"digressive" poems - Hello Poetry

Love is both a vice and a curse, A blessing in which you find yourself immersed; A progressive, regressive, digressive pursuit, In which you lose yourself many times in search of a route, To lasting happiness, which still blinks from afar; Like the distant light of a parked car, As if someone forgot to switch off the high beams, Or is there a reason that this pitch blackness now gleams? Love causes you to return broken patterns, In which insecurity orbits like the 62 moons of Saturn. Escape it, escape it! Find solace in pain! Find solace in the left or right side of your brain! Like the frontal assault during Op Barbarossa, You seem to confuse old Taiwan with Formosa. In doubles, you see, when your love stares you down, You want nothing more but to be her great crown, So you let down your walls and pull-back your defenses; Your protective soldiers fall back to the fences. You talk with 'I,' And realize that you're oft wrong, Yet prior to this, you sung yourself an old swan song, To convince yourself that your views were God-given; Despite the true fact that you define Atheism. Prior to this, no one countered your 'great' words; Or, if they did, often you considered them of herds, Which had no capacity to understand life; They would much quicker fall towards the shaft of the knife. You rework the office inside of your head, And forget all the things about love you once said, When ex-girlfriends had dumped you like a sack of potatoes; And would verbally stain you with far-flung tomatoes. Yet tossed in the mix are the words of the stars, Telling you whose compatible, is it Venus or Mars? Forget the external, this love is but yours and but hers. Never let the rest determine, As you're the connoisseur.

0

Jan 29, 2011

Jan 29, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC

tread

Romantic Intelligence, or, the Clouds Around the Sun

Love is both a vice and a curse, A blessing in which you find yourself immersed; A progressive, regressive, digressive pursuit, In which you lose yourself many times in search of a route, To lasting happiness, which still blinks from afar; Like the distant light of a parked car, As if someone forgot to switch off the high beams, Or is there a reason that this pitch blackness now gleams? Love causes you to return broken patterns, In which insecurity orbits like the 62 moons of Saturn. Escape it, escape it! Find solace in pain! Find solace in the left or right side of your brain! Like the frontal assault during Op Barbarossa, You seem to confuse old Taiwan with Formosa. In doubles, you see, when your love stares you down, You want nothing more but to be her great crown, So you let down your walls and pull-back your defenses; Your protective soldiers fall back to the fences. You talk with 'I,' And realize that you're oft wrong, Yet prior to this, you sung yourself an old swan song, To convince yourself that your views were God-given; Despite the true fact that you define Atheism. Prior to this, no one countered your 'great' words; Or, if they did, often you considered them of herds, Which had no capacity to understand life; They would much quicker fall towards the shaft of the knife. You rework the office inside of your head, And forget all the things about love you once said, When ex-girlfriends had dumped you like a sack of potatoes; And would verbally stain you with far-flung tomatoes. Yet tossed in the mix are the words of the stars, Telling you whose compatible, is it Venus or Mars? Forget the external, this love is but yours and but hers. Never let the rest determine, As you're the connoisseur.

36

later today I will write ... where did I go just now? to war against unworthy words, wearing empty bandoliers to the ceiling of space for enlightenment by cosmic chandeliers to endless, winding roads of thought, the worst of all dead-ends to fuse the frayed neurosis that never seems to mend to an area between particles, the purgatory of matter to Heaven and to Hell, rather dawdling in the latter ... too digressive to write today or clear my head of chatter

0

Mar 27, 2014

Mar 27, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC

neil-mitchell

Later

later today I will write ... where did I go just now? to war against unworthy words, wearing empty bandoliers to the ceiling of space for enlightenment by cosmic chandeliers to endless, winding roads of thought, the worst of all dead-ends to fuse the frayed neurosis that never seems to mend to an area between particles, the purgatory of matter to Heaven and to Hell, rather dawdling in the latter ... too digressive to write today or clear my head of chatter

12

upon becoming a nestling sans nest, i decided to make a half-baked plan of mandates, stating how i ought to quest, trough to crest. egesting the presently unpleasant facets, i adopted a policy of empirical puerilism. now a newly groovy pluvi-dendrophile philomath, a counterbalanced feng shui caricature, promptly finding rapture bereft of culture. plundering the dysfunctional, worshiping the digressive. anything is adjustable, everything can be lovable. finding bravery in regret, forever simply vincible. basking in the ebullience, bringing passion with my presence. learning to rhapsodize my sentience, projecting admittedly confusing ontologisms, concerned with not much else than pleasance. my means of conception have become my heaven, and with no evidence of the clandestine, i simply stepped in.

0

Jul 6, 2019

Jul 6, 2019 at 4:42 AM UTC

david-mitchell

bohemiantics

upon becoming a nestling sans nest, i decided to make a half-baked plan of mandates, stating how i ought to quest, trough to crest. egesting the presently unpleasant facets, i adopted a policy of empirical puerilism. now a newly groovy pluvi-dendrophile philomath, a counterbalanced feng shui caricature, promptly finding rapture bereft of culture. plundering the dysfunctional, worshiping the digressive. anything is adjustable, everything can be lovable. finding bravery in regret, forever simply vincible. basking in the ebullience, bringing passion with my presence. learning to rhapsodize my sentience, projecting admittedly confusing ontologisms, concerned with not much else than pleasance. my means of conception have become my heaven, and with no evidence of the clandestine, i simply stepped in.

22

there are variants... of the word... when you're sitting on a windowsill, and everyone is asleep... in the middle of the night... there are variants... pride... but the Slavic variant? almost sounds like a mythological name of a god... ah... the game soul reaver... a name, of a brother... of Raziel... Dumah... the rhino... you can have the variant... Dúmāh... no Hebrew interference... leave this among the gentiles... DUMA! DUMA?! it means! PRIDE! alternatively it implies (he's) pondering... something obscure... keep me posted, when you have this sorted out.. i, am | | this close... to shouting out the written word into the night... or should i call the police... having heard my female neighbor... being shouted at by her husband... oh wait... she called the police, before checking on me... lucky ***** begets an abusive husband... lucky me... lucky schadenfreude me... and i hate that sort of "me"... i was this close to echoing that name into the oblivious universe... pride... duma... which also implies pondering... but it primarily invokes the understanding of: pride... now... tell me why i listened to the winged hussar death song... full volume, in classical form? retards 'r' us?! what?! head too small, nose too big? you have me rattled up to the point of: let's have the next London bomb, so i can have my next self-righteous point! i'm not going to call the police on her abusive husband, she chose, she begets the regrets... there are always two stories... one... the ****** gets crucified... two... some ****** plays the bureaucrat gimmick... i'm this close to exfoliating in shouting the naame D'umah! but... considering how this, ***** called the police on me, in my hour of peril... and now she has an abusive husband, and a baby... do i look like someone who gives a **** do i do?! suffer ***** suffer! oh... you think that sadists are... what's that psychological word... that sadists are... regretting? no.... that's not it... sadists... they're... sad... amplified sad... what's amplified sad? **** regretting? no... digressive?! no... sad,, lonely... no... DISGRUNTLED! yep! but it's a synonym; **** what was the word the people used... dis- something... think: lasting impressions... ah... d'uh... "feeling"... bitter... could have stated: Lemon... for fuck's sake!

0

Nov 5, 2018

Nov 5, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

D'umah

there are variants... of the word... when you're sitting on a windowsill, and everyone is asleep... in the middle of the night... there are variants... pride... but the Slavic variant? almost sounds like a mythological name of a god... ah... the game soul reaver... a name, of a brother... of Raziel... Dumah... the rhino... you can have the variant... Dúmāh... no Hebrew interference... leave this among the gentiles... DUMA! DUMA?! it means! PRIDE! alternatively it implies (he's) pondering... something obscure... keep me posted, when you have this sorted out.. i, am | | this close... to shouting out the written word into the night... or should i call the police... having heard my female neighbor... being shouted at by her husband... oh wait... she called the police, before checking on me... lucky ***** begets an abusive husband... lucky me... lucky schadenfreude me... and i hate that sort of "me"... i was this close to echoing that name into the oblivious universe... pride... duma... which also implies pondering... but it primarily invokes the understanding of: pride... now... tell me why i listened to the winged hussar death song... full volume, in classical form? retards 'r' us?! what?! head too small, nose too big? you have me rattled up to the point of: let's have the next London bomb, so i can have my next self-righteous point! i'm not going to call the police on her abusive husband, she chose, she begets the regrets... there are always two stories... one... the ****** gets crucified... two... some ****** plays the bureaucrat gimmick... i'm this close to exfoliating in shouting the naame D'umah! but... considering how this, ***** called the police on me, in my hour of peril... and now she has an abusive husband, and a baby... do i look like someone who gives a **** do i do?! suffer ***** suffer! oh... you think that sadists are... what's that psychological word... that sadists are... regretting? no.... that's not it... sadists... they're... sad... amplified sad... what's amplified sad? **** regretting? no... digressive?! no... sad,, lonely... no... DISGRUNTLED! yep! but it's a synonym; **** what was the word the people used... dis- something... think: lasting impressions... ah... d'uh... "feeling"... bitter... could have stated: Lemon... for fuck's sake!

104