"intangibility" poems
For we vile and unquenchable creatures
scavenge the twisted fate of imagination;
take pleasure not only in the creation
but in the movement, harmony,
and persuasion a verse evokes.
Enthralled and misted by
Ambiguity,
Intangibility,
and a verdict -
a sole desire to reach
what the mind wails,
a conclusion.
Beware,
for elegantly,
a writer scribes
or utters nonsense
for a mere, distant
consultation
yielded by the
faithful art.
Ordinarily,
we create while
lacking meaning,
gratuitous spirits,
echoing
a whimpering quail,
yet, we are bewildered
by profound imagery
and indescribable joy.
Doubt arises
in regards of
each word's validity,
bringing upon
interrogation,
scouting the way
for infinitive
journeys
yet to be written.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
I'm ****** that I once thought
maybe
you were, in my eyes
worth every
sun
moon
and star
In yours
non existent
invisible like radiation
indivisible from the magnitude of the void
I'm ****** that you use to shine
so brightly
causing my eyes to look your way
Siren song
was your voice to my ears
Ambrosia
was the thought of you
your image upon my mind
Moses
was your form to my lips
Now I am here
Othello
seeking not your death but my own
Knowing it was not a trick
it always was what it was
you were never liken to Desdemona
you were always my personal Iago
You remind me that I’ve never known you
That is the pain and comfort
The closest ive come to knowing you
Reminds me of the most pain
Summer clouds in the desert
some hope
ive come to question your existence
You and I know
you’ll yield no rain
You are a reminder of intangibility
There may come a day when it rains
hell even snows
in the desert
but until then
you are not hope
you are a mirage.
©Christopher f. Brown 2013
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Gaze upon the hidden
an impossibility
light is forbidden
in this distorted intangibility
But we see
finally
we see
general relativity
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 8:26 AM UTC
Ella Fitz’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream for the umpteenth time.
Louie comes in tune with that righteous horn.
I drink more as I sing along, off key.
There could be an entire SECTION of books written about us.
How we fell into that great whirlwind.
How we learned to hate the world when we didn’t have each other.
How we re-kindled, for that brief, brief time.
How I thought maybe we could love again.
We had hours that turned to days that turned to months.
We were the perfect piece of short fiction
An art form so gloriously undervalued,
(by both the audience and the creators)
Until we found ourselves in the Middle
(the worst feeling in the world.
Because like purgatory or super glue:
you're stuck.)
We said goodbye.
And I found I had residual emptiness.
I became residual emptiness.
I loved again, but it wasn’t anything
Like the masterpiece we had.
I knew because
Every day with him felt real.
Every day with you
Was a dream.
Something rooted in intangibility
Something I was astonished to find
happening to me.
It happened again-
We found ourselves in the same place
At the same time.
And after just a few weeks,
You gave me the greatest gift:
The indignity of silence.
And you gave me it
For the most ignoble reason—
You’re afraid.
Honey bun,
We’re all afraid.
It made me think
That maybe the story of you and I
can only have a happy ending
in a place where it’s not so scary.
So me, Louie and Ella all ask you,
That
In your dreams
Whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me.
[Because that's the only place you'll find me now.]
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
an anesthesia as quiet as
mustard gas
with it's creeping cloud passing through barbed wire with a magnificent yellow intangibility;
slow-moving and inevitable, unavoidable, and deathly--
--it's silent stalking is the breath of the Holy Ghost.
an anesthesia as visible as
a mute scream
from the cracked beaks of all-black birds as they croak outside the thin, thin, thin, panes;
birds ruffling and rustling like reptiles that knew better
and beat the game that the mammals never tried.
Pressing, muffling, a heat so harsh and deep I wake from my sleep, running away from the pull of a endless dark tide. So dark the breaks cannot be seen in the black gulf. I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream. There is no rub--all folly and hubris brings the death knell.
Where is the source?
To whom must I kneel?
I can feel are my bruised knees from falling prey to false idols,
but all I can hear are the creaking ropes of hung robbers.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
I am afraid
To walk alone in
Dazzling brightness,
blinding, shimmering, luminescent,
And in solid Darkness.
Both trap and hold me-
Bright landscapes dull senses,
Make vision vanish, obscures.
Darkness hides, and buries.
They are cages without bars,
Prisons without hope of rescue,
Escape.
Dangerous due to intangibility.
I could walk forever,
Never reaching a door to open,
A lock to pick.
No cunning or ingenuity to
Foster escape.
And I am afraid to walk,
For my footsteps could, if
Fortune and Wind favor,
Push me to polar opposites,
Torn, unawares.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
Our thoughts, buzzing.
Feelings, bumbling.
The passion, stirring.
It's around us.
We know it's there.
We feel it coursing through our veins.
We let it take its path.
Yet, we can't grasp at it.
It's intangible.
Love.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
A feeling of beautiful vulnerability and embarrassment dripping down the length of your spine, focused to a float in your chest and a cloud around your neck gently reminding you of wisp-blank intangibility.. it's that feeling of vacuous shame you had as a teenager after ************ when you had to sit and eat and face your parents dinner, and so you sat in afterglow of cloudy sadness as if all could see but the ache of that shame was a wet wet drip-facet alone in grandmas warm house after everyone's asleep you can see the lights of a ski hill in distance-- that lonely place the soul keeps peeking out of and right now it's so beautiful and you can't face a face but ******* the drip wet wet makes you feel alive-- .. it's an openness out of which a flow of melancholy creeps into the solar plexus and jiggles around in your stomach like liquid in a water balloon.. it is the ache of wholeness and the writer of poetry, an angelic potential to death and a demonic potential to life.. existence is wet, soaking beauty and a sadness inseparable from happiness.
This is your brain on fire. This is your brain at peace.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
emptiness has never felt so fulfilling.
nothingness has never weighed so much.
loneliness has never been so comforting.
intangibility i've never been able to touch.
freedom has never felt so conflicted.
innocence has never felt so unclean.
distance has never felt so constricted.
simplicity has never felt so serene.
trust has never felt so unnatural.
truth has never felt so far away.
beauty has never been so factual.
paths have never lead this far astray.
lifetimes have never lasted this long.
but seconds have never been so short.
words I could never put into song.
so writing them is my last resort.
Existence isn't free.
Misery is the cost.
I've never felt so "me".
I've never felt so lost...
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
Ex-virgins wake up in the morning
And they cry
Feeling no different
At having lost
Their intangibility
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
Three words
that
can alter the
outcome
and
morph an attitude
of an entire day
when received
producing an erruption of
intangibility
exhuded by the individual
receiving
the message
adding a voluminious effect
if the feeling is
now
mutual.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
I said I’ve moved on but maybe I haven’t
All the days from our past replay in my head when
I’m out in the world… or sheltered at home…
My feeling were real… this you had known…
But you broke me down with no second thought
It’s no wonder it's us who had never fought
My passionate kisses, your intimate touch
Make my days hard to live, but live I must
So as a heart falls asunder, thoughts fell askew
And all that I had was all that made you…
Yet between the silences my heart awoke
My placid mind forms rhetorical questions
To determine the meaning of the words we spoke
“…I love you…”
From you such a desired announcement
Fell flat like the plane of reality
When thrown against the intangibility of the unknown…
…and yet..
“I really loved you”
So as I gave my heart to you more with each passing day
You picked at it just to throw pieces away…
Now the pain I feel is more immense than you know
Sincea as each day goes by, I wish my memories would go…
“…but the pain is a reminder that I’m alive”
Because since that fateful day
You’d never guess I’d think I’m dead
As the incapacitating truth hit my heart…
…My nerve endings burnt out…
And my heart gave in to despair…
“But I Believe That You Will Be Fine”
Just as I believed that we’d work
But as I was once told the truth does hurt…
Accepting things the way they are is the only remedy
To redeem a lost soul from the emaciating pain
“…I miss you…”
Well if you did as you say you do
You’d seek me out…
And notice that the person I’ve become
Isn’t a person at all…
I’m a shade… no the Miasma…
Left from the dark in my heart
And the light of my love has disappeared…
“… You’ve Been In My Dreams…”
Do you know why?
Because I sure did…
The feelings I had
Weren’t that of a kid...
I loved you
And did what I did to prove it
But then again…
Girls want Men..
Not growing kids…
So the loss of me…
Will resound in your heart…
………
While you have your light…
I have my dark…
………
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 4:21 PM UTC
Every 23rd I listen to the last voicemail you left me. And I'll sit and recount each moment until you're burned into my memory. But it never gets any easier, in fact, it only gets harder to breathe.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
He is intangible
Of that you are certain
Intangible and far away
And realistically
There's nothing you can do about it
No wand to vanish the distance
No command to solidify his existence
No chance to verify the feelings drifting across modems
It seems a cruel trick of the Cosmos
That you should be obsessing
Over a binary being
A body who takes the form of a chat window
For all you know, he isn't even real
You could have dreamed him up
Imagined yourself a lover
And placed him across an ocean
Conveniently out of reach when you need him most
Yes, it's a cruel trick
To be questioning the universe at every turn
Wondering if it's his intangibility that captures you
Rather than the sweet words he lets play across the screen
Wondering how he could ever disappoint you
If he's only made of instant messages
Sometimes
You hold your own hands
Wishing you could trace the lines of his palm
Imagining having something solid to hold
Instead of slippery dreams and fluffy half-images
That get dislodged by catchy songs
Sometimes
You talk to yourself as though he could hear you
Wishing the sound could reverberate around his room
Envisioning the faces he would make
And hallucinating his responses
Sometimes
You want to slap him
Wishing you could hear the satisfying smack
Of your palm against his cheek
Rather than the clattering of your typing fingers
When you're jealous over a piece of cyberspace
Nonexistence is disappointing
When you've worked out all the details in your head
All you want to do is reach out
And not be stuck catching at empty air
In the end
His intangibility will let you down
So why are you so enchanted?
Why are you feeling like Eponine
Pretending he's beside you
Knowing you're living in your head?
And yet these days
You find it far too easy to let the city fall away
Only to have it shock you with its solidity
When you realize you've been imagining things again
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:46 PM UTC
The past is beautiful. It provides us life lessons from which we can learn and grow based on prior experiences. Our memory will always recall the past, each and every day of our lives. Present experiences will evoke memories of the past, good or bad. In the end, the only evidence we have of the past is within the confines of our own mind. Why? Because the 'past' does not exist. Existence is defined as the state of living, and the past has not, nor has it ever been, given life. The intangibility of this phenomenon also contributes to its absence of existence. Once the present moment is grasped and taken ahold of, it is then disposed of into a man-made idea of 'time'. Our lives are constructed around a ticking circle with numbers written on the outside. Once a moment passes, it simply can no longer be reached. If in our lives, we consider the past as a dangerous place due to the mistakes we once performed, we must remind ourselves; the past does not exist. The 'time' it will take us to heal from detrimental experiences does not exist either. Time isn't 'medicine'. Hell, time is not REAL. What is real is right here, right now. Do not dwell on life in the past, because you'll be spending the duration of your life getting lost in a world of regret. Learn each day, live each experience, and love as hard as you can. Mistakes are the greatest tools to living a successful life once learned from them, so don't allow anyone to judge you based off them. When other people begin to ridicule you concerning your past, it is simply because their sins are different from yours. We all live and learn in a variety of ways, and we should never judge someone based on a facet of their life in which no longer defines who they are; for the past does not exist. The past is a lie.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Why am I crushing myself
to death and beyond?
Feeling bereft
for that which I haven't
touched in years.
Leadening my heart,
and dragging my feet
because each step
is a step further
from lightness and youth.
I bore myself with this weight.
Loathe the tyranny,
and mighty pressure
inside my head
which threatens incapacity
of reason every ten seconds.
Why did he come back at all?
If only to suffuse me
with the promise of nothing,
and the intangibility
of all ****** lovers?
And, forgive me,
for ****** is how I feel.
Self-pity, you old devil!
I shall have this out of me,
or pick over it
'til my heart lays waste
all good intent.
I wish to be suspended,
as the crystallised air,
inside the strange house.
Where, this morning,
I chanced upon myself in mercury,
and tumbled through the ages.
As rose-heads wither on the stem,
my head shall fall
upon my chest with piquant,
silent longing.
And so, unto history
a dream shall die.
Should I die with it?
Or resurrect a steely charm?
Neither, sweet prince,
for your fleeting
and unseen visit
has taken my soul.
And, thus protected
from the whimsy of flattery
I stand, without notion,
of which way to turn
upon a once-clear pathway.
Should I chance you in my dreams,
I would but falter at your beauty,
though fail to recognise you -
for I no longer trust
what my eyes alight upon.
I am torn -
lamenting and tidal -
with hands that were always empty.
So what have I lost?
Nothing, that is all.
Nothing at all.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
I can't speak with you
because all that come is argument.
But when I try ignoring you,
I'm, still left uncontent.
I make apologies and eulogies
for the past of you and me.
But alack the day, alas
I'm still the one who bleeds.
Quite honestly I should hate you,
it's reason, simple truth.
We're squares and circles
even in our youth.
But the idea of you and who were
interests me so much,
I can't forget who you can be
so to intangibility, I clutch.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:17 PM UTC
We're crumbling apart from the inside
And our bodies have grown cold
The snow is starting to settle in
As we close our doors
As the winter freezes me over
This earth remains still
The absence of activity is almost eerily fit
I'm cursing a ghost as it glimmers by
I hate it for it's intangibility
More than anything,
I want it to tell me everything's okay,
that the warmth in this solitude is not the only fleeting comfort
But this winter is far from over
Mirrors on every icy street corner
Threaten to black out my very life
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
the spaces between your ribs i've reserved for me.
i spend my time in your exhalations.
the time i lie and count the stars and wait,
could stretch across the universe i have created for us.
the decades i wait in between your sighs i fill with space and time.
you and i and nothing but this empty infinity of intangibility
x
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
He discarded skin ages ago,
The figure in your midst.
His steps bereft of shadow,
And he lies for lying's sake,
Splitting conversation's wrists
With a keening grin.
The spineless snake,
******* by subtle charm,
Offers two expressions for every moment,
Intertwined.
No longer recalling
The face he was given.
Intangibility
Is his only refuge
In a world of pantomime.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
As I sit here reminiscing about my life, Knife in hand, I just ask myself as to how I’ve gotten as far as I have. Twenty years old and so absent of life. I have never had a partner nor friends, or any kind of near and dear human interaction for that matter.
I was raised in foster care from the age of nine.
When I was seven, my mother was tethered to a life support machine.
At the age of nine, my father, fragile and weak committed suicide.
The note went something like this:
“I know you may never understand and I’m not sorry, but you may thank me some day…”
I never understood the message until now, sitting here, slicing into the tender skin within the confines of my hand looking over the horizon.
A gentle drip follows…
I’m glad my father did what he did…
I’ve been taught and invaluable lesson…
That the human soul, albeit intangible, is not infallible.
The same holds true for the will.
Both have yet to be seen much less heard, by a being that breathes the same air as you and I, foolishly we continue to live our lives and ignore these facts so we may keep faith that they exist.
A cool sensation begins to overwhelm me...
Perhaps their intangibility is what has kept them pure and free of human kinds’ seemingly instinctual want to poke, **** and risk possibly destroying something they do not understand until it is understood…
I mean let’s take a look at love.
Love, likewise to the will and the soul is also intangible.
What would love be if you can do what I have done to this very moment and take a sharpened steel blade and tear beneath the skin to understand what truly lies below it surface.
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 7:13 AM UTC
*Mask is a rare piece in tangibility
yet
a commoner in intangibility.*
how poetic human can be;
forevermore.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
i am not afraid of heights, fights or small spaces.
i am not afraid of snakes, spiders or crocodiles.
what frightens me.
Is Everyone's Intangibility.
Doubtful, willingness to stay.
The fear that no matter what, they'll
All Leave Anyway.
I am afraid of my own and everyone else's
Temporality.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC