"glaringly" poems
land's moniker
mulls utmost care
Kalinga
branding the ox
of men with glaringly
immaculate chiaroscuro,
atop hills flourishing
with the fruits emblazoning
reticence.
chase angel-ward, the synopsis
of meaningfulness,
jagged, indelible accoutrement
akin to the brand of
chaste heritage,
galvanizing this epitaph
with aesthetic nativity,
gallant mambabatok - fill my bones with the ache of your past,
carve in me what the rippling
shrill of air has toppled
in the highlands
you have us shaking the blood
of this archipelago like boughs
breaking free from water's ebb,
frenzied by the river-warm
serpentine embellishment
the strike of the thorns
mints in our untouched bodies!
altogether in this numerous hike
we go in pursuit, hunting the
nibble from flesh to bone,
revealing the rebel, body
to soul.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality
The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper
men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat Obedience into their small bodies. Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together
They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories
children trained as mood detectors
human robots
*know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to
Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart
whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together
with her fathers fists.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
Born of fear, fueled by anger
This resentment I feel for you
Creates abscesses on my soul
Poison filled sacs of toxic hate which
Rise like bile in my gullet
To choke my spirit
Much like the dead alcoholic
Who's aspirated on
His own ***** and phlegm
A bloated purple carcass
Devoid of autonomy of spirit
Self-obsession robs me
Of conscious truth
Fear - that your indictments
Against me will be brought
Before the grand jury of
The universe and I will be found lacking
Resentment - at you for not becoming
A willing patron of
My brand of truth
Anger - at me for my own failings
Brought to light
Secrets I can no longer hide
While my defects are
Glaringly obvious to
One as enlightened as
You purport to be
Did not your path to
Spiritual perfection
Contain the blueprint to
Correct your vain sins of glory and
Indignant self-deception?
Is not your lofty status
Grand enough to look upon
My humiliated soul with
Something less than contempt?
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
It's so wonderful to feel mountains of emotions so moving in oneself
It creates valleys and volcanic eruptions
That warm the body so thoroughly you believe you may melt
Into a puddle of overwhelming love and joy
How beautiful it is
Like golden sunshine, warming the spots in between the tree branches Full of leaves in late spring
It eradicates the ashen hue in your veins with lavish reds
How warming to the soul to feel a tributary of trust
So deeply embedded in the wholeness of a love
Shared between two people
A strong sense of wanting to better yourself blossoms inside
True love bears vines and trees of fruit in the soul, mind, and body
It paints the dulling colors of the world so glaringly gasping to the eye
Filling one with colors
And out of all the feeling kinds
Color feeling is the loveliest one
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Waiting my turn to pay
For the items we need today;
The beans and the chili
And some picklelilli
And costly imported pate.
A headline that says glaringly
What some starlet does daringly.
What I see before my eyes
A big edition full of lies
They put here to tempt me daringly.
Where childbirth oddities
Are viewed as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
We all know these stories
Are anecdotal glories
Made up by the magazines;
The tawdriest ever seen
And they don’t mind getting gory.
It’s yellow journalism
A sort of print format ****
Intended for the kind of fool
Who never finished school
And falls for jingoism.
Where childbirth oddities
Are views as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
This life aint' love song whilst i march on blindly....
Each secretion of dissections interrogations are on...
on my LIVING soul
man ,
if only you knew ,
i slip like a hidden seamstress
into the alcoves of plenty, the catacomb of mind
and sit and wait untill
the seductress is ready -
her lesions
are lessons
learnt in TIME
she is the mistress of the dark
she needs no title but if you prefer you can call her Q.
this is because , yes , not only is she an insane nerd
she is also -
the softest heart i ever ( dang ) - had the chance to grace ,
Mother for those in need ,
Brother to those indeed
Lover to the oh so lucky few ,
Who she might like to point out, are just as glaringly brilliant too...
so , it's simple.
The layers of time are VERY FLEXIBLE
we need not notion ,
to the motions
at futures unclear - well
but see glimpses ..
- of , past's rejuvenation's born again into different actions
conclusions ..0...
the butterfly effect are the ripples : figment metaphor ( metaphysicians apply inside)
of wings - we are all ANGELS of a sort...
but i like to call angels = experts
they seem to know what's what...
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
There comes the golden trumpet
With its boorish tune.
It claims that brimstone is falling
From the heavens, threatening
To mar all that is pure and white.
All are spellbound by his naked words
Stripped from the usual ethereal facade.
Promise of prosperity rings in their ears,
Since the land of milk and honey has run dry.
But wait…
Look at the hunger in his eyes,
A fervent lust for power and glory.
Look at his thin skin, orange and tempered,
Burning like coal in a blazing furnace.
Look at the cohort he assembled,
Corpulent swine from the swamp.
Surely, he has the mob in mind.
Throw chocolate to keep them quiet.
Put on a show to divert attention.
For the truth is glaringly clear,
We have been played for fools.
When the smoke subsides…
A repentant dog with its tail between its legs, ears back, comes out of the rubble.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC
Every day we move through life. In my experience not many people pay attention to others. Being self centered and self obsessed. Not considering that each person has their own individual battles they are fighting through. Life is a rollercoaster. There is disappointment. There are fall outs or disagreements. There are glaringly happy situations. But what I find ******** is that some people can't respect others or their feelings. No respect for their personal endeavors. I refuse to conform and be someones foot stool for all of their possible petty issues. I will listen. I will love. I will give people the respect they deserve. But don't ask me to sacrifice myself for someones amusement. I don't deserve to be treated as if I am insignificant. I am a living, breathing, and vivacious person. I will not be dulled by the entitlement of others.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
i saw you in the moon
it was comforting. most people attribute their
(eternity)
special someone to the sun. you were never that for me.
you were many countless, irreplaceable, unknown qualities
that i wanted. none of them were glaringly obvious.
besides, i am never in the light.
i am always in the dark.
(the deep and lovely dark)
i am never lost there. i never needed a star to guide me home –
i was home already.
what i wanted
(craved)
was the steady presence to remind me
that i was not alone.
the moon is always there, you know – even when you can’t see it.
so, i look up as night falls
(that black curtain sweeping down, down)
and hope you’re somewhere
(happy)
nearby, looking at that round rock in the blackness,
outshining all the rest.
i know it’s not a star, but i make a wish anyway:
your name
(a prayer, whispered)
followed by three little words.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Et tu Brute
You came in, with a smile to die for,
A smile that melted hearts and united.
Together we seemed to be on a mission,
To attain a level of individual perfection.
Our boat started to row in smooth tandem,
An undulating ride on a sea of happiness.
The breezes seemed to sing in chorus,
The birds sang with the joy of spring.
On cloud nine I was dancing a jig,
Happiness enveloped me all around.
Then came the trials and stormy gales,
Tensions growing as walls were erected.
Faults stood out glaringly, a sore sight.
No compromise reached as gut reactions thrived,
Gold and granite were not differentiated.
Grouses kept hidden till roots rotted,
Then severance with heated sharp blade.
Shocked am I at the vitriol spewed,
Et Tu Brute? Then die Caesar no point in living!
© Perveiz Ali
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
A collection of saliva sits on the ground.
The substance heaped in a short little mound.
Attention drawn from all around.
As the boy sits in clothes from the lost and found.
Covered in *****
A pant soaked burden
A question asked during learnin’
The answer being Martin Van Buren
Told he shouldn’t be in school
By those glaringly cruel.
Constantly made to seem the fool.
Leading to an increase in the pouring drool.
His eyes sit at an angle.
Bulging out as if enduring a quick strangle.
Caught in the shine of a young girl’s bangle.
He twists his hair into a locked tangle.
The girl bats an eye.
His mouth goes dry.
A boy flicks a small paper ball.
It sits in the air to pivot and stall.
Lands inaccurately out in the hall
The teacher seizes it bracing up against the wall.
Unfolds the note,
And reads what he wrote.
It held a cruel remark.
About handicap spaces and keeping him for the sake of a quick park.
The boy didn’t wish he were dead.
Nor was he agonized by the insult recently said.
The remark went right over his head,
He was stuck thinking about how sympathy only comes to those who have bled.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Ceremonial bell tolls reverberate in suspense
While a flock of ravens sweep the murky skies
The mental state of the land is glaringly tense
As the caws of the crows create eerie lullabies
Unearthly howls reverberate through the Earth
Ceaselessly piercing the ears of all those living
This dark eve will cast forth a very sadistic birth
Of the creatures that run all of Hell unforgiving
Zombies will seize the bodies of the deceased
Ghouls will torment all lost souls as examples
Werewolves will help more souls be released
As Vampires do nosh each being as sampled
A New Dark Era on Earth is now soon to begin
With the Creatures of Darkness harvesting Sin
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
glaringly white and rather rotund
a label peeling off his back
my friend from The Bad Summer
sits on my bookshelf.
moose says that this is
The Good Winter
and that no one will hurt me now
but moose doesn't yet know
who really does all the hurting
if he did, he would never leave me
on my own
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Thoughts drip from my mind as
globulous glassy fluids of emotion.
The curtains drawn,
the veil of love lifted and
bare truths litter the ground
at my feet.
Starry dreamlike flickers
each turned into glaring suns of acceptance;
the loss confounds me.
Amoebas shifting, pushing.
Meniscus pulls back each rush of liquid mess
my heart squeezes through new eyes
in its feeble attempt to fill the void
so glaringly obvious now
with something, anything.
Swallowed whole,
All sense of knowing lost.
The fabric of my undestanding
torn from under me.
As I fall
Betrayal nudges the corners of realisation
but its too loud an echo to make sense of.
Not ready yet.
As the liquid marbles
load up and fire their last
passionate pleas for compassion
the reality knocks intently
I push to keep it out
A long and useless fight.
Amoeba of pain Takes me over.
Senseless,
nothing left to try.
I brace;
waiting for the tears to run dry...
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
You infuriate me.
There. I said it.
I want you to disappear.
But you won't.
And somehow I just can't seem to make you.
You're in my photos.
You're still trampling uninvited through my thoughts.
There are still traces of you in my bed.
And sometimes if I fall too far into my memories I can still feel your body pressed against mine.
These are the parts of you that linger.
They are the parts that have stuck to me.
They have worked themselves into my puzzle.
But to my dismay, those are not all of the pieces to your puzzle.
There are gaping holes and backwards parts.
There are those shadows that you so carefully hid... the ones that I so carelessly fell into.
They are the ones that take me down and thrash me about.
And somehow I still find myself trying to fit us together.
But some parts of that puzzle would never fit.
Leaving our faults all too glaringly lit.
And when this all comes to it's inevitable end, I'll welcome the horribly empty feeling of being right.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
katie is stuck on a blank word document that
is not glaringly white but invitingly blue!
·
katie is watching a cute thing brushing his teeth a half hour’s
walk but a longer time’s preparation and mental strength away.
·
katie is fighting tears for no good reason and would like to fall asleep.
·
katie is wondering where this newfound malaise has come from, and would
like to tell it: I know you are fighting for strength but I will fight for my freedom!
·
katie adores her cute thing’s pixilated mug flashing across the screen.
·
katie is absolutely dreading her inevitable trip home
at some point during the next week and a bit.
·
katie is angry at her *** drive for disappearing on her so gradually
that she didn’t really notice it was gone until it was too late!
·
katie is unsure about the future and thinks that being
psychic might be a really big help with planning her life.
·
katie is not sure what’s going to happen next year, but does
know that it will include more yarn and fresh vegetables.
·
katie is unsure of her relationship status.
·
katie would like to sleep now and forever.
·
KATIE IS AFRAID OF HURTING PEOPLE.
·
katie is never going to start working today.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:15 PM UTC
she smiled,
a secret tucked into her right dimple.
her vision glaringly white once again.
oh she won't tell.
not this time.
blacking out,
and the sweat,
and that sheer adrenaline,
gave her something to live for.
gave her something to feel alive.
enough to feel sick,
but god did sick feel good.
and when everyone
is crying no,
she knows she wants
to say yes.
because rebellion and
anarchy really sets
a fire in her veins.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 4:55 AM UTC
Standing here lost
pride, what cost?
greeted with frost
looks glaringly crossed
Forgiveness
no, stubborness
feeling powerful
no awful
I never take what’s
not given willingly
my own moral code
righteousness spilling
Do I now feel bolder
no, just a little colder
I could have lay on his shoulder
but my heart as hard as a boulder
I stand here alone and weep
probably tonight, no sleep
I’m feeling like a creep
looking at myself, not a peep
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
We don't mention the monsters in the closet.
We don't talk to our imaginary friends.
Just because we don't acknowledge what we shouldn't,
Doesn't mean that they were never really there.
Keep it to yourself,
Reality is now.
Keep it to yourself,
For creativity is the modern day insanity.
Don't believe in things that aren't allowed to exist.
Even your own two eyes can lie sometimes.
Am I allowed to exist?
Can you believe in me?
Do you believe in me, baby?
We don't mention the monsters in the closet.
We don't talk to our imaginary friends.
Just because we don't acknowledge what we shouldn't,
Doesn't mean that they were never really there.
What have you seen?
What part of your soul did you shut down today?
Don't you think it's more insane to ignore what is glaringly true
Than to feign a logical existence?
There's more to the picture,
Some missing piece to the puzzle of reality.
Growing up is growing old.
Don't die with your childhood.
Keep it to yourself,
Reality is now.
Keep it to yourself,
For creativity is the modern day insanity.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
We tend to be self-destructive
And for what do we owe that to?
For whom and what reasons,
Do we rip these parts of ourselves,
Trying to piece it in the oddest of places, when so glaringly obvious
that they don't belong?
We cry endless oceans of tears
Drowning in them, bizarrely,
For our own indulgence! But
at the same time, we're
thrashing in the currents,
Praying for dry land while
also surrendering all hope.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
i
finely found the courtesy
to
read a word of Poetry;
even though it only left me
questioning the Meaning
of the
feeling that it Founded,
endowingly inClining me
to
climb the highest Mountain:
loudly it inSpired me.
writing is my Dowry,
reading is the Marriage
that i
cherish at the merit of
disparaging Diaries.
"i am just a Parrot;
a
parently we share the very
arrogance n carelessness
of
barreling Pirates."
i am just a Sparrow;
rowing over galleries
of
shallow hailing Peril..
..Paralyzed.
"i am just a Shadowing,
Shattering glass."
gallantly we Gather;
"glaringly Gradual."
happily we Harrow.
"inherently Hollow."
powers of eXistence:
symbolisms Tower over
flowers of Ivory.
"i am a Shower".
hours of Shadow;
over-cast horizons
like the
rising of Talos.
"Talos was a GIANT."
i am a just a Cane;
able to be Slain;
david and goLiath.
"i am leViathan."
i am just an Angel.
"April"......May.
Copyright Jesse James Adams
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
Again, woefully awoken
In this bed, with heart broken
A fading love has left a token
That lies heavy on the soul
And of it, I am the source
Curs'd with sadness and remorse
Starring glaringly into the walls
Reminiscing the times of old
I cannot help but weep
To into love’s madness slip
Pray God to let me her keep
Thinking: "Son thou thy love hast sold."
Entrap’d within that thought
I like any other would’ve ought
Say: "Th’ final battle is to be fought
On the heav'nly fields of gold"
And on those fields gleaming
Stands she brightly seeming
And as the stars godly beaming
Divine light upon my stones
Though there be nought but night
Perpetual and of devilish might
And only a daemon in my sight
"‘Tis all but fantasy," I am told
A lying wretch I cry out
And find myself in endless drought
Stuck inside a world of doubt
Was there truly a time before?
Is my mind too far astray
Have I truly lost my way?
Will, I ever again see the day
Where her lips I can behold?
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 3:47 PM UTC
I never thought I'd be the one
I'd always seen as less than.
Living a life society
Commercializes as beautiful,
But a young girl sees as
Flawed and directionless;
The way I go about everything.
Yet here I find myself,
Pulled by the undertow toward my fate
One sip, one slip at a time.
Grabbed too quickly with a lurking subtly
Of fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist
So hard I couldn't feel myself
Falling in to them.
I didn't see myself being this one,
Driving home when the light nearly peeks
On the eastern side of my windshield.
Shaking so hard I can barely breathe
Knowing you said things you didn't mean
Only because of the drinks-
And begging myself to believe that.
Sometimes I shake away the good things
Simply because they are good,
And I've felt so much good
I want to know what bad is.
The truth my wandering eyes escape
Seems glaringly obvious in the daylight-
The bad is not good, it is wretched.
Still, I'm at this place
That only I've brought myself to.
Standing on the borders of capabilities,
Yet unable to cross in either direction.
Toward knowing deterioration,
Or a pure sense of empty accomplishment
Neither of which pulls me.
It seems I'll walk the tightrope
For a little while longer,
Lest my gravitational fate
Allow my free-fall to end in a landing.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
I have this part of me,
A glaringly large part of me,
That I must hide from the world.
Symptoms, thoughts, feelings, and emotions
that I have to cram into a little lunchbox.
By the end of the day this little box weighs
a hundred pounds,
And I alone unpack it's contents
every night.
It's exhausting.
And I'm tired.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC