"infallibly" poems
Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
When I was young,
Smooth, young hands soothed me.
They wiped my tears,
Caressed my hair,
And these hands belonged to
Mommy.
Youthful oblivion blinded me
To the effects of time.
I never noticed that as I grew up,
You were growing up too.
You were perfect, infallible--
With all the wisdom of the world
Written in the lines on your palms.
An adult now, I know
The hardships you've faced, the battles you've conquered.
And I notice your hands--
Wrinkled by time's passing,
Lined with experience.
They still wipe my tears.
They still caress my hair.
And these same hands belong to my mother, my friend.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
there’s a living reality of
fallibly hopeful distraction—
sheltered squatters—
residing above a room where
everything important is angry,
not easily suffocated.
the warm polyester of a busy mind
is sick with monotonous fear
that the residents below
will expand their decay,
raging in a panic until the walls collapse
and the nails in the floorboards are
upturned and weaponized;
a clever, persistent enemy.
this unbearably,
infallibly hopeless
struggle.
there are paintings on the walls
and books on the shelf,
plants on the windowsill in the late afternoon.
i’m worried these will die too.
Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 8:23 PM UTC
While the birds begin to sing their songs
The sun climbs silently into the sky
Fleeting dreams fade away at the breaking of day
The dreamer reprieved, he opens his eyes
He gets ready for work and puts on a tie
Fit for a funeral or fit for a wedding
He sees during the day but its only a lie
Truth to be found only when the dreamer is resting
As the sun creeps quietly down to the West
The dreamer lays his head down to rest
Escaping his reality to something more real
He attempts to lose himself in his dream surreal
Light sets the scene as it infallibly does,
The dreamer alone but feeling no fright
Rosewood, as usual, the door appears
Gold handle glowing bright in the light
Behind the door is an unknown world
A world without convention and without ties
The dreamer caught motionless in a reach for the handle
Indefinitely pondering a world without lies
While the birds begin to sing their song
The dreamer reopens his eyes
He could only think of the rosewood door
And how he did not want to wear a tie.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
I don't know a lot of things,
I don't know why leaves should be green and skies should be blue,
I don't know what can drive a person to do some of the things that they do,
I don't get why people can't just talk about how they feel,
And I will probably never learn to determine the difference between what is fake and what's real,
But I think I've learned
One must suffer into the truth because they cannot know true happiness without pain,
Heavenly bread should never be the cost of an earthly gain,
The only person you owe anything to is you,
And you deserve to be happy, no matter sins you've committed and ones you will do,
And the one thing I know to be infallibly true,
Is no matter what I tell myself, what I say, I think I may love you
But you don't feel the same way as me
And that's okay too
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
After seventeen years cicadas emerge and molt from their nymph skin. They sit atop trees for six days as white as milk and trembling in excitement of the coming hunt. It is funny to think that the cicada can know exactly what they want to love in another cicada. They must love like a human has never loved. Their seventeen year anticipation is answered only by a few weeks of life. They must love passionately and infallibly. They cannot afford to take second glances on the street. They do not know what it means to take a break in order to find themselves. Their love is universal. It is built up from seventeen years of thought and dirt and roots and truth. After their skin hardens they begin to sing out in wild choruses, searching for someone who is singing their same song.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
You aren't anything I want.
Your eyes alight at the chance to prove yourself
superior.
Being older shouldn't be an accomplishment
It's a shame
For you.
Wish I hadn't noticed the strange noise I heard.
Whispers from within,
screaming to reach open air,
itching under my skin,
to be real and true and free.
Gravity shifts quietly, gently
I feel a weight in my arm, unbalanced
tipping towards you
wanting to stretch past the space
the wide space
6 feet exactly,
exactly too close
not far enough.
Pretentious, obnoxious
and yet
I still long
For you.
And then, seeing only part of your face,
the other half obscured by a mask
A physical one
As I wore a different type beneath my own
blue filter
One that didn't show the way my eyes pleaded
to drag over to the right
where I could see you.
To where I could pine
For you.
I know it's impossible,
infallibly fantastical.
But seeing your face,
Again I feel that buzz of attraction
For you.
I still see you when I close my eyes and let my mind wander
I wonder how your face would feel against mine
Wonder how we would feel together.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 2:29 AM UTC
This dimension of living is endlessly shrouded in mystery.
We are the midwives to our own platform of living and we have the authority to liquidate it and start upon a new tier at any moment.
I know but only what my eyes have unrobed to show me.
All around us isolated winsome lives of their own fabric and hemming are kerneled into the crust of our worlds existence.
We are so distinctly separate yet intrinsically connected.
We tend to weave our lives in a way to circumvent the albatross that is free-floating and searching for a host.
It is so simple to sector yourself away from the things that pose fluster to your character.
But we infallibly need each other, we must uncloak ourselves from the throttling labels.
Once you make peace with the construction of this world you are unfettered and free.
All of these sumptuous luminescent minds quarantined away serve no good. Live your life with decorum and ease and let this light scintillate to invigorate others. This revolution is not rooted in vociferous speeches and affronts, but by merely emitting your unadulterated authentic self. Excavate yourself of the toxic of society and you will become the voltaic entity.
Make haimish comfort with the idea of uncertainty and live life simplistically.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Time is a waiver ,
But around you one can always depend ,
Each moment is well spent .
---
An assiduous pere ,
In every aspect and every sphere .
Earnestness so strong and clear,infallibly there to lend a ear.
---
Clearly a Innovative , creative and hardworking mate,
with whom one can relax ,
For we always have each other’s backs .
---
Times of hard work and laughter to remember,
filled with sedulous and happy moment's to the brink,
We may truly need a shrink.
If these memories freeze in time,
All the days shall seem sublime.
---
True to your duty
As you say ;
"Always remember
Nothing is impossible"
Saying that makes anyone
Unstoppable .
You weave a magical aura creating a team,
Everything falling in place like a beautiful dream.
---
An Epitome of Love and Affection ,
A mirror image of Perfection.
No ones stopping you now,
The hardwork you do deserves a bow .
---
You are a colleague apart .
So Here's Wishing you with all our heart ;
" We hope all your dreams come true ,
for dependable personages like you , in this world are few " .
---
© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 4:07 AM UTC
1 Method:
Witness nothing but the body
hurtling at best, if not dilapidated.
Cusped in space, never held.
Behead the music,
if not the conductor.
It will happen when everything has
expired in the threshing.
Wring me pure, make me delicate,
chain me in the wrongness.
Embody this figurine pierce it with stem
break it gossamer as petals imperiled ad infinitum
sleek as a metaphor rising from rinsed perfume.
2 Chance Operation:
Say when she caresses / this mired setting:
it is of preparation.
Seize this mean when preparatory.
Turn you as inside-out cleared from veiling.
In a vitrine you wish to be freed from,
examined, never granted meaning;
Mundane the discovery.
A throb of fever gone from tepid bath
walking into space, abled.
Acute blunder is study, wash me with theory.
Sullen is the word for it, entitled to acute error.
Say when it ceases,
tranquilized. Never waking up, fastens to
3 Dreamwork:
Always still is the heart.
I envy the water midstream. Fingers partition
when infiltration is sure of. A conscious removal
merits the continual of lobotomies.
Augur this dim presence, make it raw again
infallibly, make it my body. Forge my skin out of
and listen to it. Feel the drone of this machine
making space less tolerable. This begins
an end, but of what pursuit is this here
always a vision Blinded by definition
away from here?
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
Always, is forever
Are we true always?
For it’s not always
We keep our promises
Says the lover,
“I’ll be there for you, always.”
Not always living up to expectations
Does always have an expiry date?
Always means- unfailingly, infallibly, each time & every time
It seems almost always, it’s abused
Are we always, not strong enough?
Or, do we give in to circumstances, always?
For always seems to be the most misinterpreted
I keep pondering over it, always
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
//// • ||
<>
####
Love
----
We simply
ARE LOVE !
•
( we the reflected Light
in each other's eyes )
••
We play
The
FALLING IN LOVE
game
when we desire
TO STAY HIDDEN
•
Out of a fear
of
That Light
•
of
That Self awareness
••
The fear of
TRULY KNOWING
each other
And what
KNOWINGNESS
would mean
//
We know that
FALLING IN LOVE
( which is culturally accepted )
Infallibly leads to
BETRAYAL !
BROKEN - NESS !
DEPRESSION !
the
RAZOR BLADE
game !
//
Creating a GREAT MASK which we wear
To hide from
OURSELVES
OTHERS
&
the WORLD !
/////
Now
I'm not saying
DON'T DO THIS
//
Only that
YOU ARE SEEN
//
And you still are LOVELY
And so
The END OF THE MASQUERADE
is something
We ALL TOGETHER
might think about
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
I’m unraveling
In a grave gravelly
Light speed traveling
From the judge gaveling
They’re trying to persecute me
Like it’s their divine duty
Like desperate pigs rooting
For their rejuvenating truffles
In my dying screams muffled
By the executioner’s muscle
I’m paranoid
And it’s not the ****
I stare into the void
That makes me bleed
Only to see
Humanity
Staring back at me
With ****** teeth
I maintain my vitality
By matching their morality
Conforming infallibly
To society around me
They try to peek through my window
Every time the wind blows
So I keep the lights dimmed low
To cover my sin’s glow
And quietly tiptoe
Through the big show
They see through my disguise
And start to despise
They ask me to die
And I ask them why
Have I hurt a fly?
If they hate me so much
Why don’t they **** me?
Instead of avoiding my touch
With abandonment chilling
I can smell death in the air
When they say life isn’t fair
Before they try to not care
And attack me on a dare
After many hateful stares
From their disdainful lair
God uses pain to teach
So they use pain to preach
Giving me grief
Over the life I seek
So my eyes will leak
As the sky turns bleak
From lies to the meek
My sins I confess
As an SOS
To bless my mess
Despite its pests
Of demonic tests
God doesn’t answer
He has forsaken me
Giving me cancer
He has mistaken me
For someone who gives a ****
My wrists He’ll slit
If He feels it fits
So why match wits
With almighty spit?
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 1:54 AM UTC