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Julian Mar 2019
Tantalized by the fractious limerence of a vestigial habiliment of the old order, we conclude that hypertrophy leads to a limbo where random permutations alloyed by the rickety limits of concatenation subsume concepts that are equivocal but populate the imaginations of newfangled art forms that jostle the midwives of rumination to lead to unique pastures that are intuitively calibrated to correspond to definitive unitary events in conceptual space that sprawl unexpectedly towards the desultory but determinative conclusion of a meandering ludic sphere of rambunctious sentiments cobbled together to either rivet the captive audience or annoy the peevish criticaster when they dare to inseminate the canvassed and corrugated tract of intellectual territory created ad hoc to swelter the imagination with audacious ingenuity that is an inevitable byproduct of lexical hypertrophy. In this séance with the immaterial realm of concept rather than the predictable clockwork reductivism of a perceptual welter that is limited by the concretism circumscribed by spatiotemporal stricture we find that an extravagant twinge of even the smallest tocsin in the interstitial carousel of conscientious subroutines compounding recursively to pinprick the cossetted smolder of potentiality rather than extravagate into the vacancy of untenanted nullibiety can spawn a progeny of utilities and vehicles for dexterous abstraction that poach the exotic concepts we fathom by degrees of sapience malingering in lifeless bricolages of erratic abstraction in manners useful to transcend the repose of abeyance and heave awakening into the slumberous caverns of still-life to make them dynamically animated to capture ephemeral events that defy the demarcations of wistful indelicacy of the encumbered bulk of insufficient precision.

Today we embark on a quest to defile the anoegenetic recapitulation of canon that litters the dilapidated avenues of miserly contemplation that has a histeriological certainty and feeds the engines that enable novelty but ultimately remain rancid with the stench of the idiosyncratic shibboleths of synoptic alloyed impoverishment that leads to the vast wasteland of cremated entropy that is a stained foible of misappropriated context interpolated usefully as botched triage for daunting problems that require a nimble legerdemain of facile versatility that we easily adduce to conquer the present with the botched memorial of a defunct salience. Despite the travail of scholars to retreat from the frontier into the hypostatized hegemony of recycled credentialed information, we often are ensnared by the solemn attrition of decay as we traverse the conceptual underpinnings of all bedrock thought only to dangle precariously near the void of lapsed sentience because of transitory incontinence that is contiguous to the doldrums of crudity but nevertheless with mustered mettle we purport that the very self-serious awakening to our hobbling limitations is akin to a prosthetic enhancement of ratiocination capable of feats that stagger beneath the lowest level of subtext to elevate the highest superordinate categorization into heightened scrutiny that burgeons metacognitive limber. Marooned in the equipoise of specifiable enlightenment countermanded by the strictures of working memory we can orchestrate transverse pathways between the elemental quiddity of impetuous meaning and the dignified tropes of transitivity that bequeaths entire universes with feral progeny that modulate their ecosystems with both a taste of approximated symmetry and a cohesive enterprise for productivity that rests on the granular concordance of the highest plane to the indivisible parcels of atomic meaning that solder together to exist as intelligible if strained by the primordial frictions guaranteed by the brunt of motion incipient because of the metaphorical inertia created within insular universes to inform sprawling conurbations of mobilized thoughts designed to reckon with the breakneck pace of the corresponding reality to which they explicitly and precisely refer to.

We must singe surgically the filigrees that amount to the perceptible realities that transmute temperaments into the liturgy of routine conflated with the rigmarole of neural dragnets of reiterative quips in an elegant game of raillery with our supernal contumacy against the rigid authority of aleatory vagaries mandated by a dually arbitrary universe in a probabilistic terpsichorean dance with the depth of our dredge for subliminal acuity or the shallow bellicosity of common modes of glib contemplation characteristic of the basic nobility of improvisation. This basic interface with the world can either be mercurial or tranquil based on the interactionism of the enfeebled trudge of surface senses or blunt intuitions and the smoldering impact of the vestigial cloaks that deal gingerly with the poignant subtext evoked in the cauldron of immediacy rather than pondered with the portentous weight of imperative singularities of uniqueness derived from the plunge into the arcane citadel of microscopic introspection so refined that the ineffable drives we seek to fathom become amenable to the traipse of transcendental time that rarefies itself by defying the brunt of compartmentalized bureaucracies administered by the fulcrum of stereotypical notions of acquired gravitas imputed to mundane pedestrian quidnunc concerns that defile humanity rather than embolden the subaudition of gritty punctilios that show the supernal powers of the axiomatic divinity of sharpened sentience to reign with supremacy over the baser ignoble components of bletcherous nescience that leads to knee-**** platitudes that provoke folksy peevish divisions. We should rather orchestrate our activity by heeding the admonishment about the primogeniture of poignant sabotage buffered by the remonstration of innate tranquility and finding a whipsawed compromise of rationalization with true visceral encounters with the fulgurant quips of brisk emotions that grind industriously into amorphous retinues of the trenchant human imagination to either equip or hobble the leapfrogged interrogation of veracity and more consequently our notions of truth and fact.

When we see the hackneyed results of default ecological dynamics, we find ourselves aloof from purported transcendence because the whimpered bleats and cavils of the importunate masses result in a deafening din of cacophony because we strive throbbing with sprightliness towards the galloped chase of tantalization without the luxury of a terminus for satiation. Obviously a growth mindset is the galvanic ****** that spawns the imaginative swank of the pliable modulations of our perceived reality that, when protean, showcase the limitless verve of our primordial cacoethes for epigenetic evolution rather than the stolid and staid foreclosure of impervious sloth that memorializes the gluttony of speculation about fixed entities rather than imperative jostling urbanity that dignifies the brackish dance with dearth and the exuberant savory taste of momentary excess because it engages the animated pursuit of limerence rather than the exhumed corpse of wistful regret. Nature is a cyclical clockwork system of predatory instinct met with the clemency of the prosperous providence enacted by the travailing ingenuity of successive cumulative generativities that compounded unevenly and unpredictably to predicate a fundamental zeitgeist calculated to engorge the fattened resources of the resourceful and temper the etiolated dreams of the fringed acquiescence of a hulking prejudiced population of dutiful servants that balk at the diminutive prospects of a lopsided distribution of talent and means but slumber in irenic resolve created by the merciful hands of defensive designs that configure consciousness to relish comparative touchstones rather than absolute outcomes that straggle beyond a point of enviable reference to shield the world of the barbarism of botched laments clamoring for an uncertain grave from the gravity of the orbiting satellites of apportioned wealth both sunblind and boorish but simultaneously inextricable from the acclimated fortune of heaped nepotism and herculean opportunism. The intransigence of the weighted destiny of inequity is a squalid enterprise of primeval abrasive and combative tendencies within the bailiwick of the indignant compass inherent to the system that fathoms its deficiencies with crabwise and gingerly pause but airs a sheepish grievance like a bleat of self-exculpation but simultaneously an arraignment of fundamental attribution erroneously indicted without the selfsame reflexiveness characteristic of a transcendent being with other recourses to clamber an avenue to Broadway without malingering in the slums of opprobrious ineffectual remonstration against the arrangement of a blinkered metropolis of uneven gentrification.

We flicker sometimes between the strategic drivel of appeasement and the candor of audacious imprecation of the culprits of indignity or considerate nutritive encomium of the beacons of ameliorated enlightenment because we often masquerade a half-witted glib consciousness lazily sketched by the welters of verve alloyed with the rancid distaste of squalor and slumber on the faculty of conscientious swivels of prudential expeditions with an avarice for bountiful considered thought and wily contortions of demeanor that issue the affirmative traction of adaptive endeavor to cheat a warped system for a reconciled peace and a refined self-mastery. We need to traduce the urchins that sting the system with pangs of opprobrious ballyhoo and the effluvia of foofaraw that contaminate with pettifoggery and small-minded blather the arenas better suited for the gladiatorial combat of cockalorums tinged with a dose of intellectual effrontery beyond the span of dogmatism rather than the hackneyed platitudes that infest the news cycle with folksy backwardation catered to the fascism of a checkered established press that urges insurrection while tranquilizing dissent against the furtive actions of consequence hidden behind the draped verdure of pretense whose byproduct is only a self-referential sophistry that swarms like an intractable itch to devolve the spectator into a pasquinaded spectacle of profound human obtuseness that pervades malignantly the system of debate until the reductionists outwit themselves with the empty prevarication of circular logic that deliberately misfires to miss the target of true importance because of the pandered black hole easily evaded by creatures of high sentience but inevitably ensnaring the special kind of dupe into a cycle of bellicose ferocity of internecine balkanization. The vainglory of the omphalos of entertainment is also another reckoning because it festers a cultural mythos of glorified crapulence parading a philandered promiscuity with half-baked antics that gravitate attention and the lecheries of gaudy tenses of recycled tinsel alloyed by debased aberrations of seedy grapholagnia that magnetize as they percolate because of the insidious catchphrases embedded in pedestrian syncopation that ignite retention and acclimate to mediocrity the sounds of generations discolored by faint pasty rainbows rather than ennobled by majestic landscapes of ignipotent mellifluous sound that stands a supernal amusement still for the resourceful trainspotter.

Despite the contumely aimed in the direction of contrarians for deviating from the lockstep clockwork hustle of stooped pandered manipulation that peddles the wares of an entirely counterfeit reality, I stand obstinately against the melliferous stupefaction of entire genres of myth and subcultures huddled around the sentimental tug of factitious sophistries regaled by thick amorphous apostates that cherish the vacuous sidetracked spotlight with fervor rather than pausing on the enigmatic querulous inquisition about the penumbras that lurk with strained effort beneath or above the categorical nescience of the shadowy unknown that often coruscates with elegance even in obscurity. I fight with labored words to spawn a psychological discipline that invokes the incisive subaudition of the pluckily pricked exorcism of true insight from the husk of buzzwords that constellate auxiliary tangential distractions from the art form of psychological discernment that predicates itself on the concept that the rarefaction of rumination by degrees of microscopic precision enables the introspective hindsight of conscious events that can be parsed without the acrimony of cluttered conflations of the granular prowess of triumphant ratiocination that earns a panoramic perch with the added luxury of perspicacious insight into the atomic structure of the rudiments of our phenomenological field and the abstractions that linger beyond perceptual categorization. When we analyze the gradients of anger, for example, we can either be ****** into a brooded twinge of wistful resentment or we can decipher that through heuristics designed to cloister the provenance of subconscious repose with ignorance there exists a regimented array of tangential accessories embedded deep within the cavernous repository of memory that designates a cumulative trace of compounded symmetries of concordant experience immediately perceptible because of the tangible provocateur of our gripes and the largely subliminal tusk that protrudes because of primal instinct that squirms with peevishness because of the momentary context preceded by the desultory churn of smoldering associations swimming with either complete intangible sputtered mobility through the tract of subconscious hyperspace or rigidly fixated by an arraignment of circumstances with propinquity to the deep unfathomed flicker of bygones receding or protruding because of the warped and largely unpredictable rigmarole of constellated spreading activation.  
When we examine the largesse of the swift recourse of convenience we forget by degrees the travail that once bridged the span of experience from patient abeyance in provident pursuit to now the importunate glare of inflated expectations for immediacy that stings the whole enterprise of societal dynamics because it vitiates us with a complacency for the filigrees of momentary tinsel of a virtualized reality divorced from the concretism that used to undergird interaction and now stands outmoded as a wisp beyond outstretched hands straggling beyond the black mirror of a newfangled narcissistic clannishness that shepherds the ostentation of conceit to a predominant position that swaddles us with fretful diversion that operates on a warped logic of lurid squalor and pasty trends becoming the mainstays of a hypercritical linguistic system of entrapment based on the apostasy of candor for the propitiation of fringed aberration because of the majoritarian uproar about touchy butthurt pedantic criticasters with a penchant for persnickety structuralism. With the infestation of entertainment with the ubiquitous political cavils engineered by the ruling class to have a common arena of waggish irreverence we forget that sometimes the impetuous ****** of propaganda is cloaked by the fashionable implements of a rootless time writhing in a purported identity crisis only to gawk at the ungainly reflection of modernity in the mirror and remain blissfully unaware about the transmogrified cultural psyche that feeds the lunacy of endless spectacle based on the premise that one singular whipping post can unite an entire generation of miscegenated misfits looking for commonality to team up against the aging generations that cling to the sanctity of cherished jingoism against the intentionality of a revamped system that malingers with empty promises using exigency and legerdemain to obscure the mooncalves among their ranks that march on with quixotic dreams that tolerate only the idea of absolute tolerance and moderate only when feasibly permitted by the anchored negotiation of the fulcrum of totemic governmental responsibility between factions that wage volleys of invective at each other to promote a binary choice of vitiated compromises of mendaciloquence that ultimately endanger the republic with either the perils of hidebound conventionalism and nativist fervor or the boondoggles of fiscally irresponsible insanity cloaked with rainbows and participation trophies. Reproach can be distributed to both sides of the aisle because ironically in a world where gender is non-binary the most important reproductive ***** in the free world is a binary-by-default despotism that polarizes extremely ludic fantasies on the left met with the acrimony of the traditionalisms on the right that staunchly resist the fatuous confusions of delegated order only to the sharp rebuke of the revamped political vogue that owes its sustenance to a manufactured diplomacy of saccharine lies and ubiquitous lampoons that are lopsided in the direction of a globalist neoliberal bricolage of moderately popular buzzwords and the trojan horse of insubordinate flippant feminism that seeks to subvert through backhanded manipulation the patriarchy so many resent using lowbrow tactics and poignant case studies rather than legislating the egalitarian system into law using the proper channels. I myself am a political independent who sides with fiscal conservatism but libertarianism in most other affairs because the pettifoggery of law-and-order politics is a diatribe overused by sheltered suburbanites and red meat is often just as fatuous as blue tinsel and sadly in a majoritarian society the ushers of conformity demand corporate divestiture in favor of an ecological system of predictability rather than an opinionated welter of legitimate challenges to a broken system of backwards partisanship and wangled consent. Ultimately, I remain mostly apolitical, but I am a fervent champion of the mobilization of education to a statelier standard that demands rigor and responsibility rather than the chafe of rigmarole that understates the common objectives of humanity and rewards conventional thinking and nominal participation to earn credentialed pedigree when the bulk of talent resides elsewhere.
Tommy N Jul 2011
Mario hits it with the sounds
of bodies hitting plexiglass.

My horses hit it without a sound. They want to escape it.
And I am trying to drive this dune buggy
off this cliff, but the clipping is strong here.

In Pac-Man, the tunnels were circular. I don’t know
if people realized that they were trapped in a sphere.

In Asteroids when you get to the edge of the universe,
you begin again.

And that Snake. His body could stretch all over his world
looping, but he could never eat his tail.


If all your electrons were in the right place, and all the wall’s
electrons were in the right place. You could feasibly walk through
the wall.

What would you do while in the wall? Think. Fear.
The superposition could rip your body into ragdoll parts.


When I turned clipping off, I expected the freedom to walk through
the wall and suddenly the floor
fell out from under me.

Every time I respawn I feel like my inventory is heavier,
and my flamethrower burns colder.
Juliana Feb 2013
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.

Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.

Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.

Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.

Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
This is written only using the first half of the dictionary.
http://poemsaboutpoetry.blogspot.ca/
Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little
parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle,
and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers,
temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather.
When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow,
feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below.
And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews,
changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views.
The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered,
at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers.
Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man.
midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan,
By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places,
some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces.
All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show.
Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low,
we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day
a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away,
with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch,
stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch.
It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together
wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather.

From a Snowman
Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019
From a Snowman perspective
Miko May 2013
Namesake factories
throats built for
circumstance
going to be involved
character
dealt upon a crap hand
dealership
fighting a feasibly sliced
stack of chance
allotted with time
and pollution
that's why I love
simple
perfect
even for sensitive skins
Jake Devlin Dec 2022
There is a war raging inside of me
Feels as though I'm being eaten from the inside
An anxiety that will not relent
An ache no poison could feasibly palliate
Founded beliefs of a love, one so true
Begging God for an answer
For what reason do I deserve such torment
Of being away from the One
That takes away all of my blue
Think
for when memory serves;
Write
for when it does not.

Thus
do I carry
a pen and notebook
so oft as I feasibly can,
for my memory doth so oft
seem to fail me,
especially when I need it most!
Sofia Dec 2012
Mentor Shakespeare!
He said that expectation was the thief of all joy.
(Or was it his cousin Comparison?
It might not make a difference.)

If I may address you,
Adhered--blessed Grandfather of my soul's art,
My God's created conduit to His inspiration that flows through me constantly,
The ceaseless voice I can never shake off--
I feel this is my only release
In the pain I feel
--Blessed grandfather,
And Father,
Ease me in this tumult:
I was inclined after a few
Short grasps of eyes meeting eyes
A shared Smile
Maybe then I thought,
The loneliness could be lifted,
Drifted,
Acquitted,
Only just for a moment!
Only just for a brief break from the drab outline of the life I call mine!
(And yet, it is not!)

I thought perhaps I was worth a moment
Of a precious creation's time.
Was it not commonplace to build such dreams
In the sand of my stormy shore'd mind

But Fathers,
What sparks!
What electricity can bring down the tallest tower that stands alone in the barrenness of the world,
To an elevated illumination in the highest clouds of the most brilliant heaven of Love!
Ah, the sharpness of the memories jolts me still!
But what of it?
All my visions are turned to naught,
And I have been struck down
And returned to the far corners where I am unreached.
Alone and unsought,
Feasibly content, the tallest tower remains in its solitude,
Unaware that the absence of life cannot render a knowledge of its true state.

What a sad shape we are in,
To expect the world, over a single pearl found
On the tossed beach of the soul.
written on a painfully empty stomach as well as a pained heart.
things don't look well off when you're alone and unused to the joys love brings--
ah, how it loosens your self control.

12/03/12
Valerie Nov 2010
I'm not even really sure what to say
Or how I should explain
Today is Father's day
And I've always had this pain.

It's right here in my heart
And I'll never let it go
Even though we've been apart
I can still feel it so.

It's not the easiest thing
To know you're gone today
I'm still hurting
And this is what I've wanted to say:

I know you left when I was little
But that's not what this is about
You didn't want us to be caught in the middle
And I've never had my doubt.

You had a reason to leave
And I accept this now
Though it was always hard to believe
That you could just walk out.

But that's what being a dad is like
You make big decisions on behalf of your offspring
And that was the right choice to better our life
And alleviate some -could be- lifetime suffering.

Though I still had lots of tears
I trust your decision was right
And after all these years
I now see with God's sight:

This was meant to ensue
You were meant to pass away
We were meant to live without you
And life goes on anyway.

I love you more than you know
And that will never change
Though I didn't want you to go
I have to except this new pain.

It helps me realize a lot of things
A lot of truths and rights
I know that God sometimes brings
Obstacles that we have to fight.

So now you know my thoughts
I wrote this for you
And I completely love you lots
And I know you love me too.

Besides all the mistakes
And the big choices you made
I won't slam the brakes
On my own life today.

I'll keep strong
And celebrate this holiday
Smile even when I feel wrong
Cause today is Father's day.

No reason to frown
You were a good man, and still are in my heart
I won't let this day bring me down
Because that's what you've wanted from the start.

You've just wanted us to be happy and safe
That was your plan from the get-go
And with all the dilemmas in the first place
Your choice made us happier even so.

I love you even though I don't feasibly know you
And love you now that you're gone
So I guess you knew that this decision was right to do
Because what happened is what you wanted all along.
SSK<3  AKA: Valerie

I didn't really know my dad, but I knew him a the same time. He left when I was very young. This is a poem I wrote on Father's Day, he passed last year in December and it was like a sense of closure for me when I found out. But at the same time it was Earth-shattering because the hope I had to see him one day was gone.
surface attractions are magnetic insurrections
******/ecstatic fornication is aqueous neurotic
loquats departing markets feverishly
his emergence is magic
her carpets were made to be rolled upon
in naked ecstasy
hungry like diners at a restaurant
humid and loose like comets
seeking markets to sell goods and services to
humid like germany in the heat of summer
drums breaking the silence like it was a sheet of paper
staples faking their commitments
bound to paper like razor blades to tape
jump up and scream your health is a miracle
sting like a needle the record player skips a beat
i am shown musical images yet perhaps we are meant to sleep
his dream is real and thirty feelers adorn her skin
her hungry hands caress his legs
forever peeling away the cucumber’s skin
respect is resolving to love despite the fire that shoots up your spine
go and wash the mind in a pool of liquid nectar
amrit is her sweater the sweaty and the sweet serum
salty houses of gingerbread demand repair

fair thee well 2016
your edges are rusted, frustrated and melancholy
i seek the middle where white lilies lie
waiting for someone to hold them
speak “know” more and refrain from talking
her arms hold the world in waking defiance
science is borrowed from metaphysics
statistics weaken the faith of our future
shoot the researchers and drown them in tubes of acid
like they torture cats and vivisect their own families
stab them and then steep them in water but add no honey

song shadows
soul and mirrors
will we ever see clearer
sweet life oh the fragrance
the righteous mind
un-sees the danger
so many soldiers
so many women
are all our fathers really children
move swiftly into the windy recesses
the mind regresses
all the time
damp and wet
the owl cries
so long tomorrow
farewell goodbye
dunk your head in liquid splendor
i am tender as the snow
pouring down from heaven’s fiefdom
mornings hunger is dissipated
by moonlight kisses and salty lovers
salves of calendula upon our skin
swim in juicy wonder
listen and dance with thunder
the fireflies swim through burning skies
making arcs and triumphant cries
what a silly blunder
all the noise and all the cover
hiding your heart in violet garments
streams of satin in your slumber
stroke the liberated arrow
weave the gardenia’s shadow
streams of consciousness and beauty
looking into eyes of human strategy
human shadows
start to suffocate us
instruct the timber plundered
strumming humid arias
looms of butter start to melt
svelte and spelt
slews of wealth
heavens belt is loosely tied
striated like the mind
grinding hind legs
selves neglect entry fees
sleeves of grass
strands of ice
jump in the lake for a quick refreshment
stand back you are lucky to undertake the treatment
come here and steer clear of fear’s inner critic
sinister sisters jump at guys
in gyms baring turbans in tournaments of blindness
sentenced to life behind stars
score cards grieve their own boxes
scratch the lottery cards
show them your hearts
small and beautiful
throughout the luminescent sky
i sulk waiting for the humpback whales to fly
street lights brighter than souls
do what you can and lift up the whole
returning to our goals and values
salutations bless the next expectation
the desperation of the departed
his investigation
feet fade into feathers
streets are named after leather
longing for loops of string
rings dream in desert timing
first rhymes decency gone blind
so we must find our light inside
held in bed against its will
vintage bells dressed in music
goose feathers use it for pillows
the west winds find his lips
respect turns to trust and kisses your bones
in bird language i speak tones of glowing stones
roses freeze the afterglow of darkness
dressed in moans and loaning their hands to anyone that passes
the dancers resume amusing stances
chances are France is falling faster than a comet
soaring like moorings in Spain
hours invested in self selection
hesitation to understand beauty
like mushroom filaments stints of style in tiny islands
steeped in courage still considering this weapon
resend the message festering in a fast vesicle
i feasibly neglect my spectacles
guess who came to dinner and wished you a happy new year
we live in order for our features to disappear
in Diaspora spores of ecstasy, mutiny and insurrection
rebel against tyranny and become the tyrant’s offering
sacrifice is ritual both real and useful
humid as the dawn in swampy storms of vision
precision is clueless less the virtuous resolve it
resourceful yes but nonetheless tired of twirling in groovy dramas
sand storms and bottomless pits
groping for history, mystery and freedom

you are a dumpling dressed in the afterglow of sunlight
with melancholy nectar dripping from your elbows
Arborvitae Nov 2014
Slipping through rhyme and reason to feasibly change the seasons, we eat the morals of our peoples chieftains and horde the gored crown of misbegotten dreams, choking down muffled screams of rotten abhorrence at the center of our beings essence. Our minds are not our own, but we condone the ill because the foreign mind is a relentless drill that plants it's seeds deep and in supplying hindsight keeps us dull and meek. The food is the weak and the strong do eat to complete the endless cycle and compete for success in survival to the hindrance of oblivious brilliance and the benefit of passive resilience.
I let em' push me
I let em' tell me
I let em' ignore me
I let em' judge me
I let em' berate me
I let em' because in every case of getting pushed, told, or ignored, every time I'm judged and berated it is at least a penny's worth added to my ability, skill, or to feasibly achieve things that are above average and in most ways above those who will, would, or have...
Push(ed) me
Tell(Told) me
Ignore(d) me
Judge(d) me
Berate(d) me
Go ahead because when you think you win , will win, or have won, I do, and will, and have already, actually and in reality all in ways you'll never be able to comprehend.
I'm tired of it,
The darkness,
Pulling me under,
Making me feel,
Heartless
How far fetched would it be for me
To live life, free, happily
Not having to worry about the
things that you want back from me
You laughed at me, a catastrophe
Had me sick like a disease
You cannot ever put at ease
A heart that deflates easily
I could not feasibly
Ever win you back to my side,
Fingers locked with mine
And we're looking in the eyes
Very deeply into my mind,
Seeing past all the dirt and the grime,
And the hard times, and the sad times
And all the good and all the bad and in between times
You used to be mine, I used to see my
Self taking vivid swims inside your grayish green eyes
Flowing freely in a streamline,
And maybe if you look deep inside,
Maybe you could still find
Love
I kind of wrote this with a rappy style flow. I don't know why, it just kind of happened. I feel like I closed it up nicely though
I hear them in the frail beating of darkness
they call asking to talk to their loved ones
their past echo's of reality resound in my mind
and all I can do is listen and relay their words

I never asked to be a in between
to be a representation of the dead
but here I am in the midnight hour
conveying the words they have said

To have a gift that is feasibly insane
to know others think me rather strange
I know half believe the other half are sceptics
yet my world is arranged not at all deranged

In the old days, oh those days
they would torture you
make you confess to their lies
and drape the cloak of death on you

But here I am
in the shadow of the night
working hard
to give spirits flight


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Upon a ponderance
About infinity, and beyond...
Got lost, be back soon!
It has been said
That the Universe is expanding
Expanding into what?
I cannot comprehend
An end
As surely space
Has no end?
So far, scientists
Understand about 5%
Of what space is comprised of
How they know it's 5%?
In 50 years, or 500 years
5% may be seen
As vastly over exaggerated
And that the big bang
Was no more
Than equivalent to a farting Squirrel
The rest is merely conjecture
And theory
Based on current knowledge
This cherry on the cake
May only be a crumb
Or fulcrum
Time to go venture
Down some wormholes
Black holes, Dark Matter
And perhaps a few rabbit holes
see ghosts of neutrino particles
And their distant unknown relatives
Hiding on 'the other side'
Of the theoretical unknown
Just had a rollmop herring sandwich
Or did i?
Maybe
It was some kind of other reality
And i merely 'felt' the echo
Of another version of me
In a parallel world?
Time to go *** in a portal!

by Jemia
Brooke P Apr 2020
I just want to shut my ******* phone off and run away
to the farthest location I could dream up and feasibly travel to
maybe Canada
I heard Toronto is nice
from former friends and lovers
although, I know my seasonal affect would never forgive me for that.
But what a serendipitous chance to feel nothing -
wrapped in the numb, stagnant northern air,
the only escape from a perpetual hanging on by a fragile thread.

Wandering through the streets
partially sober and grasping at the fabric tethered to my jacket
which has just begun fraying slightly,
snipped, but not severed quite yet
clasping its fingers around that of her fraternal twin,
lacing knuckles -
gestures reserved for lovers and family
and held together by the promises we never keep.

Spinning out like Fibonacci
an equidistant and calculated spiral
but then it finally breaks
and the tension is relieved.
Derek Apr 2019
I'm on another level
Out of touch
and you can't reach me
And frequently
I find I'm on my own frequency
But feasibly
And I believe
quite easily
I could receive
Affinity
From all who breathe
The same air as me
Before I leave.
Grace Ann Feb 2019
Like you my muse has been lacking; distant
Like you
My muse went from lover to friend
Upbruptly and unexpected
Like you my muse is becoming less and less of someone I know very well and very fondly and more of a tense acquaintance I pass in the grocery store with heavy eyes and a forced smile
Grocery stores are the worst though
We're always forced to meet up in a different isle
And we continue this ruse of feigned "okayness"
And you take your handfull of items and emotions to self-checkout
While I'm drowning in a cart full of ingredients I can't feasibly make a meal out of
And check out with a clerk I pay a hundred dollars every visit
And meet a nutritionist to help me shop
And you
You just get on with your life
Bella Isaacs Jun 2020
I forgive easily, give second chances easily, give easily
I give up more than I can, feasibly,
Until I realise, the stone idol, earthquake crumbling, does nothing but rain stones on me
And I am already so deeply entrenched,
That I forget how to seek strength,
From a God that hasn’t forsaken me.
The inescapable reality
     consigning one at birth
     automatically includes no breath
oblige premise, whereat
     existence can terminate
     with sudden,
     and untimely inexplicable death
cruel ploy wrought,

     whence randomly begat
     into this webbed wide world
grim reaper nonchalantly,
     asper macabre Vaudevillian
     character cane twirled
automatically infers
     cessation of livingsocial
     with no forewarning,

     where nutty squirreled
memories become indelibly engraved
     (photogravure) inherently
     pervasive I apprise imperiled,
which ever present
     unavoidable demise,
(albeit a bleak thought)
     looms larger as orbitz

     (demarcating sans initial debut),
     each subsequent anniversary flies
faster as staying alive finds
     every mortal getting
     older, where guise,
which gloomy thought didst arise
with the windmills
     of my mind particularly,

     sans unwelcome thought,
     when my person dies
came to mind, while subtle
     diminution to exercise
asthma body, mind, and spirit
     approaches sixth decade (come
     January 13th, 2019),
     the harsh reality lies

within this cognitive,
     intuitive, and fully
     still operative flesh and bone
aware of becoming deceased
     increases in direct proportion
     as another year done
and all to quickly, irrevocably gone,
when deplorably belatedly

     late life self discover
     re: visa vis hone
passion with words specially,
     possibly, feasibly encrypted
     while supinely prone
on deathbed with
     onset of rigor mortis,
     yet just barely

     enough buffer'n strength
     to etch said chicken scratchings,
hens forth before
     mine unbeknownst cremation
whereat Facebook friends invited -

     cost will be...ahem...
     (no more than one rolling stone)
     presently concludes any
     subsequent poetic endeavors
     shot thru with quasi morbid tone.

— The End —