"incompletely" poems
I loved you in the timeless hours
of a dark city.
In the morning, who you were
had been replaced;
the people that we were together
no longer there.
All the memories erased, so you
could love somebody new.
But the shadow of you still lingers
incompletely;
wandering through my slideshow memories
like the glimpse of your eyes fleeting
round the carousel.
A flash under the cinema lights,
over before it began.
Now I'm on someone else's mind
but I'm still under you
in mine.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 9:12 PM UTC
Incomplete thoughts.
Incomplete songs.
Incomplete lies.
Incomplete fights.
Incomplete love.
Incomplete souls.
Incomplete me.
Incomplete whole.
Till our worlds collide.
I'm incompletely yours.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
I FALL full length into all life,
And my lust for living roars within me.
No pleasures in the world can equal
The stupendous joy of one who can't tell it
Except by rolling on the ground in the grass and the daisies,
Mingling with the dirt until his suit and hair are ***** . . .
There are no verses that can grant this.
Pluck a blade of grass, bite into it, and you will understand,
You will completely understand what I incompletely express.
I crave to be a root
Pursuing my inner sensations like a sap . . .
I'd like to have all the senses -- including
My intellect, imagination and inhibition --
On my skin's surface so that I could roll over the rough ground
More deeply within, feeling more roughness and bumps.
I'd be satisfied if my body were my soul,
For only then would all winds, all suns and all rains
Be felt by me in the way I'd like.
This being impossible, I despair, I rage,
I wish I could gnash at my suit
And have a lions tough claws to rip at my flesh
Until the blood would flow, flow, flow, flow . . .
I suffer because all of this is absurd,
As if I could scare somebody
With my hostile feeling toward destiny, toward God,
Which arises when we confront the Ineffable
And suddenly perceive our weakness and smallness.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
i sexually identify as the 28 degree january breeze sneaking through your cracked window at 5am
one time a school of fish said to me, "everything will be fine. we promise. just hang around longer."
it was mid-june, i believed them
one time i tweeted, "you have so much undiscovered depth. you are an ocean,"
referring to my gay friend who is known for being sassy and, well, gay
and not for what he really is
or what he's worth
anyway, someone replied to it
"you're a cork in the ocean"
and to this day i still think about what the **** that even means
but its poetic sounding and i like it
i guess
we are all the **** of a great cosmic joke
and i am not me anymore
i'm a hurricane aftermath
it swept away all the worth i had left
and here i am,
incompletely resolute
my favourite shade of orange is the one leaves turn before they commit suicide and if that doesn't say something about my personality then i don't know what does
all i'm trying to say is that
the grass is green for a reason and it turns brown and ugly sometimes but it always goes back to how it was before and i need you to promise me that you'll hold on
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
My stomach is filled with molten things, but I will be able to feel more love than you ever will. Inside my stomach and throat pipes the hate remains incompletely digested. Our bodies cannot digest our own blood.
There happens to be silt film foaming on top like the fate of a desecrated porcelain sink, a vessel that ceases to be drained. This vessel will always be able to feel more pain than you ever will. The depth of feeling is all that there can be.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
As the rain batters the car
sighs born in a
love/hate stalemate
weigh down the air
Forests surround the parking
lot, protecting
our thoughts, nothing
saves me from you
Words spoken incompletely
float in the clouds
of sad warm breath
and ghosts turned to flesh
Limbs untangle and reach for
the moon, stereo
cherubs sing tunes
of sweet death metal
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Falling slowly,
hands held tightly
spinning spinning
round and round
Easy turning
whirling, yearning
please don't let
me down
Quickly hiding,
worlds colliding
I can not
confess
Driving sweetly
incompletely
I am under
duress
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
here i am
pondering human existence
and loneliness;
such a universally desolate moment;
i am here.
to question the matters of
who i am, where i am
and why am i
i started the moment i start;
at the briefest encounter of warmth
i retract myself completely.
knowing that to know
is knowing too much
i realized i am emptied
a void of knowledge;
incompletely, i drift on
like the sputnik II.
as it orbits the earth
without a meaning
without a song,
and what does it see
when laika looks out
to the vast darkness?
what does it think?
these
are the questions
of my sleepless nights.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
When you look to the pretty lights in the sky
You'll see all the reds, oranges, yellows, and blues
Galaxies spread out, floating
A spinning waltz, coordinated, gravitational
Nonlinear on strings, time infinite
Wish upon all those stars
Colors I can't even see
Let them have their partners
Relationships into themselves
Numbers stretch patterned lines
See much further than the naked eye
Colors don't matter, neither their cries
Epic majestic, eternal blending
Shifting skies, beaches, oceans
On alien planets, in our skies
Count the stars and their parts
Every particle, piece, elemental tie
Look much further, with your ears
A musical hum, RF bending tie
Circling waves, scattering dashes
Invisible stories, forever
Building rhythm, spicing the waltz
Taste true love, sweetest
Thirst, hunger, and peace
Encompass emotion
Eclipsed release
Hold back the awe
Utilitarian focus, belief
See time complete
This is
I love you,
three worlds
Incompletely
But neat
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
A thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail
takes at least five months.
In five months:
a fetus is the size of a papaya,
a small home has been fully renovated,
2,450 dollars in rent is paid if you live with three people,
Swahili has been learned incompletely,
the grief of a dead high school teacher is finished,
a person sinks in, gets comfortable,
the planet has turned its back,
Loestrin has travelled out of the system—
who’s to say it’s not just like the Appalachian.
I’d like to make a rope out of my hair
tie it from Georgia to Maine
sail a two-pound apology all the way down
to make up for the places my body will never make it
because five months of footwork
is too long to stop nurturing a life
that is not worth living anyway
but this way
I don’t have to lose.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
I am a mess
I find happiness
In self pain
I find comfort
In heart breaks
It hurts to feel the pain
And yet
I am completely okay with it
I am a mess
I feel empty
And incompletely
Without the need
Of getting hurt
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 1:29 PM UTC
I had you first
Heart soul and mind
Grown up, not apart by time
So alike, so unchanged
Through different environments, in a different stage
Now they have you, thoughts and body
Weeding away our time though unsteady
So many wishes, so many prayers to one not there, answered suddenly but incompletely
Now I have you soul mind and body
Your heart is away, on vacation these days
Now I again begin to pray, to beg one not there
May I have you?
Again the way you once were?
All mine finally for once
Uninjured, unbroken
Loved and loving but mostly; loving me?
God please!
You know me better than I know myself!
For years and years of my feelings bottled on a shelf
Resigning myself to a secret love ocassionally crashing from above, to break my heart all over again
I never minded it then...
But to have you and have you ripped away
Every night, every day
I will never be ok
The jar is unscrewed and feeling renewed courses through my chilled veins
To remember your gentle callused hands
To remember your words to me when secrets spilled and my tears would repeat
I would give anything for you to stay
Even a day or two of having you Completely having you, is worth more than lifetimes having the next best thing
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 12:55 AM UTC
My words are fractured
but my thoughts are undivided.
My fingers are tapestry of both,
stitching them incompletely.
But to some these things make sense.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:44 AM UTC
...love is hunter sick nerves you enter dream love is puncture it is green with life lush and suffering and kitchen frot and menial wreck and the reburn of childhood excite a spell and sale of a mental thing and incompletely rheumy-tunes...
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 4:43 PM UTC
On a sweltering summer night, we met
Trifling, teasing in a soulful duet,
Amidst the chaotic silent blur,
She could hear my metronomic heartbeat stir,
For her, now and forever.
Her slumber exhalation my love elixir,
Her luxuriant ebony hair my midnight lair,
Her lank collarbone my chin’s night loan,
Her musk, feminine fragrance my own,
All mine, now and forever.
Pillows cast aside and sheets strewed,
Yet nothing lascivious could be construed,
It was a night I didn’t want to come to an end,
For I knew it would be the final night I would spend,
With her, now and forever.
Her morning face more covetable than the night bygone,
As sunlight and I sparred to lay eyes on,
On her, now and forever.
A one night stand incompletely complete.
A one night stand like none before and ever after.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
Pain, so much pain
Heart, incompletely broken
Blood, red and violent
Tears, world turned black
Wall, slumped in a heap
Hands, clutching stray hair
Feet, violently shaking
Eyes, squeezed tightly shut.
I got up.
I touched the air.
I felt nothingness.
Into the light,
I blindly walked.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
I never realised I was so
Naive
Until I stopped and counted my life in so many
Unfinished pictures
Like canvases that I 'd incompletely
Daubed, the perspectives so wrong
They almost looked right.
And I wished so hard I could be
Better and best
At this life in paints that could have been more
And could have been less.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Stuck in my head with this sickle hanging low
Within the forest of music
Nestled empty under a cradle of nature
Empty chest choked with the guilt
Quivering lips forget the words
Left incomplete as you go
The tranquil grove is no more
As the stars rain down like tears often do
The light shining above me is nothing special
This razor extinguishes the pain
The swirling blue embers reminding me of you
But you are not here by me
And now I swim in the creek
The current is pulling me into the abyss
I see no reason to comply
And the sanctified caress of the grass is warming
All I ever knew was you, and now I don't know myself
I don't want to go
What choice is there in this grief
Surrounded by the maggots and butterfly
Shrouded in your vibration
Your shoulders are so strong
I wish this was all I had to be
The anger is so primal and unforgiving
You are coming to terms and resenting me
Why should I try at the cemetery
Crawling around I'm wasted in the undertow
What was it you had to say
I just want to feel normal
Now it's too late
I'll hang onto those murmured words
Even though in this twilight I am to blame
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 10:49 AM UTC
Your ideology is isolated.
An incomplete variation of my own, that lacks success and makes you depressed as a lifetime of ancestors decide if they should scorn you,
Or if they should mourn too.
Don't patronise me when all I see,
Is a person who's incompletely living a life that makes agony their focused expectation towards a make believe fantasy,
Such twisted reality.
Morality vs humanity.
This aspect alone is putting us all on edge, destroying tranquility at it's finest and making us blind to our own wrongs;
Making everyone else's more prolonged.
Serenity vs diversity.
Which one can impact an entire generation despite being hidden in our subconscious insanity?
Deeply hidden like the oceans secrecy.
I've seen people discriminate, despite knowing it only creates more hatred to stain the mindscape.
Yet like moths to a flame- or people to blame- they continue to recreate the same dishonesty towards those who care, those who rise, those who trust and those who lack policy.
We're all corrupted in a larger version of loyalty.
Where do they lay? I observe as they say that the beast we call love is merely an elaborate escape from lifes contradictions and ridiculous sway.
I wish we could all lose our discriminations some day.
I wish we could all grow and gain understanding towards people and all the sorrow we take in to leave alone.
I'm confused as to why I still wish when I know that it won't be able to work the way my heart wants it to be;
like leaves in the trees, we'll always stay green until a greater force overwhelms and makes us fall alone or in teams,
Changing our colours for the whole world to see.
I view things differently to you, you may disagree- are almost bound to- but I never needed approval anyway so I'm glad that you've read what I've had to say.
And all that I ask is for you to try understanding my claim; I'll do the same even if it's something that I feel needs change- cause this day and age things are more open to explain.
Be grateful for the way we've been made, that we have emotions to use and people to love; making us human despite all our flaws.
It's a beautiful law that makes up our core.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 11:45 AM UTC
I saw you that day when
the end of you was the only thing in your way.
Your undulating wrinkles softened the rocks, and I caught sight
(maybe just a glimpse) of music gingerly stroking your neck,
and you were beautiful.
On the Cliffs of Moher you stood two feet calm
atop a fire you had built as a pedestal for yourself
and all your wantings.
The time was droll, playing ribbons up the backs of your knees
and as I watched you ( me, wide eyed and heart so full of wonder it hushed itself to cease to beat)
I cried.
Your stories of arms threw hyacinths to the ebbing tide,
and the breathing of the earth was left impatient.
For a moment you took to dreaming,
and your eyes filled with alabaster love.
You remembered your brother, a radiating mass of
muscle and joy; how you once vowed
to save the world together. You remembered her, your pearl,
your human nightingale with wings in her mind, how she used to steal the wind
and hold its sweet smell hostage to sing your baby lullabys.
I saw you that day.
I Saw you that day.
I saw You that day.
In your face there was a secret and I knew it to be remarkable.
The Hum of your pumping lungs set my fingertips dancing from
the Drum of your aching prayer.
The Hum of your smiling skin left me breathless and heaving through un-clenched teeth to the beat of
the Drum to your star fixed gaze.
The Hum of your words reeling through the cracks in the sky to tune the wind with
the Drum of your hands on your chest.
And in this song you moved. A manmountain in the shape of pieces.
The world lept from its axis and ran to your side. "Oh! " you cried.
"Oh, for just a lapse in the root of time. I don't care for the meaning
of it all, I only want back my rhyme!"
I was still as you dripped into the cliff. You fell
knee, knee, hands to your head and head to your feet.
In this moment you were incompletely complete.
And I saw you,
and you were beautiful.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
You who loved me incompletely
You who's love came in many different forms
I could no longer live with that imperfect love
I wished for you to hate me with all yourself
But you could not do so
No matter what destruction I did to your life
You still only filled me with incomplete love
Until we suffocate too much
This pretend love with continue on
And our facade of memories
Will live with time
Why the sweet love wilts.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
there's so much dust in me,
dusk, and the rust,
lust and the dusk in me,
to set me alight, on fire-
so much smoke and
cold and loneliness,
the seething emptiness,
and the hollow mornings;
for the sun to rise-
the hurt in me,
always hurting me-
the words in me,
never in the right sequence
or picture;
the elegance to be,
to be, or not-
a million years of
evolution and scriptures;
mixture of chaos,
and visitors;
with their pain,
with their home,
with their bombs,
and with their gones
bones and skeletons,
sharks and teeth;
seeds and forests,
just ready to burn;
to set me alight, on fire.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
does it hurt you when I grip the blanket?
I want tears when i'm laying in my spit
how can I be loved when I feel the sadness
in each strand of my hair
heart racing in bed, chest
bruised and falling.
with honey dripping off my fingers I see
how I could be wanted incompletely
I dig myself another hole
to decompose in
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Gwerful Mechain - (1460 - 1502)
The female genitals
Every foolish drunken poet,
boorish vanity without ceasing,
(never may I warrant it,
I of great noble stock,)
has always declaimed fruitless praise
in song of the girls of the lands
all day long, certain gift,
most incompletely, by God the Father:
praising the hair, gown of fine love,
and every such living girl,
and lower down praising merrily
the brows above the eyes;
praising also, lovely shape,
the smoothness of the soft *******
and the beauty's arms, bright drape,
she deserved honour, and the girl's hands.
Then with his finest wizardry
before night he did sing,
he pays homage to God's greatness,
fruitless eulogy with his tongue:
leaving the middle without praise
and the place where children are conceived,
and the warm **** clear excellence,
tender and fat, bright fervent broken circle,
where I loved, in perfect health,
the **** below the smock.
You are a body of boundless strength,
a faultless court of fat's plumage.
I declare, the **** is fair,
circle of broad-edged lips,
it is a valley longer than a spoon or a hand,
a ditch to hold a ***** two hands long;
**** there by the swelling ****
song's table with its double in red.
And the bright saints, men of the church,
when they get the chance, perfect gift,
don't fail, highest blessing,
by Beuno, to give it a good feel.
For this reason, thorough rebuke,
all you proud poets,
let songs to the **** circulate
without fail to gain reward.
Sultan of an ode, it is silk,
little seam, curtain on a fine bright ****
***** in a place of greeting,
the sour grove, it is full of love,
very proud forest, faultless gift,
tender frieze, fur of a fine pair of testicles,
a girl's thick grove, circle of precious greeting,
lovely bush, God save it.
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC