"elapse" poems
This smile that makes your day...
This undaunted smile that seem to say.
Show me yours too so we both could play,
On a plane where everything is fine...
Everything's okay...
This smile that reaches out to you...
With nothing but invisible arms.
Caresses your eyes and draws you in.
Entices you with the sweetest charms.
Whispers you tales of a brightly lit future;
Where we're trapped in dance with each other...
Supporting...
Leading...
Lifting and,
Seducing one another...
Let the music ring clear,.
Over the thumping of our heartbeats...
Aggressively segmenting, framing the dance into seconds that would elapse.
Like two duelists entranced into committing tender jousts and retreats.
But know that...
This smile screams only lies.
For it is but a routine mask.
So well worn and adequately rehearsed...
You'd never see the need to ask.
Instead you'd just allow yourself be taken,
To a place where the tide gently beats...
Upon the shore our two ailing hearts.
A place where earth and sky would meet.
When in fact,
It hides the turmoil and agitation.
Guarding the storm that brews incessantly.
Continuously threatening
To breach this shared sanctity with me.
A haven would've then be erected.
That very instant we allowed...
This dance of smiles
From time of first contact to the time we bowed.
This smile... Only took a second
To paint a peaceful picture upon my face.
Free from the pressures building behind my pursed lips.
Just take this smile so that in that second,
We could get lost in the promise of a heavenly place...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
See them standing on the podium of promises
Tickling us to wed them into power
As we stand under the burning sun, sweaty as ever
All ears to their flowered words of which they caress
And powdered our minds with.
They donate maggi, salt, wears and the root of all evil,
To further blind our minds and instinct.
Like goats following a hand with a palm fruit,
We chased them with high hopes to the polls,
Like Esau of old we repay their donation with our votes.
Their desires were met, now in power
At serious battle against their promises,
Our faith getting lean, our hopes bleed in response to their policies.
The opposition jubilant for the failure of the electorates.
Soon, they awoke into reality, spur to abort incumbent reign.
Some took to bombs, guns, cutlasses, few to the streets.
The opposition soldiers are thugs, always hungry to ****
The masses weapons are their mouth, placards,
And solidarity songs, they walk and sing.
They say when elephants fight the grasses suffer
I wonder who are the elephants or the grasses indeed.
A place that suppose to be our home now a battle field
Where everyone fights for self survival
Forgetting the unborn, our toddlers, our heroes past.
It is high time we talked and sack the thugs
But who will moderate
Who will faithfully give audience, who will sincerely talk?
The elite, the elected seems like they are war ready
They have well set up their political troops
A war they won't stand to fight
But escape through thinning air off our sight.
In a molding state
Pigs dare to preach sanity
In a world of questions, ignorance remain the worst cancer
And the apex poverty.
Let not fold our hands and live to die in this doom
If your lips are scared, let your pen speak.
Let not throw in the towel
Until we justfully elapse the reign of the unwanted in one peace.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
.
In solitude...
There's constant talk of the moon
And incessant wishes upon stars
Each word is cast unto paper
Unsure if they'd stretch that far
In solitude...
I embody pelts of droplets from the sky
As thunder mark the seconds that would elapse
Stagnant puddles of liquid dreams
Ever flowing in endless traps
In solitude...
I feel the urge to lose all balance
Aloneness beckons like a long lost friend
Always strange but familiar
To see and be at the bitter end
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Oh sleepless night
What a trick on me you play!
For the reason I cannot sleep
Is because I anticipate the day
We build our day up
To have it elapse at night
But how too often a time I experience
A continuance through the night
Oh how unfair to me you see
For nighttime is a break much overlooked
Because I walk through the day quite sleepily
Which is difficult in a day so overbooked
Sleeping figures
Rejuvenating minds
Your mind is cultivating in peace
While my face is forming lines
Oh how I wish I didn’t get so worked up
I expected this to happen
Which ironically is the reason
My tiredness has been dampened
I lay in bed, ready
Ready to try this out
A pleasant sleep is all I wanted
Without completely passing out
How I get so jealous when
You lay there and drift to rest
While I’m dealing with two polar issues--
Either abruptly collapse into sleep or else from it slowly digress
Oh sleepless night, you tease me so
You fool with me and upset me so
For when thinking of tomorrow I surely know
I’m not going to be as lively as my potential.
It’s like I’m a hobo on Fifth Ave
Looking at the rich not realizing what they have
I get excited over spare change
While you collect your pay checks again and again
So let’s face it, tomorrow I’ll be miserable
And I’ll look forward to when the clock strikes night
But then the hours I have will become considerable
So I’ll lay there restlessly and drift away just before the light.
So I’ll get a taste of what sleeps like
But I’ll never get to experience it right.
Oh you cruel, mean sleepless night!
Where dwells your brother so known as the “Goodnight”?
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
.
**■■■■■■
|.....l.....|
|.....l.....|**
• let the
ticks on
my wri-
st•mirr-
or that
of my
pulse •
for what
i fail to cle-
nch in fist•in
my heart, nev-
er falters; never
•••••dulls•••••
**□□□□□■12■□□□□□
■11 ^ 1■
■10 I 2■
■9 ●-----> 3■
■8 4■
■7 5■
□□□□□□■6■□□□□□□**
••••••for••••••
with each tick of
the hand • is a
glimpse into
the uncert-
ain future
• let slip
the loo-
se gra-
ins of
sand•c-
lose the
tempor-
al gaps
to bring
you......
much
clos-
er•
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
The seraph sky on ebony night,
A white marble of placid light.
Casting to the living glass,
Haunting, the feeling's elapse.
A time of gardenia drapes,
Hanging the mourning wall.
Scent of ambrosia fogging,
The pavement covered in moss.
Portraits of Celts amidst,
Drifting upon moonlight mist.
Eyes delving, ears opt to hear,
Voices whisper of ancient fear.
An oracle muses the unguided,
As trees speaks the truth.
Humanity strives to be the art,
Yet only remembers by a few.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
Love is a flame
Consuming two souls,And
Melting them to one
But
Only when it is real and true
Fake love is *****
Dusty and rusty
Boring and tiring
It is lengthy
That hours don't elapse
Days are months and months are years
True love is nice
Sweet and short
Everyday ends early
And every night is short
Years are months and months are days...days elapse like hours
I hate fake love
I love true love
But I do?
I do follow my heart
So,
"dear my heart lead me to whoever has true love"
Because to quench my thirst,
Clean is paramount.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
Where buses still elapse with Time
Down straight Dame Street
The Trees are satellites that allow Children to look up
and let the pavement breath.
Earthen Columns that gate the Boombox Clubhouse tint
Flanked by the Yeoman Guards of Hollister
but forget to pay the same compliment
outside of American Apparel
Where Teenagers dream out fantasies
of lamp-lit, flash-shot
worship-worthy objectification
in a converted loft in the real New York
Their headphones spring streams of bright optimism
as they cradle knitted knee-high socks.
Take the curve round Trinity College
and laugh past the rumours
that it may soon float on Dow Jones
and dodge past the charity advertisers
Strutting over campbags of sleeping homeless
to Lemon Cafe for an overpriced Mocha
Which regardless deflates the sheen-covered hollowness
of green-comfy Starbucks
and learn the subtleties of speaking lightly
to dark-jaceketed Blonde girls
Whose eyes seem to sparkle "Yes, we have sipped
on Veuve Clicquot at reserved tables on Graduation nights
at Cafe En Seine"
-"Where Oscar Wilde might have drank"
- "..Had he been alive."
Then speculate on the best Festivals and whose
Films and Books are over-hyped and under-appreciated
and the after-College Gossip on who broke-up or stayed together
or who hooked up even though they shouldn't have
or regretted it
and who's doing a paid internship and who's moving abroad
and afterwards charmingly tease their superficial attitudes
as meanwhile they secretly take photos
to upload on Instagram
and later you'll fake-admonish them
for how they did this behind your back
while you were staring into the lake
in St. Stephen's Green.
When the moon no longer glazed the water
and had receded its contrast to the farthest grass
and you decide to take the last bus home.
Throughout
Caution Glints The Vowels
and Brands them too.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
I waited for rocks to fall
I waited for sorrow to pour
Down on us like it could end the drought
Picked up a rock real slow
Waited for another blow
Until the world would blackout
I waited for the rocks to sting
Like I knew this day was coming
Chasing us because we were elated
Picked up the words I had spilled
The next moment silence filled
We both hung our heads and waited
I waited for rocks to fall
I waited for sorrow to pour
Down on us like it could fill the gaps
Every bleeding painful cleft
Until I had no love for you left
Until this moment would elapse
I waited for sound to breakthrough
I looked at all the rocks we threw
Chasing away each other in fear
All the gray rocks and gravel
As a symbol of our lost battle
The only trace that you were here
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:29 AM UTC
In the dark, our secret lair,
Fingers slid through
******* tear.
***** wet
sheets damp,
her heat profound,
Wet and ready,
hearts unbound.
Hand inside, fingers ******
Her body squirmed, moans of lust.
Eyes closed tight, breath in gasps,
Desire's grip, no time elapse.
By the time She ***
He can't last,
Scene is hot,
Just at glance
Whispered love,
voice of need,
Rhythm fierce,
bodies freed.
Intense, raw,
pleasure's height,
In that moment,
pure delight.
Jun 2, 2024
Jun 2, 2024 at 2:01 PM UTC
Watching...
The night
enter a fresh new realm.
The same day is cast in different hue...
Vibrance in colours dissipate...
Siphoned,
consumed by the dark.
Watching...
And feeling my presence
blend into nothingness.
This night reeks of
blatant nonchalance.
Careless shadows stretch and dance
as I wrestle with my vision
to determine mindless silhouettes.
Watching...
The trailing taillights
of nocturnal traffic.
In my city that never sleeps.
They simply disappear into the dark
with each tick of the hand.
Watching...
The half moon,
eaten away by the void.
Minutes elapse into eternity.
And seconds beat hard
upon my bastion of hope.
Watching...
The ground
that lay quiet before me.
This earth that bears my weight...
This earth that has my shadow
shackled to my feet...
Offers nothing but quiet solace...
Fighting to calm the storm
in my head.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses!
In you let the minions of luxury rove:
Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Yet, Caledonia, belov’d are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war:
Though cataracts foam ’stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy, wander’d:
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;
On chieftains, long perish’d, my memory ponder’d,
As daily I strode through the pine-cover’d glade;
I sought not my home, till the day’s dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
For fancy was cheer’d, by traditional story,
Disclos’d by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
“Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?”
Surely, the soul of the hero rejoices,
And rides on the wind, o’er his own Highland vale!
Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers,
Winter presides in his cold icy car:
Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers;
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.
“Ill starr’d, though brave, did no visions foreboding
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?”
Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,
Victory crown’d not your fall with applause:
Still were you happy, in death’s earthy slumber,
You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar;
The Pibroch resounds, to the piper’s loud number,
Your deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.
Years have roll’d on, Loch na Garr, since I left you,
Years must elapse, ere I tread you again:
Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion’s plain:
England! thy beauties are tame and domestic,
To one who has rov’d on the mountains afar:
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr.
1.7k
we stroll the orchard
where grapes prune
and apples dutch
the burgeoning ****
of our memories...
we remain shimmering in true dusk. there
on the cusp of inscrutable lust and the chaste rabies
of a sliver of first bone
with tornado lips
and cotton
random.
we cajole our misfortune,
and rise at noon; without laughing -
we ****** our hags from the raven
that feathered our cap.
we elapse with the dead
in the basement of our rendering.
a little ahead of ourselves
or dead, no matter what.
the orchard glooms a demise
in the calm tourettes
of our syndrome...
both alone in the teeming all-spark
of our glorious sundering...
our Mondays say less than
our Present Day -
and a yarn of plight and sunstroke
gropes at the barb
of our bee stung
innocence
we chide the withering
for all the Withering -
and all the good
it does....
besides.
we wrath glide the plum
then have at Life.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
At 3 a.m.
I’m awake still.
Of this ashen night
I’ve not had my fill.
Apparently all
Apathy congeals
As hours elapse
And at last justifies
Procrastination;
Placating initially,
Shortly producing
My pretty folly
This habitual hang-up
Helps only those who
Have the predisposition
To hang themselves too.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 6:25 AM UTC
Said I was, then I wasn’t
Tossed my photo id
99 on the interstate
Forgot my home address
This or last years birthdays
Cerebral teasing, electrical wheezing
Coughing up candy colored viscous mixtures
Pain pills, strange ills, black tar rapt
Plastics wax kid cradle doping until fatal
Sipping succulent sups from yang’s ladle
Freak streaks bisect mind-framed societies
Claim lives and blind young eyes
Perhaps its an exaggerated fable
More able however an argument for contrast
Long-lived mobile monument smoke stacks
Toothless twelve year old flashing crack caps
Slow know elapse forgotten hats blown home
Always sixty seconds to go, cool clock interlock
Alleyway temple made meek street ever bleak
Folly is an empty spoon, children’s cartoons
Wall starter, void walker, treble swelled neurotic
Creeps dream witchcraft borderline hypnotic
Say it was before it wasn’t
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
*Flowers will bloom
From within her -
With each new sunrise,
Sunbeams kiss her soul -
Each new day is a blessing,
In her eyes.
Petals delicately dress her heart -
They protect her fragile core,
Precious moments shall elapse -
Her petals will fall -
Protected,
She shall stand
No more.
Exposed and vulnerable,
Her heart,
She will wear
On her sleeve -
The Merciful Lord
Shall leave her never,
New petals,
She prays,
On that day
She shall receive -
Flowers will bloom
From within her -
Forever.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC
I am your disease,
every time I come around you vanish me
in every cry whimper or sneeze
I am the ****** in side your head
you are to scared to embrace
I am the horns of the devil
and the smile upon the angels face
I am the dream you cant control
I am the drug that makes you go
we've turned into the monster
that we fought not to be
deep in a darkened whole
black eyes no longer see
burning bridges
perceptive imperfection
a left hand turn
in the right direction
I am your release
everything you want you take from me
echoing your disease
all you are and all you will ever be
elapse relapse reprise your demise
I am the horns of the devil redesigned
objects perplex reflect there subjects
I'm the smile upon the angels face
you are the moral in my dark soul
the purpose to be found
a voice tells you to let go
it's more beautiful 6 feet underground
laying in bed dreams of voluntary aggression
upon waking disappointing depression
or are we being naive now, thought dissection
deflect suspect rejects, infection perfection
who will even see the things we create
think it's great to annihilate the whole human race
debilitating thoughts not knowing how to feel
like naive dogs lost without there master
treasure pain, because without pain
there is no pleasure hit the main vain
insanly refrain from the mundain strain
bane lame thoughts plains of blood stains
I'm asking not knowing what is real
conditions of contradiction & elusive entities
entanglement of putrid bodies
in a mind stricken by poverty
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
This Earthly life is lived in the now,
between what was and what will be.
Yet the Stars above our heads that glow
might, long since, become history.
Consider, son, Orion's Belt
that dominates the Winter sky.
You can't mistake its three bright stars
or fail to find them if you try.
Alnitak in Orion's belt, a familiar
Longtime Nighttime show,
dispatched these photons we observe
about eight Hundred years ago.
A brief elapse in cosmic time
but time enough for a star to die:
Dwindle to a little dwarf or
Explode as Novae in the sky.
Still, at night, above our head
its kindly light will still shine on
Perhaps for years or decades hence
Long after Alnitak is gone.
These words of mine you now consign
as just a foolish waste of time
I hope shine forth my love of you
Long after I write my last line.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 8:02 AM UTC
Someday will come for us.
Till then our blemished secrets
and tarnished dreams only lay in wait.
Our hands may now yield nothing...
But “someday” sleeps quiet
at the back of our minds.
Awaiting for enough time to elapse.
Someday can never be rushed.
It can never be summoned.
It will come when it comes
and when it does, we’d hardly notice
it’s arrival because the anticipation
and longing will be replaced by overwhelming happiness and relief.
So wait...
It will come.
Someday “someday” will be today.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
I am your disease,
every time I come around you vanish me
in every cry whimper or sneeze
I am the ****** in side your head
you are to scared to embrace
I am the horns of the devil
and the smile upon the angels face
I am the dream you cant control
I am the voice that tells you to let go
it can only last so long
before we all lose control
I've turned into the monster
that I fought not to be
deep in a darkened whole
in an instance, just an instance
burning bridges
sewing stitches
broken wishes
perceptive imperfection
a left hand turn
in the right direction
I am your release
everything you want you take from me
elapse relapse reprise your reprise
I am the ****** in side your head
cut off noise to spit there face
I am the horns of the devil
and the smile upon the angels face
you are the moral in my dark soul
I am the voice that tells you to let go
laying in bed dreams of voluntary aggression
upon waking disappointing depression
has a purpose really been found
or are we being naive now
it's more beautiful 6 feet underground
voice ripped out as you try to make a sound
who will even see the things we create
think it's great to annihilate the whole human race
get involved and help dispose of the waste
debilitating thoughts not knowing how to feel
like naive dogs lost without there master
treasure pain because without pain there is no pleasure
I'm asking not knowing what is real
conditions of contradiction & elusive entities
entanglement of putrid bodies
in a mind stricken by poverty
I am your release
everything you want you take from me
elapse relapse reprise your reprise
I am the ****** in side your head
cut off noise to spit there face
I am the horns of the devil
and the smile upon the angels face
you are the moral in my dark soul
I am the voice that tells you to let go
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
Vanity, a flippant curse of heart and mind
Conjoined as one, feeble as the end produced
The whole mass aches and shivers
What I tell myself, and what I know as truth
Are two separate things entirely
Humility, an apparition of soul and spirit
Unity at the cost of knowledge and it's pursuit
My thoughts elapse, and it all slips further
What I told myself before, in this exchange is forgotten
And I'm something else entirely
Morality, in arbitration, I ground myself clear
Wrought against the will of better self
Tooth and nail ground against my gaunt spine
All the words said before, robbed of meaning
In the context I find them, am I something else?
Are you a part of me?
Why can't I hear you
Deep inside these walls
Aimless, seizing
Are you through with me?
I cannot hear you
Can't feel your echo
Only creeping residue
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 1:42 AM UTC
Unhinged circus,
Requires perfect masquerade,
Before gymnasts leap,
Into Cinderella's world,
Spiralling into fame.
Before presenters go on stage,
And broadway groups dance,
Into undreamt wonders,
As actors rise and fall,
Her maple core remains.
As years elapse,
Girls become Women,
Perfect maple figure unscathed,
Always anticipating moments,
Of celebration, love and sorrow.
But most of all,
I still can't fathom,
How the dressing table speaks,
Invaluable untold stories.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
Initializing Project Insomnia...
Gathering subject's data...
Synchronization complete...
Memory gauge ready to deplete....
Tracing last memory relapse...
Engaging before the time elapse...
Extracting remaining portion of the brain activity...
Eliminating for complete inability...
Subject 001 successfully terminated...
Preparing clone... preparation completed...
System malfunction... Rebooting system...
Mainframe breached... Multiple data hacked...
Re-Animating subject 001...
Life support activated...
Re-installing memory...
Reanimation complete...
Subject 001 is back online...
Bio organic weapon functional...
Preparing extermination...
Codename: Alpha initiated...
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 7:29 AM UTC
Inch by inch the people move forward.
Slowly but surely you'll get to the destination.
With a cluster of indecipherable conversations
and the smell of lingering food and big machines
people move forward inch by inch.
You'll get to the destination slowly but surely.
People ride your heels more than they ride the rides.
With the emotion of impatience overwhelmed inside
and close enough to kick in anxiety
inch by inch the people move forward.
Slowly but surely you'll get to the destination.
The sun burns in the sky and raises the temperature of the air.
Soon to smell the closest scent of sweat.
The humid breath creeps around the back of your neck.
The tension is silent but everyone can feel it.
People move forward inch by inch.
You'll get to the destination slowly but surely.
A step that could be pushed back won’t affect time.
Time can’t elapse no matter how hard you try.
Each minute will always have those 60 seconds.
Inch by inch the people move forward.
Slowly but surely you'll reach the destination.
Their next step is when I finally lost all control.
flat tire is what it’s called.
ripping it clean off my foot.
Sock revealed and hot feet steaming
Snapping here. Yelling there.
“Back off ***** I can’t even breathe”
“Step back man, I need some space”
The people move forward inch by inch.
You'll reach the destination slowly but surely.
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
my heart alights like a glow stick whenever I see you
yet,
glow sticks must break to achieve their fluorescence
and a glow stick last only if for a night
a slight in our daily schedule
a slip in the synchronicity
a slur in spoken word
until they are left behind, the carcasses of the party
as you elapse into adulthood
and I relapse in this primeval state of living
what will it be like without you walking my hallways of thought?
as one has harbored themselves like a hermit in my ribcage
will the pressure of you be relieved with your passing?
or will the infinite ache
of those who have been driven apart by circumstance
fill the hole in my chest?
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC