"deviate" poems
J'étais fou de toi. J'ai été
I will never forget
the more I wanted (you)
the less I was.
If a dark night is for dancing -
will you come waltz with me?
from the top of a hill
she never heard
which way to down
and never felt
a connection underneath
a missing note
a deviate step
a vapor mist
our kisses never met
a hollow cavern
a hole forever closed
inside and out
like tar water run-off from a hopeless ash basin
an unending drizzle of forever ending dribble that fizzled ... out
help me dear earth
if you really want to be mine
blacken the soil and ink the green
in deeper ferns we reappear
as lava flows to shore.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
Software job
80k salary
Potbelly
An apartment plot
with 20 years of loan
Yo yo sounds
Yea, you're a hero
Many a parent claim
Your hand in marriage
For their daughters
And for your parents?
You're a model child
Deviate from it?
Yes you are the parasite :D
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Airports make me anxious.
There is too much going on, too many gates and times and delays and people.
They are ***** and crowded. They make me feel small and tiny, iridescent.
They are good for people-watching and spending too much on rather cheap food.
Airports make people obnoxious. People forget their manners as they scramble to the flight that they're already late for, bumping into me along the way with no apology offered.
Airports are huge, massive. Their size is daunting to me; I can so easily get lost and deviate from the path that leads me to the correct gate.
Airports are lonely. Nobody makes eye contact anymore with strangers, so I'll sit alone and read a book and maybe drink some tea or coffee, occasionally looking up to see if anyones looking at me.
Frankly, I do not enjoy airports. But I enjoy you.
So I will sit in an airport someday, sitting cross-legged and reading near a window. I will listen to some music and ponder whatever comes to mind until my flight arrives and it's time to board. I will board my plane, leaving behind the bothersome airport to come see you.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
.
•my
arms point
to the sky•
a gesture
frozen in eter-
nity•un- fazed as
the clouds whisper a
lie• rumours of rain that
never came quickly• prickles
protrude menacingly •threaten-
ing all who would stray too close•
baseless gossip that masquerade
as pleasant- ry•to deviate me from
the path i chose•still i stand
here...duelling the sun
•in a land scorched
barren•search-
ing for hope
when there's
really none•
here i stand...
lonely and
drought
stricken•
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
The snake hisses and slithers
Right into your mind
It fills you with wants
And fills you with dreams
The snake coils around your brain
And before you even realize
The snake has captured control
Of what you determine as your life
It bites when you deviate
It crushes when you try
It slowly kills
Any of you left inside
This snake, it's unwelcomed
But we grow accustomed
To the control of the snake
And yield to it's command
Few leave the snake, there is
No escape
And when there is none of you left
The snake slithers away
To find someone else
There is a snake
In everyone
There is a snake
And no way out
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
Equations of creepiness exist beyond the surface of interplanetary suckers or tendrils.
So, tell me, how horizontal are your expressions?
As girls are not dissimilar to counting backwards on a scale of oratory genius, then
how far do you deviate from what is considered to be the norm?
Although foliage may display her open and ontological beauty at this uncertain period of nothingness,
I unravel myself from this Egyptian tomb of aborted eloquence.
Just be yourself, please.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Often I wonder which is harder
'Singleness or Marriage'
How do we do it?
The struggles of being with someone and remain purified sexually
The focus we must attain in this manner
The mindset of suppressing lust and passion
Remaining without touch till the set time
Our partners how they seemingly accept the challenge but later deviate;
With talks like ‘am only human’.
How we look innocent but crave deep down for a tiny piece
The chain of celibacy a slavery we were made to follow
Or else anguish and chastising
Am broken and torn
The lessons I learnt I hold dearly
Corinthians stated worries
Oh my fate!
When whilst thou end, this status I cross around my neck
Wait! but don’t look waiting
The side talks and jest, the respect long lost
Yours will be the latest I know
Happen already!
Wait on God permanent anthems now
Smile and wave don’t show it
Or you are jealous.
Be happy and suppress
Be hopeful and pray
For how long!
Be patient, kind,
God’s time is the best
Oh when!
It’s been 3 decades and counting
No judging authority
I only want to be loved
Now I live for myself alone no deviation from love and service
I will do not just right but the right way
With God before me.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
The distance ever so touchable
Yet you're still far afield
The glimmering glitter in your blissful
Translucent almond irises
Waiting to deviate from them
Yet they have imprinted themselves
Now affiliated with my heart
Seeing your lips brimming brightly
Rejuvenating your flawless visage
Embodying my love
Not even half your beauty
Inwardly made you mine
Realistically destined for another
Drastic jaundiced waves
Crashing the shores of heartbreak
Sentiments
Thus the eminent work of
Patience
Silence
Benevolence
Enshrouds my blooming admiration
For you
Unfastening my feigned ethos
For you
I comprehend the significance of dignity and family
But my love
Ceaseless and eternal
But my love
Yours only
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
I take flight
With all my might
To be your kite
Following you wherever you go
To be part of your ebb and flow
People think I ingested the wrong pill
Because up here I can't see the roadkill
And float over the pitch black oil spills
From the end of your string
I become king
There is an approaching storm
As you deviate from the norm
And discontinue acting warm
Your lightning strikes
My metal pike
Electricity tears through my thin fabric
As I dream of a tranquil casket
And you want to grant me my death wish
I guess that's why they call me Icarish
For flying to close to the rain
Only to constantly feel pain
To distract me from the shame
From those with unknown names
But familiar bigoted flames
To me you both are the same
Once I go against the grain
You tell me to stay in my lane
High above the gravelly ground
Where you can't hear my sounds
Of impaling wailing
Because you're bailing
Letting go of the string
You become king
I am a kite floating
Spending night noting
All my many mistakes
That caused these breaks
But despite trying my very best
The wind provides a difficult test
After I am battered into tatters
My hopes couldn't be flatter
So I start to feel it doesn't matter
When my dreams came true then shattered
The wind solemnly sings
Of distant powerful kings
But I cannot fly anymore
In my broken kite form
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
I commit a crime.
Deviate.
I sin;
I don't believe in.
I shoot myself in the foot
to learn how to walk
differently.
I do something evil.
I bleed.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Like air,
my presence is gentle and quiet.
Yet I am temperamental;
from breezes to gusts,
from gusts to whirlwinds -
a turbulence derived from perceived planes.
Still, I stand before you,
eccentricity that does not deviate from its kind manifest.
And with this golden cup,
I will rain upon you from the heavens above,
cleansing the earth.
I am Aquarius.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
Autistically
speaking
I applaud
your intelligence!
flap flap
clap clap
when you
don't think
before
you think
flap flap
clap clap
or open your
*******
******* mouth!
and disparage
and belittle
those with
a learning
disability.
But then maybe
It's you who is
disabled
as you don't
seem able to
distinguish
between what
is right and wrong
what is cruel and kind
flap flap
clap clap
in your ignorance
you are blind
and your
intellectual mind
is a snob
of the worse kind
Looking down
from your high brow
because you
are so clever
I forget
Let's all applaud
and you can remark
(Out of context of course)
that they're all ******* retards
flap flap
clap clap
Well aren't you hard!
You bully when
you say
the dimwits
and the morons,
unloveable,
undateable,
unwanted,
a drain of society
they should all be
put down.
Not somebody
you would choose
to be friends with
or if you did
it would be so you
take advantage of
an idiots good nature
and pure heart!
flap flap
clap clap
Or so you
could look good
in comparison
to them
and maybe it
would knock your
own IQ up
a number or two!
Your average ******
could teach you a
thing about numbers
if you asked them
And you wouldn't want
your own kids
playing
with them
incase they catch it....
Catch what?....
the ability to be
awesome
to think outside
the box
to see feel and
understand
and experience
the world and
people in a
completely
unheard of way.
To smell colours
and taste words,
and your inability
to deviate from
anything other
than your narrow
little mind
really is absurd!
So let's all clap
and flap flap
flap flap flap
and maybe
shriek a bit too!
They are the true
freethinkers
the true misfits
the pure and
the truly blessed
They are
the ones
the people
who are
"different"
"Individual"
as you
would like
to be
flap flap
clap clap
You ignorant ****
Autistically speaking
Who's the ****** now?
©Jacqui Slade
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection
Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop
Must stay present, no time for memory swap
Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection
O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection
Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum
Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation
This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation
Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum
Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam
I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you
Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me
On such road of alluvial soil I see
How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew?
You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
Boys will be boys, will be men, will destroy
Will take and take what you create
Will shame you if you deviate
Will make the rules they proceed to break
And after every encounter, you're a little more shaken
A little more autonomy from you has been taken
You rack your brain to find the words to demonstrate just how it hurts
Time passes - and the moment is gone
They were staring at your *** and you know it was wrong
You know you don't belong
You are an object for observation
But that's a whole different song
So does it make it any better when you play along?
Are you simply playing victim in a manmade system?
A child of the Fight, how do you extract from that mode?
In a world full of players, you let yourself be taken
How is it that you manage to let the simple words break in?
The glass ceiling is surprisingly sharp
And the burden on your back gets heavier as you approach
The child in the closet didn't make it this far
There's a fine line between honoring your wounds and hiding in the dark
This is the line I walk every day
On one side, victim and healer, I tend to my wounds
The other lives in reality and makes the right moves
But duality is a falsity
Of course one can't be two
And the structure I see in the world I perceive brings out the fight
**** the patriarchy
**** the Right
They're not right
Their vision is just limited
There are so many issues I wish to address
If I cry through the fight, does that make it worth any less?
Does my brokenness somehow discount the rest?
The weight of my burdens change by the day
And yes, victimhood is the easiest way
May I be the last to place blame
This glass house holds no shame
And if you won't throw the stones at the broken and stuck
Pass them around and throw them straight up
Let's all make the ceiling shatter and fall
And watch now as the shards rain down
And this can happen when we're all ready to be active
And act as protagonists in our own play
So **** the patriarchy, but do it in your own time, and in your own way
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
I almost wrote you a love poem
...but I don't love you.
Your crayola stained lies turned my blue skies to gray
so how could I be happy when there's no sunshine today?
No sunshine today turned to no sunshine to this date
so to this day I'm embodied in the darkness that you made.
I almost wrote you a love poem
but instead I wrote a riddle.
I repose homely in dark spaces
because I've adapted to the dark.
I'm engulfed in darkness
But I'm that gleaming light from afar.
Answer is,
I'm a Star.
Consensus:
Your devious dark deeds attempted to deviate
my direction and detach me from the light leaving me in darkness
but I empowered myself,
debunking your detrimental ways
and becoming the light you tried so hard to take from me.
I almost wrote you a love poem
and if I did,
it'd say I love you.
...but this isn't a love poem!
and the only I love yous I recall,
are the lies you told me
and the truths you told him.
I almost wrote you a love poem,
...and if I did,
If I did write you a love poem..
I bet I'd have nailed it!
...but you ******* it all up
and now,
who's really the fool?
I almost wrote you a love poem,
and if I did,
it would have went a little something like
...idk
because loving you is something I never want to do.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
I have a question. What is real? Should it be based on what you can feel because now feel can be touch or emotion, I feel the suns warm rays the same as I feel my heart break and no one can tell me or you that either is not real because we can feel so I ask what it is you feel? I for one feel imprisoned by the Mold society has put me in as a man I have to be handsome,brave,loving, trusting and understanding but at the same time because I am a man I am by default a conniving, cheating, abusive, alcoholic, womanizing pig, why? Because " we are all the same" such caprice why? Why is it I must feel ashamed to be a man why is it I must be everything you want and don't want, the light of your day and the darkness of the night the Prince Charming in your life fairytale as well as the villain with the apple in my hand ,the apple of my eye is that what you want? I feel as if I'm just the means to an end the end being the moment I yield to this mold these confines in my mind why do I have to feel like I'm the enemy? how is it my fault? you're the one who laid in the sands of his beaches indulging in that forbidden fruit from the garden of eden, your tears now fueling its sea, but all i hear are your cries of betrale his name the lyric of choice but I see, I should take the blame its what is wanted of me the good guy but the moment I deviate from your plans I am the evil one I'm the reason for these broken hearts mine and yours I'm the devil can't you see the flames you set In my personal hell in my mind in my soul
why is it I'm a mockery?
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
Stardust in your eyes, fairy tale inspiration
of the princess I can see
I'm just sad; a poetic anomaly, and the social
deviate from being any standard of someone to love
But I gave you my heart—to concede the respect of your
royal family ties to love a moderately *******
We could find the keys to lock our love in wedlock
beneath the solid surface of desires nightly
imaginations of the best positions to get that perfect
bedrock
You're waking up in the long creases of short socks
as it's human nature to want to increase
An increase in the funds to afford the fun
of a light-hearted pleasure under the lights of stars
And I could count them all, but they'd seem less
than my scars
Still its astronomical of all the particles of earth
that I'm always struck by your eyes stardust
Sep 28, 2022
Sep 28, 2022 at 7:30 AM UTC
Walk walk walk
Fortify your freakish walls
Step up and fall upon the pulp
Of holy minds for precious law.
Gather, creature, gather
Absorb these crude misleadings
Regret the future, deviate
Flushed-out skies and rigid feelings.
Wait, then stop and wait
Start again, without the hand of fate
Till depth do us part
In the valleys, as a traitor.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
the tangibility of fallibility
is met between the coincidence
and insatiability of adversity,
the blissfulness of satisfaction
is met between the constant refraction
and abstraction of our instability,
distancing perceptions bound by
our misinterpreted misconceptions ,
take the contradictions of our minds
and use them as receipted expectations,
blinded by darkness for illumination
idyllically thriving on the absence of starvation
but the the realism of disdained relation put us
in a position of contempt fixation,
placement of a pedestal beneath my feet
misdirected direction towards a forked defeat,
a way to pain and a way to pleasure,
the destination of each concluded at cloudy weather,
atmospheric conditions leave injunctions towards
the ****** functions to deviate and meditate
the conflicted constant of mind and heart
and diverge from its obliged obligation from the start,
a denouncement expected right from inception
brought afloat a constant instance of introspection,
intrinsic emotions distorted at a love’s devotion
sparks a metaphysical claim towards a complex notion
of companionship and intensified intimacy;
an expectant of reciprocated sympathy
but when in reality, the thought of apathy
lies not within the partner,
but within me
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
The passion has almost gone
of love and longing for Thee;
there's no meat left on the bone
for devotion's heart to see.
Instead of looking within
the mind is focused outside
with the body getting thin
life's mercy is to confide.
One just can't ignore the signs
that can be seen by the eyes;
age seems to be drawing lines
and there's no comfort in lies.
Like a dog eating a bone
it soon gets to the marrow
and for this it eats alone
with its eyes being narrow.
We become what we're to be
over a lifetime of years prone
to the ups and downs we see
and fruits of our efforts grown.
It's by grace we can transcend
what it is we have not seen
so the hours we've got to spend
will determine places been.
If we stick fast to the path
and don't deviate too far
we won't incur any wrath
and even shine like a star.
Life's course involves such a plan
that we may glean in the mind
looking deep enough to scan
at its source of light we'll find.
________________
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 9:59 PM UTC
It is a general saying that What You Seek is Seeking You. If it is so , then why the sought for (i.e. God ) is not meeting the seeker or seeker is discovering the sought for (i.e. God). It is very easy to say that God is looking and searching for us. If it is so, then why we deviate from our path. Why we are attracted to the lust, money or other worldly material. If God is searching us, then certainly he has to guide us in tracing him. But the reality is just opposite. If tread the path of God, people will laugh at you. If you are working in any office, it is very easy to talk about politics, movies, girls, foods, clothes etc. It is very difficult to find a companion with whom you can speak about God. It looks as if God has created all these hindrances so that it is not convenient to seek him.
You seek about movie and you find movie theater. You look for clothes, you find the multiples mall easily. But what about God. Go and ask questions to so called Spiritual Leaders, Spiritual Guru and ask for their experience regarding proof of god, and you do not find definite answered.
I have met various so called spiritual leaders, spiritual Gurus and asked about their spiritual experience about the God. But I receive only hesitating answer, that too also in Negative. I do not want to name such leaders.
I have also read many books like GOD SPEAKS by MEHER BABA, LAW OF SPIRIT WORLD by KHORSHID BHAWNAGRI, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF YOGI by Yogananda Paramhansa, Gospel of Shri Ramakrishna. But the end result is confusion. Each book gives different account of God. If God is seeking us then why the same is confusing us by providing so diverse ways of following him. Ramakrishna says money and women has to be avoided on the path of God. While Osho and Modern Gurus says just contrary. In fact in word of Osho, without treading the path of *** , it is difficult to follow the path of God for modern man.
For Vedanta, the seeking has to follow the ascetic path. The path the self restraint. While the path of tantra (the Left Marg) to utilize women and wine for attaining the Samadhi. It is Just incomprehensible to believe that just two contradictory path lead to realization of same God.
When you look to go nearer to a particular cities or places , then on the way you start meeting land marks, evidencing that the path, you are following , is going to lead you to your destination. In fact on the ways, you find many stones, indicating the distance which is yet to be covered in reaching the destination. But in case of God, things are just contradictory. The more people you approaches to seek advise regarding the God, the more disappointment comes to you. The more book you read to tread the path of God, the more confusion you creates for yourself. The more you discuss the topic of people around, the more alone you become. The more you tread the path of truth, the difficult your life become.
Then how it can be said that WHAT YOU SEEK, IS SEEKING YOU?????
In fact , truth is that What we seek, creates hindrance in being sought for.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
The notes of the song -
the quarter notes
the half notes,
eighths and sixteenths
triplets and all variations -
they form in my brain
through the speaker to my ears
and form a picture,
ever flowing and moving
that depicts, sometimes,
your face and your body.
Images of different sorts
some with color and some with out
that can relax and satiate
or do the opposite
and deviate
from the normal cooing
of my heart,
creating an anxiety matched by no other.
The pictures becoming what I see in front of me
as I walk around in life. My brain and nerves -
dancing along
singing their own words to the song
and making everything right
that was once wrong.
And I’m not sure if you will get this
and understand what I mean
but I know my thoughts will never be clean
of images from sounds
dancing all around.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 10:36 AM UTC
Unborn and already
A path has been chosen
By those that are not them -
To become another cog
In the inescapable machine that is society.
Born - early, half dead.
A step toward failure in
The eyes of their creator
For what they cannot control -
To be fixed and set right
On the path that they will learn to detest.
Developing - on time
To the doctors’ surprise.
The creator gives praise,
But the approval never lasts -
The environment is unsteady and
Unfit for angels to properly grow.
Learning - to please
Instead of exist as one’s own,
Matured in the wrong ways
For an angel of that age -
Molded to never cause concern
No matter the magnitude of circumstance.
An inconvenience to their maker
Unless they could be shown off
For the benefit of the creator -
In private often belittled
And ignored for so much as being a child.
In public a model,
A display of perfection -
Quiet, reserved. Listens well.
A miniature of their puppetmaster
(As what the creator allowed to be seen).
Yearning - to deviate
To become their own
Without the wrath that
Has always followed a stray
From the carefully chosen path
That their master has made so
Impossibly unachievable.
Desperate - attempting to remove
Their wings, Trying everything to
Fall from grace -
To be cast aside and never acknowledged
Or cared for again.
An attempt to be free
Executed in the worst ways -
Broken and bleeding they
Almost always return to
The way it was before as
Their creator sees nothing but
A way to start over and
Mold them once again
Into something unattainable.
For the rest of eternity
All the angels who taste individuality
Pursue endlessly that
Momentary tinge of
Identity; willing to
Try anything and
Everything to become
Angels of their own
Once again, well
If you could call them that.
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 8:31 AM UTC
The Cannibal’s dream and the inverse conclusion
Twist of the seam, sunken scattered illusion
Shouts of the spy fastened tight to the pylon
Sacrifice sweating; bygones can’t just be bygones
Mustard gas moans, whip lashed in the fire
Cunning glass masters burned alive at the pyre
Miscarriage minister delivers the sponge-bath
Alive at the eve of divination, the wrath
Blasphemous cries vindicate putrid powder
Sweet crystal cradling, swaddling sheets on the shrouder
Arcane sessions in the cavern deep
Turbulently righteous ideas to reap
Divine purification at an alchemy flame
A zenith of nostrums, bad medicine, blame
Strip off the layers and chant benediction
A hand, from the mind, reaching out for conviction
Sharp swords of lead, heavy, shifting to gold
Sentient beings search for truth to behold
Excavate, deviate, a stranger to demonstrate
Colloquial séance with panic to elevate
Head leads body, a path of insurrection
The soul and the mind at war for correction
The crotches of branches, slits of the eyes
A crevasse of lonesome; wedged in, we writhe
Anticipating the sting that comes with the change
Of transforming the cave into a mountain range
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC