"incisively" poems
She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.
She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.
She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.
She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.
She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
Never will he perish
For he'll remain with me
Tarnishing my soul in the wake of his memory
Tangled up in my memories
Constantly blaming me
Incisively
Trenchant is his face within my mind
So hard to disguise or hide my plight
Wishing it was but never will be past-tense
His presence lingers
Pulling at my resistance
So persistent
The knots wrap tightly to my wrist
Bound to the same grounds
The thoughts place this as they manifest
Repetitious history
Evoking inevitability
I wish the tears could cleanse and mend
The taste of blood is too metallic for my pallet
As I descend bitterness fades leaving disgrace
I am not to blame but I bare the shame
However I cant regret knowing his name
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Loneliness has the coldest hands
I've ever felt but it's alright because
dead bodies aren't warm either.
Dead bodies are cold but the
ever-lasting touch of loneliness is
incisively and annihilatingly colder.
You were the best teacher I had and
I have mastered to accept loneliness
arms around my waist like the leaves
have mastered their ephemeral
dance among the majestic wind.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Just bland insipid opaque walling
uninspiring without toned definitions
soft spongy frothy carrying anemic lustre
layers easily bruised and prone to blemishes and sagging
glassed visors in various hues incisively ablaze with wants
and inside its not much different from external
furnishings spare and mostly structurally unsound
temperamental ambiance cold-cool yet warm to touch
craving notoriety and attention, loudly challenging in compensation
as foundations are inherently weak yet stands in malleable grandiosity
adverse to too much heat yet resplendent in enough sunshine
vacuous and airy with amplified audio and echoing facilities
though content and range always lacking in real truth substance
Bungalows short of a brick, built on mud, foundation not strong
Readily prone to quakes, husky, hollow, flaky, generally unsound
homogenized, common, unsubstantiated and extremely deceiving
Never good investments, these properties will rob you and ruin you
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC