earthquakes
blood as lava
rushes in
kabuki cheeks
secret joy begins.
Red so parched
Those sudden seas
of thirst
parts /
As our senses / must
breathe...
(like art)
Magic whispers kiss
because touch impassioned
is red and wish.
Lovelorn letters
poetic bliss
Spontaneous wings born
In each ache and void
Loud trumpeting of words
when distance fails
the hearts which beat
Feel speak
red
the oceans felt
the tides that ebb
hurried pleas
desperations
red
when letters
lose the dying magnitude,
the importance & impetus
that love must free...
Great clarion songs
of hearts are red
as are all
kisses (scarlet)
even to air
and dead
begins on such lips
Red.
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 3:07 PM UTC
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't ever fix me
You'll only cut yourself trying to pick up the broken pieces of my soul
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't fill the void inside my heart
You'll only fall in and drown in the emptiness of my heart
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault you can't relight my fire
You'll only make yourself cold, as the cruelty of my breath whispers in your ear
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault that you can't wipe my tears away
You'll only sink into the pits of the darkest ocean carrying the anchors which are my tears
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault you can't bear to listen to my memories
The lightest shadows are enough to send your mind swirling into the desperations of madness.
Hush child
Don't feel guilty
It's not your fault I'm made like this.
It's not your fault at all
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
The world is full of misery with all our failed relations
Mixed feelings and emotions in my mind's hallucinations
The love of a derailed heart in clouded stipulations
When two lover's are forced apart, alone in different station's
Don't succumb to the seven year itch or feelings of flirtatious
Illicit thoughts invade your mind with paranoid creations
Loving seems to turn to hate with harsh eliminations
There is a sense of numbness without any good sensations
The depths of beauty are denied without any realisations
lover's heart's are always lost in hopeless situations
The misery of loneliness gets worse with desperations
Maybe it's because we have too many expectations
Life's to short for broken heart's waiting to be mended
Especially when your lover's gone and your heart is blended
It doesn't have to be this way or completely ended
Stop wasting time for love that's lost this can be amended
A limbo living state of mind is not really recommended
Being with the one you love should always be defended
Soul mate's that are separated can never be contented
Because their heart's are aching and love is not attended
A heart sent gift with feelings there's no need to be offended
It's the way I've always been a characteristic I have tended
Everything can work out fine our life and love extended
If you really want them too then this will be commended
There is no need to be unhappy all you need are chances
A lover's dream can come true not just distant glances
All you need is faith of the heart within your own expanses
Don't lose the love that you once had in falling avalanches
Losing a friend and lover, your feelings are in trances
The bleeding of a broken heart seeping through snapped branches
If your lover's left you, there is no more advances
The grass is not that greener it's only different dances
Maybe your the loser, lost looks are not young stances
True love's supposed to conquer all I'm not sure if it enhances
Kindness is forgotten and the good time's fled in prances
And people will always suffer from all life's failed romances
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 7:47 AM UTC
1. Dying of a day / reflections
on surfaces of oceans
burnt umber, blue, and blood
the sinking sun
wounded
death is red
before the dark / ruins...
2.
It is the sensation of ripples
when supple pink linguist
leaves poetic yearning
fires touching
on nape and taste,
lifting countries and new
conquered kingdoms
of skin
gooseflesh and earthquakes
blood as lava
rushes in
kabuki cheeks
secret joy begins
red and parched
sudden seas of thirst
parts / our senses / must
breathe ...
(like art)
Magic whispers kiss
because touch enpassioned
is red
and wish.
3.
Love lorn letters
poetic bliss
spontaneous wings born
each ache and void
trumpeting words
when distance fails
the hearts which speak
red
the oceans felt
the tides that ebb
hurried pleas
desperations
red
when letters
lose the dying magnitude
the importance
and impetus
that love must free
clarion song
of hearts are red
as are all
kisses (scarlet)
even to air
and dead
begins on such lips
red....
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Some are like caged hens
banging there heads on the
metal metaphors of desperations.
Non confirmative to the needs of seclusion,
as they were once free range.
The eggs of doubt and walking in
secluded circles,
can drive one to
desperation!
or even to the moment of silence.
We all are meant to be free range,
and now were battery hens,
running out of charge..
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 2:35 PM UTC