"equating" poems
My smile
Once lost her beam.
To vices , the vicious and vile.
Her crown
Fell down
At once,to drown
Deep in the ocean blue
My lips expelled
Dangers and woes.
My heart
Like my face spelt 'red'.
Words weighed void, equating emptiness.
Darkness
Darkened darkness.
Wars
Rumoured wars
Could not revive her.
Lost in the dust...
My smile
Had no chance of survival
Till I rose
To praise the beauty
Of the morning sun.
It's scattered reflection on and on.
To see
The wetness underneath my feet
An evidence
Of the rain being
Blessings from
A planet of many waters.
To hear
The sweet tweeting
Of little birds.
To see the wind swaying the heads of the trees
The beautiful petals of an emerging flower.
To behold
The fluffy royals
Floating in the skies.
The gorgeous setting
Of the morning
Into noon.
Then my crown
Resurrected
Banished, from the bottom
Of the sea.
Re-coronating my smile
No longer exiled to drown.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 7:05 AM UTC
i wanted to give you everything ,
and ended up giving you myself
instead —
and i
called it giving myself up the only way i knew how ..
with
little wounds you can’t even sew shut,
but
id say you didn’t even try.
.
words can mean so much,
and still you zipped your lips tight —
and decided ,,
that love is simply ***
you forget me, equating me to some image of
me,
a dead body —
and
leave me to burn , like when i cried all
those
little rivers
that you did not even see ...
guess you’ll just have to be locked up,
with the rest of them
wondering why —
like most people do,
why is she so angry?
still,
your punishment
will be torture,
and finally you’ll know —
just what i went through ,
for you
.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
A choice along one direction leads
to consequential choices based on quasi-essential needs.
And countless more directions;
some more pointless than they seem.
Each with unique-essential implications;
all random in their themes.
And when faced with new directions,
we all enjoy equating means.
There are sub-directions and sudden choices;
some with supplicatory pleas.
Yes, implication's long duration is an invisible machine.
A meta-physical motivation to a person and their genes.
Personally, my own choices corresponded
to these unlimited extremes.
To these tiny little time-transporters
that fit us into teams.
And I thought I'd reached a choice;
was on its corresponding way.
I followed down its passageways and subdomains
for consequential days.
And from the way that we all network,
I have come to the belief
that our decisions implicate
the parts that aggregate beneath.
Yes, every person has these combinations
aggregate throughout their lives.
And by the afore-mentioned complications,
They (eventually) divide to warring sides.
On one side is destruction;
On the other, love resides.
If you make the wrong decision
then these forces, they collide.
To catastrophic implications
and such damage done inside.
But if you're able to pause for just a moment
and hold them side-by-side.
You will find the sort of peace
that only finds those who have died.
And suddenly life becomes so simple;
no more chances need be applied.
Just one choice and two directions
Lie in front of your own eyes.
You feel quite amazing in
proportion to this fantastic new sensation.
As one choice takes you to destruction;
the other leads you to salvation.
It's the truest self-realization
and it's there for you to take it.
There's a chance of your damnation...
but, see, only you can make it.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
This is a torturous test
And I'm failing
In a state of unrest
So I'm flailing
And wailing
And bailing
On living
After constantly giving
And receiving nothing in return
Except extremely intense heartburn
To which there is no end I learn
So for peace my hopeless heart yearns
I want to sleep
In a streak
Of a week
For I'm meek
So I sink
Into drink
And drugs
Rolling on the rug
Looking for a plug
To stop my heart from leaking
And my eyes from peeking
At what I'm seeking
Because there lies only pain
That's a continuous rain
Growing like grain
Until I'm insane
Death is near
All my fears
What will happen before I die?
The question makes me cry
Will life be one big sigh?
I wonder why I even try
The waiting
Is grating
Equating
To deflating
So I become the nice guy
In the lonely night sky
Avoiding brutal daylight
For it's another day's fight
The most unsightly sight
Illuminated by the sun
Shooting rays like a gun
Until I see I'm the only one
I realize if I'm blind I can run
So I cut out my eyes
To ignore all the lies
And the carrion flies
In this giant pig sty
On an odyssey like Homer's
My mouth starts to foam over
Searching for a four-leaf clover
But only finding allergies
Which is this year's salary
In this dismal shooting gallery
Where I'll watch bullets fly
Until the day I die
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
i'm bored of love, and bored of loving you, equating it all with cats and Carthage... whatever... something meowed something stressed a sound requiring a human artefact; yawn.
a six pack never made a difference
anyway, tiresome Ibiza
either; so fatty ooh ooh
and the required hash tag
worth of Soho,
so the **** fits a king-sized bed
puff-up of cushions.
well, let's face it, a completely detached,
Sri Lanka
Orff Corfu, twang twang Haiti!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
I'm equating my self
worth with beauty, with
how often my phone
lights up or how often
it doesn't, how smooth
my shoulders are, and
wouldn't someone care
to kiss me?
I'd rather base
myself on much
more.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
If the stars are just a doorway to lifetimes that could've been,
I suppose I'm hoping a night like this never ends.
Where I've found myself in your embrace,
gazing lovingly into graceful eyes-- you and your
words, lips, & promises.
Time may sour hope,
but it proceeds to season love.
I suppose-
the sweetest would be this temptation.
If you ever dare say those five words
longingly I've yearned for--
to come out of the pome mouth of your's,
clothed in the darkness
but illuminated by the basking moonlit night.
Say them,
say them.
So resonant the sky is given light:
"I'll never let you go."
& infinities are far longer than promises,
your voice so vigorous, so dignified.
Garishly-
as I awake the next morning
the corrosion of my ear's occurs
while your proposal came across as thunderous roars
upon vast skies and growing grounds;
the salt of the earth is mixed with the rain.
Children can sing, can rejoice
in this reassurance--
today and tomorrow shall not be forecasted with any pain,
we're in the same hours.
Hold me closely,
that if the Rapture were to take us
mislead;
equating how pure our love had been.
we will only be garbed in what is our redemption
wholesome & good- willed
I would rip through the edges of every cosmos
to perceive where this would take us again- and again.
As fate would have it,
In every universal tear
we are
together always
A backwards code
never to be deciphered
perhaps, not in words
but in tone and more importantly
in a ribbon wrapped song
A song of us—
crossing oceans and aging old,
but if not love and cherishing one another
was it not worth our weight in gold,
as we are richer than one man
together you & I.
held close,
hand in hand.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
Bow down to the kings of fact evasion
evading the truth on every occasion
occasional lies put into the equation
equating to a killing persuasion
persuading others to join the foundation
founded on this murdering fixation
fixated on their own classification
classified as private information
informed minds can be more productive
producing a way that is less obstructive
obstruction stopped by thoughts constructive
construction of the less destructive
Last word must be used in a different form for the first word in the next line.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
Peaceful minds put at ease,
hearts encased with love,
pain hides in the depths of bodies,
cold to touch.
The hate is irrelevant,
her thoughts no longer include me,
I am cast aside,
my feelings now mean nothing.
but she is still so beautiful,
I feel encapsulated in her presence,
I love her so purely,
so simply.
She loved me once,
in another fleeting world,
but I was deluded,
she used me for a time.
She pushed me away when it suited her,
now i'm broken,
it hurts to even look at her,
I am finished.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
There are crafts of countless drafts on this blank page,
accounts of my days of happiness or rage are on this blank page,
hinted goals and affirmations are blueprinted on this blank page,
look and you shall find that my mind roars it's thoughts unfiltered on this blank page,
Behold a story begins to unfold on this blank page.
Ink jives it's hips, thrives in it's own motions and clicks it's fingers in rhythm to the writers melody that lingers,
In order to transcribe what you're trying to describe to the mass of one or many on this blank page,
Sentences are redacted,
subtracted from the line of sight equating to something that now means nothing,
Why?
It could be a mistake,
a misfire of the message I attempted to make,
thinking I had it locked and loaded,
Ready to shoot it across this blank page,
Or...
It could be that I find it unnecessary to reveal deep parts of me,
So...
I become hell bent on destroying any trace that may possibly leave my scent in this blank page,
The land of doodles,
far and wide is it's reach,
with the population consisting of ...
stick-mankind,
Talking poodles,
Confetti filled with noodles,
Whatever you can think of is there in this blank page.
On this blank page I stare deep into it's void and wonder....
What shall we do today ?
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 4:38 AM UTC
#***Science
Teaches laws of motion
Logic - Reasoning
Application of the same
Balancing the equations
Life
Teaches laws of emotions
The correlation
Naivety - Clarity
Blurring lines
Reverse engineering
Balancing the emotions***#
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
A love buried in the depth of the earth
skipping the grave that can be lit up
and the bottom of the sea
water billows out of this abyss
netting the eyeballs of the sky.
Then the bottom of the night
was skipped likewise.
Taring the shades of black
there the moon rolls out
in the enchanting half-light.
So it had to be tucked away
only at the bottom of the earth.
Everything the all-inclusive pi
could pop up from that safe womb there
that carries the weight of the matters
but never shows up an equating pattern!
The nightingale scurries to the red rose
bubbling on the morning tessera
as if it mined out the treasure of the earth!
Oh it doesn't seem to be the only one scorer
upon the rose a mirror is up in the sky
‘Love’ is in the eyes of the sun!
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 10:54 AM UTC
In sheets and stone
presently wrapped up
nice and tightly tucked in:
A close embrace
of the earth
Play mountain- with the
hill a slide- the slide
a hill and the swing
Drawn up on all corners:
the equating shift
of gravity and the
aesthetic
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
My false peace I’m emanating
I find myself closely equating
To your first time in acid rain
Refreshing then you learn the pain
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
I'm going insane all over again.
And I can't stand my heart in my throat or the fluid perched precariously on my eyelashes, daring me to blink.
It's that time of year when everything comes together, but it's not happening yet.
You're not happening yet.
At least, not to me.
And she's happening to someone else when a year ago she was happening to me, back when everything made sense.
Back when she made sense.
Spring is a time for rejuvenation.
But the only rejuvenation is to old memories, bringing them back to life with a ferocity equating my love for her (once upon a time).
Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
Woke up this morning and for a little while
Was confused as to why my eyes were bloodshot and hurting
Gingerly prodded to assess the damages, deemed workable
And then I remembered
My cheek pressed into the carpet
Riding a seemingly endless flow, mouth
Twisted open and eyes shut
It was the watch that got me
It felt like the equating of sides, the returning of possessions
And then the door. I hate the door.
When I heard it close, I lost it
Forced myself to remain composed until I could escape upstairs
And let loose.
Jun 16, 2011
Jun 16, 2011 at 6:08 AM UTC
Your father told you that a boy of his stature will only see the way your eyes blink and not look at the galaxies within your irises.
Your mother has always said that your life has to be like the linens in the drawer; bought, used, washed, dried then used again.
Your Math teacher was adamant on equating your worth to a quadratic equation with only two variables; tears and blood.
But you told her that her equations were nothing compared to the way his hands held your face like you were as fragile as woven silk.
Your English teacher once recited a verse to you the way your high priest knelt by the flames but all you heard was a humdrum murmur.
But your art teacher... She could name every tone and shade yet she taught you to confine yourself to primary colours all through life.
Your best friend kept your feet on the ground while your worries flew over you but they couldn't understand the heaviness of that morose feeling in your chest.
Your lover stood by you until the only darkness he could see was his own and yours began to ebb away under the moonlight. He told you that being around you damaged his fragile frame of mind for he could no longer look you in the eye and tell you he loved the way yours were starting to sparkle.
And he was the last one.
He was the last bit of your heart rotting in the dusty corner of a forgotten picture frame in an abandoned hall of memories.
For when you looked at his picture one last time, you flung yourself into the air hoping the water would end things kinder than he.
The end.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
*i’ve just turned an umbrella into a skirt
(ok... a tiara)...
what the **** are you on about concerning
informal messaging when
all the postcards went missing?*
alt. title - song for the **** of a pin-up,
benny hill and the done exterior...
we all 'ad our glad tidings... few remembered
the tide, let alone the waves....
or so student fee bargains said: be it told.
scotch witches were greedy on the thought of it
becoming adventurous... english ones
gave it all up to paedophiles aged under 16 for ****
as always the welsh were kept sacred...
the heart of the prince the people were symbolised as...
so the commoners the roses and the ***** ***** equal...
among the dragons and saintly conquests
and longbow men in France the cut of fuck-off-fuck-you
of the index and middle equating a V... to you too!
i said something else, but got bored from writing it.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
watch'ah watch'ah want? giggles?
you got them... trans-gender males allowing
civil partnerships and all the loss of a taboo prodigy...
the other side of the spectrum you have feminism gorging
on the catwalk motto of 0... yep, with trans-gender males
getting licorice stuffed pillows you deem to call *******
funny thing... those exfoliating breathing apparatus items ****
i forgot the plural, and yes, correct, ascribing
a quality to the **** word, moor adjectives with a sunset)
pairs... now you have feminism on steroids
with girl bodies too taboo for ******
and too into-it with muscular ***** wanks
when fat was **** in painting and
breast-feeding... so one spectrum-end (dual zenith-nadir,
you choose) gets implants...
the other works out with Arnie for a flat
muscular chest that could breast-feed
a tapeworm... but hey! our politics is
a solid ace in poker... we better export this
**** to the middle east and laugh about it...
but i tell you... too prolonged the pyramids'
influence on this region,
had god interfered in the Aztec geography
we'd see no dodo right now
(inclusive of memory and memorable recounts
of the Galapagos shortcrust debriefing
in historical terminology suddenly
inspected suddenly lost
for want of cure so that history isn't
just a deja vu - hubris Gemini hatching
in a tetragrammaton)...
buggers are really keen on proving the sudden
eclipse... that's the global aspect of the plague...
everyone cared for what happened with the sudden
churn of wanting sleep...
and the greatest modern pathos? insomnia...
it's the great utopian counter -
or a lack of interpreting dreams, equating to
"life is meaningless".
lack of freud to be exact, as in:
the only hierarchy in theory is a hierarchic
stance on applicability being vogue -
everything else is hushed or broomed or ushered
into Hades so that utopia is a sinking ship
like Pompeii or Atlantis (Thomas Moore -
or should i write Thomas Morse? cradle for the
blind, a book of Braille for the sight-able
hell-bent to make bureaucracy of obstructions
in a game of noughts and crosses in the playground).
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
It starts softly
the gentle pluck of a string
that hums upon its own vibration
equating all to a note, a sound
Then flows softly upon the air
to tantalize the ear, awaken the mind
and sometimes deeper beyond compare
it touches the heart, romances the soul
Into its vibrant beauty
Consuming all to grace.
It is here I found you
in the soft recesses of your voice
that sang so deeply within me
awakened a heart to pump and drive
the mind to dream again and sing
such it is, when words and voice
equate to the resounding depth within
and hushes all to the profound moment
That love finally bears its coat
And walks humbly before the eyes.
Its in the whispers of nightly dreams,
we all bear them upon our midnight cries
that eternal want again to be
to come alive and feel the heart's great rapture
the souls desire to forever copulate its form
to the oneness that love so begs it be,
and here I hear the twilight winds
sweep clean and pure the fabrics of thought
where emotion drives fast and hard to tower through
Echoing its want, its need to be and feel.
I look deeply into your eyes
picture my universe anew
where sunsets and dawn stretch into an infinity
of promised dreams and future's bright comet's tail
that ever rings the value of your form here to me
and cries upon the tender most hopes
My hand in yours,
my soul bound and true
that love wakes that shuddering foundations of life
and allows its brilliance true its hue
Till lips touch
hands caress
and love sings it true melody of hope
That here now I see in you.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:14 AM UTC
You make me so giddy inside
nervous like
a warm runny egg.
You are so respectful
of boundaries
which has left me
wanting so much more.
You are a conundrum
always looking, looking, looking
at me causing blood to
flush my round cheeks.
I want to bone your firm ***
and make you ***
till kingdom come.
Cream your pants
and come undone.
You make me so churlish
all writhing inside with
a heavy licentious
attitude equating to
the silent space
between us where
nothing is said
and our eyes meet
but words seem to
stick in my
tarnished throat
choking up
on all those internal
sultry soliloquies
trapped tight
in my esophagus
wanting desperately
to venture forth
through tantalizing
whispers of the heart.
And somehow
I break through
that anxiety
and pour my soul
into your open arms
and you release me
making my fears dribble
out all over my pants and
all over my cheeks
in tears of joy.
You make me anxious
when I'm **** naked
and antsy like string beans
peeling their skins off
to reveal tiny round
little green seeds
not unlike peas.
You make my plant stems
and flowers engorge.
You make the sunlight
within me adored.
You are so kind and careful
by the way you carry
yourself full of warmth
and confidence and balance
and I feel an inability to express these physical desires seeming
endless in their tidings.
I always seem to keep my
****** secrets to myself
because they are bottomless
and embarrassing beyond belief.
But your words seem to
release me and so finally
I can speak.
You are so open and sensual
by the way you observe me
and I find myself burning
alive inside
my guts all squirming
in loose knots
trying to unravel
these trivial thoughts.
Still wanting to leap
the distance and smother
you with wet kisses
my body is burdened
by natural urges.
These animal instincts
that venture on purges.
You make me so lascivious
by nothing of your
own accord
by the way you look and gaze
deeply into my eyes
for moments at a time
never ending
this joy is never ending
but secretly
I wish I could open you up
enough to hear your
******** screaming.
I wish I could satisfy
your insatiable need
and be able to pleasure you
instead of you pleasuring me.
This relief is somehow firm
and I've done a lot of freeing.
I ache to see your face
aroused and flushed
by something I'm not seeing.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Innocent and inebriated.
In the dead of night she staggered.
Young at heart but intoxication excess had made her slightly haggard.
Emotionally charged with deep rooted scars upon her heavy heart.
Shadows clouding judgment her world had been torn apart.
No one knew her plight, her fight, the tragedy she'd faced.
Take the story one year back where the cause is easily traced.
Her little boy of five years old
Alfie was his name
Knocked down by a drunk
Killed stone cold
What an awful shame!
A downward spiral an empty house
The result of a mothers loss
Equating to another drunk
Who couldn't give a toss!
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
Finally found what was missing -
My heart poisoned by the greed;
I wake up each day and fight
To sustain my conquered fears.
(Stepping into the risk sets me free.)
Now, my wings have mended -
Can I soar above?
Feeling like the drips are hurting;
I'm shivering due to the drops
Equating into a wave that killed the crops.
Sit and just relax -
This water may wash the pain
Or maybe you should be
Sheltered from the **** rain.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC