"extremeties" poems
Alcatragedy, aesthetics, and a
Bubbly feeling beneath our feet. Let's
Cruise between channels; there's no need to meet. Re-
Doxx on Galaxy's
Extremeties typeset whatever is
Faked, overridden, and
Glistening in chic.
Hybristophilionic puressure
Infracts upon the fourth wall we seek,
Jicking, ticking, trickling in.
(Kickstarted convection)
Life is beyond a stream...
Minuet attraction
Null, neo, and novelty
0.0
Pulse or minus me.
Quantitative lacerations, fantasy and a fascination
Recreations masking
Softsations
Taint my rose and wildest dreams!
Unphasing
Vermillion reasons to like it.
Wordless, grinding sonar screams; Isle,
Xana, et tu. Rumble a shy oasis in
Yeses, twos, and please
Zzz
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
In a world of extremeties,
I seem to be stuck in the middle.
I do not comprehend,
The yin or the yang,
When the heart, is left oblivious.
Moderation, has been an adventure,
Success, a distant season,
Excellence, an unattainable past,
Worthiness, lost in a crowd.
A mundane existence seems just that,
The paltry accounts even more so,
The spirit seems lost, trampled,
With the seemingly pointless strive, thrive?
Maybe Adam and Eve stole,
All the debuting thunder,
While Jane and Joe were left wondering,
If their existence was only to glorify,
The extremities and burden themselves,
With the painstaking eternal return.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 2:32 PM UTC
Maybe if the wind shifted
its direction
our souls would be
less fractured.
But for now it seems
that our remains will be
severed from our remedies.
Our maladies
meet their extremeties
and forever
less than never
our lives
will be nothing but dust in the breeze.
Now remember please,
that our choices are
confusing.
Save the formalities
for the ceremonies
this rigorous ritual
we claim to be sentimental
our lives that cause stress and
our minds that break our souls.
Like I said, our lives are nothing
but dust in the wind;
if only it'd shift its direction.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Deep green
Withered screen
Soft skin
Rotting thin
Blessed boy
Restless joy
I cover it
Emotion
Each heartache
Each pain
To feel you again
To understand touch
To remember such
Love me once more
Barriers will fall
We shall collide
Extremeties dissapate
Crooked smiles will align once again
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Perish in a world not yours
because you haven't made your world yours
drifting alone on a penteconter
one man, manning, fifty oars
A gold seeker in your golden world
Never to return to your city
Because all you do is seek
All you do is find
but you never acknowledge
In search for heaven on this world
You travel and travel,
meet people and people
Been everywhere, experienced elsewhere
Yet have never dared to travel
within yourself
The only place, truly worth to see
Why do people dare to skydive?
Go through the length of all such extremeties
but are so afraid to face themselves?
To find the calm inside the turblence?
Your world is yours.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 6:48 AM UTC
I don't know which I'm most annoyed by:
Those who are afraid of titles
or
Those who are in love with titles.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC