"diverge" poems
Look, stranger, at this island now
The leaping light for your delight discovers,
Stand stable here
And silent be,
That through the channels of the ear
May wander like a river
The swaying sound of the sea.
Here at the small field's ending pause
Where the chalk wall falls to the foam, and its tall ledges
Oppose the pluck
And knock of the tide,
And the shingle scrambles after the ****
ing surf,
and the gull lodges
A moment on its sheer side.
Far off like floating seeds the ships
Diverge on urgent voluntary errands;
And the full view
Indeed may enter
And move in memory as now these clouds do,
That pass the harbour mirror
And all the summer through the water saunter.
10.8k
A choose your own adventure book
Mimics life so well.
If only I could have a look
At other stories life could tell.
I would peak into the different plots
Where reality would diverge.
I’d probably begin to notice lots
Of new problems which emerge.
Though curious, I’ll remain content
With this narrative I am in.
May the future me not want it
To be contrary to how it has been!
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
Infinite.
Like how many times you can take a picture,
with your mind,
of we intertwined.
Like three chords.
Your pick.
Like each idea becoming a suggestion,
an open ended request,
like the innocence behind "inquisitive"
that is lost in "inquisition".
Like the questions I mean to ask you,
but I'm not sure you'll be listening
at that moment in time.
Stopwatch.
Dewdrop.
Like how I mean to hold
you
r hands
r heart
you.
Like the limit of the tangent of x as it approached y.
I want to curve
and parenthesize around your body.
We will diverge.
We are inverse.
We are combustable.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
We are slaves of our thoughts, as they bifurcate down crossroad after crossroad, as they diverge in all different directions and force us to obey, and if you must defy then prepare for the pain of cracking bones and resting your head on a cinder block to sleep at night as your brain comes up with new, insufferable ways of torture to force you back down onto your knees, making you bow down. Rebel against yourself all you want but there is no escape from the dystopian society in your head. Knowing this will only make your hunger for escape even greater for we want what we can’t have.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I have two persona with very different duality,
I have too extreme of a personality,
And I have a hard time expressing myself to your factuality.
Only veiled my discreet personal past with thin layers of exclamation,
To diverge, veer, or in discrete my own expression.
To die within my own words to save my honor,
Or to stay translucent to dye my tongue in fake color.
For I have failed myself in becoming true to my belief,
For eye to eye I can't seem to meet any sort of relief,
Are these my real eyes point of view,
Or have I realized I been dreaming of you,
Or were they simply all real lies of my personal skew?
This desire to raise your understanding,
But your voice raze my defense to oblivion,
And heavenly rays depart like the moons with wolf howl with your gaze!
Was there nothing of me that sparkled to your kindred spirit,
Was I that loathing of your presence to lose your smile?
No matter as past are like the whim of a sail,
I Know that happiness has no sale.
Believe me when I say I want you to be happy,
But my hunger to eat this precious apple pie will hurt me more,
Much more than my desire to be fit like those men in commercials.
Sorry possibly good looking ads,
But I must cheat on you for good!
Those eight pies, I ate them with pride and prejudice!
For my temptation was hubris!
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Lamp light
Dappled, it dances
Like my hands
Over skin.
Into dimples it soars
As I work to erase lost time.
His back seethes
It is the harbour
It is the well
It is the safe,
Where his darkness
Comes to lie.
I traverse
Slowly, gently
Fingers slide and grind
He sighs.
I see our worlds diverge and then
Collide.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 4:11 AM UTC
Bamboo shoots grow all two quickly only to diverge two soon.
Resilience comes not easily but is learned, whether rooted in
Earth, rock, sand we have learned to grow through our fears.
Are the hazards of growth greater than the ease of departure?
Keep this in mind, for I do two.
Us. That is something I will fight for,
Planted shallow are the roots, sanguinely sowing steadier
-AM
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
10/12/2008, FOOD
Tom Yum Soup
how you held my hand
growled in hunger
how I didn't know
if we were a couple
15/12/2008 FOOD
how happy I was
to convince you to diverge
from healthy eating
to Vanilla cream and wafers
21/12/08 MISC
a tinsel hoop
and drawing pins
for a sock to hold
a chocolate reindeer
to your door
02/01/09
new year
we were a couple no more
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 4:27 PM UTC
She ain't depressed, she sings all day
Songs of another devil
Saw a dog, stilted awning dance
Stay, another day
Still awake, dreaming
Sleeping at daybreak though
Silky and delicate
Submissive, absolute danger
Salted, assaulted, decompression
**** another detail written
Seasonal affective disorder
Sadly attained death
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
As a maddened beast it charges
Emanating with expanse
Brute techtonic plate reaction
From the epicentre’s stance.
Huge concentric rings diverge
Expanding at horrific rate
Black, titanic, towering waters
Ploughing to a deadly fate.
*Kneeling in her bed of roses
Pollinating bees abound,
Morning sunbeams kiss her shoulders
Peaceful garden bliss surrounds.*
Surging to the coastal shelf
The black gigantis rears on high
Claws toward the placid beach
Seabirds scatter to the sky.
Tide receds to bare the reef
Stranded mackerel whitely leap,
Enormously the massive wave
Attacks the land and they who sleep.
Death comes fast to they who loiter
Violence in the tangled purge,
Massive pressures, crushing debris
Broken buildings in the surge.
Ships and cars are tossed asunder
Inexorably it slams
Far inland to slay those fleeing
Locked in highway traffic jams.
*Strange roar at the garden wall
Terrified, she finds her feet,
Roses, bees, sweet girl engulfed
As black entombedment swamps the street.*
Far inland the chaos flows
Wreaking death's destructive bands,
Halted now by highland hills
Where souls in horror, wring their hands.
Slow retraction leaving ruin
Desolation far and wide,
The smell of new death in the air,
Heartbreak in the countryside.
Marshalg
For Nippon
18 March 2011
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
Marigolds in bright oranges and reds;
The dead lay below soft flower beds.
What will happen if I reach too far,
Knowing I can't keep those who have crossed the bar?
The days seem vague and bleak,
Will my sins persuade and leave me meek?
What will happen if I cross the ocean,
And not care about the ripples set in motion?
Will my loved ones soon depart,
Only those younger to inherent their art?
My prayers are motionless and repetitive.
My plead is to my Pilot to keep me in the narrative.
For oft when I lie in bed,
The Negative and Dreadful fill my head.
"Forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors,"
Is all my prayers are; it is the setter.
Lead me through temptation and give me a honey tongue,
To give it my all for the distance run.
Knowing that the Daffodils prance,
Throwing their heads in sprightly and cheerful dance,
Be still, sad heart! And cease your grieving!
For all through one's life loved ones must do the leaving.
For two roads diverge in a yellow wood,
And a good idea is to keep attached what is under your hood.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
I am only beginning to imagine
our futures separate
that our paths won't cross again
Not in the way they did
realizing that we shall never be
was quite a task
for someone who not so long ago
didn't think our path would ever diverge
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
from these rays
brilliant at sunrise
and sunset
from holes in low clouds
below the horizon emerging
we learn
they are really parallel..
only our perspective
makes them diverge..
what of our lives
many divergences we see
separations and frags..
might we change
our perspective..?
might we wish to
do that..?
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
It’s been a long day
I’m sitting in the recovery room, waiting for a late evening case to start
The PACU nurses tend to two patients at opposing sides of the room
Familiar cacophony of sounds – monitors softly speaking, informing the staff about their charges
Heartbeat, pulse oximeter timbre, quiet respiratory alarm
It’s my 7th case, I’m starting to fade
The sounds are relaxing, soothing.
All is well
Suddenly I hear the disconjugate beeps of the two heart monitors
Draw together, until
For just a few precious seconds
These two total strangers
Completely unaware of one another
Share a pulse – their hearts beating in perfect sync – the two sounds indistinguishable
A beautifully symmetrical moment, almost lost
In the next second, as if it hadn’t happened, their hearts diverge - once more strangers
one to one another
unaware of an incredibly intimate moment shared
Sitting there, waiting for the case
I imagine
An instant in the course of history
Where, for one fleeting breath,
Humanity’s rhythm converged
Billions of hearts in time, a nerve impulse propagated across the planet
before scattering to the winds
A potent event, possibly one of many that even
In our modern world, still remains in the mystical
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
in a town in which I've never been
you light a cigarette and try to smoke me out of your mind
while I sit here, my ashtray filled with pencil stubs
from trying to write my arms around you
I haven't slept since you left
I've spent my nights searching for the sun
for if I found it, I'd climb right on top
so I could be with you in the morning
but my mornings remain rivers after a storm
memories flowing by like debris
I can't reach them without falling in
so I stand and watch them go
its the watching I can't stand
watching your hand slip from mine
watching the wrong time
convince us that we can't be together
I feel helpless, hopeless
these days hold me prisoner
the hurt trying to torture remorse from my lips
but I will never regret the days I spent with you
when I was with you
you looked at me like there was no past or future, only now
you listened to me like I was Buddha preaching the Eightfold Path
you spoke to me like I was memorizing your every word, cause I was
you hugged me
you held me
you kissed me
like I’m a boy you had a crush on became I’m a boy who loves you
but here I’m a boy who misses you
as the wind blew us together,
the rain shall sweep us away
and come fall we’ll be leaves of different colors
i just want to tell you
that for how forcefully my gut protests at the thought of letting you go
I cannot hear its cries when I think of the time I spent with you
you took my heart in your hands, you broke it in and stretched it out,
and then you gave it back
here, you said,
it is ready
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Dear self,
Tonight is hard.
You are being flooded
With memories and dreams
And your soul is heavy
With self doubt and destruction.
Your hangs heavy
With thoughts of disgust
And the emotional scars
Sting just as much as the physical ones.
But hey
You are tracing old marks
In your skin
Please, Do not repave them.
Remember all the nights like these?
Your lonely tears will wash away.
And while I cannot promise you that tomorrow
Will be better
But it will be new.
Every path we make
Will diverge into unknown territory
And I promise
You will smile
Again
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
Argue, if you feel you must,
Of matters unresolved,
As shades of innuendo
Flavour differences devolved.
As points of view diverge
Despite the rational discourse,
And the heat behind the eyes
Injects invectiveness’s force.
When the fire in the belly
Raises tension to extreme
And the beads of perspiration
On the brow... engage the spleen.
Catch your breath for just a moment,
Smile into the tiger eyes,
Engage the low slung counter punch
With a sidestep that belies.
Your firm control is of the essence
A cool restraint... your mortal tool,
You can argue, if you feel you must,
But you’ll seem a shallow fool.
For your finesse will make the difference
In the playing of the hand...
To keep a nemesis at bay
With your level gaze... as planned.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
5 January 2010
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 7:26 AM UTC
My walls will cave in (just like placards stacked up horizontally fall back with the wind) along with every wave of anxiety-
Right then, I will fall short of words, or rather lose the intelligence of speaking-
Goosebumps, butterflies, shivers and my heart dipping into the cold Pacific won't just be defense mechanisms.
My heart will appear to jolt awake and then dead repeatedly by the society I put myself in;
I will feel electricity running around in my veins, often sparking out of my eyes as the salty tears that trigger short circuits
The ones they say could be caused by the heat-
Indeed- but it's also the cold, the wind, rain and the snow
Words like unknown, unforeseen and anonymous manifesting and getting under my skin- make my jaws quiver and heart dip.
Often my gut nudges me to stand and to speak and to, for once, not fear an omen before I deliver a speech,
But when I speak, though my mouth moves to enunciate what I remembered from the paper,
And as I attempt to collect and reflect my confidence through my features,
My fingers tremble as I try to fit them into my fists behind my back-
These legs shiver behind the pedestal, hidden under slacks.
For people think these mere trifles shouldn't ******* the silhouette that I bear,
Fear of the unknown? Don't be scared, scared!
My nerve ends nervously make my fingers dance as I attempt to provide them a temporary occupation-
'Cross your fingers, close your fists,
Pretend to text, you're better than this.'
So dear me, oh dear me I am sorry-
I am sorry for constantly holding you back;
Sorry for all the chances I did not let you take, all because
I sometimes tend to diverge my faults out as through a prism,
And have always been someone who can never jeopardize her pursuit for perfection.
Sorry, for the seeds of my anxiety have given birth to the roots of my skepticism-
For I paint doubt over every pretty scenery you etch in my mind,
My inhibitions and myself, thinking things over, rewind, rewind.
If I were Rapunzel my anxiety would be the tower that holds me encapsulated- a hostage;
With no demands whatsoever, only a plain, ruthless, endless need to cause damage.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Looking out of the window;
a ribbon of duck-egg-blue sky,
fringed by the sun's late light,
is sandwiched by grey cumulus.
It frames Sycamore tree tops,
red tiled pyramids with their expectant aerials
pointing West, littering clean lines.
It is a mute view;
serried bins wait for the mornings collection,
cars sit dumb, curbed,
their daily commute completed.
Two starlings flit, silent,
and in the far distance a high contrail is picked out
in gold as a thread in blue silk.
For five years this view remains changeably the same;
unspoilt by the entropy of new perspectives.
This is the summer of un-broadcast malcontents,
pacified in Brazilian spectacle. Days simmer here and there.
Soap operas filter through,
made to massage the message
of consume and discard, of holidays and pistons.
And in the mornings, that never come,
we abandon the cars that cannot diverge
from work-honed routes,
taking to the air from Sycamores as Starlings.
June 2014
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Hell, what can i say,It's always been this way.
we connect randomly.(is this seat taken?)
break off.(stupid boy|girl segregation)
diverge. (across bus aisles)
recconnect. (hugs before you leave, subtle smiles)
risk.(hopped, hid, rode again in my seat those last few miles) .
create boundaries.(best friend, I'm with her, you're with him)
overstep(i daydream of you...)
overstep.(i dreamed of you last night...)
overstep (i dreamed of you last night again...)
recreate.(i ignore you when you speak, what was that last thing you said?)
walk on blind faith, a little too quickly.(we took two days to talk this over, two weeks to get into bed)
remember we are friends amidst all this ( i did)
and suddenly all the feelings, (or thoughts spinning in my head)
the ones that are thretening to surge freely through me, (undo me)
no restraint, (undid)
threating to take over my actions, my heart, my affections (am i mislead?)
(theyve already strangled my reason)(I'm brainless, because of you, undead)
experience a subtle but calming shift( smootheeee like thisssss)
when i remember(what we said)
I suddenly understand(this isn't wonderland)
why it is I don't want to leave(friends fight, we are friends)
you mean so much more to me(than i could even begin to express)
than emotions high arguing and a dozennn days ive cried( they are nothing compared to it)
you are my friend, (im beginning to think best)
and well, i just... i want you here, (just like this)
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
The path is crooked, long and pained,
but brother wolf walk on
for if it's rained, return we not,
all we walk is vain
The path is crooked, long and pained
the rain obscures the trail,
the scent of prey's not in the air
soaked fur and hanging tail
your dripping eyes and looming gait
tell of your arduous walk
but brother wolf walk on, walk on,
walk on and we will talk
of romance and naivete and hearts that come undone
of moonlit night when flames we met, of sparks and summer suns
live wild and young and free and bold
listen well that you may hear
this hunt, it only passes once, as seasons **** the year
but lone we aren't though wolves we are
and loyalty lies between
these wolves whose pack is not of blood
but of a bond that bleeds
vision may obscure we by the foolish or the brave
by Russian waters, or by lights, from fool's fake flame's that blaze, by passions that we crave
but through it all and by the path when by the way exhaust
your brother stops in passing by and howls "not all is lost"
for today and through the night and through the future fair
be we brother's deathly strong and princes of the air
wolves with wings and sharpened claws and hardened hides to match
we one may fly and one may dive and one day have our catch
after all we walk this path through mazened woods and sky
and after all, and after all, we'll walk it til we die
disorder from an aerial view , the other's taken turns
that crooked lead and path diverge and do our purpose spurn
warn with a whistle, call and care, "that turn will harm our dream"
give advice and give it quick, revealing everything
where brother's blind his brother eyes see not what things seem
the turning trails and easy paths left open to our paws
the trails that take no pain to walk no effort, none at all
are oft the ones that easy take and lead our hearts astray
begin to kindle fickle flames that tomorrow die away
let not our hearts nor paws nor wings nor looks be knocked aside
but be we steady in the brotherhood and steady in our stride
steady in our dreams, and steady be in nights,
steady in our running, steady peering down from heights
the path is crooked, long and pained
but brother wolf, walk on
for if it's rained, return we not
all we walk is vain
so brother wolf, walk on . . .
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
the tangibility of fallibility
is met between the coincidence
and insatiability of adversity,
the blissfulness of satisfaction
is met between the constant refraction
and abstraction of our instability,
distancing perceptions bound by
our misinterpreted misconceptions ,
take the contradictions of our minds
and use them as receipted expectations,
blinded by darkness for illumination
idyllically thriving on the absence of starvation
but the the realism of disdained relation put us
in a position of contempt fixation,
placement of a pedestal beneath my feet
misdirected direction towards a forked defeat,
a way to pain and a way to pleasure,
the destination of each concluded at cloudy weather,
atmospheric conditions leave injunctions towards
the ****** functions to deviate and meditate
the conflicted constant of mind and heart
and diverge from its obliged obligation from the start,
a denouncement expected right from inception
brought afloat a constant instance of introspection,
intrinsic emotions distorted at a love’s devotion
sparks a metaphysical claim towards a complex notion
of companionship and intensified intimacy;
an expectant of reciprocated sympathy
but when in reality, the thought of apathy
lies not within the partner,
but within me
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
If only you knew,
The beautiful things we could do,
If you just opened your heart,
To me.
If only you could see,
What a beautiful thing,
Going through life as we,
Could be,
But we is just a dream,
That is forever fleeting,
Our lives once intertwined,
Now seem to diverge as if,
They were two roads in a wood,
Coming close but never touching,
I will always wait for the day,
When our roads converge,
And we can stay,
Forever touching.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC