"induce" poems
1, for the slumber that tumbles us round,
2, for the remedy, the musics bold sound.
3, for the tree that became your canoe
& 4 for the rain, it's ambiguous blue.
5, to escape, to a world we contrive,
6 for the tricks that I played to survive.
7, because heaven, is supposedly on earth,
& 8 for my mother, and her unknown worth.
9 for the failures, the faults & mistakes,
10 for the fears that keep us awake.
11, for my father, consoles me each night, whispers advice crystal clear, filled with insight- words on courage & kindness, love & delight.
12- when you wake but it's already night.
13 forever, with strength glory and might,
14 with wisdom, discretion, insight-
both numbers together sizing up every fight.
15, for my little sister, and all her turmoil,
15, for her spirit, the last one to spoil,
she and the world but water and oil,
15 for her soul, and like the mighty cobra it's coil,
deadly & graceful defends its home soil.
16 for the evil- the wicked & cruel, the endless hate they spin into fuel.
17, for reason, justice & art,
and all the other virtues life etched on my heart,
18, to redeem, to admit your mistake, to truly move on then perhaps to retake.
19 for that shame, always the same, so familiar it almost comforts my brain. 19, for the suffering, agony & betrayal.
19 true stories retold as mere tales- how they surpass logic and induce other's fails.
20. For my years. For the moment, for now. For to the past I salute, and to the future I bow; All with the hope that next year I'll know how
to do what everyone else can.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
At school I had trouble socializing,
And still, The Owl, comes all too late?
My formative years are spent deep within caves searching,
Yet The Owl is never found there?
The failures and sadness accumulate over time,
Leaving The Owl traversing some other’s sky,
I feel life slipping away each day,
And still The Owl never manifests!
Where is The Owl? Does it not come with time?
Will cleverness induce her, perhaps woo her with rhyme?
Quell restless mind, The Owl reforge me so I’m freed!
Grant me your talons so that I may succeed!
And still, The Owl, who never manifests,
And still The Owl never manifests.
I curl chalky fingers into travertine-grip,
Aged ruin takes a hold, in my despair as I slip,
Sans which The Owl never did manifest,
To wit, sans The Owl, pounding sand as I jest,
So what, The Owl, never did manifest?
And still The Owl never manifests.
Life without The Owl, was no life at all,
No solemnity of greatness, a life of doltish pit-fall.
And still The Owl never manifests.
And still The Owl never manifests.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 8:02 AM UTC
Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.
I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.
Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.
My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:
This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.
I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.
Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.
Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside
until I am wholesome,
until I am new.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
Your heart was never
The same shape as mine
And their collision
Only caused more pain.
I tried not to confuse
Liquor with passion
Nor convenience with love
But your lips tasted so sweet
And I longed for the rush
That only your touch could induce.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
I have a lisp
It is lovers lips caught in the spasm of a kiss
I have a lisp
that restricts what I'm capable of saying
praying that I don't pass it onto my kids
but there's restrictions on scripture as well.
I have a lisp
It is a gentle twist in words I can't complete
I'll meet many who notices the obviousness of it.
I can't synthesise similar sounds subtly
to induce a feeling of happiness or sadness,
I've been driven half to madness by the flaw.
This is why my voice is within my writing,
it is the lightning without the thunder,
unheard to ears but the same power exists.
I can't give a speech openly, or sing to soothe my soul,
all because I have a lisp.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
We could just be friends,
But that would be too easy.
For you to turn and run...
For you to go and leave me...
We could just be friends,
But then we'd have no excuse.
For the conversation that last for hours...
For feelings they induce...
We could just be friends,
But these feelings would last forever...
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Find peace with your baffled mind
Induce equanimity in between your struggling breaths
Remedy the desolation with your flowing tears
Resign to the solitude with your dispirited shadow
Catch the glimpses with your swollen eyes
Wear a smile with your shivering lips
Seek solace in between your trembling fingers
Walk the steps with your hesitant feet
Gather strength from your shattered pieces
Feel your existence amidst your aching soul
Endure the sorrow with your feeble self
Preserve the love in your failing heart
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
People scatter the beaches street,
Like seagulls hunting their scrumptious prey,
Engulfing the happenings of mainstream life,
While ordinarity and friction stray.
Their blindful stares,
And mindful glares,
Induce a sense of
Frightful fares.
Children play,
While adults delay,
Their naive beliefs,
From ambiguous thieves.
Day after day,
Continuity stays,
Defending us all,
From genuine praise.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
it’s a wild life
of magic and tales
of light and radiance
dreams and darkness
*firebird, firebird
will you bring it all for me?
firebird, firebird
will you transform all things for me?*
what we dreamt yesterday
was once reality, what we never imagined
is current, and eats us day by day
desires fade and palaces appear
demons roar, and sirens kiss us
and induce ******* and bless us with erections
*firebird, firebird
let all whispers come real
firebird, firebird, firebird
let time stand still where I want it to be*
clouds are rocks and earth is liquid
my flesh burns and the Princess of Far-off gyrates
Mean King objects and the Jester holds court
Kingdoms collapse and new ones come in their place
dreams, dreams, dreams die
and are re-born in the Heavens in Our Heads
*firebird, firebird
burn the ground
and let illusion and reality be one
firebird, firebird, firebird
let despair be hope, and love be lust
one the other, the other the one*
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 7:25 AM UTC
Across this Height from the Land of Swell Tea
The Second Great Angel offers her Palm
Waving, for Frustration to leave me be
And guide the Wildman to induce his Calm
No affront passed for Virtue to behave
When some cry the Vandal for no reason
He comes to charge; But out defends the Knave,
Jousting him off for another Good Season
In you the Friendly Pearl forms; And no doubt,
This lingering Fever affects most Girls
But like your Seven stood still on a Cloud,
Yet keeps the Spell for Good Passion to burn.
Lucky Dear Dame, such Title you will bear
Enjoy your Earnings; Your Man is now there.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
Burning nails, the beginning of the end and black sails for the death of an invisible friend,
Tragic loss resulting from the magic catapulting from my fingertips.
Read my fiery lips:
Give me shelter from your Neptunian storm,
Split the world with a wedge and keep our bodies warm
Kick the trunk of the oak until it bleeds with the fire you stoke
And coke you need and **** you smoke, and ****** Prometheus,
You are only human. But the fire in your blood leaves their smokestacks fuming
And nothing can save you, enslave yourself
With your strong-willed bravery on a rocky shelf.
Roll your eyes, disregard, spit in faces, **** me off
Because I'm the good sister, just tend the hearth and when I speak I scoff.
My name is Hestia, and I don't often stray from the Pantheon
So just trust me on this:
I'll introduce you to the smoldering truths, induce catharsis
And let your body loose, pick up your liver, tend your wounds
As if they were ash and oil, because we alone know justice.
You alone know how you've toiled.
And I can only start to understand your firebrand,
A passionate command. I tolerate you and adore you for your mortal score.
Prometheus, don't let those raptors gouge you anymore.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
There is something about being numb that is addicting
It is, sometimes, the only real way to not feel the pain
There is numbing medicine that we have all heard of
Anaesthesia, which means 'loss of sensation'
It is used to induce sleep, which prevents pain and discomfort
We have no problem with people using this to numb
Alcohol is my anaesthesia
It numbs my body, it numbs my mind
It pulls me into another time zone where the hands on the clock move faster
But everything else around you moves slower
All you can do is focus on the next drink coming
Rather than the pain being inflicted on you that made you go out in the first place
We all are addicted to numbing
Some sleep, some get drunk, some get high,
We all cannot deny the sweet flavor of feeling nothing
The needle piercing your skin but only feeling the cold, not the sting
The liquor scratching itself down your throat but loving the burn
Igniting a wild fire in your mouth, going down a slope rubbed with gasoline
Numbness is an obsession
There's something so beautiful in the art of forgetting things
Even if it only be for a few hours
Alcohol dehydrates you, leaving you dizzy with a mind like a static TV
I would rather feel empty from alcohol
Than empty in the bed that we used to sleep in together
I would rather be numb in a bed next to a boy that I do not know
Rather than feeling all the glass I've stepped on walking away from you pressing into my skin while lying in bed alone
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
Have you seen the Master Magician around lately?
He who shows you a mirror with his right hand
While he picks your pocket with his left hand
He whose tongue tells you tales of a bogeyman
As his eyes induce you to part with your keys
He who wears the most beautiful of masks
To hide the psychopath that lurks within
Have you seen this Master Magician around lately?
He who will empty your pockets and ask for more
He who will become the master of your home
He who will convince you: “its all for your own good!”
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
Content, clarity, no calling home
Surrounded snugly in sunshine’s roam
What naturally burns is saving
Cleansing the soul in its raving
Yet somber shadows induce chills of night
And the sun regresses in imperative flight
The moon brings forth its calming glow
So soon It’s realized she’s all alone
The gnawing proceeds from deep in her mind
Progressing forward without a bind.
Dropping, drifting, dying leaves
Just like their path her thoughts shall weave
To and fro between a mood
Sweet and caring turned suddenly rude
Cold winds lead to a chilling sight
Everything’s changed but It says all is right
Soon the world blends together as one
No longer touched by the warmth of the sun
Temperatures drop and so does her head
Leaden with sorrow as she makes for her bed.
Empty, endlessly enduring days
Isolation extends but it’s deemed okay
Dreams die, concealed by snow
She wants to leave but cannot go
Icy winds blowing cold as her heart
Frozen solid and wishing to part
Getting used to the pain
With no hope to gain
Too weak to worry with no emotions felt
She’s forced to awaken as the world starts to melt.
Free and flowering fields now bring
Hope to the girl who could not sing
Coming from the showering rain
The healing waters break through the pain
Finally she’s found the truest way
To stop and force her problems away
Soon enough she’s rediscovered her smile
And returns to the friends she hasn’t seen in a while
Oh but It’s smart, much smarter than we
So smart that nobody could ever have seen
Greatly, gladly going home
Swimming deep in water’s foam
A calm, warm night has come to cease
Their world is frantic while hers sees peace
Searching hard for a missing girl
Reaching the river, their stomachs curl
Soaking, dripping, they find what’s wrong
Realizing now how long she’s been gone
Eroding sadness, consumed by pain
Now they can feel what she did every day.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?
Ratchet up the memories
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”
as if my voice could be too loud?!
Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future
A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"
So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow
Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—
Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”
since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
“How can it be? Oh my….”
"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side
Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line
Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony
I can barely wrap my words around our voices!
“You can always keep the memories”
Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place
Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Spending intangible dollars at the mercy of my ever growing appetite,
Instead of buying my ticket out of this perfectly advantageous country,
Which focuses solely on my beauty and money.
I neglect my inner advice telling me to drop it all and run,
To where I can breathe and focus on God,
Promoting a healthier way of living and improving humanity.
Momentary hope that unrealistically characterizes perfection
As a quality that I can mentally download and miraculously make the above, true,
Never seems to linger long enough to actually induce action,
Which leads to disappointment draining the motivation essential to recover my missing pieces,
Which pushes me to crave cash I don’t have, to pick up that dose,
That hushes the unwarranted guilt that seduces me into thinking that I’m not incredibly blessed,
And that I can’t handle what I’ve been dealt,
Blurs the doubts I have about my abilities, my self- worth,
Forcing me into a state of content that awakens my creativity,
While vaguely being able to make out memories of let down led by myself and my mother,
Who was a part of what was never good enough for my idea of a perfect family.
I’ve wrongly accepted that a mediocre life-performance is to be had while following the crowd,
While obsessing over flaws that are negligible to my true purpose in life,
And with that I’ve become stifled by the decision to remain effortlessly stuck.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
It was the early days of the organic food craze
and my wife, ever a slave to the latest fads
(which disposition sometimes benefitted me pleasurably
but mostly cost me dearly)
made me run on an errand
(like: “Fido – go, fetch!”)
to get some organic vegetables
and arriving, I blurted out to the produce guy, stumbling:
*“Some ****** for my wife”* –
and that wise guy, Oxford-educated as he was
(though a failed Professor, so ended up at the greengrocer’s)
he said: *“That you must induce or encourage in your wife, Sir;
I cannot and will not be of service in that connection.”*
And I slowed down and I said:
“Well, dear fellow – for my wife, have you any organic vegetables?”
And Oxford-educated as he was, he did not understand such fads
having mostly a sedate and Classical demeanour
and he pointed his most English nose to the air;
and so I attempted again to sensible-phrase my inquiry:
*“Are your vegetables -
and this I ask on account of my esteemed wife -
sprayed with poisonous chemicals?”*
And the Oxford guy apprehended now, and he pronounced:
*“Poisonous chemicals for your spouse
you must procure yourself, Sir”*
Now, that was an idea. I knew Oxford-educated guys
were smart in some way or other.
And since then I have been free of my wife.
I have no need to run on errands for no baby, no more;
though I do have to count bars,
limited as my numerical skills are,
as is my verbal proficiency.
And the Oxford guy, meanwhile, I have it from the grapevine,
has set up an ******** Food Chain Store*, worldwide;
I knew he’d go places, sooner or later, far and global
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Keep the youth medicated & sedated, then wonder why the literacy rate is doomed to decline. Birth us on a pedestal, then wonder why we have no incentive to climb. Build us from a violent genocide, then wonder why we've got guns pressed under our tongues. Kneel us before the clergy. Strangle us with your rosaries. Brand psalms into our wrists & make laws to control her ovaries. Value groupthink over independent thought & induce aversion to curiosity. Hang us between your revolving doors & shoot nationalism into our veins... Then wonder why we're so addicted to drowning our insides.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
a plain poem (the first time I came in you)
a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary
oh well
~
*the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals
Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem
as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word
ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing
jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work
got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me
near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way
she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties
you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*
<•;)
9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
Deambula por los barrios más oscuros de Madrid
una joven de ojos claros y labios carmesí.
Pregona a viva voz su mercancía variada;
pócimas para el amor, felicidad enfrascada.
Los clientes extasiados le suplican "¡Venid!";
su gama de productos les induce al frenesí.
A mí honestamente no me interesa nada
más que su sonrisa y su piel inmaculada.
Cruzamos la mirada y me acerco lentamente;
siento en mi interior una alegría antes carente.
Compartimos un saludo, un beso, una caricia.
¿Quién podía adivinar que escondía tanta malicia?
Tomamos una copa y charlamos vagamente.
Reímos y lloramos. Nos besamos tiernamente.
Desnudó ante mí su cuerpo y me amó sin justicia,
pues ahora entiendo; su intención era fictica.
Aún sin amarme me entregó lo que añoro.
Su cuerpo junto al mío fue para mí un tesoro.
Su **** tan dulce. Su entrega pasional.
Mi mano en sus senos y un "Te quiero" banal.
Al llegar el alba vi que se había marchado.
Ese fue el fin de nuestro amor condenado.
El vacío que causó me ha dejado malherido.
Se llevó mi corazón y lo vendió al olvido.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
There were gnomes within
The abyss
Crying because they had
No way home
Cowering below water
Trout wipes
Spawning the souring eggs
They laid
Sun-shower clouds spawn
On and on and on
Crying beyond the fathom
Of the Heavens
Armadillo shrimp sunbathe
The bubbling sea bath
Trout wipes' infectious wrath
Drift off current
Tremble off the beat
Induce a treasuring smile
Recover from the bipolar company
Trout wipes
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC