"impresses" poems
Even the idea was worthy of a fight
and all too much preparation.
We dolled ourselves up for alienation,
even though the faces present
were so familiar and etched into memory.
Who are you Mr.Cool?
If that is your real name.
Whiskey breath and filterless smokes
only impresses the girls in the movies,
with scripts written by clueless men
like you, who can't supply injury
so they bring only insult.
You are a secretary bird,
a mime, and the copycat kid.
Trying to be a bad boy and hide
amongst the spoiled brats you claim.
Keep on burrowing and severing ties,
ravishing resources leads to ruin.
You say you've heard rumors?
Well, I've heard facts.
I've seen facts!
Your parasitic disguise will crumble
under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona.
While the company I keep will only know
the side you wished to reveal
in front of all the pretty boys and girls.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
There's something about a sunrise that intrigues me more than a sunset
Its calming and quiet and signals the rise of all mankind
Hues of blues, blinks of pinks, and passions of purples,
all blended with the cotton clouds that sit long and still
There's something about a sunrise that impresses me more than a sunset
Its sweet and loving, and kisses the birds every morning
Its lets the leaves of the trees and the waves of the sea know the day is ok
It makes me blush and smile because I know my day will start in a while
There's something about a sunrise that upsets me more than a sunset
When the pinks go away, and the purples start to fade
And the blue takes over the sky I cant help but feel despair
because my sunrise is not there
So I go to bed at night with a ping of fright
But I know when I open my eyes I'll see my sunrise,
and my heart will be at peace again
There's something about a sunrise that puts a tear in my eye
But it signals to me that my day is alright
and gives me my morning kiss good-bye
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
I have learned:
1. your past does not define you. yesterday’s mistakes are not today’s. we can always be better.
2. be humble. do not boast in how you look or how you dress. do not brag in your talents or your skills. you can be proud, but do not become prideful. always stay kind.
3. do not let someone else define your worth, talent or value because of what they do or do not give you.
4. be patient. all good things come in time and never stop working hard in what you’re striving to achieve.
5. words and music connect us. don’t ever stop telling stories, always keep writing, always keep sharing.
6. love your friends and family hard. appreciate them everyday and never give up on them.
7. you are cherished even if you feel like you’re not seen. when you don’t think your parts matter, widen your perspective and look at the bigger picture. they can’t make it happen without you.
8. you are more than just a body or face. your heart and soul is more beautiful than any outward appearance could ever be. don’t let first impresses be limited to only physical.
9. it’s okay to show affection to those that you love. let them know how you feel, and don’t be afraid to love big.
10. hard work and determination always pay off, even if it takes a while. you will get to where you’re going if you’re diligent and passionate. don’t wait to follow your dreams.
11. laugh loud. don’t worry about what others may think of you, happiness isn’t to be confined, you’re meant to express it.
12. let yourself be loved by others. you can’t give until you’ve been filled, always let others pour into you with adorations and affections so you can do the same.
13. don’t let people look down on you because you are young, don’t let them limit your potential because of your age. your young age does mean you’re any less talented, wise or valued than those older than you.
14. be confident in who you are. there is no one else on Earth like you, be proud of the progress you’ve made.
15. being quiet is okay, being reserved does not mean you’re lacking anything. there is beauty in the silence.
16. always express yourself. express your feelings and your love. don’t repress them.
17. don’t let a set back keep you down forever. rest, recover and jump right back where you left off. work hard, practice hard.
18. love yourself and love your friends more. never stop learning and always keep growing.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
ive been brooding,
lurking your pages,
thinking of how we would conflate so well..
do you think of me?
do you ever ask yourself, "does she exist?"
i admire your cynosure.
& i hope my eloquence impresses you.
will we ever be?
erstwhile.. maybe
im tired of relationships that are evanescent,
so when you get here, will you be here awhile?
i will imbue my love in you..
it'd require you to have interest in a non-ingénue being.
a being so brilliant that you will start to question your soul and the size of your crown, my King.
you will not become jaded,
inure,
for i am a Queen of lagniappe.
i will have you twisting and turning at the quakes of my soul..
is your mind as beautiful as mine?
is your soul as deep?
can we be panoply, i hope.
can our love be sempiternal..
wherewithal of our love.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Living in a different time zone, still reeling from past decisions.
Fighting venemous events to no avail,
not letting go of lasting mass incisions.
Excision of life's excitements.
Removal of my livers, kidneys, colons,
but still, I shiver in the coldness
of the living.
Admitting to the voices in my head,
that the Lord's mercy still extends,
into heaven for the choices of the dead,
who did the devil's bidding.
A foolish folly for a younger self,
to fall afoot amongst a rotten hell,
hellish landscape brought into the realm,
of mortals and the bedroom shelves.
All my dreams upon a table,
and in the dusty drawers there lies the pain.
Honestly I'm never able,
to entrust another lover with my reigns.
To fly I must begin to build momentum,
but something's caught up on me and instead preventing.
And slowing my ascension,
Also did I mention,
that every other moment that I spend here in atonement
is a ticking to a redder deathly sentence.
Repentance, with a mix of learned and unearned lessons, accuses those who lied.
Impresses extra stress especially when the ghostly men attend and lean up on my bedside.
I use to shy away but now I stare them in the eyes.
Fear's been long gone since childhood,
when crazy layovers in hazy places
played a part of strongly breaking bonds with those I thought were good.
I've felt my death a million times and dreamed it millions more.
And yet I never let myself fall victim to the final tricks of it's afflictions.
Meaning it's a situation still remaining unexplored.
I know what I lived for, and I know exists a future still in store.
But god ******* ****** life is such a chore.
Lord,
Give me strength and give me more.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
Love is blond
She stands quietly
She looks at me with star-crossed hazel eyes
Freckles dance on her right cheek
Everyday she gives me nourishment
Cold as the spring my lips frost and thaw
She is water
Lust is tall and handsome
Dark eyes cheeky grin
He stands strong and proud
He talks of his experience, impresses himself,
Lies Bout his nature, keeps us apart
I close my eyes, warm radiance upon my skin
He is fire
I shall sin for lust and pray for love
Even though they say i"ll never have it
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
On strange days
like these
baking cookies
is an arcane art.
For it is winter outside
how we transform
the inside
into mystic summer.
For i know the golden ratio.
i have surrounded
myself with graduated cylinders
that recall the lore
of cups and ounces.
Retorts of pots and pans
where i can observe
the powers of this world
returning and combining
into simmer.
Such smells
waft from the oven
as ginger swirls
and cinnamon sworls
like molten mountains jumble.
As the elements combine
eggs and butter
await their transformation.
Some believe that
transmuting baser metals
into gold somehow proves their worth
but they have never
crafted cookies.
At my round
small wooden table
my imaginary children enjoy
the coming holiday of doughy
spell-making.
They beam at me
with their gumdrop eyes
and jelly bean smiles
and write Latin script
with licorice and raisins
on their raiment.
As the homunculus
i have constructed
out of hen’s teeth
and oatmeal.
with a retro fish tank.
skips like calendar with
an extra leap year.
hiccupping time.
Mice in the wainscot
squeak as Saturn
rises auspicious
in their whiskers.
As my roller
impresses and passes
i fill the silver trays
the cuckoo clock strikes thirteen.
While i in a black forest script
write of spells
of life and death
and of the perfect
distillation of a sugar cookie
in baker notation
Sprinkles on the flour
that has spilled upon my table
from the shifter….
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
Part 1
Some of us love badly.
Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes.
Folds in on itself. Eats its insides.
Turns wine to poison.
Behaves poorly in restaurants.
Drinks. Kisses other people.
Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside.
Asks about your ex. Is jealous of your ex.
Thinks everyone a rival.
Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse.
Some of us love horrid, love beastly.
Love sick love anti light.
Sometimes the love can’t go home at night,
can’t sleep with itself, cannot contain itself,
catches fire, destroys the stomach,
strips buildings, goes missing.
Punches. Smashes heirlooms.
Tells lies. The best lies. F***s around.
Writes poems, impresses people.
Chases lovers into corners.
Leaves them longing. Sea sick.
Says yes. Means anything but.
Tricks the body.
Kills the body.
Dances wild
and walks away,
smiling.
Part 2
Why should you apologize
for the monster
you’ve become when
nobody apologized
for creating
the monster that
you are?
But the serious answer to that
is because you make monsters too.
And that apology you never got
is the apology you never gave.
It ain’t even about me.
Remember every single time
a person ever done you wrong,
and any s**t part of your life, you gotta realize
that you can’t control that.
The only thing you can control
is your own self.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 2:16 AM UTC
I'm the air that escapes through quivering lips
the shiver in the bones beneath heated skin
Distant is the gaze from a soul behind dark eyes
Dismissed are my actions behind veiled sighs
But you have no idea what my dreams can show you
The kisses of death; so gentle, so sweet
The laughter of the poor, the beaten, the meek
Wind spills, pouring from smoke filled rooms
Fumes, as love's anger explodes into blooms
And darkness is fading in; and in darkness I lose
I am the whisper among the valley's trees
the venom in the waiting of passive bees
Behind me is hurt trails winding away
In front, a heart so passionately splayed
This is where the wind pauses; what'll it choose?
On silver platter, polished and proud
sits a rusted ring that screams so loud
I am that voice that gently pushes your hair
that violently moves these obstacles of a feeble stare
Breathe in, and let my sound consume you
I am the words unspoken on violent breath
the shivers of a spine when there is nothing left
I am the smile that impresses itself upon your tongue
and the whispers of love that've gone unsung
Ever so softly, let me wrap breath around you
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
In my realm, any tale worth telling tells itself, backwards…
this is part three under reproof inspection,
we have tools some of us imagined,
perhaps with prodding from what prodded
Heinlein, his version of the Sixties, seen from his fifties;
differs in tech to stretch the realm of possible,
Artist's intuition that women's intuition was a thing
by 1961, the year of the twist,
if I recall Junior High, and who doesn't, eh, as seen on TV.
We were there.
There were those books, You were there at the battle for Bataan
We were there books, 36, a kind of boomer canon
in the southwest, some of us had grands who rode those trails.
But the one I imagine I remembered reading,
We were there at the battle for Bataan,
that can be imagined as a ghost from the cemetery
in Kingman, Arizona, on the actual road
alluded to in rites of passage,
all roads lead
from the middle of nowhere, there's no destination known.
Up on the point,
overlooking my green valley,
if I am an honest man, and I believe I am,
sharp as a tack,
tacky as a fly strip in a butcher shop,
sticky in that ai ai ai madja look gleam meme,
flash of white,
no light, brigh'ness reflected from raven's wings, sure
that is what Castaneda saw, no wu wu needed,
once the plant impresses your kindness,
adsorb absorb soak seep, sniff
wonder, if we may imagine
and we do not, we are as the being who may read and does not.
Or the reader who may write and wishes to be
known for the worth of the lines in threaded time through
changing times, drastic fantastic changes in time
thinking medium
thick syrupy, thicker, honey, honey, how could such excess be?
the proverb, pre installed, tic
Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is sufficient for thee.
see
prophecy saying the child shall shall, not will, shall
eat milk and honey until it can, not may, can
sense the fine-ness of the line
the veil, between useful for imaginary things,
how fine the film discerned, imagine that
scratched
with this
so fine a line, that nothing is a thought, with nullness
nought, not infinite, pre-
punctuality, never ceases to happen and now remains, ever.
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 3:30 PM UTC
That here in the passage
that twirls
swirls upon the thoughts
expresses, impresses
there its depth
where words flow and ignite.
Here in this realm of the writer
the world replays
relays within
and grasps deep the fundamentals
that crafts within those elementals
to create a world anew.
Fresh the liberated thought flows
invades, conquers, grows
Till soon a set of lines engraved
sets free the words within
that together with emotion spin
until a world of fantasy is birthed
upon the pages ****** form.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 10:19 AM UTC
The coffee machine filled my espresso right up to the lip
So much so that when I lifted it off the platform,
It spilled and dribbled down the side of my mug
And I though, wow
That reminds me of me
I set my jacket on the chair
But the sleeves were too deep
And it kept sliding off and falling to the ground
And I thought, wow
That reminds me of me
Galileo said that the sun was indeed the center of the universe
But no one would believe him
Wow
That sounds a lot like me
Once I put my pen to paper
And all the ink flooded and spilled out
Because it couldn’t wait to scribe down my
Own beautiful eloquent thoughts
And all know
My depth and wit
Swallows and overwhelms
Impresses and inspires
You and everyone I know
I like gazing into your still pool eyes
Because if I stare hard enough
I can see
Myself
In the reflection
And in conclusion
Me me me me
Me me
Me
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
your skin is not animated as I would have imagined, a little
freckled, bespeckled with blemishes but I don't
mind those -- only the way your mouth is so pink after kissing me,
only how your tongue blooms from the back of your throat.
you don't differ from
any lover in any specific way, just
the after, and how I don't feel
cold. no, just
calm.
I hear no thunder, see no storm slow approaching,
but rain hits the pavement I stand on, which in it's solidity
impresses upon me the urge to run - but I won't just yet
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
If God is a man
he must be a really bad game developer
the games is always on beta test.
and when it ends it impresses no one
even his self...
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
I cant tell a lie, not as well as some. Regardless of what words come out, my eyes will be rather lazy when it comes to hiding distress.
What impresses me is jest, you still have not noticed, and for that i owe you. I'll mark the debt in my little check book inside my head, jot it down like the others, put it aside and pretend it tended forth some tangible result.
Now all is overflowing, the pages ripping and crimped. Used up like the excuses we made to sway away rependence, but the only sorries given are the ones saved for ourselves. Poor modern-generation children, they really let us off the hook. Tucked us in to sleep soundly in feather down little beds resting our little heads, crying over little spits we regretfully didn't have the guts to spat. All told to hush up and pretend, fall to slumber and sleep and forget. Refrain,
You'll wake up to morning rain and tell your lies all over again.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
To deny I love you.
Would be like denying my name?
Everything about you impresses me.
Your attitude.
And even your changing mood.
To deny I love you.
Is like denying the truth.
So I admit.
I love everything about you.
Notice the love stories that passes many by in life.
Simply because they were afraid to be adventerous.
Afraid of the event that might affect them deeply.
And with you.
My love goes deeply.
Still, to deny I admire you.
Would only affect me?
All because of the happiness you have show to me.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
The Tenderness of your love,
impresses me so much,
I don't know what I have
done to deserve it
and have been given
all your love.
The tenderness of
your love letters impresses
me so much, I read them once,
I read them again, and say
how truly lucky I am.
The tenderness of your feelings
for me carries me away,
I can't wake until we meet
each other face to face.
You picked me out of a crowd
of girls on a website I can see,
I don't know what you saw in
me, I really like to know that please.
I will not let you down my love and I promise
to be the best that I can be.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
To deny I love you.
Would be like denying my name?
Everything about you impresses me.
Your attitude.
And even your changing mood.
To deny I love you.
Is like denying the truth.
So I admit.
I love everything about you.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
I need inspiration.
I need a new muse.
Not the kind that impresses
But rather undresses
And leaves you with the essence
Of a poet, raw.
Exposed but not defenseless.
I'll be open,
You're all welcome.
Come in,
Kick off your shoes,
Get comfortable.
For maybe if I let you see,
I will have some new vision
Of myself and who to be.
Maybe your eyes will tell me-
When I drop my guard down
-What I really look like
From the vision of
An unfamiliar gaze.
It's possible I'll see horror
Or maybe some pain
In the eyes of the many
That witness me plain.
I'm sorry to sound dramatic,
But this is what I must have.
To feel what you feel
When your eyes grasp my spirit.
I must know.
I simply need inspiration.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
Good way off, past blindness
trickling fingertips felt plunks.
Sedimentary stirrings next to
running brooks dipped into
for pleasure of touching
algaecide inside the head.
And memory impresses gunky
regions explored, faculty of
retaining wet sandy banks,
the murk of his adolescence.
How what was told of who to,
or who not to, or what not to,
that, was only left with more
unanswered question. Just
mire. So the feeling out had
little guidance and quicksand
became lesson planner.
Wonted informality, such sinking,
became hook, shot, and sweet tooth.
These habits took his teeth
and no longer could he chew.
Drivel and flattery became much the
same, his purging, alluvium.
Men can only spill out, what fed.
Eventually mountains' rivers carry peaks to valleys.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Oh, the things you don't know going on in my mind.
Oh, they are nothing bad in the least.
Over breakfast, you're lovely to look at.
We sometimes give compliments when you all dress up.
I'm giving you mine the way you look now.
What I am in good?
I owe to you.
What bad that's in you?
Brings out the bad boy side in me.
Except in a good way.
You're lovely to look at.
Whether it day or night.
Makeup enhances you.
Plainess brings out the best in you.
And these are the qualities that impresses me.
Stay you.
Stay this rare eyes of joy.
Stay true.
Stay true to the qualities of love.
Stay you.
Stay focus on the words of the Lord.
I, as a man can't ask for anything more.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Massive, gray, these leaden waves
bear their unchanging burden—
the sameness of each day to day
while the wind seems to struggle to say
something half-submerged planks at the mouth of the bay
might nuzzle limp seaweed to understand.
Now collapsing dull waves drain away
from the unenticing land;
shrieking gulls shadow fish through salt spray—
whitish streaks on a fogged silver mirror.
Sizzling lightning impresses its brand.
Unseen fingers scribble something in the wet sand.
Originally published by Southwest Review
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
I'm not asking for too much
I'm not asking for anything at all
And suddenly mediocrity is magical and sufficient.
It's efficient to let yourself be inspired by little things
That
In reality
Are rather,
"Just fine"
And we continue the day with our heads held towards the sky
Even if it's always nighttime inside
And I sigh
I sigh because nothing excites nor impresses
Nor angers nor frustrates nor makes me react
For I expect nothing
To shield myself off
In this world of barriers
I'm lost.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC
-You impress me in so many ways
No, the only thing that impresses me now days is your closed mind and your closed imagination
-You never intend anything bad; you're pure hearted
Sure, Unless it's an authority figure in your way, and with your nasty comments you aren't pure
-You never give up on the things that count
Except grades and morals, not to mention my beliefs.
-You're modest, smart, funny, a good talker, and a great person. This is why I love you unconditionally as a human being.
**You're an idiot most of the time, I can't text you for 5 minutes without getting bored, but I remember how I loved you.
-You're polite, not critical unless you need to be
To me, at least
-You have a sense of humor
-You're not fake and you don't pretend to be what you're not
-You own up to your mistakes
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC