"enacting" poems
I'm craving a man-hug tonight,
initiated by strong arms picking up my under weight body
letting me believe I'm re-enacting the lift from ***** dancing.
And as those arms hold me close
I would bury my face in his neck
where after shave meets his soft pulse and the warmth of my breath.
This hug would be so tight,
tight enough to squeeze the pain out of my soul
and be incredibly protective at the same time
beating away the nightmares of reality late at night.
A hug that draws out all the tears that should have been cried
until my eyes run dry
and start shedding all the rejection accumulated throughout this plight.
An unconditional man-hug with its ends free,
one not subjected to a **** in my mouth
a cigarette
*****
a cigarette
couple of poems
insomnia
and a cold bed.
I crave for a man-hug that will liberate me
from the pathetic standards I've set for myself,
of how I should be treated before handing a piece of me in exchange.
One that would numb the little voice in my head
which goes on and on
about self-deprecating ********
bundling together all the mistakes made over the years
and spanking my self-confidence
until it dresses up in a short skirt and high heels
and runs into the arms of a narcissist *****
A man-hug to step in and save the day
when loneliness breaks in,
and murders empowerment, independence and positivity in their sleep,
then opens the door to insecurity and fear,
who robs all hope,
leaving behind intolerable darkness.
I crave for a man-hug that follows through to the end
with stability and consistency,
like mom's cooking or my best friend,
or daddy's instant reaction to defend.
One that's tangible and attainable
without twirling my fingers around forgotten jewellery,
phone messages
or a drunk memory
just to remind myself what it felt like,
but only to be reminded that it can never be felt again.
Though I'm craving a man-hug tonight
I will have no luck.
Because anything with "man" in front of it,
will always just be a ****
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
we live in times when words have lost their meaning
they only serve to fill some soundbite gaps between
faces of popstars, politicians, presidential candidates,
maybe some refugees, victims of crimes and natural catastrophes
and more sensational media creations flooding our lives
with unrelenting hype unless you push the button
that brings quiet to your life and you find time to reconsider
what it might be exactly you desire to achieve
in the short time we are allotted in this world
you will discover it is not the senseless media blather
but some coherent thoughts turned into words becoming deeds
enacting change leading to bold decisions
think for yourself and don’t let others think for you
then speak your thoughts in words like others cannot do
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
The parasympathetic nervous system
is responsible for regulations
unconsciously transpiring
within the organs and
the glands of
the body.
Such as:
urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and
lacrimation
(noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin.
from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’).
It’s why I cry
even when I don’t want to.
You are the parasympathetic nervous system.
The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system
is responsible for the mobilization
of the fight-or-flight response
and constantly maintaining
homeostasis within
the body.
It acts
rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and
the necessary and critical ability
to suddenly escape
on pulsing legs or
cling to survival through
brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles
and dilated pupils.
It’s why you live
even when you don’t want to.
I am the sympathetic nervous system.
The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems
are two of three essential nervous systems which
compose the autonomic nervous system
(a part of the peripheral
nervous system)
that manages
involuntary
functions of the body. Such as:
swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and
heart rate
(noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’.
usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you).
Individually these two systems oppose
but compliment
each other like our hands do—
pressed together and omitting equal force;
veins meeting
at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists
but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise.
You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to
breath,
love,
sweat,
and live.
I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you
but grudgingly willing to fight you and
ready
to
leave.
From the deepest lower half of my brainstem
and from every nerve
in my cycling body,
I’m sorry.
From all of my chromaffin cells
and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian,
I am sorry.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Sleeping someone somewhere
Dreams of drinking daises
Laying lucid loving lavender
Adapting admiration of the ages
Koala kites, kaleidoscope cries
Bubbles blowing bare beauty
Riding radiance rapidly realizing
Forsaken focus freeing form
Soaring sensation seeps synchronicity
Dripping differences deranged
Rearranged ripples randomly react
Enacting endorphins equally engaging
Induced ignition infinitely intact
Pulsating precision purpose full pact
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 4:52 AM UTC
Please come and find me.
Playful whispers in the dark.
Who am I calling?
I suppose...
My baby,
Can I call you baby?
O sweet lullabyes in the night,
Hold me in mild constriction.
Squeeze a little bit tighter, love.
I don't know how much time I have left.
Delusional!
Alone on the vacuum.
Scratching at air for any oxygen my depraved lungs can find,
Suffocating on your love,
Choking on your divinity.
Oh darling,
My sweet crimson lover
Dancing on the bridge of death at the break of dawn,
You swing me in your arms,
Tight tongue behind your violent grin,
Your hair grows stars, and your arms bend time,
my fatal partner in a tango to the edge of the earth.
Heartless as you torture me,
Wrench my soul playfully,
Foolishly and ignorantly,
Pulling my strings.
Enacting
autopilot daydreams
Painting mindless patterns
On an inky black sky,
Orange slices on existential beach
Sparkling warm coast,
The cosmos like a bright sunny day above.
Bitter ashes mix and churn with the sand,
I'm sinking,
Quickly,
Help me!
But you just watch.
And I sink until I hit the bottom
And there I lie,
Falling asleep to as my grief fills the ocean.
The zodiac locked fate,
Fish and Virgins! Fish and Virgins!
Poets and failures,
Academics and frauds,
Spring and summer to autumn and madness,
My eternal indigo diary,
My blueberry lipstick,
My lavender kiss.
Leaving light stains on my love-lorn letters,
Mailed to you on Sunday,
Delivered along the Milky Way.
Waiting emptily,
In an empty white asylum,
With an empty mind,
Waiting for you,
My answer,
My meaning,
My red and blue jumper.
Not standing up to stretch,
But sitting still,
Letting my bones grow stiff,
To creak under my weight,
Like an old back porch,
Made for a pair of old lovers,
Desolate,
Withered by neglect,
Empty.
A pointless pray for solace,
In hope you will come,
My prince of waves,
My fifth science,
My escape from this never ending sporadic spiral down into the murky, dusty, purple fog of asinine and inane.
My peace of mind.
My baby.
Can I call you baby?
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 8:51 PM UTC
If only you knew the damage caused
a few small words said and forgotten
days and hours of painful analysing
awake late at night, cold sweat haze
reliving, re-enacting, in my mind
caught in a time trap, held on repeat
left on my own, locked in this hurt
I hear my voice repeat as I cry
eternally asking the question, why?
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Preparations
For Love and Destruction
Volatile environments
Whose inhabitants
Distract inhibitions
By enacting emotional exhibitions
Fueled by liquid fire
.Injection.
Fluid spirits
Energize the soul
Chemically reacting to stress
Freeing the hostages
Housed inside the hostile hospice
Of hearts
.Ejection.
Nature’s neutrality
Doesn’t do much
For this current
Wave
Of Lust and Frustration
So,
Lo and Behold
The solo soul below
Who bellows
In the belly of beasts
Like growls
That grows into speech
As I transform from
Animal to Anomaly
Asking for the one thing
That will keep me
From the answer
.Rejection.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
eating up the buildings,
crawling up the corners
to cover the signs of the city.
enacting their revenge
on the cement coating their soil.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:42 AM UTC
1698
’Tis easier to pity those when dead
That which pity previous
Would have saved—
A Tragedy enacted
Secures Applause
That Tragedy enacting
Too seldom does.
2.3k
I feel
so many feelings
all the time.
I am
a feeling being.
I need
to feel
to understand
the meaning of my experiences
in comparison to my needs and aspirations.
But
my feelings
happen intuitively
and prior to careful evidence-based reasoning
and so my feelings are not philosophically reasonable
and so my feelings are dangerous
if I use my feelings to define what reality is.
I protect myself
from unphilosophical unreasonable feelings
by never enacting my feelings,
by never reacting motivated by feelings;
rather I use my feelings
only as information
that I am having feelings
and so my needs and aspirations
may be affected in some way
by my experiences
which led to my feelings;
then I reflect
on my experiences
to philosophically reasonably discover
how it is most useful for me to feel
to achieve my optimal joy an happiness.
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
Charlie and D sitting in a tree, Henry VIII comes along, chops down the tree.
part of me constantly and perversely anticipates
what Islam holds dear, the cult of the moon
rather than the sun - sleeping nudges of inquiry
and reminiscence of Freud rather than this constant
pulverisation of scientific safety-nets -
the sun and the scam of diet - Narcissus myth
all too apparent, too self-conscious to feed
the beauty, laboratory type beauty,
statistician's paradise - sun and skin cancer collective,
i'm not an Arab, and i never will be,
but this sort of weather and jet-stream excess isn't
exactly helping either - Einstein might have
saved you from exacting the thought process
(never experiment with it, never)
behind Newtonian cause & effect, but this ****
isn't going away, and you won't be exactly barnacle
jumping mad with Jack & Jill if you voice your
concerns; for all that urbanity the village life
is having a comeback - hello brick, hello tree,
hello tomorrow: the day of never-be -
the Spaniards had a second try at an inquisition
via Gibraltar - the Scots sailed to Brussels -
the village life is having a comeback -
the Americans are hoarding guns prior to enacting
scenes from Bastille Sq. with the guillotine -
they don't know it yet, but they're hoarding guns
to topple the government over - elsewhere
a bunch of Palestinians were throwing stones
at bullseyes for a fluffy toy in a theme park.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
You sit gathered in
Robes wielding knives
From your sleeves;
How determined are you?
Did you agree this death
Behind closed doors?
Assassins in closets,
Knives in their craws,
A ****** of crows pecking
A dying wolf's paws.
How calm you lie
While you hide the knife
You used to slay me;
How calm and sure.
Did you hesitate
To put me in the ground?
Was it hard to push it in
Without a sound?
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
I wish you were a pleasant wren,
And I your small accepted mate;
How we'd look down on toilsome men!
We'd rise and go to bed at eight
Or it may be not quite so late.
Then you should see the nest I'd build,
The wondrous nest for you and me;
The outside rough, perhaps, but filled
With wool and down: ah, you should see
The cosey nest that it would be.
We'd have our change of hope and fear,
Small quarrels, reconcilements sweet:
I'd perch by you to chirp and cheer,
Or hop about on active feet
And fetch you dainty bits to eat.
We'd be so happy by the day,
So safe and happy through the night,
We both should feel, and I should say,
It's all one season of delight,
And we'll make merry whilst we may.
Perhaps some day there'd be an egg
When spring had blossomed from the snow:
I'd stand triumphant on one leg;
Like chanticleer I'd almost crow
To let our little neighbors know.
Next you should sit and I would sing
Through lengthening days of sunny spring:
Till, if you wearied of the task,
I'd sit; and you should spread your wing
From bough to bough; I'd sit and bask.
Fancy the breaking of the shell,
The chirp, the chickens wet and bare,
The untried proud paternal swell;
And you with housewife-matron air
Enacting choicer bills of fare.
Fancy the embryo coats of down,
The gradual feathers soft and sleek;
Till clothed and strong from tail to crown,
With ****** warblings in their beak,
They too go forth to soar and seek.
So would it last an April through
And early summer fresh with dew:
Then should we part and live as twain,
Love-time would bring me back to you
And build our happy nest again.
1.9k
Smoke stacks, shadows cast
Looking back, into the past
Industrial town, all around
Look at me, I wear a frown
Pretty girls, in wedding gowns
and here we are, falling down
For all around this ***** town
Is a crumbling council
and shops run-down
Golden brown, sweet ****** sound
The summer sings, sun shines down
But the government continues
To let us drown
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
It's been a long, long time
Since I went to school
Therefore, my memory of those days
Is hazier than a cloud of fog
However, whatever I do remember
I remember vividly, as though it were only yesterday
Such as, committing the biggest faux pas of my school years
When I was in the fourth standard
By wearing a t-shirt and jeans one fine day
While everyone else was dressed in uniform
Disturbing the whole class by talking about cricket
And thus getting a nice scolding from the principal
When I was in the fifth standard
Crying in front of the whole class
Later during the same year
Exam tension getting the better of me
Enacting the role of a princess in a cartoon show
While on the way home
During the seventh standard
Failing in quite a few subjects
At the beginning of the eighth standard
After switching from CBSE to ICSE
Being forced into a trekking adventure
Thanks to the annual cross-country races
Scoring an own goal as a goalkeeper
During the ninth standard
Failing in a record number of subjects
During the same year
Thanks to my obsession with cricket
And last but not the least
Making amends for my past failures
By clearing the tenth boards with flying colours
I can go on and on
But I think that's quite enough for today
Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 2:07 AM UTC
Masks unmask the real identity
Enacting many roles as actors
Behind a different face and avatar
Under the cloak of anonymity
Many truths comes under spotlight
Masks give the actors, the freedom
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever forging faithful fellowship.
INCESSANTLY incinerating iniquity in inner-selves. Ineffably influencing introspective introverts.
RISING rapidly.
radically rupturing rectitude rampantly, ravaging rancour.
ENDLESSLY eclipsing earthly ecstacy.
Eliciting elation.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Be my constant
like Desmond
and the Island
When you and me
met between nosebleeds
and seizures of consciousness
We looked to the sky
and watched
electromagnetic
explosions
That held our hearts
pumping out supernovas
In their hands
we were Gods
respectively
blowing
Buddha minds
out of proportion
re-enacting
some center stage production
of how we shift our own reality
Subtly
unspoken
devoid of emotions
lost like a lighter
in a smoke circle
Offsetting
the light and darkness
But You were always my constant
again and again
in
flash-backs
flash-forwards
flash-sideways
We could never escape the timeline
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
They fear for their children,
Their things when our black men come near.
But do they forget that it was the pale faces who were the cruel ones?
They shipped and trapped our brown for sugar, molasses...
For things.
They inspected
Destructed
Degraded
Detained
Stripped naked our black men for money.
They stole much more than our black men today.
Beat, broke, and chained our black men
Only to incriminate the black body
Only to create fear of skin that has been kissed by something not man made.
So forgive me if I say **** you" to the police in their attempts at racial profiling rationalizations.
Have you no education?
Have you no intellect?
Have you forgotten OUR history?
You cannot cancel violence by enacting violence.
You cannot stop a cycle that you have began if you cannot even look at yourself .
LOOK AT YOURSELF.
It must be hard being so **** stupid.
Being so detached
And having the good graces to ignore and not to teach OUR history.
The black body isn't what you should lock your doors from at night.
Are you scared you wont be able to see it?
Are you?
It is the ignorance of our society of the simple fact
That what starts here
Ends here.
And we are doomed to continue
This cycle of shedding the blood of each other
If you refuse to educate on where the violence
the cruelty
the ownership
the belittling
of the human body began.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Minor Key
I
Let me enjoy the earth no less
Because the all-enacting Might
That fashioned forth its loveliness
Had other aims than my delight.
II
About my path there flits a Fair,
Who throws me not a word or sign;
I’ll charm me with her ignoring air,
And laud the lips not meant for mine.
III
From manuscripts of moving song
Inspired by scenes and dreams unknown
I’ll pour out raptures that belong
To others, as they were my own.
IV
And some day hence, towards Paradise
And all its blest—if such should be—
I will lift glad, afar-off eyes
Though it contain no place for me.
1.3k
Toys are scattered about the floor.
Robots and Dinosaurs attack plastic soldiers.
The Grandsons are enacting a ****** battle.
No one is safe! Not even Grandpa!
I've been killed, apparently,
by a flying super-robot that
knows no mercy!
I worry I won't be
playing with them next year.
Darkness all around the world.
Darkness all inside of me.
Whispers behind my back,
murmurs of pity, I think.
I still have much I can offer
to these boys.
Or so I'd like to believe.
I'm not ready to stop hugging them.
Telling them, again and again,
how important they are to me.
Little boys live in a special world.
A place of mud and sticks,
bugs and stones.
Imagination the
only rule they follow.
***** hands and faces,
bodies screaming
for a bath.
I understand this world.
It used to be the same one
I lived in before.
Ah dear Grandsons.
Will you miss me?
Will you think of me
in the middle of your
playing?
Will you feel me?
Grandfather lips
mouthing
"I love you."
Your hearts so innocent.
Lives so uncomplicated.
Neither of you understands
the concept of dying.
As it should be.
Stay this way as
long as you are able to.
The real world is a cold place.
A mixture of grieving and denial.
A faithless emptiness that
consumes the desire
to achieve.
Toys are scattered about the floor.
Robots and Dinosaurs attack plastic soldiers.
Dear God, how I wish this was
the only battle I was fighting.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
Will I walk,
Will I talk -
Will I open up,
Or will I baulk?
---------
Moved by time, unremitting;
Approaching disintegration - universal dispersal.
Emotional denial, fearing the inevitable.
Procuring the future by biological means;
Neglecting angst instilled in collected dreams;
Ever hopeful for intervention - role reversal.
----------
Dancing betwixt light beams
Floating on echoed screams
Unsure what reality means;
Confronted by attitudes obscene
Lost amid chaotic scenes
Is anything what it seems?
---------
Hello - How are you?
Hello - Can I help you?
Hello - Did you hear me?
Hello - Who are you?
Hello - Do I understand you right?
Hello - What'd you say?
Hello - Are you with me?
Hello - Did you see that?
Hello - Are you sure?
Hello - What's this?
Hello - I'm trying to communicate!
Hello - Welcome.
Hello - Come in.
Hello - I am...Friendly (and Curious)...
---------
Too much angst
Too many sorrows
Too much fear
Too few tomorrows.
Too little, too late;
Too bad, too sad.
Too much waste
Too much greed
Too much gain
Too much need.
Too distracting
Too frivolous
Too complex
Too preposterous.
Too many scandals
Too many re-acting
Too muck shock
Too few enacting.
Too much terror
Too much blood
Too many agendas
Too much cud.
Too much goodwill
Too little done
Too...
...You...
You're 2 kind.
Thanks, mate.
---------
Rhetoric or ridiculous?
Rude or risqué?
Right or righteous?
Ruling or ruining?
Revolving or resolved?
Revolting or revolutionary?
Repeating or reposing?
Revealed or reviled?
Rambling or raving?
Rising or risen?
Robust or round?
Rigorous or regressive?
---------
Aggressive
Repressive
Depressive
Regressive.
Impressive
Oppressive
Expressive
Obsessive.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Master of puppets cease the chatter and ruckus find what life's sum is
Climb to the summet notice the smell will be pungent
I can see his sights clear I hold no fear you froze in the middle like headlights on a deer causing the cataclysmic fate into which you peer
I'll try not to get too wordy, to many word patterns while I chop this rhyme up in fury tell me what might the cure be ?
Lines lay down like corpses in a morgue dissecting you into a gord you life hangs by a thread or cord
Empathy is something I can't afford
Bitterness hate enacting my raging states leave you stiff In a lake
Your body's bloated like yeast in a cake you existing was a mistake
Your a ****** and who's body was turned stagnant your mind devoid of thought life in fragments rigamortis leaves you muscles tight together like magnets
**** it , the bay harbor butcher with looks like Ashton Kutcher leave you with cuts you can't sutcher
Put ya in a state of endless suffering no pain subsiding or breaks ,there will be no buffering
Let it end ,feel the life you want go and the agony tear your mind apart slow, you have nothing left to learn that I don't know I will forever domineer your soul
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
*He doesn’t deserve your kisses
Not like I did</p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve your love & affection
Not like I do</p>
<p>Just look around you quickly
There are signs to see
Why aren’t you coming up to me? </p>
<p>He doesn’t love you like I do </p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve to be in your dream
You should be talking to me everyday </p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve to be in your thoughts
I should be your knight
Lwt me step into the spotlight with you baby</p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve your enacting
He doesn’t deserve your pictures
And doesn’t deserve your blessings </p>
<p>Listen!!!</p>
<p>Just look around you quickly
There are signs to see
Why aren’t you coming up to me?</p>
<p>He doesn’t write you poetry
He doesn’t write you love songs
He doesn’t treasure your heart
He doesn’t have faith in you
His mind is out of romance
The guy you chosen is a mistake </p>
<p>Baby!!!</p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve you</p>
<p>He doesn’t love you like I do</p>
<p>Listen</p>
<p>He doesn’t deserve your smiles
And he doesn’t deserve your laughs
He doesn’t deserve to wake up beside you when the sun rises</p>
<p>Baby!!! </p>
<p>I have a billion words of describing you</p>
<p>Just don’t understand how much I care about you</p>
<p>I would die for your love cause
I’m the one that deserves to be with you until the end</p>
<p>My dear </p>
<p>He doesn’t love you like I do
He doesn’t deserve you</p>
<p>Just look around you quickly
There are signs to see
Why aren’t you coming up to me?*</p>
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
and the skies with sudden encore come
filled with words not worked
orchastrating a full complement
of treacherous ambition
and will an exploration
of competeing claim of unsundry wills
and such as is gives men a will to transform themselves
to give a cause to anciet or recent voice
a permissible presentation of possibilities
in battle and brawl with a blunt rhetorical and physical disorder
which does emphasize such dramas
with stark, violent and repressive potential
all tantilized with the prospect of wealth in the ground
make a contention with vicious energies
of hate and ambition that propels
an intence and exhausting experience
upon a once civil-world to spiral
vertiginously toward an ancient choas
enacting old stories with the oppresiveweight of the past
now monstrous individualism
whose hideously fragile bonds to peace
no longer exeert their hold
and thus divorse themselves
with an individual rapaciousness
annihilating lives with a curiousley
derivative quality for a store of gas and oil
and disinherite themselves from moral constriant
evoking the soliloquy of historical hypocrisy
with a mutilation of truth
in a tragedy of lament for all human kind
then sudden uncalled for encore fills the skies
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC