"diverging" poems
Echoing voice of the moonlit night
Foresee but unarmored from past,
Fragmented heart of broken lights;
Unraveling miseries already did last.
Drowned by tears of years were lost
From crawling those diverging roads,
Victim of dying embers found his cost;
Resemblance of faith is in the woods.
But God above guided his way home
And dry every little river in his mind,
Mournful shadows are still unknown;
Embers of souls are always in divine.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress?
Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test
Over pushing boundaries set with intent
Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust
Only to rise to the question
Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us..
Be overwritten?
Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line
Slowly assimilating breathless methods
Hijacked
Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this
Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion?
Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel
I know I'm here, but who's that there?
Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar
A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward
Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention.
Where are you taking me? (Silence)
Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver
Hijacked
There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you
The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions
Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom
Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions
Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions
The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss
Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most
An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest
A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
If only "us"
was an option
Our river of emotions
would never dry
If we could just
merge our diverging dimensions
On a silky web of a broken lie
I would be the one to
Dare to face your weirdest obsession
Dive into
Your darkest ocean
Earn a place in your wildest passion
If only "us" was an option
I'd soothe you like a cool pillow
Flip your mood like a morning coffee
So if you'd feel down like a weeping willow
I'd hold your branches up like a trophy
If only "us" was an option
You'd become my reason
to smile everyday
And even
To die smiling in my grave
And thus I crave
Despite our diverging dimensions
A perfect world where "us"
would still be an option
But it never was
And will never be.
~Epic Monkey
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Above my home where the dark clouds
curl into the sky clinging for a home to
rest their sleepy depiction, shadowed
trees hum sweet lullabies, lonely leaves
breathe in the sad song of fallen dimensions,
letting its lifeless view roll upon their frame,
the chilled breeze sailing in the skyline,
as I scramble my way out of a filthy dumpster,
a mountain of disintegrating mess covering
my broken body, hovering flies surrounding
sticky strips of spaghetti, moldy mashed potatoes,
and moldy chicken *** pies, while my mind sunk
into traveled thoughts, bruised hands pressed against
the creases in my forehead, allowing my existence
to feel the stranded scars streaming in various mazes,
dull eyes flushed with a burning disorder, aching cheeks
and chests nestled in darkening chamber corners, buried
hips and thighs uprooting in somber blades of grass,
thorned, torn, and destroyed in different worlds. As I stood
on the slippery pavement staring at the ruffled scenery
in my sight, spinning streetlights thickening into slouched
positions, screaming sidewalks spilling sadness and madness
in the drenched air, razor-edged buildings inching into crushed
centimeters, jumbled meters, ****** yards. I replayed the sober
images in my head, the way my young brown-skinned mom said
I would never amount to anything, how I could hear the raged
noun ****** sift into the distance, its flaming mechanics
accelerating into screeching sounds, the way she hurled
her fists at my smashed face, every vibrant language
breaking apart, slamming shut into closed infinites,
snagged contractions and gerunds diverging into
shuddering double spaced negatives, the way she threw
my lingering body inside the trash dumpster, her sharp
scarlet words, You are no son of mine, ricocheting off
savage surfaces, sparking my soul in a calamity
of choking diction.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
She said there was zero squared chance of reconciliation
That our lives were not the circle she dreamed,
But two separate lines diverging at a point
Arranged in rays, and some other math terms I never understood
Because she finished top of her class, myself a comforting third
Tier, of the last tier, of those who made it through the door.
And the story has stayed the same, regardless of the term change
I was back in school, receiving a bad grade,
Thanking God for the bell curve, which rang
"Some things always stay the same, but keep trying anyway"
And my averages will remain somewhere between middle of the line
And the bottom of the drain.
So
I will raise my hand for hope,
I will raise my hand for shame,
I will raise my hand to look good,
And to never learn
Quite exactly what I should.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Be wary of me
My friend of frailty,
Because we see love
In different shades and
Express it in diverging ways.
I admit:
I'm a ****
I don't way my words and
My actions are driven by
Impulsion and confusion.
My biggest fear is that one day
We would break
Or rather,
I would break
You.
I don't know how to say what I mean;
I can never fathom what you really feel.
My laughter may be hurtful daggers;
My silence may sound like crashing thunders.
Can your bones stand my embrace?
Can you hear me whispering
The things I'm too shy to say?
Truth be told:
I love you
But
Save your heart
And save my dignity.
Darling,
I think you should
Stay away from me.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
958
We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.
2.7k
She says that I'm overthinking small
situations and turning them into complex
equations, a mountain of igniting dungeons
beyond infinities, a labyrinth of swelling
light flickering without energy.
I gaze at the unfiltered alliteration in her
one-dimensional shape, the split derivatives
diverging towards a square of stained
subtractions.
My mind is the light source that transcends
destiny, a wall of mirrored depictions
aligning with my soul. I am a critical thinker,
and I shall live in this realm forever.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering
On a Sunday afternoon.
Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool
Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes
Lick at the curtains twelve floors up
On the terrace, woman standing
Arms outstretched, grasp the rail
Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal
Lightly muscled, slightly formed
Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown
Fabric glides across the hip-line
Revealing all to me below
Wearing nothing on the landing
Hint of shadow, ***** mound.
From the sliding doors behind her
Steps a man not quite unseen
Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away
Rigid stillness then the thrusting
Tension mounting at the breath
Woman gasps the O shape forming
Through her silent, varnished lips
Mahler moaning on the ITunes
Waves are forming, silent sound
Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached
Sun comes out, just at that moment
Roads diverging in the wood
Disconnecting, and uncoupling
Might and maybe should and aught
Trembling fingers, taught in temper
Blink the eye and pop the top
Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff
**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out
Bottle clinks across the teeth
Unbelieving, unconcealing
Unrelieving, unreleased
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
As if I’m going to wash my sins,
by finding a substance so viscous - to annihilate the acid
that seeps through me.
Perhaps it’s you refilling my first glass,
which is dried up by 11,
and replenished by 5 past.
Must I keep forcing it down my refusing gut,
so I can bare the stutter drooling,
crumbling, out your teeth.
Till I’ve sipped needlessly on your lies
and fell drunken on your delusional fables.
Now I’m slurring in my nights,
awoke, still high on your acid.
Eyes are bulging, bloodshot
from you firing bullets of your decaying burden.
-
As I walk I stumble,
diverging around solum streets.
Crows peck at my skin, to prompt me at sunrise.
Now and again I revisit
the morsels I had collected from the bottom of your chalice.
Savouring as I gulp down my regret.
Desperately urging to be hungover your reveries
one last time.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
a lone something in the sky
flies near, just by mischance
dazed by the smog,
bowing
and diving
downward
into the parting, cracking,
quaking
bellowing of tar
from the firy, sputtering lungs of these alps
eons worth of cries released in mere mouth-ajar gasps
of the earth diverging and converging
into the debt of always running clean,
running me
always downward,
as in the deep
deep
tessellations of rock
I become.
too still for my own good,
I guess –
another voice on the ash-flow tuffs of
breath to fill the mosaic
of sinewy
stripe-patterned goodbye and bygone
plating into the deep,
deep,
deeper caverns of the unseen sea
slipping off the mantle, an accident with intention,
as an echo caving downward into
nothing,
nothing,
more
nothing
polluting the depths from the palisades,
scripture rupturing lowshore into
surrounding tissues like
igneous stone
dreams of clinks ringing,
of noise
a voice
on the ash-flow tuffs
in the always running-clean water
the purity of which I intercept,
the clear-ness of it;
a sinners window.
through what's left,
I see the clam
another mouth for and of the sea
unseen,
the pearl
as unsoiled as ever
Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
If you only understood how dear you are to me
How much I've discovered about the world
You could show me it jn reality
Slowly explore sure planet earth as it twirls
Distant corners in tucked places
Because I need to escape
If have you close instead of blank spaces
Can hide in the feelings taking shape.
Fear growing into hope
This may be what I have waited for
All that time I couldn't cope
And the nights spent crying on the floor
Love you for taking all that away
Emotions I couldn't erase on my own
You helped tear apart dismay
Made sure I didn't fight demons alone
You are there to lead without question
Willingly sacrificing your hand
Many times pulled out of depression
Supported two legs until they could stand
Rainfall pours down heavier now
Swirling and spinning in wet assault
To you surrender, my head bowed
Journeys diverging and it is my fault
Thank you for lovely time shared together
Our paths will always intersect
I'm grateful you threw to me a line
For our two hearts to connect
The colors in your galaxy
Fade, in your arms become blurred
Tonight the first page of our story
Presence told without one word
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering
On a Sunday afternoon.
Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool
Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes
Lick at the curtains twelve floors up
On the terrace, woman standing
Arms outstretched, grasp the rail
Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal
Lightly muscled, slightly formed
Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown
Fabric glides across the hip-line
Revealing all to me below
Wearing nothing on the landing
Hint of shadow, ***** mound.
From the sliding doors behind her
Steps a man not quite unseen
Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away
Rigid stillness then the thrusting
Tension mounting at the breath
Woman gasps the O shape forming
Through her silent, varnished lips
Mahler moaning on the ITunes
Waves are forming, silent sound
Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached
Sun comes out, just at that moment
Roads diverging in the wood
Disconnecting, and uncoupling
Might and maybe, aught and should
Trembling fingers, taught in temper
Blink the eye and pop the top
Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff
**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out
Bottle clinks across the teeth
Unbelieving, unconcealing
Unrelieving, unreleased
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
There’s nothing like a frosty winter morning,
when the sky has had enough
of trying to look nice and welcoming
for you today,
but instead decided to take the day off
and retreat under the soft grey fluff of a blanket, and you too,
have done the same, in a show of comraderie,
cracking the window open just enough
to feel each other’s breath
across the zipping air
that won’t stop fussing
or biting off the skin on your right thumb.
There’s nothing like such a morning
when a bottomless pit of steaming hot coffee isn’t enough, though your heart-rate
is through the roof, but you pretend that’s good
for you, as if it’s pumping blood and heating up
your insides.
A morning when the requirement to stay inside
is no longer a discomfort but an opportunity –
for some calm piano tunes,
just like the wind
converging then diverging,
to serenade you in the background, while your rough
cold hands, stretch out in their familiar spider web
but this time in a slower
motion stretch
and take you to the keyboard once again,
because there’s nothing like it on a frosty, freezing, gloomy winter
Morning like this.
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 1:23 PM UTC
659
That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet,
And said that I was strong—
And could be mighty, if I liked—
That Day—the Days among—
Glows Central—like a Jewel
Between Diverging Golds—
The Minor One—that gleamed behind—
And Vaster—of the World’s.
1.5k
It’s a box full of green dots destroying what was once called my self esteem
You wanted me when the lights were out
And guidance was my enlightened words now not found
I picked you up
And shoved myself instead of you
I picked you up
And tired as I be; after I think and feel and believe and disregard all at once
I laid exactly at that railroad of crushing trains
Striking so furiously my heart
And each time that train gets closer
My insecurities become like the forsaken minorities
Of the land waiting to avenge their vanquished souls
Wanting revenge on the land lord
And the land lord is lured into lowering lives of dislexyical comments like leaves leaving a tree not because they have to but because they have the power to self-destruct
It’s not us that we fail to continue
Its our ability not too
Our will to stop
Our moments of clarity
In which nothing is clear
And clear is the day you come up to me and explain the complexity that is your affect and the regret that is my whole existence
And clear is the day in which I find the answers to life wrapped in papers fallen on grounds of religious beliefs with my name on top
A note for majd
A majd for all the notes you keep inside in the ample spaces between your teeth and total loss of diction
Like dictating decimations you strike words of explosions
Like nuclear weapons it’s not the fall of reason that kills me
It’s reason that eases my falling
And I fall into senseless diversions
Diverging through divisions of disintegrating poems
Determining what we don’t know
And knowing what we cannot determine
All words are not words but simple signs
Of my breakdown
And all breakdowns are not breakdowns but mere stimulation of the senses; a kick start …
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
two yellow butterflies
in the sun, entwined,
apart, chasing, diverging,
hovering hypnotic
over the first summer
bloom of the trees,
the wonder that is
travel, paving thy
own path in the air
stream, yet finding
each other,
perennially...
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
Light shining down- yellow
I stood there.
Opening my eyes
awakening from a dream...
I stayed here,
but I still remember.
At first- I remember,
it was a new world, yellow
sand shining like gold here
I won’t go back there
where people get lost in a dream
fog clouding their eyes.
Seasons drift across those eyes
only changes in color they remember
everyday is a reoccurring dream.
White. Green. And yellow
flickered with red and brown there,
but now I’m here.
I awoke here,
every face has unseen eyes.
Everyone knows everyone there,
now everyone is hard to remember.
replaced with yellow,
I let go of their dream.
The river filled with that dream
doesn’t flow here.
Never diverging it’s course, while yellow
leaves drift on, like eyes,
on the river’s spine- they remember,
where they’ve fallen from- there.
And nothing will ever change there-
where the nightmare’s a dream,
now nightmares are hard to remember
because now I’m here.
Sleep wiped from my eyes.
The sun’s out, and it’s yellow.
I try to picture a yellow day there
I close my eyes and think of when life was just a dream,
but now I’m here, and I can’t remember.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
if you place a stethoscope inquisitively on the
beating chest of your life, expect to hear a -
plod, plod, plod.
you'd think it to be the footsteps of a
fumbling toddler; fumbling feet
feeling the flat, alien earth.
or the muffled footsteps of a stranger
stumbling into your path, turning your
tables, stumbling into your life.
you could regret that it wasn't your
feet's soundless plodding on the moon,
that there was no greatness in your silence.
while at times you remember
the footsteps of friends converging
into your life - diverging from it.
and then to cease all speculation -
you recognise the footsteps
of god at your doorstep.
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 6:58 AM UTC
A Ballad For A Thin Man.
Understood backwards. Lived forward. Life.
Haunted by diverging others. Us but not. Wraiths.
Ghosts of what if? Who then? What might have been?
Leave room. Turn left. Lovely house, wife, retirement.
Leave same room. Turn right. Shack, loneliness, poverty.
Theorize games. Physik quanta. Slide down strings.
Into Wonderland, Oz, Middle-Earth. Narnia.
All the places that don’t exist and matter the most.
Where doors open up to impossible possibilities.
Fight your way through every day. Pit bull of potential.
Just do your work and be kind. That is a separate peace.
We may be others in other universes, but here we are just us.
**** it up. Love your life. Do what you must. Soldier on.
Real realities can really hurt. Take it like a Man. Or Woman.
Be grateful for your trials. Trials are you. Struggle.
Mount the philosopher’s donkey backwards, advance.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC
It seemed like a story
For Schrödinger
Time and distance ensured that
They were
All things and
Nothing
At once
And, in this way, they stayed in perpetual orbit
She wondered if
In another life
In another place
Time
Universe
Their lives would have intersected
Instead of diverging
Unrequited
To haunt her with all that could have been
It was the bitterest irony
When at last their paths swerved together
That both hearts had already been spoken for
Somewhere
The Fates were surely cackling
As the air hung heavy
With all the possibilities
That died on the vine
Because time was never on their side
How could one even cry for something they’d never had?
She found herself heaving uncontrolled sobs
Shaking with unfettered grief
In mourning
For all the things
She had wanted to live
All the bright dreams of their teenage years
That had seemed so perfect
Shattered by the bitterness of
Growing up
And that old ******* Father Time
If she were honest with herself
She’d admit it was not him
She actually loved all these years
But all the things he might have been
—or rather—
All the things she might have been with him
What a different life she might have had if
One day
She had followed her
Wild teenage love
Instead of living in this cosmic joke
She’ll never know
But she’ll heave sobs
For all the parallel lives she is not living
And the orbit she will return to
Knowing she’ll never be satisfied
She’ll always wonder
Always be gazing off
Trying to glimpse a galaxy
Where things turned out better
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
I, Yellow.
No different
Than others.
Whites on Whites...
Blacks on Blacks...
Browns on Browns...
Racism.
How will it be
When the tie
Binds
Diverging colors?
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 4:20 PM UTC
I remember the last note I wrote,
where he poured venom in ink
scribbled words placed blankly
at the tip of Saturday’s tongue
A mouthful of madness intertwined
between two diverging lives
as returning innocence sparked
cigarette, after cigarette
The warm taste of whiskey
fills a stomach freer than before
The smell lingers at each exhale to fuel the fire
of a breath’s subtle aching for forgiveness
Conversation now lacks substance
Words slur actions to violently attack
without awareness to rule direction
I felt who hurt you, looking back on it
Heavy eyes spoke language to
disease the mourning of our losses
with something to be permanent,
but not entirely forgotten
Your heart bleeds an intensity
of the darkest hour you could find
Separation furthers an inevitable exit
we both cannot control alone
He falls to his knees uneasy
The fall is an alarming salute,
a goodbye that cannot be understood,
a commitment I failed to believe
Across the room, I watch you
I try and tend to the plans you’ve made,
but I am weaker than you had been
The damage pierces my ribcage
It catches me off guard as it moves through
Starvation vows to carry in its place
to feed the body empty noise
I hear silence engage lost attention
An aftermath of memories led astray
to make believe the truth
I wore the flaws love wounded on skin
The scars gave weight to my appearance
to comfort a lack of confidence
Distance understood what was yesterday,
would not be tomorrow
Existing only to heal the unknown
We should of watched time,
return us to what we knew
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC