"frictions" poems
Cut through the imaginary chains
Get a grip on the life’s reins
The journey maybe tough
Diamonds are polished by the rough
Journeying through the dark
Frictions may cause temporary spark
Running frantically across difficult territory
The pain and agony is just transitory
Life is there to celebrate
When you are confident and don’t speculate
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
Tell me your secrets
Let me be your desire
Melt into each other
Burn in passions fire
Tantric touching
Position bodies hunching
Tongue my guide
Feel me inside
Smooth as I slide
Face a roller coaster ride
Treasures need a map to find
Inside you buried is mine
*** can be a naughty thing
If body is all you choose to bring
Tease me tell me I can't touch
Fuels me..till our bodies crush
Crumbles my heart of stone
Exposed I am a M.A.N of bone
Incomplete pieces gone
Inside you I was all along
******** energy flowing strong
Stroke you short.....feel me long
Built up to a mighty swing
Infinite love is what I bring
Every ****** a new height
Scorpio sting feel my bite
Wrap around hold on tight
Focused energy hitting it right
Frictions heat all is felt
Becoming one as we melt...
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
Can you determine the Cause of this Spite
By Twin Connections of Mistakes long past?
That which must be Forgiven; And Enlight
To soothe those Swollen Muscles at long last
I think there was a Page which left unread
Caused many Translations to poison us
That Philosophy: If Thoughts can be dead
Then reinstate that Puppet in a Bus
Who knew all his Movements were Concepts formed
And those Ring-Joints dictate his every Move
But this: Illusion and Concept conformed
Thinking these are actual Gifts from Above.
My Point, is that all these Frictions we had
Were Real Illusions; And Concepts bad.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
Sweltering insurgencies of electric power chords
Tribal reverberations of skin-stretched drum boards
Rolling and filling; syncopating the noise
Of the tit-less toys
The dick-less boys
Enraptured in the music
The anthem
Of invidious phantoms
My eyes hurt inside and
I want to pull them out and
Scrape out the gunk and rust
that’s behind my self-indulgent perseverance
so I can cry
for the first time in years…
Wrapping my hands around his slender torso
Licking away the paint, the dripping ooze; more so
Than hastening my ****** and mordant urges
To bite what emerges
And my mouth purges
The obelisk from underneath
The iron-pierced jester
The voracious molester
My hand tightens as I grip
his throat tighter and
I want to squeeze until his eyes pop
from his sockets and
laugh until I puke against the walls,
watching the ****** fluids mix
like an execrable marinara sauce…
I turned thirty while still being sixteen
The vivid beauty of the world was only in dreams
But none of mine, none that I can recall
Many years have passed since I took the oral fall
Where no one saw
Intransigent need to live
For the snake in my veins hungered for more
So many had their way
until I was limp and sore.
Defamatory fingers of mire and strife
Probing and stretching
My insides
And devilishly comforting
With limpid ambrosia
That’s infected by bilious worms and maggots covered in icing
And fruit
Amatory gauntlets fastened and secured over
Handless limbs that retract under matriculated frictions
That fracture, crack, morph, distort
Emphasize, marginalize
Rationalize, desensitize
Acts of *********** evasion, moral drainage;
Pieces, bits, chunks, sections, portions, servings;
Arms, legs, eyes, tongues, fingers, toes,
Love, lust, infatuation
Adoration
Boys, girls, women, men,
Angels, demons, monsters, humans
Creators, gods, titans, divas
All extended and limited from the minds that worship
Sanctify, mesmerize, glorify, rectify
While humans eat more, love more, **** more
Than the angels, demons, monsters, and titans
We ponder and cherish
Nevermore, for me
Ever lore, for all
Crows surround
And chaos found.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
I need to
forget
about
Frictions' force
and
Gravity's grip.
So,
I can
eliminate
all limitations.
To
One day,
will up,
a
will power
strong enough,
tough enough,
to
fly away
from fear.
In a
fast
free-fall.
Hopefully
I'll
fill
the
World's
empty wine glass.
If I fail,
I'll still
raise my glass
to drink the punch
and die
trying.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
My soul covet nay diamond and jasper,
Which can be stolen or lost altogether;
Neither seek you the fleeting treasures
Of the world with their misty pleasures.
My heart desire not cars nor mansions
Alone in this earth full of constant frictions;
Neither pant you after momentary majesty,
Rejoicing in an ebbing estate of excellency
For moths and worms shall consume apace
At death, this body, and its glamour face.
You cannot the devil confront with riches:
Job would have won cheaply his challenges.
But seek ye rather first the spiritual gifts--
Coveting earnestly heaven's endowments:
For life's purposes are by them established;
Without them dreams cannot be fulfilled.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
Tonight
You wont be able to sleep
Because of me.
But
It's because of you
Why I haven't been able
To dream.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
@The Jacket.
Love, can I treat you like I treat my jacket? Taking you wherever I go, showing the love I have for you through my sleeves and tuning you to my body, pulsating throbs of my heart as our two frictions force reaction.
I want to have you close to me, heavy hood be your hair as it sinks close to me, covering my neck with loving protection, covering my shoulders with your arms entwined with mine as if we were truly one, covering my length and letting me know that we are at a temperature of comfort and ability.
I want your body to clothe me, zip up tight and never let go, hugging me with all the comfort in the world and lifting yourself as to be a silent watcher to me, a shield to my being from the enemies that threaten us.
I want your hands to be the pockets, close yet separate, deeply rooted as if it were your faith placed near my sides. Holding me as I hold you.
I want our love to be the zipper, running through both our forms, creating a new feeling, making a new being, forging us.
Yet who are we? Who are we to claim to be so close in cloth yet so young in mind, so strong in emotion and so weak in body?
We are the very fabric of nature, hooking to machines that form the sewed outlines of other such fabrics, forming the earth and inciting war among our emotion.
We walk through the public proudly, you clinging to me and I, chest puffed like a bird in mating season, acquiring a taste for the strange looks and stranger people who deem to judge us based on their understanding.
Hot weather, cold weather, mild and comfortable weather. Rain or snow, sleet, hail, or hell’s heat, I intend to keep you close, as you are more than cloth covering me, you are the being caressing me, kissing my spirit and cradling my heart in the warm grasps of your fabrics, pressed closely to my chest in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, hiding my form so that none shall see what I deem stay hidden.
And I shall love you, I shall do all that I can to keep you safe and keep you near, mend you and wash you, clearing your mind and body of the impure, soaking your fabric and drying them out once more. Tonguing your soul while hugging you back, rubbing your threaded flaws and letting you know that they are necessary, that they are noted and left as forgotten. Unafraid to dawn you and worthy to criticize yet keeping grateful to have you when the nights get cold and my soul needs your warmth.
The world is a cruel place, and it gets worse every day, which is why, my love, I want you to be my jacket, and I shall be yours.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
On the ladder of pain, others sadder than we are
Are climbing up and down constantly
I watch them from my balcony, when they come and take out their garbage
Because right behind my building, by the containers
Is the end of the ladder, and beyond it
Well, who knows. Nobody knows
Or maybe I’m not told. I’m not as yet one of them, you see, to be let into such information.
First I told myself: nonsense. And John, from 7th floor said the same:
Get out of here, what ladder? What holes?
Hey, buddy, I’m telling ya, there’s no ladder there! No hole, man! And I take my ******* out every evening.
There might be one in your head!
I touched myself: no hole! So, I started watching.
Today, tomorrow, until one evening when
I saw it.
It was…a huge hole! It swallowed me at once! And the ladder,
Was shiny and sturdy.
I ran to the kitchen, I took the sack with leftovers and started going down
Running.
The others, quicker than me, were ahead. And they were running as fast as their legs would take them, as if someone was after them.
And when they were touching the ladder, they would suddenly throw themselves head first! And the ones they were bracing themselves trying to hang on were pushed from behind.
So, slowly but surely, I started to slow down.
And, when I saw no one was watching, I started going backwards.
Then I started running.
I went to a halt in the middle of the sitting room and grabbed my head in my hands.
Somebody had moved the ladder by the foot of the table, the big one, covered in the
Last supper doily (maybe the guy upstairs, John, in a moment of adamic hate rage)
Years have passed since. Questions, frictions, showers, pills…anyway, nonsense.
I’m now cured by that thing with the ladder. Oy, mate, I say, there’s no ladder there!
In my house only the wooden floor’s shining! You can shave in it mate! You can shave in it!
Look at it! It came all the way from Germany, they know their stuff, Germans!
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 12:23 PM UTC
Life’s comprehension
Limited by apprehension
So many contradictions
Dissent caused by frictions
Relentless falsification
Path leads to dereliction
Facade of colorful graffiti
No one heeds an entreaty
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
She stared at his wild deep eyes
His fingers lingered in her hair
Her mouth curled up in pursuit
His dreams held her breaths
Sunshine spilled in their frictions
Liquid hearts lost in imperfections
His abyss is blue dark and intense
Trail of her kisses obscure dense
He summoned his demons darkness
To burn her light to **** her madness
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
.
***
Orange hue of Gulmohar,
Saffron colored palash
Hanging golden laburnum,
The beauty I had lost!
Blazing sunrise,
Golden sunsets,
Silent lakes,
Nature I
took for granted!
Family meetings,
Friends get-togethers,
Laughter and fun,
I wish, I had attended
some more.
Lockdowns, Isolation and
Corona,
Bought reality in my thoughts,
Small frictions and meaningless anger,
Busy earning the useless money,
Stole my days of life once lived,
My carefree time enjoying
nature & its beauty!
I promise, now the priorities will change,
Life will never ever be in the back seat again!
***
Sparkle In Wisdom.
8/7/2020
Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 5:13 AM UTC
I am sandpaper
longing frictions heat.
To grow both fat and
weary, sloughing
away your skin.
See what is strength
suckered and sickly
is set
to diminish.
But paper handholds,
why so dusty?
You aim for ignorance,
blooded hands to tease
simply tremor.
Yes, each whisper
charms so sweetly,
sweetly rough
against your grain.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the arts.
Caramel coffee is for trolls,
calamities are uninvested conversations.
Your selective ignorance
are their political polls;
cocoa conundrums; coagulating
serotonin serums inhibiting innovations.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the love;
you turtle dove.
Historical happy hours,
rhetorical- the ring on her finger
indigo indiscretions linger
bloom a bouquet of flowers.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the respect.
Ignore Tesla, the moon;
******* by his diamonds,
instant gratifications- new world addictions.
Hats off at my table!
Shake hands, shake social frictions.
I pump my brakes again, and
I've lost invitations;
my blinded observations.
Soulless shoes sully love,
subtle self proclamations.
Societies vicarious vices,
subliminal author's themes;
my presumption suffices.
Johnny's mother screams!
I've got the shakes again, and
I've lost my mind again;
dubious is an art of repetition.
In this war of attrition,
monkey business is the real oppression;
***** color schemes
deter my nightlife's daydreams.
Premeditations- self induced depression.
First amend, then reprieve
a society in genocide,
murderous screaming thieves.
I've got the shakes again, and
he's lost his midnight train of thought;
his ****** obsessions.
Espresso and ****** expressions,
prerogatives- propaganda bought;
the bad vibrations.
Battling a vertigo,
temptation i fought.
Dancing amongst the constellations;
these must be his
coffee drunken genius inspirations.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
T'is a far far better thing I do,
to write tributes to new poesy chicks,
when seldom sufficient is heard
an encouraging word
than repeat yellowed ancien
tale~tell stale revelations
of an ole man's
forgotten glories and
never ending
tribulations
research uncovers a single
tributary,
a common origin, an irony river,
for their source,
tributes and tribulations,
one and the same
herein, this aging
tribune
defends the new poets
even as his own defenses
erode ever faster,
daily the surf takes him,
granule by granule
thus, t'is more urgent that he
construe and
contribute,
formally and officially,
attribute
the old guard's passing mantle, cloak,
making no
tribologies
frictions tween young and old,
fictions tween old and old
reconfigured as pretend new
this the natural way,
this luminescent fractious friction,
gives birth to
an Einstein~energized
triboluminescence
heat and light
the by-products of the
tribe
of poets
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
Molested by the grief, inside this sunlit blanket of swamp-land, my tears engage amongst weeping filaments and shallows, like the sunlight shattered in squinty eyes, against the shadows of swaying horsetail clusters, creases of light splinter and shimmer until the last dusk-light, carving whispers from lost moments, agile and whistling badly until the bottles break, those are my thorough thighs that dance under the new breath of winter, basking against frictions that spark a new singular confusion, that sudden hollowness of living this human attrition, amongst the chaos and irrational cruelties that blend in as natural as a baby's first smile, conclusions appear and fizzle, delusions bloat with glee, as the soul starts to settle, the crackling dying fire-pit of white ash, like the furrows found on withered brows, pleasures can seem emptier with these dwindling days, but i was living backwards, squandering my youth on self-examination and ascetic aspirations, out of fear and a doubtful heart, now those drugs are valuable to my decay, and living this life is still rich with possibility and transformative change, even as i grow too old to care about tomorrow.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
I’m on a train
People keep sleeping
Tossing their heads
Closing their eyes
It’s peculiar, truly
People's stories;
Countries with damp skies and damp, sweet, tickling rain;
Mountains and an elderly man with an umbrella,
wandering around the station
What are you looking for?
I remember my computer-generated wifi-password by heart
I have been travelling, running, up an down this country
the past months
Looking for safety
The ground below me was collapsing
The last time I was here I was travelling in the
opposite direction
Not from you – leaving you behind
To you
Only by duty am I forced to leave
I would have screamed out
"Don't say it, please"
What do I know?
I'm just a writer on a train
Clinging to people like magnets
All those clichés are over
Just as quickly as they happened
I think I knew
I think I should have known
Insomnia affecting my friends on facebook's chat
Logging on; signing off
Do you sleep safely now?
We are like inevitable frictions
Turned on; shut off
Close; far away
Warm, intertwining with my sweating feet; cold as blocks of ice
Close by force – far away in our minds
I go away in my own world as you consolidate your own troubles
I am a never-ending train of guilt, self-hatred and self-sacrifice
Stupid, trusting, kind but hostile of nature
Water running down the windows in a pattern of coincidences; ice in my mind
Fire in the hole!
Always a fire, they tell me
Is there a fire in you,
or just ashes?
You are a builder, afraid to stack too high
Trembling when I fall
But just reaching out to run away
So, now I stand here
No train;
No stations;
But there’s still life
But there’s still me
There’s still time and wars to be fought
That train will never stop
The sun also rises
Ice blocks too, must one day, melt
The water rises
We drown.
6.06.14
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
These lungs are still.
As flameless fire,
We are breathing dead smoke.
Looking back at our love,
began full of sparked ignitions and frictions of heat,
red flames of
passion
love
lust
trust
and comfort
perhaps over sticks not coal.
We heard a whisper...
"to enjoy a lasting fire one must have a good foundation,
coal is key
not sticks nor paper
or it will burn out fast"
When tested, our fire sizzled out.
flameless love sticks was all we had to work with.
no foundation of coal.
nor that signature paper.
We've sat blowing at these sticks from all sides
with hope of catching one last spark,
trying to awaken the fire once again.
Campaigning within ourselves
let's live again, lust again,
love Against and beyond
ourselves
Have we lost sight of the ground?
taken by the wind of life's happenings
now barely touching at fingertips
we've forgotten the lips
that whispered
foundations of a true love's lasting fire.
are we hopeless?
our love flames are breathing on sticks
not coal.
both locked on exhale
no oxygen to our souls
back, neck and head coiled
like a lifeless corps
hanging from the spine
we are dying, Love
we've blown all through and through
and I know somehow I still love you
but while sitting in this thick cloud of smoke
I fearfully ask
how do I breathe for I and you?
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
Starting a long time ago,
I became a victim,
Never knowing I had inherited the symptoms,
Of a mind full death,
How simple the idea,
Then one day woke up,
In this Hell,
So let the blood pour,
SO much to make a bank,
Letting the rest rot,
Just the same as any bank,
Blood of the corrupt,
Will soon rupture from this pressure,
Down the sides of faces,
Knee high in their karmic waste,
How sweet once one now none,
MMMmm the taste of their doom,
With a glee the thought soon fled,
The freedom once bleed now them,
Continue to stomp restrictions to fight the frictions,
Of life and religion,
All will be forgiven
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
It is your love
and mine
Together create frictions
and sparks fire
fire of joy
embers
they glow
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
BEAUTIFUL LIE......
You such a smooth talker,
You such a big lier,
You may charm me with word, but not with actions,
I don't know what have causes this frictions,
You are beautiful but you don't know love,
I feel like you have been crashed from above,
You have throw me into the sea,
You have **** my feelings not wish a gun but liers,
You are perfect with fleeting.
But not with living,
You are a beautiful lie,
Your beauty talks about something, but you are nothing.
You such a pretender,
I don't wanna see you for ever,
I gave you my shoulder to cry upon,
Gave you shelter and blankets to keep you warm,
But you bring them back to my face.
I thought your heart looks like ur structure,
Clearly I was wrong about that,
My tears are just flowing starting to feel pressure,
Actually is time for me to leave you. ..
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 9:18 PM UTC
I've realized that sometimes I dont seem to see who I am to be. Which caused frictions physically and mentally. At times I can be my own worst enemy. And when I rest my solid body, the process of life becomes a hobby. Where in its mirror I see a reflection of light. Whether within me or without I see art. Alot of times I fall apart in its cycle controlling my emotions. Often creatin erosion of fear askin why am I still here. And when I see myself cry I see my tears. In the mirror I cant help to see not only me but my flaws and morals in me.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
On a bed in a shallow room I lay
Breathless and In huge dismay I ponder
Lifeless, cold in nature
I wonder to glooms of this darkness
Feet hurting on my back I remain
Cold as the sways of winter nights.
Comfortable as can be
I am at peace
At peace with this cold death state I am in
For no worry can be troublesome
No fearful thoughts can be spoken out loud
At peace with the cold death state.
A man came to my comfort zone,
With the sweetest voice words can't tell.
Touched my lifeless body to life
A fairy tale seen only in dreams
‘Little girl Arise' He said.
Little girl wake up.
Look up to the skies.
Healing is found beyond the horizon
A place only prayer meets.
Damsel arise from your infirmities.
That affirm your misery
Arise from your drunkenness.
That drains your energy
Arise from your pain
That paints your smile to sadness
Arise from your past
That punchers your spirit.
Arise from disappointment
Live beyond rejection
Don't let the frictions slow you down
Lift your heart up high
Believe in Him that never leaves nor forsakes.
The state your being depends on it.
For one day,
We shall see him in the clouds of glory
We shall arise, arise, arise up to the sky to and meet Him
Listen here
The blind receive their sight
And rise to tell the nation they see,
The lame walk
And rise to tell the nation they walk,
The lepers are cleansed,
And rise to tell the nation they clean
The deaf hear,
And rise to tell the world they listen
And the dead are raised to meet Him in the clouds
Damsel, little girl, arise.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:42 AM UTC
& then we are cleansed of all.
there remains no sticky mess
of interwined reasonings,
tracing the sense of everything
we feel for once & conclude
this is the best way, to see
where were we headed before?
it had no truthful meaning.
what we pushed & tugged at,
for what vanity to claim purpose,
the understanding was opaque
at best, clarity poorly skewed
where would I turn to face
myself? flourscent knowledge
makes it much too sore
for my perceptive orbs.
who taxes & pays theirself?
coming full circle too little,
too often, to seek & find
the deepest of wells leaking
would you say the key
has amorphous qualities?
but usually illuminations where
the warmth is underlined.
& then all we are is cleansed,
existence becomes slick,
frictions ceases to irriate,
tracing the sense of everything
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Hilarious!
There is no job description in this position,
I float between the frictions and feign conviction when the boss is witness,
At most I mean a fifth of what I mutter and I'm often listless,
I soften because I know I'm broke as **** and have that thought to grip with,
I cough, hoping to convince the powers present of a sickness,
And call in, whispering,
"Cover my shift, think I might need a prescription,"
Take the day off,
Try to get a sense of what has since become a mode of operation I once ripped upon like stitch and yarn,
******* me off,
That I can't save a cent and now I'm living on my savings that I swore I'd leave alone so I could quit this job,
It's not that it's really all that bad,
But I ***** because I'm sick of limitations I can't live beyond,
And I'm not really all that mad,
But I fritz because I know that I could really do some **** if I could get beyond
Excuses.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC