"likeminded" poems
“When an injured athlete urge a comeback to field for love of game, his vulnerability toward previous muscle wound hinder his mental ability to go on with a full swing. Though, same rule implicate for people who hold bleeding pen to draw alphabetic emotions”
Yesterday I met one of those fragile birds. She carry fractured pen fingers under her beautiful skin, has curious eyes with strange shyness and a touched heart. The pursue of selflove somehow quelled her creative charm. I never expected to encounter someone so likeminded. She put away her pen to avoid emotions, identically similar reason made me quit this so-called ability which once lured bunch of close friends and many others who never knew the face behind these emotionally colored pages...
Wish I could feel her feathers and let her touch my scars, but her shivering Fragile Soul stopped me to become a...
‘Bad Boy She Craves For...’
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
I buy the gluten-free protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate, because this is who I am now. This is me. This is me as a lighthouse of personal fitness, a man of discipline, of a principle or two. And I surf only the most densely populated dating apps, looking—somewhat feverishly, I must admit—for a likeminded woman, a scholar, a child of the moon, a frequent quoter of the Dhammapada, an insatiable and acrobatic lover, and I imagine her driving the dark streets seeking me. Polly in a Prius. My future muse, near but out of reach. We'll reclaim the arts district. She'll piggyback to the open mike, her ****** shoes clicking in her hand. We'll spend a year politicizing every ****** encounter. Consensual assaults in perpetuity. And she'll say I'm a white man. And she'll say I think this is my privilege. And she'll say she's into leather and she finds my *** offensive and she'll hold my head against the wall. And at the end, if there's an end, I imagine our naked bodies wrapped in a stained comforter, all of the desire spent. I imagine our minds sober and clear, wondering how we could have ever been so kinked out, so on fire for something, and yet so ******* unable to remember a single ****** or whether or not we transcended. I'll vacuum the apartment. Polly will take her Warhol prints, pack up the Prius, and go anywhere, anywhere not here. Seattle. Maybe Portland. A few weeks will pass, and I'll find a note in whatever book I'd been reading before she left. It'll say: I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
As I walk across a pathway a heartbeat's width across a floor,
A peculiar sensation finds me wanting of an explanation to adore,
Not a feeling of a feeling, I don't have those anymore,
I can rip open my chest cavity to find nothing at its core.
-
I saw a young fine thing come cantering to a score,
And in her eyes I saw reflected back my lust for gore,
I didn't think of love or courting, that I do stately implore,
I have no idea how I could have had emotion before.
-
Incurring inferences upon deranged insanity,
I deny the charges and insist I must be free,
With my generation crawling at my likeminded feet,
I find myself unable to believe in humanity.
-
An algorithmic synapse of my mind's forward encryption,
Once brought about my failure of a heart's lonely submission,
And to this day I do wish that bitter was a real decision,
But I find something close to comfort with indifference as religion.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
I breathe to take in
what I can’t feel
Oxygen doesn’t linger
The dioxide fills
Likeminded individuals surround
They keep the place interesting
And my soul sound
As I try to search
for what I can’t feel
I close my eyes and listen
I know what I see isn’t real
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
Looking out across the farm, I am disarmed…
not generally an alarmist,
I am charmed by the sheer magnitude;
Grow two-thousand fifteen stands emerald green in the evening sun
As all 87 girls stretching up and out
as per the scrogg instructions,
some super cropping and a little topping
has forced the crop to the top tier of excellence
in defiance they rely on us, the growers
or tenders of the medicine
but moreover, the sunshine and proper nutrition…
much like a child that needs to be kept safe
and fed healthy,
these babies also crave love and compassion
and, after a fashion, they bequeath these gifts back onto us
in the form of perfect female flowers
flowing freely with the sap
containing chemistry capable of curing cancer
ending seizures
and generally improving the overall quality of life
for the non-abuser.
“Come to Oregon!” I say
as this is the place to be
to freely see what can be
when a few likeminded individuals
join forces and redefine the land
and what it means to be a farmer
and crop tender. –
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
'twas March, I saw you first
in your slender demeanour
mute shine on your lips, adorn
Silent when I moved across
just behind, in queue.. to you
Introduced hath an acquaintance
the gentle vibes about you
the poems that you hadn't yet writ
the pen that had yet not wrote
It was similarities, I had seen
flowers that graced your wall;
Striking carnage in my mind
dissimilating my being,
And, finally in triumph, declared
yourself, I _ an adversary
Oh, but why, an adversary?
Since we could decide on
being likeminded friends
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 3:13 PM UTC
the rain beats against the window and I see the
drops amass until each dotted soul swells, then
bursts into a rivulet seeking a path against the glass,
and some will pass through other streams, and I follow
their brief intersects, these capillaric rivers that fail
to merge, while others course boldly, seeking to
join, to find a parallel stream on likeminded journey,
and off to the corner of the pane there are drops
that fill and run, and then halt, and bump, and skitter
about, those carving a solitary course
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC
10/31/2017
Why did I say that thing just now
And how do i manage to sound so proud around the people i want to impress
Im sure they can tell im just a little too loud
I talk a little too fast
Is it anxiety or mania that makes me act like that?
And why wont he respond?
Wait, which he am i on?
My hope for a lover shot down on the daily
But still i manage to feel ok when im not focused on waiting
Entertaining myself in other ways
Playing with words
Word salad, tossed in a ballad, tossed salad
Oops, did i say that?
Donno what im playing at
Dont mind me
Im finding it hard to wind down
If i run, my problems wont find me
Staring at the sun prolly wont blind me
If i pretend to be fine now
Will my demons remind me?
I just wanna share my poetry with someone that thinks like me
Whos likeminded, inspired, desires to climb higher
If knowledge is fire
Then my mind is a lighter
But my soul keeps tripping over her own shadow
Boxing with my demons in the shallows
Maybe today I let them win
On the Eve of All Hallows, the winner is sin
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
in a world full of filters
and plastic surgery
and fake influencers
it's hard to find verisimilitude
people lie for money
or fame
or for a grain of attention
how can we tell what's real
and what's a facade
but I see a speck of hope
this community is full of verisimilitude
our words flow from our fingers
leaving us stripped to our bones
and vulnerable
as we pour our hearts out
and bare our souls
finding likeminded individuals
who understand our pain
and joy
and sadness
and love
this community is full of verisimilitude
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:21 PM UTC