"evokes" poems
I’m tired of hearing
the same things
“you’re amazing”
I don’t want to be told
I want to be shown
that I’m captivating
of your attention
that I’m worth your days
Words mean nothing
without the feeling
behind them
that evokes them
in the first place
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
Scattering sweet fragrance throughout soft air
Perfection at heaven’s finest
Remembrance paints one soul a flare
Calmly soothing
My unrest
Despite all the changes time has made
Sweet fragrance sings to me
In all my dreams a pleasing promenade
Evokes a kiss of
Fragrant potpourri
A medley dances within my senses fine
Of sweet nights with you
Scattering fragrance throughout my mind
Painting my soul
Anew
This sweet fragrance has no beginning
Each kiss begins endlessly
Dances within my senses softly awakening
This fire inside
So heavenly
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 2:39 AM UTC
Hello.
A turn of the head,
Lips parting in an easy smile,
And eyes,
Reaching up to meet you
Masterfully sizing my new opponent
While giving nothing away.
Secretly,
I let every sense indulge
In you. Each tiny receptor
Seeking your aura,
While images of
Conscious-losing pleasure
Flash casually
In my mind.
Outwardly,
Nothing has happened.
The energy undulating almost
Visibly between us—it must be
In your head.
You are granted no sign of my attraction,
No idea of the power you
Hold over me.
I give you no mercy.
I’m sorry darling, I know,
Teasing is cruel,
But very necessary, for nothing
Evokes sweet satisfaction like
A juicy bite of forbidden
Fruit, after lifetimes of
Starvation.
Without hesitation, I will deny you
Until you are weak, until
You overdose on desire and
Anticipation, for
I see who you are.
The universe has brought you to me,
To torture me, to
Challenge me. A worthy
Match against forces backed
By the Gods.
Together, we can soar to
The cascading highs
Of transcendent pleasure.
Challenge me.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
From my mute mouth pours the emotions and exaggerated feelings of a once precious time constraint love. From the peddle touch of your masculine being evokes the insurmountable lust to be touched more and more like the tease of a honey bee that passionately ***** and pollinates the delicate flower bud until it screams in the wave of the wind, but now left not so naïve and innocent I like the flower am left to bud and bloom without my once precious time constraint loved…
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
505
I would not paint—a picture—
I’d rather be the One
Its bright impossibility
To dwell—delicious—on—
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare—celestial—stir—
Evokes so sweet a Torment—
Such sumptuous—Despair—
I would not talk, like Cornets—
I’d rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings—
And out, and easy on—
Through Villages of Ether—
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal—
The pier to my Pontoon—
Nor would I be a Poet—
It’s finer—own the Ear—
Enamored—impotent—content—
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
5.6k
Your sun stroked fingers
smooth my dusted galaxies
spoiling orbiting blues
with swipes of stardust.
You kiss meteors, murmur
how you savored snippets
of Jupiter's moons in the
spaces of a poetic eclipse.
Adorning Saturn's rings
in your nebulous tombs,
rekindling your smile with
flames of lovers past.
The memory is still buried
within my core, a pounding
resonance that evokes the bloom
of summers kiss on Earth.
A welcome release for the
nights wandering stars.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Being invokes Form.
Form invokes Matter.
Matter invokes Mind.
Mind invokes Motion.
Motion evokes Hallucination.
Hallucination evokes Provocation.
Provocation evokes Dis-ease.
Dis-ease evokes Reconciliation.
Conciliation banishes Dis-ease.
Ease banishes Provocation.
Discernment banishes Hallucination.
Rest banishes Motion.
Stillness dispels Thought.
Concentration dispels Matter.
Formlessness dispels Phenomena.
Being alone Is.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Donald Trump's presidency
Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced
And Trump is a true artist
He takes words from the page
Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia
And brings them to life
Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly
Contrasting the blacks and whites
Emphasizing anger
While reminding us we're mere infants
In the digital age
And warning us of our seniority
And capitalism's
We all like to think life has meaning
Until we hit an animal with our car
Then that's just the way things are
And I'm staring at an absurdist painting
Of a child driving a car
Through a herd of sheep
As I watch a heist film
Where the robbers turn their guns over
To the mentally unstable guy in the group
Trump is a national artist
Placing riots on the map
And drawing infernos on the Internet
His art forces an opinion
Everybody has something to say about him
And it's all true
Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet
Tried to villainize him in their script
But he was already an anti-hero
The humor is that the mud slung onto him
Is dirt kicked up from his own tires
I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people
You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you
Trump's art is deeply conflicting
He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame
Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame
His insecurities remind me of myself
High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid
And I had secrets I wanted to share
But felt I couldn't
I learned things
That changed my entire perspective
And didn't think people would understand
Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions
I hid behind a boisterous personality
And a nonchalant attitude
Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong
When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities
To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection
The confliction of emotions
Is the hallmark of great art
We are all artists
The lines we write or the strokes we brush
Are in our actions
And Trump's canvas displays
A life filled with accomplishment
Inspiring me to live my own life
But I still wake up in cold sweats
From the American dream
That anybody can be president
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
I adore you
Not as a collector idolizes what's his to keep
You're beautiful
the cusp of your hills
leading to a shallow sink hole
just before the meadows
You're perfect
The circular masses
surrounded by pure white sand
Even when it rains
emotions gleam flawlessly
You're joy
Hide poorly your white city
Covered by soft rose gardens
That part
In a way that evokes happiness
Within me
I adore you
Not the way a collector
Idolizes what isn't his to keep
But as
A traveler...
Lost in another land
...finds himself.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
The artist evokes his tormented psyche
Through gestural abstraction
a systematic colorfield emerges
The blurring of dreamworld and reality
All pretensions dissolve
But…
Critics still criticize
Snobs still scoff
the creative will still drink and drug themselves the death.
whichever way the wind blows
that’s where my dreams escape me
They transform to Queens of Hearts and Princesses of utter
Royal
Baroque
Beauty
Bygone
Be Gone
my heart must resist
I will not be controlled by the guild
Caravaggio kept painting until he got killed
Went insane like most artists
Couldn’t stop before he got his fill
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Arriving in Japan
the clouds were
Sparse and peaceful,
all resting on the
invisible flat barrier
that divides earthy
from divine,
The sun set in
a deep orange glow,
changing the white
peaceful clouds to
powerful black shadows,
Behind the vista of Tokyo city
lay a pristine,
lone peak,
one that evokes
a specific wonder
in the simple form
of Triangle
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Two sparkle at xciting find.
Joy, relief, wishes flood our mind.
Reality numbed by ecstasy of find
Hardship, struggle, desires for now behind
Rightfulness of find, reality’s duality
Realization of self, fighting morality
The opportunity loss creates uncertainty.
The opportunity gain, creates possibility
How to capitalize on this potential
Designed improvements appear preferential
Decided, we proceed unconventional
We proceed like natural
Blades of diamonds remove the rough
Painstakingly disregarding, unwanted stuff
Transformation, tough
Mindful, not to lose a bough
Rough turn sparkle, every time
Faceted gem’s birth, sublime
Artistry creates, perfect rhyme
This treasure set in time
Most beautiful combination
This magnificent creation
Testament of devotion
Evokes amazing emotion
Bestowed, this incredible treasure
Brings about untold pleasure
Value, without measure
Diamond forever, ours to treasure
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
***A kiss evokes eloquent poetry
Each line recited in harmony
It’s a silent symphony of souls
Feelings sway in an ecstatic stupor
A new world becomes a reality
Where just two souls find abode
A poetry chronicled by the confluence
It’s a masterpiece***
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I close my eyes lost in thought
Trying so hard to breathe
Hoping that the fight in my head
Would slowly fade
I feel the churning in my stomach
The fire that evokes in my skin
Increase my heart beat
All because of my mind
Then I stand up and smile
A smile so made that no one notices
That the girl laughing and talking
Is a stranger and a great actress.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
I look at my hands as they shiver
All the cuts, scratches and scars
The dark freckle and small wound that make it seem as though I have stigmata
I've been crucified a time or two, but only in my head, no stakes through my hands
Looking at the mirror
Seeing my face
Seeing all the scars
But this time they don't mar my skin
I can see them on my tattered, stained soul
I can see it in my eyes
Other people see my eyes and it evokes a light feeling
All I can see is the dark hidden away
I wish I could see what they see instead
My laptop is open
I see people I like and love and hate posting about their lives
Making themselves seem significant
Despite the fact that they live ignorant lives
Living in the cloud city of dreams
Arguing over whose God is better
Arguing over whose politician will make the world a utopia
I suppose politicians are some people's real Gods
Posting about the latest trends
Trying to garner attention for nothing
As if a thousand "friends" liking a status really means anything at all
Work meeting this Sunday
I know what I'll see
Three idiots
Two bosses
One pseudo sister
One girl who shouldn't work there
One girl who should be mine, and everyone knows it
Two managers that I actually get along with
I'll see little notes scribbled with ******** compliments that everyone writes
"Great work on Sunday!"
"So glad you took care of that thing for me!"
Because apparently a thank you and a paycheck isn't good enough
They need to feed their egos
That's what matters to them
I look at my friends
Or the people who used to be called that
Now I talk to them once every few months
Plan to hang out every now and then
See them once a year
Normally on accident
They're total jerks anyways, so I don't mind
They're a living reminder that I need good people in my life
Good on ya, former friends
In my room I see my dog
The lazy ******* just sleeps on my bed
Halfway under my sheets
He's snoring
He's a good dog
I'll let him be
If only I could be like him
And sleep all day
Or like my former friends
And just not care
Or like that girl at work
And not realize we should be together
Or like the denizens of cloudville
And live an ignorant, happy life
But that would all be too easy
I like that I can see all these things
Things that they can't see
Except my empty bank account
I just won't look at that
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
**** bruh! call a bomb squad (bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d)
for there's a bomb—
—shell here, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t
unholy, wrong thought (wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght)
reminds him of a jihadi-done job (jihadi-done jo[ɑ]b)
'cause this bum's (boom) banging; this honey's dancing
boldly & lewdly, got his jaw dropped (ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped)
his sight's fixed on her hips, she's beyond hot (bey[ɑ]ond ho[ɑ]t)
this gal's freaking blazing
his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part
a haptic invasion
she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager
such a luscious body, killer figure (body)
disguised with a tank
top with a low neckline & tight-fit cropped pants
she's like: "make me high like a rooftO̲p nearly reaching
the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite
that I̲'ll be left speechless
when this ro[ɑ]mp's over"
she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter
blowing a brain of a **** hound wrongdoing
('bout time to strike a hunting seas-on up on these ****
she digs vicious, dark-sounding music
but also doesn't mind to bounce her tushie
to 90-100 bpm party-sound tunes
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
*I keep the treasure guarded,
in the fortress of my mind.
Shrouded from on-lookers;
protected from prying eyes.
It is not just an image,
or a photo,
so sublime.
It is a casket full of wonderment;
a jewel of womankind.
It evokes a feeling from me:
Rawness,
un-refined.
And it leads me to a place,
that others would gladly die,
to find.
I am humble in its presence,
and would never question the design,
for the treasure that I hold so dear,
is the thought that you are mine.*
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 4:09 AM UTC
Wailing walls, howling fences
Encaged and blocked by barriers
All smashed, sorted in security fence
Miles of humanity and flesh torn apart
Why is it that we can’t live together?
We bleed the same coagulating blood
Lined up and humiliated in alleyways
Paths of iron bars and imprisonment
My veins wringed, intensive torment
Mentally distracted, strained by grief
Settlement, conflicts and border struggles
Governance, religious trickles of disunion
The biblical birthright verses human rights
The unsighted straining peace settlement
Shadows of the peace blueprint screams
Ongoing reconciliation, milked in small doses
Whose home is whose? Subdivided in areas
Controls of disillusionment undisclosed
Unmanned checkpoints evokes fears
Revolving cameras tossed and turned
Bansky slogan “make hummus not war”
Smashes freedom to uproot and merge
Constitute and construct peaceful resorts
All horns blowing to collapse duality
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
he sees one on the branch of his oak,
the other on his picket fence
eight decades he's heard names
of these creatures
one that makes sad songs (though not
a song bird...)
the other known by its color
(not red robin...)
he opens the door and walks
toward them
as if removing distance will erase years
which purloined their names
they fly off, so many eons ahead of his species
which now lives long enough to forget its past
a breed of ape which worships words, and
dreads the loss of them
the mourning dove and cardinal need no
symbols to know to flee this beast
the mere sight of him evokes the
wisdom of the ages in them
wings flap, currents abide, they glide to
another spot to roost
while the old man curses himself for
unknowing their names--cursing and cursed
it seems, are not part of what is forgotten
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
doubt bow
seduces
now
soul enchanted
weave thou
dream made
fold
fade
whisper evokes
heart bough
Inside lives
ancient stream
rushes quietly
fills the bridge
often ignored
often abhorred
fragile bloom
sterile pond.
Feel notion
dream catcher
motion
threshold pass
today tomorrow
illusion !
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
Depression:
It rips you apart
Skin by
skin,
Bone by
bone,
Cell by
cell.
It's the 2AM thoughts that never leave your mind. Mind. Constantly thinking, hesitating, deciding, wondering,
Why?
Why is my mind a grenade of
pain; anytime sadness seeps into my bones an explosion of emptiness evokes me.
Alone.
I am an enemy of my own being; the creator of my own
darkness.
Depression:
It's a canvas of negative emotions.
The smile engraved on your face.
The black hole in your chest.
The bruises on your knees.
The blood on your wrists.
The tears in your eyes.
The pain
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Memories of a railroad era, bygone,
Nearly seven score years ago
Stories carried on the wheels,
With the coal and grain to go
A saga of the rail,
Now and again told
The charm of this tale,
Never growing old
Of modernity and mystery,
A kaleidoscopic visage:
An ensemble of hope and history,
A treasured, eclectic heritage
The railfan’s fervor: in full galore
In silent splendor, the glories of yore
In this humble house, come awake
A radiant reminiscence evokes!
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 2:10 AM UTC
Laments of sadness
in the middle of serene nights,
fragmented hearts
wrangle scrambled minds;
shadowed mistakes, open wounds,
profound mysteries of once reality,
myriad eyes failed to perceive
the intrinsic meaning of a poetry;
arbitrary decisions can lead
loud confusions to imprint,
but an ink of a poet's pen
evokes concealed feelings.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 4:28 AM UTC
I don't blame people for hating me
I hate myself sometimes
I just hope they give me a chance
I give myself chances
Until I start giving glances
And move through playful prances
Others witness my glancing dances
And knock me out my ****** trances
I wonder what I am
My eyes look at my hands
The wise watch the sands
Of time that slowly count down
Until we're not tyranny bound
In this empire of circular hate
Trapped on this circular crate
It gets smaller as we push inward
When the solution is the inverse
These ideologies keep us from expansion
Like those that knock me out my trances
But please give humanity more chances
A murderer stands before his judge
The judge says:
Death...
Why do you weep?
It's just one word
My sympathy isn't reached
For I am the herd
The murderer responds:
Sorry I must weep
These tears I can't keep
When that word sums up my future and my past
It evokes memories and desires engraved in brass
As a society we're constantly filling ourselves
As a species we're constantly killing ourselves
When knowledge is a sphere
That needs to be maximized
We need to look in the mirror
And continue asking why
But we must start in the middle
To fill up the sphere
Until we can solve this riddle
And I can keep tears
And we can be peers
Who live on this sphere
With nothing to fear
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC
cool iridescent droplets
tumble soundlessly over damp stone steps
spat from a dark cloud-smitten sky.
the corners of your lips twisted
in an ominous snarl,
eyes flashing
green lightning.
make-up streaming down porcelain warm-apple cheeks,
mixing with ***** rain.
you, typically picturesque magazine perfection
trussed up in delicate pin-up duds
your hair twirled into a million
intricate, flawless little curls
that fall together like pieces
in a puzzle.
secretly pinned together to uphold a pretty facade.
far from easy and natural,
yet more desirable.
but look at you now.
hair soaked, tendrils of slick dark silk plastered to cold skin,
with mascara running down
an immaculate visage,
that finely curved chest
heaving with furious little sobs.
fists clenched with white hot knuckles,
you shake with rage.
just like a little girl...
a little girl hiding behind a layer of mother's make-up,
throwing a tantrum.
Maybe it's endearing;
to see such passion
from one who never showed her soul
and kept her musings locked tight in a faraway place.
Maybe it's not.
The creature I once loved,
destroying little parts of my soul,
one by one
with sharp words and cruel insults
guilt-trips and indecencies.
But the tear-stained face in front of me
no longer evokes the desired emotion.
Hollow steps take me away,
in the opposite direction,
her dismal cries following me -- wailing ghosts
lost, wandering through the wintry rain.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC