"implicate" poems
“When an injured athlete urge a comeback to field for love of game, his vulnerability toward previous muscle wound hinder his mental ability to go on with a full swing. Though, same rule implicate for people who hold bleeding pen to draw alphabetic emotions”
Yesterday I met one of those fragile birds. She carry fractured pen fingers under her beautiful skin, has curious eyes with strange shyness and a touched heart. The pursue of selflove somehow quelled her creative charm. I never expected to encounter someone so likeminded. She put away her pen to avoid emotions, identically similar reason made me quit this so-called ability which once lured bunch of close friends and many others who never knew the face behind these emotionally colored pages...
Wish I could feel her feathers and let her touch my scars, but her shivering Fragile Soul stopped me to become a...
‘Bad Boy She Craves For...’
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
all aluminum alloy ammo
bane bat brakes badly basters back bones
come call cthulhu Cristo cuz
dead ********** dominate de download
even elven eternal endowments
fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence
grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity
how hella homeboys have how he has
If I ignore I implicate its implore
jack jacks jacks
kay killla kooks krack
LAPD locks la lackeys
maybe mom made mad monoxide
no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes
oh over overt opp only overlay orphic
please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity
quiet quivers quiet queens
remember rage reaps reciprocity
so sour sits supplanters sat
to tell them to tare trail *** tat?
universal unhappiness underlays under us
victory validates victors vanity
why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting
x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea
you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish
zero zag zealots zoos
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
writing songs sans artifice,
that grow better different,
different better,
the lyrics of a man growing older,
insides out, featuring his slips, all showing,
eyes squinting from hard lifestyle experience,
taking on wearied shades of beige yellowing,
a tanned blackness, time edits them, so now,
they sound the same but holier,
from the hazing of hazards
one builds for and by himself,
drilling & extracting the spit-shine of
all that all is fine,
but liquor & cat's paw black shoe polish
just can't quite cover 'em up (2),
the stabbing itch each of the every time
one quests and questions
his ego,
always another test…
why would I ever want that?
his fingers create tinkling at rapido pace,
tinkling an arrhythmia of rhymes
previously perviously (1) unseen,
self exploration, that we all realize
is an unforgiving, never ending,
source of melodic crying out loud;
and when the sensual, arrayed pleasures,
begin to bore
holes of no important consequence,
the querys~to~self get even harder
to explicate what they intimate,
who they implicate,
which parts of you,
failed to answer satisfactorily…
why would I want want that
forever?
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
A choice along one direction leads
to consequential choices based on quasi-essential needs.
And countless more directions;
some more pointless than they seem.
Each with unique-essential implications;
all random in their themes.
And when faced with new directions,
we all enjoy equating means.
There are sub-directions and sudden choices;
some with supplicatory pleas.
Yes, implication's long duration is an invisible machine.
A meta-physical motivation to a person and their genes.
Personally, my own choices corresponded
to these unlimited extremes.
To these tiny little time-transporters
that fit us into teams.
And I thought I'd reached a choice;
was on its corresponding way.
I followed down its passageways and subdomains
for consequential days.
And from the way that we all network,
I have come to the belief
that our decisions implicate
the parts that aggregate beneath.
Yes, every person has these combinations
aggregate throughout their lives.
And by the afore-mentioned complications,
They (eventually) divide to warring sides.
On one side is destruction;
On the other, love resides.
If you make the wrong decision
then these forces, they collide.
To catastrophic implications
and such damage done inside.
But if you're able to pause for just a moment
and hold them side-by-side.
You will find the sort of peace
that only finds those who have died.
And suddenly life becomes so simple;
no more chances need be applied.
Just one choice and two directions
Lie in front of your own eyes.
You feel quite amazing in
proportion to this fantastic new sensation.
As one choice takes you to destruction;
the other leads you to salvation.
It's the truest self-realization
and it's there for you to take it.
There's a chance of your damnation...
but, see, only you can make it.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
We smelled your scent
we signed a lengthy confession
we drew a composite
and picked you out of a lineup
yet still you walked away
scott free
time we implicate you
a little bit more
...
A preponderance
of the evidence
suggests duct tape
over rope
you're my willing hostage
you love something about me
but this is all about
keeping you quiet
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
Spare me a little oxygen,
I'd want to see the onset of tomorrow
Through the blurring from my tears
So I can't know for sure,
That proof of your existence
Lies in treacherous memory
And that you're gone.
The retrograde misanthrope
Takes another blow
While she keeps the show running
In a technicolor blaze
So you can't know for sure,
It's her toxic blood winding down the stage.
It can't be helped
and there's no one to implicate
But her induced kleptomania
Dripping from the slack tips of her fingers
Until she's left standing
In a pool of her own guilt.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
parallel sympathy endeavor
peaceful and untroubled
achieve ballerina twists
comforting serenity
pull a fast one on
elixir sip sucker stiff
tiny hornswoggle mulct
grandfather clock rich rock
chimney chalk ziggy pop
sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall
artists whirl revolution vet
wolf convincing sheep curve
non believers starting flames
horrid instant ways even livid
fears queen fairy dust spiral
wick gladness warlock king
abide nostrum wake flesh
archangel passion feans
world web crack addicts
mankind teach nine
nail soundness round
raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate
swine heedless being being beaten
headless ***** eyes hub pivot
nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch
pitch outermost central swain free gist
intrigue archbishop market black illicit
red hot chili peppers implicate explicit
inundating problematic seniority cast
systems hook boom haze tomb prune
embrace bravehearts impale in arms
side by side shield elastic coats grace
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
Out of breath
Nearing death
Buy you a wreath.
Don't you cry
Slowly try
To survive.
Compensate
Penetrate
Implicate.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Ultimate universally unwarranted weather Yankee tools. In-extremis extremity nuance. Spatiotemporal telemetry tactician's trajectory extant. Implicit implement implicate. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity. After all, how can one stand next to the person they're standing next to if they are carrying on right through them?? Conclusively replete induction. Reality should be of tool in hand's conjugation. Diabolically maniacal dementia's brusque macabre abrupt. Chicanery dynamism's fealty's social contiguities. Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma. Objectified manifest's diminutive minutiae iotas of self inductive intersticial collusion . Umbra ultraism and penumbral platitudes incisiveness. The shade in the shadow of silhouette's sojourn.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Stimulate and duplicate
Your potential to potentiate
Replicate your experiment
To educate, not adjudicate.
Be your master, emulate
Your idol, don't eliminate
Your need to feel, to resonate
To meditate, reverberate.
Don't incriminate, nor implicate
Make your mark, just radiate
Make them watch, eradicate
Terminate any doubt they state
That your life is one to celebrate.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 4:44 AM UTC
I stopped believing in love; because all I see is agony and heartbreak. It has been more than 445 days when things started to collapse. Your ignorance is unlike anything I have seen before. Much as I have been analysing your situation from different angles, there is nothing left to dig into. I am left alone; puzzled and hooked on the unknown…
I thought I saw heaven on the other side, but you were an incredibly deceiving black-hole. You should know that I’m entitled to this rage as much as you are entitled to the choice you made to leave me forsaken. Your traces are deep wounds, and they are yet extremely sore. Thus, I have no other option, but to shed tears more, and more…
Recalling the past is an incurable disease. You seem to have successfully latched onto my system. But do not get me wrong; I contemn the bitterness as I remember what we used to be. It is not a mystery that you strangely implicate the choices I make, and all the steps I am going to take. It actually boils my blood to admit that I have an incentive greed. I need to think that I am crossing your mind every second of the day just like you do mine. Otherwise, what is the point of falling in and out of love?
Still, your silence defies each drop of faith, I have stored inside. You have a ruthless soul; I’ll give you that. Now tell me; by what means can I possibly pull you out of a bottomless heart?
It is a curse you see; once you got in, you never got out…
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 7:52 PM UTC
The love whose name
I dare not speak
lest I implicate her
lest I expose
that she once professed
to love me too
the love who for me
will last forever
she loves another
and we can never be
can never share all
yet we share secrets
that burn the soul
secrets I cannot confess
for her sake alone
yet that I would shout
loudly from every
rooftop and mountain
and be proud to own
secrets that I hope
she will one day
find the strength
to confess too
yet I fear she will
instead put them safely
inside that box
she labels 'the past'
and keeps locked up
nailed tight shut
even to herself
Cynthia Pauline Jones 11/11/13
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Jagged bottles, freshly broken, line the
cobbled pathway leading to the house.
An open window and the heady smell of warm beer
implicate the under-employed and over-stimulated
inhabitants of something.
A frazzled flag, ruined by the wind and disinterest
drizzles limply in the breeze. Broken lines and
pointless stars point to broken lives and
pointless wars that spit on the lithe and measured
stiches of an avant guarde Betsy Ross.
Ancient wooden placards, blue and white and peeling,
shoot up through the hoarfrost of the unkempt yard.
Promising something, though not articulated, they
describe a geometric shape, strangely triangular,
between signs and flag and glass.
A strong confident voice, "Yes we can," wafts
through the open window, and floats above the dismal house.
Then a curse word and a shotgun blast and the
willowing smoke from a TV no longer in need of its
power switch punctuate the scene.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Through an all consuming
ever looming
self-entombing
slow death march
they slogged along
growing strong
by right of wrong
through hate
they berate conflate inflate implicate in a quest to initiate
all those withering Souls
who follow
without reason
behind those bent
who's Soul intent.. is eradication invalidation
so that even those
who avert their eyes
from this aberration
Still follow
one step one stone
one more who does condone believing
somehow time will allow
the ability to atone
to take back
what they already own
And yet ...
by division indecision miscreant dreams seen through aberrant visions
painted on
the nonexistent headstones
Of those
deemed Unworthy of condolence
When the heavy hand of Injustice Whispers you can trust us
"listen not to the neurosyphilitic rot that the weak-minded speak
for We Are The Chosen
The American creed
the annointed Anglo breed
who have fought hard
with righteousness
Appointed
to achieve
the America that God intended
as HIS emissaries
we are the righteously pure ordained Warriors
as WE now take..
possession
of our pure white Nation
our building Stone
to create anew
that
which is to be the new state !"
Oh you fools !
you withering Souls
YOU who slogged along
through the swamps of intolerance toward a place ..you thought
you would belong
Unfortunately forgot
to anticipate
That the haters
will always need someone
to berate denigrate and to Hate !
So ...who are you again ?
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
Lord if you can hear all that your creations talk and think
I am sure you are the Father of all snooping.
Now tell me one thing
Is it not true that you created this world simply
Because you wanted to
apply
And test your great skills
You learned from some cosmic university?
Or is it just because you felt deeply to try your hand on life and forms similar to creatures you had seen and copied from some other lands who have exclusive patent for such creatures?
Then I am sure you are the Ist plagiarist!
Have you got arrested? And sentenced for eternal life?
Because nobody had ever told to have seen you and had a realistic talk with you.
Leave it, for I don't know if this will offend you and get your spies to punish me.
But O Master, please pardon me if you have such powers; you know after all I am a tiny creature created by you. So you can afford to ignore me.
That feels good for me! So let me take some more freedom, to ask you; Please don't mistake me, why do you seems to be such an utter fool? Sorry for using some hard words, after all the the words are your gift only.
But master with your permission, let me put in this way, see you seems to be quite contradictory in some areas.
See, for example
Living and none living things you created amply,
Filled earth with all supply;
And told man and woman to eat drink and multiply.
Till date we obey your words and comply
In our daily life as you told word by word our skills we apply.
But you seem to send wrong messages through your messengers to detach from all worldly affairs and turn to you.
Also you teach us to follow you leaving everything that you created, family and friends, our possessions and all comforts etc.
What is it Lord, you pulled us into captivation and now tell us to leave everything. Is it not double talk? Then I am sure you are the Father of all double talks!!!
But one thing is striking me because today's politicians are doing the same thing to demoralize their opponents.
Let me ask you one final thing
But I am sure you will keep silence just like your today's counterparts.
Sir you had sent out Mr. and Mrs. Adem from your beautiful garden, let me ask you was it not part of a conspiracy?
You just wanted to throw them out of the garden because you felt they are a threat for you?
Sir, Master, please don't send your policemen to implicate me in any other fictitious cases. But for me,
If you keep quiet also know, no issues, but I just wanted to ask you, it is also a credit for you afterall I am your hand made! But Sir I will not be a threat for you. Believe me. So please excuse me. All the more you are smiling like a lion at a sparrow, so I feel pretty encouraged.
So I feel your silence is conceding to my questions. Right? again you are smiling...
Ok, in that sense you are good and generous. So let me leave alone for a while, my respects to you. Pranam.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
Peace cannot be described.
I am floating on a lake
While flowers surround me
My head is lucid give or take
Touching nature and living to just be
I'm enclosed all around by black and grey mountains that start to suffocate
All the people walking around noises distract inside I don't want company
Then I go beneath the water and all is calm nothing can implicate
I see a light deep down in the water so I swam towards feeling ever so free
Now I'm too deep to reach the air I need to breathe but somehow I don't need or want or wake to ever see the flowers that surrounded me on the lake
I am with the people I can understand and every day we hold hands and sing happy songs and play silly games underneath the lake to which I am glad I came strangely.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
If I grabbed you by the arms and yelled into your ear, about all the pain that swims in my veins, would you hold me close as I fall to the ground realizing I am not as strong as I think I am, or would you watch me dissolve until I become nothing, but air?
Would you count the scars that mark my body or would you help implicate them?
Would you wrap your gentle hands around my heart and stop the bleeding or would you suffocate it like you did my love?
Would you cry me a river or would you swim in my tears?
Would you sing along to every song we’ve ever loved or would you kiss every person your eyes laid on, hoping to forget what I tasted like?
Would you let me build up my walls, because I can’t bear to have you stab my chest or would you tear them down just to watch me grovel?
Would you or not, rather I bloom than diminish and decay, like a rose on a spring, sunny day?
Would you hold me, just for the night, because I can’t seem to let go of the memories that haunt me in your presence
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Writing the song or the dance that can clear me of pain
drowning in you every day
failure eminent searching for fearless portrayal
give me your love anyway.
Seething from hatred I've stored deep within
burning and torturing me ill begin
to write an escape from the cell where I'm bound
to everything wrong that's inside you I've found
Implicate everything concentrate hiding the truth
reactions from you in the booth
you seem to make me explode in a chamber of thought
all of the things I've been taught
hurt me betray me and leave me here dying to die
let me down slowly as i can inside
hide
the day of the died
writing this song on the side of my mind
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
it is hard not to do what I’m accused of. have self published a collection of poems, most recent, titled ‘we stole not the same bread’. don’t mean to implicate. it’s 105 pages. link below.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/we-stole-not-the-same-bread/paperback/product-21626878.html
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
The third of December is tomorrow,
And all I can think about is you, her, and where my sweater could’ve possibly vanished to.
I think of you because I liked what we had going on,
I liked the jokes, our conversations, the glances, and the implications.
I liked your beautiful brown orbs that belonged behind frames you refused to showcase them in, and the curls that hid them like curtains.
I think of her because that should be me.
What was between us should’ve landed me in her place,
And I think of my sweater.
My heather sweater that I’ve worn every third of December since 2020, because it’s cold out, and it’s sweater weather.
Heather has your sweater when I should be its “owner,”
Heather holds your heart when it should be in my hands,
And Heather is the mesmerizing sight that soothes your sore eyes,
While I stand to the side, and watch her pull the smile from you that I like to see.
Why would you ever implicate the thought of you and me?
Lead me to believe that you would pick me when Heather was the choice from the very beginning?
Now she has you, and the sweater that would always and forever be given to Heather,
It may be polyester, but **** I wish I was Heather.
Dec 3, 2024
Dec 3, 2024 at 4:21 AM UTC
Mother,
Oh dear woman,
Please rest,
And May your heart be satisfied.
Proud,
brave as I am,
But you're never proud.
Though others,
By virtue of conformity,
May be lavishly praised,
And celebrated amongst your circle.
Mother, bring me close once more,
Put aside your fear,
Acceptance does not give way to damnation.
But love will free you
From this blight of hatred.
I pray you know,
That I may give
A love true, brave.
You fight me, mother
And I am so burdened
I hate, yet I love you so deeply.
The pain I endure
It shapes,
Teaches me a beauty.
I pray I may give,
What you have forgone:
A brightness and hope
Mother,
Comfort me,
Hold me tightly as before
When my screams brought you near,
And your best...
...An understanding.
A child,
I wander and learn,
And still you fear
But you cannot alter
Else what will I become?
I am no slave,
And your desires are your own.
Acceptance,
It will never **** you.
Love,
It will never implicate you.
Your avarice, zeal...
As you hate,
You are condemned
Collectors and thieves,
Were no less welcome.
The almighty's table,
A reminder
Where love forgave,
And brought me in.
Do you get it?
Who you turn away,
Who you blame and forsake,
Who you would sacrifice,
For your penitence
I am forever your child,
And You are forever my mother,
Against what do we fight so hard?
Ideals? Decisions?
How silly,
And how profane.
He who will judge,
One day,
Will laugh at your justice,
As penitence has already been made,
And will bring you in regardless
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
we smelled your scent
we signed a lengthy confession
we drew a composite
and picked you out of a lineup
yet still you walked away
scott free
...time we implicate you
a little bit more
Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
Irrelevance
Endless patterns & bright blue window pain eyes.
I doubt I'd recognize happiness if it settled
the smell of rain, cemetery grins
-euphoric
she laughed out loud in the presence of insecurity
destroyed the hope & childlike deities.
Roman aesthetic, industrial faun
implicate vigor and false pleasantries.
Water can no longer clean your skin, natural imperfection.
Seething arrival into endless mirrors of red
imperious revelation, spare me
-Consistent Smoke-
spherical sun beam with a nervous smile
beautiful facade in a strangers last gift to uncertainty
glass silver speck, on the edge with a grin
Follow suits: witty confounding leather strap of righteousness
Open late in case of mistakes
film the photographer & capture youth
you're a sick little girl
golden wet lust mild with love
Wind chime
Wind crime
Sing song
Somber solitude
low hear, little plants grow
No need to feel
She is not here
We are all alone.
-Alan Harley Clark
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Does the dais
Of your tor
Raise sweet hell? Or
Does that relief on the wall
Implicate you
Like some thing winged and won
Telling your story for you?
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
Although we can personify beings with metaphysical prowess, (objectified manifest's dimensional delineations),can we touch others or even ourselves with these extrapolations? Is zoomorphic zoolatry's demagogueries on the social contiguity a proper solution. I mean how the clairaudience of astral projection. One would tend to think that proximity's parameter's opaque opulence would tend to take precedence over the exponentially extemporaneous nature of trajectory extant's physical location. It's the corporeally preternatural facts to exude when you consider the space it occupies. Noumenal sentience's semantics infer a spatiotemporal telemetry tactician. It's the identity crisis facts, and yet we conception feel an affinity for our surroundings. This might tend to implicate that the evolution of psychic clarity's mystic symbiotic's were irrefragably fecund. Ethology's entelechy to apotheosis élan vital's apotropaic. Transcendental accession's ascension is translucently transpicuous. Retrospectively retroactive revision an inevitability. All that was will be forever and all that could be will become, not that this guarantees a positive outcome. We're fractal.
May 17, 2024
May 17, 2024 at 1:15 AM UTC