"interpreting" poems
truth be told,
I am not that bold.
It is a jab into my eye,
a reality full of lies that my mom blames this distress.
Hold on, I can't tell black from white. Might as well be blind, I can predict even the scenic route that people doubt. My whereabouts are no longer in a crowd, standing with witnesses is unhealthy for me.
I want privacy, isn't being alone key anyways? Who is to care
if I write "Beware" or just stare. In the end, there is this sentence left to bare. Always interpreting the language I so rarely speak. Energy may flow for others, but I am not a plug one can spark by lousy remarks.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Tomorrow's sunrise
is a memoir.
It remembers
an exact mirror.
Like it showed up
a thousand times earlier.
At the end of the same
veiled night.
Once again will it take
a trip to the memory lane
and lay on a sea of primulas
interpreting in colour
that’s sweet dream!
The sun is in the know
It will paint across.
But own’t touch the rose
it will sleep in its dew.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
I’m a barbarian in a woman’s shape.
I stomp into discourse with heavy steps.
Driven by impulse, twisting like switchbacks.
There are so many narratives...
With one hand, I hold a megaphone to my mouth.
With the other hand, from my heart, from my head,
I pull out jagged digressions and awkward arguments.
If I could weave just one logical thread
to see a common perspective,
to stop interpreting…
I would stand tall
on the pedestal of thorny incidents,
inept appointments, yet proud
that I would finally catch myself.
I know, I can only dream of
patiently knitting rushing words together.
I can’t stitch these threads into
a colored, beautiful patchwork,
that could give some warmth to the quandary,
or as a cover for chronic nostalgia.
Meanwhile,
within the conventions of social dreaming
I tilt my head from side to side
Asking myself with incredulity,
How is it possible that the voice
screaming inside me
sounds so weak and dull?
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
Just the least
just a pinch
is magic
stirs the seven seas!
Your pretty little
beauty spot
is big indeed!
Piques the waxing moon
revealing new skin.
Ah therein the day
at the end of the day
dips into the depth of the blue
never sleeps
roams in starry dreams!
Neither Earth or sky
is deep or high.
The first light drops
upon the rose.
The secret is secret no more
sings the nightingale
interpreting the dream
down the whole lit up sky
yet a twilight comes on the way.
Just a glance of you
wraps the entire show away,
towards depths so profound
and heights so high
yet unseen by any eye!
Aug 14, 2023
Aug 14, 2023 at 11:14 PM UTC
soft sound of shoes on new pavement
hot & clinging.
sentences strung together/hinging on subjects of a wide variety,
petroglyphs, ivory, & māori history.
touching lamposts with the wicked curiosity
of an only child.
cutting the hair of strangers in an alleyway off of downtown,
burning the strands in a bowl w/some potpourri
interpreting the smoke.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
Interpreting Dreams Series Part 1
1/15/2014
I've got this idea
that the world has too many feelings.
Too many smiles that have turned upside down.
Too many tears that have gone unnoticed.
This couple sits at a table with a pretty white cloth.
Glasses of fancy carbonated water, bubbly like their first date.
But now, they hate each other.
They sit and complain about everyone in their lives.
and on their minds, they just hate their selves, not even each other.
They look at others with a scathing jealousy.
One guy takes a nap
He finds an electric taser in his dreams
He uses it to shock himself back awake, but then
he realizes he didn't want this moment to ever end.
Where dreams are reality and you don't have to suffer fraught with what's not.
She puts on her pearls
and then walks out the door.
She knows how she got them,
lies to herself, doesn't want to feel like a *****
But still, she wants more.
There's something special about being the only one standing in a crowd.
Whether you're up on stage or in the middle of a pit.
You feel this sense that the moment is great
but it isn't amazing without another person to stand beside you.
They cried at a bus stop,
a family knowing
they had no money to celebrate holidays this year.
They don't need to, but it's the feelings that matter.
They cried.
We never know what we will find, when we look for something.
Our feelings are dangerous if we go looking for them and end up lost.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
There’s too much air to breathe here.
A swirling mass of emptiness heaves through the crowd’s lungs.
Stop.
Won’t everyone just god ****
Someone sings at the bus stop just outside my window.
Wires hum, ignoring the melody that person has so carefully constructed.
A hiss.
Rising steam.
An abrupt end.
Another listless night.
A beetle flies in through my open window.
It takes me twenty minutes to help it back out.
I think about wandering the forest.
But am too scared to confront loneliness, and the frailty of human existence.
There is a gap forming already.
Here.
A dialectic that seeks to sublate my very identity.
Subsume those closest to me.
Until I am completely alone.
There is a bush down the street which is in bloom right now.
I think the sun is too hot.
The flowers are wilted.
And the pavement is littered with dead bees.
Voices.
An exchange.
A language game.
Two horizons meet, merge, melt.
‘Wait--’
The horizons drop.
If only for a moment.
And the abyss is revealed.
The only universal in this world is that we are all alone.
Trapped in our own understanding.
Forever interpreting one another.
I am waiting for the day the wind carries me out the window.
Perhaps it will never come.
Perhaps I will live a long boring life amongst friends, family, and all those people I despise.
Oh well.
No point, either way.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
I look at her,
her sad eyes and juvenile wrinkles.
A face riddled with scars and red bumps,
interweaved with healed and unhealed flesh.
I wish I didn't care about what I see in the mirror.
I wish I didn't care about how my skin feels against my fingertips,
or what I see when I search for my reflection.
They talk about loving yourself
but how can I,
when all I see is a hideous monster?
I know,
I know.
There are sorrows much painful,
woes more pertinent than mine.
But how do I tell my mind to stop crucifying itself?
How do I diffuse these electrical impulses,
from my eyes to my brain,
carrying an image of my face and interpreting it as
unnatural,
ugly,
pitiful?
I wish I didn't spend so much time,
trying to wash this dirt off me,
trying to pick and probe at the scabs,
when I know it's a part of me,
arising from me.
How do I stop myself from judging my worth
as the sum of these scars
that lie skin deep?
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
She wore an air of mysticism
Her memory bore prophetic visions
From ancient egyptian
And judaic traditions
She knows every star system
And every night is a mission
Where she wishes and wishes
For help from the legends
Feeling the kundalini extension
A timeless moment in meditation
She rode a chariot of ascension
With many faces
Facing in all directions
Interpreting new races
There was
Communication retention in
Multidimensional dimensions
And convoluted intentions
Creating dense tension
Leaving her in suspension
Then, there was a call for attention
And she witnessed the mention
Of helping Earths' ascension
Words whispered with foreign inflections
Melted away her apprehensions
With familiar definitions
And promising space faring inventions
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
This is your candle to burn,
The wax you long to flux?
You will this wick to blaze?
Then light our match with your crux
I'm a wise owl in sheep in wolf's clothing
Interpreting every cautious move made running with the pack
And you're exactly what you appear to be
You're ghostly traits just as transparent from the back
I am the pretentious walking dead man
Far too good for my own rotting flesh
I guess thats just the way she goes
down
Like any devil in a blood red dress
Last call only tends to last a little while
Until another bitter day calls for a God forsaken night
I am the self-forgetten first born
Passing lessons down after making no first decisions right
I've been on top of the town
Still wet from arctic lengths of time trapped under ice
I keep a hold of others' darkest secrets
ruling this game of thrones and still playing it nice
I'm a king in beggars clothing
I have everything I need and no reason to boast
I don't find joy in you're possessions
salvation found in being no one is a reason to coast
You've lost the fire that kept your spirits up
and have become another mindless ******* bore
when we're old and reacquainted
I'd like to see you convince me that I haven't lived more
"When they unearth these passages
will I appear to be proud?
Not if you're listening close enough.
Not if you're sounding it out."
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
Sub-atomic particles
the atoms they form
molecules, cell organelles
cells, machinery of life
organs, organisms
communities and ecosystems
planets, solar systems, galaxies
galactic clusters and their inverse
black holes the doors to other
universes, a contradiction
in terms.
For language and its shadow
consciousness must hold matter
the material world snugly inside concepts
theories and hypotheses to be
experimentally verified using vision
and the other senses, collecting data
and interpreting the known facts
accumulated over time.
Can matter
exist without a consciousness to behold it?
Believing in
our mortality (the species)
we have created God
(a supreme being)
probably not carbon-based
to encompass every universe
but is God
inside or outside
consciousness? Can God
tell us what to do
or must we tell God
alone
what to do?
Here is ego
projecting personality, exerting force
on community, asserting the existence
and predominance of component DNA.
An already hackneyed theory that DNA
survival drives
procreation, personality, savings bonds
everything but poetry (most poems included).
Mustache, cowboy hat
horse whisperer, gulag master
Odysseus, King Lear
salvation in the details.
Yes, these personalities individual and interesting
as opossum, bear
oak and ash
beech nut, pine cone
Grand Canyon sandstone, Green Mountain granite.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Even as separate and alone
As we can feel sometimes
We are all connected to
Each other in some way
This society tells us that
We are separate and we
Have to fend for ourselves
Our else someone else
Might take what I have
Or somehow take what
I own or what I have
Spent my hard earned
Money to buy and to
Obtain without thinking
About the other people
Around them who are
Needing some love and
Comfort and healing and
All they need is a kind
Word or a person to let
Them know that things
Will be ok and that
Everything will be alright
And that they can make
It one more day and
Helping each other
Where we can simply
Because we can rather
Than trying to figure
Out what we can get
From that person in
Return or trying to
Manipulate them into
Getting what we want
For our own gain and
Profit when if we just
Asked and shared with
Each other there would
Be no need for stealing
Or for wars or the need
To feel separate or alone
Because we would live
As a community of people
Actively working together
To help each other where
We needed and helping
To heal people from
The heart as well
We tend to separate and
Segregate people instead
Of acknowledging the
Beautiful diversity of
Life and of people as
Well when we should
Be celebrating our
Uniqueness while at
The same time
Understand that
We are all one
And we come
From the same
Source and that
Even though we
Might have different
Ways of feeling
Or seeing or
Interpreting things
Doesn't mean that
Someone else's view
Is wrong is just another
Way to look at something
From a different angle
Than you might have
Originally been able to
See on your own and
Being able to learn from
Each other instead of
Trying to force our
Ideas our thoughts
On another and if
We get to the point
Where we understand
We are one we could
Never hurt or harm
Or steal or even have
Wars because we would
Understand that we are
All the same and if I harm
You I am harming a piece
Of me and when you can
Get to that understanding
Of life and nature and of
People as well you will
Start to see things in a
Different way than you
Have ever seen before
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
Buddha tells us
not to get into
interpreting dreams
so in a dream
my dead father
told me to go
to the post office
at nine in the morning
for something
that was sent
by planned parenthood
and I got
a free laptop.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 2:35 AM UTC
Oh the devil hath found
Interpreting perverse anomalies
Oh the devil hath found
May you sphacelate you worthless antiquity
Oh the devil hath found
You reek of cigarettes and unfrequented deliriums
Oh the devil hath found
What pandemonium!
Oh the devil hath found
An oasis in a wasteland
Oh the devil hath found
A humanoid dichotomy
Oh the devil hath found
A sought after moral wreck
Oh the devil hath found
Love.
.................................................................................
....Que le diable et son amant se chargent........
.................................................................................
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
To become aware of the single moment that needs interpreting
To be jolted from sleep between sheets creased in the tribulations of dreamscapes
Clammy hand pressed to neck you remember yourself
And before it slips and crumbles spiraling up to the cosmos it is captured
Pinch your eyes together and draw the cool water from the well
A friend’s arm around your shoulder; a sweaty smile, meandering through
The crowds of faces, each one drab and still, motionless for you
Tendrils of tenderness wandering o’er a body consumed in secret greed and corrosion
And the cheeky faced attached returning curiosity masked in love
Flitting up and down the stem of the one you knew to be yours
Yearning for her to open her petals and reward arduous labor
The repose of correcting ages of missteps and the satisfaction of
Correctly placing lost experience
Enjoying the rhythm pounded out by drums of progress, and then pacing
To one all your own
Reasserting brutal individuality in spite of legions upon legions of conformity
Then ironically setting the trend
Once seized, every vague trapping melts down weary head, past hunched back
Beyond knees bend to reach toe tip
Revitalized by the comfortable shade of your whole self, the parts unwanted, unseen
Usurped, intangible, inconceivable, and most illustrated purely glow
A self if surely sacked, a reanimated soul now softly speaks, and sexuality is assured in
Each slow step
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
~ Believing what is real, is not easy to do
Everything I feel, is not always real
~ To undergo change, to have every 'hello' reversed
Never what I want, for better or for worse
~ Circumstances change, feelings stay the same
Obstacles change, mind never sane
~ In need of that love, in need of that care
However demonstrated, my mind will only stare
~ These expectations may be implausible
Closely examining them seems only impossible
~ I understand the effects of my choices
When given them I simply rely on other voices
~ My own self isn't what I express in my appearance
At least I’m myself here, with no interference
~ Expressions support life values, interpreting the thought process
A damaged train of thought interprets incorrectly
~ My body language is irrelevant to what I'm assuming
For one trying to comprehend, It's complex and amusing
~Meagan Williams
1.16.13
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
Nothing is but an ideology
Created within the midst of terminology
Contemplated inside the realm of human sociology
Excessive thought creates a disease of unknown etiology
Without nothing, the purpose of something lacks possibly
Fathoming such perceives speculations of oddities
How can one measure that lacking of qualities
and incomplete of quantity?
Theorization subconsciously
Rationalizing improbably
On the brink of psychopathy
Is it really all but a prophecy?
Distorting my mind in such ferocity?
Encompassing dimension of philosophy
Does the term nothing orbit a sense of despondency?
Interpreting into a form of commodity
But how can I construe what nothing is,
I mean quite honestly?
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
At Woodhenge's sacred circle
hut roused Mississipians
gathered in wintery bleakness
to track the golden crown's
ascent above the solstice post.
Their Solar Priest presided:
explaining,
blessing,
interpreting,
and assuring them all
that tomorrow's sun would rise
slightly farther to the north.
Last solstice morn at Cahokia,
latter day Mississippians
observed our red dwarf star
as it broke the tree - clad horizon,
inclined slightly to the right
and soared into cold December's sky.
Our Sun Priest, robed
in a ranger's jacket
in his own way:
explained,
blessed,
interpreted
and released us
to our journeys home -
assured that tomorrow's sun
again would climb the heavens
slightly farther to the north.
December, 2006
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 4:18 AM UTC
Walking through oblivion.
Our minds eye filtering, interpreting, controlling our visual ignorance
Condemning and exonerating strangers through a transient green gaze.
Subconsciously filing them into a misjudged character portrayal.
Painting their personality with usurped traits of yellow, cyan and magenta.
Filling a blank canvas white.
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 6:12 PM UTC
Magical words persuaded a feathered quill
To flow nimbly into rambling ink
Scattered in phrases and lines upon pages
Incredibly enabled to link
Sentimental characters yielded to ivory linen
Pressed in a taste of forever
Forming a bond, breathed in wonderful scents
Once inhaled, never to be severed
Spectacular merging savored by hungry eyes
Relished by all tongues who read
Interpreting the magic flowing from splendid skill
From a quill’s sensational bleed
Oh, what rapturous wonder surges within
Quick minds interpreting the skill
Of a quill persuaded by those magical words
Flowing from a rambling spill
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
How much love you gave,
I can't comprehend.
To me and for me,
Your happiness you were willing to give.
As a selfless soul would;
You stood for unconditional love.
You'd drop everything in a heartbeat,
Just to help me rise above.
Rise above my pain,
& Overcome my sorrow.
You did everything for me mom,
I wish our past moments could be borrowed.
You trained me how to interpret fear,
Your grit formed my strong back.
False Evidence Appearing Real;
The acronym is opposite in fact.
You stood up to those;
The few foolish to stand in your way.
These figures turned into your obstacles,
& your mental fortitude made them obey.
To see the big picture,
Is the mission you'd convey.
Interpreting small aspects of life as miracles,
Your belief system made me want to stay.
Stay by your side,
I never wanted to leave.
You reassured me of your vitality;
& This helped me momentarily go away.
Away to form my life,
Constantly looking to you for advice.
Your wisdom gave me strength,
& this I'll never deny.
Last night was the time,
For your moment of truth.
For once I was glad to be woken up,
As your soul passed along through.
Now there’s no you, because you are me too.
We became one last night,
The night your pain dissolved out of the blue.
God has an angel,
He must have needed you so.
He knows my love for you is irreplaceable;
& the hurt will forever show.
The shell shock is real,
& no one can be ready.
I want you to know I love you mom,
& this feeling will remain permanently steady.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC
Burning gases of
Tens of thousands of
Degrees burn for You.
They shine and spin,
Swirling, dancing like
A professional stage artist
Interpreting Your love.
Yes, Your love brings out
The very nature of nebulae -
Passionate fire-dancing
That will not cease
Until the one with burning
Stars for eyes returns.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 11:55 PM UTC
I can howl in words but
I say it gently instead, no, fiercely,
first to myself and to him and to her
to you if necessary and to them
for as long as it takes
why and how and what
how come and when and what for
how is my mind, I ask even the wind
this is what I usually play on repeat
why these thoughts images feelings
sensations movements words and deeds
everything is together but not always apparent
cause we are trapped inside the curvature of mind
evolving in tunnels unexcavated trenches
breaking loose on wider routes only when there is time
our thought trapped on certain orbits of habit
on the available energetic level at one time
the same way as our well behaved atoms spin their wonder
the same way as everything is evolving into its waterfall
imagination is the way I play with myself,
with you and them and the world
for destroying the habit of seeing hearing interpreting
we play language games everytime
we don't use the right thoughts for emerging bulshit
straightforward bullets deepening confusions
deceptions limitations judging&comparing
seduction of half truths and easy routes
or inventing enemies
so ask questions get answers
ask the same questions get other answers
I allow my mind to flow in unknown spaces
only because I learn from those
who attempt true learning
I am really forced to listen rather carefully
to the music of thinking
but about this in another poem
for now I'm listening to these feelings
and it might get unbearable
to recognize the disintegration of the night
information everywhere you look
you can wear your thoughts as your shoelace
or you can envision perhaps this poliphony of meaning
cause thought is no other than a form of relating everything to everything else
there are crystals of meaning cause we need more facets
they need to be smashed and reinvented
don't be afraid the riverbed will stay pretty much the same
it's fine to know what you know and there
is so much that we don't
we are not innocent creatures in not knowing
only sometimes perhaps
we need to listen to our deeper thoughts
who is the dancer who is the dance
what about this pain, always this pain
I don't know if you know
that turns the marriage of body&mind into
the marriage of heaven&hell,
as Blake put it
some don't believe in the Gulag of the mind
so the fate of the unconscious is to repeat itself
when it is just the psychoanalytic bulshit
they don't need they don't care they protest against
you see there is also this sweet sweet desire for not knowing
perhaps I am waiting for my mind
your mind/the collective mind
to embrace me
to embrace you
to embrace itself
Jan 16, 2023
Jan 16, 2023 at 2:17 PM UTC
[introductory note: This is not a conversation. Alternate segments are A/ statements made by a Spanish teacher in a lesson, and B/ the reaction of a young man listening but interpreting in a different way as he is entranced by a girl in the class]
*As far as actions in the past are concerned,
if you give the matter your attention,
you will recall various tenses:
the Past Continuous, the Past Definite,
the Imperfect, the Perfect, and the Pluperfect,
which we might call the more-than-Perfect;
we need not concern ourselves at the moment
with the Past Anterior.*
I, at the moment, am not concerned with the past at all,
for you are very much Present, and your action
of brushing the hair from your cheek
requires all my attention.
*Take, for example, this sentence –
“I was looking for a word, and found it
in a dictionary which I had.” You will notice
the action of looking for the word
extends over a period of time, and is Continuous.*
What I notice is the luminosity of your skin
where the sunlight strikes your shoulder, for in my case
the action of looking at you is Continuous.
*The action of finding the word is complete
and fixed in time,
and requires the Past Definite...*
And I observe how beautifully complete you are,
and I am fixed in this moment
which is now and forever.
*...while the action of possessing a dictionary,
in this sense, has no beginning and no end,
leading us to the Past Imperfect.*
Your eyes, at which I continue to gaze,
are more than Perfect, having depths in them
which seem to lead towards an Indefinite Future.
And the Past Anterior and the rest of them
do not concern me at all,
for you see me looking at you,
and the corners of your eyes crinkle
as you smile at me, and in my case
the action of being in love with you
has no beginning and no end.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC