"lachrymose" poems
The sky wept
the sky wept
the sky wept
the sky wept
while I leapt,
while I leapt,
well I leapt thru fire.
Gasp sigh perspire.
give me your tired
huddled and heavy laden
that loud light holds us up high
in his left hand and will be ********* man.
we'll be ********* man.
Harvest moon incited madness
granjero in a gas mask
destined
to manifest the liberation front.
watch me kiss the sun.
thirtytwo one, I am done.
canvas demon,
lower the lights &arise.;
like who wouldn't wanna kiss the sky...
Miss 'My,my,my' meet
Major fleet week
now yall dance and drink
each other's blood
doesn't that sound like fun
isn't it so sweet
wonder some
praise the priest
***** mothers ******* sons,
my lachrymose lack of passion
weighs a **** fantastic ton,
I wish someone would come &
divvy me a dole
of fresh faced inspiration
and vintage faded soul...
I am mobile homosapien.
I am not your friend
simply a lazy ally,
I reside in the unfunny pages.
Dated and bathed in flame,
given back to the air
where I came from.
humdrum funk,
under the ugly sun
feelin lovely in the slums.
Undone undone
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
i'm living on a solitary prayer
vandalized my ego to make it rare
with teeth stained with lies i've told
and promises lost in the cold
i tussle and taser to hide my lovers
and all that i am - a mess or tastemaker
sprinkling tersely on my mercy seat
will make my season go complete?
i pull the labrys & the throttle
artefact-sprites in uranium soil
declaring my truth atop of the flagpole
i'm the custodian of haute culture
a flotilla of judgment riding skyhigh
like dido's love-lachrymose down demise
they say "better rethink your useless vendetta"
but first we'd better get out of their siberia
where the masses doubt the angry fix
"ignore the (g/h)aze above the pyramid
if we only couldn't have any more
locked in dominican ****** wards
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
A satisfied appetite is a simply joy
Overlooked and simplified
Like a growing urge, a salivating need
That is entrancing and glorified.
Everlasting for moments we call meals
Forgotten in time, lingering above
But the taste, the lonesome lover pushed aside
Gazes afar and near wanting to be enjoyed again
The young lady with a tongue of raspberry delight
And the matured widow with darkened cacao lips
Ripening nectar of a sliced peach center
Halved and topped with mascarpone crème
The man with a skin of caramel glaze
Caressing and savoring
With a fragrance and scent
Of hazelnut coffee indulgence and sin
In the pursuit of a brief love affair
What oral sensation did my taste buds want?
My odyssey of gustatory endeavors await
Through the seas of lined people and waiting staff
Generous portions and humble pies
Decadent desserts so rich you’ll die
Vine cherry tomatoes sliced and sauté
Over al dente rigatoni in a roasted cashew sauce
A robust aroma and savory appeal
Basil leaves with garlic strips
Olive oil to top the surreal
Hubristic meatball aborigine
Elysian cuisine or many dreams
Teasing the senses, warming the pit
Of flowing pleasures
And tingling fingertips
Without moral measures
And succulent wines
Rotisserie lamb falling of the bone
Seasoned with Sicilian herbs
And paired with broiled asparagus
Drizzled with lemon juice
And a glass of Merlot
Spices I hardly know
Lachrymose apologies beside a bottle of faded sorrows
With love there is pain, passion endured through the names
Thin soups, flavorless and dull, feeding street-thrown bums
Breathing hard against the delicatessen glass
Hickory smoked hams, pepper-seasoned pastrami
Vinegar cultured pickles and hard dried salami
Unpleasured, without measure, at one's leisure.
Forever my endeavor
Blackcurrant tea laced with slivers of gooping honey
Layers of cinnamon hair atop olive skin
red-painted doors with cedar trim
crushed almonds mixed with hazelnut butter cream spread
devilish rounds of crumbling rum-swirl bread
Smells and wonders, tastes so ...
oh god
Divine and sublime.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Her syllogisms repose trust in her adept beleaguering of unworthy opponents.
Constantly in a state of lassitude for this desultory, inure world of the insouciant youth which dwells upon it's cathartic terrain, she engages not in lachrymose nor is she crestfallen for the hope of romance and it's everlasting ineffability.
She is a fugacious moment of frisson embodied in a human form; a juxtaposition of the serendipitous moments that ever constantly come one after the other in a fickle wheel of steep highs and deep lows. All her life, this girl will lilt through the crossroads of her obstacles and show the world the efflorescence of her beauty. Hush don't speak lest you miss hearing the mellifluous music of her voice of fail to hear the lagniappe that is her name.
She is the cynosure of human attention, the goddess and we are but her humble servants. She is innocence most rare, love most coveted. She is infinite. She is peace.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
...unless it's with me.
Dating you is anti-climatic
and I'd be ****** if I ever
succumb to a part of me
begging to be cut loose from you.
I don't want to be swallowed by
the euphoria derived from
vintage pictures and videos;
I know that the saccharine
comfort will be both
short-lived and lachrymose.
I don't want to have to
flip through your new pictures daily,
searching for remnants of the love we shared
through the new love you'd then be experiencing.
Usually,
I'd wish nothing but the best
but I want the worse for you.
My mental is too detrimental
to handle you and another.
I don't want to wake up
from constant nightmares
leaving my stomach tied in knots
you'd only see on TV.
I don't want to sit at family dinners alone
when you were suppose to be there with me.
I don't want to have to look at chocolate desserts
and remember how it's your favorite
so although I detest chocolate,
I eat it anyway to somehow
suppress the feeling of you not being there.
I don't want to watch you fall in love with another.
You carry a part of me
every time you're apart from me
and I'd rather you cheat
than to follow what seems like tradition
and leave.
I don't want to watch you fall in love with another.
I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve
and I'm down on both knees
pleading please,
oh please
I don't want to watch you fall in love
...unless it's with me.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
I dreamed of Frida Kahlo
"yo era ella amante"
pure, paupered prince to her primal queen
yet still I hollowed a carnal niche into the midst
of one perdurable, lurid " noche de los muertos"
and fingered the lachrymose from her lacerations
counting prurient time in a piercing nine of
perennial persecution before I wore her pelt
to lay me down in her sanguinary glow
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
Of sleepless meadows,
and cold, seething blades,
the last rose blossoms,
in the desert's cruel shade.
Lachrymose falls
to shadow's black crimson,
while its thorns cry out,
"Why won't they listen?"
The rose screams and shouts,
crying sweetly for its heart,
but vines choke it gleefully,
dooming it from the start.
Gun barrels and swords,
with dirt spewing everywhere,
and sadistic corpses fall
without a single care.
The sounds of their loved ones
still beckon them home.
But that love means nothing,
when you know you'll die alone.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
Breathe.
Breathe deep,
and in between
those breaths
bring back
banished beliefs
buried beneath
beyond
broken bonds
and
burnt bliss.
Embers.
Embers everywhere
of emotions
expecting
Elysium’s
elusive embrace.
Roses.
Roses scattering
restlessly;
rarely receiving
reprieve;
reminiscing;
ruing
reproachful ravens
resting
rigidly;
rabidly reaping,
rending
rotten remains,
resenting rainfall
refusing remorse.
Nostalgia.
Nostalgia underneath
neon nightlights;
noticing
nubs,
noises,
nuances;
neither neglecting
nameless
nonbelievers,
nor nurturing
narrow-sighted
naiveté.
Asleep.
Asleep amidst
fleeting azaleas
acknowledging
an abandon
amplifying
already
almighty
affection;
almost
altering
ancient,
ardent,
adamant
air
as an
ageless art.
Loss.
Loss overpowering;
lost love,
lingering longing,
lasting laments.
Lachrymose lovers
left layers
of a
limited life
within
long-forgotten lore;
lest labeled
Loveless;
left
little
longer
living.
Yearning.
Yearning for
the warmth
of home.
Yesterday,
You
were
yelling
‘YES’
at the top
of your lungs,
and
it
was
enough.
Yet
Yggdrasil
yielded
yew
for years
and years;
young,
yellow yeggs
yanked asunder
Yin
from Yang
into the
ever yonder.
Night-time.
Night-time symphonies
nullify
nothingness;
nourishing
Nyx Nightmother’s
need
of newfound
night-thinkers;
napping
nonchalantly
now,
near,
and nevermore.
~D.C.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
we cut the trees
and bleed the leaves,
and drink the wine
from Mother’s spine—
her fetal songs,
so lachrymose—
no ****** birth
could save this earth.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
Perhaps gratitude;
blessed by an
all telling moon,
dragging such subconscious
thought, to the surface
could suffice.
A momentary crisis
this poet; elegiac in mood,
amour propre; a deadly
reliance upon dragons
caged by their own
circumstance.
Blowing fire,
but not until
seductively, their
deviled selves
masqueraded;
abounding self pity
virtuously disguised,
lachrymose stories.
"Come a little closer..."
she was told.
Trusted, naive girl,
bitten, burnt
touching, hand in fire.
"This time will be different."
she was told.
And,
the girl, lost, in
bubble dreams, born
of, raging storms
believed; that love was true.
This princess of,
masochistic pain,
nothing blood red,
gushing, just
invisible violence.
*"Believe me when I say;
you're the best I've ever had."*
she was told.
Vertigo; medicated
by love, sailing back to
shore, cutting the rope
knife in hand, promised lands.
Scenes of lamination; screams;
she forgot...
The moon dropping low,
honey dew, stars flew -
she awoke,
to the knowledge of,
all her subconscious knew;
whispering;
"The dragon resided in only you."
© Sia Jane
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
They say I'm strong willed person, relaxed, or composed and happy most of the time
And when I lie- "I'm fine" they'll believed without a doubt
Yes it may seem so, but because its all about mastering
The delicacy of the craftsmanship of my outer being
Then pretending and masking is the result of my handmade effort;
All of it was and all of it will, is a product of my lachrymose heart
To let people believe what I want them to believe of me
Even if molding myself into someone I do not wish to become
But was it worth it? But will it be worth it?
Regret may sometimes be inevitable and cunning
As it kills my sleep and peace of mind to an oblivion
With over thinking of the possible reasons to destroy this best mask I wear
And put to an end to this lachrymose heart that controls my whole being;
Though I want to be honest, be the hurted person I truly am;
Though I want this pain in my heart be manifested through tears;
But even if it do fall down, no one notices, no one see my pleas
All the time I'm just here pretending to be fine
Never letting a single tear from my lachrymose heart cry.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:22 AM UTC
They say time is like a river;
Flowing on forever, with not a glance behind.
No second passes taken, but left are remnants within the mind -
For here I walk in a field of dreams, among rose-colored grasses;
Pink-painted petals cascade from trees like amaranth, fancied and eternal -
Soft and silken, they rain like ashes; and they whisper to me sweetly.
Through the haze of time, I hear the voices of the fallen,
And the laughter of bygone days;
This lea lit by vernal skies, it is a lachrymose place -
Beautifully bittersweet, and with life interwoven.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
I am a broken toy, discarded with the rest
The annual termination of symbolic relations,
One more on the heap
Purple coloured 'flowers' intermittently scattered
My flesh, forever debased
Yours, barely tarnished
This is hardly a new game to you
It's been roughly twenty-six months since your last true victory,
I came ever so close to being worthy of you.
Days pass, I mourn our partnership
Lachrymose daydreams of a lover so governing
I plead for transcendence.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 12:33 PM UTC
•
**All the beauteous and delightful words in the world,
Being integrated all together,
Can never be in equilibrium,
Of how much happy I am,
Of how much you mean to me,
And of how much I love you.** (hahaaaaa)
*Your words of love,
Are just like a firefly in my pitch-black times,
You’ve enlighten me with your luminescence,
Just that little wonderful light that you’ve showed me daily,
Being put all together,
Just made a delightful gleaming sun,
In a noontide,
That glows up my darkest corners,
That gives me warmth in my numbing days,
That gives me hope,
That gives me the strongest feeling to be the best I can be,
And that gives me a better vision for tomorrow.*
*You make my world an orchestral arena,
Just the most wonderful tunes are played,
The tunes of bona fide endearment, care and with hope,
You’ve surrounded me with your fervid love songs,
I have absorbed all of it,
That together circulates into my body,
As an energizer,
And as supplier of all good nutrients.*
*You’ve created a dance hall in my world,
That I uses,
To sway and undulate away,
All the love and happiness,
And let exuberance consume,
All deleterious hormones that is in me,
Into your phenomenal, auspicious dance steps,
Steps that keep our love healthy and in perfect shape,
And steps that carries me all the way to heaven.*
*You are indeed my serotonin,
My happiness hormone,
That keeps me smiling,
And keeping me away from depression.*
*My endorphin,
That always make me feel good,
The one that reduces my apprehension.*
*My dopamine,
That keeps me mentally alert,
That you,
The source of dopamine,
Just provide me,
All inspiration I need,
Keeps me concentrated on good stuff,
And that takes away all bad moods in me.*
*My ghrelin,
That takes away all my stress,
And replace it with peace of mind,
And relaxing state.*
*My phenylethamine,
That gives me such gaiety,
In this love that envelops me,
A love that always put spark in my countenance.*
*In my engineering life,
You are just the perfect solution,
In my engineering truss problems,
And the truss as our love,
You are the identification,
Whether our love,
Is statically determinate, or indeterminate,
Statically stable or unstable,
And finding the reactions of our love,
Taking all the summation of forces,
From the vertical to the horizontal axis,
And the summations of all moments needed,
In order to have strong and firm truss,
A truss that would last,
‘Till eternity.*
*You are the calculator in this path of mine,
I could just be staring in blank space,
Without any hope of solving any mathematical problems without you,
You are the calculator that we call,
An addition to our intestines,
Without you my life will not be successful,
And with your love as motivation and inspiration,
It made me more successful in my career in life.*
**And for the most important thing,
You are the answer,
To my earnest and lachrymose prayers,
Prayers that are dearly uttered,
During my detrimental moments,
And just up to this day,
I have understood,
How God,
Can allow throe to be planted into our lives,
How a devastating incident,
Will turn into propitious aurora,
I knew from this day on,
My life will completely change.**
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Grunting is for favors, groaning is for games
Lachrymose while kisses engulf my senses
My jaw aches for destruction, my heart for love, my body for temptation
My dear, I don't want you, I want your confessions
I am drunk from your soul, its
Whispers
Weeping
Sin
Flutter my darling,
Let there be ecstasy...
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 7:21 PM UTC
lachrymose: suggestive of or tending to cause tears; mournful....given to shedding tears readily; tearful.
make no dithering,
wily excusing or explaining,
among this band,
I count myself
a brother and a man
eons ago shed the
reptilian skin masculine,
my six-shooter now a manly
cheap Bic ballpoint blue-eyed pen,
used to fell forests of egos,
mine, first foremost and ever last
every write that sore tries my heart,
lives hard by a stream replenished,
by freshly born, yet stale, recirculated
salt-mine tears, salt, mine, tears,
that include those storing and storied,
some preceding and some succeeding,
and some spilling
even as
this story told,
here and now,
is in the hearth,
forming and fulfilling
if man enough that you can cry openly,
then man enough to write good poetry,
this then, this be the simple and finest
line I ever wrote,
line I ever cried
5:20pm April 20th,
The Year of the Tear
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
The rain falls
Unrelenting, unpitying
Heavy droplets
Drenching everything on sight
The rain falls
Unperturbed, unassuming
Pulling on sleepy eyelids
On lachrymose days like today
The rain falls—
Wipes away my tears
Takes away my loneliness
Washes away my love for you
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
•
*Your loving embrace,
Is the beatific sunshine,
That gleam blazingly,
After lachrymose dark times,
You've given me hope.
It is my refuge,
In moments of turbulence,
That gives me console,
When I tremble in great fear,
Your embrace provides safety.
It's a euphony,
A sweet calming resonance,
That wraps all over,
Caressing my soul with bliss,
Dressing me with perfect peace.
It's crème de la crème,
Lullaby for my slumber,
Warmth when I shiver,
A guidance to my lost trail,
Pure intimacy of love.*
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Weeping Cascades of redeeming droplets,
my soul experienced resurgence and cure.
At once, poignant and lachrymose episodes occurred, unceasing.
Like a newborn’s first burning breath, they seared
though giving life and vitality
So I reached, a rosebud, eager to drink morning dew
and let the affecting liquid wash over me,
replenishing my spirit.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Her lachrymose eyes
just wells in the sense
they help us survive.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
I took a walk looking for a reason to come back home,
And searched for Beatrice along the way.
I too, a wayfarer looked for a response that cannot be homogenized
And sorrowed for breathlessly asking, “Then when?”
I told another woman, “Let Freud’s analysis reach that conclusion”, but how?
And subliminal feelings become another threatening worry.
I thought a word, lachrymose, finite, and resonant. That concisely besmirched her.
And subsequently forgotten, but always tacit, “Why?”
I think about why looking for a reason to correspond becomes hopeless.
And Sisyphus falls backwards against the weight…
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
O' unrelenting dolor, on mine
head thou dost drip, mixing
With mine lachrymose
Glossed lips. How much
More canst mine mind
And body take, maybe
I'll set the pencil down,
The more sickly I feel,
Noones hear to listen,
Only hearing is the real.
I guess I'll continue holding
Onto the tightrope that I dangle,
None human-contact in mine angle
to clasp a soulful-hopeful fool as I; none
Lingo of aye from heavens kind, just liquid
I'll sip that wilt fall from mine weary Eyne.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
Add Another.
You ******* kidding me?
Add another?
Computer, you challenging me?
I can go all night if I have too,
you don't got the bytes to eat me!
Add another my ***
You say I got 170,400 words.
**** you don't got the memory
to hold what I already forgot.
go to sleep and maybe in the morning,
I'll teach you a new word or two,
give you a dose of lachrymose!
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC