"encryptions" poems
I've been writing of hopes and dreams
Seeking happiness from this life takings
Who is it meant for you're wondering
Is it for me or for the general viewing
Or am I reaching out too short within
Till you forget your very own living
I'm a fool fulfilling inquest of a portrayer
Illusions to soothe the eye of the betrayer
Creating encryptions lock to every scribbles
Even a space I can spare no farther
Lets just **** this rhythm and blues
Death is inevitably thats what i conclude
Now let me make this clear and true
Only through my poems you'll find the clues
But don't be mad if you get confused
For we are twins alike I hint you
Maybe through my riddles you'll produced
Or you could just give up its your calling too
For the end of the day eventually you will
Spent your nights stuck on your own puzzle too
©2014 Maman Screams
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
If you knew I had you figured out,
you might cease to be.
I see through your encryptions now.
It came so easily.
You're as rare as a Garganey,
but speak in Parakeet.
You're flightless like the Dodo bird,
but, like a Nightingale, you sing.
I thought I saw your body washing
up and down the beach.
Instead I must have seen your ghost
doing a dance for me.
I can't say that I've seen your face.
It remains a mystery.
The next time that you show your face,
I hope that you show me.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 1:00 AM UTC
Day by day,
night by night,
such a cliche opening;
I hate it.
Usually,
I can sit & write unbounded
but recently my brain's been
cleaved into microscopic encryptions.
It seems almost impossible to
...elucidate my mental paradigm
...or maybe to accept it?
Sometimes...
I find myself
yearning to write about nature
but then I begin to cogitate on
how aesthetic nature is.
Trees and flowers.
*"You and me.
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
..under the trees.
R-O-L-L-I-N-G
...in the flowers.
You and me."*
****
Don't get things misconstrued,
I just love,
writing about love.
There's a girl I've never met
but mentally it feels like,
we share telepathy.
I feel like
...within the distance between us,
there's this distinctive cryptic aura
and I yearn to decrypt it.
****
...told you I just love writing about love.
Ironically though,
I'm far from ready for it.
-d.b.d.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
Finding the key
For an abstruse lock
Ominous thoughts
The ticking clock
Reading hieroglyphs
Deciphering riddles
Unraveling codes
Enigmas and puzzles
Extracting secrets
Keeping them secure
Protecting what's hidden
Just to assure
Translating and decoding
Your heart's encryptions
All in an attempt
To make me your decision
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
my finger tips bleed for you
pouring out confessions
blackmailed by my betraying heart
sscraping your leftovers closer,
hoping you can see through the
bright lights and encryptions
that the vicious remains of our love
still circles like a vulture
and I, so desperate to be tasted
offer to you in this mangled mess of loveliness
my soul scratched in wretched gliphs for an endless time
in a language that could only be deciphered by your cruel love.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
I have seen God
in the cool of the day she takes deiform time and again
the second coming of Nefertiti is upon us
and she has done nothing less than conquer my mind and overthrow the control center inside of my head
she is reconstructing the constellations that I have grown used to
I find myself believing in things I’ve never seen before
The wonders of the world ponder about her 7 times a day
My eyes are soothed by such a golden aura
Her positive vibes draw me closer
Her transparency has me made a believer
I long to study this queen I've searched through scrolls, decoded encryptions but still only one thing is clear
I have seen God
and I have given serious thought to changing religion
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
Sentient street,
As we walk through the gates of sentience,
Like a child,I quirked my head,
Left~right and back with innocence,
To glimpse at their seemly slums;a nimble haul of dread,
Tucked me,as I gander the miscellany artistry,
The winsome combs on their chambers,
By builders and framers,
For all;but the aesthetics I knew belonged to the affluent,
An erudition I needed not to imbibe as a student,
Oblivious of myself;I spotted their melancholic eyes in their inscriptions,
And read the histories and encryptions,
The stares they gave tremored my heart,
And tore the arteries apart,
My soul wept for their bereavement but tears was deficit in my eyes,
As I march to the yard of his repose;I said"A journey we shall all embark"
Gawking at the annexation of other chambers,as grief berserks,
I got there,
I stood meters afar and stared,
As the priest blessed the yard;And prayed for his soul,
Conferring him into the bossom of his maker,
And instructing the digger afterwards;to dump him into the hole,
His folks quaker,
And bade him their farewell with flowers,
In their last hour,
But as they fetch sands and stones to wrap him,
In their faces I saw grim,
When the diggers spat and slapped;his coffin with stones and shovels,
For this has been their long awaited muscle,
And in deligence;they deliver,
"This journey I will embark too"I said,
As I stood in my shiver,
And withdrew and left in mopes.
Sentient Street
©Historian E.Lexano
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
I was always vaguely aware
Colour the sky and the wrinkles of time
Mother paints the wallpapers
Sweeps the leaves of yesterday
Sighing in the magnitude of endeavours
Everything seems so distant, forgotten
Nobody remembers it anymore
Chiselled and chapped like my lover's lips
Crawling in the dawns of their reveries
You have something that they need
It takes the gut, silence and dissipation
Grief or sanctuary in the aisles of light
Pay me a kiss or sparkle the sunshine
Exhaling nature in the voids of abyss
Joy of the times, in cream of sin we settle
Growth of the words and the dimming passion
The pacing of the trees have gotten louder and wider
Ash to azure and brazen in the forge
Within and without I miss you whenever
Encryptions and deception in the miles of my life.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 3:41 AM UTC
You see, I like putting things down
My desk remains as cluttered
as my confusing social dance card
so I'm always dropping something
Things have always felt clumsy
in my hands
rather
I have always found the act of holding
to be clumsy
A sentence structure
a train of thought
a plan, slippery
Even now, it feels better
to lean over the notebook laying open
on my stomach level bed and
simply spill
these insecurities
and analytic gratuities
onto the page
rather than house their possibilities
for even one more second
And we both know
that as the ink dries on the page
it ***** all of the you out of the air
that otherwise would, and now again will, taste so stale
And I only said we both know
because that one sounds a lot better
with some backup
And maybe for the same reason
that I have never seen my father ask for directions
I feel much better knowing where I left the compass
than which way is north
And maybe for the same reason
that some things we talked about were never said
I feel like these messages can carry these encryptions
flimsy as they may be
But maybe they cannot.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
In a void
much deeper
lies the answer
Do not get stuck
down there,
you mustn't
instead
search for the
encryptions
writings on the wall
then climb up
from the fall
to bestow the wisdom
upon the others
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
All I want to do is good...
But at every turn I take
It seems its always a mistake
Even when I'm right
it seems I'm wrong
The words I use never come out straight
I talk in circles and encryptions
That no one understands
Not even me.
I can't tell you how I feel
Not because its not real
But the reason is,
You wouldn't understand
Because I don't understand
why my head is in my hands
I don't know how to say,
How I feel,
I don't know how to portray
With words
Whats in my heart
Whats in my mind
You can search
But I don't know what you'll find
We are really in a bind
Blaming ourselves for the others pain
Are we both blind
Well
Its not you
Its purely me in my problem
Though you'll find a way to blame yourself
No matter what I do, I blame myself
For not helping, or doing more
When I've done all I can
If I'm not helping I am hurting
You have said this yourself
What would you say to me if I said it back
It wouldn't matter now
Because it wouldn't be applied
I can say to you,
Then you turn around and say to me
But the both of us are stuck in a circle
and we are going round and round or so it seems
and we both ar blind to ourselves
we only see the bad
we don't see all we have
we don't take our own advice
.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
For the traffic in my head
I wait.
Encryptions take time
to gaze at traces
rhyme with sound.
Make on Earth you
see through crime
you
way with words
spend all the howl listening
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
life had become a yellow-pages phone-book, a directory of names and numbers i'll never need but still keep around,
flipping through pages in hopes of finding what i was searching for, but finding the unknown places i never knew existed, like "Cartridge World" and "Indian Kitchen"
and the numbers that used to mean so much to find, mean nothing in no time, and i'm left with millions of area-codes and combinations of numbers that become encryptions, like the people i couldn't seem to figure out, or the ones that hung up the phone without saying goodbye,
life sounded like the leafing through pages and dialing numbers, the phone-lines and the voicemails, waiting for people to pick up the phone, and leaving messages in hopes of a call back, and listening to voices that radiate warmth one moment but turn cold the next, fearing every single dial will be a wrong number, and i'll never get connected to the right call.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:54 AM UTC
I’m done with the sun
I’m done with the stars
I’m done with all this falling apart
It’s not something either of us intended
But it happened with loves subtle encryptions
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 2:56 AM UTC
it's truly copernican,
a bit like shaking hands
with buzz aldrin: what's west of the moon?
you do a two-point four with your hands,
and get... very ******* confused...
typing this? moles -
i'm ******* tunneling,
i'm building trenches, i'm thinking of
a border... poles and huns...
czechs and slovaks in between;
no, but it's funnier than that...
it's a very rare drinking game...
it's copernican in a sense...
x left right right left
left right left right right left right left?!
and then
=
up down? down up?
down up down up? up down up down?
and then we're... level.
or up (levelled up;
rather than levelled down).
this is the basis for wording "things" against
the basis for hand-language...
it's hardly about braille -
so... what do the feet do? how about i tap-dance
sign language?
but take into context the encryptions
x & =
left right up down (n
right left centre e
down up w
s).
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC