"disjoint" poems
In tunnelled darks, pastes of reminisce
Outward disjoint points to irrelevance
Spooned and coned in cold mountaintops
The darks of sorrows and trails of struggles
Persistence patterns of self satire in gloom
Sunken in identity crisis of broad oceans
Stormy seas spotlighted by beatific stars
Trajectory of spilled ice in recurrent motions
A mere past cocooned by fears and tears
Clouded in thoughts that cruise and decline
Greyed white imprinted by sudden sadness
Madness echoes on arched ancient bricks
Checkered maniacs of fulfilled passions
Filed and iced in cased prolific memories
Cascades of sunshine tickles to warmth
Orchards of glow that bloom and grow
Picked, ticked and unpacked from boxes
Attacked, nurtured and stored in bliss
Eventful lessons unfolds in untold augury
A mission as the known permeates and fade
Windowed eyes all line up in parade
Mirrored lights digest the haunted haste
A stranger to self, an ally to another
A dance of bright entwine a twist of blur
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
pruning fingers from a cold dead hand to gain twenty index
to power point a disjoint nexus, amongst ill guests
to better frame the nameless tool,
thumb-less apes could truck with -
in bands of frantic lack-wits
hording alabaster thumb-tacks
to pin jokes, they don't get.
a lapse in queens, the hard Chess...
an hour glass
with a grain of sand left -
wearing a jet pack, to delay the turn next
that checks your king.
or telekinesis, ghost-grips the silicon
in free fall... on pause to stave off
a game lost.
pruning fingers from another world of empty reach, i grasp -
at long last;
the short girl with the long red hair -
has two eyes, on task...scanning my true intent
with deep shy, heavy lids; a bright green
fixed on my nervous
laughter.
smitten; then, a Pabst
Blue Ribbon
kiss.
and sweet
disaster.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 11:51 PM UTC
the good old baritone advises her,
his sopranino daughter tweets disjoint,
arpeggio his point, her counterpoint
a syncopated rhythm of meter,
her high pitched protestations in her pleas,
and low-pitched grumbling sighings alternate,
as puntal, contrapuntal altercate,
to musically the rolling of her eyes,
his stern yet soft soprano wife defers,
while yielding to her baritone's movement,
conducting, though, the orchestrated theme,
as tenor, alto sons caesur' occurs,
her soothing background voice reveals eschewment,
with daughter's movement stuck 'tween measures' beams
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 9:19 PM UTC
.
•sharpened to • prowling this
a point•made hallowed night
to sink easily •to satiate my
into flesh • hunger pa-
power to ngs• know
maim and my name
disjoint• as i take
spilling flight •
blood, cower
warm as i ba-
and re my
fre- fan-
sh gs
• •
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
i am lost in the wisp of your faltering
the fluttering of concrete entrenched
into stoic rigmarole
to reach out layer by layer
peeling unearthing
a catatonic subdivision of disjoint subdivisions
a limit ordinal
between touch and feeling
where we kiss on the cusp of that silent ocean on the edge of sound
drowned in the nebulous familiarity of
a distant melody
a tired resolve
re solve the old puzzle muscle memory's misted amnesia
half the pieces falling out the warn tinderbox
inarticulate drowned severed isomorphisms over
brea(d)thless infinities
self adjoint matted topologies
nestled snugly in the amniotic absolution
of form before being
hands of matted ice
contorted into perfection
by the sculpting propensities
of undulations of estrangement,
where we touch in the cusp of self reflections thousand mirrors inverted propensities
infinite infinitesimals
nestled meromorphic partitions
hidden corners in the brevity of dusk
multiplicities fragmenting behind empty veils
( to be seen is to be made discrete
to be discrete is to flicker
and disappear
(inevitably invariable
inevitable invariability))
we
stand in a waterfall of gravel
and drown our voices in the choke of our cellophane hearts
caked
into fillets of aphasic tundra
where we whisper our nothings in the desert on the boundary of silence
our words
escape us
like rats from shipwreck
we are
disembowelled catharsis
intentional and fatuous
retching upon itself
severed
and free
and dead
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
starlight,
i won't forgive you,
for you haven't done a single thing wrong.
and you don't have to say
anything, i can hear
your heartbeat through the sheaves
of grass that grow back in
small increments:
i know you're there,
no matter how invisible you may
find yourself feeling, late at
nights you can't sleep to
be more like my consistencies, you never knew.
so show me a freckle on your arm,
or the breadth of the world,
or nothing at all. you've
already collected my insides.
love, life is meaningless, but perhaps
with some time and another place,
we could still find purpose. my hopes
are wearing thin, but i'm hardly dead
yet.
so, don't cry. it's okay to hurt,
like i understand you do. i'm
hurt too, but i can lick clean
all your wounds. i could be
yours
if you wanted
me to.
in dreams, i
hear the sea on your
mind, once again, and build
catamarans we'll sail out of this
disjoint union of townships and countrysides
on; and i'll gouge my heart out and pour it into the
ocean, so with each swell and retreat of the waves you can
hear how many of its contractions are dedicated to the lights in your eyes.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
I’ll light another cigarette
As the Roman candles burn,
Lace the atmosphere with lamented regret
And tear it away before it slips into the chain of deterioration.
I’ll cut out my tongue
While there’s something left to say
I’ll retain the mystery
Whilst the rest is lost to history.
With adoration as a breaking point
I’ll feel each part of me disjoint
Under the pressure.
I’m just another guilted plague-
Haunting the crypts of nature
When the morality bomb drops
I’ll collect the shards
Use poetry as a Perspex,
Desire as a casket
I’ll build wordless pyres
Under motionless fires
And choke the concordance
With a suffocating breath of ecstasy
Until my lungs are transplanted with ivy
Disrupts the chemistry
As hydrogen tears through me
And we burn under element number one.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
The hollow Moon awaits
shadows quicken alongside
the sandy loam.
Golden boughed elms
beyond the Saxon mound
shake their autumnal cloak
in reckoning.
The dawn already sated
panics the Wood Nymphs ,
hedges no longer linear
disjoint their passage.
They spittle like bugs traversed
one strange illusion after another
will see their wings mottled.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 10:34 AM UTC
Received a post today,
Requesting me to share,
Promoting death, not harmony,
My heart it just stood still and stared.
It said for me to support,
A gun law in the states,
I retaliated with a question,
Are not enough good men already in crates?
I wrote a simple message,
Reasoning with its point,
Said that I preferred a paper and words
As a guns mean, leaves the world
In constant anarchy and disjoint
I questioned the second amendment
I based my view on peace
For surly once a trigger is pulled
Then all facets of war are released
I hear the hollow screams of,
Guns are for our protection.
I hear those words loud and clear,
But still I continue to question.
For without the guns as threats
Then people can be encouraged to talk.
Articulate words can then be spoken
From which bright futures can sought.
© Robert Kingston 21.3.15
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
The little bones of clouds
I used to keep; Lethargic Dynamos of odd begotten piccolos...
dainty mint of pish and tosh
a dandy lark
ellipse and farce, surpassing strange.
Are you then, a ' withering fiction ' ?
an addle carp of Cain's insurrection !
Or a less offensive Icarus
who hails from Sweden?
You, who sold me the bones of little clouds
and kept fair all frost and longing...
Hither go, encased in Larceny
a prince of deep wish
and ill-favored, disjoint Harmonies
Soiling Time... Adrift-
Our mad Geppetto
in waning light
But not quite
as redeemed.
For Hell's Bells have brushed
the tips of my wings
and I'm off -
and aloft
And away.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
While he held her near
He told her he loved her
He made it all clear
When it was just a blur
He erased her fear
And kept her life astir
She knew he was the one
He was something unique
When her life was undone
And her existence bleak
He gave her one reason to live
When no one was there
Though she had nothing to give
And her pockets were bare
The love they shared
Was extremely rare
But that doesn’t matter
Because life is unfair
He scrounged and fought
For days, months and years
Then went out and bought
A ring with two frozen tears
Before he asked her
He told all of his peers
He had no car
So he walked to her house
The idea was bizarre
Of her as his spouse
He would never reach that point
Unknown to him
Their lives would disjoint
His future was grim
The driver was drunk
He didn’t see her coming
His life was sunk
He just kept walking and humming
He crossed the street
The driver slams the brakes
He’s picked up off his feet
He’s alive in the air
Until he hits the concrete
Seeing what she’s done
The driver keeps going
The girl slumbes through her door
Never even knowing
After she gets the call
The tears don’t stop flowing
She wanted to be with her one
So she grabbed a gun
Whispered ‘I love you, and only you’
And ended her life too
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 7:11 PM UTC
She knew so well, she was broken
Grazed by the dark episodes of her life
But for a reason not well spoken
She bottles up her pretty lies.
Too soon, oh Heaven. How do I despair?
Should You becalm the sea, why not seemingly fair?
Questions and tempest, in just a minute stare
All, in a trice, turned out as an awful nightmare
Hovering over the memories, hearts are still in pain
Tears are carefully hidden, sore wounds she'd rather feign.
I knew I wasn't dreaming, but for once I'd like to know.
Can we still dream much further despite a losing show?
Such a lax image, she tends to portray
Religiously, so patiently, she never goes astray
At the darkest edges of her discernible universe
Beyond our keenest senses, she buries a pitch black curse.
Shame on me, my steadfast wishes, I can hardly collect.
Another revolution yet; oh, how do I deflect?
Like a western avalanche, her days came rolling by
As if they're going out of hand, over her head, we can testify
She can just give up, or give another shot, no one seems to know
But in her mind, she knows just why she was there all from the word go.
I know to whom I shall only concede, never to a ruthless battle.
Disjoint, unarmed, I could always be; but my faith, no one can throttle.
And so the tale of this one staunch damsel never ended wrong
She might have had some tough good byes, but that made her strong
Cropping out the tragedy from the frame, she tries to recover from drama
Star-crossed, perhaps, but not til she stops becoming the one tough Andrea.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
i find myself following our old footsteps
almost subconsciously
letting memories make decisions
leading the way through lingering thoughts of you
while they may be seemingly mundane
they are increasingly significant
for it is not just a choice to order miso soup
or to venture down the scenic route
to our old curry house
where the spice would bring tears to my eyes
a prelude to the damp ducts that were soon to follow
now that the streams have dried up off my face
i take joy in the journeys in which i place my stride beside your fading footsteps
painting our memories in the vivid colours of yesteryear
as opposed to tainting them with the disjoint of yesterday
i will continue to do all the things that we did, albeit alone
for it is now as much part of me
as the bones that support me
and the heart that pumps my blood
slightly aching when a thought of you lingers slightly
but an ache diminishing with each passing day
you changed me,
you probably didn't even realise it
as you were papering the cracks in the fibre of my being
allowing me to grow as a person, a partner, a lover
so i will ride my bike down the mountains from which our love fell
down the steep cliff faces from which it never recovered
and i will mimic the thoughts in my head
through words on the cloud, as you did
sharing
caring
remembering
not least you
and the way we were
in one of the best times of my life
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
No, what is life without fear?
Yes, what is growth without seed?
You have been an impostor to yourself,
and the mirror is opaque.
Tremors loom faceless choirs,
bellowing runes of disjoint.
Subconsciousness cradles reality,
and awakens the false soul.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
Je serai poète et toi, la poésie.
I will be the poet and you, the poetry.
But it is not the words
That I scribbled out in arduous hand,
The slopes of my letters,
That quite encompass
The slope of you leaning against
The pane of my window in the rains.
Nor is it the soft cursive
In which I gently wrote down
Your expression when a flake of snow
Soft and tender;
Rustling through the branches of fir
To land on your nose,
Ever so gently;
That can quite tell the world
What your clear laughter does
To an hour of gloom.
I knew then,
That my mind, with its fractured
Concepts disjoint syllables and tripping verse might not be capable
Of putting pen to paper
And recall your fiery eyes,
When they pierce the veil of
Young melancholy
And beckon me to act my age,
And not a morbid royal spinster.
And I thought of how you knew
In far more precise details how
After a weary day, I flopped down
On to the couch in monotonous exhaustion
Wiping my brow, shaking off the
Metaphorical dust.
You knew, far better than me,
The blurred movements of my hands
As I traced words in the air.
I watched you watch me
Move and I watched as you noted
The crest of every breath I took.
And I thought.
Tu sera poète et moi, la poésie.
You will be the poet and I, the poetry.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
We’re losing America
while losing our minds
Our spirits in hiding
our souls hard to find
The nation in freefall
all fingers to point
One side at the other
common values disjoint
We’re losing America
in front of our eyes
A narcissists poison
our heritage dies
Each part is now greater
than the sum or the whole
What our patriots died for
—lay forgotten untold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2018)
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Having people who understand is new for me
There are people in my life who care about how I feel
It's odd, it makes the bad days not so bad when someone is aware
Life seems easy when with people who are there to help you heal
But I'm learning every blessing comes with a burden
And we all know that out of the two, I was never the blessing
This gift that I have cherished so much is just hidden poison
I see now this bond is bound to hurt one of us as I'm reassessing
I wish I didn't always see, but time and time again I realize
All I do in your lives is break and burden and continue disjoint
Because though I love you and I wish I could feel safe in that fact
Life was so much easier when I didn't have people to disappoint.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
you move the sun closer to me
and that has no disaster.
your All is the wet funk of my Yes.
the graven image of a total thing -
masquerading as ****** glint
of my " just asking " without the burden
of my suspicion. only the wonderful
of my submission.
You.
You are the One
that Two
looks up
too.
you march into my femur. break my bones
where the soul is course and rancid.
where the Always has no Answer
but the Never has as a
Speech.
you move the Sun closer to Me.
you bring me joys that hate
and mutter the rumple
of lesser men
who have no Love.
you join the disjoint
and mock the cradle
of our discontent
with the spectacle
of our humble
What ?
you move.
you move the sallow fortunes of our weakest
too the strong weeping
of our dire " of course ".
the code. Morse, may be... but the dots
align in the ragged farse
of our profuse jungle.
we are these monkeys
lifting hammers
we cannot claim
but we have stars
that march
against
the verity
of our lies
to preach
the brevity
of our almost
in love.
with an up-close sun.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
She let out a muffled scream,
of passion and emotion,
thoughts rushing through her mind,
of restrained but freeing motion.
Making feeling paramount,
not intellect, was the aim.
Hand, face, feet all blurred,
She couldn't herself tame.
Of gentle flicking,
of mad thrusting,
of soft caressing,
of violent pounding.
She couldn't concentrate,
on the thoughts and things,
which flapped its butterfly wings,
all of which rapture brings.
With painful sounds of pleasures more,
with broken dreams and powers galore,
with shredded pains and children four,
she held him crazy, knowing what's in store.
And in the process of going
and coming, to the point,
She lay back on the ashes,
of her dreams disjoint!
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
I took an arrow to the knee
and cringed, deflated and amused.
It was the knee i kept for bending
that i very seldom used.
It was the joint, disjoint from prayer
the earth had hardly ever known.
it was the crease i used for leaping
that i folded into poems.
I took an arrow to the knee
now my adventures venture less
and now my dragons are alofty
and my slayer
dispossessed
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Ironically, I'm on the bridge,
after burning too many,
I've pushed away people,
family
friends
lovers
and now I don't have any.
You need help!
They cry, they chant
Stay on this Earth, life is lovely,
but I just ******* can't.
No one cares about you, life's tough
right until you're suicidal
then everyone's an idol.
You need help!
You need help!
No, I don't.
You're in the wrong,
Politicians lie and you eat it raw, the rich are in control
I don't belong.
I want out, noose in hand
suddenly, life doesn't seem so bland.
Get out, get out, get out
I'm feeling this too early
22, young, whole life ahead of me,
this is not a call for help, not a plea
Society, life and I are too disjoint
and we'll all die
so after all, what's the point?
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
I want out
don't let me stay
if my noose snaps,
you'll find me somewhere in the bay.
Please let me out,
I beg you,
offing yourself is so hard,
too hard,
I am too scarred
and survival instincts are tough
I wish this was bluff.
You need help!
**You need ... **
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Before it's too late
I feel trapped, no air
legs kicking, arms flailing.
People stare,
but now I don't care.
No grey, colours come back
blue
green
yellow
red
orange
they are all there
I'll never look back.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
It doesn't hurt as it once did
Your silence killed the heart I hid
The love you claimed faded away
When you refrained toying with me
Gaining momentum, more intact
Less and less I'm looking back
Moving forward without you
No longer makes me come unglued
Youre part of me starts to disjoint
As you become a vanishing point
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
People are falling all over the place
Searching their minds for an intimate space
When did the timing lead up to this point
Short intermissions we wasted, disjoint
Scattered our logic to keep what remains
The incomprehensible parts of our brains
Calloused completely in every way
Wanting to speak but we've nothing to say
Where is the portal through which I can climb
Will it give me entry back into my mind
People are falling and now I am too
I went off the edge when I walked into you
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
Eyes haunt me in the dark of the night.
Eyes I want, eyes that watch me in the waking hours and eyes endlessly open to the idea of a silly theory entitled me.
Eyes that sparkle when they see my face, wanted and held once more, eyes so new yet eyes I feel I've tied around my heart for a thousand years.
Poetic words lead my lips astray, darkening the colors of a blossoming attraction into the gray undertones of possible love, fantasizing too much and trying too little.
Lips I know he looks and at wonders how they’d feel painted across his soul, my warm touch against his and a dance I have long forgotten strewn across the bedroom.
Fingers grasp at mine from all directions, yet his are the ones I find in the fray.
I hold tight, wanting so badly for the future, savoring so heavenly the present.
Disjoint, we are so new, but the possibilities of a condescending maybe are too strong for once for me to dismiss.
Maybe. Maybe is the only word I need to live off, a maybe for him, for his eyes, for his lips, for his fingers entwined with mine.
All I need is maybe for my heart to fly.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC
Heaven’s mystery and wonder is sublime.
It lasts forever.
In fact, it’s outside of time.
We last but a blink however.
To even imagine it is impossible.
It’s like a fish imagining dry land.
The mystery of Heaven is phenomenal.
It’s like the entire beach compared to a single grain of sand.
And even these do not portray
The truth that we’ll find on our last day.
The day when we’ll see His face,
The day our minds can’t begin to embrace.
How long do I have to live?
When will my last day come
When I have no more to give
To this world to which I’m from?
I hope I’ll live with Heaven in mind
Instead of living like I’m blind.
Because what is the point
If with God I am disjoint?
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC