"dually" poems
I'm half in love with you
And I'm half in love with him
But this story twines two ways
So where do I begin?
I knew you first
Loved him later
Emotion, confusion
Is this fate or
Something else,
To consider
Because my heart won't belong
To random bidders
I know this is cheesy
And probably cliché
But I need to find some sense
In all this fray
So bear with my confusion,
And my state of mind
I hope only for love,
And one not unkind
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
Of immaterial vision birthed in mind.
Of spirit annihilating the selves,
of calling it plan. The one-
a semblance scattered on deck space
refracts on reflections of the reactions of tokens
of the carnivalesque,
of the hunger artists,
of phenomenon-
which may or may not exist depending on reflective surface of the true self,
of the motion of tides,
mocks motion in body,
of obsession.
The tonality of the "be" and the "is" and the "will be" is deafened by the "I am,"
by the Ohm.
Of shuddering and implanting embraces,
of blessing on every ember of cleanliness that is true self,
of the oneself that exists above selective memory,
not draft of time arrow but the material existence of dream,
not disembodied but embodied.
Of breeding,
of circumstance and forking fourth dimension prison terms,
of crowd control,
of she wolves and their feral children,
of forceps interpolating material reality of conception,
of Dreamtime,
of pain,
of pleasure,
where they are relations-
of skin perversely hanging, dually,
gratifying and sullying-
Fraying beautiful disasters that react to invisible ripples
I, the oneself, implore you to awaken in your utility and then outside of it.
Take those boot straps and bend the bars of confinement with them.
Chisel and sculpt light into a fabrication of quantum of action.
Celebrate the ordinary and expose it.
Of stargazed caustics,
of the early universe.
I stand awake as not the expression of design
and no longer connected to Earth by my roots
but awake inside cocoon,
entrapped behind slits,
of alien cage otherness.
The Akh beseeches ownership of the Ba
I want play dice with god and end in draw.
I am Sekhmet-Wadjet who dwells in the west of heaven,
I am Sahyt among the souls of Of.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC
Simplicity in life
Is something I look for
Hardly found, dually noted
In thought and mind
of a life I can not find
visions of freedom
stay in my mind
as I lay the tracks of my past
They away then turn, from my districted ways
Simplicity I look for
Simplicity I must find
This train of thought
Called contentment
I must find
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Free to fail like leaves in winter
His love will only sometimes linger
Like the fall of lovers crush
She'll win them all bare ly out of touch
Held together like ink to paper
Blurred into memory or a colorful sublime
These tears fell like wood forests hole punched and lined
Like a Lamp lit nightstand useful twice a month
Clandestin calamity chorus of wind chimes
Composed
Dually noted measured and fallen in time
Conceived
Dear John's pinned on porcelain; pined
Convexity
Leafs seasoned in carved tree vellum
Divined
Like dried roses smoke & mirrors the mind
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
Watch from your fancy TV screen -
Hypnotized
as your illusions of choice atrophy
A trophy, at your feet
Conceived in rage
From the place where miracles abound
The Eschaton will Immanentize
Dark energy entities
emanating from every corner all around
Hi - Def Surround Sound
Hide - Death Surrounds Hounds
It will bring you to your knees
When the Earth and all its Majesty
Crumble at the hands of the One-Eyed Messiah
The one I despise
You are all deceived
And to him they will scream
"Save Us"
Disenchantment following
Falling victim to his folly;
False exalted flesh reveres no seer
Neither those seared by his imprint
The prevelance of his contrivance
an resemblance of penance
for lack of repentance
And I'll cry to the sky
For the impending hour is nigh
And all things will seem unreal
Perchance a dream
When the duality is truly realized
The wailing and lament
of innumerable disembodied voices
will dually harmonize
The masses will chant
Praying for requiem
And then duly perish
Silhouettes
Pendulously suspended by strings
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
A breath of the highest grade,
Destiny coming taylor made,
The pursuit is gradual,
And the path is magical,
Sick and tired of being tired and sick,
Just holding on while i'm getting a grip,
So close we can taste it,
Consciousness is the latest,
Society ringing in my ear drums,
They won't pay attention so we had to steal some,
What's the course but if not to know,
But to smell, but to hear, but to touch, but to grow,
Tip toeing down this wondrous junction,
Of fundemental simple dysfunction,
Frame by frame we watch through this movie,
Walks in the rains have been noted dually,
Grief should probably bother me more then it does,
Staying positive like it's the only choice that there was,
Impartial thinking to what transpires,
Set backs open opportunity to Inquire,
Expression manifests through tribulations,
The spring has dawned on this hibernation,
"What's the word?" We cry out in fear,
The end has gone the beginning is near.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Taking your life was the most selfish and selfless thing I have ever done and will ever do. Oliver and I, we shared the mutual consensus that no one in the world had ever loved us as much as we loved each other. Moreover, we understood one another; we shared the commonalty of unstable upbringings, of neglect, and most pertinently, of loneliness.
We’d dually been abused, rejected, and abandoned by those who were supposed to be our caretakers and guardians and parents. Perhaps, that in itself was how we’d grown such an indestructible bond.
And yet.
I saw a glint of a monster inside of you. The previous night. A manifestation of the horrors you’d faced, suddenly channeled through you. From that moment onward, I began to understand the truth. All of the anguish you’d survived may one day define you. One day, the innocence would be gone and in its place, the product of your childhood would be born.
On the last morning of your life, who you were, was living proof of good. Proof that a person could exist so pure, and kind to the very core. The best and most honorable person in my life. The only friend I’d ever known. I wanted to preserve your memory; a perfect relic, never to be tainted by the evil which would one day consume you.
I knew that as you lived, you were the only entity I’d felt genuine compassion for. The only human I’d ever loved. The only person in the whole world who could ever hurt me. That vulnerability ran like
poison through my logic.
And so, I resolved.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
My room
is a work of art
on the unvacuumed canvas
lies heaps
of U.C.S's
(unidentified clusters of ****
heaps that are only destroyed
during nights ... ... .. . . .
that are fueled with anxiety
or
just pu re
r
estles snes s .
These imperfect shapes
scattered
in comforting patterns
my compiled life
in pieces .
But I'm st ill restless.
The artist
is
never truly satisfied with
her
work
the mes s of my life
tossed comfor tably to the ground
until i am provoked by ... ... .. .
...
Each Article
I nd i v i dually held
Set in place
Stumb
ling upon
Lost object s ... . .
forgotten fabrics that
held you unquestionably.
a nostaliga
art
revealing things
you were probably already looking for .
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
when a pronoun retracts
and becomes compounded
e.g.: itself, himself...
it complicates matters
with a dually functioning vigor
of content expression:
which extends thanks to the
surgical assertion that the
definite aritlce (scalpel)
and indefinite article (forceps)
proceed to govern
a. retractive pronoun usage
within compounding
is reflexive (reflex bias)
and
b. pronouns given unto punctuation
markings are reflective,
the notorious "i" of
sartre's usage;
in the poor sense of the word
when expressed as mirror-image,
since sarte's linear dittoing
markings possess a narcissistic chiral
exclusion of an active ownership of will
that's simply a misuse of
denotative marking -
it would simply imply an orwellian
conception of double-think, of
"
what's
"
actually defined via
"
thinking about it when orientated by gemini
(i.e. the ditto markings
imply a repeat,
or simply - as above / follow suite.)
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
A shiitake dreamer in séance here trust her hands of clouds
for she is one ready as Columbia whole
only she inhibit feelings, fear or wrath
with her kind of inclination found now might supplely bind hers
or daily bread shall dissolve her breath,
a ****** in sun dried tomatoes
fore dually her thought of heart leaving
mellow her wish with pleasure once again
that her kingdom bound where a prayer now her staple
with much to share allow her providence, today.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
nobody has ever bothered
to pick me up
dust me off
run your fingers down my spine
everything will be alright
remove my cover
gaze beyond
view the chapters
in which my life has gone
memorize my pages
the good and the bad
remember the sufferings
and comforts had
highlight your favorite parts
sentences and stanzas
dually remarked
dog-ear the sections
you find yourself rereading
leave a bookmark, save your place
i’ll always be here waiting
lay me down
on your bedside
we’ll comfort each other
all throughout the night
wear the pages of my life
under your fingertip’s tread
remember the verses
imprint them in your mind
for when my ink is dead
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Up on the third
Floor
There is a place
Where everyone stands
Slain
The lame
Accept everything
The fighting
Nothing at all
They spread thin
Their wings
For the night is short
In the CET
And the way is swift
Make quick
Thy youthful fits
For much desired sights
For ****
As the clouds disperse
For seagulls above sand
Drift in spreading rhyme
Into our dear Lord's Hand
He doth not say that the right is wrong
Nor the choice you carry is attuned in song
We can laugh and yet we dually can cry
Make the life you carry
Never weigh you down to cry "FIE"
And as the wine is poured and your lover
Nods their head, clearly wanting more
Take no advice from the man coated
In ill suited grey and obvious vice
Your train will call for you
So all is fine
But until you meet that one
Who you know by sight
Who lets everything roll by
Like the deep faded night
You'll be rolling back and forth in your sleep
Wondering whose soul
You'll wake in the morning to keep
There is a riddle for every nickel
And there is a clue for every dime
Just make sure you got a friend
Who'll give you the chance
To tell you the time
Near dawn, no, near midnight
There was a hard luck story
That I wanted to stay up to hear
There was a man
There was a woman
A priest lay dead and naked
With a scribbled aged' sermon
His mouth lay laden his soul stirred cold
The memory within me reflected in a blur
And all that stood still
Was all that was to be told
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
A ****** serenade to show me all your witches.
The lie that bites my eye and pulls apart the stitches.
Shes like a ****** gun half cocked on a loaded nun.
A feral infant left the instant she could see the sun.
While god herself grins in the face of my stability.
Woke up alone crying "where the hells Felicity?"
I'm just a fender-bender pretender makin the same mistakes.
Her music shakes and rattles snakes right between my legs.
We filled the mind so bloated as we floated feelin omnipotent.
The silent rhyme that stopped time and left the world corroded.
I had to cough and shake it off before we qualify to multiply.
Traded a moth for sloth but got caught by a butterfly.
Her heart beating, got me feeding and it stops the bleeding.
Deep throated, dually-noted as I start believing.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
wake the **** up
as if apathy is
more than half of me
casually this takes lives
and I'm another common casuality
"the poor me" type of tragedy
no you're sleeping
yeah you wish you were just dreamin
sittin on cloud 9
passin time with time
I'm trying to find the type of
"showin up for life"
kind of mentality
I want to exchange these flames for a halo
no you're not sleeping
wake the **** up
yeah you wish you were dreamin
I'm running out of patience
wake the **** up
next year I might be 23
not much to show for all of it
dually noted- I want to make a difference
so I'll have no regrets when I'm lying
on that bed losing consciousness and dyin
but I'm alive now right?
I must have meaning
but feels like
where ever I am
sunshine or snow
all the seasons go
I guess I was in it
- into some ******** for all the
wrong reasons
it's always the reasons
and reasons
are just masked excuses
I don't understand your language
HUH?
speak the **** up
and stop it
get the **** up
stop drowning is self doubt
just stop it
pick yourself the **** up
stop this
no you're not sleeping
wake the **** up
yeah you wish you were dreamin
I'm running out of patience
wake the **** up
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
So this spells tragedy
Dually noted
Something off my chest
And into your heart
Now a digital voice murmuring
A synthesized plea
Love that spans highways
But only 79 miles an hour
The tattoo on the crease of your elbow
And are you okay?
I'm still wondering
As you let the smoke pour through the skylight
Nothing else mattered to me
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Tied to the web of your bed
that lunges forth with a bite so hard
A loss is gained in those arms
a cold heat retreats to the
somber safety of our sheets
The past sings a song, fair and long
And I ask in silence
But directed with a truth so innocent
"am I the only one who hears it?"
You find my rare grace tempting
caught inside you with scissor legs
cornered against the fire of your best
Live in my bends forever like the lush moon so bright
The humming together-- a melody remembered,
Your doorway is a highway and a desert from
the webbed corner dually spun
"oh," your response comes loud,
Disruptive and volcanic
"I'm no exception
And neither are you"
And like a singed plume,
The running squalor of us,
the flames escape
And the heart moves away like walking
Alone, on concrete and inside a grey morning
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
The fuse is lit, wrapped against your wrists
Prisoner of freedom, prisoner of ****
Grip dissident fists, slip, and miss the government.
An insignificant kiss across unfeeling skin,
Desensitized to the reeling of our unified minds
The serpent, the centipede that dually writhe inside,
Left and right, tickling spite to erupt in minacious laughter
As the herd move along our prayers slither into the slaughter.
Plastered proclamations and pinned ignorance:
“I voted for a puppet” but who’s the ventriloquist?
-SLuR
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
no tsunami reached higher
no gasoline fuelled more fire
no conductor reached crescendo
no wall called protego
as loudly as my grief cried
to rip you back from that void
back to my side
you couldn't have stayed,
and I understand.
I am trying still to be that man
that man you kissed, caressed and threw
deep into the universe of loving you
but it's very hard to be that man, my dear
when you, my sun, cannot be here
it's difficult to see myself each morning
through the mirror of our bedroom
hand empty, where once yours was sewn
when we were young, how we stressed
that infinity was ours
and we were joint, dually blessed
for years upon years, and all the hours
I know I was blessed- to have had you I am grateful
but I cannot help but be resentful
of the world in which I breathe
where endless love is trademarked
but thousands are left to grieve
and oh God, have I grieved, and cried and stared
at the empty space your death prepared
-I have clutched bottles in my fist
held fire between my teeth
crushed my footprints beneath rags
and rammed iron through my wrist
I have pulled away each eyelash
poured acid on my cheeks
cut away elbows, knees and fingertips
have stalled my breath for weeks
at what point will I realise
that this pain cannot compare
to the knowing and rejection
that you're no longer there?
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
I am D.D. of Forever
Dually Desired
And just one of three
If you can guess where I stand
I will meet you there
On the island of The Ancients
Safe and Safe and Sounding
So fine
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
It's a fresh start
When all things shine
The way
You thought they'd
Be
But most
Everything
Isn't
The way
You thought
They'd
Be
Make do
Adapt
Life is
As it is
From the bad
And the
Good choices
You've made.
Throw passion in there
And see
What kind of maelstrom
You
Create.
I've attended no
Meetings,
No press junkets,
No glamour parties,
No welcome farewell's,
Yet I've seen the faces of victors and
Loser's and they all
Seem
To say the same thing:
It's not enough.
What isn't?
This life.
This life
Isn't enough.
The crowd
Goes
Silent.
The mob
Grows
Tranquil.
The masses
Shift in shape into a
Congenial blob.
What do you mean
This life
Isn't the best
That
IT
Can be?
If the land were to give an answer it would say:
It is forever eroding to something better.
If the sea were to give a response it would whisper:
It's tide is forever cycling for something better.
If the wind were forced say something it would shrug:
When I will, I will and you will of course feel it.
If this life
Were not enough
There would be
No
Hope
For something better -
For you - for I - for her - for him - for everyone.
It is a strange fact
That we forget ourselves subconsciously
Thinking of all selves
Consciously.
Advancement.
Progression.
Betterment.
Though we see these things as personal gain, we must
Remember
That every small feat for human kind in our small time,
Dually affected by our travesties and faults in our small time,
Affect said future, either crippling their thoughts in hate or
Allowing their thoughts to flourish
In freedom.
Every cloud in the sky
Appears
From nothing.
Yet it is there.
I've seen wind pass through the leaves of tree,
Like ghosts fingers through a child's hair.
I see it - the physical passing - and I admire the invisible
Touching and transcending the physical.
I am no closer to anything
Then the one
Sitting next to me but,
I know something is missing.
Something is amiss.
We are too connected to believe that the grass on the other side
Is greener.
So we are affronted with the fact that there is no great trail
That leads to ultimate happiness;
There is no great land that leads to salvation;
And as the great HST stated: the false belief that someone greater
Is attending the light at the end of the tunnel.
Let us be our own saviors.
Let us be our own light.
Let us be us with the trials and tribulations of the past but not affecting our said goals with injustice or prejudice or hate, but with unity.
Unity.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
I am D.D. of Forever
dually desired
In mansions made of crystal
I gesture gorgeously with
Fingers to lips and mouths
I am one of many
Beautiful
Bashful
Ghoulish
Garish
Flaring
Flaming
Life-saving magicians of endless forevers
Sunken inside my brain
Seeking to share shorn madnesses
So far away from here
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
"I didn't mean to ignore you" she said both genuinely and proudly.
Dually proud.
One, for her ability to evoke emotion in him, through her simple act of nothing.
And two, that it had been so very 'nothing' to her, that she very genuinely didn't know she was doing this act of nothing.
Ignorance, ignoring...
What’s the difference?
She was innocent.
Regardless, she moved through the circumstance
Something like a maverick
Cunning her way in and out of his heart...
Stitching it up,
a poor repair,
one that was soon to rupture again
surely worse next time.
But the remedy consoled him
And imagining her essence
hazily around him,
he fell into a dreamy slumber...
Until the next time she awoke him
with her jolting and revolting
Chilling and thrilling
Weary, weary...
Nothing.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 9:11 PM UTC