"digressing" poems
quandering, pondering
and whiskey has become
first and only desk liquor. now
digressing to the Blue Eyed
beauty writ of this the final
page of notebook. and now,
reflecting on this early hour.
an hour when the goat's
head stares thru to soul
with always lifeless eyes. stares
thru this soul with lack of
energy, with entire days'
lack of consumption. and with
ease this one has been long
and gone in falsified attraction
of angelfaced Blue Eyed
matriarch; this one patriarch.
thought entirely conceived. contrac-
epted by reality of situation. by
reality in general sense, yet words
spew unfiltered with lingering hope
behind slanted smile. shying stares,
all the while watching from eyes'
corners. voices of all but her's
fall deaf; vessels otherwise mute to
concerns not of the Blue Eye's. and
here this one finds self lost to rom-
anticized thoughts knowing they can
be found sterilized via logic.
contradicting always, yet
no brass holding finger locked to
joint. and realizations of actual
place spears forehead; spears fore-
brain. disrupting what is preconceived
concerning entangled souls. hair falling
aside temples. point of restraint, this
one must end before depression catches
hold; this one calling abrupt ending.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Save My Soul, (But First), Rub My Feet
thus a poem auditorialy conceived,
but!
the sexuality of the deceiving dualities,
irritates erogenous, exogenous perceptiveties,
plethora of intensifying variables, a not-serious,
harmless remark yet bring us to myriad of
marauding reversals, add-venturing into harm’s way…
much to discuss, but this
topic bettered by much
trading of traditional bantering
brevity bettering our wordless battering
insinuating, sensational signals bring
us backwards & forwards
to an exploratorium of wide boulevards
back to new unfamiliar venues,
narrowing alleyways & places we were before,
places before we were before where,
no unnecessary commas to separate,
distingué, distinct
tween the instinct of old and new,
an uncommon commonality experiential revisionism
now I understand what you said to me,
a tenderizing of
the sole synapses directing
the brain, the old ooh ‘s, aah’s
reigniting what what lay dormant,
at long last,
by opening doors to alternations,
ven diagram of digressing yet intersecting
old & new pathways,
from the souls of her feet,
to, too, two,
we become diamond
on souls of our heat
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
a million lines make a window:
each suspended,
each digressing in the paleness
of space.
this distance from
you (a blotch of dark ink,
bits of pressed lead)
can never hurt more
than your expectation.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
*enter slav digressing with the celt... yeah, saxony, once known as the northern arm's length of parody shaking oiled up speaking saracen sign language: arabica wavy wavy bye bye. you concrete those words in i roof it over, then we can both admire the rich russian vixens dry up their wealth with the saudis - we need television after all - and it’s in 3-d! and it’s 1-d head-banging closure! :)... ;( :x, :s, \: (mouth’s missing but i have a mammoth in malibu -
and my love can’t aim to have the mortgage too - but hey, girl’s heading for the one coin-flip dolphin clap; and i was a teenager once too... but played grand theft auto 2d throughout asking for a bottle of whiskey and a panda’s / koala’s bothersome diet to hunt sleep); is there some sign language translation of emoji? i just don't have the talents to enter the emoji language and become a ********* or make democracy justly an exclusion of cowards and ****** i can’t do that, let’s utilise charles the third! ‘too busy, too fuzzy,’ well hear and karma sutra the talk of the man, after all the coinage and respecting the hedgehog on his head.*
i cleaned it into a hotel like i would into a brothel,
while the suffragettes
looked like the elephant man in niqāb,
and i was ready
with the fist; although i shook less
than i spoke to mouth it off into democracy
continuing the power struggle vetoed with bodies extracted
into the count warranting mourning.
what success is it if a white boy in a western society
can’t leave the nest and establish a taxable one to suit power?
where’s the power then, in the stateless individual?
where is your power to my ******* of being given wife and house
not given? where?!
if i can’t be the individuated pawn power broker you can’t be in power... idiots!
you have to give me the ******* i “desire” to be in power, if you can’t,
you’re not in power! ave augustus ave ego!
try contort the square into a triangle by contorting **** into f*ck.... ah ****
you already did... where’s the spanks’ worth of bullseye?!
you germans have no decency in human affairs
than you have to inspect **** movies varied
by wildebeest stampedes
from guernsey into gibraltar in gifs, do you?
well i did **** off a palm tree and got a coconut for an oasis’ worth of thirst.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
large beer, with time to
waste. gulping in hopes
at abating stagnant
feel of current existence.
cold and clear night with Spring
hiding 'round the corner
ready to stab out perpetual
cycle for existence. such a
shaming from titled time-
spanse of weather by its
coming and going without
even illusion of choice.
(suppose the Universe never
had a major role in Romanticism)
suppose space will never find
need for periods defined through
titles; suppose man finds
comfort in definitions and syllabic
expression. haikus are, after all,
a buffer between worlds.
digressing with another cigarette,
knowing shouldn't what with
breath being true connection of
worlds. quality of being alluded
to quality of connection and a
vessel's sense of existence.
then, taking time to inhale,
knowing breath given finds
caustic continued life. realizing,
a drowning man cares naught for
quality of final fighting gasp.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
the Webster's, the Merriam's,
residents of the Oxford
say not,
an exclamation or a noun,
but an action,
a doing word,
not so much...
as a poet~sorcerer
digressing rules,
is my input
appetizer,
poems, my exported
entrées
all posted to be
dessert
for all the sweet tooth
parts of you
all to
feast on this
process,
when I
hallelujah you...
"Praise the Lord"
the translation literal
but sojourn herewith me
for a few extants,
together, let's
invigorate, expand the
understanding of an ever expansive
definition...
if I ever fall out of love,
with natural words,
can no longer
hallelujah/scribe
to memorialize
why we claim,
we are alive....
hallelujah's
praises
for you all the
master designers'
praiseworthy creations,
an extension of themselves,
they said
in each human
godlike spark
hallelujah installed
there is nothing more
godlike
than being
human,
so when I
hallelujah
I praise each and everyone
it is a mixologist's dream,
some of it a
thank you,
some of it a
your welcome,
all of it a
celebratory exercise,
in appreciation,
of the finery of what we can
be
come
greater
through
the words
of our blood
transfused
Oh!
act out Hallelujah,
write it as if you must
urgent do
Hallelujah,
do it
not just now but,
Selah!
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
I hope the bridges I burn,
Lead the way.
Just for a day,
I want a say.
Because it hurts,
And you just flirt,
But now I'm just digressing,
Instead of confessing.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
as much as i feel
*wiser
stronger
more independent*
i am suctioned into
*digressing
repeating
forgetting*
and walking right back in
to this nightmare of a culture.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
and they couldn’t afford fifteen
dollars. they couldn’t afford the
news. neither could i, and the reali-
zation that feeling alone is not being.
when comments on survival, i see
only a frozen bridge and man wrap’d
in tatter’d seat cover. he stuff’d new-
spaper from feet to neck. using
others’ trash to survive, staying warm
thru mans’ attrocities document’d.
by the news we couldn’t afford. and
i see all the faces i used to recognize.
i remember now of the familiar faces
but don’t have the time to justify
their lies. nor do i have the mind. it’s
been a minute, and lions flood a
room advanced from normality.
regain control.
and my name is
Ziun,
and my words are
**** it,
and my thoughts
cryptic,
and my body
homeless again.
found in transition, runoff from
times of scavenging and foregoing
shame. found in transition from times
of the blood-flood’d valleys of dest-
roy’d lips. found in transition,
head’d from reliance to other
persons. to other substances. found
in transitions and the wind has rav-
aged my body. and i’d wail, wail in
spite of lazed vibrating chords.
his vocalizing:
– don’t forget to sneak off and
get rid of it. just show up with
wine, then we're *******
and this cat knew my first girl after
she was no longer; and this cat knew
my first girl of regret after i pass’d
her up.
– calling sister midnight
a first time thru, palms face opposite
as we extend right. to feel in diffe-
rent tones as this train of thought is
derailing, digressing, regressing to
swastikas.
(lemme redact that)
and please think no less of my words
based on the words chosen,
based on these infinite love-affairs.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 8:55 AM UTC
Time frozen in sand
Sands moving ever slowly
Traveling through time
Constantly flowing
Slowly moving towards its end
Path is shown below
Flowing from the heights
Ever descending downwards
They are digressing
Constantly falling
Entropy caught in a glass
Mirroring our fate
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 3:27 AM UTC
As for me
Flashing flecks of phosphorescence
Suspended in apparent array
Coalescing yet dispersing
Exchanging and churning
Fulfilling and yearning
Digressing and exceeding
Settling and dispersing
Dividing and multiplying
Til accidental overdose on
Logic and reason
Makes mental machinations
Manifest the One and not
The Other,
As if 1 and 2 didn't
Count the same thing
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
This, this emotion
Some form of disillusion
And they question why
Questioning me
As they question themselves
I embrace the fog
The same one that holds it all
My past
My present
And the end
The one that is my future
I have little time left
That little I hold dear
Each word with precision
I have learned to hate
This time
The time I have left
Spent only with those
Too familiar with my end
Or to unknowing
To have some semblance of a care
They came to drive me toward this
This wanting
This longing for death
Suicide is no longer there
That option I had
It would only be pity now
In the eyes of the strangers
I draw back my words now
Regress into silence
Take my tears
Take my breath
Take my soul
This longing
Consuming
Ensuing
The sooner it grows near
The less my voice rings
The less I am heard
I am transparent
Fading
Save me from this
This digressing host
This uninhabitable being
Free me from myself
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Our natures are naturally selfish and what we desire is oft times not what Divinity desires. Deep within we know that this disparity is real and throughout time we have tried to justify what we intrinsically know is wrong. If this statement was untrue Philosophy would cease to exist, it would have no utility. Our own happiness would be an unquestioned Truth. Digressing from that matter it is realized that our questions are often confounded from true Divinity because it's Truth can not be molded into what we individually desire. Hence we turn ourselves into philosophers that are repulsed by philosophy. It is importantly noted that people also confound others because they distort Truth of Divinity by selfishly forcing their religious beliefs through sinful actions which are only fears disguised as righteousness. Life is good and bad and so are the actions that war within our chest but a sin is a sin and no good action justifies even the smallest of sins. Our sinful natures only wants to feel good but alas we can't escape the burden of the bad... But in this darkness a light shines... Jesus takes this burden and washes our sins. You may of heard of Him and most likely you've had someone foolishly distort His name in selfishness (like I've been guilty of) but please leave that be. This truth I proclaim is not demanded of you but it is only an invitation to a relationship of freedom which my words or sinful nature cannot offer...."Knock and the door will open, seek and you will find"
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
This United States is a place forever growing yet continuously digressing.
We protect our Constitution and our rights.
But often at the price of our citizens due to stubbornness.
This United States has two leading political parties to run it.
Yet together they halt its progress.
Through never coming together to take care of the place they supposedly control.
This United States is becoming a second world country.
A place that has been, but has fallen into the shadows.
Of its former-self for the lack of accepting the world has changed around us, and so we too must adjust.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
to oh sweet nothins. to
sitting cross-legged kinda
bluesin', mostly boozin'.
desk-liquor now found
floor-liquor, feelin' a faux
pas here. kinda like a hoodie
over sweater, but that's all
some urban legend. digressing
with complete definition loss,
and stopping when called out.
(lapse)
venturing on when foot snag
leads to caught trip. going back.
about ten and eight times
'round, when the sun was to
be overthrown. of when scree
led to blooded footpath home.
starting points are always
turn mythology, and that point's
Muse haunts rest of followed fate.
(lapse)
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
the mezcal incident, now
that was surely one doozy/
started out with a shot of Patrone
no lime or salt at ten in the morn'/
at this strip joint in Wicksburg
where they advertise
two hot babes three skinny one's
and one big mama,
on their marquee, which is one of
those lighted portable signs plastic letters things
the kids like to vandalize by
like on the Natural Light Deliverance Tabernacle
I minister at occasionaly, we have one of those ,
had In God We Trust , lettered on it on saturday.
Sunday, at eleven, when we arrived for worship ,
it said in dogs we gust,
limited letters to arrange so,
I got the teen hoodlum gyst/
I ramble on so much, wouldn't
blame you
if you lost interest,
but anyways/
this day, what I mentioned early in this,
started out fairly innocent, a drink
a gander at female utilitarianism,
and a shot,
thing about tequila
sitting down you don' t know how ****** up you are
get up, try to stand and wow!
I keep digressing,
that day
hell I ******* forgot/
Sorry to lead you on.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC
Despite the ebb and flow
Of people as they come and go,
Voices rising and digressing
Eventually altogether lessening
And turning to silence
Only to return with vehemence--
I remain still
And still remain.
They are mobile in their clumps,
Always crying out, always counting
The ways in which they are the worst.
Inside they feel not remorse,
But that is not the intention.
Yet the inglorious ascension
Of their voices to the vaulted ceiling
Has such an effect on their audibility.
I hear every word.
I drink it in
Like a poison,
It's addictive; it's ******
I cannot focus nor be steadfast
As long as this prattle is to last.
Their words are never directed toward me
But they never push me away--
It is my unspoken job to meet them halfway.
I am not a link
But a hammer, disguised as a bolt
Or should it be the other way around?
The incessant ingemination of sounds
Is too heavy a burden for ears such as mine.
I could not keep a level stance
And so I fell into a state of haphazard dissonance.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
During some relationships, it is one person's fault it doesn't work out
One person isn't willing to change
One changed their mind
One lost interest
One hurt the other.
In my case… I hurt him
I didn't want to
He didn't do anything wrong
I hadn't lost interest
But sometimes God has a different plan for you
When you take time to bring your relationship to God you need to listen
I have never felt this strong love for someone before
But that doesn't matter
God said no
Who knows why
Only God himself will tell me
In his own time
Was I keeping him back
Pushing him too much
Am I digressing because of this relationship
Whatever the case, God looked right at me and said
No
Who am I to disobey when I asked for instruction
May 24, 2021
May 24, 2021 at 12:34 PM UTC
Let's talk about oh being an adult,
it's a ******* scam, a real insult,
they audit your soul and **** your account,
and you learn the value of money is goods, cars, hotels, and a mound,
a hovel, a home, a place for the sound,
of your empty, pitiless, soul gone 'round,
and round dreaming of Christmas, as a child bound,
by the lights and the wrappings and agnostic
witness the fate you will take, taking the rate,
of your depression gone by oh those halcyon days I innately
cannot help but feel oh that I've missed something lately,
a parallel me or something deep beneath me,
it claws and it itches at the corners of my mind discreetly,
Digressing my transgressions up on my own altars, weepily,
not tearing not emoting, no, not nothing, as if the Upston
I was, was only a dreaming, faint long gone sound, echoing,
teetering, upon sand castles that a once proud being,
called John was making, that now fall, upon the waves of reality,
and oh my own lackings. Tide me back take me away,
oh the void is calling, if not childhood gain, then adulthood,
lost, oh if I cant own her anymore then I'll just be tossed,
Into the ocean, sinking, no need to swim, just flossed,
and cleaned out, to be recycled, next time, next life,
Maybe I'll learn,
Something.
Or maybe, just maybe, if you're listening closely,
I'm just simply.... Mumbling.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
you don't mind it if it hurts,
as long the medicine takes over
at the right time.
you don't want to die,
but you often wonder
what it would be like to try.
living in reverse,
with every step forward
you just make it worse,
de-escalating and digressing
at an equal pace.
one more for the list of errors,
pin it on the board,
watch yourself lose another race.
you don't mind the shame,
but you loathe the side of you
that it brings out.
you don't want to drown,
but you often wonder
what it would feel like to be gone.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 2:07 PM UTC
writing, more than considered normal.
especially with the distraction i've
brought. reading back more, and
i'm surprised time-to-time at the
style and such ******** and perhaps
this is hell. perhaps. screw-driver
as only way out. think about it.
perhaps this is in truth Samsara.
perhaps. then the question why
this vessel is a failure. purpose and
reason for this reiterate. perhaps it
was the purple highlighting of some
sacred text. perhaps, but digressing.
thoughtless with head throbbing as if
coming up. lack of slaap, lack of true rest,
and the hallucinatory aspect has kicked
in. a bit late. though, the wind
looked awful wavey today. and red was
quite loud. perhaps only a hang over,
if only that logic weren't quashed by
absence of rainbows and unicorns.
perhaps if only, but digressing.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
I wish I could have all that I wish for to come true.
I wish I knew what I wish for.
I wish the word wish didn't sound so weird when repeated multiple times.
I wish I wasn't digressing.
I wish I knew more of what I actually wanted to write down.
Or do I?
Should I?
Let's change all of the above.
I wish not to wish anything, because I already have all.
That is my only wish;
not to wish.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC