"infiniteness" poems
So many years
I've spent on the sterile land
in various cubes
curbs my soul and makes me tired.
So why not go the seas!
To experience another kind of new life;
to face the infiniteness
the wildness, and be more tough!
Great men of letters,
Melville,Mark Twain,Hemingway,etc,
all benefit lots
from their colorful life as a sailor.
Thus, to be a sailor,
a sailor, a sailor, a sailor, a sailor !
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
If yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all;
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee--
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters--I have spent.
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant;
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall
New love created be, by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine; whatever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet,
He that hath all can have no more;
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it;
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
2.4k
If yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all;
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee--
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters--I have spent.
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant;
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall
New love created be, by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine; whatever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet,
He that hath all can have no more;
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it;
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
2.3k
If you truly are a time traveler,
as I expect you are,
then can we please meet again,
after this life is over,
because we both know this one goes too fast,
and we both know good things never last,
and we both know that there are no guarantees,
that there is ever going to be a next time,
so tell me,
one thing that actually matters,
and don’t tell me Salsa,
because I already know you’re a dancer,
but it’s not your body I want to see move,
it’s your soul that I want to tango with,
and I know the unknown can be scary,
but there’s something alluring about the danger zone,
so let’s take it there,
let’s spin that globe and take that flight,
because even though we might be time travelers,
we still can not stop time,
and you can not control the future,
nor can you completely foresee it,
even if you get premonitions,
and the occasional hint,
here’s a hint,
I love you,
and I don’t mean that,
in the way you’re used to,
I’m in love with your soul,
and I could care less about your body,
I am not one of those men,
that thinks you’re just a feast for the eyes,
I see you,
I mean I really see you,
I see through all your pretensions,
and right to the real you,
“What is the real me?”,
I know that’s what you want to ask,
but how can I explain,
your infiniteness in a sentence,
see I see that disguise you wear,
that **** Mystery Girl’ disguise,
but you leave hints who’s the true you,
so when you finally expose your soul I won’t be surprised,
you can’t fool me,
and I refuse to be distracted by those legs of yours,
and I accept all of you I just have one question,
if you are a time traveler can we meet again after this is all over?
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
The black hole’s emanations attempted to fill the gap in galactic infiniteness as all spiraled down to its new beginnings while residual harmonic vibrations honed the forms of its becoming .
The insect’s hum buzzed harmoniously almost melodiously in syncopated integrated vibrations as it flew across the room , out the door and into the night sky .
The ship’s deck rolled and pitched as hurricane weather smashed and shattered its empty hull against the wooden dock .
The blazing core of the comet streaked across the sky as it decomposed in the atmosphere and extinguished its self in the ocean .
The blazing light of innumerable suns chaotic radioactive glair was almost audible like sounds of distant campfires as the last bits of wood crackled into embers beneath the starry sky .
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
(
)
(
)
\/
/\
/ \
_________
Solitary
The one Breath rise
The one Breath falls
YOU !
create the world
••
Truly
Exactly
Purely
///
You are in the world
The world is in you
•
The eternity
The infiniteness
•
Love
• •
Come
Enough of slavery
•
Wait for who awaits you
Lo !
Here we all are
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
624
Forever—it composed of Nows—
’Tis not a different time—
Except for Infiniteness—
And Latitude of Home—
From this—experienced Here—
Remove the Dates—to These—
Let Months dissolve in further Months—
And Years—exhale in Years—
Without Debate—or Pause—
Or Celebrated Days—
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Domini’s—
1.4k
One day, 24 hours, 1440 minutes, 86400 seconds. All made up concepts so we can better understand the infiniteness we call the universe.
I digress from speaking on the subject longer as I only have 86400 seconds left to live, well at this point its more like 85372 seconds.
Think of allll the possibilities, i can go with friends and family and cry and tell them how much i love them and try to forget that I've never been bungee jumping, deep sea diving, skiing, and overall just not lived.
Although, what defines life? Well OBVIOUSLY we all know that Merriam-Webster's dictionary defines life as "the ability to grow, change, etc. that separates animals and plants from things like water or rocks".
Well if we use THIS definition then I've never lived because i don't WANT to grow or change.
Is it SOOO bad that every day I go home and lat in bed for hours idly wanting the next 85,314 seconds to pass and for my life to end
Now THIS is the point in the rant where I am to turn the whole concept on its head and say that everything will be ok. But unfortunately that would cost 25 seconds of my last 1439 minutes and 3 seconds so Id rather not waste my time with falsity and lies.
I write this with the same handwriting and brain that articulated that I don't WANT to another second here ESPECIALLY not another 86288 seconds. So i can be where no longer some concept, but I am the the reality of the universe. Were gonna die anyway.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Anaïs Nin once wrote;
'And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.'
Life has been a roller coaster, few words
describe this journey, taken,
swaying from belief to imperforate betrayal,
doubting all I am, do
and in, an unfathomable manner, enticing myself,
to the darkness, where I may find resolve
allowing me to not only, wholly, scratch the surface,
but dig deeper into the skin,
cutting through skin, membrane, muscle
I delve right into my bones,
the veins in my body flow,
with rhetoric and rhyme, infiniteness
climbing up the walls, the skin tears
a sempiternity of knowledge pours,
red sanguine fluid,
purge my body, pierce my mind
a carcass remains, ready
for devour.
© Sia Jane
Please feel free to learn more about me and my writing on the Facebook page I just started.
My poetry at present is really concerning the fears I have about finally widening my audience to my work.
https://www.facebook.com/Siajanewords
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
I had long realised that I like to make poems out of people I care about. I have loved words. I have loved how insignificant they're alone, how contradictory. How the same words can be framed and hung upon someone's darkest sky like a thousand glittering stars or be burnt into the corners of our minds getting us to wonder if heaven and hell both exist inside us.
How words are the cage and how they can be the wings.
How they label you sometimes and sometimes let you free.
And how sometimes with all their infiniteness they are not enough.
I had long realised that loving rarely ever equalled to understanding. And I found it to be one of the saddest things. Like how we all have so much love to give, and we all keep giving it away the way we would want to receive it. But it does not work that way, does it? You can't explain to a tone dead person how talking to them felt like finally being introduced to a melody they had heard so long ago it felt world's away, in another birth except the melody decided to stick with them.
And since then I have been trying to understand more, but sometimes I can't tell if I'm getting better at it or I just stop caring. Or if it's possible to try to walk in someone's shoe and still find a fault with him?
I had long realised that my poems one way or another turn out to be a goodbye to people I love. It's like my hands know they're going to have to wave good bye so they do the only thing they can. They write, as if to convey that they, my heart, will remember them long after they have been let go. I almost did not want to write this for you.
But.
You are the one who points at my wings when I make cage out of my words and get trapped in my mind.
You are the one I call at 2 am when I'm too tired to rebel against yet another label I earned for myself.
It's the mixed sound of our laughter echoing in my ribcage that makes me create my own spheres of infiniteness in few ephemeral minutes.
You understand that you don't always understand, and you accept.
I did not want to write this for you because all my poems turn into a eulogy no one stays long enough to hear.
But.
I think you'd listen.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
The old house stands still.
Rot has set in.
A flying termite caught in the webs of a dead spider, sway to the shrill of a ceiling fan.
All things sway.
Dreams rise and suffocate in the mouldering mortars
Falling on the adjacent tiled roof.
They scream, laugh, make love, declare the infiniteness
Of their finite existence through diatribes of reality and unreality.
They are passionate bunch,
Bound by their common desire to be. And blood.
And the house just is. It still is.
Once there were sparrows in the ventilators.
And envious bayas on the palm trees.
The ripples in the pond sing their dark, merry tunes
Licking away its edges,
And they shove and trample for the whiff of north wind.
Life persists in slow, lonely decadence.
The cactus on the roof thrives in monsoon and in summer.
Basil live and die, live and die trenched in the never ending circle
Of micro-civilisation.
The house harvests its own sustenance in the whispers among its bricks
That become a collective
And a roar is heard.
They pray to Earth.
The old house is defiant,
The old house is tired.
Its melting skin sizzles and stinks of industry of old,
A glorious past always in the distant like the horizon,
The promise of bright future exposed to the misery
That is naturalness of time.
The hammer rusted, **** has grown over,
They clinch onto the sickle like oxygen.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
Once again, a first.
A kiss with feeling above whim,
A portent of time and love,
Warm and honest with infiniteness.
She let a smile before her breath,
And handling herself
With utmost confidence,
Closed her eyes to prove
The utter ease of the cosmos!
Her hand in my hair, she breathed:
“You've made my life much more complicated.”
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
Excuse me for my brunt ******
Of sunset said the desert horizon
Purple with desire and shame.
The apathetic ending of the turning and
The more expressionless thoughts.
Sorry for the stars, said the night
Not necessarily apologizing but merely conceding to
The infiniteness of ending (all the way). The owl
In a canyon on a cactus, on a cold winter
Night, in a dark deep winter night. Even this
The sunset understands, the dawn
Like knives to the spine, digs in. Said
The punitive earth, here I am for you to explore
Open my oceans, abuse my stones.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
In this land
that is filled
with authorities,
I find nothing and
nothing that
bothers me
I am being
smothered in
the pillows of
mediocrity
drowned by the
blindness of those
who can never be
the infiniteness
of the human sea.
In this land filled
to the brim
with authority
I am never and
nor will I be ever free.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
I’ve been playing this game
for **** near twenty one years
and long ago lost track
of my wins and losses
I simply got caught up
in the winsomeness
of all that is
Why keep a tally
that’s callous and rigid
with the infiniteness of living at your fingertips
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
Birds of a feather
Share a binary plumage
One
Mostly with better weather
Hey Sam I am With the band
Cannot without
One another
A bubble of no
Others
In elevations / in Evian flights
Above the trees
We breathe all manner of breath
Above the blunted trees
We hover high
Earth
Diminished minusculed into
The Truths
Our Universe
Above the blues and green
Where only the starlight breathe
I wonder what vast oceans
Or most void a wilderness
Those sprinkles of effulgent dust
Must endure
Beyond time inconceivable
The fathoms of infiniteness...
What dreams will swim
Beyond this breath oh
We birds of a feather.
(Wandering together.)
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Cold and quiet twisted as she was on the edges of a dream of an endless amount of stars rose like the owl before dawn dragging the dead mouse among the shattered cottonwoods above blood on the canyon brighter than a rose, sank the grief from the lungs of the infiniteness of time oceans and deserts and swamps. Could not comprehend close the gargle of mud sat in her spat of the beauty of it all watching the gnarled dress unfurl beneath her ankles canyons full of color as she descended into another sleepless smile. The river moved on
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 1:00 AM UTC
I am youthful, not withering, coming to an end.
Inside, There is a intense
Feeling,
Belief, ineffable...
An
Infiniteness,
Eternallity
In me.
I
Am compelled to express...
My body though, regardless of what I think, feel, want,
Is outwith my control
Bringing
My
Existence in this world to an end....I have no say in the matter.
I am
Not
Entirely free
I am
Beholden to something else.
In addition,
I have to be judged and
Sentenced!
Final destination: hell , heaven!
I
Never
Asked for this!
However,
I Believe !
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
When we go in the state of meditation
The true self may be realized
The state of tranquility may be experienced
The self blosoms
And we are now in the right track
For the true evolution of human being
Now i am finding this word 'human being'
A word of wonder
And so true for who we are
We are human being
We are 'BEING'
We 'BE'
Wow we all 'BE'
And we all are free
We all exist in the lap of this very nature
We have sky above us
We breathe the same air
We share the same atmosphere
We all are connected
We all are free
We all are divine
We all exist
This is the present to us
We are here
This is now
The consciousness is divine
The spirit is a true purity
I love
We love
LOVE is the ultimate goal towards infiniteness
JUST LOVE JUST BE..
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 10:07 PM UTC
it comes and goes,
this feeling that i’ve been ****** into a world rushing at a dangerous pace past my ears and i am here
alone
watching, helpless, as time disintegrates everything into particles of dust that lay down to die at my feet
do you remember learning how to use your limbs?
gawky in the glow of youth under bare trees and two foot snow,
catching snowflakes in your eyelashes and trying to prove that each one has a different pattern
nothing beats a minnesota winter when you’re young and full of wonder
now winter comes and the wind sighs through these bare branches on these bare trees and my chest aches in empathy
and the stark coldness is beautiful in a way that makes me immeasurably sad, like most beautiful things do,
and the quietness sings of a loneliness i find myself singing along to,
and i wonder where that child went, that one who saw winter and thought of joy and that one who saw the world and met it with innocence
time is a master in the art of deception; it’s made fools out of us all.
i stand still on this precipice of understanding as everything i have spins in circles around my head
and i am me me me me me me me even as time shapes and bends me into something else
we are all stripped bare, standing in front of the unfathomable infiniteness of the universe and begging it for some sort of revelation that will make the dark seem not so dark
i am terrified of loneliness; a walking, talking, convoluted fermi’s paradox: if i am not alone, why do i always feel like it?
someone asked me once whether i think we are in control of our own lives or if we are led by fate
i said i think we’re in control, but i don’t think that’s true, now
maybe time has laid out the birth and death and everything in between of the whole universe and we’re just along for the ride, living out a story that’s already been painted for us
or maybe this is really me, and not time itself, looking out and wondering if anybody’s there
maybe there are greater mysteries than this simple childlike plea for a feeling of companionship;
maybe i am still that child in winter after all.
we are our own destructors of everything we are and everything we have been and everything we will be and everything we hold onto
it took me years to realize everything is temporary
how long will it take me to believe it?
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 7:40 PM UTC