"impetuous" poems
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
*T'was a diamond
amidst stardust
struck of gypsy's
celestial adoration,
crashed and sizzled
'neath earthly intentions,
ultimate shimmers
escalated upon
fiercely impetuous seas,
each dappling
luminescent wave
saturated of
splendiferous galaxies,
bathed in heavens'
stellar effulgence,
mesmerizing wanderlust's
magnificent indulgences*
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
Banned,
momentarily.
young, impetuous
stubborn and aware,
tac sharp, she merrily
swears all contraband.
trapped by parental snare
in her room of thoughts
she battles valiantly
with screaming demons,
playing cleverly,
her winning
hand.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
A female tennis player might give
An umpire a piece of her mind
When she disagrees with him.
Consequently, she is fined
Or penalized in other ways.
However, if the player's a male,
He can spit, destroy his racket,
Yell, and viciously assail
The umpire at a tournament.
He could even resort to calling
The ump an "abortion," and little or nothing
Happens to him. Now THAT'S appalling!
A candid man might be considered
"Direct" or "outspoken." Isn't that rich?
But if you are an assertive women,
You are basically called a *****
A man who loudly demonstrates
At a Senate hearing in an angry fashion
Could be considered "aggressive" or even
Be called a man of "impetuous passion."
A woman, however, who interrupts
A Senate hearing with passion hears
Herself being called "hysterical" when
She's led away to Senators' sneers.
Sexism? Discrimination?
Inequality? Status quo?
It certainly appears that way.
The double standard has got to go!
-by Bob B (9-11-18)
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
She seems pretty queer
Yes she does
Something odd
Something peculiar
Is it in her insouciance
Is it in her audacity
Is it in her pirouettes
Spun with such vivacity
Is it in her defiance
Is it in her nonrepentance
Is it in her reveling so free
A form full of glee
Sometimes impetuous
All times ingenuous
Aflame with passion
An immersive intoxication
Cracking down on this mystery
A perplexing dichotomy
Let's remove the misfitting pieces
In sync with commonplace notions
Alas what dismantling of a girl
at peace with her pieces
What uprooting of a girl
at home in her body
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:22 AM UTC
I.
While raging tempests shake the shore,
While Ælus’ thunders round us roar,
And sweep impetuous o’er the plain
Be still, O tyrant of the main;
Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray,
While my Susanna skims the wat’ry way.
II.
The Pow’r propitious hears the lay,
The blue-ey’d daughters of the sea
With sweeter cadence glide along,
And Thames responsive joins the song.
Pleas’d with their notes Sol sheds benign his ray,
And double radiance decks the face of day.
III.
To court thee to Britannia’s arms
Serene the climes and mild the sky,
Her region boasts unnumber’d charms,
Thy welcome smiles in ev’ry eye.
Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my pray’r,
Not give my wishes to the empty air.
6.7k
It's been a day or maybe a few,
That I haven't heard from you.
It's not exactly depressing yet,
But I know I'll cry soon, and get-
Cold sweats.
It's not like you'd care,
You don't give a ****
I'm just sort of there,
To you, I'm throwing a fit.
And you say I have no right to.
Well what did you expect me to do-
When you're telling people such hyperbole?
Your mispresentations have flustered me.
I've never met someone so treacherous.
I trusted you and you put on a display,
Which I must say was completely impetuous.
Where did you come up with such nonsense?
I guess I never meant anything to you,
I feel like I was just a fill in for others.
Others whom you actually befriended,
Or maybe they're just like me.
Discovering that you're really a bully.
An emotionally abusive person.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
You will come one day in a waver of love,
Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,
The tan of the sun will be on your skin,
The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,
You will pose with a hill-flower grace.
You will come, with your slim, expressive arms,
A poise of the head no sculptor has caught
And nuances spoken with shoulder and neck,
Your face in a pass-and-repass of moods
As many as skies in delicate change
Of cloud and blue and flimmering sun.
Yet,
You may not come, O girl of a dream,
We may but pass as the world goes by
And take from a look of eyes into eyes,
A film of hope and a memoried day.
5.3k
Recently, in the "New York Times,"
An op-ed essay has hit the press,
Thus causing the president
To send out vicious tweets in distress.
Claiming to be a senior White House
Official, the writer wants to let
The people know that even though
Trump is unhinged, not to fret.
Because Trump is ill-informed,
Impulsive, and given to constant lying,
He can't be trusted to handle the job,
Which to many is terrifying.
He's impetuous, adversarial,
Reckless, petty, and quick to revile.
Any good has happened DESPITE
And not BECAUSE of his leadership style.
The writer insists that our knowing
One special thing will lessen the gloom:
Even though Trump is a mess,
Luckily, there are "adults in the room."
Thwarting the president's misguided
Impulses is the task
Of these "adults," each of whom
Has to hide behind a mask.
To publish the piece anonymously
Some people feel is wrong.
But, hey, it only confirms something
That we have known all along.
-by Bob B (9-6-18)
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
790
Nature—the Gentlest Mother is,
Impatient of no Child—
The feeblest—or the waywardest—
Her Admonition mild—
In Forest—and the Hill—
By Traveller—be heard—
Restraining Rampant Squirrel—
Or too impetuous Bird—
How fair Her Conversation—
A Summer Afternoon—
Her Household—Her Assembly—
And when the Sung go down—
Her Voice among the Aisles
Incite the timid prayer
Of the minutest Cricket—
The most unworthy Flower—
When all the Children sleep—
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light Her lamps—
Then bending from the Sky—
With infinite Affection—
And infiniter Care—
Her Golden finger on Her lip—
Wills Silence—Everywhere—
3.7k
I was gonna rip his heart out. I'm the best ever. I'm the most brutal and vicious, the most ruthless champion, there has ever been. No one can stop me. Lennox is a conqueror? No! He's no Alexander! I'm Alexander! I'm the best ever. I'm Sonny Liston. I'm Jack Dempsey. There's never been anyone like me. I'm from their cloth. There is no one who can match me. My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable, and I'm just ferocious. I want his heart! I want to eat his children! Praise be to Allāh!
-Mike Tyson
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
years pass
things that
bothered me
songs that
pierced my heart
songs that
brought only
sad memories
don't,
anymore.
how i kick my
****
for getting rid of you
vinyl and CD
but especially
vinyl
**** why did i let you go
steeping in the memories
songs
music
how fast
they take
us
right back
to those moments
bittersweet memories
with ones we loved
so seemingly deep
or not
such great passion
such great wisdom
don't hurry through
your pain
but don't ever
think you cannot
get through it
if you so choose
sometimes it is time
to check out
who am i
to say
but....
maybe...
another day.....
another moment...
will change how
you feel
what you think.....
i say...
plan it out
be very detailed
but do not be impetuous
take your time
for you have all
the time in the world
all the time in the
universe
for there is no where to go
nothing to do
and
all the time to
get there
if you might
ever ask for my advice
and i caution you
you may not want to
do that
procrastination in
some things
is the very best
hand.....
now what the ****
am i talking about...
i know.
do you????
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
We knew thee of old,
Oh divinely restored,
By the light of thine eyes
And the light of thy Sword.
From the graves of our slain
Shall thy valour prevail
As we greet thee again—
Hail, Liberty! Hail!
Long time didst thou dwell
Mid the peoples that mourn,
Awaiting some voice
That should bid thee return.
Ah, slow broke that day
And no man dared call,
For the shadow of tyranny
Lay over all:
And we saw thee sad-eyed,
The tears on thy cheeks
While thy raiment was dyed
In the blood of the Greeks.
Yet, behold now thy sons
With impetuous breath
Go forth to the fight
Seeking Freedom or Death.
From the graves of our slain
Shall thy valour prevail
As we greet thee again—
Hail, Liberty! Hail!
2.9k
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphorias of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix are pandemic. Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness. But what of stint-ness snities? Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums. Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied **** Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums. We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture. And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums? Do we only dream about dexterous articulation? Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary? What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton? We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache. Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology? Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward. Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective. Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable. Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue. Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh. Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered. Infusing all with the capability of aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others. I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony. Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual. Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist. We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
The urge to do nothing is overwhelming,
compelling.
I am motionless
I find myself halted.
Based upon a worry
a waiting
dominated by uncertainty.
I cannot go on
I stretch the mind
wander
wonder of antidotes
remedies delicious
in the knowledge
of their reduced life
span.
But not a cure.
Openings brighten despite me,
the ephemera of the street untouched,
lilting on its arbor
in its impetuous parade.
(I think)
I should not allow myself this dysania
in the spaces between moments,
lapses into stillness unforeseen.
In the warm response of wire
I ask for forgiveness.
Trapped in my own gaze,
it’s all I have.
(the purity of sorrow)
The floor pushes me skyward,
I run my finger’s tip around the edge of the afternoon,
Hope to god it rings out in response.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Ach so! thou much-praised and lauded Milwaukee,
Thou delightful Wisconsin Stadt of boundless pulchritude,
Verily hath History endowed thy blessed name
With the noisomely beery breath of immortality!
And thank the benign Almighty in highest Heav’n
That thy delectable streets and arboreal squares
Doth remain heretofore untouched by unseemly civic strife,
Despite thy renown as veritable midwife to Sewer Socialism!
Yet, tear-inducing recollections have I of this dwelling-place
And herewith followeth heart-rending remembrances
Of what transpired when I inveigled a plump young Mädchen there
For a brief sojourn of untrammelled concupiscence.
Alas, alack, after gorging her impetuous appetites
On a gargantuan repast of mitteleuropäische delicacies,
Methinks her poor heart gave up survival’s uneven battle
And, warbling a soft piffero-reminiscent sigh, she expired.
‘Twas too tragic thus to depart this happy welkin in mid-prandials,
Emitting a final flatus, sweet adieu, from her rearmost aperture,
Leaving me, her poor forlorn swain, bereft and solitary,
Faced with mine host’s request for instant monetary rendition.
From that naughty place of my bereavement fled I,
Clutching to my ***** the contents of her silken purse,
Determined to partake in untrammelled ***** licence elsewhere,
Ere the chanticleer’s dawn croak wake the inebriated citizens.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Surely I am dreaming
about heart left in the theater of your ardent idolizing.
Surely I am dreaming
about your strands enveloping my cheek.
Surely I am dreaming
about day in impetuous snowstorms spent in your arms.
Surely I am dreaming
about rush of events that take place only in movies.
Surely I am dreaming
about body panting into oblivion of worldly pleasures.
Surely I am dreaming
about face flushed from compliments of lover.
Surely I am dreaming
about hectic rush to your awaiting hands.
Surely I am dreaming
about red roses protruding from corners of your sensitive hands.
Surely I am dreaming
about heat of caresses in boiling blood.
Surely I am dreaming
about book of poems about our first love.
Surely I am dreaming
about you dancing in the withered leaves.
Surely I am dreaming
about sighs at beauty of carnality.
Surely I am dreaming
about sensitive whispers of desires of melancholy hearts into ear .
Surely I am dreaming
because I did not send a telegram entitled "Looking for love".
Surely I am dreaming
because loneliness can not disappear like stone in water.
Surely I am dreaming
because the best dreams come in the morning.
Surely I am dreaming
because it is so difficult to find warmth of someone else's hand.
Surely I am dreaming
because thoughts gallops as steeds in the forest of wilderness.
Surely I am dreaming
because dawns wake me up in supplication for more and more of you.
Surely I am dreaming
because kingdom of your eyes staring at me can not last forever.
Surely I am dreaming
because I am senseless from blizzard of evening events.
Surely I am dreaming
because you can not find love in a café or bar.
Surely I am dreaming
because I departed a long time ago from the distant land of fulfilled wishes.
Surely I am dreaming
because flowers are handed to uncommon women.
Surely I am dreaming
because hidden secrets are revealed only to beloved.
Surley I am dreaming
because I did not have eyes half-closed in pleasure before.
Surely I am dreaming.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
One of the most humorous conditions that a creature could burden itself with is a somnambulant desire to be to it’s own liking .
Maxillary extrapolation although a positive political expectorant is likewise a practical partiality .
I prefer to be philanthropically phenological although rational impedance is my histophysiology . My present participle is practical pragmatism and tertiary transcendentalism . Xenoplasticly speaking I feel alone but plausibility is a probationer in reflective self awareness . Atrociously impetuous I proceeded amidst heinously horrendous heckledom . Adequate inflection is a relevant relative to retaliatory regression but I digress . Paraphernalia is a practitioner to plausibility’s cause and should be assimilated through cognizance not perfunctory preferentialism .
Hegelian humanitarianism must supersede political subterfugalism or all may be lost in quagmire .
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
The wild green tree speaks
to her lovers, all through the day,
flirting innocence she was
to the gentle breeze,
those lovely foliage
swaying side to side.
With the indecent demands
of the rowdy wind,
she was rumbustious
not to be left behind even a bit.
Then, the long persistent buzz,
of honey bees, theirs was
an intense affair,
with the inviting white flowers.
The tree was still, as if in goosebumps,
though impetuous, isn't it a diversion lovable?
**I was the lover, hope personified,
the tree, in my dreams I wished,
was waiting with all these
momentary engagements,
for that one great love that thrills her,
from tips to the roots, deep down, unique,
in its intensity, when it happens.
The green leaves, white flowers,
the cacophony of roosting birds,
under the shade was a world,
moving on its own pace,
all the while waiting for the magic love brings.**
The tree was a song of love, wind's whisper,
sweet exchanges inspiring to many lovers around,
all through the day and night.
At dark lonely nights, an oily moon appears,
very late, as if it is reluctant,
the tree stands silent,
looking wistfully at a winking star,
as if her true love was finally found,
though light years away.
**I stand lost in thought,
in my garden, where flowers wilt,
looking at the flickering light,
at your window, getting engulfed by mist**
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:26 AM UTC
IN YOUR lips moving fervently,
Your eyes hot with fire,
Life seems immortally young with desire,
Life seems impetuous,
Hungrily free,
Having no faith but its burning to be.
You could dance laughingly,
Draw where you move,
Hearts, hands and voices pouring you love.
Youth be a carnival,
Life be the queen,
You could go dancing and singing and seen!
Whence came that tenderness
Cruel and wild,
Arming with ****** the hand of a child?
Whence came that breaking fire,
Nursed and caressed
With passion's white fingers for tyranny's breast?
In your soul sacredly,
Deeper than fear,
Burns there a miracle dreadful to hear?
****** of ******
Was it God's breath,
Begetting a savior, that filled you with Death?
2.2k
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphoria of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix is pandemic. Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness. But what of stint-ness snities? Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums. Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied **** Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums. We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture. And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums? Do we only dream about dexterous articulation? Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary? What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton? We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache. Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology? Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward. Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective. Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable. Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue. Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh. Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered. Infusing all with the capability of aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others. I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony. Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual. Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist. We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Though thou did’st hear the tempest from afar,
And felt’st the horrors of the wat’ry war,
To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shore
Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,
And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand
Compell’d the Nereids to usurp the land.
Reluctant rose the daughters of the main,
And slow ascending glided o’er the plain,
Till ****** in his rapid chariot drove
In gloomy grandeur from the vault above:
Furious he comes. His winged sons obey
Their frantic sire, and madden all the sea.
The billows rave, the wind’s fierce tyrant roars,
And with his thund’ring terrors shakes the shores:
Broken by waves the vessel’s frame is rent,
And strows with planks the wat’ry element.
But thee, Maria, a kind Nereid’s shield
Preserv’d from sinking, and thy form upheld:
And sure some heav’nly oracle design’d
At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind
Things of eternal consequence to weigh,
And to thine heart just feelings to convey
Of things above, and of the future doom,
And what the births of the dread world to come.
From tossing seas I welcome thee to land.
“Resign her, Nereid,” ’twas thy God’s command.
Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv’d,
Again returns, thy fears are all reliev’d:
Thy daughter blooming with superior grace
Again thou see’st, again thine arms embrace;
O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir,
And what the blessings of maternal care!
2.1k
1.
I feel
fractured splintered defeated
entirely insular
and spread to thin
all at the same time
covered with insecurities
like a cheap suit
or hollow exoskeleton
nothing more than a lie. I grow tired.
I'm bluffing my way through this life
a brutal honesty
I lack the courage to accept
hiding my face
from every mirrored surface
a halfhearted attempt
to prolong this detrimental denial.
I can't ******** my way
through self-reflection
and trying to improve my image
feels positively improvised.
I lack sincerity and authenticity
an individual breathing without zeal
I need a break.
2.
Here I am again a lonely itinerant migrating
to the proverbial and often visited crossroads
rather than contemplating
a direction worth navigating
be it following in the worn footprints of others
or a path long overgrown with neglect.
I'd rather lie down on the gravel road
and nap in the open air
just to wake up confused and temperamental.
The destination remains unknown
my indecision remains intact.
I give impetuous a bad name
by reputation and repetition alike
conjoined twins that speaks to
fate and circumstance.
Like Houdini
I'm secured in a long sleeve shirt
dangling upside down from a burning rope
placing blame on the flame.
I need a break.
3.
I'm not as intelligent
or insightful as I once thought
my wasted youth is a testament.
A modern ruin
like so many a Blockbuster
I've outlasted my usefulness.
I imagine what could have been
clueless as to what lies ahead.
A jovial repentance
seems as likely as
success, or stability, **** simplicity.
Is it all too much to ask?
I've been on break too long.
4.
reboot jumpstart
Alleviate my stagnant, vacant lot in life
and cast off these first world problems.
Consider not the flat champagne
or the distance that separates
today from death.
Speak positively to the people
that would not otherwise attract minimal attention.
Set goals both grand and plausible
with no worry of dividends
and release cynicism
and determine a trajectory
that I may see through to completion.
If for no other reason
but to say that I tried.
It's not so bad this imagined and dire circumstance.
Relax and go on break.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC