"dichotomies" poems
There are times where I don't have to
carefully construct metaphorical honey glaze
I can just slide my mottled skin from out
of this tagged and tattered shell
and say, "I'm just as thirsty as any of you"
These strange dichotomies, of shyness and openness
hatred of self, and longing to lift the self up to heights
craving peace, yet seeking disorder
If my cells could vote
there would be a recount
and then another
and another
another
perpetually cyclical self-realization.
Such a frustrating way to absorb you,
through the intuitive tunnels
clogged with judgmental plaque
and grimy windows
that only allow flushes of dusty yellow
to emit.
Loneliness bites, yet I seek the wisdom
only blessed by meditation
and introspective psychedelic meanderings.
Lovers split your ribs, yet my eyes quest
endlessly for you.
These strange dichotomies,
pepper and salt my atrophic throat
until I entertain a curious gaze instead.
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
Gut dropping falls
Dizzying ascent
It scares me
But I get back on
Forgive and forget
Care first for yourself
Pursue pleasure
Avoid pain.
Asynchronous
Dichotomies
Cannot achieve
Mutual satisfaction
Pain is inevitable
The price of living
paid in discomfort
And Uncertainty
A life of comfort
Is quiet and easy
An extraordinary life
Challenges the soul
Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 12:19 PM UTC
Sugar nightmares haunt children
Nancy harlequins cane them
Oh, child of mine
your life you did,
away,
sign.
Force fed familiarity with already branded emotions,
irregular realities and clouded surreal formalities,
so very many humans’ form dichotomies
out of our shared mute gray;
spinning constant self-important prose.
So very many humans share so much,
so little,
not often
doing little to soften
all of their emotional blows
trying hard to strike enigmatic pose.
Oh, child of mine
the heart of utilitarian method
has receded in incredulous fashion
followed by authoritarian apologies;
the majority is not icecream people
spreading simple good thought,
but generations fraught
with trivial conformist ideologies.
We are all hiding our seams
with creative masks
and self created tasks.
Oh, child of mine
your prescription reality is revealing itself as Atlantis,
sinking and shuddering into Quaaludes
with frightening psychotic interludes.
Emotions paint
stained lurid faces,
dancing with
ludes effecting movement,
nudes of swaying and repose.
You arose deeming so much rightfully yours
waltzing through seemingly already opened doors.
Holy curb their anti-Christ
Consider your aging soul
Oh, child of mine
Belief of awareness in action
understand the probability of dissatisfaction,
Stop!
treating the moment as a bleak bridge to the next inaction.
Eventually ponderous thoughts form
resembling an orrery,
an incessantly philippic story
orchestrates your oleaginous personality.
Oh, child of mine
Youth flees and your mind
takes once again to the seas,
a vexing penumbra of perception.
Bathos permeates the fathoms of an obstreperous life
and if you still care,
lament that this meaningless congeries
of moments
inspires only delusion,
no disillusionment.
Eventually a lilting threnody
leading 'tween burning pews of proposed serenity
and the following bumping callithump
will firmly stamp you into black infinity.
Oh, child of mine
You've used the switch
too much
too often
coupled with lofty scoffing
giving the innocent up as offering
to the
mechanical engine
of organic creation.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
Your blatant onyx stare transfixes me
Plunged into a deep dichotomies of guilt and persecution
Naked under your primordial gaze
Liberation pulses to my core
The passion floating in your eyes is more then have the drones I know
The tendrils of your long grandmother feet
Wrinkles dictating the violence you consumed
As you lay collapsed between holes in fences
The grip on my notebook tightens til its painful
Our staring contest has turned deadly
Meanwhile the one in the next cage is creating a disturbance
Tracing circles with his finger tips as he swings
His tale attached to the conical world vision
You are not like him
your toenails turn black as a tarnished weapon
Maybe it is you that has adapted
My eyes look vacant in your reflection Of shock and conniving references
Your movements contort logic
Teleportation from within
The steps would break me into fractures
So ill-suited to this wild world for which you were born
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
there's an awesome sound
dripping brown
drugged up
and laid down
by brothers from other mothers
in their new hope town
making up rifts
and ******* around
are you picking up
the sound that i found?
can u taste the waste?
keek up the pace?
of stroker ace?
or their country greats?
some worship god
some dance with satan
they're in betWeen
dichotomies breakin'
and you know they're makin'
pork roll, egg, cheese
and bacon!
and gravy fries
mutilated lips
and pure guava eyes
May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
Intrepidly neglected, of my lessened reasoning, I am dissected, of my insurrection, from the blessed beens of yesteryear's glints, dancing, parading, and burning, in layers, stages, and fazes, fading, and melting, the plastic faces into the smelting heap, that has come so far, just to inspire me.
Always.
Always you unto me, spiraling, indefinitely into the deep, where ceased is the times, with bloodied hands, and laugh lines, laughing one last time, while glancing toward my watch, under setting suns, and rising stars, smiling faces, and in tearful goodbyes, i realise
The sky's limitlessness
And in all the glory, and all the bliss, the eloquent stories, and the gentle drifts, my imagination uplifts, in wisps of gentleness, where i submit to reason.
Bless-ed be, the one who garners to my support, from a vortex of euphoric antidotes, of mindless quotes, and animated emotes, pulsed, from straight faces, and lost hope.
Ill tell the truth, you can go with nope, in whispered breaths of gun smoke, lathered in lith-dope.
Just trying to cope with the flow, until i crash upon the shores of nevermore, and, explore these holes in my soul intent, ascending from the contempt of bent perspectives, and twisted concepts, letting the blood of the peasant from my arms of harmony, trembling blankly to sleep.
To you a ***** to me tranquility, as i sink, into the world i knew, so that it may be seen, casing the well being, of all the things, and pixelated dreams, from a thieves keep.
Deep, down, below me, in obscurity, i seep, through the soil of my turmoil, until my hand reaches out, from beyond my doubts, and clambers from the shadows, outside of myself.
I am born, of mud, of muck, of the stuff, you're afraid of, and all i bare is love, love to shrug the shams astray, vacating the placation, and dichotomies, unifying light, into one me, shining in the rainy streets, of my deletion
Until my completion
Completely
Erases me.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Bohemian dichotomies are like winding garden paths, where foxgloves and lupins stand proudly with a rich array of botanical flamboyance.
What is the structure of this pervasive uncertainty, where conspiracy is a perpetual construct which is designed to interfere with anthropological cohesion?
Consider the presence of a mature apple tree, where doves abide in ornithological matrimony.
Let us humbly acknowledge that nature is a powerful beautician, who expels her adversities with gentle ruthlessness.
Let us kiss together amidst this romantic pasture of nostalgic permission.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
I am a walking oxymoron
I am a contradiction
I consider myself a realist
but crave the taste of fiction
I am a both sides of an argument;
much like the true colors of freedom
I bristle at words of affirmation
because I hate that I need them
Oh, wretched heel!
Oh, bane of life!
Cease to inflict your funereal strife!
What must it take?
Would I be healed,
Should my dichotomies be revealed?
I am a fire upon the sea
I am a grand confliction
I write as if I have no inhibitions,
but it seems that words are an addiction
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
Monster,
making me your monster,
I know your games
I may be trapped
but I will
I will
find my way out,
**** you
life is beautiful,
I am ID
and ED
and GOD
and everything else that has mixed meanings
******* dichotomies
and word jumbles
and brains splattered,
right here. Turn away, go back to your pattern,
go back to your story and be ******* comfortable.
Not today, I said to the monster,
standing up,
you manifest as a bug
a cockroach, I hate those things,
and I squish you.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 3:51 AM UTC
*supple of body
nimble of mind
often gripped by wild fancies
stiff in body
subtle in mind
but deceptively simple
glitters like fools' gold
has too much gloss
and yet often too little depth
quiet like a deep pool
inscrutable like an oracle
not given to being a spectacle
these are the dichotomies
we all must negotiate
as we traverse the world
in search of the jewel we never find
one so rare and refined; thus say i,
stay a little longer where you are
you might then get to know
that though wrinkled, hoarse and grey
i'm your mirror in many ways*
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
.
Let it out
Let love in
Let it go
Let love win
Love every soul you see
Make love for lovers' sakes
Make happiness make glee
Mend all folks real or fake
My end will come from my beginning
No happenstance no random chance
Nor penance, plucking from your winning
No loss from staunch opponent's lance
Oh would that we could wane
Our dim dichotomies' details donned;
Outside this window pane
Oh wildest winds, we want to wander!
Penance plunders grace
Perchance, do you hear laughter?
Pick up your fallen face
Quick think: what are you after?
Remember what was ransomed
Remarkable requests are made
Requisite responses that result
Sacred sacrifice - ransom paid
So stop the secret scratching
Soothe your screaming skin
The way your thoughts keep hatching;
That tell-tale heart ticking within,
Take a look around
This is a lucky life we live
Though time takes senses: sight, and sound
Taste, scent, and touch - like sand through sieve
.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
The hippie days were rather hard
For a young guy just starting out.
Off- brand jeans and crew-cut hair
Didn’t carry all that much clout.
I was into show tunes and Elvis,
The Beatles were great and new.
I lucked right into the Troubadour
And fell in love with Elton too.
One of my ladies loved Airplane
The other loved the Monkees
The problem was that only one
Was ever approved by junkies.
But I was so squeaky clean
That I was only into cheap coffee.
I swear I could get high as a kite
On Russel Stover’s fine toffee.
But something changed for me
The day I first heard David Bowie.
It sounds kind of childish now
But he was special and so glowy.
He pointed out some dichotomies
Between what was said and done.
At that time we needed something
And Bowie was obviously the one.
I didn’t stick there with his genie
But his genius opened some doors
And affected my art and my poetry
Way back then and forever more.
So then it was Prince, The Doobies,
Aretha Franklin and Annie DiFranco.
And, of course, the one-hit wonders
About eighteen hundred or so.
It wasn’t always about music
This social code of mine.
But music underscored it all
Made even politics toe the line.
We made changes in civil rights
And even affected an evil war.
There is no reason to doubt it.
Music will continue to change more.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
glass half empty or half full?
why do we even ask at all?
all this thinking takes its toll
on our society of analysis
anti-action and paralysis
it really is a dangerous thing
overphilosophizing i mean
we've fallen victim to the allure
of thinking that we can cure
anyone anything and or any problem
with enough thinking tinkering and or solving
but truly there's really got to be
more to cure the modern malady
of paradoxes and dichotomies
and meta-epistemologies
we've come too far for us to merely be
just because i think we think
if i can really only see
what's standing right in front of me
once it's gone to the periphery
then i'm positive that we'll all have been
over inacting and underachieving
for far far too long
we think too much and do too little
it's not like it's a test or a riddle
we write creeds and manifestos
but there's no credence manifested
if we don't give precedence
not to kings queens or presidents
but to becoming a society-
a people who won't go quietly
whose thoughts and bright ideas
suddenly begin to coalesce
into lives being lived
to the absolute fullest
we need something more
we need a paradigm shift
made from something much more sure
than a philosopher's two cents
but if we don't act now
if we procrastinate and wait
our dreams will just be dreams
and tomorrow will be too late
so then-
if you don't mind
instead of stopping just to analyze and think
i think i'll take that half of a glass
and maybe take a drink
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
How is it possible
To feel two things at once?
"Dichotomies."
Atrocities
That sheer the mind like paper.
"I hate you,
I love you,"
Spoken so close together.
Every time,
Each some crime.
I'm b roKen then TRANSFORMED.
A swelling heart,
A burning rage.
Back and forth.
Don't turn the page.
Not again,
Not like this.
Please don't stop this thrilling chase.
"Stay with me,"
"Leave me be,"
If you know what's best for you.
I'm good for you,
I promise you.
"Don't look at me,"
"Who is she?"
I'll isolate
Everything.
There is none,
I'm the one.
I am nothing,
This time it's final.
I'm sick of you,
So don't come back.
Where are you going?
Why am I sewing
This new patch?
Let me f
a
d
e
i n t o b l a c k . . .
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
You see, the water does all the things it’s meant to.
It does everything and nothing
It goes everywhere and nowhere.
Its essence is dichotomies and dualities
The shores line its gentle brutality
Infinite and dangerous - an endless finality
Sometimes still – a lifeless vitality.
The wind can push it
The earth can shake it
To understand this paradox is a risk –
Don’t take it.
A stagnant mind will see you drowned.
Producing these lines, but not a sound.
Words to be written but not to be spoken.
These are the words my soul has chosen.
Jul 30, 2023
Jul 30, 2023 at 4:11 PM UTC
Creating realities after realities is a nice practice,
A bit dangerous as well when done myopically.
The ability to empathize to points of others’ specificity,
Writes a narrative now more than one can see.
We take our blinders off,
And open the doors of the world.
Be cautious in listening to the self alone,
For other beats may give you a better rhythm.
Why remain the protagonist
In an epic of false dichotomies?
When you can be no one
In a prose that makes sense arguably?
A step back is a mere change of direction,
Nothing is similar as fire may be the basic stuff of the universe.
Breathe the air of the proverbially found boys,
Yet be sharp to be conscious of the notes you hear that you enjoy.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
is it any wonder
social constructions
**** the soul?
i am born.
entire constellations
ingested by men
who stole the
braver buck.
is it any wonder
the higher numbers
**** the low?
artists hide their holy
proper alkahest
swirl into the torrent
eyes fixed on the hole
going full Atropos
by slashing tethers
and teaching us to fly
is it any wonder
construction kills abstraction
encrusts the brilliant stone
in destructive gray?
is it any wonder
emotional capacities
have been bled from me?
they must bless the fallen
they must make Halal
the bounteous
human feast
an exoteric world rises
while one esoteric burrows
in bright dark underneath.
two parts of a whole broken
banished to disconnection
when dichotomies could meet.
. . . SCAN COMPLETE
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
exasperated, emasculated,
So the negative connotations
From life's ****** molestation,
**** from this Annotation
emphatic, tragic confirmation
That my formations deformed,
so be warned, u won't be warmed by hearing I've conformed
To be socially Reformed
Reborn, no Solubility of scorn
No Altruism, so Imprisoned
is peace's vision, Forlorn
****** but pleasure like ****
Isn't a focus, so like ****
I'm Unable to reject the amorous nature
Of what will take place
But I fail as I try to placate
Or humorously play hate
But that's like calling date ****
just an innocent play date
when we're ****** for pay day
Catching Freedom in an Infallible trap
Leaving memories, both enemies, and remedies, when flashing back
But without Omniscience, it seems
Only Predestination Is left
Wit bitter taste of self hate,accepting fate,
now only death
can stop the new Aversion to breath
Causing a Discrepancy to remain
Some say lifes a gift to contradict
all i insist is inhumane
A reality based on haste, hate,
A purgatory Where narcissists
Prove that ignorance is bliss,
cuz happy Usually r ignorant as ****
Or maybe there's no correlation
and I just **** at curation
Maybe pessimisms Pervasion
Has damaged me for the duration
Of life never to vacation
From rigid Dichotomies like
Believing in prophets or profits
Or what's legal and wuts right
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
My favourite colour, has long since been grey
But I didn't know why, until today
I envy grey, grey doesn't commit
Any strong emotion, well grey isn't it
Grey's not red anger, red hate, or red love,
Blue sadness, yellow fury or perfection's white dove.
No, grey is nothing, no emotion, no pain,
no commitment, no dichotomies, I want that again.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
.
Let it out
Let love in
Let it go
Let love win
Love every soul you see
Make love for lovers' sakes
Make happiness make glee
Mend all folks real or fake
My end will come from my beginning
No happenstance no random chance
Nor penance, plucking from your winning
No loss from staunch opponent's lance
Oh would that we could wane
Our dim dichotomies' details donned;
Outside this window pane
Oh wildest winds, we want to wander!
Penance plunders grace
Perchance, do you hear laughter?
Pick up your fallen face
Quick think: what are you after?
Remember what was ransomed
Remarkable requests are made
Requisite responses that result
Sacred sacrifice - ransom paid
So stop the secret scratching
Soothe your screaming skin
The way your thoughts keep hatching...
& That tell-tale heart ticking within,
Take a look around
This is a lucky life we live
Though time takes senses: sight, and sound
Taste, scent, and touch - like sand through sieve
.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
I wake without sleep, as numeric patterns, and geometric shapes form my place in a state of diabolatry, from deep below the normal feelings, merging the once dichotomies of my indifference.
Something is just different now.
I have fallen just beyond the facing, of a star that has traveled so far to sing, in scrambled signals, and heated beams, pushing unto me.
I breathe in the toxicity of knowing something, i could not possibly perceive, as a certain grief, fills me, and dies inside.
A dread i cannot appease in knowing that i must do something, but how, but what, but soon i must move to submit to it, regardless of the rift that builds on my broken will, in dispassionate force.
I am someone else, looking back from the portals of my trust, and i have found a secret between all of us, hoping that ill tell myself, before i **** myself on the other side, in another time, from my hell that reaches up, embracing my fear in a meaninglessness that means so much more..
I cannot put my finger on it, until it feeds me more, but the horror is prevalent, and it pours into the holes inside of me, as the empty feelings rise from my naivety, unable to be ignored anymore.
Covered in sweat, and adorned in regrets, that i have never known as of yet, as i once slept to dream, i now dream, to wake, taking nothing with me, but this.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
B1
Minute
*1. the sixtieth part (1/60) of an hour; sixty seconds.
2. an indefinitely short space of time:
3. an exact point in time; instant; moment* (Dictionary.com)
It feels endless
especially in waiting
Stop lights
Slow walkers
Commercials
5:00 PM
Listening for the phone to ring
Watching for him to walk through the door
over
my
threshold
Forever
Unbearable
Pregnant pauses pull me under
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Take me back to that place
Where dichotomies of
North or South
Right or Wrong
Become
Translucent
Ground Zero
Equilibrium.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 4:57 PM UTC
Where were you
When the rope snapped
Predicate your excuses
The vernacular dichotomies
of savants and fools
These love lessons comparative to
Step dancing in a mine field
These guerilla tactics of yours
Are lamentable
My neck already broken
By the force of your linguistic blows
Etymologically patterned for adoration
Love theory wasted on your lap
Sanctuary for kittens and babies
I bear the distinction derived from years
Of practicable nonchalance
The inflectional brutality
Of casual words
Spat out barbs of cyanide
We could have ..... forever
But I gave you my soul
Now the best of me is wasted space
Asphyxiated by the torque of adrenalin and ****** frustration
There is nothing left for you here
Pick up your paper chains
And wander home…
121209.
TL Boehm
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC