"inadvertently" poems
Yesterday saw us through in a stroll
Unaware of the marathon we've begun.
By day's end we found ourselves bearing future's toll
Realised we were in it to secure today's sun.
Today saw us slightly worn thin
Indulgent naïveté in this marathon we've begun.
Into each other's strengths we lean
Hoping to see the end in tomorrow's sun.
Tomorrow may see us out in the cold
We may not be done with this marathon we've begun.
At opposite poles save for the binds that hold
But still planting hope in future's sun.
The future might see each breath to be drawn
In this marathon we've begun.
Only to be swallowed by each new dawn
Inadvertently still chasing the sun.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.
Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.
(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction
Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity
Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.
Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.
Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.
And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.
Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you
Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.
That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.
So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Is there a difference,
give us a reference,
between a stalker,
and a pokemon.
The monger hits news,
game spots and toss,
time lost and chaos,
with a pokemon.
In Canada......
The rule breakers,
cross the borders,
an inadvertently walk,
for a pokemon.
In Guatemala city .......
The teenage boy,
under the wizard,
die in the cause,
for a pokemon.
In London.......
The go players,
ambushed in public,
and robbed by trees,
all for pokemon.
In Africa.....
The rumble,
then scrambles,
to get the last,
the dusts of pokeman.
In Asia...........
No signs too,
they tire and wait,
for the nostalgia,
all for pokeman.
In New York.....
It's a no, no,
for *** offenders,
or become criminals,
All for pokeman.
Poke me man,
NO SOD OFF!
It's all crazy,
the apocalypse,
of freaks and creatures!
Poke me man!
I DARE YOU NOT!
Go find old cards,
a bank of more funds,
all for pokemon.
Poke me man!
I POCKET YOU!
As phones hide,
their lunch hunt,
the herd of pokemon.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
Spirit Dolphin
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
Intelligent communicate
Heartbeats of love and breath of life
Superior to human sight
Your sound waves and reverberates
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
You touch the stars and elevate
Our spirits to become alight
Giving us freedom to ignite
Centers begin to emanate
To be in tune in natures light
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Oceanic friend, solar flare
Communicating our monsoon
Teaching in us how to commune
Opening our minds to beware
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Your innocence rests like lagoon
On the surface emotions bare
Vulnerability is there
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
Selfless creature giving plenty
From outer space some do discuss
To touch you frees us from raucous
To ride with you fulfills empty
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
With you we find our playfulness
Self-confidence more than any
Never to lose our assembly
Connect us all with inner trust
A good omen to protect us
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
What might seem strange is certainly
A reflection upon our youth
Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root
Free from shame inadvertently
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
Though we may taste forbidden fruit
What we will learn so artfully
Forgives our aches so perfectly
Flipping through curious pursuit
Helping others finding our truth
© tHE tERRY tREE
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Submission
He owns my body.
He owns my heart.
When he’s displeased,
My whole world falls apart
When he’s satisfied by my efforts,
I’m overwhelmed with joy.
Though often mixed with anxiety,
In case inadvertently annoy.
For him i will change,
To almost anything he requires,
For now my only life goal,
Is to be all that he desires.
I will take almost any pain inflicted.
Hold each predicament position.
As he knows the key to my heart,
Is the key to my submission.
So yes I will take any punishment,
In anyway he sees fit.
For him i won’t fight it.
For him i will SUBMIT.
********
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
Faking Bad
In anticipation of my
Evaluation to be declared
Non Compos Mentos
I slept under a bridge
For three days
"Getting into character,"
But on the morning of
My intake interview
My hair fell perfectly,
I mean I looked like
A ******* rock star.
College girls on the bus
Were giving me their
Numbers and my skin,
Which I'd purposely sunburnt
And caked in the finest filth,
Glowed like an Australian
Chippendale dancer named Weegie
And even the female Assisstant D.A.
Who had busted me for vagrancy
Waved her ******* from
The third story building
Of the Courthouse.
No matter how much I
Tried to speak gibberish
Poetry and philosophical
Tracts spewed from my mouth.
Shuffling past the park
I beat eight
Grand Masters
At chess on move 1
Inadvertently I solved
The Phi Epsilom Theorem
By kicking stones
Into an algorythym.
When I arrived they didn't
Make me wait at all.
My caseworker giggled like
A schoolgirl while I told her
Each day was like an endless shift
In a Chinese fish- gutting
Sweatshop and every one of my fellow
Employees was motivationalist
Richard Simmons.
She ungirdled her enormous
**** and as they spilled
Like fishguts onto the desk
She began to howl
**** me, **** me, oh ****
Me right here in
Front of the open window
On State Street as everyone
Watches me ******* the strongest,
Healthiest, smartest, most popular,
Well-adjusted man in the world.
The rest of the examination was
Also a success.
But as I left the Mental HealthCenter
feeling marvelous
I accidentally bumped
An old woman with the door:
"Watch out you manic-depressive
Schizoid with Socially Avoidant
Features klutz."
-Thomas L. Vaultonburg
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
I am too close for him to dream about me.
I'm not flying over him, not fleeing him
under the roots of trees. I am too close.
Not with my voice sings the fish in the net.
Not from my finger rolls the ring.
I am too close. A large house is on fire
without my calling for help. Too close
for a bell dangling from my hair to chime.
Too close for me to enter as a guest
before whom the walls part.
Never again will I die so readily,
so far beyond the flesh, so inadvertently
as once in his dream. I am too close,
too close—I hear the hiss
and see the glittering husk of that word,
as I lie immobilized in his embrace. He sleeps,
more available at this moment
to the ticket lady of a one-lion traveling circus
seen but once in his life
than to me lying beside him.
Now a valley grows for her in him, ochre-leaved,
closed off by a snowy mountain
in the azure air. I am too close
to fall out of the sky for him. My scream
might only awaken him. Poor me,
limited to my own form,
but I was a birch tree, I was a lizard,
I emerged from satins and sundials
my skins shimmering in different colors. I possessed
the grace to disappear from astonished eyes,
and that is the rich man's riches. I am too close,
too close for him to dream about me.
I slip my arm out from under his sleeping head.
It's numb, full of imaginary pins and needles.
And on the head of each, ready to be counted,
dance the fallen angels.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
Having defied gravity
(not me personally
but by proxy
namely through
a dog, monkey and Soyuz
and fruit flies and bullfrogs
and lately through NASA)
I defy humility
I brave it, I challenge it
for there’s too much hypocrisy
in humility
For humility is such
that it never speaks its name
For when it speaks of Humility
it is Sans Humility
Take me
for example -
you hardly hear me
mention myself as Saint Humility, do you?
But that’s what I am, my other name: Humility
But people keep insisting on calling me Saint Humility
But I defy Humility
POSTSCRIPT
I also defy repetition
and over-emphasis
and contradiction, paradox
But, it must not be left unsaid -
in defying humility,
I think I’ve also
quite inadvertently
defined humility: Saint Me
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
*A girl wearing a flowing gown,
on which yellow butterflies are in profusion
sows seeds of happy confusion
inadvertently in midtown.
The day on its upward swing
pauses a moment, catching my breath
I jump on, with her, we fly up
the girl smiling to herself
allowed me to arrest herself
inside me for keeps, without persuasion*
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
Saying my "goodnight"s to God my prayer inadvertently strays
As my mind starts to wander in a million different ways.
I reflect on where we started thousands of years in the past,
When our first parents made a poor choice with consequences that would a long time last.
Imagine:
Not having to pray to God thru Christ his son
But rather speaking to him as a friend one-on-one.
As you walk in your garden with no property bounds
You delight in the peace with the animals & the variety of sounds.
But alas that deadly bite they took
And the hope of everlasting life forsook.
Their once perfect bodies now began to decay
And onto their offspring this curse did relay.
So the wheels in my head now spin
To my inheritance of sin
And my determination to overcome
The inherent sin to which most succumb.
Though the enemies try to fight
To bring me down with all their might
I know there is a stronger power
A refuge & strong tower
Into which I'm able to run
When my own strength is done
Because although we're born from them
God's word like a precious gem
Promises that to us he will incline
Because between our sin & perfection is a fine line.
He made us in HIS image out of love
Exercising His power from the heights above
Instantly displaying His justice when His purpose was diverted
In His infinite wisdom knowing His true lovers could not be converted.
Promising to us he would restore
Conditions of the Earth as they were before
Paying with the life of his Son the ultimate price
So that all exercising faith could once & always live in Paradise..
© 2012
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
Mistakes can cause great troubles
Mistakes can lead to your downfall
Mistakes can take away the most dearest things to your heart
Mistakes can make you depressed
Mistakes can make you unlucky to others
Mistakes can cause pain to your loved ones
But mistakes are done inadvertently
So, can't mistakes be corrected?
Can't mistakes be forgiven?
Can't mistakes be forgotten?
I believe that life always gives a second chance to
those who ask for it earnestly.
I asked life for a second chance so that my mistakes can be corrected, forgiven and forgotten.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
A delicious little bakery
is only down our street
the smell of baking bread
well.. it really is a treat
It is run by Mrs ******
she is just so very charming
but she is a little clumsy
it's really quite alarming
You see,
she does her best to make the cakes
and bake such tasty bread
but the currants just go everywhere
and in the pies instead
And in the Cornish pasties
there is very often nuts
and in the fruit pie filling
bacon and beef cuts
But she seems to be quite fancy
well there has been many rumours
of her and the deliveryman
well... she flashes him her bloomers
But she really is so charming
poor soul.. she has the worst mishaps
like when she inadvertently
displayed her finest baps
And no one will forget
when in came a group of nuns
all asking some tea cakes
but out popped her Chelsea buns
But she really is a riot
you can't help but love her so
she give you all you ask for
in a bargain box 'to go'
And she takes care of her customers
and gives out treats to sample
you'll never go home hungry
you'll end up with quite a armful
So if you get a moment
take a stroll just down our street
to Mrs Dingle's bakery
she really is a treat.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
this is a poem dedicated to distance.
to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't.
to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours.
to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face.
to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other.
to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence.
to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy.
to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down.
to every miscommunicated statement and every typo.
to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them.
to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you.
to every self-destructive tendency we share.
to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed.
to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply.
to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds.
to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here".
to every broken-record apology that never makes it better.
to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could
feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore).
to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us.
to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back.
to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better".
to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail.
to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy.
to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean.
to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752).
you will not win.
- m.f.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
There isn't a place for us
to exist in the day.
The magnanimous sun reveals too much
for common eyes to see.
But come night,
dimmed lamps be our aide.
We sink into each other
with little reservation.
We overlap, intertwine
and merge.
Inadvertently blending
into darkened backdrops,
we get absorbed in our very own
shadowplay.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
what do you do when the person you hate the most is yourself?
what am I to do when all my thoughts revolve around you,
where do I sign up to get self help?
I miss the way you would do your curly hair.
I regret the fact that we never went to the fair.
I miss that black shirt you have with that little pizza slice on it,
you were my form of anesthesia, now everyday feels like ****
I miss it. What we had, looking back, it wasn't all that bad.
I miss that time of day,
sunset,
where I would forget all of my heart's regrets
and watch you stare at the sun
we did the dumbest things just for fun.
you shined brighter than the lighter that lit those cigarettes you hated so much,
no matter how often you inadvertently hurt me, I can't hold a grudge,
you are the one who can truly judge.
take me to court, decide if I get to go free living so sadly,
or incarcerate me and my inner demons, can the state fund my treatment?
trick question, the cure is a secret.
it's not a drug, pill, or form of escape,
it was that girl I could never make feel safe.
she was the princess in the tower,
but the dragon guarding it had too much power.
he whispered my worst fears into my ears,
my mind went blank,
and that's when I sank into this hole called depression
being sad?
I'm so good at that, I'd call it my profession.
I'll be the first to admit I am very weak,
I have no right to speak.
I'll just sing my hate at the stars,
let it drift off into space.
maybe the gods above will pity my mortality,
think about my well being more than she does.
who is she?
everything I've ever wanted,
giver her back to me.
P L E A S E ...
?
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
totally platonic,
inadvertently robotic,
sitting on chairs two feet apart.
i am not noticing your mouth
i am not noticing your mouth
**
i am not noticing your mouth**
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
hill
ant hill
an ant hill
a perfect ant hill
a perfect ant hill it was
a perfect anthill erected
a perfect ant hill erected at will
by ants and ants and army of disciplined ants.
ants of many kinds, sizes and colors erected an ant hill
the design was grand, nice to look at like a cathedral,functional.
we love the ants for being so versatile,co-operative and creative
Do ants possess minds, ability to think,organize, put decisions in to actions?Or do they just have an instinct,prompted by nature, how do they receive it?Even if we are yet to find out such secrets,many of us are skeptics."All this is like the crawling leaches, inscribing letters on smooth surfaces, inadvertently" they vehemently argue.And there remains the million dollar question,seeking answer:even tiny ants,could make millions of their ilk do amazing things, why oh! why, the most intelligent of living things, at least replicate the feats the community of ants, at a scale, proportionate ?If these disciplined insects, in spite of their small brains could be a great example, why can't human's be like them, behave more responsibly , take charge of their own destiny, construct, not destroy. Every ant hill in silence, asks us many questions, we walk past pretending that we heard nothing, that could disturb our peace.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
If distance were a metaphor,
its synonymous yet factual depiction would be itself.
Its shear complexity stretches over multitudes,
and from its belly flows rivers of emotions;
anger, frustration, regret sadness and not forgetting self realization.
Inadvertently it separates people and yet brings them closer.
Without doubt it's an enigma of life, call it Einsteins quantum theory of light.
Until one can comprehend the subliminal message deeply coded in the core of this phenomenon,
and without hesitance decipher its elaborate meaning,
one has no choice but to matriculate into it's class and take it's lesson.
Call it school of hard knocks 101.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
it was a day of sentences
snapped clean off at the root
and pulled from my mouth
like wisdom teeth
until i had none left
and i was out of words
out of breath
it was a day of stones
clinging tight to the walls of my throat
pebbles in my shoes
and boulders reduced to ash
slipping through my fingers
not enough to hurt anyone
but still stinging my eyes
it was a day of pink cheeks
not the tipsy, happy pink
but rather the wilted kind
inadvertently displaying
the red inside
it was a day of clenched fists
hands working overtime
dancing some twisted dance with no purpose
wringing, singing
an anxious song
as i stayed stubbornly in my seat
resisting the urge to dance along
it was a day of a need to run
into the bushes, through the woods of the crowd
and out to the other side
to the greener grass
and the cloudless sky
of a few minutes of alone time
it was a day of short poems
short fuses
all moments lived while the clock just ticked
and the bomb never went off
i'm still waiting
it was a day of waiting
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
.
*”If you are to love,
love freely and unburdened
by the tombstones
of past miscalculated regrets.”*
But the heart
inadvertently beats
to the mismatched rhythms
of a hundred
caged doves’ wings.
Sep 1, 2021
Sep 1, 2021 at 9:46 AM UTC
What do you do at 3am when you're tired and bored and its raining?
Maybe this is punishment.
For eating those grapes before you paid for them in Sainsburys.
Or that time you forgot who Buzz Aldron was, or when you took pleasure at beating a five year old at Cluedo.
She started crying, and even then, you still
would not relinquish your title.
Maybe its for that time
You were accidentally racist to the chinese guy taking your order.
Or when you forgot to buy your mum a birthday card, or when you made fun of your best friend for not being taller.
Or when you said, 'Maybe
selective breeding in humans,
Is not such a bad thing after all.'
Yes, Its definitely punishment for that.
But maybe its for all the litter you've dropped, inadvertently or on purpose.
Or for last week when you accidentally kicked the cat, or for stealing those library books,
For swearing at kids
and blaspheming at the dinner table,
Christ!
Maybe its for nicking your brothers chips, even when you're not really that hungry.
For halfhearted apologies handed out like office stationary, for scoffing at most modern art.
For not revising when you
Really, really should
...But telling your parents you are.
But even with all of this, isn't the punishment, just a little bit too harsh?
Well now you are sarcastic, and bitter and pessimistic at least 90% of the time.
And you do hide the fact that you quite like country music, and that you have a blanket with sleeves (and you genuinely use it) and that you're really rather patriotic at heart.
And you didn't say all that stuff when you should have.
And you said all that other stuff you didn't mean
And you spend far too much of your time
Invested in impressing the people you're never going to see again.
And you realize all of this... at three o'clock in the morning, alone but for the fading of the rain.
And you swear to yourself, with all the fervour of a tired insomniac. That tomorrow.
There. Will. Be. Change.
But in the cold, harsh light of nine o'clock the same day. Six hours after you fell asleep. You resign yourself to the fact that last nights punishments can all be absolved, by a nice warm cup of tea.
And despite what you say
at 3am when you're tired and bored,
listening to the sound of the rain.
You will always be a pessimistic idiot, with delusions of grandeur.
That watches too much American TV.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
I have spent most of my life
walking through department stores.
I have come to feel that
Bill Blass, Ralph Lauren, and Calvin Klein
are close friends.
I ride the escalators for exercise.
I have become a professional cologne tester.
I check my credit rating daily;
American Express knows me
by my first name.
I have been married and divorced three times--
to two mannequins and a sales clerk.
I got stuck once in a revolving door
during the entire "Summer Madness" sale.
During annual clearance I inadvertently
got marked down to $42.50,
but due to inflation,
I have regained my worth.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:43 PM UTC
She’s looking up,
At the constellations,
And trying to make sense,
And trying to discern something .
Those stars,
They’re looking down upon her,
Thinking how easy it is to fool her,
How easy it is to help someone in being preoccupied all night,
How all the random thoughts take perfect place in the witching hour,
How overthinking makes her brain dysfunctional but she has to live with it,
Everyday,
Inadvertently,
she forgets the kind of place this is.
Here,
The ones who try, suffer
The ones who don’t, suffer.
This place favours nobody
Every second, it is eating you up.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:46 AM UTC