"evermoving" poems
Twisting tendrils of realization
Run through my evermoving mind
Up unto the age of eighteen
I abhorred alliteration
The seemingly simple
Style showed, I thought
An easy way of writing
Whatever
Just finding fitting words
With meanings matching.
Untill I read The Raven
Poe penned what is
I think, the epitome
Of epic poems
All while writing, in a weirdly
Woven way
A story of love lost
Of wishing gone awry
So since then I sometimes
Try to match "my" master
And in writing wishes
With no reasonable rhyme
I uncover my understanding
Of my own simplistic stupidity
But beside that also, always,
Of how beautiful a language loved
Can be.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 5:29 AM UTC
A shoeless man aboard an expedition into the unknown
With overgrown nails bathing in warmth,
Grasping a primordial camera, searching for focus
Amidst an evermoving piece of land,
Restricted to the callous one meter pane -
All that he could ever call his own.
Cautious gazing intertwined with
Tapping feet and unkempt hair.
As a poisonous addiction engulfs the air
Of which he thinks he can breathe no more
One last breath for the journey Home.
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 9:16 AM UTC
I've thought a lot about it
enough time to pass
the melodramatic fits of passion
I house regularly in this skin of mine
That maybe the end of the world isn't at my door step
and that maybe I can live without your mahonany eyes, yet
I feel a yearnful pull to the softly spoken words
you renounce
Maybe it really wasn't meant to be
And I wasn't meant to be devinely yours
your one and only love for all of my life
I was only 14 when I loved you and
I coersed my own mind to belive that I would only have one love
like that in my life
This realization has felt like
Maybe I have grown
Maybe my girlish teenage mind has began to see reality
Like Messieurs les enfants
born yesterday but grown the next
overnight I lost the child version of myself
to the evermoving trail of time
or maybe I can just feel my prefrontal cortex developing
May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 11:08 AM UTC
it’s in the way
you move
seemingly soothed
by repetitive motion
flowing
from the notion
that everything is evermoving
nothing is ever still
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
Fiction is such a welcome lie
Under an indifferent sky
Pictures are soaking up the night
Put up some omnipresent light
Not unlike describing colors
Not seeing further anymore
As Time without interruption
Pulls new days back into action
People are the last of their kind
Raise some incoherent hivemind
Mouses all runing down the maze
Moved on by an insolent blaze
There is a place above nothing
Where one could outdo anything
Mountains around just got steeper
Pick at the contextual blur
Fortune seeks only the living
Pulling some omnipotent string
No other task ever given
Courses of fate interwoven
Guiding stray fish out of the sea
An unconscious conspiracy
In disingenuous fanfares
Lets you remember something cares
We've seen it all and we're livid
The illusion is so vivid
Beneath inconsiderate stares
Through such superior softwares
Almighty, calm and innocent
The world always gets its consent
In due blissful incompetence
Adrift yet always on the fence
Amid evermoving edges
In fantasy and in pages
Looking for a new way to find
Another path to nevermind
We call for the puppet master
And Time couldn't go on faster
On teaching us to get a clue
That nothing else that it is true
The tolerance has grown stronger
We could go on for much longer
Through an antidepressant screen
Reliving the anthropocene
Keep on rekindling the fire
Find the end of the quagmire
Drowning existential distress
Alone with anybody's guess
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 12:39 PM UTC