"figmented" poems
You walk a tightrope between
a photograph and my mind;
with careful steps i create you,
slowly, and imbue the figmented you
with your delicacy and beauty.
I know that you cannot exist in the space here;
the distance between my eyes and your portrait,
without having existed in my perceptions
at some other point before this moment,
and that right now
the real you
lives at a distance from me which mere miles cannot express.
But right now I am happy
to have you balancing on some invisible thread
which extends out to my face from your printed likeness,
for i am free to contemplate how to balance you
into the waking and sleeping moments of my life
without worrying about
where my tip-toeing steps fall
along lines of romantic delusion
and existential affection.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
This place seemed strange
like home never was
nothing more than
a halfway house
caught between dimensions
a cell to open your eyes
to this lucid nightmare called reality
hopelessly lost
without the slightest hint
of a cause
as to why
the ground is pockmarked
with craterous scars
as the foliage falls
bled dry for another shopping mall
but all is well
in the fertile lands
of the democratically free
even if its democracy at the end of a gun
jobs are on the rise
the army needs boots on the ground
paid for from the taxpayers purse
of course
the night is dark and full of terrors
so you better pick a side
after all
it's not like terrorism
was figmented in the imagination
as just another means of control
while freedom hangs overhead
like the illusion of a carrot
as the donkey
desperately avoids the stick
consuming the soil
for capitalistic gain
apathetic to plight
empty..
nothing more than a synthetic mess
a big mac wrapper
thankful the global elite
cares enough to feed the drones
marching conformingly
to the drummers beat
when did the darkness burn so bright
while everyone sits idly as the light fades
why did no one intervene
who cared to know
what happened here
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
this beautiful, broken thing
has fallen into beautiful, broken pieces.
scattered upon the floor,
as your bare feet try to dodge them,
and you maneuver around them as best you can
to try to get to me.
but i am on the other side of the room,
i am on the other side of the world.
and every time you trip up, every time you get so lost in my eyes that you forget to keep your balance,
you have to start over at the other end of the room.
and each time your clumsy hands fumble with the key,
you get farther
and farther
away.
i am falling
farther
and farther
behind.
so, please,
get out of your own head, for once
look up, not at me, but at the finish line
and remember that each time you fall
you start over
even if it is
farther
and farther
away,
it's not over.
an illusion of the mind,
a figmented imaginary barrier blocking me to you,
because as the walls close in,
and the pieces fall into more pieces,
it is all in your head.
the only thing that is stopping you to get to me
is yourself.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Despite all we've been through
You still believe the lies
The figmented truth they sell us
In neatly folded towels
Ironed sheets and fresh linen
Tempting us with home
A seemingly harmless word
Dragging us under
Sinking us deep
Those words held memories
Drilled into our bones
Buried in the recesses of hearts
While we wander the streets
Clutching to our rags
Nursing broken dreams
Scampering like mice in the night
Tugging at loose ends
On the pieces of frayed cloth
For the unspoken promises
The light at the end of the tunnel
The reward from the journey
You didn't believe me
When I said survival is for the fittest
But you have seen for yourself
There are no such things as miracles
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
be aware of the sludge pouring from every hole grab the stone that stands alone becoming all the mud tickles the throat no mood since it's matterless plays to love prays wide crawling downstairs the lard breaks slips on itself ******* non existence of all of them ***** fragile vulnerable almost make us count them up the racks the slacks figmented meaty mind-snacks
i wish i could hate them all to be so idiotically radical to explode in infinite gorey fragments of love and lust and sweat
the most potent toxin the one that causes vivid ******* rather than ****** death pity and awkwardness...alas
dear we know so little about love as little as its re-existence outside all poeticality and now we try to convince us in others that we do that we are
your mind one of the best kind make every happily inside the eyes
receive your aethereal caress
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC
To say nothing is to do nothing. Am I nothing at all, and if I were, would you even notice? Figmented into nothing more than imagination, is there a point to this ****** creation. For much is worth, and worth not so much. Is it the man I see before me true? Am I true, if nothing exists, we are nothing. If everything exists, are we everything? Can words really bear the weight of ten thousands slashes across one's flesh? To live, live lively, to love, be lovely and to boast, be boastful. Fermentation is the delegation we thrive on. One must grow, or wither away to nothingness. To hurt or to hate, what are these feelings that make light hearted children into detrimental miscreants. Whose fault, if fault is at hand. Is it all just part of one's make up. The human condition, but what is it to be human? Are you there? Are you listening? Do you Understand? If not there then where and if not listening then whom do you listen and if you don't understand then what is your understanding. What am I saying? Just words to one's ears. Are thine words be blatant or do they have uniformed meaning? Philosophical condemnation, physiatrics fundament reasoning. Enlightened soul, what is a soul? How can one get to igniting it? Barriers effect the basis of our own judgements. Then how can we cry when another judges us on the same basis?
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
nothing but positive
is in my life to stay
im tired of living
in such a negative way
today is the day
that I can declare
change to the way
I see the way of life.
life itsself is
such a beautiful place
it's filled with yellow Rays
and pink figmented flowers
and at the end of the days
as the nights start to lay
the pretty colors in the sky
say hi, just for a little while.
and finally
im tired of the nasty ways
no more bad days
I declare for myself.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC