"forgoes" poems
Allow me to project my insides
Beside your ear.
Certainly you can
Determine how the
Emptiness within my body
Forgoes the exuberance
Gathered on the surface.
Haphazardly phrased fragments
I speak
Just to be heard, even faintly.
Knowing my words
Level worlds,
Monopolize hearts,
Negate negativity,
Omitted from the explicit.
Perfectly formed fractures
Qualm me as they
Reverberate through my body
Slithering their way
Through Timothy's
Universe.
Viciously assaulting
Where they fit best.
Xenobiotic and almost parasitic
Yarns about a
Zealous life not yet lived
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
What is permanent remains
If it is meant for you
It shall find its way
Like tomorrow always finds today
Bones will meet the grave, but
The soul forgoes decay, and the wind
Will sing your name
You are permanent
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
Initially, a glistening syringe
Punctured our sullied vestigial
Denoting words withered and wispy
Also being barren, tapped as well as empty
That canister of pithy remembrances
Now outright, unique and unencumbered
Still
The torridly measly, meek and
Reflective dripping silver needle
Forgoes my waking-dream and other alibis
For fluids fleeting from us to
Be lapped up by the sun then bottled in the clouds
“Forever?”
…Yes, because time means nothing…
“So that’s where we are, when all they see is weather”
Goodbye to consciousness
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 1:51 PM UTC
If the world is small, how is it also
Infinite? What whirls us round, throwing me
To you, for you? Every kiss, the world forgoes
Despair and turns again. What is to be
Flawed, is also divine. Logic dictates
That we are fleeting, and yet words linger
Through ages; we touch the souls, traverse straits
Of heroes thought (at world’s end), at fingers’
Touch we fall apart. Are we the stars’ dust,
Or the dust of bygone beauty? Why fall,
If all falls from us. We darest this, for just
Knowing you is proof of little at all,
And yet all is found in your star-filled eyes,
Turning on me, reflecting star-filled skies.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 7:29 AM UTC
Beneath the covers, secrets can be found,
A lovers' tryst, a war-torn diary;
Days shared between the sheets can't be unwound.
All tragedy begins on common ground,
An 'X' where treasure hunters dig with glee
Beneath the covers; secrets can be found,
And feeling backwards from the fresh dug mound,
Each wrinkled line forgoes the mystery;
Days shared between the sheets can't be unwound.
The scented trail is hunted by the hound
Back to the lair; amidst the shrubbery,
Beneath the covers, secrets can be found.
From tragic end, to start, the tales abound,
Unveiling footnotes set in history;
Days shared between the sheets can't be unwound.
From crater can be plotted course unbound,
To scribe the book of life's trajectory;
Beneath the covers, secrets can be found,
Yet days between the sheets can't be unwound.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
Wings set adrift for a tomorrow that worries
for itself.
Wind's plaything whose opulence restores all
retiring worlds.
As if thought perfected down to its wire connects
and disconnects freely the Whole.
Pointedly that Whole knows of itself, and as yet to
know of itself--that lapse that furthers vision in a
flash.
By all soothing shadows that swim hardboiled things...
resigned amongst the transit of other things,
partaking thereby becoming...momentarily.
The welcome home of thing unto itself whose shadowy
screen blew about a holy commune, bows now to its
place to know of it, as an angelic head superseding
gravity.
By blood geared below the surface lapping feverishly...
till a luminosity assays flesh.
Strange the way, The Way is lit...in an instant a world
forgoes itself without changing its heading.
Lone and left to, what's lone and left to...for what
profits an eternity but that which must attain it.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Welcome to the home of the free,
The land of the divided
Welcome to a land filled with greed,
The one-percent who have the need
To silence dissent, keep those below them
Complacent in a system that favors money
Over ethics and honesty
Welcome to a nation full of deceit,
Land of misinformation and misery.
Welcome to a nation where the wheels
spin propaganda for a leader.
Welcome to a nation where a leader
Forgoes democracy and takes a page
From a communist and dictator,
Crowning himself King of the ages.
Who needs dignity when you've got vanity?
Who needs honesty when you're a liar?
Welcome to a nation where truth doesn't matter
Welcome to a country on fire.
Divided, we stand, divided we fall.
America the Beautiful, America the tall.
Who will be there to save us all?
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
Nascent thought provoking
threads flit to and fro
unseen solitary pinball wizard
cavalierly fiddles indiscriminately
leveraging outcome
silently holistic thought fragments
strewn staccoto scattershot
attenuated blitzkrieg
brain storm saturates,
par for course sandtrap engulfs,
chaos reverberates within
besieged cerebral corridor,
quotidian mental onslaught
spurns refugee exodus,
psychological ploy asper viable coping
function forgoes figurative
foothold toe tully forfeited
tenuous grasp slips forcing migration,
Sans psychotic shrapnel
clefts emotional well being,
without rhyme or reason
sense and sensibility rent asunder
rational, overall logical
modus operandi quashed
dealt fatal savage ******
soundless insanity relentlessly pounds
fifty plus shades gray matter
noiselessly bombarding
lofty craft cognitive faculty atelier
strafed emotional rescue
relegated to twilight zone
outer limits house barbed bereft ken
dolled, hallowed, and lobotomized
mined kempf desecrated sacred reliquary
orbits like a neurological asteroid belt
Self healing fragments repelled
despite fervent application grounded
evincing proof of positive thinking
courtesy Norman Vincent Peale
fore gone conclusion crowning
accursed albatross gussied as SPD
(schizoid personality disorder)
undefeated champ decamping forever
within noggin of this mortal male
til death do me part!
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
Sleeping in the conifers,
I stumbled on a rose.
Since trodden only yesterday,
Now carefully she grows.
Outstanding, still, the lilies in
The garden she forgoes.
I offered her my hand and knelt
To mend the earth and stone.
But gardener she needed none.
No meal. No collarbone.
And so I sang a quiet song,
And pat back down the loam.
O Spring when you, by skillful hand,
Affirm what I opined,
Awake me in the forest land,
That blushing rose to find.
By day I'll search the cedars and
By night the yews, the pines.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
morning lay like totaled
freedom, wish i could sew
its breeze to my chest and
wear it as a name tag.
sleep was beyond the cost
of damages.
there's a week to work through,
and today is another day?
what is it to forget to blink,
in a bypass of mind, a trickle
of drool at the side of the mouth?
how optical can an illusion get
while in daily activity?
another glug of coffee fails to
enrich the details, the nervous
system blinkers.
the capacity for joy, is proportional
to that of sorrow...every weekend
forgoes that wisdom.
be it chock-full of crazy.
it's the only way.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
... I am a New Creature in Christ Jesus.
My past is history.
The future's a mystery.
I have a great gift... NOW
That's why they call it the present
Also, see my new avatar.
I've decided to lose weight for real.
I'll be changing my avatar with
Each 10 lbs I lose.
At one time I lost 138 lbs through
A healthy diet and exercise.
If I did it once, I can do it again!
A lady named Catherine, a poet,
Had a bad past, but forgoes it,
She had some guts
No ifs ands or buts
She was in Christ and she
SHOWED IT!
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC