"expiry" poems
You are a sailor if life is a vast ocean..
Here sail-n-surf,very thrilling notion..
Heart does trade with silly emotion
Desires ditch reality,if you lack devotion
Trusting too early is not so very wise..
People turn strangers in their uprise...
Be an artist not the tyrant of ur life
Anger at its apogee, cut like a knife
In dejection time,even silence is noise
Enduring other's hatred is a better choice
Speech is razor-sharp,can easily slice
Before making a decision,think twice
Eyes turn coy when the truth is caught
Just keep it simple n filter ur thought
Like weather, experiences are cool n hot
Hardwork is perennial but luck is not
Deeds are examined,so keep the token
Progress is still when hopes are broken
Pain is felt when own soul is shaken
Just believe in God when all is taken
Pearls come out during ebb at the shore..
Money gives gold but manners shine more
Success is urgency,patience is the cure
Nothing stays forever,expiry is for sure
Life has its fragrance,life has its taste
Laughter is healthy, worry is waste
Love is water, dilutes colour n caste
Polish your soul,skin goes ashes at last
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
Dr. F. Wilhem discovered it by accident you see?
The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.
It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso and genetics in tandem.
then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.
Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into
Humans.
They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or
violent.
Artificially Intelligent;
Humans.
*"What good is it to change a person,
...merely into someone else?"* -Al Abd Azaz
*To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.
To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.
To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.* *
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
day through night, i face the same fate
my flesh inches closer to its expiry date.
a hell:
my mind is at its limit,
and my body; no longer mine.
each minute goes by, i pray to gods,
every holy name, those i've never heard of,
pray, pray with all my might -
choose a different girl to feast on tonight.
my face was stolen from a world of debris
to support a family i'll never again see
i sold myself, let me be bought,
for just two coins, a price of naught.
a customer.
i tell myself,
don't open your eyes,
don't move a muscle.
hands on my thighs - deja vu
my body to her is just revenue.
memories of every night still live within my body - a bookmark telling me i'll never be my own. a constant image of flesh flickers behind my eyelids every time i close my eyes.
give me my body back.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
the green grove a magnet to my eye
on these sun baked plains
I enter the glade to take shade with the cicadas
and vampire mosquitos
then I see it, Eden’s villain, coiled and rattling,
red ready to strike
I raise my staff, I too programmed to survive, do to what millennia
have taught
still we are in this staring standoff—silent save its rattle, deaf
I am to the chorus of insects
neither of us moves for an eternity of seconds, until the snake lunges at my feet
where its fangs find a field mouse, and devour it while I watch, an unwitting witness to expiry other than my own
I leave the copse, whole, content another creature has, for today, taken my place in the bloodletting
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Very often I heard them say
Wedding bliss is short term, temporary
Honeymoon over and here comes the reality
Ohh really? A wedding bliss has a date expiry?
When you agreed to make that wedding vow
Relationship is sealed, the bonds of matrimony
To love to live with someone for eternity
Tell me in which line of the wedding vow
… did you ever say, TEMPORARY?
Lifetime commitment is never that easy…
Our Love travels sometimes in a smooth journey
Sometimes love puts us into a rough situation
A twist of love and life… of loyalty and commitment
sometimes the test is tough… almost unimaginable…
so we Hurt each other till we bleed inside
we are clever but we sometimes act like fool
Searching for perfection in imperfection
No relationship is perfect, we both knew
But still we hurt and leave the scars open…
Wedding bliss never let it be temporary…
Upon your eyes there is the man… there is the woman
Sometime ago ***** was the one who drove you so crazy
Who stole your nights and days talking sweet nonsense…
Who put a smile on your face
till you vowed not to cry again
Let this wedding bliss be forever…
If we should take that vow we made once again…
Let us do…
Despite of everything that we’ve gone through
Good or bad,
The bliss is there… surrounds us..
Till death do us part
We are here to stay in a blissful marriage…
Wedding bliss is forever…
By Rina
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
Not knowing, ignorance, is a funny thing.
I use to see my past as either a treasure chest or a time bomb, I was never entirely sure which.
I use to see my past as a catalyst to some grand adventure, but I could only guess at how long it would last.
That's how it goes, everyone only guessing when their adventure ends. Some people know how, but no one knows exactly when.
For me though, there was more, A larger question mark, more X's in my equation. I knew less, and it always had me imagining.
You see I was adopted at birth, I never knew my life givers, my body makers, my me creators. I only knew they existed. That and the scraps of information gathered throughout years of questions like needles picked slowly and painfully while searching through the hay.
She played the flute, just like you.
He looked (to her at least) like Wayne Gretzky.
They were never married.
This was the story but it wasn't my treasure, it wasn't wasn't my bomb.
You see I have no idea what to expect at the end of the story, the place where I would meet them, my DNA combiners.
At the X on this treasure map would there be gold? Would I find a count-down on a bomb amidst my riches? Would there be, among the glittering joy, a hint at when this grand adventure would end?
Most importantly,
Did I want to know?
Curiosity has always burned in me like a forest fire raging far beyond my self control.
I wanted to know.
Would I find in the story of my life's creation more family to love, more people who matter?
Or not?
And if there was a bomb what would it be?
Cancer,
Heart-disease,
Osteoporosis,
Alzheimer's?
Do I want to know?
Do I want to see an expiry date on my young life?
This knowing is a gamble,
These dice cannot be loaded,
These cards cannot be cheated.
That is my choice, to live out an adventure short or long, and discover their story.
Discover my story.
Ignorance is a funny thing.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Can a Love song be used twice?
I love you’s and the reminiscent blues,
do the rhythm and blues remember the
ones you loose ?
This reminded me of you.
I use the lyrical hues
of this fine tune to put into words my feelings for you.
Expiry date.
Can a hummingbird still sing
when your number no longer rings?
I wonder
Nat King Cole’s somber stardust melody still
haunts my reverie.
Can I really vow to another with the words I solemnly devoted to my past lover?
As seasons change
so to does my musical range.
Yet a love song , is still a Love song.
To my future love,
at times my hearts desire cannot create words which quantify that;
of a lyrical tune and a lyre.
A Love song.
Love in the present.
Beyond the fond memories of things the lovers dreamt,
Love remains in all things spent
within life’s timely symphonies.
Oct 14, 2022
Oct 14, 2022 at 7:34 AM UTC
we are nothing but corporeal beings
tangible, earthly, and most of all, perishable
we are passengers riding in our own trains
in a seemingly perpetual motion
but we are doomed by our expiry
which could already be looming in the distance
it might already be standing by the door
ready to bury us beneath our tombstones
we get reminded by our impermanence
only when death himself shows at our doors
when we are already beneath our tombstones
emblazoned with our own epitaphs
we fade into dust, and become one with oblivion
but all is not lost, you can still see me looming there
in the blooming flower fields, in the open skies
out in the ocean, the wilderness
i fly with the birds, flow with the breeze
and swim with the fishes beneath the sea
in all your searching, you won't find me
but i am here, now one with the earth
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
Ikaw Ay maganda
These are words from Tagaloga
Which is the language of Philippines
It means "You are beautiful"
I can say this to the one who looks beautiful
But what is beauty
It is color or figure
I don't believe in faded beauty
Only interested in the beautiful heart
Which will not fade and
Which won't have any expiry date
So, Ikaw Ay Maganda
To every good people
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.
I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.
I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.
I must take not,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits,
only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow.
Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity,
they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels.
Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity,
making me take the choices reaped with devils.
I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight.
Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane.
I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow.
The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1.
We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear.
So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight.
There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to **** There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills.
Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast.
This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.”
Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom.
Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities.
5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
**i need to tell you about a woman who's shelf life of love has no expiry date.
that sometimes i worry,
sometimes i worry,
i worry,
that she feeds it more than she eats it.
anorexic love ; when last have you slept on a full stomach.**
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:20 AM UTC
this verbal wishing well, appreciated,
a nut of good intentions but drives me
deeper into de-spare-ing downing detentions,
for it is only the article's genuine genius,
that elevates the human spiritus, to godlike status
no ditty this, but a wail, shriek, for
human touch is gift so greatest,
that any day passing without
either, neither but both, 'tis one
truly wasted,
a deduction on our
calculus of inited^ human intuitions,
a failure of our greatest inventions
a subtraction of our
gainful living, a purposed ecstasy
our one and only inexact
measure of measurement
that defies pedantic notions of
things of weight or volume,
but extends our own existence
sans
the armies of embrace,
the electric elected syncing,
of the shocking sharing of
closing the borders of divided spaces,
a soft contusion, a realized illusion
a de minimus of our days,
a lessening of our lessons,
a loss of earning livingness,
a nail in our coffined basket,
and here to cease without surcease,
the elemental incalculable numbered
members of our total human races,
that so tragic in a twenty four expiry,
that the bonding of affection goes
unexpressed...
offer you my armory of arms,
cleanse us both with showered kisses,
inform you thus of our emboldened connection,
voiding these lowlife separators of lineage divisors,
what matter color, gender, chosen god nomenclature,
any of this nonsensical human inventions for distancing
divested human beings from each other
tho eyes closed, and all our senses flaring,
when we confirm what we were born knowing,
there is nothing greater than the human touch
PostScript
my first and best poem of the day,
how it came to me goes unbeknownst,
but will practice what is preached
with any and all willing encountered souls,
and perhaps, come-end of day, will write,
once more, one more, re heaven on earth
7:02am
Tue Sep Thirty
Two Thousand and Twenty Five. nml
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 7:13 AM UTC
Accidental introduction
Slow destruction
Deceptive beauty
Slow destruction
Accidental introduction
An invasive species
Not something with which to be reckoned
It can not be reversed
Not something with which to be reckoned
An invasive species
Superficial beauty
Brief Enjoyment
Ruinous existence
Brief Enjoyment
Superficial beauty
Tendrils of beauty
Tendrils of expiry
Self contradictory by definition
Tendrils of expiry
Tendrils of beauty
Taking everything needed for continuance of self
Removing what is needed for existence of everything else
Choking a red-faced, forlorn life
Removing what is needed for existence of everything else
Taking everything needed for continuance of self
There is no escape
The reach has extended too far for reversal
All that is left is acceptance of destruction
The reach has extended too far for reversal
There is no escape
There is no escape
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 5:03 PM UTC
A faded passport,
Of who I used to be,
It says that Dark and Hatred,
Are my nationalities,
It says my forename's Fear,
My surname: Everything,
My date of birth is long since gone,
But it's clear enough to see,
From my picture: a face covered in scars,
My life's been long enough for me.
But the expiry date says today,
And I'm sure I've been set free,
I'll send off the details for my new life,
And rewrite my history.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
I wake up and i'm a little disoriented.
It takes me a moment to realize why i feel so light inside.
I don't really need to dig you up from memory,
because I've clearly not stopped thinking about you.
I look at me in in the bathroom mirror,
and it takes me a second to recognize the person in the reflection,
The smile on my face feels foreign,like it belongs to someone else.
And i know i am right, this smile does belong to someone else,
just like how you don't really belong to me.
I know we come with an expiry date, a big conditions apply tag;
and somehow i surprise myself by pretending to be OK with it.
I surprise myself by looking forward to making more purple days with you,
when i know i should be painting shut all those windows that you've managed to pry open.
I surprise myself when i tell you that, 'i love you, oh so much!',
The words feel foreign to me, like they should be said by someone else,
and i know i'm right.
I'm stealing someone else's lines and saying them to you
yet it feels right somehow,
in a twisted,parallel universe kind of way where there is no right or wrong.
I'm walking around on this little purple cloud that you've puffed up at my feet,
and i know that lightning can strike any moment.
i surprise myself again,when i don't seem to be scared if i fall and there's no you to catch me.
And when this is finally over,
and you walk away into that sunset with who you really belong to,
i'll be left with that little box of purple days that you and i made not so long ago.
Maybe i'll let it sit in some corner of my mind...open for a while
or maybe i'll lock it up and throw away the key.
So while it lasts; i want you to know,
that you're all things purple.... to me.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
To whom do I belong?
To the cold morning
and the unrelenting pound of my feet,
to meet the waistband of my favorite pants.
To whom do I belong?
To the cries of the babe left momentarily alone
while I halt time in the motion of rushing water and clarifying peace
in being simply clean.
To whom do I belong?
To the man who comes home from a career
I gave up to care for others,
To the man who pours into me every need, secret, thought and dream without cease?
While I silently and forever support.
To whom do I belong?
To the child so afraid of the world after years of hurt
Best friend, Gilmore girl, dreamer with an uncertain expiry date.
To whom do I belong?
To the food raised,
The clothes mended,
The laundry flapping in the wind,
The music that surges through my thoughts and never ends
And is reluctantly reminded "later, later, later my friend".
To whom do I belong?
To the old man now dying, tended by many
Yet wanting wanting wanting the role of my beloved or child
While his wife and all push me to take what she has abandoned
To give of me the parts of her she won't share
Untangling from a blackberry bush full of webs.
To whom do I belong?
May 3, 2020
May 3, 2020 at 4:21 PM UTC
Reaching out mine poetic finger's,
None to reach back.
Roaming in this passage of expiry,
quietus; how solitary tis.
Patting panels of mysteriousness,
Feel like letting go;
Though do I knoweth I shalt get through
With God, for with humanity I'm alone.
I wilt seest the peep of gleam, just
Yonder the gloaming.
At the moment dead yet living,
Though betimes I'll reach
In pure love all that's
Right and knowing.
With one to hold me
In seas of affections
Warmth, I'll be the
Light I'm meant to
Be- I shalt with
Other's share
Mine torch.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
Spring faded too soon, yet again.
There's no reason to worry about that.
I would take the forlorn smile of autumn,
Any day, any way.
A soft gentle goodbye is all i hope for now, these days.
Promises have been broken,
I never thought they would last anyway.
After all, every thing i have
came with an expiry date,
and a but Clause
You lose some, some you gain,
But nothing, you own.
And that's okay.
Solitude has opened my eyes,
Destroyed the home company created.
Illusions of belonging,
When all you ever do is run.
Running out of time, bidding goodbyes to life unknowingly,
And that's okay.
It's peaceful here in the oblivion,
You'll know what i mean one day, anyway.
My halo has been crushed,
The weight of these wings were too heavy to bear, anyway.
I miss my home sometimes, but i know I'm never going back.
I see strangers looking out the open doors, their surroundings aged with longing and wait
I hear strangers knocking, on the closed doors,
Their hearts held in their fist, but no one is coming to receive them.
Sometime home is nowhere to be found
So you make one, out of yourself.
You'll build yourself one, if you're lucky.
But it's a fate i would not wish too strongly on anyone.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.
I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.
I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.
I must take note,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
“Haaa,” I sighed, releasing these stale tensions.
“I know it’s not so fair to be upset,”
But talks of ultrasounds and interventions,
Tinge everything that’s right with mild regret.
I sometimes ache for life as told by family photo albums,
And could-be love, as written in that diary,
Since everything once bright eventually succumbs
To inevitable joy-expiry.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
sometimes I capture a living one
in my plastic bags recess
misplaced amid other shells
they offer a distinct oceanic waft
expiry proffers olfactory comfort
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
I've been thinking about what it is to die.
And what it is to live.
We inevitably experience both.
Life is like a gift.
You may love, you may hate.
Some unfortunately return it.
You might waste it and throw it away unused.
You may be thankful, grateful for it.
It's all about what you do with it.
We are all marked with an expiry date
One we won't know until it's too late.
So take this gift and thank the giver.
That life is as good a reason to live for.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC