"engage" poems
Energy to speak
And breath to engage with you;
Not enough for math.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
As we exchange gentle kisses;
our bodies engage
lips graze her ribcage
her heart enclaves
and her chest caves
unto a soul encaged
beating with passion
and fueled by rage
it's more than just lust
it's the Passion we exchange.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
My mind is abuzz,
Like a hummingbird does.
It can't be still,
And it was my will
To make everything so,
Because how will I know
The outer limits of my essence
Without spiritual lessons?
Self-taught, fear not,
Happiness is sought
Through a curious burn.
The lessons I learn
From engaging my mind,
Is that I am not blind
To tuning into frequencies,
And avoiding delinquencies
With each new experience,
Learning to control delerience.
My inner being thirsts
For a gift labeled a curse.
I want to break these chains,
Be more than insane.
I want to be free
To be the real me.
Every great individual
Has ideas that are sensational.
So say what you will,
I will have these spiritual spills,
That shakes where I dwell,
And brings me out of my shell.
I have the right to engage
With my mind, uncaged.
Hummingbirds die
If they are caged inside.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
With a heavy sigh, I go to bed at night, laying down to finally rest,
Just to awake in my personal heaven, a realm of sweetness and bliss,
Flowers of all kinds, trees with angel trumpets bound to golden chain,
As the lilies are touched by a soft breeze, giving off their nice scent,
I spirit away to purely engage and sympathize with other but pure fury or the sadness which has been sealed within my heart since then,
Snowdrops and buttercups form a way to a single jasmine near a river of the purest water, which is alike a shining star, majesticly sparkling,
The sky is starlit, each in their orbit whilst the golden light of the sun still reaches through, warming my cold skin comfortingly, delicately,
Taking a seat I glance at what the table has presented before my eyes,
Sweets, with sour yet aromatised orange juice anda large cheesecake,
Then, suddenly, a single seagull draws near, weeping for affection,
Together with bunnies and bumblebees buzzing around the flowers,
Even now all the hummingbirds harmonise in a soft orchestra,
And no frightened creature cries, they draw together in happiness,
Yet I feel the absence of something which I hold very dear to me,
Because you my dear lover, remain as my sweetest dream
~ Umi
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
Do you remember how you stood there ?
When the sun had set and the afterglow started to fade, you stood proud, slightly upon the dusk, brilliantly, majestically yet so tiny,
You looked so lonely and helpless, as light faded into darkness,
Covering the world; a sweet blanket filled with many twinkling stars,
How impossible it seems to turn back, have you realized how you changed so drastically, my little sparkling friend over such little time?
Irrational the things hidden away by the night, no moon comes to rise
If you would realise, how this world really is, or the place you are being led, softly, gently, elegantly to stand would be like, what then ?
Have you changed because, you calmly, without having any knowledge fear the night and it's lingering, loitering darkness ?
The night is stained with illusions, keep your gaze up to the sky and follow another star, then surely you would be able to reach your goal,
When you engage in pure furies, the whereabouts of the heart remain undetermined, you just lose yourself within its wandering fragrance,
Because the world you had taken for granted collapsed into somber,
Collapsed into a dimmer more frightening state of undefined beauty,
Everything is far too late, impossible to return now, it has been decided that it maybe should have been so, a loitering darkness to be,
You are part of this world now, standing where you are don't you think that this sky, slumbering earth is as allure as nothing else ?
If it awakens your wish will become true and you will disappear by the sight of the daybreak, the sun takes over with her golden light,
The world you have forgotten will reappear then everything starts a new and maybe one day you too will understand, my dearest,
That the night is something very beautiful.
~ Umi
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
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Under an unending sky surrounded by flowers from ones own dream,
This is where I'd find rest.
An eternal rest for the dream yet remains endless and the night everlasting.
The world I see, feels so unreal, I wouldn't want to reopen my eyes.
If the possibility, the chance to never waking up when I have gone to find slumber tonight, it would certainly be alright.
A nightmare which is hunting me even whilst I am in full of my consciousness, a hell without rebirth,
The sunlight, simply out of reach, unable for my eyes to engage in it's warming, comforting, sweet grasp anymore, the moon shines bright.
Sound melts into silence, the city loses its colours yet the flowers remain, blooming in elegance, standing proud in the reflection of the sun's light which once again has overshined the twinkling stars.
Even if tomorrow were never to come,
I would not be able to care about it in any way possible.
For now just let me rest my eyes.
~ Umi
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC
"I wish to engage in many battles of the tongues with you, m'lady."
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
Recovery, Initially, is about knowing; Knowing that change is necessary,
Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be, About facing up to your fears and anxiety
Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready.
Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity
Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history
Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty
This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.
Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy, It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty.
It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity.
It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity
Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility.
There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community
Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery.
Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily
About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully
Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially
Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly.
Knowing that every day will, in reality, pose real threats for you in your recovery
But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
An introvert sees the world as it is,
deciding still, not to engage.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC
I speak the language of God
I speak Alleluyah and Amen!
I speak a perfect spoken word,
The language of poets and gifted men.
I speak fluent Norwegian
The language of the Norsk.
I was born a Liberian.
That took time and hard work.
I speak sound French
The language of French Guinea.
I speak it whenever I pray in church,
God blessed me there as a refugee.
I speak the English Language,
The universal language of business.
Wall Street used it to do damage,
Damages that caused the financial crisis.
I speak the hustle language,
The one adopted by hustlers.
This language I have used to engage,
All my challenges and troubles.
I speak a special creative language
The one spoken by writers and poets.
This language is so unique,
That it has produced many laureates.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©
1/8/2018
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
I sit there and know
That I could never
Engage myself in conversations
With these conundrums.
Those who are both human, and
Badly wrapped paper packages,
Filled with so much experience,
Brimming with knowledge which
Is rapidly fleeing through
The holes in the brown paper
Worn by time.
How can I speak to those
Who cannot hear my words in full
So that they must be talked to
Slowly, like
They are children
But that have been through so much
More than I
At the tender age of seventeen
Could even imagine.
How can I speak to these enigmas
Who keep asking me the same questions
But which I cannot talk to
Without being
Disrespectful
Not only towards them
But towards my future
Aged self, who will one day
Be in their position
And who I cannot imagine
Will want to be treated
Like a five year old
At the age of eighty five.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
Ladies on Water Street,
with coffee grounds
under your fingernails,
You are the reason
that I leave my bed before Ten
In the morning.
Some days I want to ask
if you’ve ever read Marquez
but I am far too shy and
you are far too
beautiful and
I think too much and
you are probably
Too Straight.
But while you are pouring that espresso:
Allow me (just this once)
To wade only ankle- deep.
Allow me (forgive me),
I know its marginalization;
You are a human and a person,
But I must give way to temptation:
let me engage in some
Innocent objectification
(an oxymoron, I'm aware),
as I sip an Americano
through dumb lips
and watch the little
movements of your hips.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
The world pours in.
I wake to my morning coffee.
The cream of that idle Tuesday,
The wakefulness of regret.
Flashbacks to appointments I would have missed,
had it not been for this stupor.
Mulling over what activity to engage in,
the clock strikes never-mind.
So I fall back into my sheets,
stomach churning from hunger I can't quail
and work I can't get.
Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 5:08 PM UTC
The dictatorship of our state is profound in its mass propaganda, where the discernment of individuals seeps into an eternal chasm of self-sacrifice on the altar of political conformity.
Let us actively withstand the passivity of our conventional hypocrisy as we engage with this ontological sleepwalk through sinister passageways of presumed social advancement.
In our age of grandiose moralistic eclecticism where imperatives abound, I burn incense and contemplate the cosmopolitan artificiality which lavishes abundant gifts upon our self-opinion.
Criminality is the result of discovery.
So, oh thorn in my flesh, cover those rancid corpses by the veil of popularity, gain and pleasure.
Subconscious social conditioning is the scourge of lustful appearance, don’t you think?
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
So often we associate love directly with pain.
We accuse it of causing us
Anguish
Damage
Misery.
Irrationally deciding
To never engage
With another being
On this deeper level again.
Convinced
We must avoid such harm.
But wait—
Is this merely a way
To justify the ways in which
We allow our feelings to hold the power?
Consume us
Confuse us and
Take complete control?
Strip down your hurt
Your anger and
Your bitterness.
You may see clearer
Recognizing
It is not the presence of love that is hurtful.
Rather
The absence of love
The loss of love
The misidentification of love
Igniting these feelings within.
Truth is,
When love is open
Honest
Pure and
Present
It is truly an invaluable treasure.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
Hidden in the ultraviolet,
Unseen by most yet to be forgotten by both heaven and hell,
Memories from the futures dawn, luxury of darkness,
Spin the wool and weave the fate, this world end's by my own hand,
Break loose of the lies and get lost within legendary illusions
A world so dark, the stars so blind an alluring form refuses to fall,
Rise, from the fire hell can't hold and is afraid of,
Spread the wings and soar beyond the scene, the art of demonicy
The holiest war is waged of what our hearts are made,
Do you nest in what you feel or have felt in this realm of devilry ?
After the mirror shows you all the truths you desire,
Deceived by your eyes, who do you want to trust ?
The last judgement ends with a long journey,
The nights luxury relies within my own hand, take it!
And maybe then, I will lead you to the light your heart cries out for.
After all, the love for it is for all to engage in.
~ Umi
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
A branch of the tree,
split of the yoke.
Bee of the mouth,
heart thus bespoke.
New year crisis of men,
fire works, fire, smoke.
I have heard The Calling,
-anguish of The Woman.
Tree
Branch
Bee
Christianity
Islam
Bee
"If You engage War and the spirit of the Lord is with you; then the wind of his spirit shall blow open the mouth of the Dragon bringing victory in order." *
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 10:02 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To achieve your ambition
Stop hoping and wishing
Voting is a mission
It’s like going fishing
No fish will you find
If you don’t cast your line
So drop your remote
And go out and vote
Your candidate
Might not win the debate
But let me clearly state
If you don’t participate
Then you abdicate
By not voting your choice
You lose your voice
And can never rejoice
Democracy demands
Having all hands
Both critics and fans
Despite their brands
Being involved
To get their problems solved
Things tend to revolve
So we’ll be absolved
Voting is a right
We could lose over night
Unless we unite
Stop being uptight
And stay engage in the fight
For which people died
Payed in blood or their hide
To not be denied
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
Poems need not be sad
Or angry or mad
With endless lines that go on and on and on and on and on about broken homes an broken hearts
And false starts
That painfully chart
The awkward writer
From darker to brighter...
No, instead they can start
With a poetry ****
Pure expression, release
Once out they bring peace
Just put words on a page
Don’t think, just engage
They don’t have to be long
And they don’t even have to be rhythmically strong
Short or ugly or loud,
Will do just fine, that’s allowed
As long as you write
With all of your might
Let go
Of the words
Let them flow!
Get rid of what’s stuck
In a head full of muck
Let them out and they’ll bake
You a metaphorical cake
That does what you need it to do
Even if it’s not good enough for a national poetry competition because the scansion’s all wrong
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
Blue eyes that are as encompassing as the ocean
Silk skin I wish to peruse and embrace
Skin that my lips lust to kiss
That my tongue lust to taste
The consequences for this adulterous heart I surely will pay
For it will do more than engage in intimate conversations it will manipulate my words
So my bare hands can caress your curves
Like an alcoholic in the bar I’ll never learn
This is not what love is
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
The rose is obsolete
but each petal ends in
an edge, the double facet
cementing the grooved
columns of air—The edge
cuts without cutting
meets—nothing—renews
itself in metal or porcelain—
whither? It ends—
But if it ends
the start is begun
so that to engage roses
becomes a geometry—
Sharper, neater, more cutting
figured in majolica—
the broken plate
glazed with a rose
Somewhere the sense
makes copper roses
steel roses—
The rose carried weight of love
but love is at an end—of roses
It is at the edge of the
petal that love waits
Crisp, worked to defeat
laboredness—fragile
plucked, moist, half-raised
cold, precise, touching
What
The place between the petal’s
edge and the
From the petal’s edge a line starts
that being of steel
infinitely fine, infinitely
rigid penetrates
the Milky Way
without contact—lifting
from it—neither hanging
nor pushing—
The fragility of the flower
unbruised
penetrates space
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Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.
From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.
When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug*
It notices everything.
In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.
What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.
Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.
Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.
But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!
Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.
Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.
Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!
*Jug- short for juggle.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC