"engraves" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Organic has touch,
Metal outlasts.
Organic has sound,
Metal just echoes.
Organic has cushion,
For emotions within.
Metal stays strong,
Can take the toughest hits.
Organic has taste,
Depending what it ate.
Metal vibrates,
To try to imitate.
Organic has colors,
Metal has paint.
Organic forgets,
Metal just waits.
Organic fades,
Metal floats in gray.
Organic needs air,
To sustain health.
But Metal stays,
Right near our chests.
Organic craves,
As Metal engraves.
Organic understands,
Metal just learns.
Organic has a name,
Metal has a brand.
But for some reason,
Found more in our hands.
Keep organic close,
And to metal stand.
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
corrupt me--
through judgement
slicing through my
naked flesh,
and expensive
machinery
around my neck;
remind me--
of every insecurity
until it engraves into
my conscience
and scars blur hope
the future brings.
defeat me--
for I am small;
vulnerable and a prisoner
to those words
stamped onto my arched neck
with your shoe.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact
For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul
Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence
Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
Black lake reflects a trail of ivory plumes,
Cockatiel's alabaster tail of feathers.
Such loveliness can only be the moon's,
Which skinny-dips in lunar altogethers.
Raccoons catch fish along the shore,
Fastidious paws clutching their prizes.
She paddles her canoe with silent oar,
Observing nature's soft nocturne disguises.
Silhouetted loons rock low upon the waves,
Asleep till sunlight sets them to their songs.
Her wake bisects the path the moon engraves,
As wilderness whispers tranquilly she belongs.
She'll stay the night foregoing comfort fire,
Moonlight enough by which to pitch a tent.
And come tomorrow should anyone inquire,
No trace reveals her overnight encampment.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 5:23 PM UTC
Why don't you just **** me
Break a bone and thrill me
Let go of the night
Cut stones with your might
Carve a face in the moon
Remind the word of monsoon
Tears of the rain
Address of a name
Hands of pain
Strangles insane
And you wonder again
If you can take a leap of faith
And the bed breaks
From all the riding you do
Staring into the mirrors
Never could find you
Gunpowder smells sweet
Knives don't bleed
And scars you keep
To remind you to weep
The clawed beast leaps
And hurts you in the eye
With his shiny paws
He engraves a smile
And now you smile
No need for a mask
Crystal ball shows the past
With your life you're charged
Soldiers march
On the order of the king
A nightingale sings
Waiting for spring
It's killed by the beast
Winter it brings
Deaf can see the pain
Hands feel the sunrise
Ocean drowns self
Tears can cry
Time talks to gravity
Learn a few moves
Disturbed and disfigured
With every blue moon
Frog yearns for a princess
His story to complete
But a scorpion waits
A lizard competes
Warmth of heart
Coldness of eyes
Princess strangled
Ugly paid the price
Snake catches a mice
He's hungry no more
Vulture eats the snake
Natures a *****
Can you find the key
Maybe there's no door
Young yells existence
Old sings the Lore
A hollowed heart
Left to suffer and die
Erased of gods existence
Angels never said goodbye
Portrait of heaven
Hangs on the walls of hell
A part of my dream
Where lucifer fell
'tis where Satan dwells
And thirst never quells
Walks inside his cave
To hide inside his shell
Walk around naked
And show all of your scars
This night is so dark
Let's paint some stars
A faded moonlight
Brings alive our shadows
A unicorn bleeds and dies
Far away in the meadows
Waiting for a ******
In need of a master
with its last breath
Beauty is monster
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Your presence is crepuscular.
In my beating heart,
I feel muscular
When the twinkling starts.
Your infinite laughs
Absorb me like gravity.
Each humorous blast
Engraves the moons cavity.
Your ostentatious sense
Explodes like a super nova
With every chance,
But you're only my Casanova.
Your spirited eccentricity
Forces all into orbit
Causing the weather to become dusty
Taking my love from Mars to Jupiter.
I admire you as the sun,
Honoured to shine with your light.
Even as far as Pluto,
The sun would be bright.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
It's summer.
The season of love.
People search for love,
But some people become heartbroken.
Couples taking walks along the beach,
Sitting on the sand,
Staring at the lovely orange-pink sky,
Looking at the sunset.
Some people look for a summer fling,
But as long as they had a great time,
Not regretting it,
The memory engraves into you.
A few people go on holidays,
Finding their one true love,
But this summer love ends,
When autumn finds its way to interrupt summer.
No matter whether you're still a couple,
If it was just a summer fling,
Or you were left heartbroken,
It was still a once in a lifetime opportunity to fine love.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), bolt upright, uplight, reattach yourself to the liquid of the music,
soothe the irritation, slowdown the shaking hand,
give god or his creatures, the nocturnes and sonatas,
a chance to restore the pounding of the chest to a leveling
equanimity
to no avail, the sleep angels have fled from the
forest fires in the chest, and the helicopters must quench
with the commence of dropping clouds of wet words,
when, when will I be released from a life that has no
easements
words, words, words but another drug, a habit that gives
everything but a temporary state, every poem nothing but
another her, another lady puncture in my restless body,
another juncture, where all your choices are the way of
error
the high will last, shorter each one, but the track will exist
for all the time, a token of human foolishness, the more is
the inevitability of the ending, writ, drawn a little closer,
and comes with a hand written spongy-apology begging for
existing
in his notes, motes, dust mites of titles, single verses,
elegies, essays half written, passing thots claiming to
want to be wannabes, this appears and it's a perfect
ending
there is no security in poetry, only the unresolvable
man in his perfect certainty, never was, nevermore, n'ere will be never, and one poet walks a razor's edge, that is his three tenses struggling for mutual coexistence, one of
a calming beauty, a dark glory, a perfect closing, choosing
a final solution, a belief in relief, that simultaneously
engraves, erases, and
equates
another new poem fissures to the surface, and the palpable
is a magician's illusion, a trick, a feat of dismemberment,
an excise of a piece, a drink, a Tennessee whiskey of him,
an emission that never gains remission status, all this fakery,
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug),
excellent, worthless and self-
effacing
{|||}
3:48am-5:46am
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC
The
Drowsy dews
Engraves your name
Boldly amid the thorns of chilled~roses
■
So
Twerk nobly
And roll the blue pigeons
In me for trophies
■
But then
Let's marry together our lips
But to share,a sweet reverend kiss
And tune these red~roses blanch
■
Feel
The stars move
Roundabout my head
And together let's hold the rainbow
Splendour by sight
■
Toll
My hands
For every tender touch
But then,fathom deeply all the blush in me
■
Wrangle
Vanilla your arms around my neck
And rouse me to fear
But jocund,when I look into your eyes
Yet,impregnate me with your celestial desires
■
Civility!
You
Make me wonder
How you solemn calm my sighs
Of which haste in pants
■
Indeed
You are a sober tigeress
Misspoke of your elegant prowl
■
But now
Turn off the lights
And loft me the ranks
Of melting naked incense
And let's depart with a serene~peace
Beginners
©Historian E.Lexano
historianelexano.wordpress.com
Please kindly share
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
Ice sleet and rain
Oceania swift Ballerina
Doesn't ever complain
Sea shells swirls
Turquiose pool lips subtle
By sand count me Inn sea
A message wine bottle
Two souls million
light years
Star* fish wand of mermaids
Newlywed beds happy lad
A fan of tails what curls
OH! Oceania lips
It's a girl!!
Cherubs shy and fickle
"OH! hiccups to tackle better
Wishng well weather do tell
Whether or not together"
Rain drop eyes to lips stain
Driftwood the sea ladies
Hi! gents social events
Sticks and stones wont
break her baby cakes
Words high lakes of birds
On the wire smart phone
Lips swim I-Tune him
Internet surfer
Mansions of mind drifter
Oceania chapped lips
The secret spy gulp
Sailors wave they need help
Nothing but blue skies
OH! you got the tools
By land our lips engraves
the heart of rocks
Oceania sea writing goods
is how you hooked me
Eyes of the sweet rebels
the sea castle
Once upon a fairytale
"Robin Hoods" cobblestone streets
Water adventurer blazng heats
Lets ocean down the kiss of sweets
Do you get my drift fishing buddies
Words like buds weepiing willow
Evergreen shadow swim further
Don't start difting from
Sea space red breast Robins
Lobster lovers say "Grace"
Home by the sea place
I miss Mother* and Father
Holidays never swim away
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 5:54 AM UTC
From clearest dark and silent night
A bolt does flash of searing light.
The thunderbolt engraves up high
A newborn star into the sky.
And as the healing rain falls down
To feed the pursuit of the crown,
At once it soothes our eternal grief:
We are to strive but never to achieve.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
I don't understand
the mechanics behind your forehead
Often I believe
that if I squint and crinkle the corners of my eyes
I can send beams through the wrinkles of your demise
that engraves itself above your confused brow.
Sometimes I think
that our creases look alike
But then I squint again
and notice the depth of mine
They fold over one another
and cover the other waves
keeping them hidden under
permanently engraved
Yours are shallow with age
and develop backwards
the Ben Button of faces
that with a whisper is always heard
So as my cracks get deeper
and my hair gets grayer
You will get younger with maturity
So as I squint and look for your machinary
I realize it is covered and protected
by your wise youth.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 5:37 PM UTC
What is a poem but a maze of powerful words
that only the poet can truly understand
What is a poet but a man
a pencil in his hand
with every word he engraves upon her skin
he is pulled further
and further in
lost he is no more
left at the mercy of her soul
forever adrift in his words
her words
her
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC
On the sofa.
On the carpet.
In the parking lot.
Out back in the dirt.
No one's looking, now.
She's on her knees
Heaving.
Face red with disbelief.
It's because they're all
Dead
But she's alive.
It's because they get to live.
Not her.
She's laminated,
Book-pressed to last,
And it's death.
Glossed pages, merely
Slides in lantern light
Without narration.
Monday slips into Friday
Without a sound
Or impress of color.
Yesterday was February
And tomorrow drags
Muddy footprints as it heads
Into next year.
It is not real.
so pour yourself into your works
build an immunity to it:
What we can feel.
The Dead don't bleed.
The dead Don't bleed.
The dead don't Bleed.
At the bar without heed.
Gulp down burning
Mouthfuls of amnesiac need.
The devil's in the music,
As it creeps across the floor.
But the Devil
(with a gold star from Sunday school)
Hasn’t got the power to hold a pin.
And nails go through.
And nails go through.
And he's surprised
Because they Do.
Scratch it out in the back as a
Quick bathroom rendezvous.
She can rid her self of
A gypsum heart and
Rinse it down the drain.
And he in the stall
Kills his rebellion
With sharp hands and sharper heart.
Holding frenzied permanent ink.
Every number he leaves,
And all the faces he defaces,
And every envy he engraves
Blossoms in tune with, complements
Her ecstatic criticisms against the stall.
Now I lay me down to sleep
It wasn't real enough to keep.
She ended it in love, with loving leap.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
The retired vaudevillian engraves his love's epitaph while eating caramelized clusters
The local sodomites huddle around and mourn outside the morgue
Waiting for the body of their **** to be handed over
They've given her body an overhaul
She looks more alive than when she was living
Hobnobbing with the well-to-do
The retired vaudevillian comes to collect the body of his deceased wife
He looks down at the sodomites
For their outlandish appearance and choice of employment has resulted in mistrust
"Oh my love, why couldn't you have been the driver instead of the passenger whose body was jettisoned into the air and smashed upon the asphalt?"
"She could do ten thousand breast strokes, paint masterpieces with one brush stroke"
The sodomites began to taunt the vaudevillian
Calling him washed up
He retorted back calling them toothless heathen ******
A mercenary was called to end the dispute outside of the morgue
He killed half of the sodomites and tasered the vaudevillian
The undertaker wheeled out the body bag on dolly
But he lost control, and the body went careening down the hill into a cloudy bay
The party of mourners grouped around the bay and watched the body float on to the afterlife
She left behind her has-been husband and her **** ******* cohorts
I bet she would have appreciated this little organized dime store wake
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Each line on your tiny palm
Engraves a moment of life
The sound of your first cry
The cut from your first fight
My dear, the wrinkles around your eyes
Are not from the gain of age
But from the years of smiling and laughter
They'll continue to pile through even the last stage
The whiteness of your hair
Is not the lost of your beautiful youth
It is the sky and heavens calling for you
Your weightless body is nearing the truth
Once you are gone, my dear
I'll remember not your age, but our times
Your smiles and wrinkles and supple skin
Is all a marker of your climb
Every step you took on this rotting Earth
Kept it one second from being destroyed
So when you can no longer walk and talk
My dear, this heart will be just an empty void
Longing for what once was
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
we witness things from our frame of minds
but we can never foresee what transpires next,
in view of the fact that life thoroughly shackles us
and takes our souls to the fathomless world.
people ought to seek for answers
though most of the time,
they go missing & empty handed
and will forever remain a mystery unsolved.
like events in our lives that manifests significantly
engraves marks, stains, and wounds of the past,
in a way our minds
would never cease to forget.
— g.c.
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
HEAVENLY LOVE
True passion is what you are
You set the stage for all to see,
Your love is full of power,
You have touched my heart from the very start,
You put your breath of life into my lungs,
You showed me the way to walk in your glories love,
the earth has many sand upon the land
where you had once stood;
your words are strong yet soft and sweet
easy for my soul to be at easy;
your love means everything to me my King,
my tears are at your feet;
my heart cries with joy in mind,
you are one of a kind;
you are the light that shines in my eyes,
I can hear the Devin song of all times
in an ancient rhyme;
while the angels fly around in the heavens
with your love and passion in their hearts,
their wings have your names engraves upon them;
death I know will be soon swallowed up by love;
many will fall into the darkness;
But, that is an old song that everyone on earth knows,
The harps are playing;
Angels are sing songs that no one is yet to master
But the Holy one that sets on his heavenly throne.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
My sandpaper sigh
Engraves a line
Into the rust of your tongue
I could've been someone
To you
Would have painted the skies blue
Baby blue
If you knew
Baby blue
Edging closer
You swing my way
I've got no chance
And nothing to say
But stay
Here for a while
Baby blue
But if only
You could see
My shadow crossing your path
It won't be the last
Baby blue
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
As a paddle breaks the glass like glare
Beneath the pine sweet hull,
A breeze shakes gently through the trees
and leaves behind a lull.
The shoreline brims with glistening green
As the sun pounds out its beat,
And reflects a drop of golden light,
As trembling ripples meet.
As peaceful as a memory
Of sweetened days and love,
A cloud with hidden meaning
stirs the blue above.
Remember, yes remember
This day that when it leaves
Engraves the magic images
Upon the soul that grieves.
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 11:23 AM UTC
She is an artist.
Her canvas is reality and her paintbrush is her words.
The possibilities are endless, her life is her creation.
She is everything, everywhere, constantly.
The better version of everyone, including herself.
Eager to impress, she creates art with her ability to believe and fabricate.
From nothing she can become anyone she chooses.
She draws herself onto places,
engraves her name into books and songs,
paints her face in other people’s memories,
cuts her name into other people’s tongues.
She is an artist and her art is truly unbelievable.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
~
of her are
countless stories told,
ancient face angelic;
some think she a
seductive mistress,
while some see none,
but lunar cold.
but others find
her gaze majestic;
never sleeping,
memories keeping,
always watching,
ever seeking... as the
world below unfolds.
eyes that
never turn aside,
her tidal draw,
that ne’er subsides;
and flows within,
her mother's pride;
for even when
we see her not,
unbroken gaze,
men's deeds engraves;
of ev'ry tribe,
the fateful scribe;
she the keeper
of this race!
~
post script.
*since childhood i have found the moon to be entrancing... both beautiful and mysterious. surely i am not alone in conjuring mystical theories and fantasied metaphors for our lovely lady above!*
as the ever watchful eye in the heavens above, do you, like me, wonder if just maybe it is she who metes out justice, who deals man's swift reward? and what if, just maybe, those who to our eye, seem to escape the consequence of their actions, who seem to skate along unscathed... what if their consequences are simply too great to unveil in this realm, and instead, she, the fateful, faithful scribe has rendered and reserved for them in the next, their recompense and just reward? i shudder to think of it!
~
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC