"encapsulating" poems
Dancing under digits
Spacing between words
I count them all
Each syllable
Once, twice, I heard them dancing in my mind
Floating, instant reality
Bringing distance
Separating elements
From pen to page
You sing in colour
Yet speak so beige
Words, what do they mean?
Sailing through an infinite horizon
Your thoughts like waves
Shattering a tranquil line
Logical
Emotional
Trying to entwine
Encapsulating a memory
That will never be mine.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
An imaginary but desirable sense of control
Created by the bully in my head
Screaming at me, pressuring me, hurting me
Encapsulating my mind as a second meninges.
Impossible to separate my true thoughts
From what it tells me,
My conscious mind is tied to a cinder block
And left to drown in its enticingly rough waves.
My physical being constantly changing with the tide
Unpredictable but regular,
Shallow but deep.
****** into its infinite black hole,
I am left feeling disgusted and ashamed
Of all that is me.
No longer am I able to decide the way in which
My needs are met-if in fact they are met.
As though I have DID, I am constantly bouncing
From alter to alter
Body to body.
Blinded from looking directly into its sun,
I am warmed and comforted by its rays
While reassured that my doubts are unwarranted.
If ever defied, it scolds and whips me,
Like a master to his slave,
A father to his child.
The welts and cuts, gratefully rip into my
Skin, muscle and bone –
Punishment for my wrongdoings and self.
I, immediately silenced
Remove myself from society,
Restricting contact, nourishment and emotions
To nil.
It is not until someone notices
The beginnings of an eternal invisibility,
That I am released and
Able to breathe in
The salty air of life.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:29 PM UTC
The shivering eyeglasses lazily coating the ground
Break way to the budding of the season.
To reincarnate is to live the anomaly,
The evergreen boughs bend in the wind.
Coalescing crystals form dew on our morn
To leave a fresh taste, on lips, on tongue.
The time is imminent, but the dawn is young,
My white Orchid, born to the sun.
Simply, optically, it's to weak to touch
Unworthy digits, to blind to see.
My scarlet levees, to right to feel.
The ivory blossom, to right to be real.
Under the canopies, the shimmering outline
Moves closer until the mirror cracks
And our reflections are polymorphicly one,
Our hearts still polyamorously two.
I yearn to dream of lucid lavender,
The aroma surrounds the dream, still dreamed
The scent so real, or so it seemed
Encapsulating this moment in amber.
Until we sleep, until we fly
Together. Our wings open to embrace the quilted high.
Our mouths embrace to fill the void,
Unleash the magic, bathing us in light
Bricks and mortar overlap my thoughts
But time alone is not a wall.
Time alone, it cannot fall
And it still ticks with the beat of my pendulum.
Oh flower, oh life, vitality aplenty.
Your hideousness, a secret untold,
Withers to your beauty, yet to unmold.
Le voyage fantasme is here for me now.
And now the grains slip between my toes.
The sandcastles caress the glass of our hour.
It's never too late, but always on time,
So before the light fades, kiss me and say
"I'll sleep tonight,
I'll dream of you."
Orchid, my Orchid, love, my love
I'll dream with you forever.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC
for Nick and Kaitie
1.
Yesterday, right when our call got dropped,
I was going to tell you something about marriage.
I was going to tell you something gnomic,
a maxim worth getting engraved.
I've since forgotten,
but I believe it was akin to saying that, like Truth,
marriage is impossible to define in verbal space.
So, I guess I'm glad I forgot. The words
would've seemed either too hastily conceived for their subject matter
or else weightless, enigmatic – without impact.
I think it was Auden who whined, “Marriage is rarely bliss,”
though he lightened the phrase by encapsulating it in the context of modern physics –
namely, at least it has the ability to take place,
and that should be enough to bring bliss equal to Buddha’s Emptiness.
So, I'm happy our call got
dropped,
for the dial tone was
the pithiest aphorism on marriage any sentient life could've produced.
The key word is “produced.”
2.
This is what marriage is not:
Socrates gurgling hemlock
on his dusty prison cot,
giggling as he glimpsed a dikast’s deformed ****
Nietzsche tenured for philology
at Basel; Nietzsche feverishly etching
Fick diese scheiße! on a Jena clinic's wall; biology
predetermining the team for which he was pitching;
a poem; a hotdog; *******
a discharged Kalashnikov
engendering generational pain
somewhere in Saratov
circa 1942;
this is what marriage is not:
hatred, jealousy, ballyhoo,
obsessive yearnings for a yacht;
this is what marriage is not:
anything one pair of hands has wrought.
August 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
your body is uncontainable,
each dream you have,
attainable.
your eyes are encapsulating,
don't worry,
there's no harm in waiting.
nothing is ever too difficult,
don't let anyone put
your heart on halt.
you're stronger than a flame,
more relentless than one too,
I promise sister,
you can be anything,
have whatever,
become what you do.
cover yourself up,
or just let go,
steady, steady,
your life is in perfect flow.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC
***champagne gleams in starlight
encapsulating souls of the ocean
weave through the coral maze
shades of the setting sun
shoot across the sky
golden eyes engulf a mind so alive***
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Spilled directly from my heart and soul
To you
From some year
In the past
Something
I just need you to know
I'm but twenty years of age
And I know nothing
Of the world
And nothing
Of living
Except
What I do know
Which is close to
I admit
Nothing
When compared
To great lives
Lived many times
Longer
Stronger
Greater
Larger
And even
Shorter
Weaker
Lesser
Smaller
But I am
Who I am
And, again
I've only lived
A fraction
Of what is considered
A
"Life"
But lately
I have an urge
Not really and urge
More of a
Want
But a strong
Want
And that
Want
Is
I want to raise a child
Strange
Yes
In times past
I'd be considered
A man
I'd be expected
To have a job
That paid well
And
The built-in
Instinct
To fight for
My life
And the lives
Of those I cherish
Deeply
But
On the inside
I know
I'm but a boy
I am not a man
By any stretch of the imagination
I am not a man
By any means at all
But
Out of nowhere
Over the past
Year
This sensation
Has been getting stronger
To have a child
And raise it
With someone
I love
A burning love
A simultaneously
Firy, cool, encapsulating, enrapturing, hexing, invincible, forever
Kind of love
And to raise it
With their best interests
For the future
And to impant
In them
All the love
In my heart
And have them know
That
As long as I'm around
Everything
Everything
Will be alright
Everything
Will work out
The way it's meant to
Because it's true
And I know it
It's just one of the things
These twenty years
Has taught this boy
However
I wish to give
This child
Everything
And
All
And
In order to do so
I have to establish
What I need to
Find an adequate
Source of monetary income
And
As hard as that seems
In this day and age
I will
Somehow
I will find a way
If only
For the life
Of my future
Child
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
She stood tall,
Slender,
Flamboyant as she swirls,
Encapsulating dreams while dancing,
In a come-die ballet, from times evaporation,
Playing hysterics in magical fire dance of ritual celebrations,
Playing games of passion creations,
Such beauty in an aura of pleasure and pain,
In rigaudon she pastes her grace,
For she is not a dancer,
For she is my quill,
The dancing pen removes my ills.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
dew drop
mirrors all
encapsulating
in miniture
everything
reflected
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
Sun and snow
Rain, then the rainbow's glow
Melt, and a new awakening
So eager to restart the agony.
Days are not life
Just the wrapper
Encapsulating
All our strife.
Dreams are not hopes
Hopes are not dreams
We scurry madcap trails
Chasing all these things.
Clarity is not inspiration
Inspiration is not clarity
We dream so fiercely
We awaken the beasts.
We did the math
And found ways to cheat
We thought it through
And found ways to cheat.
Whether you lead or follow
In the same old hollow
The cheating ways
Spin us all around the circle.
No ejecta
No new-found paths
Spinning hugging misery
The nucleus of humanity.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
My body quivers,
the tips of my fingers
pulsating wildly,
beads of sweat collecting
on my furrowed brow,
teeth sinking into
my bottom lip,
breathing in sharp
heaves of breath,
echoing the fast-paced
pulse of my enthusiastically
beating heart,
limbs tingling,
lower extremities losing feeling
as my body becomes absorbed
in the ecstasy
to which it succumbs
as, in one last swift, graceful movement
you make me explode,
my mind orgasming in the
crazy sensation we have
created in the simple
exchange of our
encapsulating dialogue,
reawakening my addiction,
my yearning,
my craving
for another round
of conversation,
rapture unlike
any other I've felt,
in tangibly feeling nothing but your soul
and your words.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
The encapsulating power of silence is a beckoning wonder of the universe, as we abandon our awareness and travail toward psychedelic oblivion.
Although Neolithic tendencies have shaped our foreign fields of hybrid plantations at the expense of organic exuberance, it is wise that we listen to the concerts at dawn and dusk as they echo from the depths of the woodlands.
In our unwitting state of being, owls often grace us with their ghostly presence.
This sullen atmosphere is so damp with the juices of forgotten dreams, and we are not yet shrouded by the mysteries of such treacherous slumbers and defensive immobilisations.
Look at the patterns upon the rock of the Badlands where geological delicacies are too difficult to masticate.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
my hidden shames
are an excellent source of moral fibre,
nurturing, but not nutritious.
we coexist in a quiet
mutual acknowledgment,
coexisting but un-categorizable,
nonetheless,
among my oldest cohorts,
their singular coordinated characteristic,
they are mine alone,
not meant to be shared.
But they will someday
make an excellent poem.
Mon jan 2 2023
6:47am
@here
———————————————————-
the askew
are my oldest companion,
dating back to my naissance,
faithful, eternal, but single-minded,
with a rueful sense of humor,
of course,
refer to my relatively plentiful hairs
inherited from my mother’ genetics.
a morning chore,
to return their antics
to an adult,
dignified pose,
plenty sufficient to be be brushed,
straight back,
the preferred orderly compose,
of older men
who cannot waste time
with foolishness,
the excessive vanities of
curls, parts and pompadours,
and yet,
every day they wake me with
ridicule, mockery, by presenting
themselves.to me,
as if electrocuted,
each
hair raising itself
pointing to the heaven,
whence
their true Creator resides.
no amount of product
persuasive,
they do what they must do,
akimbo, askew,
with inordinate amount of
malice aforethought and
a venomous sense of
hairy (and now hoary)
absurdity .
a splash of water,
a handful of rigorous brush strokes,
returns order
and the pretense of a serious mien,
an adult demeanor.
But their purpose accomplished,
they have reminded me of the
absurdity of human vanity,
to humble myself
before forces
more powerful
than human self-aggrandizement
by accentuating
our human foibles.
7:13am
same time & place
——————————————-
morning prayers are
always
a trilogy
the rounded evenness of three,
provides the necessary gravitas
of sufficiency,
three being
not too short,
not too long,
not too quick,
just three right,
to impart
the seriousness
of gratitude
for having gained
another day upon earth,
with it,
many multitudes of
chances to share
thankfulness,
kindness,
yes,
& love too,
and to write,
one more poem
encapsulating
all of the above.
7:35am
same day
same place,
same cup of coffee
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 9:17 AM UTC
Run... run while you can
before the envelopment entraps you
encapsulating escape with leaden clouds
skies darkened by searing missiles
unburdening caches waiting
for the stirring of conflict
so easy to hijack
as hatred
screams
loudest
drowning
out the pleas
of nursing mothers
as children's faces fend off
old feuds and avarice of arms dealers
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 4:59 AM UTC
this shall be:
this shall be
my last poem of the year,
two thousand and thirteen,
with the muses' permission.
a fitting one as well,
for the words,
come easy,
like so many did this
annus mirabilis, year of wonders.
firm I believe,
words are living tools,
constantly being reshaped,
fitted to the occasion.
care must me taken,
words hurt when wasted, abused,
or used in contravention to the creator's
intentioned purpose of intended good.
so when a brother, a poet-man
hits the nailhead, words writ,
encapsulating an emo shared,
this reserves, a poem-celebration!
lines between humans unseen,
somehow too easy, rightly crossed,
guards dropped, secrets exposure,
with the ease of feeling no discomfiture.
yes, this is the Internet age,
sharing revelations often cheapened,
boundaries collapse,
when no consideration given.
when there is no skin, no eye-glance
real-exchanged, no feeling, no voice,
casual, to do, easy to say,
what is the risk,
what could be the casualty
of this causality?
the risk is fearsome.
so when the venture is for the better,
what matter the absence of the physicality,
the tears and hugs imagined
as good as any non-virtual,
but in the coming year,
this I swear:
I will be, I will be becoming, I will become you,
unto you, for as was written, so shall it be,
for as was written, it will become,
a beautiful first, a first re-union,
that will be.
*this notion so pleasing,
yet inherent contradictory,
aye, there's the rub,*
a first re-union of the unmet,
*to mark this three hundred and sixty fifth day,
the creator bequeathed me these prayer words
most easily, most faithfully,
as a blessing for all of us.*
Dec. 31, 2013
3:54 pm.
NYC
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
It is the taste of sea salt
On your skin I love the most
Eating shellfish from your hand
Sun, warmth, sea sand
Tasting sun oil
Through the brine
Capturing, encapsulating
Summertime
Licking ice cream of your nose
As we lay here both unclothed
Except for swimming pants
That make elders peer
And young men advance
As if to get a better glance
Shellfish swimming down our throats
Trickling on moist lips a toast
It is the taste of sea salt
On your skin I love the most
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
I want to finger paint you against the sunset, encapsulating your beauty for a moment in time, enraptured by the glow of fading light
I want to catch your gaze as you laugh, your eyes alight with glee ascribed to the humor of something so seemingly mundane
I want to kiss you beneath the stars, each one singing a tale of long since forgotten lovers who have carved their paths below them
I want to hold you for endless minutes, the touch of your skin scorching into my memory the intimacy and intricacy of such fleeting embraces
You are divine essence in motion. You are ethereal.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
I sit here as hell unfolds,
Relentless power encapsulating me.
I cannot bare to watch it;
Yet, all I can do is sit here,
And watch from a useless angle.
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 10:07 PM UTC
you'll never guess what i heard today
endless narratives
encapsulating pointless encounters
passing judgments
handing out ruthless commentary
life lessons
ridiculing those that are different
infringing on the delicate bounds of insanity
infinite meaningless utterances
thoughtful queries
timeless perceptions and interpretations
brilliant phonetics
postulating conspiracies
comical puns, quips, and jabs
underlying assumptions
fascinatingly deceptive and imaginative theories
i hear you
i hear everything you say
but all i needed
was for you to LISTEN
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 12:27 PM UTC
Snake tounges rattled and hissed words of poison mechanically,
With green-eyed monsters lurking beneath their skin,
Circling the rumours of suspicion onto those of white blood,
Like a frightened rabbit in deaths doorway to car headlights fell.
The slithering tale encapsulating innocent yet friendly ears,
Smearing their venom amongst those of lowered fighters hands,
Trickling down the innocent white hart's hands,
As though regarding herself as this murderess.
Flight of fear, fighting the dark, losing, chocking, drowning,
Yet tales of talk were not in vain, but yet they failed once again,
Smearing that of lies over white walls, black onto red,
Trapping the rabbit in the snare, as though to **** it in the shell.
My friend, would you tell the old lie? To children so high,
To fall so low, by that of snakes and their hungry green-eyes.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 7:33 AM UTC
Love at first sight? No son, your vision's blurry,
What's encapsulating your feelings is lust
Powerful, but short-lived
Pleasurable through every taste
But after each taste, that void to quench your thirst will remain
If love is a force, lust must be an energy,
Here for the moment, but we don't know how long it will last.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Procrastination,
laying on the ground,
words fumbling through my brain like they're on some weird-ass drug
and can't help but bounce off all the walls.
Papers spread all around me,
goading me,
laughing at me,
dancing with each other and
playing twister over the square patterns
on my carpeted floor. They're my audience,
supposed to be sitting in
surprisingly well-cushioned red stadium seats,
only half-paying attention to my feeble attempts at
getting **** done. But I'm noticing this one, sitting (actually sitting!) three rows back
and two chairs down from the aisle
I can see his soft eyes twinkling in the light emanating off the
background of my stage
he watches me, amused, stern, patient,
believing in my abilities to complete
but understanding the trap.
His flat body is well-dressed, covered in straight black lines, question marks,
and capital letters. The kind of paper that means business. The kind of paper that
proves things. His blanks and spaces are all filled out:
pen under a backwards-steady hand.
With all of his numbers and names and titles he's declaring, predicting,
holding
encapsulating
saturated in my future.
He's like a time traveler, sitting there silently with
his boots and black top hat,
whispering softly about what is to come
urging success to spill from my thoughts
which are now linked together in an unorganized conga-line,
falling all over the place is if inebriated intensely,
the crazy ones even throwing up in strategically-placed trash cans.
What a nice touch.
Sweaty palms.
This is what happens
when all but one of your papers don't pay attention to you
and the one that does
is too severe and powerful,
overwhelming,
terrifying,
when that one paper
is the reason why you've been
a fervent procrastinator
this whole time.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 8:56 AM UTC
To have sweet honey dew,
To have soft recollections in quiet vibrations of air,
To have an unmistakable fortress of solitude,
The precious quality of four carat diamond,
Encapsulating the fragile soul of a gentleman,
What I must be to encounter such a gem.
What a gem I must be...
With a grinding stone, my weapons sharpen
By letting my lips cut the air to pieces 'till they bleed,
I've learned to soften the blow
Spring waters bring forth a fountain of youth much sweeter than honey dew.
I recognize,
It takes a diamond to know one.
So I take this journey to become four carat,
For the diamond man I'm looking for.
To be his diamond lady.
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 10:57 AM UTC