"immovably" poems
Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?
Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?
Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction
deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
I was dead
You brought me into reincarnation.
My heart was broken into microscopic pieces
You merged those pieces together.
You monitored me into Loving and trusting.
Now that I am immovably tenacious they want me back.
I don't want them.
You are the one I deeply love.
You gave me life for it is said a life without love is not life.
You are my soulmate.
They see that I have found my soulmate now they want me back.
What You and I share is mindblowing.
You are the only one for me.
You are all I need no one else can touch
My heart like you do. There is none like you.
You are mine and I yours.
Eu te amo tanto querido
Beijinhos
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
This blancmange of dusk—of melted coral lights
has tugged the softest from the heaviest of heights.
Its face the color of yearning—cast down as mine.
Barely grazed round the head I must be bound inside
the verge again—between what now may be moving
and what has immovably since
the frozen wavescape of circumference undefined.
I’ve been wanting to be touched by a light
such as this, but even urge when satisfied
really quells nothing much—just like
a tender eye lightly daubed in steady brine;
a song I play with passion that never will be mine;
the way I shuffle them, without one
to settle on; the silence that I usually find—
the kind that settles none.
Twilight shows me faint—the wait being time
we pine for clear desire—beyond this lacquered
veneer of sky—vaguely painting fire.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 12:04 AM UTC
A noisy impatient fly
Humming by my ear like the fluorescent light overhead
Near imperceptible, but in the silence, grating
As it sung out, buzz, buzz, buzz, out of itself,
Always droning, never a pause in the incessant
Static.
And you, O my soul, where you sit,
Trapped in a cocoon of web, never quite alone
But immovably stagnant, perhaps once learning, chasing, dancing, Seeking that elusive something,
Till exhausted by the endless journey, only ever wishing
For a home
That you never found, but barely existing you continue, O my soul.
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 2:26 PM UTC
After the departure of the Romans
we were our own bosses again
at war with each other
The sergeants took over
first the peripheral areas
then the middle land
Only behind the mountains
the residents still resist
longing for a king of their own
as once
his sword shone
his sword shines
immovably stuck
in the eyes of the people
dreaming of a peaceful life
a passed-on promise, for once
but unfortunately
the sword has disappeared
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 3:37 AM UTC
no man's land:
a healthy dose of could-be-worse
for the idiot who equates
the quotidian
to the epicenter of a war.
a special place in hell
for people
who ask for advice
that they can toss
over their shoulder
like a dying cigarette:
instant, capricious gratification.
in hindsight, he shouldn't have cared
for what his friends thought.
like me, perfect role model:
as in control as a truck with faulty brakes
as much fun as falling asleep at a wake
as resilient as a fibreglass dream.
sees the situation that awaits
around the corner
in the alley
that pulses with pathetic light.
cowers
runs
cries
says:
"i wish my skin was as thick as my skull"
and immediately, immovably, refuses to change.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 4:04 AM UTC
“I rebel; therefore I exist.”
― Albert Camus
The herd live normal lives.
What's a normal life?
Isn't it to taste again a retrieved piece of last night's meal from between one's teeth?
Isn't it an old lover, shriveled and lame, trying to re-experience the ecstasy of his first teen love but lost long ago?
Isn't it to rekindle a calling when passion has grown cold?
A normal is an old movie.
A normal is stale saliva.
A normal is stable center on a spinning wheel.
A normal offers a shelter, but no home.
A normal binds two together, but no love.
A normal sustains life, even luxuries, but no joy.
A rebel lives beyond.
He is fluid nothing.
His home is anxiety.
Only Zeus is immovably still, unchanging silence.
Out of boredom, he creates time.
A rebel is a ******* infant of Chronos.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC
Hotter than hell, the sun is burning
The firm, fixed earth that isn't turning,—
The fixed, flat earth that's very, very,
Verily, very stationary,—
Immovably firm on its foundation,
As God has made it, His creation.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 12:09 AM UTC
—and in that moment
I was immovably still;
stone, impassable—
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 4:04 AM UTC
The day will come - it will come - put on your robe,
put on your hide. Also, yea unto the individuals who go unclothed,
unshod, without fear, ********* the corners
of brilliant ledges
also, tranquilly, absentmindedly, toeing the edges of mists
floating in a puddle. Put on your remote ocean outfit,
your flippers, and stroll to the end
of the carport.
It will come. Be not reluctant to pursue substantial creatures.
When, I had a discussion with the eye
of a moose, approaching wetly
through the branches.
I was startled. I solidified. I stepped back. I envisioned it.
And after that then again there are those
really valiant: schools of silver minnows
dashing in and out
of the gills of blue whales - what number of undetectable life forms
do we maintain without knowing it? Our own,
for one. Put on your swarmed body,
like Vallejo
who pulled the ocean over his shoulders in the morning
furthermore, ventured immovably into ground. In this way,
at the point when the day came, he directed
power
flawlessly - unwittingly - and composed by the red light of his teeth
after a glass of dim wine. Put on your light shade.
Put on your confine. On the off chance that, in the state of a key,
the state of a lady,
a bank of swollen mists surging over the tree line,
a world centripetally slips
tear it open: how pom
what's more, gran-ate
meet in thick honeycombs, red seeds ejecting inside a mouth.
Also, however we lose eleven eyelashes per day
by flickering alone we can't enter
the Kingdom,
nor would we be able to move sideways, high on this thin goat way,
without the correct foot gear; a rock's kicked free,
also, the resound returning
from the gorge
sounds like a torrential slide, and is. Put on your cap.
Remove your garments. On the off chance that anybody even considers
about giggling
it will be
the finish of us - Rita, hand over the kazoo. Much thanks to you.
Presently hand over the other one. Great.
What's more, if there should be an occurrence of a crisis
acknowledge, rapidly,
there is no crisis and proceed onward. Like a hoodlum in the night
the day came. At that point night came,
what's more, purged out its cheats
into the enraged daylight.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 7:06 AM UTC