"extrapolated" poems
Oblivious is the man who claims decorum of extrapolated omnipotence.
The man who has ossified rationalism into an inexplorable ruse.
An attempt to transmogrify inchoate minds, characteristic of apparitions.
Providing illusion as the answer to an obsequious concrescence of naive followers.
Oblivious are the men who follow this decorum.
Their leader keens to their needs.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Addict.
Fly free unwanted conqueror-
I detest you
And your haunting illusion.
Midnight visage-
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
Of redemption.
You who scorched my fields
And ignited my fears,
Laying waste in a furious
Dervish of extrapolated ecstasy.
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
Was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying sputtering
in the destitute mud
That comprises bewilderment ,
And you showed me mercy-
Such bravery in the face of havoc.
And now you gladly accept me,
Embrace me in cold arms,
Wantonly smiling at the distance-
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense,
With the certainty of a madman.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
Calm was the air did its breath of slow utter
Slight given was the pressure against the trees' clutter
The tide gave toward the shore a bathing of fond
A raindrop tapping the ripple in the water's pond
Nature was it mothered to be the earth of pure
Land, air, and water were the children of cure
Howbeit born was the arrival of human error
For Nature a victim she became of this polluting terror
All content of luxury became poison when left forgot
Expense became the drain of Nature when industry was begot
Slave did she become with the negligent torture by all synthetic
Water was it forced to swallow hard all fluids of hectic
Land was it diagnosed with a cancer of slow plague in the cell
Air did bleeding of all fresh had it become from the settled hell
Human destined were they to rule yet abuse emerged their ego
Dying may be Nature but reaction will not treat with regal
Beware be the responsible for their prisoner has power of destructive
No longer shall Nature absorb mankind's terror with constructive
Balance of all earthly condition does support root from the wind
Tool of value has it forever been used to course the planet's skin
But in addition can poison fuel the wind's vehicle to maximum
Point of breaking can wind unleash Nature with the pendulum
Quiet will no longer be Nature idle in standing by
Foresight will come with the storms to punish those with might
A tower of gales shall it tear apart all houses of mankind
Tides will erupt with anger to wash all those to the bind
Burn shall explosion cooperate with volcanoes for the share
Extrapolated be all ends of the heat spectrum beyond repair
Survival can longer not it be for the humans to this breeze
Nature wages the unmatched war till gone be the disease
Launching from her fissure shall come the monsters' end
For her ally of wind will one make the closing amend
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
I've never been gold
Although Daddy tells me so
Yet we show no resolve
we've been strangled from the branches
growing out of my arms.
Still our palm lyrical lines innate
the lub-dub machine finely tuned
the knees have blessed by
the ashes from the moon.
But by and by
grass stains the tombstones of my dread,
locks freed from the brass constraint,
paradigm extrapolated from the taint,
**** smeared on the watching walls,
living on far longer after we die.
And yet, still here we stand here
cross eyed and bright
pictures tinted lime green light
motionless incisors greeting the might
feet planted parallel to the earth
being nothing
nothing at all.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
I could have saved her
Wasted, waste down
Caroline, oh Caroline
It could have been me
Distorted noise
friends upwind of the screams
It's never enough
They never had enough
Beach chair, mangle
Tripod, classic
Ripped from the great novels
Footage with a sun kissed tint
The foliage underfoot
Face down
In the bloodied mud
Where is the love
It's not enough
There's not enough love
Guide her above
Clouds like gloves
Caroline, oh
Caroline oh where do you go
Traffic warped noise from the boys
Explicit wickedness
Extrapolated desires
Extraordinary circumstance
Circumvented rent cheques
Caroline are you at rest yet?
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
once upon a time
you were the moon to my stars
which is to say, you didn't know
how to shine without dimming me in the process
and yes, you sat me in your lap to feed me off your fork
but then, you always had a way of presenting scraps as
a reward
and presentation is everything, right?
no, you never truly left me bleeding
instead, my heart and mind were carefully extrapolated
blended together until they looked like the color of your eyes,
and gently poured back in place
how do you know which pieces go where?
how can I know without you?
Oct 16, 2021
Oct 16, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC
Rhetorical questions
Asked and answered.
supporting, Sifting,
and sorting bafflement
Praxis
For awhile the whorls
were made of sadness and fears
from my internal musings
and the desires of my heart
extrapolated by magpies
Like you said,
They busted the lock.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Fly free unwanted conqueror
I detest you
And your haunting illusion
Midnight visage
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
of redemption
You who scorched my fields
and ignited my fears
Laying waste in a furious
dervish of extrapolated ecstasy
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying spluttering
in the destitute mud
that comprises bewilderment ,
and you showed me mercy
Such bravery in the face of chaos!
And now you gladly accept me
Embrace me in cold arms
Wantonly smiling at the distance
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense
With the certainty of a madman
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
No poems care to comfort me
No words are willing to clear my head
No thoughts come flowing from my pen
No dreams will deign to share my bed
I used to sleep with company
To doze with dainty desires
But now it seems my mind rejects
Those floating, smiling sires
Instead my head’s been filled with fluff
With engineered tomfoolery
No longer can I find my thoughts
Amidst this heavy schoolery
My florid fancies and swooning sighs
Have decomposed under scrutiny
And inspiration has been so choked
That is has no will for mutiny
I’ve calculated, demonstrated
Extrapolated and oxidized
So now I’ve found that feelings too
Have fallen overanalyzed
It feels surreal, to sit with you
While my mind sits far away
The distance slows my synapses
And causes heart delay
Thoughts, I’ve found, have been rewired
Connected where they shouldn’t be
So silly things cause tears to spring
And trivial words to bother me
I wish my poems would return
To put my mind where it belongs
To weave my dreams so I might sleep
To erase for you my careless wrongs
I wish my words would scamper back
And put my tangled thoughts to rights
My feelings, too, so I might breathe
And finally make peace with restless nights
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:35 PM UTC
What's uut man?
My snake tipped legs and iceberg froze fade languish in the shade. Tell a mother how her bush should bloom, Gathered all the rose peddles and released them to the desert air, when I rise Pillsbury dew drops tip tap clatter back. I already know what love is. Hearts tide to a string. You can call me Duncan. They call me South of no North. My gift of gab was extrapolated from Teddy Ruxpin's jugular and drug through a Chinese sweatshop. I hung my cords out on the line. They hardened into a sharp blade used for doe hunting. Try ice skating uphill while not breaking a sweat. Pull the plug from the speaker steal the mic and jet. Will mount Olympus faction my fold? Nevermore, well maybe once but I'm so straight and narrow their knees are like maze portals to me. Take a swig from the medication station. Don't stay to long or you may like what you have become too me. No worries; Uutt, oh it's magic.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
The intraveneous needles pumped their black liquids, and I could feel my eyeballs bulging completely, pathetically to their limits as I extrapolated from the tantalum-covered machine the lifeforce I knew I needed.
"You can not breathe here," they always told me before I took my journal past the archway, and I was as good as dead if...
It was always if. If the machine broke down, if the communications were broken, if the moon didn't turn half-way just right at the given time.
There was a solid thought, though, a recurring idea.
"If you make it to Otherside, they're going to call you by name and recognize you. If you make it to Otherside, your cover will be blown," I kept hearing a voice call to me.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:41 PM UTC
My mind
Feigns
It is a friend
It is a foe
My mind is a child
undeveloped
Knows so little; Learns a lot
Clearly, I understand my world
My mind is extrapolated
developed
Knows a lot; Learns so little
Hardly, I understand my world
It feigns
My mind, extrapolated
A friend
A foe
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 10:47 PM UTC
(6/21 at 10:36 AM)
this is where it started, you went full blast, with
[ssfydbso]
(6/24 at 8:12 PM)
cute words and flattery that made me laugh;
[mfsivv]
(7/3 at 1:11 PM)
the nicknames, if you could call them that, in the very least
[vks/sks]
(7/3 at 1:29 PM)
the way we matched
[sks/vks]
(7/6 at 10:13)
the unapologetic delivery
[v#1s/fc]
(8/19 at 12:52 AM)
although before i'd been skeptical, i soon fell into a habit of you, and when i confronted you, oops, little did i learn, how you felt, yet i still extrapolated
[ysaah]
(9/6 at 10:57? PM)
as you shared your music, you showed me new songs and i think i saved them all.
[DBL you said @1am but if i'm honest, i think you were projecting how you felt onto someone else, but maybe i know a thing or two about that]
(10/23 at 6:49 PM)
then things got out of hand, so to speak (wink, wink)
[hbbg]
(11/13 at 11:00 AM)
and i thought it would be a one-time thing, and it was, more or less, until the moment you texted, telling me i had invaded your dreams
[wtbalos? (edited)/(redacted)]
(11/15 at ??:?? AM?)
but when i reached out, in the dead of night, maybe you thought it had underlying meaning, when really, i was lonely and wanted to talk to someone, but that someone was mainly you, or the version of you i concocted in my mind.
[twtnajgd]
(11/24 at 10:53 AM)
and after months of reading into nonexistent nuances, and constructing a cacophony of daydreams involving you,
when i threw my phone out, like three days later - well, i did say three was my favorite number -
i reached out, for i wanted answers, and clarity and closure, and i guess i got it; i finally ******* got it and it drove me to poetry, where i spent the most time in a long time
on you, searching for screenshots for timestamps so this ******* poem is the most accurate it possibly could be, and i even maxed out the discord character limit - just on you, and that's something that i rarely ever do.
[biadttg]
(11/28 at 11:48 PM)
so, my phone is still thrown out, and i get my access back tomorrow, and now i must stick to the reasoning for which i threw it out in the first place, but i still seek out your name and activity on spotify,
(?/? at ??:?? AM&PM)
but i will work to curb that habit and every other one i have associated with you, and one day, they will all be but a distant memory
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
O creators
O makers(O ye, who by hands deftest,
hew the earth with thy hearts
extrapolated)thou art blessed
(and a blessing)
for by the imperfect notions of you
more perfect becomes me
(in me gathers
the coalesced
intensity of
your exact
infinite stuff)and
i
'm thick with your heady music
which bursts out my body
and i'm flung into burning
indomitable human fire
(and i become
like gargantuan
sleeping flowers(whole rivers of them)i become the
hot sigil of the human singing
organ)with drunk beautiful darkness
i sing across the folding eternal
abyss and with merriest volition
i add the coarse sound of my fracas
to the body of the electric people
chorus
(the makers
and the creators
who by pleasing distinct
colorful blades scar
me wonderfully
)
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
Twelve times.
That's how many rounds were fired
Into eighteen year-old Michael Brown
As his head absorbed the gun powder
And he fell to his death
On the hot asphalt beneath his spine.
Twelve times.
The frequency at which twenty eight year-old Darren Wilson
Shot this boy in the brain
He is responsible for taking a life prematurely
He is responsible for advancing the race precedent
Set by prior generations.
Twelve times.
The jury could have indicted him
Held him accountable for his actions
But instead they let him walk free.
Freedom, the very thing Wilson extrapolated from Brown.
Freedom, the very thing many brown boys and girls in America
Will never see
We teach them there freedom does not matter
It is in the hands of white men
As it always has been.
Twelve times.
And many times after that
Will children
Who are just as American as any other human being living on this soil
Be told they are not good enough
Merely because of the pigments in their skin
They are worth less than others
And why do we let this prevail?
Because we do not want to change it.
We are part of the problem.
Twelve times.
I can count more than that
In which I have been the beneficiary of white privilege
Which I did not earn
No, you see
White privilege is being able to say
"I am disgusted with this verdict"
But I will never be the direct recipient of its consequences.
Twelve times.
The fact that people still claim it was self-defense
Disgusts me.
Most would agree that
Beating a child into submission
Rather than acting on another form of discipline
Is criminal
Therefore, just because you want to believe
That firing twelve bullets into a barely grown boy's head
Is acceptable during an attack
Does not make it just.
Twelve times.
The starting point
The amount white people can do
About racial preference.
Start by learning from history.
And learn what you can do to change it.
Twelve times.
The amount of shots it took
To end a boy's life
The fire has been taken from his lively eyes and soul.
But the real flame
Has just been ignited.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
and when the world is swallowed
in the shadow of my wings
may i find calm and solace
in the oneness it brings
purely desecrated
in my blissful way of thinking
mind has crumbled
and essence extrapolated
all i am
all that is
all this mind
will ever give
just this once
i cant give in
beckoned onward
to the end
and when the dawn is emptied
into cold and bleeding hands
may light be darkened
in the weight of my command
like ever grasping arms
of darkness that began
first and final song
has sunken in the sand
if only you could
hear me
all i am
all that is
all this life
can ever give
all this life
i have to live
just may skip
right to the end
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC