"emphasises" poems
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
*you know, i can **** before i become homeless; yes? ok... cheerio.*
when i experience no intelligence
after being educated, it's
hardly an expectation to
experience any after... desirably hoped for, that
which offers up the antonymous by-product that's
despaired after so freely, and all those more profitable affairs
of a literate nature to engage with: to be
enslaved likewise missing; oh the gravity
as nothing falling, the tears on my cheeks
with vide cor meum, ah, but you see,
i can stomach a cage and being caged,
should i be forced into a freedom that's
only homelessness.
oh so many insignias of pause that were never
given a mathematical rubric of allowed deciphering!
that grand pause of arithmetic in the undecided
length of pause between (,) (.) (;) and that italicised
pause of (:) readying (a) list(s) of emphasis; let alone
the hyphenation of all the lost emphasises of Pompeii
(embark tongue tied into the grapheme æ);
or embark asking between the threes that are
direct and indirect articulation of plurality,
given then the anti of pluralism is god, and that's neither
direct or indirect, consolidating the direct as prayer
and the indirect as atheism.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
When you lean in close to my ear and allow me to believe that I can trust you; that the words that will fall from your mouth like a liquid, fast and flowing will be precious and sacred, it is the definition of betrayal.
I pray that when I claim your threats do not scare me, I will cease to be terrified, but they jab at me, as a forked tongue would. I hear the hissing in my ear, which was at first a pleasant change from the persistent drone, but quickly became something much more painful. Where there should be a paternal love, I find a gaping hole. A hole that you and I constantly work to fill, like shady men in the night, hurriedly disposing of the evidence that could rob them of their freedom. Our relationship is a ***** secret.
Whilst I could be a rich girl living off sympathy alone, you have selfishly taken that right from me, in one swift and cunning move. With one forced smile - one ****** movement - that emphasises the creases in your forehead (which, I hear, though I struggle to remember, once kept me entertained for hours), you convince them that all is more than well.
Why pretend that your heart is heavy with pride if the word is not a part of your vocabulary? Why take to grinning if the upwards inching of the corners of your mouth is so unnatural of a feeling to you that it feels like a chore - uncomfortable and laborious?
These people have no care for your state of mind, nor do they care at all about your quality of life. Your time, surely, would be much better spent attending to your sick home than attending to your royal reputation that, when you consider what you have in reality, is worthless.
You bare to me the resemblance of a curious child whose dreamy head is filled with images of faraway lands, glittering treasures and sand. Stop. Perhaps now is the time to awaken from your slumber. The grains are fast slipping through your fingers.
I'm not sorry.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
today i wear lacy
underwear
but underneath that i am
bare
today i realise that
infatuation
destroys and emphasises on
flirtation
today is the day i learn that
it
obliterates everything and anything with one swift
hit
today i bare my soul to the
abyss
the abyss that steals every last
kiss
today i finally open my
eyes
to the daunts and despair that life
buys
today, i bleed myself
dry
without an
ally
.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
i could walk to places,
i'd meet a lot of people,
among million faces, my eyes encountered,
yours the best, favourable, preferred.
it consists of uneven lids, and that's okay,
perfection doesn't define,
your beauty, symmetry looks strange to me.
rosy cheeks, lips opened emphasises the sweet sweet smile, one drugged me with happiness.
so i began, one, two,
counting moles littered on you,
prominent one, faded one,
one hugging your nose,
one kissing the side of your lips.
my favourite,
the one holding your soft cheek.
It caresses you always,
I like to pretend its me, holding on to you
so dearly.
Tiny specks of beauty,
enhanced soft angelic physiognomy.
No one can hold on to you stronger,
Than those moles,
Forever rid my somber.
- kimin
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC