"infers" poems
Look at you
Look at what you've become
You think this is happiness
Her under your thumb
Her resolve breaking down
The parts used to fix your life
Her medium of release
The blade of a knife
This is abuse
In its emotional sense
Using sadness and anger to manipulate and hence
It doesn't take much
To bring a state of vex
This relationships a cycle
Of pain and ***
*** only providing a temporay relief
Before our eyes are opened
To the strife and grief
Yet she defends you
Once said its problems at home
With each word in your defense
I think Stockholm, Stockholm
Since her resolve is crumbling
To ashes and dust
I ask myself whether its love or lust
Lust its loss
A fear of losing control
Like you did with another
Like you did as a whole
Thats why she"s your second
Thats why you're with her
A girl who never argues
Retaliates or infers
So you can remain in control
Keep her in a drone like state
Where her spirit is in your hands
Where you decide her fate
So I write this poem with the hope
That she will find
That a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
Like leftovers from an extravagant meal,
I thawed my heart and put it on her plate-
I'd hoped it would sustain her.
It was rejected with vigor.
She infers that she's toxic:
spoilt soil at a nuclear blast site.
I'm starting to suspect the offering itself was necrotic.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
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Not that We did, shall be the test
When Act and Will are done
But what Our Lord infers We would
Had We diviner been—
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Hey crow! Where Venus infers such that glass is TheHollow shell of tortoise blossoms oozing the Nyrous tips of incredulous sorceries, felt from oozing blue tears. The shapes are scented for you, the wands of new beginnings that carry you on. Leopards. Sunrises. Footsteps and madmen. Blitzkrieg harkening the weather's ovivorous lightning bursts to shake one's ears. White-colored hermine heroines throttled and wet with shades of gear. Small ranchito shrubs goose-pimple my skin, my hide; and shake this moon. Sway, into the early sun. Burning close to me.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
Two Maronite schoolchildren practice their English…
“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”
“See theirs, seethers, Caesars,
See her cedars Caesar?”
“See here, a sea-fare and see there?
And oh, I see Sir?”
“Do you see her? Yes I see Sir, -Caesar!”
“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”
And they are descendants of Solomon’s thirty-thousand, the great-grandchildren of Hiram’s workers.
“Sol Indiges!”
“Sol Invictus!”
“Sol-Ammon!”
“Now children, how do the three monkeys act?”
“Sol, the root of solar and it means the Sun, it means also to see or sight as it infers the light of seeing.”
“Am means fire but it is also the meditative word, Aum, therefore it cannot render evil through sound!”
“On is Egyptian and it connotes speech so it represents hearing.”
The instruction in language is not terse. Requiring broad-based understandings of how the West characterizes ideas. These two are particularly adept being taught from birth in both Maronitic and Latin and now English, in preparation for their exodus, as home has become a battleground where they must leave soon. Only in the West can they find peace and practice their faith so expressively. Only in the West can these two girls attend school if their lands are befallen…
“Now children, what does this mean?”
“See no evil!”
“Speak no Evil!”
“Hear no Evil!”
“And that children, is the Wisdom of Solomon!”
Breaking news! CNN reports that a car bomb has exploded in the ancient Lebanese town of Mejdeloon. Shocking footage now of a series of homes that have been reduced to rubble near a Maronite Church where rescuers are just now pulling out the bodies of two young school girls. Christopher Talias reports live from the Lebanon.
“Sol Indiges is the voice of god,"
Sol Invictus, in light, his mind;"
Sol-Ammon is the understanding and wisdom for all time!”
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
I saw the silhouette of that entity,
I saw em walking with density,
I saw em brief but in long obscurity,
I saw a ghost amidst its none vivacity,
I saw em walking down the streets alone,
Unseen, discreet in perfect flows,
Like rivers touched won’t change to show,
No embrace just clouds and what he knows,
With dreary eyes in reverie features,
With mind distracted in dozy pictures,
In prison dimmed with wary strictures,
Resolving evils with vague infers,
And so I saw,
I saw the silhouette of that entity,
I saw him walking with density,
But in his shadow of his obscurity,
Amidst his non vivacity,
I saw more than I could’ve seen,
I saw where I am and where I’ve been
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 5:13 AM UTC
Scarlet washes the water of translucency of feeling
Scarlet makes the numb feel
Scarlet infers you have the control
Scarlet may be a accident or the purpose
Scarlet can be a red haring of life
Scarlet can also be a start of a new reliability
But dare you not scarlet is inside along with other feelings
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
There are just words
that resonate, meaningfully,
-as if they have meaning-
from the echo within my skull
to the entrance within my soul.
And to you who infers,
who proclaims the righteous totality
and splendor of connotation
under the guise of one's own God,
within and without,
I thank you for your consideration,
for finding your words in mine.
For when 'you' and 'I' are swapped,
when truth is but a sound
and notions dissolve into the echoes of life,
this will be but a piece of paper,
marked up crudely
from clandestine forethought
into a portrait of emotions, unvisible.
Should I share my tears onto this page
it could have no more significance
than the weakest tear in the fabric
as it, too, devolves into brusque indifference.
When the thoughts have decayed
and I find myself a stranger to this text,
I will know its meaning extinct
but for its interpretations
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
She was the one that you’d forget to invite
Not out of dislike but because she lived just out of sight
She was the shadow that infers the sun
Blinked in the only picture that showed her face
You’re not alone if you do not recall her
I’d forgotten that time she sat next to me
The party was nothing to remember
Except that when I said hello,
she simply touched my hand then ran away
I’d forgotten about Georgia
But I guess Georgia never forgot about me
At least that’s what her mother said
When she asked me to speak at the service
To lay poor Georgia down
She told me Georgia mentioned me in her note
She had loved me from afar
One touch of my hand and tears in the dark
Apr 20, 2022
Apr 20, 2022 at 10:56 AM UTC
with a rapping
and a tapping
I thought I heard a sound
when not fish nor man was around.
but I felt the cold waves knock-
upon the beating dock
when I saw the sights,
and looked Mother in her eyes
and the boatman sails
and the birds yell
as wind chills earth
and caresses her turf
the waves start to interest
and crash at best
yet calm presides in time
and touches that soul of mine
the breath of a whisper,
as Mother Nature infers
to her children of fruits
yet they still bear the name of her roots.
she beckons me for thought,
though my mind is all astrought.
the wind hits my skin,
the blood in my veins thin.
I was merely viewing
when I started anewing
for when our souls connected,
I seconded guessed a bit.
though now I know,
what beautiful things bestow
in the secrecy of shore
and in the free growing galore
I see nature,
and she speaks to me,
quite softly by the sea.
I take comfort in her embrace,
and rest my eyes as her lips brush my face.
yes, with a rapping,
and a tapping,
I hear beauty gently say,
"Just for me and you today"
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
I once heard that art is most beautiful when imitateing life . I never understood this; imitation infers a falsehood, a lack of authenticity. Art can only be what it is, unapologetically,It can’t build a facade.
I ,the one who is deemed alive, lie habitually to those around me and worse my self.
I am a performer playing the part of least resistance and greatness propitiation. Solitarily contemplating a collective I want to both develop beyond the horizon or envelop in the flames of a star.
conundrums are the base of these self destructive edifice. Best escape is outside of self, either on the wall in the air or on a shelf.
Now who imitates who,
When One feels most real imitating art?
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
MODERN DAY SOCIETY FOSTERS NEW BREEDS,
WHICH SEEMS TO BE CONVENIENT TO YOUR NEEDS,
RESPECTING OTHER PEOPLE'S BELIEFS IS ALL VERY WELL,
TRUE OR FALSE IDEOLOGY - EVEN YOU CAN NOT TELL;
YOU LACK EXPERIENCE OF LIFE - AND, OF COURSE, DEATH,
YOU WILL NEVER KNOW ANYTHING UNTIL YOUR LAST BREATH,
EVEN THEN, YOU WOULD WISH US TO GO TO NOTHING,
CAN'T YOU GIVE YOURSELF A MORSEL OR AT LEAST SOMETHING?
SUCH A FATALIST - YOU WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE,
IRONICALLY YOU WON'T BE - UNTIL YOU DROP LIKE A STONE,
I COULD ASK YOU ABOUT ACCIDENTS AND DISASTERS,
BUT I WON'T - YOU'RE NOT CONCERNED ABOUT WHAT MISFORTUNE INFERS,
YOU BRING THE WORDS UPON YOURSELF - A COP - OUT IS DERISORY,
IN MY OPINION, YOUR EXISTENCE IS NOT RANDOM - THAT'S AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC