"humm" poems
It's a darkness that surrounds you.
It covers your eyes,
And swims in your ears.
To keep you from seeing light,
Or hearing laughter.
Instead you see everything
In a dull and dark way.
Colors are no longer vibrant,
And lines seem to be blurred.
There is no more beauty in a sunset,
Or majesty in the ocean.
It's just water now.
And every sound is muffled now.
You can't differentiate your favorite song
From any other anymore.
The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet.
Every song is the same bleak humm.
And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf.
The darkness even dulls touch.
A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore.
And contact seems nauseating.
A kiss is just a reminder
That nothing good lasts.
And most other interaction makes my skin crawl.
But now the darkness is in your brain.
In here, sometimes it's not dull at all.
Sometimes the darkness
Takes the shape of a monster.
A monster that whispers terrible things
And just gets louder when you try not to listen.
Sometimes the darkness
Feels like war inside your mind.
But yes, again, the darkness is dull.
Sometimes there is no monster,
No war,
And no yelling at all.
Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind,
It becomes a silence.
I can't make out a clear thought,
Because all there is
Is silence.
The darkness takes the shape
Of death.
The silence, the nothingness of death.
And it becomes part of you,
Making your mind nothing but silence
And nothingness.
But the worst part about the darkness
Is my inability to communicate its existence.
I can't make anyone understand
The many shapes it can take.
How it can be torturous and loud
But comfortable just the same.
It's easy to talk about the monster,
Because it's something foreign and
Something present.
But everything else,
The dullness of senses
And the silence it becomes,
Can't be expressed.
Because in these forms,
The darkness is absence of life.
It's absence of color,
Sound,
Touch,
And thought.
And it's so hard to paint a picture
Of something that isn't even there.
I can paint a picture of a monster
With ****** teeth and devilish eyes.
But I cannot paint the nothingness
The darkness so often is.
And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous.
I can fight a monster.
But I cannot fight nothing.
Nothingness will swallow you.
It will take over your senses
And thoughts,
And eventually will to live.
Life is colorful.
Life should be loud.
Life should be funny.
And sometimes painful.
But when the silence,
The nothingness arrives,
There is no color.
There is no sound.
No laughter.
Or even pain.
There is no life at all.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
I just saw a humming bird,
Whispering a humble word.
You say, "no, that's so absurd,
to be humbled by a bird,
let alone it whisper words".
Delusional as it may seem,
This bird it whispered things to me.
Said, "take it slow" with humming wings
"Abolish all unneeded things".
Said, "life is now" as it zoomed by,
"Without this nectar life'd be dry"..
said, "take a drink and take it slow,
let it sit then let it flow.
Tickle your tongue, and soft your humm, Simplicity will keep you young".
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
Swan Lake
Crystal clear lagoon
Slow glide and procreate
The serene placidity humm
Last Song
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
You say I O.K.ed
LONG DISTANCE?
O.K.ed it when?
My goodness, Central
That was then!
I'm mad and disgusted
With that ***** now.
I don't pay no REVERSED
CHARGES nohow.
You say, I will pay it--
Else you'll take out my phone?
You better let
My phone alone.
I didn't ask him
To telephone me.
Roscoe knows **** well
LONG DISTANCE
Ain't free.
If I ever catch him,
Lawd, have pity!
Calling me up
From Kansas City.
Just to say he loves me!
I knowed that was so.
Why didn't he tell me some'n
I don't know?
For instance, what can
Them other girls do
That Alberta K. Johnson
Can't do--and more, too?
What's that, Central?
You say you don't care
Nothing about my
Private affair?
Well, even less about your
PHONE BILL, does I care!
Un-humm-m! . . . Yes!
You say I gave my O.K.?
Well, that O.K. you may keep--
But I sure ain't gonna pay!
3.1k
Slotting into geological time
"As a man thinks, so is he", ferillergood ye may
as well add as subtract.
Am i right or am I wrong?
Dexter, yeh, that'n
or Sinister.
Being left or right,
That's jest sided-ness, a sort,
a me-trick-able stackable thing,
with an in
side and an out
side and a top outside and a bottom outside
and a front inside and a front backside
and a back frontside with its own inside.
Like you.
Value pends 'pon sorts of things
into similarities of singularities,
if I got that message un occluded or
unveiled of sacred meanings.
There seemed to be no code
"if a man (voice) says a thing that is true, but
I did not say it: does that make it untrue?"
I answered, "Lord, you are truth."
Wow. Look what I said. truth you are lord.
Punctuated equilibrium humm white noise of wonder
can it be?
'Think so.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC
I've been trying to poet off and on
now for awhile - but it's hard for a guy
like me, born and raised in small towns.
I've never really learned to swear,
not like a poet anyway. Not like Bukowski.
I mean, what kind of poet would
the world expect me to be? Except that
I'll admit I can drink with the best.
A Huffstickler I'm not, or a Bukowski,
or Etter, or Kerouac - guys who knew the
big towns, the ***** the dives, the rehabs,
the back alleys, park benches, soup kitchens,
flop houses, drug pushers — Humm, come to
think of it, we got all those here. But not
the all-important big town poet attitude.
I'm just this hick, delusional perhaps,
trying to fill a blossoming hole inside
of me that grumbles and claws for more,
and there's gotta be more to life than this crap.
In poeting I used to try and rhyme, like as
in "poor" and ***** but there's
no rhyme to life, just grab it and clench.
Just life, death, burial and maybe a little
something for the dog afterwards.
The preacher says there's more,
the devil tells me to forget it,
(I'll listen to him occasionally).
So, for me, I'll probe a little deeper and
scrutinize a little harder, perhaps drink a
little heavier, and maybe find a plug
out there that'll fill the hole inside me.
Maybe even put it in words.
Become a poet.
--
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 4:53 AM UTC
Humm......i can feel,
it's all coming back to me.
the long distant echo is now sounding so near,
like a sweet sounding whisper.
my iris is more relax now, an evidence of closer view.
reverberation of its movement disturbs my hearing.
silently perched birds are looking nervous,
and are negotiating flight.
what a sure sign of it all coming back to me.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Sit you in a blank space,
With a soulless look,
So you'll look back on your past,
And tell me what you've been through,
Showing incredible desires even I can't fathem,
Ruthless as the pit in the backyard,
That my friends would tell me the devil would come out of every now and then,
Oh ! How peers come keep a young kid dreaming,
If you believe in what you see,
Then I guess seeing is believing,
What is even real anymore,
*** or **** which one did you take,
We're closing the doors,
The days are dead,
Your silence is clear,
I'm thinking ahead of a metaphor,
What could it be,
Issued statements to the 20th degree,
Humm I see what you mean,
If the meaning Is correct,
Your young and as ruthless as me.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
The words become a path:
One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;
Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,
Vicki,
Vicki,
I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
The subject of this email is as usual... subjective! Not sure there is actually a subject involved? I mean if I just ramble on about any old thing that crosses my mind, how would that be described as a subject. I submit that the "subject" line of all emails should be moved to the end of an email! That way we would have a better grasp of what the subject of the email truly is.
Better yet it should automatically prompt you to go to the subject line when you click "send" to fill in at that time. Maybe the email program should even give samples of possible subject lines based on google's interpretation of what you have typed in the body of the email. Better yet that program should just run automatically and impose a subject line based on the information in the message body after it is run through several psychiatric data bases and analyzed and a consensus has been reached...
Hmmm... Now I'm thinking that there should be a mind to keyboard interface so we can do away with all this time-consuming typing! And while we're at it why not add a chip in our brains that thinks for us and sends the data it receives directly to the keyboard interface... I mean think of all the time we would save not having to think any more!
Why stop there? We can also add emotion chips so that when we are letting our thinking chip talk for us we can also have the emotions that our emotion chip thinks we should be feeling automatically inserted into the email with the capability of it being felt by the emotion chip in the person whose thinking and keyboard interface chips are perusing the email written by our thinking and keyboard interface chips.
Ooooh now I'm really thinking... why not install mini SD drives in our brains so we can change the way we feel by simply inserting a new SD card? That way if we happen to read one of the emails thought out by our thinking chip, written by our keyboard interface chip, analyzed and consented to by the psychiatric data bases and given a subject and we decide that we want to change the way it is perceived by the thinking chip of the recipient we can simply insert a different emotion SD card into our SD drive and have those new emotions embedded directly into the email!
*** This is genius! Imagine the time we could save! I could just go on and on with this! The applications are limitless. Why hasn't someone thought of this before? Oh wait, what am I thinking... this is old news. This is called brainwashing and the government and every major company in the world has been doing it since the dawn of capitalism!
I'm going to stop now because I am no longer sure if the words I write are my own, or if they are just a bunch of noise created by the humm of all the post hypnotic suggestive clutter in my brain from years and years of commercial TV and slick politician abuse.
That's all I have time for this morning. I apologize in retrospect for the emotional agony I have put your brain through while reading this inane banter...
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC
*When deep indigo night
Releases magickal stars from the sky
And tenderly brushes them upon
Your mischievous smiles ~
Herself's stroked by this peculiar
View; then little naughty thoughts start
To conjur an irresistible wish borne inside her
***** "You ~witty man~ deserve one lovely
Kiss on the left cheek." Then another one!
A kiss that's rarely seen ~ a soft one ~
A passionate one! Juicy, yummy charm ~
Resembling a wanton scented humidity
On the beautiful cherry blossoms day ~
On the other one. Right now!
Then at last our lips are lit; as wild
Woods strawberries ~sweet taste~ comes after
They bathe in the warmest sunshine rays.
Waiting to be consumed with
Adoration and gratitude. We are a gift! ~
To one Another. . . I hide bluntly in each
Others Love; and so do you.
We ~lost within our eyes~
Diving to unknown and unrevealed
Dephts, levitating above mysterious
Corners of shadows and light. . .
Only our souls know of.
At last, my love!
We humm, my heart is yours ~
Mesmerized; your heart is wide ~
We kiss, we breathe, oh my!*
To live, to dream a thousand times
And never forget: to live ~to love!
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
shuffling feet recede with the sinking heat
shadow chanters possess the street
sidewalk dancers work their song
the mind a clenched fist
pounding a one beat drum
a hustle in lunacy
chasing crank and doom
sound surrounds a fool
that is what you hear
the constant humm lost in the ear
exhales as a kindle, leads a rumble
the bellow of a beast howling thunder
the sound so pleasing
crawls under the skin
begins to breath
becomes the wind
jacked up
spread thin
spinning shards of speed
believing all the joy in greed
sabotage of self redeem
a play to crash and fiend
infringes the sound of terror
louder than an ocean roars
misery always begs more
hand on a knife
steady work in a glisten
fury breathes bending twisted
thrashing fragile decline
slashing sublime
carving within the lines
seeking a hollow spine
nothing seen to intervene
struck hard to a mad core
falling through every door
landing in the sleep of dreams
face in a pillow
held to the floor
nothing left to bargain
suffocation frees a demon
leaves a human being
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
.
Wine, enchilada and pickle sauce,
corks and safeties,
just like The Penguin In *******
in Ronnie and Kenny's shed.
The Idiot ******* Son
sits eating the deadly Yellow Snow,
whilst Joe hums Zombie Woof
at the Poodle in his Garage.
Dinah-Moe Humm finally gets off;
in the Dangerous Kitchen,
with the Muffin Man's ***** Love,
and the Illinois Enema Bandit.
The Fine Girl and the Latex Solar Beef
bathed in The Blue Light,
shout 'Pick Me, I'm Clean',
along Inca Roads, to Find Her Finer.
Cosmik Debris exclaims Zoot Allures!
From the fat, floating, maroonish Sofa
because the Bow Tie Daddy
sings Nasal Retentive Calliope Music.
Yo Mama! there's the Disco Boy
who gets in More Trouble Every Day,
so The Torture Never Stops,
with Damp Ankles, Peaches & Regalia.
Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top
dances with Camarillo Brillo upstairs,
catching Stink-Foot once again,
like In France from the Valley Girl.
And so the Watermelon In Easter Hay
rides off with the Duke Of Prunes
to the Carolina ******** Ecstasy,
visiting Billy The Mountain, and Montana.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Frank Zappa
(21st December 1940 - 4th December 1993).
Musician, Diplomat and Lyricist.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
Mono tone
Repeated Humm
Western on the screen
Orchestral
this place is
full of time
so many stories
washed away
by the same machine
over and
over
and over
It’s amazing to me
The filth in
A place of cleansing
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
I left the seat
in the front row
of the place
with too many lights
for it to have been
that dim
dripping in music from head to toe,
from hip to soul,
listening to my ears and their lobes
ramble on incantations of unknown songs,
enchanting nuances strung throughout their chatter
like puddles strewn across concrete,
like grey matter,
like static
but much more in tune with nature
and far less understandable,
weaving my thoughts through new-found looms
stitching patterns of fumes,
gasses,
smoke and the solemn ashes
of melodies burned alive
under a nearly full moon,
under skies that humm
with the clanging arrival
of moments to be counted,
marked,
measured,
treasured for their value
though it elude all reason
because seasons do not lie
except for early spring evenings
when the lights are fading
and the music you heard playing
is quick to
leave your tongue.
It was all said and done.
One more highway home
among the trees and stargazers,
convincing my eyes
of what my ears have undone.
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
Words are uncatchable, fleeting
Soft and sharp
To heal your wounds and break your heart
They can be smoothed and polished to perfection
Or sharpened to create a deadly perforation
Make them shimmer and glitter like sparks of light
Or cast a gloom of perpetual night
Weave them, hold them, string them up
Taint them, paint them, but never use them up
They can be cold and cruel and hard and dark
And kind and warm and bind our hearts
They're twistable, kissable, catchings of glee
Embrodiery in the mighty world tree
Enhancements which dull the melancholy humm
Of work and stress and all things dumb
I'll use them, abuse them, fill them with me
Pay people with words and words with seas
Of amazing knowledge and words of grandeur
They'll always be rich and never be poor
Words are my forte, my intricate strength
But for you, I have no words left.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
my heart locked in a lonely rhythm
whistling through a thunder storm
realigning all the stars above
oh how I've felt so all alone
his gentle tender breeze now blown
for I humm bitter dreams no more
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
Grasping at the air and your gone, like a whisper in my mind or my breath on a foggy morning. It lingers for a while, surrounding my head,
Like a pure cloud of delusion, a bubble of insecurities and hopes and desires and dreams and then it's gone, Like the flicker of a candle blown out by a child in an adult world, run away with the Humm of your breath, escaping into the night.
It's like quicksand running through my fingers, and I can see my time clock always feeling like it's running out, it's like a butterfly dancing into the deepest corners of my mind, running through a river of emotions and bursting through my
Mouth in a babble of awkward communication, freely flowing with everything that's been bottled
corked up and already set adrift in some running thought. All my
Mouth can conjure is a free flowing eclipse dabbed with bubbles of truth floating away to the surface of my sharp tounge. And as the negativity cascades around me like a cloak of invisible emotion, the river runs from
my soul through my eyes, and the pain of crashing waves batters against my throbbing heart just willing you to take me in your arms, and plant a kiss on my forehead and tell me everything will Work out. But instead you're gone, like a whisper in my mind or my breath on this particularly foggy morning, and despite my frequent intakes and the river that won't stop running, I know that at the end of the day, that's all you wanted from me too.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Wasted thought,
Talking blocked,
I don't know what to say,
Heart is broken,
Attention I can't pay,
Cause I don't have the money,
I ain't make the payments,
No love there,
Scumbag mentality,
I carry a lot of weight,
I was hoping that your heart and your feelings don't come to me,
I know,
I know,
I wouldn't want to fight,
Ducking and hiding,
I bet that I will not possibly be up tonight.
Humm.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
*( haiku )
1
windfallen
Instant lovers join—
In her bohemian flat,
The breadth of heaven.
2
bright winter
Sun beams in finery . . .
Heaven and earth enthroned,
White sky, white mountains.
3
mirroring
Under azure skies—
Fuzz of bees and lavender,
Blue REM's of heaven.
4
ephemera
Doomed bright innocence,
Vibrating sirens of youth,
. . . Bodies of Heaven.
5
testament
Autumn leaves falling,
Trees burn stories of the sun—
Pages from heaven.
6
annunciation
Wind through pine needles,
Humm . . . of iridescent birds,
Whispers from heaven.
7
unfolding
White of sky blooming—
Little clouds from heaven fall,
Snow geese land on lake.*
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
It's hard to watch your world sink, right before your eyes. To watch everything you worked for vanish, like the sun from the evening sky. It's hard to watch your dream fall through, and keep yourself together. It's hard to get through the rain, when you can't see past the weather. It hurts to feel your world unravel, like a ball of yarn or string. It's hard to humm the right tune, when you've forgotten how to sing. You swim against the current, and pray to god that you will survive. Only to find yourself question your motives, and why you prayed to be alive. You walk in circles everyday, following the path you did before. Working towards a better life, but what is it all for? To strive and fail, to stand and fall. To fight the wind and stand up tall. To find yourself on the grond once more. Your height only measuring how far you've soared. Straight to the ground, where you've been many times before. Holding your head, but only your pride is sore. So you ignore the pain, with all your might. Your put on a smile, and get back in the fight. The fight for your sanity, the fight to keep you sain. The fight to keep depression out of your veins. The fight for your happiness, the fight to fall in love. The fight that keeps you hopefully, no matter where you're shoved. Because at the end of the day, or the end of your life. When your heart cannot carry on, or hand the strife. You'll look up to god and say with your last fighting breath. I know happiness, I know love, and now I know death. Because the fight is over, and your out of the game. No score board to show you who's the winner in lifes punishing game. Because the end prize isn't money, cars, or fame. But whether you enjoyed life and danced in the rain. Whether you laughed with friends, and love with all your heart. Whether you've showed compassion, and weren't afraid to let out a little **** Whether you took chances, and had a few to drink. Whether you've partied to the break of dawn, even if you woke up next to the sink. Because when it comes down to it, we're all scared inside. But it's how we control our fear that makes us invincible, even when our whole world has crumbled around or feet and died.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC