"emulsion" poems
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are like sunbeams
I jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you remind me
not to bend down too quickly
she hounds me with her questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life
by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new faculties every moment
we are swift in our limitless
capacity for adaptation
a refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under the highest authority
or just higher scrutiny
wrapped in a paranoid blanket
of heightened security
all is being watched right now
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested
in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this
as we collapse upon the backs
of ecstatic languages....
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
A strange recipe,
There seems a certain scarceness of plan to it all.
A summarized unfairness found to this madness,
Two parts chaos to each one part life and matter in equal balance.
A slight dose of loss and grievance, coupled with a dash of unpleasant discourse
and equal parts discouragement.
Break two hearts and empty them into the emulsion.
They'll be buried in there,
to be forgotten as individuals
and rendered part of the whole.
Dust with the sweetness of love,
loyalty
and fulfilled longing.
And present it all to someone special,
Only to find they don't like the bitter taste.
-
If each mans life was a dessert,
mine would be a dark cake, dry as the desert.
N.H.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
Corpse dangles from tree by snapped-twig neck,
innards spilled out from stomach like rotten raspberries,
nothing but stick-figure hang man.
Simon Iscariot's tears fall beside blood and water
that pours from your abdomen,
similar to the emulsion
from the spear-wound in Jesus. Christ
gave you the highest honor:
that of making all
ancient parchment
statements true.
They were then hidden away for centuries in dry clay pots
in musty caves of sheep-herders.
Father lowers you down
the greatest of care
to the arms of
Pieta' Mother.
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
yellow beams
through dead branches
like broken glass
suspended
above the gutters
broken wood bridge
do not enter
under fences
across train tracks
too dark
it is rarely worth it
boiled emulsion
bubbling sickly beige
solid wafers
of former images
unfit for alien eyes
i watch as the faces
melt
i watch
too long
the strip goes blank
it wasn't much
of a memory
any way
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Down behind the communal garages,
Our knees were scabbed and scarred,
Badges of honour, to ten-year old savages,
Earnt in chasis' of burnt out cars.
There, on the side of a wall,
Nineteen-Sixteen, had been daubed in emulsion,
Just another target for our ball,
To find its meaning ? we had no compulsion.
It was a circular Nine, like a giant comma,
And the Six was rotund, as well,
Against all the rules Sister Mary of the Immaculate Madonna
taught, in those hand-writing classes from hell.
It was similar to a giant 1690,
I'd seen in another part of town,
On the gable-end of a property emptied,
Before an our street versus your street showdown.
Then one day, the Old Fella' explained,
In 1916 we stood up for ourselves,
A pride in our nation regained,
As the G.P.O. was shook to its shelves.
"Son, we tired of crawling on our belly,
Being beaten, battered and conned,
Surely you've heard me talk of Connolly ?"
I said, Yeh he's me favourite James Bond.
But this was Liverpool, Nineteen Seventy-Two,
And me Da' had been over here years,
What he was on about, I never had a clue,
Though it was the first time I ever saw him shed tears.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Quail eggs, duck fat
Liverwurst at its worst
Pâté is passé
Bulgur is ******
Shellfish emulsion
Widespread revulsion
Giblets and gravy, soured and skinned
Simmered, steamed, fried and ******
(order up)
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 2:57 PM UTC
Ethereal. That's the squirming quality of that health-hazard house,
where a byproduct of divorce emulsion slept in a bare room on
a bare air mattress, vacuously lying around with the blinds down,
vicious AM radio mumbling through the walls. Homeschooling was more like
becoming housebroken, given that my social network consisted of thirty feral cats.
I suppose some boys require a deadbolt on their room's door.
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
The apathy cloud that crawled the house led to a
(the deadbolt was to lock me out of my room; not in)
prison break; I awkwardly assured myself that I would
never be anything if I was still Pinocchio, and pleaded
to go to liberal-dominated-non-Rush-Limbaugh-approved public schools.
I did; I got into university, I got a grant, I do research,
I got a job, I got a girl, I got a job, I got a girl...
I don't know how to leave my room now that I'm free.
I still hear the crackle of conversative talk radio.
'Cause we'll put a boot in your *** / It's the American way.
Like trembling flotsam I drift into every class,
every party, every... A poem can regurgitate a person who is all
covered in spit and acid and memories. I still know that house
better than I know my own breathing body. I'm just going to keep running;
like a yellowed refrigerator housing second-amendment-upbringing-coleslaw;
like an overheating computer; like I always do; statically, in stasis.
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
I faced the bunnies of the apocalypse.
Their glare - ever so piercing,
intruding,
alluring.
In purity, ceasing discontinuity,
the emotions so effervescent
Borderline present
in despair, the infernal chase
In a hellbent daze I secluded myself
From the vertigo of suicide, I was in a dazzle
The warmth of despair enveloping me
In golden hue.
Eerily
creeping
near
in
obscurity,
The effulgence of the universe darkened
my eyes.
The spinning epitome, ever so frightening
Enlightening, it drew
near.
The ambient visions speak - the devil sleeps
I stood amongst the burnt umber
in my heart.
The putrid dirt stains, the chocolate emulsion
Gagging me in repulsion, in absurdity of thee
The abominations dominate all
of my intention.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
Don’t drink me,
I’m am a
curdling,
cold,
black,
sticky and viscous emulsion.
I’m Poisonous,
noxious,
cumbersome toxic,
a blinding,
corrosive and horrible mutagen.
I oxidise at higher temperatures
and my vapour ignites in a tremendous hellfire.
My LD50 is 0.0064
Love me all you want,
just leave me **** alone.
N.H.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
It was a Merry-go-ish when I wrote for goddess
An A.B.C Montessori when I painted for Kings
I did greater than the honourable Author of Psalms when I wrote for David
Slaughterer of Goliath, the beloved of the yahweh
My diction sublimes at the gaze of your gait
My pun, vapourized at the thought of your trait
A blonde is best honoured with a long whitish strings of hair
To an African Jewel Jezzy a short shinning black hairs in rare
Which glitter like the flashes of cameras from spectators watching El Classico
Situated on d head like a bed of Roses
A gaze at the paradise still remains an imagination
The reality of it is the picture your face renders at every caption
Well set eyeballs like a black shinning button on a white Teddy bear
Perfectly structured nose, an opening to a gold-cafe
It still baffles me if God really did pain you with a neutral Emulsion glossy paint
Because if the blind calmly stare at it
Clearly will his posture be read, ready to be painted
Discussing the movie that is run in the mystery entailed in your lips
Let's just say its a gaze at the sky that is filled with tulips
Enclosing a set of teeth that looks just like a podium designed with mountain of snow
Which at every smile, causes the audiences' heart to blow
At every picture you take
Causes the saddened hearts a re-make
Go through the cardinal points
See the way Ocean of crowds cluster. to make your feet a joint
Appraisal of your beauty is too 'Waowy' to be written as a Bible
I'm a rude lad though, kindly manage this nonsense from the heart that is liable.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
i
Mount Malindang calleth me, it showeth me mine queen is there
She resteth up upon the greenery, picturesque perfect, I stare;
Inside the emulsion picture, her smile paint's the walls with red
Red for the love she engulf's me in, as roses align her sloped bed.
ii
Sketched on is her hairdo, beehive swathed, fairy tale written
Her wing's hath Baguette's, as tis the Baguette's art from heaven;
Comely she supplyeth, a king's every need's, as tis amour' we feed
Companied she warm's me, swarms me, ourn amare to all leak's.
iii
Concourse of the multitude, gathering beneathe ourn sloped hut
Ourn roof may be a little leaky, though ourn affection wilt fill up;
As tis we our a abode to ourselves, no straw mansion needed
A Convocation of cheribum watcher's, protect us in rainy season.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©,あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
Our eyes
spit the blame like darts playing home
to poison gas
tell yourself
you never liked that shade of emulsion anyway
don't look at
her, your
mother's ghost. Not in the eyes.
no paint left
to fill
our indents, syllables die on
our tongues and
this is
the very last time, nothing beyond
fake flowers, marble
make this
make sense, wait for the sun to get up
so you go
with it
if your mother's ghost still loves you
she will follow.
Tell yourself
you could feel her keeping you alive, you're
scared that you
could get
hit by a bus and she wouldn't be there
to save you.
I almost
lose your name from my mouth, which one of us died
in this room?
The yellow walls got painted over when after seven years, Dad
accepted that his childhood sweetheart wasn't coming back.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
I missed you today and the smell of emulsion.
Taking the **** like it's a full on compulsion.
Safety pin, pen knife, beard long and grey.
Swearing at the hammers. "I'm just a lodger here" you'd say.
When the weather's damp your big toe gives you trouble.
When the weather's dry, you're on stage singing bubbles.
Overalls, dust sheets, sudoku and crosswords.
If the traffic is bad, you'll hear a few cross words.
That's just today, but as sure as I exist
Every day I wake up is a day you are missed.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
I notice her.
I watch her press on her nails
And whiten her teeth,
Put on that bleaching emulsion before she goes to sleep.
She has thick braids, pinched into her tender scalp
Then has Brazilian hair woven in on top of that.
I see her look in the mirror satisfied because she now sees beauty,
She purses her painted lips,
Closes her eyes as if her looks are her duty
To this world,
That she so desperately wants to fit into and stand out of.
This magnificent girl,
Who's capabilities are unheard of.
She suffocates her essence
To be accepted in facades presence.
I notice you darling, in spite of your recrudescence.
T.S.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
so..like what we discussed the other day
'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but
you said you get it and-and that's how i feel
you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected
floods of **** other guys say or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
and it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around
and it has nothing to do with anything
but i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled
about some nasty 'piece of shit' directors
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
we could help with that
but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ? i'm an adult..
i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ; i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?
this is what's important and this is why we talk
friends .. in the real world .. you know such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-sleeve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /
abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?
not even a grid of human planted fir trees
or a giants causeway
or some cellular honeycomb
or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
i'm off the leash man
it's all a mess
a disarray
organic chaos
a foreign something
that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but each day in struggle
it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
and reassigned a post policed
police me i croon for policing
i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception
(what does that even mean ?)
spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
and if I could dream these hands
they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
- message ends
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 2:12 PM UTC
I know that someday
The walls that surround you
Will come tumbling down
All around you
And you can be certain
That's when the curtain
Will rise up on the first act
The debut of a new play
That you've been rehearsing
One that noone has ever seen
The actors are ready
To see how steady
They can be-as they deliver
The performance of a future
That's taken forever
To get it all together
The scenery is authentic
The writing is so insightful
That it creates a delightful
Illusion of an intrusion
Into the personal lives
Of the actors themselves
As they pour out the words
That they had to memorize
Then they look with surprise
As they recognize -the disguise
That's been shielding
The very unwielding plot
That has come to the surface
Where it is now- gasping for air
And aware
Of the mortality of any reality
That has been set loose
And exposed to the light
Held up....as an example
Of just what can happen
When you sample the emulsion
That you been trippin on
Along with the beast
That's been secretly hiding
And has now been caught
Along with the plot
Constantly in perpetual emotion
Going around and around
Like a pinwheel-that's being
Held out the window- Of a car
On a highway-going somewhere
In despair
Knowing that my way is taking me
In the opposite direction
As a means of protection
And having no need
Of any type of correction
BECAUSE..... the
Curtain has fallen down
To surround....you
Like the walls that you built
That you once let crumble
Before the guilt that you felt
Reassembled all the pain
That has now been built
All the way around you...so
Close down the play
Send the actors away
The reversal cancelled
Any need of rehearsal.... So...
LET THE DARKNESS TAKE OVER THE NIGHT
LET THE DARKNESS TAKE OVER THE NIGHT
Turn out the lights and close the doors
Knowing that somethings not right
About the way that you say
No emergency assistance is necessary
Once the curtain falls
And you make your way back
Back back Back back behind
Behind behind Behind
Behind your walls
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
That desperate mother's tone you adopt
When you've sat too long to
Entertain a vagabond
and your skeptic barring insight
Falls through my stomach like a stone
A mixture of systems in the world
and in our head
was an emulsion dissolving into our fragile stock
and vicious protraction
So nature without violence is a cruel joke
Born of an early hand from a woman
My lonely nights
cut me deeply
How many times
I've forgotten
The warmest feelings on tap
It gives weight
To living a weightless life
Nobody's voice was ever louder for a lesson worth a ****
And parental omnipotence switches off
With the coldest question you've ever known
So behavior loses reinforcement
and the mind loses any sense of direction
Tasked across a massive field of senseless conception
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
flatlands grey and dull cept in nighttime luster
blank screens filled with hollow movement and little else
a transitory space we share with glances and lists
a layer of emulsion that cracks and dissolves, destabilizes
as the light changes
the beauty of space
beauty of absence
the concrete glistens under the artificial stare
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Occasionally I feel the curious mystery that sustains in khaki
bows and the mystery of planes
as an emporium of leaves immerse the night
swallowed in the open plains of plaid or locked in the wood behind the walls in home on the range
a wonder
of crosshatch
and deliver
in the answer
I curiously consider
"what thing would dispel
such a calming
emulsion?"
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
the not body of Spring feels like
girlhood stroked fur purring
wet between April and May
slicked rain of coming flowers:
Not easy
Not hard
nor needing
for kneadfuly clutch of loosed steam
who makes tearfully joy by within
forests loops of the curling stuff
her own not body
by warmth
by wet
decay of young
foals white petals parting showers of chaste rain and the
tight
tight
tight
emulsion of pushing through
the supple cloud of morning:
SUN,
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
HOSPITAL IRREGULARITY
While I’m here, in hospital
I have lots of time to think
Trouble is I’m constipated
And only **** and stink b
They gave me this emulsion
Which I was told to drink
It made my stomach turn
Took my ******* to the brink
I rushed to make the toilet
That place where doggies drink
As I got there, it exploded
Even got some on my ****
My nurse came running over
She said, you rotten fink
Just before she gagged
And threw up in the sink
BOEMS BY JA 278
Written in hospital 2014
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
grinding gears lubed with tears, conks of fears
watching our lives in third person
cause one, I took the train
and second couldn't find his shoes so he never left the house
removed and removed
washing liquid down to feel something new
like maybe just a few more stabs of caffeine and my eyes will open
press the shutter release for just a few more shots
cause what the **** are we going to do
every step is emulsion on this best selling picture
throw the negatives in the drawers, junk
like if its not seen it doesn't mean nothing
like the junkies sinking into the street
waging wars with humanity and street signs
signs hanging when our streets change from alphabets
to bets with god for the latest meal
its a modern day last supper
like sup girl whispers through the table
drown the woes of dinner conversation in the chances to kiss her
because sense only reaches as far as our toes
walk with confidence, but our brains have lost it
what you see is what you get
put your best foot next, one in front of the other
trained at birth to fool our limbs
to contort to our latest whim
washed out like our denim washes
**** him
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Open your heart to a fairy tale untold
Of a man whose path was ridden with ice and cold
His daunting journey lasted for a while
Looking up projecting a luscious smile
Pristine drips of crimson red in liquid emulsion
Was tended and spread in pure repulsion
A hingeless contortion, amongst cruel distortion
A spiritless effigy brimming with emotion
Standing amongst the colourless plates
The sound of devotion resonates
Wearing a mask in pride, containing a brittle smile
He approached the husk before it turned to dust
It danced in the wind once more
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Past regrets lost in an emulsion of sorrows
Paralyzed to the point of leaving yourself behind because of these dastard individuals who you call stress, anxiety and depression
However theres a fraction of an enigma that still exists within me
The fans of reality blows and steers possibilities and likelihoods towards my life
Such a thing as nepenthe doses seem relevant and present in the world?
Contrary to my uncertainty, society could believe it does in various shapes or forms
Although, our constant search for content proves a sort of doubt
Trapping beautiful leaves with different colors in a jar never to be experienced but hopefully found by a wanderer who would demonstrate what a prize they were in the first place
Negligence ultimately derived from perpetual speculation
Build, construct your house of memories as vivid and as sorrowful as they come
They are yours!
An identity, defining who you are without all the torment
Escape the wrath of your past regrets, mistakes and insecurities
You can, if you allow yourself to
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC