"fascinatingly" poems
i met someone, friend
it's a fascinatingly consuming experience
when you realise that another human being's existence
can make you feel, quite simply,
whole.
she's beautiful
and she's never known it and
i want nothing more than to hold her until
she believes me,
earnestly.
i like her like boys do.
my mom would not approve.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
We just drove through a small town
It was fascinating
Fascinatingly morbid
Morbidly surreal
There were probably 10+ plots that were haphazardly converted into graveyards
'Ratchet' as my generation would think but not say because that would be 'disrespectful to the dead'
In each of the graveyard were hundreds of graves
And it was strange
Strange how such 'ratchet, disrespected and haphazard' graveYARDS
Contained such Beautiful and ornate gravestones
As if to say that nothing could lessen the glory of their death
They would leave behind an impression of beauty
Even in death
(Even though they never chose their gravestones. But don't say that because it would be 'disrespectful to the dead' in their blissful abyss)
It makes one think
That in a town of less than 1000
There was easily more than 2000 gravestones
It shows how life goes on
How, even in a small town, we are insignificant
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Trust the sun (she says)
her first rays when creation was young
and God's window opened outward
as a place of worship
born to be breathtaken
daylight imploring for companionship
and bleeding into itself
as it bleeds into the worshipper.
She notices that her own taste
in repeating patterns doesn’t mesh
with the apparently similar
patterns in Drakensberg
they obey a different logic, and the friction
between them generates
a fascinatingly ambiguous color.
Tinctured cathedral of time passing
on its first layer of stairs...
Jan 11, 2023
Jan 11, 2023 at 7:53 PM UTC
i.
they say that when you drown,
it's nothing like in the movies;
it's silent.
there's no splashing,
no screaming,
no kicking or crying for help.
just
silence.
and i guess it's true,
for i am drowning --
there is water in my lungs,
pouring into my heart,
filling my veins and escaping from my eyes --
yet i cannot speak.
i am rendered speechless
by you.
ii.
i'm not so sure if it's
the smooth white sand
ingrained in your skin,
or the intricate seashells
that are your daintily painted
fingernails.
maybe it's the pulsing red
of a moon during high tide
that shines through
your scarlet lips,
or maybe
it's the crashing waves
filling the ocean in your eyes.
maybe it's the way you sweep me up
and pull me under,
stealing my breath,
invading my thoughts.
or maybe it's how you
are unpredictable.
you are in alliance with the erratic skies
and fickle moon,
and yet,
no one can control you,
no one can predict your next move.
iii.
i find it fascinatingly beautiful
how easy it is
for you to destroy yourself,
how you hide within raging whirlpools
and tear yourself apart from the inside.
people are afraid of the ocean,
but the ocean is a part of you.
who knows, though?
maybe you're scared of the ocean too.
iv.
beware the girl with the ocean eyes,
for a heart that is eaten away by the sea
can never be whole again.
(a.m.)
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Good things don't always happen to good people
But as I've come to understand,
Sometimes these events turn good people into fascinatingly extraordinary beings.
For these people KNOW the evil of the world..
Yet, like a field of wild flowers that returns beautiful as always,
there remains a relentless effort to be the good in the world.
They continue to ignore hatred.
They continue to radiate love.
& They will always continue to restore hope, even when they have none to offer to themselves.
And THAT is the true beauty of a life.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
you'll never guess what i heard today
endless narratives
encapsulating pointless encounters
passing judgments
handing out ruthless commentary
life lessons
ridiculing those that are different
infringing on the delicate bounds of insanity
infinite meaningless utterances
thoughtful queries
timeless perceptions and interpretations
brilliant phonetics
postulating conspiracies
comical puns, quips, and jabs
underlying assumptions
fascinatingly deceptive and imaginative theories
i hear you
i hear everything you say
but all i needed
was for you to LISTEN
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 12:27 PM UTC
Actually Awesome
Beautifully Broken
Courageously creative
Differently Dazzling
Eagerly Edgy
Fascinatingly Fastidious
Gracefully Great
Handsomely Harmonious
Independently Intelligent
Jokingly Joyful
Keenly Kind
Lovingly Lyrical
Marvelously Magnificent
Naturally Narcissistic
Originally Open-minded
Passionately Pleasant
Quintessentially Quirky
Respectfully Rebellious
Sarcastically Smart
Typically Twisted
Unbelievably Unique
Vigorously Viscous
Wonderfully Wild
X-tremely Xenodochial
Young-fully ******
Zealously Zany
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
You're a hardcover novel I can't seem to put down with charming tea stains on your pages, endearing creased corners and torn edges I look upon fondly but I can't open you far enough to break the bind of your spine. I’ll keep trying though as I soak in and inhale every toxically flawless inky letter you are composed of, scribbling quotes from your chapters onto my wrists so I feel like I always have you with me until I know your story inside and outside, forwards and backwards, by heart. You have and immensely lovely and irresistible sleeve around you and a fascinatingly stirring summary for your description on the back but I’m more interested in what’s inside. It’s an incomplete tale though so I hope I get the chance to rewrite the rougher parts like the heartbreaking paragraphs of your past and maybe I’ll get to be a co-author for typing out your happy ending.
Please repost if you have ever experienced or are experiencing the budding beginnings of puppy love
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
What lies beneath the surface of consciousness,
is a wonderful world of thought and darkness
which we cannot control.
The waters churn
in the background of our minds,
leaving us unaware of our secret
and fascinatingly buoyant imaginations.
When the sea warms
from the convection currents
of our experiences,
to the surface rise
the bubbles that we call
Thoughts.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
Who the **** is Jane Austen and
why the **** do we consider her works masterpieces?
Jane "boring" Austen lived an ordinary life and wrote very articulate
and pointedly ordinary examinations of character and mundane things
such as first impressions, and virtue, and proper court manners
She is the equivalent of an Oscar-winning author, because she has
mastered the art of being stunningly, fascinatingly mediocre.
She is precisely in the middle, and so balanced there that we applaud her
verbal gymnastics skills.
Works like these don't seem to carry an opinion of much of anything,
They just kind of blankly exist,
the kind of production that, if turned into a movie,
would have a nice, bland, Enya soundtrack.
There are no tears, nothing to make you feel,
It acts to make you numb,
leave you with a vague sense of discomfort and frustration, like
"What's eating gilbert grape" or "little miss sunshine"
in that everyone agrees blindly that they're good, but
they're not exactly sure why they're good, because
they're too close to life and too far away, there's nothing real,
it's too unpleasant to ignore and too familiar to watch.
It's useless, I can see this **** every day,
movies and books are about extraordinary life, to inspire us,
change something,
not just to make us okay with how stagnant we are,
or to examine our stagnation.
These books don't change anything.
I refuse to read or to write anything that steps around
the eggshells that are the fragile opinions and egos of
this, the 'everybody gets a trophy' generation,
I will not submit to anything less than feral reality and a
crazy, completely insane world, because that's what it is
my beautiful blood is more than beautiful,
it's wild and hot and pumps faster with every gasping breath,
and it deserves literature worthy of the heart that holds it.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
It’d be effortless like the sun setting herself,
She’d just be, natural and luminescent,
Waves of cascading and flowing radiance,
Like the snow melted and she was left,
So warm and soft and human,
Making it hard to look and breathe,
Fascinatingly enticed like a moth to flame,
She would be chaos and destruction incarnate,
But no one would realize it,
Those little, gentle breezes,
Carnivalized into buckling winds,
One look and it’d all make sense,
Fireworks racing toward the skies ringing,
Glass shattering and making mosaics blossom,
Surges of invisible hands,
The feeling of living,
Close to death,
She’d be perfect,
So dastardly so,
That she couldn’t be real,
That’d just ruin it.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
See the wristwatch that attached on my hand is spinning
Time keeps changing
Even the earth rotates exceptionally
I've been trying to understand for a long time
Something that is part of me
and everyone has it's own
Start this lovely month fascinatingly
Inhale the new air
Cause this is the season of gemini
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC
It is fascinatingly probable
God balanced, protected, recompensed
how I feel misplaced in the confinements
to the vessel, in a biological
femininity even more being said,
by shaping that body as a speech
in my structure and palette embedded
of nature’s casts, messages‘
endearing faced:
I am put in a sunflower’s shift
when bearing a heat with caramel toning,
in the skin,
swift golden towel ‘round the
form naked,
shoulders
and all other petite
through that standing strong
like a sword’s leather hilt,
and eyes with hair of tenderly
made browns with lights and darks,
as freckles shining scattered,
with their origin from Gold arriving,
or at last the very nutrient
dark centre by seeds posed.
When sodden, it is a mangrove then,
the caramel whole now slick
yet strongly dense as its roots,
like when I get myself firmly stuck
on feet like double arrow
spread limbs
and like mahogany shade
stand reading images.
Or there’s at last and at wind
the cherry blossom:
my thoughts and sensing presence
are so beloving that they
emanate pink in passing,
just as it’s flowers with no fruit,
my top, a crown,
swaying branches,
irregular protruding.
I bloom so dearly with my shading,
I could almost kiss like leaves,
like they do with me.
Wish you could see me, this,
such loving dear sight to be.
Like slick, promising, calm own river.
Alas, an eerie beige coat that flutters
with child dreams
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 11:13 AM UTC
I sit at my desk,
I stare with astonishing grotesk,
An assignment was due but who knew?
Certainly not me for I had been dreaming,
I was enveloped in my own little fantasy,
This fantasy was fascinatingly fantastic,
It certainly was of the best for it included dragons and magic.
Soon the dragons faded and the magic was dwindling,
They were leaving me behind because they were leaving my mind.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
Blinding sunlight
Fascinatingly bright
Caught up in the moment
Feels like heavenly sent
Can everyone also see?
Or is it just me?
This picture perfect scenery
Of astounding beauty
I was drawn by their smiles
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 2:10 AM UTC
The way I fell for you
'Twas fascinatingly hard
You let me in a free fall
Without nobody to guard.
The way I fell for you
'Twas fascinatingly sweet,
Not until you tore me--
When the ground and I meet.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
fascinatingly painful
a black and white vision
of dreams in color
just an embodiment of
the object called life
afraid to know
yet we all know
afraid to see more
yet we crave it
because it is art
a dream
a dream called
Reality
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
How fascinatingly scary
the troubled mind can be.
She fell in love with one,
so quickly, she thought she
must be crazy.
He was everything she never
thought she wanted.
He was flighty, dangerous,
wreck less, and highly unpredictable.
Every day was a new adventure,
and that was what kept bringing
her back to his bed at two o' clock
in the morning,
wearing his t-shirt and her underwear.
She never got to know how
much he loved her,
or if he even did.
Turns out, she was flighty too
and she ran away,
and locked herself inside with
a bottle of wine,
peeking out the window
looking for his reflection.
After she drank her nights away
with someone else
for more than a couple of weeks,
he was gone.
And she was left to go on
with her days, as though he had
never been a part of them.
And the sad truth is,
now she is the one with the
troubled mind.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC