"heterogeneous" poems
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Myths and legends,
That’s what you’ll get in your dreams today.
Sleep on your broken glass floor,
scream! Scream!
Look at all the fake faces on the floor,
designed by your deep-tempted blood.
Slip onto the corner of 5th,
come lay on the grass from our divine god,
come drink the coffee of ethics,
let us peel your LSD skin,
***** the dishearten world,
look into our dispirit world,
do you belong? .
Go sleep with the drunks,
let them play with you,
lets relive all the hipster days,
when liquor was quicker,
gave us that heterogeneous slur in the chops.
We can smoke all the hale cigarettes
on this earth, but that’s just a myth.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
The buzz
It was different
People moving everywhere all the time
But there was still something
Beautifully personal
In the anonymity
I stood out like a sore thumb, I know
With my accented Japanese and my face
But I was doing my best
To blend in
To that landscape of heterogeneous homogeny
That buzz
Of hard work and hard play
The serenity of those nights
On crowded city streets
Or calm country valleys
I've been chasing it ever since
Never to succeed and find anything like it
Dearest Japan,
Your sights,
Your sounds,
Your smiles,
会いたい
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 7:49 PM UTC
Love is a series of lanterns being lit
where there was no need for lights to be hung, unraveling at the
ceiling's spine
I set a flame by means of our hybrid blood.
Already ******* just how infections are supposed to breed,
how love is supposed to be
I fear someone else has touched the vials.
She started a forest fire
that's traveled from grass to stars to hearts
and the meteors give false hope, seem all but perfectly like rain.
Calm, there
is a small peace in
having all your worst nightmares come true.
I understand these problems because
they first existed in my head, everything always begins as
cells in a body
now relief in seeing hurricanes split windows
because he would
understand, too.
Hanging from these rooftops is what is left of just the two of us
it looks pathetic like dead cigarette butts. Our
nerves tied into rope.
She has contaminated us
I cannot hold his hand without touching hers too, I cannot
love him without watching our foundation
burn to the ground
but the whole world is bright when there are three lovers inside.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
I’m from black umbrellas, and two piece pant suits
From ***** snow, and cars, and trains
From lying on a Persian rug
That smells like Starbucks in the morning and leather at night
I’m from sparkly gum on sidewalks, buttercup taxis
Lion King on Broadway, ballets, beautiful
From the land of street vendors, with 2 for $5 and best you’ll ever see
From the noises at night that rocked me to sleep
I’m from summer waterskiing and jellyfish stings
From revenge battles with a barbeque skewer
From Tom’s grilled cheese cut diagonally like I like it
And floury cakes that turned the whole kitchen white
I’m from pesky deer ticks tucked behind my ear
Because I lied too long beside the lavender bushes
I’m from the old weeping willow that cried every day
That cried harder than me the day we left
I’m from those random memories that make me smile
The bunny I never got because I couldn’t water tomatoes
The duo stroller we had because I didn’t walk fast enough for my mom. The Bus Stop café every day because mom doesn’t cook in the morning
I’m from the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps
Born and raised in a heterogeneous blend of innovators
I’m from the fleeting recollections that make up my past
The metropolitan palace of memories that houses my childhood
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
In an aquifer I’m passed through heterogeneous soil
Life above ground was managed but with little time to toil
I sink completely calm, I stand smug in an upright position
Instead of becoming cleansed I relay the earths quiet composition
Now the further down the better
Oh the more organic I embark
Noticing not the slightest tension
People look rather well in the dark
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
The things that used to stir me?
They don't anymore.
I am tiny particles
from a concentrated,
heterogeneous drink,
sinking slowly
and just
settling at the bottom.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
My heart shattered against the cold crushed velvet dreams of death and the forbidden colors of love bleed into the heterogeneous kaleidoscope of lust and there within this river flow danced fires of you and my soul was shipwrecked and abandoned at the bottom of a stagnet sea that had once been a seemingly endless raging storm in the eye of eternal passion and I can't recall how or when but forever must have blinked and caused our dreams to crumble like the Xanadu of Kubla Khan to an unwelcome sound and in vapors and mist of dead gin and stale cigarettes
I became less than an echo
of the ghost of the remains
of the shattered heart
that still beats only for you
as I drown in an empty sea
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Behold ! its rather for you to be thought ; fool ,
or stupid but learn by your personal injection.
the reason of your high personal divine activation .
than to be wise or having unique sage as a sol .
then live your time by the crow common governing .
or strive any tangible achievement by people's reasoning .
in the likeness of the community anyone is unique gem .
there is nothing that will be , or before has the same realm .
they maybe some that look , act , talk or maybe think as you .
but the reality of genus **** is that no co-joint sinew .
henceforth ; strive forth all time and assume your individuality .
sole bridge that gathers the heterogeneous items of life into unity .
do they say you are mad man ? its the reason more you should ,
show something out your madness that will pass in the universal mold .
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
These identities we create
And forge upon others
Do we really hold a right
To decide
About the patterns of behaviors and dispositions
Or the appropriate demeanors and preferences for others
Why do we crave
to change the inherent tendencies
Or the intrinsic inclinations of some individuals
That differs from our own
And briskly label them as 'unusual'
Why does it feels so challenging
To add a few more words in our vocabulary
Rather than sweeping them all in a category
Hiding It from others
Talking about them only in hushed whispers
Why do we deem
their emotions as inappropriate
Instill fear in them
For feeling a certain way
Forgetting that
They are a beautiful creation of God
Just like us
Made to blend homogeneously
Not plucked inhumanly
Out of a heterogeneous population
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC
The place was the unexpected carefree host
Of several tipsy nights wetted
By friendly toasts and temporary infatuations,
Lasting the duration granted
By gulping red clepsydras measuring
Time with the flow of inebriating substances.
My passion alas soon drove to the abolishment
Of such street hours of darkness to the benefit
Of clarity, concentration and sobriety,
For the unfolding of a novel awaiting
Virtual carbon particles to stain
Imaginary paper pages.
The place hence became my daylight salon,
Betaking myself to it, a necessary resolution
To having a semblance of social life, a foot
In the “real” world, while taking a compulsory break
From self-relegation to the seclusion
Of my private abode and imagination.
The sun, a spotlight directed on the thespians,
Lifting the nocturnal curtains, to unveil their act.
The stage, a familiar space for adult orphans,
Searching in Bacchus casual company.
Amongst the heterogeneous lot, a tall, big-lipped
Man, plays reminiscences of Tambourines.
His wide smile uncovers chipped white teeth,
Clashing with the colour of his skin.
The first time I saw him he was giddily bragging
Of recent dates made of sandwiches eaten
Sheltering from heat, in the fresh vegetable department
Of the discount down the road, from his apartment.
Incredulously I believed him, until he told me not to,
As of then he would be, my new befitted friend.
The big time dealer serving the entire region,
Always there when you need him,
To take care of the kids or escort you to the dentist
When in pain and to the other side of the city.
Notorious for going out of his way for others,
Generous with time, kind words, smiles and money,
His job does not define him yet completes
The spreading euphoria his presence bestows
Upon those who look for him or those
Who simply stumble into him, by chance.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 4:26 AM UTC
I heard that love would be a kind of a date,
a chemical one,
between me and you.
I heard that love would be a kind of an explosion,
an atomically one,
in which our elements,
are intertwining,
are changing everything,
deep,
are destroying the cages and the chains
of our minds,
are creating joy,
are provoking re-freshness
and are giving hope.
If from this amalgamation
of heterogeneous elements
results... life,
then,
only then,
our hearts start to beat at the same pace.
What did you hear about love?
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 1:48 PM UTC
Wanted to start with an honest take
On T.S. Eliot's fulmination towards criticisms
Regarding the debater, Mr. Grierson's
Point of view on metaphysical writings
In purview of genuine poetic dissertation and discussion
Presentation of the nuances of poems are intriguing
Wherewithal that there is a diligent approach taken
To study John Donne and Cowley
Marvell, one of the social upheavilists
Of this time t'was real t'was true to naturalism
However, Goethe points out " in their unnaturalism they poised on naturalism"
There is a lot to say for Mr. Eliot's debate
Not too much for Mr. Grierson's review of some good old fashioned
Amorous verse, inasmuch it bewitches the languid sensuality
Often the purer and fairer opposite ***
Through genuine use of wit and impressive stoicism
A thoroughly metaphorical use of the term "stoic"
Can be attributed to the use of complex imagery
It would be interesting if one drew parallels
On the concepts of love and spirituality
It is expressed in reading that deals with rapid association of thought
English language canon and poetic implication are there, of course
Basically, what the poet is trying to say and the implicit understanding
Between a lover and a mistress
One could say it is a conversation or a nuanced conversation
Between the reader and poet
Such is the metaphysics of women and their love for genuine metaphor
It is often the velleity of the poet to write in such esoteric language
Therefore, one could understand the heterogeneous ideas potrayed
In each poetic verse of Donne's repertoire cannot be
Misconstrued as unnecessarily analytic
Almost like the dissection of a patient in surgery
The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC