"logy" poems
Our love is just biological and physiological.
It is too many of prefixes.
I need less BIO-logy and more LOGICal.
When our bodies are moving together you bite my neck and I say **** I hate this song”
We are not real.
Five minutes later you’ll be texting with someone else
And I’ll be occupying my new private room – kitchen.
we no longer hear each other, we just listen.
No longer see each other, just watch and look through.
All that remains in common between us is only dishes
and then it was me who bought it.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
When he wanted a fix
Or money for a fix
It was to your handbag
He went first; he'd root through
It like a pig searching
For wild truffles, and he
Wasn't gentle in his
Search either, grabbing you
Tightly, trying to pin
You down, especially
If you tried to hide your
Bag behind your back, then
He got really rough, and
All your love/hate for him
Surfaced like some waking
Cat and you'd pounce at him
And the struggle'd begin
And the whole block knew all
About it and the air
Was blue with language of
A kind your mother would
Never use even on
A bad day, and maybe
Then he'd get the handbag
Open and he'd root through,
His eyes large as an ox
And his tongue hanging out
The side of his mouth like
Some stupid dog and you
Knew him then as a dim
Specimen of all men,
He was a degree course
In men logy and
You had the knowledge in
Each pore and tissue of
Your body and mind and
You'd stand still and watch him
Shaking your head, wishing
To Hell, he'd take his last
Drugged up fix and be dead.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Bright cold silver moon
Staring into the scales - your nacreous eyes
You are my ******
I touch your hair ever so delicately
Why am I filled with torrid logy?
You are my narcotic, you
Unknowingly sew
the lids of my eyes closed
Cross-stitched phosphenes of your face
under my eyelids
I am overcome with a voracious thirst
to drink you, or the glass of moonshine
balanced precariously on your lips
Everything is better when my being
splinters, fractures, and crumbles into your lap
Moonshine, take us to the cosmos tonight
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
The common blow fly, the
Adults, feeding off nectar and
Animal carcasses
All Forensic protozoa
Owing their
Fine structure of mid-gut
Epithelium to an alchemic
Grand Master,
Razing his glass knife
across alabaster and
buffer acetones as
These larval Celestials
Intone
As gendarmes of Cyrus and
Cassaiopeia vibrating
The metronome
Honed with memory,
In my ear
All of it History
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
indeed the plurality of the word swans leaves it (the expression) duo-sexual, for both widow and widower are expressed; a reader of poetry has to become an orchestra, he has to intermission instruments, learn punctuations, learn greater patience, learn the non-existent fluidity akin to what philosophers championed: the river... he needs to learn the bumblebee's flight buzz impromptu... he needs to learn his own language... the river has nothing to do with poetry... it can't be simplified to simply deterministic meanings that probe with vectors via telescopes into vacuum or at the stars.
to leave but a breath,
seems more to us than to have
left a proof of the monogamy of
swans with the widow spider
entangling us into a boa web of
coils and constrictions of geometrics
(poets elaborate and seemingly
profess "nonsense" because of φιλοσυμφωνια -
which means a love of arrangement,
esp that of arranging letters in a way to avoid
using stress, or diacritics, although unavoidable,
a love of grammar doesn't exact the expression,
love of arrangement φιλοσυμφωνια does
do away with what philosophers do,
expressing compounds of -logy stating a trumpet
is a trumpet but hardly differentiating
a trumpet from a trombone):
or 10 steps worth of footprint
on a beach, which the tide will
nonetheless take to erase rather than keep
another analogue of us to take to imitate...
that everyone after us could state
a walk as equal, in "original" intent an original
intended, to therefore be erased subsequently and "originally",
and leave this life as worthy a placebo for others
(O kept memory akin to Marcus Aurellius):
to make room for others to make equal share
likewise, in sequence to be kindred likewise
as an "original" intent with the unknown and unfathomable,
for each of us to know, yet nothing more than ourselves,
and to be crowned the highest prize of the world
having known us.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
you've heard of the greeks, they stated the tetra elements,
hardly a word to combine them
given the penta: electricity that replaced fire,
when Zeus ****** his rod into the earth
and out sprung electron linear from
what people supposed to be orbits and clouds.
and i'm sure you heard of the pentagon
of the sigma of man, via the five senses.
but i ask you, how many nerves are there?
to equate nerves with senses, sight and hearing
and feeling, we'd require to attribute
empathy, sympathy, apathy as among them...
compassion? like Marcus Aurelius asking
as to how he would be remembered:
philosopher... tyrant? i'm just wondering how
many nerves there are; are there a pentagonal
resemblance with the senses, or a tetra resemblance
of the elements? i can proclaim an infinity of
synapse roads and alleys and highways, motorways,
but i need to know a perfect categorical incubator
of the number of nerves... surely they ought to
reflect the senses... at this moment i have only
three: empathy, sympathy and apathy...
and indeed all spell out the root leverage
leading toward the tree of pathology -
then indeed there must be another trail guided by
the revelation of -logy rather than -pathy...
but there are too many to choose from,
e.g.: biology, psychology, etc.... it must be specific
and essential... if the -pathy root is stating verbs,
then the -logy root must also describe verbs (activities);
precursor atheism as argument for both
the non-existence of god, as indeed the soul -
synonymous implementation for the word
with psychologism, rather than a firm stirrup logic.
how many times brooding over a certain logic?
esp. in calculus or esp. in arithmetic,
how these numbers ploy a demise, to say
12 + 30 + 2 are akin to sentencing to the invisible glue
or lettering equally confidant units of usage:
br + av + e? what are the logical nerves after having
established the pathological ones?
i don't know at this moment, decidedly,
to have been governed by four elements and adding
a fifth, to have five senses and the sixth in hexagonal
deviations of the unseen... how many nerves are we
to attribute man?
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
We need to learn
Not to lie
Not to fight
Not to be greedy
Not to be corrupt
Not to be ignorant
Not to be jealous first
But just because
We have smart phones
And ****** electric cars
Or over a trip to Mars
We think we progress
Progress my ***
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 4:42 PM UTC
Morning doves and sunlight;
waking up with a fuzzy head,
logy and still half dreaming,
I remember that
you are real and warm.
Knowing that somewhere
you may be smiling
like a Cheshire angel,
how could I not?
~mce
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC