"impassionate" poems
it has been long, this voyage unintended;
one like a branch thrown into waters, into the currents of time
taken on, pushed on to unseen shores
from one continent across oceans to islands and continents
afloat always on the merciless drive and unfeeling, impassionate forces -
though sometimes the shores seemed clear, there seemed to be a destiny,
there seemed to be a will and things bent to it, and things shaped to a plan
it appeared one has arrived, one had arrived, the journey ended
one’s destination come –
but there was no announcement for passengers to disembark;
each clutches a valid ticket, but each ticket blank
the signs and boards all blank, all unmarked
and yet one was carried, one is falling, falling, one is afloat
in perpetual motion, seeming
like the leave that falls
like the sparrow that falls
like the maverick meteor that flies
and I am so;
and I have given, I have received, I am done -
but is it done?
*Are we there yet?
Are we home yet?*
Oh it has been long, it has been exhaustive
But is my work done? Is it time?
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Existence wreaked accidental,by clashes chromosomal
Unplanned, a journey Serpentine,winding, unmapped,
tortuously Human? unwinding unknown child to man,
Unconscious mostly,Intuitively grasping occasional, failing
Still, the miracle of it all, just burying my head in existence.
Material-objective-isms,passions many pursued
Grey matter conditioned,chiselled, downgraded,
I am an affordable success of my evening malts
Unwondering,unmiraculous,strsightjacketed daily
By numbers plastic,jobs hated,sensitivities ignored.
Now as I see you Rains,sunrises,sunsets,the sea and waves
The stars, you my street musician, with urchins dancing around.
Some coiled humanity springs forth again and makes me grasp
The divine miracle, again momentary! with a full heart and tears
Impassionate.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
*****
how would you like it
the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness
wobble onto stool
****** over
joining the rest of the line
sweet
the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet
it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way
diluted In and Out closed
turn over
moist
to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty ugly Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop
get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever
wrapped around neck
constrains body against
*****
hands stroked rock hard back
she asks if she could have a stick
reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes halo
you took halo
got into the convertible
a silent triumph when you insert your key
twist
---
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
I’m a poet by nature
And all that I do
It may put me in danger
But that’s what I do
I write from inside
I prey on my mind
My thoughts have to die
To express what I hide
Impassionate words
Unrehearsed lyrics
My mind has been burned
These words mar my spirit
Like locusts over crops
Or a plague on humanity
Swiftly I drop
And resent all this harmony
I write from inside
At least I try to
My thoughts must die
So I can feel my cries too
For impassionate lyrics
And broken verses
Are all that I’ve written
And all that I’ve spoken
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 4:13 PM UTC
Once again I'm dreaming,
of my hands around your neck,
remembering the mistakes made,
the forgiveness accepted,
and the "goodbyes" rejected...
We can't walk away,
can't forget our "hellos,"
whisper your demeaning "I Love You,"
and cry tears of blood,
that stain black upon your weak face...
It's just you and I again,
listening to the lies that we've told,
reciting half thought out promises,
and "forevers" not thought out at all...
Remember the night,
that we first met,
one drunken mistake,
an impassionate kiss under the stars,
but the night air captured us,
in "what might be"...
But once again I'm dreaming,
of my hands around your neck,
remembering the mistakes made,
the forgiveness accepted,
and the "goodbyes" rejected...
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Order bent by writhing mind, twisted chaos running blind.
Dispatched orders sent by they, manipulants who on us prey.
Calculating coldly spent on that which God could not relent,
Death, that trifling matter ****** when simple life surmounts the cusp.
Feeling-less to those who dwell within this edge of seething Hell.
Impassionate and cold of eye until that hour when they must die
Then fast, humanity breaks forth…"Too late, too late", the Gods retort!
Die badly now I thee commit…incinerate in Satan’s pit!
M.
21 December 2016
A curse I now cast at all disciples of chaos, at all peddlers of death and misery, at all the tyrants of the world who have never tasted or seek to have sought, the milk of human kindness.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
Impassionate tears
replaced
by passionate cries
with eyes
tightly shut.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 9:51 PM UTC
Every night the same dream
that never seems to end
we're slowly walking down the street
smiling hand in hand.
It feels like we've walked for hours
but my feet don't even hurt
until we stop so you can admire
and empty field of dirt.
"Once there were roses here
as far as the eye can see
but the tower fell & so did they
so surely fall shall we."
My smile fades into the dark
like shadows in the night
how could you just give up like this
without a single ounce of fight?
one last kiss, impassionate
before you turn to leave
to break my heart into so many pieces
that I can't even wear it on my sleeve.
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
In day she goes by her real name,
At night alls untamed,
Unmanaged,
Unsellable.
High to vegetative state..
Her stage she cannot be late,
Though not by choice doth she choose,
Born to win,
Dying to sin in a room of sparkled lights,
An lapdancing tools!!!!
These men await as demons to their devil,
They sit with *** in hand and puddles,
Of ***** smelling zippers..
***** things grow bigger!!!
Shh,
I cannot speak of such things,
Their madmen just for a fling,
As thine wives wait back at palace!!
Disguistingness impassionate!
Shes always thinking for her night to end,
As the lusters throw out ones!!!
They creep and and they shun,
Non containment there!
****** fluids shall they do dare,
Than the night goes silent death,
Upon her breathe,
*******
Secretion daint by stains,
Those crawlers seem to have left her!!!
For theirs a church around thine corner,
She quits,
And repents Soo quickingly...
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
i am sure you love the way her hair falls over her shoulder
you love the way she sings when your windows are rolled down
the way she plays with your dogs
the ways she rubs your pinky with hers
the way you want her to rub other parts of you
does her art inspire you?
are her passions impassionate?
have you cleaned her and brushed her hair as she wept?
is she the same woman i was?
i am just a copy of someone you want
a coy so you can decide if you want to deal with girls like me
a body to be your playground
a mind for you to twist and figure out just what nerves to hit
has she filled all of the empty spaces you wanted from me?
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
I can't help but think
Of a dragon blowing flames
It's tongue
And eyes
Indiscriminately
Imposing it's will
On Notre Dame Cathedral
On the church, landmark, history
Veiled in its ugliness
The beast of burden
Improbable yet denomic
A page out of a bad dream
Ravaging it's relentless head
Flames spewing from it's mouth
Stretching in maddening red
Hell touching the Heavens
With angels everywhere
Crying, praying, willing
Blocking it's path
It's destruction
A timber roof
A spiral
Now layed to rest
In view of it's last rites
I can't help but think
Fictional this dragon in my mind
And people of all walks of life
Ethnicity, denomination, lot
From the nearby streets
To those viewing across the globe
All watching in horror
Emotional and impassionate
Viscerally pulling the dragons tail back
With hopes, chants, bonds
Disposing of this dragon
From rearing it's ugly head further
I can't help but think
Merci
Merci
Merci
It wasn't worse
Notre Dame Cathedral
Long withstanding adversity
It's foundation resolute
Strong, with a lions heart
And a stronger will
Logan Robertson
4/17/2019
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 9:01 PM UTC
Bound by the deceptive images
That so often march parade like
Across the blank canvas of my imagination
Daring me to post date a check on my reality
In hopes of cashing in while the exchange rate
Allows me to find interest beyond
accumulated wealth
Those invaluable moments that penetrate the soul
Destined to Forever hang just Out Of Reach
But never out of sight or out of mind
And in those flagging moments of impassionate death
When all time and reality ceases to exist
In that momentary slice of Eternity
Where dreams go in search of validity
To find themselves bound by the deceptive images
That way way too often march parade like
Across that crowded canvas of my past
That run together like watercolor hopes
Drawn on the account made insolvent
By the voided and unsecured loan
Of all my heartfelt losses still bouncing
From cashing in that post-dated check on my reality
That left me overdrawn and broke
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
Indifferent.
Existence
does not
care.
Creation’s
ambivalent.
Ambivalent
about the
nature
of things,
simply
churns.
Our
trials and
tribulations
mean
nothing
to the
stark
nature
of things.
Meandering
through it
all.
Searching
for meaning.
The cosmos
could care
less.
It simply
is.
Impassionate.
Oblivious
to the
needs
of mortals.
A cold
hard
stage
to play
things
out.
No
one is
watching.
Aug 13, 2022
Aug 13, 2022 at 8:56 AM UTC