"discretions" poems
Standing there
With a mute stare
Amazed by you
Paralyzed by you
I became a speechless poet
No free-flowing words to inhibit
Stuck in redundant phrases
Running around in silent mazes
My bright poetry is suddenly evanescent
How did you freeze my precious talent?
My fancy lies
and my sincere confessions
My angry cries
and my serene discretions
My skill dies
distorted by your presence
As my voice tries
hardly a single expression
Then my brain denies
your acute aggression
As my fixed eyes
scream my inner passion
Then you left.
You left
But I stayed there
With my mute stare
Speechless because of you
Brainless because of you
My stupidity crystal clear
My creativity in denial
And you left me here
wishing you stayed near
Suffering from your withdrawal
~Epic Monkey
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
Young girl
You get your fix
From every other boy that you pick
Standards once high, now sink low
The attention you crave
Does not go unnoticed
You are digging a callow grave
Once you have realized what you have done
All that seemed fun
Is now tossed in your face
Slow your pace
Reaching the high school low is common
For the promiscuous freshman
Blame the "pressure" for your weekend discretions
Adolescent life reflects poker
Come monday, you will realize
High school is one huge masquerade
Young girl, here come the jokers.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Traced without some deep depression,
Somehow some way you learned your lesson,
But somehow lost with a further testament,
You don't know how much I miss you did you mention it,
Flying towards heaven,
Seven hundred and seventy-seven,
Only 7 minutes in heaven,
somehow some way you learned your lesson,
If only you knew how much I cared about you without the discretions.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
My table is set for Mirth,
But I will tip my hat
At Heart’s companion:
Aching.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:22 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
Father, I have sinned.
Ive compelled myself a mate and painted my body gold, pure and metallic and let him hang me around his lacey neck like a chained noose.
Father, i have sinned.
Ive disappointed my appointments and made allies with my enemies. Ive lied to get to where i am and i stand legless because of it.
Father, i have sinned.
Ive cut open skin and got drunk from the blood, letting it trickle down my breast, wearing it like a jacket, using it tirelessly to keep me warm during my winter
Father, i have sinned.
I scripted cursively with my left hand and pointed accusingly with my right. Ive fought like a thinker and forfeit my heart.
Father i have sinned,
I loved without thought.
I have slept in my ***** sheets and bathed in my discretions, Father, this bed is not big enough for our overexhausted lessons.
Father, please forgive me
for i have sinned in spite of the sun. Ive predicted light for the losing side and because of that,
i've won a temporary victory.
Ending with, not surprisingly, my mother clawing me senseless,
her knuckles blistering my jabbing jaw.
She said, "I never thought id see a side to you much darker than i ever saw."
Now she looks to me much older, decrepit and disgusted, and i look to her a doppelganger of the man that left her faithless.
Father, i have sinned and unwittingly beg for your conviction. But your faith is what left my mother living breathlessly without a face. A face hauntingly well known. but if i keep on keeping on this sinning, a face just like yours ill own.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Dogs smell tyres.
Chew on bones.
*** on tyres.
Get shooed away by stones.
Life menstruates.
Much too feminine.
Too much to cry about.
Too much pain.
The smaller you want.
The bigger you get.
The bigger you expect.
Nothing you get.
Years pass by.
Numbers keep rising.
The loop of trust diminishes.
Sitting by a fountain.
Chase a butterfly.
Wait till it sits.
Hold it within your palm.
Hold it till it fits.
Life ***** around.
Too much stink.
Too much to wash about.
You dwell in the stink.
Listen to big hearts.
Believe in small minds.
Trust in what you want to.
Life still grinds.
Fight gravity.
Stay up till you fall.
Right after you fall.
Don’t believe in gravity at all.
Gauge equations.
Evaluate situations.
Fatigue creeps in.
Your mind; and its discretions.
Love till you die.
Die till you love.
It’s all unfair.
Unjust.
Love; and it expectations.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
like the
Rialto, the Grand Canal flows underneath me.
Even as I hold my back
in my hands, I can no longer support my discretions.
Sixteen.
Twenty-one.
Thirty-three.
How
did I have the space?
You would think it would be engraved across my pelvis:
“wrap it up”
before you
hold me down
I ran with lit matches as a girl,
waiting until the flame kissed my thumb and forefingers
puckered pink under the surface.
I enjoy the boils left
behind by my recklessness:
every bruise from a fence **** and
every pebble-sized bump from my head
hitting the roof of a Camaro
sat underneath my skin,
just like Lil’ A
B
C
and I can lie flat
as the canal rushes over.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Face are ambiguous
It's not too hard explaining this
But there is no real face that fits an objective depression
Let it be a lesson
Not to judge others by their discretions
Silence can be the embodiment for the saddest people of them all
People big and people small
That minds that stand and the ones that fall
We can all relate to the pains of the others around us
Yet remain so soundless
Never finding commons grounds and,
Becoming trapped in a cycle of solitude
How could we be so rude?
When there are millions of others who suffer the same sorrows as our own
Maybe not full blown
But at least enough to be known
That there is someone out there who relates to our pain
Cause it's a stain in our brains
That makes us think we're insane
We must open up to others
And not lead lives that are mundane
Everyone carries with them, a face of depression
So let it be a lesson
That there's no objective face to depression
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Melancholia
is not mine
but a fruit that I chew upon
slowly at first
nippling the bud at the tip
******* the juice from the tip
baby,
just
a little bite
creating trenches
in skin, tiny crooked marks,
the footprints of the biter,
the mark of treasure hidden.
And you look so tangerine sour,
baby, doesn't matter
it's a dream of my own
mine only
and i'll watch as
salvia lingers off your skin
slathering upon the constellations on that that is lanky and pure
and the hairy forestation of your past discretions
stretching wide from fingertip to fingertop
see x marks the spot
that bitemark there--
is the foible my strength.
bootlegged and stolen through
a many tear ago.
just hoping to find
moon craters and lagan lollies
once again.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
No;
It's not the rhythmic thuds of a headboard,
Nor squeaks of well christened springs,
Sighing the night's discretions.
It's the strained veins glazed over red eyes
Seeing the clock strike 4 am.
Flushed in a solitary blue.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC
past discretions
have led us to present dysfunction
we built the foundation
but somehow lack of communication
nursed me down the stairs and i fell deep
(emotionally and literally).
you're stuck in limbo
between my heart and your hands
if you could only grab hold of what is yours
hold tight
we could both survive.
surgically connect the unconnected
and correct what's been infected
the pain in your voice will simultaneously seal
heal and re-open
the wound i've dug in your mind.
i still have your skin under my nails
do you remember what life was like before
everything you didn't want to hear was voiced?
before i won your heart
then crushed it with lust and regret?
i bought you a rose garden
full of hope, kind wishes, i'm sorries,
and love.
i'll prune every bud until my soul
bleeds and washes it all away.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 5:19 PM UTC
watching me always
sunken eyes in the birch trees
black holes in my mind
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
the fusion the beginning
puzzling in contradictory riddles,
driven down by exploding mixes
spinning around a crank cracked
I enhance discreet
discretions
into sinus rhythm abstractions
modulate with distracting
conflagrating syllables
a valued treasure, a heart beat
away from
being out of fuel.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
A new perspective.
In memories
In the now
They are old
They are new
They are wrought.
A budding relationship,
with it's frailties.
A friendship falling,
lies pervading through.
A mother and her grown daughter,
both feeling trapped.
Being nervous and excited.
Being irrational and righteous.
Being torn and depleted.
I have grown from this.
I have been burned and healed.
I have cried as have you.
I let your eager hands meet flesh.
I let your desertion make me strong.
But
I will not let you go from this betrayal,
I will not let you explain these discretions away.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
His soul is the perfect place i dwell in when the world is a disgrace to face!
He is the beauty in my eyes and i a humble beholder.
when i feel old,grey and tired i seek his sturdy shoulder
to cry on and exude my lonely discretions but he fulfills my satisfactions
with more than a thank you please ,I love you my wife!
he is a part of me, embossed into what I call my life!
he is the apple i see beyond ,further than a distance in my eye.
I cannot picture a happier moment than that spent in his arms,
the patterns his fingers make on my skin make me whole within,
He is the humble prince among boastful kings, a silent gentle angel
that prompts me in.
He is a passionate lover,a giver of my all.
He is Tinotenda(Thankful) the blessing I behold.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
It's like two people , lovers from the previous night that see one another the following day , a bit embarrassed , unsure if love or animal attraction exist between the two or heating a glass tube ,-building the facilitator for a hit of ice or two hidden from view , in a empty pack of Marlboros , people are more than aware of your "secret" discretions so why doodle , writing lines in sand that are erased at high tide , sending secret , sweet notes to the apple of your eye , building bridges for all to cross or lone tree on a island that nobody knows , creating fields of fire without a battle , stroking the ego of tyrants that don't really matter ?
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Stepping through some cemeteries,
Lost your soul In February,
Looking for attention in a school where the kids make babies,
never married,
Closed eyes will be starry,
riding open waves are scary,
fall into the current , drown all your emotions,
its way more than death can carry,
friends are snitches , mercenaries,
backstabbing you in secrecy,
Even to you when your married,
cause what you and your wife have . he feels jealousy,
separate the real from peasants,
No time for argumental dispositions,
guess we're on a mission,
no further discretions,
Everyone ain't your friend , learn your lesson,
Friends do what their friends do and their intentions
is to hurt you,
hit you where it hurts the most then walk around while they
disgrace you,
people get in on to be cool or their scared, one of the two,
Got you thinking that suicides the only way to commute,
In other words i was a victim too,
hopelessly suicidal, with no further guidance from a parent too,
i swear i could relate to you, your not alone,
scared to talk , scared to go home,
There shouldn't be any **** reason for why you should handle this on your own.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
Our heros keep exiting the stage,
Leaving us their music, art, film, and literature.
Their athletic accomplishments,
Their political discretions,
And hidden battlescars,
Their scientific and medical wonders.
Our ancestors left us the wheel and fire,
The family unit and our extended compatriots.
A good lineage always starts in the cave,
And helps us make it through the night.
Sep 30, 2024
Sep 30, 2024 at 8:30 AM UTC
Tugging at the empty void,
In hoping there might be something else
Something more to call your own
You keep your eyes open,
As if the more you look the more you see
But the more you see,
All you see is darkness
Your failures and incorrect fragmentations
Oh woe with me,
these scars run oh so deep
What hope is there for me?
Perhaps I can call someone "friend"
hold their hand and
have my first kiss
I dream, I dream, I dream
I dream of something more
Beyond the realm of truth
Tugged this way and that
I'll be stuck in my own discretions
My own damages, my own keys
A singular phrase breaks my wounded mind
As if someone actually cares
About what lies beneath this wickedness
Carry on,
Breathe
Smile.
Carry on,
Breathe
Smile.
and repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat
repeat.
Until the feelings I have lost
The warmth of your embrace
The hope I find once again
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
Muse;
~ if you only knew ~
how. long. it's. been
since i
even/had/the
heart
[to care]
beenin& out
》shallow》in _ discretions
motions w/ no | e | motion
meaning^^less
in-their-vanity
& here. you. are. ___
reminding me
what this 'beat''ing' is even
For.
& for the first time
{in so long}
i want.
MorE
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 12:44 AM UTC