"encompases" poems
Please let me preface
I dont like people
crouds make me cringe
and while i value my friends
i highly value my solitude
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I cant picture a face
when i close my eyes
when my mind trys to grant
that one final human wish
before slumber encompases my body
and reality and dreams interlace
For i have no soul to match with mine
nor a soul to follow
in deepest secret with the fleeting hope
that maybe our souls shall intertwine
But i wish not for two to meld
for hearts to pledge an undying vow
for lust and ****** greed
for billowing convorsations
But silence
An individual respect for ourselves
two beings gracious for company
bodies laid side by side
your fingers tracing circles
on blank canvasses of skin
Where there is but an understanding
that breath so silent can be pleasently shared
and electic touch soulfull
igniting warmth surrounding my heart
of which embers burn soft and hot
Where aching muscles
tense from harsh realities
are smoothed away with solid hands
a mutual relationship where the
solidarity in thought is aknowlegded
yet the pleaure derived from presense
a caring being holding steadfast
unwilling to let me go
gentle and kind
Where the silence of
spiritual understanding guides
the instictual need for
companionship
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
*children no longer obey their parents,
and everybody is writing a book.
circa 1914 - 1924a.d.*
away with you to the lyricist!
and not to the earth bound roughage
of toil and till -
or was that not the first encouragement?
have not but the first sipped water
of these optical realm, fused more
than as modern antidote has it -
been more intoxicating to see as if a first
dawn of Belshazzar?
have these not been the invitations
for scaling the summit of tw. Babylon?
then indeed, not with care or plush attire,
have we descended into an idle affair -
for the insurmountable cohort rattled
even the lesser who still struck a chord of
defiance and belittled by the world: mused.
as so much of love pours onto paper -
and a paper that later becomes a slab
of stone, plunges with splash and splatter into
the sea as unknown as that, which
encompases the orbit of Neptune -
in that void and in that void,
can we rarely find a bottle to bottle all
things concerning, up.
or is that: man can no longer play monopoly
with the medium, or indeed he can:
nuance layered upon nuance layered upon
insinuation, layered upon metaphor,
layered upon non-literalism, layered upon
literalism, layered upon pun, layered upon
abstract, layered upon fear, layered upon
politics, correct?
by the allotropes of carbon!
to the times when one could say one thing and
one thing only and feel a will toward something
being testimony of unequivocal thoughts!
at a time when not everyone practiced politics
on such a scale, or wasn't prescribed
a journalistic career on the sly,
when it fact: mere charity work.
life for life, word for word, deed for deed -
and to hell with human circumstance:
whether awe-struck, or awe-bound,
or as most can attest... neither.
now all is said, but nothing can be done -
for now the only thing being said
is a question of whether it be vogue
or ragged mops strewn
across a dark cupboard space -
as too the warm doughnuts and baguettes
on a Monday morning with headlines and
articles and opinion sections and photographs
and adverts... nothing more
than toilet paper already used
to wipe one's **** lying facedown in
a puddle on some street: by the afternoon.
perhaps this too be a melancholy art,
akin to the journalistic endeavour -
and perhaps both the hope in poetry as the hope
in journalism: is for at least a single
memorable day to be nothing but a sabbath.
could this world ever envision a media sabbath?
probably not... as this poem suggests...
and another, and another... and...
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
How exciting it is to experience new love,
and all that it encompases.
Each direction sustained with inconceivable ending,
oh, how fast the time passes.
Such a rush of ecstasy,
every simple token a reminder.
You cherish every amorous musical tune,
every lyric just seems much kinder.
For the fortunate their passion perseveres,
the unfortunate it's not so simple.
Loss of a love can be debilitating,
flames snuffed out..so hard to rekindle.
Every song is now a painful reminder,
of the could have..should have...would haves.
The map of your lives you laid out,
now off to different paths.
You tell yourself to be strong,
your heart will always heal.
Eventually you will move on,
Time is what it takes to survive the ordeal.
For the unlucky souls that must endure,
the ending is not so clearly in sight.
Intentions just cannot be followed with action,
absolutely nothing feels right.
Some are jaded for eternity,
never finding solace in love anew.
While the fortunate survivors in the battle of love,
find others to pursue.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC