"finitely" poems
A fueling, flashing fulgent, furnace, fulgurous, frothy, fumes and feathery flakes,
I do not speak of waves of snow, hoary frost, or ice, a cold gelare or even frozen lakes!
Formidable, furrows, fructifying, functioning fruition to foremost fondly found a flaming,
I revel not in such destruction but choices for my naming!
For flowers flow fields forever, forswearing funneling fjords finitely, fire fray’s forests furthermost,
Instructing in the arts of language, for I am your gracious host!
Fakir formulates factious forms fading flummoxed into fury, a fugacious fusible and furtive fleeting feigning furiosity,
A deep ditch dug, tight as pug, wrapped blanket snub though not a flub, all perspicacity!
Finds frosty frore a frozen freezing faction for fusty flaming feasance,
Fomorian fantasy of formidable faggoting, facient up to fancying, fancying, furnaced flesh fluidity finds itself factitivity, facets for fabulists from the faint familiarity,
Relating cold to heat as such, requires but a human touch, apologize I do you see for all my clueless severity!
Fans of all the falconry, who fallow fields of family, falter for a fallacy, falling into infamy as forgone flame frontogenesis, fatigues a Faustian felony, for which fate finds is fastigiated foolery, febrile features featly and yet furiously, favonian fear of fellowship fiendishly, figures foal to fatherly, finally fiddle flinchingly, although not so too furtively;
I finagle in my filigree!
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
i.
the Hibiscus is the paradisiacal
armistice of quagmire and wind:
leave it there anchored to Earth.
ii
when it rains, it bows to no one;
when it genuflects to no bird,
it trills on the red of the moseying hour—
nobody sees the Hibiscus.
only the children of the vandal.
iii.
last summer we had makeshift
bubble machines and in the high-rise
of the twilight's cradle, we ran
viciously against the humdrum town
blowing bushels of laughter at
the dreary populace — the brooms
to a sweeping rustle, unsettled dust
mounting the ether.
we hurtled across the
infantile roads like they owed us something finitely attributed
to our locomotives.
iv.
the Semana Santa had gone by
and the season, no matter how promisingly redolent with emollient brush
of wind and laboring silence, held
no reprise — the Hibiscus,
it is not alone in the quiet verdigris.
v.
somewhere amid the hubbub of city,
there is a pendulum of line biting
the shore of waiting repeatedly.
only steel scaffolds erected and no
flagrant scent aroused. peregrinating
in the haloed hour, the nascent furl of
belch from vociferous iron-clad beasts
in all of EDSA
and when i look at people around me
they look like gumamelas, finally,
yet i am
not coming home.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
i can never love you the way i claim — delicately and without violence. i remember hating flowers and broken seashells, and my grandmother, hand-sewing pastel dresses. deep down, my bones are raised on stories of ancient wars and biblical battles carried from memory to memory, a string of generational blunders — i am made of my father's bitterness and my mother's denial. so i will love you with corruptions and apologies, with bled-out veins, giving in like an emptied river, with all the poems i have read and forgotten, and with everything that makes me finitely human.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 12:05 AM UTC
**** em.
Claustrophobic nightmares
Chiropractic disasters
Supplementary salvation-
From Salvation-
pillows and blankets
Strangers are wed
finitely
Elbow-room is
as precious as gold
a needle in a haystack
A waiting room
for greater adventures in store.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
ＯＮＥ:
i miss the
way your
body sinks
into my
mattress
marking your
beauty finitely
ＴＷＯ:
and I also
miss how
your tired
kisses came
with soft
promises of
forever
ＴＨＲＥＥ:
i wonder
about who
stains your
cheeks now
with red
praise and
scarlet i love yous
ＴＨＲＥＥ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
she would
never love you
as much as
i do
ＦＯＵＲ:
and i miss
you so much
i fall asleep
to the monotone
of myself
counting the days
of how long it has
been since
your departure
ＦＩＶＥ:
and to pass
my time
i count the
times you
told me you
loved me
with absent
ghost eyes
ＳＩＸ:
i'm trying
to live with
the ribs you
broke and
the air
you left
ＳＩＸ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
but how can
i go on
with the bones
you left me?
ＳＥＶＥＮ:
i'll keep trying
but it's hard
when my
memories
of you litter
my head like
the dust in
my attic
ＥＩＧＨＴ:
and how can i
go on when
you emptied me
and left me
wondering why?
ＮＩＮＥ:
i have
watched you
leave over
and over
and my zenith
sadness is
quite enough
to make
a collapsing
supernova feel
shame
ＴＥＮ:
and sometimes
I blame
love itself for
handing me
right into
your hands
ＥＬＥＶＥＮ:
but when
it's darkest
please know
that my
moon still
chases after you
ＥＬＥＶＥＮ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
and that
i don't
hate love
for giving
you
ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ:
i hate love
for residing
in my heart
infinitely when
it knew you
weren't staying
forever
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
~For Pradip~
*who reminded me:
We are all God’s Trial & Errors*
tender is the tendency,
so finitely human,
infinitely foolish,
to overlook the
obvious,
let us not delve into our
particular peculiar idiosyncratic knots
in our hair and personalities,
all natural,
inherited or ill begotten
in voyages to far away,
like our childhood
***Thus,
we are all mistakes of a sort***
with natural fault lines,
accumulated dings, scapes, bruises,
furrowed crinkles that took us
years to perfect
We are flawed like diamonds,
valued by these natural flaws
by graders with loups who uncover
our flaunts, our clear air bubbles,
the more flaws the better,
because these attributes make us
most interesting!
you may be blonde,
you may be exotic
perhaps a lovely shade of
iridescence,
but lucky you whose scars speak
out and others wonder why,
they are so interesting
let us design a large animal,
seemingly ungainly, yet keystone to
their environment, so others may
profit thereby,
yet insanely quick on lumbering feet,
no hands, fingers, but a long snakey thinge
that multiple functions for
breathing, drinking, feeding grabbing, smelling and
trumpeting their presence
to foolish beings in their neighborhood
let’s us not debate
whose design is
an efficacy par excellence
so we be
ungainly, too tall, too
this or that,
even too flawless,
a specialized curse of sorts,
we are the product of
a sophisticated design laboratory
that makes many models,
each variegated, always different
so get down on your knees *********
and praise the design engineers
who created you to be
full of
& by elephantine trials and elephantine errors,
thereby making
us each,
a special pronoun,
an I
blessed
by definition:
though not in any dictionary:
unique,
flawless!
**
**^you are the most
flawless poem
you have ever written
and will ever ever
write***
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 3:59 PM UTC
The purest sexuality is not being
left excited by one’s ******
like a forbidden fruit
or found
in metaphors
via
allusions
of one’s wild
aphrodisiac breath
or resembling it phones/melody
during *********** in the bed;
it is the moment of philias
and events
that leave you finitely burnt from the inside, reforming
you and leaving you anew
for burning again
And humans aren’t its source
they’re just its vessel.
Just like poems kiss knowing:
no lips in flesh will be able to replace them for you.
The same goes with the choice of a human language
till we’re still
here.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
There is form Here
Form, chance, life
Might I leave it for the after?
Might I trade for the steady?
Shall I walk the roads of eternity,
Forever calm in memory?
Shall I make myself malleable,
Finitely changing upon the whistle of whim?
Mayhaps I should linger Here
And feel the dread of existentialism
And wonder forever more.
Mayhaps I should search for an answer
Beyond the void of eternity
Beyond the vertigo of life.
And wonder I will as I wander
Into the future ever yonder
Searching for meaning
Reaching for sense
And may I find knowledge
That I might lay it to rest Here
Where we have all begun
Where we might all end.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
They salute the setting sun-
The invocation of eternity in a dark glass bottle
Colored in by the furious scribbling of a black marker
Always on the verge
Of empty;
To the dull cacophonous squeak that erupts from the tip of that thing,
Irate in its placid path towards obscurity,
Censoring the callous morning light from refracting
Into the chasms of some finitely empty infinitum
Otherwise dedicated as the blunder of nomenclature:
Reality.
But to the muted and forlorn residue of the aforementioned,
The fiery chill blazing down upon fair human hearts,
Only meek eyes and ears perceive You in Your squandered state,
Your quiet quintessence,
Your opaque perfection.
Shine on, though I beg!
For even this obfuscating cherubim
Is depraved,
And wicked,
And lacking substance
To combat they who stand aside from the narrow mouth of that empty bottle
Where emptiness becomes palpable while beauty has no form;
Shine!
Luxuriate the few and linger not on the fearful and ignorant,
Scintillate and commiserate with us,
With them,
With those you find and who find you--
Do not confuse yourself with
God!
For God is in the bottle
And God is the marker!
Confess your presence in our souls--give a name to what we cannot
So that when we wake we find no compartment for our passions, no boundaries of love-
Roaming freer than the dancing light made pale by that blasphemous credence of philosophy awry.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 8:30 PM UTC
There were
Words upon a page
Written chronologically.
Chronically illogical
Logically impossible
Possibly an anomaly
And that would be
Phenominal
"The fate of failures, is perfection"
Attempts at great
Aren't practical
Without practice
Wrong turns had to be made
To find a new world
Order a new atlas
Errors addressed
At last
We find where to go
Because of someone's
Shortcomings
Trials
I err
Human is what I prefer
It's a blessing
My preference
For learning my life lessons
Is by living
Yes, I listen
But I'm missing the point
I have perfect vision
But Im def-
Finitely trying to zero in
Do you hear me?
Or at least see
Where I'm coming from
Nothing
The only option is more
If I plunder then fall
I'll spring
Before summer
Without having cold feet
Cowardice
Never climbed mountains
But a wise guy
Kept his toes
And still walks
The open road
Success
Is but a mile a way
My failures
Are just footprints
It's easy
To see
Where I tripped
But know
I never tripped
About it
When I reach
What seems to be
Overnight success
Just know
How you see me
Is the night before
And it took me
Ten thousand miles
To get to this
Opened door
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC
I may be the orange, and you may be the blue.
I shall be the black and you shall be the white.
I could have one of those shiny bubbly lights, you could have dozens.
But that's ok.
We are all different,
But my dear oh friend...
We finitely share one thing in common.
We're all in this mad beautiful world together.
Accept it, Love it, and Live it.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
The overture sounds:
A muffled “thud,”
And scraping flesh against macadam.
Un-rosined bows screech across nerves,
Dividing molecules to atoms.
Each neuron fires off, splicing into three
The soul from the body,
and something indescribably between.
Catching fire, he ascends -
"This is what it truly means to be!"
Each piece, each side
Breaking away in-finitely
To somehow become more whole
Through division, and in balance.
Like a reunion, of holy trinity,
Caught ablaze in fissile symphony.
- - -
And like a cork popped from a bottle,
Rewound, and played reversed,
He careens with a whining pitch
And
f
a
l
l
s
From orbit,
Back to earth.
Glimpsing God
Only to be clawed back
To the pains and pleasures of Samsara,
To taste the bitterness of my own blood,
Juxtaposed
With the ecstasy of Nirvana.
This is how I came to know the realm
In which our feeble bodies lurch.
Reborn as a phoenix from the ashes.
From the rear cabin of a hearse.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 3:28 PM UTC
A simplistic paradox;
Infinitely finite and finitely infinite.
Now and Never,
Once and Forever.
Logical and Mythical
Real and Illusion.
Reality is all of these things
yet is it none
for these are but words
which oversimplify, by definition.
Reality is a state of mind.
Nothing can convey the true vividness of Reality
except the whole experience of Life itself.
Art tries and comes close
and is a sort of Temple in the Mind
to the once and always infinite;
the secular Divine.
Inexplicable and intelligible
Ineffable and described.
Secular and Holy
All and None.
There is a pattern here
of polarity as unity
of duality as singularity
of simplicity as complexity.
Humans make of simplicity, complexity
and of what's singular we divide.
Of a unity, we polarize.
There is a pattern here.
Reality and all it's subsequent domains
are both holographic and tangible.
It is a paradox of obvious nature,
with an obvious answer hidden by Mind.
It is what it is.
Live it as such.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
what a peace-less work is man
ignoble in his reasons
so finitely infertile
in his faculties
on the subway
(express or local)
so wandering
though inactive
thinking himself an angel
in apprehension
knowing neither himself nor god
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 3:31 PM UTC
I wasn't sure of
those words, that holy
trinity pressed to give back,
until your heart stuttered systolic.
Contracted, you underplayed every line as
I fought, undervalued, omitted and flat-lined
that singular skip your two-fisted, beated rhythm
warning beacon, red-flashing, blaring signal flared sign
granted every second second of each stolen time, when those
planets and these stars became so fiercely yet finitely aligned,
yes, I understand now, as we lay entwined, cyclic, chest
deep, life-defying leap, gasp of breath, wake from
sleep, it is this that I seek, sunlight unconfined
crushing breath divine, beat of two, separate
singular, unexpected yet still
defined in-kind, of your
continuation bringing
life back to mine.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
For one to write about me, would be a
concussion of optimistic reflections.
My words conceal intentionally
inner reflections that even
I haven't gazed upon.
I'm a fragment of a picture wrote upon,
but then bleached with new horizons
that are neither rising or setting.
Conclusions of my thoughts are like a hurricane in
the confines of a daisy.
Bright but the beauty never
really placed singularly
but chained together
in a forced marriage of convenience.
I'm neither what one would expect
or the conclusion of a vast dissection
to collect
evidence to my meaning and function.
I'm a verse that moves further than
when the words finish finitely.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 2:20 PM UTC
Mamma poppy don't treat me the way she used to, no she doesn't even listen
It's frightening how my eyes light up to this tin-foil glisten.
Take me in your arms or better yours in mine.
A new way to feel momma's old touch &
Transcend these blackhole times
Black tar sublime
I'm finitely fine
I'll unlatch from this hook and swim from the line
I'm just waiting for clearer water
Where i can define myself as more than a junkies daughter
I'm finitely fine
Someone please give me their touch because all I ever do is destroy with mine
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
I am a sand clock in this passing life;
With every fallen sand grain is a drop of my heart beat
My breaths cease with yours as your grain passes through my hourglass
Yes, we are made of dust ..
And your grains of sand make me whole ..
A galactic dusty soul I am .. carrying a universe that in a way is finitely endless
We fight as we unawarely head towards that narrow neck of a death bed
Grain, we seep through and fall onto the deathly base of the hourglass
It's where time sits still, frozen, looking up onto other falling sand grains in the repetition movements of hatred, anger and destruct
And my soul fails to stay awake as my organs of dust fall away ...
A breath of me dies with you
A blink of my sight grows weaker
A tear from eyes drops heavily into a mud puddle of my endless cries ..
As each one of you fades .. so do I
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
She looks at me as if I hung
the moon
the stars
the planets that live so far
from where we stand,
inside the forest
She looks at me but doesn’t see,
My beauty,
My poetry,
My hunters stance, with bow in hand
ready to shoot, unlikely to revel
in a one sided, less egotistical romance
I hold in my palm her beating heart
which was pure until the day my gaze
was riveted upon her face and she fell
deep into a whirling maze of disdain
Beauty such as mine is sublime but
her heart is nothing to me, I hunt
to watch it fall to the earth and gather dust
She may pick up any piece that may remain
while I step over it with my next footfall
not leaving anything left to gain
Retribution catches me on a stormy night
following a trail of broken hearts and guided
by my gloriously shining light.
Tip toeing over less than fortunate souls
that gave their love to me,
and let me throw them away
just so they could bask finitely in my beauty
*Nemesis, I see you there, by the edge of the lake
Come forward, and I will love you
with all my heart has room for, and I will give
as good as I take.*
As I stand at the edge, I look back
upon the ground
and see the trail of ****** offerings
that my love has taken and drunk from
and the lives that I thought I had awakened
but I actually put to sleep while I dropped
what I did not bother to keep.
Then my gaze is caught, enraptured
by the silken caress of water lapping
at the face that stares back at me.
It hangs the moon, and the stars
and shows me planets that are afar
I can not look away from all the joys
it shows to me.
I’m drowning in ecstasy
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
I'll walk to you some pretty day,
the birds will swoop
we’ll peck in the hay.
Like needles, we’ll lay, with touching feet
To the hum in the grass.
Tracing two fingers down the soft of my spine
And over my ***
“I've got you”.
My hair will sleep across your cheek,
weaving the crevice of your lips
wandering you.
And then
silently
eyes fixed
finitely;
i'll help with socks as I had before,
you’ll re-knot laces
We’ll kiss once more.
We'll follow the sun
Jump from the bails,
We’ll hail to them both
And to our love
Never un-done
Never re-fail.
But as night falls
And spring is lost;
I’m sad
I’m hopeless
Like a needle is
Tossed.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
I miss your carefree stare
The curve of your bottom
When you text on your belly
I miss the places where your skin darkens
That are briefly visible
When you are playful
I miss how soft you are to hold
How you disappear into your silken hair
that cascades contentedly
When you hide and seek in the sheets that drape you
ode to the sadness of the moments end
The before and after you
I glimpse it finitely
Sam@011018
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
Slowly
Surely
Inevitably
We gather round to sing perpetual praises
While subtly taking jabs at the merry masters
Their chatter is chaos in our hearts
And in our ears it rings endlessly
Their balance is impeccable
But we possess unbreakable destiny
Dying
Rotting
Finitely
We dissolve into the soil of meager meadows
And evolve into cedars of circumstance
These roots will become our legacy
And proof of their coveted love
The branches will become our sanctity
Reaching worlds beyond these frail bodies
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
Until we see the world
As a space shared by all living things,
Each having a right to exist;
As nature intended,
In the beginning.
Until we see the world
As an infinite wonder
Through which we wander finitely
With a duty to care and share
That all living things
Might be fruitful and multiply;
As nature intended,
In the beginning.
Until we see the world
As our most valued asset
To maintain and grow
That our children
Might thrive and prosper
Without fear of disasters,
man-made and cataclysmic;
As nature intended,
In the beginning.
Until we see the world
As the only world
There is
Or will ever be;
And reform our lives
From greed to green...
We shall ALL be victims
of the worst crime
In the history of the world:
Ecocide.
AYO
~P
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 4:06 PM UTC
To the moments that push me back when I could have gone full-retard
To the times when I refrained from spending the only money I had on something as frivolous as seeing you say hi
Somewhat the best antidote to stupidity is shaking my head no and waving a polite goodbye
So if I seem like I'm thinking about you alot
You may say I'm yes-ing and no-ing to you alone
Because I'm already broke
And you make me feel, like buying more time with you by saying yes
Since yes may mean an Amen to You
Even I know, No is much more exciting
No is harder
No is rougher
No is sexier
No has repercussions
No I am not interested in this superficial interaction because your space smells so much like you and I want to dig my face into your hair
So I'm sorry
No
I mean, Yes please.
Yes, I would like some coffee, please.
Yes, I would like to have a conversation, please.
Yes, I would like to fight my dad so I can borrow money to spend around your space, please.
It's not infinitely cool that wins anyone, though.
It's the finitely present, that gets their attention.
Let me think about how much I haven't said anything really thoughtful to myself
But I have said more thoughtful things to you than the one fixing my bed.
I have seen myself kinder because there are people who have a nurturing way to them that makes us want to be them.
And I know I am spicy and not sweet
But
If I could be that type of person.
I would make sure I had it easier for me to say
Yes
Please.
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 3:59 AM UTC
Hi, i'm 73.
Which means literally nothing in this country.
There are a few things i'd like to say:
I'm glad i bumped into you 82
I'm grateful befriend with 24, 51, and 90.
I feel enough with our quick interaction, 68.
Thank you for being my pair-up, 74.
In the world filled with finitely many numbers
I know that there are infinitely many numbers i haven't paired up.
Yet the space is a cartesian plane.
Where every real number would pair up at some point.
Thus, there will be infinitely many interactions.
Despite of the finitely many iterations.
I hope we interact at some moment in time
I hope we pair up at some point in space
Because the world, is just a cartesian place.
And we're all just a number in 1's eyes.
Thank you, for all the numbers i've been paired with.
Sorry, for all the number i haven't mentioned.
Although you are all finite.
My gratitude towards you all are infinite.
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 8:53 AM UTC