"hedonic" poems
Soothing, sensational,
elegant as the harp,
Semblance, integument,
covering of the tarp,
Ebullient, vivacious,
precision of the mind,
Vehement, appetent,
keen & one of a kind,
Perfervid, chocolate katydid,
desirable & luscious taste,
Delectable, ambrosial,
palatable & consumed with haste,
Sybaritic, voluptuous,
enticing to the senses,
Libidinous, hedonic,
enriched untightened hinges,
Efficacious, puissant,
robust delight to the eye,
Potent, consequential,
immeasurable symbol of the sky,
Pulchritudinous, gorgeous,
magnificent as the autumn sun,
Resplendent, vivid, lustrous
as a diamond-lithographed gun,
Sympathetic, affectionate,
condoling soul of a angel,
Altruistic, benignant,
warmhearted with no mangle,
Serenity, tranquility,
composure of divine peace,
Harmonious, amicable,
placid as the slow moving creek...
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
The tension is mounting, standing in line
Bass reverberates, the sound of things to come
Manic conversation and body language animation
Staying awake until we see the sun.
Enter the venue greeted by sticky collective body heat
The treble of the onslaught of noise now palpable
Without thinking, i begin to move my feet
Becoming one with the masses of bodies moving in unison.
The milk of the night, one in my hand from a mate
I drink it down as I become expectant
Excitedly waiting for my body to be seized
And exited by a juggernaut of positive emotions.
Every stranger is a one minute friend
Micro moments of love become my guide for the night
The music sounds like the songs of the gods
The rhythm and percussion of an underground ritual.
Every touch and taste and sound is heightened
An emanating aura of love surrounds the crowd
Smiles, laughs, hugs and high-fives
Throwing shapes and boogieing down.
As the party creator closes down the night
Masses pour outside drowned by early sunlight
All in search of a beach or after-hours haunt
To continue on their hedonic treadmill.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
hedonic adaptation
living, breathing an
idealized state
transparent powers
an aesthete with an
affinity for anarchy
shamelessly insinuating
fatal errors in identification
extraterrestrial ***********
at the core of our unity
probing at a molecular level
damning the will to connect
a creative protest against
the artificial
daydreams bleach
inferiority complexes
and insight breaks through
dark and damaging
sacrificial secrets
thrusting toward the deep end
forgoing progress through
flawed perception
the bright light shining through
your self inflicted wounds
cannot be ignored
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
the social pace manic in its self-absortion, possession facing possession and what if
the world risks collapsing under the weight of its own irony:
a hedonic frame of mind so devoid of the ******* of life
the tyranny of desire is teaching **** to the naked eyes
a culture stops breathing if it can't let go of its desires to find them again
nothing to be destroyed cause everything is dismantling slowly
going right or left it's the same but not in any corner of the world
the leftovers of God, tautologies in a straightjacket,
cause one has meetings all day but no sleep all night
He/She/They colonize you with the scripture of profit
everything has its price on the expence of being enlivened
some don't have water, others too much of an illusion
some don't have peace, others have haute couture
some haven't eaten, others have molecular cuisine
some have the shelter of the sky, others listen to the echo of Big Bang
this logic of contrast is dreaming of the creativity of decay and
what if politics has become a narcosis, a drunkenness of words,
while the wisdom of trauma is hidden in billboards,
the text says Politics of Happiness or Diserotica
the depressive society fools itself with the financial ****** of disconnected bodies in search of the last noise of the day
the space of the mind broken by narrow horizons
the flesh and bone might turn into a virtual dimension
yet
the soul of the world flickers, it covers its solar plexus until we meet again as brothers and sisters of the trees
just because you feel good doesn't mean that
the world feels good too
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 4:42 AM UTC
I buried
my roots
in new-age
spirituality.
It nourished me
with words
like *water,
soil
sunshine*
and promised
a harvest.
They say
*the hand
that points
to the moon,
is not
the moon*
and I was thirsty.
My entitlement
told me
I should not
be humbled
by a glass
of water
when what
I desire
is a
spring.
Well the spring
never came
and my
cup became
just another
empty glass.
Now I've
stepped off
my hedonic
treadmill.
My frail
body was
not designed
to withstand
the aches
of running.
I'm a
tall woman,
albeit small.
I was built
to see
the little things
from great heights.
And so it became
my glass of water
turned to wine.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
the busses I've been on could fill up a football stadium
if each given merit per ride
per rattle-shake snake through countryside
each in its own little protected purpose
cute journeys of love, sturdy journeys of response-ability
hedonic riddle and rides to the end of the road river
like a musical interlude;
run the metal inner-tube;
comfort-context-cannot-climb
all my attitude is altitude
so I almost don't care to be grounded.
Greyhounded, maybe.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
I remember the old reservoir.
The one we used to take to
walking around in the hedonic
aeon that was our youth.
I’m still young.
I’m young but the years have
aged the path that took us back to there,
grown over in thistle, thicket and thorn.
It’s cracked, with infant pools
of rainwater filling the potholes;
man-made, still habitats.
A mimicry of their mother,
water-filled basin of breadth
and no brine.
Only on those blue-moon occasions,
with cynical tongues and carved faces
do we still cross those few paths
that remain.
I’ve learnt now to accept my loss.
Dear Draycote, pool of life,
circular route and void of time,
I can dream of your return
into my days, but awake
to the sight of my long-gone friends
and all they once were.
I cannot hope to cross your path
in the way that we once did.
For we used to walk in circles,
and now that circle is complete.
So we shall live our separate lives,
pin badges, names, onto our *******
thin ribbons to bind our fates.
But what, my life, do I call my friends
that now only frequent my mind?
Oh how do I catch up with them,
after falling so far behind?
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Pagoda, Pagoda,
My humble terrace by the sea.
Wayshrine for the hopeless
and the seekers of eternal ecstasy.
Why do they mistreat you so?
Ever accepting of our whimsical, hedonic presence,
you gave us shelter from the slobbering pigs and their execution sentence.
And still they ripped your gleaming limbs from you.
Those who claimed to love you.
Pagoda, Pagoda
so far from the corporate machine
living in an emerald midsummer dream
we must have lost our way along the chemical shores.
When the harsh confines of reality glared at my salt stained face
you treated me to warm freedom and a welcoming embrace
despite my turning a blind eye to your pain
and the savages who left you discarded.
Pagoda, Pagoda,
you were left hastily deserted
once summers tender muscles were exerted
and the liches stretched their frigid claws once again.
Now just an ashen memory
while we count the hours in this glacial penitentiary
and wait for the beacon to bless us with its lazy gaze
and the return of our boardwalk paradise.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
I still can't clearly comprehend who my father was. The only way I can find him is by thinking of everything I refuse to be. I still have memories of my father that have never been extremely clear. I guess you could say it's as clear as the muddy glasses I put on every time I want to forget the loss. I lost the man I wanted him to be. A role model, someone to love my mother in every direction you could imagine, I wanted him to be a man. When I think of who you are I can't form solidified answers because to be honest I don't think we've ever met. Name's Jon. We share DNA but this isn't something I take pride in saying. The story maps of our denials are wonderful depictions of why we could never really talk about things. Things we can't fully understand. Like how I would deny things like how bad the weather is, that my tummy is a little to jiggly, or that I honestly can't say no to a good beer. Your denials are slightly different. You have denied leaving two boys for one wonder woman to raise. You still won't tell me you are sorry, because in your eyes it's the world against you and your disposition. You deny eye contact with those around you because we all know your soul is unorthodox and burns if you look into it for too long. You remind me of the inconsiderate ******** who leave their brights on driving down the highway, they leave me ****** off and hard to see my future. As I reached deeper into the bucket of something inside me that feels, I realize we have a few similarities. We both don't know hot wot act in public situations. Running has always been our initial response when our hedonic treadmill starts. I don't want to start. So I cut out the pieces of my life that resemble the ***** smell of your presence. I use those moments for encouragement and to find power in the unforgettable.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Summer’s silence sent your whispers up my spine
Lightning flashed, in fluorescent twists
The night you made me unwind
Our pretentious walls and our secret codes—
The ones we’d crafted with time
Washed away that night in the storm
When your eyes burned into mine
And with the bed as my frame
I painted you a picture
Of my diaphanous figure
An arousing compunction that caused you no shame
Our friction
Your aggression
The contours of my thighs
The grinding of our hips
My concupiscent sighs
That penetrated your skin, burning like a flame
As you released your ambitions and moaned my name
Fall’s fleeting force sent my heart flittering to the sky
Skipping beats sporadically
At the thought of saying goodbye
You were my baby; I, your sweet girl
Your yearning gaze tangible before I’d caught your eye
Intermittent kisses, giggling all the while—
Finding fruition in simply making me smile
Your touch gentle and my movements slow,
We melded together in hedonic harmony
Your body, a piece of me—
Like an anomaly I’d never known
Your inhales
My fingernails
Our internal temperatures heating a degree
You whispered, “I love you”
A curiously rational impetuosity
Your love, a beautiful and delicious glow
Tempting me into oblivion below
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
Tell them, let them to vanish
I mean those cruel vampires
I am referring to them, the crisps,
The evils to our lyrics to perish
Free us, free us from your satanic shores
Let us life, let us be happy but not sores
Let streams flows through our pores
Let our dreams be fulfil at the highest scores
Let those Vampires vanish from our government
From their unruly atitude, where all flaws farment
Where their deathly games begins. Where corruption
wine and wallows within our administration
Refer them to the scribbling scripts of the land
Lay it, Spread it, Open it and read it before them
Even if they resist, Do not desists to grab them
Led them to the truth. Tell them that change, we demand.
What did they wants from us, which they not been
Awarded. When they hoared loudly for votes
We gave them. We paid them through taxes. We have seen
Them brutally burning our fleets of vehicles.
We shall never needs "rocket scientist" to led us
And we don't sense of elegance. Where humours
Hide with hedonic faith. Where they thought we are
Sleeping. Until I task champion to read us "Sleep no more"
From an enigmatic society, where our soul have bee laid
To survive. We shall never slacken our ink. We have paid
Them as servants. How could we surrender our armour
When our only blood vessels were been torn in every hour.
Until then we will never relax to advocate
We can't fold flawless flanges to suffocate
We stand for change. An immediate change
Where we shall all sleep in pleasant peace
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
The world sees the playful orange in you.
But your soul feels the weight that is due
Passion hot as red
Look at all the places it has lead
But ending always in dread
Pills, potions and tonics
But are they your true hedonic
Blue so warm and inviting
But act you continue rewriting
Stripped of all your shells
Open your mouth and yell
Romance and love , to hard to get
But you grab for that allusive net
The first women in your life
But she caused you so such trife
So many you have loved
But none fit like that velvet glove
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 5:03 PM UTC
A spell-cast lure
from hedonic
gypsy's shore
lewdly hitched
my witch-leery
blooded soil.
Tapestric flame
shrouded by emerald
jaspered slits
slaved the dark
mystic marked and
unthrottled the
unreasoned quest.
The emanation desired
a drunken dizzy
thirst to levy and lap
her cauldron's want
prelude to dissolved
barriers.
Staggered I succumbed
simmered, stirred
surrendered into her
cask filled mix
potion pured
forever now sworn
to the gypsied witch.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC
A cool autumn night.
A once bustling house, now silent.
The crack of the ice.
Warm light dancing in amber chaos.
Chaos turns to a shimmer.
Clinking slows. Stillness.
A new, anticipatory silence.
Patience.
Let it melt, just enough.
Now it's time.
Another clink breaks the silence.
The smell of oak.
The cold touch of ice.
The hedonic burn of aged grain and corn.
A gentle euphoria smoothes the edges of the world.
Contentment.
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 2:58 AM UTC
What to touch on now..
I could explore the clash of release
And the continued pressure that comes with it
Where openness and strength
Seem at odds and intrinsic
A strange little paradox there
What can I say for the connotations
That breach quietly into life
Hidden *** notes in the song
I notice one thing when I'm not self involved
As can be true of all of us
There's a new adversity
Adversity without adversity in that sweet little irony
As safety and security become thematic
As the glaring tunnel vision of problems disperses
We are faced with stagnation
And the new guilty challenges it provides
The hedonic treadmill
The thirst for more
The guilt of less in others
And discontentment, when we should know better
Though adversity can be intrinsic to me
Though my growth has created colourful threads
I still empathise as I sit in sameness
And burst out of it with the need for more
Because we aren't meant to sit still
We have legs for a reason
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC
Tell them, let them to vanish
I mean those cruel vampires
I am referring to them, the crisps,
The evils to our lyrics to perish
Free us, free us from your satanic shores
Let us life, let us be happy but not sores
Let streams flows through our pores
Let our dreams be fulfil at the highest scores
Let those Vampires vanish from our government
From their unruly atitude, where all flaws farment
Where their deathly games begins. Where corruption
wine and wallows within ouradministration
Refer them to the scribbling scripts of the land
Lay it, Spread it, Open it and read it before them
Even if they resist, Do not desists to grab them
Let them to the truth. Tell that change we demand.
What did they wants from us, which they not been
Awarded. When they hoared loudly for votes
We gave them. We paid them through taxes. We have seen
Them brutally burning our fleets of vehicles.
We shall never needs "rocket scientist" to led us
And we don't sense of elegance. Where humours
Hide with hedonic faith. Where they thought we are
Sleeping. Until I task champion to read us "Sleep no more"
From an enigmatic society, where our soul have bee laid
To survive. We shall never slacken our ink. We have paid
Them as servants. How could we surrender our armour
When our only blood vessels were been torn in every hour.
Until then we will never relax to advocate
We can't fold flawless flanges to suffocate
We stand for change. An immediate change
Where we shall all sleep in pleasant peace
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 4:49 PM UTC
Contentment is perhaps, not something to be perpetual
Rather, as the hedonic treadmill sinks our feet into splintered mud
Before releasing them as we patter into a welcoming sea
We find contentment to be.. given when we aren't looking for it
Like love, perhaps.
I should talk about her, shouldn't I
This one who fills me with ambition and confidence as the man I am now
And a creeping fear, that her sight of the man I was
Would undo the foundations, bring me back down to insecurity
But then.. I know that's not true.
She asks to see everything
Not knowing how the floodgates bulge
A history of positive and negative extremes
That I still have trouble looking at with clarity
Or without the wounds unclosing
Yet...
I know if she sees it all
Clutching my hand, with honest open eyes
And a heel breaking the hinges towards a reveal
She may be angry with me
She may pity me
Or find reasons to question me further
But
I can trust her
I can let myself be me with her
Even if I don't quite know what that means
As I boil out into the sand and let go of productivity
In this strange solace of words where I look inward
With eyes warmer and more rational than I've had before
I know she is the reason this is all easier,
She is the reason to be more,
So.. when I'm able,
I'll show her who I was.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC